slvtfornegan

[slvtfornegan]

Trapped

Characters: Negan x F!reader

Summary: After beeing trapped in the depot with the dead clawing outside, Negan has to confess and after almost loosing you in the horde, he has to embrace his weaknesses.

A/N: no smut this time, this is some mushy shit i wrote cs i was bored, one day and i need to get it out of my notes, i have a few other started and i will finish them soon. Love vulnerable men tho

The air inside the depot was thick, hot, and tainted with the kind of rot that settled in the lungs and refused to leave.

You could taste it: a sour blend of rust, sweat, and the sickly-sweet stench of the dead. Wood-paneled walls, old and splintered, boxed you in from every side.

No windows. No window that you could open because they were sealed, and the dead was clawing at the walls outside.

Just seams in the boards that leaked faint slits of gray light from the storm outside. Dust hovered in the air, catching the dull glow like static, and every few seconds, the silence was broken by the slow, rhythmic thud of bodies slamming against the exterior walls.

They moaned, low and constant, like a chant. Hundreds of them. Maybe more. Their groans seeped through the gaps, muffled but unmistakable. And the worst part was how relentless they were. No pause. No break. Like the dead were trying to crush the place down around you.

You were trapped. You, Negan and this dumbass priest that got you in here.

He paced a few feet away, jaw tense, Lucille dangling loosely from one hand like a warning. His white shirt clung to his chest with sweat, and strands of his hair curled at his temple, damp from heat and stress. He looked like he’d crawled through hell and somehow still came out cocky. Sweat glistened his face in the dim light that sneaked through the cracks, but damn if he didn’t still move like he owned the world.

You hated how good he looked in moments like this. How alive he seemed in the middle of chaos.

Before either of you could say more, Gabriel spoke up from the other side of the room. He had barely moved since they all slammed the door shut behind them, but now he was standing, shoulders squared, his eyes flicking between you and Negan like he was watching two dangerous animals share a cage.

“I think… I think we were brought here for a reason,” he said, voice calm but cracked from the heat. “Maybe this is an opportunity to confess. To seek redemption.”

Negan tilted his head back and sighed, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

“Oh, God. Not this shit again.”

“I mean it,” Gabriel said, stepping forward. “You have people who follow you. People who kill for you. That kind of power should be used for something greater. You could change. Be better.”

Negan was already laughing. Not cruelly, just in that way that said he’d heard this speech a dozen times and found it equally ridiculous every time.

“And what?” Negan said. “Join hands, sing a little kumbaya, and feed the walkers communion wafers? Sorry, padre. I like who I am.”

“You’re lying,” Gabriel said sharply. “You’re afraid to admit what you’ve done. You’re scared of being weak.”

Negan’s smile didn’t fade, but something shifted behind it.

And then—BANG!

The gunshot cracked through the room like lightning.

You ducked instinctively, heart vaulting into your throat as your ears rang.

Smoke drifted from Gabriel’s pistol. Before the sound had even settled, he turned and shoved open the door to the next room of the depot. Negan shouted, lunging for him, but the priest was faster, he slammed the door in his face, locking it with a bolt from the inside.

“Goddamn it!” Negan roared, throwing a fist at the wall, his bat clattering to the floor beside him. “Son of a bitch Gabe!”

You blinked, still crouched, adrenaline buzzing through you. “Did he hit you?” You breathed out.

Negan ran a hand down his side, checked for blood, then shook his head. “Nah. Just gave me a haircut.“

Negan was pacing around like a caged animal. He was pissed. “Tell me a reason why I shouldn’t let these freaks outside chew on your cowardy ass Gabe and just save my own ass?”

“I’m not gonna die. Not before you confess.”

Negan groaned muttering curses under his breath. With a sigh he finally stopped pacing and looked over you. Your focus was somewhere else again.

You sat on the floor near the far corner of the room, arms wrapped around your knees, trying to keep your breath steady. You hated small dark spaces. Always had. But now, the dark corners felt deeper. The air felt heavier. Every heartbeat drummed louder in your ears, and your stomach coiled tighter with every minute that passed.

Negan noticed.

He sat down beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him leaning his head back against the wall, let out a long breath, and turned his face toward you.

His tone softened, just a fraction. “You good?”

You shot him a look. “Do I look good?”

“Honestly? You look like you’re about two seconds from punching a wall and making out with it after. You’re practically vibrating here. For a second I thought maybe it’s cause i have this effect on you.” He smirked.

Your lips twitched. God he was ridiculous sometimes. “Asshole.” You huffed.

“Guilty.” He chuckled. “No, but seriously you okay?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t like tight spaces, huh?”

You shook your head. “Never did.”

“Huh,” he said, like that was interesting. “Is it the walls, or just the whole ‘trapped’ thing?”

You thought about it. “Both.”

Negan didn’t say anything for a second. Then he adjusted his position and moved just a little closer, just enough for your shoulders to brush, just enough for his body heat to make the air feel warmer, but not enough to feel like a threat.

“Want me to talk or shut up?” he asked. “You know, be a distraction or just sit here and look pretty. I can do either. I’m extremely talented.”

Your lips twitched again, as you sighed while shaking your head. The tension in your chest loosened just a notch.

You and Negan were thing? You could say that. You weren’t a wife, weren’t a saviour. You were something between. You trusted with each others lives more than once. And trust wasn’t something often these days.

He wasn’t the king of fucking emphaty never showed much mercy, but you saw a softer side of him during the time spent together. Something human you thought wasn’t there anymore, or maybe never was. You didn’t really understand how you gotten yourself into this with him, because you were terrified of him at the start. But he had to flash you a smile just to make yourself question your own morals.

You were glad that he cared. And he tried to show it in his own twisted way sometimes, but he did it. He could remember the smallest detail of something you didn’t even remember telling him, lingering touches and intense glances.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your fingers moved before you even thought about it, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. Negan’s eyes followed your hand, his breath stilling. Then, he closed his eyes as if savoring the touch.

His lips twitched as he opened his eyes a little, watching you through his long lashes “You keep that up, I’ll think you like me or something.” He teased, his voice rough.

“Wouldn’t want that to happen right?” You leaned in without really thinking, hand still lingering in his hair, brushing a few damp strands back. His breath caught slightly, and you saw the flicker of something in his half-linded eyes. He was watching you so intensely for a moment it made you feel even more nervous.

He wasn’t sure how you did that, but it was enough of one small touch from you and the whole world could go to hell, it was enough for him.

Negan didn’t say anything at first. His eyes were dark, like he was weighing something. Then, without warning, he leaned in. Slowly.

Purposefully.

And before you could stop it, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm against yours, his breath heavy, and his hand came up to rest on your neck, the touch gentle but commanding.

Your hand slid down from his hair to his jaw, thumb brushing the rough line of stubble along his cheek. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch like he needed it, like it was the only real thing left in the room, a low sound rumbling in his throat.

His lips moved against yours slowly, searching, unhurried and it drove you completely insane.

You didn’t realize how tightly your hands were holding onto him until he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm, and the closeness of him pressed out some of the panic still rattling in your chest. You could feel his breath on your skin, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t want to lose the moment.

“Better?” He teased against your lips a smile stretching wider on his face.

“Mhmm..” you hummed running a hand down his chest, under his jacket and you heard him holding back a low sound in the back of his throat before your lips found his again. You could feel his heart beating so fast. You weren’t sure if it was because of the lack of oxygen or because of something entirely else.

The kiss deepened, and you let your hands roam, sliding down his chest to his side, where you felt the muscles tense under your fingertips. He groaned, his grip on your neck tightened just enough to anchor you, then his hand slid down your arm, catching your wrist gently before you could pull him any closer. His fingers were warm, strong, and surprisingly gentle.

His hand lingered on your wrist, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your pulse point. His lips hovered near yours, breath catching like he was weighing something.

Then he pulled back. Not much. Just enough to look at you fully. His eyes full if mischief.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low, “but if we keep going, I’m not stopping until I’ve got you on your back, and I don’t think padrpe would appreciate the soundtrack.”

You exhaled a laugh, half relief, half frustration as you dropped your head against the wall behind you.

You almost hated how easy it was to get lost in the way his lips brushed against yours, the way his hands moved over your skin like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Almost.

“You're lucky Gabe is right there,” he muttered, brushing his thumb across your pulse again, his hand still resting lightly on your wrist. His voice was low, a soft growl that made your pulse race all over again. “If not, I'd be throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to the damn roof to scream my name just to keep you from going stir crazy.”

You bit your lip, fighting the rush of heat that spread through you at his words. You shoved his chest muttering curses under your breath only making him snicker in response.

Before either of you could push it further before another kiss, another word, another moment of closeness the walls creaked.

A low, wooden creak that wasn’t just age or heat, it was pressure. The unmistakable strain of weight building up on the outside. The walkers weren’t just pawing now. They were pushing. Shoving. Climbing over each other like rats in a box, trying to bust through.

You both froze, the air sharpening like a blade between your ribs.

Then came the first crack, one of the old boards near the door splintered, just a hairline fracture at first, but it widened fast, like a dry bone snapping under strain. The moans grew louder. Closer. You could hear nails scratching wood. Teeth gnashing. Skin slapping against the siding.

“They’re breaking through,” you said, your voice dry and tight.

Negan’s expression darkened. He shoved up from the floor, grabbing Lucille from where she lay discarded. “No shit.”

Another board split with a sharp, CRACK, and daylight punched through the seam.

“Gabriel!” Negan shouted, storming toward the locked door. “You better get your holy ass out here right fucking now!”

Silence from the other side.

Negan pounded on the door with the flat of his palm. “I am not dying in this goddamn mouse trap because you’re having a spiritual fucking epiphany, man!”

Still nothing.

You stood, backing toward the corner with your knife drawn, breath catching in your throat. The boards were bending now, snapping in places.

“I can’t,” he said. “I have to do this. I have to confess.”

“Then confess!” Negan shouted. “I don’t give a shit what it is, just open the door and say it to my face before we both get our guts ripped out!”

Silence again. Then a long breath. And finally, Gabriel’s voice hoarse and raw.

“I failed my congregation. I lost my faith. I watched people die when I could’ve saved them. I locked the doors and left them out there to die. That’s what I did. I abandoned them. I heard them screaming, and i didn’t do anything to help them, just listened to them dying.”

You blinked, stunned by the rawness of it. Even Negan went quiet for a beat, his hand on the door.

“Holy shit Gabe.” He huffed shaking his head before he leaned it against the door “that’s some cowardly ass move.”

“I know.” Gabriel continued, “I thought if I followed you, if I understood you, maybe I could find meaning again. Maybe I could earn forgiveness. But none of it works unless you confess too.”

