#twd shane

[twd-bee3]

No Going Back

Pairing: Shane Walsh x Reader

Summary: Losing your virginity to your dad’s best friend.

Warnings/Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dubcon, smut with no plot, dbf!shane, grimes!reader, bunny!reader, dom!shane, female reader (she/her) with female anatomy, kinda size kink, BIG age-gap (reader is a college student), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, hair pulling, unprotected p in v sex, guilt, drunk sex, daddy kink, drunk driving (be safe), no outbreak!au, no established relationship, no use of Y/N

Word count: 3.5k words

A/N: This fic is so self-indulgent lmao. I posted a dbf!shane blurb here, but this is a proper oneshot. This was a lot of fun to write, and I’m slowly overcoming my writer’s block. Somehow daddy kink snuck in there, which I have never written, but the heart wants what it wants. Shane’s lowkey a piece of shit in this, sorry!! Also, shoutout to @officergrimesloml and @c0yotebites for proofreading this for me, love y'all <3

Masterlist | S.W. smut masterlist

After an argument with Rick, you’d fled to Shane’s apartment. The two of you had been drinking for hours when things escalated. You were perched in his lap, straddling one of his thighs. You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drunkenly shifting against the denim of his jeans. Your body was instinctively seeking out some kind of friction. Shane’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words slurred with intoxication.

“What’re you doin’, darlin’? Humpin’ my leg like a fuckin’ dog.”

As soon as your brain processed the words, your eyes widened and you stopped moving. Your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and you wouldn’t meet his eyes. That wasn’t the reaction that Shane was hoping for. Roughly, he gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. The liquor was making him more aggressive than usual, something that both scared you and aroused you. The confusion was dizzying. He held eye contact and spoke firmly.

“Did I say stop? Do it like you mean it.”

“W-what?”

Huffing at your obvious disorientation, Shane ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He knew that this was wrong, but he couldn’t stop. Not when you were so soft and sweet against him. Your vanilla perfume flooded his senses again, and his resolve was broken. Taking things into his own hands, he let go of your chin and planted both hands on your hips. His fingers splayed across the fabric of your skirt as he started guiding your hips. Pressing searing kisses to the side of your neck, he broke the brief silence again.

“Just like that. Do what I’m doin’. C’mon, bunny.”

Whimpering softly, you did what you were told and shifted your hips. Shane hadn’t let go, but he was less forceful. To his surprise, you were doing well on your own. His eyes roamed your figure as you ground against him. He was painfully hard now; an obvious tent had formed in his pants. You didn’t even have to see it to know that he was big. Too focused on this task, you had no idea what was coming next.

Shane waited until your head lolled back, and your moans grew louder to harshly shove you off his leg. You looked stricken with panic as you hit the cushions. Had you done something wrong? Your eyes filled with tears, and you weren’t sober enough to control them. He quickly swiped them away and reprimanded you. His voice was softer this time, though.

“Nu-uh, none of that. We just gotta do somethin’ else.”

“Huh?”

Your innocence was both maddening and invigorating. Shane laughed in disbelief and shook his head. Did you really not know that he was about to fuck you? He couldn’t resist teasing you.

“Oh, bunny. Use that pretty little brain and think. What do you think I’m gonna do?”

Not wanting to disappoint Shane, you paused and thought for a second. The moment it hit you, you looked comically shocked. You’d never had sex before, and your face flushed again. Your voice was shaky and hesitant.

“I-I’ve never done that, Shane.”

Despite being aware of your innocence, he hadn’t expected you to actually be a virgin. To be fair, he’d lost his virginity his freshman year in high school. You were in college now, so he’d expected you to be more experienced. The idea of being your first thrilled him more than he was willing to admit. He exhaled heavily and looked you over again.

“I’ll show you what to do, darlin’.”

Without waiting for your response, Shane stood up and lifted you from the couch. You were plastered, so you just let him carry you. He wasn’t going to fuck you in the living room, so he took you to his bedroom. Dropping you on the bed, he was far too intoxicated to be gentle with you. Not that you minded, though. Being thrown around by the deputy was one of your many fantasies.

You’d never been in this room of the apartment, so you took a second to look at the decor. Like the stereotypical bedroom of a middle-aged man, the walls were pretty bare. On his bedside table, there was a photo of Shane and Rick in their uniforms. The last thing you needed was to see your father while waiting to be plowed. You were about to speak up when your skirt was harshly pulled off, and you were flipped onto your stomach. The second Shane saw you weren’t wearing underwear, he groaned and chastised you as he removed his belt.

“No panties, huh? Fuckin’ wanted this, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

You hated the way your voice was failing you, but you couldn’t dwell on that. The soft clinking of the belt buckle hitting the hardwood floor made you tense. Shane’s hands returned to your hips and his thumbs pressed into the dimples of your back. Seeing you like this was something he’d imagined plenty, but he’d never actually acted on it.

He was about to speak again when he noticed the picture frame that you’d been looking at. Fuck. You were Rick’s little girl. Before the thought could make Shane nauseous, he forced it out of his head and adjusted the picture frame so it was facing away from the bed. He then redirected his attention to your body. His voice was more strained this time.

“Look at you, sweet girl. Layin’ so still for me.”

“Tryin’ to be good.”

Your words weren’t clear enough for Shane. Gripping your hair, he roughly pulled your head back and applied tension to your scalp. You yelped, but that only added to his enjoyment. He tightened his grip further and demanded.

“Speak up, bunny. Can’t hear you when you mumble.”

Taking a shaky breath, you winced at another tug of your hair and tried to steady your voice. Your mumbling was an awful habit.

“I said that I’m tryin’ to be good.”

“Yeah? You wanna be good for me, huh?”

“Yes, sir.”

Your use of the honorific made Shane’s head spin faster than the alcohol in his system. Before he could respond, you whimpered and begged softly.

“Please, Daddy."

That was what undid Shane. He pressed your face against the mattress and quickly dropped his boxers. You made the mistake of glancing over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of his cock. As expected, he was huge. You swallowed thickly and looked visibly overwhelmed. He turned your face again and aligned himself with your entrance. His voice was softer than earlier but ever so patronizing.

“Relax, babygirl. Won’t do us any good if you’re all tense.”

Trying to stay calm, you took a shaky breath and forced your muscles to relax. Shane’s warm palm moved up and down the curve of your ass, sending shivers down your spine. His calloused skin scraped slightly against you. He squeezed the backside of your thigh before speaking again.

“Deep breaths, bunny.”

“Will you go slow?”

Shane barked a laugh at the request and shook his head. You didn’t even have to see his face to know that he was grinning. His breath was hot on the back of your neck, and his fingers released their grip on your hair. You were confused by the sudden lack of tension, but then he anchored his hands on your hips. His tone was somehow more condescending this time.

“Oh, baby. You want me to go slow? Not fuckin’ happenin’.”

You didn’t have time to respond before Shane aligned himself with your entrance and forced himself inside. You’d hoped that he’d let you adjust to his size, but you were wrong. The pain was sharp and burning. You gasped and started to cry softly. The tears running down your cheeks were darkened with mascara. Not pausing his movements, Shane kissed your shoulder and softened his tone. The contrast was dizzying.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, angel. I know it hurts. Such a good girl.”

He stroked your hair as he spoke, and like a pathetic puppy, you leaned into his touch. You whimpered and spoke through the tears.

“It hurts, Daddy."

“I know, baby. I know. You’re takin’ me so well, though.”

Shane was completely buried inside of you, and he took a moment to admire the view. You looked so small beneath him, and it made something in his chest ache. This was so fucking wrong, but he couldn’t stop. It’s not like you wanted him to. This time, he gave you a warning before moving.

“Gonna start movin’, baby. You got it.”

“M’kay. M’tryin’.”

Kissing your shoulder again, Shane started thrusting his cock in and out of your cunt. The stinging intensified before slowly fading. You could feel him stretching you in ways that you hadn’t imagined, and the tears kept flowing. As he moved, deep grunts left his throat and his fingers dug into your doughy flesh. You glanced over your shoulder again and watched as his motions faltered. Feeling insecure, you spoke up hesitantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, babygirl. You’re so pretty.”

Despite the reassurance, he shoved your face back into the mattress, and your makeup was staining his sheets. What he couldn’t admit was that seeing your face made this all too real. He was fucking his best friend’s daughter. He was at least twenty years your senior. That was not a thought that he was choosing to ruminate on. Instead, his movements became harsher. It was too much, and you cried out again.

“Fuck. Go easier. Please, Daddy."

“Sh, sh, sh. I got you.”

