This is my first time writing, feedback would be very nice if possibly:)
Summary: Daryl and Athena have known each other since the outbreak. Being very loyal to each other, but what if there was more to their friendship, lust maybe?
Warnings for series: angust, smut, cursing, blood, torture, sh, mentions of ED.
Warnings for chapter:Angust, cursing, killing of walkers, threats, Shane being a bitch
Walking through the forest she scanned the place for threats, the katana hanging loosely at her fingertips. Sudden movements behind her alerts her. Flipping around, holding the sword straight forward, pointing it at the threat.
Rolling her eyes she drops the Sword to her side. "Jesus Merle, you're lucky I didn't slice you redneck ass in half."
"Come on sugartits, you know you couldn't kill me."
"Merle," Daryl says glaring at him. He throws his hands up in the air, "So what if I call her sugar tits. It's a compliment sweetheart." Throwing her a wink she responds with rolling her eyes.
"You're the reason God created the middle finger." She says flipping him off. Daryl lets out a small laugh.
"Hey, that ain't funny."
"Whatever, Sugertits." She says smirking.
════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════
"Officer Shane Walsh." She studies the man, looking down at his hand than back up.
"Athena."He stared at her, already annoyed she didn't take her hand.
"What kind a name is that?"
She squinted at him, "I could say the same about yours, officer."
Daryl places a hand on her shoulder, "Alright, we're done here." He motioned for Athena to follow, them beginning to walk away as Shane yells out, "Now now, didn't get your name."
"Daryl," and huffed, pointing to Merle. "That's my brother Merle."
"You guys got a last name?" She turns to Shane, furrowing her eyebrows. "What, ya gonna do a background check on us?" She smiles.
"No," He grits his teeth.
"Then why are you all up in our fucking business, Shane."
"Look, I ain't tryin-"
"Looks like you fucking are. So tell me officer, do ya got a warrant?" He stood there silent, getting more agitated at the second. Crossing her arms she speaks, "So get off my dic-" Seeing a young boy out of the corner of her eye, she stops before correcting herself. "Just get out of my business, Shane."
════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════
Walking through the forest, Daryl and Athena walk in a comforting silence.
"Still don't like that Shane dude." Looking over at him, she nods. "Preechin' to the choir buddy."
Daryl snorts at the comment. "He acts like his shit don't stink. Bossing people around."
"Yea-"
"Hey look." Stopping, she squats down, running her hand on the imprint in the dirt.
"Gotta be only bout 20 minutes old."
════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════
"Never got to ask, what did you do before all this?" Daryl turns to her,
"Nothin' really, just followed my brother, didn't do much." She nods, "What 'bout you?"
"Assassin." Daryl stops and turns to her. Giving her a confusing look.
"What?"
"An assassin?" He says smiling
"I'm bein' serious Daryl."
"Alright alright, to be honest it makes sense." She smiles looking at him. "Makes sense?"
"Yeah, I can tell by the way you carry yourself. Especially by the way you handle that." He points to her Katana that was hanging loosely on her back.
"Though to be honest I thought you were in the military." She snorts at the comment. "Nah, fuck that."
"Why'd you go into it though, did it pay good?"
She sighed, starting to walk again, motioning with her head for him to follow.
"Got paid with food and water, and a roof over my head. It wasn't really a choice. I was picked at a young age," She turned to him smiling . "Was best one of my group. Had the highest rank, Which means I could easily beat your ass." She playfully punches his shoulder, teasing.
He lets out a small smile, "Yeah well, do me a favor and beat Merle's instead." She lets out a soft laugh. "Been gettin' on my nerves."
"I'll make sure i'll do that." She says, flashing him a small smile. They both continued to walk in silence. Starting to pick up that Daryl wanted to say something, but didn't want to offend her.
"Spit it out Katniss." Turning towards her, he gives an amused look. "Katniss?" He smirks.
"Yeah, you know with the crossbow and everything." She says pointing to it.
"Katniss had an bow and arrow."
"Same difference."
Daryl smiled at her, his eyes softening at her smile and the way her cheeks got slightly red from laughing. "How'd you get out?"
She turned to him, scanning his face. "Got lucky," she looked down at her feet while walking. "People got infected at where I stayed, all the guards were running from each other. One dropped a key," she looked up at him, "Like I said, got lucky."
He nodded at her response, beginning to reply until he heard the sound of yelling and crying. As they both approached the hill, they saw the group looking at the deer that they both been tracking for hours, half eaten by a walker.
She groaned walking up to the deer, pulling her blade out from behind her back and stabbing the decapitated head. "Don't ya'll know you have to go for the head?"
Daryl grumbles as he walks up with her, "Summabitch, that was my deer!" He stepped up, examining the deer. "We was tracking this deer for miles.. was gonna cook us up some venison." He squatted down. "You think we can cut that chewed part right here?"
"Nah, shouldn't risk it."
Daryl grumbled some profanities before speaking again. "Well we caught a few squirrels so that will have to do for now."
Daryl and Athena walked towards the camp in sync, Daryl looking for Merle so he can bitch about the deer.
"Daryl wait up a minute." They both turned to look at Shane. She knew that look that Shane was giving them, the look of someone died.
"Who died?" She spoke, breaking the tension. "No one died…but it's about Merle, we had some trouble in Atlanta." She glanced over at Daryl, even though she was not fond of his brother, it was still Daryl's brother.
"He dead?"
"Not sure."
Daryl shifted towards Shane, "Either he dead or he ain't." He said clearly getting pissed off at the lack of information.
Athena turned to the direction of another man walking up, rolling her eyes. "Great, another sheriff," She mumbled.
"Look, there isn't any easy way for me to say this so i'll just say it." Daryl turns his focus to the man speaking.
"And who are you?"
"Rick Grimes."
"Rick grimes." Daryl repeated, becoming more and more annoyed by the second. "You got something you wanna tell me?"
Rick took a step closer, "Look man, your brother was a threat to all of us, so I handcuffed him to a piece of metal on the roof. He's still there."
Athena turned towards the man, now getting angrier. Stepping forward she yelled at him. "I get that Merle can be a handful, but you handcuffed his ass to a roof, in a place that is surrounded by fucking walkers?!"
Daryl placed his hand on her shoulder, standing in front of her. Making a gesture telling her 'He'll handle it.'
"Nah hold on, lemme process this shit man, you handcuffed my brother to a roof and left him for dead?!"
Rick stood there, taking in the anger that Daryl was throwing at him. "Yeah." He mumbled. Hanging his slightly.
Daryl threw the squirrels off his shoulder, preparing to launch at Rick. Shane came in and wrestled Daryl to the ground, pulling him into a choke hold. Athena walks up to him, taking her gun out and points it at Shane.
"Drop him." She hissed.
"Or what? What are you gonna do sweetheart?"
"You might think just because you got the badge Shane, that you're the all mighty or sum shit. But you ain't. Look around." She motioned her hands around the area. "There ain't no fucking government no more, which means whatever fucking status you had all before this, doesn't mean shit. Now," She cocks her gun, "Let him go before I shoot your fucking brains out."
Shane grunted before finally releasing Daryl. Taking her gun she slides it back into her holster. Shane got up, getting into her face. "I don't like your attitude." She smiles, cocking her head to the side. "Yeah, well then file a fucking complaint." And with that she walked away to her tent, the one that is specifically much farther away from the group.
I was wondering if you could write a fic with the prompts; 1,9, and 17 :)
If not it’s okay! Have a good day!!
Drunk (18+) || Rick Grimes
1. This cock isn't going to suck itself
9. Don't give me that look
17. I really dont care, you look hot and I'm trying not to fuck you senseless right now
Summary: You are wearing a red lipstick at a party and Rick can't get his eyes off you.
Trigger: dirty talk, semi public sex and my smutty stuff
With your lips pressed together, you stare into the mirror in front of you and try to suppress the slight tremor in your hand.
Concentrating, you frown and try not to paint yourself on, like a clown.
It's been ages since you've put on makeup, and when your best friend Charlie brought you that dark red lipstick, you didn't expect to even touch it, but now that she's decided to celebrate her birthday the way it used to be done, with plenty of alcohol and music, you've decided to give the lipstick a try.
The only problem is that you haven't been this stressed in a long time, as you have been for the last 20 minutes trying to somehow get this nonsense together.
You hold your breath and before you can draw the final line, your boyfriend calls out from the kitchen, "Honey? Is everything okay? You've been in the bathroom a long time."
Tense, you answer loudly, "Five minutes, then we can go. Are you wearing the shirt I laid out for you?"
You hear an approving hum and turn your attention back to lipstick's instrument of torture.
Concentrating, you pull the last line and lean back to inspect your work.
You didn't go overboard with the makeup, but the lipstick is fierce.
Unfortunately, you also have no idea how well it will hold up and where you'll end up leaving lipstick marks when you're drunk too, but for now, you look good.
Especially with the white dress, you look like you did before the walker Invasion.
You set your lipstick down on the edge of the sink and turn away from the mirror to walk over to your boyfriend, who is surprisingly patiently waiting for you.
As you go round the corner, he's just rolling up the second sleeve from the blue shirt you picked out for him.
Rick looks so good in that blue shirt that you mentally pat yourself on the back.
Quietly, you clear your throat, "I'm ready."
Smiling, he turns to you and freezes when he sees you.
You stare openly at him, too, because he looks so…clean.
There's usually dirt stuck to his face and he's wearing his pants, which are probably older than you are.
But today he's wearing new pants and his hair is neatly combed back, too.
Not to mention his beard, which he's trimmed, and his eyes, which only shine brighter at the sight of you.
Rick always thinks you're beautiful. Whether you walk up to him drenched in walker blood or wearing one of his old shirts.
But today you look to him as if you had fallen straight from heaven and he was not worthy of you at all.
The short white dress hugs your thighs and the thin straps of the dress leave a lot to his imagination.
But the red lipstick takes away all innocence from the dress.
He can't help but stare at your lips and is sure that every guy at the party would turn to look at you.
Even when you're out in shorts, he sees guys looking around for you, but today they'll be lusting after you and he'll have to block everything and everyone out without thinking too long about how your red lips might leave marks on his skin.
He pulls himself together not to gape openly at you and reaches out a hand to you, "You look incredible."
The way he looks at you and tries to reach for you brings a blush to your face, and you clear your throat softly as your fingers cup his, "You look great too, Rick."
As soon as he can touch you, he pulls you to him.
He's pulled so hard on your hand that you're swaggering against him, having to brace yourself with your hand against his chest to keep from landing face down in his pretty blue shirt and soaking it completely, "Wow, slow."
Greedily, his gaze slides back to your lips and you lightly punch his broad chest, "Don't even think about it. It took me forever to get the lipstick like that, so you can give me a kiss on the cheek, but stay the hell away from my mouth."
You see his eyes slide to your neckline for a moment before he looks you in the eye again and smiles slightly, "I love you."
Your heart warms and you turn your cheek to him, "I love you too and now give me that kiss already. I deserve it."
As you demand, he leans forward and presses his soft lips to your heated cheek before murmuring softly against your skin, "You smell so damn good."
When Rick speaks as softly as he does now, his voice is a little deeper than normal and your whole body reacts to this small change.
Of course he senses it and asks in that exact tone, "You sure you don't want me to ruin that lipstick?"
His hips are pressed against you and his closeness clouds your thoughts so you almost say 'Do it', but at the last moment you break away from him and shake your head laughing, "Stop it."
Rick lowers his head a little to look at you through his lashes, knowing full well you're going for it, but you lift a finger and wave it back and forth in front of him, "That's it. Stop hitting on me like that. It's not fair."
His smile widens and he gives you a quick nod, "And I don't think the dress is fair."
Playfully, you roll your eyes and walk past him to the door, "I'm sure Charlie's waiting."
As you expected, an extremely large amount of alcohol is flowing and you wonder how Charlie was able to find these masses in the first place, but when she falls around your neck and shortly after also presses the first glass of wine into your hand, you already don't care so much anymore.
