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.
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