His words were soft and comforting, but he wasn’t slowing down. You kept whining and struggling to stay put. Shane firmly held you in place, though. Once the pain dulled, he was finally giving attention to your clit and the pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. His words were slow and coaxing.

“You’re so close, bunny. You gonna come for me?”

“Can I?”

Clearly wanting to fuck with your head, Shane feigned ignorance and hummed softly. His release was rapidly approaching, but he was trying to drag this out.

“Can you what? You need to use your words.”

The wait was agonizing, and you whined in frustration. Was he trying to kill you? Knowing Shane would stop if you got an attitude, you exhaled sharply and ground out your plea.

“Can I come, sir? Please.”

Shane groaned at your words and used every remaining ounce of self-restraint to hold himself back. Finishing inside of you was the last thing that he needed. Although the primitive side of him would have no reservations about filling you with his seed. He was quick to answer you.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

That was all the encouragement that you needed. The orgasm was dizzying, and you could feel your eyes rolling back in pleasure. No one had ever made you feel like this. Shane made sure that you’d come before letting himself climax, his first unselfish act of the night. He didn’t stop either, just kept driving into you until he was satisfied. It was unclear if he didn’t care about overstimulating you or if he just hadn’t picked up on it yet.

You could barely catch your breath, and you spoke up hesitantly. The shake in your voice made it clear that you were genuinely in pain. The lack of honorific was further proof that he might’ve gone too far.

“It’s too much, Shane. Please stop.”

The second Shane heard those words, he froze. Actually hurting you was the last thing that he wanted. The softer part of him surfaced, and he immediately stopped thrusting. His thick fingers combed through your hair again, and his voice was almost tender.

“Oh, poor bunny. Did I hurt you?”

Not wanting him to feel guilty, you shook your head and put on a brave face. Your voice was steadier this time, but slightly forced.

“No. I mean, not really. It was just a lot, y’know?”

You’d slurred your words a bit, and Shane suddenly felt sick. This was wrong. So fucking wrong. You felt the shift in the way he was holding himself, but he cut you off before you could say anything.

“Get your skirt back on.”

Even though his tone invited no argument, you were too drunk to hold your tongue. You shifted on the mattress and foolishly voiced your confusion.

“Why, Daddy?"

“Don’t. J-just get dressed.”

The pet name that had aroused him only minutes ago now filled him with shame, and Shane wouldn’t meet your eyes. He stepped away from the bed and pulled up his jeans and boxers. Instead of explaining his change in attitude, he grabbed your discarded clothing from the floor and tossed it in your direction. He then spun on his heel and left you alone on the bed.

As you watched him walk away, your cheeks flushed with humiliation and your chest tightened. You felt like an idiot for believing in this fairy tale and looked down at the mess Shane had made. Finger-shaped bruises marked your hips from where he’d been holding you in place. He hadn’t even left you with anything to clean yourself off with.

The liquor amplified your pettiness, so you rubbed yourself all over his sheets. You only stopped once your skin was dry enough to not leave any stains on your skirt. After redressing your lower half, you wiped your cheeks and tried to get off as much mascara as you could. Most of it was on Shane’s sheets. You willed yourself not to get emotional as you rejoined Shane in the living room.

When you exited his bedroom, you saw Shane pacing in front of the couch. His hand passed through his hair as he turned to face you. The man was sick with guilt, and it was written all over his face. His heart sank when he saw the slight redness to your eyes, and he beat you to speaking.

“Gonna take you home. Rick’s probably worried sick.”

The mention of your father’s name made your stomach churn, and you nodded mutely. You’d been drunk for most of the night, but it was starting to hit you all at once. The nausea rolled through you, and you had to take deep breaths. Shane couldn’t stay in this apartment with you any longer, so he began putting on his coat and shoes.

You went to copy him, but you were much more uncoordinated. When moving towards the coat rack, you tripped over your own feet and stumbled forward. Luckily for you, Shane was close enough to catch you. He steadied you and mumbled beneath his breath.

“Jesus, bunny.”

The nickname relaxed you slightly, and you subconsciously leaned into his touch. Shane had been cold with you minutes earlier, so you were soaking in the attention. Despite his thoughts being muddled with self-loathing, he still found himself lightly stroking your hair. Your words ran together when you mumbled against his chest.

“Don’t feel good.”

Allowing himself to be gentle with you again, Shane sighed softly and kissed the top of your head. This was all his fault. He never should’ve let you come over this late at night and he never should’ve supplied you with the alcohol. Fucking you while you were in this state was the final nail in the coffin. He needed to get you home before he made things worse. His tone was tender when he spoke again.

“I know, sweetheart. I need to get you home, okay? Need help with your coat?”

You wanted to be stubborn and insist that you could dress yourself, but you were far too dizzy for that. Instead, you sighed and nodded. Your voice was smaller than usual when you answered him.

“Yes, please.”

Shane made sure that you were steadier on your feet before grabbing your jacket off of the coat rack. He was careful not to rush you as he pulled your arms through the sleeves and zipped it up. The man was also drunk, so he wasn’t moving as smoothly as he typically would. He was still better off than you, though.

Now it was time to get your shoes on. There was no chance that you’d be able to do that on your own. Shane double-checked that you were stable before grabbing your shoes from where you’d tossed them off by the couch. He crouched in front of you and pulled your foot to rest on his denim-clad thigh. This threw you off balance, and you tumbled backwards. He mumbled a curse and grabbed you before you hit the wall.

“Careful, darlin’.”

“M’sorry.”

In spite of the situation, your soft apology was sickeningly sweet, and the corner of Shane’s mouth quirked upward. He leaned you against the front door and returned to putting your shoes back on. As he did this, you reached out and started running your fingers through his hair. This caught Shane off guard, and he barked a laugh.

“What’re you doin’?”

“S’soft.”

Shane couldn’t do anything but laugh and shake his head. Your delirium relieved some of the tension. At least, temporarily. He grinned up at you, and your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. His chest tightened at the sight, and he finished getting your shoes on. Now, he had the task of getting you into the truck.

It had taken several minutes, but Shane finally got you to cooperate. He carried you to the truck and propped the passenger side door open. When he was about to set you down, you clung tighter and murmured.

“Wanna stay with you.”

He sighed deeply and laid you in the seat, despite your protests. Once again softening his tone, he brushed a stray piece of hair from your forehead and responded.

“You can’t, bunny. Rick’s probably already wonderin’ where you are.”

“Fuck him.”

“Hey, don’t talk ‘bout your old man like that.”

In any other circumstance, Shane reprimanding you would’ve earned a groan, but tonight was different. It stung. You shook your head and sheepishly mumbled.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’re my sweet girl, but you need to talk like it.”

“Okay.”

Being called his sweet girl calmed you, and you were ready to listen. Obediently, you lay back in the seat and waited for Shane to buckle you in. He playfully rolled his eyes at your laziness, but still buckled you in. Confident that you were secure, he paused and thought for a second before kissing your forehead. You hummed contentedly, which made him laugh again.

Once Shane climbed into the driver’s seat and got driving, the drive was relatively smooth. His apartment was only ten minutes away from your father’s house. You were staying there while you were home from college. To his horror, Rick was waiting for you on the front porch. He was going to have to come up with something fast.

You would’ve been equally panicked, but you were fast asleep with your cheek smushed against the window pane. Fuck, it was almost endearing. As he pulled into Rick’s driveway, he began formulating a cover story. He’d barely put the car in park before his best friend was knocking on the driver-side window. Shane rolled down the window and cut Rick off as soon as the other man opened his mouth.

“She’s fine, brother. Just drunk. Found her wanderin’ ‘round.”

“Wanderin’ where?”

Despite Rick’s raised eyebrow, he trusted Shane, and he wasn’t asking this out of suspicion. He was simply gathering the details, as any good cop would do. He wasn’t thrilled by the smell of alcohol on Shane’s breath, but he decided not to comment on it. You’d returned in one piece. While Shane gave his answer, he sighed and moved to unbuckle you.

“Down by my apartment. Guess she was lookin’ for somewhere to calm down.”

For whatever reason, Rick wasn’t questioning where you’d gotten the alcohol. At your university, you’d picked up a mirage of habits that he didn’t approve of. You seeking solace in Shane’s apartment wasn’t surprising either. You’d always found comfort in the older man, and your father was too occupied with other parts of his life to examine that further.

Shane was going to wake you up gently, but it was late and your father was impatient. Rick walked over and opened the passenger-side door. You’d been leaning up against it, so your drunk ass nearly tumbled out of the truck. Shane was still leaning across the center console to unbuckle you, so he was able to catch you. He cursed Rick beneath his breath.

