#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.

[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?? 👀

[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.

[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.

[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]

Screwed Up and Brilliant

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

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (mentioned), Negan is a bad guy but there is nuance— at least I hope I accomplished doing so, angst, guilt, forbidden love, probably super stereotypical, reader at the Sanctuary, moral dilemma reader (but you got to understand, they’re both so fine!!), I feel like I need more cws but I can’t think of them and of course, smut, 18+: consensual, unprotected, vague dacryphilia, soft? dom!Negan, lite daddy kink, fingerings, riding, and basically just Negan blowing your brains out… but not in the walker way— the good way, the way we like. Amen.

A/N: Could you believe I started writing this in October or something? This is my first time writing Negan and I’m scared I may not have gotten it right so definitely feel free to give notes! This is set during season 7/8, I’m picturing Negan at the end of 8 and later seasons but there’s something about him older that gives me heart eyes everywhere, but whatever you prefer makes me happy. Anyway, from my heart, and maybe somewhere a little lower, to yours; with love from writella. ♡

You’re screwed up and brilliant, look like a million-dollar man; so why is my heart broke?

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

The space was clean; minimal. The kind that let out no secrets of the owner that inhabited its insides. And of course there were the little things that let out some slight details: the ashtray on the nightstand— a smoking habit; a ring, a metal chain, another of black rope— an unsuspected, albeit small, interest in jewelry; the bottom nightstand closed by a lock—mysterious and cautious, though that was to be expected. It was only reasonable he’d have something he wanted hide. But other than that, Negan’s bedroom was quite unreadable; almost purposefully mundane.

There was a fireplace, a window at the corner, and a bed at the center. It had a dark, brass, rusted headboard that leaned against the wall. Two pillows at either side. The sheets were white, and the large blanket was of fur, a tan or medium brown, it was thick and heavy. Probably unnecessary for the approaching spring heat, but it adored the bed end well; matching the other bronze, or brown, wooden and darker aspects of the room. Even the light from the small fire, though you could see clearly, made everything mildly dim— the Sanctuary wasn’t known for its brightness after all.

And truly, nothing in this bedroom, or in this fortress of a place could be described as anything close to bright. Unless you counted the sun outside in the courtyard, or the largest fireplace that blazed in the main hall, or Negan’s piercing, priceless smile— so pristinely white, so wide it almost looked painful to perform. There was an eeriness to it as well. That was at the forefront, and everyone saw it. With the way he maintained their cleanliness, it was something that could look so pure, so put-together on any other; but on him, its power could scare you into worthlessness. It’s the one he used when he told someone what to do even if they hated it; it’s the one he used when killing someone’s best friend.

It’s also the one he used on the first day he ever spoke to you. The first time that truly mattered, really.

It was during Negan’s first supply gathering at Alexandria.

You still remember it well.

Your faces filled with desolation, but chins held high; you were strong— good at hiding the pain, the fear— only straight, pokered eyes and mouths allowed as everyone silently agreed with you. You had told Negan that Maggie was dead.

The Widow, he had coined her. The wife of your good friend that he killed— so generous a man was Glenn, even when he wasn’t trying to be. And she’s your friend too, brave Maggie. That’s the one he wanted, but as far as he knew, she was gone.

Thank God, you thought, Thank God, yes, indeed, until—

Negan’s eyes glazed over your frame for just a moment too long.

You weren’t speaking anymore. You kept it short enough. He should have turned his attention back to Rick but he didn’t.

Where there was sly roguery in Negan’s eyes, anxiety weld in the looks of all others: Rick’s throat tensed and tightened uneasily, sweat trailing down his curls and onto his forehead; Rosita’s jaw clenched with bitterness, brows furrowing under her green khaki cap with anger; and then there was Gabriel: his eyes turned from solemnity and pretend peacefulness to wide bewilderment. The plan you two exchanged had worked: you would tell Negan of Maggie’s passing, as per your idea, and Gabriel would swiftly solidified your lie by saying he was the one who officiated the short funeral. But then, another problem arose; one where he could be nothing else but helpless in aiding you. What was he, or anyone to do? It was easy to help Maggie, she was more than twenty miles away. But you, you were here. Right in front of him.

“Wait a minute…” Negan’s pointer shakes lightly by his temple, his mind turning curiously. “You.” He said, shooting his finger in the direction of your chest.

His smile, mischievous as ever, only grew wider as a moment passed and he made his realization: “You’re the one with that- tight- grip!” He balled his raised hand into a fist as he said it. A slight snicker came after, proud of his entendre. “My men were tryna put Daryl in the trunk and you latched onto his foot like it was your dying- act- which—” you attempt to lessen the startle in your eyes at his upward hitch in tone, “—it most certainly could have been.”

Negan comes closer now, his face nearing your own, “But you know better now, right?”

Obviously, you did not.

Or you would have stayed home, not given him the chance to remember you as he said he would after your nails could no longer claw into Daryl’s ankle. He was thrashing too much and Negan’s men pushed you away; they were too strong together against the two of you. They kicked dirt in your face for it, held a gun to your head until Negan told them to stop. His point was made with your two friends he had killed, no need for another— especially not one who amused him like you had just done.

‘DAYUM. She is surprisingly strong!’ He had yelled, ignoring the weeping faces of you and the group kneeling in a line on the ground; sweat, blood, and tears dripping everywhere. ‘And I do like ‘em loyal…’ He had given you a once over while telling his men, ‘Hands off, gentlemen,’ and before returning his attention back to Rick, he added, ‘I’ll keep my eye on you.’

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

Rick should have told you why he wanted you to stay with Judith. He remembered what Negan said too. He remembered what Negan said to everyone. He couldn’t forget. But maybe it didn’t matter. It was only the start of Negan’s day here. Maybe he would have found you anyway.

Rick would feel it was all his fault nonetheless, but all you could think about is how truly, it was your own, and no one’s at all.

The sun allows glints of wickedness to sparkle in the whites of Negan’s teeth as he continues imparts his demand, “From now on, don’t stop me when I’m giving an order, okay?” It’s like you can hear him underlining his words just with his darkened voice. Turning his waist, he extends his hand to everyone as he finishes, “And that goes for all of you.”

You force your face to remain leveled as he meets your eyes again, that cheshire look returning directly toward you. He curls his head to the side, whispering near your profile, “So… you’re his girl, huh?”

Your mouth becomes slightly agape. You don’t even realize it before you can try to close it. He asked the question of aversion, or at least that’s what you assumed it was to Daryl.

You knew it was just his way, that speaking about things like this might have not been his strong suit. Besides, there were more things to worry about almost all the time, but it still hurt to know that when asked, the only complete and honest answer there could be was no.

Your eyes trail down slowly, desperate to avoid his, and Daryl’s face— a few feet away from you— turning to the side, looking at nothing. He could not hear what was being asked, but maybe Rick did, Rosita and Gabriel too. It was unclear, but their eyes prodded with more tension, more worry, Daryl could register that, and even more so, he could not stand Negan’s face that close to yours; he was probably trying to make an advance on you, scare you, or both. He pretends not to care, but ultimately it’s useless. Negan detects your expression and turns to look at Daryl’s; he notices both failing attempts at impassivity.

“Oh,” he muses, voice returning to its normal volume, “or not, my bad…. I guess that does make more sense though.” He speaks louder now, casually, like he’s a close friend consoling you about your boy troubles, “I personally haven’t been able to hold a conversation with the guy either, and I’m just tryna be friends.”

Daryl was right. Negan was weaseling his way in. He snarls because of it.

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

You feel the sweat beading from your hairline to the nape of your neck. The danger felt from Negan’s presence was as thick as the sun’s heat that shone directly on the cemetery grove. It’s hard to look up and especially to look at him directly for that long as if he truly was the fire in the sky, so you look down again.

Negan pats your shoulder sympathetically, his hand then going to hold up your chin, his thumb tracing your jaw softly.

It makes Daryl’s arms twitch and his stance jerks forward, but he’s pushed back, Dwight beating him on the chest. It’s only once but you can hear it, everyone heard it.

It only makes Negan’s grin become more sly because— there it is— a reaction; an answer. It makes what he’s about to do that much more sweet: “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Idiot,” he tisks. Then more quietly he adds, “I’m not one though.”

