#Shane Walsh x Reader

[grimesgirll]

back when you were shane’s girl, rick would barely look at you.

it didn’t matter that shane was banging lori behind both your backs. rick was still nothing if not wildly respectful.

you could’ve used the company back then on the farm when your relationship with your boyfriend was slipping. when quiet tent quickies weren’t enough for you.

now, what would shane think of the girl he thought wouldn’t be able to go on without him, happily getting her guts rearranged by his best friend?

rick had held out as long as he could but with lori long gone and carl not taking up any issue, there was no reason to deny himself you. in the wake of all that tragedy, there was nothing better to ease his mind than your sweet, sweet cunt.

shane would be seriously pissed off to learn that not one but both of your holes were being filled by your fellow original atlanta camp members.

the archer that ground his gears so much was taking up your mouth with his cock, enjoying the way that every thrust of rick’s sent you straight down his length.

if shane was in the room or even in the hallway, he wouldn’t be able to miss the downright debaucherous sounds coming from the three of you. rick lands a light slap on your ass, a reminder that you’re not the only ones within these walls. rick was nothing if not wildly polite.

you wiggle your hips back into him in response, feeling your core tighten as daryl fucks your mouth. shane could never fill you up this way: he was one man after all.

the record time that shane had you soaked and coming undone was nothing compared to how fast rick and daryl warmed you up. if they even breathed in your pussy’s direction you were suddenly squeezing your legs and starting to drip with arousal.

you miss shane, but even as you clamp down on rick in your pussy and hum around daryl in your mouth, you remember that everything happens for a reason.

[dilfsandmartinis]

I CAN FIX HIM

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: Between Rick, Daryl, Dale, and Shane, who would you punch?

Glenn: No one! They’re my friends, I wouldn’t punch any of them!

Y/N: Shane?

Glenn: Yeah, but I don’t know why

[chxrryhansen]

okay but why is there like no shane walsh fics on here like jon bernthal is so fucking fine. just look at him😩

don’t attack me but he is my all time favourite twd character… an inch before negan🤭

[slasherscream]

Hello Bee! First I want to say that I really love your writing and your characterization of the characters. I've read so much of your stuff over and over again, it's so good! Thank you so much for writing it all!

Secondly, I wanted to make a request. Sorry if this sounds dumb, but could you please make a crazy ass husbands with an artisitic s/o? Like someone who may not necessarily create art, but is really passionate about like painting, and music, and just all the types of art? I saw you added Vincent Sinclair and thought of this 😄.

If not its fine, I still want you to know that I adore and enjoy your writing! Well wishes! 🩷🩷

Qimir (the acolyte) - Qimir likes the way you get carried away by music. The way you close your eyes when you walk into a cantina and musicians are playing. The little songs you hum to yourself when you’re piloting the ship, or fixing something. Music awakens something in your soul. You feel it deeply. Love songs and tragic laments alike light a fire in you. Every now and again he’ll have the two of you go to planets known for their music, their unique sounds, and singing styles. It’s always under a false pretense. The training or mission he sends you on are usually extra grueling before you’re given your “reward”. Otherwise, he feels like a slave to the whims of your joy. What wouldn’t he do to see you smile? To relish your little gasp the first time you hear a new instrument or song? He likes to reach out, using the connection you two share, and feel what you feel. He’s so glad he freed you from your shackles of repression. The way you indulge your passion is beautiful. 

Norman Bates - You’ve always loved flowers. The first thought you had about the motel was that it needed some nice flowers outside. You’ve traveled the country, visiting all sorts of gardens. It’s an odd hobby, but one you chased relentlessly. Until you met Norman, and settled into the hotel with him. But eventually you start to crave those gardens again, so you decide for the first time not to just admire gardens, but to cultivate one. There are a few false starts. Miserable failures. Mixed successes. But Norman is encouraging every step of the way, and eventually your little motel begins to shine. Ivy creeping up trellises you place against the house. Roses, peonies, lavender, poppies. All in ranges of colors and sizes. You repaint the motel when it begins to look shabby in comparison to the garden blooming around it. For the first time the motel starts to look… welcoming. Like a true home. People in town begin to stop by and spend the night just so they can have breakfast in the garden the next morning. People propose to each other at the Bates Motel. Get married there. Honeymoon. Have the celebrations for their baby’s christening among all your flowers and saplings. Norman doesn’t have a green thumb, but he brings you lemonade and kisses your cheek and thanks you earnestly for bringing color and life into his world. 

Hannibal Lecter - This is one of the ways you and Hannibal bond. You could talk about art for hours together. He’s a wonderful conversationalist, and your raw passion for the topic makes it so that you always have something new to say to one another. Date nights consist of going to art galleries for big and small artists. Something about being in one another’s presence sweetens the art itself. Hannibal often surprises you with trips to other countries just so you can go to their art museums and partake in new art scenes. Money is a small thing to Hannibal. The conversations you have about art? Those are priceless. 

Shane Walsh - He’s never been too interested in the arts. Not before the end of the world and certainly not after it. The only art that matters now is the art of survival. He tells you this often. Tells you to look to the future. Focus on surviving the day. On perfecting the skills he tries to teach you, day in and day out, so even if he’s gone, you’ll be okay. But you make him soft. For all that he bitches, he’s always giving in. Always looking to keep you alive, yes. But he wants you to be happy too. So he takes detours, and looks for libraries and bookstores that are beginning to cave in on themselves and smell of rotten pages and wood. He’s risked entire hoards of walkers to retrieve a book he knew was your favorite. He doesn’t mind when precious bag space is taken up by whatever paperbacks you can get your hands on. One day he might find a town that he likes enough and decide to go through the trouble of turning a library into a home for you. It will be well fortified, and he won’t like how many entry and exit points it might have. But he’d love to see you in your element, surrounded by what you love. 

V (from V for Vendetta) - So much art has been ruthlessly crushed beneath the boot of the fascist government you live under. Admiring the arts, any form of it, is like trying to hold sand in your hands. Your grip grows ever more desperate to hold onto anything. But there is no rhyme or reason to what is outlawed or taken away. Little bits of your soul are chipped away, with each new restriction, with each new burning or banning. Until V whisks you away to his hideout, and suddenly the world is made anew again. You are surrounded by art, art you didn’t even know existed. Things you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams. You inhale everything the gallery has to offer. You feel nearly gluttonous. In each room there is something new to see, hear, read. A feast for your senses anywhere you turn. You feel alive for the first time in years, maybe ever. V, in turn, feels his own form of gluttony. He cherishes every bit of delight he brings to your world. He feels like the worst kind of miser. The lowest of villains. What could be more precious than your smile? Or your laughter? Nothing. And by keeping you here, with him, he deprives the world of you and all you have to offer. But the world isn’t kind to precious things. So he keeps you like all the other treasures of this world. Hidden. Safe. Loved. 

Candyman - You collect book nook shelf inserts. Your home is covered in shelves, just to fit them. You have more book nooks than you do books separating them. Daniel is charmed to death by the collection. By the tender, diligent way you take care of them all. You spend hours of your week dusting. Fiddling. Making tiny adjustments. There must be something meditative about it, because you never complain. The joy he felt whenever he held a paintbrush is the same joy that flashes across your face when you open a new kit. He watches you assemble your precious, miniature worlds and ask you quiet questions, every now and again. He doesn’t want to break you from the beautiful trance you fall into, but he loves to peek into your mind. “What drew you to this scene, my love?” / “This one has an enchanting gloom to it. You have such an eye for art.” / “This one looks especially fragile, you might have to be more gentle, love.” He enjoys watching you lose yourself in your hobby. He loves the way you are unashamed in your joy. How you take pride in this work. You curl up into his side, after you’ve spent hours assembling one of your nooks, and the two of you will stare at it in all its completed glory. 

Robert Neville (I Am Legend) - At first he thought you were a hallucination. He’d been hearing things more often. Seeing things too. The human mind wasn’t built for isolation, as a scientist he was well aware of that. He tries to compensate as best he can. With his mannequins. With entertainment. By focusing on his research. He only has to stay sane long enough to fix the world he couldn’t save. That’s all. But then he sees you, while he’s hunting. The sun is still high in the sky, and you don’t move like a dark seeker. You’re cautious, slow. You also don’t move like a hallucination. You don’t really look like one either. He almost doesn’t approach you, afraid he’ll discover you were a mirage. He follows you all day long, until the sun is getting too low for comfort. Then Robert approaches you, fumbling through the obvious (it isn’t safe out here), barely remembering to introduce himself because people have names. Hoping desperately that you’ll trust a strange man instead of taking your chances with the dark. But the entire time he talks to you his eyes keep drifting to all the jewelry you’re wearing. Earrings. Bracelets. Necklaces. Rings. They glint in the light. Hypnotizing in their imperfections and intricacies. You move into his home, but you two drift around each other like ghosts. You’ve been alone so long, the both of you. You dreamed of meeting another living person. But faced with the reality of it, you’re overwhelmed. Until one night after dinner he finds you in the living room, making more of your jewelry. Slow and careful. He asks you about it, and you tell him it kept you sane while you were alone. Made you feel human. Then you look up at him, and he freezes under your gaze. (It’s been so long since he’s looked into someone’s eyes. It almost hurts. He can’t imagine ever looking away.) You ask him what kept him human. He’s not sure he still is. But he moves to sit beside you on the floor, hands you beads, and tells you he's been pretty fond of movies lately. 

Lestat De Lioncourt - You were a tailor in life, before he turned you. In death, in this eternity he’s given you, fabric is nearly your religion. With your vampiric eyes, you see even the tiniest flaw in stitching. All colors look more vibrant. The world looks more alive. Even though you can never see the way certain fabrics and colors catch the light of the sun, moonlight and starlight can be just as beautiful. You drag him to fashion shows in order to soak in the new styles, and cuts of clothing. You are as endeared by couture as you are the various counter cultures that arise throughout the decades you spend together. You spend exorbitant amounts of money on the finest bolts of cloth and thread. Sewing and tailoring and designing can be done entirely on your own. In fact, you’d probably be done quicker if you were just left to your work. But Lestat gets lonely when you lock yourself up in your work room for days on end. He likes to drape himself against your back, push himself into your side. Trail teasing fingers up your arm, to see if he can get your ever steady hands to falter (he cannot.) Looking over your shoulders and seeing what latest fashion has caught your eye is his hobby. You don’t mind the company of your muse. Sometimes you even sit him in front of you as you sew, and let the sound of him talking guide your needle and thread. He hardly wears anything you don’t make. Not only is your work superior, but every piece is made of love. 

