(How u can turn this into a board idk but..) Officer Rick picking up his friends daughter from a party and Rick gets a lil overprotective... (smutty ig?)
“Alright party’s over doll, you’re leavin’ ” Rick says barging into the living room of the house party you were at.
“What are you doing here Rick?” you hiccup trying to conceal the evidence of the vodka bottle you were holding.
“Come on we’re leaving, your dad asked me to get ya” Rick sighs realising how drunk you are
“No Rick please I don’t wanna go”
“Yeah she said she’s good bro” chuckles the host of the party who was sat next to you with his arm over your shoulder, sizing up Rick.
“ ‘Scuse me” Rick laughs and tilts his head towards him taking his harsh gaze off of you for a moment.
“You heard me old man, get the fuck out of my party”
Rick clenches his fist and his jaw ticks while he makes his decision, eventually reaching down to pick you up off the couch and throw you over his shoulder, maintaining full eye contact with the boy who you’d been cosying up to all night.
He could smell the odour of virginia slims and liquor on you and as he walked out he casually flashed the police badge from his pocket and the boy gulped.
When you made it outside Rick opened the car door, sat you down and swiftly clicked your seatbelt in before you could protest.
As he climbed into his side of the car you sat there pouting at him and he just glared ahead at the street gripping the steering wheel with no attempt to start the car. Knuckles nearly white from the thoughts stirring in his head.
Who the fuck was that guy?
Why’d he have his arm around you?
Why’s your skirt so short?
Fucking slut.
He could see the pout remained on your face from his peripheral vision and it was becoming harder and harder for him to stay mad.
He finally broke when he heard you whimper and watched you sink down into the seat slowly, spreading your legs with your pretty little eyes staring at him intently.
Raising an eyebrow at you, his adam’s apple bobbed up and down in anticipation as he felt his dick betray him as it throbbed against the rough denim of his jeans.
(my first time ever writing anything lowk nervous)
Imagine both of you had been apart the whole day, working in different activities. When you had finally ate, and took a bath, first thing you did was embrace each other and kiss, a kiss that started slow and controlled, soon ended messy, needy and sloppy. Ending with both of you in bed, and not to get you wrong, you loved that man, his kisses and everything with him, but you just didn’t feel like it.
You stopped him and told him what you felt. “What s everything okay, love?” He asked you and you nodded. “Yes, just feeling too tired for it today.” You answered, he caressed your hair, kissed your temple, your nose… “what d’ya feel like doing then?” He looked in your eyes.
“Can we cuddle and talk till we sleep?” You asked so graciously, your pretty eyes looking at him and the slightest pout in your lips. “Anything ya want baby…” he answered with the gentlest eyes, giving you a peck on your lips and pulling you into an embrace under the covers with him, talKing about everything and anything.
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Synopsis: Whose the fairest of them all? It’s you. It’s always been you. Negan’s prepared to let each one of his wives know just that tonight.
— or: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife!
Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, smut— fingering, thigh riding, and penetration without protection; reader at the Sanctuary, “wife”!reader, guilty!reader because when am I not feeling guilty for wanting Negan, Negan being rude in one small part, I’m pretty sure I changed the layout of the wives quarters from the show, and a fuck load of ‘fucks’ from Negan. Mostly proofread. wc: 2.2k.
A/N: I mostly get right to it, so buckle up! And if you like this one, check out this daydream I wrote because I think it’s really cute.
—with love from writella ♡
He comes in without a knock.
The door, though brittle as it is, slams shut. The metal and leather of his jacket clink and slap as his back pounds against it. He has no care that he could break the door, or for the noise and late hour of his arrival.
This was his house. His rules.
“Good evenin’, sweetheart.”
If it wasn’t for that slight twang in his accent, or that wiley look that punctuates the end of his sentences, making everything he says just as comical as unsettling, it would have sounded more like a, Hello, Clarice— nonetheless, you still hold your breath.
“It’s half past ten,” you decide to say, looking down, making sure you don’t sound too sarcastic or displeased with his appearance. It’s just that you hated it when he came to your room, especially when all the other girls were right outside in the common room or in their bedrooms that neighbored yours. You much rather go to his room if you have to. It’s quiet and separate from the rest of the habitants of the Sanctuary. He could be as loud as he wanted— even though he always was anyway— but that would mostly be for you— so you didn’t have to feel so ashamed.
“Well would you prefer a Hey, sexy. Strip down. Ass up. then? Just get right to it?” You say nothing. “Cause I could.” Negan tilts his head sideways with a slight grin, his forehead protruding forward as he tries to find your eyes. All he sees is cheeks starting to flush, an embarrassed shake of your head, and eyes that stay stuck on your black ballerina flats.
