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happilyhertale · 6 months

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Shared future – Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: As on so many other nights, your betrothed Daemon sneaks into your chambers. But tonight he has other plans for you.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Oral (f receiving); Fingering

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.6 k

Shared future Masterlist

Other stories of mine

12 days of smuff

As the last candlelight fades, you retreat into the cosy embrace of your bed, snuggled up in the warmth of your blanket. Listening to the muffled sounds of the night, you wait patiently for the inevitable. Quickly and quietly, the hidden door in the wall of your chambers swings open, an enchanting routine that unfolds with each passing night. Your gaze turns to the entrance, a smile curling your lips as a figure with silvered hair slips gracefully into the room.

A slight bite on your lip betrays your anticipation, and your grin widens as your betrothed approaches. He removes his waistcoat and trousers and lies down in bed with you, immediately wrapping you in his arms. The gentle press of his lips against your hair, soft kisses and the familiar rumble emanating from his chest create an intimate atmosphere that you never dreamed possible with your future husband.

His fingers run over your form with a delicate touch, caressing the soft expanse of your skin. To the outside world, the rogue prince may appear to be a figure without such tenderness. But inside your chambers, a transformation is taking place – he longs to give you tenderness. And he has mastered the art of cuddling and caressing to perfection – and he honours your wish to defer the surrender of your maidenhead for the time being.

But that doesn't mean he keeps his fingers still. Daemon has already driven you to ecstasy countless times and pushed you to the limit. He has made you squirm and whimper and awakened a desire in you that makes you crave more and more.

His fingers slide southwards, but somehow it feels different this time. His fingers seem greedier and there's another slight grumble in his chest as he gently kneads your bum. "Love... come on, sit on my face," he suddenly murmurs into your neck as gentle kisses caress your skin. And never before has the blush rushed to your face so quickly.

"What...?" you mumble a little incredulously and feel a grin forming on his lips.

"Sit on my face..." he repeats, gripping your bum a little tighter.

"I-I heard you..." you whisper, "but... your face?". The familiar warmth in your lower abdomen spreads despite your irritation as memories of the wonders Daemon can perform with his tongue come to your mind.

A slight growl sounds again and vibrates in his chest, "I expect my future wife to take a seat on my face with her elegant arse... so that I can enjoy her to the full," he murmurs.

You're lost for words – not even a "what" leaves your lips. And as the silence spreads throughout your chambers, Daemon slowly pulls his head back and turns his gaze towards you. His purple eyes meet yours and he simply grins, enjoying the fact that you are at a loss for an answer. His princess, who is never at a loss for words, is speechless.

You're breathing a little heavily, your lips are slightly parted, but you feel his hands suddenly grab your hips and make you move slightly. Your gasp fills the air of your chambers, but you follow his movement.

"Daemon..." you say quietly, but you only feel his hands gripping the back of your thighs as you sit astride him. He smiles at you, and although you usually can't get enough of his smile, you know he's happy that you're so shy right now, and you'd love nothing more than to make him suffer right now.

His big hands don't let go of your thighs and push you further up and instead of a cheeky statement, you just gasp a soft "Daemon" as your hands grab the headboard of your bed and your warm core hovers right above his face.

You bite your lip lightly and look down. His smile remains hidden from you, but you are sure that the grin has not left his lips. His hands slowly slide up the back of your thighs under your nightgown and are suddenly on your bum. He grips it firmly, making you whimper, and then you feel him pull you down. The unforgettable sensation floods through you as his tongue glides through your folds. You whimper again and your hands literally dig into the wood of your bed.

Another "Daemon" escapes your lips and breaks the silence as he begins to slide his tongue inside you. His hands push you further down, further onto his face, letting his tongue penetrate you deeper. The worry that he might not get enough air leaves your mind as his tongue glides all the way through your wet folds and the vibration of his moan literally flows through you.

You moan as his tongue caresses your bundle of nerves. He only chuckles softly as you breathe heavily and moan again. But the artistry of his tongue doesn't let up. Not even when you finally grab your nightgown and pull it over your head.

It falls to the floor beside your bed, accompanied by Daemon's grunts as you move your hips and he continues to pleasure you with his tongue. He savours the sounds of your pleasure, the way your body writhes above him as he devours you with a possessive hunger.

He buries his face deep inside your most intimate part of your body as you suddenly feel him insert two fingers inside you.

As his lips close around your sensitive bundle of nerves again and he begins to suck, your moans echo through your chambers as his fingers continue to penetrate you. Daemon's tongue dances over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to elicit another moan from your lips. He plunges deeper, his tongue swirling around inside you, soaking up every drop of your arousal.

As if of your own accord, you push your cunt further towards him, wanting – no, needing – to feel more. Daemon grunts slightly as he senses how eager you are, angles his fingers differently and rubs the rough patch deep inside you.

"You like that, don't you?" he purrs against your folds, his voice full of satisfaction. "You like it when I taste you, when I make you cum," he growls as his tongue flicks faster and harder, his hand on your hip tightening as he pushes you closer to the edge. He's determined to bring you to the peak of pleasure, to make you scream his name once more.

But you can only moan loudly and bite your lip quickly so as not to make too much noise. But Daemon is watching you closely as he savours you. Your eyes are closed and you relish all his movements and caresses. Your mouth is open, but your breathing is intermittent and a whimper that ends in a moan leaves your lips.

Daemon inserts another finger into you and you cry out a little. Your one hand slides from the headboard of your bed into his hair, gripping it tightly as his tongue circles your clit faster and his fingers thrust into you.

"Daemon... Daemon... Daemon..." escapes your lips again and again as you breathe heavily. You feel him moan again as he notices how your cunt begins to clench around his fingers. And then it comes over you – you cry out slightly again as you come. Your eyes are closed as your hips continue to move.

But this time it feels different.

"Daemon.. stop," you whimper as his lips close tightly around your pearl again, his fingers thrusting further into you.

"Daemon..." you whimper again as a strong pressure builds up inside you. But he only growls again as his fingers continue their work, sucking even harder on your clit. Your eyes open again, your breathing quickens and you realise from his gaze that he's not going to stop.

"Daemon, stop!" you gasp, trying to sound serious. But then it happens. You cry out again slightly as the pressure suddenly eases, then moan out loud.

Daemon grunts loudly, swallows all your elixir and savours how you lose yourself completely in ecstasy. When the overwhelming feeling subsides, you look down into his eyes again. Your breathing hasn't calmed down yet, your cheeks are all flushed. Daemon sucks on your pearl one last time before letting go of you. You move slightly away from his face as his lips release you. A grin plays around his lips – his lips and chin are soaked.

You bite your lips a little embarrassed, "Daemon... I-I made a mess," you whisper.

Daemon wipes his mouth with his hand and pulls you down to him in one movement, wrapping you in his arms.

"I don't want to hear that, love..." he murmurs, showering you with soft kisses.

"My wife won't apologise for the climaxes she's about to experience... I want her to enjoy the full ecstasy," he whispers.

You look at him and suddenly a warmth flows through you that has never made you feel so good. You lean your head slightly in his direction and kiss his lips, your lips meet almost greedily and move in unison.

Over the muscles of his chest and stomach, your hand glides gently to his crotch and he responds with a slight growl as you rub his hard manhood, which presses almost desperately against his undergarments.

"Love... don't start something you can't finish..." he whispers against your lips.

But your fingers continue to glide slowly along his length, "Then.. show me how to finish it," you whisper a little shyly.

Daemon hesitates, looking at you questioningly as you suddenly free yourself from his arms and move downwards, just grinning slightly. As you kneel between his legs, you pull his undergarments down. His hard member springs free and you bite your lips as you see it twitch slightly.

"Show me..." you whisper a little uncertainly and look up at him a little helplessly. But Daemon just nods slightly and guides your hand to his hard member.

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @bl4ckph0enix @autumnhymns @fan-goddess @msmorningstaarr @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @aemondsbabe

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godsandmonsters505 · 1 year

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Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

#negan fic #negan x reader #negan twd #negan smut #negan smith #the walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan #negan smith smut

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drewsephrry · 2 months

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being a kook moodboard

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virginsexgod69 · 3 months

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❝ Video Star — ✩❞

pairing (Season 7) Negan Smith x f!Reader

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

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

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

1.5k words

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

not proofread, sorry! thanks for reading! <3

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

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so-sures-blog · 4 months

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Earthbound

earthbound definition: attached or restricted to the earth.

In which Cole stands up to a tyrant that is cruel and unjust deep within the mountain. Because he made a promise.

🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤

It doesn’t take a genius to see that Cole’s losing.

The cave is in chaos; the sound of screams and clanging weapons fill the air as two sides clash against each other.

Vangelis and the Skull are toying with him, and he knows it: they’re circling him, trying to throw him off by telling lies about his mother. Cole blocks the hits from Vangelis and the blasts from the Skull, feeling like a fly they were winding up in a web of lies.

Vangelis rises above him, resembling a winged creature of death with his blank mask and the glowing Skull of Hazza D’ur in hand. “And now, her deceit has doomed you!”

“Her only son,” the Skull rasps.

Vangelis hurls the Skull at Cole; growing brighter and brighter the closer it gets. He stands his ground and braces himself.

The Skull collides, and the blades …

… shatter.

Cole is thrown back, the air knocked out of his lungs as his body rolls to a stop. He sits up weakly, before throwing back his mask to gasp at the sight of the broken Blades of Deliverance.

“No!” He cries. With trembling fingers, his gloved hands hold onto the shattered pieces of the black and white blades. “It can’t be …”

His mother … lied …

“It is,” Vangelis glides towards him menacingly. “And now, you will pay the price for your mother’s lies.”

“Lies, deceit,” the Skull rasps.

Cole screams in pain as the Skull unleashes fire upon his fallen form.

“Your cause is lost.”

More fire.

“Have the grace to admit defeat.”

More fire. More, more. Blistering pain wreaks havoc across his broken body.

It’s hopeless. He’s finished. He’s too weak. It’s over. He just wants to —

He remembers his mother.

🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤

“I want you to promise me, Cole. That you will always stand up to those who are cruel and unjust. Always.”

“Always.”

🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤

His mother … her strength hadn’t come from the Blades of Deliverance. She’s always been strong. She had been sick all his life, yet no matter how weak her body had gotten she had moved through her life with implacable momentum. Impossible to sway or dissuade. Ever since he was young, his mom had power — from her beliefs … and from the Earth.

“It was her,” he realizes. “It wasn't the blades. It was her. The power inside my mother.” The power inside of me, his heart whispers. Not the Spinjitzu Burst. The power of Earth.

“It was all her.”

“Alas,” Vangelis laughs cruelly. “You are not half the warrior your mother was.”

Pain and grief bite through his being, but Cole forces himself to his feet to glare at the Skull Sorcerer. “Maybe not, but I am her son.” Conviction buries itself deep into his being. “And I made her a promise to stand up to tyrants like you! Always!”

The mountain rumbles its agreement. Cole digs his fingers into the rock and feels it mold around the shape of them. Every grain of earth begins to glow as his power seeps into it.

“What are you doing? What is this!” The Skull Sorcerer demands.

“It's the Burst!” He barely hears Master Wu cry above his roaring element.

But no. It's not, and Cole can feel it. It's something different. Deeper.

His power was strongest when he was the closest to the earth and he’s never been farther underground. He was basically at the bottom of the world. Never has he been more surrounded by the very thing that powered him. The Skull Sorcerer thought he was burying him — but what if bringing him closer to his full strength? To the source of his elemental power?

Cole could feel it — the connection to the earth. He could feel it reaching out towards him, coming from the ground all around him.

He stands and lets it in. He let the energy of the earth infuse him, deep into his core and surging forward. The Skull of Hazza D’ur comes flying forward to finish him off and Cole bursts to life.

Unparalleled power explodes from the earth, bright and blinding, and Cole feels more alive than ever. His skin disappears, being replaced with magma and rock as the mountain quakes under his force.

The battle halts as everyone stops at the sheer force of the Earth; Ninja gape in shock, the Shintarians fly back in fear, the cave-dwellers stare with awe.

“Son of Lilly,” the Geckle and Munce whisper.

Cole rises with the power of the Earth; the Skull spiraling, lost, as he reaches for it with a molten hand and throws it down against the Earth. Destroying it.

The battle — one that had been reigning in secret for decades — is finally over.

🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤

Vania dips her head as the last servant that has finished attending her and shuts the door.

She takes a deep breath, listening to the fading footsteps of the servant and the guards clanking armor move away.

Then she springs into action.

She quickly changes, flying out of her normal, queenly wardrobe into more plain, neutral robes. She glances at Chompy, who’s watching her from his bed. She touches the dragon’s head.

“I’ll be back before morning — promise,” she whispers. He makes a chattering noise, telling her he’s displeased. “I know! I will, I promise. I just …” she bites her lip. “I just can’t leave him alone down there.”

Maybe Chompy can hear the pain in her voice, because he doesn’t argue — simply pushes his head into her hand with a small chur of forgiveness.

Vania pushes past the grief and stands, lighting a candle before leaving. She sneaks through her own palace silently, moving past guards like a ninja as she heads for the gardens.

She makes her way to the entrance of the garden alcove leading into the mountain, her heart steadily beating harder. The caves beneath the mountain were deserted, with the Geckle and Munce people deciding that they wanted to live their new lives above the mountain.

She scurries down; down and down the winding mountain, past cramped caverns and twisting turns, the cloying darkness only fought off by a single flame.