At the effusive greeting, Rick has taken his hand off your back and after Charlie has fallen around his neck too, he announces that he's going to go find Daryl.
Once he's out of earshot, I quietly ask Charlie, "How did you get Daryl to show up here? He's not into that at all."
Coquettishly, she adjusts her dark green dress and chirps, "I have some talents that can be extremely persuasive, sweetheart."
Laughing, I shake my head, preferring not to ask further.
"Red looks really good on you," she says with a wink and grabs my hand, "Come on. The others were already betting on when you'd show up and your lover would finally get his hands off you."
In fact, you never expected to find a best friend in Alexandria, let alone a group of four people who are incredibly important to you.
But now you're heading toward your friends Jon, Ellen, and Marc with Charlie, and you're pulled right in by the latter, "Well, here you are at last."
Grinning, you take a sip from your glass, "You guys act like I arrived hours late, when it's maybe half an hour. Tops."
Ellen raises her glass of bronze-colored liquid to her lips and finishes it in my gulp before wiggling her eyebrows, "So what happened in that half hour."
You take a sip from your glass, too, "Stop with the dirty thoughts. It's not like we're gonna fuck all day."
Quietly, Charlie mutters, "That's not what I heard."
"What?" you stare at her and she shrugs her shoulders with a grin, "Harry takes care of the gardens, and on the odd occasion he once told me that you two were doing it like rabbits. Besides, you both like to leave the windows open and when he cuts the bushes, he hears interesting things. Especially how your lover likes to order you to bend over and-"
Before she can finish the sentence, you tear yourself away from Marc and press your hand over her mouth, "Okay, got it. Harry? Seriously?"
Wordlessly she nods and you take dhand from her lips, "How old is he, 15? 16?"
Jon stares to the other side of the room and purses his lips, "Bullshit. He's 20 and probably so horny without access to porn that he'll happily listen to your free show."
Shit.
But there are worse things in the world than a boyfriend who loves you immensely and a 20 year old who tells around that Rick likes to make you his little slut during sex.
Sighing, you raise your glass, "Let's get another round. After all, we have to toast to my terrific sex life."
It doesn't stay with this one round and at some point Jon disappears to, in his words, 'test out what this guy is like' and by that he means a guy who came to Alexandria a few days ago and hasn't been able to take his eyes off Jon since and the other way around, it hasn't been any better.
Your field of vision wavers a bit as you look to Charlie and Marc, who are discussing whether vodka or tequila is the better alcohol, as large hands lay on your stomach from behind.
You wince briefly, but quickly realize that it's only Rick, who is completely drunk and presses himself against you from behind.
You wait to see what he's up to, and you don't have to wait long before he lowers his head and murmurs in your ear, "I hate that these guys are looking at you like they can have you."
Fueled by the alcohol, you press your ass against his crotch, "What guys?"
His breath is hot and heavy as he hums, "To your left at the bar."
Your gaze slides to the bar Rick described and sure enough, there are three men you've seen from time to time on the streets of Alexandria sitting there staring at you, one of them less in your face and more focused on your body. They don't seem to care that their leader has his crotch pressed against you, his hands sliding from your belly over your ribs and holding under your breasts.
Only his thumb brushes the underside of your breasts and you take a shaky breath, "Touch me."
He laughs hoarsely against your neck, "Dirty girl. Right here? Where everyone can see how well your tits fit in my hands?"
You don't take your eyes off the three men and breathlessly say, "Yes, Rick. Now."
You're tipsy, but Rick is drunk to the core and doesn't give a damn that you've invited him to touch you in public, and reaches out with his right hand to grab your breast.
His hand fits your boob perfectly and you gasp softly, "They are still looking at me."
"Why are you telling me this?" he growls against your neck and as he squeezes tighter, you sigh softly, "Because I want you to realize that they can stare at me as long as they want, but you're the one who gets to touch me like this."
A 'fuck' slips from Rick's lips as you press harder against his hardening cock, and he sends a shove prayer to the heavens that he's had a few too many glasses, but not so much that he can't fuck you anymore.
Your nipple in his hand tightens and sliding a hand to your thigh, you gasp softly, "I have a secret to tell you, Rick."
He starts spreading wet kisses down your neck, mumbling between them, "Hmmm," so you say in a raspy voice, "I didn't have panties to go with the dress because you would have seen everything under the white dress, so I didn't wear any at all."
It takes a few seconds before it gets through to Rick that you're naked down below, and he could just stuff his fingers in your pussy right now without having to worry about disturbing layers of fabric first.
His cock presses uncomfortably against his pants and just as he's about to slide his hand under your dress, Charlie shrieks, "Guys. For real now? We're standing right next to you."
Tighter than Rick would have given her credit for, she grabs his wrist and tugs his hand off your thigh, "Rick Grimes. Stop drunkenly groping my best friend right now while you're still at my party."
Rick freezes behind you and you can't hold back your laughter as you see Charlie's face, "Oops?"
At that, you wonder how she even knows it's her birthday. Especially since you can't even tell what month it is, but you actually trust Charlie to have been counting, so you don't question it further and she shakes her head with a grin, "New episode for Harry?"
Confused, Rick looks first at Charlie and then at you, "Huh?"
It occurs to you that Rick doesn't know anything yet about you having a 20 year old in your backyard and instead of telling him, you gently push his hand off your boob and intertwine his fingers with yours instead.
Reluctantly, he allows you to pull his hand from your soft tit and breathes a feather-light kiss on your cheek as you look to your best friend with eyes glittering with anticipation, "We'll be right back."
He can't help but grin victoriously in the direction of the three idiots as you pull him by his hand through the clusters of people and Charlie yells after you over the music, "Not in my room."
To be honest, he doesn't even know where you're going with him, but he's sure he'll get his money's worth, so he stumbles more than walks after you and lets you push him into a small bathroom that adjoins the living room.
He takes a few steps inside and his eyes have to adjust to the sparse light of the candles standing around before he turns to you and watches you push the door shut with your back and look at him with huge eyes.
The candlelight flatters Rick's already handsome features immensely and you can't stop looking at him.
You've barely seen Rick since you arrived at the party a few hours ago, and now you wonder how that was even possible.
The shirt sits tight against his shoulders and his forearms are only accentuated by the rolled up sleeves, making your heart beat faster.
Your eyes wander back up to his face and the way a few curls fall into his forehead makes your knees go weak. He looks so bold and like your biggest dream at the same time.
God, he's beautiful.
It's almost ridiculous how easily he can read what you're thinking about in your face, and the look you're giving him right now leaves nothing to the imagination.
He realizes he doesn't have the smallest ego, but when you look at him like you'll do anything for him, it just drives it up.
"Get on your knees," is all you need to hear to groan softly, and though your first reaction would be to do exactly what he's asking, you bat your eyelashes seductively, "You're ruining my lipstick with that, Rick." And at the same time you couldn't care less, but you just want to tease him a little, which works very well, because by doing so you draw his gaze to your mouth and his drunken brain can't force him to look you in the eye instead.
When you part your lips to take a deep breath, he doesn't care how rude he sounds as he growls, "On. Your. Knees. This cock isn't going to suck itself."
You hesitate for a brief moment, wondering if you want to take it any further, but decide against it because you can't wait to hear Rick's deep growl yourself as he thrusts his tip all the way down your throat.
So you take a few small steps towards him and submissively drop to your knees in front of him and look up at him.
He would probably never forget the image of you kneeling in front of him in your innocent dress without panties and about to spread your red lipstick on his hard cock.
How you're looking at him with wide eyes and he could take it all from you.
The cool tile under your knees makes the pressure between your legs a little more bearable as you watch Rick pull his pants and boxers down to his thighs and hold his cock in front of your face.
He loves to see you waiting to finally start and when you open your pretty mouth, he doesn't hesitate for a second before pushing his tip between your lips and having to grab the sink rim next to him at the sensation to keep from pushing his cock all the way down your throat.
Still wide-eyed, you look up at him as he fills your mouth and he reaches into your hair, "Don't give me that look."
You know full well that looking at him while you suck him off drives him crazy, but you save that privilege for right now and temporarily fix your eyes on his cock, sliding it into your mouth again and again, leaving red screams from your lips each time.
Rick grip in your hair is so tight that you can barely move more than back and forth and when it almost hurts, you put your hands on his thighs and dig your fingers in.
It's not long before he's just holding your head in place, moaning as he thrusts deep into your throat again and again.
Each thrust brings tears to your eyes and when he slides so deep into your mouth that your nose hits his pubic bone, you gag.
The gag reflex makes Rick's cock twitch and when you think you can't breathe anymore, you look up at him.
Staring down at you with his mouth open, he can't believe he deserves you.
Seeing you like this is more than he deserves.
How tears run down your cheeks because you don't want to disappoint him and try as hard as you can not to gag.
How all your lipstick is smeared and your fingers cling to his thighs as he fucks your mouth.
Another vibration goes through his body as you start to gag again and he pulls you away from his cock moaning.
His whole body is screaming to cum in your mouth and make you swallow it all, but he knows you're wet and without your panties, it's probably sticking to your thighs, which he's dying to see.
As soon as he lets go of you, you support yourself with your hands on the cold tiles below you and take a gasping breath.
Your makeup has become so indifferent in the last few minutes that you wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand and dry your tears, not caring if you now look like something out of a horror movie.
You take one last deep breath and then softly gasp, "I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop gagging. I can do better than that."
Only then do you look at him again and he bites his lower lip hard, "I know, honey."
You feel the need to please him, and that includes giving him the kind of blowjob he can actually expect from you.
But today went anything but as you expected, and he nods to the door and growls, "Go."
Pleading, you look him in the eye, "Don't send me away. Let me try again. Please."
You couldn't stand to have to wait outside the door while he jerks off because you weren't able to satisfy him.
But before you can go back to begging, he brushes a few strands of hair out of your face and smiles gently at you, "Relax. I'm not sending you away."
He puts a hand to your chin and strokes your swollen lower lip with his thumb, "You did good, honey."
Briefly, he slips his thumb between your lips, but before you can suck on it, he withdraws his hand and murmurs, "But you're probably so wet you're soaking the whole floor. Do you really think I'd want to jerk myself off when you're more than willing and ready to let me fuck you? I want you to go to the door and brace yourself there, understand?"
You have to blink several times before what he wants from you gets through to you, and then you push yourself up off the floor.
Your knees are soft with excitement and the alcohol in your body makes you feel everything even more intensely when you turn your back to him and he immediately grabs you by the waist because you're swaying a bit.
Slowly, he pushes you towards the door and breathing heavily, you rest your palms on the it.
You don't even have to look to know that Rick is standing inches behind you as he softly breathes, "Do you want me?"
You squint your eyes and push your ass toward him, "Yes, Rick."
Gently, he pulls you away from the door a little more, so that your hands slide a little lower and you're bent forward so that all he'd have to do is lift your dress to thrust his cock into you.
But where would be the fun in that?
He puts both hands on your thighs and drives them up to your butt, so he can put your dress down on your hips.
Naked and vulnerable, you stand bent over in front of him, presenting your most intimate part, as he takes a step back and sighs proudly, "I knew it was already running down your thighs."
At his words, your pussy tightens and you realize yourself how embarrassingly wet you already are for him.
Silently, he watches you as you whimper softly, trying to hide how much you need it, and when you snivel, "Please" he finally buckles and steps behind you again, "I'm right here, honey."
You lower your head and moan miserably as he slides his cock long through your pussy before attaching his tip to your entrance and gripping your hip firmly, "Good girl. Be loud for me."
You've always been a louder partner in bed, and Rick never thought he could get off on it like this, but the first time he slept with you, it went to his head how loud you could get and end up screaming his name.
Even now you're gasping loudly as he presses himself inch by inch into your wet warmth and growls himself, "Fuck, how can you still be so fucking tight after I fuck you almost every day?"
You know he doesn't expect an answer and as he's inside you with his entire length, your legs start to shake and you whimper, "You have to hold me."
