#Shane Walsh x you
Note
Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?
now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)
been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)
I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗
PICK YOUR POISON
(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)
warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count
You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.
“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.
Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”
You ignore his attitude.
“Mom needs you.”
“For what?”
“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”
He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.
“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.
You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.
“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.
“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.
“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.
They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.
You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.
They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.
The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.
But they are.
They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.
You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.
When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.
But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.
Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.
“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.
“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.
You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.
“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.
“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.
“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.
He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.
Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.
“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.
“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.
“Right.”
Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.
“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.
But you didn’t.
“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.
“Which one?”
“Bud’s fine.”
You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.
To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.
“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”
You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.
Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.
“You gonna share?” You ask.
Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.
“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.
“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.
“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.
“Not a chance.” You smile.
He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.
“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.
“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.
“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.
“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”
You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.
“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.
“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.
“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.
You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.
To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.
“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.
part 2
-
(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)
taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker
#rick grimes#rick grimes smut#rick grimes fanfiction#rick grimes x y/n#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon x y/n#shane walsh x you#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh smut#shane walsh fanfiction#smut#rickyl smut#rickyl x reader#dbf!rick#dbf!daryl#dbf!shane#dads best friend trope#pick your poison
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐏𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭-𝐈𝐧-𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝
Summary ➳ With a suspended license, you took the risk of picking up your brothers from a bar and when caught, Officer Walsh gives you a choice.
(A/n) ➳ I just realized that I’m still on season 3… I might end up rewatching season 1 and 2… Yeah, I’m rewatching it.
Word Count ➳ 1.4k
Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, NO OUTBREAK, DARK SHANE, DARK CONTENT, DUB-CON/NON-CON, sexual content, , heavy profanity, mentions of drugs, alcohol use, oral (M), abuse of power, face-fucking, dacryphilia, hair pulling…
DARK CONTENT UNDER THE CUT. MDNI 18+
“Don’t be blamin’ me you damn dipshits!” You shouted over the phone as you struggled to boot your boots on. “How the hell did he even get kicked out?” You threw on your jacket.
“The hell was I supposed to know he was gonna get drunk?”
“You’re with him!”
“Jus’ get yer damn ass over ‘ere!”
“My license is suspended! Where’s your car?!
“The piece of shit broke down! It’s late, the cops ain’t gonna do anythin’.”
“Easy for you to fuckin’ say.” You groaned, grabbing Merle’s truck keys and walking out of the door. You angrily hung up on him, cutting off his cursing at Merle and loudly crashing.
You shoved the worn out key into the ignition, and felt that familiar click. You turned the key and waited for the engine to turn on. There’s a low rumble but then a silence.
You grumbled and turned the key again, it grumbled a little louder this time but nothing. “For fuck’s sake!” You shouted and tried it again, finally it turned on.
You changed gears and backed out of the driveway, and hurriedly drove to the only bar closest to where you all lived.
You again changed gears and turned on the radio as an attempt to calm down, but you knew it wasn’t helping when you were still cursing about Merle. You gripped the worn out steering wheel, trying to tune out the strange rumbling from the engine.
Urgency ran through your veins, and you didn’t pay attention to how fast you were going. It was nearly midnight, barely anyone was on the road.
From the familiar signs, you were at the outskirts of the town, just a couple of minutes away.
“Dammit!” You smacked the steering wheel as the red and blue lights appeared right behind you. A wave of uneasiness overcomes your anger, the last thing you wanted to was be arrested for evading the police.
The flashing lights illuminated the dark road as you pulled over, bringing the truck to a park. You can see from the mirror the officer leaving his car and speak to his radio.
You rolled down your window as he approached the truck, leaning towards the window. “Evenin’, ma’am. What brings you out here so late?”
You contained your frustration and put on a smile. “Just tryin’ to pick up my brothers from a bar.”
You felt like he stared longer than he should, you could see him scanning the inside of the truck, taking note of various Merle’s stuff scattered across the back seat.
“License and registration.” He asked.You reached over and opened the glove box and handed him your registration. He took the paper and lifted an eyebrow. “License?”
“Look officer…?” You looked at his badge but he beat you to it.
“Walsh.”
“Walsh, I don’t have it.”
You could see the disappointment in his eyes, he pulled out his pen and notepad. “Name and birthdate?”
“(Y/n) Dixon-”
“Dixon? Which would make you related to Merle Dixon?”
You reluctantly nodded. “Yes, he’s my brother. Look, I ain’t got time to talk. Can’t I just-”
“I’m assumin’ this ain’t your truck.” Before you could say anything else, he began to circle the truck with a lit flashlight in hand.
“Fuck me.” You mumbled, knowing Merle, he probably had some illegal substances hiding in wherever. “Fuck you Merle.” You cannot have a drug charge on your record, you could not have that.
“Can you step out of the vehicle for me?” He said out loud, coming back to the door.
“Officer-”
“Don’t make this difficult, Dixon.” He took a couple steps back, a hand on his hip as he waited for you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, turned off the truck and stepped out of it. “You have anythin’ you hidin’?” He questioned you.
“Nope.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Shane smirked, turning off his flashlight. “You know what happens when you drive without a license?”
“Officer Walsh, my brothers need me to pick them up. Just write me a ticket and let me be on my way.”
“Drivin’ late at night, without a license? You know how dangerous it is?” He said. “Givin’ you a ticket ain’t gonna be enough.”
“Officer-”
“I’ll give you two choices.” Shane maneuvered around you, shutting the truck door, blocking the door. “I can arrest you and get you booked which could take…” He counted using his fingers. “A hour to a couple hours-”
“Then arrest me-”
“Minus waitin’ for your case.” Shane lowered his hands, grinning. “Or…” His hands reach for his belt, ready to unbuckle it. “You can get on your knees.”
“The hell I am-!”
Shane loudly hushed you. “You want me to turn a blind eye?”
You stumbled over your words, a mix of excuses and curses. But the shit eating grin was still on his face and when you took a glance at his crotch, he was already hard.
“You’re disgustin’.”
Shane shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Be a good girl, Dixon. Don’t be keepin’ your brothers waitin’.” He pulled himself out of his pants, and pumped himself slowly. “Get on your knees.”
“Fuck me.” You muttered under your breath, doing as he said.
“Don’t tempt me.”
You rolled your eyes and took him into your hands, jerking him off with a disgusted look on your face. You refused to look at him or his cock, keeping your gaze on the ground.
From base to head, you stroked, twisting your hand around it.
You wished to yourself that he would quickly cum and get on with your night. You tried to focus on something else and hoped that if anyone did pass by they wouldn’t see.
Shane grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it back roughly, a gasp lifted your lips. He shoved his thumb into your mouth as the rest of his fingers held your face.
He breathed heavily and plunged himself into your mouth. He forced you down to the base, his pubic hair itching your nose, making it scrunch. His hips began to buck and your jaw slacked.
Your hand clutched his pants, your nails digging into them. Your eyes shut tightly as each time he touched the back of your throat, you gagged.
Your saliva dripped down your chin, and when he tugged at your hair, you whimpered. The pain was unbearable as he took joy in seeing you in pain, your hot tears spilled from the corners of your eyes.
“You’ve done this before?” Shane sneered at you, throwing his head back and moaning quite loudly. It was like he didn’t care if he got caught. “You sure have a fuckin’ talent!”
Shane didn’t care for any discomfort you were feeling, all the stress that Merle and Daryl caused in the past was being taken out on you.