You were sitting on the rear of your bed, only looking up sometimes. Recently, you were trying to get better with eye contact. You wanted to show that you’re not afraid of him anymore. It was supposed to be a silent statement that he wasn’t fooling you and that you weren’t softening up to him. That you know what this is, who he is; you’re cognizant of what he does to you, to the others girls, to people outside these walls. But, this didn’t work. No matter if you were looking down or up, you could never seem to get rid of that deer in the headlights look— The Roadkill Stare or The Corpse’s Bride as Negan called it— wide and bewildered, like he was going to run you over. Sometimes it made him feel sad. That there were moments where he could see you trying to resist your natural instinct to flinch when he comes near. But other times, it made him feel powerful. Not the fact that he scared you, but that he could see what was underneath it— that you were scared of yourself. He knows you like him. He knows from the way your face slightly twists as you suppress your snickers and smiles at his jokes when you two are alone, or when he makes fun of Simon for yet another one of his bad attempts at acting like him; when you think you’re doing well at maintaining that timid Tim Burton eyed version of a poker face. He knows you’re not completely scared of him, at least not anymore. Little by little, he’s learning to clock the nuances of your expressions: he sees how your eyes trail his body when he undresses in front of you, or the way you follow him as he walks to talk to this person or that, how you’re acutely aware of when and how he moves, your eyes flickering towards his hands before he gestures with them. It’s like you know too. As if you see his underneath the way he can for you. You’re becoming as familiar as he is.
He’s aware.
You can’t fool him any longer.
“Get up for me.” It’s a soft command said in his darkened voice. On instinct, you oblige. This is how it is. He walks closer, his fingertips lightly brushing slowly down your shoulder until he reaches your waist. He grabs you quick and close on both sides, pulling you straight against him. You gasp, arms swinging back slightly, back arching against him as he presses you on his lower abdomen and groin. You can feel his breath, and the heat of his intense gaze. “Kiss me.”
Your mouth is agape. Your breath shudders. You’re frozen.
You do nothing.
There you go again, his little fawn bride. If eyes could be any more rounder, symmetrical spheres, they’re yours. He could laugh but he doesn’t. He only repeats himself. Quietly, sternly, “You kiss me first this time.”
You had never done that before.
“Do I gotta say it a third?”
You shake your head. No.
Hesitantly, you reach up, touching his face with ghostlike fingertips, feeling the bristles of his beard as you bring yourself closer. Your lips are light and tentative as you finally press yours on his. For him, it was like being kissed by an angel. It makes him soften up for a moment, tilt your head up higher for you to give you more leverage. He kisses you just as sweetly. His thumb strokes your jaw.
After a few more kisses, you pull back to look at him. You hold his shoulders and he holds you by your waist. Your faces are so close, his eyes could almost be as wide as yours, and for a moment, it all feels so soft and dream-like. But quickly, the iridescence fades: before you realize it, he puts his tongue in your mouth forcefully, making your head roll back. The unexpected shift makes you gasp into his mouth.
He turns you around, slams you again your door. Your tall bureau near it bangs against the wall with you. Some of your folded clothes you had yet to put away and jewelry falls off the top as your head bounces.
Negan’s left hand runs down your body, sliding two fingers down under your dress and over your panties, pressing in at your slit. He finds wetness forming. His fingers make it more pronounced as he creates a wet spot.
“Tell me you want me,” he says as he starts to rub your clit.
You take a shaky breath inwards, covering a small moan.
Negan’s fingers slide inside your underwear and down right into your hole. He pumps slowly three times, never losing eye contact with you and then he takes them out. “Cause I want you,” and he proves it by putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean, wiping his lips afterwards with his tongue. “Tell me you do too.”
Your breath remains heavy. Finally, you whisper, “I want you.”
He spins you around again. His back against the door once more, producing another slam you know all the girls will hear. He raises one of his legs and slots his thigh in between yours. His hands rest on your hips, rocking you against him. It feels good. Your thin cotton panties and bare thighs brushing and rocking against his that are rough and denim clad. You try to resist the urge to make any sounds because of how much you like it. “Tell me you need me.”