Abe Sapien - You love everything about movies. How they’re made. Sound design. Light design. Set design. The difference between digital and film cameras. Abe was caught in your orbit the minute you were recruited. Talking to you, trying to form a connection, however, did not come as easy. Awkward nods as you passed one another in the hall. Stilted, dry conversation as you ate lunch at the same tables. It was enough to drive him mad. He didn’t know why he alone was unable to form any sort of acquaintanceship with you (especially when he wanted far more than that). This all changed during movie night. You were watching the voted on film play out on screen, entranced by every individual frame, it seemed. He’d never seen anyone smile so fetchingly, or blink so little. He bravely, and quietly, asked if you were enjoying the film. You began to eagerly whisper to him all sorts of details about how the film was made, the difference between the final product and script. Apparently, it was one of your favorites. With one conversation, the bridge between you two was crossed. Abe had been so caught up in enjoying literature, he hadn't explored much of the diverse realm of cinema. Happily, you appointed yourself the esteemed position as his guide. Somewhere between sharing your tastes, late night discussions, and dry eyes from sleepless nights, you leaned over to kiss him. He kissed you back, and you both forgot all about movies for a little while. 

Vincent Sinclair - You were an avid admirer of sculptures. You went to museums, and had to curl your hands into fists to resist the urge to reach out and touch the statues. There was something so beautiful about someone taking the time to carve human shapes out of stone and earth. To make marble resemble fabric as delicate as silk. It was breathtaking to you, really. Until you came across the House of Wax, you hadn’t really thought of wax as a means to make sculptures. Instantly, you are captivated. You forget that your car is being “repaired”, so closely do you look at every sculpture. You admire each one from several angles, for long periods of time, face giving away nothing. Vincent watches you, wanting to know what you’re thinking about his art so desperately he feels as if he’ll die. He interrupts Bo from the preparations to kill you and makes him ask you questions. Bo asks each one through gritted teeth, irritated to be playing a game of telephone, but even he is a little charmed by your thoughtful answers. When Vincent insists on not killing you Bo just shakes his head and washes his hands of the situation. You fall asleep in the town’s only motel, but when you wake up you’re in Vincent’s workshop. You’ll be able to admire his art for as long as you like now. 

Joel Miller - You tell him stories. You’re an avid collector of them. Wherever you go, you collect a story from someone. Sometimes they’re fantastical. Some myth or aesop fables that will be lost to the sands of time and the chaos of the apocalypse within just one more generation (if humanity makes it that long.) Other times they’re heartbreakingly real. The taste of an apple pie someone’s grandmother used to make for them. The memory of someone trying on their wedding dress for the first time. You have a way about you. It’s your eyes. The warmth in them. The understanding. Even after so many years of survival and fighting, you possess an empathy that should have gotten you killed by now. Instead you’re the keeper of people’s stories. You’ll be riding side by side on your horses, and Joel won’t sense any danger nearby, so he’ll say the magic words: You got a story for me today, L/N? And you always do. The sound of your voice keeps his head quiet. 

A/N: i blushed bugs bunny curled ears style. thank you for the compliments, made my day! i think yours is the first crazy ass husbands gang request i’ve written! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo

[virginsexgod69]

❝ Bribery ❞

18+

pairings Shane and Rick x f!Reader

summary Rick and Shane catch you stealing and you do what it takes to convince them not to arrest you.

cw smut, unprotected p in v, oral (male and female receiving), power imbalance, slight age gap, tit fucking, spanking, pussy slapping, spit, degrading names, public sex, car sex

2.8k words

"I didn't even take anything!" you pleaded with the mall security guard. 

"I saw you shoving shit in your pockets in the security cameras, lady," he deadpanned. 

Well shit. You were caught. 

"You don't know what you saw! It was probably someone else who looked liked me an-" 

"Save it for the cops," he interrupted. 

"You called the fucking police over some lipgloss?!” you snapped. 

"Is that a confession?" the overweight security guard speculated. 

"Oh fuck this!"  

  With the stolen lip gloss tube secured in your back pocket, you made a run for the exit. The slow clomps of the security guard’s feet attempting to chase you faded behind you as you ran. Once you were out of the mall, you scoured the parking lot for your car -a white, beat up 2006 Honda Civic. As you fiddled around in your purse for your keys, you heard the familiar sound of a police siren. 

“Godammit!” You cursed, running away from the siren while still feeling for your keys. 

  Bright headlights obscured your vision before you felt the slow moving cop car knock you down into the asphalt. The bright lights went away and you heard the doors open and close. Two familiar figures approached and stood in front of you, but made no move to help you. 

“You again,” said an irritated Officer Walsh. 

“Me? I didn’t do anything I was just leav-“ 

  Before you could finish your sentence, he roughly gripped your upper arm and yanked you up from the ground, pulled your hands behind your back and forcefully slammed you over the hood of the car. 

“Rick,” he said to the other officer. 

You felt his large hand smooth over the curve of your ass before slipping into your back pocket and pulling out the tube of stolen lip gloss. 

“Office Grimes, is that y-“ 

“Shut it,” he ordered. Yup, it was him. 

  One of them -you couldn’t tell who- pulled you into standing up straight. The two men who you’ve become quite familiar with over some tome stood tall over you, staring you down with skepticism and disappointment apparent on their faces. 

“Shoplifting, again?” Rick questioned. 

You looked at them with an overdramatic offended look on your face. “I bought that, fair and square!” You lied. 

“Show me your receipt then,” Shane challenged, making it clear as day he didn’t believe you were innocent. 

FUCK FUCK FUCK

 You panicked as you pretended to search all of your pockets for a receipt you knew you didn't have.

"I-uh...must've...um...dropped it when uh...you hit me with your fucking car!" you said, trying to shift the blame on them. 

They shared a look then looked at you with expressions that told you they're not buying a damn thing you said. 

"If you were anyone else, we'd let you go. But Y/N, you have a track record, so we're gonna hafta take ya into the station," Rick said, strong arms crossed over his chest with your lipgloss still in his hand. You looked at him with large, sad, pleading eyes, then at Shane with the same look. Neither of them budged so you dropped the act. 

"Fuckin' pigs!" you shouted at them before running off to go knows where. The two men chased after you on foot, barking orders at you as they did. They weren't far behind, but there was still a good amount of space between you. You gave up on looking for your keys and just continued to run. When you couldn't hear their footsteps anymore you stopped and leaned against some car. You were about to relax but the sound of sirens got your heart racing again. In their car, they chased you out onto some empty road before you finally couldn't run anymore and collapsed into the grass on the side of the road. The car halted to a stop a few feet away from you before the men got out and ran over to you. 

 This time it was Rick who yanked you up from the ground. You were too out of breath to argue, or say anything for that matter. 

"No innocent person would run away like that," Rick hissed in your ear. He forced your arms behind you back and cuffed you then dragged you over to the car where Shane waited. He walked over to you, looking down at you the entire way. His large, rough hand grabbed you jaw and forced you to look up at him. 

"You wanna explain yourself 'fore we throw your ass in jail," he said venomously. 

 The severity of the situation finally hit you as your teary eyes stared into his cold brown ones. You couldn't go to jail, especially over some cheap lipgloss. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as your brain worked to find something to say. 

"C'mon, Shane. We used to go to the same church, y'know this isn't really who I am," you pleaded as you choked back sobs. 

You could've sworn you saw Shane's resolve soften, but before he could say anything, Rick cut in. 

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N. You have a record. This is who you are and this is the shit you do." 

 Rick's cruel words caused a pang in your chest. Hearing such things from a man who once trusted you enough to babysit his kid hurt. You really didn't think a few misdemeanors here and there would cause two people you once looked up to to think so lowly of you. You tore your jaw from Shane's grip and turned to face Rick. 

"Rick, I-"

"Officer Grimes," he corrected. 

Ouch. 

"I-I promise I'll stop breaking the law, honest! I'll even make it up to you guys, just please don't take me to jail!" you begged.

"How do you plan on making it up to us, Peach?" Shane asked using an old nickname you haven't heard since high school.  

You knew exactly how you were gonna make it up to them. 

 You slowly lowered yourself onto your knees, ignoring the way the ground dug into them. You looked up at Rick with innocent doe eyes. 

"Take off your pants," you rasped. 

  You honestly weren't even sure if they'd give into your advances, at the very least you expected some kind of pushback. But both men eagerly undid their belts and pulled out their hard cocks. You shuffled your way over to Rick, not caring how the rough road scratched your bare knees. You licked at the pre-cum leaking out of Rick's pretty, red tip before pressing a chaste kiss to it. You stuck your tongue all the way out, licking up and down his length like it was the coldest, tastiest popsicle on the hottest summer day. His breathing shallowed as he did his best to keep his composure.After having enough of teasing him with your tongue, you took his entire length into your mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat as you did your best not to gag. Rick couldn't take it anymore and grunted in pleasure. You looked up at him through your long lashes. He looked like he was in heaven. His head was thrown back in pleasure, giving you the perfect view of his Adam's apple moving with every pleasurable moan that escaped him. You bobbed your head up and down on his dick, moving at your own pace until he couldn't take it anymore and grabbed a fistful of your hair and began fucking your throat. You felt him twitch in your mouth as you choked on his large size. You were making him feel good and that made you feel good. You could feel yourself soaking your panties and wished you weren't cuffed so you can stimulate your aching clit. 

"Oh god, Y/N. You're taking me so good...good girl," Rick praised between pants. His praise alone was enough to make your cunt throb. Rick's rhythm became sloppy as he felt himself about to cum. You started into his eyes, nonverbally begging him to cum down your throat and whether or not he understood your silent pleas, that's exactly what he did. You swallowed every drop of him as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth. 

"Damn Peach, when'd you become such a slut," Shane taunted with a smirk on his face and his dick in his hand. He took in the sight of you, already drunk on cock, mascara tears running down your cheeks and a streak of drool leaking down your chin. He stepped closer to you as he brought himself to his climax. 

"Say 'ahh'," he ordered. You eagerly opened your mouth as he came all over your pretty face shamelessly. You blinked his cum out of your eyes as you swallowed what got into your mouth. 

"Damn, look at 'er. She takes one cock and she's already all fucked out," Shane teased. 

"Pretty lil thang still hasn't cum yet," Rick commented, noticing the way you were shifting around in an attempt to stimulate your needy clit. 

"You think the lil felon deserves to cum?" 

"Maybe we gotta fuck a lesson into her. Oughta teach her to quit stealin'." 

"Alright," Shane agreed, "But I get 'er pussy first." 

Rick reluctantly agreed. Shane pulled you up from the ground and quickly had you bent over the hood of the car like he did earlier. He took a minute to admire how good your ass looked in those tiny shorts before he practically ripped them off, taking your panties with them. He roughly smacked your ass a few times before spreading your cheeks open with his big, rough hands. He spat on your already dripping cunt before slapping it too. You whimpered in pleasure and tried to close your legs, but he kicked your ankles apart. He lined his dick up with your desperate hole that was already clenching over nothing. 