Negan stared at the door. His knuckles flexed white around the handle of Lucille.

“You want my confession?” he muttered.

“Yeah,” came Gabriel’s voice, quieter now. “I do.”

Negan leaned his head against the door. His voice was lower, but steady. “Fine.” A long pause followed after “I was married before all this. My wife Lucille. My first wife. My real wife.”

You watched him and couldn’t believe what you heard. His wife’s name was Lucille? Even from where you stood, you could see the shift in him. The way something behind his eyes dropped, like a weight he didn’t want to carry anymore but couldn’t let go of either.

“I wasn’t a good man. Not even close. I lied to her. I screwed around. Cheated on her. Told myself I deserved better. That she did. But she stuck with me.” He bit on his lip swallowing hard, his head hang down against the wall, and for the first time you could see something entirely different in him. Pain? Shame? Sometimes you thought he wasn’t really capable of.

“She got sick. Cancer. Bad. And the world started falling apart just when she started getting worse. Hospitals shut down. Treatment stopped. And I—”

He swallowed once again, his voice hoarser, full of emotions, his eyes glossy as well but he didn’t let those tears fall. The bat hung loose in his hand again, like it had forgotten how to be a weapon.

“I couldn’t face it. I searched for medication but it was too late.” His voice dropped. It sounded hoarser, creaking at the end of the sentence. “I wasn’t there when she died. I wasn’t there for any of it. She died thinking i didn’t give a shit about her. So I ran. Like a goddamn coward. And by the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late.”

Silence. A real silence this time. Even the walkers seemed to pause, like the world itself had stopped breathing.

Negan let out a shaky exhale. “That is how i was weak. That’s my big confession. Happy now?”

There was a pause, and then—click. The bolt turned. The door creaked open, and Gabriel stepped out, his eyes glassy but resolute. He handed Negan the gun “You’re forgiven.”

Negan started at him with a serious face before delivering a punch to his nose “thanks.” He turned away from him as Gabriel grabbed his nose “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

He didn’t look at you. But he could feel your gaze. Boring into his back watching him, trying to see through, like you always did. He hated that he looked vulnerable. Especially in front of you. His pride was too big.

Negan didn’t say a damn word after that. The confession had cracked something open in him, but now he was sealing it up again with every step, patching himself together with sheer force of will. You followed, silent, eyes locked on his broad back, heart pounding harder than it had before the kiss.

Outside the depot door, the horde was still there. Groans thick and heavy in the air like a fever dream come to life. Through the cracked wood slats, you could see them pressing against the walls faces half gone, teeth bared, eyes glassy and wet. Hands scraping. Smearing blood. Clawing mindlessly toward the scent of the living.

Negan stopped a few feet from the entrance and muttered, “We ain’t getting out of here clean.”

You came up beside him. “So what’s the plan?”

He looked at you and then Gabriel. “We play dead. Same trick as before.”

Your stomach turned. “The guts.”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Negan shot you a grim smile. “Time to suit the fuck up.”

He stalked to one of the broken boards, shoved it aside with his boot, and scanned the pile of writhing corpses just outside. With a grunt, he kicked at the door hard enough to jar it open a sliver more, then lunged forward like a snake, grabbing a walker by the collar.

The thing snarled, arms flailing wildly. Negan didn’t flinch. He yanked it through the gap, twisted, and SLAM—Lucille came down like thunder, splintering the walker’s skull with a wet crunch. Blood sprayed. Bone cracked. The body went limp.

He was breathing hard now, chest heaving. “This one’ll do.”

Negan plunged his hands into the opened chest cavity with zero hesitation, ripping out steaming handfuls of slick, stinking gore. The smell was instant, acrid, coppery, thick enough to choke on. You gagged slightly but forced yourself to kneel, zipping your jacket. Gabriel did the same.

You pulled your jacket tighter, already regretting every choice that led you to this moment. All of you started covering up with whatever the fuck insides where there so the dead outside couldn’t smell you. You gagged once more time but tried to hide it behind a grimace.

Taking a deep breath you tried not to inhale too deeply, and stepped forward, grabbing a slick piece of viscera and draping it over your jacket like a sash of death. It was warm. Too warm. Sticky. Like being hugged by decay itself.

Negan glanced over at you and grinned as he covered himself with gore. “Look at you. Fuckin’ prom queen of the apocalypse.”

“I hate you,” you muttered, smearing blood down your arm.

He smirked. “Keep sayin’ that, darlin’. One of these days, maybe I’ll start believing it.”

“I swear,” you grumbled, “if I die smelling like this, I’m haunting your ass.”

Negan reached into the corpse and pulled out a dripping organ you didn’t want to identify. “Baby, you can haunt me any damn time. Hell, make it a kink.”

You slapped his shoulder not too hard, before grabbing your own handful of gore with a grimace. You raised your gaze noticing how Gabriel watched for a moment your interaction, and too pissed because you had to cover yourself in guts, and because you were trapped here also because of him, you spoke up, “whatcha looking at?” You sneered, the words coming out a little too meaner than you intended.

Gabriel flinched at your tone, and he quickly turned away, his face flushed with both the discomfort of the situation and your sharpness. "Nothing," he muttered, wiping his nose.

“Hey,” Negan said, as he threw a last glistening chunk of something wet at the ground. “No need to go snapping at ol’ Gabe. He might be a coward, but he’s a confessing coward now.”

You shot him a glare. “I wouldn’t be covered in someone else’s spleen if it weren’t for him.” Negan chuckled.

“All right,” he said, smearing one last streak of gore across himself. “Stay close. Stay quiet. And for the love of god, if one of them so much as sniffs in your direction—don’t freeze. Keep moving.”

He opened the door and the walkers burst inside. Then he stepped into the horde. You followed. Gabriel came last, his breath shaky behind you.

—

Once in your room, after a long shower where you tried to wash off of yourself last remainings of whatever crap you smeared on yourself, you stood in front of the small mirror on the wall, running your hands through your slightly damp hair after the shower.

A small knock at the door caught your attention. You turned your head towards it and just answered quickly “come in.” Before looking back in the mirror.

The door cracked open and and he stood there in the doorway for a moment.

You didn’t have to look who it was to know that it was him. You felt it.

Slowly turning your attention towards him, you saw his dark eyes drinking you in, intensely. He wore a clean white shirt and gray jeans, like usual, the shirt clinging slightly to his body. The tattoos adoring his skin under the sleeves. Lucille was in his hand, and it was also clean already.

He took a step forward, but it was slow, deliberate, like he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You couldn’t help but feel his gaze tracing the lines of your body, lingering where the shirt clung to your still-wet skin. It made you self-conscious, but you kept your posture steady, fighting the heat that rose to your cheeks.

"Is there a reason you're standing there like you're about to rob me, or did you just miss me?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

His lips twitched as he stepped closer, placing Lucille aside. Stopping right behind you, you could feel the heat of his body, and it caused your skin tingle, in a good way. You saw his reflection in the mirror, as he leaned down and whispered softly in your ear, “I missed you.”

“It’s been two hours.”

He shrugged. “Two hours too long.” He murmured his lips moving down your neck. His hands slid down your waist, greedy and purposeful.

He needed that, and you could feel it. They way he grabbed you and pulled you closer, the way his breathing got heavier and his kisses more persistent.

He almost lost you in the horde today. A few of those dead freaks dragged you back into the crowd and all fell on top of you, in the middle of that mess. God knows how you got out of there without getting torn apart or bit.

He couldn’t even afford the thought about loosing you.

It terrified him that he almost lost you and he couldn’t do anything about it, again.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed along your neck, but you didn’t stop him. Instead, you leaned back slightly, giving him more access, letting his hands explore with the kind of hunger that wasn’t about lust alone. A silent plea for something real in a world that had lost everything else.

You turned to face him, your hands sliding up his chest, fingertips pressing into the fabric of his shirt “You okay?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, the kind of softness you usually used with him.

His gaze met yours, dark and intense, like he was deciding whether or not to lie. And he did. “Yeah.” He said simply. But in fact, he wasn’t. “I just… I saw you go down,” he murmured. “Saw those fuckers drag you in, and I swear to god, I thought—” He cut himself off, jaw flexing hard as his forehead rested against yours. “I thought I was gonna lose you. I thought I already had.” He exhaled a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Christ, don’t go gettin’ a big head about it, but yeah. Scared the hell outta me.”

You smiled, but it was small. “You gonna admit you care? Or is that still too much of a buzzkill?”

Negan pulled back just enough to look at you, a crooked grin forming “Sweetheart, I care enough to let you get away with slappin’ me and backtalkin’ every five seconds. That’s practically a goddamn proposal.”

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers tightened against his shirt. “So that’s your version of love?”

He snorted, eyes flicking down to your mouth. “Love’s a fairy tale word for people who didn’t live through the end of the world.”

“Yeah? But you loved Lucille?” You pressed.

For a second you regretted saying that. His expression shifted at the mention of her name. The easy grin vanished, and for a moment, his eyes darkened, as if he was seeing something far away. The energy in the room thickened, and the tension between you both grew heavy.

"Yeah, I loved her… more than anything.” He paused “I fucked up, though. Couldn’t protect her. Couldn’t even be there when she needed me the most." His jaw clenched as he spoke. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna keep livin’ in the past.” His voice was quieter now. “I’m not fucking running anymore," he muttered, his voice low, as if speaking those words were a form of resistance. As if admitting something, even as small as that, felt like a battle.

He reached up, brushing his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. "And I’ll be damned if I lose you too." he leaned in and kissed you, slow, deep. His hands found your face, fingers curling around your jaw like he was anchoring himself there.

You always tried to understand Negan, and couldn’t do it every time, he was always hiding behind that bravado, but right now you knew what he eeded.

He needed you.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring everything into it, every ounce of relief, of anger, of want. Your fingers twisted into his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel his heartbeat through the fabric, erratic and hard, and you knew it wasn’t just the adrenaline.

The kiss got deeper, hungrier. He backed you towards the bed till the back of your knees hit the edge of it, and you laid down pulling him on top of you.

Positioning himself between your legs, his hands traced every curve of your body, gripping, caressing. His lips left yours and attached to your neck, panting softly against your skin. The feeling of his stubble scraping your skin made you sigh in pleasure, your head tipping back giving him more access.

Your fingers curled in hushed hair tugging on it softly and elected from him a low sound.

But you weren’t in the mood of getting into his pants this time. Not after this whole emotional rollercoaster.

“Negan…” You gave his hair another tug, but firmer this time. He moaned lifting his head up to look at you.

Your eyes searched his face, his brows were furrowed, and there was a hint of confusion in his gaze, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on. You never turned him down before.