He pulled back until it’s just the head of his cock in your mouth then thrusted back in. Again and again, his hand tight in your hair, thrusting as hard and deep as he could and his cock glistening with saliva.
“Look at me.” He panted. “C’mom, look at me.”
Your eyes fluttered open, your eyes snapped to his, watery and wide, full of anger.
He cursed at you, biting down on his lip as the orgasm builded in him. He then held your head still as he was so far deep that your body jerked.
Shane gave out a loud grunt as he came inside and down your throat. You started to choke, you punched his thigh a couple of times before he threw you off him.
You hit the ground, coughing. You hissed and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. The salty and bitter taste in your mouth made you retch.
He let out a sigh of relief, tucking himself back into his pants. “Drive safely ma’am.” He laughed once again as he walked to his car. Once you were sure he drove off, you picked yourself up from the ground and quickly drove to the bar.
“Took yer sweet ass time!” Daryl shoved an unconscious Merle into the backseat before getting into the passenger side. “The hell happened?”
“Cops.” You packed out of the parking spot and drove, trying to focus on the road.
“Anythin’ happen? Ya alright?”
“Yeah, let me off with a warnin’.”
“Seriously-?”
“I’m tired Daryl. Just let me get this asshole home.” You couldn’t focus, not without the bitter taste in your mouth, drowning out Daryl’s attempts to wake his brother for his phone.
© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission
#x reader#x female reader#shane walsh x y/n#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh#shane walsh x you#twd x y/n#twd x you#twd x reader#the walking dead x you#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead daryl#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead shane#the walking dead#The walking dead smut#shane walsh smut#twd smut#twd shane#twd daryl#twd fanfiction#jon bernthal#jon bernthal smut#jon bernthal x reader#jon bernthal x you
176 notes
·
View notes
Text
how i imagine living in alexandria with rick and shane would look when it isn’t grappling with another mortal crisis
#the walking dead#rick grimes#shane walsh#moodboard#girlblogging#rick grimes moodboard#shane walsh moodboard#twd moodboard#rick grimes x reader#shane walsh x reader#rick grimes x you#shane walsh x you#alexandria#shickxandria#virginia#andrew lincoln#jon bernthal#pinterest#a big thank you to canva#and kacey musgraves for helping me get me shick x reader craziness out#why tf did tumblr butcher the quality though? this is not how it looked in canvas pro#this is also me imagining the most picture perfect moments of shickxandria because the angst would be insane#first moodboard in my life was made tonight#like this is very delulu#grimesgirll boards#grimesgirll
131 notes
·
View notes
Text
SHANE WALSH (SMUT!) HEADCANONS
(A/N sorry I haven't posted in a long time! I wanted to give you guys something so make up for it, and I've been watching TWD a lot recently and am absolutely inlove with Jon Bernthal 🫶)
Warnings: SMUT!!!, Kinks, Rough!Shane, Hair pulling, bruising/marks, public sex, etc.
• Shane Walsh, the man who would jump at the chance to brat tame you the second you said the words, "make me"
• Shane, the man who would never admit it, but LOVES when you leave his neck full of your lipstick stains, but would immediately punch anyone who would dare point them out.
• That man, Shane, who would dig his fingers so roughly in your hair, he would have you screaming his name
• Oh that man, the man you loved so dearly, and how much love you too could feel when he would tenderly kiss your neck, all the way down to your stomach, making sure no part of you was left untouched.
• The way he would hold you so gently, cherishing every moment, the way that clashes with his rough thrusts he would make into you, each one going deeper each time.
• That same way he would bite down onto your shoulder when he came so deep inside of you, his hold around you tightening ever so slightly
• But even the risk of getting caught only made him even more turned on. What if someone in the group were to see you like this? All ruined just for him, it drives him crazy in all the right ways.
• What rarely would ever faulter was the way he left bruises and hickies all over your body, sometimes even hiding clothes that were longer and easier to hide said marks; making you having to wear the shortest shorts and a tank top after that night he littered marks all over your body, making everyone stare when you walked around camp.
• Even then, that same man, that same Shane, would never even hesitate when you asked him to kiss those same marks, most of the time; doing it without even having to ask. Just feeling his lips against those purplish red marks he made on you, as if making a mental picture in his mind.
A/N: I hope you guys liked this! Ik I don't write smut very often so feel free to leave feedback! <3
I also updated my masterlist if anyone is interested in requesting!
(More info: Fandoms/Characters)
REQUESTS: OPEN
#fanfic#headcanon#oneshot#writers on tumblr#x reader#spotify#the walking dead#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead x you#the walking dead x y/n#shane walsh#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh x you#rick grimes#walking dead#smut#the walking dead smut#shane walsh smut
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
you missed training ※∴
— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader
— type: ficlet
— summary: shane deems it time for you to have some private target practice lessons with him.
— tags: shane has horny thoughts about you, cuddling, shane actually giving a damn
— tw: guns, suicidal ideation, mentions of masturbation, eating
— word count: 4,773
— a/n: i know this fic references some past events between shane & the reader, but this is just one part of a series of posts i plan to write for shane. i do have another post up, which is about shane's "offer" to the reader (taking their virginity).
You shove a clothespin into place before picking up the next item—one of Andrea’s pairs of cargo pants—and jump when you feel a palm against your back, causing you to nearly drop the damp piece of clothing. You clutch it to your chest instead, thankful they won’t need to be rewashed.
You turn to your right where Shane is now standing, palm still firmly in-place against your backside.
“Yes?” You ask as you hang the pants. You then turn fully toward him, causing him to drop his hand.
“You missed training.”
You shrug, bending down to pick up a t-shirt, but he takes it from you, throwing it on the line without clothespins, just to get your attention back on him. “Can you just stop for a minute and look at me?”
You sigh, doing as he’s asked, crossing your arms.
“I asked you to come,” he says, clearly not pleased with you.
“There was work to do.”
He shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips, and you can tell his temper is nearly at its boiling point. Not that it isn't always anymore, it seems.
“That’s always your excuse. For everything. And I’m gettin’ tired of hearin’ it.”
You give him a none-too-pleased look at the attitude now lacing his tone, and go to pick up a pair of clothespins so the shirt can be properly hanged, and not risk being blown away by the wind, but he takes them from you, throwing them back into the basket before grabbing your hand in his and pulling you away from laundry duty.
“Shane-” You start, but he promptly interrupts you.
He turns back to you, your hand still held firmly within his calloused grip. “I am tired of askin’ nicely. This is important, and you’re going to learn whether you like it or not.”
You can feel your face growing warm, your pulse rising. You do not appreciate being made into just one more person he thinks he can boss around as he pleases. “I don’t need lessons.”
He gives you a look which says ‘yeah right’ before releasing your hand and pulling his pistol from its holster. He goes to hand it to you and you take it from him with caution. And don’t you dare think he doesn’t notice the fear with which you handle the weapon with.
“Alright, then. You know everything you need to know, then show me where the safety is.”
You look the sidearm over, looking for the right button, but look up to him in humiliation after a moment. You can’t even find it within yourself to tell him you don’t know.
He crosses his arms. “Show me how to eject the clip, then.”
Once again, you’re not sure which button will do what he’s asked for.
With an exasperated sigh, he takes the gun from you, tucking it back into its holster. “You want to tell me about how you don’t need training again?”
You shift from one foot to the other, refusing to answer.
“Not going to answer me now?”
You look up to him. Into his eyes which are searching yours. You shrug.