“Shit, Rick, be careful.”

“I’ve got her, man.”

Rick’s patience had run out hours ago, and Shane didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Instead, he sat back in his seat and watched as you were carried into the house. He waited until the two of you were inside before he drove back to his empty apartment. The guilt that had embedded in his chest was piercing again.

Once he got back inside, he refused to dwell on the hollowness and resorted to drinking more until he fell asleep on his couch.

Taglist: @vngelisse @dixondisease @angelwings-crossbowstrings @idkwthgoitmww @smuttfuelled @glennseyeball @tvduxveil @death-in-a-tar0t-card @spookysturnz @nichemint @asparagus-antics @xanaxiii @hail-yourselves @viviandarkbloom11 @softcherryvanilla @thatonewriterchick @dixons-wifey @chronic-fangirl-222 @sunkissedandseraphic @buffydixon @electroniczombieprince @kenchewwarriors @local-airhead @zencherob @wallflowerwrites @daryldixonswoman @holdmytesseract @tinytownn @mickgallavich @shtgshdrnit @spookij @whosurboyfriendnow

[angelsadgirl]

in my jon era

[scrmqwn]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 | 𝐒. 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡

word count: 1.4k

content warning: 18+. explicit sexual content. i am not your mommy you are responsible for your media consumption. mdni. !dubcon!(both parties are tipsy), unprotected penetrative sex, exbabydaddy!shane, pregnancy, breeding, angst if u squint, shane is kind of manipulative here?

a/n: happy mother's day to all the moms who love shane walsh, me fuckin' too girl.

thanks for looking.

taglist: @final-sights

five in the afternoon. the hot georgia sun, beating down on the parking lot, your skin dampened with a sheen of sweat.

shane's big truck pulling into the parking lot next to you. pushing off the side of your car you wave at your son through the back window.

shane exits the vehicle and opens the rear driver's side door to unbuckle the squealing toddler from the back seat. mop of curls on his head, just like his daddy's is when it's grown out. the same big brown eyes.

"dinner and bath is all done, he's ready to chill and hit the hay at bedtime." shane reaches in to unbuckle him and pulls him out, tucking him against his chest.

"alright, little man, i love ya bubba. i'll see you in a few days, don't give mama a hard time." he squeezes the toddler into a hug and presses his lips to his head.

as shane hands your son to you, you do the exact same and squeeze him into a hug, pressing numerous kisses to his cheeks and face.

"he's actually gonna stay at mom's for the night, and i have a lot to catch up on around the house and mom offered to give me the night and tomorrow off." you turn to place him in his car seat, buckling him in securely.

"well, happy mother's day to you, girl." shane is on the passenger side of the truck, pulling flowers and a large gift bag out.

you stammer and cross your arms, "didn't have to do this, shay."

"from me and little man. we appreciate you." he pulls you into a hug.

"thank you. we appreciate you right back. you take good care of us." you pulled yourself back rather quickly, trying to make yourself remember that you and shane are in fact separated.

—

after your son has been dropped off at your mom's house, you're back home—in the house you used to share with shane—pouring a big glass of bubbly wine, standing your bathrobe, hair pulled up and slippers on.

you make your way to the master bathroom, dimming the lights. shane had done everything you wanted for this bathroom. heated floors, double vanity, standing shower and a tub, yellow lighting instead of white lighting. it was your sanctuary, connected to your bedroom, a space for you to treat as a getaway. pouring bubble bath under the running faucet suds begin to accumulate across the surface of the water.

pulling the bathrobe off of your form, sliding down into the hot tub, you sipped on your wine and let out a sigh of relief.

music playing softly from the speaker your phone was connected to, you sunk further into the tub, letting it wash all your worries away.

right as the last worry was leaving your head, your phone buzzed. you simply ignored it and laid your head back against the edge of the tub.

somewhere between your third glass of wine & being out of the tub you could've sworn you heard something directly under you in the kitchen. ignoring it, because you're certain you locked all the doors, you tie your robe before reaching down to drain the tub and hear another loud bang over it.

you tip toe to the bathroom door and lock it before reaching for your phone to call shane.

"what's up, mama?" shane answers.

"hey, i'm really sorry to bother you, i think someone is breaking into the house and i'm upstairs in the bathroom, can you swing over?" you ramble into the speaker with a whisper.

"yea, i'm in the house, i used my key. cooking in the kitchen. and by the way, if you think someone's in your house girl, don't drain the fuckin' tub, huh?" he hangs up as the lock is picked open with the pin key and he stands in the bathroom doorway, giving you a once over.

"what the fuck is your problem?" you clutch your chest and double over with a gasp.

"ain't got a problem, sweetheart, came over to cook mother's day dinner for the mother of my child, in the home we used to share." he croons at you, walking over to the closet to get you pajamas, as if things had never ended between the two of you.

"what if i had a man over here, and i was busy in bed?!" you call after him, arms crossed.

"you're so fulla'shit." shane laughed, returning with pajamas for you. "get dressed, dinner's waitin'."

"you're such an asshole," you snatch your clothes from him and shut the door to begin getting dressed.

"good to be home, baby!" shane continues laughing at your anger, making his way to the kitchen to plate your dinner.

—

half a steak and another glass of bubbly wine in your belly, you're teetering on the edge of tipsy. shane's had a few, he's feeling buzzed. it really is like things never changed.

you're sat next to shane, your feet kicked over his knee, leaning back in your chair, laughing at something dumb he said.

"thank you for my flowers, and dinner. you really don't have to do all that." you clear your throat as the laughter dies out.

"yes i do, and not because i feel obligated, er'nothin', just because i want to. always tellin' that boy that even if mommy and daddy live apart, that i still care about mommy more than anything and that it is our job to protect you. raising him to be a man, raising him with an influence i never had." he shrugs and lays his hand on your shin, rubbing his thumb back and forth softly.

"picked a good man to have him with," your hand reaches for his, fingertips grazing his knuckles, "would do it the same way every time."

—

you aren't sure if it's lowered inhibitions due to alcohol consumption or just the domestic feeling of being under the same roof as shane again that really did it for you, but the tops of your feet are resting in the pillow next to your head as shane is sliding himself in and out of you obscenely.

one arm above your head, the other hand holding steady next to your foot.

his forehead is resting on yours, pouring sweat, "pretty girl, so fuckin' tight, baby. missed this pussy so bad, y'r'sposed to be my fuckin' wife." his lips are whispering to you in a harsh tone, pressing hard, squishy kisses to your jaw.

tears are down your cheeks, you're making noises you've never heard from yourself before, all while shane is relentlessly pounding into you.

his teeth move to graze your neck, your back arching off of the bed as you wiggle your legs to lock around his waist, a moan slipping from your lips once more.

shane rolls you over so you're straddling him, his fingers digging into your hips with a delicious burn.

your hips wiggle forwards and backwards as you bounce yourself up and down the length of his cock, your thighs starting to burn as you pick up your pace.

his hands begin to paw at your chest, fingers rolling a nipple between them every couple of minutes, "gimme a kiss, mama. cmere." his hand is on the back of your neck, folding your body into his, his tongue immediately working it's way into your mouth to taste you.

between open mouth kisses and heavy breathing, he pants, "know you're right there baby, let go with me, c'mon. just one more." his hips stutter upwards, hands firm on your hips as he jackhammers himself into you, chasing his high, your cunt constricting around him intermittently.

"just one more, 'kay.." you sob softly, nails digging into his shoulders.

shane continued to curse as he fucked himself up into you, spilling himself inside of you. as you writhe through your orgasm you lay yourself down on him, as he softens inside of you.

—

and that's how you wound up holding up a pregnancy test a month later when shane is bringing the boy back home for the week, "happy father's day." you drop it on the counter and sigh, running your hand through your hair.

shane is ecstatic, clapping, jumping, hoisting your son up on his shoulder, cheering, "c'mon mama, told you one more wouldn't hurt us. lemme come home take care'a my family." he walks to you, holding your son against his side, his free arm tugging you into the opposite side, "gonna be alright, we'll figure it out." his lips graze the top of your head and you give in immediately. arms around him, head in his chest, sobbing.

