#starstoicwrites

[starstoic]

Apprehended - A Shane Walsh/Reader

cross posted on ao3 !!

find chapter 2 here | find chapter 3 here

beware the tags: noncon, hair pulling, face slapping, come eating, handcuffs, sadism, degradation, blowjobs, choking, dead dove: do not eat, no beta we die like dale

Set pre-apocalypse, Shane's a sheriff's deputy doing the rounds when he catches you just over the speed limit. He can't help but dispense his own form of retribution.

Chapter 1 - Sobriety Test

You’re cruising down a long stretch of back road on your way home from work. The shift had dragged late and fatigue had long since staked a claim deep in your bones. It was taking everything you had to keep on the right damn side of the highway. You stretch with a low groan, letting your joints crack as they release the day's tension, your foot pressing heavier on the gas. You just wanted to get home. Already, you could picture the bath you'd sink yourself into, the leftovers in the fridge waiting for you, your bed with your plush pillows and thick blankets…

A flash of lights and the sound of a siren picking up behind you snaps you out of your reverie. Stifling a yawn, you blearily force your eyes to glance at your rearview mirror and confirm the sinking feeling in your chest. A sheriff cruiser lazily tailing you. You glance down at your dashboard and grimace upon seeing the speedometer, coaxing your leaden foot off the pedal incrementally.

You feel your jaw clench as the officer leans his arm out the driver side window and motions for you to pull over. Gripping the steering wheel, you begin to bring your car to a stop, pulling into the gravelly soft shoulder where the road meets the sun-baked soil spanning endlessly. In the dark, it's impossible to tell how far it stretches. The slam of the officer’s door behind you jumpstarts your heart, all sense of lethargy burnt away by adrenaline. You’re still a good few miles out from home.

“Son of a bitch.” You mumble. Don’t these small town cops have anything better to do than wait around in dark corners with their hands down their pants, until some unlucky folk like you stumble into their path?

You straighten up and stare straight ahead as the officer comes sidling up, his boots crunching into the ground beneath him. Your fists are still white knuckling around your steering wheel, foot twitching towards the gas, the urge to floor it and leave him eating dust overwhelming.

A sharp tap on the window with the back of his knuckles has you killing the engine - and along with it, that fleeting thought of escape. As you roll the window down, the officer bends and slings his arms through the opening, resting them on the door of your car, eclipsing your view of the dark roads behind. Without the roar of the engine, you’re painfully aware of how isolated you are, in the middle of some winding rural road miles out from buildings in either direction.

“Evenin’ Ma’am. Name’s Deputy Shane Walsh. Y’know how fast y’were goin’ jus now?” The officer drawls out, raking his eyes over your face and down your body. As he speaks, you’re hit with the suffocating scent of old coffee, pinewood, smoke and sweat. In Atlanta, a tapestry of smells comes with the territory, but there’s something cloying and claustrophobic about the scent of this man that gets caught in your throat and threatens to choke you.

“Look Officer…Walsh. I’ve had a really long day, I’m exhausted and just trying to get home and off the road fast…” You shrink back just a little as your argument starts to die in your throat, enough for him to grin and lean that bit closer, gaining even more ground.

“Y’think that's the first time I’ve heard an excuse like that? If I let e’ryone who’d had a ‘really long day’ off, the roads’d be full of people like you thinkin’ they can do whatever the hell they want.” The sheriff says, cruelty burning in the blacks of his eyes.

“Do you think you could cut me a little slack? No one’s around to get hurt, just give me a warning and let me go, alright?” Your voice rings out louder than you expect, amplified by the flare of exasperation searing at your clenched chest. A power trip is the last thing you want to give to some sheriff with nothing better to do, especially when he’s what stands between you and the sleep you so desperately need.

Shane’s jaw tightens and he leans back from the car slowly, arms still loosely slung over the door. Swinging his head towards either direction of the road, he runs his hand through his thick, dark hair and draws in a calculated breath.

“Now, yer’ right about one thing, no one is around… but as much as I’d love t’ let ya go free I just cannot take that risk m’afraid. I’m gon’ have to ask you to step outta yer vehicle Ma’am.” Tapping the side of your door twice and then opening it with mock chivalry, he steps back only far enough to let you slide out of the car reluctantly. As soon as you’re clear of the other side, he slams it shut and shoves you up against the warmth of the door's exterior. Even at night the weather is painfully humid. A shock bolts through you as a frigid band of metal is clamped around either one of your wrists and locked together behind your back, the sound of the handcuffs tightening hollows out your stomach in absolute fear.

“Hey! What are you doing?! Please, this really isn't necessary, I’ll pay the ticket, okay? I can give you a check right now!” You start squirming in his grasp, trying to yank your hands through the cuffs. They’re too tight for you to have any success. Instead, you try to leverage your body by pushing off the car to shove him away, resulting in him grabbing your chained wrists in one hand and slamming the back of your neck back against the car with the other. Satisfied that you're immobilised, he loosens his grip on your wrists and brings his hand up to his Walkie. A crackle of static rips through the air as he radios into the station.

“Perp apprehended. Actively resisted and has refused t’ comply. I’ll attempt t’ de-escalate the situation, otherwise I’ll bring ‘er on down to the station asap. Could be a while though, if she continues to be uncooperative.” He brings his head down and towards you as he says the last sentence, pressing his lips into the side of your neck as if to embed the words into your skin in clear warning.

“Don’t take me to the station! I’m cooperating, I’ll cooperate.” Your voice wobbles as you attempt to placate him. Forcing your shaking body to relax into the side of the car, you try to display that you have no intention to run. Shane’s broad hand curls tighter around the base of your neck, all but holding you up as he feels your limbs slacken in submission.

