#slender rick

[x1633chefrick]

Wanna repost this comic collaboration with @kreidxpriz (every odd number page belongs to him) Because there're some problems with my main blog, these posts can't be retrieved in the tag, so I repost them in this blog.))

[dollfacefantasy]

ADD TO THE COLLECTION ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: rick finds an old halloween mask out on a supply run. he brings it back to you, and the two of you put it to good use

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, mask kink, praise/degradation, cnc sorta

a/n: yes i wrote another ghostface mask kink fic. idc idc. you can pry that idea from my cold dead hands. every single man i simp for will have one if it's the last thing i do <3

kinktober slot: day 4 - mask kink

"Ew. You know that thing probably has like a billion diseases, right?" you say, a wide smile spreading across your face as you look at the raggedy Halloween mask in your boyfriend's hand.

The slender, pale face stares back at you with its motionless expression of horror. You hadn't seen one of them in a long time. Certainly not since the world went to shit.

"A billion? I don't know about that. Maybe a million," he teases.

Rick enters the room and approaches where you sit on the bed, wanting to show off his find from the supply run a bit more.

"Don't bring it too close to me. I don't wanna catch something," you say with a hand raised in defense.

"So dramatic," he mocks, "I'm not gonna put it on you."

The wooden floor creaks below his boots as he steps to the edge of the mattress. He sits down, the foamy surface dipping with the addition of his weight.

You can't help leaning forward a little bit out of curiosity. Scooting closer to his side, you look between his face and the mask.

"Were you guys raiding a Spirit Halloween or something?" you ask, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He chuckles. His hands rotate the mask between them. It actually isn't in horrible condition. Maybe a little dusty, but there aren't any huge stains or tears. Visions of him wearing it rise to the front of your mind. You could imagine his head turning, the hollow black eyes following you as he watched your figure move about. The thin fabric fanning out over his shoulders also comes up. Your favorite though is the thought of how it would look above you while he thrusts in and out of you.

Shaking those images out of your head, you refocus when he answers your question.

"No, nothin' like that. I just saw it and thought of you," he tells you, turning his head and pecking your cheek, "I remembered you tellin' me how you used to love those movies."

You almost visibly swoon. "That's so sweet. Slasher movies make you think of me," you coo, "How did I get so lucky?"

Your arms slide up and drape around his neck, bringing you closer so you can nuzzle the side of his face. His skin scratches at you a little bit. The prickle of stubble was rising again.

He returns your affection and pushes the mask aside in favor of pulling you into his lap. The two of you melt into each other and then back onto the bed. One of the perks of living in Alexandria now was not having to wait until everyone fell asleep for the night to go at it.

Rick could be so soft for you. Ever since the two of you met, he seemed so naturally protective. He always lets you hold his hand. Your safety was his top priority along with that of his kids. Before the world went bad, you'd bet he was the kind of guy to hold the door open on dates and call women "miss" or "ma'am."

You're pretty sure that's why you want to see him in that mask so bad.

You knew Rick had another side to him. Something beneath the mask of being the good guy. You'd seen it before a few times. The nights where he ended up soaked in someone else's blood, the sticky crimson liquid coating his facial hair, staining his clothes.

A week after he first found that mask, he comes to your room at night wearing one of the pieces of clothing that's been marred with someone else's insides.

The mask over his face has been cleaned. He clearly washed away the dust and any other sign of mileage on the thing. The ivory plastic front shines without a spot of grime while the black fabric draped atop his hair sits there, dark as the night sky outside.

It's a sharp contrast to the white t-shirt he has on. The cloth pours down his neck and over his shoulder onto the light garment. But the abdomen of this top isn't as pristine as the collar. Blood speckles across the snowy threading, the pattern spatters in a way that makes it look like one of those ink blot tests. If you were the one being questioned, you'd say it looks sort of like a tree.

He stands there against the frame of the doorway in silence, waiting to be noticed. You had been cleaning your boots. When you finally finish, you rise from your spot on the edge of the bed and tuck them in their normal spot against the wall. Sighing, you lean back and prepare to finally have nothing left on your to-do list.

But you feel the other presence in the room. You catch him in your peripheral vision, and a gasp tears through you. Your heart springs from a calm resting beat to erratic thrashing against your ribcage. Thoughts melt from your head while breaths grow spikes in your lungs.

Once you turn your head fully and give your brain a second to register that it's only him, you start to calm down. You let out a deep sigh and put your hand across your chest.

"God, don't do that," you huff, "You scared me."

He doesn't respond.

You continue to catch your breath before looking over at him again. Your eyes scan up and down his figure. He leans against the wall so casually. His arms cross over his chest while his ankles hook one on top of the other below. Even though you can't see his gaze, you can feel the intensity of his pupils on you.

"You're lucky I didn't have my gun on me," you tell him and narrow your eyes.

Again, you get no words out of him. But this time he does push off the edge of the entryway and step forward. He swings the door shut behind him and continues to stare you down.

It's weird. Having him just stand there, digs a pit in the bottom of your belly. For a split second, your mind floats the possibility that this isn't him. The paranoid sector of your head poses questions like what if this was someone else who just found the mask? What if they just looked like Rick?

But then his arms drop from his chest and you see the silver of his watch glimmer in the pale moonlight. 

It doesn't kill the tingling in your nerves any; rather, it transforms the sensation. It's a different kind of strange seeing Rick act like this. It wasn't the version of him that came out for a true threat.  He was never so silent when that was the case. In moments of desperation, he became feral - eyes darting around, limbs taut with the preparedness to strike. But that's when you realize this isn't a moment of desperation. He's the one in control. He's the threat in this situation.

"You're not even gonna try to run, little girl?" he asks, his voice coming out in that familiar drawl but with a little edge to it.

Your spine lights up like a fuse. Excitement seeps into your bones. Everything feels jittery. You don't know what to do or say. In this moment, you just want.

"You're in the way. I don't have anywhere to run," you say. Your voice waivers almost as if you naturally fall into the role of the helpless victim.

It's weird hearing yourself like that. In the world you lived in, you never wanted to sound like that. Showing weakness meant death. And hearing it from someone you loved meant their time was coming to end. Being able to express it now though, it felt different. You weren't sure how to articulate it, but that could be due to the fact that you'd never been so turned on before in your life.

He approaches you further. The wooden floor boards creak beneath his slow steps. You try to back up but your knees hit the mattress.

"No runnin'? You're gonna make this too easy for me," he chuckles, "Put up a little fight."

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip. He leans in closer to you, reaching up to drag his fingers down your cheek. You try to lean back but end up having to sit on the bed and scoot away on the mattress to create some distance.

He just laughs and grabs your ankle, preventing you from getting too far. You try wriggling your leg a little bit, but he tightens his grip and grabs the other one.

"Tsk, tsk. Pathetic," he taunts, "You're just gonna let me take what I want?"

You try kicking a little harder, but it's of no use. Each jerk of your leg goes to waste. Nothing changes. There would be no difference if you didn't move at all and just made what he said true.

"So cute," he mocks, "Just tirin' yourself out for me."

"It's not fair," you whine. You roll yourself onto your belly and try to drag yourself away by grabbing the edge of the bed. He doesn't let you though. Even though Rick was lean, he didn't lack strength. That coupled with his training as a pre-apocalypse police officer meant he knew how to restrain people. You whimper and buck your hips to try and create some momentum to get away, but it's all of no use.

"You cheated. You didn't give me a chance to run," you continue to pout before repeating your prior sentiment, "Not fair."

He laughs and whips you around onto your back again. This time he leans forward and tugs your hips harshly, dragging you over the collection of blankets so that your ass is flush against his semi-hard bulge.

"Who said I have to play fair, princess?" he asks, "Weak little thing like you wouldn't have made it far anyways."

Another whine bubbles from your lips as you squirm. He looms over you, keeping you accessible to him with the weight of his body. As he closes in, your breathing becomes heavier. The white ghostface stops inches away from the tip of your nose. You stare into the expressionless eyes of the match while your cunt throbs against the heat of his pelvis.

"You're lucky I caught you here. Spares you the embarrassment of getting dragged back, kicking and screaming. Or even worse, me pounding you into the grass out there where anyone could see," he breathes.

You shudder at the images his words create in your head.

He can feel the tremble of your limbs, and he pushes the mask up slightly to bare his lips. For a second, you think he's going in for a kiss. And in a way, that's true. But it's not on your mouth. Instead, he ducks down to your throat. He attacks it with fervor much more intense than what you usually felt from him.

These kisses are hot and open-mouthed. The tip of his tongue tickles your pulsing skin. His lips feather against it while his teeth nip and tug. All you can do is melt under it. You try to keep in character and put up a bit of resistance, but it's not a strong performance.

His fingers hook over the top of your little sleep shorts and panties and pull them down to your mid-thigh. That was all the room he needed. His hand not clutching one of your biceps slides down between your thighs. He can feel the slick on his fingers in seconds, and he huffs out a laugh.

"Oh, you're a bad girl, aren't you? The slightest bit of attention, and you're dripping. I didn't even have to do anything," he says.

After those words hit your ears, he pulls back. He tugs your shorts all the way off to free your legs before he shoves his jeans down far enough that his length can spring free. He's almost fully hard. The sight of your slippery cunt makes it easier to take it from almost to solid.

He strokes it and watches you. It's obvious how ready you are, but he can't help but want to draw it out a little more.

"Take off your top," he commands.

Your breath hitches, and you swear you feel your heart stutter. Of course, he'd seen you naked before, but it felt new here. This wasn't Rick's cool blue eyes gazing down at you with love. It was the dark, empty patches of painted plastic.

Nevertheless, your hands venture down and peel your shirt from your body. Once it's gone, your tits are left exposed to his view. He doesn't touch them, and you can't see if he stares directly at them, but it feels like he does.

He pumps his cock a little faster. A small groan rumbles from his mouth.

"I don't even have to say it twice. You didn't even need to see my face to listen. I either have you so well-trained, or you're just the most natural slut out there, babydoll. Just waiting for orders to follow like a little puppy," he rasps.

He pushes forward and slides his leaky tip against your folds. A small whine sneaks out of you at the pressure on your clit. The head nudges it before gliding down toward your entrance again where it pops in.

You both hiss at the feel. On his part, you're already so warm and tight. For you, it's the mild stretch combined with the satisfaction of having something inside you. Either way, it's just a taste of what's to come.

He sinks in more, guiding the rest of his shaft into your pussy. Whimpering, you arch your back off the bed the tiniest bit. His hand lands on your tummy and pushes you down again though. He forces you to take it all and then rocks his hips back and slams forward again.

"So sensitive," he teases.

His hands curl around your hips before he starts thrusting. Like the earlier kisses, his pelvis snaps against you with more force than usual. Your eyes roll back from the bouncing rhythm while your fingers clutch the linens beneath you.

"Poor baby. You never had any fight in you to begin with," he teases, "You give in so easily."

"It- it's not my fault," you whimper. More moans seep out of you. It feels like every slap of skin on skin knocks a new noise from you.

"Oh yes it is," he grunts, "You didn't even try because you want this. You just wanna be filled up. Don't even care who's doing it."

As he says that, your hazy eyes look up at the mask. "Do too..." you pout.

Your walls squeeze around him tight at the sight of the haunted face watching you. It bobs a little with his motions as well, shaken by the force of them.

He laughs at you from beneath the mask and speeds up a little. You clench around him in tandem with your toes curling. He leans in and bends you further in half on the mattress.

"Ok sure, sweetheart. That's why you didn't even need to see my face before I slid my dick inside you," he breathes.

Your little clit throbs at the words. As if he can sense it, one of his hands rises to thumb at the nub. Your hips buck in response, eager for more. Deep, whiny sighs flood into the air from you. He can't get enough.

"That's right, keep squeezin' me, darlin'" he says, arousal infecting his tone now too.

You nod like you have a real say. The way he was battering your pleasure spots and swiping at your clit had you tightening up involuntarily. He still moans with the feeling though. His head tilts back. You can hear his panting getting louder below that mask.

