whoreofdilfs

[whoreofdilfs]

most of the time, i just act like i don't exist at all.

[whoreofdilfs]

most of the time, i just act like i don't exist at all.

[whoreofdilfs]

🎵😘

Suit & Tie - Part 2

Pairing: DBF Negan x Grad Student Reader

Content Warnings: nsfw - age gap, male receiving oral, brief mention of female receiving oral, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, light bondage, overstimulation, praise kink, a little cockwarming, squirting, Negan genrally being a menace; mentions of heavy alcohol consumption; fluff

Author’s Note: Back at it again with some more sneaky, sexy, age gap shenanigans this Thirsty Thursday Frisky Friday! This was part of a music ask game from January? Oops lol hence the🎵 I couldn’t write “to be continued” in the first one and not give y’all a part two!! I’ve also decided to make it a series. Bear with me bc I just recently discovered I could write something relatively plot driven as opposed to all porn LOL, so it’ll be all out of order and spread out as far as when it’s written and posted. But this one is all porn, as you can tell by the warnings; with a sprinkle of fluff, as a treat. / gifs by @jeffreyss❣️

No one has permission to copy, rewrite, translate, or repost my work in any capacity. This is my intellectual property.

Word Count: 5,027

-

“Can’t take you anywhere,” you chastise Negan when you make it to the hotel room he booked for the night, addressing his earlier antics.

He grins, clearly pleased with himself and not sorry at all. Incorrigible. He drops your overnight bag that’s always stashed in his car, and steps over to you. Wraps his arms around your waist and looks at you with mischief in his eyes. “And I’m not even finished with you yet.”

Your breath hitches, warmth pooling in your core for the third time in just a few hours.

You surprisingly had no problem leaving together, as your parents had gotten super wasted. They’re lightweights who went too hard, caught up in the festivities, and had to be taken home by one of the designated drivers. In their case, it was your dad’s older sister. Before they left, you and Negan came around to say goodnight, him promising to drop you off at your best friend’s house within the hour. They nodded and gave you sloppy kisses on the cheek, then were wrangled away like toddlers. He owes me for saving his drunk ass yet again, your aunt jests about her brother, referring to his wild youth.

Knowing there’s no way they’ll remember where you said you were planning to be in their inebriated state, and that they’ll wake up and call you in a panic when they see you’re not home, you shoot them a message with the details in your family group chat, too.

The hotel room is gorgeous. It’s spacious, housing a small kitchen, a desk, loveseat and two arm chairs with a coffee table, two beautiful night stand tables either side the massive bed, and a dresser within a walk-in closet, for extended stays, you presume. You’ll likely only be utilizing the bed tonight, you think—maybe the couch, too—but you marvel at everything anyway. The floor-to-ceiling window really catches your eye, with its nice view of the lit water feature outside.

Your awe doesn’t cease when you open the door to the bathroom. It has a double sink, a large stand-alone shower, and a jacuzzi tub. The towels and complimentary robes are fuzzy and so soft under your fingertips, and the slippers feel like stepping on a cloud. Okay, you plan on taking advantage of those as well. You leave him in there to empty his bladder while you look at the art on the walls.

You have to wonder how he got a room, on a wedding weekend, in a place that was sure to be booked up. Did he charm his way into getting it last minute, or had he made the reservation ahead of time, perhaps when he found out he’d get to be your date?

Those thoughts quickly fade when Negan returns from the bathroom. Having kicked off your shoes, your height difference has increased, and he looks down at you. He stands before you, still dressed in his tux, but now also sans footwear, with his jacket previously shrugged off and laid over one of the chairs, his tie loosened, and his dress shirt unbuttoned to let his salt-and-pepper chest hair peek through.

You drink him in. He’s still carnally hungry, pupils lust-blown, wanting to throw you on the bed and fuck you into tomorrow. But first, you intend to return the favor from the liquor closet, and he waits mostly patiently for you to make your move. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to touch himself and you.

After contemplating where you want him and in what state of undress, you guide him over to the loveseat and instruct him to sit. You sink to your knees, fitting yourself between his parted legs, grateful for the plush carpet under you. While pulling apart his belt, you see him going for the rest of the buttons on his shirt, but you stop him. “Leave it all on. I quite like you dressed up.”

Negan smirks and drops his hands to the cushion he’s sat upon, watching you pull his thick, heavy cock out of his pants. He’s been sporting a semi all night that hasn’t been touched once, so when your hands wrap around him, he lets out a groan of relief.

Just as he eats pussy for his own pleasure and yours, you love sucking him off. Gets you wet every time. In fact, it was the first thing you ever did during a hookup. The sexual tension between you had come to the point of no return the summer before you returned to grad school for your second year.

Your parents were throwing a pool party to kick off the season and celebrate the end of the academic year, and you were staying with them. You and Negan had been exchanging lingering glances and whispered flirtations every time you came home during the spring semester. The passing touches made your skin tingle from the contact point outward, and you couldn’t take it anymore. It was obvious you wanted each other.

When you watched him exit the pool drenched in the cool water that matted his chest and belly hair down, you nearly salivated—he seemed to be moving in slow motion. His tattooed skin was so beautifully tanned, and his toned muscles were on display. As your eyes journeyed further south, you choked on the juice of your melting popsicle. The outline of his dick was clearly visible through his swim trunks, which the water had basically vacuum sealed to his body. And he made no moves to correct it while your eyes were on him.

You quickly looked away, as a poor attempt to not make it obvious your malfunction was due to ogling him.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Your mom asked, looking up from her book.

“Y-yeah,” you sputtered through a cough, holding up the frozen treat as an explanation.

Venturing a wary glance back in his direction, you saw Negan now with a towel around his waist and a huge grin on his face. Your parents and siblings may not have noticed, but he definitely did. He’d later tell you that he put that little show on purposely. Watching you suck on something phallic was turning him on, and he wanted you to know.

After lunch, Negan ducked into the house to “use the bathroom” and you announced about two minutes later that you needed something from your room. This left most of your family outside. Lucky for you, the downstairs bathroom was occupied by your vain teenaged brother, forcing your soon-to-be beau to head for the one upstairs, across from your room.

He was waiting for you at the top of the stairs, and chuckled as you hurriedly dragged him into your bedroom. You all but slammed him into the closed door, quickly locking it before hungrily pulling his face down to yours. His hands found your waist as your lips crashed together with a passion only the end of a traitorously long period of yearning could yield. You moaned into his mouth as your hand palmed him through his shorts, earning you a guttural groan.

Negan then pulled away from you, much to your disappointment. “Are you sure about this? Your dad would fucking kill me if we got caught.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “We’ll deal with that when we get there.”

He wanted to press further, but the way you squeezed his cock, then dropped to your knees made him forget his worries, if only for that moment.

Negan recalls this as you sit before him, about to take his throbbing dick in your mouth for what seems like the millionth time now since that first time. Licks his lips as he watches you part yours and close them around the swollen, leaking, raspberry colored tip.

He throws his head back and moans freely for you while you work. You bob your head up and down his length slowly, twisting your hands over what isn’t in your mouth. Being able to take your time with and be as loud as you like for each other is a priceless luxury you get to indulge in in this room tonight, and you both fully intend to do just that.

Large hands thread their fingers through your hair when you swirl your tongue over his balls as your thumb works that sensitive ridge under the head of his cock. “Fuuuuck, that’s good,” he praises.

You hum against him in response, then return to his shaft, sponging wet kisses up the side before sucking him down your throat with ease. His breath stops and grip tightens as you constrict around him without gagging. It did take some time and training to get there, given his size, but you pride yourself on your ability to take him, and make this man helpless with only your mouth.

He quickly beckons you to his lips when he feels his balls tightening. This isn’t how he wants to come; at least not this early. You release him, and he falls from you with a bounce—something you’ll never get tired of seeing. His kiss is demanding, tongue dominating yours as he takes back control.

When he pulls back, he looks you over, thinking about his next move. He starts undressing himself again before he speaks. “Strip,” he instructs while he sheds his dress shirt.

You give a chuckle—there isn’t much to strip out of. You hadn’t bothered with panties, and the dress you’re wearing has built-in cups, so it’s the only thing that needs to come off. Turning around to enlist his help, you ask him to unzip you.

Negan’s hands feel hot against you, even through the fabric, as one hand holds your hip and the other finds the zipper in the middle of your back. He pulls it down slowly with his thumb and pointer finger, letting the knuckles of the rest of his digits trail your spine, making your shiver. The closure ends right above the curve of your ass, which he grabs a handful of, squeezing possessively. “Bend over for me while you take it off.”

You do as he says, letting the straps fall from your shoulders and pulling them down your arms. You roll the top half down your body, then your thumbs hook into the material at your waist and you pitch forward, pushing back towards him as you bare yourself completely. He growls at the view from his seated position: your soft skin, round bottom, that little peek of your glistening pussy. Wants to dive in face first, but his dick is demanding alternative action.

After standing and quickly stepping out of his slacks and briefs, he pulls you into the bathroom. He turns on the shower and plants you against the cool glass door, making you arch away from it and into him. His fingers circle your clit slowly, and you stroke his cock while you wait for the water to come to temperature. It only takes a few moments for steam to fill the room, thankfully for both your sakes.

You step into the spray with a contented sigh, wrapping your arms around Negan’s neck and pressing into his body, your mouth finding his. His hands first hold you at the waist, then they move up your back and an arm is thrown over your shoulder as you meet for a kiss.

“You know, it felt so good to have you by my side tonight, showing you off,” he murmurs against your lips. You stare up at him with adoration in your eyes and you’re met by the same look in his. “Want everybody to know you’re mine.”

You smile at him before you’re back to devouring each other again, both of you smiling into the kiss that starts soft, but quickly turns ravenous. Before long, Negan is retreating to spin your body to face away from him. Your hands find the grab bar on the wall in front of you, holding onto it as he opens you up for him. He raises one leg to place your foot on the ledge conveniently located adjacent to your other support. The architects knew what they were doing—and what you’d be doing—when they planned this shower.

Negan’s dick slides in between your parted legs, its upward curve allowing it to nestle flush against your sex. He fists it at the base, gliding through your slick labia once, twice, thrice, to lubricate himself. He can’t wait a second longer to take you after that, guiding his length to your entrance.

You gasp as he pushes in fluidly and stretches you, then moan when he bottoms out. You’ve gotten used to how big he is, but it feels like the first time, every time, regardless.

“Fuck, I’ve been dying to do that since I first laid eyes on you in that dress,” he pants into your ear.

By the way your walls flutter around him and his dick twitches inside you, you both know that neither of you will last long, but you don’t care; you’ve got all night to ravish each other.

One of Negan’s hands palms your breasts while the other steadies you by your hip, keeping you in place as he drives into you with an animalistic need. The way he angles his thrusts makes it so that he hits your g-spot consistently, and you praise “Right there, f-fuck, just like that.”

The shower echoes with the sound of the water raining down over you, the slap of your bodies meeting again and again, and your harmonious moans.

When he feels you start to constrict around him, Negan pauses to reach for the removable showerhead behind him. He turns the dial to the highest pressure setting and hands it to you, then resumes pounding away, breath heavy and ragged in your ear.

“Wanna feel you come on my cock, doll. Been waiting all night.” He speaks through gritted teeth. You’d certainly laugh at his thought that the restraint he had tonight killed him, seeing as how he indulged in you twice before you even got to where you are now.

You whimper as you bring the hose between your legs, positioning the potent spray directly over your clit, just as eager to succumb. A hiss leaves your mouth when it makes contact; it’s too powerful. You’re still so sensitive from before. Turning it down one notch, you let the sensation of the rushing water, the precision of your man’s dick, and the sounds he makes for you coax you up and over the edge with a wail.

Your clit pulsates and your pussy contracts tightly around Negan’s length while your body quivers in his embrace, setting off his own orgasm. He groans loudly as he throbs inside of you, and you feel him paint your walls with several strong spurts of come. By the time you descend from your highs, you’re both pressed up against the tiles to keep you upright; the intensity of your releases has made your legs rather useless.

Once your strength returns, you pull your tired bodies apart and lazily lather up and rinse away the busy evening, then dry off and redress in some fresh undergarments from your overnight bags and the fluff robes on the hook behind the bathroom door. You shuffle hand in hand to the bed, finally sinking into the cool, silky sheets.

You’re yawning seconds after your head hits the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, when you feel Negan’s hands slipping under your robe to fondle your breasts. You peer over at him quizzically, wondering just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. It isn’t unusual for him to touch you like this while you’re lying in bed together, but you know he’s up to something when he gives one nipple a light pinch. That’s when you have to stop him.

“Negan,” you say his name in warning.

He ignores your tone, sing-songing a playful yes, dear? in reply as he continues to use his nimble fingers to make your breath catch. You can feel him starting to stir again and you can’t help but be amazed by his virility and stamina. You’re a really good lay for an old man, you teased him once. That was the time you fucked like rabbits after not seeing each other for weeks, and he had no trouble keeping up with you despite his age.

But you’re not having it right now. “No,” you tell him, taking his hands off of your body.

You’re not fully facing or looking at him, but you know he’s pouting when he says “One more, sweetheart. Gimme just one more.”

“What has gotten into you?” You turn around in his arms to ask him.

He shrugs with a smirk. ”Something about having a hotel room just makes me wanna fuck you every waking minute we’re in here.”

Against your wishes, your pussy clenches, that all too familiar need swirling in your belly. “And as much as I agree with that sentiment, I don’t know if I can take anymore tonight.” The orgasms this man gives are earth shattering, and thus, appropriately, exhausting.

He rolls over on top of you, closing you in with his forearms either side of your head. You can feel his erection poking you. When he brings his face down towards you, you automatically part your lips in anticipation despite your previous protests. Your mind-body connection is interrupted by a flood or hormones.

Negan runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours, making your eyes flutter shut. He molds his mouth to yours, lips fitting together as if made for one another. Your hands hold the back of his neck and pull him down closer to you, and your hips almost involuntarily lift to meet his. This makes him smirk against you.

“You say you can’t take it, but here you are trying to get that little pussy wet all over again,” he teases, pressing his half-hard dick flush to your sex. Giving a whine, you hide your face in his neck. “I know you can come for me one more time, doll.”

The effect this man has on you is insane. Even his softest touch gets your pulse quickening, your skin tingling, breath hitching. Your nipples are quick to pebble under his firm chest as his kisses move to your neck, where he stops to suck to bruise into your sweet spot.

“Need to hear you say it, sweetheart. Tell me you want me to fuck you again,” he rasps in your ear before sinking his teeth into the soft lobe.

“Negan,” you whimper. Your legs part, allowing him to fit better between them and rub his clothed cock over the growing damp spot on your panties. He ventures further down your body, sealing his mouth over the stiffened bud on each breast, nipping at them lightly. “Fuck, that feels so good, baby.”

“You want me, don’t you?” You nod fervently, hands on his head as he continues to lavish your nipples. The way his tongue licks at your skin makes you shiver; the memory of it tracing your clit earlier in the night causing your breath to falter. “If you don’t use your words, I’ll stop.”

The warning starts your heart racing. You don’t want him to. He can’t; not after he’s gotten you riled up like this. “Please fuck me,” you breath.

“Good girl,” he praises, then gets out of bed, to which you whine. “Just a second, peach.”

Your eyes are closed, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the onslaught of his insatiable appetite, so you don’t see what he’s doing. Taking his boxers off, you assume. What you don’t expect when he climbs back in and puts both arms over your head, clasping them together, is the feeling of satin encircling your wrists. “What are y—” Your question dies mid-ask as Negan silences you with his mouth.

“Shhh, hold still for me.” You nod again, letting him bind your hands together, and then to the headboard. When he finishes, he grins at you. “Knew my tie would come in handy at some point.”

Your mouth falls open in surprise and a chuckle follows the action. You had thought about this too, so you can’t even be mad.

“Can’t have you runnin’ from me.” Those words send a bolt of lightning through you. You are in for it, and now you really don’t know if you’ll survive him. “Use your safeword if you have to.”

Negan’s fingertips drag over your body lightly, almost tickling you, and you squirm against your restraint. God, he loves the way you react to him. He watches your eyes shut tight and your hands grip the tie above you as his digits dance over your ribcage, across your stomach, and circle your navel. He drums them against your hip bones, then switches to scratching your thighs in that way he knows makes you wet.

He leans forward, dick hovering over above belly, and takes one of the numerous pillows from beside your head. Beckoning you to lift up with a soft tap, he pulls your panties off, then tucks the pillow under you. This elevates your ass and changes the angle of penetration, ensuring your g-spot will be stimulated.

Negan pulls your legs apart and sets them over his thighs as he sits back on his heels. You tremble in anticipation, seeing the way he stares down at your pussy, nearly salivating onto it. Not that he’ll need anymore lubrication. When he pushes the thick head of his cock through your folds, he swears, his length coated in your juices with just one pass. He repeats this action, and you flinch each time he gets closer to your clit.

“F-fuck, Negan.” You try to pull away from him when he finally rubs over that tingling bundle of nerves, sensitive from the orgasm you just had 20 minutes ago, but he doesn’t let you. Grips your waist and lets his dick fall to your entrance. Groans while you gasp as he presses in slowly, watching himself disappear inch by inch until he’s so deep your toes curl. He puts his hand on your belly and applies pressure, making you gasp.

“You feel me right there?” You nod breathlessly. He looks up at you, capturing your eyes as he speaks his next words. “That’s my favorite spot. Love being buried inside you.”

This man has a way with words that makes you weak in the knees. He hasn’t even started to move yet, but you’re already whimpering and contracting around him.

This elicits a moan from him that causes a new wave of arousal to slicken your walls. “Do that again.” His eyes flutter shut as you do, squeezing his girth, and he twitches in response. He stays there, unmoving, letting you feel every thick, veiny inch of him.

Before long, you grow ansty. As much as you love the blissful look on his face right now, you need more. “No more teasing. Fuck me,” you plead.

Negan's eyes pop open, darker now, pupils lust-blown. He complies with your request, pulling back only slightly before pushing back in. His pace is slow, strokes measured and precise. You swear you can already feel the coil that builds your orgasm tightening after just a few thrusts.

The sensations each of you are feeling are heightened by the pornographic squelching sounds of your wet pussy and your respective vocalizations of pleasure. The way Negan grinds his hips is hypnotizing, the head of his cock catching again and again on that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

You’re getting lost in the high, the freedom to be with him so unabashedly, to just fully give in to each other without fear of consequences. You ought to book more hotel stays.

When your moans turn to whimpers, Negan pushes his fingers past your parted lips, beckoning you to lubricate them for him. He then brings them back between your bodies, splaying four digits flat against your clit and rubbing them back and forth over it slowly at first, gauging your sensitivity.

It feels like static with a mildly painful edge, and your legs try to close around his hand, but he uses his other one to keep you spread wide open for him. Though you wince and struggle, unable to use your arms to get away, he persists, increasing his speed until it’s dizzying. You both know the safeword, and it hasn’t been uttered yet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my g-god,” you pant. You don’t think you’ll be able to come again. It’s almost too much. “Negan, I—“

“—Hey, look at me, peach. You’re doing so good, baby. Almost there, I know you can make it.” His thrusts never falter, continuing to deliver targeted strokes to your g-spot. Between that stimulation, his encouragement, and the fact that from within the static, the pleasurable kind of tingle finally emerges, you begin to relax some. “Thaaaat’s it, good girl. Let it happen, come for me.”

Your back arches and you writhe against the restraint keeping you in place. Muscles tense painfully as the swell of your orgasm crescendos rapidly. And then it crashes over you, tsunami wave after tsunami wave, the power ripping a scream from your throat and ejecting a rush of fluid from your body that splashes onto Negan’s crotch and the sheets. With your eyes shut tight, you don’t see it; drowning in the relief of the release. Your thighs quiver as you whimper and pant, feeling like you’re on another planet.

The sounds of Negan swearing loudly and gasping draws you back down to earth, and you open your eyes to see his glued to where your bodies met. The strength of your contractions have forced him to stop his movements and pull out. He’s staring in amazement at the mess you’ve made all over him.

Glancing down, you see that his cock, pubic hair, and even just below his belly button are drenched, and you feel the wet spot beneath you where your juices are soaking into the sheets. “Holy shit.”

When you peer up at him, you see an absolutely feral look in his eyes. This is the first time you’ve squirted for him, and god he’s aching to pump you so full of his come that it seeps back out around his cock as he fucks it into you. It gets your heart racing all over again.

“Untie me, please,” You request. You know he’s about to capital-F fuck you, and you want to be able to hold onto him. He nods and reaches over to unloop his knots, setting you free, and tosses the fabric aside.

Then he puts your legs over his shoulders and leans his body into yours. Your lungs struggle to adequately fill with air with the position and anticipation of his roughness, but you don’t care.

Negan pushes back into you with a low moan. God, he’s already so close. He starts to drill into you relentlessly, chasing his own orgasm so desperately that he doesn’t care he’s getting a cramp. He fights through it, fucking you hard, fast, and deep until you’re scratching at his back, crying out from the burn of all the friction your pussy has endure tonight.

When he reaches his peak, it’s with a guttural groan and ragged breath, hips stilling with his dick seated as far in you as it’ll go. You can feel all of him; every ridge, vein, and throb, as your walls squeeze every ounce of come out of his balls and into you.

Negan pulls out, then falls on top of you after he’s wiped out. You welcome his weight, holding him as your breathing evens out and your pounding hearts slow down. You spend some time stroking his sweat-matted hair, and hum happily as you accept his soft kisses to your neck.

He’s the first to move off of the mattress when you finally pull apart from each other, sticky and exhausted. He beckons you to come admire the stain of your combined releases before carrying you into the bathroom for a quick clean up. He wraps you up in the soft, fluffy robe that had been discarded not long after you got into bed, and returns you to the room, setting you down on the loveseat. Next, he strips the soiled bedding, making up the bed with the fresh linens he found in the closet.

By the time he finishes, you’re curled into yourself and nodding off. He chuckles to himself as he scoops you up and lays you down, crawling in after you in his matching robe.

“Hey,” he says, rousing you. “Don’t fall asleep on me just yet.”

You shoot him a sleepy, one-eyed glare, daring him to ask you for more sex. It’s been a long day and night, and the only thing he should be wanting to sink into is the damn mattress.

He laughs, putting his hands up in surrender. “I promise I’m through with you now. Just wanted to say thank you. I had a really great time at the wedding, and an even better time up here. You did so good for me, peach. I can’t believe how you fucking drenched me.” He shakes his head, replaying the moment in his mind.

“Anyway, thank you, again. I’m so fucking lucky to have you.” Negan kisses your wrists, which are feeling better after he massaged them following the clean up. The lines remain imprinted on your skin, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice reminder of some of the best dick you’ve ever gotten. “I love you.”

You echo his words, then surrender to the sleep your body is desperate for, dreaming of your future wedding. Your conscious mind knows there will be obstacles in the lead up to it, whenever it may happen—namely breaking the news of your relationship to the people who raised you, one half of them being his best friend—but you and Negan are in this for the long haul. You’ll figure it out, because there’s no way you’re letting this gem of a man go.

-

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[whoreofdilfs]

🎵

(look i'm greedy like that, okay?)

(btw, if you want me to return the favor and try to whip up some neganxreader shit you can come hit me up @call-me-ami and i will try my best)

Suit & Tie - Part 1

Song: Suit & Tie x Justin Timberlake ft. JAY-Z

Pairing: Dad’s Best Friend Negan x Grad Student Reader

Content Warnings: nsfw - age gap, exhibitionism?, public fingering, dirty talk, female receiving oral

A/N: I should be put in horny jail for this because I was supposed to be sleeping when I wrote it 🙃 but I’m using DBF Negan as my get out of jail free card/scapegoat bc really this is all his doing. He’s On One in this piece 🥴 / Ami, I will def do that!!!

🔅Send me a 🎵 and I’ll shuffle my music and try to write a few lines of fic dialogue and/or narrative inspired by the song it lands on!🔅

No one has permission to copy, rewrite, translate, or repost my work in any capacity. This is my intellectual property.

Word Count: 2,115

As long as I got my suit & tie, I’ma leave it all on the floor tonight. And you got fixed up to the nines, let me show you a few things. All pressed up in black and white, and you’re dressed in that dress I like. [Lust] is swingin’ in the air tonight, let me show you a few things.

-

“Oh, no, we’re not doing that here,” you hiss lowly at Negan when you feel his hand on your knee. The action might seem innocent, but knowing him, it’s anything but.

You’re home from school on spring break, at your cousin’s wedding, and you’ve somehow managed to get Negan as your date without your family questioning it. Actually, your mother had strangely encouraged it.

“Oh, sweetheart, since you’re not seeing anyone, Negan can come and keep you company!” Your mom chirped excitedly at dinner. “Weddings can be so lonely for single people, and I know he’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

You had to cough to cover the fact that her words made you choke on your food. You very much aren’t single, but you won’t be divulging that information anytime soon. And the irony of her suggesting you bring the man who is, in fact, your boyfriend wasn’t lost on you. The last part of her sentence makes you want to laugh, knowing that with you, he’s absolutely, torturously filthy, but you hold back.