“Keep that up sweetheart and I won’ have ta.” He grinned. “First off though…I’ma have to test ya for sobriety. ‘S the rules. Need to make sure ya can walk in a straight line from ‘ere to there.” He steps back from you, gesturing to a strip of road about 50 yards. You blanch, frozen in place.

“Aint’cha gonna take the cuffs off me?” You plead, hesitantly. Your stomach sinks as you watch him shake his head with amusement and gives you a light shove in the direction he pointed. Not wanting to give him an excuse to drag you to that godforsaken police station, you set your jaw and comply. You hadn’t touched a drop of booze all night, this should be fine. Turning to face away from him, you begin trudging in a slow, but straight line towards his cruiser, painfully aware of how the position of your arms behind you is forcing your chest to jut out and your back to arch. Your steps falter as you hear a low, appreciative whistle coming from the cop behind you, followed by slow, heavy footsteps as he keeps pace.

The world suddenly tilts on its axis as you feel his bulky, dirt-crusted work boots kick your legs out from under you. Unable to put your hands out to catch yourself, you land face-down on the ground hard, cheek grazed from the mix of gravel and stone making up the road. Shane rolls you over onto your back with his boot, smirking down at you as you groan, dazed.

“Looks like ya just failed yer sobriety test darlin’. Not mighty responsible t’ be behind the wheel in the state yer in, fallin’ all over the place like that. Looks like you’ll ‘ave to kill some time with me ‘ere til you can prove yer capable. Damned shame.” He shakes his head in feigned disapproval, leaning down to brush your dishevelled hair out of your eyes. You stare up at his hardened, stern face, fighting back tears as the reality of your circumstances comes crashing down around you.

“We both know that I’m completely sober - please - you don’t have to do this! Just uncuff me and let me go, I won’t mention a thing to anyone I swear!” You squirm, kicking your legs out and clipping him on the shin. His eyes darken upon impact, and the hand that was stroking your hair tightens into a fist, dragging you up by it until you’re teetering shakily on your knees, your restrained arms keeping you awkwardly off balance. Using the grip in your hair to wrench your head up to face him, he leans down and slaps you across the face, hard. You cry out, grazed cheek stinging, furiously blinking back the tears blurring your vision.

“Try sumthin that stupid again, I dare ya. It’ll be a lot worse than a little slap next time, you hear me? Gettin’ real tired of yer bitchin’ and whinin’ girl. I’ll ‘let you go’ if or when I fuckin’ please. For now though, you best open up that pretty mouth of yours.” He growls out, all pretense of’ law-abiding sheriff’ long gone. You clamp your mouth shut and try to violently twist your head out of his grip to no avail. The sound of his trousers being unzipped makes you whimper as he begins to palm himself through his boxers before unsheathing his cock. His hold on your hair only tightens and he brings his other hand up to cover your nose, cutting off your breathing. Eventually, your lungs start to burn with the need for air and you open your mouth to gasp involuntarily. Walsh uses the opportunity to stuff his cock into your warm mouth, his calloused fingers stroking your cheek appraisingly. The graze on your cheek throbs angrily as he smears the small droplets of blood across your skin.

“There y’go…shh….just needed sumthin to shut you up, huh?” Shane leers, using both hands to gather up your hair and push his shaft further down your throat, inch by inch, until your nose is pressed against the mound of thick, tight curls climbing its way up his stomach. Completely muffled, you focus on trying to still your panicked mind, desperately trying to yank your hands free of the cuffs, chafing your wrists raw in the process. Your jaw tightens in concentration as the temptation to bite down flies through your mind.

Another slap. To the same cheek, but harder this time. It leaves your ears ringing and knocks the thought out of you. You feel the warmth of Shane caressing your face once more, rough fingers leaving a trail of fire, cheek now burning with his large handprint.

“Hey, don’t go gettin’ no ideas now.” He growls, using your hair to slide you up his shaft again so only the very tip of him is still in your mouth. Your scalp is burning as he holds eye contact with you, and you feel your own saliva seep down your chin onto your knelt legs below.

“I’m still seein’ that stubborn fight in yer eyes, sweetheart.” He scolds, sliding his dick to the back of your throat again. You retch in response, glaring up at him with hatred permeating your very pores. There’s no choice but to force your throat to relax around him, and you draw in shallow breaths filled with the heady scent of his sweat.

“Gon’ make me do this the hard way the whole time huh? Ain’t nothin’ for it I s’pose.” He starts up a steady rhythm as he fucks into your throat. Shane runs his hand through his hair as he tilts his head back, cussing under his breath as he wantonly uses your mouth. The road around you both is quiet, only broken by the increasingly wet sound of Shane chasing his own climax. A dull ache is starting to fester in your knees and jaw and the lights from the still-running police cruiser are illuminating the officer’s features above you. Officer Walsh is all sharp angles and taut muscle, a build that could easily overpower a man twice your height. Even if you weren’t handcuffed, there isn’t a single thing you could do against him. A sense of complete powerlessness washes through the very fibre of your being and your shoulders sag, swallowing down every harsh thrust he mercilessly gifts you.

Seemingly sensing your shift in attitude, his thrusts grow more erratic and he lets out another hedonistic groan. With one last thrust, he forces himself in to the hilt, waves of white-hot fluid spilling down the back of your throat as you choke and splutter helplessly. You’ve never felt so vile and ruined. As he pulls out and steps back to catch his breath, you double over, gasping for air. Disgust bubbles up inside you and you spit the remnants of his come out at his feet, landing it squarely on his dusty, county-issued boots.