This makes you whine. “Can we—” you start to ask— and you can’t believe you’re even going to say it— “Can we just go to your room? Please?” Oh God, what would everyone at Alexandria think? They’d be so disappointed. They’d hate you. The wives have never been mean, they accepted you, understood your condition more than anyone else, but where you only had very educated guesses of what everyone at home would think of you, you had a stone hard fact of how the other girls were starting to see you. Their eyes could not lie as much as yours: you felt women’s growing glares of silent resentment whenever you were seen with Negan. He was more forgiving with you; never got too nasty about your habit of not speaking when you’re spoke to; he was gentle with his touch when others were watching; never made you hang out with any of the other men if you didn’t want to; and he talked to you, communicated more. They saw it. They knew it. They figured you were more in the know about things outside the Sancutary than they were. You tried to use it to keep them informed as well, as a way to preserve what little favor you had left, but now look at you, ruining it all as they’re forced to listen. Not only submitting to whatever he may do to you, but asking to change the location before it begins.
“No. You get me here or not at all.” You knew he wasn’t lying. His voice was stern. He looked you in the eye even if you weren’t looking back, you felt it. It told you that he wouldn’t budge, not even a little. “And you can sleep in those panties if that’s the case.”
You stay silent for a moment. Eyes peering into his wishing just your look could say it all. “Negan…” you whisper.
“Yes, baby?”
“I- I need you.”
In an instant, Negan pushes you off of him. His hands go to the ends of your dress and pull it off of you with your arms and hair flying.
“Take it off,” he demands after he throws you down on your bed.
You feet kick off your flats and you raise your hips to discard your panties, never losing sight of him as he rips off his jacket, unbuckles his belt, and crosses his arms to get rid of his shirt. You loved the look of his years-faded tattoos against his tan skin and the curves of his light muscles when he raises his arms.
You’re in a trance, not seeing that he sees that you’re doing it again. Bambi eyes trailing him down. It’s every time you guys do this. And fuck, you must think he’s sexy. He loves it. Because he knows he’s fucking sexy. He knows that pretty girls like you will always come around. You just can’t help it. His grin is as wide as your eyes because of it.
Negan is hard and he wastes no time. He’s been thinking about claiming you all day. He hooks his hands under your knees as you lay with your back flat on the bed.
Negan lines himself against you and immediately starts to piston himself inside of you, never completely pulling out. Your breast shake as his thrusts keep pushing you back. You felt like you were vibrating.
He is obsessed with this angle. Getting to see your face scrunch and twist and contort. Getting to hear your heavy pants and sighs. Getting to feel the squeeze of your pussy and he continues to push inside you fast, fast, fast.
And he’s mesmerized by your breast. The continuous bounce of your perky tits that were now his. He wants his mouth on them, he wants his dick between them, but for now he’ll just watch them jump and spring— it’s just as sexy to him. He might even have to cancel all of tomorrow's plans just to watch them fly all day like this.
Your head turns to your left side and you catch yourself in your full length mirror— the view is from head to the top of your waist. You see your left tit bouncing along with your head and stomach as Negan keeps pushing into it with no relent. Instantly you moan at the sight. Your hand swings to your face right after, your eyes closing shut.
Negan rips your fingers from off your mouth. “No,” he warns. “I know you like it—” you whine when he says that— “Stop hiding it. Look at yourself or I’ll stop.”
You don’t open them.
He stops.
“You gonna fuckin’ listen?”
Slowly, you ynclose your scrunched eyes, seeing yourself and your parted lips again.
“Good girl.” And then, Negan starts splitting you open again, making you shake. The sudden movement makes you moan, “oh- uh.”
“Tell me you want it.”
You don’t resist anymore. You continue to look at yourself in the mirror as you say, “I want it.”
“Tell me you need it.”
Your head turns to watch where your body connects with his. “Ohmygod, I need it.”
He growls as he follows your gaze, voice strained and rough like he’s going to punch something as he repeats, thrusting faster, “Tell me you fucking need it.”
“I need it.” Then you moan, “Negan, please!” You chant, “Please. Please, Negan, I need it!”
“You need it, baby?” He jeers. “You want me to give it to ya?”
You nod as you whine, tears almost coming out. Your breasts still bounce for him and you love it as much as you hate it. “Yes, Negan.”
“You know what I came in here to do, baby?”
You’re still whining, you're practically incoherent. His little fuck doll. All you can say is his name.
“Look at me when I tell you.”
Your eyes go up to his. Watching him as he continues to pump into you. You see how his body vigorously shakes in unison with yours. His skin and his pushing up and down, in and out, as he makes your body jump.
“I came in here,” he starts, losing his breath and trying not to falter from his thrusts as his face places itself above yours, “To show every single bitch in the goddamn house that you’re mine. And that you’re the only fuckin’ one.” You respond with only sex-filled sounds. You’re close to exploding. Your body still jumps along with his. Your bouncing breasts rubbing against his pex as he commands, “Tell me you want me to do it. You want me to make you come.”
