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
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
The Walking Dead fanfic, (season 1! daryl x fem!reader) SMUT 18+ MDNI
a/n: I meant for this to be a quick 2k one shot and got carried away.
this is my first twd fanfic so please let me know if its ooc, I know season one daryl is kind of a jerk, but you can still see how sweet he can be!! in-between his angry outbursts lol, enjoy!
***18+ MDNI***18+ MDNI***18+ MDNI***18+ MDNI***
Tags: fem!masturbation, semi public!sex (in the woods), fin in v, cvm eating (brief), slight voyeurism (she doesn't know until after that he was watching her, but in his defense she was calling his name...), getting caught! trope, mentions of canon typical gore, cussing (duh)
Summary: You let your imagination get the best of you and when you go to blow off steam you call all sorts of trouble to you.
You had all you could handle from Shane’s mouth for the day. Part of the group that hadn’t gone into Atlanta was working on laundry, but Shane had asked you to do a perimeter patrol with him. Originally you were pleasantly surprised about him feeling confident enough in your shooting skills, but now you were trying to figure out how many handfuls of dead leaves it would take to shut him up. It was one critique after another with him.
“Don’t hold your gun like that. You looking for every damn stick to step on? Why are you twisting your wrist like that? Don’t do that. Make sure you turn the safety off. Jesus, just follow my steps. God damn woman, who taught you to walk?” The frustration you had for him boiled in your chest.
When you had first met the group, it was on the highway not too far from camp and you had thought Shane was easy on the eyes but the second he opened his mouth any warm feelings you had a hint of dried up and vanished. Over time, Lori has tried to ease the tension by explaining that Shane meant well but you suspected different. There was an aggression in his eyes that lingered longer then is should, and you weren’t the only one on uneven terms with him.
You were pulled out of your mental rant when Shane stopped dead in his tracks.
“Wha-“ you began.
“Hush up.” He threw out his hand, like he was going to cover your mouth, but your body instantly recoiled from his touch. You glared at the back of his head before scanning the surrounding area. You heard faint footsteps crunching the leaves and your heart started to hammer.
A walker slowly came into view as it stumbled between the trees, your gun raised, aimed at his head but Shane’s hand shot out again. “Are you stupid, woman? Don’t shoot, it’ll draw more. I got this.” A smirk appeared and he puffed out his chest as he holstered his gun and pulled out a large hunting knife. Your eyes almost hurt with how hard you rolled them at him; his cocky attitude was his biggest flaw.
He looked pleased as punch with himself, smirk plastered on his face as the walker dropped to the ground, finally getting its true rest and you couldn’t take it anymore.
As you spun on your heels and walked away you could hear Shane try to ask where you were going and when you gave no response his bootstraps followed you.
“HEY!” Shane’s voice boomed, “Where the hell are you going?” His thickly accented voice sounded like a parent trying to scold their child for disobeying and the lid you had on your anger flew away.
“Wherever the hell I want! I’m a grown woman and I’m tired of hearing you bitch, Shane. Go back to camp or don’t, I don’t care but FUCK OFF!” You had spun around, walking backwards as you threw attitude at him and when you yelled, your hand not gripping your gun flipped him the bird. He stood there, hands on his hips, for a beat before stomping after you again.
“Oh, I do not think so, princess” venom dripped off every word and pure rage bloomed in your chest, “You know it’s not safe to be out here alone. Be pissed at me all you want but you’re walking that ass back to camp. You can be pissed there.” His long legs caught up to you quick and the hand that wrapped around your bicep tugged you hard. Hard enough that your balance is thrown and your body unfortunately collides with his chest.
His warm breath fans over your face and disgust contorts your expression. You push off his chest immediately, but he hadn’t let go of your upper arm so you couldn’t go far.
“Now what the hell got your panties in a twist?” His hand shook your body a bit, as if trying to rattle the truth out of you.
You tried, in vain, to push away from him but his grip stayed firm.