He wasn't used to this, he wasn't used to being in a position where he couldn’t just dominate the situation, especially with you. He felt so pathetic because you saw him today.

Real him.

Weak vulnerable and scared. Something that he never showed. Something he masked behind his loud mouth crude jokes and being an asshole every time.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long moment, before he let out a long sigh, tipping his head back down to the crook of your neck and placing one last kiss, then he turned on his side, laying next to you. “You want me to leave?” His voice was hoarse, tired almost.

“No.” You muttered softly, your hand still in his hair. “Stay.”

Negan's body tensed for a moment, like he was debating whether to push further or just let the moment settle. But as your fingers kept playing with the strands of his hair, he relaxed, his muscles unwinding slowly as he stretched out beside you. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you close, and he let out a deep exhale, as though the weight of the world had slightly lifted off his chest, just from this simple act of proximity.

He let out another quiet sound, as your fingers ran down his scalp, his eyes closing, enjoying your touch.

His voice, low and muffled against your neck, broke the silence. “Damn woman for making me soft.” he grumbled, his voice muffled. You hummed faintly, thumb brushing along the edge of his hairline.

Negan would never admit that, it was too much of a vulnerable side for him to show, but it wasn’t just sex that he was craving.

He seek your affection. He needed comfort. Something to ground him. Something that wasn’t covered in blood and regret.

He shut those feelings down for a long time, buried the shame and guilt somewhere deep inside, it made him feel numb, trapped in this mess. He had his followers, he loved the attention, loved being in control loved the power and that’s all he needed. At least that’s what he thought. He thought he wasn’t able to care about someone this way anymore. Denied and denied.

But here he was.

You huffed out a chuckle looking down at him “You like that?”

His lips twitched into a grin, though his eyes remained half-lidded, relaxed. “Hell, I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he murmured, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your side. “But i got a reputation to maintain.”

You couldn’t help but smirk “scared your men will find out the big bad Negan likes cuddles?” You teased.

His grin widened, a low chuckle vibrating against you skin “I’ll have you know, sweetheart, I’m a badass even when I’m getting my ass cuddled. Just don’t go spreadin’ rumors.”

You huffed out another breathy chuckle. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore. It wasn’t awkward or tense. It was warm. Safe.

And that was enough.

[slvtfornegan]

Strong Heart

Masterlist

Characters: Ike Evans x F!Reader

Summary: When Ike comes home unexpectedly after a meeting gone awry you suggest taking a bath together to lift his spirits.

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: NSFW - Vaginal sex, riding, creampie, praise, brief feet appreciation (it's canon, what do you want from me)

A/N: Popping in with what might as well be my yearly smut drop because I somehow managed to fight the writer's block. The scene of Ike in the bath is just too hot, this had to be done.

The sun beams down on your bare skin in balmy caresses as you lie on the sun lounger situated on the balcony, eyes closed while you try to bask in this rare moment of peace, something you weren't sure you could truly recall for a life with Ike Evans was not always an easy one. Yes, it was lavish, fulfilling, and far more exhilarating than what your life was like before him, but never easy. It always felt as though the safety provided by everything your husband had built could be ripped out from under both you and his children in a moment, and Ike knew it too. The success of the Miramar Playa hotel had placed a target on the man's back, a target that was met with a sea of vultures that wanted to take the empire he built from nothing but sand and mosquitoes for themselves. You knew it was a possibility that you could lose everything; it would be foolish to pretend that it wasn't. But you also knew that Ike would do whatever it takes to keep that from happening, come hell or high water.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of the front door to your suite being opened, a noise that had you scrambling from the lounger to retrieve the beach towel you'd tossed on the floor beside you to cover yourself with. Considering you and Ike lived in the penthouse suite, which you had all to yourself since he had some business to attend to, and your stepdaughter Lauren was having a sleepover at a friend's house, you figured there was no harm in being nude in your own home; a sentiment that you were currently regretting. Peeking your head through the partially open sliding door, you look down the hallway to see who the unexpected visitor is. The sight of Ike standing by the door and running his hand down his face as though something was bothering him, takes you by surprise.

“Honey?” you call out, still holding the towel against your body but a little less mindfully than you were before.

He glances up to meet the source of the sound, eyes filled with bemusement as he realises that you are not only home but that you are also in nothing but a towel.

“Sweetheart? I thought you were supposed to go for lunch today with your friends,” he reminds you as he approaches you, his leather dress shoes tapping against the patterned marble flooring as he does.

When you reach him you decide to concoct some excuse for why you had cancelled, though you knew it was an answer he wouldn't be thrilled with. The truth is that they were shallow she-devils who only felt obligated to be nice to you or to do things with you because they knew your husband owned the Miramar and were probably hoping to score some kind of friend discount, especially since some of their husbands often enjoyed staying in the cabanas by the poolside.

“You know what I'm like when you have these big meetings. I like being present and in the know, so some silly little lunch that I can easily reschedule can wait.”

He opens his mouth to interject the way he usually would, but you hush him with a quick peck to the lips and offer to help him take off his suit jacket instead, draping it over the chair adjacent to your glass dining table. Ike always encouraged you to do other things to take your mind off business. Whether it be shopping, going out for a meal or even relaxing by the pool, he wanted you to do whatever you could that would stop you from being cooped up in the suite waiting for him to come home at some ungodly hour; god knows he would rather if he had the choice. You didn't mind it much, especially considering it allowed you to spend time with Ike's daughter Lauren when she wanted to come with you, but today was one of those days when you would rather be as involved as possible.

“Now, what's wrong? Because you wouldn't be up here unless you needed to get away from whatever is happening downstairs, it's written all over your face,” you observe as you return to him and reach out to stroke his cheek whilst the other hand remains planted on your towel, the gesture drawing a heavy sigh from his lips as he faintly leans into your touch.

“The meeting was going well until we were finishing up. I was walking them out of the office when Jack Klein showed up and started making threats about how he was gonna put me behind bars. Florence had tried to stop him but the damage was already done. Fucking asshole humiliated me,” Ike explained disappointedly, though bitterness began to creep in as he recalled that last part.

Jack Klein was Miami's district attorney, and he'd been goading and harassing Ike for weeks. He was convinced that he could find something that would incriminate him enough to land him in jail and destroy his reputation for good, and though you sensed that Ike was sparing some of the details of that fiasco, you knew better than to pry. He would tell you when he was ready, or when he was sure that the information wouldn't endanger you in any way. You knew he was probably just trying to protect you or keep you from worrying about him, not that that stopped you anyhow.

“It's just empty threats, Ike. An intimidation tactic to throw you off your game. But you listen to me now,” you start, placing your hand on his chest as you speak. “You're Ike Evans. You built this place from nothing, and you made it successful. And no one can take that away from you, not even Jack Klein. So call those people and apologise for the drama, but tell them exactly what they'll be missing out on if they pass up on your offer, and they'll be begging to host their event here before you know it.”

Ike places his hand over yours and guides it away from his chest, lifting it towards his lips and planting a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“What would I do without you?” he replies with a small smile, totally captivated by you and your ability to always know exactly what he needs to hear to get his head screwed on right.

His hands find their way to your waist whilst yours gravitate towards his tie, your fingers grazing the end of his tie and dancing up towards his shirt collar until you grasp it and use it to promptly pull Ike towards you, lips smashing against his. Tightening your grip on his tie, you use it to deepen the kiss which draws a small, pleased groan from him. Eventually breaking the kiss just enough to the point where you could speak, you whisper against his lips.

“I'm gonna take a nice, long bath. You should join me. Don't want you all stressed when you make that really important call,” you tease as your lips lightly brush against his throughout your proposal, then boldly drop the towel you had been keeping wrapped around your body to the floor leaving it pooling at your feet.

Ike chuckles and leans back enough to look you up and down, taking you in and practically eating you with his eyes as they shamelessly trace every inch of your skin.

“God, I love you,” he says earnestly, a declaration that leaves you aflutter as you smile and start leading him to the ensuite bathroom by his tie.

Once you reached it you let his tie go and made your way over to the bath, the coolness of the flooring nipping at the soles of your feet as you bent down to turn on the faucet. Just as the water started to run you felt his hands take hold of your hips as he pressed himself against you, the bulge straining against his dress pants firm on your backside. You bit down on your lip as you leaned up until your back was pressed against his chest, the movement only encouraging him to bury his head in the crook of your neck and pepper it with tender kisses. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you focus on the way his mouth feels against your skin, your body melting into him as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“At this rate, we're not even gonna make it to the bath,” you joke breathlessly, the comment drawing a chuckle from Ike.

“Well you're just so beautiful, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you?” he retorts in a husky whisper, lips teasing against the shell of your ear all the while.

Just when you're tempted to forgo the bath entirely, the water reaches a comfortable level, leaving you to slip from Ike's arms and add enough cold water to adjust the temperature of the water. By the time you'd adjusted the temperature Ike had stripped and discarded his clothes, leaving you to climb into the bath at one end whilst he took the other. The warm water draws a sigh from both of you as you sink into it, your eyes closing for a moment as you try to savour the tranquillity. You feel Ike's hands dip into the water to grab one of the feet that you were resting at his side and move it to his chest, placing a quick, affectionate peck on the side of your foot and unconsciously running his hand up and down your ankle. With the gentle rustle of the sea breeze blowing softly outside the window, the steam hanging in the air, and the heat of the water that wrapped around your body like a soothing embrace, you felt your mind beginning to wander to your lie earlier. It was nagging at you and you knew it wouldn't go away unless you got it off your chest.

“I wasn't entirely honest with you when I told you that I rescheduled that lunch because of your meeting,” you admitted diffidently, not opening your eyes at first until you felt him shift slightly.

The concern in his eyes that you were greeted with prodded you to continue, to which you reluctantly did.

“Those ladies don't like me, Ike. They pretend to be nice but I know they all talk badly about me. And I know that part of it is because I'm married to you, I've seen the way they look at me when we're together.”

The confession came pouring out, though it felt good to finally share with him after putting up with it for longer than you probably should have. It was stupid, but you thought that once they got to know you and realised what you were like that you would be able to win them over. But it was no use.

“C'mere.” Ike beckoned with a sigh and straightened up slightly, letting go of your leg.

You sit up and crawl into his lap, the movement disturbing the calm of the water and creating small waves. One of his hands settles on your hip whilst the other moves up to push your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

“If I had any idea that you felt that way, I never would've encouraged you to go out with them. You shouldn't have to put up with that, baby,” he says before pausing to gaze into your eyes, completely enamoured. “Besides, what do you say that next time they come here, we give them a little show and make the kiss real long?” he offers with a wolfish grin, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

His proposal to get back at them makes you snort your laughter just imagining the look on their faces, and you can tell you that he is envisioning the same.

