hi babes! i'm very new to tumblr, and i only hopped on because shane boy doesn't get enough love anywhere else (except ao3, and i wanted to upload fics onto there first, but their account creation waiting list is so time-taking, i have to wait till the 16th for an invitation) :((
anyway, i think i'll try and get as much shane content out there before school starts again in february :3 also i'd reeeeally appreciate any tips n tricks to making fanfiction pretty-looking on this uh, very confusing and probable monstrous-backended site! i... don't know what a lot of the buttons mean. thank you! see ya real soon, walker-hunters!
the barn's clear; shane's mind isn't. [eventual smut, piv, oral(receiving), the leaving conflict, established relationship]
knock, knock, knock.
as you were told before that horridly tense lunch by a disgruntled shane —whom was soon promptly chased out of the house by herschel— the two of you needed to talk. or rather, he wants you to sit with him in private and agree. which you usually do, anyway. shane hasn't been too wrong about much; fort benning seemed a surer prospect than that hellhole of the cdc, wanting to keep us armed on herschel's land was a good idea, even giving up the search for sophia. shane's got a good head on his shoulders, but a temper to match, which never is good for much. some things, not a lot though.
the barn door, decorated with bullet holes and axe-marks from the walker massacre earlier, swings open with a groan. he stands there in the shadow, only half his face illuminated, cold and firm; yet clearly conflicted. herschel doesn't want him on the land anymore, so he'll do well to respect that and keep out of sight, for as long as he can. that's the least respect he can offer, after making a gory spectacle of their undead loved ones.
"duck in here. you brought ya heat?" shane asks, head on a swivel, eyes wide like a madman, checking all around you. gotta make sure no one follows. no one's on his side now. not after that showdown. except you. always just you. like an idiot.
"never not without it." you chirp, patting the sling of the rifle across your chest. there's no need for it now, yet you never know. he nods, slowly closing the heavy door behind you.
it's dark in here. no lights, no generator. nothing to illuminate the mildewed haybales that he gestures you to sit up on, but the faint golden sunrays that peer in through the spaces in the wooden planks. can't believe this rickety place even held all those uglies for so long without giving out.
"why'd you call me out here?" you finally ask, finding a sturdy enough bale behind you, and sit up on it. shane starts pacing in the straw-littered floor slowly, rubbing the back of his head. his free hand is by his side, fiddling with two bullets between his fingers.
".. you remember what we talk'd 'bout? at that church, when we was lookin' for her?" he brings up, breaths quick, still pacing, staring at the damn ground still.
you tilt your head at him, furrowing your brows. ".. do i? we talk about a lot, shane."
"save it, i ain't mean about the shit that don't matter." he growls under his breath, teeth clenched. "we meant to leave. everything."
a pause stretches between the two of you, filled with crows' calls from outside and the two bats fluttering at the ceiling here. you're watching him with wide eyes, and a dropped jaw. surprised entirely.
".. you don't mean that." you whisper, disbelief clear in your soft tone.
"i ever lied to you, doll?" shane rolls his eyes, finally turning to you. you notice his jaw tick. he actually means this.
that heavy pause follows again, filling up the gaps between sentences like glue. brimming with thought. contradiction. reasoning against your wants and the good of the group. ".. we can't leave now." you finally mutter, one hand held limply in the other, staring at the buckles of your boots.
"you heard 'em. nobody wants shit to do with my sorry ass. you got corn in your ears, baby? they hate my guts, doll. hell, don't think i ain't hear lori rip you a new one in the kitchen when you tried defending me-"
"i wasn't defending you!" you answer without thinking, like it was a bad thing, spirit suddenly flaring. "you- just because... i wasn't defending you." you lie through your teeth, trying to find any reason for him to not make a case for the two of you to leave. you're needed.. right? shane's needed. you can't.. he can't win now. the farm is a good place. special. untouched by the clutches of the wildfire. you can't deprive yourself of it now. you can't leave. but if shane's gonna go, you'd always follow.
he steps up to you, resting his elbow on the butt of the mossberg at his hip. "hey. lookat me, pretty thang." he hushes, bringing a hand up to cup your soft cheek. he manages to make you smile as usual, by brushing his thumb past your lip.
".. you gotta listen to me. those folks, the greenes.. they're good people doll, but they don't want me here. not to keep them safe, not to keep the group, my group, safe. and i.. ain't got no choice but to adhere, don't i?" he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head.