This time it’s for sure: Rick caught that, and Rosita too. They give each other an alarming look as Negan continues to trail over your dispirited form, like a wilted flower. His hand lowers back down to your shoulder, then trails to your arm, to the elbow, and then off of you entirely.

Despite the feeling of Lucille under his grasp telling him he shouldn’t, Rick urges himself to speak before Negan says what they all know is coming. “Negan,” he starts, swallowing the slight shake in his voice, “would you like to see the pantry—”

“Did I ask you to speak, Rick?” Negan states, his frame still positioned in front of you. “I’m thinkin’ here… I’m thinkin’… particularly, that you should come with me.”

Daryl makes a sound that you couldn’t hear, for Dwight was already barking a “Shut up,” at him. Only the swat he gives to Daryl’s shoulder is what is once again heard by all.

You almost choke on your gasp, but you hold it in. Only letting out the faintest sound as you ask, “What?”

“You heard me,” he plainly says. “I mean, what do you even do here anyway?”

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

“No, I’m askin’. Seriously. Does Rick actually utilize you?”

As you begin, your voice is still quiet, “I… I work in the garden, with the produce… I help tutor the kids… I go on runs, gather supplies. I cook. Help with weapons maintenance, I—” you stop, realizing your grocery list of jobs probably sounds pathetic to him, you’re like a chore boy, “— I do a lot. But everyone does.”

“Hm,” Negan responds, playing with his nails nonchalantly. Your thoughts come to fruition with his next words, “So you’re just everyone’s helper?”

He noticed the sad offense emanating from your eyes, so he raised his hands, “And those are important things to do, I mean it. It must mean you know quite a bit from everyone, that’s smart, and there’s no trouble in it. But… I saw you. I think you can do more.”

“How?” You can still only gasp out your words. “I’m not Maggie. And she’s not here.”

“No.” He brings up one finger, “But you’re clever,” you look at him confused as he brings up his middle finger to join the first, “and quick on your feet, that I now know.” A third and fourth finger comes up, “You’re strong, you’re loyal— things I’ve stated before.” Then the fifth he says with a smug smile, “And you’re a looker, I must admit.” He moves his hand to one side of his mouth, pretending to secretly tell you, “But that’s just a plus,” he winks. “And more importantly, it seems to me that just like most people in Prick’s community, you are undervalued and not paid attention to whereas I see potential.” He says it all so simply, he truly believes he’s offering you so much better that he finally ends by saying: “Hm. Yeah. I think you’ll be much better off with me.”

And so, with no true goodbyes said, in a van you went after Negan’s visit was done. A different one from Daryl’s, of course. Taken away from the first home you had in ages.

Before the trunk door closed, Negan gave you parting words: “You see?” He had said, “I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?”

The words rang in your ears for the entire ride as they still do now, even more or less than two months later as you sit in his room.

Your heartbeat started to rise little by little as time went on and he hadn’t arrived. With the window allowing you to escape into thought, you were left to think about the last couple of days, and specifically, the last time you were in here:

You were sitting with him on his bed. You had asked if you could talk about anything other than the world you two lived in now, and surprisingly, he obliged. It was nice. Sometime later, he had finally opened that locked drawer.

You heard him suck his teeth, what he was getting seemed lost, which allowed you to take a closer peek inside.

There was a picture of a woman. The first wife? The only real one? You couldn’t tell and you wouldn’t ask, it would have been too much. You didn’t even get a good look at the woman anyway— part of her face was covered and he was fast. But he saw your eyes, so you decided to take note of the books you caught a glimpse of, pretending it was the only thing you saw. You try to think of something to say… It did make sense he was a reader, at least even mildly if that was all it was. The way he describes his ideals, his persuasiveness, his diction— it impressed you, even if you disagreed with a lot of it. It was almost ironic that the only cover you saw was of a dictionary, the more valuable ones probably hidden under. “Is that where you get all your big boy words from?” You asked.

“Some of them,” he joked back, composing himself.

It was strange to almost catch him off guard. It was so unlike him to allow it, but what happened next felt even more surprising.

Whatever he got from the drawer was enclosed in his hand. He put the free one on top of the other as he started, “Now… I don’t want you thinking I’m growing soft on you. I just thought you deserve it because—” and then his voice fades. Even Negan, the ever curse-filled wordsmith, was finding it hard to describe in any other way that he was pleased with something as absurd as you not trying to escape anymore. He knew you would probably think that was the only reason for a gift, but then he opted for something that even you couldn’t help but know was equally true, “You don’t seem to proactively hate me anymore. You’re here. I appreciate it, so I wanted to,” he says sincerely. “That’s all.”

Negan opened his hand, resting the piece in your palm— it was a locket; lovely and rusted floral engravings all over it.

You felt sad that you thought it was beautiful, and even worse for knowing the reasons why he was giving it to you. No wonder his voice had faltered.

You remember the soft shock and awe on your face, how you said thank you and how your face felt so hot when you said it, how he asked you to turn, and how you looked at him from behind you after he put the piece on. He was so close and it felt like he was coming closer. You don’t remember if that part was real, but you can see it so clearly that it must have been. Unfortunately, the only thing you remember for certain is that knock at the door that sent Negan away to handle whatever was going on downstairs.

Had you almost let him kiss you? Would you have liked it? Are you the most deplorable person for even thinking that while Daryl was somewhere else locked up at the time?

“I see they delivered my message.”

You return from your daze, your startle leaving as soon as it comes.

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in. The door was unlocked.”

“I knew the meeting was gonna go longer than expected; thought you might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to you, “which I see you did, and no—“ you were getting up from his bed, “it’s fine.” Negan sets Lucille near the door. He walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of his bed as well. There is a bit of distance between you two.

“You know, I came back the other day,” he informs, “I was actually going to talk to you last night, but then I heard you tried to leave. Again.” His eyebrows furrow, “We still on that?” He asks. “Thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

“But after Carl—“

“—Carl,” he interjects, “came here all by his badass self, and for that, I did not lay even my pinky fuckin’ finger on him.” His hand goes to his chest, “I even took him home like a gentleman. And after I got here and found out they put you in a cell without supper, I had you back in your bed before midnight yesterday, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Your incredulity is hidden under the softness of your voice as you say it, but it’s cracking.

“As a heart attack. It’s your ex-people who don’t listen. At least I was nice this time.”

You sigh heavily, docility officially fading. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “That’s hard to believe. Especially if you were gone for most of the day. I know what that means. You had whatever the fuck your version of fun is.”

He grits his teeth, holding his words back. You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the back talk, and you especially shouldn’t be saying anything after the night you had yesterday, but he allows it.

This time.

Of course, he didn’t like you leaving, but he rather that it was Daryl who escaped than you. And based on the bruises: one on the side of your head, one high on your shoulder— he imagines you might have gotten pushed against a wall— and the light ones that littered in a couple of spots on both your arms— he could tell his men must have been rough with you as they brought you back. He didn’t like that; therefore, he lets you quip. Someone would be getting their own bruises for it some time later anyway. He would take your smartass mouth out on them to cover for it.

“Maybe,” he finally says. “Nothing was undeserved though.”

You breathe in, the back and forth was no use. “What happened yesterday?” You asked, losing the sarcasm. Your eyes peered into his for honesty, hoping to skip the sly replies and get to the truth. “Just tell me what happened at home.”

Home. You knew better than to use that word. In fact, you have just stopped using that word. He let out an exasperated laugh, but skipped the lecture. “You want the truth? Or just the SparkNotes?”

You roll your eyes lightly. You probably don’t even notice you did it. Despite the situation being discussed, it makes Negan’s head turn endearingly— your tone of voice, the things you say, the way you react to him… you still don’t realize how fresh you’ve gotten with him, how comfortable. But he sees it.

“Alright. Well, Spencer’s gone.” He reveals offhandedly, replying to your silence.

Your eyes do not widen, you know what gone means. You simply nod and try to not think about how the now-cleaned bat most likely looked before.

“And don’t tell me that you care,” he says, pretending to interject to your continuing silence. “You gotta know he was a small dick nepo-prick, right?”

You bite the inside of your lip, shaking your head slightly. You won’t give in to a cheap joke even if it was pretty accurate, so he beckons you by name, “C’mon, that was funny.”

Still, you give him nothing.

He sighs; taking off his leather; and sits near you on the bed, his hands cupping the ledge. “Thought we were finally over this quiet thing.”

“A lot has happened this week.”