Shane tuts above you, slowly stepping closer once again. “Well now, that’s jus’ wasteful honey.” His voice drips with a sinister condescension that sends splinters of ice through your veins. Wrapping his rough hand around your throat, he forces your head down to the ground and slowly - so slowly - wipes his cold, viscous spend off the tough leather of his boot and onto your tearstained face. You flinch into the cold ground as he crouches down next to you, hand tightening around your throat in a show of ownership.

“Aint’cha grateful for what I’ve just given ya? I could’ve hauled yer ass to jail by now.” He grins, swiping his broad thumb over the fluid coating your face and slowly pushing it between your lips. Salt and sweat and dirt overwhelm your senses as your tongue curls instinctively around him. Mechanically, you swallow, eyes dropped low to the ground. Almost as if - if you don’t move, he’ll get bored of you and walk off. Almost.

“I wanna hear a proper thank you. Next thing I wanna hear from that whore mouth of yours is sum looong overdue gratitude.” To reinforce the command, he squeezes his hand firmly around your throat, cutting off enough air to make your vision dance before you.

“Nod that pretty lil’ head if ya understand, slut.”

Frantically, you nod your head, gazing pleadingly up at his cold, hard eyes. Fear, desperation and eagerness bleed into your features and Shane greedily drinks it all in. It’s exactly where he wants you. Satisfied that you’ve comprehended the task he's laid out, he releases his hand from your throat, letting it trail up your body to palm hungrily at the swell of your ass. You let out a choked gasp, relief and air flooding into your lungs at the same time.

“T-thank you.” You rasp out, voice hoarse from abuse. You’re rewarded with a cocky, triumphant smile that breaks out across the officer's face. Everything about his expression screams that this nightmare is nowhere close to over.

“That’s more like it, darlin’.”

[starstoic]

You Must Keep Your Soul Like A Secret In Your Throat - Leon S. Kennedy/Reader

summary: You’re a rookie agent fighting your way through an abandoned laboratory, tasked with the mission of investigating recent reports of unethical experiments related to a volatile strain of virus. The primary cause for conducting this research include the promising results related to prolonged life spans and the disruption of the aging process. Side effects of these tests have allegedly included insatiable blood lust, elongated canines and an unexplainable control over another's will. The abandoned facility you’re exploring turns out not to be so abandoned.

Vampire leon fic inspired by that mod I saw on twitter - based around the time of re9 (which I haven't played yet!!) but not following canon in any way dont think too hard about it <3 purely AU <3 | tags: vampire au, blood drinking, dubcon, thigh riding, oral, plot what plot, survivors guilt

cross posted on ao3 - wc: 3571

The beam of your flashlight cleaved through the dark recesses of the facility as the sound of your tentative steps rebounded against the walls. The previously pristine and sterile floors were now festering under carpets of dirt, mould and dried blood. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the piles of clotted, tangled viscera strewn about every dark corner. The metallic tang of rust and blood had long since soaked into your skin. You’d been at this for hours. Determined not to leave empty handed with no update to report, you pushed further into the labs, methodically easing doors open, doing routine sweeps of the rooms, each one a mirror of the last macabre scene, surgical tools and gauze left in piles around the room.

Picking your way slowly through the labyrinth, you swung your head to the left, a door catching your eye. As you walked up to it, you placed your hands on the handle and tugged, the doors swollen hinges shrieking in protest. Louder than you’d like. With the door open enough for you to slip through, you took in the sight of the new room. Floor to ceiling shelves lined the walls, full of various jars and vials of different coloured fluids. A couple of operating tables took up most of the space in the middle of the room, with a few filing cabinets placed in the gaps. Your attention was immediately pulled in the direction of the filing cabinets and you wrenched the top draw of the one closest to you open. Thumbing through the yellowing files, you began scanning through the names outloud as you went. Tugging out a more recent file, you flipped through until a page stuck out to you. Flashes of various sentences caught your eye as you skimmed the page.

____________________________________________________________________________________

All efforts are being focused on the development of……

……….it is a potentially advanced bio-weapon developed by……..

It combines genetic material……………………………….. giving it unique and unprecedented properties.

Preliminary testing conducted as early as 1958 yielded promising but limited data, with recent progress in trials determining the following results in a variety of patients:

____________________________________________________________________________________

The page continued into lines of inscrutable censored text,and you tucked the file away to bring back to your superiors. Let them decipher the rest.

A feeling of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. You’d been under the impression that this virus was relatively new, but here were documents spanning decades into the past. Just how deep did this thing go? Whatever sick experiments had been conducted within this facility had clearly been long since abandoned, the air thick with a staleness that can only come from years of disuse. Whatever had happened here had gotten out of control, if the human entrails splattered on the walls were anything to go by.

Shaking your head, you picked your way carefully over to the rows of shelves that stretched up to the ceiling. Examining the vials of various shapes and colours, you started to take mental notes of the contents and index them. You bounced your flashlight from bottle to bottle, casting blobs of colour that danced on the walls behind. Preoccupied with peering at the collection of wet specimens and organ samples, you failed to keep your actions quiet, letting bottles clink and papers shuffle against each other. The air grew heavy with an unnatural silence and the back of your scalp prickled with the feeling of being watched. You stiffened at the feeling and turned, slowly. A man towered in front of the door you’d used to enter the room, still and silent. It was too hard to make out any defining features, the shadows cast over his face seemed to hang off of him like a shroud. What parts of him weren’t marred in shadow were instead caked under layers of dirt and grime, a mixture of what looked like rust and red-tinged coffee grounds seemed to be blooming from the fabric of his clothes. Whatever hell you’d been through in navigating this place, this man had seen tenfold.