Shane hangs his head, shaking it. “Sweetheart, you want to explain to me why you’re so reluctant to learn a new way to defend yourself? A pretty important one?”
You look away from him, to those milling around the camp, talking and laughing amongst themselves. And then you look the other way, to an empty field. Tranquility, solitude. Peace.
“Learning self-defense means that I feel like I still have a life worth defending—worth living. That I feel like I’m worth defending.” You look at him then. “I don’t believe any of that.”
He lets out a low swear. “I thought we were past this.”
“You keep insisting on saving someone who doesn’t want to be saved, Shane. I never asked for you to bring me with you all from the quarry. Never asked for you to drag me out of the CDC. Never asked for you to help me on the highway. I made my choice over and over again and you refuse to accept that.”
He grimaces, his fists tightening at his sides. “Just because you think you’re not worth saving doesn’t mean everybody else has to think that. Because I don’t. Which I’ve proved time and again. You’re-” He rubs his hand over his head, settling it on his hip. “You’re one of the most valuable members of this group. You-”
You interrupt him with a laugh which has no humor behind it. “Valuable? Valuable how, Shane? By doing laundry? By helping make lunch and cleaning out the RV?”
He shakes his head. “It’s more than that and you know it. Just because you don’t see your self-worth doesn’t mean I don’t. Because I do.”
You continue to stare up at him, fighting against the tears threatening to overtake your vision. A tear slips from one of your eyes anyway and he reaches up, gently brushing it away with the pad of his thumb.
“I’m going to keep saving you until one day I don’t have to anymore. Because you’ve finally made the decision to live. So, are we going to go practice? Because if you tell me no, girl, I’ll just keep on your case about it until-”
“Ok.”
He shuts his mouth suddenly, a small grin gracing his lips. “Yeah?”
“I said ok.”
He jerks his head in the direction of the training area they’d set up some ways off from the house and camp. “C’mon then.”
He places his palm against the small of your back again, leading you away from camp.
The Georgia heat could be insufferable some days, but at least today was a bit cooler, even by a few degrees, with a slight breeze. The sun was low enough for the trees behind the training area to be casting long shadows, shielding you from the sun overhead.
Shane leads you over to a bit of fence that has a row of bottles set up beyond it, along with a couple of targets.
“Alright, here.” He stops you in the middle, the targets all directly beyond where you’re standing.
He removes the gun from its holster again. “This is your safety,” he says, flipping a small switch on the side, a red dot now visibile. He looks at you, and you at him. “Red means fire.” He flips the switch back.
“And this is how you release your clip.” He presses a button on the side and the bottom of the pistol comes out, a row of shiny bullets now visible. “It’s fully loaded.”
He pushes the clip back in.
“You know your stance?”
You shake your head, feeling more and more ignorant with every question he asks. You’d never had a reason to learn these things…before.
“I figured as much,” he says with a smile, coming to stand behind you.
He kicks your feet apart with his boot. “Move your right foot forward some—good, like that. Now, turn.” He grips your hips in both of his hands, firmly, turning your body just the least bit toward the fence. Shane then removes his gun from its holster and holds it out in front of you.
You take the grip in your hands, only just now noticing how heavy it is when you try to hold it up.
The barrel droops and he sighs. “Should’ve brought a lighter pistol, that’s my mistake.”
He reaches up, taking both of your hands in his, helping you hold it steady. “Alright, safety off.”
You find the small switch from earlier and push it down, that small red dot now visible.
“Chamber a round by pulling the slide back.”
You at least know that part, so you do as he instructs. “Good.” He presses his front against your backside, his body heat radiating onto you, causing a few small beads of sweat to form on the back of your neck.
“Make sure to keep your back straight, feet apart. And I want you to grip the gun firmly, but let it breathe. And don’t you ever put your finger on that trigger until you’re ready to fire and know what you’re firing at. You understand?”
You nod.
“Alright, close your left eye, find your target, and when you're ready, put your finger on the trigger and squeeze it slowly. Don’t just start firing off rounds at-will.” You hear a smirk in his voice as he continues “We’re saving that for the advanced course.”
“Given I pass this one,” you add, your tone nervous.
“You’ve got Officer Shane Walsh playin’ teacher to you now, darlin’. I’ll give you a pass.” He shrugs. “Once you’ve earned it.”
You don’t dare to think what he said might have some double-meaning to it.
“Alright, sweetheart. Deep breath, then when you’re ready.”
You take a deep breath, slowly let it out, then place your finger over the trigger, his hands still over yours. You squeeze slowly…and miss the bottle you were aiming at entirely.
You nearly curse. “I missed.”
“That was just your first try. You’ll get there.” He readjusts his hands. “We’ve got all day, baby. Just you and me.”
You feel sweat drip down your back. You tell yourself its from the heat. Not his body pressed firmly against yours. Not the pet names slipping so easily from his lips. And certainly not the fact that all of his attention was, at current, focused entirely on you.
He keeps his hands overtop of yours. "Try again, darlin'."
You close one eye, find the bottle you'd aimed at before and fire once again, hitting it this time and shattering it.
You smile. An actual genuine smile. And fill with a small sense of accomlishment.
Shane brings his lips close to your ear. "Good job, honey. Four more to go."
You could swear he presses a brief, light kiss to the side of your head, but brush it off as nothing.
You miss your next three shots—each attempt sloppier than the last and your cheeks feel like they're on fire. Whether from the warmth of his body nearly enveloping yours, the heat of the day, or the humiliation of having missed so many times, you're not sure.
But he'd not gotten aggravated with you yet. "Try again," he instructs softly.
"I-" you start, until he adjusts his stance behind you, briefly gripping one of your hips to fix your footing, causing you to go silent again as his hand skims your bare waist under your shirt.
"You say somethin', sweetheart?"
You shake your head. "I'm just having a hard time concentrating."
Your arms were resting in front of you now, the pistol lowered and gripped in each of your hands, the safety on.
"Somethin' you need to me to do?"
Take a step back and let me breathe, you want to say, but don't. It's impossible to concentrate with your hands all over my body, you consider, but keep your mouth shut. He was just trying to be a good teacher, that was all.
Somehow you doubted he had been this handsy with Patricia or Jimmy, though.
"Could we take a break, maybe?"
He comes to stand at your side. "We only just started. Tell you what, hit another bottle and we'll take a quick break. Can you do that for me?"
You don't answer. You simply raise the pistol again, but before you can even shut one of your eyes, he's pressed right back up against your backside, his arms and hands enveloping your own.
You sigh, squeeze the trigger, and somehow manage to get lucky.
As you take a brief pause, the two of you seated facing each other—both of you leaned back against opposing trees—you try to ignore his staring.
Eventually, he breaks the silence. "I'll get you a lighter gun when we get back. Think I know the one for you. Just...not sure if giving you a firearm is the best idea. Right now, at least"
You fidget with your hands in your lap. "Why? Because you think as soon as you hand it to me I'm going to stick it in my mouth?"
A muscle in his jaw feathers. "You said it, not me. But yes. Given your past...behavior, you can't blame me for bein' a bit paranoid."
You lean your head back, looking back to the three untouched bottles, mocking you across the way. Had you hit them, you wouldn't be having this conversation right now. "No, I guess I can't."
You don't see him shake his head. "Not even going to try and convince me otherwise?"