A few strokes later, he reaches up and yanks it off, dropping it to the floor next to his boot. His hair hangs damp against his forehead while his cheeks are a little flushed from the heat. None of this stops him from fucking into you though. It's as if he can't stop. The chase for release captures him on a deeper level.

Even without the help of ghostface, his stare is intense. His pupils glare into you as he provides you with more pleasure than you know what to do with.

"You think you're gonna cum for me? Gush all over my cock?" he croons mockingly.

You nod. Your arm weakly flies up so you can grab at his wrist. "Need it, Rick," you whine.

He chuckles, a small smirk teasing his lips. "You can have it then. Let it go for me," he says.

Your hips buck in time with the next handful of whimpers that leave your lips. The climb to the top feels so fucking good. Your core sizzles up until it reaches a fever pitch and you explode into white hot pleasure. A low, satisfied hum reverberates from you as your eyelashes dust your cheeks.

He fucks you through the feeling, one hand on your throat, the other down at your clit, swirling around the small nub a few times to give you the extra boost. It makes you nice and tight around his dick. Your walls squeeze like a vise. He has no choice but to let go.

As desperate as he is to fuck it deep inside of you, he stops himself at the last second and pulls out. He grabs his cock at light speed before that feeling can vanish and pumps it at the same rhythm he'd been thrusting into you.

Warm, milky ropes of cum shoot out onto your belly. The splatter across your skin, glimmering in the cool light of the night. You force your eyes open when you hear his deep moan. You're almost certain you've never seen anything as beautiful as Rick's face when he releases. His brows furrow while his jaw relaxes. He parts his lips in a small o. You watch with droopy eyes, the haze of lust still not totally gone yet.

When he's finished, he stares down at you in a similar fashion. His hand cups the back of your neck so he can bring you up to give you a kiss before he goes and grabs a towel. The bloody shirt he'd been wearing is gone when he returns. He cleans the spend off your belly and then crawls back into bed with you.

You snuggle up to him, ready to close your eyes and conk out. But then you think of something.

"I knew it was you before you took off the mask," you say. The flesh of your cheek smooshes against this chest.

He looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Cause your watch," you say proudly, as if you'd discovered some great clue.

The information registers but then his lips break into a grin. "Hmm, smart girl. I'll have to keep that in mind if I ever put on the mask for something secretive," he teases before yawning and tugging you closer to his side.

"Mhm, cause I'd figure you out right away," you murmur.

"I'm sure," he agrees, pressing a few kisses to your head. "Get some sleep, baby."

[kinopio-writes]

Hey love your works they are absolutely fantastic ❤️

This is an odd request but would you mind doing a Adam x Fem! Reader that is in the situation like Morty and Mr. Jellybean was? It is 100% a-okay if you don’t do this especially if it’s uncomfortable but I just wanted to know Adams reaction. Ignore if you are uncomfortable and/or just don’t want to do this ask!

Love your works!! 🥰🥰

A/N: Aww, thank you for the kind words :] I only have two works in total, lol. And, uh, I haven’t watched Rick and Morty, but I did search for some scenes on YouTube. Based on what I saw, do you mean to say how Adam would react if the reader was sexually harassed? Tell me if I’m wrong because holy hell did watching the scenes make me uncomfortable. And someone commented that it’s a really accurate depiction of what happens. Disturbing.

Words: 1,034 (not including the bullet points)

Warnings: Sexual harassment implied, Violence (because of Adam)

———

How Adam would react if Fem!Reader was sexually harassed…

In the middle of writing this, I just remembered that they live in Heaven. So I don’t know how or why a molester would end up in Heaven. Even if there was one, they likely got booted off immediately, so just imagine a sinner somehow managed to sneak into Heaven.

• Adam’s reaction would completely change depending on who you are to him (if you two just met for a date or are casual bang buddies)

• so I’ll just give you the best one for comfort (at least the best Adam could give) and make you two be in a close relationship (not GF and BF though. But you two go on not-so-platonic dates sometimes)

• I also think it’s good to mention that I try to keep Adam’s character as accurate as possible

• it might make him seem insensitive, so I suggest going to the last section if you’re here for comfort (the last section has a blue ‘•••’)

———

Adam recommended a place that had been recently open for a while. He actually burst through your front door to go there the day it was open.

Unfortunately for him, you were busy and will be for the next few weeks as well. Something about work that he didn’t bother to listen to because it was, well, about boring shit.

But now, you managed to get the whole week off, so Adam has you all for himself. And his first action of business was to get you to chillax. What better way to do that than to hang out with him?

He was so fucking hyped. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you try out the food there!

You two were going to have so much fun!

•••

“We need to go,” was what you suddenly decided after you came back from the bathroom, voice emotionless and firm.

Adam stared at you as if you grew horns and a tail. “Why? The fuck happened?”

Your face faltered at his question. “We need to go. Please.”

“Uh, it hasn’t even been an hour. Now get over here and fucking eat.” You only did so after a moment he munched on his burger, but not in the way he expected. You hid near his seat, gripping on the legs as you made yourself as small as possible. “The fuck are you doing?” He paused before grinning suggestively. “Learn some decency, (Name), jeez. If you wanted to…suck…”

Adam trailed off as he watched someone come out of the women’s bathroom, badly beaten and bruised. He…it didn’t have a halo on its head, and its attempt to cover up its slender and angled horns was fucking stupid.

His playful expression dropped and it shifted to anger when he saw it looking around, around for you.

You suddenly felt a strong gust of wind as the plates and glasses clattered on the table you were hiding behind. You peeked from your spot to witness Adam ruthlessly and relentlessly punch the sinner’s face, a hand slowly going over your mouth at the display of violence. You didn’t know he could be so brutal. He was saying things that didn’t reach your ears, but you knew they weren’t pleasant.

You only felt yourself move after you saw Adam lift his arms in the air, hands accompanied by holy light. “Wait! Adam, Adam, stop!”

“What!” He turned around to face you momentarily as he shrugged your hand off of his shoulder. “Let me at ʼim—!”

“Adam, you’re causing a scene,” you whispered, glancing around at the growing audience.

Adam was offended. “I’m helping!” He flapped his wings to stand up, his anger now directed at you. “You’re just going to let a Sinner do you like that? Huh!”

“I just want to go home.”

He stared at your face for a moment. “Whatever.” He scowled at the Sinner one last time before he began making his way outside. You quietly followed after him. “This place is lame, anyway.”

The whole walk, you kept your head down as Adam gave the finger and a nasty look to anyone who ignorantly tried to approach you to cheer you up.

•••

You didn’t know when you got home; you didn’t even know Adam stayed with you until he spoke up.

“Uh…do you need, like, shit, I dunno…something?” You heard the ruffling of his wings and the shuffling of his clothing. “I could order delivery. There’s this place I’ve been…” You further curled yourself into a ball on your bed. You didn’t remember when you got there. “Actually, maybe you should pick where this time, huh? How’s that sound?”

When you didn’t respond, Adam lowered his arms, his smile fading into a frown.

He debated whether or not to leave you here before you scooted to the farthest side of the bed, turning yourself over to face him but avoiding eye contact as you patted the spot you were just in.

Adam took one glance behind him before he slipped into bed beside you, hands on his tummy as he stared at your ceiling.

The silence was uncomfortable for Adam. He desperately wanted to fill it with some chatter. Without it, it felt as though there was no one with him in the room.

As if you read his mind, your hands hugged his arm, and it numbed his unease, if only for a moment. He extended the time by placing a hand on yours, caressing them with his thumb.

“I don’t want to see this,” you suddenly spoke after a minute.

“Huh?” He looked down at you, still not making eye contact with him.

“Take your mask off.”

He scoffed and turned down your request, “You’re not even looking at me.”

“Take it off,” you repeated more firmly.

“Why?”

“Then I’ll take it off.” You reached out to grab his horns, pulling them upwards. When it didn’t comply, you kneeled on the bed and pulled harder. “How do you take it off?”

“Why do you wanna see me so badly? Just go to sleep already.”

“Not until you take that off.”

“I’ll stay with you until you wake up,” he attempted to bargain.

“Adam.” You gave up on removing his mask yourself. “Take it off.”

He hesitated before sighing heavily, easily tugging it off of his head and tossing it on the nightstand.

With his real face revealed, you were able to look at him. His golden eyes brought you solace, and his human-like features gave you relief.

“There. Better?” he asked bitterly as he averted his eyes from yours. “Now go to sleep.” After that, Adam tried to face his back toward you, but you leaned over and held his face and shoulder, pulling him back. “What is it now—”

“You said you’ll stay with me until I wake up.”

“I will,” he said as if you were doubting him, but he knew you weren’t.

Satisfied with his promise, you stared into the soft glow of his eyes as yours started to grow heavy.

In the last moments of your consciousness, you felt yourself get pulled closer to something soft, and you heard the sound of ruffling as warmth enveloped you.

[scary-lasagna]

Hi! Could we get more of the creeps bumping into someone they used to know before their incidents?? I love your blog thank you!!

Decided to go a negative route for this one to make it spicy

tw: bullying, trauma mention,

Toby

He tried so hard.

Even after the double take, he still wasn't sure about the man five feet away from him.

But he still smelled the same, that irritating wet-dog smell mixed with a shitty watered-down body spray.

Toby balled his fists, attempting to focus on the words of the shirt in front of him.

Standing in line at the bank was not where he expected his next breakdown, yet here we are. He wasn't even in his hometown; he was a few cities west of his origin.

Toby was mentally prepared to glance at a few familiar faces, but never the main culprit of the Devil of his school years.

With the stress of the situation, his medication seemed to nullify, and a quick snap of his neck caused a few heads to turn toward him.

Toby's cheeks burned, and he glared at the marble flooring.

"Ticci Toby?"

Fuck.

Toby tightened his jaw and slowly looked over to the man in the next line over, a redhead with dirt clinging to his oily skin, along with that same spotty beard Toby remembered from his school-days.

Then again, Toby probably didn't look his best after work either, with sweat still clinging to his bangs and dirty, non-bank-worthy clothes.

"Rick." Toby managed a cringeworthy grimace of a smile, "How have you been?"

At the moment, Toby felt like that pathetic excuse for a teenager again. A pathetic excuse for a human.

The memories of being shoved against lockers and brick walls and returning home with more bruises than he cared about resurfaced in waves of pain.

"I've been good. Been working." Rick nodded. He sniffed and glanced away, "You disappeared off the map, everyone thought you killed your dad and died in the fire."

What a fucking opener for small talk.

"He was not my Dad," Toby said curtly. And I'm still alive." However, Toby definitely wished he wasn't at that moment.

The pain of embarrassment and uncomfortableness was enough to make the brunette keel over.

"I bet you wished Lyra was still here after all of that, huh?"

A beat passed, and despite how hard Toby glared at the man in front of him, the line did not budge. Rick continued to stare at Toby.

"You think you're too good to talk to me now?"

Toby breathed. He sighed and rolled his neck.

A verbal tic followed closely after, at the best moment to call Rick a Cunt.

Whatever manilla folder Rick held dropped from his hands and dully fell against the marble.

Toby allowed himself to react out of pure fear and instinct, punching Rick directly in the jaw before he could even lay hands on him.

And, with Toby being much stronger now as a grown man, Rick was not expecting such a hit. The pressure radiated from his jaw and rebounded to whatever brain cells were left in his empty skull.

Toby didn't know what happened between that moment and when he was running from security guards and into the nearest wooded area.

But his hands were covered in blood, and his knuckles had been scraped open.

After returning home, he apologized to Slender for not depositing the check and decided not to speak of anything else.

[dolcettamagica]

may I please have a steamy car sex drabble with Rick c-137?

RICK C-137 simply wanted to get some ice-cream for his grandkid's and then return home. he couldn't help himself though when he saw you turn around in his space-car and reach back, trying to get your back from the backseat. your cute little skirt rose up, exposing your thong-covered pussy. what man could have kept his cool? rick couldn't. so he smacked your ass before biting into one of your cheeks.