“Oh!” Your voice broke out weakly into the silence between you. “I-I’m sorry, I didn't realise anyone else would be here. Are you also researching…?” You trailed off, the likelihood that this stranger shared your mission was a beyond stupid assumption.

You took a step back, deeper into the room and he mimicked the movement with a step forward of his own, matching you pace for pace. He slowly stalked closer, footsteps fluid and lithe, unnaturally silent.

You glanced away, eyes seeking any potential exit routes and the moment you broke eye contact the wind rushed out of your lungs. Your flashlight fell to the ground and you felt something as rigid as iron slam into your body. Collecting your senses, you found yourself caged against the wall of the lab, the strange, broad man staring down at you intensely. Your breathing was fast and his even more so, at this proximity you were better able to make out his appearance. Dirty, stained blond hair hung down into his sharp eyes and stuck to his face, his nose and mouth echoing the hardness of his gaze. Time had made its mark on Leon, light wrinkles framing many of his prominent features and patches of grey spreading intermittently through his stubbled jaw. The man's broad shoulders eclipsed your view of the room around you, blocking out the light of your discarded flashlight. Your heart leapt into your throat as you felt him grab your chin and yank your head to the side, leaning in to take a deep, indulgent inhale against the skin of your neck. Acting on pure instinct, one hand went for the gun at your hip as the other shoved hard against the man's chest, adrenaline driving the force behind your movement. But he was faster, pinning your arms together in one hand, he snatched your gun from its holster and it released a horrible groan as Leon bent the metal of the barrel in on itself before dropping it to the floor. You were incredulous, shaking your head back and forth in disbelief. How could someone possess such strength? Why hadn’t you taken more precautions? Your team had warned you to stay on guard, that you didn’t know what you might discover down here. You hadn’t listened, skeptical and overly confident the mission would be a breeze.

The stranger had you pinned under his cold gaze, eyes fixated on the frantic pulsing of blood in your neck. He looked like a starved animal. Fear gnawed its way through you and your limbs trembled, you wanted to speak, to reason, to beg but your throat had seized up in panic. A cry escaped you as you felt a stinging sensation at the crook in your skin where your neck met your shoulder. He’d broken the skin there with a clawed nail, pulling his hand up to his face to lick the drops of blood off his finger. You were crying in earnest now, tears welling up and blurring your vision before spilling hotly over your cheeks. The cut on your neck stung like you'd been burned and you squirmed in his grip, writhing in pain and desperation.

The drop of blood the man had tasted seemed to change him, he became more focused and still, a low growl emanating from his chest.

His eyes burned with anguish and regret, warring between predatory starvation and razor sharp guilt. The growl he was letting out shaped itself into words. “I’m sorry. It’s been so long. I can’t- It’ll get better- be over quick-” Leon sobbed out desperately, voice guttural and raspy from disuse.

You tilted your head up at him, wide eyes seeking his face, fast enough to see a flash of brilliant white teeth, canines elongated into sharp points, before feeling them sink into the flesh of your throat. The scream that ripped out of you died down into a low gurgle as your ichor flowed into his waiting mouth. At first, the sensation was pure fire, a baptism of the worst fiery pain you’d ever experienced. As his lips latched around the leaking wound and he ran the flat of his tongue over the puncture holes; the pain shifted, dropping low in your stomach. The flames of agony that had been washing over you only moments before were slowly dampening down into soothing warm embers.

Your screams of protest got caught somewhere deep in your chest and bubbled out of you as pathetic whimpers. This man, your assailant, your attacker, drank deeply with one hand fisted firmly into your hair. Pulling gulp after gulp of fresh, warm vitality out of you and into his own pallid form. Each swallow against your throat caused the warmth in the base of your stomach to pulse, and your body began to slacken, no longer fighting against him. You felt a rumble of encouragement emit from the stranger above you and at the same time you felt him slot a firm thigh between your own legs. The contact sent a wave of euphoric pleasure through your whole body, seeming to linger especially at the bitemark he was continuing to assault. Your hips moved on their own, grinding down into his thigh in an attempt to wring out whatever friction you could. Each roll of your hips sent you further into a heady, thoughtless reverie and drove fear further and further out of your mind. What had you been so afraid of just moments ago? You’d never felt so good.

Leon released his iron grip on your wrists, satisfied you were no longer in a state of resisting. Your hands reached up to grip onto him instinctively, the tight fabric of his shirt wrinkling under your grasp. He slid one hand around your waist, pressing you flush against his own body. The curl of his tongue against your sensitive skin spurred your movements against him, each grind of your hips reaping hums of approval. Your core clenched. You were feverishly hot, in a state of euphoria you’d never experienced, and achingly unfulfilled. All your mind could focus on was how good the man at your neck felt, you wanted him to take everything, drain your body dry if only to make the pleasure last one second longer. It wasn’t enough. You needed him closer, every inch of him touching you. The friction against your core was barely scratching the surface, if you didn’t get more you genuinely feared you might die.

Resolutely determined, you tore at his shirt frantically, ripping the buttons open to reveal his chest. Your eyes met a defined wall of pure strength. Ropes of muscle corded around a steel frame, he was completely unaffected by your actions, an immovable force. Your hands trailed south, clawing at his belt. You were unable to ignore the way his pants had tightened, his shaft straining against the fabric. Despite how worked up you both were, how brazenly eager you were to have him, he had made no move to touch you himself, merely providing relief through the means of his thigh, as if he’d anticipated the response.

