Squealing And Kicking My Feet As I Read This!

Y’all gonna make me feel old.

it used to be 2007 you know

Man over the radio: I have one of your friends.

Y/N: Which one?

Man over radio: The annoyingly quiet, growling one.

Y/N: Oh. You have my boyfriend. He’ll be okay.

Man over radio: Now, let’s talk trade.

Y/N: Why? He’s gonna be loose and stab you in three, two—

-Radio silence-

Daryl over radio: Could’a at least pretended to be worried.

Y/N: See you at home.

CUTE

Midday naps and business meetings.

boyfriend! Daryl x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive

Word count: 522

Copyright © 2023 r66dus on Tumblr. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format or translation.

REQUEST INFO || Masterlist

He came home from doing whatever he had to do that day and got in through the basement door to find you napping on the couch he had slept in alone at night before you two admitted your feelings to each other.

You were always cold and he found so heartwarming the fact that you’d curl up in a ball to sleep when he wasn’t there. He took the book you were reading from your hands to set it on the table before kissing your forehead tenderly.

Taking his shirt and shoes off, he grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair to cover you with before laying next to you. The closeness from his bare chest woke you up with a startle.

“Shit!” You whisper-shouted.

“Shhh ‘s just me sunshine. Go back t’ sleep” he reassured with honey in his voice. Daryl did this often, he’d come home to find you asleep and lay next to your sleeping body. The archer would rarely fall asleep in the middle of the day but he craved the proximity so he stayed for as long as your sleep lasted. Sometimes this was more intimate than sex.

“Hmm did I fall asleep?” you mumbled definitely still asleep.

“Mhm, ya still are” he affirmed with a soft throaty chuckle while playing with the ends of your hair and admiring your features.

You moved your hand to feel him, mostly to confirm he wasn’t the product of a vivid dream “Mmm and you’re half naked” you paused, cracking one eye open to check what your fingertips felt, his naked chest “bold move Dixon. Getting in bed with a taken woman, didn’t take you for that kind of guy”

He chuckled lowly, the kind of chuckle that came from within, laced with adoration and love. You never really had a filter to what you said but sleep was definitely a stronger form of alcohol for you, you also adored flirting with him and watching his reaction. Your flirting was also a welcomed form of reassurance for him.

“Go back to sleep woman” he trailed off covering your now open eyes with a loving hand when you began looking him up and down with a teasing smirk. His eyes softened when he smiled at your behavior, god how he adored you, even when you made his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. You were enjoying this far too much despite having been dead asleep minutes prior.

“I will!” You said laughing at his actions. Then, you removed his hand and kissed it before he hugged you closer with it by the waist “and when I wake up, you can take off the other half, do we have a deal?”

“I guess we do” he agreed, nudging his nose against yours, prompting you to tilt your head up to kiss your lips amorously and caress your cheek with his thumb. Once the kiss started turning into a make out session you both pulled away with somewhat of a saddened sigh from the loss of contact but stayed close enough so he could hear your whispers.

“Love doing business with you”

You Are Sunshine

Long time lurker, first time writer... fanfic writing is new to me, please be kind!

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol and loss

This is all fluff, I hope you enjoy!

Daryl x reader (no gender specific descriptions)

Word count: 1800

Summary: you and Daryl exchange gifts and you learn how he feels about you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was warm, slightly too warm if you’re being honest, and you’re beginning to regret the heavy knit sweater you decided to wear to the party. You don’t know why you didn’t realize how warm the living room of the Grimes’s Alexandria house would get when all these people – your family – gathered together. The living room was big, but with this many people and the fire roaring, the space felt small and stuffy. You could crack a window, but your best guess told you it was no higher than 25 degrees outside, now that the sun had set, and you could imagine the groans and complaints about the draft. Instead, you just roll your sleeves up as high as they could go, and take a sip of your drink in hopes that it would make you more comfortable. You choke a little as you remember you’d poured yourself a whiskey, and prepare for the heat that gulp would send radiating from your stomach to the rest of your body. You wouldn’t be here much longer anyway, it had to be close to midnight, Judith and Carl had already gone to bed, and everyone finished exchanging gifts half an hour ago.

You loved this holiday, or at least what your group had turned it into. The idea came to you the first winter in the Prison. Everyone had been through so much, and it felt unresolved with the Governor still unaccounted for. The anxiety hung in the air. You called a meeting, making it known to everyone that if your math was correct, New Year’s Eve was just a couple of weeks away, and it was time to do something fun, something that felt normal, and something to celebrate your lives. You declared to the group that New Year’s Eve would officially be celebrated as a Christmas/New Year combo – a way to tell each other how glad you were they’d made it another year (of course with gifts), relaying how important to you they are, to celebrate the future you were planning together, and to remember and grieve those lost that year. You didn’t expect it to catch on quite as fervently as it did, you expected to awkwardly push for it each year – and you were willing to do that, it was that important you. The need never came, though, as each year everyone began talking about the gifts they were gathering before you even had to remind them the date was approaching.

The memories of the holiday celebrations of the past brought a smile to your face, and looking around now as everyone chattered together, you felt the sense of gratitude the celebration was meant to elicit, and not just because of the handful of gifts you’d been given. Looking at the small pile of scavenged goods and handmade items, and a massive cast iron skillet that Carol had gifted you (you’d be sure to make her something delicious in it soon), you remembered you still had one gift to give. Where is Daryl, anyway? You thought as you scanned the room – you’d seen him earlier sitting between Rick and Carol. Your eyes had met across the room, as they had been doing for months now, and you felt that flush in your stomach that you always felt. You’d both lingered in each other’s gaze for a minute, before Rick leaned over to talk to Daryl, and Maggie began asking you what seeds you’d received from Carl and comparing hers to see if either of you wanted to swap. That was at least 20 minutes ago, and you haven’t seen Daryl since. You run a hand on the back of your neck to wipe away some of the sweat your cowl neck was causing – it is sweltering in here now – and remember your idea to open a window. As you look toward the windows overlooking the front porch, you see him. He’s standing against a post on the porch, looking in at everyone. His gaze sweeps your way and your eyes do that meeting thing again – and, yep, there’s that heat in your abdomen that follows.