Finally she reaches it.

The Heart of the Mountain.

The legendary temple for the Masters of Earth. Ancient scriptures written in the Old Tongue read: Let pass through here, into this refuge and sanctuary, only those who are One with the Earth. Orange flames danced off the walls, even though no one had been down here to light them. Power shined through the giant doorway as Vania drew nearer.

Creak …

The door opened slightly.

Vania went inside, following the carved path molded by Geckle and Munce. Statues of ancient Earth Masters and their stories echoes around her, and she ignores the familiar goosebumps that rise along her skin. Her eyes linger on the statue of Lilly, before moving on.

Statues are more than solid pieces of art. They are immovable, unbreakable monuments that enrich storytelling, making the experience of living more profound and unforgettable. They remind us of the strength of traditions, the power of history, and the enduring spirit that echoes throughout the ages.

She draws closer to the one standing in the middle, heart beating loudly in her chest. It's tall and strong, newly carved. Awake and glowing with the surging elemental energy. She reads the plaque in front of it.

This statue was carved with love and gratitude by Geckle, Munce, and Shintarian craftsmen in honor of Cole Brookstone: Ninja, brother, and son.

Vania places the candle on the stone ledge and takes a seat on it, facing away from the statue. It feels like yesterday she was trapped in here with the Upply and Master Wu, trying to figure out a way to stop her father. She forces the memories away when she feels the mountain move.

“Hello, Cole,” she says softly. The Earth rumbles under her feet, before slowly forming and making a vague shape of the person she used to know. Orange light shines through the cracks of rock as he peers at her curiously, waiting.

Vania smiles.

“So, what story would you like to hear today?”

#ninjago #ninjago fic #ninjago au #master of the mountain #seabound au #cole brookstone #ninjago vania #skull sorcerer #ninjago wu #kai smith #jay walker #zane julien #lloyd garmadon #nya smith

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alexcabotgf · 6 months

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THE MATRIX 1999 dir. The Wachowskis

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i8ickygrl · 6 months

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（⭒ ˘˘）ᵎ🖋️➞﹕size kink 🪷

featuring: character insert- imagine whoever you want! warnings: size kink, no protection, cumming inside, hickeys(?? idk lol), pet names (princess, baby, babe, pretty girl), lemme know if i missed anything proofread(?): kinda authors note: aaahhh first fic! this was supposed to be a drabble about reiner about but then i got carried away and couldn't choose who to make this for. leave a like or a reblog if you can. also, please leave requests! thank you for reading, lovey <3

“you’re so fucking pretty.” he runs his hand through your hair and gently pulls you away from the kiss. his lips and chin are shining softly from your lipgloss. you let out a small giggle in your blissed out state and wipe away the gloss on his lips.

oblivious to you helping him, his hand, still placed in your hair, gently pulls your head to the side. he starts at your ear, licking a small stripe over it before kissing the lobe. his deep pants and moans never going unnoticed. his free hand softly pats your thigh, a signal you didn’t have to think twice about. you place both you hands on his shoulders and fix yourself to straddle his lap.

your hands take time to explore his broad shoulders. you reveled in the contrast of your size as your small hands traced over the perfect dips of the muscles in his arms. you carefully snake your fingers underneath his white tank top, then taking the opportunity to feel his upper back. you suck part of your bottom lip between your teeth, the feeling of his chiseled form under your finger tips beyond aortic.

his lips have made it to your neck now, pecking and licking over the skin as if he’s actually kissing you. his hand, preciously on your thigh, effortlessly wraps around you waist. you moan sweetly at the feeling of his body overtaking yours. you snake a hand behind his neck and into his hair, gently stroking your thumb over him.

you push his head impossibly closer to the skin of your neck while throwing your head back in pleasure. unlike your boyfriend, you hadn’t noticed the arch in your back and the slight grind in your hips, the thin fabric of his boxers doing little to hide the way his dick jumps.

“so needy for me, huh baby?” his voice alone sent shivers down your spine. his strong arm began guiding your waist to a smooth and sensual grind against him. you bring your head back down, level with his ear, and continue to grind against him. the kisses on your neck become more desperate now and his groans aren’t as quiet as before.

“babe…” the sultry moan is all he needs to understand exactly what you needed. he lifted his head from your neck, admiring the hickey he left there. he firmly grips your waist with one hand and cradles your head with the other before laying you on the pillows behind you. he adjusted his body above you, now on his knees with you laying in-between him, your legs on either side of his waist.

growing impatient, you lift your legs from around him and make quick work of sliding your cotton shorts off. with your legs in front of his face now, he takes hold of your ankles with one hand and moves your legs to the side so your face was now in view. he softly kisses at the skin on your ankle while his other hand smooths over you stomach and squeezes your breast, all while keeping eye contact.

you throw your head back and sigh in pleasure, placing your hand on top of the one that was on your breast. when your head falls back down, your eyes take notice to the veins in his arm as his finger moves over your nipple. your eyes slowly move upward, making their way to his shoulder, watching the way his bicep flexes as he moves. you clench desperately around nothing and whimper, “s-stop teasing.”

he chuckles darkly before letting go of your ankles and positioning them around his waist again. you place your hands on his knees and watch intently and his hands make their way to his boxers. the imprint alone making your pussy impossibly wetter. he gives himself a view tugs before pulling his boxers below his length. you watch as it slaps against his stomach and he lets out a quiet hiss, his hand goes to stroke the length again but you whine out a ‘wait’ and take it into your hand. he watches as your hand struggles to wrap around him, gently stroking up and down while flicking your wrist.

“gotta…prep you, baby.” he struggles to maintain his composure watching you pleasure him.

he places his thumb over the fabric of your underwear, about to circle around your clit, before you protest with another whine. “’s gonna take too long. i can’t wait anymore.” you take you hands off of his length and bring them to his wrist, looking up him in through your lashes and pouting.

you watch him think for a second before he sighs in defeat.

“fine.” he agrees, not being able to say no to you. he moves his body so he’s properly positioned in missionary and your legs bend and open wider to make room for him. watching him move your underwear to the side and position his length to enter you, you know the stretch is gonna hurt. but it’ll be sooo worth it.

one hand on his dick and the other on your waist, he rubs himself over your pussy to gather all your wetness. when he feels there’s enough, he finally pushes his tip right against your entrance allowing it to inch slightly into you. before he can fully sink in he takes your hand and pins it next to your head, giving you something to hold onto. he leans forward slightly so your foreheads are almost touching and begins easing his length inside of you.

you both let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as he slowly bottoms out inside of you. your face scrunches up from the sting and you suck in a breath, tightly gripping his hand. distracting yourself, you ogle at the way your clit pressed right up against his short patch of pubic hair leading up to his happy trail. with his cock pressing deliciously against the walls of your pussy, you grind against him to get the friction you desperately craved.

“ready for me, princess?” he questions, already knowing the answer. you shake your head yes in response and he gives you a small peck before beginning to grind into you.

you wiggle you hand out of his grip and quickly move you hands to his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to you. his hand wrap around your waist and you arch off the bed in response. he tucks his head in the dip of your neck as his hips stuttered, finding the smooth pace he set hard maintain with how tightly you were squeezing him. he lifted his head over yours to see your eyes lolling shut as you writhed in pleasure. his name sounded like honey rolling off of your tongue in between moans and whines, your lips swollen from how long you’d been kissing before.

“fuck it.” he mumbled before grabbing your waist and pulling your hips to meet his thrusts. you screamed out in ecstasy as his dick rubbed right against your g-spot. he hissed as your nails dragged down his back, secretly loving the burn. the sound of your ass meeting his hips grew louder and quicker, competing with the sound of your moans.

“so big… ’s so big!” you rambled. he looked so fucking good right now. his eyebrows were knit together in concentration as bead of sweat began to form of his forehead. the feeling of his body fully towering over yours made you feel numb. you could feel the pit of your stomach twist, your orgasm threatening to come at any second.

“gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he could feel you pussy clenching him, trying to milk him for everything he could give. the only response you could give was a small nod, too occupied with feeling his arms flex underneath you hands and the filthy sound of your pussy gushing over his length.

“do it, baby. cum all over this dick.” your eyes closed as he continued to coax you to your climax.

“show me how good i’m making you feel.”

“make a mess for me, baby.”

your legs shook violently as he gave a few more quick and deep thrusts before you finally came around him. he was right behind you, throwing his head back and moaning your name and he filled your pussy.

after a few moments for both of you to catch your breath, he looked between you both and slowly pulled himself out. he admired the ring of your slick around the base of his dick, before gently pushing on your lower stomach and watching his cum spill out of you and cursing under his breath.

“you’re so nasty” you giggle as you lay your arm over your eyes.

“you know you love it.” he says simply, bending down to kiss one of your breasts.

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fiapartridge · 11 months

Text

speak now | will smith

"so glad you were around when they said speak now"

will smith x perreault!sister

summary: daisy rudely barges into a white-veil occasion and will marries the wrong girl...

word count: 1.6k

warning(s): angsty??? but happy ending woo

yeah, i didn't proofread this just try ur best

Will was getting married– to a girl named Samantha.

Daisy felt her heart fall through her chest. She hadn’t even been invited. She had to learn this from an Instagram post forwarded by her sister, Lili. Daisy’s hand rose to her mouth, muffling her silent cries as she sank to the wooden floor, her phone slipping out of her grasp.

Will was getting married.

And she hated herself for it. She had been the one that broke up with him, she was the one that moved across the country, she was the one that promised to keep contact but didn't. She couldn't. Every time her eyes drifted over to Will’s phone number, her heart tugged, telling her to make up with him, that he’s the love of her life, that no one else could make her as happy as he did.

But her mind reminds her how unhappy she was in California. None of the jobs she applied for reached out to hire her, she hated the weather, she missed her family, she didn’t have any friends, and the only thing that really kept her there was Will. Every time she went to bed, she wondered if she really wanted this life. Didn’t she tell herself that she wouldn’t give up her life and move across the country for a guy? Well, she did exactly that.

She broke up with him two months later, telling him that she applied for a biotech job in Boston and she got it. It spurred the conversation of why she would even apply for a job in Boston in the first place. I mean, Will was here in California. Didn’t she want to be with him? Truthfully, it was all she ever wanted– to be with him, but that was all she was doing. Being with him. They lived in a fancy apartment that Will paid the rent for. They ate at fancy restaurants that Will always took the tab for. They go on drives in Will’s fancy car that he paid for on the spot. She wasn’t living her own life, she was living Will’s– and she just couldn’t do it anymore.

“Come on, you have to be at the wedding. I can’t go without you,” Gabe urged his younger sister as they sat for lunch, eating breakfast sandwiches in Central Park. She decided to pay him a visit after seeing the invitation. She couldn’t go through it alone.

Daisy shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She couldn’t believe he was asking her that. The answer seemed obvious. Rolling her eyes, she said, “One, he didn’t want me there enough to invite me, and two… I still love him. I can’t watch him get married to someone else.”

Gabe sighed, throwing his arm over her shoulder. “He’s coming back.”

“What?” she asked. Her head moved fast, looking to Gabe for more answers.

“He got traded,” he bit his lip, watching the water fountain in front of them. His arm slipped off of Daisy’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be a Bruin.”

Daisy couldn’t hear anything else he said after that. Will was coming back. He was coming back to Boston. He was coming back to her. He was coming back as a married man.

“I’ll go,” she said softly, catching Gabe in surprise. He didn’t expect her to actually say yes. “If you ask Will before. I don’t want it to be weird.”

Gabe smiled, his shoulder nudging hers. “He was the one who asked me to ask you.”

Daisy’s eyebrows narrowed. Had he wanted her to go? Why didn’t he just send an invitation? “He could’ve just invited me.”

“He thought you’d throw it away after seeing his name. He thinks you hate him.”

“Why would he think that?” she asked.

“Well, you left the guy without much of an explanation, you moved across the country, and you didn’t answer a single one of his calls. I think he just had a hunch.”

“I don’t hate him,” Daisy whispered.

“Then go to the wedding. He saved a seat for you.”

A month later, Daisy was in a soft purple dress, sitting in a clear chair, watching the love of her life get married to another woman. Gabe held her hand tightly the first time she made eye contact with Will. The second time, he squeezed it. The third time, he let go. He could tell that Will was still in love with Daisy just as much as she was in love with him. Hell, Will couldn’t take his eyes off her for a second. It was just like the first time he saw Daisy. She was as beautiful and breathtaking as ever.

He was marrying another woman. He couldn’t be thinking about Daisy. But every time he thought about marriage, about the perfect life, he thought about her. Not about Samantha, and certainly not about this moment. He knew it was wrong, that it would crush Samantha if she found out that he wasn’t marrying her for love, but to fill the emptiness that Daisy left. But wouldn’t it hurt her more if she didn’t know? That their whole marriage was just a lie?

The organs start to play a song that sounds like a death march as Samantha floats down the aisle, her white dress fitting her slim body perfectly. She was everything you could ever want in a woman. Daisy couldn’t help but wonder: maybe Will dodged a bullet? Maybe this was the happy ending he was meant to have?

When her eyes met Will’s again, the preacher was saying the mandatory, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” She swore she could feel his gaze pierce through her. Maybe she was seeing things, but it looked like he was waiting the entire ceremony for this one moment.

Gabe leaned over, whispering into Daisy’s ear. “Time’s running out. If you want him, you gotta do something, Dais.”