A wave of anguish rolled through you and you wailed.

“Please- it hurts… I need…….more.” The lack of gratification was going to drive you to insanity. You felt the stranger’s sharp fangs withdraw from your neck and you cried out at the loss. He pulled his head back enough to stare down at you, eyes bright and intense, skin flushed with a healthy, exuberant glow. You could’ve sworn his skin had been paler not moments ago, his eyes more sunken and black. His brow was creased with worry as he seemed to fight an internal dispute, only interrupted by another wail of pain that coursed through you.

“Shhh, shhh.” He murmured, voice marred with desire. “I… I can make it go away, I can make it all better. Would you like that?” His voice splintered on the last word, guilt cracking through the wanton haze. You nodded immediately, arching your back and exposing your throat to him encouragingly. His tongue found your neck again, licking a path down the blood that had flowed over your body. Again, as soon as his mouth made contact with the open wound you were struck with a wave of pleasure so strong it was almost painful to contain. You moaned openly this time, tangling your hands into his tousled blond hair as he dropped slowly to his knees in front of you. Leon tugged your trousers down and you helped to kick them off, leaving your aching core exposed to the air.

Immediately, his mouth found contact with the soft of your inner thigh, kissing and licking at the delicate skin there hungrily. He gripped his hands around you and lifted you, spreading your legs and guiding them over his shoulders so that he was supporting your weight entirely. A firm, curious tongue nudged itself against your folds and licked a stripe up the centre of your core, sending volts of electricity spasming up your spine. The stranger settled into a rhythmic pattern, ardently changing between pushing into your entrance and circling your sensitive clit. Each roll and flick of his tongue tightened the ball of tension growing in your abdomen and pulled more and more desperate sounds from your panting mouth. As you began to feel the waves of pleasure start to peak, the man glanced up at you through his eyelashes and plunged two deft fingers into your entrance. Captivated by your lust-filled expression, pupils blown out with desire, he curled his fingers into you right as the wave crested and you felt yourself spill over the edge. A sharp sting alerted you to the fact he’d bitten you again, this time on your inner thigh. Every nerve in your body felt like it was glowing, a fresh dose of ecstasy bathing your veins.

Riding each pulse of pleasure as it was wrung from your body, you began to return to your senses. To your dismay, the orgasm had done nothing to treat the uncontrollable desire that raged within you, if anything it had left you feeling worse. More wanting, more desperate. You needed more.

“Who…are you?” You choked out weakly. Maybe that wasn’t the right question. “Or, w-what are you…” You trailed off. You’d seen enough to piece out that this man, this intruder was something more than human. A creature? A sick experiment? The subject of the trials you’d been researching? Regardless, he’d played many roles in the short time you’d been in his company. Your aggressor and your attacker, yes. Even now, he was ignoring you, mindlessly and indulgently draining blood from your thigh. But it felt so good. So right. Perhaps this was meant to happen, perhaps he was your salvation. Providing you absolution and purging you of all wrong.

Slowly, your grasp on his hair started to loosen as you felt the room start to spin. Your eyes blinked weakly, vision unfocusing as the energy was sapped out of you.

“Please…” You tried to slur. You’d lost a lot of blood. Still, all you could think of was him taking more, filling you. You slumped forward and he stood, catching you in a blur of motion.

“Shit, I’m. I’m so sorry. I tried to stop- it’s been so long since someone was here…” A flurry of words rushed out of him, weighted down with remorse and loathing. “It’ll be over soon, like I said before…” You

could barely hear him, your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. Your blood had drenched his chin, dripping down onto his shirt, mixing with what you’d assumed had been dirt and mud before.

“No!” You cried, scared he was going to abandon you here, leave you with this agonising, insatiable need.

“Shhh.” He comforted, brow creasing with concern. A feral, primal look tinged his features. He laid you gently on one of the cold metal operating tables. The ice of the metal bit into your skin through your thin clothes, a welcome balm to the heat searing through you. While it seemed his animalistic desire for blood had been presently sated, the fervid look of wanton starvation betrayed a deeper need still to be met. It seemed he’d been affected the same as you. Your legs locked instinctively around his hips, seeking any points of contact you could reach.

“You’re alright honey, I’ve got you.” He murmured, hands sliding down your legs to further spread them. He slotted himself between your thighs, breath shaking with the effort to slow his actions. Tremors rolled through his body at the effort of fighting his nature, trying to pace it out, to not hurt you. He was losing a battle you didn't want him to win.

Another whine of agony and frustration broke out from your lips, spurring the stranger on to unsheath himself. A nudge of his head against your slick folds sent another jolt of electricity through you and you arched your back into it, the dizziness from the blood loss only heightening the sensation. Your whole body tingled, each nerve ending alive and humming as he slowly, achingly slowly, pushed entirely into you. The drag of his shaft against your walls was a salve to the all-consuming fire ripping through you and you cried out in relief.

A similar sound escaped the man's throat, mirroring the bliss that had washed over your own body. He tightened his grip on your thighs, using the leverage to pull your body towards him to meet each thrust as he increased his pace. You felt full, complete, whole. This was all you’d ever needed. You reached up to grip onto his shoulders, raking your nails down his back as his hips angled to hit the spot that made you cry out loudest. Coaxing out every ounce of pleasure you could give him, he bent over you to start licking up the column of your neck again. His tongue danced over the blood smeared on your skin, delicately tracing the patterns of your veins. His hair fell messily in front of his face and tickled your neck, and you gasped as the familiar wave of pleasure began to crest again.