“Well, why don't we practice right now?” you tease as you coyly bite down on your bottom lip, your boldness making him raise his brows as the hand on your hip squeezes slightly.

“Gladly.”

He presses his lips against yours, the movement of his lips slow and impassioned as though he wanted to savour you. His hand palms over one of your breasts, softly kneading it in his hand and eliciting a pleased hum that vibrates against your lips as he did. His other hand wanders into your hair, running his fingers through it and using it to deepen the kiss as though the man could hardly get enough of you. It was intoxicating, the duality of his touch. His hands were gentle but unyielding, his kisses hungry but unhurried. When you finally pull away in search of air Ike wastes no time urging your body closer and taking your breast into his mouth, tongue circling your nipple before lightly sucking it, the sensation causing you to throw your head back and let out a surprised gasp. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck as your hand gets lost in his hair, slightly tugging it. He removes his mouth from your breast and mumbles against your skin while placing a few more sloppy kisses from your chest to your collarbone.

“You're breathtaking,” he rasps between kisses, lifting his head and running his hand through your hair before capturing your lips again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and allowing you to taste the tobacco on his tongue as he did.

“Isaac,” you whisper, the desire to be so full of him that you could hardly think overtaking the urge to drown in his kisses. “I need you inside me.”

It was a vulgar and desperate plea to relieve the aching between your thighs, but if the man teased you any longer you were certain you were going to explode. As though he was just waiting for you to say it he reaches down to line himself up before bucking his hips, a satisfied whine spilling from your mouth as you sink down onto his cock with ease, taking him to the hilt. Steadying yourself by placing your hand on his chest, you start to rock your hips and bite down on your lip at the feeling of fullness, running your hand down his chest and enjoying the way the chest hair decorating his sun-kissed skin feels against your fingers.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Ike groans, hands moving to your ass and cupping it firmly as you ride him, his hips beginning to eagerly rut in time with your movements.

You rest your forehead against his, utterances of his name getting lost in breathy whimpers as you become enthralled by the lust in his stare, something carnal about the way he gazed at you as though the whole world around you had faded leaving nothing but you and the way you were clenching around him. His mouth finds its way to your neck again, lightly sucking at your skin just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to leave marks. His affections move from your neck to trailing along your jaw, then to your lips allowing your needy moans to bleed into the kiss. The sensation building in your abdomen only spurred you to roll your hips faster, tepid water splashing at your thighs and leaving droplets trickling down your ass as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the bathroom.

“Ike–” you cried out, desperately teetering on the edge of pure ecstasy until Ike firmly grasped your hips and plunged into you with a particularly hard, deep thrust.

Your legs quiver as you cling to him tightly, shuddering as your orgasm overwhelms you. The sounds you were making and the blissed out look in your eyes was enough to bring him to his own climax, his groans permeating the steamy air as he fills you with his release. Still trying to catch your breath you let your head rest on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you and embracing you as you did. A beat passes, marked only by the sound of each other's breathing. Then, Ike takes your hand and places it on his chest, his heart pounding fast beneath your palm.

“You feel that? That's what you do to me,” he points out with a chuckle and plants a kiss on your forehead, though you just found it all the more endearing that he got so worked up over you.

“Such a strong heart,” you tease, giving him a quick peck on the lips while he draws circles on your lower back.

“Besides, would you rather have it any other way?” you inquire softly after pulling back with a knowing smile, running your hand through his hair.

“Never.”

[slvtfornegan]

BEARDLESS NEGAN GHTEEFWGSEEEE

[slvtfornegan]

I finally have an idea for a fic, i’ll be back soon

[slvtfornegan]

It pmo when people under edits, on twitter or just everywhere say “he killed glenn i will never forgive him” bitch—i just gave you the biggest side eye through the screen. You’re so fucking annoying.

I get why people hate negan, he has done horrible things, and i don’t even want to start the topic about his wives. No, im NOT defending him, but i’m not ignoring his redemption arc and saying he didn’t change, and that he deserved to die. His redemption arc was an amazing character development, i love DC Negan so much, you can truly see his struggle to play on both sides and help Maggie, for—197282 time? And i understand That Maggie will never forgive him, but at least cut him some slack, msf just wants to die atp, he’s so done with yall.

PLEASE get over Glenn its so fucking annoying. He died in the comics too, Negan is alive in the comics too. Stfu.

Especially it pisses me off when people can’t make difference between fiction and reality, and Jeffrey gets hate for ts. Grown ass adults btw😭🙏🏻 i hate this toxic fandom so much.

[slvtfornegan]

I saw the second episode of dead city s2 FREEE MY BAEEE he looks like a kicked puppy. I commented under my friends edit ‘negan living happily ever after when🔥🔥’ AND THEY REPLIED— ‘NEVER🔥🔥’ GHAGSHAGAHGA NO. I genuinely hate amc, they made everyone so depressed like damn…

Put a smile on that face pookie

[slvtfornegan]

Clutching my phone (with the tumblr wattpad and ao3 tabs opened) in despair

born to marry him, forced to read fanfics about him

[slvtfornegan]

oh my shaylaaaaa happy birthday to my silly old man

Hehhee chose the silliest pics i have in my gallery (i have worse) i love him so so much, i was in the best fucking mood all day just because it’s his bday. He’s such an amazing person, i wish i could hug him and tell him that.

Happy birthday Jefferson

[slvtfornegan]

Am I being delusional or Negan would be such a love sick puppy when he gets comfortable with you and can FULLY trust you with how he feels? Which is gonna take a lot of time tho. Like yes let me hold you and stroke your hair and comfort you, tell you that it’s okay. #lovepatheticmen

[slvtfornegan]

Some beardless negan sketches cs i was bored. Oh my god give him to MEWWHH NEAAWW!!!!

[slvtfornegan]

Line crossed

Warnings : swearing, spanking, smut, drunk behaviour

Note: im sorry this is SO rushed worse than the previous time especially at the end, but it was so funny to write it. Had me giggling from time to time

The Sanctuary’s common room was loud with the sound of laughter, shuffling cards, and the clink of shot glasses. It wasn’t often that nights like this happened—rare little islands of loosened tension in a world that usually held its breath. Tonight, for once, there was no gunfire, no orders barked through radios, no blood being cleaned off concrete. Just a group of Saviors, off-duty and reckless with the temporary illusion of peace.

“Damn it,” she groaned as she tossed her cards down. “That’s bullshit.”

Laura leaned back, smug, and gestured toward the bottle in the middle of the table. “Rules are rules y/n. Take your shot.”

She muttered something under her breath, grabbed the glass, and threw the liquor back with a wince. Her face scrunched as the burn hit her.

The night had been long, the game even longer, and she’d lost more rounds than anyone. Her laughter had started loud and sharp and now came in soft, loose giggles as the edges of the world blurred just a bit.

Regina raised an eyebrow. “She’s halfway gone already. You sure she can play?”

“She can still throw punches,” Dwight muttered lighting up another cigarette. “Saw her knock out Jenkins last week with a bottle of bourbon.”

“She can play,” Laura said, laughing. “Just don’t ask her to walk a straight line.”

“Shut up dicks” she slurred grinning. “I’m fine, let’s play.”

“Sure you are sweetheart.” Simon snorted leaning back in his seat.

Before she could argue back, the door creaked open. The voices quieted. Instantly. Like a switch flipped.

Negan stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, Lucille gripped in his hand like usual. His leather jacket looked extra black under the low lights, his eyes catching hers with surgical precision.

“Well look at this,” he drawled. “A whole party and you didn’t invite me? I’m hurt.”

She snorted. “You’re always invited. Just show up and ruin the fun. And missed the best part.” She slurred leaning her head back to look at him

Negan walked in slowly, taking stock of the group. But he wasn’t really looking at them. He was looking at her. Like he always did. Like she was the only one in the damn room.

“Pretty sure I’m looking at it.” His voice dipped low, suggestive. “You’re drunk.”

“Little bit,” she repeated, holding up her fingers like she was measuring an inch. “Still got better aim than Simon.”

“Hey,” Simon barked, laughing. “I resent that. I got great aim. Just not with cards.”

Laura chimed in, “Or women.”

A round of laughter circled the table, but Negan wasn’t laughing. He was watching her, and she could feel it—like a hand at the base of her spine, electric, possessive.

She should’ve backed off. She usually did. The game they played—her and Negan—was a dangerous one. One built on glances that lasted too long, on suggestive remarks he dropped like knives and her sidestepping every one like she didn’t notice. It was power.

Control. She never let him win. Never gave him the satisfaction of having her in his bed like so many others had.

And it drove him crazy.

Everyone knew there was something there. And more than once, people had whispered about how long she’d be able to keep saying no to him.

Because Negan wanted her. Bad. And he didn’t hide it.

But she always pushed him back with a smirk and a sharp word, never quite crossing the line, always keeping him just far enough away that it became a game.

A dangerous, slow-burning game.

He flirted hard, shamelessly, sometimes in front of the others just to get a rise out of her. Whispered crude things under his breath when he passed her in the halls. Called her into his office over bullshit excuses—needing a report she didn’t write, asking about weapons she didn’t oversee—just to get her alone and push the line a little further every time.

She never gave him more than the occasional smirk, maybe a tossed insult, maybe a glance that said you wish.

But tonight?

Tonight her blood was hot with alcohol and the illusion of invincibility. She wasn’t just riding the line—she was ready to light it on fire.

“You missed it,” she said, leaning back in her seat, arms stretched over her head. Her shirt slid up just slightly, and she knew exactly where Negan’s eyes went. “Regina was about to start stripping after her next loss.”

Regina scoffed. “In your dreams.”

Negan's lips twitched into a grin, but it wasn't the usual kind of grin. This one was edged with something sharper, more dangerous. "Oh, really? I don’t know, doll. I think you’d look better if you took off your shirt first. I’m sure it’d be a hell of a show."

She snorted but it sounded more like a scoff “Take me on a dinner first.” She muttered pouring herself another drink.

“Here we go again.” Laura muttered

The game was still technically going, but the room had shifted. Negan’s presence always did that—like a gravity well sucking all attention his way. Cards forgotten, bottles half-emptied, everyone watched the slow dance between him and her with an unspoken fascination, like waiting for lightning to strike.

Just her.

Negan’s boots thudded slow and heavy as he moved deeper into the room, Lucille propped on his shoulder, eyes never leaving her. “Dinner, huh?” he said, voice dipped low like velvet over gravel. “That what it takes to unwrap you, darlin’?”