“Shane let me go.” Your voice was deep and had a growl in it, “I’m tired of hearing you bitch about every fucking breath I take. You wanna complain? Then DO IT YOURSELF. LET ME GO.” Your nails started clawing at his hand, trying to lift his fingers as you yelled, not caring how many walkers came to the sound of your voice.
In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best move, picking a fight with Shane away from the rest of the group, but you couldn’t take it anymore. Shane changed his disposition drastically when he sheathed his knife. He pulled your arm behind your back and threw his other around your neck to hold you still. You kicked and clawed, trying your hardest to get away from him but his arms were made of iron.
You let out a shriek of anger before he tensed the arm, he had around your throat, “Will you Shut. Up. You are gonna bring every damn walker straight to us.” His breath tickled your ear making you squirm harder.
You were feeling your head get a bit fuzzy at the pressure, your hands slapping at his arms when you felt something slam into Shane, tipping you both over. You fell to the ground gasping in air as your hand moved to your throat. You heard Shane fighting with whatever had taken you both down and fearing it was a walker; you rolled over, drawing your gun.
Daryl was at the end of your barrel, shoving Shane further away from you. You gasped seeing him there and you dropped your gun immediately. They broke apart and Daryl placed his body between you and Shane.
“The hell’s the matter with you?” His arm swinging at Shane as he yelled, “Don’t put your hands on her like that, your twice her size asshole.”
“She was the one that lost her damn mind! Trying to go off into the woods alone.” Shane screamed right back. “You trying to bring every walker into camp you fucking bitch or do you just have a death wish?” He shifted his head to look at you, but Daryl blocked his line of sight.
Daryl had heard the fight you two were having, walking through the woods tracking the walker Shane took down. He shook his head but didn’t move an inch.
“Then I’ll watch her back, you can go back to doing whatever you want Shane.” You stared, stunned, at Daryl’s crossbow slung on his back. He was the quieter one compared to his brother Merle, but Daryl still ran his mouth with the rest of them back at camp. He wasn’t one to be described as chivalrous, but here he was.
Shane laughed but it was twisted with malice, “Oh you’re here now? You trying to be some sort of hick prince charming? HA. This is rich.” He put a hand on his hip, thumb brushing against his split lip, courtesy of Daryl. “You know what? Take her, I never should’ve brought this dumb bitch out here anyway. Go back to camp.” Shane stormed off but neither you nor Daryl moved.
You had noticed how red his neck and ears had gotten when Shane called him a hick prince and you didn’t know what to say to him. You had felt something wiggle in your chest as he yelled at Shane but now you felt mortified that you were shoved off on him, like a burden. It seemed like Shane’s taunts hung in the air between you. When you opened your mouth to apologize Daryl’s feet started moving.
“Wait!” Your hand shot out to grab his wrist, but he yanked it away at your touch. You felt tingles in your hand from the quick contact, as if his skin had been electric. He stopped walking but still wouldn’t turn around to look at you. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry to be a burden but thank you. For stopping Shane.” You saw his head dip and caught his faint voice.
“Don’t need to thank me.” And he started walking again.
When you both had made it back to the camp’s perimeter he stalked off back into the woods, not having looked at you the entire walk back. You stared after him, that wiggle in your chest getting stronger. You let out a huff and made your way down to the water; you may as well help the others with the rest of laundry.
The days that followed were the most chaotic you’ve ever had. Gaining Rick, but losing Merle, then having the walkers tear through camp, and losing more friends. Losing members of the group hurt more than losing their home but both were heavy blows to the group’s morale. Being on the road again was dangerous, all of you looking over your shoulders with every noise, but you needed to get to the CDC.
Making camp each night on the side of the roads was becoming second nature. Everyone knew their job, unloading only what was needed to have a comfortable night’s rest. You had been watching Daryl more since that day in the woods, and that wiggle in your chest turned into butterflies when you watched him. You began to appreciate unpacking each night just so you could see his arms flex, the way he silently helped everyone in camp because he thought no one would notice.