"Jus' fuck me already, Shane," you slurred. 

 Teasingly, he rubbed his length up and down your slit, coating his already leaking tip with a mix of your slick and his spit. You wantonly whined in an attempt to get him to hurry up and put it in you already. And he finally did. Slammed himself all the way in, earning a scream from you as his rock hard dick hit all the right spots inside of you. He stayed still for a minute causing you to squirm. He leaned over you and whispered in your ear. 

"Be patient, or 'm not gonna let you cum." You stopped squirming and he finally pulled out before ramming himself back inside of you. Your warm walls hugged his cock perfectly as he plowed in and out of your perfect pussy. The sounds your bodies made were so filthy and sinful it only made you clench around his cock even harder. More tears streamed down your face as he fucked you so good you could only babble nonsensically, begging him to make you cum. 

"Ah, Shane, 'm gonnaa," you stupidly babbled. 

"S'alright, Peach, I'ma get you there," he said as he thrusted into you sloppily, his own climax reaching him once again. You screamed in pleasure as you were overcome by your orgasm. As you came, you clenched down on the officer so hard he almost came inside of you, but he resisted until you were through riding out your orgasm. He quickly pulled out and released himself all over your lower back. 

"Rick I need ya, please Rick I wanna feel you inside a' me," you begged. 

 You looked so fucked out laying on that car hood that the men wondered if you even knew what you were saying. Rick walked over to you and unlocked the handcuffs, finally freeing you. Before you could react, he roughly flipped you over onto your back. 

"If you even think about makin' a run for it, I won't hesitate to throw your pretty lil' ass in jail." 

"Yes, Officer Grimes," you whined. Hearing you call him 'Officer Grimes' made his cock twitch. He animalistically tore your tank top off before giving your bra the same treatment, leaving you completely naked and vulnerable to the two fully clothed men. 

"You've got such pretty tits," he complimented as he rubbed his hands up your body. You let out little whimpers and moans, just waiting for him to fill you up and split you open on his cock. His large, warm hands finally found their way to your neglected tits. He grabbed a handful of each one, roughly kneading them. You squirmed and moaned just wishing you had something to rub your clit against. It was all too much. His thumb and forefinger pinched and twisted at your sensitive, hardening buds, earning the most pathetic, wanton moans he's ever heard. Unable to handle it anymore, you reached your now free hand down to your clit and began rubbing circles on it. Rick grabbed your wrist and slammed it against the car's hood. 

"The hell you think you're doin'?" 

"Rick, please!" you sobbed. You desperate pleas and endless begging finally got to him. He lifted your legs, putting them over his shoulders before lining himself up with your abused, aching pussy and slowly sinking in. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the heavenly sensation. 

"What a pretty slut, takin' me so well," he praised once he was all the way in. Your cunt just loved the way Rick filled you up so good. "Jus' look at the way I fill you up," he admired as he pressed on his dick outline through your stomach. Shane watched the glorious way your tits bounced with each of Rick's thrusts. You looked like such a whore, spread out and completely nude, eyes rolling in the back of your head, mouth open, tits bouncing. It made him hard again. Rick rubbed rhythmic circles on your throbbing clit, making you see white and arching your back as another orgasm washed over your body. Rick kept pounding into you as he chased his own orgasm. When it finally came, he filled you up as your pussy milked him dry. His eyes rolled back as he threw his head back in ecstasy. 

"Bring her over here," Shane demanded from the backseat. He sat in the back, facing the open door with his pants down as he stroked his hard-again cock. 

"I'ma fuck those pretty tits." 

  Rick smirked as he forced you back down onto your knees. You stumbled a bit and fell into Shane's arms. He looked down at you and smirked to himself, proud of the mess he made on your face. One of his large hands kneaded one of your tits, whole he continued to stroke himself with the other. He spat on his hand, lubing up his cock before squishing your tits together with both hands. He groaned in pleasure as he stuck himself between your warm, soft mounds. The unexpected penetration of Rick’s tongue in your pussy had you moaning in unison with Shane. He was practically making out with your lower lips while Shane fucked your tits. The feeling of his warm mouth sucking on your overstimulated clit made your mind go blank as you screamed his name. His tongue redirected itself to your needy hole, tasting every bit of you and reaching places your fingers couldn’t. As the pleasure became too much, you gripped Shane’s muscular thighs, digging your nails into his flesh. His head was thrown back in pleasure as he tightened his grip on your tits. 

“You’re doin’ so good, Peach,” he praised. All you could do was moan in response. The friction of Shane’s veiny dick sliding between your tits combined with Rick’s skilled mouth eating you out put you in a state of euphoria. You screamed the mens’ names as you came for the third time today. Shortly after, Shane came all over your chest. Once you came down from your orgasm, you slumped over onto Shane due to your exhaustion. Rick got out from under you and picked your scattered clothes from off the ground, keeping your panties for himself. Shane helped you into the car and Rick tossed you your clothes. 

…

“We’ll let you off with a warnin’. But this is the last time, Y/N,” Rick said, sternly. 

“Yes, Officer Grimes,” you sleepily mumbled as you dressed yourself in the backseat. 

“We’re serious,” Shane affirmed as he drove. 

“I know, Officer Walsh.” 

 You slept the rest of the car ride, worn out from all the fucking you endured. Once they pulled into your driveway, you woke up and exited the car. 

“Don’t let us catch you stealin’ shit again,” Rick shouted from his rolled down window as you walked to your house. 

“Okay. Can I keep the lip gloss though?” 

masterlist

tbh, i don't even like shane, but this idea came to me in the shower a few days ago and i couldn't resist =p

[sinsandsweetness]

Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?

now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)

been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)

I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗

PICK YOUR POISON

(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count

You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.

“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.

Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”

You ignore his attitude.

“Mom needs you.”

“For what?”

“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”

He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.

“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.

“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.

“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.

“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.

They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.

You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.

They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.

The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.

But they are.

They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.

You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.

When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.

But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.

Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.

“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.

“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.

“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.

“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.

“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.

He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.

Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.

“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.

“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.

“Right.”

Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.

But you didn’t.

“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.

“Which one?”

“Bud’s fine.”

You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.

To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.

“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”

You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.

Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.

“You gonna share?” You ask.

Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.

“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.

“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.

“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.

“Not a chance.” You smile.

He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.

“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.

“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.

“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.

“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”

You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.

“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.

“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.

You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.

To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.

“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.

part 2

-

(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)

taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker

[chellestrash]

A long road ahead

Shane Walsh x Female!Reader

summary: bored in the car with your boyfriend you decide to make the drive a bit more fun for both of you. warnings: pet names, explicit language, explicit content, teasing, exhibitionism, masturbation, oral sex, unprotected sex, car sex, pure smut, not much plot to it word count: 2.2k a/n: i literally got the idea and then sat down and wrote it in like the same day? Had to get it out of the system before I work on some bigger projects, hope you'll enjoy it!

You watch the not so well, lit road from the passenger's seat of your car while Shane drives you both to a little party at one of your old friend's place, a couple of cities over. It's not a short drive, but you figured it won't be too bad on a Friday evening, and you quickly realize your assumption was correct. It's not bad, but it is boring, the road is long, and you start to get bored...quickly.

You turn to your boyfriend, watching as he skips through the radio station for a bit before setting on something that seemed semi familiar to both of you. He clears his throat, tilting his head to the side, as he goes back to watching the road in front of him. Your eyes linger on his arms for a bit, the fabric of his t-shirt tight around his bicep as he grips the steering wheel after changing the gear. You trace your eyes down his body, from his rough side profile, over that pretty neck, down to his broad shoulders, his chest and the down and down and lower until you stop right between his legs. 

Your mind wanders, pretty quickly finding its way back to yours and Shane's favorite ways of passing the time together, and you suck your lower lip in between your teeth.

Watching him for another moment, with your mind occupied by the memories of his body, your hand slowly finds it way under your dress and make up your mind the second your boyfriend's voice brings you back to him.

“You okay?”

He asks, eyebrows pulled together as he turns from the road to you and back to the road again. 

“Yeah.”

You answer quickly, and he glances over at you again, scrunching his nose up slightly as he does his best to figure out if you mean it or not.

“You sure?”

“I'm fine, Shane, watch the road.”

You instruct him, and he does as he's told. After turning to face the window on your side of the car, you prop your head in your palm and watch the dark buildings pass by behind the glass. It doesn't take more than a couple of minutes for your brain to wander back into the place Shane managed to, oh so effortlessly, pull you out off. 

Rubbing your thumb over your thigh, you slowly move your palm higher and higher up your leg before pushing it under the fabric of your dress. 

“What are-”

Shane starts, catching your hand move out the corner of his eye, but chokes on his own words once he turns his head to look at you, his eyes immediately falling between your legs. His jaw drops, eyes widen when he registers the subtle movements of your hand under the fabric, and you take this opportunity to make the ride a bit more interesting for both of you. Lifting your ass up from the seat, you quickly pull your black panties down, opening your legs slightly to allow them to fall onto the floor of the car. 

“Shit-”

He curses, dropping his hand to the now, growing bulge in his jeans, doing his best to keep the car in the right lane without looking at the road too much.

“Wait- wait wait wait - fuck what-”

He tries, but you speak over him.

“I'm sooooo fucking bored, Walsh.”

You tease him with a whine, pulling the dress up just enough for him to catch the glimpse of your pussy before finally touching yourself properly.

Humming, satisfied with the sensation, you rub your fingers over your center for a moment before spreading your legs open some more to focus on the clit. 

“Shane! The road!”

You point out after a moment, realizing he probably didn't look away from you since the panties brushed over your ankles. He doesn't listen, reaching his hand over to your side, trying to touch you.

“Don't-”

You push his hand away, and nod towards the road in front of the car.

“Walsh! You want me to call the cops on you? Watch the damn road!"

You warn, hand never slipping away from your center as you address him directly.

“God- fuck-, god damn it!”

He huffs, slamming his hand into the steering wheel, frustrated as he focuses back on not causing a major car wreck before reaching over and pushing your hand away from your pussy. 

“Don't fucking do that then.”

He warns you, and you give him a shocked smirk.

"Or?"

You push your hips forward, the hand immediately back between your legs.

"Hey! What'd I just say, what-"

Shane glances between you and the road, trying to focus on both things at once, but you won't let him win.

"What'd i say?!"

He warns, harsh, loud voice fills the car but, you know him, it doesn't work on you.

Propping your knee on the ledge by the window, you spread your legs open even more, making sure to turn in his direction slightly, wanting him to get the best view possible. 