She let out a sharp laugh, loud and loose. “You couldn’t handle unwrapping me. You’d cry halfway through.”

That got a reaction from the table—a collective “oof” and a burst of nervous chuckles, Simon nearly choking on his drinks. Even Regina smirked a little. “Shit y/n.”

But Negan’s face didn’t move. Not right away. There was a brief flicker—just a fraction of a second—where something darker crossed his eyes. Then he smiled.

Not the flirty grin. Not the mocking smirk.

A slow, dangerous smile.

“Well,” he said, pacing toward her like a cat circling a wounded mouse. “That’s a damn shame, doll. 'Cause I was planning on handling you all night long.” His gaze dropped to her legs, then up again, deliberately. “Didn’t realize I’d need a whole damn instruction manual just to get the panties off.”

The room went quiet.

“You two get a room, you’re pissing me off.” Regina muttered

Then, slowly, she stood. Her balance wobbled just a bit, but she masked it with bravado, stepping right up to him, drunk and defiant.

“You know what your problem is, Negan?” she said, poking a finger into his chest. “You talk all this big dick energy bullshit, but I bet you haven’t made a woman come since the damn apocalypse started.” She chuckled at the thought “that’s why you have a harem? Every time you choose a new one you say to yourself “that’s the time.”

The table turned quiet—Simon caressed on his chin his eyes darting between them, Dwight’s eyes darted warily at her, and Laura looked at her like she’s lost her mind.

The tension was thick in the room.

Negan took one slow step forward, and her finger—still poking his chest—got swallowed by the hard line of muscle under his jacket. He looked down at it, then back up at her face.

“You done?” he asked, voice low.

Controlled.

The kind of calm that came before a goddamn storm.

She blinked. Her heart thudded, heavy in her chest. But she didn’t back down. “No” scoffed “What now, you gonna punish me?”

The room was dead silent. Even Simon’s grin had vanished. Dwight looked like he was holding his breath.

Negan’s jaw shifted slightly. Then—without another word—he reached out his free hand, grabbed her by the waist, and threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing at all.

“Hey what the fu-” she yelled half annoyed half laughing, kicking her legs. “Put me the fuck down, asshole!”

Negan slapped her ass, hard enough to make her yelp “Game’s over, kids. Get some fuckin’ sleep. Or don’t. I don’t give a shit. Daddy has to do some… disciplining.” He grinned and the whole table cracked up again.

She smacked his back. “I will fucking kill you you.”

“You can try.”

“Shit,” Laura muttered, watching them disappear into the hallway. “She’s either dead or getting laid.”

Then he was gone, carrying her out of the common room like a man hauling a sack of flour—an extremely pissed-off, squirming, cursing sack of flour.

“PUT ME DOWN, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

He grinned. “Say ‘please.’”

“Fuck you!”

His pace didn’t falter. “You’re real mouthy tonight, sweetheart.”

“I’m always mouthy,” she shot back, gripping the back of his jacket to steady herself. “You just usually like it.”

“I usually tolerate it,” he corrected. “Tonight, you crossed the line.”

“Oh, please,” she sneered. “You loved it. You live for this shit—Gets you hard, doesn’t it?” She giggled, the sound muffled against his jacket, but her body shook as she laughed.

Smack.

His hand came down to her bottom again but a little harder this time making her gasp and a small “oof” slipped past her lips. But despite everything she felt the heat pool between her legs, and she almost felt embarrassed with herself, too drunk to admit that in that moment. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, the flush that spread like wildfire down her neck. It made her furious.

His hand on her ass was both a warning and an invitation, his touch sending jolts of electricity that made her stomach flip. The drunker she got, the less control she had over her body—and the more aware she became of the damn attraction that had been simmering between them for so long.

“I’m gonna fucking break your face when you put me down,” she muttered, words slurring together, but the threat was there.

Negan's hand slapped her bottom again, and she flinched, the sting sharp against the warmth of her skin. She had to bite down her lip to hold back a moan that threatened to escape her “Not tonight, darlin’. You’re gonna enjoy this ride whether you like it or not.” His voice dropped an octave, the playful teasing of earlier turning into something more possessive.

She would never admit that, nut she liked the way he talked to her, how he manhandled her. It made her feel all hot and bothered just at the thought of what he might do to her.

He carried her like that—over his shoulder, kicking, cursing, and very much aroused—for the better part of the walk.

He turned down a narrow corridor and reached a door—her door. Without missing a beat, he swung it open with his hip and stepped inside, carrying her over the threshold like a prize.

The second she was on her feet he shut the door behind him placing Lucille down, and she didn’t even have time to open her mouth or register what was happening, she was slammed up against the door.

She gasped and stared back at him eyes wide, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast. Her pulse was pounding in her neck—he could see it. She stood frozen, palms flat against the wood, looking up at him with drunken defiance and something else flickering underneath—uncertainty.

His hands were planted on either side of her head, boxing her in—not hurting her, but making damn sure she didn’t move. His breath was close, hot with the hint of whiskey and want, and the heat rolling off him made the air feel thinner somehow.

She blinked up at him, trying to remember how to breathe.

“I don’t know who the hell you thought you were talking to out there Y/n,” he said, voice low, measured, and just this side of dangerous, “but it sure as shit wasn’t me.”

She smirked lazily, her hand moving up his chest. She wasn’t scared of him. And why? She didn’t know either. She should’ve been. “Ohhh… Struck a nerve?” She purred against his lips.

His jaw ticked. He didn’t speak.

Instead, his hand came up, fingers wrapping around her throat—not tight, not even enough to choke, just enough to hold her still. To make her look at him. Her pulse thundered beneath his fingers.

“Is that what gets you off? Pissing me off in front of the others? You want me to put you in your place that bad?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her throat was dry, her mind a buzz of liquor and adrenaline.

“Tell me,” he said, voice dropping lower still. “You need it that bad? Huh?” His fingers tightened just a little around her throat, grounding her but he could see her face, a low moan slipping past her lips.

“Yes.” She breathed out.

And then—finally—he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was punishment.

His mouth crashed into hers with enough force to knock her back a step, but the door was still behind her, holding her steady as his hands slid into her hair, gripping tight. She bit him—just a little, just enough to draw a hiss—and he responded by pressing harder, forcing her lips apart, tongue slick and hot and hungry tasting the scent of alcohol on her tongue. It was messy. Angry. Months of tension exploding all at once.

Her hands fisted in his jacket, tugging him closer even as she shoved at his chest. He pushed back with his hips, pinning her completely, his thigh sliding between hers and pressing upward with enough pressure to make her gasp.

He grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it upward, not bothering with gentleness. She let him, too drunk to stop him, too proud to beg. The air hit her skin and she shivered—whether from cold or anticipation, she couldn’t tell.

“You wanna keep acting like you’re the one in control?” he asked, eyes flicking down her body, devouring every inch. “Or you ready to admit you’ve been aching for this since the second I walked into that room?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Her head was spinning too fast, her body screaming too loud.

He stepped back a little, letting the space open between them just long enough to give her the illusion of choice. His voice dropped. “You sure you won’t regret it tomorrow? Last chance. Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

She stared at him. Her lip trembled—not from fear, but from fury. Because she wanted him. And that pissed her off more than anything.

But she didn’t say stop.

She grabbed the front of his jacket, yanked him forward, and kissed him again—harder this time. Her body slammed against his, nails scraping his chest through his shirt. “Shut up and fuck me, Negan.”

That was all it took.

He spun her around in one rough movement, pressing her chest against the door. His hands were everywhere—her hips, her thighs, her waist—hot and greedy and without hesitation.

“You wanna talk shit?” he growled into her ear, unbuckling his belt with ease. “Let’s see if you can still run your mouth with your legs shaking.”

She moaned, head tilting back to rest against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

The rest was a blur of movement and sound.

Her shorts hit the floor. His jeans followed. He didn’t waste time. Didn’t give her room to think. He reached between her thighs and found her already soaked.

“Jesus look at you.” He whispered. She panted, wriggling against him. “All that mouth. All that attitude. And fucking soaked for me.”

Then he pushed in—slow, deliberate, stretching her with every inch—and her knees nearly buckled.

The sound that ripped from her was—raw and desperate.

The rhythm built fast—deep, punishing strokes that drove her forward into the door again and again. Her palms pressed flat to the wood, body arching, sweat slicking their skin where it touched.

He didn’t talk much now. Just grunted low in his throat, hand wrapping around her throat again, pulling her back against him as he fucked her harder, deeper.

She whimpered.

And that humiliation sent a new wave of heat spiraling through her. Because she hated him. And she wanted him. And the worst part?

He knew it.

“Say it,” he growled, teeth grazing her ear. “Say you wanted this.”

“Go to hell.”

He slapped her ass, and she cried out. “Off fuck-“ she moaned the pain causing a wave of heat ran through her.

“Say it.”

Another slap. Then his hand slid lower, fingers finding her clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts.

Her legs trembled.

“Say it,” he snarled.

She cracked. “I wanted it,” she gasped. “I fucking wanted it!” She panted between soft moans. “Fuck—Slap me again.”

He grinned against her ear, she could feel it, and she was glad she couldn’t see his smug face in that moment. His hand kneaded the flesh on her butt, his stubble ticking her cheek and neck “you’re dirty fucking girl aren’t you?” Another slap, making her gasp and try to hold onto the wooden door.

He groaned, thrusting deeper, harder, faster—his rhythm faltering as her body clenched around him. She was close, so fucking close, and he knew it.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he whispered, biting down gently on her shoulder. “Come on my cock like a good girl?”

“Yes!” Her moans turned guttural as he picked up speed, she shattered beneath him—crying out his name in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own.

Her body shook, her mouth opened in a silent scream, and she came hard—hips jerking, hands clawing at the door as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.

Negan wasn’t far behind.

With a grunt, he drove in deep, holding there, filling her with a shudder “fuck fuck shit—“ He held her there for a moment—his breath ragged, his forehead pressed to the back of her neck.

Then silence.

The only sound was their panting and the soft thud of her head falling forward against the door. Eventually, he pulled out, stepped back, hands running through his hair. The realisation of what he just did hit her.

She turned slowly, leaning against the door now, hair a mess, face flushed, looking at him as he buckled himself back “did you just—“

“Shit i’m sorry.” He grunted, feeling like this little slip up ruined their first intimate encounter. “Got carried away.”

She huffed out a breathless laugh grabbing the collar of his jacket. “Well you gotta compensate it somehow.” She whispered and pulled him towards the bed.

With a grin he immediately stumbled after her. “Greedy little thing.” He muttered

[slvtfornegan]

“That another way of yours to thank me?”