She looked down the rest of her row, her best friends, Will’s teammates during NCAA, her family, they all smiled back, encouraging her. As she stood up, gasps followed in her wake. Her hands were shaky, everyone’s eyes were on her, but the only person she could look at was Will.

She gulped, realizing that she’d have to actually say something. She didn’t have a single damn thing prepared. What are you supposed to say when you wreck your ex boyfriend’s wedding?

As if he could feel her nerves, Will softly smiled at Daisy. Maybe it was going to be okay. “I’m not the kind of girl to do this. But you’re also not the type of guy to be marrying the wrong girl. Will, I broke up with you because I felt like I was living a life that wasn’t mine. But,” the tears couldn’t help but fall from her eyes, rushing down her pink cheeks. “My life is nothing without you in it. And I’m sorry… for everything,” she gulped. “I’m so sorry.”

With that, she wiped her tears and fled the scene. Once she made it to the parking lot, she began to sob. She ruined Will’s wedding, she humiliated herself, and everyone in that place probably hated her now. And to make matters worse, her little speech didn’t even do anything. Will was still in there, getting married to another girl.

“Daisy!”

Her head whipped around, and her heart dropped.

Will.

Will was in the parking lot, his tie was undone, and he looked like a mess. A perfect mess.

Upon seeing him there, she couldn’t help but cry some more. Was he mad? Was he going to scream at her for ruining everything? Maybe he was kicking her out, not just from the wedding, but from his life.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he walked closer, his hands finding solace on the rosy cheeks he loved so much. He gently wiped her tears with his thumbs. “You crashed my wedding,” he snickered.

“Are you mad?”

He shook his head, his pretty ocean eyes never leaving her woodsy hazel ones. “No,” he smiled. “I’m so so glad. I’m in love with you, Daisy. It’s you I wanted to marry. It’s always been you.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Daisy smiled. She remembered one of their earlier conversations from when he was first trying to get her to fall for him.

“Tiny Gabe, I have a feeling you don’t like me,” Will said, standing beside her in the kitchen as she chopped an apple for the girls. They were having a sleepover at Grace’s house, meaning they were having a sleepover at Will’s. When Gabe found out, he knew he had to tag along which meant that Ryan, Drew, Oliver, and all of the other boys from the team had to tag along, too.

“Hm,” she hummed, her hand falling to her hip. “Why ever would you wonder that?”

“I just get the feeling,” he shrugged, stealing an apple from the cutting board.

“Yeah? Then, maybe that’s your signal to move on. I’m sure there’s other pretty girls in the sea for you,” she smiled, patting his shoulder as she walked over to the living room, Will in tow.

“Yeah, but I only want the mean pretty girl that’s a foot shorter than me,” he smirked.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “This is never going to happen, Smitty.”

“I guess I’ll just have to spend my whole life convincing you.”

Daisy brows raised. “Convincing me what?”

“That it's me you're meant to be with.”

Daisy’s arms wrapped around his neck as she stood on her tippy toes, her eyes getting lost in his ocean of blue, reminding her of all the times she would sit there for hours just staring at him and wondering how she got so lucky. “If you marry me, you’re going to lose all of the other pretty girls fawning over you.”

“Yeah, but I only want the mean pretty girl that’s a foot shorter than me,” he laughed.

"I'm happy that you managed to convince me."

His hands drifted down to her hips. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "I'm gonna marry you, Will."

"Grace told me that the courthouse is still open."

Daisy smirked. "She did?"

"Yeah, she was very adamant on telling me. I think she wants this almost as badly as I do."

"How badly do you want it?"

His lips raised, his dimple showing slightly. "Baby, I've wanted this since I was 16."

"Will?" she called as she laid her head on his chest, letting his arms wrap around her.

He hummed in response.

"I don't think I ever hated you. I don't think I could."

By the end of the day, they were known as Daisy and Will Smith. Their families rushed to the courthouse and witnessed their on-the-spot vows, and Will couldn't be more glad that Daisy was around when they said "Speak now."

#perreault!sister x will smith #hockey #will smith imagine #will smith fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #will smith fluff #will smith angst #happy ending #speak now #taylor swift

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laurfilijames · 5 months

Text

Expensive

Pairing: Raymond Smith x female reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol. Fingering and oral sex (F receiving). Light dom/sub dynamics. Unprotected intercourse. Name calling (slut).

Summary: PWP but with feelings. Some saucy fun in lavish lingerie and a romp on the floor in front of the fireplace with our generous gentleman Ray.

A/N: I finally did it. I wrote for Raymondo. I've wanted to ever since I first watched The Gentlemen and finally landed an idea to have fun with. Enjoy!

---

Ray knew you were there before he even stepped foot inside the house.

It wasn’t planned; no discussion was had about you paying him a visit or spending time together tonight, but he had caught on to your devious plan by the tone of your voice when he spoke on the phone with you earlier, your excitement in your scheming not slipping past him.

He didn’t miss much, always attentive and observant to anything going on around him, but when it came to you he didn’t ever miss a thing.

He walked quietly to the porch, the sound of his shoes crunching against the wet grit on the bricks and the softness of the steady rain hitting his jacket the only noises registering in his ears, and unlocked the door just as he did any other night, though knowing you were waiting for him inside made his homecoming after a long day that much more appealing.

The intoxicating scent of your perfume hit him as soon as he stepped through the threshold, the smell of it so familiar and welcoming even with it being faint in the distance between where he assumed you waited for him in the living room and the entryway.

Not wanting to ruin your fun by not playing along with your little game, Ray walked through to the kitchen, acting as if he didn’t notice that your coat was draped over the back of one of the chairs or that you’d already helped yourself to the bottle of wine that he had a glass out of the night before; the level of the crisp red now sitting at the halfway mark rather than just below the neck.

He opened the cupboard that kept his glassware, reaching for one glass, then a second, a smile tugging at his lips when he heard your short, disappointed sigh.

“Spoilsport.”

“You quite like making yourself at home, don't you?” he asked, eyebrows raised as he filled both glasses with water; hydration favoured over the craveable taste of wine or scotch for the games he intended to play next.

“Breaking and entering is a felony…” he purred, removing his jacket while maintaining eye contact with you.

“It isn’t when the homeowner has gifted you the key needed to open the front door whenever you please.”

He sighed, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, “I told you I was busy.”

“I don't like being told no.”

Ray grabbed the water glasses and slowly made his way into the living room, depositing one on the small table beside the chair you were sprawled out in wearing nothing but a stunning set of lingerie.

He blinked quickly, a display of his rising frenzy, turning on his heels and taking a seat on the chair opposite you after looking you up and down.

You smiled, watching him cross his legs and fold his hands in his lap, staring at you intently like he was blatantly ignoring the fact that you were nearly naked and the balcony-style bra barely covered your nipples, the material that did cover them see-through.

“You don’t like being told no,” he spoke slowly, repeating your words to clarify or mock, you weren’t sure.

“No,” you said through a grin, uncrossing and recrossing your own legs to show off your crotchless panties, running your finger teasingly up along your stockings before adjusting the clips that connected them to the garter belt around your waist.

A groan that was hardly audible sounded from him as he sighed, taking a long sip out of his glass while watching you over the rim.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, rising from his seat where he unbuttoned his cardigan and peeled it off his broad shoulders, revealing another layer of pristine clothing underneath.

“I’m quite certain a smart man such as yourself can think of something.”

“Flattery won’t help you now, darling,” he warned, having stalked over to you where he hovered above you dominantly.

“I appreciate you using a coaster,” he nodded to your wine glass. “At least you listen to some of the things you’re told.”

You sucked in a sharp breath in amusement at his comment, clasping the long-stemmed glass in question where you brought it to your ruby coloured lips.

“I strive to be a good girl.”

“You’re going to need to prove that.”

Ray couldn’t help but smirk, not at all serious about being displeased that you were here, feeling quite the opposite, in fact, even if you weren’t primed and ready to provide him with anything he asked.

He had regretted it immediately when he told you that morning that you wouldn't be seeing each other tonight, the usual comforting warmth of his tea tasting bitter on his tongue after he had said it, knowing all the while that all he really wanted was to relax with you and indulge in every simple pleasure imaginable, his chest tightening with hope that you would be your defiant self when you accepted his denial with a simple and suspiciously bright ‘okay’.

You returned his smile, shifting slightly in your seat on account of how adoringly he was looking at you, your arousal and need for him growing as you watched him unfasten the buttons on each cuff of his shirtsleeves and began rolling them up his toned forearms.

The wearied look in his eyes was highlighted by his glasses, his features appearing more serious than they usually were, making your heart ache in wanting to take away whatever it was that was worrying him.

“You look expensive,” he spoke quietly, almost a whisper, his focus still on his shirt as he rolled the second sleeve neatly to his elbow.

“I am expensive, Ray,” you quipped, your tone light but quiet as well.

One eyebrow rose at your answer, his head tilting slightly as his arms fell back to his side and he straightened himself, looking down at you.

You reached forward, smoothing your hand over his stomach, unfastening the buttons on his waistcoat effortlessly before grabbing onto his tie to pull him closer to you.

The smell of his almost worn off cologne and rich beard oil mixed with a sweeter hint of tobacco and marijuana, awakening more desire in you and making you draw in a deeper breath to try to capture more of it, of him, as you brought your face closer to his body, his warmth radiating off of him and making you moan softly.

Ray followed your silent directions as you continued to tug on his tie, kneeling in front of you, his blue eyes warm and bright compared to how they appeared a short moment ago.

Your body tensed slightly when his hands landed on your knees, his thumbs brushing them gently while you pulled the knot out of his tie and slipped it from his collar, admiring every part of his chest that was revealed to you as you undid each button on his striped shirt that now held wrinkles in it despite having been meticulously ironed that morning.

“What’s the price?” Ray inquired, running his long fingers up your thigh to make it tremble under his soft strokes.

You smiled, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, slipping your hands under his shirt to caress over his strong, smooth muscles.

Watching his eyelids fall shut as he relaxed into your touch, you continued to rub him, moving everywhere you could from his neck down to the flaxen hairs that crept out from the top of his jeans, and back up again where you found his steady heartbeat.

You stilled, your palm resting where his heart began to thump harder against it, his eyes opening in realization as to what your price was.

He smiled, bringing out the creases around his eyes and mouth, a twinkle shining in them that made your own heart leap. His hands came up to hold your cheeks, his eyes traveling down from yours to your lips, his tongue peeking out to lick his own quickly before he leaned forward and kissed you.

It was almost liberating to think that you didn't have a clue that he had settled the cost pretty much the moment he met you, that he would continue to pay with it over and over until you did realize you had captured his solitary heart, but in the meantime he would take every bit of joy out of pretending he owed you a fortune of his love.

You sighed into his kiss, any tension you felt leaving your body as you relished in the feel of his tongue and the softness of his beard on your chin and lips, arching your back in order to get yourself closer to him and deepen it.

Continuing to kiss until many moments were gone unnoticed, you tangled your fingers in his neatly fixed hair, disrupting it enough that your nails ran over his scalp and sent tingles down his spine, rousing him from this alluring inebriation.

A low growl sounded from him as he dug his fingers into the flesh on your thighs, looking at you with a dark hunger that sparked your soul and every other wanton desire waiting to be set free.

“Stand up, turn around, and bend over.”

His demand came out between heaving breaths, his resolve quickly tumbling apart before you, and with a sweet smile and love in your eyes for the man you would obey without hesitation, you slowly stood.

Ray never broke eye contact with you, his dominance clear and resolute despite him being the one on his knees while you stood tall above him, a trusting assurance glowing in his crystal blue eyes that you always saw whenever you were with him.

Feeling reluctant to turn away from him but eager for what was next all at once, you did, biting your lip as you hinged at your hips and gripped the back of the chair you had been sitting in, leaning forward to stick your ass out invitingly.

You gasped, Ray’s lips and silky beard meeting the inside of your right thigh, peppering kisses up along it and back down again slowly, his mouth tracing the edge of your stocking.

The wood frame of the chair creaked under your grasp as Ray continued to tease you, his lips and hands sending you into a frenzy that you had to try to contain, your legs shifting to rub them together and present yourself even more to him.

“Patience,” he chimed, fully aware of what he was doing to you, making your head fall between your arms that braced in front of you.

The gold ring that sat on his pinky caught on your nylons as he ran his hand up the inside of your leg once more, the tip of his thumb grazing your folds with a teasing nudge that made you let out a breathy sigh when he reached the apex of them.

“You’re beautiful,” he praised, his confident and evenly-toned voice softer. “And you’re mine.”

You felt so powerful, knowing he was admiring every bit of you with genuine interest and affection, his attention to detail carried over to the most intimate parts of your body, all while reminding you of his claim on you that made you soar higher than ever.

“Fuck, Ray…” you hissed, your grip hardening on the chair as his nose skimmed beside your aching core, his long, slow inhale echoing loudly in your ears.

He groaned appreciatively when his tongue swiped through your wet, immediately going back for more with a second broad stroke, your legs already shaking from how good it felt.

Your whines grew as his tongue probed inside you, taking turns with angling his chin to reach the front of you and flicking your clit while his nose buried in your soaked cunt, the precision in his pattern and rhythm bringing you dangerously close to your climax.

He wouldn’t let you have it quite that easy though, and halting his feast on you, he gave one last lick around your puckered hole and slapped your cheek as he abandoned you completely, standing with a low groan.

Running a hand over his beard, he stared you down maliciously, amused at the sight of you still bent over and writhing, your core a soppy mess just waiting to be fucked by him.