"apologize!" you half-protest, half-suggest, so torn between the rageful love of your life, and the people who've saved you and who you've saved too. "they'll.. they- they gotta get it now! you were awful out there, but they know now, don't they? they know the dead don't get better?"
"sweet girl, i shot beth's momma in the chest thrice. ain't no coming back from that." he tries again, rubbing your wrists.
"please." you pout, looking up at him in that way you do. head bowed, bright, glistening eyes looking up at him. his resolve starts to crumble, he rubs the back of his shaved head again.
"dammit.. you really gonna make me walk back into that farmhouse and beg for forgiveness, aincha?" he chuckles, wiping the waterline of your eye, brushing away the faint moisture that's gathered there.
"i dont wanna leave, shane." you shake your head, tugging him close, burying your face into his shoulder.
"... jesus, doll." he sighs, reluctantly giving up his plan and his dignity just to have you happy. he pats your cheek, signalling for you to look up at him. you do, with eyes still teary. ".. i'll apologize. but if they ain't havin' it, we packin' and drivin' dale's RV into the sunset, got it?"
"yeah, sure." you chuckle, a little more content now. lips a little rosier, leaving your face with that pleasant warmth that comes to grace your skin after a bit of emotion.
"damn. you always cry that easy or 're you hormonal this week?" he chuckles, and earns himself a swat across the cheek for the remark. it hurts as much as a kitten paw patting his face would. "ouch. sorry, doll. but.. lemme make it up to ya, huh? maybe i can make up f' those pretty tears with ma services, yeah? you like that shit, dontcha?"
the offer has a tinge of excitement surge down your spine, evident with how your thighs, one held in each of his big hands, twitch with anticipation. you smile without realizing.
"yeah? that all it takes, sug'?" shane teases, rubbing your skin through the fabric of your daisy dukes before bringing them up to your zipper. you hiss when he strips your shorts off, not because it's cold (it's july, for christ's sake), but from how the little hard straws from the haybale you're sat on poke against the flesh of your ass.
"dont worry a thang, doll. shit won't compare to how good im'ma make you feel in a sec." he croons, still busily pulling your boots off. he grins at the sight of your gorgeous legs, but his attention is immediately drawn to the silk-encased prize at your middle.
".. soaked through, all f' me, doll? ain't i special." he chuckles, watching in amazement as the wet silk clings to your hot skin even as he pushes it to the side. you laugh, fingers immediately going to his buzzed-off hair, which were hardly a.. hair-width in length, but they brush pleasantly against your soft fingertips, like cactus fuzz. miss having something to hold onto.
"you want me, doll?" he breathes heavily, looking up at you from between your thighs.
"yes, please." you shyly grin as if he hasn't eaten you out a hundred times before, closing your knees around the sides of his neck.
"Mmm.. you drive me crazy, pretty girl." he groaned, watching your reaction as he first softly blows cold breath over your sopping folds. the sensation makes you whine and squeeze right before him, all that sweet-talk —of which there was minimal, but minimal was the furthest you could get out of cranky-pants here— making you sensitive. he groans to hear it, to feel it. you like that sound he makes. but you like the way his big nose nuzzles damn perfectly against that nub first, slathering that fucking honker in wet.
before he tilts his face up, and at first contact, has you seeing stars. tongue running through that plush deliciousness like he was starved. you gasp and splutter his name and squeeze your eyes close like it wouldn't get any better, but goddamn it does. he snickers, and brings his big fingers into play now. he knows you love them. love those calluses that he won't do a thing about because they're useful. thick ones, rough and hard, spanning along the plane of his thumb on his palm. the tough, roughed up skin on his fingertips, all from a decade of holding guns and pressing hard on triggers and reloading. memorized how you open your mouth when he slides two inside, grins wide as he always does when you hiss. groans low in his throat when he continues mowing his thick warm tongue through that dripping cunt, like he was polishing it up by taking in all that sweet sour slick and lapping it up like a bloodhound, drunk off everything you're giving him.