“That could be fun! He’s practically family anyway,” your dad chimed in. “I trust you to show my little girl a good time, Smith,” he grinned at his best friend.

God, if they only knew. Negan had to hide his smirk as he thought of all the ways he would do just that.

Back in the present, he continues to attempt the first part of his plan. Can’t help himself. You’re wearing that dress he likes; picked it out for you himself for the occasion.

Truth be told, he’s looking irresistible himself. You don’t know how you managed to stop yourself from pouncing on him the second he stepped into your parents’ house.

He’s wearing a tailored black tux that frames his broad shoulders just right and tapers in at his slim waist. His tanned skin pops against his white button down. The black tie inspires ideas you’ll be sure to bring up once you’re back in his bed. His slacks hug his thighs nicely, and you can already imagine how his hard cock will look straining against them. Dressed to the nines and looking like a ten.

You can’t wait to see it all on the floor later tonight… or do you want him to fuck you fully dressed?

“Jesus,” you swear under your breath. You’re really fucking lucky that your table happens to be in one of the dark corners of the ballroom. The lack of light hiding the fact that you’re failing to keep your composure as his fingers dance up your inner thigh.

And by some miracle, you’ve also been seated all the way across the room from your parents and other immediate family members. The singles table, despite your plus one. But you don't care, you’ll take it. All of the others have gone to mix with the bridal party.

You shudder and try to clamp your legs shut when he reaches your bare core, knuckle brushing your wet, swollen clit.

“My, my, what do we have here?” He remarks as he discovers you aren’t wearing panties. The volume of the music allows for only you to hear him, and it makes your proximity make sense to passers by. It just looks like you’re leaning into each other so you can have a conversation. “Your protests don’t hold up anymore, darlin’.

Sure, you skipped the underwear for easy access at some point in the night, but it wasn’t meant for him to finger you at the goddamn dinner table. Still, your body is powerless to his touch, thighs falling open as he circles your eager bundle of nerves. You wanna wipe that smug grin off his handsome face.

“That’s right, open up for me and let me play with that pussy.”

You dig your nails into his thigh, hard, but he doesn’t even flinch. Just licks his lips and continues to smirk as you try not to draw attention to yourself while his fingers and words make your mind foggy.

Under the table, he lifts one of your legs over both of his, giving him more access to you. You quickly reach for your glass and bring it to your lips to drown the moan that threatens to escape, loudly, when he dips two fingers right into you.

He manages to fuck you, curling perfectly into your g-spot while holding a fucking conservation with a partygoer who stops at your table to chat with him. While you only manage to squeak a strained hello, you’re thinking this man is the fucking devil in disguise.

Your thighs try to close around his hand that he doesn’t stop moving beneath the tablecloth, but that only allows his slick palm to rub against your clit. You bite your lip hard to keep from crying out.

You’ve never let out a more satisfying bated breath than when the visitor finally leaves the two of you alone again. You wanna tell your personal demon that you hate him for doing that, but all you can do is moan quietly in his ear.

“N-Negan,” you warn, getting dangerously close to orgasm.

“Come for me, peach,” he encourages. “Right here in front of everyone.” And those words send you over, an involuntary shiver you hope you can blame on the air conditioning running through your body as you tightly contract around his fingers.

-

After some mingling and a little bit of dancing—with other people; you know if you get that close to him, you won’t be able to keep from showing him the affection you’re allowed only in private—Negan ventures off to get you some drinks. Or at least that’s what he tells you, anyway.

You run to the bathroom to freshen up in the meantime, and when you return, you see him still at the bar, though no other people are waiting to put orders in.

You curiously watch Negan slip a bill into one of the bartender's hands and make what you can only assume is an outlandish request based on the reaction he gets. The man looks at him with wide eyes and starts to nervously shake his head and stammer. But that won’t stop your man. He opens his wallet and pulls out more money to place in his palm.

The bartender then nods, hands him something, and discreetly tilts his chin towards a door marked ‘employees only.’

Negan thanks him with a pat on the shoulder and that million dollar smile, eagerly returning to you empty handed.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “What happened to the drinks?”

“Got something better,” he grins. He scans the room for the people who do not need to see you sneaking off together, satisfied when he spots them getting down on the dance floor, facing away from you.

That’s his cue to place a finger over his mouth to shush your objections as he drags you away towards that door he discussed with the venue employee. Quickly pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door, then pulls you inside. It clicks behind you, indicating it’s locked from the outside again, though there’s an exit button next to it on your side of it, so you know you’re not trapped.

“What are we doing in here?” You ask, taking note of the rows and rows of assorted liquor, wine, and spirits that cover the shelves surrounding you.

“This,” he says before he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss. His lips are soft, but there’s a force behind them that makes you moan against him.

Your arms snake around his neck and you lean in, melting into him. The smell of him, his cologne, and the subtle whiff of alcohol on his breath is positively intoxicating. When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, staring up at him with those big doe eyes he loves so much.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night,” he murmurs. “Here,” he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. “And here.”

A gasp leaves your mouth when he lowers his hand to cup your pussy and feels your clit throb under his fingertips. It makes a smirk spread over his pink lips.

“Can I taste you, sugar?”

You’re too stunned to speak, his bold moves tonight leaving you without words. You swallow and nod.

Negan pulls your dress up over your hips and drops to his knees before you. Takes one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, revealing his favorite place. He peers up at you as he trails kisses along your thighs, towards your core, but closes his eyes when he plants a wet one on your clit.

Your hands fly to his head and you inhale sharply. He groans, your action pushing his face deeper into you.

His tongue licks you from bottom to top and back several times, relishing the taste of your abundant arousal. The way his hands scoop under your ass and press you impossibly closer makes you gush some more, and he hungrily laps it all up.

Soft swirls of his wet tongue, noisy kisses to your clit, his head shaking side to side with his lips latched around that pulsating bundle of nerves make you a bumbling fool, and he loves it. Your whimpers and whines consist of his name, pleas, and the word ‘fuck’ on repeat. If you weren’t on another fucking planet right now, you might be more conscious of your volume, but you couldn’t possibly make yourself care. You also don’t give a damn that this is most certainly a health code violation.

Negan doesn’t mention the former, either. One, his mouth is far too busy, and two, all those sounds are only spurring him on. Your best friend once told you that older men eat pussy better, and you can firmly attest to that. No one your age has ever taken so much time to learn and worship your body like he has and does.

Your hips grind into his mouth when you feel your second orgasm of the evening approaching like a runaway train. Negan seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, making you see stars as you come explosively all over his face, a high pitched squeal sounding from you. He strokes you softly with his tongue through it until you start to fall forward, reaching out to brace your hands against the shelf in front of you.

“Mmmm,” he moans as he stands and licks his lips. “That was one of the most expensive meals I’ve ever had, but boy, was it worth it.”

Your mouth drops open and you slap his arm. He just chuckles. “How much did you give him?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad he finally agreed. Poor guy was so shocked when I told him why I needed this room.”

“Negan. You did not tell that man you were bringing me in here to eat me out.”

“Not in those exact words,” he quips.

A flush blankets your face, neck, and chest, and you hide behind your hands. He could be so damn crude.

You drop your hands when his land on your mid thighs, fingers inching the hem of your dress up again. “I asked for 15 minutes, and since you came so fast, we might have time for a quickie before we have to leave.” He raises his eyebrows and scratches his nails along your sensitive skin, trying to entice you.

“No, we’re gonna get caught. We still have to figure out how to get out of here without my family seeing us.” They’d surely put two and two together if they saw you walking out of a closet on wobbly legs, followed closely by Negan who still has your release glistening on his beard. And there’s no way in hell you’d let that be the way your family found out about you and Negan’s secret relationship.

“Alright, alright,” he says, and you think he’s digressing, but then he adds “I can wait a couple more hours to sink my cock into you. And we won’t even have to go far; I booked us a room.”

He flashes you a key card for the hotel you’re at with a smirk. “To be continued,” he finishes. Your mind swims with possibility as you imagine what he has in store for your third orgasm—if he’s even gonna stop at 3 with how insatiable he is tonight.

You open your mouth to reply just as a distinct knock at the door signals your time is up. Taking a deep breath as you prepare to exit, you pray everyone is too drunk to be looking for you.

“Ladies first.”

-

Thank you for reading!! This one was a lot of fun. Read the blurb that inspired more from this pairing (second one)! And here’s part two!

New Negan NSFW Alphabet drabble/one shot every Thirsty Thursday, and hopefully more of these song inspired pieces to come ☺️ / 🔅Masterlist🔅

Please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to the tag list!

@mcnegan @jdmslut-red​ @naughtyneganjdm @aeriean @jdmfanfiction @negans-lucille-tblr @amill22 @negandarylsatisfaction @dxddyissued @msxvlska @toxicgcds @integra1127 @murphslass @sixtysevenandwhiskey @letsbys-library @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @little-diable @negans-attagirl @ibelongtonegan @jeffreydaddydeanmorgan @justjdm @maritamorgado @mypapawinchester @ffakc @antoxsmith @superprincesspea @supernaturalgirl1128 @negansbabydoll66 @my-obsession-spn @twdsunshine @negans-network @giraffefej @lostinaworldofdarkness @tone-stark @rogersevansslut @wheresurmoose @twdsunshine @twd-fanfics @mayloma @melixson @negans-princess @negansbitch @littleevilsecret @girlwiththenegantattoo @themisfitfetus @hail-yourselves @rogerevansslut

[whoreofdilfs]

The Luckiest | JDM x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: A premier leaves Y/N feeling insecure, but luckily her husband knows how to help. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader (Reader is about Jensen’s age)

Tags: Daddy kink, insecure!reader, insecurities, minor angst, oral sex (fem rec), p in v, praise kink, validation, fluff

WC: ± 2.7K

A/Ns: Commissioned by the lovely Tina. Hope you love this <3

JDM Masterlist || Find out how to get your own commission here!

“Wow, Danneel looks incredible,” you sigh, your eyes landing on the dress that looks like it was handmade for Dee’s exact figure. Her hair and makeup are just as flawless as the rest of her, and she poses with her husband effortlessly as you shuffle awkwardly next to your own husband. 

“She looks nice,” your husband agrees, “but you look better.” 

You scoff at him, shaking your head in disagreement. Even though you and Dee are nearly the same age, you feel like your days of looking anywhere close to as glamorous as she is are past you. She’s even managed to have three kids and still look that good, and that just doesn’t seem fair. 

You glance back at your husband to see him rolling his eyes. 

“What?”

“You,” he chuckles softly. “I can practically hear your thoughts.” 

“Oh yeah, and what am I thinking then?” You prompt, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re thinking that you’re not as pretty as her, and that you’ll never be that pretty, but you’re wrong,” he insists with a nonchalant shrug. He pauses when the organiser you’re standing beside ushers you onto the photo line. “Because I think you’re the most beautiful, perfect girl here,” he adds casually, stepping out to begin posing for the cameras. 

You feel a little flustered for a second, just staring after him as the flashes illuminate him. He looks so perfect tonight in his suit without a tie. He looks over at you, a smirk gracing his lips as he lifts his hand and beckons you over with a flick of two fingers. You immediately obey, sliding up to his side where you feel totally safe, and pay the cameras no mind, finally putting the thought of your comparison to Dee out of your mind for a moment as you ride the high of Jeff’s recent words.

You giggle when he leans down to kiss your cheek and then he presses his mouth to your ear and breathes hot breath against your skin.  

“Fucking gorgeous, baby girl,” he growls softly, making your insides flutter. 

*

“Can we go soon?” you plead with your husband once all the formalities are over with and there’s just alcohol and mingling left. “I’m tired and my feet are killing me,” you complain, shuffling around in your uncomfortable heels. 

Jeff chuckles softly, glancing down at the floor to your shoes, before looking back up and into your eyes. 

“Five more minutes? I promised Jared I’d have a scotch with him,” Jeff explains softly, and you whine quietly under your breath but don’t protest too loudly, afraid of offending someone around you. “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll make it worth the wait,” he smirks devilishly, and then slips away, off to find Jared, you presume, and you wonder just what he means by making it worth the wait. 

Your mind at first thinks of something sexual, because after that smirk, you’re pretty sure he was coming onto you, but you can’t think of anything worse right now. You’ve spent the night surrounded by women far prettier and slimmer and better than you in every single way, and all you want to do is curl up in a ball of self pity and sleep this whole evening off. You’re not sure what’s really gotten into you lately, but you’ve never felt this badly about yourself before. You’ve never loved yourself, but your insecurities have never gotten this bad. But then you suppose you and Jeff have been married a short while now, and the ‘honeymoon’ phase died off a little while ago. He used to barely keep his hands off of you, and while he still says the right things and calls you beautiful and makes you feel loved, it’s been a while since you’ve been made to feel sexy. 

When Jeff finally pries himself away from the boys, he finds you once again, and wraps his arm around your waist, finally putting you out of your misery and telling you you can go home. He leads you out to the limo quietly, and opens the door for you to climb in, getting in alongside you. The driver takes you home, and you sit in silence with your husband in the back for a short while, just looking out of the window until you feel his hand on your thigh. Turning your head you catch his eye, and offer him a weak smile at best, feeling truly exhausted and ready to get out of your stupid dress, feeling like you’re trying too hard. 

Jeff doesn’t say anything, and his eyes leave yours as he glances towards the driver, the partian most of the way up, so he reaches over to the switch and closes it completely. That’s when his hand slips down your thigh, to the hem of your dress, and then under it, moving back up to where it was, only this time, on your bare skin. 

“What’re you doing?” you whisper, even though you know the driver won’t hear you through the privacy screen. 

“I’ve tried to keep my hands off of you as long as I could, but I don’t think I can resist any longer,” he states matter-of-factly. 

You scoff and shake your head, wondering if he’s just saying and doing all this to make you feel better. He’s not acted like this since you were dating. 

“Jeff, c’mon,” you sigh, pushing his hand away. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, blinking. 

“I’m not in the mood, okay?” you insist, feeling tears begin to press at the backs of your eyes as you look out the window again. 

“Is this about Dee?” he asks, his hand once again on your thigh, but this time it’s lower down, over your dress, and he squeezes it lovingly. 

“No… yes… maybe… I don’t know, Jeff, I’m just tired, and I feel shitty,” you finally conclude. 

Jeff sighs heavily, his thumb brushing back and forth along your leg. “Alright,” he finally relents, and much to your disappointment he lets go. 

For a moment, you feel annoyed that he hadn’t tried harder to cheer you up, wondering if he too thinks that Dee is more attractive than you, and when you glance over at him to wonder what he’s thinking, his eyes are fixed on his own window, and stay that way for the rest of the ride home. 

It’s even quieter between you as you get through your front door, and you’re even more determined to get into comfortable clothes and go straight to bed, but before you can make your way to the stairs, you feel Jeff’s hand wrap around your wrist and tug you backwards, bringing you towards him. 

“Jeff, please,” you whine, but when you finally look up at him and see the darkness in his eyes, you pause your protests. 

“Jeff?” he questions, “have you forgotten your manners, young lady?” 

“No, Daddy,” you reply, almost so quickly it’s embarrassing.  

“That’s better,” he nods, and a tiny smirk dances along his lips. “Now, do you really want to go to bed, or do you want Daddy to remind you just how perfect he thinks you are?” 

Jeff hadn’t pulled out the ‘daddy’ card in a long time, and instantly you remember back to the days spent between sheets when you first started dating, and how he would be so perfect at taking control, but there was always something so soft and caring with everything he did. You were his, you belonged to him, he could make you do anything he wanted, but in return he made you feel safe and protected, and like the most special thing in his world. And that’s when it hits you. This is what you’d been missing, this is what made you feel good about yourself before, and since it stopped, it’s like you felt like part of you had been taken away. And, of course, Jeff is just utterly perfect and can somehow read your mind and know you better than you know yourself. So of course, he knows exactly what he’s doing right now. 

“I think I need a reminder,” you finally tell him, your voice quiet and soft. 

“I think you’re right,” Jeff nods in agreement, pulling you tight against him, reaching up to caress the side of your face lovingly. “Because I don’t like the way you talked about my baby girl tonight.” 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whimper, feeling like you’ve let him down somehow. 

“That’s okay. It’s my fault, I forget to remind her how she drives me crazy. I stopped telling her how often I find myself watching her, wishing I could be inside her all day every day. I guess she doesn’t realise how often I find myself thinking about fucking her.” 

You whimper at his words, your legs becoming wobbly for a reason other than your heels, now. Your aching feet are the last thing on your mind as your pussy begins to drip in your panties, and you rub your thighs together for friction. 

“I just wish she’d believe me whenever I do tell her these things. Because I really couldn’t wait to get her home tonight, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her skin, couldn’t wait to rip this dress off and leave it on the floor. She was the only one that could steal my attention tonight.” 

“Is that why you had a scotch with Jared?” you bravely sass, and Jeff chuckles, a little darker than usual which only makes your insides flutter. 

“If I remember rightly, teasing is one of your favourite forms of foreplay,” he smirks, and you pout your lips, hating that he’s right and he knows you that well. “Now if you don’t mind, baby girl, I think I’ve been patient enough tonight,” he growls lowly, bringing his lips to within millimeters of yours. “I wanted to spend the car ride there with my mouth between your legs, but I didn’t wanna ruin your outfit.” 

“Well you can ruin it now,” you breathe out, “Daddy,” you quickly add when you remember. 

“Good,” Jeff growls, his hand twisting into your hair as he closes the gap between you and kisses you fervently. 

You expect him to move it towards the stairs, or maybe even lift you and carry you to your bedroom, but Jeff does no such thing, and after a few moments of making out in the hallway, he begins to guide you backwards, towards the couch in the living room, pushing your back against the tall arm. You're just tall enough to slide your ass onto it, and Jeff’s lips leave yours as they drop to your thighs, and he eagerly pushes your dress up your legs and pulls your panties to one side, placing sloppy, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs apart. 

“Fuck, Daddy, please,” you whine, pushing your fingers through his hair and making him chuckle against your skin. 

“I’ve missed that word on your lips,” he groans, biting down on your skin playfully. 

“I’ve missed it too,” you admit, your eyes fluttering closed in anticipation. 

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re fucking perfect, look at you. How did I get so lucky, hm?” he hums, and then licks a stripe through your slick, only moaning louder as the taste hits his tongue. 

“Oh shit,” you gasp, throwing your head back in the ripple of pleasure that washes over you at the first sensation between your legs. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he praises, licking another stipe, and another, before sucking your clit between his lips. 

*

He dines on your pussy for what might be hours, and your legs tremble and shake around him when you release your third orgasm onto his tongue, panting heavily as you start to come down from your high, only to feel Jeff’s mouth build it back up once again. 

“Please, Daddy, want your cock so bad, please,” you beg, wearily. 

“How can I resist when you beg so fucking pretty?” he groans, finally standing at full height, unzipping his slacks and fisting out his rock hard cock. You moan at the sight which makes him chuckle, and instinctively your legs widen further as if to invite him in. “Jesus Christ, baby girl,” Jeff growls, his lips and beard still glistening with your slick. “I could make myself cum just watching you like this,” he smirks, his fist slowly moving up and down his shaft. 

“No,” you whine needily, wanting him inside you before he even thinks about ending this. “Want your cock, Daddy, please,” you beg. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, stepping forward. He reaches up and softly wraps his hand around your neck, forcing you to look right at him, his cock teasing your entrance. “Do you wanna know what me and the boys talked about tonight?” he asks, and you instantly nod your head, wanting to know absolutely anything he is willing to tell you right now. “I told them how I couldn’t wait to get you home, how lucky I was that out of all the girls there tonight, you were the one I married… I told them how hard you made my cock the second I saw you in this dress this evening,” he tells you. “And d’you know what Jensen said?”

You shake your head, your heart thudding in your chest. “No,” you whine, still desperate for Jeff to stop teasing and push his cock inside you already. 

“He told me he couldn’t blame me, told me I was a lucky guy,” Jeff confirms, a smirk spreading over his mouth. “I couldn’t agree more.” 

The fact that someone else thinks that you’re attractive – someone who is married to someone as perfect as Danneel, no less – seems to do wonders for your confidence, and if you hadn’t already started to lift out of your funk thanks to Jeff’s words tonight, this would’ve certainly done it alone. Jeff seems to choose that exact moment to sink into you, and your eyes roll in pleasure as he hums and whispers about how perfect you feel, and how he never wants to fuck another pussy, how yours is the only one he ever wants wrapped around his cock again. 

His constant praises and brutal thrusts are enough to keep your climaxes coming, over and over again as you desperately try to hold onto your last remaining shred of sanity, but by the time Jeff’s through with you, you’re barely able to move, and your whole body trembles in his hold when he finally pulls you into his lap and strokes your hair as you both recover on the couch together. You smile happily to yourself, feeling so much better than you had been earlier this evening, and maybe it’s the countless orgasms he ripped from your body, but you feel like maybe you could believe at least some of the things Jeff had told you. 

“You were lying weren’t you?” you finally ask, looking up at him. 

“I don’t lie to you, baby girl,” Jeff insists, with no room for an argument in his voice. 

“Jensen didn’t say that,” you tell him, adamantly. 

“He did, actually,” Jeff chuckles. “Actually made me a little jealous,” he admits. “I urm… I know I’m not as attractive as him, and he’s younger, could probably keep up with you better,” he blushes. 

You scoff, sitting up to shake your head at him. “Are you kidding? I was the luckiest girl there tonight.” 

Jeff shakes his head, and you quickly realise that you’re not the only insecure one in your relationship, and you wonder if this is how you make Jeff feel when you say similar things about yourself. 

“Okay, here’s the deal,” you announce. “I’ll start believing you if you start believing me.” 

“Alright, deal,” Jeff nods, smiling softly. “But on one condition,” he adds, which makes you frown slightly. “We bring that Daddy thing back because fuck, that was hot.” 

You laugh and nod your head. “Yeah, I guess I’m okay with that,” you smirk. 

Please let me know what you think of this fic! Feedback is the fuel to writers' fires! My anon is on if you'd prefer to leave feedback anonymously!

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[whoreofdilfs]

🖕🖕🩸🩸

[whoreofdilfs]

The Nurse (Part Six) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop @carlgrimeskisser @emo-potato-virgil @timotheesrealgf @mcuclintasha

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You’d always wondered where he’d ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, angsty!Rick, jealousy, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: I listened to Boyfriend by Dove Cameron to write this, so... I think you can assume how this vibes. You simply have this man WHIPPED, I will not take any further questions. Thanks for reading :)) ]]

Your eyes were hazy, something warm coming across your skin, as you followed the empty hallways. Well, not empty.

Rick was there, Judith carefully held in his arms -every once in a while, he'd lean down to kiss her forehead. The casual affection took you somewhere else for a moment, like watching your grandparents in the kitchen just so natural in each other's spaces -so domestic. When you were younger, reading books about extravagance -big gestures and life-threatening situations, your mind had settled on the balance of fairytales.

Who wished for a lackluster ending? Who wanted to dance in the kitchen too early in the morning, instead of the adventure of a lifetime? It hadn't made sense then.

But watching him now, gentle and bouncing around the room, you'd realized somewhere deep within yourself... maybe you had.

The idea of a home, where the sun seeped through curtains and the smell of breakfast wavered out through the air. Smiles, and playgrounds. Movie nights, and the whispers of promises of forever.

Your brain fogged, and you blinked to try to clear your head. Even just for a solid second, you still found Rick in your eyesight. And maybe he was dusted in dirt, and his hair wasn't washed, but the idea with him made much more sense. You just couldn't chance the thought, not in this world.

"You're drooling."

Clearing your throat, you turned to the intruder -Michonne, her smile small but still enough, "Very funny."

She paused, eyes focused on you for a second -like she could tell you were off. Straightening in her seat, she fully faced you -concern furrowed in her brow, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you echoed, eyes drifting to the pair - imagining the warm glow of a kitchen instead of the cold prison walls, "-just thinking about what I'm missing, you know?"

Michonne turned back to the two, "Yeah, I know."

"Can you imagine your own backyard?" you retorted, in disbelief with a laugh aired in your tone.

"My own house," she hummed, eyes flicking to the ceiling instead, "-I think I'd have a dog."

"Sometimes," you took the edge of your shirt in between your fingers -the material soft to the touch, "-I think about what curtains I would have. Isn't that stupid?"

"No," she answered -simply.

Michonne was direct like that, her answers straightforward and steady; sometimes, you doubted she'd ever really been insecure about an idea. She seemed so confident, you never thought to go against her. You didn't know her past, but it was hard to imagine anything breaking through that resolve.

You pursed your lips, turning back to the two -he was smiling now, the crinkle by his eyes so prominent as he looked down at Judith. It was so unabashedly bright; despite his whole world crumbling, he'd still lit up your corner of the world. And maybe you were a little biased, but you thought it'd be a tragedy if it went dark again.

"You should tell him," Michonne spoke, unflinchingly as if she'd read your mind.

You whispered, a breath across the room -you'd never named it, "Tell him what?"

