#and michonnes challenging defiance!

[minitelsoleil]

This moment is pure unadulterated heat

🥵

[juuuulez]

📰 | part three: capulet.

info: Saviour!Reader x Carl Grimes, no pronouns used in this particular issue, no use of (y/n), enemies to lovers, violence, slight graphic description of blood.

summary: You return to Alexandria solo for some supplies, but Rick decides to protest. After a minor altercation, you make things even with Carl.

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Another part!! This one includes a little bit of violence, but nothing uncommon to TWD universe. Next chapter will be similar, it finally getting a bit more exciting.

Roughly a week later, and you’re back.

The metal gates open with a loud screech, you hold yourself with poise facing the citizens of Alexandria, metal bat swinging gently at your side.

Word spreads quickly, and as you’re speaking with the man appointed with keeping guard, a small crowd begins to form. Everybody appears to be slightly on edge, especially after last weeks debacle where their guns were confiscated.

Eventually, Rick approaches, squinting to combat the midday sun.

“Where’s Negan?” He asks, holding a hand up to his eyes. A little behind him is Carl and Michonne.

You look behind you, over your shoulder, then back at the older man. “Not here, obviously.”

It’s snarky, immature, but tone that suits you best.

Fact is, you’d come here alone. No Negan, no Simon, no Dwight. It was a solo mission. However, ‘mission’ was a bit of an overstatement, seeing as you simply needed a few medical supplies in particular you were unable to get from the Hilltop. Antihistamines, to be exact. Not that big of a deal.

“I’m sure one of your little goons can show me to your medical facilities,” You say, giving a half-hearted gesture towards the small crowd of people watching. “Got some shit to grab.”

But Rick only shakes his head, “I don’t answer to you. We don’t answer to you.”

It makes you furrow your brows, slowly approaching, alike to a predator stalking it’s prey. Anybody at the Sanctuary knew that talking back wasn’t an option, and you were more than happy to teach these people a lesson.

“Oh, but you do,” You lean in as you speak, using body language to intimidate despite your visibly small presence, “See, you answer to Negan. Then there’s me, and then there’s the rest of the Saviours. You, your people, are at the very bottom of this food-chain.”

Rick doesn’t let up, tilting his head ever so slightly with your speech, challenging your authority in a way that didn’t happen very often anymore. “I don’t think so. No Negan, no supplies. That was the deal.”

Then he begins to walk away, causing you to rush a few steps forward to close the gap. “Hey, asshole!” You shout at him, blocking the path, “That’s not your choice to make. I’m giving you instructions, so you listen. You got a problem with that?”

The open defiance is causing you to loose your temper, more so when Rick only takes a step closer to you, looking down as if you were nothing; insignificant. Barely a leader.

“Y’know, an inability to follow basic goddamn instructions is what got your friend killed,” And there you go, running your mouth. But it works, you can feel the power beginning to slip back into your hands. “So you can either ignore me, and learn that lesson again, or do as you’re told so that their worthless lives didn’t completely achieve nothi—“

You don’t get to finish, as before you know it, you’re on the ground. There’s a stinging pain in your cheek, and you gag around a mouthful of spit, mucus and blood. It lands on the concrete with a wet smack, a tiny white pearl sitting amongst the maroon slime.

It’s a little jarring, to be honest. Rick looks surprised, himself, like he hadn’t intended to lash out. To punch a Saviour. Then Michonne is talking to him, but you aren’t listening, too focused on the fact that oh my god, he punched you.

When Michonne takes a step forward, you actually flinch, steeling your heels against the floor (when had you stood up again) and preparing for altercation. But she doesn’t move any closer, and you’re mentally scrambling to piece together this situation, to retrieve the power you’d just lost.

You clench your jaw, speaking with an unusual amount of composure for someone dripping blood from their teeth. “Now, I’ll be taking what I came here for.”

A few steps down the road, and you get an idea, gesturing off towards Carl, who stands there shocked at everything that’s just occurred. “And I’ll be taking the boy.”

Michonne steps forward to protest, “No, I can go. Please, just leave him—“

“Don’t care!” You shout, not even bothering to look backwards as you disembark down the streets of Alexandria, in the vague direction of where you presume their medical facilities to be. Much to your pleasure, there’s the telltale sound of footsteps behind you: Carl following.

Eventually, you make it to the small building, what seems to be a house transformed into a makeshift doctors quarters. It’s pristine, white-picket fence matches that of the neighbourhood.

You let yourself in, Carl following behind you. The first order of business: clean your face. There’s a slight throbbing feeling where the tooth had become dislodged, blood sticking around the edges of your cheeks and pooling underneath your tongue.

There’s a small sink where you lean over, spitting the liquid into it, splattering all over the porcelain bowl.