Warnings: smut, a small fight, swearing, (s10 Negan)

Notes: idk how i feel about this one, it’s kinda rushed, i js wanted to post something. Also i wanted to write Negan more sub but I’ll leave that for another time.

The night air was cool against your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint, lingering smoke from someone’s late-night fire. The ground beneath your feet was uneven, soft from the earlier rain, and the distant hoot of an owl echoed in the trees just beyond Alexandria’s walls. Most of the town was asleep by now, save for a few guards on patrol. You should’ve been in your house too, enjoying some peace and quiet—but Jesse had made that impossible.

You kept your back against the wooden side of a tool shed, listening.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

Damn it.

You had been avoiding him all day. Jesse had taken an interest in you a while ago, and no matter how many times you brushed him off, he just didn’t get it. He followed you around like a lost puppy, flashing that same eager smile, acting like the world hadn’t gone to complete shit. It was exhausting. Annoying.

And tonight? It was flat-out creepy.

He’d seen you leave the main street, and like clockwork, he’d started following you. Again.

You weren’t scared of him—just frustrated, irritated that you even had to hide in the first place. If he’d been some asshole trying to hurt you, that would’ve been simple. But Jesse wasn’t a threat. He was just persistent. Too damn persistent.

You shifted your weight, preparing to move toward the alley that ran behind the houses, when you stepped back—right into something solid.

Someone.

A firm hand caught your shoulder, keeping you from stumbling. Your heart jumped into your throat as you turned sharply, ready to shove whoever it was.

Then you saw him.

Negan.

Even in the dim light, you could see the familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth his eyebrows raised up in his forehead.

A familiar chuckle rumbled against you.

“Shit. Didn’t know I was in the fuckin’ way.”

It had been months since he was let out of that cell, and people still treated him like a caged animal, watching, waiting for him to snap. But you had never really been part of that crowd. Yeah, you knew what he’d done. Hell, everyone did. But he wasn’t just that guy anymore. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, not entirely. There were a glances, a few teasing comments, sometimes a wink from the distance, thrown in your direction that made you smile.

You took a step back, clearing your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“No shit,” he said, raising a brow. “Damn near knocked me on my ass.” His eyes flicked over your shoulder. “You look like you saw a ghost, or somethin’ worse.”

You hesitated, then exhaled through your nose, deciding it wasn’t worth hiding. “Jesse.”

Negan let out a low hum, tilting his head. “The kid with the stupid haircut?”

Despite yourself, a small amused snort escaped.

Negan grinned. “Figured. He’s been sniffin’ around you like a damn bloodhound.”

You groaned, crossing your arms. “Tell me about it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant murmur of crickets filled the silence, and the flickering streetlights cast long shadows across the road.

Negan studied you, eyes sharp despite the lazy grin still lingering on his face. You knew what he was thinking—why the hell were you standing here, talking to him?

You weren’t sure how to answer that.

There were a lot of things about Negan that should’ve made you stay away. The past. The things he’d done. The lives he had taken.

And yet...

He wasn’t all bad.

People liked to paint him as a monster, as if that was all he’d ever been, but you had seen the cracks in that image. The way he’d helped Judith. The way he had stayed, even when he could have run. The way he looked at you now—not as someone beneath him, but as someone worth listening to.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t catch yourself checking him out more than once. He was older than you, yet he looked good. Too damn good you’d say.

But you’d never make a move though. You were too much of a pussy. You were scared about what people would think if they saw you making hearts eyes at Negan. People in Alexandria weren’t the ones to forget easily.

You sighed shaking the thought away. “He won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s pissing me the fuck off.” You saw his expression shift into something more serious. He understood.

You crossed your arms. “If I have to tell him one more time, I swear—”

“There you are.”

The sound of Jesse’s voice made your stomach twist. You turned just in time to see him step out from between two houses, his silhouette cutting against the dim glow of a porchlight. His eyes flicked to Negan, his lips twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

“What’s this?” Jesse asked, stepping closer. “Didn’t know you and him were friends.”

You exhaled through your nose and stepped forward. “Jesse, go home.”

Jesse’s smile didn’t budge. If anything, it got wider, but there was something mean curling at the edges now. “Come on, don’t be like that,” he said, like he was the victim here. “I just wanted to talk. You’ve been dodging me all day.”

“For a reason.” You folded your arms, feeling your patience run out. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Jesse’s smile thinned. His eyes flickered to Negan, and something in them darkened, like he was sizing up a threat. Which was stupid. Negan wasn’t even doing anything—yet. Just watching carefully.

“You got a problem, old man?” Jesse finally said, turning his full attention on him and moved closer.

Negan lifted a brow, tilting his head slightly. “Old man? Shit, kid, you got a death wish?”

Negan gave him a slow, deliberate once-over. “In the matter of fact i do have a fucking problem. Y’know, I don’t usually waste my time on little pricks with Napoleon complexes, but you’re really pushin’ it. The lady said no, so why don’t you skedaddle?”

Fuck he really didn’t want to cause trouble, he just got out of that freaking cell, but this asshole was asking for it. And to be truthful, Jesse wasn’t the only one sniffing around Y/n. Thought he’d never made a move. He didn’t want to cross that thin line because it could’ve burned him.

Jesse scoffed, puffing out his chest like he actually had something to prove. “Yeah? You’re gonna do something about it?”

“I just might.” Negan drawled lowly

This situation was getting ridiculous. That wouldn’t bring to nothing good, might even get Negan in trouble after.

“You two done measuring who’s balls are bigger? Jesse just go.”

“No no,” he waved his hand in the air dramatically “If gramps wanna prove a point here, let him do it.”

Negan let out a low chuckle shaking his head.

You blinked and It happened.

Negan swung first.

The punch cracked across Jesse’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. He staggered, but he recovered quick, launching himself at Negan with a snarl. The two of them collided hard, boots scraping against the dirt as they grappled. Jesse was younger, maybe even faster, but that didn’t stop Negan anyway.

“No stop it!” You yelled

But none of them morons listened. You watched as he twisted, using Jesse’s own momentum against him, slamming him into the side of the tool shed with a heavy thud. Jesse grunted, throwing a punch that clipped Negan’s jaw his head jerking to the side.

The men were caught in a fight of fists and kicks trying to knock each other on the ground.

You groaned. “Are you two actually serious right now?”

You had to end this before it attracted people’s attention.

You grabbed at Jesse’s shirt pulling him away from Negan and pushed him away, making Jesse stumble a few feet back.

“Stop!” You shoved Negan’s chest, not hard, just enough to make him step back. Negan ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, tasting the blood on his tongue, a smug look on his face as he looked over Jesse. You stayed at Negan’s side also breathing heavily. “I’m telling you one more time to leave, before I personally will kick your ass.” You hissed

Jesse wiped at his mouth, breathing hard. His eyes burned with anger, but there was something else too—humiliation. He’d lost, and he knew it.

“You really chose to hang around with him?” Jesse spat, glaring between the two of you.

He clenched his fists, jaw tightening like he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it. With one last sharp glare at you, he turned and stalked off, disappearing into the night.

You let out a slow breath, tension draining from your shoulders. “Fucking finally.”

Negan let out a low grunt, rubbing his jaw where Jesse’s punch had landed. “Little shit’s got a mean right hook. Weak as hell, but gotta give him credit for effort.”

You shot him a look. “Oh, yeah? You want me to call him back so you two can go another round?”

Negan smirked. “Nah, sweetheart. ‘Less you’re offerin’ to nurse me back to health.” His brows waggled playfully. “Got a soft touch, do ya?”

You rolled your eyes, but truth be told, he did look like he needed something for that bruised cheek. You sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you some ice before your face swells up.”

Negan blinked, then let out a short laugh. “You serious?”

“Yeah.” You turned, leading the way toward your house. “You helped me out. Least I can do.”

“Well, shit,” he muttered under his breath, following you. “Didn’t expect a goddamn reward.”

You made your way through the quiet streets of Alexandria, the houses standing still and silent under the dim glow of streetlights. Most people were asleep by now, save for the occasional guard patrolling the walls. The air smelled of damp wood and earth, a reminder of the earlier rain. Your footsteps were soft against the dirt path, and Negan walked just behind you, his presence oddly steady.

Your house was on the smaller side, tucked away near the edge of the community. When you stepped up onto the porch and unlocked the door, Negan let out a low whistle. “Nice place.”

You flicked on a lantern, casting a warm glow over the space. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy—worn wooden floors, a couch, with a coffee table, a big book shelf. A few personal touches here and there. It wasn’t one of the biggest houses in Alexandria, but you lived alone so it was enough for you.

He plopped down onto the couch with a satisfied groan, stretching his legs out.

You wrapped some ice in a cloth, shaking your head as you walked back to the living room. Negan was sprawled out on your couch like he owned the damn place, one arm draped over the back, his long legs stretched out. He had that cocky smirk on his lips.

Asshole. He was definitely been staring at your ass.

You sat next to him, tilting his chin with your free hand and pressing the ice pack to his cheek without warning.

“Shit—” he hissed through his teeth. “Be gentle woman, i’m wounded.” He pouted softly in a joking manner and you rolled your eyes.

Carefully, you adjusted the ice, holding it steady against his bruised cheek. You hadn’t even realized how gentle you were being with him—how your fingers weren’t just holding the ice, but brushing lightly against his skin, how you weren’t pulling away even though you probably should’ve.

Your eyes trailed his features from up close. Fuck why did he have to look this good? Those dark eyes, the gray stubble that covered his chiseled jaw and the greying hair. The dimple lines under his beard complimenting his face.

Negan noticed.

His smirk faded slightly, his gaze darkening as it flickered between your eyes and your mouth.

You noticed that. Trying to ignore the heat increasing in your body from his intense gaze you broke the silence “thank you though… it was idiotic, but at least i got rid of Jesse for a while.” You murmured.

“You don’t have to thank me doll. Didn’t know I was gettin’ a reward, though. Gotta say… I like this part.” His voice dipped lower, rich with something you didn’t want to put a name to.

You swallowed, but didn’t pull away.

His smirk deepened, but his expression wasn’t just cocky—it was searching, reading between the lines. He always did that, looking at people like he could see right through them. And right now? He was seeing through you.

“You’re real fuckin’ soft for me, huh?” he murmured, tilting his head just slightly.

What were you supposed to say? Your eyes found his and for a moment you froze.

Negan’s smirk disappeared entirely, his lips parting slightly. He didn’t pull away—didn’t tease, didn’t throw out another crude joke. He just sat there, waiting, letting you make the choice.

And hell, you made it.

Your lips met his, slow at first—uncertain. But Negan? He wasn’t the uncertain type.