She placed a hand on your shoulder, a gentle pressure that guided your eyes to meet hers. Her eyes leveled with yours, the look was easy to read despite the schooled expression -she knew, and so did you. You often wondered how many could see it in you, you knew it was obvious -the gazes searching to find his first, the stares lasting just a touch too long, smiling when he did.

"I think you know."

And you did.

You just weren't sure of much, you weren't sure if this world could be... loved. Could anyone in this world love or be loved? Despite what you felt, deep in your heart, you still weren't sure. Was it even possible for it to work? With everything else so harsh and direct, how could you even begin to-

"Plus," Michonne interrupted, a smile biting at her lips, "-you could do worse."

You laughed, leaning your head back to the sky -the thoughts fleeing from your mind like leaves in the wind, "I could."

When you leveled your head, your eyes connected with something new -Rick was looking at you. Bright blue followed the movement of your face, your lips quirked into a smile and you raised a hand to wave. Trying to avoid the warmth that swirled up in your stomach and the very real feeling of 'I told you so' radiating from Michonne just beside you, you pushed forward.

And there it was, the bright smile you'd seen just moments before except this time, it was directed to you. In a spare second, he pulled Judith's little arm up and waved back -gentle movements, but the notion there stayed the same.

Laughter took the place of a response, and you couldn't quite get your brain to form anything else -it was so fuzzy with memories you hadn't made yet, but you wanted to. Eventually.

Your eyes flickered to the sky, it had to be midday at this point -just as it began to cool off in the day. With daylight flickering, you had someplace to be.

"Alright," you hummed pulling yourself into gear, "-I can only handle so much of Rick Grimes a day."

Michonne laughed, "Liar."

You snorted, walking out into the day -eyes searching for a particular person. It had started about a month ago when you and Daryl had formed a bet. He'd said something about your choice of a weapon, and you'd said something about his.

"Bet if we switched, I could kill more walkers than ya."

"You are so on."

So, with some new rules in place, Daryl had sworn on the blue sky that he'd teach you how to use a bow. Wasn't fair if you didn't know how, so it was a necessary step.

Your weapon wasn't as... complex. So, the opposite wasn't really necessary.

You eyes caught him in the field, where he stood across from a... what the hell is that?

There's was a tall branch, sticking up from the ground with burlap sacks and hay sticking out -instead of good seams and crisp corners, however, this was not quite a masterpiece.

You burst into laughter, eyes following the desperately tied rope and hay poking out of corners. It truly looked like a nightmare, but on the area where a "face" might be was detailed of an eyepatch and angry eyebrows.

"Really?" You yelled across the grass, as Daryl spun to you -shrugging as if he hadn't put any time into making... that.

Ranging closer, you extended your hand toward the character, you'd say for now, "I didn't know you were into arts and crafts!"

"Keep laughin'-" Daryl rolled his eyes, not quite responding to you as he loaded up his arrow -tone solid, but you could tell he was light.

Daryl was something you had to get used to, something you had to learn. He was a bit of an icy mystery to any outsiders, but you knew he cared an awful lot more than anyone claimed to.

"Maybe I will," you quipped, "-we ready?"

"Yea," he stood off the ground, brushing dirt off his pants, "-we're losing daylight, gotta start soon anyway."

He was surprisingly attentive, slowly doing each step at your pace -it was an air the man hadn't exposed to you yet. Kind and gentle. He was a great teacher, to your benefit.

Watching as he seemingly without a flinch, landed an arrow into the... target. Right on the eyepatch, and if you took out a ruler probably in the perfect middle. Why did you take this bet again?

Then the weapon was in your hands, the arrow already in, and just awaiting your next move. Trying to remember the steps, Daryl guided your hands to the right position and pulled back your shoulders -there was a proper posture, but you doubted he used it.

That was when a new voice presented itself, just as Daryl adjusted your grip on the bow, tilting the tip down a touch -assumingly something was wrong in your technique.

"What are y'all doing?"

You knew that drawl. He was always an echo in your brain, words bouncing around in your head -he'd stuck with you in so many different ways.

You spun around -eyes finding him with ease, "Hey, cowboy! I could ask you the same question."

Daryl hadn't said anything yet, his mouth in a stubbornly straight line and that was odd for him. Especially when talking to Rick. But then you looked at him, Judith wasn't in his arms anymore.

His flannel was rolled up his arms, and his eyes laid intently on the hand that Daryl had wrapped around your wrist to push down the bow. It was still connected there, passively, like he was waiting to take the weapon out of your hand. You hadn't minded, it was completely like a guiding hand really, nothing else.

Rick pursed his lips, something set in his jaw, "Right."

You furrowed your brow, quickly gesturing the bow to Daryl -which he with ease accepted. He knew something more than you, you could tell in the way that their eyes flicked to each other, heavy and filled with something you couldn't really read. The air stilled and brushed across your skin like a harsh gust of wind.

"Why? Is everything alright?" you asked, concern turning over in your tone. You'd always assumed the worse -especially as one of the sole medical professionals, you knew you shouldn't have gone so far out-

"What? Oh yes," he seemed to blink, facing you again -all the tension in his face seemed to melt and his hand went to rest on your shoulder, "-nothin' to worry about."

You exhaled, shaking the buzzing under your skin out as much as you could, "Okay, good."

He smiled at you, but it wasn't all there. Something was wrong, you knew it, but it apparently wasn't an emergency? Did he need to talk to you? Was he okay?

"I was just teachin' 'em how to use the bow," Daryl echoed, tone solid and seeming to address something you hadn't noticed -talking directly to Rick, "-nothin' else."

You quirked your brow, genuinely confused by the shift in the energy, "What else would we be doing?"

Rick's eyes flickered to you, where you now stood -kind of puzzled and a bit tense in the newfound energy you found yourself in. He sighed, running his other hand through his hair -you knew that was a sign.

"'Course," he hummed, his voice a little less restrained, but still not quite... Rick, "-it's for that bet you two have, right? Sorry for interrupting, just..."

He looked at Daryl -eyes unbreaking, and intense.

"Curious," he finished, eyes connecting to yours for a few seconds longer than you expected -then flicked back to the ground like he'd been embarrassed...? His hand carefully, hesitantly, drifted off your shoulder.

Before you could even open your mouth, the man cleared his throat and turned back around the way he came.

"Daryl-" you began, turning back to the other man. You weren't sure what that was, but you weren't going to just leave it like that.

"Go," he hummed, unbothered, as he carefully plucked a few arrows off the ground, "-I'm not as stupid as you think."

You rolled your eyes, relaying to comment on that later in the back of your head and trailing after Rick. He was actually pretty quick, despite the unfavorable footwear, but you somehow managed to catch up.

"Rick," you spoke, tone direct and stressed out into the meadow air.

He stopped in his place, a bit stunned it seemed, as he stood still. There was definitely something wrong, you could feel it. In a breath, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling it to you behind him. He still hadn't faced you -facing straight ahead with air to him you'd only seen once or twice in your time knowing him.

"Are you alright?"

Rick didn't respond immediately, stance shock still. You watched as his shoulders huffed out breaths, the smallest rise and fall being the only thing you could focus on. His wrist was warm in your hand, and you felt your fingers rubbing gentle circles into the skin there -in an effort to soothe something you didn't know the root cause of.

His eyes flicked back to you, much softer and something more familiar to you -shining in a haze you couldn't identify, but had experienced yourself. (Merely hours before actually.) They flicked to your hand and then your face, almost in realization that you had made that point of contact.

"Shit, sorry," you pulled your hand back, tone a bit rambly, "-I didn't know if you were comfortable with that, I should've ask-"

"No, no," he echoed, pulling your hand back just to match it with his -intertwining your fingers, "-it's fine, better than fine. I am."

"Oh," you swallowed, watching now as he faced you -his own thumb cradling against the back of your hand that sent your brain into a bit of a fog, "-okay."

Rick grinned the kind that crinkled at his eyes then.

"I-" you began, suddenly remembering what you'd run after him for -blinking the fuzz out of your brain, "-you still didn't answer my question, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah-" he enunciated, eyes hanging on your hands for a second, "-I'm good, promise."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Great, even," he responded, thumb dancing against your skin and your brain almost flatlined again.

"Then," you pursed your lips, "-what was that back there?"

"Nothing," he answered back, a little too quickly for your taste, "-just curious."

"Rick-" you started, before locking onto the way he held your hand. It was the same one that Daryl had been holding just a second earlier, and your mind lit up with the flicking of his eyes to the touch, the set of his jaw, some internal dialogue between the two... oh my god.

He seemed to notice the difference in you, his own eyebrows raising in response to your change in demeanor.

"Cowboy," you hummed, daring only to look at your intertwined hands, "-were you jealous?"

Rick stilled in his place, the thumb frozen in its cycle and the breath caught in his throat. You could practically see the thumping of his heart in his chest, watching as the pink flooded up his neck -he totally was.

"Rick," you added, a little in disbelief.

He hummed, seeming to be unable to speak and his eyes lazily focused on your intertwined fingers. You found it kinda cute, actually.

"Rick," you continued, "-look at me."

He sighed, deep in his chest, the curls at the nape of his neck catching the sunlight just right. He looked pretty like this, like a painting. And finally tilted his face to meet yours -fingers squeezing your hand and thumb rubbing against your skin, his eyes were a bit distant then.

You reached your other hand up to the side of his face, trailing your fingertips along his cheekbone -the cut that you'd once been drawn to now under your fingertips, "There you are."

His breath hitched, as you brushed a few stray curls back behind his ears and let your hand rest against his skin for a few seconds longer. You could feel the heat bubble up there, as you focused your attention there -trailing along the now scab and up along the crinkling near his eyes. You smoothed them out with a few timid presses of your skin to his; it seemed so natural, so familiar.

Rick seemed in a trance almost, eyes dipping down to yours without much thought, like a sort of bliss. You wondered how long it had been since he had his face cradled like this, how long he'd missed the gentle brush of fingertips. Even just for a brush of contact, he seemed unable to speak, the air heavier in between the space than you'd known it to be before.

"Trust me when I say," you hummed, eyes straight into his -unflinchingly, "-you have nothing to worry about."

You noted somewhere deep in your head to do little things more, as you leaned back -pulling back your hand to your side but keeping the other one steady in his. Rick still stayed silent, eyes wistfully watching you fall back into your own space; he'd looked a bit conflicted. So calm and breathing peacefully, all the while his heart seemed to beat 100 miles an hour out of his chest.

Definitely cute, you decided.

"With that out of the way," you cleared your throat like you hadn't just crossed millions of boundaries that you'd established with him, "-I think you have some plans to make. You ruined mine, after all. It's only fair."

He laughed, eyes hooked on your hand in his and it was different then, you could feel it in the buzz of the air, "It's only fair."

[whoreofdilfs]

Rick Burning His Shirt | 4x02 - Infected

[whoreofdilfs]

The Nurse (Part Three) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part one, Part Two, Part Three

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, hospital mention, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: this one is set directly after the ending of 2, so get ready for some grimey action! I'm so excited to begin the romance part of all this. Thanks for reading!!]]

At first, he didn't say anything, eyes laid hesitantly on you -testing if he knew you, you'd assumed.

"Who's askin'?"

You brushed off your hands, taking a few warning steps back from Carl, as the man took a step towards him. Almost like an even exchange, as his calloused hands pulled his son to him - a protective notion that you couldn't blame him for.

"Y/N," you answered, confidently.

Daryl interrupted the eye contact, which you were kind of thankful for, "They're a doctor, felt like we could use the help. 'Specially with Jude."

Rick's eyes faltered to Daryl at the name, gaze sharp and concentrated, and suddenly, you wondered who exactly this Jude was.

He took steps forward towards you, long strides with the twinkle of his belt and Carl pushed behind him, "How do you know me?"

Rick was close to you now, and you felt a bit unhinged in the energy rolling off him in waves - an untouched emotional burst. You knew them well. Just don't push-

"How do you know my son?" His tone echoed much more dangerous, and for a moment, you weren't sure how to explain your situation.

"Rick," the older man, Maggie's dad, spoke, tone heavy with meaning that you couldn't quite decipher. You assumed it had to do with the noticeable absence of... Shane and Lori.

The man, who now stood less than a breath away from you, sighed - hands falling to his sides and hair falling forward ever so slightly, he still somehow had that same smell you'd noticed in the hospital (it felt oddly nostalgic).

"I know," he whispered, and you weren't sure it was meant for you so you said nothing in response.

However, when his eyes turned up to match yours in a defeat you'd become familiar with over the years, "You promise you won't hurt 'em?"

Your breath hitched.

The vulnerability was still the same, shaky and open and honest - something that felt so humane to you in a world of death. You weren't sure it'd ever get out of your head now, the shining blue filled with a desperation unlike anything you'd ever seen before, "I promise."

Rick stared at you for a moment longer, like something had ticked in his mind, but you frankly needed to get away from the bright blue eyes that had haunted you ever since you'd seen them.

"Now," turning to the crowd, the heat of Rick being beside you feeling unnerving -when was the last time you'd been so close to someone, "I heard someone needed some help?"

"Before that," Rick's gravel erupted from beside you, as he pointed in the direction of Maggie's dad, who pointedly smiled in response, "-Y/N, this is Hershel, Hershel, this is Y/N."

You nodded to the man ever so slightly, and he did the same - big white beard stretching across his chin.

"He was our doctor," Rick spoke to you, drawl right beside your ear - tired yet somehow made you want to listen, "-I assume you'd two like to talk about some things?"

Hershel nodded, making eye contact with you, "I could give ya the rundown on some patients?"

"Oh, sure," you answered, before looking back to Maggie, "-I just want to get to what's urgent first? If that's alright with you?"

"'Course," Hershel reassured, motioning to the crops, "-I'll be out here when you need me."

You confirmed with yourself, before turning to Maggie, "Where do ya need me?"

"Rick'll take you," she answered, a little distracted, "-I've gotta help with some food for the night."

"Alright," you spun on your foot, ready to trail the sheriff who seemed to just vanish out of your sight.

"And just-" Maggie faltered, fingers trailing a grip on your wrist holding you in place, "-he's going through something right now, so. Just give him time... He's... He's a good man."

You paused, noting the tone of her voice - sympathy almost, "Yeah, of course."

Maggie smiled, a small one, but it still felt quite warm. The chill of dread settled deep in your bones, teetering in its place - just for a second, really. You smiled back, just a little, felt odd after so long of pure silence and... well, being alone.

The hum of people mixed with the... walkers, apparently, was unusual to you -normally, it was silence, all about keeping quiet and making sure none of them would even think your way.

So, yeah, it was odd.

With a breath, you trailed over to the sheriff - who only seemed slightly preoccupied. His hands rested on his belt with a casual stance, while his eyebrow furrowed in a sort of decisiveness that felt... well, very leader.

You took the distance to look at the man, truly they're were no "ulterior" motives, to acknowledge the time, the change of his face from what you'd known.

His hair was longer now, curling behind his ears, and the stubble you'd once shaved was now growing back. Littered with a touch of grey now, actually, but it somehow suited him - or maybe the notion of growing to that stage in this world was positive. You weren't quite sure.

Well, that was a lie.

Rick Grimes was attractive. You knew that.

You knew that from the day you met him, but your mind had never really wandered there. You had a larger scale plan then, primarily, caring for your patient and keeping the family updated. The idea was a single thought, an observation even, in a panicked moment of a new trauma being wheeled in.

You'd never really... Other than his eyes, which burned into your brain with the air of something you'd never really forget. Your brain was in a completely different direction, but now?

You had the time to look at him, even just for a second. It couldn't hurt, right?

Eyes sifting across the broad shoulders and confident stance, you took in what you could. His hands were strong, just decisive in where they clung, and his arms seemed to be stronger than you'd once known, he was... larger.

You supposed everyone was.

He just... suited it. Well. Very well.

You blinked, shaking yourself out of your stupor and looking around yourself to see if anyone had seen you drift off. And with reluctance, you only saw one pair of eyes trained on you - brown and a gaze you felt distrusting.

Daryl, you noted to yourself before waltzing over to the sheriff. Former sheriff? Was that insensitive?

With a breath you interrupted, the itch to get somewhere you could just... do your job growing, "Rick?"

The man stopped, seemingly surprised, and turned to you, "Y/N. Yes?"

"Maggie says you'll take me to who needs me?" You answered, with a little but of an uncertain tone - the man seemed to be unsettled, "-She didn't tell me much other than that."

"Yeah," Rick grumbled out, "-sounds like Maggie. I'll take you to 'er, c'mon."

He said something gently to the woman he spoke to, something you couldn't quite hear, but didn't quite feel the need to be eavesdropping. Not this early on in a visit, anyway.

As you made your way through the cell blocks, Rick seemed to be increasingly fidgety, wiping at his head, and brushing off his pants. Like he was hesitating to say something. His hand was shaky, and his breath was labored.

You'd seen a lot of grief in your life, whether it be your siblings' pet fish being flushed down the toilet or a father's daughter dying in surgery, it was a staple. You knew it, and based on what you knew...

You eyes looked to his left hand, the silver band shining in the gentle sunlight.

"Rick, I don't want to come off... well, intrusive but-" You asked, stopping in your tracks and turning to the man, a gentle brush on his shoulder, "-when was the last time you had rest?"

He seemed to pause in his steps, taking a stuttered breath, and for a sudden moment, you thought you overstepped.

"You were," he started, head falling forward, "-you were there, weren't you?"

The infliction, you knew what he was talking about, "Yes. I... I was the one assigned to your case."

"No, no," he spoke, turning to you - a little deliriously, "-before that."

"Yo-You promised me my family was safe," he added, and your mind sparked with the actual words with those vivid blue eyes in your head.

"Yes, I did. It's... It's how I know-"

"Carl," Rick finished, turning back to the direction you were heading.

The silence was odd but not out of place, not with what you expected him to be going through. He seemed to be rarely here, not really on this ground; you weren't sure of how to approach it.

"Just up here," he uttered, leading you down the cells with ease - despite the fact that they looked the same.

"What exactly should I ex-"

Then he turned, and you followed. In the cell was a rickety bed, one you'd say seemed typical of a prison, but what caught your eye was the blonde girl. She was huddled over something on the bed, protective almost.

"Rick, is this-"

He shushed you as the woman shot up - feet planted safely on the floor, and a gleam in her eye that you were familiar with, a deadly gleam.

She exhaled, at the sight of him, her stance deflating, "Oh, Rick, you scared me. Did you come to see- Wait, whose this?"

There was a bundle now, you saw in her arms, and your heart dropped.

"Beth, this is Y/N," Rick cleared the silence, as the blond, Beth, looked at you questioningly, "-they're a doctor, said they could look at Judith, make sure she's alright."

Beth hummed, a little uncertain, "Okay."

You bit your lip, as Beth walked toward you, the bundle bouncing of it's own accord, and your heart faltered, "Is that-"

"Well, Y/N," Beth interrupted, her smile kind with an extension of her hands, "-meet little Judith Grimes."

Your breath caught as you looked to Rick, understanding - even just for a second, "Grimes?"

With no word response, your eyes caught on the baby, her tiny face blinking up at you with an innocence that you'd forgotten. One you'd almost missed.

You smiled, gently caressing the baby's cheek with your fingertip, "Judith, huh?"

Beth smiled down at the baby, and you became aware that she must've been the caretaker for awhile, she seemed kind. It made sense, especially with...

Rick was looking at the three of you, an air around him of tension -one that you couldn't quite get a grasp on. But you assumed the feelings were complicated, ones you figured he'd tell you, if he wanted you to know.

"Can I..." you began before faltering off, "Can I hold her?"

You weren't sure exactly who to ask, so your question was kind of aimless to whoever chose to answer it.

"Sure," Beth answered, and extended her arms to you, the bundle so still and warm - you imagined her arms were tired anyway, "-go on."

So, with a calming exhale, you held your arms out and gently held the baby, hands secure, and a sense of familiarity bubbled through you.

You hadn't worked in the maternity ward often, but... you were in there enough, assisting with labors on days needed -you found yourself a little bit of everywhere.

There was nothing quite like holding a baby, the gentle weight against your chest, and the hum of warmth against your arms.

"How old is she?" You asked, noting the incredibly young features of the baby - she was definitely a newborn with the big beady eyes and barely moving arms.

Rick answered that one, "A few weeks."

You stilled for a second, noting that she had looked that young, yes. You hadn't wanted to assume, but now, with the deep desperation that Rick held -underneath his skin and shining in his eyes.

So, it had been recently.

Beth smiled at you, as you gently held the baby to your chest, a familiar warmth buzzing up your skin -one you had missed greatly.

Before you could even think about handing Judith back, Rick spoke up, a little gravelly -tired, "Beth, why don't you help Maggie with the food?"

She blinked, a little astonished -you weren't sure why, but you had a guess, "Oh, uh sure! Just let me know if you need me."

You began to bounce Judith gently in your arms. She seemed awfully quiet, but you assumed that was a factor of the environment. The amount of whispers, shushes, and extra layers only confirmed it -it was dangerous for a baby to cry. So, she adapted.

Without a word, you slunk down onto the bed. Leaning against the cellblock wall, Judith laid across your chest comfortably - her tiny eyes fluttering shut with the gentle hum of your heartbeat.

Rick, in a moment, sat beside you at a reasonable distance, but you couldn't quite feel uncomfortable with him -not after caring for him as you did. Hoping with every single breath he took out of that machine that he'd see his son again and working harder to make sure he did.

You decided against saying anything, the only things bubbling up were questions. Questions you doubted the man had the brain power to process now, so you bit your tongue. You'd ask later.

If Rick Grimes needed to follow you around like a puppy dog to survive, so be it. You'd been through worse.

"You knew them," Rick interrupted your thoughts, as he leaned his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.

You hummed, he didn't have to say who, "I did."

"Did they-" Rick began, opening his mouth before looking at the baby and faltering. His mouth snapping to a close.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," you spoke, as soft as a breeze and gently trailed your free hand to tighten the blanket around Judith. The wind was biting a bit through the halls.

Rick hummed, quiet and still a touch of a grumble -smelt a bit like dirt and a touch of what he always smelled like... which you weren't even sure what it was. It had just always been there, even in the hospital.

"Did they seem close?" Rick finished with a huff of air out of his lungs like he was trying to understand something -desperately.

"I..." you paused, adjusting Judith for a second in thought, as you remembered the gradual closeness -a comfort between the two of grief, "What do you mean?"

There was a pause, as Rick messed with his hands, pushing his hair back from his face with a breath.

"Judith ain't mine."

Your breath stuttered, watching as the baby drifted to sleep -the slight whistle of her nose being the only thing keeping you in the know that she was breathing, otherwise, she seemed perfectly still.

"I still love her, like she's mine, I do-" he finished, voice a little shaky, and a sniffle of the nose, "-but I just... I can't- I need time."

"Nobody's rushing you, Rick."

There was silence for a minute, as Judith seemed satisfied -eyes drifting closed. You glanced around the room for her supplies, and sure enough, there was formula, diapers, and wipes covered by a tarp in the corner. Maybe protected from any wandering eyes.

"Thank you."

His voice was slow, slurred, and tired.

You just hummed, trailing your fingertips over the designs on the blanket, cute little ducks and every once in awhile a few bubbles.

"Of course," you whispered, as the man beside you sagged, just ever so slightly, and the soft snore began filling your ears.

You glanced at him, eyes fluttered shut, and eyebags smoothed out (even just for a second), and resisted the itch of your fingers to brush across the skin, "I promised, didn’t I?"

[whoreofdilfs]

[whoreofdilfs]

Hey, I love your writing! Could you write a story about Rick Grimes and a female reader?

It's two months after Lori's death and you and Rick have been sneaking around keeping your relationship on the DL

And during one of the hookups, he ended up calling you Lori instead. The hookups stopped for a while, and he went crazy because you had been avoiding him since the awkward moment. He ended up doing everything in his power to get you back

Please don't rush take your time :]

❝ Sweetheart ❞

pairing Rick Grimes x f!Reader

cw smut, unprotected p in v, angst, pining

note you are very kind, @hutchersonsgurl and i really enjoyed writing this request! sorry i took so long, but ty for your patience! i hope you like!

4.7k words

 This was the nth time you woke up naked, laying against Rick's bare chest in the uncomfortable cot of your cell. The first time this happened, you felt horrible. His wife had died barely two months ago, and here you were fucking him in secret. Maybe this was his way of grieving, or maybe he actually liked you, but either way the sex was too good to stop. 

"Mornin' sweetheart," he said, his voice still raspy with sleep. Your heart swelled. You loved when he used that nickname. You responded by pressing a gentle kiss to his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you closer. 

"Get 'nough sleep?" he asked, a teasing quality to his voice. He had kept you up all night and he knew it. You had the sore thighs and marks littering your body to prove it. 

“You kept me up all night and wore me out. I think I should be exempt from my duties today.”  He laughed at your suggestion. 

“S’too bad. I wanted to go out for a quick supply run, jus you ’n me.”  You perked up at this. Supply runs that involved just the two of you were always more than supply runs. Even if they ended up just being regular supply runs, you still enjoyed spending time with Rick. 