“Will you tell Negan?” Carl suddenly speaks up, from the other side of the room. So far, you hadn’t heard anything from him, and couldn’t particularly judge his reaction to that event. But he doesn’t sound angry, if anything a little subdued, nervous.

You choose to ignore him, already moving across the room, throwing open cabinets, “You ever get hay fever?”

If you were looking, you’d see the annoyance that crossed Carl’s face at being brushed off like this, but he answers nonetheless, “No.”

Clicking your tongue, you continue the search, flipping bottles and packets of different medications, trying to seek out something familiar. His lacklustre reply fades into background noise.

Eventually you figure out that there’s some sort of system, alphabetical, which aids in the mission of locating the antihistamines. You grab a few packets, stuffing them into the little cross-body bag you’d brought along. This should work perfectly.

“This place is stocked to the teeth,” You comment, closing the cabinet and instead scouring the rest of the room, “Raid a pharmacy or something?”

This casual conversation feels out of place, putting Carl on edge. He can’t understand how you work, how you think. What exactly is wrong with you. Why aren’t you angry? Yelling at him, or frustrated with what just happened. He just presumed everything you say has an ulterior motive.

“Uh.. yeah, a while back.” He answers with a shrug, deciding to be honest, but vague. That, and he didn’t particularly want to think about that, as it had lead to the death of one of their people. All this medical equipment, with no doctor to administer it.

But you don’t respond, despite being the one to ask the question. It’s becoming evident that you don’t necessary know how to carry a conversation like this. You will speak whatever’s on your mind, express the thought, and then be done with it. Move onto the next thing. Getting any sort of information out of you will be difficult.

It’s lucky that Carl was determined.

“Are you going to tell Negan?” He asks again, still standing on the opposite side of the room, “About what my dad did?”

This time, you give some semblance of recognition, in the form of a vague shrug. Now, you’re standing in front of that basin again, mouth open and staring into a mirror to try and find which tooth had been chipped. Feels like one near the back.

For some reason, Carl takes your silence as permission to speak.

“He shouldn’t of done that,” He continues, looking out the window facing the street, “Sometimes… he just doesn’t think, and makes stupid choices. It must be tunnel vision or something.”

Finally, you turn to Carl, blood still smeared on your fingers and bottom lip from where you’d been prodding around at your mouth.

“What happens when people have braces, now?” You ask, completely off topic, “There are barely any doctors, let alone dentists. Can you even get braces off by yourself?”

Carl feels completely confused, unable to follow this strange string of ideas and questions. He’s unsure if he should be preparing for backlash from Negan, or you, and this isn’t doing anything to help.

“Are you concussed, or something?” He finally asks, the tiniest bit of frustration and annoyance dripping into his tone, making the question sound less genuine and more sarcastic.

This is something you could work with. A tone you were familiar with, an emotion you knew how to handle.

“No, asshole. It was a basic question, why can’t you understand?” You spit, eyes narrowing at Carl, a complete 180 from your previously nonchalant behaviour, “You may actually be stupider than you look.”

This works to rile Carl up, becoming irritated with this entire situation, “Why did you even bring me here? It’s not like you actually needed my help.”

You roll your eyes, washing the blood and spit from your hands. “I just wanted to scare Rick, that’s all. Make him think that maybe I’m torturing you, or something.”

“So, you are angry with him?” Carl asks, feeling like he was finally getting somewhere with this conversation. But you don’t answer, now focused on cleaning the blood from where the skin of your cheek had split, a place that would likely start bruising within a few minuets.

Carl wasn’t an idiot. He remembered earlier, when Negan had attempted to get Rick to cut his hand off, as a show of submission. He knew what would happen, he wasn’t stupid. The only way to control Rick was through him, his son. If Negan found out about this, he’d be the one to get hurt.

He was a little bit scared.

Then, you’re actually looking at Carl. Well, through the mirror, watching as he stands a few feet behind you, leaning against the wall. But it’s the first time you’ve really looked at him this whole time.

“Rick ever hit you?” You’re asking him, and Carl is shocked by the moment of civility. That critical, observational look in your gaze, like you’re actively trying to decipher any reaction.

“No, no,” Carl answers quickly, not wanting you to get the wrong idea, “No, my dad… he’d never do anything to hurt me. He’s not that type of person.”

You seem satisfied enough with this answer, pursing your lips and applying a band-aid over the little scrape. Though you say nothing, Carl accepts this as a rare moment of genuine concern for a peer. If he’d even consider you a peer… technically you held a lot more power than he did, which is maybe why the idea of you looking out for him was surprisingly comfortable.

After drying off your hands, you finally spin around to face Carl, leaning back on the porcelain basin.

“I’m not telling Negan that Rick punched me.” You say, both face and tone unfeeling, not giving away any sort of emotion or indication to what you’re truely thinking.

Then you approach Carl, and despite the unheated conversation, it’s the way you usually move. Slow, stalking. “However, I’ve gotta tell him something. So.. he can think that you punched me.”