"i treat my girl good, don' i?" he hums, then gets right back to business. sucking at your nub. tongue dragging tight little circles around it, pausing in intervals to dip it down to your pretty cunt again. just to make you feel ever breathless-er. hot, nudging just above his two fingers to aid his sacred mission.
you keen and whine and grab at nothing on his scalp (nearly going for his ears, but that's sort of.. odd, so you don't), and he's fucking high. those same ears take in the way your breath hitches once, twice, and how your thighs try to push his head in closer by the temples. he makes his effort, his last trick for the afternoon; brings that big tongue right up again to french your fucking clit, then seal his lips around it tight and suck. those childhood years of licking yogurt cups clean without a spoon could never go to waste.
you cry out, broken, gasping for breath like you were drowning. that white hot heat burning brighter, brighter than any star could ever try to, a quarter-second supernova that you couldn't ever describe. then it burns out in a second, and yet that sudden slowness sinking in feels just as good. everything's a haze, and the warm sunlight blessing your naked legs and his flannel-covered back as he laps you up, in long streaks of gold, make your chest warm.
".. did i break you, baby?" he coos, crawling up with thick forearms boxing your shoulders in. you smile, done in and back home after seeing the stars. swallow hard, and nod, not a clue to what he'd just said, but a kiss to his cheek gets the answer across.
"good girl. now, does my baby wanna lemme in?" he suggests, that devillish smirk on him again. he brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes, just so you can roll them at him.
you sigh like you were bored. "yeah, i guess." tone uninterested and barebones obliging. the attitude from you makes him scoff, and he rolls you over before you even notice that you're ass-up on a hay bale, bent over the gentle curve and spitting out straw that nudges past your lips with how quick he's got you face down.
"you say that now, kid. we gonna make the farm rattle in a sec." he promises, dropping a kiss to your ear before he's upright again and busily undoing his belt buckle. you wiggle your ass, a ploy that made you seem like you were trying to get cosy, but really you wanna make him even harder than he was right now. and it works well. you cry and your hips freeze when his heavy palm smacks right across your asscheeks in punishment for your.. well, your cheek.
he laughs and bends down one more time to press an apologetic kiss to the back of your ear. you can see his grin in your mind's eye, even facing the hay-strewn dirt floor. he doesn't bother bringing his jeans down much. subconsciously thinks it's emasculating to get fully naked if you're not in a bedroom to fuck for hours on end, but he doesn't say that. just thinks it. so his belt stays on, clinging to the loops, the buckle undone enough to shove 'em down and pull his shlong out of his boxers. you squeak when he slaps the tip against the curve of a cheek, smearing a bit of precum over your warm flesh. he groans to himself, pumping just enough to get more rock-hard than he already was. not really 'cause his fist feels that good. more since he has you in all your naked glory right before him, and he's in for a good time.
he's an asshole, and squeezes your rear with his free hand just because. but also to hear you whine and try to kick him at the side of his ribs with your ankle. he groans at the feel like he was glad to have his pretty baby be so mean to him, and he rubs your lower back like you were a spooked horse.
"shhh.. gonna put it in, baby. gorgeous woman." shane grunts, and prods your opening with a thick finger first, letting you remember how it feels to be opened up and stuffed. you shiver and moan when he pushes all the way up till his knuckle's just nudging at the barrier between puckered asshole and the warm dante's inferno of that precious, squeezing cunt. you're breathless as he pulls his digit out, slaps your folds with his hard length first, then puts the head in first. you whine, squeezing that first inch like it was the touch of god. like you were being blessed and smote at once. suck him in so needily, he's already halfway in without actively trying to.
"goooood girl.. my baby loves me, dont she? huh? wants me to stuff her up to the guts. wants her old man to keep all his spunk safe inside this tight thang. doncha?" he punctuates that with a thrust, slamming all in just to see your body freeze up and scramble for normalcy. watch your hands dig into the bale, straw poking into your fingertips, the nerves in them too weak to send a signal strong enough to overwrite that gold flowing through your dummy head. breath stolen and knees wrapping around his back, mumbling words you don't know even realise are spilling out. his lips suck softly on the sensitive underside of your jawbone, tonguing at goosebumps there. flush against each other. hips against hips, fully lodged in. it feels sacrilegious to even move.
but he does. groans in that deep timbre as he brings himself up on his elbows, caging your head in, his heavy upper body leading his hips, which follow and slickly withdraw, not all the way, never. the engorged tip is like a carbine, keeping you tethered to him whether you like it or not, and boy howdy, you do. he grunts, worn out back creaking now that this exertive position and routine is very, very familiar. he hums softly in his throat, dragging his big hands down from your throat to your midriff, sneaking under the hem of your shirt and up, up, up, callused thumbs with dirt under the nails brushing over stiff nipples. you hiss through your teeth, and have that breath cut off by him slam down into your cunt, making your honey froth and get all messy in his bush. he sniggers, and kisses your forehead, feeling how wound up and on-edge you are by the way your hands still in his, stiff and shaking.