“Oh, I don't know...didn't hear you."

You point out as you continue to rub your fingers over your clit, feeling the warmth between your legs growing more and more the more you touched yourself, but most likely the more he watched you do it. It wasn't the first time you did shit of this sort in the car, but it was the first time you decided to not let touch you, at least not yet. You wanted to tease and get to him, and that's exactly what you wear doing. Judging by the now, completely hard cock staining against the fabric of his jeans, you deserved some praise. 

You moan theatrically, earning yourself another “made you look" point before, he glares into the mirror and onto the side of the road.

“I'm pulling over-.”

“Don't!” 

You protest.

"Yeah, you think I'm gonna listen to you now?"

He mumbles, eyebrow raised as he glares at you and into the mirror again.

"Think I'm gonna-"

“You pull over, I'll stop. You got that?”

He turns to you quickly one more time, and you know if looks could kill, Shane Walsh would be a murdered right now. 

“You're on- real thin ice right now, you know that-”

He warns you, but you manage to cut him off yet again, the wet sounds of your fingers slipping inside you cuts off any sort of communication between his brain and his lips.

You watch the way his knuckles turn white against the steering wheel as you continue to do to yourself, what he wishes he was doing right now, when the car suddenly stops.

The intersection feels like a gift from God when the red light forces him to stop the truck.

Fighting with the buckle of his belt with one hand, he undoes the seatbelt and leans over to your side of the car before ducking down, between your legs. You slip your fingers out and lift your hips up slightly to make it easier while he grunts into you. Your mouth falls open and eyes shut tight when you feel his tongue press hard against your sensitive clit. 

“Oh shit- oh shit.”

You push his head harder against you, the short, buzzed hair prickling your palm while he hums loudly, licking up your slick. Digging your nails into his back, you attempt to pull him even closer, feeling the climax building up deep under your bellybutton. You don’t even dare to think about it too much, but to be completely honest, you’re pretty sure, despite the late hour, if someone looked at the car even for a moment, they’d figure out what was going on. 

“Shane-”

You half gasp, half moan when the green hue of the streetlight snaps you out of the pleasant moment.

“Fuck- Shane!”

Taping the side of his head with your hand, you attempt to get his attention, but he only lifts his head up once the car behind you hooks impatient.

“Fuuu-”

He pushes his head up, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand quickly before doing his best to frantically get the car in gear before stepping on the gas. Your slick shines on his lips in the lights of the streetlamps while he speeds down the main road, pushing his hand into his boxers at the same time. You watch the fabric move as he strokes his cock again and again and again, biting into your lower lip at the site

“Pull over.”

You finally get the words out, feeling way too close to stop now, but not wanting to come without him. 

“I'm fuckin- tryin-”

He almost shouts now, glancing around the car's surroundings.

“Shane…”

You warn, and he catches your hips buck up, pussy clenching around nothing, the last straw.

“Fuck- don't, wait, god fucking-”

The car jerks to the side as he cuts through the two lanes and comes to a sudden stop on a small dirt road off the side of the main one. It's, in no way, secluded, not any more than the main road, but neither of you care enough for that fact to stop you. Not at this point.

You pull your hand away from yourself and Shane yanks his jeans and boxers down, his cocks springing out, hard for you already, before he pushes his seat back enough to make room for you.

“Fuck, fuck f- c'mere darlin' c'mon-“

He grabs onto your arm desperately, helping you throw your leg over the middle of the car, and you wait exactly half a second for him to line his cock up with your entrance before taking him in at the same time as he bucks up into you.

“Oh shit- oh shit, god-fuck!”

He curses under his breath as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate to his size. His hands drop to your hips, under the dress, fingers digging into your ass when you begin to ride him, both of you working on the deep thrusts. You throw your arms over his neck, head falling back slightly, your nails on his back again as you feel his cock drag out of you before pushing in, nudging right under your stomach on the inside. 

His lips find yours as the trusts speeds up and so does your breathing. You taste yourself on him and hum into the kiss before he pulls away, pushing his face into your neck with a loud grunt as he feels himself almost falling over the edge now.

“Fuck-fuck- oh shit- “

As his hips speed up even more, he pushes his hand between your bodies, and you feel his fingers on your clit.

A loud moan lets him know they're in the right place, and he scoffs loudly, smiling wide as he watches you fall apart on top of him.

Your climax hits, harder than you've anticipated, definitely harder than what you've expected when you slipped your hand under your dress a couple miles ago, and he lets you ride the high out on his cock before finally letting himself come as well. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck-”

You grip onto his torso as he fucks through your body's post orgasm clenches, listening to the wet sounds filling the car. He grunts, loud, really loud, and you know he's there.

“Ohhhh there he iiiiis. Good boy Walsh!”

You tease immediately after, not really giving him even a second to catch his breath. Resting his forehead against yours, he pants loudly, swallowing hard as he does his best to speak up now.

“Fuck you.”

He mumbles, and you laugh out loud, pressing your lips into his before dragging your hand down his face to clean him up a little bit. 

“Again? You wish”

He scoffs loudly this time, rolling his eyes at your words, before wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you even closer to him.

“Think anyone saw us?”

He asks after you sit in silence for a moment, your body rising and falling with his chest, your fingers scratching the back of his neck gently, his hands on your lower back under the fabric of the dress, thumbs brushing softly over your skin.

You shrug, not really sure if it honestly matters much to you.

“The car behind us at the stop light?”

He laughs loudly, looking off to the side, out the window and back at you.

“Yeah, shit. S'what i though too.”

You breathe out a laugh and shrug your shoulders. 

“Well, if they did, then…lucky them, I guess.”

Shane nods, approving of your answer with a quiet chuckle, and you smile at the sound.

“Lucky them.”

He repeats before sighing loudly.

“Christ…don't know how we didn't fucking crash.”

He mumbles, holding your hand as you stand up and pull off of his cock before falling back onto your seat before he slowly and gently tucks his cock back into him boxers then pulls his jeans up.

“Should we try the party still?”

He asks, watching you lean down to pick something up from the floor.

“Eeeh I don't know.”

You state, not even turning to face him before hanging your lacy black panties over the mirror before turning to face him again.

“Your choice Walsh. We still have a bit to go."

[liliesdiary]

Shane x Greene Farmer Girl

"You're such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Go back to your daddy's farm and don't tell him about our little secret in his barn."

[grimesgirll]

“good fucking girl.”

is definitely not something rick should be saying to his best friend’s girlfriend - especially not with his cock halfway down her throat.

the moment shane had stepped out for a run with glenn and michonne, you and rick were all over each other. you couldn’t handle sneaking into rick’s bed down the hall anymore. you were bound to end up in his lap on the sectional, pawing at him like a bitch in heat.

it’s not that shane didn’t fuck you; he took every chance he got. you’re just enamored with rick. ever since your boyfriend had “shared” you with his fellow officer, rick had been on your mind.

the way his brown constable’s jacket fit against his muscles when they flexed. the glint of his chocolate curls. how good he is with judith.

rick gets you goin’ in a way shane hasn’t for quite some time. he was right when he got you down on your knees back at the rest stop. you did look at rick like you wanted to drain him and then have him bend you over and fuck you silly - and that’s what ended up happening.

ever since that day, shane got off on toying with you and having you sit on rick’s cock in addition to his own. he uttered excuses about the stresses of their new duties as constable but you just slid down your denim skort and squealed the occasion away.

you’re quiet now, nice and muffled on rick’s dick as you swallow around him. the motion has him twitching in your mouth. wanting to finish off inside of you for the night, the thick length in your mouth is withdrawing and suddenly you’re in that familiar face down position again.

“so wet, baby,” rick remarks in awe as his length brushes your slippery entrance.

you’re squeezing your thighs together - trapping him between the pillowy soft surfaces. “rick,” you cry. “c’mon, already.”

“what’d we say?”

you swallow, a tear from how needy you are sliding down your cheek. “please, sir.”

you could care less if shane walked in right now. as long as rick keeps driving his hips into yours and breathing your name like a prayer, you’ll be content. content to get fucked silly by the man before he takes you in his arms and spends the night with a hand on your waist and his nose buried in your hair.

that’s after though.

now, you’re being nearly fucked up the couch.

rick’s just enjoying the way your sweet little cunt grips him like it needs him. the little thing sucks him in even better than your mouth.

and you’re a whole other story. sweat sticking to your glistening forehead, you’re babbling incoherent thoughts, strung out on the cock molding you to his shape.

your slick is pooling around rick like he’s in the fucking atlantic. so close to losing it all over him already, you’re making an absolute mess of the couch that you’ll have to resolve before shane gets home. don’t want him suffering from any fear of missing out.

the man is swept from your mind when rick absolutely crams his cock inside of your clinging cunt. the kiss to your cervix is enough for you to start seeing spots around the older man making you take his cock so well.

every time you park your pussy on rick’s thick dick and come, you ground down, grasp his hand, do anything to get as close as possible. feeling him to skin to skin is second only to feeling him fill you up. the filthy praises coming from his lips come close as well.

“fuck, baby, so nice and tight. you want me to come inside you, huh? have shane come home to this pussy all messy?”

you’re shaking your head like you have any idea what you’re asking for. “yes, rick! i want you to make a mess of my pussy.”

“then come all over this cock, honey.”

“mhmm, rick, i-,”

“that’s it.”

“i love how deep you are, rick-,” you’re bumbling like an idiot and muttering a string of “i love you”s as the dam bursts and you come undone on rick’s cock.

the pulsing warmth beneath you is accompanied by a husky, “i love you too,” and a chorus of your name into your shoulder as rick used his horsecock to fuck you two through your climaxes.

the friction on your clit heightens the heat surrounding you and flooding into you from rick. you’re almost overwhelmed by the bruising kisses rick purples onto your neck as he gathers you on top of him.

“you did so good, honey,” he’s praising you and you’re just nodding, humming, “thank you”s and “i know”s until he’s bear hugging you again. the way he nuzzles into your neck from behind and exhales into your hair is enough for you to forget trudging up to bed and drift off into rick’s touch right there.

you’re already asleep in his arms but he takes the time to stroke your hair and kiss up and down your temples. god, he loves getting this time with you to himself - even if you’re asleep.

with you pressed against him and your heartbeat thrumming, the world is still and rick realizes something - he’s never letting you go.

[darlingshane]

Dirty Laundry

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: Shane doesn't approve of the way you do laundry. He tries to school you, but he loves you so much he can't really stay mad at you for long, especially when you start taking your clothes off.

Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Crack, Oral Sex (f. recieving), Vaginal sex, Pet Names, Bratty reader. No ZA.

Word Count: 1.9k // AO3 Link.