Quietly he replies, "I always hold you, don't I, my darling?" And your heart leaps.
No matter how long you've been together, you still haven't gotten used to how important you are to Rick and what he wouldn't do for you.
You trust him unconditionally, and that's what it takes to engage in the kind of sex you have with him. You know that he wouldn't force you to do anything you don't want to and he knows exactly how far he can go.
He gets closer behind you and you try to pull away from him a bit, so that he's not quite so deep inside you.
Then his grip tightens and he growls softly, "You like it when my cock is inside you, huh? Be a good girl and squeeze it. I know you feel stuffed, but do it for me."
When he talks to you like that, you can't help but do as he says, and you moan in sync as you tense your muscles and feel every inch of his cock deep inside you.
He pulls out of you far too slowly for your liking, only to thrust into you hard again, and you have to use all your strength to keep your arms from buckling and slamming you head against the door.
Groaning, he thrusts into you again and each time you have the feeling of feeling him deeper inside you.
As he gasps your name you lift your head a little and look over your shoulder at him, almost cumming for the sight alone.
His face flushed, he bites down hard on his lower lip and the vein on his neck stands out clearly.
You're barely able to make anything but high-pitched noises when your eyes fall on the door and you wince, "Rick, the door."
Between thrusts he growls, "What about it?"
His cock hits the right spot inside you at that moment and you jerk around him and yip, "The party's right on the other side. They can hear everything."
That's when he grabs your hair again and pulls your head back enough to growl in your ear, "I really dont care, you look hot and Im trying not to fuck you senseless right now."
With that, your hands slide off the door and Rick presses your back against his chest.
Before you can even bring a sound past your lips, his mouth is already on yours, pushing his tongue into you without restraint.
Again you tighten around him and notice a knot forming in your stomach and whimper into his mouth, "I'm cumming. I can't hold it back."
In a low voice he grunts, "Let go. Tighten around me and show me how much you want me."
That's when a high and drawn out sound releases from my throat and with the first contraction Rick's cock starts twitching too and gasping he fucks us through our climax.
I cling limply to Rick's hand as he sets me down and pulls up his pants with his free hand, "I love you."
I smile weakly at him and murmur, "I love you too."
All the adrenaline is pumped out of me and even Rick seems a little sluggish as he helps me clean myself up and then wipes the remnants of my make up off my face with a wet rag and says softly, "You looked really great with that red lipstick, but you don't need that at all. You look downright gorgeous as it is."
Gently, I smile at him and take him by the hand as I open the door and step out.
Immediately, a handful of heads turn to look at us and Charlie appears next to us with her lower lip pushed forward.
Reproachfully, she looks at Rick, "Can you please tell a few gentlemen your secret to making her scream like that? I want to experience that sometime."
Then she looks at me and laughs softly, "Maybe you should get the remnants of your lipstick off your lover's face too."
I jerk my head around and sure enough, Rick looks like he's kissed a bloody wound.
He looks at me questioningly and I set about salvaging what can be salvaged with my fingers and sigh softly, "Why does that lipstick actually look better on you than it does on me?"
tags: negan being negan, sweet negan, negan swears, a lot, alexandrian reader, haircuts, facial shaving, pet names, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, smut, shameless smut, pwp, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies to lovers.
You are the daughter of Jessie Anderson, and the only remaining member of your family in Alexandria. Luckily, Rick Grimes and Michonne took you in as one of their own, and you have adjusted to life as the hairdresser of Alexandria.
For the last year, you have visited Negan in his cell once a week to cut his hair, shave his face and give him things to bathe with. This time, however, things take a different turn.
AO3 LINK
“You're gonna be okay down there?”
You roll your eyes fondly and adjust the basin filled with soapy water in your left hand to rest on your cocked hip. “Oh, no. Suddenly after going down there every week for, what… A year? And being just fine… Now I'm not okay with it.” The harmless sarcasm drips from your voice as your lips widen in a smile and you nudge Michonne gently in the side. “Gotta stop worrying about me, okay? I'm a big girl.”
Michonne sighs and lifts her hand, letting it fall on your shoulder to give your arm a squeeze. You can tell from her expression what she will go on to say next, and no amount of bracing yourself for the words makes them any easier to listen to. “I know… I can't help it. Ever since your mom and brothers — I feel responsible for you…”
You pull your lower lip between your teeth as the smile slowly falls from your face and you direct your gaze to the ground, studying the spatters of dirt on your once pearly white trainers. They've seen better days, honestly, but you stubbornly remind people that you will wear them until they have holes in them when their questionable condition is pointed out to you. “Yeah, I know.” You sigh, adjusting the heavy basin to try and get rid of the building ache in your upper arm. “It'll be fine, Michonne. Really. You can wait out here, if you must.”
Michonne shakes her head and waves her hand, offering up an apologetic smile. After the death of your mom and brothers, Ron and Sam — Rick and Michonne took you in as one of their own. You're used to Michonne worrying about you, especially after Carl and her own son, it's just her motherly instinct kicking in. Nothing she can do about it. “No, no. Sorry, I know you'll be fine.”
You nod, glancing over your shoulder to the now familiar locked door waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You wouldn't admit it, but the thought of going down there does scare you sometimes. After what that man did to your friends… “You know if he was going to hurt me, he would have by now,” You point out to her with a reassuring smile, though part of you wonders if you're trying to convince yourself more than her. Every time you go downstairs you have to repeat the words in your mind over and over again, just to muster the confidence to head inside. “Besides, I'm the only one qualified, and I'm the one with mom’s shears. Has to be me. We all have a job, and this is mine… And I have my knife.”
“You could always use the scissors if—”
“Michonne.”
“Right. Sorry!”
You chuckle fondly and spin around on the heel of your dirty trainer to start down the stairs, careful to keep the water from sloshing around and pouring out of the basin. You have your mother's belt tight around your waist — made for carrying around a different sort of weapon. Scissors and thinning shears are tucked into two of the spaces, a razor and bottle of homemade shaving cream filling the next two, and a clean flannel is tied in a knot around the belt. Rick laid out a towel across the chair just outside the cell this morning. And most importantly, your knife is tucked into the back of the belt, the bottom of your tank top pushed behind it for easy access.
As soon as you push open the door to the cell with your right elbow, a deep chuckle bounces off the walls followed by the rumbling voice you have grown accustomed to hearing upon entrance, “Ahh. That time of the week again, doll?”
You sigh and turn to close the door behind you before moving closer and setting the basin down on top of the towel. “Sure is, asshole.” You respond with a smile which very much oozes the words ‘fuck you’ without you actually having to say them and spin the keys to the cell around on your index finger.
“Well, shit. You not fuckin’ happy to see me, darlin’?” Negan pouts playfully as he steps into the light pouring in from the small window, pushing his hands through the bars of the cell to rest on the horizontal bar running across the others. “Makes my damn week when you come in here, just to make little old me all pretty.”
You release a sound midway between a scoff and a snort and cross your arms over your chest. “Well, you sure as Hell need it. You look like shit.” You challenge, letting one of your arms fall to your side, reaching around your back to produce the knife from your belt. “Now you know the rules, shit head. Back from the door and against the wall, or I'll fucking gut you where you stand.”
“Oh, you wound me, baby — besides mommy and daddy certainly wouldn't like to come down here and find me dead, now would they?” Negan taunts right back, though with a warning glare sent in his direction from you, he does as he was told and takes a few long strides backwards, pressing his back flush against the wall with his brow raised expectantly. You're more than used to his nicknames by now — ever since the first time you set foot in his cell he began lavishing you with them, and you lost the strength to stop arguing about them somewhere along the way.
And maybe you don't hate them as much as you claim.
“They would just have to deal with it,” You grumble and fiddle with the keys in the lock before pushing the door to the cell open and clipping the keychain onto the belt loop of your trousers. Turning for a mere second, you grab the basin and towel, bringing them into the cell while keeping your gaze fixed on Negan, as always. Making sure he doesn’t try anything. The mirror is already set up beside his bed — you take a quick glance at it before setting the basin down to ensure it hasn’t been smashed, since dying after having your throat cut with a shard of glass doesn’t sound too appealing — and you gesture to the bed for him to sit.
He wears that infuriating smirk of his as he nods and approaches the bed with his hands raised, flopping down in the middle of it. You watch him warily before taking your usual spot right on the edge of the bed, clearing your throat and making a turning motion with your index finger until he obediently turns to face his back towards you. It’s like a dance for the two of you at this point, you have done it enough times that the steps have been memorised and flow effortlessly.
“You gonna let me shave my own beard again this time, or am I gonna be mopping up my own fuckin’ blood again today?” Negan speaks up after a while of sitting completely still for you to cut his hair. It doesn’t grow much between the weekly visits, but for some reason Rick insists on it always being cut down as short as you can get it. You personally like it with a little bit of length to it. Not that you would ever say that — his head might inflate so much it explodes.
“Maybe,” You shrug, though after practically butchering his face last time you attempted it you are more than willing to hand him the razor with proper supervision, “if you’re good.”
“Shit. Someone’s confused! Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”
“You really gonna tease someone who has scissors right beside your neck, asshole?” You mutter, giving him a little poke in the column of his throat with the point of the blade as if to prove your point. Negan snorts softly but seems to surrender with that and goes back to being blissfully silent until you finish with his hair. He knows better than to taunt you while you’re doing your job; during one of the first weeks you decided to leave him with a patchy haircut and beard that he was embarrassed to show off even if he did only see three people throughout the week. His image was still important to him back then, he still thought he could intimidate the people of Alexandria and needed to look presentable in order to do so. He learned that lesson fast.
“You know between you, your daddy and that damn priest, I’m beginning to think you people don’t like me.” Negan sighs wistfully, occasionally taking a quick glance in the mirror to make sure he isn't winding you up enough for you to make a mess of his hair again. That shit was humiliating as Hell.
“No! You!? But you're such a joy to be around!” You tease with a toothy grin, pushing the scissors back into their place in your belt now that his hair is finished with. You pull the razor and shaving cream out instead, hesitating for just a second before pushing them into Negan’s hands. Your fingers hover over the handle of your knife, just in case. “And Rick isn't my dad. My dad is dead.”
“Shit,” Negan mutters, turning to look over his shoulder at you with what can only be described as sincerity written across his handsome face. His voice lowers, that usual ‘I’m the big shot’ tone completely absent as he instead allows a soft rumble to take it over, “I'm sorry, darlin’.”
You frown and shake your head as you untie the flannel from your belt and set it down on the bed beside you. Partly because his apologies could never mean anything to you, partly because for once it isn't his fault, but mostly… Because you're glad he's gone. All he ever did was torment your mother, and since his death you haven't spent a single day missing him.
“I'll, uh, leave you to it. Holler out the window when you're finished, okay?” You mumble, wringing out your hands nervously as you move to stand from the bed. Rick warned you about this before. Negan has two tactics; Taunt the shit out of people until they snap and leave him alone, or butter them up with the chance they might get close to him and let him out of the cell. And you sure as Hell will not let that happen.
“Hey, doll?” Negan starts before you can stand, placing his hand on your arm to catch you. You should snatch your arm away from him, you shouldn't allow him to touch you for even a second, but for some reason the weight of his large fingers in the crook of your elbow settles you. Your throat is too dry for you to say anything, so you simply raise your brow as a signal for him to continue, “Listen, uh… This piece of shit bed is fucking up my back somethin’ awful. Believe me, this is embarrassing as shit for me to ask, feels like I've really been kicked down from my spot as the big bad, but would you help me bathe, sweet cheeks?”
Once again, you find yourself knowing that you should tell him to go fuck himself. Maybe you should even show him your right hook, knock some of those perfect teeth out on the ground. This is all just to get on your good side and get something out of you, whatever that may be, but you don't even have the strength to deny him as you swallow hard and shrug. “Finish up your face and hand me that razor back, first.”
If Rick could see you now, he would probably knock Negan out himself. Although you told Negan that Rick isn't your father, you know for a fact he sees you as a daughter and that he is incredibly protective over you as though you're his own. He has introduced you as such before, Carl even used to call you his sister…
“Finished, honey.”