“That's it, one more for me.” You could hear the grin in his voice as he guided you over the edge once more. Your legs shook as your orgasm crashed through your body, leaving you slackjawed and panting. The fire that had begun at your throat and coursed through your whole body was slowly starting to cool, the waves of pleasure had purged the insatiable lust inside you. He wasn't far behind, thrusts erratically breaking in rhythm as he chased his own end. With a low growl, he wrapped his arms possessively around your waist, caging you against him as he coated your inner walls with his own spend.

Still breathing hard, he slowly eased out of you, standing back up and fixing his clothes. You hadn’t even thought to move, splayed out on the table, smeared in your own blood with your hole leaking a mix of both of your fluids. His eyes traced over you and as the haze of lust left his eyes his face splintered in pain. Leon turned away from you, taking a step into the oppressive shadows that surrounded the table you were on.

“You need to get out of here.” He rasped, all traces of desire superseded by a rising sadness. “Get out, don’t come back. Please, I don’t want to…” He trailed off, searching. “If I can save just one person…” In a blink he was back at your side, muscles coiled with tension as if he were holding his breath. Leon carefully looped his arms underneath you and guided you up on your feet. You staggered, the floor lurching beneath you. You felt so weak. So dizzy and confused. Your inner thigh stung as you took a wobbly step forward. Dazed, you looked to him for help.

“There's an exit just east of this hallway. You have to go now, please. Before I get too-” He was interrupted by an involuntary shudder and when his eyes reconnected with yours they looked distinctly less human. Hastily, he firmly grabbed your elbow and half guided, half dragged you to the door you'd first come through. Shoving you through, he lingered in the dark doorway as you clung to the wall for support.

"I’m sorry. Warn others. Go now.” It was all he could do to muster those last words, each one becoming more garbled and unintelligible than the last. With the last word croaked out, he slammed the door shut, the rusted hinges shrieking once again, sealing himself away behind the thick wall of wrought iron. Now that you were freed from the man's gaze, the familiar, rational sense of human fear came trickling back down your spine. Looking around wildly, you were suddenly far more aware of your own senses, and entirely eager to heed his warning. Slowly, you started to limp in the direction he’d pointed you, adrenaline warring against the fatigue and blood loss weighing down your limbs like lead.

A muffled growl of guttural anguish sounded deep in the dark rooms behind you, growing more and more faint as you stumbled blindly towards the exit.

[starstoic]

Apprehended - A Shane Walsh/Reader

cross posted on ao3 !!

find chapter 1 here | find chapter 3 here

beware the tags: noncon, condescension, gagging, gaslighting, forced orgasm, vaginal fingering, eating out, dacryphilia, praise kink, anal fingering, spit as lube

What began as a routine pullover for speeding has careened violently into an inescapable bombardment of one deputy's ego, lust and thirst for prurient control.

Chapter 2 - Stop and Search

Stop and Search: The power for a police officer to stop, detain, and search a person or vehicle for stolen or prohibited articles (such as weapons, drugs, or items used to commit a crime) if they have reasonable grounds to suspect they will find such items.

You stretch your bound arms out behind you, trying to coax bloodflow back into your hands. The lingering taste of him soaking itself into your parched tongue, combined with the way your own saliva still drenches your chin is a sickening, stomach churning reminder of the events that have just transpired. What began as a routine pullover for speeding has careened violently into an inescapable bombardment of one deputy's ego, lust and thirst for prurient control. 

The officer's looming shadow hangs over you with a weight that pins your joints to the rock-strewn ground beneath. Wide, unblinking eyes look up at him, full of contempt and dread. 

“Please.” You whisper, voice trembling. “Please, will you let me go now? I won’t say nothin’, not to anyone, I swear.” Desperation traces its wicked claw up your throat, catching on the last word. 

Shane smirks above you, shaking his head softly in feigned sympathy. “See, I don’t think you’re gettin’ it, sweetheart. I’ve got both a moral and civic duty here t’ uphold. What kinda deputy would I be, if I weren’t thorough in my assessment of ya? A real negligent one.” You almost believe him yourself. The effects of his continuous display of power, authority and control have begun to wear on your mind and your stomach turns. How could his sick, twisted justifications resonate with you in any way? 

“That bein’ said…” Shane continues, features hardening with indifference again. “‘M afraid I' m gon’ have to search ya now, darlin’.” With that, the sheriff leans down, grabbing your arms with brutish strength. You feel the beginnings of a bruise bloom deep under your skin and you cry out. You’re burning on empty when it comes to enduring more of whatever he has planned and a new found indignance pushes you to start kicking out at him again, voice raising to a shrill scream.  Shane grunts at that and twists you until you’re lying face down in the dirt, still trying to kick and buck your legs to unbalance him.

You feel a firm knee push into the space between your shoulder blades, grinding you painfully into the cracked, dry earth beneath you and knocking the air out of your raw lungs. Your vocal chords are on fire, voice hoarse from the abuse and strain that's ripped through it. “You’re testin’ the limits of my generosity, ya know that?” He growls, seething as he fumbles in one of his uniform pockets, still pinning your squirming body down with his leg. “You’ve just lost the rights to yer filthy mouth. Don’t like it, you can file a complaint.” With that, he pulls a cloth rag out of his pocket. Grabbing your jaw, he digs his rough fingers into the sides of your cheeks until your mouth falls open in pain, seizing the opportunity to cram the cloth firmly into your mouth. Instantly muffled and now forced to breathe through your nose, you lie there trying desperately to spit the cloth back out. His large hand clamps over your mouth and holds it there, other hand fumbling to pull off his belt and loop it around the cloth. Once in place, he moves his hand, securing the belt firmly at the back of your head. 