“Go over there and wait for me,” he spoke steadily, a contrast from how his chest rose and fell sharply and his cheeks were tinged with a rosy blush.

Unsteady legs brought you over to the space in front of the fireplace, and you watched with a restlessness as Ray reached for a remote on the coffee table, pressing a button before placing it back in its spot.

The fireplace ignited with a loud fwoosh, the propane instantly bringing flames up to a roaring burn, the sound startling you and making you jump.

“Nothing to be afraid of…” he cooed, smirking at you, his playful reassurance making your need for him burst just as the fire had.

He stood there watching you for a moment, slowly peeling off his waistcoat that had been left open along with his shirt, leaving you unsure what to do with yourself in the meantime.

You let your hand travel slowly down your chest, grazing between your breasts and lower until you reached your exposed core, only to be stopped.

“Ah, ah,” he tutted, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

Although you let out a huff, you did your best to hide your disappointment, willing patience to grace you as you continued to watch him undress himself layer by layer, and far slower than he needed to.

To make matters worse, Ray proceeded to neatly fold his clothes and place them on the sofa, effectively running up any patience you had mustered, leaving you to take in his perfectly sculpted body and his ivory skin that called for your lips to touch.

“Jesus, Ray…” you muttered, only to quiet yourself with the look he gave you.

He extended his finger, pointing at the floor beside you, unclasping his watch from his wrist with the other hand.

“On the ground.”

His order was calm and collected, as if you expected anything less from him, and you licked your lips as you sank down to the carpet that was already warm from the fire, feeling your arousal drip from you as you moved.

“Now,” he said, taking his glasses off and placing them carefully beside his pile of clothes. “What to do with you…” he pondered out loud, stalking over to you as he grasped his hard cock with his hand and began stroking it.

“Put me out of my fucking misery…” you complained under your breath, squirming on your knees.

He grinned, “Ah, just a naughty girl begging to have her cunt filled in.”

His accusation washed over you like a drug, making your attitude vanish as quickly as his words came off his tongue, unable but also not wanting to deny that what he said was completely true.

Standing tall in front of you now, he glanced down at you, his mouth parted slightly, his hand still pumping his shaft as he brought it close to your face.

“Yes, Ray,” you whispered, ready to beg and worship at his feet if you had to, feeling the most desperate you ever had for that cock and how intensely he always pleasured you.

He tapped his leaking head against your cheek, and you sucked in a deep breath, inhaling his musky scent as you subtly titled your head closer to his groin, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting all of him.

“As you wish.”

Ray stepped behind you, his finger tracing along your jawline softly so that your head tipped back, relishing in such a simple touch that would only be the beginning of so much more.

He joined you on the floor, kneeling directly behind you so his strong quads met the back of your thighs, his cock nudging at your folds to tease you. His hands wrapped around your front, one traveling upward while the other went down, landing on your throat and your hot cunt where he stopped, his mouth beside your ear.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, the depth of his voice making you shiver.

“You.”

His breath fanned out on your searing skin when he chuckled softly, “You have me.”

He kissed your neck, his lips slow to move but powerful in their action; sucking and pressing into your flesh, his teeth gliding along where your pulse hammered furiously.

You moaned, the sensation of his kisses and the way his deft fingers toyed with your nipple already making you insane with lust, and when he slipped his other fingers inside you, you prayed for him to never stop.

He always knew exactly how to build you up quickly, removing his fingers from you where he rubbed your clit with your slick while continuing to pinch your nipple through the thin lace of your bra, his cock sliding back and forth between your legs where it threatened to breach your entrance as he moved his hips.

Hazy from ecstasy, you didn’t notice when Ray had reached for a pillow off the chair beside you and placed it in front of you, the tartan fabric soft to your touch when you leaned forward and grabbed onto it with both hands.

“Fuck…” Ray hissed, admiring the view you provided him with as he stroked you from behind, his fingers easily sliding in and out of you again.

You moved down onto your elbows, thankful for his consideration for having them cushioned by the pillow and not the hardwood floor, but knew you would sacrifice having bruises mark your skin for this without question.

He exchanged his fingers for his cock, pressing his engorged head against your hole, smearing his precum onto you in slow, circular motions until he couldn't wait any longer.

A long moan came from him as he pushed his cock inside you, inch by inch, savouring every moment of it until he filled you completely. Slowly, he dragged back out, his cock coated in your milky wet that made his mouth water and eager for more, slamming back into you where you cried and jolted forward slightly from his force.

Ray didn’t hold back, letting out all of the day’s frustrations on you while also conveying everything you made him feel, thrusting into you harshly until a layer of sweat broke out over his skin.

It was difficult to keep yourself upright on your elbows, his vigorous tempo forcing you onto your chest, feeling his body lower down to cover your back where he kept up his brutal pace.

Gripping under your left leg, Ray guided it up to lay at an angle, his hand slipping under your body to reach around for your clit, massaging it with perfectly rough strokes while his cock pummeled your g-spot with each blow.

Spit smeared over the plaid pattern of the pillow, your mouth unable to control the evidence of your pleasure between that and your cries, the sound of your wet skin meeting with his sending you close to the edge.

“Ray…I’m- fuck! I’m close!” you wailed, the admission of it making your climax barrel forward faster.

You clenched around him, rolling your hips up and back against his in a hurried, desperate pace, the seconds of waiting for him to grant you permission feeling like a cruel eternity.

“Are you?” he asked, a hint of malice laced in his tone.

He stopped rubbing your clit, halting your orgasm in its tracks, your grip on the pillow loosening slightly as you whined in frustration.

“You know you’re to fucking ask,” he reminded you, his voice somehow calm and his expression composed as you glanced over your shoulder at him.

You dared to smile at him, making him tilt his head in warning and resume his barrage on you, fucking you harder than before.

“Fuck, Ray!” you whined, the rate at which he brought you right back to where he left you making you tingle from head to toe, that blissful heat coiling at the base of your spine.

Somehow, you managed to bring yourself back up onto your hands, meeting his thrusts with your hips in a frantic need, his hand returning between your legs to circle your swollen bud while his other tore at your chest, pulling at the lace covering your breasts until they fell out of their covering.

“Fuck!” he roared, pawing at your tits as they shook to his movements, his own climax not far off.

His grunts spurred you on, hearing how good you made him feel taking you to a place of no return, and you rushed to ask for your permission before it was too late.

“Can I come, Ray?” you cried, your words coming out as a weak and trembling mess as you did your best to hold off the inevitable.

“Yes! Fuck…” he breathed. “Come around that cock you fucking slut!” he growled, his pace increasing as he fucked you senseless, throwing you into one of the most intense orgasms he had ever given you.

You shuddered as you choked him with your cunt, grinding on his fingers that remained firm on your clit, feeling your high bring out his own as he pounded you harder and harder until he pulsed inside you, generously dragging out your climax with his.

Ray watched his cock slide in and out of you, creamy cum leaking out with it as he did, slowing his movements gradually as you both came down from your highs, the sound of your ragged breathing the only thing heard over the soft roar of the powered flames coming from the fireplace.

Sweat glistened in the dip of your lower back, and you couldn’t look more heavenly as you glowed from the heat on your skin and the wetness between your legs, your luxurious set of lingerie beautifully disheveled.

Trails of sweat dripped down his own body, and as he remained inside you until he no longer could, he smoothed his hair back with his hands, fixing the stray pieces that had been misplaced during his efforts.

He leaned over and retrieved his glasses from the sofa, replacing them on his face with a few quick blinks, watching out of the corner of his eye as you carefully stood on wobbly legs from your spot, trying not to make a mess on the expensive threads that were soft on your feet.

Ray gracefully laid down on the carpet, his chest rising and falling heavily as he relaxed, his hand splayed across his abdomen comfortably while the other arm rested above his head.

Nothing was said as you grabbed your bag where it sat against the wall between the living room and kitchen, getting your clothes out to get ready to make your exit, not wanting to disrupt Ray’s night more than you already had.

He sighed, his glasses pushing up as he pinched his nose with his fingers, wishing you didn’t feel the need to whisk yourself away like you were nothing more to him than something to wet his cock.

Taking a deep inhale and blowing it slowly out through his mouth, he tipped his head, able to watch you where he knew you had strategically placed yourself between pieces of furniture for him to see.

You were bent over, stepping your feet into your shoes after having slipped your skirt over your waist, your bare pussy that he had just finished ruining on full display in those crotchless panties Ray knew he would be thinking about for days after.

“Come back over here.”

His voice cut through the room with a demand to be heard, making you pause in reaching for your shirt, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’ll count to three.”

Once again, his warning came out far gentler than it should, his ability to so nonchalantly list off orders in that sultry voice making excitement bloom in your belly.

You turned on your heel to see him staring up at the ceiling, looking as divine as ever in the warm light of the fire that flickered over his features, his naked form a rare sight for anyone but you to see with it so frequently covered in layers of posh garments.

Ray was a bit recluse, and you didn't take his affection toward you for granted even for a second, smiling with a sense of pride and devotion as you kicked off your shoes and slowly made your way back over to the man your heart had begun to miss already.

He welcomed you by opening his arm, giving you space to tuck yourself up beside him, your head finding a spot on his chest where his heart thrummed in your ear.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place…” you reminded him, feeling slightly guilty over showing up unannounced.

Ray hummed, always carefully assessing whatever thoughts were about to pass through his lips, his thumb rubbing your arm languidly.

“No,” he blinked quickly, his tone lighter. “But I’m glad that you are.”

As much as Ray tried keeping things neat and tidy between you, he couldn’t ignore how tangled you had become in his soul, his thoughts distracted by you more times than he would care to admit or ever want the Boss to know of, something he swore would never happen taking place before his very eyes without any intention of stopping it.

Ray pressed a kiss to your temple, thinking how he had paid the price a long time ago with you, the expense of your love something he would go broke for a million times over, letting you take careful possession of the one thing he would never pay out to anyone else.

---

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writella · 4 months

Text

Screwed Up and Brilliant

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

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

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

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

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

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

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

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

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

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

You still remember it well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Obviously, you did not.

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

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

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see they delivered my message.”

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

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

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

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

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

“But after Carl—“

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

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

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

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

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

This time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you give him nothing.

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

“A lot has happened this week.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

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

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

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

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

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

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

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

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

And you know you should get up.

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

You breathe into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

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

He felt like a rich man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you can do is whine incoherently.

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

“Negan,” you whine again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

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

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think it does.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about now?”

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

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

“8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

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

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

He had to finally accept it.

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

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

You won. He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

#negan smith smut #negan smith x reader #negan smith fanfiction #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan fanfiction #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead #negan smith

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detachedminxsfics · 1 year

Text

Motel

Masterlist

Characters: Negan (Dead City) x F!Reader

Summary: You've grown particularly close with the Motor Inn's personal walker killer and decide to pay his motel room a visit.

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: NSFW - Oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, hair pulling, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, negan's usual foul mouth, gentle dom negan

A/N: If you're from my tiktok (which spawned the chaos that motivated me to finish most of this bc you guys are crazy), hello! This is my first time managing to actually finish and upload a oneshot in months, so I apologise in advance. I was also extremely tired when I wrote most of this, but I hope it was worth the wait for the handful of you bombarding my comment sections for the past 24 hours. 😂 I knew what I had to do the moment I saw that shower scene...like damn.

You downed your third shot of the day before slamming it back down onto the counter and wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes idly following the neon lights on the sign hung proudly behind the bar. The Easy Stay Motor Inn. It was a shithole. It only served as a way of keeping four walls and a roof over your head, and walkers off your ass. Speaking of, there was only one guy you'd grown particularly fond of during the month you'd spent working for the lady who owns this place and lapping up the amenities of their accompanying motel, Negan. He wasn't from around here, that much you gathered just by taking one good look at him, but then neither were you. You were both drifters. Heading from one place to the next, never staying anywhere long enough to see it through and find out whether it'd go to shit or hold out long enough before eventually falling to pieces. You just kept moving. That mentality had served you well so far and had kept you alive long enough to say that you'd made it well over a decade into the apocalypse now, not that you had much to show for it.

"Want another?" The guy behind the bar asked, half expecting you to agree to it as you had with all the others and making his way over to the bottle of vodka you'd been chipping away at.

"No thanks", you shook your head with a small smile and slid off the bar stool, "I'm gonna go try to entertain myself someplace else, but don't be surprised if I come back and finish that off later." You gestured to the vodka with a tilt of your head, and the certainty in your tone had the bartender smiling.

You headed towards the backdoor that led to the motel out back, the harsh change of lighting making you squint and shield your eyes to adjust for a moment, the dim vivid hues of the neon-lit windowless bar you'd been sitting in for the past hour or two being snuffed out once you stepped into the natural sunlight. Visual disorientation aside, you made your way down the row of motel rooms lined at your side, your interest only lying with the idea of arriving at one motel room in particular, and you stopped in front of the door when you found it. The door was a stark black to match the wooden panels sitting on either side of the window not too far from the right of the door, vines having wrapped around some of the slats in the wood from the overgrowth of shrubbery on the floor beneath it. It was run down and uncared for like just about anywhere else in this world. You tested the handle to see if the door was unlocked and to your surprise, it was. Twisting it fully you pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind you as you began to observe the interior of the room. It was generically decorated like just about any other room in this place, and he didn't seem to have left anything behind for you to snoop through. The room was so empty that if you didn’t know any better you might have thought that he'd moved on already, packed up all his shit and hit the road. You figured that this was on purpose and probably explained why he didn't care too much when it came to keeping the door locked since he didn't have any shit to steal. Smart.