“When’re we leavin’!?” You asked excitedly as you untangled yourself from Rick’s arms to get up. He pulled you back into the cot and held you in a tighter embrace. 

“It’s still early. Let’s stay like this for a bit, yeah?” He asked before tenderly kissing your hairline. 

"You seriously wearin' that?" Rick asked as you approached the car. You wore a form fitting tank top paired with some denim low rise short shorts. You knew it wasn't the most practical outfit, but you couldn't resist teasing him. 

"Somethin' wrong?" you asked with faux innocence. He couldn't answer you seeing as he was too busy gawking. Piercing blue eyes stared at your cleavage before drifting down to your thighs where the marks he sucked on them peeked out from beneath the shorts. He's seen you naked and been inside you so many times, yet the sight of you in that simple outfit damn near brought him to his knees. 

"You gonna keep starin' or are we gonna get goin'?" You asked, arms impatiently crossed beneath your chest. He playfully rolled his eyes before opening the passenger side door for you, ushering you inside. He got in the driver's side and began driving to the department store you spotted the other day. 

 Rick's hand rested comfortably on your thigh as he drove and as you alternated between admiring him and admiring the view outside. Being alone with the man gave you the perfect opportunity to ask him all the questions swimming in your head about your relationship. You couldn't decide between enjoying the peaceful, comfortable silence or initiating a talk with him, but eventually decided on the latter. 

"What am I to you, Rick?" you asked with forced nonchalance. You could've sworn you saw him tense up, but he recovered so quickly you couldn't even be sure it happened. 

"What do you-" he took a breath, "what do you mean?" 

The lack of an immediate answer made your heart sink a little. You weren't expecting a speech followed by a marriage proposal, but anything else would've been nicer. 

"Am I a rebound? A friend? A bootycall? A..." you hesitated for a moment, "girlfriend?" You hated how hopeful you sounded at the last suggestion. 

 He ran a hand over his face and sighed before answering. "I don' know what you are to me." Your eyes burned with tears that you refused to let fall. His hand grabbed yours, squeezing it comfortingly. "But I know you're special to me and I could never live without you." You reciprocated his hand squeeze. Although it wasn't exactly what you wanted to hear, his words made your heart swell. 

  You held his hand for the rest oft the car ride, until the department store came into view. It was worn down on the outside, like most places were, and some of the letters were missing from the sign. Some windows were broken and others were boarded up. Pickings were slim so even if you thought there'd be nothing in there, it'd be worth it to check. You exited the car and grabbed your backpack full of snacks, water bottles, and a few weapons along with an empty bag for your finds and slung it over your shoulder. Rick grabbed it from you and carried it instead, a simple but gentlemanly gesture. 

 Hand in hand, the two of you entered the store. You were shocked to see fluorescent lighting and feel the cool air conditioning. The rest of the store was a mess. Dismembered mannequins, clothes, and clothing hangers littered the floor. Empty clothing racks were tipped over along with shopping carts. 

"Just grab a bunch of these clothes for everyone, I'll go look for some baby stuff," Rick said. You agreed and began shoving as many clothes as you could fit into the empty bag. With Rick off somewhere else, you began looking around the store. It all looked the same aside for a few different items strewn across the floor. You threw an apple scented candle into the bag because why not, and shoved in some blankets. The bag could barely zip, which was your sign to stop "shopping." You continued exploring the store until you came across the mattress aisle.

   It had felt like ages since you've felt the comfort of a real mattress and it was far too tempting not to give in. You set the bag down, but kept your knife and holster on you in case you ran into any trouble. You ran before jumping onto a random mattress, bouncing a little before settling on it. The fluffy comfort soothed your achy body. It hadn’t even been a minute, but your eyelids already started feeling heavy. Rick calling your name jostled you from your short sleep. You debated on ignoring him so you could drift back off to sleep, but that was far too dangerous and you knew that. 

“Over here,” you called back. He found his way over to you, baby clothes and other items in his arms. He looked at you skeptically before setting the stuff in his arms down. 

“What’re you doin?” 

“When was the last time you felt a real mattress, Rick?”  He looked up in thought, but took too long to answer, so you patted the spot beside you. He flopped onto the mattress, settling down next to you. You turned to face him. 

“Comfy, right?” His face cracked into a smile. 

“Yeah, too bad we can’t take it back to the prison,” he lamented. 

“Yeah,” you trailed off, eyes darting between his eyes and pink lips, “We better make the best outta this while we can.” You couldn’t help the way your mouth pulled into a smirk. His face mirrored yours as he pulled you in for a kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down your body, gripping your ass before pulling you into him, grinding his crotch against yours. He moaned into your mouth, allowing you to slip your tongue into his, tasting him. Out of breath, he pulled away, panting with pink cheeks and pupils blown with lust. He flipped you from on your side to your back before kneeling on either side of your hips. You sat up and went for his belt buckle, but he pushed you back down into the mattress. 

“C’mon, Rick, what’re you waiting’ for?” You whined impatiently. He leaned down and grabbed your face between one of his large hands, lips puffing out from the way he squeezed your cheeks. 

“Patience, little girl, or I won’t let ya cum,” he threatened with a lustful darkness in his eyes. Your stomach flipped and your pussy throbbed. You loved this side of Rick, but you hated waiting. You nodded your head and he relinquished his hold on your face. The pout on your face was quickly wiped away when he began sucking on the space where your neck and shoulder connected. You were too caught up in the moment to worry about him leaving marks on hard to cover places on your body, and he didn't seem to care too much either. He nipped at your collar bones as you tried to stifle the giggles that the ticklish feeling of his beard caused. When your tank top got in the way of his descent, he made quick work of removing it, almost tearing it in the process. His eyed went wide when he realized you weren't wearing a bra, but you just smiled innocently at him, causing his pants to tighten. The cool, air conditioned air hardened your nipples, which Rick pinched, earning restrained whimpers from you and making you squirm beneath him. 

"Nah, no holdin' back, I wanna hear you." 

"B-but what if walkers-" your own moan cut you off when Rick took your breast into his warm mouth. He captured your nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he sucked all while his other hand continued pinching the other. Your hands tangled in his hair as you pathetically whimpered. He pulled away from your breast with a wet pop and continued kissing wet, sloppy kisses down your stomach, until he met the waistband of your little shorts. The way he strained against his pants grew painful and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. 

"Turn 'round, wanna see your pretty ass in those little shorts," he ordered, gripping your hips to flip you over. You supported yourself on your elbows with your back arched and ass in the air, per Rick’s command. 

“God, you look so damn good in those shorts.” The complement sent heat flooding to your core. 

“Hurry up, Rick, I need you!” You whined wantonly. You knew Rick didn’t have patience for your impatience, but could he take any longer? Rick slapped your ass, leaving a pleasurable sting. 

“What’d I tell you ‘bout bein’ patient?” Rick snapped. You glanced at him behind you with pleading pout on your face, silently asking for forgiveness all while begging him to hurry up and pound you into the mattress. He already couldn’t say no to you, but when you looked at him like that it took almost everything in him to not give into your every whim. 

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you drive me crazy,” he groaned as he hurriedly unbuckled his belt. His hands were on you again, yanking your shorts down to your knees. With the way your arousal coated your inner thighs, Rick gave up on taking his time with you. You looked so delectable as you eagerly laid there desperately waiting for him with your own wetness leaking down your supple thighs. His hand held your hip in place as the other lined himself up with your entrance. He slid in effortlessly, filling you up so perfectly. A guttural moan escaped him once he bottomed out.  Every vein along his shaft you could feel as he thrusted in and out of you. His grip on your hips hardened to the point of leaving bruises as he pounded in and out of you. 

“Yer takin’ me so good, princess,” he said between his own pants and occasional breathy moans.

Your elbows shook as you struggled to support yourself, weakened by the pleasure and the pounding you were getting from the man behind you. They finally gave out, leaving you face down in the soft mattress. Rick’s thrusts were becoming sloppy and rhythmless as his breathing shallowed. 

“Rick, ‘m gonna cum,” you whined. 

“Me too, jus’ wait a sec.” 

He continued his tired thrusts, his hips bumping your ass with each one, filling the store with wet, erotic sounds.

“Oh, god! Rick!” You screamed as you came around his cock. Your velvety walls squeezed him as your eyes rolled back while your orgasm overtook you. He let out a guttural moan as his hot release flooded your tired cunt. After pulling out, the man collapsed beside you on the mattress. You turned to face him, a sleepy smile on your face as you cuddled up to him. He took you in his arms and held you to his chest, peppering kisses all over any part of you he could reach. 

“You’re so good to me, Lori,” he said between kisses. You froze and Rick did too. You forced yourself out of his arms. His arms were once your favorite place to be. You felt safe, warm, and comforted, like the world hasn’t ended. But now it felt like your world ended. The arms that once gave you safety and comfort left you feeling vulnerable and weak. 

“Sweetheart, I-I’m sorry, it was a genuine mistake,” he pleaded. His blue eyes held unshed tears which he blinked back as he desperately apologized. You ignored him, choosing instead to redress yourself in an angered frenzy. 

He called your name in that firm tone he uses when he’s serious. “It was an accident, I promis-“

“Shut up, Rick!” You snapped. His eyes widened in shock and honestly yours did too. You never snapped at him and not in a million years would you have told him to shut up. But you were just so angry. He hurried off the bed and pulled up his pants before hurrying to catch up to you as you stormed off. He grabbed your arm, successfully stopping you. 

“Just,” he sighed, “just listen to me. Please?” He pleaded. You refused to look at him, not wanting him to see the tears you couldn’t hold back. You snatched your arm out of his grip and grabbed your previously discarded bag. 

“I’m goin’ back to the prison,” you said cooly, grateful you were able to keep the waver out of your voice. The lump in your throat burned and your chest ached, but you refused to look back at the man, despite him calling after you. In all honesty, you just wanted to run into his arms and cry into his chest, but he was the one who had you feeling this way. 

 Rick had caught up to you once you were back outside in the Georgian heat. “You can’t walk back to the prison by yourself. It’s far and it’s dangerous,” he bargained. You turned to glare at him, facing him for the first time since he called you by his recently deceased wife’s name. 

“I can handle myself just fine out there and you know that!”  Rick was only rubbing salt in the wound, intentional or not. It already hurt that he called you by the wrong name, but to underestimate you like that only cut deeper. 

“I don’t doubt that one bit, but it’s dangerous out there and I’m jus’ tryin’ to protect you!” 

 Normally, you reveled in his protectiveness. It made you think that maybe there was a chance he loved you, too, but now it only made you angrier. How dare he hurt you then pretend to care about your safety by claiming to protect you. 

“Why? Cause you couldn’t protect your precious Lori!?” You spat before your hands flew up to cover your mouth in shock.  Rick’s face fell as he stood there, frozen, staring at you with heartbreak evident in his eyes. You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. It wasn’t even his fault she died. An apology burned on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed it, wanting Rick to hurt just as much as you did. Your turned on your heel and resumed your trek back to the prison and this time he didn’t stop you. 

You cried to yourself quietly in your cell that night. It had been the first night in a while that you spent without Rick under the covers with you. His Freudian slip was more than an innocent mistake to you, it solidified every insecurity that had been brewing in the back of your head. Rick didn't love you, he loved Lori and you were just there to wet his dick while he grieved her death. You looked at him like he hung the moon, but when he looked at you, he just wished you were someone else, and that hurt. Eventually, that hurtful feeling of emptiness was overtaken by a dreamless sleep. 

When you woke the next morning, you just wanted to go to sleep. You wanted to skip out on all your responsibilities and re-enter that state of dreamless sleep that kept you from thinking about Rick. Once you got ready for the day, you trudged over to get something to eat. Footsteps rapidly approached behind you and you felt a hand gently grab your forearm. 

"Can we please talk?" Rick asked. You didn't even want to turn to face him, your urge to ignore him too strong. Honestly, you hoped he'd be mad at you too, for what you had said, but he didn't sound mad at all, just desperate. When you turned to face him, all of your emotions from last night came flooding back tenfold. 

"There's nothing to talk about," you replied, struggling to keep your voice even. You hated how broken you sounded almost more than you hated the way he was looking at you. His red rimmed eyes hinted that he had also been crying, but the way hurt and remorse swam around in his blue irises tugged at your heartstrings. You just wanted to give in and hug him and have him tell you everything was alright while he kissed your tears away. But the thought that maybe he used to do that to Lori upset you all over again, sending tears burning your already puffy eyes. You snatched your arm out of his grip and turned away from him once again.

"I, um... There's lots of walkers at the fence," you mumbled before hurrying off. 

All week, Rick didn't give up on trying to win you back. It honestly confused you. Did he miss you, or did he just miss having sex with you? Either way, you refused to give in. As much as you wanted to, you wouldn't. You didn't want to keep being a replacement for his late wife, so you just ignored and avoided him whenever you could.

 Whenever you would pass Rick in the halls, you'd go another way so he couldn't talk to you, which he always tried to do. He'd either try to apologize or beg you to talk to him, neither of which you wanted to listen to. You ignoring him really started to take a toll on him, and everyone started noticing. 

"Wha's goin' on between you 'n Rick?" Maggie asked you in the watchtower when she came to switch shifts with you. 

The question caught you off guard, stilling you in your place. "Nothin', why?" you replied as casually as you could. The mention of the man always made your heart beat a little faster, apparently that remained true when you were mad at him.

"He's seemed a little...off lately, and honestly, you have too." 

You trusted Maggie, you really did, but just the thought of telling her what happened felt humiliating. 

"Why do ya say that?" you ask, still trying to play it cool. 

"Well, ever since the two a' ya stopped seein' each other, you both've been miserable and it's kinda been affectin' everyone in here too," she explained. Your eyes went wide in shock knowing that she knew about your hookups with Rick. She must think you were awful for getting in bed with him almost as soon as his wife died, and it made your stomach churn. 

"Y-you knew?" you forced out through your dry throat. 

"There isn't much privacy in here," she said matter of factly. 

You looked down at your feet in shame, unshed tears burning in your eyes. If she knew, it was likely everyone else knew too. 

"Anyway," she said, digging in her pocket. She pulled out a few wildflowers. "Rick wanted me to give you these." You accepted them before you could even think of rejecting them. 

"Thanks, Maggie," you said, offering a weak smile. She returned the smile. Your turned to leave the watchtower, but before you could go, the sound of her voice stopped you. 

"Just so you know, nobody's judgin' Rick 'n you." You felt some of the weight on your shoulders dissipate. It was nice to know nobody hated you for hooking up with Rick, but that didn't matter much since you two were essentially broken up. 

 Rick missed you. He was more distraught now than he was when he was seeing his dead wife in different places. He hadn't been able to sleep without you wrapped up in his arms. Guilt crushed him whenever you avoided him around the prison. Guilt because he hurt one of the most important to him. He didn't even care about what you said that day, he just wanted you back. It wasn't even the sex that he missed, it was you. Seeing how you ignored him whenever you were unable to avoid him, he figured the chances of getting you back were slim. Apologies and wildflowers wouldn't be enough. He needed to do whatever he could to get you back. 

He wanted to give you your space as much as he could, which is why he didn't try to pursue you other than when you crossed paths, but he was losing his mind. Which is why he found himself outside of your cell. He hesitated before knocking on the wall beside the curtain covering the cell's bars. He heard shuffling and grumbling before he saw you peek out from behind the curtain, which you quickly drew shut upon seeing him. 

"I need to talk to ya. I promise I'll leave you alone, but only after you hear me out," he whispered, not wanting to wake the others. The silence on your ended lasted for what felt like a while before you finally let him in. You sat down on your cot as Rick stood there awkwardly before eventually sitting a respectable distance away from you. 

"What do ya want?" you asked, not looking at him. 

He took a deep breath as he gathered his words in his head. He had some idea of what he wanted to say to you, but his mind went blank when he saw you. You looked sad and tired, the complete opposite of how you were before that day at the department store. 

"I came in here because I wanted to apologize. I dunno why I called you Lori, but it wasn't 'cause I was thinking of her," he insisted. Your only response was huffing and crossing your arms over your chest, still not looking at him.

"Please, look at me," he pleaded. He sounded weak and desperate because he was. You made him weak and he'd do anything just to have you look at him like you used to. You finally turned to face him, but your gaze was cold and distant. 

"Did you even mean it when you said I was special to you? When you said you couldn't live without me?" you asked guardedly. Rick hated that he made you feel like you couldn't be vulnerable with him anymore. He was ready to bare his whole heart out to you and wished you could do the same. Your walls were up so high that he couldn't even read you anymore. 

"I meant every-" 

"Or were you thinking about Lori when you said that," you spat. 

Rick sighed and ran and hand over his face. He took a minute to compose himself, blinking back the tears that sprung forth at your words. He didn't realize he had hurt you that badly. He glanced around your cell as he blinking back his tears, noticing the flowers he picked for you sitting in an small can filled with water in the corner. It gave him some hope that you'd forgive him. 

"You are the only one for me." He reached for your hand but you snatched it away. 

"Rick, I'm not just some hooker you can call over whenever you get sad thinkin' 'bout your wife" your voice broke as your lips and chin began to quiver, your tears failing to stay put in your eyes.

 Seeing you fall apart crying broke Rick's heart, making it harder for him to hold back his own tears. He didn't know what else he could say to make you understand that his life wouldn't be the same without you. So he pulled out a piece of paper with a letter he wrote for you. He was originally going to have someone else to give it to you for him since you'd been avoiding him. But now was he chance. He placed it on your cot before letting himself out.  

You paced back and fourth in the prison fiddling with the letter Rick gave you as you anxiously waited his and the others’ return. You had all presumably defeated the Governor, but the others went after him anyway to tie up any loose ends. Having been a part of the initial fight, you wanted to go too, but Rick wouldn’t let you. You arguing with him on why you should go had been the first time you talked to him since he came to your cell that night a week ago. 

Worrying about Rick made you feel guilty for ignoring for all this time. You spent all this time ignoring him, too afraid to admit to yourself that you still loved him. And now he might be dead somewhere, never knowing that you forgive him and love him too. You stared down at the letter and reread it for the nth time, seeking comfort in his written words. 

Sweetheart, 

 When you asked me what you were to me, I couldn’t find the right words to answer. It shouldn’t have taken me losing you to realize that you are my everything. In such a short time, you became my world and I wouldn’t be able to live a day without you. Every time you’re away from me, I yearn for the moment of your return. I don’t know how much time we’ll have together, but no matter how much or little we have left, I will spend all of it trying to earn your love again, because I love you, (Y/N). 

-Rick 

 Tears welled in your eyes. You felt so foolish wasting so much time you could’ve spend loving Rick being angry with him. You folded the letter again and shoved it in your back pocket. The sounds of the gate opening and Daryl’s motorcycle approaching took your attention. You ran outside, hurrying past everyone else headed the same way. You saw Rick standing there unscathed talking with Carl. Tears blurred your vision as you practically charged at him. He opened his arms just in time for your to jump in them. You sobbed into his shoulder as you held each other tight. You pulled away from the kiss and held his face in your hands, staring into his beautiful, blue eyes. He leaned down for a kiss which you happily accepted. 

“They back together again?” Daryl asked. 

“About time,” Carol responded. 

With the addition of the Woodburians, privacy was even harder to come by, but you and Rick made sure to get some the night he returned. You sat perched on his lap with your arms wrapped around him and face nuzzled in his neck. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, happy he was yours again. 

“I’m so sorry for what I said that say,” you mumbled. 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he said soothingly. You sat up and stared at Rick. He looked tired, but at peace for the first time in a while. 

“What?” He asked with a smile on his face. His smile made your own face split into a matching one. 

“I love you.” He pressed his forehead to yours. 

“I love you, too, Sweetheart.” 

this was partially proofread.

anyway, thanks for reading! <3

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[whoreofdilfs]

DBF!Rick catching you smoking weed, smirking at you coughing up a lung at the sight of him. DBF!Rick teasing you, telling you you’re being bad and plucking the joint from your fingers. DBF!Rick noticing your wiggling hips and the dazed look in your eyes. DBF!Rick sliding his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy and slowly rubbing. DBF!Rick feeling your hands grab his arm and pull him closer, your hips rolling against his palm. DBF!Rick watching you use his hand for your pleasure, eyes gliding over your desperate expression. DBF!Rick smirking as you cum, soaking your panties and his hand. DBF!Rick leaning close and whispering,

“Don’t you ever get high without me around.”

[whoreofdilfs]

“not happening.”

“what if i told you that you’d be helping to save the world?”

“by fucking him?”

you scoff, turning your attention back to the braid you’d begun down your back. “i’m not helping you with your passion project, okafor. i have actual shit to do.”

okafor grins at you. “bullshit.”

“no, i still have weekly duties and assignments. i can’t just drop all of that trying to seduce your ticking time bomb.”

“i see the way he looks at you,” he states with a breath of your name. “if he’s gonna be open to anyone, it’s you.”

“he doesn’t need to be open to anyone.” you counter.

“i don’t think you know what he needs yet.”

“and you do?”

“he needs you.”

“no.” you reply flatly, fists clenched. “you need him to enact your little plan that i have nothing to do with.”

the lieutenant colonel gives you a haughty smile. “well then, at the very least he needs stress relief and you owe me a favor.”

you glare at him. “that was a one time thing.”

“you got what you wanted didn’t you?”

“being perpetually indebted to you with favors isn’t what i signed up for,” you complain as you plait your hair.

“you get to sit around and make your little maps and fuck around all day.” your superior reminds you.

you do your best not to scowl too much, unlike the man who your former benefactor wanted you to de-stress fuck. he constantly had a sour look on his face. he was the consignee who cut off his fucking hand trying to escape. how would you convince someone like that to just lay back and let you fuck them until they didn’t miss whatever life they had before again?

“this is kind of a far ask, okafor.” you note and tie off the end of your braid. you finally turn around from the mirror in front of you to face the dark green fatigue clad man behind you. “it’s never gone as far as touching someone like that and actually fucking them. i don’t think i’m up for that.”

okafor crosses his arms. “are you sure about that? last time i checked, you eye fuck him almost as much as he eye fucks you.”

“you’re an asshole.” you spit, venom dripping from your words. “i’m not letting you coerce me into this.” your eyes meet his brown irises. “let this be the last straw for you, lock me up, dishonorably discharge me, whatever, but i’m not just gonna hop on your lackey’s dick because you say so.”

he takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together, smirking for whatever reason. “i think you’ll want to.” he suddenly stands and you’re paranoid for a split second that he’s about to summon backup or attempt to disarm you right here and now. “because i’m not serving up any threats, just desserts. you’ve been good to me and i’ve been good to you. i want you to continue to reward you. maybe with what you’ve wanted all along.”

your eyebrow lifts. “and what would that be?”

okafor doesn’t say anything when you begin breaking the dress code with your workout gear. you make sure to plan time around your community mapping projects to run past the officers' meeting hall in the tighest pair of shorts you owned.

you never forgot to smile and wave to okafor and rick as you pass by. it takes a few days but rick returns your wave.

content adorns your face when you catch him surveying your form from afar, getting closer and closer to that sweet reward okafor had promised you.

soon enough rick is running into you everywhere. you're crossing paths in helicopter hangers, on benches outside of the barracks, during your runs around the reservoir, at the gym, in the administrative office in your most yielding sweater, in the hallway, and at his front door on okafor’s orders.

“okafor wanted me to make sure this got to you.”

“thank you,” rick grunts gruffly, accepting the folder with his latest field assignment from your grasp.

“anytime, rick,” you crow.

before he can bid you good night, you ask if he’d been briefed by okafor yet. he shakes his head.

you smile sweetly. “well, he really wanted you to sit down and talk about the park with someone who’s been there before, knows the layout.”

the cowboy type raises an eyebrow. “you’ve been to olympia national park before.”

“mhmm,” you confirm. “a long time ago but i know more about it than okafor.” you let out a breath, eyes boring into his icy blue gaze. “got a minute?”

the dark wainscoting of officer’s quarters enters your field of vision as rick leads you through the skinny hallway, pointing out a bathroom before bringing you into what you assume is the downstairs living room.

“you can help yourself to the kitchen,” he offers graciously, gesturing towards the kitchen of the open floor plan living space.

“thanks!” you chirp and weave towards the kitchen, finding two short glasses and flinging a cabinet open.

“oh, you have whiskey!”

“it was a gift from okafor.”

you can barely keep a guffaw from tumbling out of your mouth. “that’s very on brand for him,” you comment, turning the handcrafted decanter over in your hands. “well, lucky for you, okafor has fantastic taste.”

rick observes from the leather sofa as you pour two short glasses of whiskey - not even asking if you could. the orange light of the kitchen does nothing to hide how great you look for nine o’clock at night. your gauzy long hair glints, looking sleek beneath the lights as it falls inches above the curve of your ass.

the same bottom that had seemingly been following rick around base. it was like everywhere he turned: you were there. whatever inspired this house call felt suspiciously related.

kneeling on the floor next to the coffee table, you place the tray with your drinks down and empty the folder of its documents in order to splay them across the table. you reach up to rick to pass him one of the twin glasses.

reluctantly, he accepts. however, he doesn’t take a sip from his glass until after you do.

he doesn’t miss the way your throat tenses at the burn of the liquor when it makes its way down. you throw another swig back like a young woman who’s grown accustomed to drinking with her fellow soldiers, but in the quarters of one of her superiors?