A low sound rumbled from his chest, and suddenly his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you in like he’d been waiting for this just as much as you had. His lips moved against yours, rough but deliberate, like he wanted to take his time.

And you? You melted into it, the ice in your hands long forgotten and dropped on the floor, your hands moving to cup his face.

He pulled away after a moment looking at you through hooded eyes “That another way of yours to thank me?” His tone was huskier than usual .

“Can you just shut the hell up for a moment?” You asked breathlessly

He smirked “ yes ma’am.” He murmured before his lips claimed yours again.

Your fingers curled into his navy blue shirt, pulling him closer without even realizing it. The heat of his body was solid against yours, his scruff scratching your skin making a pleasant tingly feeling, as his lips moved against yours, slow but sure, deepening the kiss just enough to make your stomach flip.

You leaned in, your hand moved to his hair, and the other one slid down his body. Negan made a low noise in his throat, and the hand on your neck slid down to your waist, fingers pressing against your hip dragging you onto his lap.

You obliged, straddling him, the room feeling with your soft sighs and the most delicious wet nosies of your lips moving against each others.

You could feel him reacting to your touch, his erection pressing against your ass and you couldn’t help but grind against him trying to cause at least some friction.

The motion made him whimper in your mouth, as he broke the kiss to look at your face, his pupils blown with lust, his brows furrowed, all panting and wanting, aching with need.

The look on his face made you moan, a low breathless sound. And the sound made him twitch under you. Your lips nipped gently at his neck, kissing up his throat, making his head fall back with a low groan escaping from his lips.

His hands rested on your thighs gripping harder than before as he spoke his voice low and rough “You’re making it real hard to behave myself here, doll..” in a swift motion he was on top of you, his lips attached to your your skin, as you both tried to get rid of your clothes.

He was more eager than he intended, but years being locked up and now having such a pretty thing underneath him, acting so needy for him, was driving him mad.

Your shirt was now on the floor so was his. Swiftly he undid the zipper of your jeans and pulled them aside leaving you only in your underwear. He ran his hands ran up you legs, feeling the smoothness of your skin. His touch gentle making goosebumps raise all over your body.

“Fuck look at you…” he breathed out, taking you in, laid down beneath him “so fucking beautiful..”

You had a moment to admire him too, his tattoo covered skin, chest arms, the slim yet muscular body, the v line with a happy trail that leaded right in his boxers, before he dipped his head down his lips attaching to your neck again, his beard scraping your soft skin.

His hands moved up your inner thighs, his touch making you tremble slightly under him, your hips bucking up involuntarily. He pushed your panties aside His eyes gazed over the curves of your form, your glistening cunt ready for him. his fingers finding your slick folds and he moaned lowly at the wetness between your legs.

“So wet f’me.” his fingers traced along the delicate skin of your pussy, collecting the slick on his thick, your back arching your hips pushing up to press against his calloused fingers- then bringing them up to his mouth to taste your arousal with a satisfied hum.

“Negan…” you panted “don’t tease.”

“Patience is a fucking virtue.” He teased before with one hand he reached down in his boxers freeing his hard cock, the tip pressing against your entrance making both of you moan.

“Yeah and you’re so fucking vice. Just fuck me already!” You hissed nudging your heel against his ass. But you knew he wanted to tease you more. He chuckled lowly but let out a low curse as you grabbed his shoulders and switched the position, pushing him down onto the couch, making him grunt in surprise his back hitting the cushions.

“Bossy are we?” He teased.

Slowly, you began to sink down onto him, your slick folds parting around his thick shaft. You gasped softly at the stretch, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length.

“Fuck..” he sighed as he heard the sweet sounds of your voice, his hips moving in a steady peace giving you time to adjust.

You followed that rhythm, gradually increasing your pace but never bouncing up and down on him. You wanted him to relish in each movement as you rode him, wanted to hear his pleasure.

As if Negan doesn’t feel cocky enough, the mere sight of you riding him makes him even more emboldened. Bringing eyes veiled with lust back to you, he reached around to grasp your ass, guiding your movements. “That’s it baby, you feel so fucking good.” He praised “fuck you’ll be the death of me, at least I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

He watched as your breasts bounced with each thrust. Your mouth agape, your eyes half-linded and skin flushed. It was a sight worth to die for.

But the peace you set was driving him mad, he wanted more.

He sat up, switching the position once more, before he slammed back into you. As your walls enveloped him completely, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

Those sounds coming out of your mouth didn’t seem to belong to you. You whimpered and moaned with every thrust. He filled you perfectly, fucked you perfectly. He was rough but not too rough for your taste, looking at you with adoration, hunger and possession combined.

His low hoarse voice in your ear, saying how good you were for him, how perfect and beautiful and all kind of praises between low grunts and pants feeling how his words affected you as you clenched around him.

“Cmon baby, let go for me.” He panted, his lips nipping at your skin moving down to your breast sucking on it, and feeling you arch.

“Yes—God!” Was the only thing you could gasp out. Your head fell back, his name slipping past your lips as he fucked you through your orgasm, his own release following immediately after his hips coming to a stop as he filled her up.

He looked down at you a lazy smile stretched on his lips, and let out a content sigh as he pulled out. He stole a small kiss from you and gave your bare ass a slight pinch making you whimper in his mouth before, he slumped down on the couch next to you careful not crash you. His arm snuck around your waist pulling you against him

“Well that was fucking amazing.” He grinned lazily, turning to look at you as you rested your head on his chest, your fingers tracing his skin.

The quiet of the room was now broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. It was surreal—this whole situation felt like it shouldn’t be happening.

You rested your head on his chest, the rhythm of his breath calm, slow. His hand rested gently on your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“You alright?” He murmured looking down at you.

“Mhmm..” you hummed once more, rolling on top of him with a smile you hand tracing his tattooed chest.

Negan chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath you. “Shit, if this is what I get for throwin’ one punch, I might have to start pickin’ more fights.”

You swatted at his side, rolling your eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

Negan grinned, tilting his head slightly as he studied you. “Yeah? And here I thought you were startin’ to like havin’ me around. Or it was just it then? A pity fuck?” He joked arching a brow.

You let out a huff. “No.”

“Then it means you like me?” His grin stretched wider chasing your lips but you pulled away and threw him a half annoyed half amused glare but didn’t reply anything.

You stood up from the couch making him sigh dramatically, as he watched you move across the room, his eyes trailing your body and admired your bare ass from his laid position. He bit his lip at the view you were giving him.

You stopped in the doorway looking over your shoulder seeing how his gaze traveled your body hungrily, and you smirked.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Wanna join?” You threw him a sly look.

Shit, you were gonna be the death of him.

Negan’s eyes glinted with amusement, a wicked grin creeping up on his face. “Hell, I’m not one to turn down an invitation like that.”

[slvtfornegan]

I will be yappin about this era for hours, i love how humble he is, just a cutie. HE IS HORRIBLE AT SHOWING EMOTIONS you can fucking see that he feels bad every time he says something. He’s just so pathetic, everyone sexualises him always, and made him look as a hot daddy of apocalypse but he’s just depressed old man with a sad past that tries to cope with everything mostly by being a dick (he’s so me i love him). I hate when people say “you’re justifying what he did? What about his wives? “ no i fucking don’t, i’m js saying he was coping with that and trying to feel something close to what he felt for Lucille. So stfu don’t talk to me if you’re hating on him, especially late seasons Negan.

Everyone just throws him around in s10 and everyone clocks him, and he just lets it be, Negan bae stand up. Please I’d listen him yap for hours about the stupidities shit on the planet, just to make his day better. Ughs i love him sm.

I'm so normal about this era. I'm so normal about how human negan becomes. Because now he doesn't have to act, now he can't just be himself without worrying about how it may affect his community. He's probably so goddamn sad that he lost everything again but he refuses to say anything (until Maggie tries to kill him) and now we fully see that that's just how he is. He is HORRIBLE at showing emotion, at COPING with anything. I want to hold him. I want to make him feel safe because he probably doesn't feel safe in his own brain.

I be yapping and I WILL continue to yap

[slvtfornegan]

Bound in Blood

Characters: Negan x fem!reader/ one of his wives (female), Simon

Warnings: swearing, smut

Notes: GUYSSSS this is one of my first fics, soo… we read and we don’t judge. I will try to make some more, just let me know if you like it and if I should continue writing, ca honestly that’s so ass byeeee. Enjoy)

—

She was one of Negan's wives, she couldn’t the other way. Her and her sister barely made it until they found the Sanctuary, and now she had been under his grasp for two months. Two months since she had arrived at the Sanctuary, had become one of the wives of a man who had blood on the hands of a huge number of people.

Her sister was diabetic and that stuff was hard to get these days. But when she saw that the points weren’t enough she agreed to his other proposal… and it consisted of her being his wife, whom he treated more like an object than a woman with emotions.

However, it wasn’t all bad. She couldn't hate Negan, after all he had saved her when she was ready to die, gave her and her sister a roof, food and the medicine her sister needed. Also she found herself really enjoying being around him despite everything. Negan embodied the epitome of her ideal man despite his crazy behaviour sometimes: handsome, funny, sociable and damn good at sex, and to her surprise a very good listener despite the man yapping all the time and being a total dick. He made her feel things that she’d never experienced before with any of her sexual encounters.

He looked like he came from some sort of magazine cover. His dark hair was usually slicked back, the salt and pepper stubble that sprinkled his stone hard features were accompanied by such a beautiful smile, revealing his perfect white teeth, his dimple lines now more evident when he smiled. And those eyes.. those hazel almost green eyes were making her skin tingle whenever he threw a glance in her direction.

Which with time she found herself wanting more and more, not able to keep her hands off of him.

She felt herself getting attracted to him. It was so hard, because it was Negan after all. It was such a twisted situation and she couldn’t tell anyone, nor her sister, because she knew they couldn’t understand.

She wasn’t scared that much of him even though he could be scary as fuck. When she dared to talk back, they had this back and forth, which he seemed to let slide and lead to other things every time.

Walking down the hallway, her heels echoed on the cold floor. She was trying to find Negan because she had something to talk about with him. He wasn’t in his room, which meant either he was in the meeting room either somewhere… around this place.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face as she turned a corner. The Sanctuary was massive, a maze of hallways and rooms, and even after two months, she still felt like she could get lost in it.

Finally, she heard voices coming from the meeting room. The deep rumble of Negan’s voice was unmistakable, followed by laughter from a few of his men. She hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling nervous. She didn’t know why-she had been around him so much that she should be used to this by now. But something about approaching him in front of his men made her pause. She was seen as his possession, his toy, his pet. None of the people in the Sanctuary were really taking seriously his wives.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

Negan was leaning back in a chair, boots propped up on the table, Lucille resting against his leg. He was laughing, clearly in the middle of some joke, when his eyes landed on her. His expression shifted instantly-his ever-present smirk appearing as his gaze raked over her.