[officergrimesloml]

𝐝𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 - 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

pairing: shane walsh x afab!reader word count: 2.4k summary: seeing shane come home in his uniform really gets you goin warnings: mean-dom!shane, coarse language, unprotected sex, creampie, sucking on dog tag, officer roleplay, pet names (‘little girl’ used twice)

After waiting hours on end for Shane to come home, you finally caved and went through the motions of your typical nighttime routine. Silk pajamas, face wash, lip mask, the usual. Nothing extravagant, but enough to make you feel as though you have a decent self-care routine. Well, dating a cop, you kind of needed one. Otherwise you’d start getting premature stress wrinkles at such a young age. That was especially the case tonight considering how late he was from his shift. It was going to take some time adjusting to his wacky schedule. This was an easier feat when you still lived in your quaint apartment the next town over. 

The two of you had just moved in with one another not even a full week ago. There’s still boxes to be unpacked and furniture to be put together in other rooms of the house. All jobs that Shane can do on his day off, you assume. Instead of being productive in any way that is actually beneficial to your living situation, you opt to sit on the couch and play a chick flick in the background. Not that you were really paying attention; doom scrolling on your phone and a large glass of wine was of more importance. 

The only dim light besides the television was the lamp to your right. It illuminated the comfort and safety of your recently bought home. You knew Shane made it his own space the moment he hid different weapons practically around every corner, all for you in case of emergency. Still, you made no movement to get up and grab the shotgun when you heard someone walk through the front door. Your mind knew better; it was your man finally coming home. 

“Was it another homicide?” you ask aloud, still looking at your phone. 

Heavy boots tread across the hard wood floor for only a moment, but then you hear them retreat back. Probably to take them off before he gets into the living room to see you. This makes you smile softly. It’s the little things that really make you and Shane work so well together. 

His scent enters the room before he does; sweat, tobacco, and something similar to that of warm amber. You shoot your head up the moment Shane finally stops in front of the television. His highly alluring profile makes you chew on your lip. 

He answers your question in that husky tone of his, “Nah, some asshat decided to run on us during a traffic stop. He was quick, too. We got ‘em going eastbound on- now why in the hell are ya lookin’ at me like that?”

It’s not your fault he looks so good. It’s entirely his. 

The man’s uniform catches your eyes first. The subtle, silent visual that he is a protector of the community. Not only that, but it stands for authority; this alone makes your pussy throb. 

Then your gaze gravitates to the way his arms bulge out the sleeves, practically making the fabric want to rip. It’s enough to make your mind wander to images of the man using his strength to squeeze your waist, or pick you up and fuck you right here against the wall. 

Something about his badge stands out the most. Seeing his official status plastered right there on his tight, sturdy chest triggers a familiar movement somewhere between your thighs. Within seconds, you already know a pool of slick is going to start pooling in your lacey underwear. All from looking at your boyfriend in his uniform.  

“Shane, I-”

“Yea’?” he asks, slightly impatient. 

That’s literally all it takes. You’re kinda easy like that, you suppose. He silently agrees. 

A mere fifteen minutes later, you’re bouncing on the man’s lap while his thick cock grazes that very tender area inside your pussy. He’s got a real joy in his eyes watching you move up and down atop his muscled thighs. Whereas you had originally got worked up from seeing him in his uniform, he was eating up the sight of you being so pathetic for him. The way you surrender your body to him is never a decision you regret. You always love these moments; this one especially so. 

Shane still has the uniform on. The top buttons are undone, pants pushed down to the spot right below his knees. Your fingers run themselves over his upper torso, sometimes brushing along the edge of his badge and name tag. His dark-hooded eyes stare intently at each move, his thick, warm digits digging themselves into your hips to encourage you to keep moving. You feel the man’s cock pulse the louder you moan. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, didn’t know you liked getting so messy like this,” Shane teases, moving his right hand to toy with your clit. It’s so wet from how hard and fast you ride him, which only makes the man whistle and smirk, “like it when a cop tells you to ride him, huh?”

“Nng, ye-yes, fuck.” 

Shane runs the pad of his finger in slow circles. This time, instead of moaning loudly, you begin to arch your back and release a wretched whine. The action causes your chest to push against him, the badge poking your breast. You suck in a sharp breath and he notices instantly. The way your eyes widen was a dead giveaway. You attempt to hide your face, but it’s to no avail.

He already saw how the uniform affects you once. Now, he’s just reliving it again.

“Aw, babygirl, you fallin’ apart on me?” he purrs in your ear, nipping at the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, and whispers something about how sweet you smell. For a split second, you take note of the way he snaps his hips towards your cunt like he’s hungry for something more. A faint smack echos in the room from his balls tapping your abused pussy. He groans in time with you, a bead of sweat trailing down Shane’s temple.

He takes pleasure in how you gasp so innocently, taken aback by his lewd commentary. The grip on his shoulders tightens by a fraction. Meanwhile, you contract harder around his length. You mewl, “Come-Come on, Shane. Stop teasin’.”

“Ain’t gonna,” he murmurs, pushing you away from his chest so he can admire the white ring that begins to build around the base of his cock. 

“Gettin’ tired,” you softly cry, struggling to force yourself up and down. The strain in your thighs isn’t horrible, but definitely not pleasurable. Shane doesn’t care though.

“Just a little more, babygirl. You can take a little more, can’t you?” 

His voice strangles to get those last few words out. Shane throws his head back and conjures up a porn-like moan in the process. His thick member twitches inside you, indicating he’s already close. Your palms find themselves anchoring onto his chest for stability. As you rock your hips back and forth, sometimes moving them in circles just so you can feel his girthy tip rub the special spots deep within, you gasp, “Officer Walsh, my pussy can’t take it ‘nymore.”

“Oh, yea’? Well ain’t that too bad, ‘cause I’m pretty sure the only way you’re gettin’ out of trouble, little girl, is if you let me cum inside this tight pussy. You’d let me do that, right?” 

The man’s perverted question rolls off his tongue like second nature. To no one’s surprise, the words work like a charm on you. Like muscle memory, you start to bounce yourself on his lap once again and choose to ignore the pain. Even when your body feels on fire, the desire to make this man cum deep inside clouds your usual way of thinking. 

The wet warmth around Shane’s cock was already sending him into highgear, but now that you had resumed your quickened pace, his hands began running up and down your sides. The pads of his digits are hot to the touch. On occasion, they tense up and pinch your flesh. Then he stutters out more encouragement to keep you moving. It was like he couldn’t tell which part of your body he wanted to squeeze the most. 

Your focus shifts from watching the man’s expressions to his thick neck. Nearly every time your drenched hole comes crashing down on his length, his Adam’s apple bobs furiously. Beneath the man’s uniform is the glint of his dog tags. They’re barely noticeable, but somewhere in between listening to his beautiful sounds and bulging veins touching your walls, your hand has a mind of its own and suddenly touches the material. 

Shane notices and looks you in the eye. Your pace begins to slow down. He asks, “Whatcha’ got there, huh? Care to explain yourself?”

The dog tag is fully exposed now, held in your grasp. The stainless steel chain somehow makes his whole ensemble even hotter. You’re positively drenched at this point. Then he goes and asks a question like that, as if you’re getting interrogated. 

It’s hard not to moan back a response. 

“Can’t help it, Officer,” the statement is short and leaves room for more. 

“Was gonna tell you that you have the right to- oh, fuck, remain silent, but I don’ think that’s gonna be the case here in a minute,” Shane says as you continue to inspect the military tag. 

“Huh?”

Shane sinks further into the couch, moving his bottom down the cushion to put you at a higher angle. Without having to ask further, you already knew what was to come next. You’d stopped moving all together in anticipation and planted your knees into the soft upholstery, looking away briefly because eye contact seems dangerous at a time like this. You can’t decide whether to stare at his badge or the chain. 

However, before Shane begins moving, he takes the dog tag out of your fingers and promptly shoves the little stamped tag into your mouth, observing the way it bottoms out so nicely on your tongue and how quick you are to taste the steel on your buds. Your lower half wiggles around and your cheeks flush a deep red. Shane’s cock twitches again, then he says, “Yea’, just like that babygirl. Suck on my dog tag for me, ‘kay?”

“Mmh, yes, Officer Walsh,” you hiccup, eyes glossing over with a glaze Shane always associated with your climax. He knew you were close, and so was he. 

The man wastes no more time and begins thrusting up into your soaking cunt, making the entire room fill with the sound of skin slapping on skin, harmonious sounds of deep pleasure, and his chain rattling in the process. His hips jerk hard the longer he watches you suck on his dog tag, like it was meant to be there. 

“Yes, just like that. You’re so hot, honey, don’t stop,” admiring the arousal leaking out of you onto his crotch and the crease between his thighs. He already needed a shower after his shift, but fuck, he loves knowing that you’re part of the reason, too. 

“Hmph, yes, right there,” you quiver in his lap, “so close!”