"ri–rick?!"

"just a quickie, baby, you made daddy hard."

that's how you got into this situation – straddling rick's lap while he was pressing, circulating his thumb over your puffy clit, your wetness soaking through his khaki pants.

"look how–how wet you are, baby. pussy looks so lonely though."

a smug grin graced his face as he pushed not one, but two fingers, into you. your walls clenching around his slender fingers which were mercilessly fucking into your cunt, curling inside to hit your sweet spots.

"need my lil' slut ready for this big cock."

"please stop…stop teasing me"

your whimpers made his cock twitch. you looked so beautiful. messy hair, skirt still on, tits freed from your unbuttoned blouse and bouncing in front of his face. rick leaned forward to lick and nibble on your nipples. he could feel your walls tightening as soon as he showed some love to your tits.

"can you beg for daddy's cock like a good girl?"

"fuck…please, daddy, please fill me–fill me with your cock and fuck me already!"

"good girl", he purred into your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin, before he lifted you up, "sit down on my cock, doll."

slowly you lowered yourself. rick was way bigger than any men you've had before. despite having sex with him several times you never seem to get used to his incredible length and width. and you loved it. you loved the feeling of rick stretching you out, squirming under his hard, rough thrusts while he degraded and praised you simultaneously, his veins rubbing against your insides.

his tip was barely in. rick was digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. your lips parted, the air filled by your slutty moans. without any warning (or thinking about it twice) he rammed his full length into your soaking pussy.

"ahh f–fuck", rick planted kisses all over your neck, his arms wrapped around your body as he jerks his hips up, mercilessly thrusting into your squirming, trembling body, "couldn't stop myself. daddy loves your sweet lil' cunt."

his cock was kissing your cervix as he continued to fuck you. his thrusts were sloppy but hard and deep, your pussy clenching and tightening, his dick pulsating inside you. he lowered his head, putting your nipple into his mouth once more, his teeth gently gracing it. one of his hands was mercilessly spanking your ass.

"you're my dirty, dirty slut, aren't you? always…mmh, always eager to please daddy."

[connorsblog]

pretty boy | c.g

loosely inspired by "pretty boy" by the neighbourhood!

genre : fluff !

summary : reader & carl take turns describing how they see eachother in their eyes, or eye in carls case. fluff ensues !

a/n : sorry if this sucks !!! i havent written in forever, so it might be a bit ooc :(

"i have an idea," carl shifted on the carpeted floor, watching judith play with her makeshift toys in the corner of his eye.

"shoot, and not literally," i joke shortly, chuckling as carl seems to stare into my soul with his eye. it's scary how he can do that.

"we should describe eachother. not like how an outsider would see it.. but the way we see eachother. it sounds fun, you in?" he inquires, tilting his head the same damn way his dad does.

"i can go first," he says as i stay silent. i nod my head as an internal battle begins in my head. what if i mess up? what if i say the wrong thing?

"i think you are pretty. and not just outside," he pauses as his voice cracks a bit. he clears his throat to continue, "the way you look at judith like she's your own sister, the way you care for people that dont even know you."

carl seemed to hesitate continuing.

"i can go next," i murmur as my throat seems to close up. the walls felt like they were closing in, but one look into carl's eye and everything was fine again.

i didn't know how to start, so i just decided to act rational and hope for the best.

"you're calm and warm, everything about you is warm," i paused. "i hope that makes sense," i whispered.

"it does," was all carl said. out the corner of my eye, i saw his slender hand snake towards mine. i decided to be oblivious, hoping to make the moment better for him.

i felt the warm skin against my hand, heat flushing to my face as carl smirked. his sideways smile always gave me butterflies.

out the window of carls room, i saw the sun setting down into the horizon line. it was quiet today, no accidents and rick didnt even interrupt them.

i glanced over to judith, she was asleep against the blanket wall we had made for her. she looked peaceful. she always did when she slept.

carl cleared his throat. it seemed like he wanted to say something, but i decided not to push too hard and just stay next to him.

"something is quiet about today," i said after a few deafening moments of silence.

he turned to me slightly, his eye outlined by the ray of light peeking through the window.

"were you.. serious earlier?" he inquired. i wasnt sure what part he meant, i had said a lot earlier. even before the game.

"which part?" i asked, turning towards him slightly. our hands were still intertwined, pinkies holding eachother like we'd held hands before.

"the part where you said i was warm. i have one eye, how can i be warm?" i heard his voice shake ever so slightly.

sometimes i forgot he was just a kid when his eye was shot out.

"yes, i meant it. every part." i whispered tightening my grip on his hand ever so slightly.

a grin grew on his face, that lopsided smile giving me butterflies as always.

"even with one eye, you're gorgeous." i furrow my eyebrows together as his smile grows just a tinge bigger.

— — —

pretty boy, you did this with me, boy. now it's all about to end.

— — —

a/n : i hope you enjoyed ! :)

[5xlwriter]

Feedist Kinktober: Ex-Model

Part of a series of one-shots in response to @fatguarddog’s Feedist Kinktober 2024 prompts. I see this as a double response to the prompts Runway Ready and Wardrobe Woe.

“Thanks for your time, Brett,” I said, feigning a smile as I looked up from my clipboard. “We’ll call you!”

The muscle-bound hunk nodded cockily and pulled back on his stringy gymrat vest, giving us one last glimpse at his abs in the process before turning and leaving the audition room. His firm glutes shifted in his shorts as he vanished through the doors. I sighed.

Of course, there was no denying that Brett was absolutely gorgeous. He knew it, I knew it, anyone who saw him knew it. And while I might be tempted to call him up for a hookup, there was no way he was getting a callback for this show. He just didn’t have the right look.

The designer, Cherish Misère, was dark, edgy and honestly, kinda goth. There’s a lot that can be achieved with makeup and styling, of course, but nobody’s going to buy that with a jock like Brett. We were looking for skinny guys, with longer slender limbs and angled faces that we could make gaunt with contouring. Brett just didn’t fit the bill - and neither did many of the other hopefuls I’d seen that day. Ugh, Cherish was gonna kill me.

I huffed another deep sigh as I flipped the page on my clipboard, and then was stopped in my tracks at the photo attached to the next profile. That curly brown hair, those sharp, boyish features, those dark, arresting eyes… Tristan!

What a godsend! Tristan was absolutely perfect for the show. Cherish would eat him up, and all the clothes would fit like they were made for him. He and I had been students together. We’d studied Media & Communications and had gotten along well, but drifted in the couple of years since we graduated. He’d always modelled to raise funds when we were at uni, seeming to never need to hold down a real job as a result - but the last I heard, he was now skyrocketing up the corporate ladder, while I was sat here auditioning himbos for D-rate shows at the Fashion Week Fringe. It’s the sort of thing that would usually fill me with so much embarrassment that I’d find an escape route - we gays always compare ourselves to our peers - but in this instance, I didn’t care. I was just glad to finally have found some actual talent! The day was not a complete waste after all.

“Bring in the next one,” I called to my assistant and tried to make myself look as relaxed as possible. I was going to feign surprise, like I’d been caught off-guard. I needed to look busy and important. I sat up straight, eyes fixed on my clipboard until I heard someone shuffle in front of me.

“Hey, Rick!” He announced. His voice was just as I remembered it, but… maybe a touch deeper?

I looked up, ready to burst into a big smile and announce what a pleasant surprise it was to see him again. But then, I really was caught off-guard. My thoughts ground to a halt, leaving an uncomfortable pause as my brain scrambled to register what was going on.

My assistant intervened. “Um, Rick, this is…”

“—Tristan!” I interjected, finally managing the smile I’d been preparing, though I’m not sure how convincing it came off. “What a surprise!”

The surprise was that Tristan was fat. OK, that was maybe a little dramatic - he wasn’t fat fat. But I guessed him to be at least 50 or 60lbs heavier than the 135lbs he listed on his modelling profile - which made him gay fat. I couldn’t believe it!

I was so conflicted. On the one hand, I was a little ashamed to admit that part of me loved seeing perfect Tristan let himself go like this. He had always been nothing but kind to me, so it was completely mean-spirited of me, but I couldn’t help being jealous of all his achievements. It was nice to finally have one up on him, having maintained my own figure - heck, maybe even improved it? - since graduating.

On the other hand, there was no way I could cast Tristan with him looking like this. I could tell just by looking at him that it would take a small miracle to squeeze him into anything Cherish made, which meant I’d just lost my star model just as quickly as I thought I’d found him.

That, I had to worry about later. For now I had to finish this encounter with my old friend, let him down without hurting his feelings, and maybe find out what had caused him to blow up. Maybe he was depressed?

He didn’t look depressed. He was smiling that famously enchanting smile of his, which now showed off the beginnings of a double chin. I made my way over to give him a hug.

“Heh, I thought you didn’t recognise me!” He said as he wrapped his softer arms around me. He was squishy all over.

“Of course I recognise you,” I said, trying to brush it off. “It’s so good to see all of you— I mean, to see you, it’s so good to see you…” Fuck.

Tristan didn’t seem to notice - or if he did, then he didn’t seem to mind. I was happy with either. We pressed on with the pleasantries, Tristan telling me about his latest promotion whilst I did my best to make my own job sound interesting. In truth, it was great catching up with him… Tristan was just so charming, and even with his fuller figure he just exuded a confidence and charisma that was unlike anyone I’d ever met… perhaps even more so then I remembered? He was definitely flirty, and somehow I found myself flirting back despite him no longer being my type.

I wasn’t quite sure how it had happened… Maybe it was witchcraft. Maybe I felt sorry for him. Or maybe it was just that trademark smile that he kept flashing me, undampened by his rounder face…

“I think you’d be a great fit!” I said, the words leaving my mouth without my permission. My brain protested but my lips kept moving. “We’ll see you Monday for the fittings, so we can get things taken in if we need to.” What the fuck was I saying? What was I doing?

As Tristan left with his paperwork, I caught the confused look on my assistant’s face and buried my head in my hands. Cherish was going to fucking kill me.

***

Monday came around fast. In that time, I’d managed to assemble a motley crew of gangly young men to model Cherish’s collection. None of them had walked a runway in their lives, nor did they really have the face card needed for a career in modelling, but they were the best I could rustle up with Fashion Week on the horizon.

We’d started the morning with runway rehearsals and trying to get some charisma out of these boys was like getting blood from a stone. I was relieved that Tristan hadn’t shown up. I figured he had come to the realisation that he quite literally wasn’t a good fit for this, and had decided to silently slink away, saving me a difficult conversation. Now all we had to do was avoid each other for the rest of our lives!

But no, it was never going to be that easy. Tristan arrived late, commanding attention as soon as he entered the studio, smiling and greeting his fellow models as he finished off the remainder of a large smoked salmon bagel loaded with cream cheese. Now there was someone with charisma. He didn’t even try. Nor did he try to excuse his tardiness. “We both know I don’t need practice at this!” he laughed warmly when we had a quiet moment together.

And he was right. He stomped the runway like a pro, showing each of the confused wannabes how it was done. He was the elephant in the room; he didn’t belong; and yet, he was putting them all to shame. I watched bitterly as he walked back up the length of the runway, noticing the slight jiggle and bounce in his body with each deliberate step he made. Ugh, I was not looking forward to this conversation…

Later, as we prepared for the session with wardrobe, I pulled Tristan to one side.

“Listen, Tristan, I need to talk with you,” I said, trying to sound both relaxed and in control. “You know I think you’re amazing, but I don’t think this is the right gig for you…”

Tristan raised an eyebrow for a moment, not sure what to make of what I’d said, before he burst out laughing. “Ha, yeah, good one Rick. Don’t worry, I’ll help the other guys get the hang of it. It’s not rocket science.”

I frowned. “No, Tristan, you don’t understand…” Ugh! I hated this! “I’m serious. I don’t think you’re the right… fit…” I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his round midsection when I said it - only for a fraction of a second, but Tristan was quick enough to catch it.

