negan x reader where negan starts praising reader in front of others, then punishes them harsher in private making them associate approval with fear, even though they thrived for it before. yurp
a/n: yo great minds think alike, went a bit crazy and wrote 4.5k words. i took a ton of liberties and went nuts so idk if this 100% followed your request butttt here you go jude, hope you enjoy. mwah mwah. also thank youu @twd-bee3 for beta-reading.
pairing: negan x gn! reader
tags/warnings: whump, darkfic, smut, dubcon, angst, sub! reader, dom! negan, reader is negan's pet, degradation, mindbreak, use of belt for whipping, face slapping, hair pulling, boot kink, leather kink, humiliation kink, coercion, thigh riding, boot riding
taglist: @loveregan @twd-bee3 @shtgshdrnit @thewalkingbred @uglylittlelamb
Dumb risk you took, talking back.
You knew better. Heâd disciplined you so well, after all.
Most of all, you knew Negan. You knew not to ever test his limits.Â
A part of you though, the part that horrified you the most, enjoyed pushing his buttons. It petrified you more than your silent growing enjoyment of being his pet.Â
You enjoyed the fear of seeing how far heâd take his punishments. Obviously, during the correction, you regretted disobeying in the first place. Negan never half-assed discipline. Discipline was a tool to teach you a lesson, ensuring that you wouldnât repeat your mistakes.
His discipline on you though, still very harsh, was lighter than the one for his men. While also being harsher than the one for his wives. A well-mixed balance for a person he regarded as a pet.Â
Heâd never burn half your face off like he did with Dwight, he didnât want to put an ugly scar on a face he liked too much to ruin. Still, you werenât as pretty and delicate like the beautiful women he coerced into his bed every night. So it was standard to leave a new fresh set of bruises on your body when you didnât conduct properly. Leaving ugly scars in the process if youâd been especially bad.Â
Your defiance took place when he brought you on a run to pick up requested supplies at Alexandria, which he almost always did when he went to visit the place. Bringing you back to your home to see people you considered your family, knowing youâd never come back, was one of the worst forms of abuse he could inflict on you.
You used to live there after all, not only that, but youâd been part of Rickâs group since almost the beginning. Thatâs why he loved showing you off, showing off how little of your original self was left in the shell of a human you became.Â
Your blank expression, eyes empty of any emotion, brought looks full of pity that were laser-focused on you.Â
The worst part wasnât the stares, you were used to them. You'd get them in abundance back at the Sanctuary. Negan whistling at you the way the owner of a pet would, made even low-ranked workers, the most enslaved out of his people, feel superior.Â
Yet when you received stares full of pity from people who once entrusted you with their lives, people who counted on you. That made you feel far more powerless.Â
You perceived it as you disappointing them, like they realized you were never worth anything. Making them give up on you when you needed help the most. A torture far-worse than whatever your sadistic captor could ever inflict on you.Â
In a sense, people you once wouldâve died for without a second of hesitation abandoning you like you never meant anything to them, was more painful than your arm getting twisted in the wrong direction.
Thatâs how you realized you would never be able to come back to Alexandria. Not due to being kept hostage by Negan. But rather because everyone you cared about forsaken you.Â
So when you had to sit in one of the trucks making its way to your previous home, your stomach twisted in horror, making you feel sick in the process. The nausea got worse when you were violated by pitiful stares, making you feel dizzy from the emotions it brought out of you all at once. You ground your teeth together until your jaw ached.
Your visible distress pleased Negan of course. He loved putting you in situations that would make you have such intense and awful reactions. Enjoying how easily he could torment you without using violence or yelling.
His gloved hand wrapped firmly around your upper arm, squeezing it hard enough to be painful as he looked you over. Even while being absorbed with the task you gave yourself, consisting of examining the dirt on your shoes, you could still feel his stare full of mockery.Â
âI know staring at your own feet is a duty of utmost importance for you, I really do,â He said, voice sarcastic. âBut why donât you go make yourself a little bit more useful? Go check if the inventoryâs accurate.â You could hear the low chuckle he let out while giving you the order.
Checking the inventory involved you interacting with your previous group, having to check lists and such. Asking them where things were if anything was missing. You werenât allowed to speak to them so you were limited to hand motions and head nods. Making his assignment all the more difficult. He loved when you had to struggle to complete a task, it was one of his favorite sights.Â
On top of getting an entertaining scene out of this, Negan also got to make sure your relations with Rickâs community had ceased for good.