“Me too, honey. Officer Walsh will be done with you soon, don’t you worry,” he reassures, still pounding so deep in your pussy. 

The room reeks of sex, and truly it was secretly Shane’s favorite way of breaking in the place. He already made a comment a couple days ago about fucking you raw on every piece of furniture in the house; apparently the couch was first pick. 

Your body begins to shake as the orgasm approaches quicker and quicker. It looked as though you were right on the edge, so Shane continued talking in his raspy voice to push you towards release. “Cum for me. Cum for Officer Walsh like the good girl you are.”

All you can do is hum in agreement, nodding quickly and shutting your eyes tight as you chase your climax. Not long after, the knot in your stomach comes undone and your entire body vibrates from the intensity. Your pulse beats rapidly in your ear as you convulse on the man’s cock once, twice, three times in a row, producing a primal reaction out of your boyfriend. 

Shane’s hands tighten their grip on your waist. He begins to pick your body up and down in time with his thrusts, practically using you like a doll. You huff, “Sh-Shane! Fuck, I mean, Officer, please cum in me!”

“Shit, shit, shit, you’re gonna make me cum- fuck!” he exclaims loudly, crying out of complete bliss. You can feel the way his cock pulses his load inside you over and over again, making a mess of fluids that you will have to clean up later. 

Your eyes widen at his reaction, momentarily taking the dog tag out of your mouth so that your lips can quirk into a sweet grin. Shane shudders more, likely from how hard he just finished, then slowly slumps to the point you lean into his chest and rest your head on his shoulder. His uniform is damp from all the sweat; not to mention his pants are probably heavy with both your fluids. All in all, his reaction is satisfying to no end. 

“Honey, that was…wow.” Shane musters after some silence passes. 

“Yeah…hot as hell.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, your jawline, then finally manages to hold you in a position where he can kiss his lips. The two of you taste one another with vigor, as though the last twenty or so minutes wasn’t an entire scene out of some porno. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, pushing past once you grant him entry. You both fight for dominance only a couple seconds before Shane starts taking control. His hands clutch your bottom, kneading the thick flesh and causing you to groan. 

“Shane,” you murmur, only to be pulled back in for another hungry kiss. You giggle against his lips, then break apart to tell him, “babe, we gotta shower. Please. I feel gross.”

“Hm,” he says, rolling his semi-softened cock inside you, “I think Officer Walsh needs another round. Can’t seem to figure out if you’re off the hook yet, little girl.”

“Was I that bad, officer?” you ask in a sultry tone, pointer finger trailing the stubble on his cheek. 

“Honey, I think that was the wettest you’ve ever been. Really. Need you so bad.”

His breathing is suddenly very heavy again, and just a few seconds later, you feel his member grow inside you. How the hell was he wanting another round after all this? Not that you’re opposed…

“Fine. But you’re fucking me in the shower.”

“Deal.” he says while trying to fight back a playful grin, diving back in for another heated kiss on the now ruined couch.

tags: @twd-bee3 @rickgrimes-cupid @kitty-grimes @shtgshdrnit @lilzz1236969 @hollowhuntress

[prettyinpeaches]

Awareness

Shane Walsh x girlfriend’s daughter!Reader | TWD

NOTES: well well well, here we are again. based on this ask

TW: no walkers au, no smut but suggestive themes, younger!reader (over 18, but no age stated), Shane is your moms boyfriend and you live with your mom, kind of girly!reader but not too bad, that’s all I think, this is pretty tame but yummy don’t worry

MASTERLIST

You love your mom in the same way you love rainstorms. Both are loud, familiar, occasionally a little destructive, but still part of the landscape of your life. You do not, however, love her taste in romantic partners. She means well. She always does. Her problem is that she falls in love fast with men who take up too much space and give nothing back. Men who needed managing. Men who treated you like an unwanted accessory to the relationship instead of a person who existed independently of it.

There had been Chris who played Xbox at least 6 hours a day. Then there was Milo who tried to convince your mom to kick you out during the first week of their relationship. And then there were the two Scotts back to back, both equally awful. Next was Phil- or had it been Frank? Maybe Fred?? Whatever his name was, he had perpetually smelled like pepperoni. And that was just this year.

So when Shane moved in, you braced yourself for another round of your least favorite game: dodging the new boyfriend.

All this meant another loud voice in the house. Another man with unwarranted opinions. Another temporary fixture.

Except Shane didn’t feel temporary at all.

He didn’t arrive with declarations or empty promises. He just… folded himself into the rhythm of the place. Mornings smelled like strong coffee and toast. Evenings came with quiet routines—greasing squeaky hinges, changing lightbulbs, tightening screws on things that rattled. He didn’t ask for praise. He didn’t even announce what he was doing, he just noticed what needed doing and handled it.

And then there was the way he treated you.

Not like a kid. Not like an obligation. He remembered the little things—the way you hated the radio talk show host on the local channel, the way you liked your eggs for breakfast, that sometimes you just needed a minute to get things off your chest when you got home from a bad day.

When your mom would snap too sharply or come home looking to pick a fight, Shane would intervene with a steady voice and an even expression, “hey, cmon now, y’know that ain’t fair.” As if defending you was instinctive.

That alone would’ve been enough to soften you.

Unfortunately, he was also devastatingly handsome in a way that snuck up on you. Nothing flashy. Not even polished. Just broad shoulders and rough, capable hands and a smile that felt earned instead of practiced. His voice—low, drawling, unhurried—had a way of wrapping around words like he was taking care with them, like he knew the effect they had.

From the very beginning, there had been a current between you. Not sparks. Not fireworks. Something slower and more dangerous. A gravity you couldn’t quite explain. Glances that lingered a fraction longer than they should. The way his attention found you in a room without any effort. Inside jokes meant just for you two. A sense that he was always very… aware of you.

And you were aware of him right back.

Which was why you’d done the sensible thing and started dating a man who was aggressively unremarkable.

Evan was… fine. Evan was harmless. Evan was what you were supposed to want. He texted you good morning and good night every day. He showed up when he said he would. He thought romance was consistency and sex was something you completed rather than participated in. His idea of being spontaneous was getting Panda Express last Friday instead of the usual pizza.

You told yourself that was enough. You told yourself that passion had to settle down eventually. This was just part of growing up and you’d get over it.

But there were only so many nights you could lay there staring at the ceiling, your body pursed for a release with nowhere for it to go. Only so many you could sit awake at night thinking about how you felt so lonely despite the man sharing your bed.

That was when you decided to end it. Well, to make him end it. You hated breaking up with people. You hated how the guy would always make you out to be some kind of evil psychopath, all the while leaving out the many ways he fell short leading up to the split. So you’d put that burden on Evan, it was the least he could do.

It didn’t need to be dramatic or cruel, you just wanted him to lose interest. Simple enough, right?

So you built a plan.

Step one: stop being appealing.

No more effort.

No more flirting.

No more carefully chosen little sets with meticulously paired accessories. Oh no, Evan was getting loooooow maintenance. Messy, even.

The main issue you’re facing now is that you don’t own a single thing that would fit that category. This is glaringly clear as your hot-pink tracksuit clad reflection stares back at you from your full body mirror and, damn, does it fit you well. You almost hate to push your fashion sense aside, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

This was how you end up standing outside your mom and Shane’s bedroom. The door was ajar and there sat Shane, folding your mom’s laundry, because of course he was folding her laundry. He’s perfect. You bit the inside of your cheek as you knocked on the door frame.

His eyes lifted to meet yours almost immediately, brow lifting in mild surprise. “Hey, darlin’. Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, toooootally great,” you said brightly, forcing a reassuring smile to your lips. “I just need to ask an itty bitty favor. Can I borrow something?”

He set the sweater in his hands down on the comforter, standing from the bed. “‘Course you can. Whatcha need?”

“One of your sweatshirts.”

The pause was subtle—but it was there.

“…Mine? You sure you don’t want one of your mom’s cardigans or something?”

“Noooo, I definitely think I need yours,” you nodded. “The biggest one you have, if possible. Something that looks like it’s been through a war. OH- that police academy one you wore the other day, maybe? With the stains?” You tried to tamp down on the giddiness you were feeling at the thought of how frumpy you’re going look. This was going to be great.

Shane laughed under his breath. “That thing’s gonna swallow you, darlin’.”

“I know, it’s perfect.”

He disappeared into the closet and came back with a hoodie that looked soft and worn and unmistakably his. When he handed it over, your fingers brushed the soft, piling material. He cleared his throat.

“I hate to break it to ya, kid, but that things nowhere near fitting you.” He was clearly very amused with this whole occurrence.