You grab the little wrapped package you left in your coat pocket as you head out the front door.

“Did you get as hot in there as I am?” you ask him as you stride up to him and lean against the railing of the front porch beside his post.

“Yeh, I jus’ needed a minute to cool off.” He replied, not turning away from watching the party inside.

“Well, I’m glad I caught you alone out here, I have a gift for you and if you hate it, at least everyone here won’t see you open it.”

He turns his head at that. “You got me a present?” he asks, and you can hear the surprise in his voice.

“I did. You are hard to shop for, you know? I don’t know anything about motorcycles and you’ve been wearing the same ratty vest since I met you. I have no idea if you will like this at all,” you drawl as you pass the parcel to him.

He looks you in the eyes for a few long seconds as he takes the gift from you. Your heart is already racing from the eye contact when he turns his attention to the small metal box he is unwrapping, and you begin to sweat as if you’re still inside that living room. This was a dumb idea, he is going to laugh at you, why did you even think this was a good gift?

“ ‘Spretty… what is it?” he sheepishly asks you, and you laugh.

“It’s a cigarette case,” you chuckle again as you take the box and pry it open from the right side, expanding it on its hinges to show the compartments inside. “Your packs always get so smushed in your pockets.”

You see a grin slowly spread over Daryl’s face – god, you love that grin – and he meets your eyes, and for the fourth time that night your heart wants to leap out of your chest. “ ‘sgreat,” he says, not looking away from you. “I love it.”

“Really? It’s okay if you don’t. You won’t hurt my feelings,” you lie to him, but he can already see on your face how happy you are to give it to him. There is no trace of a lie in his eyes as he replies, “really. I love it.”

“I got ya somethin’ too.”

Your brow furrows, “wait, really? You got me a gift?”

He nods, and reaches into his pocket to bring out a small velvet draw-string pouch. You shyly accept the pouch, carefully pull the opening apart, and lightly dump the contents into your palm. A dainty gold chain with an attached pendant falls out. You hold it up into the light from the window to examine it, and your breath catches. In the center of the pendant is an opal stone, rounded and displaying a shimmer of pinks and greens as you move it. The gem is nested in gold and surrounded by outstretched rays of tapered gold bars, uneven in length, each twinkling with small embedded diamonds.

“Was out with Aaron in some nearby towns, saw a jewelry store. Tha’ made me think of ya” Daryl breaks the silence while you study the necklace, your mouth open in disbelief. He shifts nervously on his feet.

“Daryl, it is absolutely gorgeous! It’s…it’s a sun?” you ask, finally looking up at him. He nods subtly. “A sun made you think of me? Because I think the world revolves around me?” you tease, nudging his arm a bit with your elbow.

“Nah… ‘cause tha’s you.” He says back, with a shy seriousness.

When you raise your brows in question, he continues, “Yer… warm. Ya bring warmth and brightness with you. You… ya seem to light up a room, and make this dark world...” he trails off, “Yer smile is sunshine. Yer sunshine.”

You want to gape at him – you are pretty sure you’ve never heard him speak that much before – but he is already avoiding your eyes in what looks like embarrassment, and gaping would definitely not help. You’re shocked by the revelation that he has feelings for you. Daryl feels what you have felt for him for months. You wonder how long he has felt that way, how long have you both been pretending not to feel that way, too scared the other wouldn’t reciprocate?

You touch your hand to his arm, pulling his eyes back to you. You want to say so much in that moment. You want to tell him everything you feel for him, tell him that was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to you, tell him that you are so thankful for the gift, and you just want him to know that everything he feels for you is returned. But you can’t. Not a single word comes to your mouth. Instead, you gently touch his face, stare longingly into his eyes, and travel your gaze to his lips. And then you kiss him. He tenses at first, and you begin questioning everything you just read into this moment. Uh oh… Did you totally blow this? Suddenly both of his hands are holding your face, and he’s returning the kiss. Not just returning it, he seems to be pouring everything he wants to say into your mouth with his. Your heart is pounding in your chest so hard you’re sure he can hear it, too. You want to stay in this moment forever, his warmth and his passion breathing life into you, his smell surrounding you, the taste of his lips consuming you. That’s when you feel it.

Something off… not with Daryl – god he is perfect, this moment is perfect – no, something off about the house. It’s quiet – too quiet, compared to the low hum of voices that was drifting from the party just moments ago. Do you feel eyes on you? You pull back from the kiss and look toward the windows and almost jump. Everybody is staring at you, all of them crammed against the two windows of the living room, watching you both kiss. A mixture of shock and knowing looks across their faces, and no one seems to be blinking.

“Uh, Dar…” you say, trying to draw his attention to your audience, when suddenly applause erupts from inside. Clapping, cheering, some whoops you think came from Rick. You can’t help but giggle as you hide your face in Daryl’s neck in embarrassment.

“We should probably go inside and get their mocking over with,” you say, slowly pulling away from Daryl and heading towards the door.

“Righ’ behind ya, Sunshine.” He says, following you.

batter up.

Negan Smith x f!reader

» RATING explicit. 18+ only.

» LENGTH 6,003

» CONTENT Savior!Negan, colorful language, canon-accurate violence, nsfw, smut [v fingering, f receiving oral, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming], various kinks [praise, biting, spit, breeding]

It should have been obvious that batting lessons with him would end up like this.