Satisfied with his makeshift gag, Shane eases off of you, leaving you facedown, breathing hard and subdued. “Let’s try that again, alrigh’ sweetheart?”. Your biting remark is marred by the rag stuffed into your mouth, the resulting garbled sound trailing off into a whine of defeat. You hear a nauseating smugness permeate the officer's voice as he replies.

“That’s a good girl. Now, about that search…” He trails off, once again reaching for your bruised arms. This time, he yanks you up onto your knees as he stands fully upright, the unstable imbalance of not having use of your arms becoming sickeningly routine. His hand fists your hair again and he begins walking purposefully towards his cruiser, leaving you to half crawl, half drag behind him in desperation. 

“Now, I reckon you’ll be more comfortable if we conduct this in private. If you could jus’ step into my vehicle, ma’am.” The veneer of ‘good cop’ is back. He yanks the passenger door open, throwing you haphazardly across the soft leather of his back seats. It smells of cigarettes in here. Of sweat and fast food and long stakeouts. You’ve landed on your back, arms pinned under your own weight. Your eyes burn a hole of pure, unforgiving hate into his skull. His eyes hold your gaze, reflecting no shred of remorse, or mercy, just renewed, fiendish ardour. He climbs roughly into the confined space, eyes raking over every curve and inch of your body. In this crammed space, as immobile and isolated as you are, you’re hit with the familiar waves of panic rising in your chest. Hot tears blur your vision and roll down your cheeks, soon working up into a steady stream of helplessness. 

Shane grabs your chin roughly, swiping a thumb over your wet cheek and smirking. “Aw, baby. I got’cha all scared now? You all pathetic and helpless for me?” He jerks your chin up and down forcefully, making you nod in agreement. The only sound that escapes your gag is a weak sob. “And ya ain’t able to do nothin’ about it?” He taunts, shaking your head side to side as tears stream down your face in hopeless waves. His eyes are lit with ridicule, revelling in your humiliation. 

The officer slides his hands down your sides until they catch on the hem of your shirt and he takes a deep inhale as he pushes the fabric up over your head, bunching around your entrapped wrists. “Not carryin’ nothin’ incriminating on you are ya? Just gon’ make sure myself.” You feel him glide his rough palms up over your curves, stopping to graze appreciatively over your breasts. A low whine escapes your throat, as you try to wriggle away from his touch. A sharp sting shoots through you as he pinches your nipple in warning. His legs ease between your thighs, spreading them open with his knees as he continues to explore your chest. The sobs emanating from you pick up as fear of the worst spikes your blood. 

“Shh, shhh darlin’. I’m just doin’ my job, makin’ sure yer all clear and ain't gon’ hurt yourself alright?” The constant shift from cruelty to kindness is giving you severe whiplash, making your head pound with confusion. Continuing to gently shush and patronise you, his hand drifts down to loosen your jeans, tugging them down your thighs roughly. You hear the smug smile in his voice as he takes his thumb and drags a line up your center over your damp panties. 

“Oh sweetheart, you might be tellin’ me you don’t want this, but yer body aint. This s’all for me?” Shane taunts. Your ears are ringing now, peals of warning bells sounding off in your head. Your chest constricts, using every fibre of muscle you have to try and clamp your legs shut in response. You can’t breathe in without being suffocated by the smell of him. The feel of him. 

He pushes your underwear to the side, stifling a groan as he drinks in the sight of you spread open and wet for him. You feel the tip of one of his thick fingers brush against your entrance, collecting slick as he goes, and a muffled gasp escapes you as he sinks it knuckle deep into you. He moans again, curling his finger against your walls as he studies what spot will elicit a reaction from you. He sets a steady pace, adding another finger as you writhe and cry beneath him. The sensations that assault you are overwhelming. Your stomach is turning with every thrust, core burning with the stretch of his fingers. You arch your back off the seat in another half-hearted attempt to throw him off you and the angle hits something deeper inside you, unwanted pleasure radiating out from your cunt and making you shudder in disgust. 

Arousal drips out of you and down onto the seats beneath you as you weep, shaking and gasping as he increases the pace. “You’re such a tight little whore, y’know that? Squeezin’ my fingers like you don’t wanna let me go.” The sheriff leans down then, bringing his face close to your entrance. Sinking his fingers even deeper, he flattens his tongue against your clit and drags his tongue up, collecting the arousal that just leaked out of you. A yelp of pleasure and discontentment escapes you and you shake your head back and forth, hanging on to the urge to resist in any way you can. 

Shane watches your internal battle, lazily tracing his tongue in circles as he watches you shake and flinch. He trails his tongue down your thigh and sinks his teeth into the flesh there, still moving his fingers in a hard, consistent rhythm. You cry out in pain, screwing your eyes shut. The sheriff just laughs, licking his way up to your heat again.  A familiar tension starts to build low in your stomach and you moan out in despair. This man cannot steal an orgasm from you, you won’t give him the satisfaction. Not when he's taken everything else. 

His fingers crook at just the right angle and that pressure building in your core suddenly overflows, waves of thieved, depraved pleasure drawn out of you in wave after wave. Tears are still burning a trail down your cheeks as you glare up at him in reproach, body trembling from the aftershocks. “Huh, didn’t seem to be hidin’ anythin’ up there.” Shane derides, withdrawing his fingers and licking the remnants of you off his lips. 