Carl feels his throat tighten, shocked at the decision you’d somehow come to. “How is that any better?” He asks, trying not to flinch away as you come closer, your feet now almost touching.

“Negan won’t punish a kid for.. well, being a kid,” You reason with a shrug, “But he will punish Rick for acting like a child. And we both know exactly what he would do.”

It doesn’t take a genius to understand the insinuation. You are just as aware that Negan views Carl as a pawn, something used to control Rick and keep him in line. Whatever Rick does wrong, Carl would have to face the brunt of the punishment.

But before he can speak, you’re talking again.

“To make this believable, I will have to hit you.”

“What?” Carl does flinch back at this point, eyeing you like you’ve suddenly grown a second head.

“Okay, listen,” You interject, not wanting him to immediately clam up and scurry away, “Nobody would believe that I didn’t land anything on you. Especially if you knocked one of my teeth out. So, work with me here.”

It sounds absolutely insane. But, at the same time… it sounds pretty reasonable. It could be much worse, Carl decides, if the whole cutting off his arm thing was anything to go by.

So, he agrees.

“Fine.”

A grin spreads on your face, taking a small step backwards. You shift your stance slightly, preparing to make your mark on the boy. And, deep down, maybe you take a little satisfaction in being able to do this.

“Palm or fist?” You have the decency of asking him.

“Palm.” Carl answer’s immediately.

So, you do just that. It’s one swift slap across his cheekbone, the one not hidden by the bandage. It echoes through the empty room, leaving a stinging sensation on your open palm, and likely a worse one on his face.

“Jesus Christ,” He swears, holding a hand up to his cheek, cradling the red mark you’d just placed there, “That felt worse than a punch.”

You give him a firm pat on the shoulder, “You’ll be fine. It’s good to learn how to take a firm slap from a girl, you should get used to it.”

And with that, you’re collecting your bag once more, content with the fruits of your little mission. Carl is almost shocked at how easily you move on, and he’s sure that there is something deeper to your strange behaviour.

Not that it matters right now.

He hangs back a little, watching you leave the building before searching for an ice pack for his sore face.

Despite the fact that you’d hit him, Carl can’t help but feel a little better about the whole situation. In the end, you’d only done it to evade any sort of larger punishment. To avoid getting Carl seriously hurt. Which felt good to know, that you were capable of some form of rational thinking.

Hopefully next time he could continue to decipher whatever was going on in your head.

a/n: LOL this took me a few days! i hope you like it, i’m definitely happy that things are getting a little more interesting now. let me know what you think!!!

[daddywiththegoodhair-blog]

The Queen

Wow! I’m super shocked at how much momentum this fanfic that I had totally forgotten has caught! Sorry this took so long, but here’s chapter five!

WC: 1986

Warnings: smut, liquor, lowkey violence, swearing

Chapter one! Chapter two! Chapter three! Chapter four!

A loud knock on your door woke you up that next morning. You moaned quietly and began to sit up as the door opened and Amber stood in the doorway. She stood frozen as she looked at you, totally naked, and Negan, who was just waking up beside you. As you ran your fingers through your hair, she watched your hand, no doubt noticing the ring that rested a tad too big on your finger.

“I-I was just,” Amber started.

“Oh sweet fucking Jesus Christ is that Amber?” Negan groaned as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and nodding, “Of fucking course. Hey, Amber, grab me a drink of whatever is open downstairs in my cabinet, no ice.”

“Actually, I,” Amber tried again.

“Amber, it’s too god damn early for you to annoy me this much,” he continued, he then wrapped his arm around you and pulled you back down into bed with him.

“The wives want to meet y/n,” she stated, “Officially. We feel its best th-”

SMASH she was cut off by Negan hurling a glass from the night before at the wall. He sat up and walked over to her until he was towering over her. She maintained a straight stare, her eyes locked into yours.

“Now I know,” Negan’s breath was shaking, clearly not a morning person, “I promised all of you that no harm would come and all that fucking bullshit. But if you don’t stop with this fucking straight up god damn defiance, Amber, I swear to fucking y/n, it won’t be me, but whoever it is will be sent straight to you with a fucking card with love from Negan. You fucking get that? Get the fuck back in line. Go get us a fucking drink. And fuck off.”

“This is what’s coming,” Amber warned you as she turned to walk away. Negan grabbed her arm and ripped her back with such force that she hit the ground of your room. You bounced out of bed and began to walk towards her.

“What the fuck was that?!” Negan was suddenly calm, and even let out a chuckle.

“Stop,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, you felt his tension lift as he looked up at you, “Come back to bed. Take this out on me, instead.”

He stood and growled lowly, turning and walking towards the bed. You helped Amber up and she glared hard at you. She turned and walked away, slamming the door behind her. You skipped towards the bed and jumped onto Negan. His hands gripped at your hips so hard for a moment that you let out a low yelp. He smiled as he then kicked all of the blankets off of the bed and ran his hands up your body.

