#writer!dean | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

janiehellion · 3 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞 ⋮ 𝔑𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔖𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔥

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

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Age Gap ⋮ Loss Of Virginity ⋮ Smut ⋮ Language ⋮ Angst ⋮ Cunnilingus ⋮ Unprotected Sex

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 6.975 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Virgin Fem!Reader

𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒚: @severesandwichparadise

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖��𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

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.

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