You finally raised your head, taking your neck out of its familiar position. Your eyes filled with emotion. Panic. You didnât want to interact with these people.Â
âSirâŠâ You started, nervously trailing off before lowering your voice so no one other than him would hear, âI donât want anything to do with these people.â
That gave Negan a mixed reaction. The owner part of him was thrilled to see youâd fully cut ties with your group. He was the only person in your life now. Besides him, you quite literally had no one.Â
That made him want to reward you, let you stay by his side and once back at the sanctuary pamper you. Order your favorite meal to be made specially for you to enjoy at dinner time, run a bubble bath afterwards even. Maybe spend his entire evening reading you a book while you rested in his arms.Â
Things that would sooth your constant state of fear, make you forget about the horrors you grew accustomed to endure. All with the goal to show you your devotion to him would bring you the one thing you desperately needed. The thing you ached for through years of survival and constant loss. Comfort.
Obviously, if that were to ever happen he'd involve at least some depravity to please his own needs.
But the ruthless leader part of him knew he couldnât let your refusal of following commands slide.Â
So he took one of his gloves off and slapped your face. Hard enough to abruptly jerk your head to one side, leaving a bright red hand-print on the delicate skin.Â
Despite the harshness of his strike, it felt like a mere pinching sensation. Barely getting a reaction out of you. Youâd built a tolerance of sorts. The audience surrounding you seemed to be in more shock at the sight than you were in pain though. Ironic yet unsurprising.
He took a second to acknowledge your lack of a reaction, slightly startled at your resilience before quickly going back to his stern expression. Gripping your face to make you look at him, squeezing it hard enough to make your bottom lip form a pout.
âThis isnât about what you want.â He yelled in your face. âThis is about you being useful for once in your miserable existence instead of wasting oxygen.â He added, the volume of his voice making you flinch.Â
Still, you took the insults like water off a duckâs back. Your dissociative state protecting you from any negative emotions one would normally feel.
âYou do as I ask. Always. You understand?â He pushes on, his voice getting louder.
But it didnât matter. You didnât want to, you were stubborn. So you'd take whatever punishment was coming over this.Â
âSir. Iâm not doing it.â you said. You couldâve kept it there. Simple, concise and most importantly polite. But no. Now it was more than just not wanting to do the task, âSlap me all you want but I ainât doing it.â
He went from frowning to raising his eyebrows, he couldnât help but snicker at your ridiculous statement. Finding your attempt to defy him of all people laughable. Still, he found the sight ever so slightly endearing. Heâd play your games.
âOkay then. You win, you get your way.â He declared, letting go of your face. You didnât believe him for a second, expecting him to punch you in the stomach or something. It didnât happen.Â
He just let you disobey.Â
So you went back to your usual position. Head down and making yourself as small as possible.Â
He let you. Even wrapping an arm around you, his hand squeezing your shoulder. Like he was trying to reassure you.
You knew not to feel relief.Â
With Negan you always had to be on alert. Viewing everything as temporary was your defense mechanism, which is reassuring for punishments but nerve-wracking for rewards and moments where he's merciful.
So you just stood there until it was finally time to go.
Once everything had been picked up from Alexandria, he made you sit on the passenger seat of one of the trucks. Making you sit beside him as he drove.Â
His hand made its way on your thigh, the warmth, and weight of Neganâs hand felt oddly comforting. Once again acting merciful, affectionate.
At that moment you made the mistake of feeling relief. Unconsciously letting out a sigh, unsteady.Â
Tears blurred your vision. You tried your best to not let them spill, it was dangerous to cry in front of the man.Â
Don't show weakness, you thought, repeating the sentence over and over again in your head. But then you felt your cheeks becoming damp.
You broke down. Bending forward, covering your face with your hands so you could shield yourself from the man.Â
His hand moved from your thigh to your back, rubbing it gently. Usually he'd either yell or make fun of you when you had emotional outbursts. But today it was different.
You heard a hoarse whisper above you, âPoor thing, always emotional.âÂ
His hand made its way into your hair, messing the strands. His fingers felt heavy, he was being rough when he rubbed your scalp. Yet to you, it felt soft.Â
When it took you too long to calm down he spoke up again, âNo more tears. I'm here, we're home soon.âÂ
Home. Sanctuary was anything but home. Yet in your tormented state it felt like it.