You reached down for his massive length, and began to stroke it slowly. His head slowly fell back as you circled your thumb around the head of his cock. You began to work your way down his body until you could take his cock into your mouth. The moment it hit your lips you could taste the salty precum, you ran your tongue around the head as he groaned.

“Enough teasing, sugar, I need it now,” he commanded.

“I wanna be the boss,” you whined.

“Remember what daddy said about talking back,” he warned.

“I thought you liked a bad girl,” you giggled, then suddenly taking his entire length down your throat. He gasped and punched the bed.

His fingers were then tangled in your bed head as he thrust mercilessly. His groans and growls were loud as he cursed out in pleasure. You used one hand to massage his balls as the other dug your nails into his side.

He released your hair and you eagerly crawled up his body and began to slide the head of his cock into your soaked womanhood.

“Woah, woah, woah sugar,” he groaned as he continued to pull you up his body, “It won’t feel good for daddy until I know it’s good for you. I want my queen to have a seat on her throne.”

You giggled before gasping quickly. With little warning his tongue plunged into your drenched pussy, quickly retreating to circle your clit slowly. You let out a cry.

“Fuck,” you quietly mumbled, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck.”

“Scream it, baby,” Negan commanded as his pace quickened, “Make the fucking windows shake.”

As soon as he resumed he hit the spot and you cried out loudly, “FUCK, daddy you’re gonna m-make me cum!”

With one swift movement he slid your body back down and slammed his cock into your throbbing pussy. You let out another cry as he moaned loudly between tight teeth.

His strong hands were literally moving you up and down his length in a loud, wet mess. You had no control over your body as you felt the heat in your stomach move down. He leaned up and began to suck on your neck as his rhythm became increasingly sloppy.

“You w-wanna cum daddy?” you asked with shaky breath, he knew you were just as close as he was, “You wanna fill this pussy?”

He bit hard into your neck and you cried out as you came, his orgasm pumping into you as he threw himself back into the bed and arched his back. You slowly rode it out, up and down up and down, until he pulled you off of him and onto his chest. Kissing the top of your head multiple times as you drifted back asleep.

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the mattress shift, Negan was trying to sneak away. Without turning to see him you mumbled, “If you think you can just fuck me and then peace, I promise I’ll kill you.”

You heard him give a rough, throaty laugh as he crawled behind you and wrapped his arms around you, “I wouldn’t doubt that for a fucking second. I was just going to grab us some coffee, since Amber shit the bed on the liquor.”

“Coffee?” You rolled over so you were face to face, “What if we just stayed with your earlier plan and stuck alcohol? Celebrated a little bit? Last night was quite the victory for you.”

He smiled as he sat up and put a cigarette between his lips, “A victory? Huh.”

“Well, all of your other wives are at least thirty-five,” you smiled, “Your newest addition to the collection is much younger, I’d say that’s a victory.”

“You aren’t wrong,” he chuckled, “I can’t be drinking this early, kitten, I’ve remembered I’ve got some work to do today that was put off for too damn long already. Someone has been serving as a pretty little fucking distraction for the past little while.”

“Hmph,” you rolled away and sat up, the blankets falling off of you to reveal your still bare body as you stood and walked to your window, “I want you, though,” you sighed, “All to myself.”

He chuckled, and you could hear him buckling up his jeans and then walk over to you.

“Why don’t you fucking chill and take today to plan some wedding shit?” he kissed your shoulder.

“Because we’re supposed to do that together,” you pouted, “If you think you can ease me into the harem until I’m nothing special you’ve got another thing coming. I’m with you today.”

Frustration crossed his face, “When did I fucking say anything about you being like anyone else?”

“I can hear what you say before you say it,” you retorted, taking the cigarette from his lips and pulling a drag yourself, “I’ve always been able to.”

He laughed and threw his head back as you took another drag, “Is that how you managed to stay ahead for so long during our game?”

“You know it, baby,” you handed the cigarette back to him.

Negan’s POV

I watched her delicate fingers place the cigarette between my lips, and I shit you not, for a moment I was almost religious. This girl, this psychopathic angel, was so damn close to everything I had ever wanted that it was hard to think she couldn’t have been the work of some fucking higher power.

“When you cursed out Amber, you swore to me,” she giggled, looking up at me. Her y/c eyes were fire, and I was a fucking snowflake in her presence. It was something new, to love what wanted me dead a week ago.

“You’re the closest living proof I have that maybe there is someone up there,” I replied, her face burned red, “Go get dressed, I have a family meeting us from one of the communities for a bit of a picnic. You should come.”

Excitement erupted across her gorgeous skin as she broke free of my grip and ran towards the small collection of clothing she had. She threw bits and piece all around until she found an old pair of what looked like men’s jeans, and a plain tshirt.