You’d known exactly what your salacious tone indicated the moment the words had left your lips. 

“You ever gonna show me how you swing that bat of yours around, Negan?”

The drawl of his name from your mouth – your fuckin’ mouth like a sailor – ticked his lips upward into an amused smile, eyes regarding you up and down slowly. He leaned back in the chair he sat in, motioning with a finger for you to come closer before returning his attention to the object in question, a wet cloth removing remnants of blood and brains from the wood.

The chill down your spine should have been from fear. That was far from the case.

You were new. Shiny. You’d been alone for an impressive amount of time, and it had ruined your people skills. You were mostly quiet, kept to yourself, carried your weight for the group, and hardly anyone ever needed to talk to you. But when they did – hell hath no fury. You had a sharp tongue and little filter when that pretty mouth of yours did open. 

You found yourself in the presence of his laughter often when you spoke. You always got your way. You were quickly his favorite toy.

He wondered – often – about the life you had before everything went to hell in a handbasket. He wondered what job you had, what your damn hobbies were, if you had a husband, maybe some kids runnin’ around. It wasn’t his business. He never asked. 

“You ever gonna ask nicely?”

You sat atop the table in front of him, crossing your legs slowly, dramatically, temptingly, relishing in the way his eyes dragged across your legs in the short shorts you’d been wearing in the July heat for a moment as you twisted your upper body toward him, leaning your weight on one arm. 

His hand that rested on the surface twitched toward yours. 

“I’d love it if you’d be sweet enough to show me how good you are with that bat,” you spoke lowly, eyes burning into his. His pupils blew wider as you spoke each word. You wished you could be close enough to see that each time you spoke. “Pretty please.”

It was a wonder to this new world that he hadn’t fucked you yet. 

“Gonna take patrol later,” he began, eyes finding yours once again. With wide eyes and semi-pouted lips you were practically begging him. It was dangerous how he’d give you whatever you wanted. “You can come with me if you promise not to get yourself killed.”

You smiled, fingers sliding closer to his, lightly gliding over the back of his hand feather light. You noticed the hitch in his breath, the temptation to point it out almost too strong to ignore. You opted to give the man before you a pass. 

“Guess somebody better keep me safe then, huh?”

“Like you’re not capable of taking care of yourself.”

He knew he’d fallen into some kinda trap when his response brought your signature, mischievous grin. He was perfectly content – at least for the moment – not to even try to climb out. 

“Oh, I’m capable,” you responded carefully, flipping his hand over to run your fingers over his palm. His hands were large – much larger than yours – and rough. Battle scarred. It wasn’t the first time you’d fantasized about how they felt. “But sometimes it’s just so much nicer for someone else to take care of you.”

It didn’t take him deciphering a fucking code or something to know exactly what the double meaning behind your words was. His self-control was stretching terribly thin – the thread holding it together would snap soon. 

An opening door behind you made you jump back to your feet, removing yourself to a reasonable distance before you were joined by the company. His right hand entered the room a moment after, and you offered Negan another smile before turning to exit. He called a reminder to you before you disappeared.

“Meet me tonight and we’ll go have some fun.”

Whatever his words meant, you were certain the sentiment was true.

“Thought you were standin’ me up.”

He always knew when you approached, even when no one else could seem to hear your footsteps – it sparked curiosity in you to ponder exactly when he’d become so familiar with you, and what else he’d memorized. You dropped down from the wall you walked across directly behind him, boots landing on the ground with a thud. 

“That’d be stupid of me,” you replied, circling him to stand in front of him. It was seldom you stood this close to him – the fact that he towered over you only making you want to be closer. “Don’t wanna make the big man angry.”

He caught the subtle shake to your voice and smirked, dimples on full display. Fuck him. 

“Smart woman,” he complimented, his voice a little too honey-thick for you to handle. You caught yourself momentarily breathless, his eyes now burning into yours. “Now, I know you took care of yourself real well while you were alone. But tonight, the first rule, you’re with me – and outside you’ve gotta listen. I don’t wanna hear that pretty mouth of yours run.”

You only smiled up at him, looking up into his eyes between your lashes as you blinked languidly, bottom lip pulling between your teeth. You nodded in agreement – he remained transfixed on your lips.

“You’re the boss,” you asserted, zipping up the tattered leather jacket you wore to shield from the night air and offer extra protection against bites. He loved when you pulled the jacket on, and often craved to see you swallowed in his instead. He only smiled at your response – he knew you’d run your mouth at some point still.

“Second rule,” he started, eyes intense. “I don’t want you more than an arm’s length away.”

“My arm length or yours?”

Infuriating. You didn’t even make it through the rules without breaking rule one – and what made it more annoying was the fact he was still amused by it.  

“We’ll say yours since they’re shorter,” he replied, reaching to grasp one of your hands and raise your arm upward, stepping closer to demonstrate the distance he desired. You took a step even closer than that – closer would be fine, too.

“Yes, sir,” you replied lowly, tilting your head slightly as you gazed up at him, melting at the feeling of his hand engulfing yours. 

He tried to ignore the rush of heat that spread across his body.

“We’re going into the woods. Don’t want you to get lost,” he tried to continue, to ignore the name you’d called him. The feeling that fluttered in his stomach insisted to be acknowledged. 

“You big softie. Let’s go,” you replied, turning to face the gate and motioning to the guard to let you through. You turned your head to glance up at him and offer that playful smile again, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Teach me how to be scary.”

“Oh, you’re plenty scary,” he replied as the two of you exited. “Just gonna teach ya how to do it with a bat.”

It was mostly a comfortable silence as the two of you made your way through the thick trees. He didn’t go far – maybe a 2-mile radius was all it took for him to feel the two of you had covered enough ground. 