Negan hadn't been around for too long now, in fact, he'd only arrived about a week after you, but he left a lasting first impression. He was useful. He pulled his weight by taking care of any of the walkers that roamed or wandered into the perimeter of the motor inn, and was never bad company on the occasions that he'd sat on the bar stool next to you and made conversation. As time went on you'd gotten closer and more comfortable with one another, and you quickly found yourself noticing that Negan was the one person you'd opened up to the most in the duration of your entire stay here, better yet felt the most comfortable doing so with. Your vulnerability wasn't one-sided, either. He never went into an awful load of detail, but he had a bad past. He wasn't on the run per se, but there was a group of people that he was hoping to avoid the possibility of encountering for the rest of his days, a community that he had a difficult history with. He alluded to what seemed to mostly amount to horrible shit that most people had done by now just to stay alive, the kind of things you see at night when you close your eyes, haunting you from the backs of your eyelids. You paid it no mind, and you told him that too; he seemed to appreciate your lack of judgement. Gradually, the conversations grew more personal and not so casual, things got flirty. It was subtle, but Negan would make small coy comments on things that you say, or little compliments now and again that toed the line a tad too much for what could be considered harmless flattery or him shooting his shot. You were able to keep yourself humble up until the night when he had jokingly mentioned how good your ass looked in your jeans after more than a few drinks, not that he needed it to let you know just how much he was checking you out. Your thoughts were interrupted by the twist of the doorknob and the sight of it being pushed open afterwards, revealing a rather sluggish and slightly dishevelled-looking Negan. Negan had a silver beard that he seemed to keep well-maintained, the hair decorating his top lip thicker than the rest. His dark hair was always slicked, though it seemed to have transitioned to more of an ashy brown over time with grey tinging at the sides of his hair. He was ruggedly handsome, that was for sure. A grin crept onto his lips when he noticed you standing by one of the beds, closing the door behind him and running his hand through his hair, slicking some of the strands that had fallen out of place in the process.

"Just letting yourself into my place now, huh? We graduating from drinking buddies to whatever the hell this is?" He quipped but was amused by how bold you were to just waltz on into his motel room.

"It's not like you don't want me here." You remarked with a knowing smile as you sat on the end of one of the double beds, to which Negan chuckled and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, a seemingly small mannerism of his that always drove you wild.

"Touché."

He sauntered to the bed next to you until he stood at the foot of it and started to shrug off his leather jacket with a sigh.

"Well whatever it is honey, it's gonna have to wait. I have been out there cracking rotting skulls for who knows how long, and now I need a damn shower."

The checkered flannel shirt he'd been wearing open underneath it was next, him tossing it on the bed in front of him before his fingers brush over the hem of his black tank top. He glanced at you with the material still pinched between his fingertips, a cocky smile creeping onto his lips as he noticed the way you were shamelessly staring at him and didn't seem to plan on stopping anytime soon.

"You gonna watch me strip now too, darlin'?"

You playfully shrugged and let your eyes wander down his torso, an eye movement Negan most certainly followed judging by the way his smile grew, as did his ego.

"I can turn around if you're too shy, Negan."

The throaty chuckle he let loose was almost immediate, his eyebrows raised as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Me, shy? Fuck no. You can stare your little heart out, and you would most definitely be staring."

Well, you certainly hadn't expected him to take it with such pride, so you caved and turned so you were facing the wall next to the bed. You could hear the sounds of clothes falling against the sheets and the clinking of metal as he undid his belt, and then the zipper on his leather pants.

"You still thinking of sticking it out here for a bit longer? I know last time we spoke you weren't so sure." Negan muttered as he got his pants down to his ankles and started to try to shake his ankles out of them.

You thought for a moment, then sighed a little.

"I think so? I don't know, I'm just trying to go day by day. Why, would you miss me?" Your tone picked up towards the end as did the enthusiasm in your voice, the suggestion making Negan's sudden laughter start in the form of a snort.

"Miss you? Shit, course I would. I'd probably move on from here after that."

You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself unable to form the right words. He made it sound like you were the only reason he was still staying here, and that without you there'd just be no point. You didn't ask him to elaborate though, just silently rolled the thought around in your head.

"Well, time to take that shower. I'll be right back, and I don't know maybe we can grab a drink or some shit afterwards?"

"Sure." You mumbled in response.

After that all you heard was the soft tread of his footsteps as he made his way past you and into the bathroom, then the sound of the water being turned on and beginning to crash against the floor of the shower for a few moments before it became more muffled with Negan's body interrupting the stream, and you turned back to face something other than the blank yellow wall you'd be staring at whilst he was stripping. You did your best to focus on the small details of the room to occupy your head, the peculiar framed pictures decorating some of the walls, and the hideous design choices when it came to the taste of the room, but it was no use. All you could think about was what Negan had looked like underneath all those clothes when he was a mere few feet behind you, and what he looked like right now standing in the shower in the very next room, the image of water droplets trailing down his torso and body making it harder to stay seated with every passing second until you just couldn't take it anymore. You stood to your feet and made your way to the bathroom, standing in the doorway for a moment as you stopped in your tracks. The shower had a sliding door that Negan had slid shut, the distortion of the glass still allowing you to be able to make out the sight of him with his head tilted town and one of his palms pressed up against the wall, and the tattoo decorating his shoulder blade. There was no turning back now, you had made up your mind. You approached the glass and gave it a soft knock, the sound startling Negan a little as he turned and slid the glass just enough for him to lean into the gap he'd made.

"Everything okay?" He asked, concern tinging his voice as he used his other hand to sweep some of the hair that had fallen into his face back in place.

Your only response was the sight of your fingertips grasping the hem of your top before you pulled it over your head, holding the top in your hands for a moment as you gazed at him, trying to gauge Negan's reaction to your now exposed breasts. He seemed taken aback for a moment or two, and then his eyes darkened with lust.

"Can I join you?" You asked, fingers teasingly dancing along the waistband of your jeans as though you could tell by just the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to deny your offer.

He didn't.

"Fuck yeah you can." He rasped with a shit-eating grin, leaning back and pushing the sliding glass all the way open to make room for you to join him.

You stripped until there was nothing left, discarding all of your clothes into a pile on the tiled bathroom floor and stepping into the shower with him. The first thing you noticed was the heat. The steam from the hot water, the heat coming from Negan's body, all of it swarming your body with warmth. Then, him. All of him. From the water droplets falling from the scruff of his beard, the dark hair decorating his chest and trailing down the centre of his torso, and even the skull tattoo inked on the right side of his chest. The man was gorgeous. Your eyes dragged down his body, drinking in every inch of him until you got to the part you'd been anticipating most, but were interrupted. He cupped the underside of your jaw and urged your head back up, his thumb brushing along your chin as the tip of his thumb traced just along the edge of your bottom lip.

"You like what you're seeing, huh?" He seemed to be making more of a statement than genuinely asking, but you entertained him nonetheless.

"A lot." You replied simply, the intense and lustful look your eyes were lit with corrupting your stare as your eyes bore into his.

"Good."

He used the hold on your jaw to guide your lips to his, his lips claiming yours. The hand that had been cupping your chin moved to grasp the nape of your neck, his other hand gripping your hip and drawing your body against his. You could feel him hard against your thigh as he groaned into the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth so you could taste him and his hands keeping you pressed firmly against his body, your own hands beginning to wander from the top of his chest down to his abdomen. The water cascading down his shoulders caressed along your fingertips and down your breasts, the warm water trailing down your body whilst he continued to move his lips against yours until you couldn't breathe, and you were forced to pull back for air. The moment you did Negan dove his head into the crook of your neck and pressed his lips against your pulse point, gently sucking the skin there and occasionally teasing it between his teeth in a way that was sure to leave marks, his beard scratching along your jaw as he did. The attention he paid your neck had your hand rushing up the nape of his neck and into his hair, combing your fingers through the back before taking a fistful of his wet strands. The slight tension on his scalp and the way your breath was shaking right by his ear made him pause for a moment to smile against your skin, a hoarse chuckle following shortly thereafter. The warmth of his breath from the laugh felt hot on your skin, and you used the strands of hair you'd taken in your palm to urge his head back until his face was inches from yours again. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip when you found your voice.

"You've thought about this before haven't you, fucking me?"

His brows raised at your boldness, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile.

"Damn right I have. I'd have to be blind or crazy not to, you are easy on the eyes, darlin'."

"Oh?" You tilted your head as you feigned mock surprise, his eyes looking you over like you were good enough to eat, and you might just let him.

Slowly you leaned in and seductively ran your tongue over his lips, finishing with a small kittenish flick at his top lip before leaning back. You soaked up the wanton look in his gaze when you sank to your knees, your eyes locked with his all the while. Now kneeling on the floor of the shower you reached up and closed your hand around his shaft, the way his breath caught in his throat once he felt your touch giving you the encouragement you needed to lean in and run your tongue over the swollen tip, beads of precum gathering along your tongue as you did. As you licked at it you felt Negan's fingers stroke over your hair before he started to gather it in his hand, all of your hair soon clutched into his fist like a makeshift ponytail.

"Don't be a tease." He warned as he slid his free hand underneath your chin and cupped it, allowing him to use both the grip on your hair and your jaw to urge you forward.

Willingly your lips parted, his cock sliding past your lips and into your mouth.

"Fuuuck, there we go." Negan slurred as he slid further into your mouth, stopping just before he reached your throat.

He grunted once you flattened your tongue on the underside of his shaft and leant forward, bracing one of his hands against the tiled wall of the shower when he lowered his head to look at you.

"Shit, you look so good with a mouthful of cock." He rasped crudely with the dirtiest smile before pushing himself down your throat, and you fought the urge to gag as he did.

He started to move his hips, the motion prompting you to place your hands just above his knees for support whilst he slid in and out of your throat. Soon enough tears began to well in your eyes, the urge to choke too great as you finally gagged on him, the sensation making Negan momentarily screw his eyes shut before sliding out of your mouth. He let you breathe for a moment or two before he was already pushing down your throat again, his groans getting louder and deeper with every thrust.

"Ohh, good girl." He cooed, his sounds of pleasure gradually turning into a blatant string of curses as he repeatedly thrust down your throat, and you shamelessly took every single inch.

Eventually, the movement of his hips got slower, his moans getting louder until finally his hips stuttered and his abdomen began to tense. He tightened his grip on your hair, the harsh grasp burning your scalp, and then you felt the hot wet spurts of warm liquid coating your tongue. You waited until you knew he'd spilt every last drop and then carefully removed him and swallowed his release, your breath a little laboured whilst Negan hovered above you with totally ragged, uneven breath, his eyes half-lidded as he tried to come down from the high of his orgasm. A few tears had escaped your waterline and slid down your cheeks as he fucked your throat, but it had mixed with the occasional stream of water trickling down your face from the shower.

"You did so good, baby. So good." He praised as he finally released your hair from his hand and started gently running his fingers through it instead, his touch soothing some of the pain he'd inflicted upon your scalp.

You stayed like that for a moment just listening to the sound of the water until you felt his hand leave your hair and the sight of him extending it out in front of you for you to take, which you did. He helped you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist the second you straightened your back, his mouth crashing against yours and allowing him to taste himself on your lips, the urgency with which he kissed you making you moan into the kiss a little. Whilst he stole your air Negan guided you backwards until your back came to press against the steamy tiled wall, the condensation pooling on the tiles smearing against your skin, and the faint coolness to it making you gasp. You wrapped your arms around Negan's neck to draw him in closer, your hips subconsciously moving to bring your groin against his and allowing his still proudly hard cock to brush against your inner thigh. You broke the kiss to try to regulate your unsteady breathing, leaning back just enough so that your lips were practically still brushing, the hot heavy pants Negan breathed against your lips making you need him all the more.

"Negan?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you inside me."

He couldn't hold back the dangerous look his eyes filled with when you whispered exactly what you needed, an arrogant look in his eye as he leaned back and cockily smiled.

"Your wish is my command, sweetheart. C'mere."

He slid his hands all the way up the backs of your thighs, towards your outer thigh, and then took hold of your hips. The gesture prompted you to do a small jump that allowed Negan to hoist you up and trap you between the wall and his body, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands moved to cup your ass. In one calculated movement Negan lined himself up and sank inside you, the way you stretched around him eliciting a filthy moan from your lips almost immediately.

"That feel good, baby?" He purred, his voice full of arrogance.

He knew it did, he just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes, god yes." Was all you could manage as he set a hard and intense pace, drawing all the way out before slamming back inside you, the feeling of fullness with every thrust making your mouth fall open.

One of your hands slid down his chest, his dark chest hair brushing up against your fingers as you did, whilst the other slid up his shoulder and moved to rest on the nape of his neck. His fingers were digging into your skin with the grip he had on you, strands of your hair clinging to the condensation of the tiled walls as you slightly threw your head back, uncontrollable sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips from the way he roughly fucked into you. The overwhelming sensation caused you to idly weave your fingertips in the hair at the top of his neck and run your hands through the back of his hair, occasionally tugging at it when he buried himself especially deep and you could do nothing but squirm in his grip. The water was still running just off to Negan's side, the hot water wasting onto the floor and creating a small pool at his feet. With the way you'd angled your body it allowed him to lean in and lick a stripe up the valley between your breasts, your skin feverishly hot against his tongue as he gathered some of the water droplets and left nothing but a trail of spit before beginning to kiss up your throat. He littered your neck with kisses, moving his affections to the side of your neck before planting a few kisses along your jaw, his stubble scratching along the side of your face all the while. It felt like heaven. You couldn't think about anything other than his touch, the way his mouth shamelessly marked your skin, the sounds of his heavy breath and the guttural groans spilling from his throat like music to your ears. By this point your sweet moans grew to resemble sobs, your legs slightly shaking in his hold as Negan thrust into you over and over, and a feeling started to burn in the pit of your stomach unlike anything you had ever felt before.