“Knife?” she looked at me with doe eyes, giving her what she wanted the moment she wanted it wasn’t even something I needed to think about. I pulled a small knife out of my back pocket and handed it to her.

She smiled and cut the legs off of the jeans, making herself a pair of incredibly short shorts. She put them on with her top and smiled, doing a spin for me.

“Fuck kitten, your legs are something else,” I moaned lowly as she walked over to me, “I don’t want everyone else to see all of this, maybe try something a bit more conservative. Save this for daddy.”

She rolled her eyes and spun around, walking towards the door. She opened it and laughed, bending over and picking up two cups filled to the rim with liquor, “I guess she didn’t want to interrupt.”

She took a sip and I watched her face twist, but the moment I let out a chuckle she looked at me like she had been challenged and downed two good sized gulps. I walked over and took both cups, sipping from mine before placing them on her desk.

“Would you like to just grab something to eat quick then and be on our way? I’m planning to meet them at the halfway point in about half an hour. Daddy can’t be late.”

She nodded, walking over to the desk and taking another two massive sips from the cup. She stumbled and then smiled brightly, taking my hand.

~

The sun was warm as we walked towards the people standing in the field.

“Anything I should know, going in?” y/n asked, she squeezed my hand. It wasn’t nervousness, but she was definitely on guard.

“That you’ve never been more fucking safe than you are right here with me and Lucille,” I kissed the side of her head. She sighed and the smell of alcohol filled the crisp air for a moment, “Well hey there strangers!” I called. There stood Rick, Carl, Michonne, and Judith, “Sorry we’re a tad late, you know how ladies are.” Y/n shot me a look and smacked my abdomen.

Introductions were short and we were right into business.

“We have a green house coming up here, so we won’t be needed that canned shit anymore, but how about some fucking hunting, you guys do that shit? Well, I mean, now you will,” I chuckled.

Rick started talking some bullshit and Michonne was out trying to pretend like I gave a fuck about her ‘idea’. But what I was focused on was little Judith, who had crawled into y/n’s lap and was playing with her hair. I’d be lying if I said that a baby wasn’t on the list of things I needed. The whole meeting was pretty much a waste of everyone’s time, but fuck if it didn’t reaffirm all of the shit I already knew.

Let me know what you think! How do you want the wedding to be? How do you want the meeting with the other wives to go? Do you want to be added to my taglist? Inbox and follow me! I’m hoping to have chapter six up tomorrow!

Tag List:

@manic-mamma @curious-sub7

[reclusive-cat-lady]

Stratagem

Summary: Rick leads Negan into a trap only to have an unexpected turn of events causing things to heat up between them.

Pairing: Negan x Rick Grimes

Word Count: 3337

Warnings: NSFW, strong language, violence, apocalyptic gore, dubcon, domination, angry sex, asphyxiation with a scarf, ass slapping, fingering, anal sex, orgasm denial, Rick being a prick

Tags: @negansmutweek @negans-network @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash

A/N: Written for Ash’s 2K challenge and Negan Smut Week. Somehow all my smutty one shots slowly evolve into dark erotica. Sorry not sorry. Rick had a mind of his own here. Not my fault. Did I actually write this?

Negan was in a worse mood than usual upon his arrival at Alexandria. The last drop was not only light but full of useless items which only served to elicit further tension with the Saviors. While Fat Joey, Dwight and the others present to collect the offering failed to ensure that their leader would be pleased with the paltry hull they brought back, Negan partially blamed himself for leaving ‘dimwitted fuckers,’ as he put it, to do the job. Not that he regretted having spent the time fucking two of his wives instead. Simply put, he would rather have competent soldiers who he could entrust not to fuck up something for just once. He was beginning to think this simple request was too much to ask for in the apocalyptic world they lived in. Hell, the dead had more brains than half of his men, he thought. 

Method and strategic calculation were two attributes that kept Negan two steps ahead of everyone else. His performance as a volatile manic was the icing on the cake that kept his enemies on their toes. The citizens of Alexandria, namely Rick Grimes, remained none the wiser to his ever continuing mind games. When Negan and Lucille showed up at their gates a record four days earlier than the last unexpected visit, every soul there had fallen prey to this ploy of fear. The townspeople had grown accustomed to the shrill clank of barbed wire clashing against the metal bars of the front gate for each time it served as a harbinger of terror. Only this time the clangor was more demanding, forceful. 

The alarming arrival was first noticed by Francine and Heath who were nearest the entrance when the ominous silhouette of a man carting a bat was cast across the front gate. Each waiting for the other to act first, both stood in silence as Lucille’s teeth gnashing assault on the metal continued. The increasing racket caught the attention of Rick who wasn’t far from the scene. In no hurry, he sauntered toward the entryway. Reaching the latch, he slid one door and then the other to the side allowing Negan entry. Without as much as an acknowledgement or glance at Rick, Negan presumptuously stepped foot into the safe zone. Standing in place, his dark eyes scrutinized his surroundings.