You look back to find that horrific beard is gone — it grows way too much in the week that at one point you attempted to petition Rick to let you in every couple of days, you hate looking at it when it's overgrown like that — and Negan’s handsome features are once more bared to the world. The only thing about being able to see every inch of his face is the way your heart picks up every time you so much as glance in his direction. Even now you bite your lip, looking away from him as you hold your hand out for the razor and cream.
“Is my beauty fucking stunning you into silence? You wouldn't be the first, doll.” Negan grins, poking his tongue out from between his teeth as he tilts his head a little to the side.
“Don't you ever shut up?” You huff, smacking him on the shoulder with the flannel and rolling your eyes at the booming laugh he releases with the action.
“I don't think you want me to.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
“And why is that?”
“Because,” Negan starts and clicks his tongue, lifting his shoulders in a light shrug as he starts to peel off his shirt, “I think deep down, you're just as lonely as I am. I think you actually like our little talks, and you look forward to this time of the week just as much as I do.”
You falter at that, gripping on hard to the flannel as you turn your attention back to the ground. You wonder for a moment if he can read your mind — though you wouldn't go quite as far as to say you look forward to coming down here, you definitely don't hate it and dread it as much as you used to. Is he right? Do you actually enjoy talking to the enemy every week?
“Huh. Did I hit the nail on the head there, Y/N?” Negan whispers, uncharacteristically soft for him, and he leans forward with his elbows resting on his thighs as he stares up at you.
You clench your fists at your sides and shake your head stubbornly. “I'm just down here to do my job,” Your voice barely rises above a whisper, and you instead turn your focus to soaking the flannel in the soapy water and wringing it out before carefully approaching Negan in a series of almost hesitant steps.
“You don't have to be scared, baby. I don't bite,” Negan assures you, even going to the effort of clasping his hands behind his back to show you it's alright, that he won't touch you. Of course, Negan being Negan, he can't do anything but finish off that statement with a cheeky grin and a low murmur of, “Unless you want me to, of course.”
“Shut it,” You sigh, leaning close enough that you can swipe the flannel across his strong shoulders, putting some weight down with your palm and scrubbing the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, right up and down his back and around his sides before you finish up behind him and move to the front to face him properly.
Negan has his eyes closed when you come in front of him — he had been humming softly as you washed him so you can only assume he is relaxed enough to let his guard down in such a way. All you can do for a long minute is stare, enraptured by his handsome face, his features settled and jaw unclenched, shoulders lowered from their recent usual spot raised around his jaw… He looks as though he could fall asleep any moment, and you can't say you would protest if he did.
“You still with me?” You joke, whipping the flannel through the air to splash some soapy water onto his broad, tattooed chest, and he finally blinks his eyes open to look up at you with a small smile.
“Why? You fuckin’ worried about me, beautiful?”
“Call it wishful thinking.”
He clearly doesn’t believe a word you say — he simply rolls his eyes and twists around to give you a better view, the smirk on his lips signalling that he knows exactly what he is doing. You avoid looking at his torso the best you can, though it becomes harder and harder as you lean in to wipe the flannel over his sternum after dipping it back in the water. “Mm. I should have hurt my back a long time ago.”
“I wouldn’t have done this back then,” You point out, and it’s true. The only reason you’re doing this for him now is because deep down, after being down in this cell every week to see him and help him look actually presentable, you know by now he wouldn’t hurt you. Even if you feel nervous about coming down, you always relax after speaking to him for a minute. This might be a dangerous way of thinking, you’re sure other people had the same notion fixed in their minds and he proved them wrong with the swing of a bat, but you can only hope that you’re different.
“But now we’re best friends, so you’d do anything for me…?” Negan grins, and you decide to ignore him as you concentrate on your task.
This might be a mistake.
You can hardly tear your gaze away as you wash lower on his torso, dragging the damp cloth over his chest and toned abdomen, stopping just above the little trail of hair that leads into his trousers. Your legs are already quivering while you slide the flannel over his slightly wet skin, your lower lip turning a deep shade of red from how hard you are biting down on it to keep your breath from coming out ragged. If he notices, he will definitely think you’re the most desperate person he’s ever come across. Just touching his body is making you hot, and you know for a fact you will never live it down if he realises the effect he’s having on you—
“Alright there, doll?”
You didn’t even realise in your intense staring, but in order to get a closer look at his strong build you must have leaned down a great deal; your faces are now mere inches away from each other, you can feel his breath fanning against your cheek as you swallow hard and lift your eyes to meet his. “What?” You whisper dumbly, holding on tight to the flannel as though it might help to ground you. Your breath quivers when he lifts his hand to rest on your chin, and he most certainly catches it.
“I said…” He murmurs, closing the miniscule gap between your faces and bumping your noses together. “Are you alright there, doll?”
You can hardly control your ragged breathing as you struggle between looking at his eyes or his lips. Even after being in a jail cell for so long, they still look so soft and pink… “Huh… Yeah, I’m fine. What about you?” You respond automatically, subconsciously leaning in until your lips barely brush while you speak.
“Just peachy,” Negan makes a soft sound then, caught somewhere between a groan and a chuckle, and takes it upon himself to press just that little bit closer, covering your lips with his own and kissing you hard. You gasp into his mouth, which drags the sound out of him once again as he allows his hands to drift down to your waist, calloused fingers dragging over the fabric of your black tank top.
For just a moment, you have a mental debate on whether or not this is such a good idea. To allow yourself to get tangled up with the enemy, even if he is the closest thing you have to a friend these days, isn’t something Rick would be particularly happy with. He has the ability to do more than hurt you, or to use you to get something out of your father figure. But… fuck if his hands don’t feel amazing pulling you closer, his tongue licking past the seam of your lips to expertly brush against your own… It makes your brain go fuzzy, and you decide you very much don’t want to think of Rick right now as you allow yourself to clamber into Negan’s lap, your legs straddling one of his thighs.
With the silent okay from you, he takes his opportunity to let his hands travel. One hand keeps its grip on your waist while the other untucks your top from where it is tucked into the waist of your jeans, slipping under the fabric to drift his warm palm over your back and gradually round until he can feel at your breasts, kneading them below his strong hand.
“Just a second, honey,” Negan whispers against your lips as he pulls back from the kiss and lifts you off of his lap just enough to discard your jeans and his own, then allows you to settle back down on his thigh, “Better, huh?”
You nod quickly and cup his jaw with both hands to bring him back into another messy kiss. Those few seconds apart were far too long for your liking, you have to get this over with before someone can interrupt you, or before you realise what a betrayal this is to your family and stop. But you don’t want it to stop, you moan softly as he rubs his thumb over your hard nipple and try to press into his hand. He looks absolutely delighted with himself, and while his smug expression might usually frustrate you, now it just makes you throb as you try to push yourself against him for some friction.
“Easy there, baby,” Negan says softly and moves to lavish a trail of kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck, “you’re not in a fuckin’ rush, are you?”
“Yes, someone could walk in any second,” You remind him around a series of breathy pants, groaning quietly with the burst of pleasure that hits you from the mixture of Negan’s lips on your skin and the feeling of your panties dragging against your wet pussy as you roll against his thigh.
“Hmmm… good point,” He agrees and uses his index finger to hook in the top of your underwear and tugs hard, ripping them off of you and tossing them to the side carelessly. You will scold him for that later, right now it does nothing to ease the way you’re now getting his thigh wet and you simply whine in frustration, which makes him chuckle and bite down on your throat.
“We shouldn't even be doing this,” You whisper, though your statement of weak protest doesn't stop you from rolling your hips impatiently on top of him, scanning his face with almost pleading eyes that make him groan softly.
“Shit, doll. You drive me fuckin’ crazy every time your pretty ass comes down here, but I ain't gonna make you do something you don't want.” Negan murmurs against your collarbone, leaving a large bite mark there before he pulls back to look at you with a completely serious look in his dark eyes. It surprises you, but you greatly appreciate him making sure you're comfortable before continuing. “You gotta tell me you want it, out loud.”
“I want it,” You pant without hesitation, pushing your hips down against his thigh faster as you search for any kind of friction, “Please , Negan, I need it.”
“That's my girl,” You can swear you feel his deep voice rumbling against your skin as he returns to his spot in your neck and licks a slow stripe up the column of it before kissing the same spot gently. “Fuck, baby, I can feel how damn wet you are just on my thigh. Getting really wound up, hmm? Maybe I should just leave you in this state until next time… Make you think about me in your bed every night with your hand between those pretty thighs… How does that sound, sweetheart?”
“No,” You protest around another soft whine, shaking your head pathetically with a long grind of your hips. You can’t even remember how you got here, how things escalated so fast, but you’re too far gone now that every second without release would surely be pure torture, “No, Negan, please. Please don't. Please.”
“Shhh,” Negan’s lips widen around a strange smile at you, one that is unfamiliar on his lips. It isn't a taunting smile, or his usual shit-eating grin. It isn't the one he wears when he is flirting, or the one that can be found on his face when he knows he's really chipping through someone's sanity. It's softer, bordering on fond as he gently brushes his knuckles across your cheek. It makes your stomach twist. “It's okay. I won't do that to you, princess. Not this time.”
The prospect of there being a next time already sends a thrill through you. But you know there's no time to focus on that, as you lean into the hand on your cheek you remind Negan that, “If we take much longer, Michonne’s going to come looking for me…”
“Shit. So you're telling me I can't take my sweet time with you?”
You shake your head in response, before you quip with a smirk, “Not this time.”
“God damn it,” Negan whispers in an almost proud way, still wearing that same smile on his face, “you're a little shit, you know that?”
“Negan.”
“Baby, you really need to learn some patience,” Negan teases, but just when he can see you're about to start complaining again he shushes you and places his index finger over your lips, pressing down against them to silence you. You furrow your brows for a moment, your face contorting with surprise a second later as he finally slips his hand between your soaked thighs and brushes his thumb over your clit.
You crumple against his chest then, gasping into his shoulder as you involuntarily buck into the sensation. He wastes no time in adjusting the position of his hand in order to slip one of his large fingers inside you, pushing slowly in and out of your tight entrance. With how wet you are, a series of absolutely sinful sounds fills the room and you pray to any God still out there that nobody can hear them from outside. You might actually die of embarrassment if that happened.
“Jesus fuck I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, darlin’,” Negan rumbles with a quiet moan despite you not even touching him, and for a moment you consider slipping your hand into the space between your bodies and at least palming him through his underwear, but he seems to read your mind on the spot and assures you, “Don’t worry your pretty head, I can wait until next time— whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay,” You murmur and allow yourself to completely relax against him, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his thumb circling that perfect spot while he pushes another finger inside, scissoring them apart and together for a moment before angling them in the most delicious way. “Fuck, Negan, I’m not gonna last long—”
“Oh, I’m counting on that, baby,” He allows a wolfish grin to spread over his face and suddenly, so fast you hardly have time to react, starts fucking you with his fingers so hard and quick that his knuckles are making slapping sounds against your skin. Quickly, he clamps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle the loud moan that rips out of you, something you’re endlessly thankful for as you grip onto his arm, your nails leaving little red crescent shapes in his skin. He can’t find it in himself to mind.
You desperately writhe in his lap, fucking yourself on those perfect fingers and whimpering against his palm over your mouth. You've never felt something so good, never had shivers wracking your spine just from the deep rumble of someone's voice as he sucks and bites at your chest, leaving his mark on you in the form of several love bites even though nobody else will ever see it. It's just for both of you. No one else matters.
“Feel good?” Negan prompts with a raised brow, and though you're sure he doesn't need an answer — surely he can see the effect he's having on you — you nod vigorously, grinding down on his fingers before one particularly good swipe over your swollen clit sends shocks through you, a twisting sensation setting fire to your stomach, and you don't know what to do with yourself. He can feel you clenching around his fingers as you roll your eyes and let the bliss consume you, your body trembling hard against his. It's a good thing he placed his hand over your mouth when he did, or everyone in Alexandria would know what the two of you are up to by now. “Shhhh, there's my good girl. There we go, baby. I've got you.”