“Like…” he prodes. He would only talk about it if you brought it up.

Your eyes shut tightly before opening again. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to. “You know what. Daryl.”

He states the fact plainly, “Daryl left you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice is fierce now. You can’t believe it. You won’t. “He’s not that kind of person and this isn’t an easy place to get out of— I obviously know that— he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know,” he jeers, “but he did and he didn’t bring you with him. Even though you were found trying to find his cell. That’s some real idiotic bullshit right there, isn’t it? From both of you.”

You glared at him hotly, you wouldn’t give it up, but unfortunately you had no rebuttal. Both of you would just continue on with the same argument, the conversation going nowhere. And not because either side knew they were completely right; in truth, neither of you actually knew what happened the other day. But in this regard, you felt there was no other choice: you believed in Daryl fully.

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

You continue shaking your head, trying to find something to say in retaliation as you feel your sureness withering. Separating you two was the smartest tactic. You now have nothing to hold onto. “He wouldn’t,” you repeat pathetically, “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately it’s not quite enough, so he continues with a rant you know all too well.

“You don’t believe me?” He cups the ends of the bed more tightly, positioning himself closer to you. “When I’m the one who gave you the safest roof? Secure food, clean water, access to all these pretty dresses, which, I know you’ve become accustomed to—” and here it comes— “I saved you!”

Saviors and their “saving,” you sneered at it. What bullshit. “You didn’t save me.”

“But I gave you someone to talk to… Huh?” He taunts, waiting for your response but nothing comes. He uses it to his advantage, “You’re quiet cause you know it’s true.”

But you know something too. He says it before you can.

“Or fuck, maybe I just gave myself someone to talk to.”

You pretend you can’t hear the earnesty in it. “Stop,” you scoff. “Don’t treat me like I’m special. I was the second choice.”

“I think with my dick sometimes. You’re the only choice.”

You start to shake your head, your face is flushed; scared, hot, and a little bit of something else that you refuse to let out. Then the tears come— the room feels so big and you two are so close and there are so many feelings you’re trying to push down. “It doesn’t matter,” you say wearily, “You took me. And you took him. You hurt him, I saw his face.” Your voice begins to tremble, almost in unison with the tears that peak out on your eyelids. “And that outfit you put him in. He didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know you’re not happy… What about the other night?”

You ignore him, shaking your head: “You hurt my friends.”

“What about the other night?” He persists, his voice slowly growing louder. “What about every time I let you sit in on my meetings? What about how you have your own room? What about how I actually talk to you?”

“You let him get hurt—” the tears start to fall, there is a quiver in your voice but you still match his near shout, “And you almost killed Carl—”

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

“The baby won’t have a father, Negan!”

His voice is low and grim as he demands you to “Stop. Now.” Negan grabs the sides of your neck as he says his next line, it comes out brisk and harsh and heavy like his touch as his hand wraps around your neck. “I knew you lied to me.”

Your voice is hushed, feeling his lightly pressed thumbs on the front of your throat as you speak shakily, “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but did you hear yourself right now?” He pauses, allowing you a second to let it sink in. “You just fucking proved it.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. The baby, you had said. Fuck.

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

And he did. Brave Maggie. Clever you. That was his reason number one.

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

Another tear falls and his thumb presses its pad under your eye, spreading a tear on your face as the next one comes down.

“Negan…” you say. It’s a mix of a warning and a plea but you can’t tell for what, both fear and fire mix together because of his proximity. His touch and stare was dangerous, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was pleased he caught your slip up, thrilled to see you cry, but there was also something about it— his touch, his eyes— that was equally intoxicating. There was something more tender there as well, something you didn’t want to turn away from, he wasn’t as rough as you thought. Nonetheless, your answer to these conflicting feelings are ones of neglect, you stay your course. “You’re a bad person,” you tell him.

“Please,” he whispers back, “just stop.”

His eyes glaze over your features with an intent look you’ve only seen once before, it was that other night in fact. It’s almost gentle, but maybe it’s just pity, so you don’t let it stop you. “But you are.”

“Stop,” he pleads, then it’s hushed, “just stop…” he says, “just stop.” Then he starts coming closer. “Tell me to stop.”

And you know you should get up.

You should, you should, you should, you know it but— you don’t.

You breathe into it.

His lips latch onto yours; your heads tilt; you lock perfectly.

Everything after happens fast, the instantaneous mess of it all: he waited and waited, and of course he would. He was waiting for you to see it, to feel it. He thought the other night was the breakthrough, but no, it was tonight, it was how you didn’t back away just now.

His hand goes lower on your leg, nearing your knees so he can get under your dress, trailing up your thigh, reaching the inner side that’s pressed up to the other one.

His hand on your neck brings you in closer, traveling up to under your chin and jaw, holding you so tight, but so sweetly. All you felt was surprise. He slips his tongue in, it's deep and intense. He brings a velvet warmth that you’d never expect from him. It was paradoxical; a fiery heaven of a feeling.

He starts rubbing your clit over your panties, kissing his way up to your ear as he does so to ask, “When’s the last time someone’s fucked you?”

Your lips are parted, but you cannot speak, so he continues.

“Daryl never did, did he?” He asks in a muffle, continuing to kiss and kiss. “Who was before him?”

Again, no verbal response, but your breath does hitch at his touches. He continues to draw circles, your wetness now slowly dampening the material, making it easier for his finger to place itself between your folds, so he dips his hand under the band. That and his whispering makes you feel a kind of spark that shoots all the way down to where his fingers are touching. The first press of his thumb without any material in between forces a sudden heat to rise that instantly causes a flush of liquid to slip down your hole, it feels messier than it actually is until his fingers go lower spreading it everywhere. You were much wetter than you thought, and you can’t help how good it feels, how easily you’re responding to it.

Negan calls your name, holding in every cocky reply he wanted to give about how wet you are— he needed an answer to his question first. So he looks you in the face, making sure he has your full attention, “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” His words are meant more genuinely than his tone implies. “Not at all during any of this?”

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

He laughs pitifully, he doesn’t mean it rudely, but he just can’t help it. A touch-starved baby at the mercy of his fingertips? “Well, god-damn.”

He felt like a rich man.

He begins to kiss your lips again, now pumping his fingers into you. Your walls tighten. It’s only two, but they’re his. It’s new and exciting. His kiss makes you lean into the bed, the force of his head and tongue going deeper into your mouth guiding you to lay flat as his fingers still play.

“I hope you know how fucking soaked you are,” he finally says. “You need it so bad that it feels this damn good with me only touching you like this?” You can’t help the way your body jerks up and he can’t help but be smug about it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your eyes grow vicious at his grin, you almost want to hit him, but you can’t. All you can do is suppress your moan into a quiet whine. He’s so magnetic— his touch feels forbidden but so right; his voice so alluring; and his midas touch pulls you deeper and deeper into a trance, you might as well be turning into gold. Other than the involuntary reactions your body makes as his fingers continue going into your hole, now slowly going in and out as his eye gloss over your body in your favorite dress that you wore the most, you’re left paralyzed; subjected to following his lead. Wherever he wanted to go next, you’d let him.

He takes his fingers from inside of you and you look up quickly. You made sure not to whine at the loss of contact but your eyes couldn’t hide your dismay. All he did was smile and quickly lick away the wetness.

“Just takin’ this off,” he tells you as his hands cross over to the ends of his white t-shirt, slipping it off and onto the ground, one of those small rope chains hitting his chin as he does so.

It was only his shirt but you’re struck by him: to see more of his ever present sun-kissed skin felt almost godly. He was pretty lean, not too lanky like his stature, but not too broad either. Light curves of muscles adorned his chest and shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen were slightly hairy, a tattoo placed on the upper right side and you finally saw the other tattoos placed on his upper arms more clearly. They looked nice on him. He was so handsome. You felt more wetness peeking out from down below. He looked so big above you.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” That typical snark still laced his voice, but there was a genuinity to it as well. He wanted you to like what you saw; to like him.

His words make your face hot, eyes casting off to the side. It was easier to talk to him when you were mad at him, when it was about home, even just small talk about the Sanctuary; this felt… different. Just like the other night.

You had almost already forgotten that his charm worked this way too; in a kinder way— when his eyes are wide, when his smile is soft, when he calls you sweet names without the irreverent, quip-filled pretenses.