You were aware Shane had his quirks before moving in together. Some you already knew, like having five pairs of boots from the same brand, or the way he chews his thumbnail when he’s nervous, or how he frantically runs his hand on his hair when he’s pissed… Most of those were quickly revealed after you started dating. Others you'd only come aware of them upon moving in together.

One that is highly surprising is his obsession with laundry. You noticed that his clothes were always perfectly clean and ironed as he wore them on any occasion you went out, no matter how fancy or casual. But once you were sharing the same bedroom, you found out that even his underwear is always neatly pressed and folded in the drawer as if it had just come out of the package. With how much he works, you always thought he'd have taken to a cleaners or something, but that’s not the case. He not only cares for his own clothes but making laundry is something he actually enjoys. It relaxes him, he says. Which it’s the complete opposite for you. It makes you anxious anytime you have to do it. Especially the folding and sorting part. When you lived alone, there was always a pile sitting on that chair in the corner of your room. But not anymore. Now that you are living with Shane there are no more random piles collecting dust for days at a time in any chair of the house. Anytime he does laundry, you come home to find your drawers perfectly organized. It’s not something you can complain about because Shane is a true dream of a partner. Quirks and all, you wouldn’t have it any other way. So, in return, any time it’s your turn to make laundry, no matter how much you hate it, you make the minimal effort to at least take the same care of his clothes as he does for yours. Though you could tell that sometimes he doesn’t approve of your messy folding technique, and has to rearrange them when you’re not around, he never says anything either.

But today, when it's your turn to do laundry, he comes home to catch you transferring all the dirty clothes from the hamper into the washing machine, both yours and his without much regard of type, color, texture… That's how you've always done it. Yes, it's messy, and you've had a couple of mishaps, but nothing really atrocious ever happened. You never put that much thought into it, to be honest. It's just clothing. But not for Shane. Watching his precious shirts, and uniform with the rest of the load makes him physically ill. He stares at you as if you were killing a puppy.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he goes off, taking stuff out of the washer. “You can't mix delicates with towels. And what the fuck is this?” he picks up a pair of dirty sneakers from the bottom of the drum. “You were really gonna wash them with all these? You're a fuckin’ savage.”

You lean against the dryer and try not to burst into laughter at how annoyed he is. It's kinda cute actually to see him frown at you with scorn, and hearing his voice pitch a little higher than usual.

These past few weeks, you've been collecting a series of firsts since you moved into your new home. The first time you cooked in your new kitchen, the first time you disagreed when it came to rearranging the living room furniture, the first night you woke him up when you heard a strange noise in the hallway… And today it's the first time you've truly seen him irritated.

“It's just clothes, babe. Who cares?”

“I care.” He frantically goes through the heap of clothes, divorcing them into several piles on top of the washer. “Please tell me at least you're not using the speed cycle to wash everything.”

“What? It saves time, water, electricity…”

“Yeah, but at what cost.”

“Gee, it's not like I murdered someone.”

“You were about to murder my uniform. That's the real crime.”

“Hmm, you look better without it anyway.” You tease, reaching with your hand to pinch his booty covered by a pair of jeans.

“Stop, this is serious.” Shane stays firm in his position but tries to hide one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile. “Look, I’m gonna show you how it’s done.”

“Ohh, fun. I'm about to get schooled by the laundry police. Please enlighten me, Officer.”

You roll your eyes and half listen to him explaining the washer’s control panel to you as if you were an idiot. It’s not that you don’t know how to use it, it’s that you’re lazy and rather put everything together and save time. Then, he proceeds to elaborate on which categories you should separate the different types of fabrics.

“That would take me all day if I have to do that many loads.”

“So? That’s what weekends are for?”

“Noooo. Weekends are for resting, watching movies, and chilling.”

“Who said you can't have that too?”

“You! I think I lost five years of my life by just listening to you explaining how to do laundry.”

“You’re being a little brat today.”

“Am I now?” You smirk and push one of the piles he had on top of the washer to the floor. “Whoops.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“Nothing.” You push the next one.

“You're playing a dangerous game, darling.”

“Yeah? I just want you to teach me again how to do it.” Next, you grab the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing, pull it over your head and dangle it in your finger. “Where should I put this, deputy?”

“I'd put it up your ass. Bet it'd look real nice there.”

You snort and let the shirt fall to the floor.

“What about this, Mr. Delicate?” you unclasp your bra, slip the straps off your arms, and drape it on his shoulder. “Do you like it there?”

Then, you brace your palms on his chest, your lips draw a grin as you lean to whisper closer to his mouth. “Or do you want me to put it back on?”

“Don't fucking dare putting it back on?” He mutters, swatting the bra off his shoulder before having his hand holding your jaw firmly.

There's actually no other choice for him than to join your little game. Laundry be damned when it comes to choosing between you or clothes.

Licking his lips, he pulls his head back, eyes roaming down to your bare chest as you move your hands to hold his waist. When his stare travels back up, you both lock eyes for a second before having his mouth pressed against yours with a sloppy, pushing flick of his tongue forcing itself past your lips.

His hand keeps your head still while he shoves your back against the wall. His free hand snakes its way under the waistband of your sweatpants at the front. His fingers shamelessly rub your pussy back and forth over your panties, tucking the fabric in your slit. Hitting all the right spots, he earns a good moan out of you.

All of a sudden, his tongue comes to a stop. His hand too. Shane drops to his knees. From that position he pulls your sweatpants down to your ankles and grabs your hips as his tongue juts out to draw a wet circle around your navel. He then trails down, as your skin comes alive into goose flesh. He yanks your underwear down your legs to join your pants at the floor before having his mouth shoved at the junction of your hips. His mouth travels all over your sex, leaving kisses and nibbles your outer lips, licking your folds, teasing your clit…

“Shane… Fuck…” you bury your fingers in his hair and pull tight as the tip of his tongue circles your opening.

Your body writhes against the hard surface holding your back, your grip tightens on his hair while his lips viciously start sucking your clit. Your pussy melts as much as any time he goes down on you and just as fast as before, his mouth is suddenly gone before the job is done, leaving that sweet aching lingering all over your cunt. He lifts his stare to seize your unsatisfied expression as you gasp for air. He quickly yanks his shirt off before holding your hips and bringing you down to the floor.

“C’mere, dirty lil brat,” he growls, and you yelp as he manhandles your body, rolling you to your back right on top of the pile of dirty laundry you tossed to the floor.

Shane removes the clothing hanging around your ankles and sets your knees widely apart so he can kneel in between. He unzips his jeans, pulls them down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxer briefs to release his erection. He’s hard as rock. The flared tip of his dick is swollen and red, begging for some friction. There’s a dark shine in his eyes that matches the glossy layer of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. As he lowers his body down, you frame his face with both your palms, pull his face closer to capture his mouth while he blindly guides himself into your opening. Your core knots tightly as he pushes all his length up to the hilt. His breathing shallows as you devour his mouth with hunger. He comfortably settles on top of you, holding one of his arms on the side of your head while his other hand clutches to your hips. His thrusts come sharp and steady, filling the room with the relentless slapping of his hips against your skin and the desperate sounds of your kisses.

“God, I love you,” you groan in his mouth.

“Love you more, sweetheart.”

You breathe the air of his lungs, eat his tongue and swallow the sweet grunts that come out of his throat one beat at a time as you both lose the ability to draw deeper breaths. His cock swiftly comes in and out of you as your legs tremble and lock. You move your hands to hold his ass as the erratic waving of his hips drives you out of your mind. A pulse later you're hit with a mighty climax that almost makes you lose consciousness. As your walls flutter around his thickness he spills all his warm juices deep in your walls.

“Fuck me,” his voice falters as he slips out of you.

He lays flat on top of you for a moment as your orgasm slowly ebbs. His skin is warm and damp against yours as your palm glides up his back to comb the hairs at his nape.

“Oh god, now the laundry is dirtier than before,” you laugh softly as his smile grows wide against your neck.

“And whose fault is that, huh?” he lifts his head to look at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Technically… it’s yours. If you had let me do it as I wanted, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Ain’t that right?” he playfully pinches your side making you jolt and chuckle.

“I mean… I’d rather do you than do laundry, so I'm not complaining.”

“Yeah?” he sweetly dips to leave a chaste peck on your lips. “I'd rather do you, too.”

[etclouie]

Do you think that you could do a drabble about the twd boys types? Or Alternatively if you don't like that one maybe what they like in people they date? Tyy -Anon

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 their type(s)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: age gap (negan), references to sex (shane), no bodily descriptions - just characteristics

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 includes; rick grimes, daryl dixon, negan smith, shane walsh, abraham ford, and glenn rhee

drabbles masterlist | main masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ rick - i think his type is someone with confidence, or someone who can match him. someone who is willing and confident enough to protect their family, is exactly where his heart lies. 

because in my opinion, when rick kinda loses his head, he doesn’t think straight so having a girl he can rely on to keep his family safe when he can’t is all he wants. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ daryl - someone he can be soft with is his type i feel. he’s always been an outsider, typically, and keeps to himself. so finding someone who he can let his walls down around is the best thing for him. 

personally, i think daryl loves being held. so finally finding a girl he can let his walls down around, and just let her hold him is all he truly wants in a girlfriend. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ negan - dare i say, younger girls. am i feeding into my own thoughts? maybe. however, i think it fuels some sort of power play he has and he revels off of it. 

the age difference gives him this dynamic of having power over his girlfriend and it gets to his head really. she has him wrapped around her finger, but he’s still in charge. wouldn’t have it any other way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ shane - i think his type would be somebody with the same sex drive, like sure a pretty face matters but it doesn’t bother him. he’s always horny and ready to go, so someone that matches his drive is perfect for him. 

obviously, he’s respectful if you don’t always feel the same level of horny as him, but someone that matches him is his ideal type.  

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ abraham - personally, i don’t think he has a set type, but he’s drawn towards loyal people. anyone who’s loyal has him hooked. 

after being so set on getting eugene to washington, and the loyalty he showed there, finding someone with the same willpower and being deadset just like him, i think that’s exactly what he looks for in a partner. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ glenn - a girl that’s kind, that’s all i think he looks for in a girlfriend. obviously with the fall of the world, kindness isn’t always something people show first or willingly, so having a girl that is kind regardless has his heart. 

even more so if she’s kind to kids, deep down i feel as if glenn has always wanted kids, so seeing the girl he wants being kind to kids clears any doubt in his mind. 

reblogs are highly apreciated !

[annwrites]

you missed training ※∴

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: shane deems it time for you to have some private target practice lessons with him.

— tags: shane has horny thoughts about you, cuddling, shane actually giving a damn

— tw: guns, suicidal ideation, mentions of masturbation, eating

— word count: 4,773

You shove a clothespin into place before picking up the next item—one of Andrea’s pairs of cargo pants—and jump when you feel a palm against your back, causing you to nearly drop the damp piece of clothing. You clutch it to your chest instead, thankful they won’t need to be rewashed.