You only moan softly in response, riding through your orgasm with the help of his slowing fingers. He continues to murmur gentle words of praise against your skin, kissing almost apologetically over every mark he has left as you slowly but surely come down from your high.
It certainly helps when there is an abrupt knock at the door and you all but jump out of his lap, your heart racing with the worry of being caught like this with him. Luckily for your poor heart, the door doesn't open, and instead you can hear Michonne calling through it, “Y/N! Are you almost finished down there? Dinner will be ready soon!”
You choke down the fear that filled you moments earlier and clear your throat, attempting to push away any sign of shakiness in your voice. “Yep, just finishing up, Michonne! I'll be up in a sec!” You call back, balancing your hands on Negan’s shoulder in an attempt to hold yourself up on shaking legs.
“Two minutes and I'll be coming back down for you!”
You vent a relieved sigh when you hear the receding footsteps, and turn back to Negan only to see him bringing his soaked fingers to his lips and licking over them while holding eye contact with you. You shudder, but give him a light smack to the shoulder as you hiss, “This can't happen again! What if she had just walked right in?! Shit. Shit, I can't believe I—”
“Well, fuck. Did you not enjoy it?” Negan asks with a frown of genuine concern settling on his face. You want to kiss it right off of his features, and that just makes you feel more conflicted about the way you feel towards him…
“What? Of course I did! That's the point, I can't— I can't do these things with you of all people, I…” You pinch at the bridge of your nose and attempt to steady your breathing. “If Rick finds out…” He might throw you out of Alexandria, and you don't know if you can make it on your own!
“Hey, doll,” Negan shakes his head and stands slowly, looping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. You can feel him hard against you and part of you still feels bad that you didn't do anything for him, but the other part knows it's for the best. You already went too far with him, if you had touched him, then… “Breathe, okay? It ain't the end of the fuckin’ world. Nothin’ wrong with you enjoying it. You can admit you liked it.”
“Don't get cocky,” You whisper helplessly and sink into his arms, resting your cheek on his chest as your hands rest on his hips and your body deflates in relaxation. He has no business being so warm, so comforting to lean against, “It was alright, I guess.”
“Alright, you don't gotta admit I rocked your world this time. I'll wait until you come crawlin’ back next week,” Negan teases and nudges you gently. You chuckle and shake your head, pinching his waist as a silent way of telling him to shut up. Still, you can't even deny that you will be back. If you weren't drawn to him enough before, now you certainly are. He sighs and tilts your chin up, guiding you into a slow kiss that has your eyes fluttering shut easily. “You better get dressed and go, honey. Don't wanna get you in trouble.”
“Right,” You nod, allowing yourself to linger in his hold for a few moments more before you begrudgingly pull away from him and start picking up your clothes. You look at your ripped panties with a little pout, before you push them into Negan’s hand and allow a smirk to replace it. “Keep ‘em hidden and they're all yours.”
Negan barks out a laugh and bunches them close to his chest, shaking his head fondly. “Fuck! It's like all of my Christmases have come at once! Thank you, sweet pea, I'll treasure ‘em forever.”
You manage a small laugh of your own as you pull your jeans up and tuck your tank top back into them. It's extremely uncomfortable without your underwear but you can put more on when you're back upstairs. Then you push your knife into its spot at the back of your belt and start gathering everything up to bring them back outside. As you pick up the basin once more, suddenly feeling heavier than it did when you entered, you pause and worry your lip between your teeth. “Don't mess up my underwear next time, ‘kay? I'll knock your teeth out.” You threaten lightheartedly, burying the promise that there will be a next time between the words before you chuckle to yourself and start heading out of the cell.
“Hey, kitten?”
You pause and turn around to look at him, watching his shit-eating grin return to its rightful place. You can't help but allow your eyes to wander as you stare him down, waiting for him to continue. “Yeah?”
“Don't wear any next time.”
a/n: aaahhh i hope you enjoyed my first ever x reader fic and my first ever negan fic! if you did, feel free to leave a request in my asks for a headcanon, drabble or one shot!
also, if you want to be tagged in the second part pls let me know < 3
summary: takes place before negan met the alexandrians, he found the reader on the road and after some time he finally gets his way with her after she messes up working on the fence.
warnings: smut 18+, degradation, praise, oral fem receiving, missionary, slight choking and spanking, pet naming such as doll, lovely, honey, dirty girl, twd gore, walkers etc
authors note: no one asked for this one, and I would like to mention that I do not condone anything negan does, for twd's political opinions ahah. any hate won't be tolerated as this is just fiction.
The consistent ringing of my alarm woke me up. I sighed, reaching over to turn it off beside me. Something about the atmosphere of my room felt heavier than usual. I couldn't get rid of the feeling as I started to feel more awake and lucid.
When I got up and onto my feet, I went over to my dresser and pulled out some clean jeans and a warm flannel. I peered over to see that the sun wasn't shining through the window this morning.
I reminded myself that there wasn't a reason that I should be complaining as I went to the kitchen sink to make some coffee. I filled up a kettle of water and put it on to boil. Places like this aren't easy to come by. Not since before. I was treated somewhat fairly compared to other people that live here.
I was told by him that I wasn't a worker and to separate myself from the workers who lived in the lower parts of the sanctuary. I found that I wasn't like his other men either such as the people who helped him the most. The ones that had the most value to him.
When I first met Negan, his men found me on the road. He happened to be with them, he was the reason that I wasn't killed. People are a resource, he told me. I was traveling alone, I had no one. I had nothing to offer him but he took me in anyways.
The walkie on my nightstand started to fill the room with noise. "Yankee November, Yankee November. This is the Big Man talking. Come in. Over." My attention was brought back to my coffee and Negan. I set it down on the counter and made my way over to the walkie. "This is Yankee November, Go ahead. Over."
Silence filled the room until he replied to me. "I need you at the fence, doll. Over." I was at most just a supervisor to the sanctuary. I have picked up shifts when I'm able to. "Come in. Yankee November" he transmitted. "Affirmative. Out," I ended.
I walked out of my room and over to the south of the building, heading down hallways and stairs. I pushed open the weighted door and descended down the last flight. He stood in a clearing near the fence that held walkers together. They acted as souvenirs or trophies.
I walked over and stood beside him, uncomfortable at most. He clicked his tongue and gave a smirk. I stood still, waiting for what he had planned for me. I couldn't seem to really find my place around him. I couldn't tell if I was on his good side at most times and he seemed to be waiting for the moment that I went against him. I felt numb around him, or at least I tried to stay neutral.
He chuckled, "You aren't going to say hello?" he pondered. He took a step closer to me. I gave no expression as I turned to face him. "After everything, we have been through?" he edged.
In his left hand, he held his bat. With a joking demeanor, he held to it a little more tightly, rolling it with his wrist. He moved it toward my leg. Resting the tip of the bat on my shin, then he got closer. "Hello, Negan," my breath shuttered. "That's it," he rested his shoulders, taking a step back.
He let me off the hook, then started to get to the point. "I have a plan for you. Are you okay with that?" he questioned looking at me deeply. "That's fine with-," he interrupted. "Well shit, I sure hope you are there. Because as you very well know, you don't have a choice." I nodded, getting restless with him.
"I'm glad to see that you understand. Other people aren't as lucky as you are. You have everything you need, thanks to me. So you shouldn't have any issues with helping on the fence." He waited for me to acknowledge him. "I don't have any issues with that. I'm grateful," I tried to throw him a softened face, a smile even.
He stood more upright, proud of my submission to him. "Are you sure? Or do you need me to be there with you? In case you haven't watched others do it enough?" he made his suspicions against me and then degraded me.
I looked into the fenced arena, looking at the men unloading dead bodies from a truck to give to the yardbirds. Placing them in a wheelbarrow. "I have it, I'll be good. I'll make sure that there are no accidents." I tried to reassure him.
I turned away from him, just for him to follow me. I headed toward the shed. Which had makeshift weapons such as sharpened sticks and rods of metal. I entered and then looked for something to use. I eyed up a wooden stick and then left to help.
Negan watched me from afar, standing on the stairs with his arms resting on the railing. He knew that I saw he was staring when I looked back over. He waved in a way that he wanted me to get back to it. I rolled my eyes when I turned back to one of the men.
He watched as I unloaded a couple of bodies from the trunk. I helped hand them to the others so they could move them to where Negan wanted them. But when they moved the last body off the truck, it turned.
It wasn't a shock to see it happen in this job detail. They couldn't damage the skulls of the bodies so they could purposely turn so that they can be on display. The two that were trying to move the walker fell off the truck with it on them, the ground knocking the wind out of them.
The walker wrestled with the men, pushing back and forth with one another till I put an end to it. I drove the stick through the back of its head. The two got on their feet and gave me a concerned look. I stood confused, wondering.
Over the sounds of the groaning walkers that were already attached to the fences, I could feel that he was coming over as I stood silently. He began to whistle a high-pitched alarm. A song that made my body feel like static.
He walked up behind me, looking me up and down. Then his attention went to the workers and yardbirds as they were kneeling for him.
He stood beside me, my head facing the ground. I tried to stay calm and collected. I didn't want to make things worse for myself. I could feel his eyes on my presence. He tilted his head, "Y/n." He sighed a laugh, "Looks like you made an accident. I know that you may not be truthful, but I sure as hell am and you can trust me when I say that you fucked up doll."
I grew paranoid, wanting to plead with him but I didn't even know what I did wrong. "It was going to kill them, Negan," I said wryly. He disagreed with me by shaking his bat side to side, close to my face. "Doesn't matter,' he smirked. "That walker meant something to me. I'd like to think that you knew that, being a supervisor and all."
He stepped closer to me, lowering his bat. "You said no accidents," his gloved hand pushed strands of hair to tuck behind my ear. "You said you could be good," he made me face him.
He looked composed, even if it is just to deceive me. He expressed nothing but a concerned look towards me. "We don't kill the ones on the fence, they all have a purpose to serve."
He watched me in contentment as fear and guilt consumed my mind. His palm held my jaw, covering my cheek. "I'm sorry I-" he cut me off. "You didn't see anyone else kill a walker out here, have you? Mhmm y/n, I don't think you have. You would have reported it in for me, right doll?"
I felt weak and my body felt tense. I couldn't find an answer for him, but thankfully he stopped persisting. "Oh my, oh my! Look at this, look at my dirty girl!" he ticked in despair at my current state.
He pulled the hem at the bottom of my flannel, "Tsk, tsk, this will simply not do." I had small splots of blood all over it.
εїз
I opened the door to my room, unlocking it. He stepped inside before me as I held it open. "I haven't been in here for some time, why's that y/n?" he sat on my bed, creasing the blankets. "I need an answer, now love," he ordered. "Why do you not let me out more often?" I questioned his stance on me.
"No," he said straight. "You know the rules, you answer to me, you provide for me, and you belong to me." He waited for my response by looking around my room, looking in the drawers. "I don't know Negan, Sir," I stood by the door.
It hadn't been long since he and his men found me on the road, around a month or so. He hadn't been in here since he showed me my room. There hadn't been a reason for him to come in here, even with his constant flirting and the power he held over me.
He chuckled as he pulled a clean shirt out of a folded pile. He then tossed it onto the bed and looked me in the eyes. "Sir?" he questioned, sitting back down on the comforter. "Why don't you get yourself cleaned up?" he smiled.
I took the shirt from his hands and as our fingers touched, I felt startled. I thought to myself what he had planned for me, what he could do to me. I started to walk over to the bathroom to change, but he stopped me.
He gave me a smile that turned into a lustful stare. "Do you mind if I watch? Hm..." My heart raced with his words and I felt short of how to respond to this older man. He tilted his head, waiting for me. "You can always say no, doll" he continued with the pet calling.
I felt warm and dirty. Not because of the blood but because I felt so guilty for being alright with entertaining him. Showing myself off to him, just because he asked me to. I was left undecided.