“Exactly, that’s the point.” You tugged it on right there, fabric sliding down your arms, sleeves hiding your hands, hem grazing the hem of your shorts on your thighs. It felt absurd and comfortable and, strangely, a little intimate.

Shane stared.

Not rudely, but openly. Just long enough to tell you something wasn’t lining up in his head.

“And you’re plannin’ on wearin’ that out the house?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Shane knew you well enough by now to have picked up on the fact that you never left the house looking short of perfect.

“Sure am,” you chirped excitedly, unable to help yourself from primping in the mirror against the far wall.

“…Why? You going to some kind of themed party?”

And, for some reason, you didn’t lie.

You laughed first—too fast, too light—like maybe if you said it casually enough it wouldn’t sound insane. “Okay, well—this is going to sound terrible, but I’m kind of trying to get my boyfriend to break up with me.”

That earned you a real laugh—startled, loud, completely unguarded.

“You’re kiddin’.”

“I wish,” you blurted, and then it was like the dam broke and you couldn’t stop the words pouring from your mouth. “He’s just—Shane, he’s so boring. And I feel awful saying that, because he’s technically nice, but it’s the kind of nice where there’s nothing underneath it? Like beige walls. Or unseasoned chicken. And every time we hang out I feel like I’m doing homework instead of… I don’t know, living my life?”

You waved a hand, already spiraling. “And I keep telling myself that this is what being an adult is supposed to be like, right? Stable, predictable, whatever—but I’m just sitting there thinking, is this it? Is this what I’m signing up for forever? Because that feels like a trap.”

You sucked in a breath, face warm now.

“And—oh god—this is where it gets really tragic,” you rushed on. “He’s terrible in bed. Like not even awkward-because-he-cares terrible. Just… bad. Like he thinks effort is optional. Like he pats my hip after like he’s done a good job and I’m lying there staring at the ceiling wondering if I’ll have to fake a headache for the rest of my life.”

Shane turned his head away, coughing into his hand to cover the laugh that bubbled up.

“Alright,” he said, laughing harder despite himself. “That’s enough. Way more than I needed.”

You clamped your mouth shut, mortified, tugging the sweatshirt sleeves over your hands. “Sorry—sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking so much. I’m just so tired of feeling like I’m silly for wanting more.”

“So anyway,” you continued, lighter and matter-of-fact, “I figured if I stopped dressing like myself, he’d finally lose interest and break up with me.”

Shane leaned back against the wall, arms folding, gaze drifting over you again. Slower this time. Warmer. Locked in fully on you.

“Sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head, “that ain’t how men work.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “it’s not?”

“Nope.” His mouth tilted into a half-smile. “A man loves seein’ his woman in his clothes.”

Your stomach flipped, sharp and sudden.

“And,” he added, casual as could be, “he really hates seein’ her in someone else’s. Makes him territorial.”

“Oh,” you said slowly, glancing down at the sleeves pooling over your hands, “territorial is bad?”

Shane huffed a quiet laugh, eyes still on you. “Sweetheart,” he said, “wearing another man’s clothes doesn’t make you less appealing. It makes a man notice you more.”

You looked back up at him. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he replied, voice easy but unmistakably warm, “it makes a guy picture things. Wonder things. Start thinkin’ about you wearin’ his stuff instead. Maybe even start imaging you with nothing on at all.”

Your breath caught—just a little.

“Oh,” you said again, trying for casual and not quite landing it. “So this isn’t reading as ‘unattractive.’”

“No, ma’am,” he said softly. “Not even close.”

You tugged at the cuff again, suddenly very aware of how familiar the fabric felt. “Guess I picked the wrong strategy.”

Shane’s mouth curved, slow and knowing. “Guess you did.”

“Okay, well, I’ll… rethink things, I guess.” You backed away before either of you could say something worse, smile soft but pulse skittering. “Mind if I keep the sweatshirt for the day anyway?”

Shane didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even blink. “Be my guest, darlin’.”

Something warm flickered low in your chest. You turned and walked down the hall.

Behind you, Shane exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, voice barely audible—

“Lord help me.”

read more of my work here

let me know if you want to be tagged in the future here

GENERAL TAGLIST @spxideyver @tendertulip @n-o-p-e-never @fandomchik @tinas111 @0ccvltism @cupidzbunny @losers-clvb @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @thatg8rl @angelically-yours @dina-winchester @ilikw @lupinslibraries @kyleighsstuff @sadpods @mochminnie @spookyysinsanity @mindfulmesses @paristheonewhoreads @prettywhenipanic @mostlymarvelgirl @shortcyclicalstoner @dead-sirens @boba-is-a-soup @l3tholog1ca @allthingswickedpodcast @musesfromashes @mollymal @sh1a10

TWD @wwwdotwebsitedotcommed @xanaxiii

[hellilovedit]

Apologies I Won’t Make 

Boyfriend!Shane Walsh x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: A fight between you and Shane this morning left him needing you to be wrong. Funny thing about Shane when it comes to you…? He says one thing, but means another. He hates to admit it—and he won’t—but you’re right. 

Warnings: pre-apocalypse, asshole!Shane, very misogynistic Shane, sexist!Shane (if any of these even remotely trigger you, don’t read. I ain’t gonna fuckin’ hear it), Shane & Rick chattin’ shit, Shane’s down bad for you but it ain’t like he’s gonna show it well, slightly toxic relationship obvi, not proofread I’m so eepy, sexually suggestive, 18+ only MDNI

a/n: first time writing Shane help I’m scared and turned on and then I got tired and lost steam at the end so I’m sorry

w/c: ~2800

“I think we oughta be able ta bop women,” Shane muses, using both hands to smash his burger down. “Jus’-jus’ once. Not hard, y’know, not hittin’ ‘em by any means. I ain’t heartless. Jus’ a lil—“ Bop. A stiff flick of his backhand. “Get ‘em back in line. Used ta teach ‘em real quick ‘n real good back in the day. Ain’t hurtin’ ‘em or nuthin’, jus’ stop that mehmehmehmeh shit they get on.”

“She heard you say that, she’d slap your ass t’next Sunday.” Burger in hand, other arm draped over the wheel of the parked cruiser, Rick shakes his head. Looks out the window. “What’d she do now?” he asks, knowing damn well you aren’t the issue. “She leave the lights on again or change the thermostat?” 

Shane doesn’t need Rick to agree to anything. Shane’s always right and he knows it.

“On my ass soon as I get up, soon as I get home.” In mockery of yours, Shane’s voice pitches shrill. “You don’t ‘ppreciate anythin’ I do ‘round here, Shane Keith. You hear that shit? Usin’ my goddamn middle name. Goin’ on ‘bout sayin’ please, ‘n thanks, all that bullshit fer washin’ some damn socks ‘n makin’ sumthin’ halfway edible ta eat.” 

“A little please and a little thanks goes a long way with ‘em, Shane.” Rick flicks a glance over, bored in the repetitive honesty. “Try it some time. Might keep ‘er ‘round longer than a few months, do you some good.” 

Eyes narrowing on the windshield, Shane’s mouth hangs open for a few seconds. “Lemme ask you sumthin’, Rick. Ya say please, ya say thanks, throwin’ that shit out like confetti— tell me what happens the minute you stop, huh? Yer gonna get an ass full’a the mehmehmehmeh shit. Know what, I bet you like it, don’t’cha?”

Brow quirked, Rick blindly grabs a fry from the wrapper in his lap, looking at Shane. “…Like what?” 

“Goin’ home ‘n gettin’ yer balls busted by Lori. Listenin’ to her mehmehmeh over nuthin‘.” 

“Mine don’t get busted,” Rick gives another pointed look. “‘Cuz I use my manners, which I don’t believe you’ve heard of. Say please, say thanks, all’s good in the world. Simple.” 

“Bah,” Shane waves him off. Takes a gluttonous bite of his burger. Chews a bit before he pushes it to his cheek to keep on bitching. “I done tol’ her ‘f I come home ‘n she’s got more’a that fuckin’ tuna noodle casserole? I’m kickin’ ‘er ass to the curb. Put a damn gun in m’mouth ‘f I gotta eat more’a that shit.” 

Now Rick laughs, a genuine bubble he can’t help. 

“Shit ain’t funny, man! Tryna poison me with that nasty ass bullshit. Jesus, tha’s shit they conjure up in the pen. Who the fuck puts peas ‘n canned tuna in the oven ‘n thinks tha’s right? Feedin’ me worse than a damn convict, hell.” Ketchup oozes over the top of the sauce cup, Shane plunging a handful of fries in it.  