"Negan." was all you managed to choke out, practically in the form of a cry.

All you felt was his lips claiming yours, and the occasional parting of your lips just enough for him to whisper into the kisses.

"I got you, I got you, baby." He swore over and over, his gentle reassurance paired with his hard thrusts tipping you completely over the edge, and your whimpers getting lost in his heated kisses.

You feel the knotting in your abdomen just before everything comes crashing over you, waves of pleasure ripping through your body and making you clench around him as Negan continues to fuck you throughout your high, your mind hazed with overstimulation. Eventually his movements began to stutter, his abdomen clenching amidst the deep v-lines framing his hips, and a string of gravelly curses poured from his mouth. Carefully, Negan unwrapped one of your legs from his waist and urged you to set it down on the floor of the shower, the other still wrapped around his hips as he held it there. His free hand moved down to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and giving it a few quick strokes until he finally came. His hold on your leg became more of a firm squeeze as he threw his head back a little and grunted, liquid splashing over the top of your inner thigh and beginning to gradually trickle down your leg. The bathroom was full of steam now, the air thick with humidity and both of your chests rising and falling rapidly as you both tried to catch your breath. After a few moments you felt Negan place your other leg down, his release still dribbling down your skin as you tried to come down from your incalculable high. His breath evened out a little, his eyes still half-lidded when his hazel eyes locked with yours, his gaze capturing you amidst the knowing grin playing on his lips. You were totally fucked out, and the sight made him chuckle.

"That good, huh?" He teased with raised brows, his tongue dragging over his bottom lip making you playfully roll your eyes and manage a small laugh.

"Shut up."

You'd give credit where credit is due, the man knew what he was doing, but you couldn't allow yourself to stroke his almost nauseating large ego any further. He shook his head with a smile, both of his hands smoothing over your waist and then taking hold of it, using it to lead you towards him. You let him coax you to the space closer to the shower head, the water now splashing directly against the back of his neck and trailing down his body, droplets of water simultaneously forming along Negan's jawline and repeatedly falling from his wet beard. He kept one hand on your waist whilst the other held one side of your face, his eyes boring into yours. His head tipped forward so he could rest his forehead against yours, water sliding down his neck when he started to speak in almost a whisper at first.

"If I hit the road, I want you to come with me."

You thought you may have not heard him right at first and leant back with slightly wide eyes, shock etched into your features.

"Really?" You muttered.

"Yeah."

A moment of silence passed, the stare you shared serving as more of an answer than any words you could utter, but you parted your lips to speak and did anyhow.

"You've got yourself a deal."

#negan #negan smut #the walking dead negan #negan smith #negan twd #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #dead city #dead city negan #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd negan #negan x you #daddy negan #jeffrey dean morgan

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bedsyandco · 4 months

Text

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄

꒰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ꒱ — bestfriend!reader x will smith

꒰ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ꒱ — in which will’s gf (lauren - sorry if ur named lauren) doesn’t treat him right and you’re waiting for Will to realize he belongs with you! you could probably already tell but it’s based on you belong with me by taylor swift!

꒰ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 ꒱ — unedited writing🫣 fluff. language. I think that’s it, as always lmk if I should add something else!!

꒰ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ꒱ — finally getting back into writing fics cause school is less stressful! thank you for being patient! as always feedback or criticism is appreciated! i hope you like it <3

꒰ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ꒱ — 1.97K

꒰ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ꒱ — @cixrosie

You open the door to your apartment, kicking your converse off and lining them up neatly on the shoe rack at the front door. You sigh when you see two pairs of shoes lying on the floor, bending down to pick those up and placing them there as well. You immediately go to your room and change into comfy clothes quickly, wearing shorts and one of Will’s shirts. A small smile forms on your face when you hear laughter coming from your living room, walking towards the sound and being met with a familiar sight. Gabe, Ryan and Will lounging on your couch.

“Hey, look who’s finally here!” Ryan yells and you grab a slice of pizza from the box before taking your seat on the same couch as Will, placing your feet on his lap and his hands automatically fall to your calves, caressing them softly.

“You don’t get to complain that I’m late when you two left your shoes laying around again,” you say and Will smiles, shaking his head, knowing what a big pet peeve that was for you.

“How do you know it’s ours and not Will’s?” Ryan asks

“First of all, I know every pair of shoes he owns and he doesn’t own the ones that were laying around. Secondly, Will would never let his shoes get that dirty, it’s the pretty boy in him. One speckle of mud and he has to wash them. And lastly, he knows better than that.” you say and Will squeezes your knee in retaliation for the “pretty boy” comment.

“What are we watching?” you ask

“IT,” Gabe answers and you immediately protest.

“Absolutely not,” you say and Gabe laughs.

“It’s not even that scary,” Gabe says

“It’s not scary, it’s just creepy. I hate clowns, they shouldn’t exist, especially not to amuse kids,” you mumble and grab a pillow when Gabe starts the movie anyway. It was his turn to pick and if you were gonna make him watch all your movies then you had to watch his.

Movie nights were something you and Will started when you were still in highschool, and the tradition carried on to college. You can’t really remember when Gabe and Ryan joined in but they haven’t missed one since.

You miss half the movie anyway since your attention is focused solely on Will, as it is most of the time. He looked good tonight, but then again he always looks good. He was wearing grey sweats and a tight fitted white T-shirt, his hair a little messy as if he took a nap earlier and just came over without fixing it. His hand was still absentmindedly tracing patterns on your leg and you shivered when his hand slipped to the inside of your thigh.

“You cold?” he asks and you nod, not wanting him to know you were shivering because of something else.

“C’mere,” he says and you move closer as he grabs his hoodie he took off earlier, pulling it over your head.

“Thank you,” you say as you cuddle into his side more, his arm around you and hand resting on your hip.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so there, nearly falling asleep when Will’s phone rings. You sit up a little as he reaches for his phone, letting out a big sigh as he stands up and answers the call.

“Hey baby,” Will answers and your chest tightens at the soft way he speaks to her.

“I’m watching a movie with the boys and yn,” he says and lets out a big sigh at whatever she’s saying.

“Yeah okay, I’ll be there soon,” Will says and you frown when he starts collecting his stuff.

“Where are you going?” Gabe asks, beating you to it.

“Lauren invited people over to her place tonight and apparently we’re hosting together and people have been asking for me,” Will explains, grabbing his keys from the coffee table.

“She didn’t tell you earlier?” Ryan questions

“No. I told her I was busy tonight,” Will says and Ryan scoffs

“And she still hosted it tonight? Without you knowing…and now she’s telling you to leave?” Gabe asks, trying to get Will to see how weird that is but he just shrugs.

“I don’t know man, she probably just forgot. I’m fucking exhausted though. I gotta go,” Will says but stops right beside you on his way to the door, bending over so he can speak softly to you.

“You’re not upset with me are you? I hate when you’re upset with me,” Will says and you shake your head.

“No, it’s all good. Do what you gotta do,” you say

“Rain check on movie night? Maybe next week it can be just you and me, like old times. Feel like I haven’t spent much time with you since these two are always around,” Will says, kissing your cheek before making his way out of your apartment. You’d have liked to tell him that it wasn’t because of Gabe and Ryan that you guys weren’t spending as much time together, it was because of her.

Will met Lauren at the first tailgate you guys had attended at BC, after that they went on a few dates and after a few dates they were together.

It wasn’t one of those classic situations where you were in love with your best friend and hated every girl he paid attention to but you. It was about the fact that she treated him terribly, and he deserved so much better. And maybe it did hurt your feelings a little bit that he was dating someone like that. Because if he was dating a girl that gave him all these things that you couldn’t because she was just that great then maybe you’d understand why it wasn’t you he was dating. But you didn’t understand why he would be with someone like Lauren, when you were right here, where you’ve always been.

“I’m not the only one who doesn’t like her right?” Gabe asks when Will is gone.

“I can’t stand her. She’s so rude and she treats him so badly. I don’t know what he sees in her honestly,” Ryan says with a frown on his face and they both look at you expectantly.

“I mean as long he’s happy I don’t have anything to say,” you say and both of them scoff

“He’s obviously not happy. All of us can see that, you probably most of all with how well you know him,” Ryan says and you just flick your attention back to the TV.

“When are you two gonna stop pretending you don’t have feelings for each other and just get together?” Gabe asks

“He doesn’t have feelings for me, if he did he would have acted on them a long time ago,” you say

“What if he was holding back cause he didn’t know if you felt the same way?” Ryan asks and you just shake your head.

“It doesn’t even matter now. He’s got a girlfriend and whether we like her or not, we still have to respect that,” you say, your tone making it clear that you didn’t wanna talk about this anymore.

The next time you saw Will was later that week, you were sitting at a table at your favourite café, reading a book when he took the seat across from you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, immediately noting the annoyed expression on his face.

“The beanpot is next week,” Will says

“I know. Everyone’s been talking about it for weeks, I had four people corner me in the hallway this morning asking if I could hook them up with tickets cause it’s already sold out and they know i’m friends with you,” you say and Will frowns, taking your hand in his and rubbing circles on your palm with his thumb.

“They cornered you? Who?” he asks, the furrow between his brows deepening

“It doesn’t matter, Ryan took care of it, but the point is trust me everyone knows the beanpot’s coming up,” you say and Will’s frown doesn’t disappear but he allows you to divert from that topic

“Not everyone apparently. Lauren told her parents I’d be coming up to New York to meet them that weekend,” Will says and your jaw drops

“She did not. Why? How can she not know? You’ve told her like 20 times, you even bought her and her 50 friends tickets to go,” you say exasperated and Will sighs shaking his head

“I don’t know, but she wants me to tell coach I’m missing it and still go to New York,” he says and your jaw drops even further if that’s possible

“Oh my God, she’s insane. There’s no way you’d miss any game, but especially not the beanpot games. You’ve been dreaming of playing in the beanpot since you were a little kid,” you say and Will smiles at you

“Yeah that’s what I told her and we got into a pretty big argument about it. It’s okay I know she’s not that into hockey so maybe she really did just forget,” Will says, the frown back on his face

“You’re not that into reality TV, or dance, or any of the things she’s into really, but you still make time to see her or do those things with her, or at least remember when it happens because what’s important to her is important to you. That’s just what a good partner does,” you say and Will nods

“Yeah, it’s fine though,” he says but you know him better than that. You can obviously tell it really hurt his feelings that she forgot and then she argued about it with him too? What was he doing with a girl like that?

“For what it’s worth, I’m really excited to watch you play in the beanpot. I know you’re gonna do amazing and I think it’s the coolest thing ever that you get to do something you’ve dreamed about doing for so long. And I’m so excited to be there and cheer you on,” you say and Will grins, bring your hand up to his lips to press a kiss against your palm.

Later that night you were laying in bed, watching a show on your laptop, your eyes drooping closed every few seconds before you peeled them open again, when you heard a knock on your door.

“Will, it’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?” you ask as he steps into your apartment, closing the door behind him.

“I called my mom, and I told her about stuff with Lauren and you know what she told me?” he asks and you shake your head.

“She said I'm with the wrong girl. That the right girl would listen to me, and support me, understand me. Make me laugh when I feel like I’m gonna cry. The girl who knows all my favourite songs, and I tell about my dreams. The one who feels like home. So I went to see Lauren, and I broke it off and then I sat there for about three hours because I realised that the girl I’m looking for is you. And I feel like an idiot because you’ve always been there, and all this time how could I not know that you’re the one I belong with,” Will says and you take a deep breath trying to keep your tears from falling as you let out a little laugh

“I’ve been giving you the biggest heart eyes the last three years, it’s about time you noticed,” you joke, and he smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead against yours.

“Well can I be your oblivious boyfriend, instead of your oblivious best friend?” Will asks teasingly and you nod, connecting your lips to his in a soft, long-overdue kiss.

#will smith hockey x reader #will smith hockey fic #will smith hockey x yn #hockey blurb #nhl blurb #hockey fic #nhl fic

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loves4yukio · 7 months

Text

Unspoken Desires

Negan x F!Reader

Summary : You consistently rejected Negan's romantic advances because you didn't wish to become another one of his conquests. You avoid him as much as you could, but things became more intricate when he revealed his sole interest in you and no one else.

Warnings (18+) : SMUT, age gap (you are in your 20's and Negan is in his mid-late 40's), swearing, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Negan, secret relationship, no use of y/n, mentions of sex (?) — I'm not sure what to put, so if you have any advice, I'll take it.

Word count : 5k6

You endured what felt like the most draining day of your existence. Your time outdoors alongside Simon, engaging in a lengthy run, exceeded the usual duration, leads you to return later than anticipated to the Sanctuary — where you seek solace in the privacy of your bedroom. Shedding your work attire, you exchanged it for the comfort of shorts and a cozy sweater, an outfit suited for rest. Seated at your desk, you embarked upon the task of drafting the expedition report, as mandated by Negan.