Sure, he was rough around the edges, and his anger was explosive and violent at times, but you had seen a crack in his armor, revealing a gooey center he hid fiercely. You had solidified the theory when you caught him passing Sophia and Carl some extra bits of his dinner the other night. Again, while he thought no one else was looking.
Daryl Dixon was a softie!
Everyone was gathered around the fire for dinner with Dale on watch, sitting on top of his RV parked on the edge of the road. As dinner was finished and the kids were put to bed you couldn’t help but notice that Daryl was absent.
You were seated next to Glenn, who was picking at his empty plate, but your mind lingered on Daryl. You assumed he must have gone to his tent for the night, not in the mood to socialize with everyone. Giving in to the temptation, you let your mind roll back to the view of his muscles bulging as he worked to unpack camp today and layered it over the last time you got laid. The conversation around the fire wasn’t very stimulating but you weren’t ready to go to sleep on the ground, so you let yourself get lost in the fantasy of what Daryl’s hands would feel like grabbing your hips, pulling your body flush with his.
To say it had been a while since you had that kind of intimacy was an understatement. Even before the apocalypse had started it had been a while, you couldn’t even remember the face of the last guy you slept with but that wasn’t important. Your imagination supplied all you needed as you stared into the fire, unconsciously biting the inside of your cheeks.
A sharp jab to your side brought you crashing back to reality. Your head shot up, the conversation around the fire was still going so you looked to the source of the jab. Glenn.
“Are you okay? You were staring at the fire for a while.” His voice was soft, low enough that no one else noticed.
Pink popped on your cheeks, and you avoided his gaze, “Yeah- yeah, I’m good. Just lost in thought I guess.” You forced a chuckle in a vain attempt to cover up your embarrassment. You realized how flushed your body felt and fanned your face.“Actually, I’m getting a bit warm. I’m gonna get some space from the fire.” You stood, checking your knife, still tucked into your shorts. You turned to walk into the woods when Glenn called out to you again.
“Wait, are you sure you want to walk into the woods at night? It’s dangerous out there. I can come with you if you want?” You knew he meant well as he rose from the fire, but you raised a hand to stop him.
“I promise I won’t go far Glenn. If I need some back up, I’ll scream, okay?” Not waiting to wait for his confirmation you spun on your heel to head into the night but a gentle hand on your wrist stopped you again.
You looked over your shoulder to see Glenn. He held out a flashlight, and his puppy eyes bore into your own. When you took it, he went back to his spot by the fire without another word.The night air licked at your flushed body, but your mind was back on Daryl. You swung the light around as you walked, no destination in mind, your breath getting heavy. Images were flashing in your brain, Daryl shirtless as he worked, his low voice tickling your ear. You thought back to the sparks you felt when your hand brushed his and wondered if you would get the same sparks all over your body at his touch. There was heat sizzling in your blood and a familiar slick feeling gathering between your legs as you walked.
Your heart racing from the fantasy you were building in your mind. Giving into the temptation, you decided to masturbate. Fuck it, life was short.
It had been a while since you made yourself cum, long overdue if you were being honest. You quickly looked behind to make sure you were far enough away from camp that no one would hear you as your hand popped the button on your shorts open. You leaned against the tree closest to you as your hand plunged into the fabric, pushing past the hem of your underwear.
Corse hair was the first thing you felt as your fingers slid down to your aching cunt. You could feel your underwear sticking to your skin, soaked from your own imagination. A soft moan fell from your lips as you felt how wet you were, your clit twitched at the friction. You move your fingers lower, circling over your entrance, and your hips do a small roll at the pleasure.
This is the first time you’ve touched yourself since the world went to hell, and honestly you had forgotten how delicious the heat building up inside you was.
You spread your juice all over yourself before giving your clit the attention it deserved. You let out a whine as two fingers applied pressure while circling yourself, and the image of Daryl took over your brain. Your eyelids closed to focus on him, pretending your hand was his instead of your own. Pleasure curled low in your body, shooting up into your heart in staggering strikes.