You turn to your right where Shane is now standing, palm still firmly in-place against your backside.

“Yes?” You ask as you hang the pants. You then turn fully toward him, causing him to drop his hand.

“You missed training.”

You shrug, bending down to pick up a t-shirt, but he takes it from you, throwing it on the line without clothespins, just to get your attention back on him. “Can you just stop for a minute and look at me?”

You sigh, doing as he’s asked, crossing your arms.

“I asked you to come,” he says, clearly not pleased with you.

“There was work to do.”

He shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips, and you can tell his temper is nearly at its boiling point. Not that it isn't always anymore, it seems.

“That’s always your excuse. For everything. And I’m gettin’ tired of hearin’ it.”

You give him a none-too-pleased look at the attitude now lacing his tone, and go to pick up a pair of clothespins so the shirt can be properly hanged, and not risk being blown away by the wind, but he takes them from you, throwing them back into the basket before grabbing your hand in his and pulling you away from laundry duty.

“Shane-” You start, but he promptly interrupts you.

He turns back to you, your hand still held firmly within his calloused grip. “I am tired of askin’ nicely. This is important, and you’re going to learn whether you like it or not.”

You can feel your face growing warm, your pulse rising. You do not appreciate being made into just one more person he thinks he can boss around as he pleases. “I don’t need lessons.”

He gives you a look which says ‘yeah right’ before releasing your hand and pulling his pistol from its holster. He goes to hand it to you and you take it from him with caution. And don’t you dare think he doesn’t notice the fear with which you handle the weapon with.

“Alright, then. You know everything you need to know, then show me where the safety is.”

You look the sidearm over, looking for the right button, but look up to him in humiliation after a moment. You can’t even find it within yourself to tell him you don’t know.

He crosses his arms. “Show me how to eject the clip, then.”

Once again, you’re not sure which button will do what he’s asked for.

With an exasperated sigh, he takes the gun from you, tucking it back into its holster. “You want to tell me about how you don’t need training again?”

You shift from one foot to the other, refusing to answer.

“Not going to answer me now?”

You look up to him. Into his eyes which are searching yours. You shrug.

Shane hangs his head, shaking it. “Sweetheart, you want to explain to me why you’re so reluctant to learn a new way to defend yourself? A pretty important one?”

You look away from him, to those milling around the camp, talking and laughing amongst themselves. And then you look the other way, to an empty field. Tranquility, solitude. Peace.

“Learning self-defense means that I feel like I still have a life worth defending—worth living. That I feel like I’m worth defending.” You look at him then. “I don’t believe any of that.”

He lets out a low swear. “I thought we were past this.”

“You keep insisting on saving someone who doesn’t want to be saved, Shane. I never asked for you to bring me with you all from the quarry. Never asked for you to drag me out of the CDC. Never asked for you to help me on the highway. I made my choice over and over again and you refuse to accept that.”

He grimaces, his fists tightening at his sides. “Just because you think you’re not worth saving doesn’t mean everybody else has to think that. Because I don’t. Which I’ve proved time and again. You’re-” He rubs his hand over his head, settling it on his hip. “You’re one of the most valuable members of this group. You-”

You interrupt him with a laugh which has no humor behind it. “Valuable? Valuable how, Shane? By doing laundry? By helping make lunch and cleaning out the RV?”

He shakes his head. “It’s more than that and you know it. Just because you don’t see your self-worth doesn’t mean I don’t. Because I do.”

You continue to stare up at him, fighting against the tears threatening to overtake your vision. A tear slips from one of your eyes anyway and he reaches up, gently brushing it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m going to keep saving you until one day I don’t have to anymore. Because you’ve finally made the decision to live. So, are we going to go practice? Because if you tell me no, girl, I’ll just keep on your case about it until-”

“Ok.”

He shuts his mouth suddenly, a small grin gracing his lips. “Yeah?”

“I said ok.”

He jerks his head in the direction of the training area they’d set up some ways off from the house and camp. “C’mon then.”

He places his palm against the small of your back again, leading you away from camp.

The Georgia heat could be insufferable some days, but at least today was a bit cooler, even by a few degrees, with a slight breeze. The sun was low enough for the trees behind the training area to be casting long shadows, shielding you from the sun overhead.

Shane leads you over to a bit of fence that has a row of bottles set up beyond it, along with a couple of targets.

“Alright, here.” He stops you in the middle, the targets all directly beyond where you’re standing.

He removes the gun from its holster again. “This is your safety,” he says, flipping a small switch on the side, a red dot now visibile. He looks at you, and you at him. “Red means fire.” He flips the switch back.

“And this is how you release your clip.” He presses a button on the side and the bottom of the pistol comes out, a row of shiny bullets now visible. “It’s fully loaded.”

He pushes the clip back in.

“You know your stance?”

You shake your head, feeling more and more ignorant with every question he asks. You’d never had a reason to learn these things…before.

“I figured as much,” he says with a smile, coming to stand behind you.

He kicks your feet apart with his boot. “Move your right foot forward some—good, like that. Now, turn.” He grips your hips in both of his hands, firmly, turning your body just the least bit toward the fence. Shane then removes his gun from its holster and holds it out in front of you.

You take the grip in your hands, only just now noticing how heavy it is when you try to hold it up.

The barrel droops and he sighs. “Should’ve brought a lighter pistol, that’s my mistake.”

He reaches up, taking both of your hands in his, helping you hold it steady. “Alright, safety off.”

You find the small switch from earlier and push it down, that small red dot now visible.

“Chamber a round by pulling the slide back.”

You at least know that part, so you do as he instructs. “Good.” He presses his front against your backside, his body heat radiating onto you, causing a few small beads of sweat to form on the back of your neck.

“Make sure to keep your back straight, feet apart. And I want you to grip the gun firmly, but let it breathe. And don’t you ever put your finger on that trigger until you’re ready to fire and know what you’re firing at. You understand?”

You nod.

“Alright, close your left eye, find your target, and when you're ready, put your finger on the trigger and squeeze it slowly. Don’t just start firing off rounds at-will.” You hear a smirk in his voice as he continues “We’re saving that for the advanced course.”

“Given I pass this one,” you add, your tone nervous.

“You’ve got Officer Shane Walsh playin’ teacher to you now, darlin’. I’ll give you a pass.” He shrugs. “Once you’ve earned it.”

You don’t dare to think what he said might have some double-meaning to it.

“Alright, sweetheart. Deep breath, then when you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath, slowly let it out, then place your finger over the trigger, his hands still over yours. You squeeze slowly…and miss the bottle you were aiming at entirely.

You nearly curse. “I missed.”

“That was just your first try. You’ll get there.” He readjusts his hands. “We’ve got all day, baby. Just you and me.”

You feel sweat drip down your back. You tell yourself its from the heat. Not his body pressed firmly against yours. Not the pet names slipping so easily from his lips. And certainly not the fact that all of his attention was, at current, focused entirely on you.

He keeps his hands overtop of yours. "Try again, darlin'."

You close one eye, find the bottle you'd aimed at before and fire once again, hitting it this time and shattering it.

You smile. An actual genuine smile. And fill with a small sense of accomlishment.

Shane brings his lips close to your ear. "Good job, honey. Four more to go."

You could swear he presses a brief, light kiss to the side of your head, but brush it off as nothing.

You miss your next three shots—each attempt sloppier than the last and your cheeks feel like they're on fire. Whether from the warmth of his body nearly enveloping yours, the heat of the day, or the humiliation of having missed so many times, you're not sure.

But he'd not gotten aggravated with you yet. "Try again," he instructs softly.

"I-" you start, until he adjusts his stance behind you, briefly gripping one of your hips to fix your footing, causing you to go silent again as his hand skims your bare waist under your shirt.

"You say somethin', sweetheart?"

You shake your head. "I'm just having a hard time concentrating."

Your arms were resting in front of you now, the pistol lowered and gripped in each of your hands, the safety on.

"Somethin' you need to me to do?"

Take a step back and let me breathe, you want to say, but don't. It's impossible to concentrate with your hands all over my body, you consider, but keep your mouth shut. He was just trying to be a good teacher, that was all.

Somehow you doubted he had been this handsy with Patricia or Jimmy, though.

"Could we take a break, maybe?"

He comes to stand at your side. "We only just started. Tell you what, hit another bottle and we'll take a quick break. Can you do that for me?"

You don't answer. You simply raise the pistol again, but before you can even shut one of your eyes, he's pressed right back up against your backside, his arms and hands enveloping your own.

You sigh, squeeze the trigger, and somehow manage to get lucky.

As you take a brief pause, the two of you seated facing each other—both of you leaned back against opposing trees—you try to ignore his staring.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. "I'll get you a lighter gun when we get back. Think I know the one for you. Just...not sure if giving you a firearm is the best idea. Right now, at least"

You fidget with your hands in your lap. "Why? Because you think as soon as you hand it to me I'm going to stick it in my mouth?"

A muscle in his jaw feathers. "You said it, not me. But yes. Given your past...behavior, you can't blame me for bein' a bit paranoid."

You lean your head back, looking back to the three untouched bottles, mocking you across the way. Had you hit them, you wouldn't be having this conversation right now. "No, I guess I can't."

You don't see him shake his head. "Not even going to try and convince me otherwise?"

You look back to him. "I haven't exactly tried ending my life in incredibly direct ways thus far, Shane. I chose to stay at the quarry, you wouldn't allow that. I chose to stay at the CDC—same result. I collapse on the highway and you nursed me back to health. It's not like I was slitting my wrists or downing bottles of pills. It was more just...whatever happened happened."

"I just wish I knew how the hell to stop it."

The truth was...being here—at the farm—was actually helping. The wide open spaces that were free from walkers. The quiet, slow way of living. Having some sense of security with there being an actual house and barn nearby. Even meeting new people had lifted your spirits. But you were afraid to admit it out loud—that you felt small moments of happiness in this place every now and again. Because as soon as you did? It'd all be ripped away.

But you knew Shane was worried about you. A worry that grew with each day. So you cross your fingers—mentally knock on wood—before you tell him.

"Being here has helped. Being someplace so...untouched. I still have bad days and bad moments, but I feel better here. Lighter, somehow. I don't think about wandering off and ending it all like I did anymore. Now I just...I wish we could make a life here. All of us. But if you keep butting heads with Hershel that dream will end one day."

He studies you for a moment. "Think he's just living with his head in the clouds. Thinking those things aren't what they are. That help is coming. That we'll get past this and things will just return to normal before we know it."