As always, though this time it was because you were on the verge of losing all control, you give no answer.
His words bite at your parted lips as he repeats, “Tell me!” And he slaps the side of your ass.
The pang forces you to speak: “I want you to do it Negan please!”
Negan rises. His mouth circles as he moans. He holds your hips now, raising them off the bed as he pumps into your harder. “Say it again.”
“Do it, Negan, please. Please make me come.” With each word ending in moaning pants as you repeats, “Please- Please- Please- Please- Please-”
“Oh fuck,” his gutteral voice rasps and roars for all to hear. Your absolute submission brings him closer to the edge. He smiles widely knowing he’s about to come so hard in that tiny pussy of yours. “OH FUCKIN BOY,” he laughs, knowing he has the whole floor’s attention, not caring a single bit how any of it sounds. “GOD DAMN. THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT. IM GONNA MAKE MY PRETTY LITTLE FUCKIN WIFE FUCKIN COME BECAUSE SHE’S- MY FUCKIN’- FAVORITE.”
Content: SMUT 18 only please. Masterbation, imagined unprotected sex some profanity.
Summary: You wake up and actively fantasize about Daryl.
Your eyes felt heavy as you slowly opened them, greeting the morning with a sigh and a stretch. You were warm and snuggled deeply under the perfect weight of blankets.
Shifting to your side, Daryl's relaxed face inspired your view. His lips were parted softly, his typically angular features, softer in the early morning glow.
You wanted to ever so lightly brush his unruly hair out of his face and run your fingers down his skin.
Licking your lips, you thought about waking him with gentle kisses.You felt a small tremble of arousal as you allowed your mind to formulate a fantasy.
Your lips lightly kissing his, you would smoothly blanket his body with your own. Caressing his face to wake him up, you would lay your cheek to his chest in between kisses, listening to his beating heart, feeling the warmth of his body beckoning yours. Even without moving you could summon the feeling of his firm chest beneath you. Imagining running your hand along his contoured arm you dreamed of the feeling of his hands sliding down your sides to firmly hold you against him.
The electricity between your legs grew as you imagined sitting up, straddling him, and lifting off your tank top to offer your breasts for his pleasure. He would quickly be shirtless too, and your body trembled at the phantom fingertips caressing you, creating a pathway for his lips and tongue to at first gently and then urgently devour the tender skin around your breasts. He nipped at the heated nipples of your breasts.
Your back would arch as the sleep faded from his eyes, and he rose to wrap his arms around you, the slight shift in position inviting you to grind into him.
These thoughts created tension in the best way. You almost groaned at the conjuring of your imagined tryst. Heat and restlessness grasped your thighs, and you knew you were wet with anticipation.
But you wouldn’t touch yourself, not yet. You would enjoy your muse and build the anticipation as long as you could. For a brief moment you felt guilty for having this whole scenario in your head without his consent or legitimate participation. That small thought was soon forgotten as you felt energy ripple between your legs and a cool shiver on your skin.
You imagined Daryl pushing down his sleep pants and boxers to give you access to what you craved. Now kissing your neck roughly he would place one hand splayed across your upper back helping you lower yourself onto his cock.
Looking at Daryl’s still form, your breath quickened as your fantasy continued, and you ripped from your memory the slow, satisfying stretch of him pushing into you the first time. The pressure that delightfully crawled along your walls as you were tightly filled. You focused on this feeling, unable to move on from it until your core believed it was happening.The thought of the depth of him inside you sent your walls clenching. Your clit was begging for your hand to slide down your stomach and under the band of your pants.
Not yet, you breathed as you continued to admire your sleeping love. In your mind, his hands now gripped your waist, providing encouragement for your movements. You imagined him seizing control in that moment his neediness using you, no longer gentle, but demanding. The thought of filling you relentlessly built the tightness in your core. You found yourself shifting and grinding, rubbing your thighs together from your self-inflicted torture.
In your mind the relentless pounding continued as Daryl released one hip to hold your breast and pinch the nipple. You fantasized about his quickened breathing and low grunts of pleasure.
A moan escaped your lips as you could no longer keep your fingers out of the fantasy. Still looking at Daryl’s sleeping face, your hand slipped beneath your pants and found its way to your slick heat. The lightest touch of your wet finger to your insistent clit caused you to audibly gasp.
Daryl shifted slightly, and you froze. Did you want him to wake up and see you writhing against your own hand staring at him with lust blown eyes cheeks red from exertion?