It made you have all the words on the tip your tongue: how handsome and sexy you could say he is, how much you liked his tattoos, even all the greys that littered his hair and beard l, or how, if you had to admit it, you liked that dumb shit-eating grin of his, but all you can do is lightly smile, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at your bashfulness. You finally nod. “Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes, “maybe.”

He starts undoing his belt with a laugh of his own, “Oh I know you’re a fuckin liar if you think I’m a maybe.”

As his pants drop to the floor he takes each hand and places them over your shoulders on the bed to ask, “May I take off the lady’s dress?”

Your eyes widened, your open mouth only letting out a sweet, surprised, and whispered, “Huh?”

“What? Didn’t expect me to be a gentleman?”

You try to compose yourself, calm the fire you feel all throughout your body, and pretend you haven’t already given in completely right when he kissed you. “I just didn’t expect it would be all this slow.”

He laughs inwardly, glad to see the personality he came to know come back after all that happened these past two days. “Just give me a moment,” he jokes back. “You think I’m gonna waste seeing the reaction of you watching my cock spring out just so I can shove it in fast? ” He comes closer, his voice lowers now, “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re just some doll or a fuck-piece.” The groundedness of his voice is something you’ve never heard before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already stated that I see you. And truly, I think you’re damn gorgeous.”

Your eyes are stars. How can you even react? He thinks you’re gorgeous and you’re taken aback. “Thank you,” is all you can quietly say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with eyes that have never looked so honest, so soft. You get lost in them and he has to pull you back, returning to his question, “May I?”

You nod, quick and excitedly, “You can take it off, Negan.”

He grabs your hands and stands you up. You look up at his face and his fingers move to the ends of your dress, pulling it over your head.

The tips of his fingers trace your chest and stomach lightly, delicately touching your skin as if it’s porcelain. He grabs your waist and travels up to take off your bra, then pushes down your wet underwear.

Negan’s cock stirs at the sight, you’re so pretty and so ready for him. “And I didn’t even need to see it to know I was right.” Just like he said, you’re gorgeous.

Negan pushes down his boxers. Cock springing up. Big and veiny with a red tip. He was itching to get inside of you.

And there you were, eyes and mouth open wide, scared and excited all at once. You were intimidated but surprisingly not scared if it would fit or not. You would let him do anything to get himself inside of you, even if it hurt.

“There it is,” he says, pleased with your reaction. He comes closer to your ear now, pushing you down by the hips against the bed once more. “And trust me, if you like that, you won’t fucking believe how I’ll feel inside of you. Just wait.”

“I…” He wanted to make you feel good, you’re almost speechless. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He says, and then he places himself above you, admiring your glistening folds as he spreads your legs. He already lines himself up, he could look at you forever but he is in no desire to wait any longer. He pushes in. It’s a bit fast, a tight fit, it must have hurt you, but he’s too excited, he can’t help it. He lets out a hum and then a groan at the feeling of your walls enclosing him, and he hears you gasp at his size. He starts to pump into you immediately.

His face hovers over yours. His eyes study your features and he realizes he’s never been this close. Of course he hasn’t, he’s never fucked you, made love to you. He’s just now noticing the way your eyelashes curl, what birthmarks adorn your upper body or not, and how many earrings you may have, but most importantly, he’s noticing the way you react to him: the way your eyebrows might scrunch, or what elicits more pants and squirmings, the way your lips tug tightly against each other or open into ovals and circles depending on what he does, how he thrusts, where he touches, how he moves.

It all makes him slowly speed up. He can’t take it anymore. He kisses your neck and jaw— some kisses sweet, then others that are rough and he begins to pump and pump. Faster and faster.

“Oh,” you choke out before moaning, “ah.”

He continues, loving every facial expression you make until he finally speaks. “Alright. I gave you a break— now tell me how it feels?”

All you can do is whine incoherently.

“Excuse me?” He says more sternly. You know what he wants.

“Negan,” you whine again.

He stops. “Yes?” He asks all too knowingly. “Gonna use your words and tell me how it feels?”

You sigh, taking the hand placed on your hip and moving up toward the ends of your stomach, all the way up to your left breast. You let his hand rest there, feeling the heat and your quickened heartbeat radiating from the area. “You… you feel so good.” Your eyes are watery, “Amazing.”

You got him there, and he almost can’t help but start hammering it in, but then he remembers… he doesn’t have to help it. He could do whatever he wanted, so he does. He squeezes your breast, grinning wildly as he gives you one hard thrust. “Damn right,” he tells you, hearing your yelp before pounding fast.

You had always been quiet but he never quite saw you at a loss for words as you are now. Your mouth is completely open, your eyes threatening to roll back further, making sounds he’s sure you’ve never heard from yourself before. Have you even had it this fast? This big? This great? He knows it couldn’t be. And he’s the one who gets to show you. His eyes gloss over you with pride at the thought.

He grabs your chin to get you to look at him, “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You moan. You weren’t used to this. Your eyes roll back completely as he pounds into you with eye contact.

It makes him groan loudly, his jerks into you, letting out his own moan from the sight. “Oh fuck, baby. Don’t play with me.”

You give in, force yourself to speak, you can’t let this end. “You, Negan!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” It’s so hard to speak, it comes out so pathetically.

“Who's making you feel like no one else?”

“You, Negan, it’s you!” Your moan turns into a pant, “It’s you, only you.”

He comes closer, his nose touches yours. His movements slow, but they don’t stop. He’s rocking into you now. “Only me?”

You don’t even think, “Who else? It's only you.”

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

He laughs cockily, “So Daddy’s making you feel this good?”

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

You feel the groan he makes travel right to your clit, making it throb.

He kisses you, the corners of your lips to your cheek and neck and collarbones and back up again.

He restarts his pumping into you but his head remains close to yours. You decide to wrap one of your arms around his neck, pulling his hair, and the other hand travels down his back, holding him close.

Negan breathes you in, his head near the crux of your neck, hearing every little sweet sound you make that he’s never heard before. It all drives him wild, but then his eyes open. A question comes out that surprises you both: “Am I ruining your life right now?” He quietly asks.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say, breathing heavily from his touches, your eyes are still closed.

“I think it does.”

“You make me feel like no one ever has…” The bliss you feel from his current soft strokes and touches making it hard to speak, your voice is so light. “At least I got to experience it.” You open your eyes now, fingers tracing the cross drawn into his arm, “At least I got to see the real you.”

Your eyes say more than your words do. There’s a yearning and a sadness, an answer to what feels right in this moment, but an insight that there are doubts that could creep up later the more that you think about it.

“Just keep going,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You want to see him, you do see him. His head connects with yours again, and you moan into each other's mouths as he keeps pumping. Your legs come up to his hips and you’re not afraid to be loud anymore, to tell him how good it feels, how much you like him.

He takes your hands and places them over your head, crossing his fingers with your. It’s so pure, so lovely even when he’s going so hard down below. You hear your breaths heavy and your bodies slapping and the bed shaking.

You think about his skin, and his scratchy beard against yours, and the way you hate how he can make you smile by making the most ridiculous and raunchy jokes, and the way you love his voice, the way you can’t help but to like the way he cares for you.

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “I think I can.”

“Come for me,” he encourages, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit. “C’mon.”

“I’m gonna come,” you repeat, edging yourself on. Bucking up at his thrusts and his fingers.

“You can do it. Be a good girl. Do it for me.”

You swear the fireplace blazes louder and bigger, lighting up the whole room as you yell out, moaning once more as you orgasm.

Negan finally breaths out after, holding in for so long, and comes after you. His hands place themselves flat on the bed and he pushes in fast, riding out the high.

He scoops you up immediately, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go.

You two stay there for a moment until you look up. His hand caresses your face, “What is it?”

“I…” you were embarrassed to admit that you weren’t ready for it to all be over yet. “Can I ride you?”

A wiley smile appears on his face. He has to admit, he’s a little shocked you’re ready to go again, but he’d never turn it down. “Well, of course you can, babygirl.”

He flips you over, completely ready, but instantly, you become hesitant, almost overwhelmed. He was the world, not you, yet you were now above him. All the allowance to touch him anywhere you want at your disposal.