"What does it hurt you to let him believe that? We all had hope like that at one time, too, incase you've forgotten. He hasn't seen what we've seen. Hasn't been through what we've been through. Just...put yourself in his shoes. Wouldn't you be just as blind?"

He shrugs. "Don't think I'd have my head that far in the damn sand."

You're both quiet again. You don't bother arguing further with him. He was stubborn—hard-headed as they came. Trying to make him see reason, or at the very least, another way, was futile more often than not.

"I'm happy to hear it, though. Relieved, really. That you feel better here. Guess we made the right decision by staying."

You flush. "I always wanted to live in a place like this. Quiet, with lots of land, and far away from everyone. Just...peaceful."

"Never did strike me as a city-girl," he says with a smirk.

You hum. "Hardly."

You lean back once again, closing your eyes, just enjoying the breeze blowing through the tall grass, and the birds singing overhead.

Meanwhile, Shane can't take his eyes off of you. Not your flushed face or full lips, your neck, the swell of your breasts under your t-shirt, your round hips, or legs.

He knew it hadn't been entirely necessary—him keeping himself pressed up against you during your first round of training, but the truth was he couldn't keep his damn hands off of you. You were just so damn soft and felt good to grip and touch and slide his hands along.

He'd been thankful you never seemed to notice the swell of his hard cock pressed up against your backside.

He'd not entirely tried to hide it.

He could feel that same erection returning as he admired your body, fantasized about what was underneath all those layers. He adjusts himself as he considers what you might sound like as he traces your curves with his tongue, what you might taste like cumming on it.

He liked to imagine how tight you would feel, clenching around him, milking his body of every last drop of cum he had to give.

Some time, late at night, weeks ago, he'd came—hard—and not with Lori's name on his lips, but yours, as he had his cock fisted tightly in his grip. He'd not even been expecting it, but it'd happened anyway—his thinking of you on your knees, his length in your wet mouth, wide innocent eyes staring up at him as he instructed you on what to do to please him.

After that night, all he did was fantasize about you. He hardly even considered her anymore.

It'd all started after you told him that damn wish of yours from your bucket list—wanting to lose your virginity before you died.

"You thought anymore about it?"

You'd nearly started drifting off to sleep when his voice had woken you. You look at him, a bit dazed and if anything, it turned him on all the more—he took no qualms with that idea. You lying there, limp and relaxed, legs spread for him as he did all the work to get you both off.

"What?" You ask, stretching.

He licks his lips at the sight of your midriff making a brief appearance before your shirt lowers again as you rest your hands in your lap.

"What we talked about a few nights ago on the porch."

You blanch, flushing. "Oh. That."

"Mhm, that. So, you thought about my offer?"

In truth, you had. Once, late at night, hand in your panties, coming away slick after you'd finished tending to yourself.

And then you'd filled with shame at what you'd done. Your family was gone—Sophia was missing, Carl had been shot and nearly died, even Otis, a member of Hershel's own family, had sacrificed himself to ensure the little boy made it.

The list went on and on. And that was what you had decided to use a bit of your spare time for?

Disgraceful. That was the best word you had for it. For yourself.

You shrug. "Not much."

His erection deflates, along with his ego. "Oh."

You look up to him and try to quickly salvage the situation. "It's not that I don't find you attractive, Shane. Of course I do. But like I said before, about Lori-"

He shakes his head. "That's done. Been done since Rick came back from the dead. She's moved on and so have I."

You raise a brow, not really believing him.

He sees the doubt in your expression. “Guess I’ll just have to prove myself to you, then.”

You cross your legs. “Why me, Shane? Why the sudden interest? Why not Andrea or Maggie or-”

He chuckles, glancing down to his lap, one of his thumbs rubbing against the palm of his other hand. He then looks back up to you and shrugs. “I think I’m just the type of guy who needs to feel needed. The two of them, as far as I can tell—at least for the most part—seem to be able to take care of themselves. You? Not so much. Not yet, at least. You need someone to look after you. Guess I appointed myself to that position without even really knowing it. Not at first, at least.”

So he saw you as a damsel in distress. Terrific. You weren’t sure whether you were supposed to feel offended or flattered about it.

“I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor to come save me, Shane. You don’t need to keep making me your problem. You have enough on your hands with-”

He leans his head back with an interrupting sigh. “We’ve had this conversation before. And it didn’t deter me then and it ain’t going to now. You’re not a problem, darlin’. I just want to be the solution, I guess.”

You can’t understand it, why someone like him—intelligent, reliable, with leadership skills, beyond good-looking, and above all a survivor—whatever the cost—has an interest in you. At all.

“What does that mean: be the solution?”

He shrugs, standing. He walks over to you, offering you his hand. “You tell me.”

It’d taken over an hour for you to break the last three bottles, as well as make decent progress firing at the targets. You tell yourself you would’ve gotten done sooner—would’ve done better—had his hands not been all over you again—Shane no longer bothering with ensuring he was touching you only over your clothes, as he’d gripped your bare hips more times than you could count.

And you didn’t want to acknowledge the hard length you’d felt pressed into your backside once or twice. You told yourself he must’ve had another pistol on him, or a knife perhaps. That was all.

More than once, just as you had your target lined up, he’d done something—touched you, whispered something in your ear, shifted his body against yours—causing you to miss entirely. You wondered if it wasn’t just his attempt at dragging your training out for even longer.

When he finally announces that you’re done for the day, you nearly cry from relief. Your arms were sore, as well as your legs from standing in-place for so long, and your head was pounding from how hard you’d been trying to focus on not just hitting your targets, but also responding correctly as Shane drilled you on various parts of the gun in your hands, as well as proper firearm etiquette.

You wondered if he took delight in making you feel flustered and frustrated.

When you finally make it back to camp, you’re thirsty, hungry, and want to take a nap. You begin to wander toward your tent, until you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in another direction.

“Oh no you don’t. You can sleep later. You didn’t bother with eating breakfast, so you’re having lunch, even if I have to hand-feed it to you.”

You look up to Shane and find you don’t have the energy to argue. He drops you off at the nearby picnic table, seated comfortably under a shady tree, and you watch as he steps away to prepare you something to eat.

You nearly laugh from the absurdity of him fixing you a plate for lunch—it seemed so domestic, especially since he was the one doing it—but you’re so tired that all you can manage is lying your head down, your eyes fluttering shut.

You fall asleep near-immediately. Until you’re woken by a plate being dropped in front of you.

“Eat.”

You lift your head, barely, and stare down at the two sandwiches before you, an apple on the side, and a bottle of water. You groan. “I’m tired, Shane.”

“Hand-feeding it is, I guess.”

He picks up a sandwich, which you promptly snatch away from him. “I can feed myself,” you state, taking a bite. Ham and cheese, you quickly figure out.

Shane sits with his legs on either side of the bench, his body facing you, watching as you eat.

You’re too tired to bother feeling self-conscious as you do so directly in front of him. You swallow, briefly glancing to him. “Thank you. For today.”

He nods, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, which had escaped your ponytail. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He even goes so far as to press a kiss to your forehead. “You did good today, darlin’. I’m proud of you. You have no idea how much.”

You take another bite, smiling to yourself.

Once you’d finished eating—Shane refusing to let you leave the picnic table until you’d finished every last bite, as well as the whole bottle of water—he’d led you over to your tent, which you’d crawled inside of as soon as he opened the flap.

You briefly thought to yourself that the tent was the wrong color and that the interior looked strange, but you didn’t dwell on it too long. Once your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

When you wake, it’s in the middle of the night with the urge to pee.

You nearly scream in fear at the feeling of another body pressed up against your own, until you realize just who it belongs to.

Shane.

Why was he in your tent?

And then it dawns on you: you were in his. It’s why everything had seemed so off to you earlier before you laid down. He’d led you to his tent, and had put you to sleep in his bed.

He wasn’t being subtle about what he wanted anymore, clearly.

You didn’t know that you liked this sort of behavior. Him being so forward. Not even asking what you wanted.

Just deciding for you.

On the one hand, part of you just wants to let him—anyone—do all your thinking and decision-making for you. On the other, you were still sure that a part of him cared for Lori. Perhaps more than cared for her. Even if not, he frightened you sometimes. His fiery temper, his hard-headedness. And doing this…right in front of everyone—placing you in his bed in broad daylight—he was staking a claim. It was possessive. And that scared you a little.

You didn’t belong to him. You weren’t sure that you wanted to.

You didn’t wish to read too much into things—into this—but if that was what he wanted: to be with you… All you could think was if you opened yourself up to caring about another person again, you’d lose him just like all the rest.

But being alone hadn’t been easier, either. Closing yourself off emotionally from the rest of the group had lessened your will-to-live significantly. Contact with others was human nature; you were all social creatures. And keeping yourself from having such contact had deepened that well of sadness and loneliness inside of you.

A well you think maybe he’s trying to fill it, in his own way.

Shane had chosen the worst sleeping position for you to try and get out of to relieve yourself. And if you didn’t do so quickly… Suffice to say you’d never have to worry about him wanting you in his bed again.

You were facing his bare chest, your head tucked under his chin, one of his arms thrown over you, holding you firmly against him.

You try to wriggle downward, thinking perhaps you can just slip out of his grip that way, until he moans in his sleep, clutching you even more tightly, a small squeak of surprise escaping your lips.

You briefly press your forehead against his chest, nearly groaning in frustration. You press your thighs together tightly, then do what you have to: you push firmly against his chest, not caring if it wakes him.

Thankfully, however, he releases you, rolling onto his other side.

You’d blush at the fact he was only in his boxers now, and feel angry at the fact you’re only in your panties and a t-shirt—meaning he’d undressed you for bed while you’d been asleep—but you were near-to-bursting at this point.

You quickly exit the tent, grabbing a roll of toilet paper from a basket of supplies nearby and find a tree to relieve yourself behind.

Once you’re finished, you stand, staring at two different tents.

And you hated to admit: that you didn’t know which one to choose.

You were going to have a talk with Shane in the morning about his behavior tonight while you’d been asleep. But right now, all you wanted to do was lie back down—not make decisions. Not think.

And it was chilly out.

You tell yourself, as you zip the tent close, climbing under the blankets and pressing yourself back up against Shane’s chest—as he’d rolled back over in the time you’d been gone—that you’d chosen his simply for his body warmth.

You fight against the small smile that begins to form on your lips as he wraps an arm around you once again, whispering to you, voice slurred from sleep, “I knew you’d come back.”

[sukunasbow]

jealous girl, maggie greene.

summary: in which you and your wife visit the sanctuary after the war, but some of the saviors take a liking to you!

warnings: fem!reader and not yet proof read!

notes: most of my fics are gn!neutral but this was part of the request! the request was anon so i hope this finds you bby and ty for the lovely request, maggie is one of my favs too!