You watched intently, biting at your bottom lip several times as he swung the bat to handle walkers coming your way. By the twelfth one he’d began to show off, pulling his jacket off to reveal the flexing muscles in the arms of his blood-stained white t-shirt as he swung Lucille over his head with a particularly hard landing blow. 

You weren’t sure he ever looked sexier than when splashes of red painted his face.

It got easier the longer you went on, the conversation flowing between the two of you – the flirtatious nature always lurking beneath, begging to be unleashed fully. The two of you got so comfortable even talking about your lives before was an option. It all came back to the star – to where you two were now.

“Been with us a few weeks now.”

“Approaching week eight,” you replied, adjusting the strap of the gun you still wore slung over your back. Negan had already remarked that you didn’t need to bring it along. 

“Remind me how long you were alone before that,” he feigned a normal amount of interest, though inside he was congratulating himself for finally getting the answers he wanted. 

“Eight months, give or take,” your reply caused him to whistle lowly, an appreciative sound. It was impressive to be alone for any amount of time, let alone eight months. You’d been rough when he’d found you – but even he didn’t know just how that time had passed for you. “Stopped keepin’ count.”

“You were alone all winter?”

“Uh huh,” you confirmed, glancing up at him to briefly meet his gaze. He shook his head, huffing out a deep breath as he thought about your words. It had been hell for him from the start – for everyone, really…but you’d been living a different nightmare altogether.  

“You’re an impressive woman, you know that?” he drawled, your cheeks heating up over his flirtatious affection. Even as he walked he focused his attention on you – it was too much, and yet just his eyes on you wasn’t nearly enough. “Who’s the last person you were with?” 

You paused, but not for long – not longer than an arm’s length.

“Used to be my neighbor,” you replied simply, eyes suddenly focused on anything else. Already Fall, the leaves had long turned their seasonal vibrant shades. There was still some beauty in the world, and you were keen on admiring it as often as the universe allowed.

“He help you when it all went to shit?”

You knew the question was coming, and it still sucked the wind from you, replacing it with a familiar feeling of dread. It was a conversation you’d avoided for weeks now – it was coming eventually. 

“He took me when it all went to shit,” you replied simply, stopping in your tracks to pick some ripe berries on a nearby bush. He was intent to watch you work and happy for the break on his feet. “Kept me in his basement. Called me his wife.”

“Jesus, I…”

“Do not apologize,” you snapped, avoiding his eyes now. A hint of blue caught your eye close to the ground and you quickly shined a flashlight, confirming berries were growing on a bush. You motioned with your head to Negan to follow. “He ain’t worth it.”

“You escape then?” he questioned, burying the urge to ask you exactly what being the man’s wife meant exactly – he had some idea. For all the horrors in the outside world, the thought of the horrors you’d faced in a basement for months made his blood boil. It made his skin crawl worse than any walker he’d seen so far.

And he’s seen a lot of nasty ones.

He hoped the world had claimed a piece of shit like that. 

“In a manner of speaking,” you replied as you crouched down, picking one of the ripe berries and rolling it between your fingers to test it before popping it into your mouth, savoring the sweetness. As you picked the berries you alternated between pocketing them in a pouch on your jacket and handing them to him. “I killed him one night. Just…had enough. Snapped. Ripped his throat out with m’teeth.”

Yeah. You were definitely his favorite.

Snarling approaching disrupted the conversation, both of your heads snapping in the direction of the sound as you each took a step inward to be closer to one another. Your hand reached out, grasping around his that held the smooth wood of the bat. 

“Lemme try this one,” you stated, smiling up at him with a wicked twinkle in your eye that pulled at his heart. He slid the weapon into your hand slowly, watching as you turned on your heel to stalk your way toward the growling, grotesque man – Gary, from the looks of his RadioShack nametag. He was certain he could remember a comic book character or two that had swung their hips as they wound up a bat at their side as you were now. 

The first crack of wood against skull had him clapping, looking on with pride.

“There you go,” he encouraged, his voice a tone you were certain you’d only heard him use with you. “Look at ya.”

The second remark was intended to stay mental, but left his mouth as a low, appreciative grumble, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. His steps carried him close enough behind you to intervene if he was needed, and he was close enough now to your back you could feel his breath on your neck. 

“Got another one comin’,” he pointed over your shoulder toward the tree line, smiling when you immediately took a step toward it.

“I got ‘er.”

The first under your belt now, you understood the weight of the barbwire-wrapped wood, and the first swing was perfect precise, enough force connecting with its head to send it to the ground. Every swing after that was purely for show – for him. He knew it, and he loved it. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, walking closer behind you again. “Goddamn natural.”

“All done,” you breathed out heavy as you stood straight, admiring your work for a moment before beginning to turn back to him. “Gonna have to get me one of these.”

You had barely turned and finished your words when his hands grasped your face, pulling you in to press his lips to yours hard and desperate – starved. The gasp that slipped from you was muffled by his lips as you returned his kiss just as heavy, clutching to the collar of his jacket with the hand that didn’t hold Lucille. 

One of his hands slid to your hip first, pulling you closer to him as his fingers brushed against your jaw, his tongue gliding along the seam of your lips to encourage them apart. As your mouth fell open for him and he tasted you his hand continued downward, grasping your backside and pulling you in closer. 

The bulge at his waist was unmistakable, the mere sight of you bloodied and vicious causing his cock to strain in his pants immediately. You released your hold on his collar as your tongue danced with his to slide it downward, cupping the sizable bulge and giving a light squeeze. The groan that rumbled in his chest had you clenching your thighs together tighter, desperate for some pressure of your own. 