He puts his hands under his head, arms flexing. An ever wide smile present as he waits for you to begin. “You asked for it. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes grow excited again, deciding not to hold back, and you start to rock against him. You place you hands on his chest, feeling him up, touching his biceps, hands going over his tattoos— you could stare at them, at him, for hours. You honestly think you’d lick his whole body if he’d let you. And of course he probably would. To feel big and proud and irresistible while you look like a little desperate freak? You wouldn’t even have to ask him twice. Thinking about it and about how full his cock is making you feel, stretching and reaching all the right places, makes you moan and whine. You bucked your hips wildly, humming and giving him “mmms” because of how yummy it feels. You could do this forever.

“Ah- uh- Negan,” you moan and your stomach caves as you whine again and you hurl forward, continuing to rock but your pace is faltering. It’s becoming too hard and Negan can tell so he takes you by the hips, helping you move. First continuing to let your grind and then pushing you up and down his shaft so you can bounce on him. You push yourself up again, hand on his chest, pushing against it and you bounce along with his help. This was fun. You try to go faster and faster. It felt like being a kid on a playground.

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at who you’re fucking, sweetheart.”

So you do, and moan at the sight of him, “Ohmygod,” you say. “You’re so handsome, Negan.”

He's so proud of you. Enjoying your actions, enjoying your noises. He groans as he sees your breast bounce and it makes you squeeze against him.

“Good girl,” he coos, “finally listening when you’re spoken to, about to make yourself come on daddy’s cock again.”

He starts to rub your clit again and you continue to bounce. It almost hurts because of how overstimulated you’ve become but you don’t tell him to stop. Your hands come to reach the headboard, helping you bounce harder. He tells you again how much of a good girl you are, how he loves that you’re not stopping, then he tells you how dirty and desperate you are for wanting him again after he already made you come. But he’s obsessed. This is all he’s ever wanted since the day he brought you here. His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and breast and back down again. There is nothing more he wants than to fuck you or for you fuck him.

You look down. You both notice your necklace still wrapped around your neck, almost nearing between your breasts, bouncing along with all of you. It reminds you of why you're here, why he gave it to you. It makes you have the realization he had… Was he ruining your life? Were you ruining your own? But how could you be when it all feels this good? It was completely screwed up, but everything felt so magnificently brilliant. His touch is everything, his voice is everything, his body is everything. It makes your hips stutter, it makes you moan, and at last, it makes you come again. You ride your high, going and going and going until you fall into his chest. His hands come to hold you tight thereafter.

Unthinkable bliss is all that is felt for a long moment… then… your head turns to the window. You remember what is out there and what isn’t in here.

A tear falls down your cheek and he realizes what’s happening when it falls onto his shoulder.

It hurts him now. To see you cry. It’s not fun anymore. You feel it, yes. You see what he saw, it’s true. But you aren’t really his wife. You’re nothing that is his at all. You both know that as well.

It takes you a long time to speak, you have to force yourself, but you do. “You have to let me go now.” You say it sternly but there is a sadness to it; a small part of you wants to not mean it even though you completely do, even though you do wish to stay here, to be enveloped by his embrace— you simply cannot forget.

“Mm,” he shakes his head, remaining leveled, “you know too much.”

“I barely know anything,” you say. “And not that anything I do know matters. Knowing the way around the Sanctuary isn’t going to help anyone when I know there is no way we could actually get in…. And what’s more important anyway is that I’m not changing my mind and you’re not either.”

“I’m not.”

“And I can’t. I wouldn’t. And they’re not going to. Never…. And if some of them die…” A whimper almost leaves you but you manage to swallow it, “I have to be by their side, Negan. I can’t only hear about it. I… I can’t see it next to you.”

His lips are pressed firm, his jaw is fixed and tight, almost like he’s grinding down on his teeth. The breath he takes through his nose could be a heavy sigh if he opened his mouth, but he doesn’t. He keeps it all in.

You words and their weight hang in the air for a moment before he finally speaks: “One of my guys that watches the armory doors has a shift that ends at 6:00 am… but at 5:50 I’m going to come up to him and tell him he gets off 10 minutes early that day, that I’ll wait for the next person to come.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, your confusion spirals before he keeps going. “It’ll be fucking weird, but he’ll look dumb as shit if he questions me, so he won’t. Then when he’s out of sight, I’ll leave. The next person is coming right at 6. That’s all you get. 10 minutes. A little less really.”

Your eyes round slowly as the stun continues to sink in. He’s… letting you leave.

“You take one gun and one knife. Just one. Don’t make it noticeable. I’m going to check. Then you go out of the back door that’s inside.” He didn’t have to tell you the way. “It should be easy, I know you’ve tried it before.”

You look down, taking in all he says, but then he turns you face to meet his, “If anyone sees you, I’m gonna have to make a show of it when they bring you back. Not what I want. But if I get there before you get out, maybe 5:58, just cause I’m an asshole, just to see you one last time… And if I do, I’m gonna turn you around and you’re stayin’. Fair?”

You nod. It’s small and light. You don’t question any of it, you can’t. “8 minutes.” You respond.

“8 minutes.” His voice is neutral, but underneath there was a tinge of solemnity to it. “8 minutes,” he says under his breath.

“What about now?”

“Now?” He asks. He didn’t think about it. He assumed you would want to go after this, after you got what you wanted. “Well,” he turns to his nightstand, “right now it’s half past 10.” He stares at you for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. This whole moment has felt so quiet, both eerie and gentle. You still weren’t used to the latter from him, even after what just happened. “You can go if you want. Sleep in your bed for one more night, or…” he stops, “You can stay with me, if you’d like.” His sigh is short and whispered but you both hear it, you feel its weight. “It’s your choice.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Your eyes trail all of his face and the arm that is still holding your own, adorned with all the tattoos and skin you had just fallen for. You wanted to study them and hold onto him forever. And his eyes: they said so much— there were so many little inflections, ones that you had finally read, and so many others you’ve yet to decipher. You desired to know him, but you had to go, so all you decided to do was to hold him. For now, you chose to stay, and hoped that your embrace would transfer the fact that the only reason it would be hard to leave is because of him and only him. You would remember this forever. “8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

You close your eyes tight and nuzzle into his chest, A peace you had never known in the Sanctuary finally subsumed you. You feel free to finally tell him, “Thank you. I really do miss home.”

Home. There it is again. There was no malice in the way you said it, but there was still a pang from your melancholy words that made his heart throb. You missed home. And as peaceful as you looked, and as safely as you held onto him, your words reaffirmed that home was not here and it was not with him— no matter how you looked, and no matter the fact that you were allowing him to hold you for the night, to call you his. In the end, you were not.

He had to finally accept it.

“8 hours till 8,” are your last words until you finally drift to sleep. This would be your last and most tranquil night here. To you, it felt right, almost harmonious, albeit sad. This is how it was and how it was meant to be. You needed it.

But to him, it’s shattering. He doesn’t repeat the phrase back this time because, for once, he has nothing to say. The fire glow of the night has now withered into darkness.

You won.

He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

[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?”

[drewmorg4n]

chapter 22 is up…

[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

[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.

[virginsexgod69]

❝ Video Star — ✩❞

pairing (Season 7) Negan Smith x f!Reader

cw smut, unprotected p in v, slight humiliation, pussy slapping, bow jobs, name calling/ pet names, sex tapes, porn photography?

summary You and Negan have some fun with a digital camera you found on a run.

note ahh this is my first time writing for negan, so i hope it's okay... jdm is just tooo fine. i have wild thoughts whenever he's on screen 🫦

1.5k words

...

"Smile!" you said before snapping the photo, taking Dwight off guard. The picture was blurry and unfocused and due to the flash, he was squinting and not even looking at the camera.

"The hell?" he questioned looking at you crazy. "It's a camera, duh. Found it on a run," you explained. He walked off in an annoyed huff leaving you wondering what crawled up his ass and died. You continued walking about the sanctuary taking pictures of unsuspecting people.

"Laura! Say cheese," you prompted the blonde woman as she approached you. She rolled her eyes and held her hand up to the camera, affectively ruining the picture.

"Negan wants to see you," she said. You turned off the camera and looped the strap around your wrist before heading toward his room. What is was he wanted, you had no clue. Your relationship with the man in charge was an odd one. Toeing the line between wife and solider, you had no clue where you stood. Sometimes he sent you on runs, other times he spoiled you with little treats so you wouldn't have to spend any of your points. Once, when he called you in to have a glass of 30 year old scotch with him, the two of you ended up fucking in a drunken haze which lead to regular hookups. You knocked on the door once you arrived and waited patiently for him to let you in, wondering what he wanted and hoping it was to hook up.