You toil in silence, engrossed in the task, driven by your yearning to assimilate into the community and meet Negan's expectations. When you're at last content with the outcome, you glance up from your desk, eyeing the time displayed on the clock. 'It's getting late, I need a break,' you muse. The alluring temptation of watching a movie, an idea often suggested by Negan, tempted you irresistibly.

As a recent addition to the Saviors, you had caught Negan's profound interest, the reasons for which remained a mystery to you. On numerous occasions, you found his intense gaze fixed upon you, his signature smile accompanying his playful, suggestive banter. The effect it had on you was undeniable, stirring an internal storm you couldn't easily dismiss.

Occasionally, you yielded to his allure, but it always left you in self-reproach, retreating into seclusion and creating distance. Negan always persisted, unwilling to swiftly relinquish his grasp on you. He was resolute, refusing to let you go to another.

Negan was known for his ladies' man side. He already had six wives by his side. Negan being Negan, he had proposed you become one of them, but you persistently declined, knowing it wouldn’t bring you joy. Yet, here you found yourself, part of his inner circle and laboring under his directives. This didn't deter him from the amusement of seducing you, sending your senses spinning — a pleasure he relished, especially the moments when you'd bite your lip each time he whispered something dirty in your ear.

Satisfied with the task's completion, you left your chambers, strolling silently through the corridor of the floor designated for Negan and his wives. You had the liberty to wander there at will, given your residence on that floor — Negan had made it clear that the floor was as much your abode as his and his wives'.

As you lingered in the room's alcove, the soft hum of the television reached your ears. Despite the dimness, the silhouettes on the couch were distinguishable. For a fleeting moment, you observed Negan and a few of his wives holding each other tenderly, their forms intertwined in a embrace.

This simple yet profound sight stirred a tumult of emotions within you. While relieved not to be entangled in Negan's romantic affairs, you couldn't stifle the growing pangs of jealousy. Negan embodied the epitome of your ideal man : handsome, funny, sociable and seemingly damn good at sex. Some nights, the sounds of their cries of pleasures echoed through the corridors upstairs, teasing a tale of their intimate rendezvous.

With the utmost care, you glided across the floor, your steps hushed to avoid disrupting their tranquility. Neither of them caught a glimpse of your passing silhouette ; such was your stealth. Arriving in the kitchen, you prepared a light snack, allowing the gentle whir of the refrigerator to fill the space.

Within the serene hush of the living room, where the dimmed lights cast the room in a veil of darkness, an aged cowboy movie flickered on the screen. Negan slumped on the generous couch, a soft sigh escaping him as Frankie sought solace against his shoulder. A fleeting moment of quiet ensued until one of them decided to shatter the silence.

“Has she returned from work ?” Sherry inquired on your behalf, arching an eyebrow, her attention diverted from the movie flickering on the television.

Shifting his gaze toward her, Negan emitted a noncommittal sound, almost an 'I dunno,' just before ensnaring her in a kiss filled with such fervor that it deterred her from pursuing the topic. Using it as a diversion, he let his hand slide down her back, the touch lingering on the black fabric of her dress, seeking more intimate contact.

“I'll be back, I'll fetch us some snacks. I'm feeling a bit peckish,” Amber murmured, beginning to withdraw from the group. However, Negan's hand swiftly seized her thigh, wordlessly commanding her to remain where she was.

“You're not fucking going anywhere, darling. I've got this covered, ladies,” Negan declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a final surreptitious kiss, seizing Frankie's jaw for a change, he rose to make his way towards the kitchen, where he finds you. Unnoticed by you, he seized the chance to gaze at you, slyly running his tongue over his lips.

Deep in thought, you positioned the containers on the kitchen counter. When you eventually faced him, you briefly glanced away, continuing your preparations ; as if focusing on the task could banish the persistent memories clouding your mind. Negan picked up on your deliberate actions, earning one of his trademark, smug smiles.

“How long have you been here, sweetheart ?” His question sliced through the air, his tone betraying no notice of the tension that crept into your body upon hearing his voice.

“Not too long. I just came down,” you responded, daring to meet his gaze once more.

Observing him move around the central cabinet, selecting a variety of nuts to fill a small dish, he paused in his desire to approach the refrigerator, positioning himself behind you. He pressed your form gently against the counter, allowing his weight to meld with yours. His warm breath danced across the curve of your neck as his lips drew close to your ear.

“Aren't you joining us ?” he inquired, planting tender kisses against your soft skin, echoing a familiarity from moments when you were alone.

Your gaze remained evasive, yet inwardly, you pondered the wisdom of joining them in the living room. The situation was already taut with tension, and you hesitated to further complicate matters. On one hand, the desire to spend time with them lingered, but on the other, an apprehension loomed — an uncertainty of what might unfold, beyond your control.

“I'm not sure that's wise, Negan,” you murmured softly, breathlessly.

“Smart enough to handle it, darlin',” Negan replied with a sly smirk, dismissing your concern.

He remained silent, his hazel eyes fixed upon you in quiet contemplation. Your body tingled under his fleeting touch, heightening the feverish sensation as he grazed against you. Carefully tearing open a bag of chips, you delicately poured a portion into a bowl, then turned to present it to him.

“Here. I wouldn't want you to miss the movie because of me,” you said, offering an innocent smile.

The warmth and tenderness of your presence felt soothing, as though it seamlessly melded with his, an indelible union. With each step, he sought to intoxicate himself within this fleeting moment, wishing it could linger a little longer. Ceasing the intimate connection by turning towards him brought a sense of discomfort to Negan, especially when he was reveling in the closeness.

His hands mirrored your actions as you turned to face him, his countenance etched with seriousness, his unwavering gaze fixed upon you. Lifting the bowl of chips you'd prepared, he wordlessly returned it to the counter, observing you as if something unusual was unfolding. His scrutiny delved deep, as though attempting to decipher the depths of your soul.

“Then go to your room,” his words sliced the air, unexpectedly severe, nearly cutting.

His stare posed a challenge, urging you to venture beyond the ordinary. It was no longer just about the movie, and you were acutely aware of this shift. He was testing you.

Your brow arched in response to his intense scrutiny, granting him permission to draw nearer. You felt defenseless, adrift, and utterly powerless. His husky voice only added to your sense of unease. It was absurd how effortlessly you seemed to be losing your self-possession, akin to a fragile leaf that could be easily crumpled in his grasp. The very notion made your heart race within your chest.

Enveloped by the weight of his penetrating gaze, you hesitated to even reach out to touch him. You found yourself silently studying him, attempting to decipher the cryptic undertone of his words. Tilting your head ever so slightly, you cast a swift, cautious glance around, ensuring no prying eyes were upon you, before returning your focus to him.

He stood before you, a commanding presence, his unwavering, intense gaze fixed upon you. Was it even your place to be standing alongside them ? You blinked, releasing a breath as you succumbed to the overwhelming closeness. It might have appeared peculiar, perhaps even self-centered, but you would have preferred if his wives were absent. It could have been the attraction you felt toward Negan… or for some undisclosed reason.

“Must I, really ?” you blurted in a voice barely louder than a whisper, surrendering to the game. “Seems to me like you're eager for my company. Don't you ?”

“Oh, you think so, huh ? You don't have a damn clue about the game you're playing, sweetheart.”

His lips, once momentarily dry, became moistened by a subtle lick, accentuating his wolfish grin. Your hips were gently pressed against the counter's edge, his eyes traversing your form, observing your casual attire. Despite the room's darkness, his gaze fixated upon you, brimming with unwavering attention.

Within moments, you leaned against the nearby furniture, settling there while maintaining an unbroken gaze with him. Negan briefly scanned the kitchen's entrance before redirecting his focus back to you. Ensnared under his intense scrutiny, you found yourself entranced, incapable of averting your eyes from the fervor of his. Each step he took toward you sent shivers down your spine, accelerating the rhythm of your heart. Your breaths grew shallower, the atmosphere thick with an electric charge.

“Don't start something that you can't finish,” he moved a step nearer.

“Who said I couldn't see it through ?” you retorted mischievously.

Negan moved with a predator's intent, every step bringing him closer to you until he stood mere inches away. In that suspended moment, it felt as though time had halted, the world vanishing to leave only the confined space that separated the two of you. The passing seconds dragged by, laden with anticipation, until he loomed over you, finally capturing your face in a firm yet gentle hold, drawing it close to his. His intense gaze traced every curve of your eyes and lips, as if they beckoned to him.

As his fingers secured your face, a soft moan escaped your lips, lost amidst the hollow of his kiss. The ensuing embrace was fervent, ablaze with passion, and you responded with the entirety of the longing you held for him. However, Negan aimed to tantalize you, so he permitted the kiss to endure for just a few moments, kindling a flame within you and intensifying your longing for more. Releasing a frustrated sigh, you felt an intense longing — an unquenched fire that left you parched.

“Now there's a spot on the couch waiting for your pretty ass,” he remarked, letting you go. With a bottle of liquor and the two snack bowls in hand, he strode away, leaving you behind.

Returning to the living room, the movie played on, and he seamlessly carried on watching it, feigning normalcy by exchanging a kiss with one of his wives. It was disquieting to witness the charade of his role as the perfect husband with them, all the while engaging in infidelity with you.

“Screw me…” you muttered under your breath before exiting the room, carrying your tray toward the living area.

Sherry arched a curious eyebrow upon witnessing you arrange the appetizers on the coffee table, casually taking a few pistachios as she passed by. Unaware of your true intent, she observed you taking a seat on the sofa — pretending to concentrate fully on the movie playing on the television. It was then that she realized you intended to join them in watching the film.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, Negan slipped off his shoes and stretched out along the couch, observing your approach without quite meeting your gaze. Amber perched at the edge of the sofa, indulging in the snacks from the bowls.

Leaning behind Amber — careful not to touch her, Negan reached out with his leather-clad hand toward you. His fingers delicately slipped under your sweater, making direct contact with your skin, absentmindedly caressing it without averting his eyes from the television. You attempted to divert your attention to the screen, as though nothing had transpired. Nevertheless, your body responded intensely to his tender caresses, the sensation mingling with the remnants of his previous kiss, drawing you closer, yearning for more contact.

With every delicate rise of his fingers, it was as if you were engulfed in an irresistible yet tormenting inferno. Despite the turmoil within, an appearance of composure had to be maintained, a guise of indifference. His actions appeared effortless, his focus fixed on the screen, while his touch crept higher and higher, only to smoothly readjust as Amber settled in between you on the couch. He cleared his throat, flashing his characteristic shit-eating grin.

The movie merely served as a facade, concealing the true currents swirling in the room. The tension became almost suffocating, an unspoken magnetism pulling at your souls, yet no one acknowledged the brewing tempest, recklessly dancing with fire. The intensity between you both had swelled to an almost tangible thickness, enough to be sliced through with the sharpest blade. You cast a feverish glance toward Frankie, prompting her to sit upright, sensing the charged atmosphere.

“I think I'm ready for bed,” Frankie whispered a little suddenly.

“Same, I'm getting really sleepy,” Amber added.

“Mhm, I'm heading off too. Try not to stay up too late, guys,” Sherry said as she followed the other two women.

“Sleep tight, ladies,” Negan's parting was sealed with a tender kiss to each of the women, yet his unwavering gaze remained locked with yours. He was aware of your watchful gaze and took the opportunity to playfully tease you.

They dispersed into the solace of their individual chambers, melting into the shadows. While maintaining a facade of attention towards the television, he covertly tracked their movements until he was certain of your seclusion. Then, he turned toward you, a silent entreaty woven into the language of his gaze, beckoning you closer as if the very essence of his being yearned for your nearness.

“Come here,” he murmurs, gesturing with his raised arm to offer you space beside him.

You edged closer to his inviting warmth, shifting on the couch to draw nearer. The instant you nestled against him, his embrace enveloped you. His fingertips ventured down your back, making tender contact with your skin, a delicate dance of caresses. Nestled comfortably against him, your head found a cozy perch upon his shoulder, basking in the tenderness of his touch. His actions lulled you, evoking a melting sensation within.

“What's runnin' through that head of yours, darlin' ?” he murmurs in your direction.

The gentle strokes ceased. His hand settled on the curve of your lower back, doing nothing more but imprinting an imperceptible memory of his tender touch upon your skin. Negan's actions seemed deliberate, as if he sought to ignite a response within you, desiring to witness your own initiative, rather than taking the lead himself. In his ideal scenario, your body would have already be over his, seeking warmth. He harbored vivid images of it, yearning for what he'd envisioned on countless evenings.

“I don't know,” you exhaled, your words barely audible, your gaze unwaveringly locked with his. “About everything, and nothing at all.”

“I'll be damned, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice a velvety rasp, “Uncertainty can be a wicked thing, can't it ? Everything and yet nothin', all wrapped up in one pretty package.”

The TV volume remained low, affording him the chance to catch any stray sounds. He was vigilant, ever mindful of his wives who, despite retiring to their rooms, could unexpectedly intrude at any instant. Negan wasn't particularly concerned about being caught in a passionate liaison with a woman ; if it were solely up to him, he'd fuck you right there on the balcony in front of everyone, demonstrating to all that you belonged to him. But it was more for your sake that he wished to avoid it — he knew you probably wouldn't want to be seen sharing sex with him.

A hush settled in the room as you rose, resting your hand on his chest. Your heart stubbornly refused to slow down while the background movie appeared to have lost its significance. Your gaze fixated on Negan's figure, captivated by the intensity of his dark, engulfing eyes.