“Where’s the fucking emergency?”

“Excuse me?” Rick deadpanned.

“The emergency that kept you fine, neighborly folk from greeting your guest in a fucking timely manner.” Any humor implied was firmly contradicted by the anger showcased on Negan’s face.

“I can only assume this emergency is why you’re here before we have your offering ready.” His words seethed with suppressed anger.

“Thing is, Rick.” Negan’s lips curved in a wry smile. “You have to have a full fucking load the first fucking time if you want the next one to count. And seeing as I didn’t get my shit the last fucking time that tells me you don’t have shit for me this week.”

Daring a step closer, Rick met Negan’s cold gaze. “You might wanna check with your guys then. Every man and woman here will attest that they saw their things put on that truck.”

“First off, I know you meant to say my things. Second.” Ever the showman, Negan paused for dramatic effect. “That truck didn’t have even half of fucking half your shit.”

“We tried. Seems our usual supply source is overru-“

Negan interrupted, “if I wanted a fucking excuse, I would have fucking asked for it. What I did ask for? Your shit. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. Do you?”

Breaking eye contact, Rick gazed past Negan in silent defiance.

“Well?” Negan purred.

Emotion remained void from Rick’s face. Knuckles whitened as his fists clenched tighter. “No. No.”

“You of all people, Rick, know what an understanding kind of guy I can be. Lucille on the other hand? Now if it were up to her, she’d make your body as limp as a fucking whiskey dick. But I’m giving you a choice. Get me my shit or I get you a new dead friend. Shame you’re out of gingers and Asians to choose from.” Jutting his jaw, Negan continued, “Better yet, how about that smoking black chick.”

Rick contorted his face in anger, shattering his composed façade. His jaw set with gritted teeth as his eyes leered into Negan’s own in passionate rage. Fury boiled in his blood as dark, malicious thoughts consumed him.

Negan shot Rick an expression of mock concern. “Now what the fuck has got your dick in a twist?”

Rationalization told Rick he should subdue his anger but his mind betrayed him as his body continued to tense, blood boiling with hatred. The nonchalant attitude Negan displayed only added fuel to the fire burning within Rick.

“Oh, wait. You thought I meant to kill her?” Negan let out a boisterous laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me for implying anything other than making her my fucking wife. Hot, gutsy chick like that? Give me a week alone with her and she’ll be begging to have my fucking dick in that pretty pussy of hers.”

It took every last ounce of composure Rick possessed not to break his jaw at the deplorable insinuation of Michonne engaging in a carnal act with a vile monster such as Negan was to him. Reminding himself of what could happen, what he could lose, he took a proverbial step back, instead simmering on other ways he could make Negan suffer. His pulse and breathing slowed as sound judgement began to set back in. He knew far too well the consequences of going up against Negan but he couldn’t allow him to take the woman he loved most dear. Rather than the insubstantial dream of Negan’s death at his hands, images of his adversary being torn apart by the undead conjured in Rick’s mind. Rick now knew what he had to do.

“You want your stuff, right? Why don’t we go get it? Right now. You and me,” Rick offered.

Negan couldn’t have been more proud that his intimidation tactic once again set Rick the Prick in his place. Or so he though.

It was by sheer luck that Rick Grimes had stumbled across a wholesale warehouse not but twenty miles from the community of Alexandria. He and Daryl brought back a truck full of canned goods, toiletries and housewares along with selective knickknacks which had sufficed for the last month and a half of the Saviors demands.

Since the dawn of Negan’s despotic rule over Alexandria, Rick’s law of averages theory seemed to show itself more as wishful thinking than a reliable statistical outcome. This was substantiated upon his last run to the warehouse which he discovered to be abound with walkers leaving no pathway but one to enter the building. The merchandiser entrance in the back of the store was left mostly clear as the abandoned trucks created a barricade which impede the walkers from getting through. Not even the most well trained solder could clear the hordes of undead teeming the interior of the warehouse as the expanse left for little coverage once inside deeming it a death trap. This was why, of course, Negan and Rick were on their way there.

Negan pulled up to the rear entrance as Rick had instructed under the pretense of the majority of supplies being in the back storeroom. Everything was going to plan with not a walker was in sight on this clear, crisp day. Negan backed the truck into one of the loading docks with a smug grin.

“This is what I’m talking about, Rick. I ask you for shit and you give me a fucking warehouse. This is something to build a relationship on,” Negan drawled as he stepped out of the truck carting Lucille in hand.

Ignoring Negan’s unremitting egotism, Rick hopped out of the truck with high hopes that he would continue to circumvent any shortcomings in his stratagem. Though he staggered a short distance behind to err on the side of caution. Negan had allowed Rick to carry his hatchet which was tucked into his belt.