The drive was long enough for you to cease your tears and calm down, once back to Sanctuary, Neganâs men started unloading.
In the middle of the task though, with you by his side like usual, he whistled. Getting everyoneâs attention. The noise startled you.
Should you be worried?, you asked yourself. Your fear creeped back. Making you shake.Â
Then he pulled on your hair, startling you further. Bringing you right by his side by yanking it.
As he firmly clutched your hair, he spoke up. The high tone of his voice resonated through the open-air space, âI know all of you look down at my pet. I see it.â, he paused, looking over his people as you looked more and more terrified at the sudden attention forced onto you.
âAnd yâknow I get it, it is a pathetic mutt. It's purpose being a lapdog, not my right-hand. No, a lapdog.â He emphasized that last sentence, making your role clear. Then he pulled your hair once more, raising your head so you were forced to look back at the group.
Stares on you, judgment. Scorn. It took everything not to start crying again.
âBut this thing is more loyal than any of you are or will ever be. I've barely trained it, it's already telling me it doesn't want anything to do with Rick Grimes. It might hate his guts more than I do at this point!â He exclaimed.Â
Confusion, from them and you. What was your captor and their leader even rambling about? Were you supposed to take it as praise?
His hand shifted from your head to the back of your neck. You felt the leather of his glove as he compressed the tense muscles there.
âSo remember no matter how superior you feel towards my pet. It'll always be better than you and closer to me.â He finished his speech, keeping it short. Then he ordered everyone to get back to work.
His hand still on the back of your neck he kissed your temple, whispering in your ear, âGood pet.âÂ
So you let your guard down. Expecting him to reward you, he was bringing you to his quarters now. You always got some sort of reward there. Well maybe not always, but you chose to ignore that fact.
You disobeyed today but his earlier public praise and his general fondness of you must mean you'd actually been good. It must mean he was going to recompense your good behavior. So you started feeling giddy.
But then he opened the door of his room and shoved you forward. Almost making you stumble and fall to your knees.
âStrip.â He ordered. His tone serious, he didn't yell or anything, but you could feel his anger.Â
He knew you hated being naked in front of others. You'd always been someone who's insecure about their appearance but everything you went through made it worse.Â
Years of survival made you collect multiple scars. Neganâs abuse added to the collection. You were covered head to toe by evidence of the world being unkind to you. You hated it.
But you did as you asked. You knew better, you were well-aware that not following orders would make what was coming worse.
These days he was kind enough to let you dress normally. No longer forced in soiled rags, you had the privilege of taking off a pair of jeans and a tank top. Now only dressed in undergarments, you kept your back facing him. Fearing what was to come.
You heard him slowly walk behind you, then you felt his breath on your neck. Making your sweat grow cold, your skin forming goosebumps.
His hands made their way on your hips, before crawling higher, the leather tickling your sides. His thumbs pressed deep enough to lodge themselves in-between your ribs as he stilled his hands on your ribcage.Â
Then you felt the brush of his lips on your neck, he was lightly kissing you there. It made your breath grow quicker, your heart hammering in your chest. You felt both terrified, and slightly aroused. You didnât want to come to terms with either reaction. Preferring to feel nothing at all.
You knew this moment of softness would be temporary.
He then got his mouth right beside your ear, âYou know you have beautiful skin.â He whispered. You felt the scratch of his beard on your skin as he chuckled before continuing, âSuch a shame I have to ruin it.â
Then you felt the abrupt kick of his boot behind one of your knees, pushing hard enough to make your legs bend for a moment before you fell down right after. Once you were on the floor he kicked your stomach in, making you squirm before crouching beside you.
His hand full of your hair he spoke up, mouth close to your ear once more, âYou know not to disobey. Why do we have to do this shit again, huh?â In contrast to the merciless grip on your hair and the earlier kick to the stomach you received, his tone felt soft and tender.Â
But then he switched to this harsher tone, the one that you were more familiar with, âAnswer me.â He said, not yelling, but his voice was still stern enough for you to understand this was a warning.
You were trembling now, you always failed to hide your fear during punishments. The dread of what was to come was always too intense.Â
âI just didnât want to interact with themâŠâ You said, voice meek.