"You really don't know why I treat you the way I do, right?" he changed the topic. "Tell me," I gave in, hoping to not sound desperate. "Because I save people, you know that. I found you, I protected you. I even gave you a place to sleep. Tell me what do you think about that?" he wondered.
"I've seen you with other people here. I know what you do. I don't have much to offer you," I spoke softly. "What makes me different than the others?" I questioned. He shifted in his place and stood up to meet my face.
"You see, you aren't one of my wives but you have just as much power to say no. Nothing you don't want to do, nothing that my men have to do. You don't deserve to see the shit that they do," he got closer to me.
"You play the role I want you to play because I said so," he lowered one of his hands on the hem of the bottom of my shirt, once again. "I have a hot spot for you, I haven't strayed far from you since you've gotten here."
His face went back to the lustful look from before. I was conflicted. I wanted to have trust in him yet I didn't know how I could. He pulled at the fabric, suggesting that he truly did want to watch me. "I won't say no to you," I said abruptly. It sunk in deep, what I told him. I didn't know if he would hurt me. Maybe even change me.
His eyes edged into me as he waited for me to replicate what I said. I took a deep breath and tossed the flannel over my shoulders. I watched as his demeanor became lighter, again. He looked proud of himself. After a while, I started to think that maybe he was proud of me.
"Would you be a dirty girl, and have this dance with me?" he got impossibly close, my chest on his. "I can feel your heartbeat out of your chest, y/n," he teased me, pulling my face closer to his as it heated with a red tint.
He brought his lips so very close to mine, acting impatient with me. "Are you cooperating with me?" he said with an urgency in his tone. I felt wetness forming a puddle in my underwear. As uneasy as I felt, I really wanted to please him.
The moment I locked my lips with him, it gave full control to him. I almost shamelessly let out a moan just by kissing him and when I did I bit the inside of my cheek. I wondered how he would react to me.
Anxiety washed away after he didn't stop to mock me but instead continue to kiss me after catching my slip-up and then pulling me to my bed. "You can get louder than that? Right doll? There's no reason to hide your painstakingly beautiful moans," he tried to reassure me.
I didn't reply to him right away. I was aroused and it didn't help that I was so flustered. He rocked me back and forth with his hands gripping my waist. He had me on his thigh and all I could do was submit to him. I gave him light whimpers, almost silent against his lips.
He guided me harder on his thigh, our jeans rubbing together. "I need you to start giving me answers there, baby" he bit into my neck, leaving it stinging. I felt myself tighten up against his thigh. I started to give in to his theatrics, allowing myself to feel pleasure against him. I started to grind without his hands on my waist.
He chuckled in amusement at the sight and then he placed me on his groin. Without questioning I started to rub myself against him. He smelled fresh, like clean laundry and cologne. I felt really intimate with him, felt so close to him. I became memorized by the taste of his mouth, having had his tongue push against mine. He made me squirm with the feeling of his bulge pushing up against my clothed sensitive parts.
His hands roamed my back, one resting lower and the other entwined in my hair. He pulled it back, pulling my lips off of him. He held the back of my head while he just sat there, taking me in.
I could see him thinking, analyzing me. "My god, would you just look at that." He moved a hand to my face, caressing it. "You know before I met ya, I wouldn't have guessed that you could look this hot and bothered."
I gave no response, trying to get back to it. I tried to kiss him but he held my hair tightly. "Asshole," I winced. He just laughed and let his hold on me go, pressing his lips back into mine. "I know baby, I'm so mean aren't I?"
I was still struggling for friction, wanting to feel more. My rotating hips had become weaker and I was moving at a slower pace. "If you want to have sex with me, all you have to do is ask," he chuckled, raising an eyebrow.
I took a moment to think, still softly rutting into him. I thought of a way to answer, cupping him in my hand. He groaned at the adjustment, feeling my fingers glide along his hard-on. "Mhm Hm, you could handle me?" he questioned.
My mind went to a deep imagination, thinking about his cock. What it looked like, and how it would feel in my hands. I felt even more lustful and hard to control and regulate.
"What's running through that little mind of yours? Tell me, baby..." I felt a lump of air caught in my throat. please don't make me, my heart felt impossibly fast. "Just tell me, I won't bite ya," except that he has, and he would.
I took a deep breath, "I just want to... feel you," I mumbled. He moved his hand back to my waist again, tugging on the waistband of my jeans. "How so darling? I'm begging to know," he seemed to be getting even more impatient.
To help coax it out of me, he moved his hands and started to unbuckle my belt. He undid the zipper and dripped his fingers, parting my clothes to touch my skin.
His eyes watched me contently as he ran his touch through my folds. His tooth sunk into his lip, trying to savor the sight. Not letting his words interrupt me while I whimpered at the feeling. I felt myself coat his fingers while he spread the wetness to the rest of me, circling my clit.
My hands gripped his shoulders, "Mhm I-I want to s-ee your... I want it inside," I trembled. He mocked a gasp, "Oh?! My cock? The one right here?" he said scoffing at me, pushing my hand harder on his crotch. With his degrading words, I felt a shock flow through me. He flicked my clit harder, making my thighs tense and almost close together.
"I'll show you anything you want, just because you're so god damned cute," he smiled. "I'm starting to believe that you might like this, playing with your pretty pussy like this." He continued to touch me until my hips jolted and he lost his footing.
He gave a shit-eating grin before he got off of my bed. He pulled me up to my feet and stared down at me. "Take your clothes off, what's left of them," he directed, patting my head.
I uncollapsed my bra and then pulled the jeans and underwear that were barely hanging on down my legs and then over my ankles. He watched contently as my thighs rubbed together, over the lack of warmth and friction.
He came over to me and brushed his fingers over my curves and inner thighs, watching me shiver. "Mine need to be taken off as well, don't you think, darling?" he winked. I moved my hands to his chest, feeling the muscles and crevices. When I had gotten used to touching him, I went in for a kiss.
His lips crashed with mine as I took his jacket off, pushing it over his shoulders and pulling his arms from the sleeves. We only broke the kiss briefly as I took his white shirt off, revealing his chest. He was shaped so handsomely, with tattoos running the course of his body.
I got on my knees, his eyes watching. I unbuckled his larger belt that held his weapons to his waist, and it fell onto the floor. I then did another belt and then pulled his jeans down. I then was left with only his boxers.
I felt my mouth water, being directly in front of his groin. His length was shaped by the fabric. "What happened to my dirty girl? mhm?" he questioned as I kneeled in complete lust. He leaned down and cupped my chin, "The last thing that I would do is hurt you, cock included doll," he edged.
While not breaking eye contact, I pulled his boxers down. I couldn't shy my eyes away from his cock, it was large and angry. "Big isn't it?" he teased. I nearly choked on my words, "huge" I corrected him.
He chuckled as he pulled me back up onto my feet. Then he laid me down on the bed with my legs hanging over the edge. I watched as he put himself between my legs, giving me a quick kiss before he lowered himself to the bed.
I was looking up at the ceiling with my chest heaving with anticipation. "Eyes down here baby," he cooed, kissing my very inner thigh. I watched as he licked a strip up and down my cunt.
He brought his head up, rested his chin on my thigh, and smiled brightly. "You taste better than I thought you would, honey," he latched his mouth on my thigh, biting hard. I moaned at the sting which he licked away after.
He winked again before he started to devour me with his mouth. Circling and sucking at my slit, he teased my hole with his finger, barely inside. I was at his disposal, and I didn't mind at all.
His tongue lapped at me, adding just the right amount of pleasure. He hummed at my moans while I bucked my hips and tried to hold on to the bedsheets. He finally pushed his finger into me, pumping into me.
Right after he effortlessly slid another one into me, spreading me open, and feeling my walls. I knew that I was running on short time when he started to finger fuck into me harder and added more pressure onto my clit. It wouldn't last much longer, it was becoming a struggle.
After I felt an intense buildup, I laid there unable to stop myself from cumming all over his fingers. He kept going until my high was over and I was just an absolute moaning mess.
He joined me on the bed, holding his fingers to his lips. He licked the white off his prints and then held them out to me. "Open," he ordered me, and I did as such. I tasted my own cum, because he asked. I wanted to do everything he asked of me.
I held his hand as his fingers curved in my mouth, edging my throat. I licked in between and around his fingers, happy to have him in my mouth. "dirty dirty girl," he praised me, pulling me onto his lap once again.
I moved my hands into his hair, kissing him sweetly. "How badly does my girl want to fucked? mhm?" he egged me on. "Please... please" I responded. "Please what, use your words," he grinned. "I need you inside of me," I pleaded with him.
He obliged, pulling my hips up so he could enter me. He pushed his tip inside, moving it in and out before he started to push himself deeper into me. Only inch by inch, stretching me out.
I swung my arms around his shoulders, gripping him as he lowered me down even further. When he was completely inside, he bushed the hair on my head. "Mhm so fucking good Sir," I assured him.
He started to guide me back and forth, rocking into him slowly. "Once I start I don't think I'll be able to stop fucking you," he grunted. I tightened around him, only he was too big to squeeze. I laid my head on my arms as he continued to bury himself in me.
"Then don't, don't stop," I moaned and pecked at his cheek. He grinned and picked up his pace. Whispering in my ear, he told me, "Watch your words, miss." He was hitting the inside of me so gracefully that I would tell him anything just to keep going.
I melted around him after hearing him moan for me. His sighs filled my mind and left me with nothing else but pure corruption. The man he used to be before this, who I thought he was. It all changed. I saw him clearly with the way he fucked into me. He was being broken down with every thrust and moan.
He was much more than just an asshole, there was something inside of him that I started to yearn for. I let go of him and pushed him down, riding him. pleasing him.
I pushed down on his chest, feeling his torso. He looked intrigued by me, trying to take him on as I was. Something like that would never go over right with him. He was to be in control of me, only him.
He gripped my throat, holding me firmly. Even with his aggression, I could see that he looked almost helpless. He was panting and breathing heavily.
He quickly took control and lifted me off of him, pulling out. I felt so empty and in need. "Ne-," he stopped me, turning me over onto my chest with my ass in the air. Without warning, he started to pound harshly into me.
My face was in the pillows, holding them tightly. I became overwhelmed with the feeling of being used so well. I muffled my noises with the pillows, hearing him grunt and hearing our skin smack together.
Suddenly I felt myself start to get closer, my stomach tightened along with my pussy. "Negan..." I said sighing. He continued to rut into me, griping my waist.
Minutes passed by of him railing me, his moans became more prominent. "Cum on my cock, baby," he grunted, slapping my ass. I couldn't hold on anymore, I felt myself becoming undone. I reached my peak, loosing the ability to hold onto the pillows anymore. My legs were shaking and I couldn't seem to catch my breath.
He filled me with his warm spewing cum, trickling down my thighs and onto my bed. He pulled out of me after be both had fully ridden our highs.
"You did so well for me, dirty girl," he had me laying on his chest with the covers on both of us. He gave me a deep kiss, pushing my hair behind my ear. I was content, relaxed even.
I chuckled to myself. "What is so funny? hm?" he questioned me, smiling. "Does this make me your wife?" I asked him. His expression softened.
"No. You're my girl if I'm your guy..." he took a deep breath, giving me a smirk. "I won't say no to that," I kissed his lips deeply.
Summary: Things get steamy when you pay Negan a visit in his cell (set in mid Season 9, I suppose).
Warnings: smut, swearing obviously, dirty talking, oral sex (m recieving)
Over the past few months you had spent most likely a concerning amount of time talking to Negan in his cell. It started with taking him the odd meal, alternating your duty with other people. But over time you regrettably developed a soft spot for him, and dedicated yourself to finding the human underneath his tough exterior. You didn't let him know that though, remaining cold on the outside. That being said, you had pulled some strings for him, he now is allowed daily supervised showers, toothpaste and the occasionally beard and hair trim. All the basic hygiene stuff.