You look back to him. "I haven't exactly tried ending my life in incredibly direct ways thus far, Shane. I chose to stay at the quarry, you wouldn't allow that. I chose to stay at the CDC—same result. I collapse on the highway and you nursed me back to health. It's not like I was slitting my wrists or downing bottles of pills. It was more just...whatever happened happened."
"I just wish I knew how the hell to stop it."
The truth was...being here—at the farm—was actually helping. The wide open spaces that were free from walkers. The quiet, slow way of living. Having some sense of security with there being an actual house and barn nearby. Even meeting new people had lifted your spirits. But you were afraid to admit it out loud—that you felt small moments of happiness in this place every now and again. Because as soon as you did? It'd all be ripped away.
But you knew Shane was worried about you. A worry that grew with each day. So you cross your fingers—mentally knock on wood—before you tell him.
"Being here has helped. Being someplace so...untouched. I still have bad days and bad moments, but I feel better here. Lighter, somehow. I don't think about wandering off and ending it all like I did anymore. Now I just...I wish we could make a life here. All of us. But if you keep butting heads with Hershel that dream will end one day."
He studies you for a moment. "Think he's just living with his head in the clouds. Thinking those things aren't what they are. That help is coming. That we'll get past this and things will just return to normal before we know it."
"What does it hurt you to let him believe that? We all had hope like that at one time, too, incase you've forgotten. He hasn't seen what we've seen. Hasn't been through what we've been through. Just...put yourself in his shoes. Wouldn't you be just as blind?"
He shrugs. "Don't think I'd have my head that far in the damn sand."
You're both quiet again. You don't bother arguing further with him. He was stubborn—hard-headed as they came. Trying to make him see reason, or at the very least, another way, was futile more often than not.
"I'm happy to hear it, though. Relieved, really. That you feel better here. Guess we made the right decision by staying."
You flush. "I always wanted to live in a place like this. Quiet, with lots of land, and far away from everyone. Just...peaceful."
"Never did strike me as a city-girl," he says with a smirk.
You hum. "Hardly."
You lean back once again, closing your eyes, just enjoying the breeze blowing through the tall grass, and the birds singing overhead.
Meanwhile, Shane can't take his eyes off of you. Not your flushed face or full lips, your neck, the swell of your breasts under your t-shirt, your round hips, or legs.
He knew it hadn't been entirely necessary—him keeping himself pressed up against you during your first round of training, but the truth was he couldn't keep his damn hands off of you. You were just so damn soft and felt good to grip and touch and slide his hands along.
He'd been thankful you never seemed to notice the swell of his hard cock pressed up against your backside.
He'd not entirely tried to hide it.
He could feel that same erection returning as he admired your body, fantasized about what was underneath all those layers. He adjusts himself as he considers what you might sound like as he traces your curves with his tongue, what you might taste like cumming on it.
He liked to imagine how tight you would feel, clenching around him, milking his body of every last drop of cum he had to give.
Some time, late at night, weeks ago, he'd came—hard—and not with Lori's name on his lips, but yours, as he had his cock fisted tightly in his grip. He'd not even been expecting it, but it'd happened anyway—his thinking of you on your knees, his length in your wet mouth, wide innocent eyes staring up at him as he instructed you on what to do to please him.
After that night, all he did was fantasize about you. He hardly even considered her anymore.
It'd all started after you told him that damn wish of yours from your bucket list—wanting to lose your virginity before you died.
"You thought anymore about it?"
You'd nearly started drifting off to sleep when his voice had woken you. You look at him, a bit dazed and if anything, it turned him on all the more—he took no qualms with that idea. You lying there, limp and relaxed, legs spread for him as he did all the work to get you both off.
"What?" You ask, stretching.
He licks his lips at the sight of your midriff making a brief appearance before your shirt lowers again as you rest your hands in your lap.
"What we talked about a few nights ago on the porch."
You blanch, flushing. "Oh. That."
"Mhm, that. So, you thought about my offer?"
In truth, you had. Once, late at night, hand in your panties, coming away slick after you'd finished tending to yourself.
And then you'd filled with shame at what you'd done. Your family was gone—Sophia was missing, Carl had been shot and nearly died, even Otis, a member of Hershel's own family, had sacrificed himself to ensure the little boy made it.
The list went on and on. And that was what you had decided to use a bit of your spare time for?
Disgraceful. That was the best word you had for it. For yourself.
You shrug. "Not much."
His erection deflates, along with his ego. "Oh."
You look up to him and try to quickly salvage the situation. "It's not that I don't find you attractive, Shane. Of course I do. But like I said before, about Lori-"
He shakes his head. "That's done. Been done since Rick came back from the dead. She's moved on and so have I."
You raise a brow, not really believing him.
He sees the doubt in your expression. “Guess I’ll just have to prove myself to you, then.”
You cross your legs. “Why me, Shane? Why the sudden interest? Why not Andrea or Maggie or-”
He chuckles, glancing down to his lap, one of his thumbs rubbing against the palm of his other hand. He then looks back up to you and shrugs. “I think I’m just the type of guy who needs to feel needed. The two of them, as far as I can tell—at least for the most part—seem to be able to take care of themselves. You? Not so much. Not yet, at least. You need someone to look after you. Guess I appointed myself to that position without even really knowing it. Not at first, at least.”
So he saw you as a damsel in distress. Terrific. You weren’t sure whether you were supposed to feel offended or flattered about it.
“I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor to come save me, Shane. You don’t need to keep making me your problem. You have enough on your hands with-”
He leans his head back with an interrupting sigh. “We’ve had this conversation before. And it didn’t deter me then and it ain’t going to now. You’re not a problem, darlin’. I just want to be the solution, I guess.”
You can’t understand it, why someone like him—intelligent, reliable, with leadership skills, beyond good-looking, and above all a survivor—whatever the cost—has an interest in you. At all.
“What does that mean: be the solution?”
He shrugs, standing. He walks over to you, offering you his hand. “You tell me.”
It’d taken over an hour for you to break the last three bottles, as well as make decent progress firing at the targets. You tell yourself you would’ve gotten done sooner—would’ve done better—had his hands not been all over you again—Shane no longer bothering with ensuring he was touching you only over your clothes, as he’d gripped your bare hips more times than you could count.
And you didn’t want to acknowledge the hard length you’d felt pressed into your backside once or twice. You told yourself he must’ve had another pistol on him, or a knife perhaps. That was all.
More than once, just as you had your target lined up, he’d done something—touched you, whispered something in your ear, shifted his body against yours—causing you to miss entirely. You wondered if it wasn’t just his attempt at dragging your training out for even longer.
When he finally announces that you’re done for the day, you nearly cry from relief. Your arms were sore, as well as your legs from standing in-place for so long, and your head was pounding from how hard you’d been trying to focus on not just hitting your targets, but also responding correctly as Shane drilled you on various parts of the gun in your hands, as well as proper firearm etiquette.
You wondered if he took delight in making you feel flustered and frustrated.
When you finally make it back to camp, you’re thirsty, hungry, and want to take a nap. You begin to wander toward your tent, until you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in another direction.
“Oh no you don’t. You can sleep later. You didn’t bother with eating breakfast, so you’re having lunch, even if I have to hand-feed it to you.”
You look up to Shane and find you don’t have the energy to argue. He drops you off at the nearby picnic table, seated comfortably under a shady tree, and you watch as he steps away to prepare you something to eat.
You nearly laugh from the absurdity of him fixing you a plate for lunch—it seemed so domestic, especially since he was the one doing it—but you’re so tired that all you can manage is lying your head down, your eyes fluttering shut.