“You come home ‘n she’s got tuna noodle casserole waitin’ on you?” Rick points his burger at Shane. “I suggest you say thank you ‘n can I please have more?” 

“More like please throw this shit outside, ‘n thanks fer tryna kill me.”

Laughter subduing, Rick only seems to be able to shake his head, lips quirked with inevitable amusement in another man’s stupidity. 

Elbow on the console, Shane leans over to dissect the scheme of the dreaded tuna noodle. “Stray cats don’t even touch it. What’s that tell you?”

Face as cool as can be, Rick raises his brows. “Tells me maybe she really does wanna kill yer ass and in court? I’m on her side.” 

“Shiiit. Fuck y’all, man.” 

Thought ‘bout you all goddamn day. Georgia heat pissin’ him off, takin’ that bad mood to a boil. 

Your face earlier. That stupid sad look you’ve managed to weaponize while you stood at the sink, lips twisted tight, eyes on the facet. Just barely holdin’ it together. ”You never appreciate anything I do around here, Shane Keith,” you gritted. “You’re a real asshole, you know that? Ungrateful. Rude. I’m not asking you for much. Just a please and thanks once in a while. Something nice instead of gettin’ bitched at sun up to sun down. Everything I do’s wrong according to you.” 

Thought ‘bout his response too. Or… lack of one, maybe. 

“You don’t like this shit, sweetheart?” he’d chided. “I ain’t good ‘nough fer you? You know where the door is. Use them pretty lil’ fingers ‘n walk on out ‘f that suits you better.” 

You got the last word in. Struck the fear of god in him good. 

“Maybe I will,” you’d said.

Three words. That’s all. 

And by God if you didn’t sound dead serious. 

Grocery store’s always a little different late at night. Eleven o’clock, just a few strays in the aisles with red-rimmed eyes and dirty clothes. Always smells like cool produce and cold fried chicken from the deli they’ll sell again tomorrow. 

Shoulders rounded from a long day, longer shift, Shane trudges up and down the aisles with a thumb hooked in his belt. Badge and holster jingles, that usual cocky, authoritative swagger to his booted steps. Blowing a staggered, attempted casual breath through his teeth, Shane parks himself in front of the candy. 

Candy. You like chocolate. He can do chocolate. Shit’s easy. So he grabs a mid-tier bag he’s seen you with before, little thing you tuck into the pantry as if he’ll eat it all first. 

…Thennn his eyes drift up. 

Higher priced shit, tastes all the same, he knows that. Individually wrapped bullshit, like that makes it fancier. 

A debate happens in his head, eyes still with a mental assessment. 

Spend stupid money, get stupid prizes. 

Brownie points with you ain’t all that stupid, though. 

With an exaggerated sigh, he yanks off a bag of the fancy shit. Assorted dark chocolates. The kinda stuff you’ll eat with a good bottle of wine after a tough day. Maybe even a night like tonight, after Shane gave you hell this morning. 

If you’re still there. 

Next stop’s the fridge. Pulling the door open, air spills out in a frost around his broad, uniformed shoulders. Grabs a half gallon of chocolate milk. Again—one of your favorites. You ain’t a hard woman to please. 

He’s stalling now, wandering the rows of prepackaged crap. The more he ain’t home, the less he’s gotta kiss ass. 

Next to pile into the crook of his arm is a box of shells and cheese. Not the powder kind. You only like the liquid gold kind. 

To the liquor section, he passes the flowers. Bouquets bright enough to blind a man. Being summoned to consider them—gettin’ you some goddamn flowers—he falters a step. Half a second contemplation makes his skin crawl. “Aw, hell,” he curses the thought. 

Damn near shudders at the idea, and it’s enough to get his ass in gear. Up and outta there, away from those flowers. 

What he will do, though? Yeah. That bottle of sweet, sparkly more-juice-than-wine you drink. Few glasses of that and he should be off the hook. 

The front door of the apartment clicks shut behind Shane. 

Silence follows. 

Empty silence. Darkness with it. Not a light on anywhere to indicate you’re home waitin’. 

No patterin’ of your feet when the door locks. 

No callin’ out his name with a sweet hello. 

Don’t even smell like tuna noodle casserole. That’d normally be a good sign. But tonight it smells vacant. Like nothin’s been touched. Like a big, well-earned: fuck you, Shane. 

Makes his gut pull, knot up all wrong.  He’d meant it, what he said earlier. 

…to a degree. 

Didn’t think you’d actually take the bait. 

Plastic bag in tow, Shane cranes his head, grits his jaw, and storms in for the kitchen ‘cause of course you had to make this a big deal, of course you—

Of course you’re… there? 

Perched at the table, bottle of wine a quarter from gone, fancy ass glass in front of you. 

In the dark, mind you. Just one lone candle—apple spice—lit beside you. 

Lookin’ every bit like a fresh drink of water in his old King County Sheriff’s shirt and maybe… just maybe like you don’t hate him yet. 

Boots thudding to a stop across the room, you blink from a trance and look at him with a wine-blank expression. Kinda face you make after a few drinks and you’re gonna chew him out nicely. 

And by god, he looks right back. Bottom lip tucked into his mouth, eyes squinted. You don’t speak first. Fine. 

“Girl, whatchu doin’ sittin’ in the dark for?” he asks. “Can turn a light on—one—don’t need the whole damn thing lit up like it’s fuckin’ Christmas.” 

Eyes on your glass, you shrug a little thing. Pushing it by the stem, a slow breath deflates your shoulders; some internal valve depressurizing. “I thought about not coming back. After work today. Thought about calling off, grabbing my things, and leaving the key on the counter.” 

Shane nods along, tongue raking over his teeth as he plays cool. “Mhm. Then?” 

“Then… I dunno,” you say with a breathy laugh, but it’s far from humored. “Felt like giving you one more chance, maybe. Seeing what you do with it. For how long.” 

Shane’s dealt with this time and time again. Nothin’ new there. 

What is new, though, is the squeeze in his ribs. Some internal mechanism telling him this is the only time he ever gave a shit about. You, the only person, he’s ever given a shit about coming or going. 

When Shane doesn’t answer, your eyes drift to the bag. You dip a nod at it. “What’s that?” 

He follows your gaze to it. Feels real stupid now. This bag, the shit in it. Weighs more than it should. Costed more than it should. Drawing a steeling breath through his nose, he walks the rest of the way over. Setting the bag in front of you, his other hand plants on the back of your chair. Caging you, without really restraining, he dominates the space you’re in with his body. 

“…What is this, Shane? Seriously.” A confused flit of your lashes has you leaning back, hands hovering the white bag. The THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING print obscuring the contents. 

“Thinkin’ ‘bout you t’day,” he admits with flat honesty, no real indication of the faint pang in his chest. “S’all.” 

Could be good, bad. His tone doesn’t let on to much. 

His hand finds the top of your head. Gives a little affectionate ruffle of your hair before stilling, staying there. 

Your eyes meet. 

His, exhausted from the bullshit day, rough edges softened in the slightest. 

Yours, wary to get your hopes up, but you do anyway. 

He nods at the bag: your signal. 

Brows furrowed, you scoot the wine glass aside. One by one, you reach in. Plastic rustles. Glass clinks. You find the chocolate milk first and huff a laugh before you even get it out of the bag. 

“Generous,” you tease. 

“Ain’t nothin’ too good fer my girl,” he teases back. 

But the humor fades away as you keep going. Chocolate milk. Mac and cheese. Chocolates—like, the good kind. The kind for holidays and birthdays good. Wine. 

Hands wedged in your lap, you study the assortment in front of you with a tilted head and wrinkled brows. “…Shane… What’s all this for? I don’t get it.” 

“Milk’s meant fer drinkin’, ya eat the mac—”

Your swat to his stomach gets him to stop, but your eyes stay trained on the haul. “Be serious.” 

Shane shifts his weight. His hand, too. It falls to the nape of your neck, holding you in place. A gentle rock of his hand sways your body, summons you to look up at him. ”Now looky here, darlin’. You listenin’?” he asks, tongue peeking between his lips as he studies you for compliance. 

Skeptical, but listening, you nod. 

“Good. Listen real close, only gonna say this once, hm? I don’t got time ta go ‘round givin’ you constant praise fer all the shit you do. It ain’t gonna work like that.” 

Shane reads it all over your face: what the fuck is this spiel? 

A little patronizing, a little affectionate, Shane dips his head to be in your face. “Listen up ‘n you listen good, alright? You listenin’ ta me?” 