“Oh, you fuckin’ naughty thing…” he grumbled against your lips, releasing you just enough so you both could catch your breath. He nipped at your bottom lip lightly, pulling a quiet moan from your lips. You felt his cock twitch in his jeans. “Couldn’t help myself, you looked so damn sexy swingin’ Lucille around like that…”

You pressed your lips to his again, eager to show him your appreciation for his continued praise but finding the words didn’t exist in your mind – all that existed was need for him. To your dismay a hearty chuckle rumbled in his chest, his lips curving to a smile against yours. 

“Can’t fuck you right here, darlin’,” he cooed, nipping at your bottom lip again out of refusal to outright return your kiss. “Too many dead in these trees. Not the kind of eyes I want on us.”

When you gave his cock another slow squeeze his eyes narrowed as he grunted, his hips thrusting forward to meet your hand for the pressure. Your eyes burned into his as he gazed down at your lips. “We should head back to the sanctuary then.”

“We should,” the hesitation was evident in his voice, the desire making it honey thick and low. His blown pupils and deep breaths combined with that voice let you know everything he really wanted. He leaned forward to press a long, heavy kiss to your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck where he caressed you gently. The whine that fell from your lips only made him grin more. 

It should have been obvious that batting lessons with him would end up like this.

“‘C’mere, pretty girl,” Negan instructed the moment the two of you were tucked away into his room together, his legs sprawled wide as he dropped onto the leather couch that sprawled across his room. He’d been supporting you with an arm around your waist nearly the entire walk back, through the gates and to his room, your legs shaking just from kissing him. 

He took every opportunity the two of you were within sight of someone else since returning to show things had escalated, pressing kisses to your temple, and grasping your waist so tight and so low – friendly behavior was left in the past. He’d even considered pinning you to the fence and fucking you right there – for anyone awake in the middle of the night or on guard to see – but he decided against it. 

For now, anyway. 

You nodded as you made your way to him, climbing into his lap carefully, your legs straddling his thighs as your arms locked around his neck. One of his hands found a home on your cheek again, cradling it gently as his callused thumb brushed across your cheekbone. You leaned to his affection as naturally as you breathed. 

“Did such a good job out there,” he complimented with a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before, not even when the two of you had been alone. While there was always something behind his gaze – appreciation, desire, hunger – now it held so many things so entirely new. There was a newfound intimacy to how his eyes roamed your face, searching your own for matching emotions. “Gonna have to take you out with me some more.”

He drank in the smile his compliment earned, breathing out deeply as you turned your head to press your lips to his palm. Your eyes continued to burn into his. “Whenever you ask me to.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna be out of my sight after tonight, sweetheart,” he stated, his tone unwavering and absolute. You believed him. “Attached at the hip.”

“Mm,” you hummed as you pondered his words, eyes raking over his face. One of your hands slid to rest on his cheek as well, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip gently. You were teasing him, merely taunting – he knew. “I don’t remember us talkin’ about that.”

You’d seen this smirk on his face before. Now, as his face inched closer and his breath ghosted over your lips, it sent a flood of arousal straight to your aching cunt – you’d been wet since the kiss in the woods. 

“You won’t wanna be away from me after tonight,” he laughed, soft and low as his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you closer to claim your lips in a heavy kiss again. 

“Hope you’re prepared to back up all that talk, Negan,” you breathed against his lips when he released you, leaning closer to nip at his bottom lip as you slowly rocked your hips against his waist, grinding your covered, soaked core against the throbbing erection in his pants.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand not holding the back of your head seizing hold on your hip to steady you as you continued to rut against him. His tone was dark, low – much-more desire filled than it had ever been for you. “You need somethin’, pretty girl? Could ask nicely.”

“Need you, Negan,” you whined, grinding down particularly slowly as one of your hands began to work at the zipper of his jacket. “S-so fucking tired of waitin’. Don’t make me beg.”

“Bet you’d sound pretty though.”

You opened your mind to protest but were quickly silenced by another heavy kisses, his tongue immediately seeking yours out for the newfound dance he loved as his hands abandoned their hold on you to start removing your clothes. 

He instructed you to stand just long enough to remove your blood-stained pants and t-shirt, his eyes running over your legs and lingering on your thighs and core. He pointed with a thick finger to the bed behind him, rising to his feet to remove his own jacket and shirt as you did what was instructed, sitting on the bed. 

You’d figured his room was comfortable – but this was luxury. 

“Lemme see,” he breathed in this new husky tone as his shirt was pulled over his head, his muscles flexing as he did so. The scars that graffitied his torso raised more questions – you wanted to ask about each one, press kisses to them, run your fingers on the particularly nasty ones – you’d do that later. For now, you leaned back on the bed slightly, propping yourself up with one arm as you spread your legs for him. 

His tongue darted out from his lips as his eyes ran over your soaked core, his steps carrying him closer until he was in front of you, within reach of his hands again. One of his hands ran up the inside of your thigh slowly, the other reaching to push a finger against your chin to tilt your head upward.

“Look at me,” he cooed, cupping your cheek again as he ran two fingers through your soaked folds, spreading your arousal through them more with an appreciative hum. “So wet for me already. Walked back from the woods like this I’ll bet.”

You whimpered lightly as he continued to run his fingers back and forth, breathing out shaky as you nodded up at him, pupils blown wide and lips fallen open. He took advantage of your partially open mouth to slip a finger in, groaning when you immediately closed your lips around it to suck lightly. 

He’d waited too damn long for this.

He slipped his index finger into your waiting heat, cock twitching in his pants when he felt your tight walls engulf his finger. A moan sounded in your chest that vibrated around his finger as you swirled your tongue – his eyes seemed to grow darker by the second. When he’d fully sheathed his finger in you he curled it, stroking your soft inner walls as he removed his finger to hear you moan. 