“As much as I’m enjoying the ever living fuck out of your company, I don’t have all fucking day to dick around. You coming?” Negan said as he stood by the entryway.

Knowing he had the upper hand, Rick defiantly continued his torpid pace trudging up the stairs to the door, boots scuffing the concrete below.

“Ladies first,” Negan jeered as he bowed in mock obeisance. Rick sauntered past him with disregard, his hand hesitantly reaching toward the doorknob in trepidation of the unknown dangers lurking on the other side. It was all together possible the walkers had found a way into the storeroom since his last visit. He pushed aside his instinct to barge in baring his hatchet as to prevent alerting Negan to the danger he was luring him into, Rick instead risked the odds by coolly opening the door as if entering the safe zone of Alexandria. Braving a step forward, Rick found the place as he’d last left it. Skylight domes adorned the lofty ceiling bringing natural illumination to the expanse of the chamber, though the storeroom itself was small compared to the entirety of the building. Negan followed behind as Rick strode to the center of the room.

“This is it,” Rick said gesturing to the wall of towering wooden pallets loaded with a conglomeration of everything from bulk cereal to espresso machines. Negan circled the room with a pompous stride swinging Lucille to his side as he perused his endless options.

“Ohhh, I could use one of these!” Coming to a halt, Negan brandished his beloved bat at the stack of cast iron charcoal grills stacked before him. A thick layer of plastic sheath held the tower in place. Leaning back in admiration of his newest favourite cooking appliance, he withdrew the sizable knife from his cartilage belt with his free hand. “Hey, Rick! Give me a fuckin’ hand with this.”

Rick reluctantly obliged on account of impatience for Negan to move on to the warehouse floor where the real feast awaited him. He palmed out his hand, expecting to be given the knife Negan held, only to be greeted by the unwelcome caress of Lucille instead. Rick abhorrently resented being forced to carry the very object that had caused him such grief and remorse when she took her first swing before his tearful eyes. Pushing such grim thoughts aside, reassurance swept over Rick as he cast his gaze to a sight that served as a reminder today would be his final meeting with the loathed bat and her master. Within feet of the parcel, which Negan had been unhurriedly marveling at, were the one-way swinging doors that held back the horde of walkers lurking inside.

“Well I can’t very well cut this shit open with her in my hand now, can I?” Negan said in response to having taken notice of Rick’s visible distress. Turning his focus back to the pallet, Negan carelessly sliced through the plastic wrap with no regard to the excess boxes beneath. The teeth of his knife snagged, sending the towering mass toppling into the double doors creating an open passage to the conjoining room. Rick’s ploy had gone into effect sooner than expected putting him in the line of danger as walkers began piling in by the masses. He bolted for the door leaving Negan in the wake of the undead.

The odds of survival were not in Negan’s favor should he precariously fight a dozen or more walkers with a single knife. Sooner he seal Rick’s fate with his own by sacrificing his only means of defense. Without hesitation, Negan threw his knife, successfully hitting his target.

Rick tugged furiously at the door which was wedged shut from the knife’s mark. The force in which it hit secured it deep within the wood thwarting any escape. With no choice but to push back toward the multiplying horde, Rick stormed forth with unyielding ferocity. The piercing barbs of the bat he wielded connected with the skulls of the undead, vanquishing as many as three in a single stroke. Lucille’s savage kiss left a trail of carnage as Rick fought to clear his way to the only remaining refuge. The sickening pop of splintering skulls coupled with the moans of the walking dead. Rick delivered a final blow before slipping into the confines of the storeroom freezer. He slammed the latch door behind him. Rick turned to assess his surroundings only to be met by a harsh blow to the face. He fell to the floor, dropping Lucille in the act.

“Stand the fuck up, you fucking fucker. Before I fuck you up even more,” Negan exhorted as he towered over Rick. “I don’t think you have any idea how fucking pissed off you’ve made me, fucker.”

Unwilling adhere to his demand, Rick defiantly remained in place as Negan glowered above. In a swift movement, Negan delivered a kick only to have his foot meet the metal door in the place where Rick had just been. Having rolled to the side before the assault, Rick was already to his feet with Lucille in hand as Negan doubled over in pain from the impact of his foot colliding with the hard surface. 

“I have to say, Rick, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Negan huffed as brought himself upright. The inconvenience of being unarmed left him with only manipulation as a weapon. “I mean, have you fucking looked at yourself these last few weeks? You’ve been sulking around like a whore in a-”

Rick’s fist met Negan’s jaw with enough force to send him tumbling backward. He propped himself up against the ledge of the shelf he had collapsed into but before he could turn around to face his opponent, he found himself trapped in a chokehold as Rick gripped his crimson scarf with enough tensity to constrict his breathing. The clonk of the bat dropping to the floor echoed in the small room as Rick raised his free hand to wrap tightly around Negan’s throat while the other remained firmly clutching his scarf which served as a physical restraint.