“Yes, I’m listenin’. Let’s hear it.” 

Mouth open, tongue frozen while forming the words, the corner of his mouth twitches up in a disbelieving smirk ‘cause he can’t even believe the shit he’s about to say. 

You wait, the patience of a saint, eyes noting every bit of hesitancy in his face. 

“…‘ppreciate ‘chu. All the shit ya do. ‘Kay? We clear on that?”  

Spine straightening under his hand—his bit of praise—you sit an inch taller and your cheeks go taut with a stifled smile. 

“Thanks fer not makin’ that vile casserole, ‘n please, Lord, baby, have mercy, stop bustin’ my balls. They can’t take much more. Alright? We clear?” 

When Shane looks back down at you, goddamn you glow. Ain’t fair, lookin’ so cute and knowing after he just poured out his heart and soul like that. 

“…Did you just apologize to me?” you ask, so delighted it’s evil, he swears. 

“Girl, ain’t nuthin’ I gotta apologize for!” 

“Oh my god, you so did!” 

“You better shut yer damn mouth ‘fore I take all this shit back. Don’t think I won’t. Store’s still open.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” you say, clambering up to your knees in the chair. 

Your arms swing around his neck, your chest smooshing into his. He can feel the warm swell of your tits through his uniform, putting that impish glint in his eyes right quick. 

“Don’t try me, darlin’,” he warns, big hands snaking around your hips, twining around your back. And lower, one inch at a time, until they rest over the plush of your ass. He grabs greedy fistfuls of your ass, pushing your hips into his. “C’mon now, kiss yer man, huh? Lemme make it right. Lemme make it up to ya.” 

Grin splitting your face, you hum as his hands work so desperately at your ass, waist, back. Anywhere he can possess, he does, burying his face in the crook of your neck to latch mean, hot kisses against the sensitive skin. “Mmm, off to a good start. I’d like to finish this in the bath, though. With the wine. And the chocolate.” 

“Bath—?” He pops off your neck, lips slick with saliva. “Girl, how the hell you think we’re both gonna fit in the damn bath?” 

All misleading innocence, you blink up at him and scoff. “Well I’m gonna be on top of you, of course.” 

“Shit,” he huffs, hooking his hands behind your thighs to lift you up, lock you around his front so he can rut his cock against you. “Naw, we gonna shower, baby. Fuck you good, jus’ like this.” 

Ankles crossed, heels in his back, you perch in his arms to shove your tits closer to his face. “Fine, but I’m still bringing the wine. And the chocolate.” 

“Mhm,” as he nudges sloppy kisses over your collarbone, sucking skin into his mouth to bruise. “Better get yer shit,” he mumbles against your skin, taking a step to trail off. “Runnin’ outta patience.”

You fumble back. One hand snags the bottle, the other gets the chocolate before it’s just out of reach. 

But Shane doesn’t go for the bathroom. Carrying you like an attachment, he goes for the for the fridge. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask, staring over his shoulder with a longing for the shower. 

“Baby, Christ sake, I worked all damn day. I’m hungry.” 

“I got leftover tun—”

“Girl, don’t.” 

“Oh, stop.” Wriggling out of his arms, you discard your goodies to the counter and wave him off. “Go. Go on. Take my shit and go get in the shower, I’ll make you a damn sandwich, you bastard.” 

“D’aww… sweetheart. I ever tell you I ‘ppreciate you?” 

Omg I’m exhausted after this? LOL. The biggest thank you to @gradysbaby for looking over my opening lines and making sure it sounded Shane-enough! My Shane queen 🥹🩷

I don’t have tag list for Shane bc idk if anyone in my Frank tags gonna be triggered by him, so tags for Shane are open for 18+ users.

content is mine, always without the use of AI. i am strongly against AI in fandoms. do not share or repost on any other site without consent of the author (hi, me). characters are not mine. do not feed my work to any AI platforms. this is not a place for anyone under 18.

please consider reblogging to help this reach more people! comments are massively appreciated! if you’re not comfortable commenting publicly, consider sending an anon ask! 🩷🩷🩷 THANK YOU!

divider cred: graphiclost / pics & gif from Pinterest

[bernthalsgf]

dry humping with shane walsh.

best read while listening to “crush” ethel cain ⋆｡⋆𖦹.

“already told ya no, baby.” shane for the eighth time grunted. you were meant to be focusing on patrol but that quickly went out the window when you couldn’t stop staring at his print.

“please, shane!” you pleaded, its embarrassing at this point but shane doesn’t budge.

“quit your whining, sweetheart, i already—“ he watches you pout, scoffing and continuing to look at the road ahead.

frustrated and horny you start to slide your hand up and up until it rests on his crotch, smirking as you start to move your hand.

shane almost chokes, not thinking you’d be this bold so he finally looks you in the eye. “you ain’t gonna give up, are you baby?”

you shake your head repeatedly and almost squirm in your seat as shane pulls over. he undos his seatbelt and pats his thigh saying: “have at it, baby.”

you start climbing over the console until you are fully situated in his lap, still fully clothed, too impatient to wait. you start moving your hips desperately.

shane grips onto your hips, muttering into your ear “so fuckin’ desperate, baby girl.” you repeatedly nod, a whimper escaping your lips.

“shane—“ he smirks at that. “yeah, bunny?” he moves the hair out of your face. “i-it feels so good—“ he nods, “i know it does, baby. you gonna come for me?”

you nod, moving faster to chase the on coming orgasm. he kisses your jaw and you completely break. “mmph! shane—“

he stifles as moan as you come on his lap, even through your panties he can feel the wetness. “fuck, baby. did so good f’me.” he caresses your jaw and you smile brightly up at him.

“maybe ill let you come on patrols more often, hm?” he tilts his head “could use this typa help out here.” you try to not seem overly excited but you fail, already imagining what you and shane will get up to next time.

reblogs are appreciated

hiiii! my first ever fic so it’s probably ass🫩 but i hope you enjoy! requests are open for any ideas<3

[carbonfiction]

Cruel to be kind

Summary: the one where you realize something about Shane's habbits.

Masterlist

Warnings: smutty themes from the start; set as shane begins to change his personality in the early seasons, indescript mentions of piv sex, blowjobs/throat fucks, pussy spanks and fem!recieving oral. Mean!shane vibes lowkey

Something you've noticed about Shane is that he's kindest after he's cruel.

He might've fucked you down on the forrest floor, twigs and leaves getting caught in your hair, but his apology after was sweet. He'd pulled you into his lap, softening cock still nestled into your gummy walls leaking pearly cum, gently pulling free the greenery. His thumb careful, wet with spit, as it swiped the few streaks of dirt from your skin.

"S' make it all better hm? Get my girl nice n' clean"

He was the same again when he'd pushed you to your knees against a tree, knees rubbed raw, as he'd bullied his way into your throat. Your head had bumped against bark, an ache forming quickly. But Shane hadn't stopped, hadn't slowed, hell hardly noticed as he fucked his way to spilling down your throat. You were covered in spit, lips and cheeks shiney with it after deep retches that left you drooling. Not to mention the soggy slaps against your cheek with his cock as he angled you to work his balls. Shane had cleaned you up after though, cooing quietly, swiping away fat tears with his own shirt.

"Did so good baby, s' good. Lookin all pretty when you get messy."

Then there was that time you'd made a misjudgment, put yourself in danger and he'd spanked your poor cunt raw.

You couldn't move, hands bound against your spine, body dropped over his lap. You couldn't squeal either; not wanting the rest of the camp to hear the second, more punishing, part of his chastisement. Your pussy drooled by the time he was done, firey hot and swollen with a sick kind of need. Pitiful tears rolled silently down your cheeks, soon kissed away by his lips.

"Nawh shhh shh, s' alright. Poor things all tonight.. S' mean aint i"

It hurt badly, but he'd laid you down after, untied you with a guilty glimmer in his eye. Shane had soon wiggled his way between your thighs again then, this time in apology, tongue flicking out in broad laps against needy flesh. He licked and kissed you down there, pussy sore and swollen as he'd lavished attention to your achey little clit he'd been the one to abuse.

"Awh there she is.. Theres my baby. Gon' make it all better. Shaneys gotcha"

That was just Shane now it seemed. Changed- changing- with each day in a world with no rules left to follow. He wasn't bad, Wasn't mean, not before all this anyway.

But that was life now.. And you take his cruelty first if it ment being back in his arms for a little while. You'd bask in that fleeting kindness, In the gentle touches and honyed words that come after the punishing ones, because deep down that was still your Shane.

The one before the world and he lost its mind.