“Oh…” he said, looking down at his body for a moment. “You think I’m too fat?” He looked hurt. I’d never seen him not radiating charm and confidence, but in the moment all of that dissipated. He looked like a little lost puppy. “I know I’ve gained a few… I’ve been working flat out at the office… But I didn’t think it was that bad…”

“It’s not!” I blurted out in a panic, desperate to backtrack. “You look great! Better than ever, actually. You look really healthy. That’s super in right now!” It was all lies, and I hated myself for it, but seeing that famous smile return to his face made it worth it.

And so Tristan was whisked off to wardrobe, where we tried to squeeze him into some of the pieces. I thought maybe, if we went with something layered, we could disguise his bulked up body and it might be OK. I was wrong.

Tristan was wearing a black ripped vest, designed to be tight even on a slender model, but practically painted onto him now and emphasising the ball of flesh at his waist. The fact it was ripped made him look like he’d burst out of it. When he moved his arms too high, a little slither of soft flesh would peek out the bottom. He wore a big leather trench coat, down to the floor, which I figured would do a lot of the heavy lifting in making Tristan look presentable - except, we couldn’t fasten it shut over his middle. And on his bottom half, he just wore his underwear and socks, as absolutely nothing that Cherish had designed would slide over his newly thickened thighs and ass.

Fortunately, Tristan may have been oblivious to how much he’d grown, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t going to work. Quietly, he wrestled himself out of the tight garments we’d given him and began to change into his own clothes. I kept my distance and tried to focus on the other boys. Later, as Tristan was leaving, I followed him out.

“Hey Tristan,” I called. “Wait up!” He turned to face me, and was still smiling, but he looked tired and pensive.

“Thanks for the opportunity, Rick! Sorry it didn’t work out.” He said, before surprising me by tapping his softer middle. “Guess I’ve been neglecting the gym!”

“Don’t worry about it, T,” I said. “You still look great and you can definitely work it off — if you want to,” I paused for a moment, hesitating as I decided whether to say what I was about to say. “Or… In the meantime, my friend runs this other company…” I handed him the card.

“Max Macdonald - Plus Size Agency”, Tristan read off the card. He sounded unsure and I thought I might have offended him again, but eventually he pocketed the card. “Thanks, Rick,” he said, giving me a quick hug. “See you around!”

***

As it happened, I never did see Tristan again. It had been four years since our awkward encounter when I found myself in a bar, catching up with my old friend Max, who I also hadn’t seen in years. Being an adult sucked!

Max had been vocally admiring a large man at the bar, telling me in great detail why this stranger’s corpulent body was so superior to the kind of talent I represented. (I’d learned my lesson and played to my strengths, now I had my own agency and was exclusively representing muscle-bound Greek Gods for high-profile names.)

None of it surprised me. Max had always been unashamedly into big guys, despite being in good shape himself. I’d seen him go through many boyfriends - usually they were varying degrees of fat, but sometimes there was a twink or two. They’d soon start to bulk up around him and usually this was when they wised up to his feeder ways and dumped him. He didn’t seem to care, and I always loved that about him. I definitely didn’t share his tastes, but I respected his unabashed commitment to them all the same.

And it seemed to be working out for him! After all, it was his love of big men that had led him to start the plus size agency that was now getting him contracts all over the world.

“Oh my god!” Max said, nearly spitting out his beer as a memory seemed to hit him like a truck. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you!” He was laughing hysterically and I pressed him urgently for more details. Max was a great storyteller and I found myself eager to hear his tale.

“A few years ago, I was approached by this dude,” he started. I nodded. “He was young, super handsome and charismatic like no one else! He told me you’d sent him.” I paused, knowing instantly that he was talking about Tristan, though I didn’t let on. I wanted to see where this was going.

“He said he was interested in some modelling with me. I told him, ‘look man, you’re gorgeous and you’ve got it, but you’re not exactly plus size’…” He took another swig of his beer. “He was like 200lbs at most. At most!”

I laughed along. “Haha, yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t really know where else to send him. He was too fat for us, but clearly not fat enough for you!” I took a sip of my drink, feeling a little bad for leading Tristan towards more rejection.

“Not then he wasn’t!” laughed Max. I didn’t like the tone in his voice… it was… mischievous. He was relishing in this story. “But I bumped into him a couple of years later at a chub event downtown. I didn’t recognise him at first but he came right over and introduced himself… all 350lbs of him!”

“No fucking way!” My mouth dropped to the floor as my mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, trying to imagine how big a 350lb person would look… How big a 350lb Tristan would look! That more way more than twice the size he’d been at uni.

“Yes way, he was just in a jock strap and a leather harness, shaking and jiggling all over the dance floor. There was no hiding it. He wasn’t the fattest person there by a long shot - a couple of guys were almost twice as big as him - but everyone in the joint wanted to fuck him.” He sat back and smiled smugly, looking very pleased with himself.

I gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did!” he said, a big grin on his face. “And it was great. Like really great. Man, I had to fucking work for it though. He asked if we could stop for something to eat on the way back to my place - and we did, three times!” He clearly found the story hilarious. “I paid for the lot… Worth it though!”

I was in shock, no longer finding it funny but trying my best to play along. I couldn’t believe that had happened. Maybe Max was just exaggerating. 350lbs? Surely not…

“So, did you end up signing him?” I asked.

“Nah,” said Max, looking a little solemn before finishing his drink. “When I woke up the next day, he’d vanished without a trace and I never saw him again…”

I was about to interject, to empathise for Max, and to tell him how shitty that was, but Max held up a hand to stop me. He wasn’t finished. That big grin had returned to his face and he fished his phone from his pocket.

“I never saw him again until last week…” he said, quickly navigating his home screen to pull up one of his fetish community apps. It didn’t phase me - like I said, Max had always been very open about this stuff.

“I was swiping through the other day when I saw this prize-winning pig…” he was practically giggling as he showed me the phone screen. It was a video, captioned with just two words: “Almost 500lbs”, with a pig nose emoji for emphasis. In the video, an absolutely enormous man was wearing a far too tight black half-zip sweater over a black t-shirt. He was standing close to the camera, with his head cut off by the frame. The strained clothes clung tightly to every curve, roll and fold on his fat frame: his giant tits threatened to burst out of the sweater (the zip of which would never fasten around his fat neck), while about 20cm of pure fat belly hung out the bottom, his gluttony on full view.

Why was Max showing me this? There was nothing to suggest this was Tristan. I became increasingly convinced that this was a practical joke. There was no way that someone who used to look like Tristan now looked like… this.

But then, the whale in the video took a few steps backwards as he jiggled his huge gut for the camera, and his fat face came into view. My world stopped for a moment: it was Tristan, no doubt about it.

Had I seen this veritable blob in the street, I would never have recognised him as my old friend. But I had been primed to see him, and see him I did: even though his sharp and boyish features were now buried under blubbery cheeks, there was no mistaking the charismatic allure of those eyes, which now seemed small and beady in his fat face. All the movement in his gut caused a loud burp to erupt from his mouth, and the smile that followed it as he looked upon his body with appreciation was unmistakably his. Even when being absolutely disgusting, something about Tristan was still so confident, so irresistible… he was magnetic.

“These are the clothes I was wearing when we first met back up,” he said to someone off screen, who chucked back. I recognised that laugh… “Can you believe that was only a year ago?”

“No,” came the familiar voice, as two arms entered the frame and began to pull off Tristan’s clothes, revealing his flabby body in all its perverted glory. The arms and voice belonged to someone older than Tristan by about 15 years. They were reasonably toned and thick with hair, and the strong-looking hands took big handfuls of Tristan’s tits and flesh, shaking it and making his whole body wobble. Then the anonymous figure moved into the screen, kissing Tristan on his big, fat cheek.

I almost dropped Max’s phone and had to do a double take. Was that our fucking professor?! He looked a little older than I remembered him, which was natural, but I was sure it was him.

“…but you’re nearly 100lbs bigger since then, so that’s not surprising,” he said seductively, bringing a cream filled bun up to Tristan’s lips. His mouth opened dutifully and made short work of the pastry, which got swallowed down into his giant gut.

“And why do you think that is?” huffed Tristan, rubbing his belly and stifling another burp. He looked so cocky and sure of himself… more than that, he looked like he was worshipping himself.

“Because,” said our old professor. “You’re a spoiled piggy who gets whatever he wants.”

[carlsdarling]

carl with fingering. it can be anything. any scenario. it’s all i can think about right now because LOOK AT HIS HANDS.

please and thank you 🙏🏼 keep on doing gods work 💗

Piano Player's Hands

Y/N gets really obsessed with Carl's hands... Bit more of a plot, than sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw

Piano player's hands, that's what popped into your head when you first became aware of Carl Grimes' hands during a boring meeting at the Alexandria Community Center.

You were sitting around a large round table, and the topic was how to make the Alexandria neighborhood safer because Saviours often prowled around the area

Carl didn't say much - he never did - he just listened, both hands wrapped around a coffee cup. Once you started, you couldn't stop looking at his hands. They were big for such a slender boy, but graceful - with long, slender fingers and clearly visible knuckles. Really the hands of a piano player; only the chipped and somewhat dirty fingernails and the calluses, the rough skin and the small wounds didn't fit the picture, you mused. But Carl's hands were mostly busy working, killing walkers or cleaning weapons. There wasn't much time for hand and nail care.

"Y/N?" asked Maggie impatiently, and you noticed startled - apparently she hadn't addressed you for the first time.

"Um, what?" you asked dumbly, and Maggie rolled her eyes.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to be assigned to regular patrols outside the wall?"

"Uh, yeah," you stammered, taking your eyes off Carl's hands with difficulty.

                                                           ***

In the following time you caught yourself again and again thinking about Carl in a juicy way. About him and his hands, especially his fingers. You imagined Carl pleasuring himself; how his long fingers closed around his hard shaft and moved up and down, squeezing lightly, how he rubbed his thumb over the wet tip, how he tossed his head back and forth on the pillow and moaned. Certainly Carl did it every day; at least that was true of most boys his age. You had never had much contact, but now your thoughts were constantly circling around Carl.

When you masturbated yourself, you now fantasized exclusively about Carl; you dreamed of him sliding those fingers into your pussy and stroking your clit. You feared that people would see what you were thinking, so you started avoiding Carl. Whenever you ran into him, you would turn bright red, turn around, and walk away in the other direction. One day you were supposed to stand guard on the wall with Carl, but that was completely impossible, you couldn't talk to him or look him in the eye - he would read your dirty mind, you were sure of it. So you sought out Rick and asked him to let you switch shifts with someone.

Rick frowned at the schedule where the guard duties were listed. It was clear he wasn't thrilled with your request. "Now I'm going to have to reschedule everything," he groused. "Why do you want to change shifts?"

"Um, I, I... well, I don't like getting up early," you lied.

"The shift starts at 10 AM," Rick wondered. "But well, I guess you can switch with Glenn; you'll be on at 6 PM," he stated, scribbling on the list. Neither Rick, nor you had noticed Carl standing next to the doorway to the living room.

After leaving Rick's house, you went to the stables, you wanted to look at a newborn foal. The foal was lying in the straw, sleeping, protected by its mother. "Cute, isn't it?" a voice sounded behind you.

The foal woke up and roused itself. You flinched. "Carl!" you exclaimed. "Are you stalking me?" you then accused him.

"To be honest, yes," he answered hesitantly. "I overheard that you didn't want to be on guard duty with me. Besides, you're avoiding me like I have the plague. Have I done something to you?" he asked, half hurt, half provocative.

You glanced past him to his left hand, with which he was petting the foal. "No," you murmured. The sight made you all tingly.

"Then what is it?" demanded Carl angrily.

"Well...I can't talk about it," you evaded, your face glowing. You tried to walk past Carl out of the stable, but he held you by the shoulder.

"Wait," he said, amused. "Are you...are you maybe crushing on me?" He grinned.

"I don't know," you squirmed, licking your lips. Carl was suddenly very close to you, his breath warmly brushing your neck, then all of a sudden his lips lay softly on yours. You let yourself go into the kiss, of course you did. When you stopped the kiss a moment later, you whispered, "I can't stop thinking about your fingers."