“so, here’s where you’ll be landing.” your glass is already on the coffee table and you’re pointing out green meandering lines. “whitehorse mountain is right here. just be careful of atmospheric rivers in the area. did okafor tell you about what happened to the apache team?”

the dark haired man shook his head, worry lines becoming more pronounced.

you shake your head. “forget i said anything.” you take another quick drink from your glass and rick looks alarmed - you’re not like your oxen brothers in arm who could drink themselves silly. he doesn’t have time to dwell on it though because you’re skipping right to the next print out to detail his planned trek along the sauk river.

“it’s a pretty ridge. you should stop and take a picture.” you suggest, thumbing through laminated landmark shots of valleys and vistas, making a verbal note of one which is a convenient stop on his trip.

he bites his pink lip. “i don’t think getting a photo of the view is gonna be on my mind, sweetheart.”

“why not?” you question with a glimmer in your eye. “someone like you should take time to relax when you can.”

he chides your name. “what’re you doin’?”

“your job is important, and we all have jobs to do, right?”

there’s a far awayness in his eyes that you can’t place when you lean in closer. feet tucked under your knees, you’re trailing your hand up rick’s thigh towards the tent in his pants.

“you wanna fuck my mouth?”

“why’re you doin’ this?”

when he iterates your name, you consider backing down but then you remember okafor’s promise and how truly repressed this man seemed.

“it’s been a while hasn’t it.”

rick squirms. he doesn’t mean to but it’s a question not many people have the balls to ask him and he didn’t expect it from you of all people. he tries to block whatever memories are bubbling in response and busies himself with taking in the view of your parted lips.

“you don’t have to say anything, just relax,” you coo, shoving him back slightly.

looking down at you, rick doesn’t know what he has to gain from saying no at this point. rick huffs as you approach his erection but he doesn’t object.

his waistband falls with your fingers and you’re faced with the massive length you’d been worrying about. ever since you first saw rick’s bulge, you were brainstorming how you’d even fit him inside your taut walls, much less inside of your mouth.

starting slow, you begin at the base and kitten lick up to the top. rick’s groans give him away immediately. how can he hide how repressed he is with a cock as hard as rocks?

at the top of him, you’re laving his cockhead in your mouth. “i’ve never been with anyone this big,” you admit for the potential ego boost - even though it’s one hundred percent true. rick has a fucking horse cock if you’ve ever seen one.

your hand is working overtime with everything you can’t fit into your mouth at first. rick exhales hoarsely at the wet heat of your mouth devouring him. he hasn’t had a mouth on him in so long. your tight, warm lips wrap around his dick and you swallow around him.

his self control is rusty so he curses when he bucks into your face, stalling his hips only for you to pick up your pace. he wants to pull you off when he feels like he’s about to cum down your tight airway which is crammed full of his cock.

at the first feeling of that telltale twitch against your tongue, you prepare to do your part to keep rick’s nice leather couch clean and swallow everything he’s been holding back.

popping off of him, you look back up at him and grant a toothy smile. his eyes are lurid and clouded with what you only assume is lust. you’re not prepared for his rough grip to drag you onto the surface and into his lap.

the green cargo mini skirt you were wearing falls down your legs and lands somewhere on the wood paneled floor. the moment after you wipe your mouth with a tight fitting sleeve, rick captures your mouth. slightly taken aback, you moan into the man, squirming borderline uncontrollably on top of him as he pulls your top over your head.

his sturdy fingertips ghost across up your waist to your breast. with one robust squeeze as a warning, he assaults your heaving chest with his flesh hand and bruises your collarbone with something between a kiss and a mini-puncture wound. the proesthetic invades your panties and teases your labia, eliciting a needy hum from you.

his horse cock makes itself known again against the front of your pale pink panties.

fuck, how will he fit?

“god, you’re already soakin’ me.”

you get past the feel of his embrace for a moment to glance down only to be greeted with the sight of your swampy lap. how did i do that? you ponder.

“i wanna feel you on my cock, sweetheart. is that something you can do to help me relax?”

you grin. “i’m glad you asked.” you feel a renewed tingle downstairs. “why don’t you see how i take your fingers first?”

a smirk forms on his face. “probably should.” and then he’s reaching between the two of you to prod a finger at your dripping mound.

a deft finger drives into you. you’re expecting another one but as you lazily rest your head on his clothed shoulder, you just whine. the finger inside of you curls and unfurls, stretching you out without the addition of another digit. just the way his fingers drags along your walls has you twisting on top of him.

“you’re really wet for a girl who came over to talk about maps.”

you don’t comment, just cant your hips and beg for another finger. he obliges.

the calculated sensation has you forgetting what he’s talking about, forgetting about your plan. that rhythm he’s adopted speeds up once you make eye contact with rick.

“one more?” he questions.

you nod furiously. “another!”

rick doesn’t delay and the floor drops out from under once you feel a tongue on your quiveting lower lips.

“rick!” you gasp as his fingers and tongue work in unison to squeeze every naughty little noise out of you.

the soldier doesn’t speak; he just laps up your pussy like it was an order.

you come all over his face.

“sorr-,” you’re shut up by a wet finger in your mouth.

“that’s it.”

the no longer meek man trains his eyes on you as you suck his finger clean. through half lidded eyes, you watch his pupils dilate into fully lust blown orbs. devoid of the bright blue you’d seen before, rick’s stare only shifts when he’s shifting you on top of him.

“is it going to fit?” you don’t even realize that your thoughts are materializing out loud.

the officer snorts. “never had a problem before.”

the initial stretch is challenging. your breath is caught in your throat and you’re almost asking the man beneath you to slow down but he’s already inching in at an excruciatingly stable rate.

fuck, you’re reconsidering this. you curse your lieutenant colonel for acting like this whole song and dance was easy. figures. okafor isn’t the one getting stretched out on an eight inch cock.

at the sound of your whines, rick places a kiss on the top of your forehead. “doin’ so good for me,” rick praises. “so tight.”

i know, i feel you tearing me open you want to rasp but you just try to settle into the feeling. you adjust your position, tilting enough for rick to take a renewed interest in your ass. a firm hand plants itself on your flesh in an attempt to leverage you closer.

“almost there,” he grunts and continues pushing through your clinging canal, through the thick rings of muscle that grip his cock so tightly.

momentarily, you slump against the soldier. yeah, you’d been running around the base in hopes of attracting rick’s attention but your exercise routine was no match for the man with a brick between his legs.

once he’s sheathed inside of you, rick reaches down to toy with your clit. you mutter a soft curse. the sensation picks up and you’re faced with not just feeling full but fully stimulated as well. each drag against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you whimpering into rick.

drives into you become harsher. the impact feels less like a truck and more like a commanding officer. an arm is wrapped around you to keep your position steady on top of okafor’s new favorite soldier. the same one who seems to be hitting the right spot every time he moves you up and down his length.

your hands reach for his graying chestnut hair. they find purchase while rick rocks into you. the urge to complain that his shirt is on exits once a familiar pressure mounts inside of you.

“fuck, you’re squeezin’ me.”

“mhmm,” you expire into his neck, nuzzling into him when he presses fingernails into your sides and lifts and lowers you like his own personal stress relief toy.

you can’t be bothered to care. you’re getting what you want out of this: a reward and a release.

pleasure is just radiating throughout your core again. whatever pain had you speechless earlier has evolved into an ecstasy that has you babbling. rick just keeps a hand on the small of your back and carries on pouring himself into you - into your tight little canal, back and forth, in and out.

“rick,” you’re mewling.

the man can’t be bothered to plant a hand pleasurably on your pussy or respond to your cries, so you complain a little louder.

“want you to cum in me.” you stutter into the pillowcase.

“don’t think you want that,” rick demurely admits.

“no,” you argue between pants. “i’m on the shot they have here. i want you to fill me up.”

rick utters a curse into your neck, pouring himself into you so swiftly you’re surprised. just like you asked, he pumps his hips leisurely into your soaked cunt. you wince at the sound of a squelch. hopefully rick doesn’t care too much about having to clean his sofa.

neither of you are expecting the noise you make when rick untangles himself from you. you’re too tired to have shame and simply sink back into the ductile pillows. your head swivels over slowly to find rick watching your chest fall up and down unevenly.

laying beside the man, you can’t help but feel accomplished. for once, the soldier is sporting a blissed out look on his face instead of a scowl or thousand yard stare. but as he slings an arm around you and tugs you closer to his sweltering, sweaty body, you can’t help but feel guilty - manipulative even.

mission accomplished, but at what cost?

pt. 2

[whoreofdilfs]

I DID SOMETHING BAD

Summary: Y/N found out her boyfriend, Ben, of two years, cheated on her. After recently breaking up, she goes by to drop off the rest of his stuff. While he isn't home, his dad is. Some hidden feelings decide to resurface, no matter how bad it could be.

Pairing: (Negan Smith x Reader) exboyfriendsdad! Negan Smith x reader (3rd POV)

Warnings: 18+!, smut!, age gap! (reader age is in her 20s, negan is in his 40s), reader is in college grad!, exboyfriendsdad! x reader!, rich Negan! oral sex!-f receiving, rough sex!, slight daddy kink!, cheating!, tipsy sex!, sexual tension!, drinking!, break ups!, drinking games!, Negan had a wife but name isn't mentioned!, slight angst!, pet names!-Negan calls reader a slut!, reader wears dresses!, mentions of divorce, praise kink!, cursing!, dom! Negan, jealous tendencies!, dirty talk!, choking!, sub reader!, fluff!, and not fully edited.

A/N: boarders are by @saradika-graphics! Starting back writing, I decided to write a one-shot before continuing my series!! Thank you all so much for your support! I love you all so much! Check out my master list for some new series this summer! Now, enjoy the story! I apologize for taking a long break; I have struggled with multiple things. All I could think about was writing, but I couldn't do it. I wish I could explain more, but I don't think I can put into words as much as I want to. Just honestly… thank you!

“They say I did something bad. But why's it feel so good? Most fun I ever had and I'd do it over and over and over again if I could. It just felt so good.” - I Did Something Bad By Taylor Swift

It wasn't the end of the world.

Y/N kept telling herself that. He was just some stupid boy who made foolish choices. Ben was a wild one that’s for sure, maybe she should have seen it coming.

Of course, he would cheat. Don’t most of them do anyways? Most men are pigs, all men have it in them.

Maybe it sounded sexist, or Y/N was upset, lashing out with her words. She remembered screaming, tears welling up in her eyes as she repeated those reflections to Ben, whom she had just caught with another woman in their home, in their bed, which they were supposed only to share. Someone he’d met, a senior at his old college.

Bastard…

She kicked him out of the apartment that same night, a place they had called home for a year. Screaming so loud, neighbors were spying on them, which pissed off Y/N more.

Noisy ass neighbors…

Y/N kept herself away for a few days, returning to work and going home, trying to gather the rest of Ben’s things he had left behind day by day. He was rushed out, of course, having his stuff mainly thrown at him out the door. She emptied the 2nd wine bottle by the end of the week, having dinners by herself. Ben did try to contact her a few times with lame-ass apologies and backhanded gestures that raised more red flags for Y/N. She wondered what had gone wrong with Ben; his father seemed like an excellent man.

Negan Smith owned a big bank in town and was known as one of the wealthiest people in the city. Maybe Ben let that go to his head. It wasn’t like he was making the money; his father helped him through anything and everything.

Maybe that’s where it went wrong. Shit, she shouldn’t be thinking her ex’s father is a better man than him… perhaps she should.

Y/N was never always handed things to her like Ben, who spoiled her at the beginning of the relationship. Looking back now, those gestures seemed to fade away, staying in more, just causally becoming just roommates who fucked occasionally. She cringed at the thoughts now. Maybe she’d never been gratified with their sex life, but he was sweet until the end. Becoming unsatisfied with it all, maybe she was blind to the situation, but over the tw weeks, it all unraveled for her.

Maybe it was the late-night cries of not being good enough or the many TV shows she binge-watched about people finding love. It sounded dumb, but maybe Y/N was finally catching onto everything and blocking Ben at the end of the month, gathering his things to drop off at his father's. Ben mentioned staying with him until finding a place; she wondered how Negan felt about it.

Y/N met Negan at a Christmas party he was throwing at his mansion, he lived outside on the country most of the town invited. It was Y/N’s and Ben’s first year togrther. When meeting him, she could see the resemblance Ben had of him. But something about Negan, seemed to get to her more. She knew it was wrong, she just tried to shake it.

It was just an intrusive thought; anyone would think it. The compliments he gave her that night were innocent… “The red dress compliments you well, doll. My son didn’t tell me you were a beauty.”

But made her think naughty things, stuff she shouldn’t think about her boyfriend’s dad. Maybe Y/N was just as bad as Ben for these thoughts. It was the way he smirked, too, that damn smirk. The way his tongue grazed over his lips. It wasn’t just that night, too; she found herself lost in thoughts of him.

The get-togethers, the times they stayed nights with Negan after drinking, waking up the following day and seeing him in his PJs, and the pool parties were the worst. Having to see Negan shirtless, the way his tattoos aligned with his body so well—some even had age to them—and the way his wet hair hung down his face, letting the drips of water slide down his chest were the worst.

He was like a walking sex-god..

All of this was bad.. So bad…

What probably was worse was how well they got along and could talk for hours. Her favorite memory was one of the last ones she had with Negan before all this happened with Ben. A couple of weeks before the breakup, they celebrated the fourth of July and had a BBQ at Negan’s. It was smaller than his usual get-togethers, mostly everyone in the pool out back. Ben had too many beers that day, lying in his old room upstairs; Y/N looks back then, seeing the signs clear on her face that their relationship was over by then.

They sat in the kitchen together for hours, just talking, maybe reminiscing once more before everything fell to shit; Y/N hated how she’d miss Negan. Little thoughts crept into her head, too. She’d miss him more than Ben. She’d no longer have late-night conversations with Negan in the kitchen, see him on vacations, or be around him. She wondered if that’s why she stuck out with Ben so long, for Negan.

How pathetic of her…

Y/N knew Negan would now only live in her memory, just like Ben. The thoughts of Negan kissing her, pleasing her, and fucking her like she'd always wanted would always still be thoughts; she knew she should miss those from Ben, not crave them from his father.

She really was just as bad as Ben, huh?

Y/N threw the last box of Ben’s stuff in her trunk; she was heading to Negan’s to drop off the rest of his son’s belongings. She texted Ben, who said he would be there to get them for her and to say goodbye to each other one last time.

Y/N knew it would be her goodbye from Negan too; maybe what Ben did to her brought all this up about Negan to her face, how she felt about him. This older man, her ex-boyfriend’s dad, was someone she’d be interested in. She was an awful person. Hell, he would laugh in her face about it.

The drive was not far from her place, about 30 minutes outside of town; she pulled up the long driveway leading to Negan’s countryside mansion. He had a few horses outside the barn; the land was acres long. The house had some age, which made it so beautiful. Negan had done a few renovations to the house himself, building around the deck and keeping up with the paint jobs.

Y/N slammed the trunk of her car, carrying the two boxes of Ben’s to the front door, ringing the doorbell that stretched across the house.

The summer air was humid, and her sundress crunched up a bit as the boxes lay against her chest. Her heart dropped when Negan answered the door, quickly offering to take the heavy boxes from the girl. “Y/N? Shit- let me help you!” Negan seemed stunned, laying the boxes inside the house, wiping his hands on his jeans, and glancing over the younger woman.

She looked a little paler than the last time he’d seen her. Still beautiful as hell, though, he told his son Ben he scored well with her. When he met Y/N, he found her attractive and even found himself attracted to her. After his divorce, he did not date much. Y/N kept him entertained, though; they got along well. Negan had to bitch at Ben sometimes about how he would be, treat Y/N. He knew he raised him better than that, especially not to cheat on any woman. When Negan discovers the truth about what Ben did, he is boiling mad; he doesn’t do it to any woman.

He did it to Y/N.

Negan cared about Y/N. Maybe too much for her to have dated his son, but he knows she deserves to be treated like the only woman in the world. Negan almost could have beaten his son’s ass, nearly not allowing him to stay in his home, but he was his son after all. Ben tried to devise excuses, even throwing the blame on Y/N. Trying to say that she never wanted anything to do with him anymore, and no matter what, Negan was not buying it. He gave his son hell almost every day; if he was going to stay with him, he was going to keep doing it, too.

“Negan, Hi—is Ben here? He said he would be in to get the rest of his things.” Y/N asked, taking in all of Negan she could. He had a black button shirt with a few buttons open. The sleeves rolled up perfectly, revealing his tattoos. His darker jeans also complimented him. He looked so good in darker colors. Negan’s beard was whole again; he’d recently shaved it the last time she saw him.

She joked on how he looked better with a beard, he sure as hell did.

Negan looked confused, knowing their son went on with his friends for the night since he had been staying there. Y/N noticed the look in his eyes, and sighing, she rolled her eyes in pure annoyance. She should have fucking guessed. “He isn’t here, is he? Not too brave enough to face me?” Y/N scoffed, soon relaxing. She was talking about this man’s son, “Fuck- sorry, I shouldn’t say things like that around you.” Negan laughed, shaking his head, moving to the side, offering her to come in with his hands.

“Guess he is, sweetheart. He told me you weren’t coming until tomorrow.” Negan informed. Y/N hesitated for a moment to step in. Maybe it was an awful idea… an awful good idea.

The younger woman stepped in. He shut the door behind her. She noticed his half-whiskey glass resting on the staircase pole as he reached for it. “Come into the kitchen, sweetheart. We can chat for a bit before you go.” Negan’s offer was music to her ears. She shouldn’t want this, but she was not about to miss this opportunity.

She entered the kitchten, which Negan pulled out a half-full bottle of his whiskey. Y/N snickerd in return to his gesture as he pulled out a second glass. “I have to drive back home y’know?” Y/N lips curled, sitting at the counter across from him. Negan leaned against the counter facing her, pouring him a glass waiting on her approval do top hers.

“You could stay couple hours, doll. Hell, maybe Ben show up have your little confrontation.” Negan playfully lifted his eye brows with a wink which made Y/N giggle. She kept her eyes down for a moment feeling her face heat up, Y/N said fuck it and shook her glas for him to fill.

Taking a quick shot, Y/N stiffened from the bitter taste of the whiskey, the alcohol making her stomach instantly warm. “I'm taking it. That's been a rough couple of weeks?” Negan could tell the color in her eyes wasn't there anymore; her paler skin gave her away. She had been inside mostly. However, Negan, making her laugh, brought some of that color back, and he was starting to realize it. He knew he shouldn't have invited her in; she definitely shouldn't have decided to stay. Negan knew Ben would be out all night; he wouldn't come back.

Why the hell was Negan doing this? Why was he being this dumb for some chick?

“It has been a lot of back and forth.” Y/N sighed, sipping her drink, shaking the ice, “A lot of eye-opening moments, that's for sure.” Negan kept silent for a moment; he was mainly disappointed in himself. He should have been a better father to Ben and not spoiled him as much. Not giving him everything he wanted, Negan thought he was a good father—how Ben was made him question those thoughts. “I'm sorry for what happened; I thought I raised the boy better,” Negan confessed, downing his drink and shaking his head. He was disgusted by his son.

Y/N smiled at the older male, placing her hands on his, which made him twitch. Negan's eyes stayed connected to hers, and their breathing almost matched. “I hope you don't blame yourself for the way Ben is; it's not your fault.” Hearing her say that made part of him feel warm inside like she was telling the truth. Another part kept telling him that he could have done something.

“You cant make a person, Negan. Kids have to grow up, you men take forever doing that.” Y/N joked, rolling her eyes playfully pouring herself another glass. Negan chuckled at her words, watching her actions. Anything this woman did could make him hard, the way she moved the way she talked made him crave her more.

Maybe he was the wrong person, too, after all? Wanting to do this to his son's ex-girlfriend. Negan wanted to try and make her his, call her mine, make everything better for her, and treat her better.

A couple of hours later, the bottle and a box of crackers were nearly empty, which they opened up mid-conversation. They were now sitting at the kitchen counter beside each other, laughing and cracking up about the most random things. Negan and Y/N talked about many things throughout a couple of hours of her stay, from the relationship with Ben to old memories of themselves. Negan loved seeing Y/N being happy; he knew she had not had that in a while.

Maybe he could fix things after all, better for him.

Y/N felt tipsy; she felt good on the inside, like an itchy bubble inside of her. She knew she could be drinking more, but she had to stop, knowing she would head home later that night; Y/N couldn't stay here. She couldn't let her thoughts win. She'd catch herself while they talked, her eyes moving to his lips and his hands grazing her. She'd even catch Negan’s eyes lingering; maybe it was the liquor talking, but maybe Negan felt something for her.

The tension felt higher in the room as if it was closing in on them. Y/N has had this feeling before with him; being alone with him sometimes made her feel claustrophobic. Right now, the room felt more closed in than ever, the conversation taking turns at times.

“We have been talking for hours, sweetheart.” Negan glanced over at the time on the oven. It had to be close to three hours of them talking and rambling on and on. Y/N could not believe how fast time flew, she had so much fun just talking to Negan.

Maybe she had just been lonley, maybe they both have been.

“I hope I didn't keep you from anything. I can go here soon; I should be sobered up.” Y/N started to get up. Negan grabbed her wrist gently, still startling Y/N. Her eyes met his, and he stood slightly to reach her sti, keeping his distance and removing his hand. “Fuck- I didn't mean- I shouldn't have done it that way, Y/N.” Negan slurred his words, stumbling to make a sentence. He acted like some high schooler trying to ask out a girl for the first time.

His words confused Y/N; her eyebrows furrowed, and his touch sent goosebumps down her spine. It was so quick that she ached for more. “What I am trying to say, sweetheart, is you can stay a little longer.” His words almost sounded sinister, and the look in his eyes darkened.

This is it; she should run now. Y/N knew a mistake was going to happen, but it felt so good despite the bad feelings.

“I guess I could if I'm not intruding,” Y/N gently sat back down, her words more suggestive than before. Her eyes showed hope in it, something darker… sinful. Negan's lips curled up into a smirk, his eyes scanned over her body. Y/N kept her posture and head up. She seemed confident that the nerves screaming inside her were not showing on the outside. “You’re keeping a good ole man company, doll. No harm done.” Negan tried to persuade Y/N that these were all innocent acts and friendly conversations. That's what it always had been; it had to stay that way.

“No harm done,” Y/N repeated, taking a deep breath in her eyes, which never left Negan’s face. His eyes could slowly eat her alive; the way he was looking at her made Y/N feel exposed. Negan moved his hands underneath the stool she sat on, pulling her closer to him, which made Y/N gasp, letting her eyes trail down to his lips to his hazel eyes again. Maybe it was the drinks they had; perhaps this was all going to happen anyway, but Y/N was realizing slowly her sinful fantasies of Negan were coming true.

“Since you're staying longer, sweetheart, how about we play a game?” Negan implied, his head tilted in curiosity at her reply. He was steadily getting closer to her lips by the second. Y/N kept her eye contact through her long lashes. She could feel sweat forming on her forehead. “What-what kind of game?” Y/N questioned, her throat started to tighten.

In an instant, Negan pulled back, clapping his hands together playfully. “A drinking game!” Y/N felt like the trance she was in was broken. She barely saw Negan head back over to his liquor cabinet, pulling out a few small Jack Daniel shots.

What kind of other game was Negan playing with her? He had to be teasing her now.

Negan laid the smaller shots down before them, sitting beside her again. “How are we gonna play this little game of yours?” Y/N teasingly asked, following his actions, unscrewing one of the shots. “I know you played this little game in college; never have I Ever?” Y/N's eyebrows furrowed; why would Negan want to play this? Y/N giggled at Negan’s game of choice; why was this turning her on?

“Why in the hell would we play that, huh?” Y/N questioned; Negan’s face seemed serious, pushing his chair closer to her. She gulped a bit, scanning over the older man. His eyes seemed glossier than before, still having the golden brown tint she'd always loved.

Just like Ben’s… fuck Ben—

why should she care?

“I think there are some things we wanna know about each other, hun,” Negan acknowledged, shooting her a playful wink. She squirmed a bit, which made Negan laugh to himself- he loved it. Teasing her, maybe that’s what he should do after the past couple of years. Teasing him at times, Negan was reading her like a book now. “If you’ve done it, you sip your shot,” Negan clarified the rules, which he knew Y/N probably knew.

“Since it was your idea, you start us of Negan.” Y/N loosened up in her seat, smirking his way. Negan's eyes sparkled like a light bulb going off. “Never have I ever…” Negan pondered momentarily, rubbing the scruff on his face, “Never have I ever dated someone older than me.” Y/N's lips pierced, taking the shot between her lips. Ben was a year younger than her; maybe that was her mistake dating someone younger. She dated someone five years older than her before, and Y/N was usually attracted to older men.