You let the flashlight Glenn had given you fall to the forest floor so that hand could slip under your shirt and bra pinching and rolling your hard nipple between your fingertips. The action made your hips jerk and more moans were pulled from you.
As your hands worked your body and you tried to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help yourself. Letting some slip out as your hips continued to roll, his name on the tip of your tongue.
You were already close, the tension building and you were panting between moans. His blue eyes were in your mind, and you could almost feel his warmth behind you, supporting your weight while his hands moved around you.
Your hand left your tits to join the other in your pants, and you wasted no time plunging two fingers into your aching pussy. It had been so long since you had been stretched out that even your fingers felt like too much. The tree bark was digging into your shoulder blades, but you didn’t care, your knees were weak from the euphoria.
Feeling your tight walls contract on your fingers brings Daryl’s name from your lips. If he had heard you moaning his name, he would hear how desperate you were to get his fingers on your body, stretching you out to fit him perfectly. You were far from camp, no need to hold back, right?
The thought of his thick fingers replacing yours drove you into a frenzy, your fingers circling your swollen clit to speed up and press down harder making your knees start to shake.
Daryl’s name was muddled between your moans after that, you’re panting louder. You were on the verge of ecstasy, about to let yourself fall off the edge when something rustled the leaves near you.
The sound almost pulled you completely from the moment, but your orgasm shattered through you and without thinking you moaned Daryl’s name louder than before.
You sagged against the rough bark of the tree wanting to relish in the high, but you couldn’t ignore the sound. Pulling your wet fingers from your shorts and buttoning them back up as quickly as you could, you leaned down for the flashlight you had dropped. You were worried there was a walker nearby. Your body was still buzzing and twitching from your orgasm, and it had your chest heaving. You flashed the light in the direction of the noise, expecting to see a walker shambling towards you but the forest was empty.
Spinning in a circle to check you were still alone you let out a chuckle. It must have been some little critter running in the night. The realization of what you did, making yourself cum to Daryl Dixon, didn’t feel real but the butterflies you got from thinking of him now proved it.
You started to walk back to camp but heard the rustle of leaves again, this time you turned immediately towards the sound and caught the silhouette of someone ducking around a tree. Your body froze immediately.
If there was someone around that tree that means…
Oh God.
Oh God.
Someone heard you. While you were moaning Daryl’s name.
You wanted to run as far and as fast as you could. Or get eaten by a passing walker. Anything to get you far from whoever was hiding behind the tree.
The light didn’t move so whoever was behind the tree was trapped and seeing as you couldn’t move your body from shock, both of you were stuck.
Your mouth is the first thing to unfreeze, “Either you step out from behind the tree or I’m walking around it” You had hoped to put some bark in it to be intimidating but it came out quiet and strained.
There was no movement from behind the tree, and the anxiety that shot through your system ruined whatever glow your orgasm had brought you. You were about to start walking around the side of the tree when the person hiding moved into your light.
You stopped breathing when Daryl’s blue eyes met yours, feeling an extreme whole-body flush, red taking over your face at the complete mortification you felt.
Your jaw dropped open, but no words came out.
Trying to gather your thoughts is hard. How do you talk to someone that you were just thinking about while you made yourself cum in the middle of the damn woods? What do you say?
‘Maybe,’ you try to find a way to move past the embarrassment, ‘maybe he didn’t hear me? Is there any way that he is hard of hearing all of a sudden? He could’ve walked up just right at the end and maybe the sound of something blurred my words?’
You can’t even buy your own flimsy lie, but your mouth starts moving to kill the silence that stretched out.
“How long were you there?” Your heart was jumping in your chest as you speak softly, but Daryl just continued to stare at you.
It was annoying how hard his face was to read; you couldn’t tell if he was disgusted or freaked out but the set in his jaw had you nervous.
‘God, he’s going to hate me for this.’
The urge to run away was growing from each second of silence but you had to hear what he said. There was a false hope, that he didn’t hear anything, that you clung to.