“Tight little thing, aren’t you?” he cooed, removing his finger before he pumped it back into you with the company of a second, curling them both to stroke behind your clit. You keened, hips thrusting forward to meet his hand that was soaked with your arousal, head surging forward to claim his lips with your own kiss. 

He chuckled against your lips as he began to pump his fingers, ensuring the palm of his hand rubbed against your clit with each re-entry. Touch-starved and desperate your legs were already shaking, your tongue eagerly tasting his mouth. You hardly registered his free hand drop to his own waistband, working his belt and tight jeans free before kicking them to the floor.

The sound of the fabric hitting the ground was your realization, and without freeing him from the kiss you reached between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his long, thick shaft, your thumb rubbing along the pronounced vein. He pulled away from your lips to groan deeply, looking into your eyes with a fire ignited so bright it burned.

Another moan fell from your lips with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers, though it didn’t stop you from removing your hand from his cock to spit on it. Wrapping your hand back around his throbbing length you began to stroke him slowly, grasping with the perfect amount of pressure to cause his eyes to roll back slightly. 

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he groaned, running his nose along your jaw before pressing a kiss beneath your ear. “You – fuck – you keep doin’ that and I’m not gonna be able to taste you. Don’t make me tie those pretty hands up.”

You whimpered and defiantly gave his cock several more strokes before releasing your hold, unwilling to have your hands restricted – the first time with him, anyway. As he sank to his knees on the hard floor in front of you, you drank in the sight, keening when he scissored his fingers inside of you. He pressed a kiss to your knee before he trailed his lips upward, inhaling the scent of your arousal deep into his lungs. 

“Negan…” you began to protest slightly in bashfulness, and he only chuckled in response, pressing a kiss high up on your thigh before he gave your clit a gentle lick. 

“Hush,” he cooed, removing his fingers from you to run his tongue through your folds slowly with a low, appreciative groan. 

You forgot any argument you had intended to present when he finished the swipe of his tongue by flicking the warm muscle against your clit again before sucking it briefly. He savored every moan he pulled from you, how your breath began to become desperate as he fucked his tongue into your wet heat repeatedly, reaching to rub his thumb around your clit repeatedly and fast. He was like a man starved for months in the way his tongue devoured you, alternating between fucking into you and licking slowly to swallow as much of your arousal as he could.

“Good god you taste good,” he complimented from between your legs, pulling back to speak and press a kiss to your clit, then your inner thigh. He nipped at the spot carefully, just enough to bruise. “No fuckin’ way I’m lettin’ this pussy go. No way.”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you fuck me,” you managed to stammer out, your voice pitched higher as he reached to rub your clit again, smiling up at you wickedly. You were already glowing for him practically…he couldn’t wait to see you fucked out.

He was torn between wondering if your mouth was still running, he wasn’t doing his job well enough; or if your mouth wasn’t running if he’d even like you anymore. 

“Not a chance in hell,” he murmured before slipping his fingers back into you, leaning forward to claim your clit between his lips again with a soft suck.

It wasn’t long before your legs were shaking on either side of his head, clenching harder as the pressure built up in you heavier and heavier, threatening to burst. When he nipped at the sensitive bundle of nerves with his teeth lightly it erupted, your orgasm flooding from you as you moaned loudly. White overtook your vision, heat swallowing you whole. 

He removed his fingers to connect his mouth and tongue to you again, savoring as much of the liquid gold that hadn’t covered his face. When he pulled away from you he muttered compliments into your thighs, hips, stomach, and breasts as you came down from the orgasm. He was circling his tongue around one of your budded nipples when your vision became clearer, looking up at you with an adoration filled smile.

You already knew he was right – you would never want to be away from him again.

“There she is,” he cooed, releasing your breast from his mouth to lean upward and press a gentle kiss to your lips – uncharacteristically gentle. It occurred to you now that you were unlocking a side to Negan you decided likely no one had seen since the outbreak. 

You tasted yourself on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, now encouraging you to move back on the bed and lay flat. He leaned over you, supporting his weight with one arm so he could continue to stroke your side gently. When he released your lips again, he bit into the bottom one a little harder, a little more desperate and unhinged, much closer to the Negan you knew, before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

Duality – nothing about Negan made sense and yet everything about him was exactly as it should be.

“Now you can beg,” he whispered against your forehead lightly. You felt his lips curve into a smile. “Just a little. Lemme hear how nice you can be, pretty girl.”

“Negan, jesus christ, not now,” you whimpered, raising your hips to press up into his. It pulled a groan from you but he only grasped your hip tight to steady you. “Please, please not now. I can’t…I can’t wait. Please fuck me.”

And it was a blur of pleases and whimpers then until he was satisfied, your words devolving into moderately incoherent babble as you kissed his neck, his chest, dragged your hands over his torso…you were begging him in every way you could. Finally, he conceded, tilting your head up to kiss your lips again gently.

“C’mere, sweetheart, I got ya,” he cooed, lifting your hips up to slide a pillow under them. He ran one hand slowly down your leg, grasping your ankle to lift the singular leg up over his shoulder. He leaned down to kiss you again, fisting his length before he ran the velvet head through your slick folds. 

He groaned as he sank into you, breathing out deep as your warm channel welcomed him home. Your eyes rolled back, quiet moans falling from your lips. 

“Holy hell,” he breathed against your lips as he pressed several light kisses to them, resting his forehead against yours briefly as he bottomed out. He stilled for a moment to allow you to adjust to the fullness of him, one of his hands grasping your hip tightly, the other fondling one of your breasts. He couldn’t get enough of you. “Fuck, you feel good.”

He kissed you reverently then, deep and passionate and fulfilling as he found himself enchanted by being inside you finally. 