The thought of him waking up and seeing you this way shifted your scenario. Climbing on top of you and pinning your arms gently above your head, you imagined his voice lowered and rough.
“Need somethin’?” His eyes would sparkle and wrinkle at the corners amused at your quiet desperation.
He would tease you as you teased yourself with your fingers. God, you need to cum. You imagined him entering you again as you found the rhythm and pressure your clit desired.
The tightening was unbearable as you fantasized your way towards release. His mouth on yours, the thought of him grunting and warning you “M’ gonna..” Your walls clenching as your imagination had him unloading his seed as his final thrusts threatened to rip you apart.
Your own pleasure rolled through you with a moaned sigh. Your cheeks hot and your muscles thankful for the release, you sank into the comfort of the blankets, breathing deeply. Fuck
You looked over to find Daryl looking at you.
“Y'alright? Ya look a little flushed.” His eyes smiled, and his voice teased.
His hand reached over to rest on your waist, and his touch radiated through you.
You moved into him, kissing those inspired lips deeply.
“Good morning, love."
“M’sure it is.” His hands wandered down your skin, and fantasy fell away to reality.
you’d only do it a couple times a week; to keep suspicions down.
not that you had even meant to get started in the first place. he was just available.
“daddy im gonna go clean the stables before bed” you say as you kiss your father’s cheek “okay hun” in which he replies as you skip outside.
you actually were cleaning the stables until shane waltzed up.
the position he found you in perfectly showed off your little black lace panties. “you teasing me darlin’?” the former officer questioned as you turn to face him “not tonigh’, told my daddy i’d clean the stables” you smile placing your hands on your hips.
“well don’t let me stop you” he shrugs holding onto his belt trying to hide the very obvious tent in his pants. you turn back around to finish scrubbing the stable walls.
shane stepped forward kissing your neck “you’re being a distraction” you giggle “best kind, right?” the man whispered as his hand trailed down to between your thighs.
you bite your lip at his burly hands rubbing you through your jeans. “i needed you all day today” he told, his breath heavier than usual.
“did you know that?” he breathed out attacking your neck again, “my daddy should be sleep now” you inhaled sharply.
that was said more to yourself than shane. he quickly carried you to the barn or, hook up house the two of you called it.
after reaching the top of the ladder you crawled inside taking your thin frilly top off. shane followed suit his eyes glued to your chest. he eventually worked his pants down to his ankles as you crawl over towards him, to begin sucking his cock.
“yeah, just like that baby” he cooed holding your hair.
this went on for two minutes before he pulled you up and on all fours. his rough hands grabbing at the flesh of your ass before he strikes it, earning a whine from you.
“shh shh shh,” he whispers pointing “daryl’s tent is right here” you follow his finger to see the hunter green tent.
shane then kissed your neck some more, as he gently inserted himself with a shaky breath. you hummed at the feeling.
there hadn’t been a night like this for a while.
shortly after, the thrusting started.
“you take it so good baby” shane grunts in your ear as you whine and he pulls your hips back again. “ngh..” you call out covering your mouth. he strikes the reddened skin once more before thrusting into you faster.
you lay your torso on the wood of the barn feeling as shane bottoms you out.
“cmere” he speaks to himself pulling you up and pounding faster whilst, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
“you look so damn pretty like this, baby girl” the man grunts reaching down the front of your body to rub your clit.
his hand and cock both work fast to ensure an great orgasm. “oh my fuck” you speak lowly closing your eyes “that’s right, cum for me baby” he praises as you come undone unison as him.
you sigh as shane pulls out smacking your ass again, “you’re such a good girl for me sweetheart. go back to your daddy’s farm and don’t tell him about our little secret in the barn”.
Good morning to all my lovely tumblr writers. I never thought I’d had to make a post like this but it’s clearly need to be brought to the attention of others so please share this, reblog this and tell your mutuals.
Words can NOT explain how pissed off I am at this. Take a minute to just read what it says. I went to this woman’s page. She’s 32, hating on a 19 year old girl. I know my writing isn’t freaking poetry like Edgar Allen Poe or anything fancy like that. But don’t you EVER come into my safe space, into my blog saying the n-word and you are white. I checked her page, she’s homophonic and racist she has used the n-word in her pinned post and it’s just utterly disgusting. It’s taking everything in me not to say something so disrespectful right now. So if you could please, find her and report her and block her. This not only goes out to all my beautiful WOC creators but it goes to my LGBTQ+ writers as well. I’m utterly disgusted. Thank you.