Y/N shivered, taking a deep breath and shaking it off quickly. “Who knows, I might go back to the older men.” Y/N flirted, her foot grazing Negan's ankle, and pulled back to make it seem like an accident. “Seem to take care of you better, doll? May cause more bad than good for you; some of those older men are creeps.” Negan implied, smirking as his hands crept closer to where he rested.

The tension was making the room warmer, but her body felt cold. “I'm guessing it's my turn.” Y/N pushed her hands away from the counter, the tension growing in the room. Negan was even shifting in his seat, which had Y/N fighting back a smile. “Never have I ever cheated on someone.” She was curious to see.

“You're a funny one, sweetheart.” Negan divulged, letting out a laugh. I've never cheated, not even once, but my wife did.” Y/N was taken aback, having a sense of guilt bringing it up. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean-” Negan stopped her, shaking her head with a smile. “Its not big deal, Y/N. I can't believe after some of our conversations it hasn't came up. Or even Ben saying anything to you.”

When Ben started dating Y/N, his mom had already left, but Ben never said why. Of course, she wouldn't ask Negan why she left. “Ive always still wondered if Ben is on her side.” Negan confided, taking his shot letting his emotions run. Y/N listened to him even if Ben was, they were both in the wrong.

“I was spending more time with work than her…are family.” Negan sighed, cracking another one and setting it to the side. Y/N felt bad for him, she knew no matter what she didn't need to cheat. “Thats still no excuse, Negan. She could have talked to you.” Y/N gave her words of wisdom, letting her hand rest on his arm. His pulse quickened to her touch, Y/N’s eyes were calling him.

Negan felt that… this was going to be bad.

“We both still have a shot.” Negan gestured to the full Jack Daniel shots; his lips curled like he had a motive. “Hit me with a good one,” Y/N had her shot ready in hand and her smirk. Negan had to throw her off, make her squirm again, and get her exactly how he wanted her.

“Never have I ever wanted one of my ex’s parents.” Negan was blunt watching Y/N’s confidence drop. Her face reddened; the grip on her shot could have almost shattered it. It was silent; the air thickened his body, growing close to her. Y/N felt glued to her seat, her gaze fixated fully on him.

“I don't—I don't… I can't answer that.”

Negan laughter was darker and more profound, deep, which scared her and turned her on. “You don't have to answer, princess. Just take the shot if it's true.” Negan gestured to her shot in hand, patiently waiting. Y/N kept her looks on Negan, taking the shot down while her eyes never left. While slamming the empty bottle down, Negan’s lips parted, pushing himself onto her. His hands wrapped around her cheeks, and he slammed his lips onto hers. They both tasking the whiskey on their lips, mixed with Y/N’s lipgloss.

She tasted as sweet as he thought.

Y/N moaned at the contact, keeping her lips moving with his, his fingers gripping her hair, making her gasp. His tongue grazed her bottom lip, meeting her own. She pulled away, out of breath, the guilt rushing over her. “We can’t do this, Negan.” Y/N tried to catch her breath, the alcohol starting to take some effect, “I need to go home.” Y/N stood up, feeling the room spin because of how quickly she stood from her seat.

Negan grabbed her wrist, twisting her around, which made her whimper as his nose rested on hers. Y/N's eyes stayed parted, fighting back the urge she craved.

“Don’t go—you can’t go,” Negan begged, his hands trailing up her arms slowly, feeling her goosebumps form. He sounded desperate. “No matter what you want, sweetheart, please stay in the guest room.”

“It’s bad what I want,” Y/N admitted, her eyes closed and her legs like jello. “It feels good, though, right?” Negan teased, making everything much more dangerous. He chuckled as his hands made it to her neck, wrapping both larger hands around, which made Y/N whimper. “Admit it, baby. It’s gone too far now to go running.”

Baby.. fuck.

Everything suddenly was forgotten. Just this moment was all that mattered. None of the aftermath mattered; they both knew what they wanted.

Negan grabbed her waist, picked her up swiftly, sitting her on the counter. His lips brush down the veins of her neck. She was having his hand wrapped around her throat, slamming her lips onto his. Y/N lips were hungry, moving in sync with her hands resting on both sides of his face. He kept his lips moving with hers; whimpers and moans filled the room from both. Her hands flew to his black button-up, popping them open.

Sneaking her hands down into his half-opened shirt, Negan got chills from her touch, feeling her excellent warm hands.

He dreamed of this moment.

“You drive me insane,” Negan growled, his hands trailing up her dress, squeezing her hips roughly. Y/N squirmed from the contact, gasping out, his other hand taking her face, her cheeks squished between them. When she met Negan's gaze, his eyes were darker and filled with all his sinister thoughts about her.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Y/N innocently batted her eyelashes, and a smirk grew on her face, which didn't last long when Negan pushed her back on the cold counter. Y/N couldn't see him anymore, only feel his hands pulling down the panties she had on. Negan chuckled, placing kisses on her thigh. His palms were rough as they moved across her bare legs tracing small circles back up to her bare cunt. Y/N wanted to close her thighs together, so she cried out, having Negan’s hands squeezing her thighs open.

“If it's so bad, why does it feel so good?” Negan questioned her and himself. “It feels so wrong but right,” Y/N confessed, trying to catch her breath. She could feel his breath down her thighs, getting closer to her aching clit. Y/N tossed her head back in pleasure, her hands running through his hair.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be this wet baby,” Negan whispered as his fingers went through her wet folds, having her squirm. “Please,” Y/N begged, the ache in her voice showing how much she wanted it. Negan was enjoying every second of it, too; he knew he might never have her again.

He was going to make the best of it.

“Tell me what you want; I feel like I know.” Negan blew air onto her clit, making her gasp and pulling on his hair which made him growl. His nails dug into her hips, pulling her closer, giving one sharp lick up her pussy.

“I want you, Negan, please.” Y/N sounded so needy; she had never wanted anyone like this before. “My son didn’t take care of ya?” Negan inquired casually, giving her wet folds a lick along, running his fingers around, “That’s a shame, doll; I guess I’ll have to.”

Hearing him mention Ben, she came back to reality for a moment. How could all this go? No matter what, even if she stopped now, it would end badly even if this never happened again.

“Negan, I-“

He cut her off by entirely going down on her. Negan was eating her out like a hungry animal. Y/N’s eyes rolled back, and she could see stars. She was a moaning mess, her thighs squeezed around his head. Y/N had her legs wrapped around him, pushing his head deeper into her. “I love to hear your little whimpers and moans, baby,” Negan admitted. She could feel the pit in her stomach grow.

Y/N’s toes curled, feeling her stomach tighten with his movements. “Negan- I’m close.” Y/N rose slightly from the counter to watch Negan, who instantly met her gaze. “Yeah, sweetheart?” Negan continued as he slowed down to look at Y/N, two of his fingers sliding easily into her cunt. Y/N almost couldn’t hold herself up anymore, feeling her walls closing around his thick fingers. Y/N felt her legs shaking, her back arching off the counter, coming around Negan’s face.

Negan grabbed her by the waist, pulled her up, and placed small kisses on her neck. “Wrap around me," he commanded. She trusted him, having her legs around him. Negan had his hands around her, playfully squeezing them, taking her off the counter to his room. His lips moved in sync with Y/N busting through his bedroom door, throwing her onto the bed.

She had never been in his room; it was so plain it suited him well. Negan had now removed his shirt, her hands exploring his inked body. Y/N pulled at his belt buckle, which made him smirk at her desire. His pants lowered, and he reached beneath her dress for the feel of warmth between her legs. Y/N’s panties were in the kitchen still; his member teased her entrance.

“I want you, I want you mine.” Y/N gasped as he entered her, his words having her head spinning; Negan's thrusts were rough, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder and going deeper in her. Their sweaty bodies collided as her fucked her deep into the mattress; Y/N’s nails dug into his back, making him groan. “Havin’ an old man work for it, huh?” Negan playfully teased, his breathing increasing with his pace, “You’d rather fuck Ben’s old man instead of him, huh?”

Y/N could only whimper; how could she even answer that? Why was this turning her on more? Negan slapped her ass, “Answer me, baby. You like being a little slut, huh? Daddys little slut.”

“Fuck.” What in the world has gotten into Negan? His words were so dirty and wrong, but fuck, she loved it.

“Yes- I do.”

Usually, sex with Ben wasn’t adventurous. If that’s what you’d call it. It was mostly the same each time; it was getting old. No one had given her this rush time before, even before Ben. “Look at me,” Negan insisted, holding her by the neck. Their eyes stayed on each other as he fucked her tight cunt, “I want you to come for me, baby, and I am gonna come with you.”

His pace was sloppier; feeling her wet walls squeeze his member was making him closer by the second. “I’m coming, Daddy.” Negan knew he didn’t want this to end; he wanted more each day like she was a drug to him, his little drug that he wanted to be high on each day.

He knew this was only the beginning.

The following day, Y/N’s head felt heavy. The mattress beneath her seemed softer, and the room was brighter. She gasped, jerking herself up, realizing she wasn’t in her room or her home.

All the memories of last night flooded her head, she kept the sheets clinched to her bare body. “Sleeping beauty is finally awake!” Negan chirped, having a cup of coffee in his hand and handing it over to her. Y/N almost felt ashamed and embarrassed to be naked in front of him. She shouldn’t be after last night…

“Need any medicine?” Negan asked, sitting on the foot of the bed, his eyes trying to search what she was feeling. “I’m okay, thank you.” Y/N smiled, trying to gather her thoughts together. “We uh- we shouldn’t have taken it to that level, Negan,” Y/N admitted that she knew no matter how much she wanted it again, they didn’t need to.

It couldn’t happen.

“You’re saying you regret it, darling?” Negan knew her answer with a smirk plastered on his face. He stood up, getting near her again, feeling the thick air.

It was just like a cycle.

Negan’s lips brushed against hers, leaning himself on the bed she laid in. Y/N's mouth parted, trying to find the urge to speak. “N-no, I don’t.” Y/N knew she couldn’t lie to Negan; her fist dug deeper into the silk sheets. He drawled a breath in, letting out a slight laugh, pulling back from her, playfully patting her cheek.

In a moment of being stunned, she watched Negan causally getting ready to leave the room again. “How about you come down for breakfast?” Negan urged with a welcoming smile, with glasses resting on his nose and plaid pants. He stopped in his tracks, turning around on his heels.

“Oh yeah, you might wanna get dressed. Ben’s downstairs.”

[whoreofdilfs]

Previous part here

Words: 4,362 Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language (duh, it's Negan), references to past violence, references to traumatic events, fear and anxiety, mentions of illness and mentions of character death (Lucille), sexual content Summary: Having healed up from Dante's attack, Y/N pays Negan a visit. A/N: This is the last part in this series. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's always bittersweet to conclude a series, but opens the door for more new writing. <3 Looking forward to more Negan in the future! <3 Thanks for reading!

Why were you so nervous? You were wringing your hands as you climbed the steps of the apartment building and let yourself inside the outer door. Your heart was fluttering in your chest like a moth around a lamp. You chewed on your bottom lip as you headed down the hallway and stopped in front of a door with a shiny brass “4.”

You pulled in a deep breath and knocked, shifting a bit nervously as you waited for a response. You didn’t have to wait long. Negan pulled the door open with a curious expression which quickly grew into a relaxed smile when he saw you standing there in front of him. The light in his hazel eyes took you aback.

“Hey, doll. Well, isn’t this a nice fucking surprise?”

“Hi,” you greeted him. “Is now a bad time?” you asked, laughing a little, nodding toward the paint splotches on his gray t-shirt.

“Not at all,” he smiled. “Anytime is a good time for you. Come on in,” he said.

Negan stepped back to invite you inside. “Thanks,” you replied, crossing the threshold. Your heart was still racing more than it should. Negan closed the door behind you and followed you up the hall. “Doing some redecorating?” you asked, stopping in the living room. You could see old sheets draped over some furniture in the next room and a few brushes sitting out on a paint can.

Negan swept a hand back through his hair. “I’m sure you’ll be surprised to hear this, but I’m not really a flowered wallpaper kind of guy,” he said. “I found some decent supplies so I thought I might as well make this place a little more mine.”

You paced over to the doorway and peeked into the next room. The walls were freshly painted with a deep, dark blue. “Mmm,” you hummed, nodding. “Bit different than your last digs. And the ones before that…”

“Different is a good word.” He sighed suddenly and you looked back at him. “Fuck me, it’s good to see you,” he said. “You’ve got no idea how good. I didn’t realize it but I really got used to seeing you at least at every meal,” he said. You watched his eyes drift up to the fresh scar on your forehead, to the still healing split in your bottom lip, and then down to the fading bruises on your neck. His smile faltered a little at the sight and you thought you saw a faint flicker of anger in his eyes.

“Are you going through withdrawal?” you teased him, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Are you implying that I’m an addict and you’re my drug?” he asked in a deep voice. He watched your eyes widen a little and then crinkle in a smile as you held in a laugh.

“Maybe. Is that… accurate?” you asked with a hesitant laugh.

Negan pulled in a deep breath and there was some ember burning in his hazel eyes as he let it out slowly, his attention a bit intense as it was fixed on you. “Maybe,” he said in a low voice, gravel on the edge of it. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at you again. You registered the lean but strong muscles of his forearms. They were peppered with tattoos, revealed by his gray t-shirt. You felt a burst of warmth in the middle of your chest.

You ducked his gaze (chicken…) and found yourself nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner. Things have been busy with the council since Dante, um—‘opted out’,” you said. “And then I’ve still been having some symptoms, so… resting a lot.” You still felt a wave of fear and a cold chill every time you thought of the doctor who had nearly killed you. Sometimes you had nightmares about him bending over you, the look on his face, the feeling of being totally helpless as you struggled, of actively knowing your life was drifting away under his hands. Negan’s voice pulled you from that dark trail of thoughts.

“You don’t have apologize to me, darlin’. I’m just glad you’re here at all,” he said softly. “Did they figure out how he punched his ticket?”

“Not for certain. But Siddiq suspects a cyanide capsule or something similar from what they saw when they found him dead in the cell. Daryl had searched him right after—after I was in the clinic when he went to question him. He didn’t find anything, but something that small would be easy to hide.” Negan nodded, his brow knit and expression serious. “I just wish we knew why he—why he wanted Alexandria to fall so badly. Everyone here was nothing but kind to him. There were no clues about it at all.”

Negan nodded. “I don’t think that fuckwad was ever gonna talk,” he said seriously. “And I’m real glad he’s dead. I might have gotten into trouble again putting his limp-dick, coward ass down myself after what he did to you,” he growled. You could see his hazel eyes darken with rage again as he thought about Dante’s attack. And there was a deeper emotion bubbling beneath the anger, something he hadn’t yet even fully admitted to himself.

“Well—” you ripped your gaze from his, ducking your head once again (double chicken…), a soft pout on your lips, “better you don’t get in trouble again, Negan. You’ve only just gotten out.”

“I’m guessing I have you to thank for that,” Negan said. “At least, in part.”

“First of all, you have yourself to thank for that. People are seeing how you’ve changed. Secondly, I withdrew from the vote. Seemed like a… minor conflict of interest considering it was my life that you saved,” you explained.

Negan nodded. “How close was the vote?” he laughed.

You smiled at him. “Not as close as you’d think,” you said. Negan would have to accept that as an answer. You paced around his scantily furnished living room and looked into the kitchen. He hadn’t been in the new space long, only since you’d left the clinic which was perhaps a week and a half ago. Before that, he’d pretty much refused to leave your side and Michonne had given in and not asked him to return to the cell once Dante had… vacated it.

You were curious to see how he’d make the apartment his as he got settled. He did have some of the shelves stocked with books already, including the ones you’d given to him when he was still in the cell. You looked through them, running your fingers over the leatherbound spines, tilting a couple down to look at the covers. Negan watched you from his spot leaning up against the doorway. He liked the sight of you here, looking relaxed and (in his opinion) like you belonged. It was a sight he could get fucking used to. You suddenly glanced back at him and smiled, perhaps even blushing a little as you realized his eyes were on you. “Are you being nice to the neighbors?” you asked, pacing over to the couch and sitting down, sinking into it and making yourself at home.

“Neighbors?” he laughed. “I’m pretty fuckin’ sure Michonne purposely put me into an empty building. Not too many people want the big bad wolf living next door,” he said.

“Well, maybe that’s for the best,” you admitted. “For you and for them.”

“Oh, absolutely. I plan to be downright vile and filthy in here. It’s gonna be my hedonistic bachelor pad,” he joked. “Interested?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “At least you’re honest in your advertising,” you retorted.

His teasing smile faded and then he was staring at you again with that look on his face, the one that was so soft it raised goosebumps on your skin. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. You felt your face flushing again. “What?” you asked him, one of your eyebrows lifting.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just like the sight of you on my couch.” He straightened up. “In fact, I’ve got just the fucking thing for the occasion…”

You watched curiously as he went into the kitchen and quickly came back with a wine bottle in hand and two glasses. “Where the hell did you get wine?” you asked as he sank down beside you on the couch.

“Doll, I’d think you would have realized by now how resourceful I am,” he smiled, popping the cork. He was just pouring the second glass when he stopped, knitting his brow. “Wait—should you be drinking this after what happened? How’s your noggin’ doin’?” he asked, looking suddenly deeply concerned.

“It’s been two weeks. One or two glasses won’t kill me,” you replied. “I won’t tell Siddiq if you won’t…”

“Oh, thank fuckin’ God. I’m clearly only plying you with alcohol to lower your inhibitions for some freaky deaky,” he joked, giving you another amused glance.

“Negan!” you scolded him, feeling your face grow hot yet again.

“Too much?” he laughed. “I’m kidding of course, doll. The truth is… I—I think I’ve got you up on too high of a pedestal to ever try something like that.” He handed you a glass and you were giving him a queer look. He only smiled. That damn charming, wolfish smile that made your stomach flip.

“What are we drinking to?” you asked him.

“How about—and I know this is fucking cheesy but—new beginnings?” he offered, still smiling at you, his hazel eyes flickering over your face.

“I’ll drink to that,” you said softly. You clinked your glass against his and took a sip, settling in deeply to the cushions. Negan watched your smile fade and his brow drew downwards, low over his eyes. The hazel seemed to darken toward brown flecked with gold.

“Something on your mind, doll?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Not really. Just—sometimes it still hits me how close I came to dying that day. And—and when I was fading… instead of seeing the faces of people I loved, I could only look up and see him. You know how people say their life flashes before their eyes when they think they’re about to die? Or they’ll see their loved ones smiling at them, remember good memories? That—that didn’t happen for me,” you mused. “I could only see him. And feel the complete overwhelming fear and powerlessness.”

There was a long silence where you stared down into the deep plum color of the wine in your glass and you twirled it in your hands. “Oh, well… It’s over now,” you sighed. When you were brave enough to look up at Negan again, you were shocked to find that his eyes were glassy, seemingly brimming with tears.

He wet his lips thoughtfully and then sighed, setting his glass aside on the small table in front of the couch. “My wife—the only real one—her name was Lucille,” he said. “I was a complete prick to her—useless as far as being a good fuckin’ husband. I cheated on her. Spent money we didn’t have. Lost my job. But she—she was the real thing. Beautiful and smart and fiery and kind. I didn’t deserve her.” His voice was deep and laced with feeling. “She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer…”

Your heart ached. His breath was shaky as he went on. It was staggering to hear this near mythical man’s deep voice laced with such tender feeling and regret.

“The world turned when she was in the middle of her treatment. I kept her going as long as I could, finding the medicines she needed and delivering her doses of chemo but—” he shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed. “In the end, I couldn’t help her anymore.” His voice broke as he went on, his eyes shining with tears. “I—I couldn’t do the one damn thing she asked of me at the end. She was ready to go and she wanted me to be... She—she asked me to stay and just be with her until the end and I couldn’t do the last of what she fucking asked me to do. I went running off after medicine which wouldn’t do a goddamn thing for her.” He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and drew in a long, steadying breath, blinking away the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. “I was helpless to stop it.” He looked right at you, meeting your vibrant eyes, empathetic and concerned, with his own. It felt as if he’d cracked himself open to the core at that moment and your heart started to race. He reached for your hand and you startled a little at his touch, pulling your eyes from his and looking down as he smoothed his thumb over the silkiness of the skin on the back of your hand and then over the lines of your palm, much as he had that day in the cell, when he’d saved you those raspberries… Your heart was pounding as he spoke again, your breath stolen. His voice pulled your eyes back to his.

“When you fell that day, right in front of me but basically unreachable on the other side of those bars… and then when he came in—” Negan gulped and shook his head. “I felt that same fucking helplessness all over again. I felt the same terror that I wasn’t going to be able to do a damn thing. I can’t even put into words how fucking scared I was that I was going to lose you right in front of me.”

You had to remind yourself to breathe as he went on.

“It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve actually wanted anything. Except maybe to die or get out of that fucking cell. Until you came along, darlin’.” Negan’s eyes flitted down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

You found yourself nearly frozen as he clasped your face in his and caressed your cheek, his eyes searching yours. You felt the soft pout of your lips part just a little on their own, without thought. It was driving Negan crazy. He tilted your head slightly down and your eyes fluttered shut as he placed a kiss on your forehead beside the new pink scar and still fading bruising. His thumb traced along your jaw as his fingertips wrapped delicately around the nape of your neck. His eyes drifted down to the faint yellow and brown bruises from the doctor’s hands. Negan’s head tilted and he leaned in to kiss the side of your neck and then the front of your throat and then the other side. You felt like an electric shock ran through you at the touch of his lips, soft and tender, but heating you through. You couldn’t stop the breathy exhale that left you as he pulled away and met your eyes again, his hand resting on the side of your neck and his eyes searching your face.

His eyes flitted down to your lips again, perhaps settling on the now healed split in your bottom one. There was something pleading in the way he was looking at you, but somehow still dominant or powerful. You couldn’t quite find the right word… Like it was possible that he could consume you like the flames of a wildfire, but you knew he wouldn’t, at least not entirely. You felt nearly lightheaded despite having had perhaps two sips of your wine.

“You missed a spot,” you whispered to him… and he smiled. And it crinkled the corners of his eyes and set them alight. And the last of your reservations and hesitancy fell away as he leaned in, more hurriedly this time, and kissed you, tipping your chin up so your lips met his.

He kissed you with an unmistakable fire and need and you found yourself melting under his touch, yielding to his hands as they combed through your hair, tangling into it, and slipped down to grip your shoulders and smooth over the bare skin on your arms.

You reached for him and arched into his waiting body, your arms looping around his neck. Your fingers found their way into his hair as you kissed him back more heatedly, giving in to the need you too felt. The need to be touched and kissed and held by him, the need and desire you’d been warring with inside yourself since you’d felt that first spark of attraction months and months ago. Negan wrapped an arm around you and pressed the small of your back toward his body, tugging you against him, and smiling as you returned the kiss with more and more heat. He let out a hum and then a low chesty growl as your teeth dragged over his bottom lip and you fought him for more dominance.

“Easy, doll,” he warned you, separating just enough to speak. “Have you got any idea what you’re toying with right now?” he laughed. The man had hardly been touched in years and with every passing second, he wanted more and more to completely collide with you.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘doll’?” you asked, your voice breathy and low. You pulled back and met his eyes again and they were lust blown and starry, as you were sure yours were… but there was something else in them too. Some other something like tenderness. Heat was pooling in your chest and your heart was beating so hard and fast you were sure he could hear it.

Negan smiled. “I thought that had grown on you, but I guess we’ll have to find something more suitable,” he replied. He pulled back just a little and bit his bottom lip, considering you, that damn smile still on his face. “Hmm…” he hummed thoughtfully. “What do you want, baby?” His voice was deep and smooth as he said it, and you had a feeling the jerk knew exactly what that word would do to you.

A small smile started on your lips and then grew into a wide, jubilant one. Your arms were still around his neck “I want you to fucking kiss me again,” you said.

And he was more than happy to oblige, crashing his lips against yours in an almost bruising kiss. He could faintly taste red wine on your tongue and soon you were straddling over his hips on his lap, your hands clasping his face and running through his hair, drifting down to press a palm flat to his chest, his muscles rippling under your fingers. His hands drifted over the angles of your back and down to the curves of your hips and buttocks as he hummed into the kiss. Soon his hands hooked under your knees and he tipped you onto your back on the couch, suddenly leaning over you, caging you beneath him.

Both of you broke for a moment to catch your breath and Negan again kissed your forehead and your neck. His lips drifted across the scattered bruises there up to your jawline and then back to your lips. He pulled back again and caught your eyes, his expression intense but searching. “Is this too much too soon?” he asked you.

You smiled up at him again, still catching your breath. “Fuck no,” you breathed.

“Thank fuckin’ God,” he growled, before capturing you in a kiss again.

It didn’t take long before you were tugging his t-shirt over his head and he was freeing you of yours with an urgency of a man starved. He lifted you from the couch to press your skin to his as he peppered more kisses over your neck and down your collarbone, his fingers leaving hot trails on your skin.