“F-feel so full…” you muttered against his lips, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes already. He pulled back with a final kiss to bump his nose against yours, a light hum rumbling in his chest as he dragged his cock from you slowly before working each inch in again.

“I know, baby, but you’re taking me so well,” he breathed out lightly, ducking his head to kiss down your neck lightly. He began to suck marks into the skin – the more exposed they’d be later, the better. “Look so fuckin’ pretty, too.”

“Negan,” you whined, raising your hips off the pillow slightly, wiggling slightly. He removed his hand from your breast to grab both of your hips, his tongue clicking against the back of his teeth before he bit down onto your shoulder. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight,” he groaned as he repeated the slow removal and thrust back into you again, savoring how your walls gripped him with each entry. “I’m gonna wreck you.”

“Please,” was the unexpected reply that filled his ears, and from there, he was insatiable.

He thrust into you hard, heavy, each time slowing enough to ensure the tip of his cock rubbed against the sensitive patch a couple of inches inside of you before he thrusted the rest of the way relentlessly. He didn’t let up – his hips didn’t falter as your walls fluttered around him, his pace consistent and desperate.

When he connected a thumb to your clit and began rubbing circles you felt the tears spill down your cheeks. He keened and raised his head to kiss one of them away, rubbing figure eights on the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Negan, t-too much…” you whimpered, legs shaking again. He leaned up and away from your face to kneel, keeping one of your legs over his shoulder. The new angle was deeper, the head of his cock occasionally knocking against your cervix. Each cry it pulled from your chest made his cock throb more.

“I won’t finish ‘til you gush on my cock like you did on my face,” he breathed out, eyes burning into yours with a frenzied look in his eyes. As you whimpered he flicked your clit, turning the quiet sound into a loud scream. It was the brightest smile of the night from him – dimples on full display as an low groan sounded in his chest. “That’s right, baby, let the whole sanctuary know. Scream my fuckin’ name.”

He removed his hand from you to spit on your clit, continuing to grin as you gasped at the cold liquid running down you. He smeared the liquid around before he started rubbing your clit again harder, his thrusts now becoming sloppy and desperate. He was chasing his own release and coaxing you closer to yours – he wouldn’t finish until you had.

You gushed around his cock again while you screamed his name – certain at least one person in the sanctuary would be woken to the sounds of your pleasure in the early morning. The white-hot heat spread over you, blinding your vision, blurring the ceiling and him above you as you shook beneath him. 

Even with your walls clenching around him, he held off his own release. Just as you began to come back to him he slung your other leg over his shoulder to join the other, pressing you in half as he leaned over you. 

“My turn,” he growled, his words shaking and breathless. “’m gonna fill your little cunt up.”

You were weak, barely coherent – it didn’t stop your body from responding to him, to his assertion. It didn’t stop your walls from fluttering around him. Your nails dug into his back, breaking the skin – you were both certain there would be small trails of blood. He would wear the claw marks with pride.

“That’s right, you want me to fill you up,” he cooed, reaching to press a kiss to your lips again. “Let fuckin’ everybody know who you belong to.”

“D-do it,” you whimpered, moving your head to press a kiss to his jaw. His thrusts became impossibly harder, and only faltered when you pressed a kiss below his ear, whispering in a breathless, husky tone. “Fill me up, daddy.”

A growl ripped through his chest, his lips crashing to yours in a bruising kiss. It only took a few harder, bruising, crippling thrusts before you felt his cock twitch in you. He released you from the kiss to lean his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as he emptied thick ropes of his seed into you. 

When he had emptied his full load into you he removed his cock, leaning back to admire the sight of his cum leaking from you. 

“There’s still somethin’ beautiful in this world,” he muttered with his shit-eating grin plastered to his face, his hair messy and stuck to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat. You giggled, returning his smile as you shook your head at his usual bullshit returning.

“Shut up, Negan,” you chastised, rolling your eyes. He only chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again before he rolled you to your side carefully, taking his position behind you. As his arms wrapped around your waist he slipped his still partially-hard cock back into your velvet walls, kissing between your shoulder blades with a smile on his lips as you gasped.

“That’s better, don’t have to worry about a mess,” he mumbled as he tucked his head into your neck, pressing light kisses beneath your ear repeatedly. He was warm, safe – the two of you felt whole together like this. 

Inseparable was correct. 

“Door ain’t locked…” you pointed out as you began to drift off to the first truly good night’s sleep since the world had gone to hell. His voice filled with sleep and low, he only chuckled before whispering his reply into your skin, his lips brushing with each word.

“I do not care.”

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You should feel proud of your writing.

You shouldn't cringe when you reread your own writing. Cringe culture, especially in writing, is so overrated. Love your writing. Remind yourself what made you so passionate about your WIPs to start with.

You'll be surprised how much more motivated you feel to write when you allow yourself to space to actually be proud of and love what you're doing.

“I Should Like to Worship You Tonight”

This is probably (definitely) the most niche smut I’ve ever written, or even daydreamed up. I grew up in the Bible Belt and Feature Films for Families were a staple in our home. Rigoletto (1993) was my favorite. I’m a sucker for a Beauty and the Beast themed story, and the music was so beautiful. And of course, as an adult, I’m wildly attracted to the MMC. (Confession - I find that with any BatB story, I tend to prefer the “Beast” before his transition in the end. What does that say about me? Maybe I’ll ask my therapist.) I recently rewatched the movie a thousand times, and I have a whole fic plotted out with stories before this one, but I needed to get this one out of my head an onto “paper.” I hope someone enjoys my warping of a family movie into something not family friendly at all. ;-)

It had been three nights since I was last alone with him, my brooding master of the manor. Three nights since I’d somehow mustered the courage, or maybe it was simply a lack of inhibition?, to boldly confess how my body ached for his touch and burned with the thought of his lips trailing kisses down every bare inch of my skin.