Carl raised an eyebrow - the one, visible one. "My fingers?"

"Yes, they...they're extraordinary, beautiful, and I'd like you to...um..."

Carl chuckled. "Now I understand," he said, throwing you a cocky smile before kissing you again, letting his right hand wander to the buttons of your jeans, undoing them and fumbling forward into your panties. You went to your knees whimpering as he stroked you between your legs, wetting his fingers. You sank to the floor together, and you impatiently pushed your pants and panties down to your knees to give Carl free access. "You're completely wet for me," he noted with fascination.

"Carl, finger me, please," you moaned breathlessly, raising your hips with a yelp as Carl obeyed, sliding his index and middle finger into your willing pussy and gently moving them back and forth with a smooth rhythm. "Oh, Carl, yes, please," you moaned, totally wanting and at his mercy. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, craving more and more of him. He bent down and kissed you passionately as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. You clung to Carl's shoulders as he pushed you over the edge and the world exploded around you in stars and rainbow colors. "Carl!!!" you panted, clawing at him. One of the horses shied away at your outcry.

Breathing heavily, you relaxed as Carl slowly pulled his fingers out of you. They were all slippery from your juices. Your heart raced. Carl pressed himself against you longingly. "You could do something for me now," he pleaded, and you could see the bulge in his jeans. He rubbed over it meaningfully.

"Jerk yourself off," you suggested. "I want to see that."

Carl grinned suggestively. "Someday, maybe, but right now I want you to jerk me off. It's only fair, don't you think?" he pouted.

He wasn't wrong, though. "All right," you agreed. You still had a little time before you had to show up for your work at the doctor's office. Eagerly, Carl opened his belt and his jeans and pulled out his fully erected dick, and you noted that it was really big and just as pretty as Carl's hands, and inhaled sharply. However, it turned out that Carl was so aroused from your previous activities that he cum all over your hand just as soon as you touched him.

"Oh," he commented lamely. "Sorry, baby."

You had to snicker. "I think we should do this more often."

--

Tags: @loveforcarl @tessasweet @knochentrocken0808 @taylormarieee

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 10 “You said you’d never leave.” | No. 13 “I don’t feel so good.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria (Saviors War)

Warnings: Illness, Descriptions of injury

It had taken you all day to get ready. The war with the Saviors was coming and you, as well as everyone else, were prepared to end it. Rick had a plan, one you knew your partner wasn’t willing to follow. Still, you had tried to reason with him. 

He wasn’t okay after what he had been through. He was lost in his lust for revenge. He wouldn’t let you be there for him, pushed you away harder than you were willing to allow. You were trying to pick up his broken pieces and cradle them until you could help him put them all back together. But he had slapped them from your grasp with venomous outbursts before cold silence. 

He was your everything. He was hurting in a way he hadn’t since he was a child, and no one could reach him. Not even you. You knew you’d be there when he was ready, but you were done begging. If the both of you lived through this, you’d catch him when he fell. There was no sense telling yourself otherwise.

Right now, though, you were angry. You were angry and you were tired. And it was time to end this and give Daryl the peace he needed to heal. You would do this for him. You would single-handedly raze your way through each and every Saviour to get your hands around Negan’s throat and rip it out. For Daryl. 

You threw your pack onto your shoulder, packed full of supplies that you never normally carried but still not as heavy as your heart. With a glance around your home, the one you had hoped to share with your archer when he was back, you were ready and you opened the door. 

Daryl was there. He was standing on the porch with his back against the support post, nervously tapping his fingers against the wood. His head immediately snapped up, your eyes locking. 

“Y/N.” It came out as an almost whimper. There was more on the tip of his tongue, his mouth moving but no sound emerging. You remained stoic as he began to approach you, a slight wobble to his gait. When his arms encircled your shoulders, your anger couldn’t withstand the tremble you felt in his embrace. 

The bag slipped from your shoulder to fall heavily to the floor just inside the doorway, your own arms weaving around his middle. When your small hands splayed open on his back, you could feel the heat radiating beneath his shirt. 

“Daryl?” You tried to pull away, just enough to look at him, but he wouldn’t allow it. If anything, he held tighter. 

“Ya said ya’d never leave.” God, he sounded tired. Resigned, even. Your heart shattered. Had you really given him that impression? With careful steps, you led him over the threshold without separating, grateful that the action hadn’t spurred him into retreating. 

Using your foot, your bag was pushed aside and the door closed. You carefully released him and gripped his forearms to encourage him to do the same for you. He let you without a fight. During the process, his expression was pained, as if you were denying him the comfort he was finally seeking. 

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.” Slender fingers still loosely held his arms and guided him to sit on the couch. The coffee table became your perch. With the looming war all but forgotten, you needed to get a good look at Daryl. 

The two of you hadn’t spoken in days but you’d received reports that your friends had seen him during all hours of the day and night. He wasn’t sleeping. If the intel hadn’t confirmed that, the discolored circles under his eyes would have. There was a sickly pallid to his skin under the thin sheen of sweat. The archer continued to tremble, the damp strands of hair covering his fever-flushed face seemed to vibrate. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Your voice remained steady, though you felt anything but inside. 

“Yer pissed… gon’ leave me.” He was slurring, his gaze almost vacant. “Ya are, aren’tcha?” His brow furrowed, dull blue eyes searching for a moment before finally locating your worried ones. 

“Pissed? Or leaving?” You could answer both with certainty, but keeping him distracted allowed you to brush back his hair and press a palm to his forehead. Definitely feverish. 

“Gon’ kill ‘em. Me an’ Tara, we got us a plan.” The bowman carried on like you hadn’t even spoken. “Gon’ kill ‘em all.”

“We’ve talked about your plan, Daryl.” The attempts to coax his eyes back failed. There was a twisting in your gut that something more was happening. He was sick, that much was obvious, but since when did Daryl get sick. Perhaps the trauma he’d experienced had impacted his immunity? No, that wasn’t it. You could feel that there was more. “Don’t you remember?”

“I kept tha’ picture.” His tone had changed, almost void of emotion. “They made me look. Kept it so I don’ forget.”

“Daryl, baby, you’re not making any sense.” 

His head turned toward you at the pet name, eyes looking clearer than they had even mere seconds prior. You found yourself almost leaning away, lest you drown in the high tide of raw emotion in those azure pools. 

“Daryl?” 

“Y/N, I—” His brow knitted but he didn’t look away. You nodded for him to continue, watched him take a deep shuddering breath. “I don’ feel so good.” There was no time to interrogate him about his symptoms. The words had no more than slid off his tongue when his eyes rolled back and he slumped toward you. 

“Shit!” You caught him under his arms, only remaining off the floor because of the close proximity you had taken in front of him when you had sat down. “Daryl?” Your left hand moved to cradle the side of his head as you stood and guided his descent across the couch. Lifting his legs up was difficult but you managed, caring little for the effort it required. Your hands hovered over him, not sure where to begin, but the symptoms: fever, weakness, sweating, confusion. Had he… was he bit?

You grabbed his arms, lifting each to examine up to the rolled-up sleeves. You couldn’t see his biceps, so you’d have to remove the shirt. Grasping his chin, you turned his head toward you and then away, checking his neck. When you started on the buttons of his top, the corner of the gauze that covered his gunshot wound peeked out from beneath the fabric. What should have been a clean, white dressing was dirty and yellowed. 

“Oh, Daryl.” You knew before you even pulled back the taped edge. While you were relieved it wasn’t the death sentence of a walker bite, infection in these times was nothing to play with. His shirt was wrestled off and pulled  from beneath him, tossed somewhere. You’d find it later. “Jesus.” You whispered, removing the bandage completely and tossing it aside. The skin around the wound was angry, such a deep red that it appeared nearly purple. The poorly sutured wound was leaking puss, both yellow and almost green. Had he been to the infirmary at all since his escape?

“Goddamnit!” If he wasn’t in such a poor state, you would have shaken him awake just to knock him out again. You shoved yourself from the floor and began to pace. What could you do? Nearly everyone had left the walls to go fight. Shit! The war was happening without you. 

Daryl groaned behind you, bringing your steps to a quick halt. The battle was suddenly absent from your thoughts.  He didn’t wake, only turned his head back and forth before settling again. His breathing wasn’t labored. He hadn’t coughed. Maybe if you opened, cleaned and debride, and restitched the wound, you could buy some time to find antibiotics in the infirmary. Luckily, everything you needed for this was in your bathroom upstairs. 

You began the ascent to your room. “Oh my god, Daryl Dixon, I’m going to murder you when you wake up.” Oddly enough, the threat came out in more of a high pitched whimper than an actual promise of bodily harm. Items in your cabinets and drawers were meticulously organized for this very reason. You had all you needed in less than a minute and were back at his side and placing things on the coffee table. 

You could only pray he’d remain unaware. You’d given Daryl stitches before and he’d barely grunted at you. His tolerance for pain was incredible, hence the terrible mess in front of you. You just weren’t sure how a fever-ridden Daryl would handle having his skin cut open and away while it was so terribly inflamed. 

“Okay.” You situated yourself on a chair from the dining room, bringing it with you after washing your hands. Daryl was still fully unconscious but you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek anyway. “Here goes nothing.”

Over an hour later, you had done all you could. You had cut away any tissue that appeared necrotic, cleaning out the yellow with some vodka before suturing the wound. It was significantly larger now but the stubborn asshole would just have to deal with that. At least it looked cleaner than the disaster made of it at Sanctuary. The mess had been cleaned up and the wound wrapped. A pillow had been placed beneath his head, his boots removed, and a blanket spread over him. You sat on the floor now, your back against the couch and your head in your hands. 

The streets outside were so quiet. It was unnerving. The sky was darkening and you found your thoughts wandering to the war you had missed and how many people’s deaths your absence had been responsible for. Would the Saviors come barging through the door to drag you and Daryl to Sanctuary? Maybe they would just shoot you both on the spot. Or would Rick come yell at you for ditching them before telling you of their victory?

Either way, you couldn’t have been there. There was no way you’d leave Daryl like this, even if it was the most cooperative he had been since breaking out of that hell. 

“Y/N?” His gravelly voice rasped out behind you. 

You twisted onto your hip and then onto your knees, one hand wrapping around his that lay on his chest and the other smoothing back his hair. “I’m here.” His eyes were barely open and he was still hot to the touch, but he seemed calm and lucid enough. “Just waiting for everyone to get back and we’ll get some antibiotics for you. Have you back on your bike in no time.”

“Wha’ happened?” He blinked slowly but didn’t appear to be struggling to stay with you. 

“You didn’t take care of yourself, dumbass.” You admonished gently even when you wanted to yell and throttle him for scaring you. “Your wound was infected. Had to do some fancy field surgery.”

“Oh.”

Your eye twitched at his flippant response but you sucked in a deep breath through your nose and got yourself under control. “Think you could drink some water for me?” He gave an almost imperceptible nod. Your water bottle was beside your leg, and you were much too tired to get up so sharing was caring. Cap off quickly, you wiggled a hand behind his head and pulled him up just enough to drink a few swallows. Once he was settled again, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing the too warm skin stretched across his knuckles. “You know I’m not leaving, right? Not now, not ever.”

“I didn’ know.” He admitted, his eyes slipping closed. 

“Well, now you do.” You smiled even though you had forty different emotions warring inside your head. “We have to start working through this, Daryl. Together. You have to let me in.” That pretty blue peeked out from behind his heavy eyelids again. 

“I don’ know how.” 

Your heart twisted inside your chest, an invisible vice squeezing and squeezing until there was no more room to beat. So much progress since the quarry and Negan had taken it all away. 

“You just talk and I’ll listen. I don’t understand how it feels to survive what you have but I can try. I want to try.”

“Then I’ll try too.” He lifted his left hand to your face, fingers tracing down your jaw. “M’tired.” You already knew he was losing the battle to keep his eyes open. The rest would do him a world of good. 