“Did you say my name?” His voice is as quiet as yours was, but it still shot into you, the words straightening your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, not without knowing how he would react. You knew you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in front of him.
“I thought you were back at camp.”
A desperate attempt to stall for more time. You still couldn’t read his face, and you had never been more tense. Dread was sinking into your bones making you feel a chill in the air.
He shook his head while you spoke, “Did you say my name?”
You couldn’t avoid it again, but you took a step back and dropped your eyes to your shoes. Your voice was barely a whisper, “Yes.”
Daryl takes two steps forward, his beat-up boots coming into view.
“Why?” His voice is breathy and the opposite of what you expected. You were expecting him to be disgusted, maybe even to yell at you.
Finally, you raise your head to meet his gaze and see what’s brewing in his storm blue eyes. The set in his jaw isn’t disgust; he’s holding himself back.
'It's the end of the world, what's the worst that can happen? Fuck it, be bold' the voice in the back of your mind gives you the push you need to throw caution to the wind.
“I can’t stop watching you, Daryl. Ever since you saved me from Shane I,” Going against the anxiety that still lingered you take a step closer to him. Close enough that your chests are almost touching. His eyes flick down and back up so quickly you almost miss it. “I can’t stop thinking about you Daryl. Tonight, I was thinking about how your hands would do a better job than mine.”
His body is leaning towards you, but his hands stay balled up at his side, not saying a word. So you decide to follow your bold streak.
You pop the button of your shorts again and slowly pull the zipper down, something you didn’t even make time for earlier. You kept watching his face, but his eyes dropped down to watch your hand. You weren’t rushing your movements, letting him drink in every detail he missed the first time.
Curiosity started to replace the anxiety, when would he break? Already his hands uncurled, and his warm breath was fanning your face from how close he was. When your hand slips under the elastic hem of your underwear again you don’t hold back the quiet hum, you’re still soaked.
That’s what broke him.
His hands rise towards you, one hand grabbing your waist to pull you in close while the other hand rips yours from your shorts replacing it with his. A gasp came from both of you when his fingers felt how wet you were from a few minutes ago, and you feel his fingers brush against your clit. Your hands drop the flashlight and fall to his shirt bunching the fabric to keep you steady as you widen your stance a bit. His arms were warm and strong, his face dropped in close, his hand alone sending ripples down your body, jerking your hips encouraging his hand lower.
Daryl pushed his hand down, rubbing a straight line down to your core and back up to your clit. It was still sensitive from your first orgasm, and you hiss through your teeth. The heat of him alone driving you crazy.
His thumb rubs slow circles before dipping down to collect more cum, making your knees turn weak. It sent a wave up to your chest jerking your hips into him again, this time a moan gets dragged out of you. The hand he had grabbing your waist moved to wrap around your lower back to help support your weight, your foreheads touching.
Daryl’s fingers found a steady rhythm, whimpers spilling from your mouth more frequently and he was loving every second of it. He took pleasure in watching you unravel in his hands this easily. He didn't know he had this kind of effect on you.
Heat surged from you, bleeding into him, your cheeks flushed with lust and you wrapped an arm around his neck as your hips start to match his motions. His blue eyes are locked on his hand in your pants, pulling his wrist back slightly to get a better view of his glistening fingers.
“Fuck, you got this wet just from thinking of me huh?” Theres a smirk on his lips but your eyes flutter closed when he presses a fingertip flat against your opening. His thumb hasn’t stopped its torturous pattern around your clit, and your hips press down harder begging his hand to slip a finger inside. He has the audacity to chuckle at your attempt, intentionally pressing his thumb harder to make you moan again.
Your eyes open and you move quickly to crush your lips to his. The fingers on your cunt freeze but the arm around your back pulls you into his chest tight and he tilts his head to get a better angle. You lick a hot line across his lower lip, and he opens his mouth to meet you immediately. Kissing him was as intoxicating as you had imagined earlier.
Rolling your hips as your tongue slides into his mouth gets his fingers moving again but they begin to slowly slide in. Feeling your soft lips on his had shortened his patience.