He opened the door, revealing him leaning against the door frame in his white t-shirt with Lucille in hand. You stood there nervously, not knowing what to say or what mood to expect from him.

"You just gonna stand there lookin' stupid or you gonna come in?" He asked. He had such a way with words. You stepped into the large room and let him lead you to the couch by the small of your back. You sat in the chair facing the couch he took a seat in.

"Got a little somethin' for ya," he said with a wolfish grin on his face. You relaxed a little as he seemed fairly happy.

"What is it?" you asked, excitement lacing your voice. He reached behind his back and tossed a ball of white fabric at you. You held it up and revealed it was a sheer, lace babydoll dress. Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized that he expected you to put it on.

"Um...could you look away while I change," you asked shyly.

"I've seen you naked, been inside you, but you don't want me to see you change?" he mocked.

"Neeegaan," you whined. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, but covered his eyes with his hand nonetheless. You made quick work of stripping off your clothes, including you underwear, and put on the sheer number. It was a bit small. It struggled to contain your breasts and stopped at your mid-upper thigh, but to Negan, it added to your sex appeal.

"Goddamn, baby. You look fuckin' hot!" He said as he admired you. It was so sheer it barely left anything to the imagination and the lacy parts made you look angelic.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you teased with newfound confidence brought on by Negan's words. Then you remembered your digital camera. "Here." You tossed the camera to him. He caught it and smirked when he realized what it was. A lustful look washed over his eyes as he turned the device on.

"On your knees," he ordered using his leader voice. You quickly and eagerly obeyed him, which only made his dick harden in his pants. He walked over to you and grabbed you jaw in a large hand, tilting it up to look at him before snapping a picture.

"Just look at you. My pretty little doll." And that's exactly what you felt like. His pretty little doll. His to dress and pose and fuck however he wants. It made you wet, giving him full control over you like this.

"Take those panties off." Your body was hot with lust and shame as you slid the moistening garment off your body.

"Get on all fours." You did so and he manually readjusted you to how he wanted. Your ass in the air and back arched with your chin rested on your arms crossed beneath you. The skirt of the dress slid up your body, exposing you to the cool air of the room. Negan snapped a few pictures of your face before moving behind you. You squeaked in shock when you felt his finger slide up and down your slit.

"Damn. So wet and I barely touched you." The humiliation of him taking pictures of your bare pussy only made you wetter. You got on your knees again and turned to face Negan.

"Let's make a sex tape," you suggested as you fiddled with his belt. His signature grin blossomed on his face and he looked down at you with lust filled, hazel eyes.

"Fuck yeah!" He started recording once you got his belt off and pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock. It sprang up, hitting his abdomen and revealing veins you could only see when he was erect. You took him in your hands, licking the precum off his sensitive tip before taking it in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it while slowly stroking the rest with your hands.

"Quit your goddamn teasing and suck my dick," he impatiently demanded. You looked up into the camera with mischief laden eyes as you took the rest of him into your warm mouth, earning a guttural moan from the man. Your pussy fluttered at the sound. Eager to hear it again, you stopped teasing and picked up the pace. But it must not have been enough since Negan grabbed into your hair and began fucking your face at his own rapid pace, ignoring the way you gagged around his large member and the tears streaming down your pretty face.

"That's it. Takin' me so good doll." Your cunt throbbed at the praise. He was getting close, you could tell by the way he twitched inside your mouth. He groaned as he emptied his white hot load down your throat.

"You did so good baby," he praised as he wiped the tears off your face with his thumb. He helped you up off the floor before pushing you onto his bed.

"Show me that pretty little cunt of yours." He spread open your legs and zoomed the camera in on your soaked pussy. Your inner thighs were coated with your arousal, as well. He delivered a rough slap to your pussy, forcing a moan out of you.

"You like it when I hit you, huh?" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he did it again.

"Please Negan! Need you so bad," you begged from beneath him. He ignored your pleas and directed the camera to your breasts, which were barely contained by the babydoll. He pulled them out with little effort. He gave you the camera to hold while he focused his attention to them.

"Such pretty tits," he complimented before nipping your nipple. You squealed in shock and pleasure. He had never done that before, but you liked it. With a flattened tongue, he licked the nipple he bit, soothing it before taking it into his mouth. The scratch of his beard felt so good on your sensitive, bare breasts. He rolled the nipple that wasn't in his mouth between his thumb and pointer finger, causing you to squirm.

"Need you inside," you slurred. Negan pulled away from you r breast with a pop and took the camera back from you.He zoomed in on his own hard-again dick as he lined it up with your sopping hole. You were so wet he slid in effortlessly. You moaned in ecstasy as he finally put out that fire that was burning in you. He didn't hesitate as he started thrusting into you at a merciless pace. The leader couldn't decide if he wanted to focus the camera on the way your cunt swallowed him hole, the outline of his dick protruding through your stomach, your tits as they bounced in unison with his rapid thrusts, or your eyes rolling back in the head of your fucked out face. He zoomed out, capturing the beauty of it all.

"Such a good little fucktoy for me," he admonished. His words brought you closer to the edge as your walls clamped down on his cock.

"Negan 'm gnna," your own moan cut off your nonsensical, fucked babbles.

"So drunk on my cock," he grunted as he filled you with his seed, not waiting for you to reach your own peak. But he didn't have to since you came right after, arching off the bed. He pulled out and zoomed the camera in on your abused cunt. His cum slowly leaked out of your hole and onto the dark bed spread. That was the perfect place to end the video, he decided.

"Hot damn. Were you a porn star before the world went to shit?"

...

not proofread, sorry! thanks for reading! <3

i uploaded this from my phone, so sorry if it's a bit of a mess.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

World of Trouble

Summary: Your Halloween costume leads to a punishment from the man himself...

Pairing: Saviors! Negan x f!reader

Tags: !NSFW! spanking, fingering, p in v penetration, (consensual) punishment sex, Negan being a cocky asshole, orgasm denial, praise kink, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, little bit of cum play ?

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: ok this fic is choppy, janky and just all over the place. I wrote it in a day and a half so it was a complete rush cause I want to get it out for Halloween so yeah, pls be kind

You thought it was funny.

After all, don’t people need a joke in times like this? Isn’t everything bleak enough? That was your reasoning when the idea initially popped into your head for the perfect apocalyptic Halloween costume.

Despite Negan being a man who loves to tell a joke, no matter how risqué or inappropriate the timing, you weren’t sure how Negan would react if he's the butt of one. 

Ever since late August, you had been wavering on the idea. Some nights you were adamant that your choice in Halloween costume would end in you being bound to the fence alongside the dead. 

In the midst of your internal debate, while out on a run, you came across the ultimate sign that set aside your indecision. 

A leather jacket.

It wasn’t an exact replica of Negan’s and it hung loosely on your frame but it was the push you needed. You already had a white t-shirt in your limited closet and you’d pay the few points needed for some black jeans. 

A red scarf was harder to come across but most definitely a necessary piece. Ever since the leaves began to fall off the trees surrounding the Sanctuary, Negan’s red scarf has been making an appearance, tucked neatly in by the collar of his leather jacket.

You had to be inventive, scavenging an old sweater and cutting it up to create a makeshift scarf that at least remotely resembled the original.

And finally, the pièce de résistance. Your trusty companion. Your very own, bootleg Lucille. 

Thankfully barbed wire wasn’t the problem. In the Sanctuary, something like that can be found stored in at least half of the supply closets, hoarded away for the fence or in case the real Lucille needs a quick spruce up.

The real issue was a baseball bat. It wasn’t as if the Saviors were regularly raiding school gyms or stadiums, and so there was hardly any sports equipment for you to choose from.

It was a struggle and eventually, you ended up with a hockey stick that some Savior decided to put into the armoury.

It wasn’t Lucille but hell, it’d have to do.

Everything was ready. You even found some long expired brown eyeshadow and decided to dab some on the bottom of your face so it looks like you have a beard. And so your look was complete, possibly the very first costume to ever exist of your fearsome leader.

And how long did it last?

40 minutes. It didn’t even take a full hour of you strutting around before word got back to Negan. 

When you imagined the impending confrontation, you assumed it would be a lieutenant telling you off as Negan spewed insults over a walkie talkie.

It’s only now, when you hear the low grating noise of Lucille dragging along the ground, growing nearer and nearer, do you realise you won’t be getting off so easily. 