You fall asleep near-immediately. Until you’re woken by a plate being dropped in front of you.
“Eat.”
You lift your head, barely, and stare down at the two sandwiches before you, an apple on the side, and a bottle of water. You groan. “I’m tired, Shane.”
“Hand-feeding it is, I guess.”
He picks up a sandwich, which you promptly snatch away from him. “I can feed myself,” you state, taking a bite. Ham and cheese, you quickly figure out.
Shane sits with his legs on either side of the bench, his body facing you, watching as you eat.
You’re too tired to bother feeling self-conscious as you do so directly in front of him. You swallow, briefly glancing to him. “Thank you. For today.”
He nods, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, which had escaped your ponytail. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
He even goes so far as to press a kiss to your forehead. “You did good today, darlin’. I’m proud of you. You have no idea how much.”
You take another bite, smiling to yourself.
Once you’d finished eating—Shane refusing to let you leave the picnic table until you’d finished every last bite, as well as the whole bottle of water—he’d led you over to your tent, which you’d crawled inside of as soon as he opened the flap.
You briefly thought to yourself that the tent was the wrong color and that the interior looked strange, but you didn’t dwell on it too long. Once your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.
When you wake, it’s in the middle of the night with the urge to pee.
You nearly scream in fear at the feeling of another body pressed up against your own, until you realize just who it belongs to.
Shane.
Why was he in your tent?
And then it dawns on you: you were in his. It’s why everything had seemed so off to you earlier before you laid down. He’d led you to his tent, and had put you to sleep in his bed.
He wasn’t being subtle about what he wanted anymore, clearly.
You didn’t know that you liked this sort of behavior. Him being so forward. Not even asking what you wanted.
Just deciding for you.
On the one hand, part of you just wants to let him—anyone—do all your thinking and decision-making for you. On the other, you were still sure that a part of him cared for Lori. Perhaps more than cared for her. Even if not, he frightened you sometimes. His fiery temper, his hard-headedness. And doing this…right in front of everyone—placing you in his bed in broad daylight—he was staking a claim. It was possessive. And that scared you a little.
You didn’t belong to him. You weren’t sure that you wanted to.
You didn’t wish to read too much into things—into this—but if that was what he wanted: to be with you… All you could think was if you opened yourself up to caring about another person again, you’d lose him just like all the rest.
But being alone hadn’t been easier, either. Closing yourself off emotionally from the rest of the group had lessened your will-to-live significantly. Contact with others was human nature; you were all social creatures. And keeping yourself from having such contact had deepened that well of sadness and loneliness inside of you.
A well you think maybe he’s trying to fill it, in his own way.
Shane had chosen the worst sleeping position for you to try and get out of to relieve yourself. And if you didn’t do so quickly… Suffice to say you’d never have to worry about him wanting you in his bed again.
You were facing his bare chest, your head tucked under his chin, one of his arms thrown over you, holding you firmly against him.
You try to wriggle downward, thinking perhaps you can just slip out of his grip that way, until he moans in his sleep, clutching you even more tightly, a small squeak of surprise escaping your lips.
You briefly press your forehead against his chest, nearly groaning in frustration. You press your thighs together tightly, then do what you have to: you push firmly against his chest, not caring if it wakes him.
Thankfully, however, he releases you, rolling onto his other side.
You’d blush at the fact he was only in his boxers now, and feel angry at the fact you’re only in your panties and a t-shirt—meaning he’d undressed you for bed while you’d been asleep—but you were near-to-bursting at this point.
You quickly exit the tent, grabbing a roll of toilet paper from a basket of supplies nearby and find a tree to relieve yourself behind.
Once you’re finished, you stand, staring at two different tents.
And you hated to admit: that you didn’t know which one to choose.
You were going to have a talk with Shane in the morning about his behavior tonight while you’d been asleep. But right now, all you wanted to do was lie back down—not make decisions. Not think.
And it was chilly out.
You tell yourself, as you zip the tent close, climbing under the blankets and pressing yourself back up against Shane’s chest—as he’d rolled back over in the time you’d been gone—that you’d chosen his simply for his body warmth.
You fight against the small smile that begins to form on your lips as he wraps an arm around you once again, whispering to you, voice slurred from sleep, “I knew you’d come back.”
#fic: twd (shane walsh x reader)#shane walsh imagine#shane walsh x you#shane walsh x reader#twd x you#twd x reader
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
Out of sight
Shane Walsh x F!reader
word count: 2k
warnings: explicit content, explicit language, teasing, banter, unprotected sex, age gap
summary: Shane stays over at your house when your parents leave, we all know how it’ll end.
a/n: thank you to my sweet @chelseasdagger for proofreading this!
“Right, we won’t be long.”
You turn and give your mom a small smile from where you're sitting on the living room couch, in front of the TV with your boyfriend.
“Okay!”
“You kids don't do anything stupid, alright?”
Your dad steps in and glances over both you and Shane.
“We won't.”
You answer shorty, following it up with another smile before turning your attention back to the movie. Shane nods at your parents, giving them a small wave. He stays completely silent until you hear the main door lock behind your parents.
“Kids?”
He asks, turning to face you now. You sigh, letting yourself relax slightly since your every move wasn't being monitored by your parents anymore. Not taking your eyes off of the TV, you shrug at Shane's question.
“I don't think my parents know how old you are.”
You innocently give him a simple answer, and he frowns, slightly confused.
“Yeah? Never asked?”
“Oh they did.”
You answer, popping a handful of popcorn into your mouth, not sure where he's going with this as you do not see any issues with occasionally hiding some minor things from your parents. Shane watches you for another moment, his eyebrows pull up as he slowly realizes what you've done.
“Mhm, so how old’d you make me?”
He bites his lip, squinting as he tilts his head to the side slightly, his eyes never leaving your face for even a moment.
“Ohh, you know.”
You give him a nonchalant wave, and his eyes open wide at the audacity in the tone of your voice.
“I don't.”
You don't reply, so he asks again.
“How old?”
“Twenty…something.”
He scoffs, huffing loudly, and turns to the side with a smirk, quickly looking back at you.
“Shit, darlin…haven't been twenty-something in a while, you know that?”
“Oh, you want me to go tell my dad that? Hmm?”
“No, no, okay just-”
You push yourself off the couch, but he catches your wrist and pulls you down in his lap.
“What you do that for? Hmm?”
He asks, his fingers on your chin as he turns your face back towards him.
“Cause you're old, Walsh.”
You answer quickly, and he sighs loudly, shaking his head with a big eye roll. His hand pushes your face away, and you fall off his lap and onto the couch.
“Asshole.”
He mumbles under his breath, and you laugh at his immature reaction, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek before changing the possession in which you lay on the couch.
“Lay down.”
You order him, and he follows, stretching his legs out on the couch, his hands under his head now as he watches you get comfortable on top of him. You throw your leg over his, choosing to lay down on your stomach, facing the TV with your head propped up in your hands by Shane's legs, your thighs over his lower chest, your ass right in front of his face. Shane clears his throat, pushing his hips up slightly as he attempts to get a bit more comfortable, his hand immediately on the back of your thighs.
“How's that?”
You glance back at him over your shoulder, and he doesn't even bother to pretend like he's still watching the movie.
“God damn perfect, darlin.”
And that's how he feels, with your tight leggings showing off the hem of your panties right there, so close to him, his thumb now brushing right over it.
“God damn perfect.”