"my pretty baby wantsta do it, dontcha?" he teases so cruelly, keeping himself all the way locked in and not moving a damn inch, just to hear you groan. like clockwork, you do, shivering and sobbing for him to give you that last push. every extra moment you feel him stay solitary is a second's worth of gold ebbing away from shore.
"got it, princess. c'mon, arch up; gotta stick my hand down there." he whispers with familiar gentility, kissing at the back of your sweaty neck. You oblige, whimpering softly like a kicked dog, just barely able to rack up enough energy to put your socked toes flat on the ground, and push up just enough to make space between your hips and the soft edge of what you're bent over, stomach still all the way down.
breath hitches in your throst like wind caught in dandelion fuzz. he hums softly behind you, lips mowing kisses down your nape, just starting to move his hips again. both hands down in your sopping mess from the front, calloused fingertips making you hurt from the hard edges, yet your mouth is open, gasping repeatedly, drooling all over once-dry hay.
".. hate to ask this pretty baby, but.. mind if i.." He trails off. you can feel his grin against your hot skin, the smooth tiny planes of his pearly white. he's got you shaking, feeling everything. ".. dammit sugar, wanna keep all my spunk in you, yeah? keep you warm in there, lemme keep you company. please?"
such a rare word. it's so unravelling, slipping from his wet lips. he knows what he's doing. You sniffle, feeling too good to keep all your tears bottled in. "wouldn't mind that, daddy."
he laughs softly, rutting in just a little harder like a punishment for daring to say it. "say what now? hope yer sayin' that only 'cuz this might knock you up, and if yer not.. well shit, I won't eay nu'n about it."
you start to lose it when he ups his game now, now that he's got a clear goal in mind: make you spill your sweet cream as he's pumping that pretty womb full of his. pressing down on your back with one hand, sitting himself up so the angle changes, so it isn't so comfortable anymore. the curve of his hard dick rubs harder against your velvety inside, gravity working against you to make it feel like he's trying to make you pay for getting him hard. you hear his heavenly grunts, and squeak as he smacks your bare ass again, pushing in deeper. stops for a moment, just to hold up your one hip with one hand, the other still working on getting your pretty rosebud to sing for him.
"darlin'.." he groans low in his throat, timbre rough and sending sparks down to your sopping wetness. he goes in harder, makes you squeal, makes your arms reach out and hug the flat surface of haybale under you, ignoring how those straws prick you. whining and shaking.
dials it up harder if that was possible. for a moment, he can't even see you. all he knows is sweet heaven he's gotta bust into, neglecting your swollen clit for a moment just to feel, to dive in hard enough to hear you choke on your spit. then he comes back, soft and tender, circling the rise of your engorged bud a little faster, a little harder.
"shane, I.." you sniffle, shuddering, fighting so hard to keep the war down in your nerves long enough to ask him if you could unleash it, if he'll allow you to melt and give up and take in post-coital silence.
"right there witcha." he grunts, stuffing himself all the way in, nearly all the way out repeatedly. desperate, thinking you, of himself, of whatever you two could start if he nuts in your pretty insides. fuck, he's got a breeding kink or some shit, that last musing sent him over. You cream half-seconds before he stuffs you like a turkey on thanksgiving. gasping into your forearms, legs shaking as clamping close when he gets you to see white. there's white inside you too, as his aching cock swells, drawing up his sweetest swimmers, splashing your already sopping passage with a surge of his thick gooey concoction. His jerking tip shoved right against your cervix, ultrasensitive and extra violent with how he pins down your hips so you don't move. just hears you gasp. you hear his heavy breaths, panting like an animal. jerkily spurting the genes of his dark curly hair and his big brown eyes into your delicious oven.
".. you alright, daddy?" you chirp, grinning as you said it, knowing that you're testing your luck.
he laughs fondly, bringing his arms back up to wrap around yours, nestling his cheek on your back. "Better 'n alright, kid."