He swallows all the high-pitched whines that fall from your lips, your pussy trying to stretch around his two fingers. He can feel every small twitch as he fills you up. His thumb goes back to twirling around your sensitive apex to help you stay soaked.
You pull your lips away from his to gasp when his fingers bottom out.
“You good?” Daryl nudges your nose with his, thumb still slowly working your clit as you adjusted to him. He could feel your sharp breath, and kept his fingers still despite his intense desire to start pumping his fingers already.
A pleased hum and a drunk nod were all you could give him at the moment; your brain was short circuiting. If this was just two of his fingers his cock would be a feat.
You moved your hips, slowly rolling, trying to get him to start, but it’s his turn to let out a groan feeling how warm and tight you were around him, responding to every movement you made. Daryl could feel every flutter and spasm, he could only imagine how it would be wrapped inside you.
He went slow, pulling out just to his knuckles before flexing his fingers deeper inside. He savored the broken moans and desperate kisses you gave him.
“You like feeling that stretch? Got you all desperate just to cum all over my hand. Heh, feel better than your hands?” His deep, cocky bravado sends sparks of pleasure straight to your sex, your hips sinking his fingers deeper inside.
“Please,” You moan against his lips.
“Please what?” It’s barely a whisper, his lips brushing yours.
“Please don’t stop.” You press your lips to his, sliding your hand up his chest, threading your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the shiver run down his body, your tongues twist together while his groans. You're all around him, consuming his thoughts the way he had plagued yours.
His fingers curled, hitting the spot that makes you feel drunk on his body. You start rutting your hips into his hand, chasing the fire.
“Fuck yes, right there, curl your fingers just like that, Daryl, please” Your babbling, moans breaking up your words. The hand gripping at his hair to anchor you to him tugs harder and he groans into the kiss, the vibrations go straight to your quivering pussy.
Daryl moves quickly to spin you around, so your back is pressed against the tree he hid behind, his hand never leaving your cunt. He knew you needed the support but he was dying to explore your body more.
“Please, what pretty girl? Tell me what you need.” The change is position allows his hand to be free, and it wanders up your shirt and under your bra. His big hands palm your plush tit as you come undone around him. His thumb rolls your pebbled nipple, and you grip his fingers tight inside you.
“Fuck, Daryl.” It comes out in a whine; he has you right on the edge for the second time tonight. “Please don’t stop, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I love your hands.”
“Yeah, cum for me, cum all over my hand pretty girl, I got you.” His fingers don’t let up their fast pace, but when he kisses you it’s gentle. The delicate way he speaks to you while his hands do their sinful work send you over the edge completely.
Your second orgasm has your legs shaking and Daryl crushed his lips against you trying to swallow your scream of pleasure. His fingers slow and his thumb pulls away as he helps you ride out your high. Both your hands cup his face as your tongue explores his mouth. You can’t get enough of him.
When he pulls his fingers from you, it pulls out slowly, careful of how sensitive you are. He brings the two fingers up to his mouth immediately popping them in, moaning at the taste of you. His eyes close in bliss as he licks them clean.
He can’t help a smirk spreading across his face seeing your fucked out expression as you're still leaning on the tree. Your lips are pink and swollen and your face was still flushed red. The hand he had under your shirt pulls out and comes to rest on the tree next to your head, his face coming in to give you a chaste kiss on the lips.
“Did I feel better than your hands?” You smack his chest playfully as you laugh at him.
You bring your lips up to his again, “Much better I’m afraid.” It’s your turn to smirk at his confused expression.
“Why are you afraid?” His brow creasing in the center as he pulls back slightly to look at you better.
“I’m afraid,” You kiss his cheek trailing down to his neck, “because I know I’ll get addicted to your hands, Daryl.” You lick his throat before nipping at him. His body presses closer to you at the feeling of your teeth on his skin and he tries to let out a carefree laugh.
“Guess I’ll just have to keep them on you.” His smug expression is back as you tug his closer.