You shake your head with a smirk, making sure to push your ass out some as you move on top of him. Shane grunts, pushing his fingers into your things and ass, and you hum loudly, wiggly slightly on top of him.
“Don't get too comfortable, Walsh.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetie.”
He mumbles, his eyes still on your ass, closing only when he pushes his thumb against you through the fabric and you push back into his touch in response.
“It's kinda hot here, isn't it?”
You ask oh so innocently, pretending to still watch the movie.
“Yeah?”
Shane bites down on his lip, his whole hand coming over your ass now before he squeezes it tightly. His lips part as he glaces back and forth between you and your ass, waiting for your word.
“Mhm.”
You hum as a response and push your ass up slightly. Not even seconds after, you feel his fingers hook under the hem of your leggings. The fabric brushes over your skin as he pulls them down, exposing your panties. You quickly pull them up higher, allowing the fabric to dig into your pussy, accentuating the shape, not leaving much to his imagination anymore.
“Shit.”
As you push yourself up slightly, you "unintentionally" brush your hand up his legs, and then a bit higher and a bit more. Resting your palm on top of the bulge in his jeans, you feel him already almost half hard, straining against the fabric slightly. He breathes in sharply through his teeth and follows, cupping you over the fabric with his big hand before he pushes his thumb through your folds, brushing little circles over your clit. You sigh loudly, relaxing into his touch, letting him work over you through the fabric just like that. Shane holds you on top of him, his fingers digging into the back of your thigh, watching the small, slowly expanding darker spot right in the middle of the fabric as you feel yourself getting closer, and he feels his blood rushing right between his legs.
“Damn it.”
He mumbles, his hips bucking up under you without his control. You lay back down, resting your face on top of your arms, on his legs. Your hips slowly begin to move back and forth, pushing away slightly, then pushing right into this touch again, grinding on his fingers.
“Shit darlin’ that what we're doin’? You gonna rub one out for me? Hmm?”
He attempts to sound nonchalant, ignoring the slowly overwhelming sensation in his pants.
“Like you don’t want me to do that.”
You answer without even opening your eyes again.
“Like you don’t waaant me to come from how you touch me? Hmm?”
You tease, giving him the taste of his own medicine. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him digging into your stomach now, pushing against the jeans.
“Hmm? Walsh?”
You turn to look over your shoulder as you don’t hear him again.
“You staring at my ass?”
“I ain’t.”
He states, not looking away from what’s in front of him for even a second, his thumb pushing up and down your folds the whole time.
“Walsh.”
“Not my fault, it’s right in my face.”
You scoff, getting back into the movement. Shane’s hand on the back of your thigh gradually speeds up the pace. Reaching down under your stomach, you palm the bulge between his legs, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his length. Shane grunts, pushing his thumb harder against you as you undo his zipper and tighten the grip around his cock. You grind against him for a bit longer, feeling yourself getting closer and closer with every second, losing your composure for a moment as you move back and forth on top of him. Until finally pushing back into him enough to get yourself over the edge. Grunting, you bite down on your lower lip, unintentionally wrapping your fingers even harder around him. He curses quietly, grabbing onto your wrist to pull your hand away from him before helping you change your position and lay down on your back.
“C’mere.”
He mumbles under his breath, kneeling between your legs before quickly reaching down to pull your panties off while you focus on helping him get his pants and boxers down, spreading your legs open for him at the same time.
“Shit, all that for me, darlin? Hmm? I make you feel that good?“
He whispers, rubbing his hand up and down his already hard cock.
“Don’t get cocky, or I’ll tell my parents how old you are.”
Shane raises his eyebrows, leaning down towards you.
“You’re the one lying bout it, sweetheart.”
You frown, pouting at the fact that he was, probably for the first time in his life, right about something.
“Oh, bite me.”
“Yeah, you wish, huh?"
"Don't get anything on the couch.”
You warn, and he grunts loudly, his head falling as he continues to thrust into you. Your words ring out in his head as a reminder, not letting him forget where he is, what he's doing or the fact that your parents could walk through the front door any second.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Feeling like a fucking teenager again, Shane speeds up the pace and your mouth falls open. A loud moan sips past your lips while he leans down quickly. Pushing your shirt up, he licks and kisses over your stomach, then your chest, the warm and wet feeling making your legs shake slightly and your hips push up into him. Your hand brushes over the short prickly hair at the back of his neck, your legs wrap around his waist, as you feel your whole body rocking back and forth with every thrust. Feeling the slight bit of pain as he hits that spot deep inside you, you whine out his name, pushing your hand between your legs to work your clit from the outside.
“Yeah? That feels good, baby? Huh?"
He teases, his hand quickly changing for yours, and you feel his touch on you now. It's rougher, harder and faster than what you would do, but you don't complain, feeling your back arch up at the sensation.
“Shane."
Your fingers wrap tightly around his arm, your body letting you know you won't be able to hold it back any longer. His thrusts are slower now, but they hit harder. You feel his hips brushing against you every time he pushes in deep inside you, and you cover your mouth, fighting back the whines that would otherwise fall from your mouth.
“Shit-”
He mumbles, feeling his cock stretching you out, and you clenching around him in response.
“Shit.”
He repeats one more time. His breathing shallows and his fingers push harder into you before you suddenly freeze. Your eyes shoot open, the sound of the car on the driveway to your house almost sending you into a panic, but he doesn't stop.
“Shane.”
You start, smacking his shoulder. Feeling him speeding up again, you moan suddenly and loudly.
“Shane they-”
“I know, I know, just-”
He glances back over his shoulder, his fingers on your clit, his hips thrusting into you again and again, determined to make you both finish.
***
Your breath shakes as you inhale sharply, biting into his arm to keep quiet, your body tensing up underneath him before finally coming undone. Your legs shake and wrap tighter around him, your teeth digging into his skin, your eyebrows pulled together as you fail to fight back the loud whine. Shane grunts loudly, leaning down over you as comes almost at the exact time you do. Clenching his jaw, he closes his eyes, holding himself up above you despite his arms shaking slightly from the work he's done. Panting heavily, he glances around your face, and you catch that god damn smirk before he pulls out quickly.
“It was good, wasn't it?”
He winks before pushing himself up.
“Fuuuck.”
You groan, feeling the drag of his cock leaving your body and pull your knees to your chest, taking a few deep breaths in before quickly getting off the couch. You grab your panties off the floor while Shane tosses the leggings at you before fixing his black shirt. You quickly slip the pants on, not bothering with the underwear, and Shane watches you approach him before you slip the still slightly damp ball of fabric into his pocket.
“For you, and if they ask, you're twenty-seven. Got it?"
You whisper with a smirk before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his face and straightening up your shirt the moment the lock on the door snaps open.
"We’re back!”
Your mom’s voice bounces off the walls of the house and Shane shakes his head quickly, blinking a couple of times as he attempts to get rid of the explicit images of you from moments ago playing back in his head.
"Yes ma'am."
He whispers more to himself than to anyone else, before making his way over to you and your parents, wiping his hand off on his jeans just in case.
#shane walsh#shane walsh x reader#the walking dead#shane walsh fanfiction#the walking dead fanfiction#shane walsh x you#female reader#jon bernthal#jon bernthal fanfiction#jon bernthal characters
782 notes
·
View notes
Text
Motorcycle Shane-anigans
Summary: Annoying Shane was your favourite thing to do, except this time he exacts his revenge....
Pairing: Shane Walsh x reader
Warnings: Smut, rough sex, public sex, degradation(?), caught in the act
The day Y/N met Shane Walsh was the day her life changed forever. Whether it changed for better or for worse was still to be determined.