Now that the war is over and Negan’s living in a cell, the remaining Saviors are left in Daryl’s care at the sanctuary. Your wife isn’t all that happy about this, but the two of you decide to go to the sanctuary with Rick and Daryl in order to help keep things in order.

Rick finishes his speech to the people in the building, then taking Daryl upstairs to discuss things. Meanwhile, you and Maggie walk around the rundown factory, watching the Saviors sort their cans of food.

“Well, hello there.” A voice catches your attention, making you turn around. Your greeted by a man with his hair half-tied up, wearing a grey sleeveless tank top. You shake your head and laugh at him, knowing he has no chance, your wife just a bit in front of you, talking to another Savior. “What’s funny, baby?” He grins, letting out a small laugh of his own. You let out a long sigh, “I’m taken.” You put your hand directly in front of his face, showing off the nice ring Maggie managed to get for you back at the prison. “Oh, I see.” He nods, pausing for a moment. He’s making it seem like he’s going to back off, but he proves you wrong when he opens his smug mouth again.

“Does that really have to stop us?” The man mumbles. “Us?” You raise an eyebrow. “I’ll stop you.” Maggie suddenly walks up to the two of you, “Hey, I’m her wife.” She seethes. The guy looks shocked, simply walking away as the girl stares him down. “Hot.” You joke, Maggie snaking an arm around your waist, letting the other guys that were staring you down know you’re hers.

This doesn’t seem to stop some of the men, however, as another one approaches you now that you’re once again separated from Maggie. This time, Rick and Daryl are surrounding you, the three of you discussing the future of the sanctuary. “Hey, ma.” The unknown man smirks, interrupting Rick. “Excuse me?” Rick glares at him. “Oh, you her husband?” The guy backs up a bit. “Nah, but she’s married and you’re a pervert, so back up.” Daryl defends you this time. “Oh, so you’re the husband?” He laughs.

You scoff, “I don’t have a husband, dumbass, I have a wife.”

“Oh, ya like girls?” His tone grosses you out even more than before.

“I like my wife, now go sort your food cans with the other’s before I starve your ass and take them.” You huff. He rolls his eyes and storms off.

“We aren’t going back there.” Maggie presses her lips into a firm line as the two of you enter your shared home, back from the trip to the sanctuary. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” You laugh, still feeling icky after the situation. “I’m serious, those men are pigs, all up on you like that.” Your wife takes off her flannel jacket and tosses it on the ottoman in the small living room as you grab a snack from the pantry. Taking a bite into a cookie, you raise an eyebrow, “Are you okay?” You ask her. She’s obviously not, she’s still seething after everything, angrily sitting down on the couch and sulking like a toddler that was denied a candy bar. “I’m fine.” She mumbles with her smooth southern accent. “You’re not fine, stop being like that.” You join her on the couch, offering her a cookie, which she denies. You eat the cookie instead, “You know you’re my wife, right? You’re the only one for me.” You turn to face her, looking into her beautiful green eyes, a small smile starting to form on her face. “I love you, hm?” You press small kisses all on her face until you reach her lips, waiting for her to say the phrase back. “I love you too.” She laughs. “Good.” You kiss her lips.

[in-act-ive]

The Walking Dead x GN/NB!over stimulated!Reader

This is a two parter! As of right now the second one isn't out!

Request : nope

Type : headcanon

A / N : My tip is always headphones!! I also only did the characters im comfortable with writing about as of right now! If you need more tips always feel free to ask <33

Carl Grimes

He gets it

He also picks up on it really fast

If you're acting at all off he'll come up behind you and cover your ears to block out some of the noise

He likes it when you put your hands over his

If you look like your about to cry he'll take you away from the chaos and get you some place thats calm and you don't need to stress out anymore

He's probably picked up anything he thinks you can mess with while being over stimmed

One of those is definitely a stuffed animal

Carl definitely has had made excuses that embarrass himself just to help you get away

Rick Grimes

He has experience with it due to his son

He's horrible at picking up on it though

Most of the time you have to go up to him and tell him you're over stimulated by everything going on and he'll try his best to help you

Most of the time he'll send you off with Carol or Tara cause he wants to help but he's busy

When you have to be some place with him he has something in his pockets for you to mess with to distract yourself

Rick just tries to make sure you know he does care

When he does have the time he'll take you somewhere you can rest and will stay with you

Unless he gets pulled to work again

He wants to prioritize you, really

He's just a busy man

Daryl Dixon

He does not what he's doing

He just tries to ask you what you need

He picks up on it almost immediately

9 times out of 10 he goes and asks Carol or Rick what he should be doing

He probably just sends you to someone who knows what their doing unlike himself who is an idiot

He has a list of everything you've said / he's been told that helps

He keeps it on him at all times

He's pretty good about disappearing without anyone noticing so if he knows you need to be away from all the chaos he'll take you there

He won't exactly sit with you, he'll pace around instead

Like, he wants to be there for you, yes, and... He's not good with showing that

Abraham Ford

He knows exactly what he's doing

He's probably sat you down to ask what he can do to help you because he really does want to help

He makes sure to have something in his pockets to give to you to fiddle with when you need a distraction

Big hands = covering your ears

He'll run the back of his hand along yours to let him know he knows and is trying to figure out what you need

He picks up on it a bit slower than most but he does

Sometimes he needs Glenn or Tara to point it out to him so he knows for sure

He will get you away without saying a word to anyone else

If anyone asks he'll say " None of your damn business " and walk off with you

If you start crying he'll cup your face in his hands and whipe your tears away with his thumbs

Glenn Rhee

He's got this

He doesn't

He's trying though!

He picks up on it quickly though and lets anyone who he knows cat help you know

Abraham is his first option every time

He's probably the one to drag you away from a crowd and get you some place thats less stimulating then RUN for Abraham

He does want to help but he really doesn't know how

He's usually your second to last option so most of the time when you get to him you're already crying

He's good at comforting crying people

He'll get you some place safe and kiss your knuckles and use his sleeve to whipe yout tears

He's a sweetheart

He doesn't really understand whats going on but he wants to help none the less

He's probably asked you what happens and how you feel so he can imagine what you'd need

Shane Walsh

Bold of you to assume this man knows jack shit

In all fairness he knows some from dealing with Carl for most of the boys life

He's been nominated most likely to send you to anyone but himself

When he does have to help he kinda pats your back and tries to dig through his pockets to find something for you to fiddle with

He kinda seems irritated with you when you bother him about it

Eye rolls every time

He'll cover your ears if you ask nicely

On rare occasions he'll take you somewhere less stimulating

He'll leave you there

Aside from being rude 24/7 he will try and help if he has to

He just doesn't like being helpful

Negan

This man is so helpful

You still don't know why he's like that

Most of the time he picks up on it instantly and will try and help you best he can

He'll sit down with you in front of him facing him and he'll cover your hears, running this thumbs against anywhere they can reach

He likes it when you distract himself by playing with his hair

If you're lucky and you two are close enough he'll pull you into his lap

He'll get everyone to shut up and leave so you can be in a less stimulating environment

He's found and stolen a bunch of things you can mess with when you need too

He always focuses on your breathing, making sure its stable, always

He may act like an ass but he tries to tone it down

He knows how to help and will help anyway you want / need it

Gabriel Stokes

He knows the basic amount of things

Probably asked Rick for help on what to do lets be honest

He didn't want to ask you directly to seem inconsiderate

He tries to avoid you to not make it all worse

It makes it worse

Someone had to tell him that avoiding you made you feel horrible and he felt bad

The amount of times he apologized was exhausting for you

Hr tries to help out a lot better now even if he has no clue really what he's doing

He'll give you something to fiddle with and help you take deep breaths before running to find someone who knows how to help you better

He has stated he wants to help but doesn't know how to nor does he want to be the main person you rely on

Note: This was not spell checked nor grammer checked! I apologize in advance for the mistakes

[virginsexgod69]

Masterlist ☆

TWD

★ Daryl Dixon

♱ 18+ Laundry Day - Daryl Dixon x f!Reader smut

summary A laundry mishap leads to dreams coming true

♱ 18+ Oasis - Daryl Dixon x f!Reader smut (requested)

summary Daryl makes you squirt for the first time

♱ 18+ V-Card - Daryl Dixon x virgin!fem!Reader smut (requested)

summary After relentlessly teasing him, Daryl finally takes your virginity

♱ 18+ Inked - Daryl Dixon x F!Reader smut (requested)

summary you and Daryl give each other matching tattoos after finding an abandoned tattoo shop

Dance with Me - Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

summary Daryl makes up for everything he wasn't able to do for you on prom night

Marry Me - Daryl Dixon x F! Reader (requested)

summary After tracking and killing a deer on your own for the first time, Daryl proposes to you.

★ Rick Grimes

♱ 18+ Here for You - Rick Grimes x f!Reader smut + angst

summary After Lori's death, you're there to comfort Rick in any way he needs. Set in season 3 in the prison after Lori's death

1.5k words

♱ 18+ Special - Rick Grimes x Reader smut (requested)

summary You give Rick a very special day.

1.3k words

♱ 18+ Sweetheart - Rick Grimes x f!Reader (requested)

summary 2 months after Lori's death, you and Rick start hooking up, but that comes to a stop when he calls you the wrong name. He does everything he can to be yours again.

4.7k words

★ Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh

♱ 18+ Bribery - Shane Walsh and Rick Grimes x f!Reader smut

summary Rick and Shane catch you stealing and you do what it takes to convince them not to arrest you.

2.8k words

★ Shane Walsh

♱ Taking Care - Shane Walsh x f!Reader (requested)

summary Instead of robbing you, Shane decides to bring you back to the prison to take care of Judith but you end up taking care of him too.

2.5k words

★ Negan

♱ 18+ Video Star - Negan x f!Reader

summary You and Negan make a sex tape

1.5k words

★ Series

♱ 18+ Yes, Professor Grimes -A college/ university AU featuring Professors Grimes and Dixon and Coach Negan

♱ 18+ Seclusion - Daryl Dixon x f!Reader series eventual smut + eventual romance + fluff + angst + hurt/comfort

summary Alone in the forest and separated from his group, Daryl comes across your cabin. To make up for accidentally shooting him, you take him in and patch him up. He sticks around to help you out after a storm does massive damage to your cabin.

TL;DR Just you and Daryl in a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere. 

★★★

CM

♱ 18+ You're Under Arrest - Spencer Reid x f!Reader smut

1.4k words

summary Derek hires a stripper for Spencer's birthday party as a joke, but Spencer surprisingly ends up enjoying it.

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💬 Requests are open!!

!! If you want to make a request for twd, I JUST STARTED SEASON 9 WOOOO!!! however, I can't write for anything past that :,(