Slowly turning, you bring your hockey stick decorated in barbed wire up to your shoulder, mirroring a pose you’ve seen him do plenty of times.

“Well, ho-ly shit! I don’t know whether I should be smug or freaked the fuck out!” he declares, his gaze wandering down your outfit “you’ve really out done yourself this time, doll”.

You shrug, hoping that if you seem casual about this then he’ll let it slide. “It’s Halloween” you say bluntly, hoping that’s the only excuse you need. 

Some Saviors linger around you both, a mixture of excitement and anticipation radiating from them at your Negan costume and Negan's ambiguous reaction.

“And you thought the creepiest thing you could dress up as is me?” he narrows his eyes at you, subconsciously mimicking your own pose as he lifts Lucille up onto his shoulder. 

You open your mouth to respond but no words come out, a slight sense of dread setting in. A beat of tense silence hangs in the air, thick and charged, as if the whole Sanctuary is holding its breath. 

A deep chuckle cuts through the silence as Negan clasps a hand on your free shoulder. 

“Well, fuck me, I am honored!” he beams “you even smeared some shit on your face so ya look like you got a beard! Now that’s the kind of dedication I like to see from you sorry fucks!”.

He steps away from you, letting his hand drop off of your shoulder as he raises his voice, making sure the others hear.

Relief washes over you. You could feel the tension draining from your muscles at his approval. 

“I love it,” Negan says, his voice growing serious again “but Lucille? Now Lucille here isn’t a big fan of copy cats and that limp dick excuse of a Lucille you got hanging over your shoulder? That shit just makes her see red”.

Any warmth in Negan’s eyes fade. His brows knit together as his mouth becomes a hard line, replacing any sense of humor. “And she thinks this is worthy of a punishment” he adds.

Fuck. 

Negan doesn’t wait around for your reaction, turning on his heels as he barks for you to follow. You do so hesitantly, knowing there’s nowhere to run and that this is something you’ll unfortunately have to face head on.

This isn’t the first time you’ve done something daring while living in the Sanctuary. Although, this is the first time you’ve seen him genuinely annoyed. 

Usually Negan has always appreciated your boldness, especially when most of the Sanctuary’s residents are too scared to even look him in the eye. In the past, you’ve tried to poke and prod at Negan’s authority by complaining about sanitary products costing points or the lack of blankets available to the workers during Winter. 

Grimacing to yourself as you follow behind him, you wonder if you’ve finally taken it too far.

Marching up the flights of stairs to his private quarters, you try to ignore the confused looks of others as two Negan's pass them by. 

Despite knowing you’re in for a world of trouble, a small smirk tugs at your lips, glad to have brought some sense of silly excitement to the Sanctuary.

You try not to show your shock as he brings you to his bedroom, making sure the door is locked behind you. You only take a few steps into the room before you stop and simply loiter there, watching as Negan sets Lucille down by the doorway to the ensuite before going inside. 

“Y’know there are no actual rules about impersonating so I don’t think you have the grounds to punish me” you attempt to defend yourself, setting your fake Lucille against the wall.

“Talking back won’t help your case,” Negan calls out.

You scoff out a laugh as you get distracted by his room. A part of you can’t help but wonder why a man like Negan would want half the things that litter the area: trophies from other people’s past glory, a vase, a houseplant.

“Yeah well, it’s just some fun, it’s—“ suddenly Negan’s there, right next to you with his gloved hand too close for comfort.

He cups your face, squishing your cheeks together as his other hand brings a wet cloth to your face.

“And get that shit off your face,” he does the job for you “my beard ain’t that fuckin’ bad”.

You stay quiet, not wanting the embarrassment of trying to speak with your cheeks squished and a cloth rubbing at your face.

Once he’s satisfied your face is clean, he simply drops the cloth to the floor. Negan looks down at your attire “Well hot damn, good news is my style is incredibly sexy… but no matter how hot you look, thanks to me, you know I can’t let your shit slide anymore, sweetheart”.

You frown, a challenging look in your eyes.

“I’m serious, you’re pissing off too many Saviors with the shit you pull,” he yanks off his scarf, letting it land on the couch “and now, with this, you’ve forced my hand”. 

Next, Negan takes off his leather jacket, inadvertently showing off some tattoos as he delicately places it on the back of his armchair. 

“You know I gotta give you some kinda punishment… but that don’t mean it can’t be enjoyable for the both of us” he continues.

The smirk on his face says it all. 

And just like that, it all makes sense. Of course he would bring you up to his bedroom and not to the cells when this is what he has in mind.

You shrug, some of your spirit returning in the form of a playful smirk “What? You gonna spank me?”.

“You want me to?” He unbuckles his belt and slowly pulls it through the loops of his jeans, the material hissing as it moves. 

Negan has never been a man to bluff.

You try to act nonchalant but you can feel your cheeks heating up. “Maybe,” you play it coy “will you iron off half my face even if I say yes?”.

Now it’s Negan’s turn to shrug. “That depends, this a trick or a treat?” he asks.

Normally you’re not this bold. Maybe leather jackets give people unlimited confidence? That seems to be the only solution as you walk over to his couch and place both hands on the armrest. You bend forward just enough for Negan to see your intent.

You glance back over your shoulder, your eyelids at half mast as you throw him a sultry look. Negan keeps his eyes locked on to yours, his boots heavy on the floorboards as he walks up behind you.

The leather of his glove growls as he places his hand on the centre of your back and pushes you down further. 

There’s no point in ignoring how your pussy throbs as he makes sure your head is against the couch cushions and your ass is up in the air, the armrest providing the perfect support.

“That's what I thought“ Negan praises, his hand slowly making its way down to your ass. 

“And I thought I was getting punished, not a yoga class” you goad.

Negan doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even wait or let the anticipation of his response build. He goes straight for it, smacking your backside hard enough to leave a handprint. 

A gasp leaves your lips, the sensation more stingy than it is painful. You have little time to prepare yourself as Negan wraps his belt around his hand.

“Just relax, baby,” he instructs softly, his tone in complete contradiction to his actions “and be grateful I’m letting ya keep your jeans on… for now”. 

Despite your thin layer of clothes acting as a barrier, the belt bites into your flesh. The sound of the belt whistles through the air before meeting your ass with a sharp crack. He does it over and over again, alternating between cheeks. 

You hiss at the sudden heat, your body clenching as the pain morphs into a dark, intoxicating pleasure.

“Well, damn!” Negan exclaims approvingly, momentarily stopping “you’re taking this like a trooper, ain’t ya?”. 

He pauses and you wonder if he’s waiting for a response. You swallow, your throat dry from the amount of gasps you’ve let out in such a short span of time. 

But before you can answer, you feel it. Not the belt. Not his hand delivering another slap. This time, it’s him; proud and unabashed as he brings his clothed crotch right against your ass. 

Suddenly, the belt didn’t seem too hard.

“I think it’s about time I see my work of art” he declares, pressing his hips forward to make sure you feel his entrapped boner.

For a man so brutal, Negan’s touch is gentle as his fingers glide around the waistband of your jeans. He lets his touch linger there for a few moments, waiting for your sign of approval. 

You’re well aware of Negan’s ego and how he wants to know just how badly you need him. He yearns to see that raw desire. As much as you want to banter back at him again, your brain fogs with need and you push back against him, your sore ass rubbing against his bulge.

He responses with a grunt as his hands slowly leave your waistband, too distracted to continue. Negan has something else in mind as he gives a slight tug of your hair, gesturing for you to stand upright.

You don’t even have time to turn to face him, your ass still snug against the tent in his pants as he roughly pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

His hand fists your hair, holding you in place as he devours you. Desperately trying to keep up, your breaths come out in short, sharp pants between desperate kisses.

Negan keeps his hand in your hair, using it to manoeuvre you away from his couch and over to the bed. The only time he takes his hands off of you is when the back of your legs hit against the soft bedsheets. 

The second you’re able, you take off your leather jacket, watching Negan follow suit as he begins shedding his clothes.

Your jeans are the worst to take off, the rough denim scratching it’s way across your sensitive backside as you quickly discard it. Once you get to your bra and panties, you stop, wanting Negan to take off the rest.

Negan doesn’t have the same sense of modesty as you, not stopping until he’s completely bare. Sitting back on the bed, you bite your lower lip and shamelessly dart your eyes across his body. 