She had been on her own for some time by then, her brother and her best friend having already succumbed to the virus. She had been doing well by herself, relying on the survival skills her late father had taught her and had no plans to ever ally with anyone, content to live out the rest of her days alone.
Originally from Alabama, Y/N had chosen to travel rather than stay in one place, her logic being that she would be less likely to run out of supplies. Eventually, she found herself in Altlanta, Georgia where she came across the ramshackle group of survivors she came to call her family.
Although she hadn't intended on staying long after they had deemed her a non-threat and welcomed her, she was eventually drawn in. Y/N hadn't realised just how much she had missed the warmth and love brought by good company.
Among the group, she had immediately bonded with Glenn and Lori, whereas she had some... issues with other certain people. Namely Shane Walsh. The man infuriated her to her core. The former deputy was a single-minded, fearless man, and although Y/N knew he had the groups best interests at heart, he had a funny fucking way of showing it.
Y/N herself was a headstrong individual and often found herself clashing with Shane and his controlling manner. She had previously been a surgical resident, over halfway in her journey in becoming a registered surgeon. Y/N had saved countless lives, run her own O. R and managed to maintain a relatively healthy work-life balance while doing so, and refused to be ordered around by some random deputy who believed he knew better than her.
The bastard knew what he was doing too. He purposely provoked Y/N, as if he enjoyed making her want to tear her hair out. However, she endured, finding creative ways to get back at him.
On this particular occasion, she had stolen Shane's distinctive knife and popped the tires on Daryl's motorcycle after the two men had had a rather explosive argument, effectively framing Shane.
The following day, after a vigorous fight with Daryl, Shane appeared in front of Y/N, with a dark purple eye, at around mid-day as she organised the small amount of medical equipment they had.
Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his beaten face, quickly regretting it as he grabbed her by the wrist and marched her to a secluded spot at the edge of the forest that surrounded them.
With camp in the near distance, the only other visible object was Daryl's motorcycle, parked beside a large oak tree. The direction Y/N was being dragged to.
"What the fuck Shane! I was busy, what the hell do you want?", she demanded, attempting to resist as he carried on.
"You think you can get away with this shit?", he questioned, gesturing vaguely to his bruised face. Y/N began to grow apprehensive as her anger began to wear off, hearing the pure rage in Shane's tone.
"What are you going to do? Huh?", she shot back, unthinking. "Gonna hit me back?"
He froze and Y/N suddenly began to regret every word she had ever uttered. He turned around and his glare was icy. He had let go of her wrist by now and was slowly advancing toward her, intruding in her space until they were chest to chest.
"What the hell are you doi-", Y/N was cut off by Shane, capturing her mouth with his in a fierce kiss. Their teeth clashed as they fought for dominance, neither conceding to the to the other.
Jesus Christ, she thought, he kisses like he fights. Holding nothing back. With the harsh swipes of his tongue Y/N felt her underwear begin to dampen, this was the most action she had gotten in over a year. All thoughts of pushing him away, swearing him off, screaming at him, faded as the kiss grew more and more passionate.
The kiss broke off and they stood staring silently at each other, their breathless pants echoing throughout the empty space. With a frustrated groan, Y/N dove back into another kiss, this one somehow becoming more vigorous than before.
"Oh, I fuckin' hate you", she breathed out, as Shane moved his mouth down to her neck, eliciting a surprised chuckle from the man. Her words quickly escalated into breathy moans as sucked on her most sensitive spot just below her ear, while grasping at her tits, twisting her sensitive nipples through her thin shirt. She would bet that there was a wet spot forming on her underwear by now, as she grinded against his solid thigh, the denim rubbing at her throbbing clit.
As he moved down her body, he tore each item of clothing off of her like it was on fire, grabbing at every inch of exposed skin he could find, while she struggled to get his shirt off. Finally, tearing the shirt off Y/N raked her nails down his back, relishing in the pained groans Shane let out in response.
Y/N nearly screamed in a strange mixture of pain and pleasure as Shane exacted his revenge, beginning to suck and bite at her hardened nipples, causing shocks to travel down her body, directly to her pulsating clit.
Y/N had failed to notice that while they were locked together, they had managed to stagger back and she now found herself pressed tightly against Daryl's motorcycle as Shane pulled her jeans down, her underwear with it. She jumped as she suddenly felt his thick fingers explore her soaking pussy, collecting some of her wetness before driving into her greedy opening.
The stretch of his large digits was excruciating but so, so fucking good, as they started to scissor in and out of her. Y/N bit into Shane's shoulder, trying to silence her desperate screams as he nailed her g-spot over and over again. Tears started to run down her face as the pure pleasure overwhelmed her.
As she reached out to free his straining dick, wishing to reciprocate the pleasure she was experiencing, Shane's fingers pulled out of her, slapping her hands away and she felt as if the world had turned underneath her feet when she was roughly swivelled around, her stomach now resting, on the seat of the motorcycle. Shane's still clothed cock pressed into her bare ass. Y/N's face warmed as she listened to the slurping sounds of Shane licking his fingers that had previously been inside of her, while his remaining hand pressed her firmly into the seat.
"Fucking delicous. ", he stated. Y/N's blush reached her chest and ears by now as both embarrassment and some sick sort of pride shot through her.
"Christ, Shane", her moans were almost gutteral by now as she became increasingly desperate to feel his fat cock deep inside her.
"How'd you like me now, Y/N?", he questioned, grinding into her.
Y/N could only moan in response, practically dripping by this point. Goddammit, she despised this man. But she was beyond caring about that, only thinking about satiating the need he had sparked in her. For God's sake she was so wet, it had started leaking down her thighs.
Suddenly, he pulled away from her, ready to protest, she attempted to turn around but was halted by Shane forcing her legs to widen further and pressing his now bare cock between them, her juices dropping down onto his dick.
She felt him grab his length. Finally, she thought. Y/N let out a high-pitched yelp as his fat cock-head slapped her clit a few times.
"Get on with it, you fuckin' dick", she groaned, tired of his teasing, longing for something more.
This elicited another enraging chuckle from him.
"Is this what you wanted, darlin'?"
She hardly even registered his words when he positioned himself right at her drenched opening and oh. The only thought capable of running through Y/Ns mind in this crucial, world-bending moment was 'oh'. The feel of Shane's thick length as it split her open was bordering on painful and yet with the pain came indescribable pleasure. She swore she could feel him all the way in her stomach, she was so full. His calloused palms gripped her tits tightly, as he slowly but surely thrusted into her soaking core from behind, letting out barely audible groans of pleasure.
The thought of being bent over Daryl's motorcycle, ass out, as Shane fucked into her, on the edge of the green forest, where anyone back at camp could hear, was one that inspired intense anxiety and apprehension into Y/N, her worst nightmare. But the reality? Oh, the reality felt like the sweetest fucking dream.
"You like that? My cock pounding into your tight little cunt?" he panted out. She could feel herself flush, the heat reaching her ears. Shane's words sparked something deep inside her, making her grow wetter and wetter. The only sounds that could be heard throughout the desolate forest were the wet sounds of his hips slapping loudly against her ass and Y/N's desperate moans as her clit rubbed against the rough leather seat.
"Answer me.", his voice was rough as he took pleasure from her stilted gasps and pants.
"Yes, yes, I like it." Y/N stammered out, overwhelmed by the sensations. "I fucking like it."