“Just rest.” There was cheering outside, but you couldn’t be sure who had come through the gate. Until Carol threw open your door, panting and concerned eyes wide. Her gaze flittered between you and Daryl. You jerked your chin toward the porch, sending her there until you could step out for a moment to give and receive updates as well as tell her what was needed from the infirmary. When the latch clicked, you looked back to Daryl, his eyes slipping shut once more. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

Practice makes perfect

Request: please could you write one where Rick helps inexperienced reader shoot a gun and he also teaches her how to defend herself? Thank you!

A/N: hope this is okay!! Would you all like to see a daryl version of this??

Rick grimes x fem! Reader

You were new to the prison environment, you had stumbled upon the prison when you had lost your people to the dead. It was terrifying but thankfully Rick grimes and his people welcomed you in with open arms— or… well. Held at gunpoint. But that’s beside the point. You had been here for almost 18 days now and you were fitting in just right. You had found comfort within Hershel the kind man who seemed to be incredibly loyal and genuine. Not to mention his kindness towards everything was gratefully accepted during times like these. Beth too was a sweet girl but there were a few of the group who seemed a bit rough around the edges. Not that you minded of course, you were just glad you could say you had some kind of “friends.”

Here you were positioned near the gate where walkers were pressing themselves against, ruthlessly clawing at the metal structure desperate for the taste of flesh. You stood silently staring and listening to their groans and moans your hand numbly gripping onto the pistol that dangled by your side. It might’ve seemed stupid but you had never shot a gun in your life. And now that you were in this situation you wished you had accepted the many times family members offered to take you to the shooting range when the world was still normal. You exhaled shaking your head before you pointed your gun at one of the walkers heads, squinting your eyes slightly your finger resting upon the trigger as you tried to figure out how to do it, footsteps slowing just behind you— ricks scrutinising eyes examined you thoroughly before he cleared his throat. “The safety’s one” his thick accent touched your ears and you quickly glanced at him “what?” You murmured nervously “the safety’s on. That’s why you can’t pull the trigger.” He vaguely explained taking steps towards you before stopping beside you, slender fingers grasping onto the metal of the gun as he stood side by side with you his arm brushing lightly against yours “look,” he tilted the gun your way his thumb brushing against the metal before a click was heard “safety’s off now.” He spoke before slowly handing it back to you. “Try now.”

He took a step back giving you room to try but now under this much pressure you felt your nerves kick in. You were worried that because you didn’t know how to shoot a gun without looking like an idiot you’d be seen as someone lesser and be kicked out the group. But really that was just your over thinking. You hesitantly pointed the gun towards a specific walker Rick remaining silent as he observed you fingertips lightly brushing against the handle of his own gun it was just engraved into his mind to constantly do just in case he had to pull it on anyone or anything at any point. You couldn’t ever be too careful… you glanced back at him momentarily he was hard to read, you then looked forward again steadying your breath as you attempted it. And with one last deep breath you pulled the trigger the bullet flying through the air and zipping straight past the walkers a silent cuss leaving your lips as you shook your head embarrassed. “Not bad.” Rick spoke calmly, as if noting your anxious state and how you seemed to be slightly apprehensive about shooting the gun. He took a step towards you stopping beside you “have you ever shot a gun before?” He questioned and you glanced at him before shaking your head “no. I didn’t like using guns when the world was normal…” you murmur nervously and he only nods. “That’s understandable” he soon comments “I was a sheriff in Atlanta before all of this.” Rick began talking, your eyes snapping back towards him as you listened to him silently admiring him his jaw slightly clenching every now and then his baby blue eyes holding many memories within them. His eyes moved to look at you “so I was all involved in guns and protecting myself and my people.” He spoke as if trying to make you more comfortable. Opening up little by little…

“My wife…. She hated the thought of our son using guns. She refused to let him near them. Even when I offered to train him up for if anything ever happened she wouldn’t let him… even when the world went to shit… she wouldn’t let him touch a gun…” he analysed you as he spoke “until I convinced her enough… I wish I had held back slightly..” he swallowed thickly glancing down at the ground as he remembered the thought of Carl shooting his own mum. If Rick hadn’t of taught him how to shoot a gun then would Carl of shot Lori? It was a question left for speculation. No one truly knew. But Rick did feel guilt when he thought on it really hard… that’s why he tried to push it all down. Keeping it all at the back of his brain. “So I get where you’re coming from. But knowing how to shoot a gun now is… something we all need.” He spoke simply turning his back to you momentarily before he pulled his own gun out the sun reflecting off of the metal slightly making it glint every now and then “just copy my stance alright.” He spoke and you nodded watching as he put one foot forwards the other foot remaining in place almost as if he was bracing himself before he held the gun with two hands— one on the handle and trigger the other cupping it slightly as if to keep it stable. “Holding with both hands isn’t absolutely necessary but holding it with both hands keeps your focus and hands from shaking.” Rick explained and you nodded watching as he shot the gun the bullet immediately piercing the skull of the dead as it collapsed onto the ground. “Your turn.”

He spoke before backing away, and you exhaled shakily breathing in sharply as you attempted to copy his exact positioning slowly raising your gun until it was eye level with you both your hands steadying the gun “like this?” You murmured nervously Rick moving to your side his hands grabbing onto your elbow slightly “tilt” he suggested calmly making you tilt your arm ever so slightly before he moved behind you resting your hands on your shoulders knowing the force of the gun was far too powerful sometimes. He kept his hands on your shoulders “focus…” he advised gently and you nodded focusing as hard as you could. You inhaled sharply lining up the gun more straight before pulling the trigger the bullet piercing through a walkers shoulder “good. You’re getting there.” Rick praised before he reached forwards grabbing onto your hands as he positioned your hands more correctly “just remember they’re dead. Okay?” He spoke almost as if reading your mind. Knowing that you were struggling with the fact that these were once human beings. Just like you and him. “But they…” you swallowed thickly not knowing how to describe it, Rick maintaining eye contact with you “look at it this way y/n…. They don’t feel anything. They only have one job and one job only. Successfully get the food they’re constantly searching for. It’s a cycle… a painful cycle. If you shoot them you’re putting them out of their misery right?” He was right and eventually you nodded. You still needed to detach the people from the actual walkers and whom they once were but that would be a learning curve. “Alright shoot.” He spoke and you took a deep breath before squinting your eyes and once steadying your hands you shot the gun the smell of gunpowder growing stronger but you didn’t mind. You watched as the bullet pierced into the dead’s skull as it collapsed to the ground,

“Good. Again.” He spoke. The sun was starting to set and Rick knew it wouldn’t be long before more walkers started arriving. You then lined up the gun again before shooting the bullet again successfully hitting the Walker square in the head. You continued doing this over and over again until the clouds had turned a deep orangey colour rain specs starting to fall upon you and him “you did great.” Rick spoke with a faint smile “you’re going to be a pro at this soon enough. Gonna put us to shame.” He murmured nudging you playfully and you couldn’t help but smile slightly “thank you… could we do this again tomorrow?” Rick nodded slightly “sure. I’ll get you up at 7 am sharp.” He spoke and you nodded smiling as you began walking back towards the main area of the prison with him. “After all practice makes perfect.” He chuckled out lightly you could tell that helping you practice had alleviated something off of his shoulders and mind… and the same was said for you.

You walked inside with him some people eating some food and others already sleeping “I’m going to go to my cell.” You murmured and Rick nodded “goodnight. Sleep well. If you need anything just shout.” He spoke and you nodded watching as he began walking away. “Rick..” you spoke, making him stop as he turned to look at you Judith being handed to him as he held onto her securely his free hand skilfully putting his gun back onto safety “thank you. Seriously. Uh… you saved a girls life.” You spoke, Rick looking slightly confused but appreciative. “I lost my people. To the walkers…. I was close to just waiting for another herd to come take me down… you and your people gave me a reason to live.” The look on ricks face was difficult to read but he looked grateful, happy and somewhat relieved all at once. “Glad you’re still with us, y/n.” He gave you a nod lips curling up into a small smile. “Go get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gave you another curt nod before turning around tending to his daughter and you silently watched him before retreating back to your bunk a small sad smile forming on your lips— grateful for him and his people who had given you a reason to survive. You got into your bunk laying down as you began getting comfortable until you heard a slight creek before the familiar teenage boy was hanging over the top bunk “hey y/n” Carl spoke cowboy hat barely staying on and you smiled tiredly at him “hey.” He then disappeared momentarily before coming back continuing to dangle off the bed “don’t fall…” you warned with a tired smile and he only smiled holding out a red packeted chocolate bar for you to take. “Just in case you were hungry.” He spoke not letting up until you had taken it from him before he laid back down on the top bunk “thanks carl.” You spoke hearing the sound of pages turning and you smiled knowing he was reading his comic… what a thoughtful boy… a thoughtful group whom you didn’t deserve in the slightest. But you knew they’d continue over and over again giving you a reason to live.

[marsxcutie]

Fixation│Jonathan Crane x Reader

Fixation - Part 2

Fixation Masterlist

A/N: Part two babey, some more plot development. Reader's appearance is pretty specific, let me know if a more general profile is preferred! Storyline is based in a more modern-ish setting. (There's computers and social media and stuff) This story is definitely going to be a longer series!! But trust, the stuff ya'll came for will be written hehe

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Female Reader

Synopsis: (Y/N) is Arkham's new lead psychologist in the developing acute pediatric unit. Dr. Crane soon becomes fixated on the pretty young doctor. Is she just as fixated on him?

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: patient being creepy and slightly aggressive towards reader but that's about it for this part

Jonathan’s POV

“Come in.” I responded to the swift knock at my door. The door opened and I looked up from my paperwork to see Rick standing in my doorway. “The new gal’s here, her temporary office is right next door actually.” I gave him a nod. Rick turned to leave but stopped, “Oh and I should mention, she’s quite the looker.” Rick chuckled and closed the door behind him, not waiting for a response from me. 

I sighed and closed the file I was working on. I opened my desk drawer and tucked it under the false bottom, not wanting the new girl, or anyone for that matter to see the contents. If anyone found out about these unorthodox methods, it would be trouble for me.

I made the short walk to her office door, giving a hard knock, not waiting for a response and opening the door. Her long (H/C) swung over her shoulder as she quickly turned her head towards me, a light floral smell hit my nose. Her reaction to me was not subtle in the slightest, her glossy lips parted slightly and her eyes went wide. I tried my best not to smirk at her schoolgirl reaction. Instead, I gave her a soft smile and extended my hand. 

She stuttered out a greeting and reached out a perfectly manicured hand, her grasp very gentle. Her voice was soft and her face was slightly flushed. She was very beautiful, a very pretty face, I noted in my head. Soft skin, her makeup was subtle but complimented her features, long silky (H/C) hair, and a petite hourglass figure. Even with her heels on she had to look up at me. She looked far too young to be a doctor, but her seemingly gentle nature made sense for a pediatric doctor. 

“We can start your training in my office.” I turned and beckoned her to follow me. 

Dr. Crane’s office was pretty bare, only a few diplomas and awards in frames hung from the walls. No pictures of family or loved ones were to be seen. His desk was neat, everything seemed to have its own designated spot. He pulled up a chair from in front of his desk to the side, close to his chair. He gestured for you to take a seat. You smoothed your pencil skirt over your bottom before sitting down, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Alright, so I’ll just be showing you how to do proper documentation for intakes today.” Dr. Crane pulled out a file and put it between the two of you. He scooted closer to you, the sudden proximity making your face flush again. 

You two spent the next two hours watching and listening to Dr. Crane go over paperwork. His serious demeanor and his almost condescending tone made you feel small. He wasn’t exactly mean but he also wasn’t friendly towards you. You caught yourself frequently staring at his hands, they were veiny and his fingers were long and slender. You silently scolded the dirty thoughts out of your head. Crushing on your colleague two hours into your first day was probably not a great idea. 

Dr. Crane looked up at the clock and sighed. “I do actually have a session scheduled with a patient in about 10 minutes, would you like to sit in?” He turned to face you, “Obviously a session with a child will look a lot different but it would still be a good learning experience.” 