The loud smack of the slap that landed on your face indicated to you that this was the wrong answer.
âThis isn't about what you want. You do as I say no matter what, or you get reprimanded. Thatâs the deal.â He said, now almost yelling in your ear. Making you flinch.
If it wouldnât escalate the situation and make the punishment worse you would talk back, youâd tell him that you never agreed to this. Instead, you simply answered with a weak, âYes sir.â Holding back tears. His anger was scarier than the punishments themselves at times.
He sighed, âI wish I didnât have to do this, and I know you know thatâŠâ Then came a pause, a brief silence.
Just for it to be abruptly disturbed by the loud whip of his belt. The leather hitting the middle of your back, making you yelp in both shock and pain. His earlier talk was but a distraction from the sound of him taking his belt off.
Then he yanked you by your underarm, making you stand. âDonât you fucking dare get back on the floor, or Iâll use a whip instead of a belt.â He warned before hitting you once more but this time on the stomach, making you fold in half and whimper in pain.
He walked around you, getting behind you to whip you with the leather. The hits were harsh, the pain sudden.Â
He paced his blows. Taking pauses in-between them, the breaks never the same length. It took everything for you not to kneel and hug your knees. Standing during his abuse felt nauseating, your vision growing blurry. The wait for the belt to come in contact with the sensitive skin of your back felt worse than the actual pain.
As you felt the cold air on freshly opened skin he started walking around you, like a predator waiting for the perfect time to attack its prey.
Then he hit you once more, harder, you bit the inside of your mouth so hard to not scream you felt blood flood. While the copper taste overtook your taste buds you let out a pathetic whimper from low in your throat. Sounding like a wounded animal.
Your back was burning, the pain intense enough to blur your vision. It took everything to not pass out.
Still. You grew accustomed to pain, your reactions were much less intense than they should be.
âYâknow you take this like a champ.â He said, his hands now on your hips. âMaybe I should bring out the whip!â He exclaimed.
In reality this was an empty threat. He might be harsh with his men, but you were his pet. Heâd never do more than what he deemed you deserved. This was purely to make you scared, to see what reactions he could bring out of you.
The threat made you let out a scream of terror, the noise going past your lips before any thought could form in your mind. You broke down in tears, knees threatening to fold under your weight.
âPlease sirâŠâ You sobbed. âIâll be good I promise,â your voice weak and unsteady as you begged for mercy.
âOh youâll be good?â He asked, landing a particularly unforgiving blow on already bruised skin before you could answer, making you scream once more. This time the noise inevitable.
âYesâŠIâll be good. Iâll make it up to you. Please give me a chance to prove myself,â You cried out, desperate enough for mercy to beg.Â
You were tired, your legs aching from standing up through the assault. The skin on your back burning.Â
Youâd do anything to make him stop, you thought. So you got desperate, âAnything but this, I'll do anything to make the pain stop please⊠I'm good, I'll be good for you just pleaseâŠâ You trailed off into pathetic cries.Â
He didn't say anything, pulling a chair out to sit in front of you. He looked deep in thought, like he was considering his next move. Considering what heâd do instead.
Then he grinned, you knew this couldn't be a good sign. He motioned you with his finger to come stand closer to him.
You walked up to him, standing in front of him. You were still only covered by underwear so you wrapped your arms around your figure. The embarrassment of being almost completely naked in front of the man taking over.
He gave you a look-over, spending a moment to stare at the bright red mark he made on your stomach earlier before finally speaking up, âGet yourself off on my boot.âÂ
Your eyes widened in horror, confusion. When you told him you'd do anything you expected his physical assault to be replaced by some sort of demanding labor, not this.
âPardon me?â You blurted out. He must be joking, you thought. He'd probably embarrass you if you actually did as he asked.
âYou heard me.â One of his hands made its way onto the side of one of your legs, right under your buttocks.
The same hand then moved to grip your clothed crotch, making you gasp in shock at the sensation.
âI know this shit gets you excited, you can hide it all you wantâŠI know you're a perverted fuck.â He said, a toothy grin plastered on his face.Â
He squeezed your core through your underwear, making you involuntarily moan at the contact. You didnât realize until now that the piece of clothing was soaked.Â
You had to find a way to get out of this, you thought. You knew him. You'd either humiliate yourself doing this or he'd bring out a whip of all things. Fuck. You wouldn't be surprised if the son of a bitch owned a traditional one.