Soon, the two of you were just flushed skin and crashed together completely, moving seamlessly with one another. Negan’s attention was intense and electric and it wasn’t long before he was pulling sinful and blissful sounds from you and you from him, your softness and curves driving him wild, every roll of your hips dragging him closer and closer to the edge. As you neared your peak and his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his fingers laced between yours, and the only things you could hear were your own pounding heart and his ragged breathing as the two of you crashed over your highs together.

“Fuck me, baby girl,” he growled, burying his face against your neck and into your hair and breathing in your smell. He felt like his heart was about to burst.

You let out a light laugh. “I just did,” you purred into his ear.

He pulled back, chuckling, and smiled down at you beneath him. “You ain’t wrong,” he said, smoothing some sweaty strands of your hair away from your face. He leaned in and kissed you softly this time, gently. “Fuck,” he sighed, sweeping a hand back through his hair and separating his heated skin from yours. He reached for a blanket folded over the back of a chair beside the couch and spread it over you, hooking a hand under your legs and laying them over his lap.

You were chewing on your thumbnail, a little stunned and bashful suddenly as you looked up at him.

“You need anything?” he asked you, smiling at the blush in your cheeks. “Glass of water? Towel? Lobotomy?”

You laughed and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Lobotomy?!”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling. His hands drifted over your legs and drew circles on your hot skin absently. They smoothed down to give you a gentle foot rub as he looked over at you. “Because you must be out of your tits to fuck Alexandria’s Most Hated… I can’t believe you did that. Someone is going to have to give you a talking to.”

You shot him a half-amused look and rolled your eyes. “God, you’re right… What the fuck am I doing here?” you joked, starting to pull away from him and stand up.

“Nuh uh uh!” he laughed, catching you around the waist and tugging you back against him. “I am nowhere near done with you, baby,” he growled into your ear. Your top teeth dented into the pillow of your bottom lip. “How about we go get you cleaned up in a nice hot shower… and then get absolutely filthy again?” he asked, kissing your neck.

Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“And then you’re staying the night with me,” he murmured, brushing your hair to one side and kissing down your neck and shoulder.

“Oh, I am?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely, you are,” he said. “I want to hold you until the sun comes up. It’ll be the first good night of sleep I’ve had in six fucking years.”

You smiled to yourself. “Mmm… I guess that sounds okay,” you teased him, feigning indifference.

“‘Okay’?” he growled. “Oh, darlin’, you shouldn’t have said that…”

You let out a surprised peal of laughter as he lifted you into his arms and headed for the bathroom.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You awoke gently to sun filtering in through sheer curtains, staining the whole room a shade of medium blue. Negan’s warmth and weight was tucked up behind you, his arm draped over your waist. He rolled onto his back beside you as you stirred and you turned over to look up at him. Your hand landed in the middle of his chest and he gave you a peculiar look, a cautious smile on his handsome face.

“Morning,” you said, tucking yourself in against him more tightly, soaking in his warmth.

“Good morning,” he replied. You could feel the deep reverberation of his voice beneath your palm. “You doin’ alright, darlin’?” he asked.

“Hmm? Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, a soft frown tugging at your lips.

“Well, I think part of me still expected you to roll over this morning and freak out at who was playing the big spoon,” he said.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and fixed a concerned expression on your face, looking up at him. “We’re going to have to work on your self-image, Negan,” you said. It pulled a laugh from him.

“Oh, are we, babe?”

“Yes!” you said seriously. “You have so much to offer. You’re more than your past.”

He sighed and gave you a more sincere, somewhat dreamy smile. “If you keep saying it, I might just believe it someday. Come here,” he said, pulling you back against him. You settled down under his arm, his hand landing on the dip of your waist. You tucked in against the crook of his neck. “Hey—one thing though. You can’t tell Daryl what we did on the couch last night. Or against the wall of the shower. Or at the side of the bed. Or the foot of the bed. Or—”

“Negan,” you sighed.

He laughed. “I’m just saying—he’s got this whole protective brother thing going on with you and I would like to remain alive and intact.”

“I can’t believe we’re in bed together right now and you’re bringing up Daryl,” you retorted.

“Hmm. That’s a fair point. Should we add another to my list of offenses?” he said, his hand drifting down to your thigh beneath the covers.

You laughed, heat already flushing in your chest and face. “Several, I think…”

“Several? You’ve got it, baby doll…” The End

[whoreofdilfs]

Words: 5,218 Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, Negan's mouth, violence, injury, fear and anxiety, frightening scenarios, Soft!Negan, Protective!Negan Summary: Negan has to figure out how to defend you when he's locked in his cell. A/N: This is the second to last chapter of this series!

Dante only laughed and walked over to the chair, scooping up your ring of keys off the seat. “Were you trying for these?” he asked, jingling them at Negan.

Negan stared back, a heavy shadow falling over his face. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I was.”

The silver of the keys glinted in Dante’s hand. Negan’s heart was pounding.

“Close, but not quite,” Dante said, pocketing them. His attention returned to you on the ground. Negan drifted along the bars to stand beside you as the doctor advanced. He crouched down and gently touched your face in a final attempt to wake you, but you didn’t stir. His eyes, narrowed and intense, landed on Dante again. If he could have burned a hole in that fucker’s face with his eyes, he would have been dead twenty times over. But Dante didn’t seem to notice.

The doctor stood over you completely still for a long moment. His expression and the feeling in the room, almost pulsing with tension, was unnerving. At length, he bent down and took hold of your ankles, dragging you away from Negan’s cell. Negan’s stomach churned as your head slipped off the blanket he’d tucked underneath it. The fabric was stained a deep, dark crimson. There was a bloody smear left on the floor where the wound from hitting the cell bars dragged along the cold concrete as Dante moved you.

“Hey—” Negan barked, gripping onto the bars with white knuckles. “What the fuck is going on?”

Dante straightened up and stared down at you before rubbing a hand over his mouth as if he was contemplating what to do. Then he looked up at Negan and smiled. He bent over you again and this time he rolled you onto your back. Your head lolled to the side like a rag doll and Negan’s stomach twisted again.

Dante stood over you, staring down again in a way that had Negan’s skin crawling. “It’s almost a shame,” he said, sighing as he bent over you again. “She’s pretty easy on the eyes.”

Negan felt his entire body, every fiber of himself revolting as Dante suddenly latched his hands around your neck violently and began to compress them, squeezing. He was shaking with the effort. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!” Negan roared. In just a few seconds, which felt excruciatingly long, Negan saw you begin to stir and he realized that you’d woken up. Your brain, suddenly aware that you weren’t pulling in any oxygen, had kicked you into survival mode, probably dumping adrenaline and all kinds of chemicals into your bloodstream to wake you up. “Hey!” Negan yelled again, a vain attempt to distract Dante.

You came to and began to struggle beneath his grip. Your boots slid against the concrete frantically and kicked as you writhed around, trying to get any purchase on the floor to get up, to reposition yourself to fight. But he was over you and had control. You clawed at his hands and arms, trying to pry him off your neck. Your eyes were wide and panicked and your face was turning red and then purple. You reached up in an attempt to scratch his face, to get his eyes, to do anything but Dante pulled back, avoiding your groping fingers. He lifted you slightly off the ground and then slammed you down onto the concrete, jarring you. The back of your head hit the floor hard. He did it again and again as you tried to fight. Your attempts got weaker and weaker, and all the while Negan was yelling, trying to distract Dante, trying to get him to let go. He was completely helpless, powerless to do anything, watching you die right in front of him, out of reach.

A few more moments and you were struggling to stay conscious again. Your face went from red to purple. Negan watched in horror, helpless, as you went limp again with Dante’s hands still around your neck. He looked around for something to use to throw but his scant cell had nothing that could even remotely be used as a weapon. Finally, his eyes landed on the tennis ball beside his boot. He stuck his arm through the bars and threw it as hard as he could at the side of Dante’s head. It struck him and bounced off. “Hey! Dr. Kevorkian!” Negan roared. To his surprise, Dante turned and looked at him slowly, and his hands lifted off you, still shaking slightly from the strain of throttling and fighting you.

You, however, stayed completely still, unconscious on the floor. The marks on your neck, raw and crimson and somehow looking almost bruised already, glared up at Negan. His heart felt like it was about to explode in his chest. Blind panic was threatening to overwhelm him. He had to get a hold of himself. He had to, if he hoped to save you. He drew in a deep breath and forced his mind to quiet. Think. Think. How the fuck could he deal with this fucker when he was locked up?

Dante straightened up, out of breath from the effort of you fighting him, and he stared right at Negan.

“You mind telling me what in the ever-loving holy fucking hell is happening right now?” Negan asked, forcing his voice to not betray his true fear and panic.

Dante wiped a dot of saliva from the corner of his mouth and stared down at you again beneath him for a moment, his chest heaving. Then, he looked back at Negan.

“I’m gonna kill this bitch. Slowly,” he breathed. “And then I’m gonna kill you. And I’m gonna tell everyone you did it, and I had to put you down,” he said, smiling. “Oh, sure, everyone will be real sad to lose Y/N here. She is a member of the council after all… but who the fuck is going to be care that you’re dead? I’ll say I tried to stop you but I was too late. And if people weren’t already divided over Michonne keeping you alive, how do you think they’re going to feel after this?” He laughed again. “No one will trust Michonne’s judgement anymore. Daryl will be broken to lose one of his closest family members. The council will dissolve. It’ll be a real shame what happens to Alexandria after that… And I’ll be here still, chipping away at it, helping it along.”

Calm. He had to stay calm. Negan gathered himself and then smirked at Dante through the bars. “That’s your plan?” he asked, throwing in a low chuckle as he stretched his tall frame out, leaning with his forearm against the bars just over his head, trying hard to look carefree. “I mean—you can try to kill me. That’s the first flaw in your grand scheme. I didn’t end up in here for playing fucking nice. I used to bash people’s heads in with a bat but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself without sweet little Lucille perched on my shoulder,” Negan said lazily. “Now, your second problem—” he started, watching carefully for Dante’s reaction. He smiled when he saw a flash of curiosity on Dante’s face. “—is that you have not known these fuckers anywhere near as long as I have. If you think you’re going to murder me and Y/N’s fine ass here, plant your little seeds of doubt, and water them with just a sprinkling of grief and come strolling home to a garden bursting with blooms of anger and division… I’ve got some bad fucking news for you, friend. That is not enough to get these people to tear this place apart from the inside out. Trust me, I’ve tried! Exhibit A: my goddamn current situation! When shit gets hard, these fuckers circle the goddamn wagons and somehow come back swinging. They are like a bad case of herpes. As soon as you think they’re gone, poof! They’re back! Trust me, it is fucking annoying, thing but they are resilient as fuck! It’s gonna take a little more than one bad inmate to tear this place down.”

Dante actually seemed to be listening intently. Negan felt some smug satisfaction that when he needed to switch it on, he could still switch it on… He hazarded a glance back at you lying on the floor behind Dante. You were unmoving, but breathing. He could see your chest rising and falling shallowly.

“So, let me guess. You’re going to tell me not to murder Y/N,” Dante said suddenly, suspicious.

Negan pulled a face and shrugged. “No, no, by all means, murder Y/N! Hell, I’ll fuckin’ help you! You think I’ve got any kind of warm and fuzzy feelings toward anyone here? They destroyed my fucking home, my community. I was king of my castle and having a grand old time. They’ve kept me locked up like an animal in here for six fucking years. And Y/N here is my most recent jailor. I can’t take a piss without asking her permission… Besides, you have to kill her now anyway because she woke up and saw you choking the life out of her... But I think the next part of the plan needs some adjustment.”

Dante glanced back at you, making sure you weren’t coming around again. He knew you were still alive. He was a doctor after all. It took time to strangle someone. As much as six minutes sometimes… and he knew you had begun to breathe again as soon as he lifted his hands. But he wanted to kill you slow. He liked the power, the fear, the control of it. He wanted you to suffer. He felt all of you, every one of you with your bloated egos deserved it.

Negan whistled a low two-toned note to get Dante’s attention again. “You still with me, doc?” he asked, smiling. Dante met his eyes again, so Negan went on. “I can help you. I think we can help each other. We kill Y/N here, and I help you make her disappear. A missing member of the council is a mighty fine distraction, don’t you think? I mean, hell—they’ll be sending search parties out to all ends of the earth looking for her. Spreading themselves thin… Meanwhile, on the home front, two determined assholes chipping away at Alexandria from the inside is better than one,” he smiled. “I’ve got plenty of reasons to want to see this place fall, and if that’s your goal then I’m fuckin’ in.”

“Why do I need you at all? I could kill her and make her disappear myself,” he retorted.

Negan shrugged and nodded. “Sure. If you think you can carry her corpse outta here and conceal it all on your own without anyone noticing something is amiss. Carrying a dead body isn’t exactly easy peasy lemon squeezy, especially when you’re on the clock. It sure as shit would be easier and faster with two people. We can probably get this shit done before the rest of Alexandria even wakes up. But,” he held his hands up and shrugged, “your call. If you’d rather fight her and then risk someone walking in while you fight me—because I promise you, I will not go down easily—that’s your choice. But I think there’s a way for this whole thing to work out the best for the both of us and I’m happy to get onboard.”

Dante stared at him. Negan could almost see the working of his mind. He hoped that his expression wasn’t giving away the sheer panic he was barely suppressing. If Dante didn’t buy in… you were dead and he was powerless to stop it.

But to his relief, the next moment. Dante reached into the pocket of his white coat and Negan heard the keys metallic tinkling as he closed a hand around them.

Negan grinned and clicked his tongue. “I knew you were smart,” he said, leaning on the bars again.

Dante approached and began fitting each key into the lock until he found the right one. It turned with a heavy scraping and thud as the bolt retracted. Dante stepped back and Negan grinned as he pushed the cell door open to sweet, sweet freedom.

Dante was standing over you again, his eyes focused on your face. The ring of keys was still clutched in his hand. Negan came to stand slightly behind him to the side and also looked down at your sprawled form. “Are you doing the job or am I?” Negan asked, rubbing his thumb over his lower lip.

Dante glanced sideways at him and stored the keys in his pocket again. “She’s mine,” he said.

Negan affected a low laugh. “Try not to enjoy it too much,” he said. Dante seemed to like that little comment, even while inside Negan felt sick, sick with rage, sick with the words he had to say, sick with how pale you looked lying still on the floor...

Dante bent over you and wrapped his hands around your throat again, squeezing, his hands shaking with effort. You came to again within seconds and started to fight, but your efforts were weak and you looked like you were trying to move through molasses. You managed to dig a fingernail into Dante’s wrist and thick blood drops dripped down onto you, staining your shirt.

Enraged, Dante drew back a hand and backhanded you across the face, still holding you down hard by your neck with the other, crushing you into the floor so you couldn’t escape him.

Those moments felt like an eternity passing as Negan waited until Dante was distracted enough for him to intervene. His eyes fell on the metal tray that had fallen off the chair to the floor and he hurriedly seized it, pulled it back and bashed Dante across the back of the head with it. The doctor let go of you and fell to the side on his hands and knees. “Breakfast is served, shitdick,” Negan growled. He tossed the tray down and it rang out on the concrete. He seized Dante by his white coat with two hands and hurled him to the side farther away from you, propelling his head into the cinderblock wall. Miraculously, he was still conscious when he fell to the ground. Negan hurriedly wound up and kicked him hard in the ribs. Dante gasped and curled over on his side from the force of Negan’s boot ramming into his ribs and stomach.

Negan’s eyes were dark with rage as he leaned over Dante again and gripped the front of his shirt, dragging him to his feet and shoving him back against the wall so hard his head slammed into it again and all the air left his lungs in a forced sound. “You’re a real fucking piece of shit, you know that? Can’t even take someone on in a fair fight without drugging them first,” he growled. “I fucking hate cowards. And I hate little shitdick cowards who hurt women for no goddamned good reason even more. Your teeny tiny itsy bitsy little balls are showing… Me on the other hand, my giant nut sack is made of Kevlar and I am not afraid of a man-on-man cage match. Shitty for you, because this one, you have fucking lost.” With that, he drew back a fist and punched Dante across the face and he kept hitting him, over and over, until the man went limp. Negan let go and his body crumpled like a wet towel.

Negan stood over him for a brief moment to make sure he was truly knocked out and then he rushed to your side, hitting his knees hard on the concrete at he fell to the ground beside you frantically. He cupped your face, noticing that you now had a split lip and red mark from Dante hitting you across the face. “Y/N? Come on. Open your eyes, doll. Come on, look at me!” Negan lifted you slightly, supporting your head and neck and gently shaking you, pulling you against him. He felt a warm, wet spot soaking his sleeve where the back of your head was resting against his arm. “Shit… You’ve got to wake up, darlin’!” He stroked the back of his fingers lightly over your cheek. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re okay…”

He stroked your hair gently, running his fingers through the silky strands, searching your face for any sign that you were rousing, but he saw none. The marks on your neck were terrifyingly dark. He could see that your skin was dotted with broken blood vessels. “Okay. Okay…” he breathed, looking around frantically. “Alright. I’m gonna get you some help,” he murmured to you. He set you down gently, cushioning your head again with the wool blanket. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead and he felt completely shaky, unsure if it was still from pure rage or the come down of adrenaline.

He stood and returned to Dante where he was slumped on the floor against the bottom of the wall. He rifled through the pockets of his white coat until he found the keys and then dragged him by his ankles into the jail cell, leaving him carelessly lying on the cold concrete.

“Enjoy your new home, shitstain,” Negan muttered as he locked the cell door, pocketing the keys. He rushed back to you and lifted you as carefully as he could. “Alright, darlin’. Just you and me now. Come on. You’re gonna be fine…” he breathed. He managed to get the outside door open with you in his arms and burst out into the sunshine.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Negan sat slumped in the folding chair beside you, absently running a hand over the stubble on his face. His eyes flickered back to you in the bed over and over again as anxiety ran through him like poison. You were going to wake up and be fine, he kept telling himself, but the wait was excruciating.

The marks on your neck glared back at him. Siddiq had stitched the split in your lower lip and your head wounds with the most delicate stitches he could, but the sight of them still made Negan’s blood boil.

Suddenly, you began to stir just a little on the pillow and Negan snapped upright, leaning forward and waiting to see your eyes open. You fought with your heavy eyelids but finally you blinked awake. It took a moment before you got your bearings and noticed him beside you.

“Negan,” you said softly. Your voice sounded gritty and thin, as if you had a bad sore throat.

Negan smiled at you, all the way up to the corners of his eyes, a soft one. “Hey, doll,” he said, clasping his hands between his bent knees as he sat forward on the edge of his seat.

You pulled in a few deep breaths and swallowed with some effort. Your throat felt raw and your head was pounding, but you were alive. “I thought I was dead,” you mused aloud. The smile on Negan’s face faded and he reached out and grabbed your hand gently, pressing it between his. You looked down at the contact as electricity seemed to crackle over your skin from his touch. It distracted you from the pain throbbing through your face and skull for a moment.

“Close. Too fucking close. But not on my watch, darlin’,” he said seriously.

“Dante—he—I went to get my hand checked and he—he dosed me with something—”

“I know,” he interrupted you. “But you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Daryl’s dealing with him right now, otherwise he’d be here too. He’s been driving me fucking nuts pacing the room and scowling,” Negan joked.

“What happened to—” Your voice cracked and Negan stopped you.

“Shh,” he soothed you. “If it hurts, don’t talk, doll,” he said, his brow knit.

You paused, your eyes flickering between his bright hazel ones. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you retorted immediately, breaking into the tiniest touch of a smile, but quickly stopping as it tugged at your stitches.

Negan rubbed your hand between his, his thumb gliding softly over the silky skin on the back of your hand. He chuckled. “There she is,” he said. He smoothed some stray strands of hair away from your face. “You’re alright,” he said.

“Negan,” you said again, and he let the sound of his name leaving your lips again wash over him. It dredged up an upwelling of emotion and he blinked at the glassiness overtaking his vision. “What—what happened? How’d you—?”

“Ahh, don’t worry about that. Just rest. Everything is alright,” he said.

Your eyes flickered over his face and he sighed because he knew you weren’t going to let it go. He pressed your hand between his again. “You don’t remember anything?” Some part of him seized up with fear that perhaps you had heard the kind of things he’d had to say to get Dante to trust him. But you shook your head. That was a relief… the words had tasted bitter and nauseating as he’d spoken them, and the last thing he wanted was for you to have heard them, perhaps internalized them.

“Not really. Just—I remember—waking up with his hands around my neck,” you said vaguely. “I remember trying to fight him off but it was like I was swimming through quicksand and then… like being dragged under dark water...” The hoarseness in your voice had Negan’s chest aching.

He nodded. “Yeah… I—got him to unlock my cell. Took some convincing… I had to say some fucked up shit to make it happen. Acted like we were allies,” he explained. “And then when I had the chance—I beat the fuck out of him,” he growled. You watched his face darken with the memory and you gulped.

Negan met your eyes and watched as tears began to fill them. He gently clasped your face with one hand, running his fingers through your hair with the other. “Hey—doll—you’re okay. You’re okay,” he said softly. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, but it’s all over.”

You sniffled and could feel your bottom lip quivering as you tried not to allow yourself to cry harder. You could only speak in a whisper this time, emotion constraining your voice. “Thank you,” you managed, your eyes flickering between Negan’s, looking golden and maybe even a little glassy too as he leaned over you and stroked your hair.

“You don’t have a thing to thank me for, darlin’,” Negan said emphatically. “I’m just glad I was there to take care of—”

There was the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat near the doorway and you looked over to see Daryl standing there. Negan fell back from you and sank down into his chair again, his fingers drifting away, grieving the growing space as it enlarged and left him feeling a little hollow.

You sniffled and smiled at Daryl as his face grew less stern, seeing you awake. He came straight to your bedside and sank down on the edge. He grabbed your hand in his and gave it a friendly squeeze, his blue eyes traveling over you, hitching on your injuries.

“Negan,” he drawled, not taking his eyes off you. “Wait outside a minute,” he said.

Negan got up without arguing and headed to the door, but he stopped at the threshold and looked back at you in the bed one more time before he stepped into the hallway.

Daryl sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “How ya feelin’?”

You gulped and shrugged a little. “Okay. Sore. Tired. My head is pounding.”

Daryl nodded. His eyes were continually drawn to the marks on your throat, red and raw but quickly darkening into bruises.

“Negan said you were with—with him,” you said.

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. I was. He’s locked up. Negan beat the shit out of him. I think his jaw is broken. Probably some ribs too. Fucker’s face and eyes are all swelled up. Looks like he got into it with a goddamn bee hive.”

You nodded and pulled in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Good,” you whispered.

“Look, if ya need some time, just lemme know. But I wanted to ask ya some questions,” Daryl said. “Ya need anything? Water? Ya warm enough?”

“No, I’m good. Ask me. It’s okay.”

Daryl nodded. “What do you remember about that morning? Negan said Dante drugged ya.”

You nodded. “He must have, because I felt completely fine before I went into the clinic. I went to get my hand checked out; from that gash I got on the run? Siddiq wasn’t there so Dante looked at it and then he gave me two pills. He said they were painkillers and would help with the swelling around the cut and the pain I was having. He was pretty insistent about me taking them. Then, I went to the pantry and prepared some food to take to Negan. I brought it down and then we were talking at his cell door and everything just started to go… strange and cloudy. And then I must have passed out?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Negan said ya just sunk into unconsciousness right in front of him. Ya hit yer head on the cell bars on the way down. And then it wasn’t long before Dante came walking in.”

A struck look hit you. “Right. He asked me what my plans for the day were. I told him I had to bring Negan breakfast, so he would have known I was there.”

“Yeah, or he coulda followed ya anyway. It was pretty early. Hardly anybody was up yet. Woulda been easy for him to keep his distance and watch ya. Fuckin’ creep…” he growled.

“Did—did you ask him why he attacked me?”

Daryl sighed heavily and nodded, his eyes flickering between yours. “Yeah. But he ain’t talkin’. He told Negan some things though.” Daryl considered you for a moment before he went on. “Ya sure yer ready to hear all this?”

“Please,” you asked softly, and Daryl relented.

“Negan said after you were unconscious and Dante came in, he started attacking you. You came to and started fighting back but eventually—uhh…” Daryl was having a hard time recounting it because of the swell of emotions rising in him. He wanted to march back to the cell and end Dante with his bare hands every time he looked at your injuries. He drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then went on. “You passed out again. Negan somehow got his attention and he let go of you. Negan said he talked his way out of the cell. Guess I dun disbelieve that. Fucker always could fuckin’ talk. Gettin’ him to shut up is the problem.”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at that, and Daryl’s worry eased a little. “True,” you agreed.

“Then, he waited for an opportunity and—it was over. After he got Dante into the cell and locked up, he came runnin’ out on the street yellin’ for help with you in his arms.” Daryl hung his head for a moment and had to steel himself as he remembered the scene. “Fuck, for a second I thought ya were—we all thought—”

You squeezed Daryl’s hand and he looked back up at you and his expression relaxed. “What did he tell Negan about why?”