You nodded, “I would love to sit in and shadow.” 

Dr. Crane led you further into the building into a small intake room. “Do you not usually meet with patients in your office?” He didn’t look up from his file but answered, “It’s a personal preference for me to not meet with them in my office.” He grabbed a chair and drug it to the corner of the room, “This patient can be a little…aggressive, I’d prefer if you sat over here for your own safety.” Jonathan looked over at you expectantly. “That makes sense.” You made your way over to the chair, taking a seat and crossing your legs. Jonathan went back to the table in the middle of the room and took a seat, going over the file once more. 

The door swung open and a guard entered with a tall lanky man. The patient's eyes immediately darted to you. The patient stopped in his tracks and grinned widely, opening his mouth to say something but was cut off by Dr. Crane, "May I remind you that if you cannot behave we will have to meet at another time." Dr. Crane's tone was stern and he hadn't even bothered to turn and face the patient. The tall lanky man scoffed and continued his walk to the chair opposite of Dr. Crane.

"How have you been, Elias?" Dr. Crane still hadn't looked up from the file.

"Who's the babe in the corner doc? Is she going to be taking over fo-"

"Ms. (L/N) will not be working with any of the patients in this wing and quite frankly it's none of your business. I will continue as your doctor until further notice." Dr. Crane finally had looked up from the file, his back was facing you so you couldn't see his facial expression but his tone sent a chill up your spine.

The patient seemed excited at Dr. Crane's reaction, "That's a damn shame. One session with her and aaaaaall my problems would be fixed." He shifted his gaze to you and winked, keeping a creepy grin plastered on his face.

Dr. Crane motioned to the guard.

"Hey, hey, hey alright alright doc I'll behave." Elias threw his hands up in feign surrender.

Dr. Crane nodded to the guard and spoke again, "Last week we increased your dose of fluoxetine to 40mg, do you notice any difference."

Elias sighed dramatically, tilting his head back. "Well doc. I'm still having fantasies about butchering women." He suddenly put his forearms on the table and leaned closer to Dr. Crane, "Especially the pretty ones." He grinned wide and flashed his gaze over to you.

Dr. Crane gave him no reaction, knowing that's what he wanted. "That's unfortunate to hear Elias, I think I'll increase your dose t-"

Elias slammed his hands on the table. making you jump and press your back into your chair. "I don't need anymore damn meds!" His voice was raised and his eyes went wide. This must have been tame behavior for this man because neither Dr. Crane or the guard had a reaction to his behavior. Elias had seemed to forget about you, his crazed eyes trained on Dr. Crane, challenging him.

Dr. Crane was silent for several moments, simply maintaining eye contact with Elias. This must have been an effective method as Elias eventually sat back in his chair, his face going back to a neutral expression.

The rest of the session went pretty peacefully. Elias would occasionally dart his eyes to you and give you that same creepy grin but no more inappropriate comments were made. At the end of the session, the guard escorted Elias back towards the door. He gave you one last grin as he left, "I'll see you later, beautiful."

You let out a big breath you didn't realize you were holding in. "Are you alright?" Dr. Crane was now in front of you, offering you his hand. You took his hand and nodded. He helped you out of your chair, as if you weren't stable enough to do so, "I'm sure you could handle yourself but I am quite relieved you won't be working with men like Elias."

You nodded and let out a small laugh, "I think I will get along with the children better."

Jonathan's POV

I guided (Y/N) back to my office. It didn't show but the session with Elias had vexed me. His behavior towards (Y/N) angered me, knowing what awful things he was fantasizing about. His comment about butchering women wasn't just to scare her, it was completely true. I felt a tinge of guilt knowing that (Y/N) is now probably at the forefront of his sick fantasies.

A sense of protectiveness washed over me once I saw how pale she had gone, the worried look on her face. Someone like her needed protection. She was fragile, gentle, good.

She needed me.

Part 3

[thesoftboiledegg]

No matter how often he ties it back, X-216 Rick's hair always ends up hanging in his face. At this point, he just lets it do what it wants. He could cut his hair, but having long, flowing hair like that in his 70s is an accomplishment. He started growing it out in high school--why shave his head now?

This commission that I ordered from smolmushroomm (Twitter) looks like a storybook illustration. I love his distant expression, the flame shining in his glasses and his long, slender fingers. The sketchy background reflects his mental state: no matter where he goes, he always feels like darkness is closing in.

(X-216 Rick is my OC who appears alongside C-137 in my fics Spectrum of the Curve and Running Like Water 🌿)

[nikkisheep]

That glenn smut was immaculate can u do rick smut/fluff pls??

See You

Rick Grimes x reader

Warnings: Smut, kissing, sex on a car, public sex (kinda), Rick covered in oil, cursing, dirty talk, fluffy ending, praise kink, Sub!Rick, oral (m), rick's hands (omg choke me), no gender decided (m or f), friends to lovers, NOT MY BEST

Summary: Seeing Rick working on his car, the oil on his hands makes you feral and want him deep inside you. And who was Rick to deny you of what you want? Especially when you want to be in control.

Dainty hands work on the motor of his car. His wedding ring shimmers in the sunlight. You walk in the garage to see Rick Grimes, your friend, working under the hood of the car. His muscles ripple under the black short-sleeved button up shirt he is wearing. You watch as his fingers, thick but slender at the same time, wrap around the wench that he is using. You feel a heat in your lower region and you have to mentally slap yourself for it. Rick was your friend.

"Hey can you hand me the 5/8 wench over there from the shelf?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah."

Handing it to him, his fingers graze yours. Grease and oil gets on your clean skin slightly and you nearly moaned at the feeling of the dirty act, yet innocent, because it felt like he did it on purpose. Looking at him with hazed eyes, you watch his teeth bite his lower lip and you whimpered.

"You okay?"

"Who me?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm fine."

"You're just kinda hot when you are dirty," You thought.

"Well, thank you." He laughed.

He looked at you with a smirk and walked to you.

"Thank you sweetness, cause I think you're hot too." He leaned in and captured your lips. His hand came up to your face, holding you in place so he could lick into your mouth. You moan against him and walk him back to the car. Closing the hood, you take charge.

Pushing him against the hood of his car, you palm his growing erection in his jeans. He groaned and quickly kissed you with fever. He wanted you right then, almost as much as you wanted him. Slipping to your knees, getting onto the hard cement, you pull his dick out of his pants. You kiss it. You lick at the base and then drag your tongue all the way up to the tip.

Rick's hips buck into your hips with a hiss when you take him completely. You smile at him and bob your head up and down on him. His hands came to your hair, gripping it tightly as he fucked into your throat. Tears ran down your face, spurring Rick on. He pulls you off him and you get up. He looks at you with a lustful gaze. He leans against the hood and you strip bare.

"Such a pretty dick," You tell him. He moans.

"You like being praised?" He nodded.

"Well, it is a very pretty sight to see you so submissive."

Climbing on top of Rick's body, you kiss his chest once you rip his shirt from his shoulders. Buttons flew across the room as you mark his neck and chest with your love bites. Everyone is gonna know that Rick Grimes is your man.

You press yourself to his cock, pressing him in slightly into the hole that your body allowed him to fit. Pressing him completely inside you, his hips thrust into yours.

"No, I am in charge."

He whines at your walls squeezing him tightly as you moved up and down over him. He felt like he was floating even though anyone could walk into the garage and see what was happening. He had left the door open because it was slightly warm in the room and he didn't want to overheat. Rick grabbed your waist and tried to help your movements but he could barely think with how good you were fucking him.

"My good boy. So pretty."

He twitched inside you and you knew that he was going to cum very soon. You double downed on your thrusts, wanting to get there for both of you. Wanting you to cum together. He moved against you, his hair was flat on his head, his breathing was ragged, his face was flushed, as well as his chest. He looked beautiful like this.

One more push of your body and it sent you both over the edge, the movements never stopped and the pleasure never ended. Rick spilled inside you, painting your walls. You gush everywhere and Rick smiled.

Cleaning up was easy because you both needed a shower. Sadly, Carol saw the looks on your faces and could not stop teasing you.

"Yes, we are together. So what? Let's get back to work," Rick ordered.

"I can't wait until you try to boss me around," You laugh.

"Just you wait until we get home."

[ghostboneswrites2]

Doe Eyes || Ch.1 - Woodbury

Overview: You (y/n) are taken captive by the Governor and recruited as one of his fiercest soldiers. As you slowly uncover the atrocities committed behind the walls of Woodbury and at the hands of the Governor himself, your already questionable loyalty begins to dwindle. When Woodbury falls, your only friend (a sassy, formerly rich farmer's daughter type named Brandy) decides to take the offer from the rival group to join them at their secure home in a prison. Despite your apprehensiveness -- and your preference to be out on your own -- you decide to tag along with your friend and seek refuge with Rick's group. You become a valuable, able-bodied asset to them, and that's when a certain crossbow slinging southerner becomes a part of your life.

Story begins in S3 and ends when Aaron finds the group to take them to Alexandria. It is mostly canon compliant. Lots of canonical dialogue. This story is finished. There is one OC: Brandy

18+ MDNI || Warnings: Story contains TWD typical violence, profanity, deaths of major and minor characters, gore, etc etc.

Chapter list

        "Well, so far, so good, except the dehydration. I'm going to give you these electrolyte powders. Drink them twice a day in a glass of water, and make sure to drink plenty more in between." The doctor lady told you, handing you six slender packets. "Someone will be in to show you around."

        With that, she walked out of the room and you just sat there, stunned. A doctor? In today's world? Where the hell were you? Maybe you were dead and this was some kind of strange DMT trip before your lights went out for good.

        The door opened and in walked a tall man with a fake smile. He was the type to work at a law firm or something. 

        "Good afternoon." He greeted cordially. "Name's Philip. Most people just call me Governor."

        "Governor?" You snorted. "Like 'ello gov-nah'?" You joked, mimicking a sad excuse for a British accent.

        "Funny." He chuckled, but something told you it wasn't actually that amusing. "Come on. I'll show you around, then I'll take you to where you'll be staying."

        "Staying? I don't know about that. I was doing alright on my own." 

        "Alright?" He considered your words for a moment, slowly pacing his way toward you. "Wouldn't you rather be doing well? Great, even? Just let me show you around, give you a place to stay for a day or two, and then if you still want to go, fine. We'll send you off, maybe give you some supplies to get you started."

        "What about my weapons?" You inquired. When they took you, you had a .38 and a crowbar. You'd become pretty efficient in the arts of melee since the world fell to shit.

        "Of course. You can have 'em, and we'll even give you a box of ammunition for that pretty piece of yours. It's nice, by the way. Where'd you get it?"

        "Oh, I got it when I got my first place on my own." You shrugged. "You know, wasn't in the best area and all."

        "Understandable." He nodded, showing off that eerily friendly grin of his. "Good thing you had it."

----

        "So, what do you think?" He asked. He'd just given you a quick tour of the town. Woodbury, he called it.

        "It's real cute. Never seen anything like it." You admitted.

        "No different than any other little town in the south." He chuckled.         

        "The walls, I mean." You clarified. "The armed guards. So many people. How'd you do it?"

        "Well, Rome wasn't built in a day." He shrugged, feigning humility.

        "It also wasn't built in a world infested with flesh-starved freaks." You retorted. His eyes narrowed. He was growing tired of your observations and the way you questioned everything. It threatened him, really. But he'd seen the way you fought out there. They'd been watching you for a few days, Philip and Merle and whatever goons they'd bring along for the day. They watched you fight two grown men off as they tried to raid your supplies and probably yourself. You took down the biters with ease, one swift blow to the side of the head, and another down on top. You were quick and sneaky. You made it look effortless. You had survival down to a science, which was either a threat or an asset. He hadn't decided. 

        He forced a smile that more closely resembled a sneer. 

        "I'm sure you've got loads of questions. You're a smart gal. However, I have some things that need attending, and you still haven't been shown to your place." 

        "What, like my own house?" You furrowed you eyebrows. He looked around.