So you leaned in, right besides his ear. âWhy get me off? Wouldn't you want me to get you off.â You purred, trying your best to sound seductive. God this wasn't you at all but you had to do whatever it took to get the least-worst outcome.
He pushed you off, his face forming a scowl. Disgust. Like it was only okay when he was the one doing sexual advances.
âKneel.â He said. You did as he asked, still a trembling mess, your fear a contrast from the earlier discovery of your arousal.
He took your chin between his gloved index and thumb, making you look up at him. âYou're lucky I'm giving you options, don't push your luck, or I'll do much worse.â He warned, rejecting your offer.
You bit your lip, holding back tears from flooding again. Your earlier ones didnât even have time to dry off. âYou think looking at me like that is gonna make me pity you?â He asked, now gripping your face, his hold on your cheeks harsh.Â
âIf anything it'll make me want to hurt you more.â He said, sneering down at you before kicking your stomach in once more, making you whimper.
âSee? You enjoy this, don't try to hide it.â He then pressed the tip of his boot on your crotch, making you unconsciously lean into it, pressing your cheek against his knee. The fabric of his jeans scratching your face.
âCan you imagine if someone was here, seeing you act so pathetic? They'd think you're disgusting.â He punctuated his point by rubbing his boot into your core further.
âPeople back at Alexandria would hate you even more if they knew how you acted in private.â He pulled on your hair to make you look up at him, you unconsciously started grinding on the tip of his boot.
âImagine how that widow would react if she saw you rub yourself on the boot of the man who spilled her husbandâs brain matter all over concrete.â He said, his words made you cry once more.
âAw look at you, poor little puppy.â You moaned at the title. He wiped your tears with his free hand.Â
He sighed, âDo you know how much holding back it takes for me to not fuck you when youâre in pain and crying? I'll be honest with you, that shit gives me a raging boner.â
You hid your face by pressing it against his thigh, still, you couldnât help but grind harder against his foot, your breathing growing heavier.
âAnd I got my wives for this, itâs not like you can even compare to them when it comes to looks but still, sometimes I'd rather be ramming my dick inside you rather than whatever woman I picked for the night.â
Jesus. You werenât aware of his attraction to you at all.
âCâmere.â He said before pulling you up and into his lap, parting his legs so you could straddle his thigh. Your head fell onto his shoulders, letting out a pathetic whimper. The sound a mix of your back still hurting and being turned-on.Â
âGet those hips moving.â He ordered.
And so you did, moving back and forth against his thigh. A few minutes earlier you didnât expect youâd enjoy this, but you did. Far too much.
âYouâre taking everything so well tonight, doing as I ask finally.â He praised into your ear before kissing your temple, pulling out another noise from you. He then slapped your ass, making you squirm.Â
You kept moving back and forth, it was now more about reaching your orgasm and getting more praises than following orders.
Then he pressed his fingers against one of the bruises on your back, pressing hard enough to pull out a scream from you.Â
Your response to the pain was to bite his neck, hard, doing it before you even considered the consequences.Â
He yanked your head back by your hair, âFucking bitch, donât do that!â He yelled in your face before slapping you once more.Â
The strike was all it took for the knot building up in your stomach to unravel, cumming against his thigh in a loud moan. Soaking the fabric of his jeans as you gasped for air.
Your sudden orgasm made his pupils dilate. His frown gone, anger replaced by lust.
âHoly shit, I shouldâve filmed that!â He exclaimed, smiling from ear to ear. The expression would normally terrify you, but you were currently too blissed out to find it anything but attractive. âFuck, that was better than anything a porn star could do.âÂ
He patted your ass before letting you rest your head on his shoulder, putting his hands on your hips while making sure he didnât touch any of the bruises on your back.
âYou got my jeans all dirty.â He said, raising his foot, so his thigh pressed against your core, the contact made you whine.
Then he picked you up bridal style while you were still sitting in his lap, carrying you to his bathroom to take care of you.Â
It all felt like a blur, going by while you zoned out until your head fell down on his pillow, and you were finally able to rest. It mightâve still been the middle of the day but his earlier assault on you drained all remaining energy.
tysm for reading. freak. <3