Daryl shook his head. “He said, basically, he wants Alexandria destroyed. He picked you because yer on the council. It coulda been any of us. But why he wants Alexandria gone? Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. It ain’t happenin’.”

There was a thick pause as you turned over this information in your mind and you finally sighed and looked back up at Daryl. “Negan saved my life,” you said.

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. He did. For once, ‘m glad Negan was around. And I never thought I’d say that.”

You nodded and gave Daryl a weary smile. “I noticed you didn’t have him handcuffed or anything,” you said with some surprise.

“He ain’t goin’ anywhere. He’s refused to leave ya for a second. Bit annoyin’ actually… when I was tryin’ to question him. But there’s a guard at the door to the clinic. Ain’t nobody gettin’ in, and Negan ain’t gettin’ out.”

“What’s going to happen to Dante now?” you asked, a flush of anxiety washing over you like a dunk into hot water.

“Dun worry about that. Just rest. We’ll sort everything out when yer on yer feet, alrigh’? Ya sure ya dun need anything?” Daryl could see that you were fading toward sleep again. You shook your head. “Alright. If ya need somethin’, just holler, okay? I’m gonna be just down the hall talkin’ to Siddiq and Michonne.” You agreed and Daryl whistled. “Hey! Negan!” Negan appeared in the doorway looking anxious, but Daryl only tilted his head back toward the empty chair at your side and stood up. “Yer back on duty,” he drawled. He fixed a long stare on Negan as he made his way around your bed and sunk down in the chair again, but there was no tension in it for once. In fact, Daryl was almost looking at him with something like respect. Almost. Daryl took his leave.

Negan laced his fingers together and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes were searching your face and you stared back at him through bright eyes with heavy lids. “What’s the verdict?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“Am I still on Daryl’s shit list?” he joked, cocking an eyebrow up.

You laughed a little. “I think you will always be on Daryl’s shit list, Negan.”

He reached for your hand, his eyes still smiling at the corners. “Am I on your shit list, Y/N?” he asked softly, closing your hand in his so gently you thought you were imagining it at first, but you looked down at the contact between the two of you and saw your skin against his. It felt surprisingly right, easy.

Your voice was raw and strained, but your answer brought a wider smile to Negan’s face. “No.”

“Thank fuckin’ God,” he said, and then he did something you didn’t expect and he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the gentle curve of the back of your fingers. “Sleep now, doll. I’ll be right here.”

You shut your eyes and drifted off.

[whoreofdilfs]

Words: 4,988 Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, innuendo (duh, it's Negan), injury, fear and anxiety, frightening scenarios Summary: Returning after the run, Daryl gives Negan a talking to and things between Negan and the reader seem like they may have changed. A/N: oh shit, oh sHIT, OH SHIT Previous part

“Well, here we are again,” you sighed, tugging open the door of Negan’s cell.

“Home, sweet home,” he quipped, staring inside. He rubbed a hand over his short hair briefly, hesitating only for a moment before he stepped inside and turned to stand in the space where the door would soon close. “Can’t exactly say I’m glad to be back.”

You had your own mixed feelings again as you shut the door and the thunk of the heavy metal latch slid into place, securely locking him inside. What would be required for him to truly earn the next step of more freedom? He’d stayed when he could have run. Surely that was something, but uncertainty churned in your stomach. You paused, one of your hands coming to grip one of the bars. You could almost taste the tension like smoke in the air. “I—I just wanted to say—”

“—that you had a fucking amazing time out there with me and you’re completely heartbroken to see it end?” he interrupted, smiling at you. “Oh, and you regret not jumpin’ my bones while you had the chance, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling a little yourself. “I wanted to say thank you. I’m fully aware that the entire situation could’ve been—you could’ve made it much worse. You could’ve left. Hell, you could’ve probably killed me if you wanted to…”

Negan’s expression grew serious. “Like I said before, I don’t want to hurt you. And I have no intention of doing so.”

“Negan, if it came down to me or your freedom—”

“I wouldn’t,” he said strongly. “I already chose to stay, didn’t I? I’m—not even entirely sure why myself,” he laughed dryly. “Might regret that when I’m staring at these same four fuckin’ walls again in a few minutes.”

You felt your cheeks warm with an inexplicable flush again and you had to break the gaze between the two of you. “Well,” you said, dropping your grip on the bar, “thank you, Negan.”

He couldn’t help smiling when you said his name and he leaned forward on the bars now himself at the same moment you drew back. “Have I told you that I love the sound of my name leaving your lips, darlin’? Say it again,” he grinned. “I’m gonna imagine all kinds of scenarios in my head where you’re sayin’ my name as soon as you’re out of here…”

“Stop,” you reprimanded him.

“Aw, come on! You’ve gotta give me a little play here. Was I not a total gentleman on the outside? I kept my hands completely to myself on our dinner date.”

“Dinner date? That’s what you’re going to call heating up MREs while we were trapped in a basement with a mummified dead guy?”

He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face, chuckling a little. “Yeah! It seems pretty on-brand for the apocalypse. And by the way—don’t think I wasn’t tempted to get a little handsy. You were wearing my spare layer after all, and it’s only natural that I thought about what it’d be like to take it off of you and keep going.”

“Enough, Negan!” you snapped, completely aware that your face had to be bright red from the feeling of the heat washing over you. “Jesus!”

“Too far?” he asked, still grinning.

You ignored him. “Daryl is gonna bring you lunch.”

“Daryl? Wait—why?”

You were already heading toward the door but you turned to look back at him, continuing your progress out with a few backwards steps. You shrugged. “Dunno. He said he wanted a word with you.”

Negan swore under his breath. “Shit… He’s probably gonna give me another lecture.”

You smiled and shrugged. “Probably. I’d behave if I were you, if you ever hope to see four different walls again. I’ll see you this evening.”

“Hey! Wait!” he called after you once more as your hand was on the door. “You should go get that hand looked at. Even if they can’t stitch it, you should make sure it’s not infected! I mean look at the state of the bandage, doll.”

You did glance down at it and it was grey with dirt and dust. “Yeah, alright. I will. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

It wasn’t long before Daryl came thudding into the room with a tray for Negan. Negan looked up from his seat on his cot and rested his book (one of the ones you’d brought for him) over his knee.

The archer put the tray down and kicked it through the slot a little abruptly, sloshing some of the water out of the cup. Negan cast his eyes up toward Daryl’s scowl. He saw the muscle in his jaw tense. He couldn’t help smiling at him. “Problem?” he asked.

“Might be,” Daryl drawled, crossing his arms, “if ya ain’t careful.”

“Oh, I’m always careful, Daryl,” Negan said, leaning back as if at his ease.

“I saw the way ya were lookin’ at Y/N out there today.”

The smile on Negan’s face faded slowly. “How was I looking?”

“You know how and I know how,” Daryl growled, pointing at him emphatically through the bars.

Negan shrugged and tried to play it off, but his heart was hammering nervously in his chest.

“I dunno what happened out there or what you think is happenin’ with Y/N, but ya better watch yerself, asswipe. If I hear of the slightest thing that’s off, if I suspect any of this ‘good behavior’ shit is an act, tha’s it. It’ll be the end of all your free time outside of these bars. Ya can rot in here for all I care. Ain’t like ya dun deserve to. And if I find out that yer tryin’ to pull some bullshit over on Y/N, if yer tryin’ to manipulate yer way outta this cell—I’ll kill ya myself.” His blue eyes were fierce and sharp and Negan gulped uneasily beneath them.

“Daryl—”

“Nah,” he snapped. “I dun give a shit about a thing ya gotta say. ‘M just warnin’ ya, Negan. Got it?”

Negan licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Oh, I’ve got it hotrod,” he said, following it up with a smirk, just to annoy Daryl.

“Good.” And he stalked out.

The day got away from you, mainly from sorting through the supplies, helping with the rationing, and getting yourself cleaned up after the long ordeal outside the walls and a little better rested. It was already evening before you remembered you’d meant to stop into the clinic about your hand. Anyone in the clinic surely would have left for the night already, and since it wasn’t a pressing issue, you decided instead to change the dressing yourself and check in with Siddiq in the morning.

Instead, you got a tray of food ready and headed back down the dim street toward the jail. When the door swung open you saw Negan standing at the small window of his cell, trying to perhaps soak in the last bit of light as the sun went down. He had his small lantern lit already and it cast everything in a warm orange glow. He turned at the sound of your footsteps and greeted you with a small smile before ambling over toward the cell door, hands in his pockets.

“You alright?” you asked, sensing something in the air.

“Peachy, doll,” he said. “Daryl and I had a swell chat earlier.”

You sighed heavily and gave him an apologetic look. “I hope he wasn’t too tough on you. I told him you were a huge help outside the walls.”

“Oh, he just threatened to kill me again is all,” Negan said, sinking down on the floor close to the door, fiddling with the empty water cup on the tray. “No big deal.”

You set his full dinner tray down on the chair beside you and copied his position on the floor outside the bars. “He’s—just protective. We’ve been through a lot together.”

Negan chuckled. “Protective is an understatement,” he said, scratching at his beard thoughtfully, leaning back with his palms on the cold floor. “I can’t blame him though. A guy like me with a history like mine? I probably deserve more than a little threatening.”

You gulped, feeling torn about agreeing with him or not, so you stayed silent. That divided feeling that sat somewhere deep in your chest was becoming familiar. There was a beat of silence and Negan could read worry on your face. He wanted to pull you out of it.

“Hey—you look great, doll,” he said softly. It was almost a whisper.

You glanced up at him, one of your eyebrows arching up in a question. Then you glanced down at yourself and laughed. “I showered and changed into clean clothes. It’s not like I’m in a ballgown, Negan.”

“You don’t need to be. I’d take you covered in walker guts if the opportunity presented itself,” he said with a grin.

You winced. “Gross,” you retorted. “I think you have issues.”

“Unequivocally,” he agreed. “Doesn’t mean what I said isn’t true.”

You shook your head and sighed a little. Over his shoulder, you noticed the book sitting open on his cot. “Which one did you go for?” you asked, nodding toward it.

“Oh, the western, of course. Cowboys and damsels in distress? Shoot-outs? ‘This town ain’t big enough for the both of us?’ Fuck yeah,” he said, glancing back at you, still smiling. “Thanks again, for bringing me those by the way. It’s a big improvement over the one I’ve read fifteen fuckin’ times.”

You hated that you noticed the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled and the deep dimples in his cheeks, nearly hidden in the scruff of his beard. You ducked your head, nodding and trying to clear your throat of the inexplicable tightness that had materialized there. “No problem.” Your eyes landed again on the lunch tray sitting by the slot. You were about to reach for it when you caught sight of the pebbly red shapes still on the plate. You frowned. “You didn’t touch your raspberries,” you said, nodding toward the tray in front of Negan.

“Yeah, actually, I saved them for you,” he said, nodding toward them. “You said they’re your favorite and since the crop was bad this year from the drought... you should have them. You deserve them more than me.” He nudged his tray slightly back toward the slot so you’d be able to reach them if you slipped your hand through.

You looked at him curiously for a moment, a little surprised by this particular consideration, and then reached your hand through to grab one. Before your fingers could touch the ruby red fruit, you let out a small gasp of surprise as Negan’s hand closed softly around yours. He hadn’t moved quickly. On the contrary, it was slow and fluid but you were somehow still shocked by the sudden contact. His touch was warm and gentle. His thumb smoothed over the back of your hand and slipped underneath to your palm. He turned your hand palm up so it rested in his and his thumb traced the lines from your wrist up toward your fingertips then drifted back down and pressed lightly into the concave center of your palm and ghosted up the graceful shape of your thumb. You were frozen, stunned by his touch, your lips slightly parted and your eyes a little wide, a little hesitant and questioning. You felt as if your heart had stopped and your lungs refused to work. You were finally able to tear your eyes from your hand in his, back up to meet his gaze. His expression, his hazel eyes were astonishingly soft.

“‘M sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to startle you. I couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, drawing his hand back from yours. His eyes searched yours, trying to read what you were thinking. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that since I bandaged up that other hand of yours. You have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve really had any human touch?” Your hand hovered in the air for a moment once his fingers left, and Negan picked up the remaining berries and dropped them into your palm. Your skin was still tingling from the contact and you couldn’t be sure if your heart was beating or not.

You blinked, trying to break whatever spell had settled over you, and then hurriedly grabbed his empty tray and got to your feet, nearly stumbling back from the bars.

Negan rose slowly, watching you carefully, suddenly anxious. “You alright, doll? Was that—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off quickly. “I just—I should go,” you said hastily. You grabbed the tray with his evening meal off the chair beside you and pushed it through the slot where it hit the toes of Negan’s boots.

He nodded, his eyes narrowed as he tried to read what was going on in your head. “Okay. Hey—before you go, what’d the doc say about your sliced up hand anyway?”

“Oh, uhh—I didn’t get over there today. Just—got busy. I’ll go by in the morning,” you said, already backing out toward the door.

Negan nodded. You looked half-frantic and he felt another pang of anxiety. Perhaps that had been too much… “Y/N—Look, I’m sorry if that was—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m fine! It’s all fine,” you said hurriedly, your heart racing now. You felt slightly light-headed.

“Are you sure? Because I think you turned those raspberries into jam,” Negan said, glancing down at your hand and there was red juice dripping out between your fingers and dotting the floor. In the low light, you could’ve mistaken it for blood.

“Shit,” you swore, looking at the remnants in your hand. “Fuck me, what a mess… I—I’ll clean that up… later.”

Negan watched, perplexed and worried as you hurriedly left without another word, his brow furrowed heavily over his hazel eyes. Fuck. Had he royally fucked up? Maybe he’d be seeing Daryl sooner rather than later…

_ _ _ _ _ _

You’d hardly slept. You were overwhelmed by what you’d felt when Negan had simply held your hand in his, had run his fingers over the underside of your wrist and across the back of your hand. Your stomach was churning and you were unsettled all night, tossing and turning on your mattress and staring up at the ceiling watching the shadows change while sleep evaded you.

Fuck. This was a mess. What the fuck were you thinking? No—better question: what the fuck were you feeling? This was Negan. The man who had psychologically tormented your entire group, who had wielded the bat and murdered two of your beloved family members in front of you, who had tortured Daryl and nearly starved your community, who had ordered his men to shoot your people with poisoned arrowd.

But another voice answered. He’s not the same though, is he? He’s not him. Not anymore. You know he’s different.

It doesn’t matter. He still did all those things.

It does matter. Or do you not believe in redemption? In rehabilitation? In hope? If there’s no chance of redemption, shouldn’t you all have just killed him after the war? Why keep him alive now if there’s no future for him even if he is changed?

Fuck!

You kicked the covers off and rubbed your hands over your face as you sat up on the edge of the bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You looked down at the bandage on your hand and remembered his concern outside the walls, not just for himself but for you. And he stayed. Surely that meant something.

Fuck.

You headed into the bathroom and poured some water into the basin, splashing it as best you could over your face with your uninjured hand. Better just start the day. Sleep wasn’t coming. You just needed to put what you felt, whatever that was that you felt, aside and do your job. Compartmentalize. You could do that. Right? You were wracked with self-doubt. Maybe you should stop before this went any farther… Maybe you should go back to Michonne and Daryl and tell them—tell them… what? That you somehow were developing feelings for Negan? Fuck. No. No, you couldn’t do that. You could handle this. It wasn’t a big deal. It was one touch. You could compartmentalize. It’d all be fine…

Your train of thought was interrupted by a throbbing in your injured hand and you were grateful it gave you something else to focus on. Right. You’d better get it checked out. You pulled on some clothes and headed for the clinic.

The door was unlocked, which was a good sign that at least someone was in. You heard movement from the back as you walked in and Dante called out, “I’ll be right there!” from somewhere among the supply shelves.

You paced around for a moment and finally settled against a nearby exam table. He came breezing out in his white coat with a clipboard in his hand and greeted you with a smile.

“Sorry about that! Inventory, you know? Still my least favorite chore, but pretty important nowadays. So, what brings you in?”

“Oh, um, is Siddiq here by chance?” you asked. You knew Siddiq well from the council and generally were more comfortable with him.

Dante clicked his tongue. “He’s not in yet. Between the two of us, I’m the earlier riser so I usually come in first. Must be left over from my time in the military,” he explained with a good-natured smile. “If you’d like to come back later today, he’ll be in for sure. Otherwise, I’m happy to help now if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s no big deal. We’re just close from the council and everything. Thought I’d say hi. I’d rather just get it looked at, I guess. It’s just this gash on my hand from the run the other day and I just figured I should get it checked out and make sure it’s not infected or anything.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. “Let’s take a look.” You started to unwrap the bandage as he set out a few items. “What’d you cut it on?” he asked.

“A sharp corner or something on a metal bracket,” you said.

“Oof,” he said, peeling off the last bit of gauze as the injury came into view. “Got yourself pretty good there! Well, let’s clean it up and have a look. This may sting a bit.”

“We flushed it out and cleaned it after it happened. It did take a while for it to stop bleeding. I was worried it'd need stitches.”

“I’m not surprised! It’s pretty deep!” he said, tossing aside the used alcohol swabs. “Any pain still? I mean, when you aren’t bumping it or trying to use this hand?” he asked, giving you a knowing look.

You shrugged. “Maybe a bit. It’s throbbing a little this morning. It’s not infected, is it?”

He examined it more closely and finally sighed and shook his head. “I don't think you have an infection, no, but it does look a little inflamed and irritated. You should be taking it easy with this,” he instructed you. “Try to limit use while it’s healing. And I’m gonna give you some anti-inflammatory pain meds that should help with any discomfort and the swelling—”

“Oh, no. Really, it’s not bad. I’m fine,” you tried to argue.

He smiled and shook his head. “Always having to act like a badass, Y/N. You and Daryl! Never taking medical advice,” he laughed. “Come on. Doctor’s orders,” he said. “I’ll be right back with them. Trust me. It’ll help.” He returned quickly with a cup of water and a couple pills for you.

You relented, seeing that he was going to insist, and took them before he re-dressed your hand.

“Big plans today?” he asked, skillfully finishing the bandaging with clean dressings.

You shook your head. “No. The usual. I need to head over to get Negan’s breakfast to him.”

“Good. That shouldn’t be too strenuous on the hand,” he laughed. “Alright. All finished up. Do you want me to let Siddiq know you were looking for him?” he asked, pulling off his gloves.

You waved him off. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other soon. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. And I mean it, take it easy with that hand! Let it heal up! Come back and see me if you have any more problems.” You waved goodbye to Dante and thanked him once more before you left. Alexandria was just starting to wake up, and you headed to grab a few things from the pantry and prepared something to take down to Negan. You wondered if he was even awake yet. He hadn’t slept while you’d been outside the walls. He might be sleeping still. Maybe you should wait… The sun was just streaking the morning sky with pinks and oranges. Your stomach flipped as you again thought of what had happened last night and you did your best to swallow down your anxiety. Were you just trying to postpone seeing him? You groaned internally at yourself.

Fuck it. What did it matter if he was awake or not? You had his damn breakfast ready you might as well just drop it off.

You unlocked the outside door and pushed inside. Turns out, he was already awake, laying on his back on his cot and bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and catching it on the rebound. He sat up hastily as you came in and looked at you hesitantly, like he was trying to read your expression carefully.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you returned. You set the full tray down on the chair outside his cell and retrieved the one sitting empty from the night before. Negan got up and slowly wandered toward the bars, tossing the tennis ball back and forth between his hands. You swapped out the empty tray for the one with his breakfast on it and straightened up, surprised to see him maybe a little over a mere foot from you, separated only by the bars. His eyes were flickering over your face and his expression was heavy and serious. You cleared your throat and gulped. “What?” you asked nervously.

“I just wanted to say—about last night—”

You lifted a hand to cut him off. “Negan—”

“—if that was too much or too sudden or—I’m sorry if—”

“Negan, let’s just forget about it,” you said, crossing your arms and avoiding his brilliantly hazel eyes.

He stopped trying to talk over you and licked his lips, pursing them thoughtfully for a moment. Your posture was guarded, but he forged ahead anyway. “Is that what you want? To forget about it?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Is that what you want?” he asked again.

Just answer. Why couldn’t you get the answer out. Just say ‘yes.’ “I—”

His eyes were still flickering between yours and then journeying down to your lips. Your heart started to pound in your chest. “It’s just a simple question, doll. If that’s what you want—” he shrugged, “then we’ll forget about it.”

You were trying to answer, trying to dredge up a response when you suddenly felt dizzy and lifted a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You felt sick. You felt off. Something wasn’t right.

“…Doll?”

You reached out to grip one of the bars of Negan’s cell to steady yourself. It felt like the floor was slanting.

“Hey, hey—look at me, darlin’. What’s going on?”

You shook your head in an attempt to clear the growing fog. “I—I don’t know. I feel—dizzy and—”

Negan’s alarm increased as all the color seemed to drain from your face in an instant. “Hey, why don’t you sit down? You don’t look so good. Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Negan’s voice sounded like it was coming out of a drain in another room. It was warped and muffled and your equilibrium seemed to have all but disappeared. You were having a hard time keeping your eyes open and staying on your feet. The whole room was tilting.

“Hey! Y/N? Talk to me! Can you hear me? Sit down! You look like you’re about to faint! Look at me, darlin’!”

But Negan watched with horror as your body suddenly went limp and you pitched forward. He did what he could to try to stop your fall through the bars, but there wasn’t much he could do. He was in no position to be able to support you as you fell. Despite his best efforts, your head collided with a bar near the bottom of his cell and then you lay still on your stomach, crumpled on the floor.

“Oh, fuck! Shit! Y/N?” Negan shoved his tray out of the way and knelt down, reaching through the bars to caress your hair away from your face and lightly pat your cheek in an attempt to rouse you. “Y/N, you’ve gotta wake up, doll! Come on! Wake up! Open those beautiful eyes and look at me!” He gently lifted your head and his stomach clenched as he saw blood running down the side of your face and dripping onto the floor. “Open your eyes, darlin’! Look at me! Come on!” There was no response from you, no sign that you could hear him or were at all coming back to consciousness. “Fuck! Fuck!!” he growled, panicked, looking around for something to help—but how could he? He was locked in a fucking cell.

That’s it! Keys! You had to have your keys! Maybe he could get them and get out and help you—get you to help. He was about to start patting your pockets when he caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye sitting on the seat of the chair outside his cell, well out of reach.

“Fuck!” He hung his head, his mind spinning frantically. “Y/N? Come on, you’ve gotta wake up!” He gently shook you by your shoulder, but still, you didn’t rouse. He trained his eyes on your back and could at least see that your breathing seemed steady, if a little shallow. He was afraid to move you too much. He rushed to the small window. “HEY! HELP! WE NEED HELP IN HERE!” he roared as loud as he could, banging on the glass, but unless someone happened to walk by, there was little hope of anyone hearing him through the thick pane. The window was shut and locked up tightly. “FUCK!”

“Okay… Okay,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Keys. I have to get the keys… what can I—what can I use?” He stood and searched his cell. He had nothing. He had nothing that could reach… He needed something long enough to reach the chair and it wasn’t like he had a walking stick or wire hangers or even a goddamn belt in his cell. His eyes finally settled on his cot. He quickly snatched the wool blanket off the top and ran back to the bars. He extended his arm out between two of the bars as far as he could and flipped the blanket up onto the seat of the chair. It landed on his empty evening tray which you’d set aside there. He pulled back slowly and the tray moved slightly before the blanket slid off. The keys were still sitting behind the tray near the back edge of the seat. He had to be careful not to knock them off the back… if he did, it’d be completely hopeless.

He tried again with the blanket, frantically. And again. And again. And, finally, the tray fell to the floor with a clatter, but your heavy ring of keys was sitting stubbornly still.

He constantly stopped and checked on you, called your name, smoothed his hand over your hair, and tried to wake you. But you stayed totally still, unconscious. He grabbed another blanket off his bed and cushioned your head but was too afraid to try to move you much more.

He returned to the wool blanket and had just flicked it onto the chair again when the outside door pushed in. Negan froze and looked up at the figure that had just entered. At first, he felt a wash of relief. “Hey—doc! You’ve gotta help her. She just collapsed—fainted or something,” he said, straightening up. “It wasn’t me, I swear. I don't know what the hell happened.” He dropped his blanket by his side and gripped onto the bars, his voice and expression urgent.

But Dante didn’t rush into action. Instead, he stared down at your crumpled figure on the floor and then casually checked the time on his watch. Negan looked on, confused, as Dante smiled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Negan demanded. "You're suppose to help her!"

“She’s right on time,” Dante said, casually pacing forward to stand over you.

Negan’s teeth clenched together. “Aren’t you going to help her?!” he asked, incredulous.

Dante only laughed, a chilling sound, and walked over to the chair, scooping up your ring of keys off the seat. “Were you trying for these?” he asked, jingling them at Negan.

Negan stared back, a heavy shadow falling over his face. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I was.”