“You need to stop giving me that look, Negan,” you stated.

“I can't help it if you bring out that look in me, sweetheart,” he replied, his lips curved in a smirk.

Slowly, your eyes traced his features, observing every detail from his lashes to the salt and pepper shade of his beard. Perching up on your knees, you take a careful glance around the room to make sure there was no one there. Assured of the privacy, you descended slowly, draping a leg over his, finally settling atop him, your breaths growing unsteady.

“You look like you're about to devour me on the spot,” you exhaled, sensing his body tensing beneath you.

“Well, babydoll, can't blame you for feeling a little nervous with ol' Negan here.”

His gaze narrowed, intensifying as curiosity and amusement danced within his eyes. Eager to discover the path of your actions, he deliberately halted even the subtlest of gestures toward you. And his anticipation was met. You placed your hands on each side of his shoulders, the contact of your pelvis against his eliciting a gasp of your mouth.

“Negan, I— Oh, for fuck's sake…” you blurt out, leaning in, nearly pressing against him.

“Seems cat's got someone's tongue, huh,” Negan chuckles, softly grazing your chin with his gloved hand.

Flushed with heat, you gently traced your fingers along his pristine white t-shirt, tucking the edges to sense his warmth against your fingers. Surprisingly, your boldness seemed to gratify him. Without delay, his hands found their way to your thighs, embracing your skin before gliding down to your hips, drawing you nearer. He bent his legs, pulling you close as possible, as if ensnaring you within his desires.

“Mhmm, that's it, keep it up, sweetheart. Just. Like. That.” his raspy voice growled.

The tension between you amplified with the gentle touch of his fingers caressing your skin, accompanied by his satisfied, teasing smile. Swiftly, he seizes your face, drawing you in for a direct and passionate kiss. Your lips eagerly met his, an urgent yearning manifesting as if they had craved this union for an eternity.

Enthralled by the passion conveyed in that kiss, he reasserted his hold on your hips, drawing the weight of your pelvis closer to his in an almost covetous manner. Every inch of your body responded to the fervor. Suppressing his profound yearnings for so long, he yielded, allowing his hands to trail along your curves. A sigh slipped from your lips at the sensation. His touch ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, grasping your ass firmly. His action was almost too abrupt, considering how controlled it had been until now.

You were no longer the master of your actions, a mere observer of your own surrender. Unable to resist any longer, you yielded to the urge, shedding your suffocating sweater in a desperate attempt to ease the fire consuming your body. It seemed unbelievable that such a scene was unfolding, you that fighting valiantly against the tide of temptation, determined not to succumb.

Your breath mirrored his, swift and erratic, as your hands slipped beneath his t-shirt. Your fingers, curious and explorative, roamed across his skin, entwining in the few hairs as if seeking to uncover every secret of this uncharted territory.

Your lips sought out his cheek, trailing a series of kisses along the contour of his jaw. A soft sigh escaped you at the tantalizing touch of his beard against your lips, and you closed your eyes, imagining the sensation of it grazing between your thighs. The journey of kisses halted upon reaching the hollow of his neck. Gazing up at him, your eyes deepened with a smoldering intensity, betraying the fervent desire coursing through you.

“Doll, staring at me like that makes me as hard as a rock,” Negan teases, a sly grin dancing on his face.

“Oh, hush.”

Your tongue lazely passed over your lips as your sweater cascaded to the wayside. An almost involuntary movement drew your pelvis toward a search for friction, yearning to stoke the burgeoning flame deep within. Negan's hand clasped your jaw, a means of asserting dominance. He seized your lips in an intense kiss as you sought another after removing your sweater — an interlude far too fleeting for his taste to let it end there.

Having severed the kiss, having imbued it with the bittersweet flavor of his longing, he gently drew you back, his hand anchored to your face. In the subdued room, his gaze nearly disclosed a hint of regret for not being able to explore the contour of your chest more intimately. He indulged in the delight of relishing a closer sensation by letting his fingers glide from your neck to the delicate curve of one of your breasts, tenderly caressing it.

"Damn, babydoll, look at you. So damn sexy," Negan rumbled in a husky tone, his words carrying a mix of admiration and appreciation for what he was seeing — what he was feeling.

In the pursuit of evoking a reaction from your body, he persisted in his caress, his index finger accompanied by his middle finger captivating the tip of your mound to make it harden further. Allowing his lips to envelop your flesh button, he began to gently suckle, his hand cupping and kneading your second breast while his other hand glided down your back, drawing you nearer to him, as if such closeness were even possible. Simultaneously, he urged you to continue the friction that your pelvis created against his, while beneath the thick fabric of his gray trousers, his growing member was already palpable.

You sensed your heart pounding against your chest, sending tremors through your entire being. The passion ignited such a fervor, inducing a wetness between your thighs that heightened with each subtle motion against his bulge. As he worked on the first reddened mound, he shifted his attention to the second, prolonging the intimacy without breaking away. His hand, departing from the comforting warmth of your skin, ventured further, becoming more invasive as it found its place between your thighs.

You let out a soft sigh as his hands grazed your fevered skin. In touch with the cloth of your shorts, he effortlessly detected your moisture with a gentle, deliberate press. His smile brushed against your skin, teasing your hardening bud as he intensified the caress of his fingers against your welcoming depths, eliciting you a moan that sent shivers down his spine.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs huskily, his words brushing against your skin.

Each shift of your body against his made you acutely aware of his hardness pressing against your lower abdomen, igniting vivid, consuming thoughts. His words and the sensations from his hands evoked a swarm of butterflies in your chest.

Passionate, moist kisses lingered on your lips, easing your sighs into delicate moans. Struggling to keep your responses in check, aiming not to draw the attention of his wives — who, you prayed, were sound asleep in their chambers, only served to heighten your fevered state. As the kisses deepened, you glanced down to witness the unfolding intimacy between you. The sensation was wet and intoxicating, a feeling you adored, yet it failed to satiate your longing ; you craved more, like an ache that consumed you.

Once more, your hands ventured under his t-shirt, gradually raising it to uncover his tonic abdomen amidst the subdued light of the television. As your hands glided around him, ascending his back to help disrobe him, your hips resumed their movement, driven by the burgeoning passion stirring within you.

You let out a hiss as your thighs quivered around him, feeling the discomfort of your shorts. Using your fingertips, you eventually made it to the edge of his pants, playfully tugging them down intermittently while seeking his approval through eye contact.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Negan exhaled deeply, smirking against your jaw.

He snarled and moved aside your damp underwear. Your desires were explicit, needing no further communication for him to comprehend your needs. He grazed his finger along your sensitive areas, savoring the sounds escaping your lips. Sensing your hands clutching his shoulders, he starts tracing circular motions around your nerve bundle, causing you to writhe on top of him.

“W-Wait,” you managed to say, widening your eyes, a surge of pleasure building as he persisted.

“Shh, let me take care of you. Cum for me,” he responded, prompting your release against his hand. “You're doing so well, sweetheart,” he praised you.

He lapped at your juices greedily on his fingers, revealing in the taste of your arousal. Encircling his arm around your delicate form, he effortlessly maneuvered to switch your positions, laying you on your side. You yielded without protest, sinking into the cushioned comfort of the sofa.

Leaning against the cushions with one arm, he stood tall above you and leaned in for a passionate kiss, his other hand swiftly pulling away the last garment covering your body, exposing you to the open air. Without needing assistance, he tore away your panties and eager to remove his own pants and boxers, freeing himself.

As you shared a kiss, he momentarily paused to collect saliva on his hand, which he used to moisten himself, locking eyes with you intensely. There was no turning back for both of you.

“Negan,” you gasp, a fervent ache consuming you.

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg me,” he demands.

“Negan, please… I want you so bad,” you murmur in a quivering, warm tone near his ear, your eyes growing heavier as your bodies press together.

Grasping his girth, he glides it along your folds, teasing before exerting pressure to breach your intimacy. A guttural sound escapes his throat as he leans back, relishing the feeling of penetrating you. Despite the discomfort, you tremble, releasing a stifled moan as he tantalizes your wetness with his thumb. Retracting, he positions himself on his knees, guiding his member with a few deliberate movements.

Clasping your thighs firmly, he drew you nearer by lifting your knees towards his chest, seeking better access to your intimacy. His thumb moistened your entrance with your own secretions before he tease you with the head of his cock. He shifted above you, covering your lips with his own to stifle your sounds as he smoothly entered you, his pelvis slamming against yours.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with your racing heartbeat as your fingers gently wandered through the tangle of his dark locks at the back of his head. The tension surrounding you was so consuming that you lost awareness of your surroundings and any potential consequences of your actions.

When you sensed his entrance, your body instinctively arched and stiffened. Your face tensed as you tried to adjust to this new sensation. Gradually, you acclimated to his presence, and in a suggestive move, you raised your hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, signaling your desire for him to continue.

Gripping the sofa, he lifted your face abruptly, stifling a deep groan that resonated in his throat. The way your body arched upon his possession, the tightening of your flesh around him, heightened the rush of blood in his veins. Slowly, he eased into a series of gentle pelvic movements.

It was a captivating sight, leaving you breathless as you finally sensed his motion inside you. A thin film of sweat adorned your skin, and the heat brought a flush to your face, framed by damp strands of hair. Negan couldn't help but marvel at how perfect you looked in that moment — like a goddess who had descended from the heavens just for him.

His movements were restrained, as he aimed to find more space, all the while displaying a sense of self-control. This tenderness was not typical of his character. However, when Negan lifted his gaze to study your expressions and the fervor they revealed, he permitted himself to quicken his pace. Beginning softly and then progressively intensifying, causing your body to shift beneath him. His hand turned to silence your mouth, and his grunts intensified in your ear.

“You feel so good,” he moaned between a few strokes.

The manner in which his pelvis met yours left no room for evasion. This subtle motion that swept you along drove you to the edge, even though it was merely the start. You ultimately found the delight, the one veiled within your unspoken desires, beneath your garments, in the recesses of your intimacy. Each of your cries was subdued, to avoid raising any doubts and the movie, its credits scrolling on the screen, was no longer a cover for you.

“Tell me. Tell me you fucking belong to me, dollface,” he murmured, planting kisses along your collarbone before biting your earlobe, leaning in as he demanded, “Say it.”

“Fuck—,” you muttered, turning your face to meet his gaze.

You found yourself laughing nervously at every motion, electrified by the exquisite sensations that regularly coursed through you. Your legs clung to him while your hands had sought solace on his back. Your body quivered and molded around his larger frame.

“Say it,” he insisted, picking up his speed, surpassing the intensity he'd shown before.

“Yours. Only yours !” you gasped as you sensed him accelerating, feeling your muscles tightening around him.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. All mine,” he snarled, his voice dripping like honey.

A hush enveloped the surroundings, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting and the partially muted expressions of pleasure that conveyed the intense experience shared between you — and the need to stifle the impending cries pulsating within you nearly propelled you over the edge. Consumed by the moment, you disregarded any concerns about potential listeners, focusing solely on the overwhelming sensation that enveloped you.

A knot formed within you as a distant door creaked open, signifying the departure of one of Negan's wives from her room. The mere idea prompted you to stiffen. But Negan firmly held your hips, intensifying his pace, propelling you closer to the brink of climax.

“Hold on, there's somebody,” you gasp, confused by Negan's apparent indifference.

“It ain't an issue if there's company,” he declares, forcefully driving his hips against you.

“Negan I'm—,” you cursed, your hips rising to enhance the skin-to-skin connection. Your head arched backward, immersing you in a profound trance.

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, his voice husky with desire. “Show me how much you want it.”

Intense pleasure courses through your veins, compelling you to grasp his hair and arch your hips to meet his movements. His hold on your hips tightens like that of a ravenous creature, and you knew you would be bruised the next day, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

Negan glided a hand down, teasing and stimulating your most sensitive spot with his thumb, propelling you closer to your next climax. The noises coming out of your throat as you came were the sexiest sounds he had ever heard and damn, it driving him wild. It's with one last powerful push, he poured himself into you, your bodies entwined in a dance of passion and desire.

“Fuck fuck fuuuck,” he spat, shutting his eyes.

He fell onto you, utterly drained. You both remained intertwined, allowing your still-warm bodies to linger in a comfortable silence. As you slowly regained awareness, the sound of the door closing snapped you out of your daze, and you were suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. Sensing your movement beneath him, Negan slowly rose, propping himself up with one arm.

“Did you just— ?” you halted, sensing a chilling atmosphere enveloping your core when Negan withdrew from you, appearing as bewildered as you felt.

“I didn't mean to. You made it hard for me with all this damn mess,” he breath. He seemed to hold himself responsible, hoping this error hadn't disrupted the beginning of your relationship. Truth be told, sleeping with you was a significant move in his plan to have you entirely for himself.

You fall into a moment of silence, still slightly affected by the intensity of your lovemaking. As you both prepare to dress, Negan, clad only in his boxers, catches your attempt to glance around the room. Interrupting, he requests you an another, gentler kiss. You find yourself smiling in the midst of this tender moment, momentarily forgetting your worries. Eventually, you begin to reassess your choice about joining his group of wives…

Maybe you should think about it again.

A/N : Thanks for reading ! And sorry for any grammatical or other mistakes, English is not my first language. If you have any fanfic requests regarding Jeffrey's characters, please feel free to ask — I'd be happy to write them for you <3

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