The dark curls that cover his chest, the tattoos that scatter across his body, the happy trail of body hair that lead you lower, to where he stands erect and proud.

You gulp.

Negan joins you, kneeling on the bed in front of your body as he studies you. With a hum, he shakes his head. “No, this won’t do,” he tuts.

As the words hit you, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you. Whatever excitement that was evident in your face slowly drops away and you do nothing but blink up at him, waiting for Negan to continue.

“Yeah, I’m gonna want to fuck you in the leather jacket,” he elaborates “now that would be hot as all hell and I ain’t letting that jacket go to waste on my bedroom floor”.

You rolls your eyes as you let out a breath. “You fucking asshole” you huff, well aware that Negan was being vague on purpose just to toy with you. 

He chuckles, unable to deny your accusation. “Careful baby, you start insulting me like that and you’ll be getting another spankin” he threatens playfully, though you know he’s being serious. 

Negan leans down, almost hovering over you as his hands gently touch your bra straps. 

“But first, you got more layers to shed” Negan lets each strap fall to your arms before his fingers deftly work the clasp of your bra, the metal giving way easily. 

Without looking where it lands, Negan lets your bra drop to the side. You feel utterly exposed to his hungry gaze, watching as he drinks in the sight of you. 

A groan leaves him as he reaches out, his calloused hands gently cupping the weight of your tits. His thumbs brush over your pert nipples, making your squirm at the contact. 

“You going to play with my titties all day?” You question, hoping to spur him into action.

“It’s a punishment, doll,” he reminds you, bending to the side to pick up your leather jacket “if I decide all I want to do is stare and watch you finger that sweet little pussy till it’s raw, then that’s what’ll happen”.

“And is that what you want?” You ask, trying to maintain any self control you have. Part of you would actually apologize for your costume if it means getting his dick closer to your pussy.

“Nah, I want you to sit back and really think about what you did,” giving the jacket a quick shake, he spreads it out over your shoulder “think you can do that for me, darlin?”.

Making sure the jacket is secure over your shoulders, you adjust it to make sure your tits are still in view. “I guess I could try” you reply in a flirtatious tone, scooting back against the pillows.

“On the bright side, even though this is a punishment, I’m still a fuckin’ gentleman,” he says with a proud grin. 

You're quick to notice how his hands inch up past your thighs and towards your panties. Hooking a finger underneath them, Negan gives a slight tug “So I’m gonna need to loosen you up before I fuck you senseless”.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you gently lift your hips. That cocky smile never leaves his face as Negan slowly drags your panties down your legs. In an instant, they’re gone from view and end up on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes.

Negan’s eyes lock onto your core, unable to help himself as he reaches out and parts your folds.

“Fuck, you’re that wet already?” he says it like a question despite the answer being on his fingertips. You bite your lip as his fingers brush against your wet, swollen flesh. 

With a groan, Negan plunges two fingers into your warmth, scissoring them apart to stretch you out. You moan out, your back arching as he sets a steady pace. 

“Y-yes,” you gasp out when the pad of his thumb finds your clit “keep doing that!”.

Negan curls his fingers upward, targeting your g-spot. The look on his face is like a kid at Christmas, completely elated to have his fingers deep in your pussy.

He adds a third finger, pumping them in and out of you, listening to your moans and gasps to gauge how close you are. Leaning down, Negan meets your arched body and nips at your breasts.

His mouth brushes against your skin as he tuts “C’mon now, don’t tell me you’re about to cum already!”.

You nod frantically, hands clutching at the bedsheets “Yeah, yeah I’m ready, I’m gonna—“.

Negan chuckles darkly and before you can reach your high, his fingers slow their pace.

“Oh, I don't know about that," he pulls his fingers out abruptly and gives your clit a light tap with them "you haven't earned that privilege yet, baby". 

Your mind is in a haze as he licks his fingers clean, tasting you. It takes a few moments for your brain to compute what he’s denying you. 

“I…” you begin but you trail off, your throbbing pussy begging for release “Negan, please, I— I get it, ok?”.

His smile softens slightly and if anything, it only makes you more wet. “I know you get it now,” he agrees, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek “maybe, sweetheart, just maybe… if you beg nice enough, I'll let you cum on my cock instead”.

You take his words as a challenge. Throwing out all sense of pride, you babble on “Please! Y-yeah I just, I need you inside of me, please Negan, I’ll be good”.

Every word goes straight to his dick. 

Negan takes a moment to truly savour the sight of you begging and writhing under him, knowing this is some top notch jerking material he can use at a later date. 

"Now that’s what I like to hear" he praises, positioning himself between your thighs. He grips your hips and thrusts into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely.  

Even though the sudden stretch and fullness makes you feel breathless, you practically shout out “Negan!". 

He pauses but only for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. “Shhhhhhh,” he coos, his tone bordering on patronising “best be quiet before you wake up the wives, I’d hate to make those gals jealous”.

With a low groan, Negan begins to move, pulling back almost to the point of withdrawal before slamming into you once more. The leather jacket beneath you squeaks, each thrust pushing you further up the bed.

You can feel every inch of him, the primal yearning to cum on his cock sounding more and more appealing. Negan’s chest heaves as he labors over you, his body glistening as he works up a fine sheen of sweat. 

He doesn’t know where to look. His eyes dart everywhere, trying to take in each part of your body. Negan watches your face, the desperation to cum etched into each expression. Of course he watches your tits too, seeing them jiggle with each thrust he gives you. 

But his favourite part to watch is how well you‘re taking him. To see how your pussy welcomes each inch, letting him go flush against you every single time.

Bringing his gaze back up to your eyes, he pistons into you. “You’re close, I can feel it” he says with a clenched jaw, trying to hold off. 

“Please!” is the first word out your mouth followed quickly by a gasp as Negan goes for your clit again. His thumb rubs firm circles around the sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You inner walls clench desperately around his cock and before you know it, everything crashes around you as you finally cum.

It’s as if your whole world blurs together and all you can focus on is his cock deep inside of you. 

Your pussy spasms violently around him, your vision whiting out as you moan loudly. Negan wants nothing more than to feel your sweet pussy throb around him but he knows he can’t hold off any longer. 

He quickly pulls out and thrusts into his hand to finish. His cock glistens with your juices before Negan unloads a thick load right onto your tits. 

You both pant, taking a brief moment to come down from your respective highs.

“Look at those beautiful titties,” Negan breaks the silence, admiring his handiwork “just when I thought they couldn’t look any better”.

Gently bringing a hand up, you run your finger along one of the lines he’s painted. “If I knew this is what the punishment would be, I would’ve pissed you off a lot sooner” you say breathlessly.

Negan hums as he flops down beside you, his eyes glued to how your fingertips play with his load. 

“Maybe you should’ve,” he replies “or maybe this is a sign that we should have some fun like this more often”.

You bite back your smile “Maybe it’s both?”.

“But y’know I can’t really just be going around screwing anybody and everybody,” he continues, making you pause, unsure where this is going “it’s bad for the image, y’know?”.

Your expression doesn’t change.

Negan takes in your confused look, trying to put the pieces together for you. “I mean, I don’t think the wives would appreciate me screwing around… unless, of course, I was screwing around with another wife…”.

“Oh”.

That’s all you feel as though you can say. A part of you immediately tries to rationalise this, trying to convince yourself that you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here. 

“Goddamn, did I really fuck you that hard?” Negan laughs “I’m asking you to marry me, baby, you should be jumping for joy right now!”.

You sigh, bringing your non-sticky hand up to your face “Negan…”.

“Negan, yes?”.

“Negan, I’m covered in your jizz and you’re seriously asking me this?! Now?!?” You exclaim. 

He stops for a moment, taking in your words. “Huh, ok, good point,” Negan grunts as he gets up, giving you a great view of his ass “I’ll go get some towels and you think about it, yeah?”.

Before you have time to reply, he’s walking into his ensuite “And I want an answer when I come back!”. He disappears into the adjoined room, turning on the light.

You lay back, allowing the pillows to practically consume you. The thought passes through your mind if only for a split second.

It wouldn’t be that bad to be yet another wife, would it? All you’d have to do is look pretty and have good sex… and never socialise with anyone else… and only be seen as one of his wives and nothing more.

You close your eyes, hoping that would prolong the impending decision.

Letting out a long sigh, you curse “Fuck”.