        "You see any houses around here? C'mon, it's in here." He said as he led you inside the building you two had stopped in front of. It was a small apartment building it seemed, maybe twelve apartments total, if that. Yours was on the second floor. It was small, but it had everything anyone could need. "There's some food in the kitchen, and running water. Come find me if you need anything. Feel free to wander and make friends." 

----

        When you'd been at Woodbury for a few days, the Governor had cornered you, asking you to make a decision, because anyone who stayed had a job to do, and if you were going to leave, it needed to be soon so not to use up any more valuable supplies. You told him you'd stay, but he seemed skeptical all of a sudden, asking what value you had to offer. Of course, you told him about the only skill you had in this new world. You were a fighter. He seemed to like that response. He assigned you to the wall at first, then he started bringing you on runs.

        That was weeks ago. Just recently you guys brought in two women, Michonne and Andrea. They made it clear they weren't sticking around, so the Governor gave them the same offer he gave you; chill out for a few days then be on their way.

        Andrea eventually decided to stay but Michonne wanted no part of it. Thing was, Philip never intended on letting them leave alive. You and Merle were tasked with killing her. She got away from Merle, and you let her. The two of you had decided to just tell him she was dead and be done with it. Not like she had much of a chance up against their paramilitary militia anyways. That was when you truly lost any trust for Woodbury. The benevolent ruler façade was already less than believable, and the hit on Michonne did nothing but prove your suspicions. 

        Really, the only  upside to any of this was that for the first time since everyone you knew was eaten alive -- or doing the eating -- you made a friend. Brandy was a tan, dirty blonde, supermodel of a woman. She grew up on a very profitable farm. A plantation, really. She was your typical southern belle, or as she would call it, a 'Georgia Peach.' She was sassy and classy and everything in between. She was probably the only person in the world that still wore mascara and lip gloss and carried a purse. You were drinking with her at her place that night.

        "So, what did you do, anyways? Before all this?" She asked, pouring another glass of wine. 

        "Honestly?" You giggled. "I was a clerk at a pawnshop."

        "Wow, a real classy place, I bet." She joked. You rolled your eyes. 

        "Oh, yeah. The tweakers trying to pawn their decade old VHS players for a sack was real classy."

        "I didn't have a job." She admitted as she poured you a glass. "Daddy pretty much gave me whatever. Paid for my college classes." She lamented. "I had a real good life."

        "That's good." You smiled. "Mine wasn't so bad, but I definitely lacked in the rich dad department."

        "Yeah, well, I'm sure you got a lot more life experience than I could ever dream of. I used to wish I could just live like a normal girl sometimes. Life with a silver spoon ain't all it's cracked up to be, you know?"

        "Oh, yeah. I'm sure that was real tough." You snorted.

        "Only when I wanted a boyfriend who wasn't studying to be a doctor or a lawyer." She giggled. "Or that one time they caught me smokin' pot with my friends in high school."

        "Pot?" You raised your eyebrows. "My, my. A rebel, I see."

        "Something like that, yeah." She nodded.

        "Got any pot now?" You wondered. She laughed.

        "No but if you find any, let me know." 

        "So, what's up around here?" You asked, breaking away from the casual banter. She gave you a confused look. "I mean, like, how come nobody gets to leave this place?"

        "Why would anyone want to?" She scoffed. When she realized you were serious, her smiled dropped. "What do you mean? We're free to go whenever we want. Nobody ever wants to, though."

        "I don't know about that." You mumbled.

        "What are you on about?" She asked warily.

        "Look, you cant tell anyone." You said, growing more serious as you leaned forward on the table where she sat across from you. "That girl Michonne, she left. Governor sent me and Merle after her."

        "What, to bring her back? I thought you said nobody gets to leave?" Brandy tilted her head.

        "That's what I'm saying. He sent us to kill her." You whispered.

        "You killed her?" She gasped.

        "No no no no!" You shook your head and waved your hands. "She got away and I let her."

        "Well why the hell would he send y'all after her? What did she do?"

        "Nothing, man." You shook your head. "Not a damn thing. She just didn't want to stay. I don't get it."

[galactic-cumslut]

the other side of paradise

sorry i’ve been kind of m.i.a. with writing i have so many rick ideas but couldn’t flesh them out…my horny brain doesn’t work normally. instead have a repurposed story from my main blog that fits rick so well

✰the usual rick warnings,spitting, wow he’s mean in this one, cheating, afab reader, rick is a perv, knife kink, dubious consent

“you’d never let a man spit in your mouth huh”? rick spoke, gripping her face tight with one of his large hands. “i guess we see how that turned out”. the grin he had spread across his face was down right maniacal.

“open up filthy bitch” .he snarls and she obliged, much too terrified to see what will happen if she were to disobey his command.

rick gathered saliva in his mouth and released it in her awaiting cavity. "you're such a good bitch. keep that mouth open for me slut,i want to see you swallow it".

less than an hour ago she was waving her boyfriend goodbye , eager to see him the next day. maybe she’d be bold enough to make a move on him next time. randy was her boyfriend after all.

but for now she flopped down and dealt with her thoughts on her own. the overwhelming idea of randy touching her in the slightest was enough to make her shiver in excitment.

before she knew it she was softly moaning into her pillows as her fingers abused her swollen nub.

so caught up in the ecstasy of her own doing she failed to notice the person outside her window.

as soon as rick loosened his grip she spoke. “randy..randy and i are dating”.

a maniacal laugh left his throat, scaring you even more. “i am well aware of that fact y/n”. he slams her head back down onto the fabric of your pillow and moves his face so close it’s mere centimeters away. “but tell me this? if randy is your little boyfriend why did i catch you touching yourself like a bitch in heat ? shouldn’t he be the one making you feel good”?

his hand roamed down her stomach , stopping at her lower abdomen. “i asked you a question bitch. answer me”! rick’s fingers were freezing against her skin causing her to shiver at the touch.

“i wanted our first time to be special”. she lied. in reality she wasn’t sure how to initiate something sexual with a boy so she hoped and prayed that randy would make the first move. “i want randy…to take my virginity”.

rick raised a brow. “a virgin huh? i guess i got lucky with you. stu is going to be so pissed when he finds out that i got to you first”. he laughed again , pushing your shirt up revealing your nipples to the cold air of the room.

for a moment he was mesmerized by the sight but it didn’t take long for him to have his hands all over you again.

by the time he got down to her panties it was evident how wet she was.

“god you’re soaking. i barely even touched you ,fucking slut. a guy like randy doesn’t deserve such a filthy whore”.

y/n felt her stomach twist at the words. she knew she belonged to randy. she loved him. but the way rick was making her feel right now clouded her brain.

it was evident how little he cared about her well-being though. she wasn’t sure why she felt so turned on by this.

he slowly teased your entrance with his slender fingers,slowly pushing himself inside. she watched his jaw clench.

“jesus christ you’re tight y/n”.

it hurt at first. the pain almost took over your body before the pleasure hit.

you leaned back against his chest panting heavily. all reason and control went out the window.

“look at the mess you’re making. filthy little whore”he spread your legs wider and forced your neck down so your eyes met the damp stain on the white sheets covering your mattress. “my pretty little slut gonna make a mess for me huh ? gonna cum all over the clean sheets”.

she nodded , whining in his ear “please ..i’m so close please rick”.

hearing her moan his name so prettily practically causes him to bust right then and there. oh how he wanted to be inside her but it all came down to patience in the end.

“i think i’d rather have you cum on my cock. how’s that sound”? he removed his fingers. “my dick is gonna ruin you for randy. he won’t want some ran through whore”.

again she nodded. “please just fuck me. i’ll be good…i’ll do anything please”.

now this , this is what he wanted. to see his neighbors pretty little girlfriend in shambles begging for him.

“that’s my good girl”.

rick was quick to get on top of her , wrapping his hand around her throat watching in glee as she struggled to breath under his grip.

“stop squirming so much bitch”.

she heard the sound of a pocket knife being activated right next to her ear. panic was finally setting in.

“relax. i wont hurt you i just want to mark you as mine..that’s all”. his face didn’t change. that manic look stayed in his eyes.

she didn’t have much time to assess her situation as rick forced himself inside her. a few tears sprang to her eyes.

“holy fuck you are tight huh? don’t you worry your pretty little head , i’ll be changing that”.

y/n wanted to scream for help, she wanted to claw at his skin until he released her but she was weakened by his repeated thrusts. “please rick. be gentle , it hurts”. her words were barely above a whisper.

“shut the fuck up bitch jesus. you were just beggin me to fuck you and now you want me to stop, make up your damn mind”. he did not slow his pace, instead he ran the blunt side of his weapon across her skin and quickened his speed. “you really piss me off”

[guysgetbigger]

Owen the Farmhand: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The First Day on the Farm

The old farmhouse stood tall against the endless stretch of fields, its weathered planks and creaking roof whispering secrets of years long past. It was here that I, Owen, a slender 17-year-old boy of mere 5'6" and a hundred pounds, had come to work. The farmer, Mr. Thompson, towered over me at 6'0" and a strong, hefty 220 pounds. His size suited his role as the man in charge on the farm.

On my first day, Mr. Thompson couldn't help but jest at my small stature. "You're a bit on the scrawny side, aren't ya?" he chortled, his deep voice resonating across the yard. His son, Rick, 5'10" and 180 pounds, joined in the mockery. It was clear I was going to be the target of their jabs.

With every task, every moment of standing in crowded corridors with these larger folks, I felt increasingly out of place amidst the brawny laborers. My insecurities gnawed at me, but I was determined to prove myself. With each duty, I put my heart into it, hoping that one day I might be considered more than just the "small kid" on the farm.

The Thompsons fed me breakfast, lunch and dinner every day in their cozy kitchen. Mrs. Thompson, a kind and soft-spoken woman, prepared the meals with love and care. She was a keenly observant woman, well aware of the teasing I endured, and her empathy showed in the small, reassuring smiles she offered me.

Noticing how small I was and how much smaller I felt, Mrs. Thompson began sneaking something special into my meals. The flavor was subtle, a touch of something earthy and sweet that I couldn't quite place, and I didn't realize until much later that she was only sprinkling it into my plates. It wasn't just a unique flavor: the real magic lay in its effects. It made me hungrier, and with a few extra bites of Mrs. Thompson's cooking I could feel my body changing, gradually and imperceptibly feeling stronger and sturdier with every meal.

In the privacy of my room each night, I'd scrutinize my reflection in the dim candlelight. Every day, I seemed to gain a pound or two. My clothes became a bit snug, my muscles just a little more defined. I marveled at the subtle growth, feeling a swell of excitement and pride. I was becoming more than just the "small kid." My smooth skin was starting to gain some body hair, and I was gaining a nice shape to my pecs. I was finally starting to look like a man!

As the weeks passed, I started to notice new little milestones as Mrs Thompson tailored larger fits for me and I found myself not feeling quite as small around the others. The farmer and his son remained oblivious, too preoccupied with their own duties and preconceived ideas of how small I was to them. But I reveled in the small triumphs, feeling my insecurities melt away with every new pound I gained.

Not only was I adding pounds to my frame, I was also growing slightly taller every few days! This was thrilling to me, as I'd been waiting since middle school for a growth spurt to kick in. Whatever was happening to me, I was delighted and here for it.

One sunny morning, I stood next to Mr. Thompson while we inspected the crops. His broad shoulders loomed over me, but I couldn't help but notice that the gap between our heights had lessened. It was subtle, and I don't think he noticed, but it was progress. I held my head a little higher that day.

Rick, too, couldn't resist a sly grin when he saw me lifting a bale of hay with more ease than before. "Looks like the little man is finally becoming useful," he teased. I wondered if he noticed I wasn't so little any more. Our four inch gap had lessened, as I was probably standing at 5'8" now.

Unbeknownst to them, and with the silent support of Mrs. Thompson, I was slowly growing into my own. The transformation was quiet, almost unnoticeable, but it was happening. And with each subtle change, I took another step toward proving that I was a bigger than they realized.