“Well fuck,” he drawled, dropping his feet from the table and sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Look who’s gracing us with her presence.”

She straightened her spine. “Can we talk?”

Negan tilted his head, studying her. “That depends. This a fun kinda talk, or am I about to get my ass chewed out?”

She ignored the glances crossing her arms. “It’s important.”

Negan’s smirk didn’t fade, but his expression did shift, just slightly—enough for her to know he was actually taking her seriously. He turned to his men. “Alright, boys, show’s over. Get the fuck out.”

They didn’t hesitate, filing out of the room without complaint.

Once the door shut behind them, he leaned back again, spreading his arms over the chair. “Alright, sweetheart. You’ve got my attention.”

She hesitated. Now that she was alone with him, the words seemed harder to find. She took a deep breath. “It’s about my sister.” That got his full attention, his expression shifting to a serious one. He had a feeling where this was going. “She’s running low on insulin. I know you’ve been keeping her stocked, but… it’s not enough. She’s been rationing, and it’s getting dangerous.”

Negan was quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping against Lucille’s handle. His eyes never left hers, and for a brief second, she wondered if she had pushed too far.

Then he sighed. “Shit. Alright.” He stood up, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll send a crew out to scavenge more. No guarantees, that shit doesn’t grow on trees, but we’ll do what we can.”

Relief flooded her. “Thank you.” She murmured softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I take care of what’s mine.”

Her breath caught. It wasn’t just his words it was the way he looked at her too. “Come here.” He signalled with his fingers for her to come closer and she immediately obeyed, making her way towards him and sat on his lap.

Negan let out a low hum his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in as he leaned back in his chair. His warmth seeped through the thin fabric of her dress, and she felt her pulse quicken. “Damn you’re tense.” He huffed, rubbing her hip in circles.

She bit down her bottom lip thinking for a moment “Sorry, I’m just-“

“Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about it. I will try my hardest to find the meds for your sis. I’m a man of my word.”

She leaned her head down, close enough, so her breath ghosted over his lips as she talked “I know..” she murmured, her hand running down his chest under his leather jacket.

His smirk widened against her lips “Damn right you do.” He hummed. Suddenly, he gripped her throat gently, electing a moan from her, and crashed her lips down onto his. His tongue teased her bottom lip, coaxing her lips apart, and she did. She allowed herself to be consumed by the moment, overwhelmed by presence of the man in front of her. Her hands move up his chest and slowly wrapped around his neck, moving to his dark curls, giving a light tug, electing a small moan from him.

Her lips chased his as he suddenly broke the kiss, leaving her hanging and wanting more, “You are so fucking beautiful,” his words vibrated against her flesh when his mouth lowered from her lips, down her jawline and toward her neck. His wet kisses were causing her to heat up and she was yearning for more while the rough stubble teased at her skin. Her head tilted to the side giving him more access to her skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Oh how he loved getting these reactions and sounds out of her, they were never fake, she clearly loved the attention he was giving her, even though she always denied it.

His hands moved further and further up, under the dress, and she parted her legs more, as his hand slowly reaching the edge of her panties.

God no, she didn’t come here for this. The thought of someone entering on them made her both embarrassed and more excited “Negan..” she panted softly

He groaned as his fingers rubbed her through her panties finding the dampness of the material “shit baby, you’re already dripping for daddy and I barely even touched you.” he grunted. he could feel himself aching to be inside her, his cock twitching in his pants as she whimpered.

“Negan-“ she gasped again her eyes widening slightly as he teased her.

His smirked against her neck grew into a devilish grin as he heard the gasp leaving her lips. He pressed his finger against her core with just enough pressure to make her breath hitch.

“yes baby?” he teased his lips attached to her neck, his free hand holding her hip still.

“Someone could enter-“ she only managed to whimper out but that didn’t stop him. Grabbing her thighs he hooked her legs around his hips and sat her ass on the edge of the table. His rough fingertips caressed over her revealed flesh and it made her bite down on her bottom lip. Rolling his hips, Negan rubbed up against her while he had his body firmly pressed up against hers.

Now the torturously steady grind between her thighs making it hard for her to focus, his stubble scraping against her skin. “Let them enjoy the fucking show then.“ he grinned against her skin, his lips finding hers in a heated kiss.

He pulled back briefly, his breathing uneven, a low growl escaping his lips. “You wanna make a scene doll?” he grunted, his eyes dark and glittering with both lust and mischief.

The thought of that made her moan as she looked at him, his hands now under her dress lifting it up and gripping her thighs. Fuck it. She caught his lips in another kiss her hands moving to his belt starting to undo the loops.

A whimper fell from her throat when Negan pushed the material of her panties aside so he could tease his rough fingertips over her most intimate parts. There was an eagerness to get Negan’s pants apart while he caressed over her body in the most seductive and talented sweep. Finally getting the zipper down, she pushed the material down enough in the front to reveal his hardened cock to her sight.

Negan’s eyes were hooked on her like a hawk while she wrapped her palm around Negan’s length, taking her time to test flesh in her grasp. The deep, raspy moans that Negan was releasing was driving her crazy. “Please…” she begged, her eyes lifting to his seeing the fire of passion burning in Negan’s hazel eyes while she worked him in her palm. “I want you. So bad.” She nudged her heel up his ass to make him press his tip in her entrance

And finally Negan’s hips thrust upward while he had a firm grasp on the backs of her thighs. “Negan,” she cried out his name, her fingers tugging firmly at his hair while he eased his body into her. The warmth of his body filling her compared to the general overall coldness and emptiness of the room.

“Fuck this pussy is my favourite.” Each thrust was drawing soft moans from her throat filling the air around him. Quickening the pace of his body inside of her, Negan moaned out himself with the feeling of her body clinging tightly to his. Knowing that they were in the meeting room where people could easily catch them made this whole encounter so much more heightened for the both of them.

The sound that Negan made showed that he was happy to hear her every reaction and every single time his name fell from her lips, that while his hips continued to smack up against her. The metal desk creaked under them, echoing in the room.

The tip of his cock hit her g-spot again and again having her shaking with absolute delight. “You’re so damn tight. Feel so fucking good…”

“God yes..” She gasped out, her nails digging into jacket, holding onto him tightly.

He was rough and demanding, taking what he wanted and she loved it, the feeling of being wanted, of giving herself to him.

He let out a deep growl against her neck and started whispering in her ear with each thrust, all the dirty things he’d do to her after this, the dirty little things he’d make her do for him, and all the times he’d make her cum, and grinned as he felt how his words were affecting her, her face buried in his neck her legs trembling, her little cunt clenched around him as her orgasm washed over her.

“Yeah that’s a good fucking girl..” he praised but it came out as a low guttural moan. “Fuck..” He felt like his own release was approaching so he grabbed her hips and slammed into her a few more times before his hips stilled, but Negan knew better than that and pulled out of her making her whine in protest, and gave his cock a few firm strokes as he came on her thigh.

He panted against her neck, they both were, trying to regain their breaths as their bodies slowly came down from the high.

He slowly looked down at her, her face flushed, her chest heaving. “Fuck you’re so damn perfect..” he breathed out placing a small kiss on her collarbone.

Trying to catch her eyes roamed over his futures. His slicked back hair now was slightly disheveled, two strands of it, hanging down his now sweaty forehead. He looked so good. Too damn good.

He ran a hand down her body, a satisfied smile on his face, enjoying the way she was looking at him, like he was a goddamn meal. “Gotta be careful with that look, I might go for round two and three against this wall if you keep it up.” He grumbled making her huff, in embarrassment that she got caught. But he really was gorgeous.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing, but it was impossible with him looking at her like that—like he owned every single inch of her. In a way, he did.

Her fingers traced the damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead, brushing them back. It was an intimate gesture, one she hadn’t even thought about before doing it. Negan’s smirk softened, just slightly, before he pressed another lingering kiss against her jaw.

She hated how much she liked this. How much she wanted him.

Negan pulled back just enough to study her, his hazel eyes gleaming with something almost unreadable as he pulled himself back in his pants, buckling the his belt.

She shook her head, stepping off the table and smoothing down her dress. She needed to get out of here before she completely lost herself in him again.

“I should go,” she murmured.

Negan leaned back in his chair, watching her with amusement as he reached for wrist. “Mmm. Running off so soon? Using me like that and then just leavening me?” He pouted dramatically, and she rolled her eyes.

“I think you have better things to do anyway.” She muttered

Negan raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his gaze as he caught her wrist, tugging her back toward him, settling her in his lap once more. His grip was firm, but not threatening, just enough to hold her there. “Better things, huh?” He grinned, his eyes scanning her face like he was trying to read her thoughts. “Sweetheart there’s no better thing than be inside that sweet pussy of yours and you looking at me like that.”

With a roll of her eyes She smiled down at him but before she could say something back a voice snapped them back to reality.

“Boss-“ Simon entered the meeting room, finally reaching for his boss.

She realised her hand from his grip and stood up, not wanting to question his reputation in front of his men, and Negan looked at her with a pouting expression as if disappointed that she actually pulled away, as id she wasn’t already his.

Negan let out a frustrated sigh turning his head to the man. “What’s it Si?” He grumbled

“Sorry for interrupting,” he threw a knowing smirk to his boss and then at her then looked back at Negan “but i think you wanna hear this.”

Negan let out a low grunt grabbing the handle of Lucille and stroking it up and down. “We’ll continue this later.” He reached out and pressed a small kiss on her knuckles. Watching him being gentle despite his crude words earlier, was something so unusual and stirred something inside her.

With a small nod she made her way to the door where Simon stood with his hands on his hips watching her like a hawk, and threw him a glare. She really didn’t like the man. She had a bad feeling about him. She pushed past him bumping her shoulder into him with an annoyed huff and made her way out of the room.

Simons eyebrows shot up and scoffed looking after her. Simon chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to Negan. “That one’s got some fire in her.”

Negan smirked, resting Lucille against his shoulder. “Oh, you have no idea, Si.” His eyes lingered on the door she had just walked through, amusement flickering in his expression before he leaned forward.

“You seem really fond of her lately. Is her pussy that good?” Simon didn’t lost the chance to mock his boss.

“Keep your dick to yourself.” Negan growled, clearly not a fond of being mocked “and watch what you say to me.” But deep down he knew Simon was somehow right. He unconsciously was choosing her every time in the past few weeks. Damn he was in deep shit.