You feel his broad hands clasp around your waist and twist you abruptly, flipping you over onto your front. Blood flows immediately into your hands, relief flooding through you as they are released from the weight of your own body. Your hips are pulled up until you're balancing on your knees, face pushed deep into the plush back seat of the cruiser.  Shane’s calloused hands palm roughly at your ass, gripping and squeezing hard enough to bruise, before wrapping around the chain of the cuffs anchoring your hands together. Yanking on the handcuffs, he brings your ass in line with his crotch, grinding against you. The cop impatiently pulls his cock out and you feel the hard line of his arousal digging against you. The sound of a tear echoes around the quiet surroundings as he rips your panties clean off, discarding them on the floor of the police sedan. 

A slap reverberates around the cab of the cruiser as you feel the weight of his shaft land heavily against your exposed slit. The velvety head traces a line up and down you, gathering your traitorous arousal and sliding it against your swollen clit. You wriggle your hips half-heartedly, whines drowned out by the gag and your tears absorbed by the seat your face is crammed into. Shane notches himself against your entrance, using his hands to grip both hips possessively, effectively stilling you. 

“Now, darlin’. I don’ think yer gon’ like me much for this next part. But it is standard procedure, my hands are tied.” His eyes fall back to the link chaining yours together and you hear him scoff above you. “And, well I s’pose yours are too.” Before you can gather your strength, respond or recoil in any way, he sinks himself into you. The pain is sharp and strong and too much in all the wrong ways. He’s pushed himself to the hilt now, and an agonising ache radiates from deep inside you. All his ‘preparation’ falls short at the size of him and you drag shaky breath after shaky breath into your lungs to try and soothe your own panic. 

Groaning curses under his breath, Shane starts to set a punishing pace, unbothered by the stretch and agony you’re enduring. He’s dragging his head against your walls like you’re not even there, just a hole for him to fuck. You feel his hands everywhere, grabbing and caressing and squeezing your hips, your breasts, your ass. He bends down so his chest is pressed against your back, hand anchored to the base of your neck, keeping you spread and pinned helplessly as he bottoms out without remorse. 

“Keep cryin’ for me, slut. Y’know, every time you sob, your tight lil’ pussy clenches real good, right? Makes me wanna keep hurtin’ ya…see just how hard you can cling onto me, how much ya can take.” He straightens back up, dragging you up with him so you’re once again knelt upright, pressed against his broad, panting chest. 

“Matter of fact, I wanna hear ya.” He tugs at the belt looped around your mouth and yanks it loose, ripping the cloth out along with it. Shane uses the new angle to cage his arms around you, one circled loosely around your neck, the other encircling your torso, his hand teasing and tracing your nipples. Fresh tears spill down your cheeks in hot, hopeless waves. Your mouth feels dry and your voice is hoarse. 

“Please.”

You whisper out, stifling the wince of pain as he rocks his hips against you, hard. The officer just laughs darkly, chest rumbling as you feel him throb deep inside you in response to your desperation. “All this and she’s still beggin’. Real cute.” With that, he pushes your face back down into the seats dismissively, hands sliding up your hips to land back on your ass. A flinch wracks your body as he drags a hand to the center and you feel his rough finger brush against the one hole he’s not yet violated. Shane drops his head low and spits, spreading his saliva with his finger in circular motions. Too exhausted to protest with words, you let your tears fall freely, breath hitching with each sob. His only response is to moan and push deeper into you, over and over. Slowly, you feel yourself stretch open as he coaxes his finger into your tight ring of muscle, fire burning its way through you with each millimeter gained. If the pain of the torment before left you speechless, the fullness you feel now has rendered you entirely incapable of thought. Nothing outside of Shane exists, the only tangible parts of yourself are the ones connected to his body, anything else is background noise. Your vision goes white as he crooks the finger slowly fucking your ass, dragging the full length of his shaft in and out of you at a devastating pace. The sounds of his groans and your soft cries, coupled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, fill the small space of the cruiser and it all becomes too much. 

You scream into the seats of the car as tremors seize your body. Shane doesn't relent, wringing you for every ounce of pleasure and fear and humiliation you can give him. His hips stutter and his breaths follow suit as he nears his own end. The windows of the sedan are opaque with steam. You’re left with a jarring emptiness as he pulls out and paints your ass with hot streaks of white. The cop behind you runs a hand through his dishevelled hair and begins fixing his uniform. You’ve collapsed beneath him, finally passive, subdued, exhausted. The clink of the handcuffs being unlocked is enough to get you to stir a little and you bring your arms to your chest, rubbing at the sore bruises beginning to form around your wrists. 

Shane hauls you upright, opening the door to the cop car. “S’your lucky day, Miss. Gon’ let you off with a warnin’.” He grins, still catching his breath. His eyes trace from your used, aching holes, up your bruised body and finally catch your own gaze. His jaw sets and his face darkens as he murmurs “‘Course, if ya tell anyone ‘bout this encounter, I’ll have to haul yer ass to jail. Hell, I’ll kill ya darlin’. Understand?” 

You nod silently, fear locking your throat up. He smirks again, sliding out of the car with one hand wrapped firmly around your arm. He marches you back to your own car half naked, echoing the humiliating walk from before, you stumbling behind powerlessly. The cop shoves you against the door of your vehicle and you crumple onto the ground in exhaustion as he stands above you, radio-ing into the station. You would never have been able to tell what he did to you, he looked like the same upstanding, reputable cop that had initially pulled you over. Your stomach lurched in disgust as he turned on his heel without a second glance, sliding into the driver’s side of his cruiser and driving off, leaving you ruined and alone.