This was the opportunity Rick had awaited from the moment they first met but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to put to death his most hated foe. His veins surged with rage but lacked the bloodthirst he’d thought would come with having Negan’s life in his hands. Silently cursing himself for his weakness, he loosened his hold, shoving Negan forward so that his torso was pressed firmly into the shelf below.

Negan gasped for air with deep, heaving breaths. “Damn, Rick! If I’d known you were such a kinky motherfucker, I’d have fuckin’ slid my dick down your throat ages ago.”

Having been subjected to Negan’s incessant innuendos, Rick had come to spurn them. This time was different. It dawned on Rick that Negan’s propensity for sex was his greatest weakness. He now knew the ultimate way to subjugate his oppressor.

“Is that what you want?” Rick growled as he pressed his hardening member against Negan’s backside. “My dick.”

Negan had found Rick’s actions to be unexpected to say the least. Unused to anyone having the balls to verbally contest him, Negan was unsure how this would pan out. The thrill of it all was arousing him more than he cared to admit. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pretend to himself that he didn’t want Rick Grimes to fuck him right then and there in the confines of a storeroom freezer. All that was in the way was his massive ego. It was a rare occasion that anyone but him was in control. Pinned down, with his ass up, at Rick’s mercy was not quite how he would have liked this situation to go. Unwilling to yield to Rick’s domination, Negan contented by reciprocating with a flippant rebuttal.

“Seeing as you’re the one with your fucking dick practically up my ass, it seems pretty fucking obvious who needs a good cock job.”

If Rick could see Negan’s visage, he would have been privy to the wry smile etched across his face. He also would have probably smacked his ass much harder than he did. Negan winced at the impact of the blow, his cock growing uncomfortably hard.

“Really, Rick?” He said through clenched teeth. “That’s all you fuckin-” Negan stopped midsentence at the shock of having his pants pulled to his ankles. Even more unexpected was the invasive push of a single finger inserting into his ass. Recalling the time he’d allowed Sherry to experiment with a strap on, he knew better than to resist if he were to experience more pleasure than pain from the penetration. After another few moments of teasing his entrance, Rick inserted a second finger which he began tauntingly pumping in and out. Just as the stimulation was beginning to build, Rick abruptly withdrew his digits. Negan cock twitched with heated anticipation as the clasp of a belt being unbuckled followed by a zip resounded from behind. Rick tossed his hatchet to the side.

The exhilaration of the unknown coupled with biting frustration from the absence of control was more than he could handle. Negan cocked his head over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of what depraved things were to come. His eyes took into view the erogenous sight of Rick’s thick cock as it sprung free glistening with pre-cum. After a few strokes, Rick lubricated his member with as much saliva as he could muster. This provided no reassurance to Negan that the experience awaiting him wouldn’t be uncomfortable to say the least. Regardless of his trepidation, Negan’s body teemed with burning desire. Before the other man could take notice of the hunger in his eyes, Negan turned aside his lust blown gaze. Rick caught sight of his sudden movement and advanced toward him with vehement fervor.

Feeling the tip of Rick’s cock prodding at his tight opening, Negan gulped a guttural moan. Taking his erection in hand, Rick slowly guided it inside. The sensation of a pulsating dick quite differed from the inertness of a rubber dildo and was a whole new experience from anything he’d felt before.

Once adjusted to the size, Rick pulled out all but the tip before sharply sheathing his length to the hilt as he grasped his hands on either side of Negan’s hips for better leverage. Still determined not to give Rick the satisfaction of complete control, Negan held back from any audible expression of pleasure with only a grunted ‘fuck’ when he was pulled in harder. The ruthless constraint of pressing fingers dug painfully into Negan’s naked flesh with bruising force. He soon found his efforts of physical reserve to be in vain with each shudder his body traitorously ceded to. Rick’s thrusts picked up speed setting a savage pace.

The ultimate supremacy Rick now held over his former oppressor served as the retribution he long craved but it wasn’t enough to satisfy his malignant rage. Rick shifted his hips as his rhythm became more erratic. His inner thighs clenched with building pressure. Blood pulsated through his veins as his cock convulsed with shooting pleasure. Overcome in violent ecstasy, Rick withdrew before Negan could find his release. Collapsing to the ground beside Lucille, Negan trembled with unfulfilled desire.

Paying no mind to the frustrated state he inflicted upon Negan, Rick zipped up his pants with satisfaction before crossing to the other side of the freezer to pick up his hatchet. The muffled moans of the undead had silenced indicating they had moved on. Wielding his weapon as a precaution, Rick swung open the door to find a clear exit from the building with only a few stragglers from the herd. Without another word, he set off for Alexandria leaving Negan to rethink ever returning there.