Though the truth is, you are lonely. Rick and Maggie were your closest friends and now they're both gone. Saddiq and Michonne were good friends to you, but Saddiq has enough on his plate at the moment and frankly Michonne hasn't been the same since Rick, so often times you find Negan being the only person to console in. You've never been much of a social butterfly anyway.
It's midday and you're sat watching Negan finish his lunch.
"All gone, ma'am," he says, popping the final bite in his mouth.
You take the plate from him and sit on your seat. He picks up the tennis that he has taken a liking to and bounces it off the wall, catching it, and repeating.
"So, what's the recent gossip?" He smirks. "I hear Gabe's boning Rosita."
"Negan," you scold, eyebrows furrowing. Though you did find their little relationship strange. "That's none of your business. None of our business."
"You reckon she took his virginity?" He continues, blatantly ignoring your remarks, continuing to bounce the ball, a huge mischievous grin spreading across his face.
You shake your head.
"No?" He asks curiously.
You hesitate before you bring it up, but you say it regardless. "I'm pretty sure him and Jadis, Anne, whatever she was called...you know," you widen your eyes and give him a knowing look.
"Really?" He gasps, taking his attention off the ball for a moment, causing it to slip out of his hand and out of the bars. It stops by your foot and you pick it up. He walks over towards the bars and wraps his hands around them.
"How do you know?" He asks.
"I don't know for sure but I've got eyeballs." You reply. "Something happened. I don't know what."
"Shit." He laughs. "I ought to give my boy Gabe credit where it's due. He's a player."
"He's a good Christian, Negan," you say, half sarcastically, earning a chuckle from him.
"Fuck, this is the most interesting thing to have happened in a while." He scoffs.
"That's sad," you laugh, raising your eyebrow at him. "So depraved that you're living through Gabriel's sex life. The vicar's sex life?"
You step closer to the bars, handing Negan his ball, but when he goes to grab it you quickly move your hand away, teasing him.
"You gonna give me my ball, sweetheart?" He smiles patronisingly.
You hold the ball, hovering it ever so slightly out of his reach. "Don't call me sweetheart."
"What would you prefer?" He taunts. "Sweet cheeks? Sugar plum?"
"You've got an awful lot of nerve talking to the only person who comes to see you like that." You warn, pointing your other finger at his face. "Say the wrong thing and I'm gone."
"But you always come back," he replies, cocking his head to the side smugly. "Why is that?"
"You don't get to ask questions." You snap.
"Oh, I like when you get fired up, darling." He smirks.
"I bet you fucking do." You retort impatiently.
"I do." He grins.
You bring your face closer to his and lower your voice, tired of Negan thinking he has you wrapped around his finger. "You also like this top?" You motion to the purple tank top you're currently wearing. "'Cause I've caught you looking at my tits at least ten times in the past five minutes." Your words clearly shock him. "You gonna jerk off to this little interaction later? That how fucking desperate you are?" You don't know what has come over you, you just want to finally have the upper hand.
"I'm a man." He smiles cockily, not embarrassed like you hoped he might have been. "I have needs."
He looks you up and down, his gaze burning into your skin, making you feel naked. "And I'd be lying if I said you weren't smoking hot."
You stroke your finger along his jawline seductively. "You thought about me before?" You ask. "While touching yourself?"
"Fuck yeah." He mutters, his eyes transfixed on your lips.
"Tell me what you think about." You demand.
"Baby, I-" but you interrupt him.
"Tell me." You snap, then moving your lips to trace his jawline and "Tell me and I'll suck your cock." He elicits a small groan and you grab his face in your hand, turning his head to face you. "And don't call me baby."
"Fuck, I- uhh..." He says, his voice gravelly. "I think about taking you in every fucking position, making you scream my name. Even fucking you out there," he points out of the barred window, "bending you over for everyone to see. So they can see how good I fuck you."
You look at him through heavy lidded eyes and in this moment you have never been so attracted to someone.
"See that wasn't too hard, was it?" You smirk, your lips lightly brushing his, just enough to give him a brief taste of what he wants.
"God, you're so fucking hot," he mutters.
"What do you want?" You ask him smugly.
"You know what I want." He groans impatiently. Your hands creeps to his crotch and palms him softly through his pants, forcing a small moan from his lips.
"I want to hear you say it." You whisper. "Beg me."
"Fuck, please," he groans. "Suck my cock. Please."
"That's it." You slowly lower yourself onto your knees and unzip his pants through the bars of the cell. You release him from his boxers and see that he is already rock solid, and he is big. Almost intimidatingly big.
Teasingly, you trace your tongue around his tip, tasting the pre-cum on his cock. His hips buck at the small contact, not used to anything but his hand for so long. He'd been in this cell for years. Soon enough, you take his cock fully into your mouth and you can't help but get butterflies and the deep, gutteral moan he involuntarily let's out as you do so.
Through the bars he grabs your hair, guiding your head up and down his length. The way he pulls on your hair sends tingles down your spine. His hips thrust and you stop your movements as he basically just fucks your mouth, doing all the work himself.
"Fuck," he hisses, and you can tell he is dangerously close. Concocting a plan in your head, you pull away and he stares at you, eyes wide, looking disheveled.
"No, don't stop, I'm about to-"
"I know," you whisper. "Trust me."
He nods, frustrated, but his eyes light up as he notices you start to lift your top up. You lift it off over your head and swiftly unhook your bra, leaving you topless and bare in front of him. He reaches his hands out wordlessly and you step closer to him, kissing him passionately while his hands squeeze and play with your breasts.
Breaking off the kiss, you grin. "You want me to finish what I started?" You don't wait for his answer because his eyes tell you enough, so you drop to your knees yet again, taking your tongue from the base to the tip of his cock, painstakingly slow.
You look up at him before continuing. "I want you to cum on my tits, okay?" He groans at your words. "Think you can do that?"
"Fuck, of course I can do that, sweetheart."
Without warning, you engulf him fully in your mouth again, and he grabs your chin with one hand and wraps your hair around the other, fucking your face mercilessly, picking the pace up in no time. Tears run down your face but you love it.
It doesn't take long for him to get to the point he was previously at because he hurriedly removes himself from your mouth. You brace yourself as he gives himself a mere single stroke, then his release spills onto your chest. He elicits the dirtiest, most primal sounding moans as he does so and it turns you on beyond belief. You can see him struggling to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss the view.
"Fuck," he mumbles as you run your finger along your chest, gathering some of his cum and licking it off, sucking it off seductively. "Jesus Christ, you're unbelievable."
You grab a flannel shirt that you hung over the back of your chair and use it to clean yourself up while Negan zips his pants back up. You put your top back on, but pick your bra off the ground leaving it dangling off your finger.
"You owe me big time for that," you tease.
You pick the tennis ball up (which got dropped at some point) and place it on the chair, along with your black lacy bra, out of Negan's reach. Without another word, you exit the room, leaving Negan breathless, disheveled and hungry for more, reeling from what just happened, sat staring at the ball and the bra that you left to taunt him.
"I'm gonna fuck you next time," you hear him yell as you close the door behind him, eager to have the last word, as always.
I'm pretty surprised that I managed to get this out in less than 48 hours. It sort of took on a life of it's own, and I had very little to do with this. It just kinda....happened. Divider by @firefly-graphics
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11| Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15| Part 16 | PCS
Also on ao3
After Bucky had made you sit through a nature documentary with the British narrator who couldn’t pronounce “penguin,” and after you’d forced him to watch The Wedding Singer, you cleared him from ‘cussion watch. Bucky rolled his eyes and thanked you gracelessly.
“Well, now that you’re convinced that I don’t have a con-cussion-” Bucky stressed the first syllable in an attempt to correct your pathological mispronunciation of the word. - “I want to take a shower and get something to eat. If I’d’ve known you’d hold me hostage, I would have swung by the house first.”
Bucky got to his feet, went over to the shoe rack, and started putting his boots on. He looked at you over his shoulder as he took his jacket off the hook and shrugged it on.
“You comin’ in that or you wanna get dressed?” He tugged the collar up before zipping the jacket and snapping the buckles.
You were slouching on the couch, pouting at his departure when his question made you straighten up and pay attention. “You want me to come?”
Wide-eyed and unsure if it was a genuine invitation or not, you asked him to repeat himself while reaching for the remote. Bucky had set it down on the other side of the table, just out of reach, and you stretched your fingers to reach it. When that didn’t work, you reached forward with half of your torso hanging off the couch as you tried to grab the remote with your fingertips. Your fingers brushed against the plastic casing, but it was still just too far away, and you scooted forward just one more inch—balancing precariously on the edge of the couch. The extra inch did nothing to extend your reach; it only set you off balance and sent you falling off the couch in the process. Yet, somehow, during your tumble off the couch, you managed to flail yourself hard enough that you were able to snatch the remote off the table as you fell. Victorious, your arm punched into the air, holding the remote above your head as you lay in the small space between the sofa and coffee table.
“Unbelievable.” There was a touch of laughter in Bucky’s voice as he spoke to himself.
Crawling off the floor and back onto the couch, you shut the tv off and sat the remote back on the coffee table with a sheepish grin.
“Hurry up, doll. I’m hungry.” He pulled up his sleeve and tapped his watch with a black and gold finger.
The tinking of his metal finger against the glass watch cover spurred you into action. Rushing into your bedroom, you pulled the door shut behind you and nearly fell over in your attempts to pull on a pair of jeans. You considered changing your shirt, but you had no doubt that once you took the shirt off, Bucky would try to reclaim it. The decision was easy; losing the shirt was unacceptable so you kept it on.
Deciding you were dressed enough, you shoved your feet in some shoes, grabbed your keys and purse off their wall hooks, and slung the latter over your shoulder as you followed Bucky out of your apartment. Bucky stood behind you with his hands shoved deep in his pockets while you locked up, and afterward, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder to the elevator. Bucky shoved his hand back into his pocket and rocked back and forth on his heels as he watched the floor counter count up to your floor.
You stood on his left and looked him up and down out of the corner of your eye. You focused on his mechanical arm and watched the subtle shifting of the plates as he moved. The way the plates moved together and formed the rounded shape of muscles intrigued you, and you wondered if it would always look so strong or if it would slim down if he ever debulked.
Bucky caught you looking at him, and you nudged him with your shoulder. He pushed back gently, and you returned in kind. The two of you engaged in a silly little battle of dueling shoulders, sending you into a laughing fit when you managed to shove him a step to the left. Back and forth, the two of you went, until the elevator dinged its arrival and interrupted your fun.
Taking Bucky by the forearm, you pulled him onto the elevator with you. You looped your arm through his and mashed the button to the parking garage. The mechanical arm was surprisingly cool to the touch, and you could feel the smooth movement of the plates shifting as the arm’s position changed. You had questions about what had happened, but it never seemed like the right time to ask.
With your hand on him, Bucky tensed momentarily. He moved your arm off of his and lowered it down to your side. Before you could feel rejected or disappointed, the hand that had just removed yours from his bumped against yours. The mechanical arm whirred quietly as his fingers brushed yours before your palms came together and your fingers intertwined.
You tried to keep your smile to yourself, staring straight ahead and watching the elevator doors, but when Bucky squeezed your hand softly, you beamed at him. The corner of Bucky’s mouth ticked up in a half-smile, and he lifted your joined hands to his mouth. He dropped a sweet kiss on the back of your hand as the elevator signaled your arrival to the parking garage.
“Come on,” he said casually as if he hadn’t just disrupted a kaleidoscope of butterflies inside of you. He sent them swarming inside of you, and they spiraled around, flying higher and higher.
Bucky guided you towards a black Jeep and opened the door for you to climb in. It was a perfectly normal if not absurdly clean vehicle and the rubber ducky sitting in the cupholder seemed out of place. After you buckled up, you picked up the ducky and squeezed it. The toy squeaked at you, and as Bucky climbed into his seat and started the vehicle, you squeaked it at him.
“I like your co-pilot,” you told him, putting the ducky back in his cupholder home.