My work had certainly suffered in the days following, constantly drifting into a daydream -memory, really- of the passion that followed . I’d find myself forgetting why I entered a room, not knowing how long I’d been standing there staring at nothing, or holding an item I didn’t remember picking up. The trance his touch had left me in… the spell I was under… it was incurable and unbreakable, save one remedy.

As I tiptoed through the dark manor, conscious of every little sound, my heart racing at who might be around the next corner, who might catch me on my secret quest, I prayed he was awake and as hungry as I.

I’d had little opportunity to be near him, and none at all to be alone with him since that night. Hans, the ever loyal manservant, had -unfortunately- finally recovered from his days long illness that had allowed me such closeness with Ari to begin with. I’d made sure to tiptoe past his door first, where I was relieved to hear him snoring like a bear.

As I descended the last few stairs to the main foyer, the door to his study and music room in sight, my prayer was answered. He was awake, and playing his pianoforte, as he did more often than he didn’t. It was his most beautiful quality, although his voice rivaled it, and the songs he made the instrument sing often filled the halls of this enormous house. I had been haunted from my first day here with the enchanting loneliness of the tunes that seemed to pierce straight to my soul. As the days went on, though, they turned to somewhat brighter notes, lonely but with a tinge of hope. From there they drifted into scores of longing, an unrequited love. Since our union three nights ago, the halls had been filled with lovely romantic tunes, sometimes sultry and passionate, sometimes light and airy like rays of sun slipping through the trees in the early morning hours. It was this type of tune I followed now, my bare feet padding lightly on the wooden floors.

I slipped through the sliding door of his study, silently closing it behind me, and through the open doors into the room beyond I saw him, his long, dark hair shining in the gentle candlelight. I could see the shadows dancing on the scars of his face as he moved with the music. I thought to walk over and touch them, to caress the evidence of all the pain of his previous life. But tonight, I was feeling a bit playful.

As his tune drifted like those morning rays of light over a misty field, warming and awakening something deep within me, I began twirling and moving with the rhythm. I have never been accused of being a lovely dancer, but I felt graceful as I lightly moved across the room. I stopped in front of the bay window, opening the curtains to let the rays of moonlight in. The beauty of the full moon illuminating the front courtyard gave me pause and for a moment I was lost in the night, with the low, beautiful melody of his song in the background.

I don’t know how long it had been, but I suddenly became aware that the music had stopped some time ago. I turned my back to the window and found him still at the piano, but with his hands stacked on his cane, watching me. I had the feeling he’d been staring at me for quite a while, and the feeling brought a blush to my cheeks. I felt bared naked, though I was still wrapped in my silk robe.

“You are a goddess,” Ari finally broke the silence.

I smiled shyly at him, trying to think of something clever and flirty to reply. My words failed me as he rose. The light tap of his cane filling the quiet room as he moved slowly toward me.

He towered over me, his gaze piercing mine, as he held my chin between his thumb and forefinger. I closed my eyes, desperately wanting him to close the distance between our lips, to start our dance together.

His hand left my chin and as I opened my eyes in confusion, I felt the belt of my robe tugged undone. As he slipped it from my shoulders, baring my completely naked body, my breath caught in my throat.

“I should like to worship you tonight,” he continued his thought, his eyes raking over every inch of my moonlit form.

His hand found my waist and gently pushed until my back touched the window, a gasp escaping my mouth at the shock of the cold glass on my skin.

He grinned devilishly at the sound, and using his cane for support, made his way down onto his good knee. Before I could make another sound, he’d lifted my leg and draped it on his shoulder, baring my flower to his hungry gaze.

He began with slow, warm kisses at the top of my thigh. It tickled and I giggled, but ran my hands through his thick hair in encouragement. His kisses moved inward, finding my petals, and the tickles quickly turned to tingles. He moved inward still, his lips finding the center of me, and his kisses became sucks. His tongue began making long, lazy strokes, and I knew I was dripping wet from more than his mouth. My groans could not be stifled as he continued, alternating between sucks, licks, and kisses.

The sudden sensation of fingers entering me caused a yelp of pleasure, and I felt him smile against me before continuing his skilled work. His fingers moved as expertly as his tongue, and I soon felt the crescendo of an orgasm building within me. My hands tugged in his hair, my back arching away from the window and pushing my core further onto his face. His remaining hand cupped my ass, and as he forcefully sucked one long time, I unraveled against him, gasping sharply and exhaling his name, “Ari”.

He was gentle as he continued his work while I came down from my high, and when he finally set my leg down and rose, his own arousal was evident under his robe.

He stopped me when I moved to reach for his erection, more than willing to return the favor. He smiled as he kissed me, moving my hand to his face.

“I said I would like to worship you tonight,” he whispered onto my mouth, “how should you like to be worshiped next?”

I kissed him deeply, and then led him by the hand back to his piano bench.

“With the piano, I think,” I said, giving him a sincere smile.

The melody he played will follow me the rest of my days- it’s beauty, I’m convinced, can never be matched.

I’m on my like 3rd rewatch of The Last of Us, and I just watched the Kansas City episodes.

During the big fight with all the infected running around, the way Joel anticipates every move of Ellie’s and covers her from the house… it’s the absolute hottest thing he does in the whole show.

It makes me tingle.

Daryl: If ya bite it n’ ya die, it's poisonous. If it bites ya and ya die, it's venomous.

Carl: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Enid: Then you're poisonous. Jesus Christ, Carl, learn to listen.

Glenn: What if it bites itself and I die?

Michonne: That's Voodoo.

Abraham: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Eugene: That's correlation, not causation.

Tara: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Y/N: That's kinky.

Daryl, throwing his hands up and walking away: Oh m’ god.