“Watch your knee.” Bucky’s hand brushed against your knee as he shifted gears and backed out of the parking spot. “If you see another Jeep, you duck ‘em.” His Brooklyn accent was coming out heavy in his tiredness, and you loved it. “Once ducked, you keep it going until you get ducked again.”
You nodded and booped the ducky’s head. “Sounds fun.”
The ducky squeaked in agreement. Bucky simply grunted.
“You ever find your easter egg in here?” You looked around briefly, opening and closing the sun visor and leaning forward to check the dashboard, searching for an embossed animal or - really - anything.
“Yea.” He didn’t seem as excited about it as you thought he should be. This seemed to be the norm for him, but you were fully capable of being joyful enough for the both of you.
You clapped your hands in delight. “You did! What are they? Where are they?”
Bucky snorted at you, not sharing your enthusiasm. “You can find them on your own, doll. Just like I did.”
You pouted and asked him question after question, trying to get some sort of clue out of him as to where you could find the hidden animal. Bucky continued to dodge your questions and avoid giving any helpful answers, not even confirming if it was actually an animal you were looking for instead of something else - like a pair of flip flops.
“Fine.” You crossed your hands over your chest and pouted dramatically. Sticking your nose in the air, you turned to face the window.
Bucky took his hand off the gearshift long enough to squeeze your knee and assure you that it would be okay. As he did, his stomach growled loudly, and you realized you were starving too.
“You still got bacon and eggs?” You asked, mentally cataloging his latest grocery order as he turned onto this street. Lowering your arms, you turned back to him and poked the ducky again.
“Mhm.” A man of few words.
“I could just make breakfast while you take a shower.” Just offering made you feel embarrassed, and you hid your anxiety by plucking the duck out of the cupholder and fidgeting with him. The scene you were imagining was entirely too domestic, and you were worried you were inserting yourself too far into his life too quickly.
“Can you cook bacon without starting a grease fire?” Bucky teased you mercilessly as the Jeep pulled up to the house, and you rolled your eyes as he parked. “I like my bacon crispy, my eggs over-medium, and my coffee black.” He gave his order as he hopped out of the Jeep and jogged around to your side to open your door for you.
You met his chivalry with a smart mouth. “Imma give you fatty bacon, break your yolks, and give you decaf.” You slid out of the Jeep, and Bucky took your hand again as he led you up the stairs and into the kitchen of the little blue house.
“You know you don’t have to cook breakfast? We could just go out.” Bucky was standing in front of you, steel toes of his boots against the canvas toes of your slip ons. His left hand was still in yours, and you squeezed it gently to reassure him that you didn’t mind.
“No, I want to. I’m friggin’ starving, and I don’t wanna wait longer than I have to stuff my face.” You met his intense gaze with a carefree one of your own. “You go shower and put on a shirt with two sleeves.” You brushed an invisible speck of dirt off his left shoulder. “Or a shirt that’s missing both. I don’t care. Just pick a lane and stay in it.”
“Ok, I’ll try to be fast.” His right hand pushed your hair behind your shoulder, and the graze of his fingers on your skin rolled through you like an errant ocean swell. Shivers plucked at you like the ebbing of the tide making the sea fans dance. Your lids felt heavy from his touch, and you looked up at him from under your lashes as they swept against your cheek.
Bucky’s right arm snaked around your waist, and he tugged you against him. Your breath hitched as your chest collided gently against his, and you held it in as he studied your face through his dark blue, stormy eyes. You could see his mind working behind them, thoughts crashing tumultuously against each other in angry waves until he silenced them with a sharp inhale and kissed you.
Bucky kissed you deeply, leaning you back with the force of his kiss. You clung to his arms and felt the subtle shifting of the plates of his arm as he released your hand and moved it to the back of your neck. He didn’t need to hold you there; you had no plans to go anywhere without his lips on yours. You met him eagerly, arching against him and winding your hands up his strong arms, over his broad shoulders and sunk your hands into his short hair. He drew the kiss out and pecked another onto your lips before smirking and pulling away.
“Be right back,” he promised before disappearing down the hall and leaving you in the kitchen, addle-brained and shaky kneed. You had half a mind to follow him, but got distracted by his back profile as he walked away.
You heard the shower kick on in the bathroom and got to work, only a little distracted by the knowledge that the man who had just kissed you senseless was dripping wet and naked just a couple doors away. It took considerable effort, but you cleared your throat and shook your brain back into place before kicking off your shoes and putting them by the door, and washing your hands to start breakfast.
Every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen had been opened in your search for the right equipment and ingredients. Everything was sensibly placed in where you would have expected them to be, and you were slightly disappointed that you didn't have a good chance or reason to snoop around. Not that you thought that you would find out much from his kitchen. Bucky tended to play things close to his chest and wouldn’t leave his red flags or epiphany-inducing information just lying around. Your nose scrunched as you considered asking, but anything related to his past tended to make him upset and speak in short clipped answers.
But as you fried up the bacon and cracked the eggs into the bacon grease, you drifted off into your own thoughts. You’d already started the grits, and everything was almost ready. Humming to yourself, you opened the fridge and stood in front of it, hanging onto the handle as you searched for your preferred condiments.
Grabbing the tub of margarine and the glass bottle of ketchup, you were about to swing the door closed and go flip the eggs when an unexpected voice called to you from behind.
“Well, Grocery Girl. As I live and breathe!”
Surprised and scared shitless, you half-screamed/half-squealed and threw your hands up defensively, only realizing too late that you should not have let either of the items in your hands fall to the ground.
The tub of margarine fared the drop well. It simply plopped onto the floor with a slam. Its top had popped open, but otherwise, it seemed fine.
The ketchup bottle, however, was not as lucky.
You looked at the floor, your legs, and then the stranger. When it fell, the ketchup bottle had shattered, and your pants legs and Bucky’s previously clean floor were splattered with red ketchup and shiny pieces of glass. Unsure of what to do, you held your hands up like you were afraid of being arrested for your clumsiness.
“Shit. He wasn’t joking. You are a disaster.” The stranger covered his mouth with his hand. He may have been successful in hiding his smile, but he made no attempt to keep you from hearing his laughter. He walked further into the kitchen, rounded the counter, and upon seeing you surrounded by a tomato sea, he started laughing all over again.
“You okay, doll? What happened?” The look you gave Bucky stopped him in his tracks as he sprinted in from the other room, still pulling a shirt over his head.
“Can someone turn off the stove? The eggs are overcooking.” The calmness in your voice surprised you because you did not feel remotely calm at all. You were embarrassed and caught off guard and unsure of the stranger.
Bucky and the man exchanged looks, and the stranger backed up and took a seat at the counter. He pulled his phone out and began messing around on it, but it didn’t take eagle eyes to see that he was doing a very poor job at only appearing distracted.
“Don’t move,” Bucky ordered you to stay put while he moved the eggs off the heat, and you rolled your eyes. He walked around the mess, disappeared back down the hallway, and returned with his boots on.
“Better than a grease fire?” You sheepishly shrugged your shoulders as Bucky stepped through the mess towards you.
“Yes, better than a grease fire,” he chuckled. He looked down at the ketchup and glass at your feet and scratched his brow. Regret spread across his face as he regarded you. “That was a new bottle of ketchup, too.”
You listened to Bucky’s lamentations dutifully and apologized again. You were cut short when he wrapped his left arm around your waist and lifted you off the ground. Bucky picked you up and you squealed for a second time that day in his kitchen. Unlike how you had clung to him sweetly when he kissed you, this time you grabbed on to him because you were afraid of being dropped.
Before you could beg to be put down, Bucky’s other arm came around you and he lifted you onto the counter next to the sink. “Shut up, Sam!” Bucky snapped at the man at the counter while sticking your feet in the farmhouse sink and turning the faucet on them. Ketchup and glass were being washed down the garbage disposal, and you sat there wondering if you were going to be walking around in wet jeans for the rest of the day.
“I didn’t say anything!” Sam argued. He tossed his phone down onto the counter and gave up any pretense that he wasn’t watching the two of you. “I came to talk to him,” he said as he jerked his head towards Bucky.
“You scared me!” So this was the infamous Sam. “If you hadn’t scared me, I wouldn’t’ve dropped the ketchup.” You turned back to Bucky: “Did you just…” you looked between where you were sitting and where you had been standing.
“You dropped that ketchup on your own, GG. Don’t blame me.” Sam raised a brow, crossed his arm, and leaned back definitely in his seat. A fleeting wish that he’d fall backward off the chair sped through your mind. “And if Bucky didn’t buy weird, old-timey shit in glass bottles, it wouldn’t have broken. Hell, the butter survived.” He gestured to the sad tub, sat open on its side, waiting to be rescued.
“I told you not to call her GG, and I told you I’d deal with you later.” Bucky gave Sam a pointed look over his shoulder and turned back to you. “And yeah—I did. You were standing barefoot in a pile of glass. Don’t make it weird.”
“It wasn’t weird; it was kinda hot,” you murmured to yourself, wiggling your toes in the water streaming from the faucet.
Bucky froze when he heard you, and it took him a moment to get himself back on track. He shook his head to clear it and scrubbed his hands down his face exasperatedly. “I’m gonna go see if I have any pants that you can wear and never give back. Don’t move.”
“I won’t,” you promised. There were too many conversations going at once. You turned back to Sam. “What’s a GG?” You asked, curious as to why you were being called it.
“Don’t,” Bucky stopped on his way out of the kitchen, kicking off his boots so he didn’t track ketchup through the rest of the house. Bucky pointed a finger at Sam in warning at the same time Sam answered.
“Grocery Girl.”
“Jesus Christ,” Bucky muttered under his breath. “Sam, you come with me. You stay put, doll.”
Sam pushed his chair back and followed Bucky into the other room. You waited patiently, wiping ketchup off your feet and from between your toes and drying them off with the kitchen towel. It seemed like it was taking forever for them to come back, and you were getting tired of sitting on the counter. As awkward as you felt when you were washing your feet in Bucky’s sink, you felt even stranger listening in on the conversation between Sam and Bucky.
It wasn’t completely your fault, just like the tomatoey mess on the floor wasn’t. Their voices were rising, and they were arguing about something. You couldn’t make out all of the words, but the tone that each of them took with the other made it pretty clear that they disagreed with each other—quite vehemently it seemed.
From what you could hear, they were not very happy with each other. Sam was telling Bucky what to do, and Bucky was telling Sam that he had no intention of following his orders. It was a strange and strained argument between what you thought were work partners, but from the sound of it, their partnership wasn’t as strong as you’d thought. Sam was comparing Bucky with someone named Steve, and Bucky was having none of it.
“Well, I’m not Steve!”
“Clearly. Steve would have nutted up and done something about it by now.”
That you heard clearly. Sam stormed through the kitchen first, followed by Bucky. They looked as angry as they sounded. Both had their jaws clenched tightly with their hands fisted at their sides.
“Sam’s leaving.” Bucky hovered in the doorway and put his hands on his hips. Anger was radiating off of him, and you could practically see the steam coming out of Sam’s ears.
Scoffing, Sam swiped his phone off the counter and pointed it at you. “You better watch out, GG, or else you’re gonna wind up like that busted-up bottle of ketchup.”
You followed the line of his arm as he pointed to the mess on the floor and swallowed tightly. You continued to stare at the ground while Sam stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The little house shook with the force of his rage, and you didn’t look up until you heard Bucky sigh.
He rubbed his brow, and you pulled your knees up on the counter and rested your head on them.
“Just… stay up there and out of the way for a minute.”
You didn’t feel like arguing. A very fun, very good day had turned into something weird and uncomfortable. You wished you hadn’t been inserted into whatever argument Sam and Bucky had just had, and you wished you hadn’t been able to overhear them.
But you had, and that couldn’t be taken back, just like you couldn’t put back together the broken bottle of ketchup still lying shattered and spilled in the middle of the floor.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11| Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15| Part 16 | PCS
I ❤️ SMUT @scarletmadnesscc - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
gracieabrams
origamiaround
gummygunk
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
amandla
prguitarman