His hands began pressing at the bulge in her stomach, feeling his dick fucking into her over and over again. Y/N didn't know if it felt so good because she hadn't gotten any in a while or if the bastard was just this damn good.
Shane chuckled, his voice gruff, amused by her enthusiasm. He rutted harder against her, reaching deeper and deeper inside, hitting her just right.
"Oh fucking, god!", a throaty scream erupted from deep within her.
"Nope, just me darlin'", Y/N didn't know how it was possible to loathe someone so deeply as they provided you with such indescribable pleasure.
Her soaking cunt began to clench on his cock, urging it deeper and deeper within her as the pleasure built up, the combined sensations of the aged leather scraping against her throbbing clit, Shane's rough hands rubbing into her hypersensitive nipples and his gigantic dick pounding into her g-spot, driving Y/N closer and closer to orgasm.
"Jesus, how tight are you? It's like a god damn vice grip", his deep voice was strained as he increased the speed of his powerful thrusts. He too, coming close to his release.
Y/N, swore she could hear a commotion, somewhere in the back of her mind, but was so clouded with pleasure she let the distant thought fly away.
"Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me? Huh?", he questioned her, pushing so deep, Y/N thought he had breached her cervix.
"Yes, fuck, yes.", she felt as if the response burst from her, as they both reached their climax.
Shane finally released her tits, choosing to grip on to her hips, bracing himself as he fucked into her, hitting her g-spot over and over again, leaving her tits to violently sway back and forth with the force of his thrusts.
"Shit, shit, shit. I'm so close, Shane.", Y/N was almost begging at this point, right on the edge she only needed a tiny bit more before she would be flying.
Shane reached one hand down to her pussy, quickly finding her clit and rubbing at a furoius pace.
The air was filled with their combined moans and grunts and the squelching of Y/Ns gushing core. Everything, every minute sensation was coming together.
Yes, yes, yes.
A scream exploded from her chest, a groan from Shane matching her as they arrived together.
"Oh, shi-"
"Y/N, where are you! We need y-", Glenn stopped short at the opening of the spot they were in, jaw hanging open as he stared at the sight that greeted him.
Y/N and Shane mid-orgasm could only stare back at the man in horror. Coming to their senses, the two swiftly parted, sharing an embarrassed glance as they rushed to reclothe themselves.
It seems Glenn was frozen as he stayed unmoving as they dressed, his expression becoming increasingly pained as he saw Y/N cover her tits with her torn and tattered shirt.
Y/N was shocked to see him there at all, for the obvious reason and because he was supposed to be on a supply run in the city with some of the others. Something must have gone wrong. Why else would they be back this early?
Shane seemed to reach a similar conclusion as they shared a concerned glance before realising the situation they were in.
Once they were clothed (mostly), Glenn appeared to come back to himself.
"There's a new-comer, we found in the city. Dude's a sheriff or something, saved my ass from a hoarde of walkers but he's pretty banged up. We need you to look at him Y/N", Glenn rushed out, looking like he'd rather be anywhere other than there.
"Just let me get a shirt and I'll be right on it.", Oh god, she could never look her friend in the eye again.
"Here just take mine. Go.", Shane intercepted, throwing her his shirt, he had soundlessly removed.
There was a silence as she shrugged it on.
"... Thanks. ", it quickly became awkward, as Y/N let out a small smile and rushed off back to camp, leaving Glenn and Shane staring at one another.
Shane levelled Glenn with a harsh look.
"You never speak of this. To anyone. If I hear you've even uttered a single word, I'll have your fuckin' head. Alright?"
Glenn's head nearly flew off his shoulders as he readily agreed.
"Okay then.", They strode off, on the short walk back to camp. Shane started interrogating Glenn, on the recent trip. "Tell me about this guy you picked up."
"Oh, it's insane. Guy woke up in an abandoned hospital, fresh out of a coma, to this shit. He's looking for his wife and kid."
Shane froze. It couldn't be. Wasn't possible.
"What's the guy's name?", Shane's breath began to tremble.
"Rick Grimes, he said. Why?", realising he had stopped, Glenn turned around, finding Shane looking vaguely ill.
"Shit."
#the walking dead#twd fanfiction#twd#shane walsh#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh x you#smut#shane walsh smut#the walking dead smut#shane walsh imagine#the walking dead imagine#john bernthal#john bernthal imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Tomorrow's promise
Pairing: Shane Walsh × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader
Warnings: Mentions of SA, blood, character death
Chapter: 2.10
Lori gave you a knowing look while Andrea continued to whine about issues that weren’t real issues. While Maggie and Beth argued in another room, Andrea stated she thought you should try to encourage Beth to accompany you while taking Jace for a walk around the farm, insisting the fresh air would do the three of you some good.
You did want to snap back at her since Andrea was unhelpful most of the time, but you bit your tongue for the most part and started washing dishes in the kitchen. It’s not until Andrea mentions your brother and Shane being sexist since they always dealt with the more dangerous tasks, leaving the women behind to do all the housework.
“It's because they were cops! They risked their lives every day, and they know what they are doing.”
Andrea lets out an over-the-top huff, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, if they spent more time teaching us how to defend ourselves properly, then maybe we could share the load. I should be able to handle my own goddamn gun.”
“Oh yeah, because you’re so good at handling them.”
Lori shakes her head. She was trying her best to defuse the tension, but neither you nor the blonde were listening at this point.
“Excuse me?”
“Last time you fired a damn gun, you almost killed Daryl!”
—
You step out onto the porch with a fresh cup of coffee in your hand. It wasn’t the real stuff and properly tasted stale, but it was better than nothing. You sit down beside Maggie on the wooden steps and hand it to her. “I thought you could use this.”
“Thanks.”
“How is she?”
Maggie pauses before answering, “She’s alive.”
You give her a sympathetic smile. Things had gone from bad to chaotic in the last twenty-four hours. Beth had locked herself in a bathroom, broke the mirror, and then used the sharp material to cut herself; luckily, her father was able to stitch her wrist in time. Rick and Shane had taken the kid Randell somewhere far to leave him, but apparently the area was surrounded by walkers, so they brought him back to the farm, where he was now essentially a hostage.
“Since we got here, we’ve brought nothing but trouble; I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you do,” she says, letting out a slight chuckle. “But if I’m being honest, I’m glad you folks came here. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
You watch as Daryl comes out of the barn covered in blood, which you assumed came from Randell. You feel physically sick thinking of what could have transpired behind those wooden walls. You tell Maggie, “I’ll be back shortly.”
You walk quickly to grab a bucket of water that was half full and a cleanish cloth that was hanging up to dry, and you call out after your friend, “Daryl, wait up.”
He keeps walking towards one of the wells. “I gotta go wipe—”
“The blood off? Yeah, I got you covered.”
He lets out a snort as he begins to wash his hands. “You just assume I’d come out covered in blood?”
“I noticed the cut on your arm earlier, and I don’t want it to get infected.”
Daryl glances down at his arms before cleaning them as well. Usually he was covered in more dirt and dried blood than the rest of you; what worried you was the uncovered cut on Daryl’s arm surrounded by dirt. He says, “You're such a mom.”
—
Daryl asks how your injury from the crash is healing as you make your way towards your group, which is sitting by the tents outside. The first thing you notice is the look on Shane’s face; he’s looking pissed off as his eyes dart between you and Daryl.
"Boy, there’s got a gang, thirty men,” Daryl says. “They have heavy artillery, and they ain’t looking to make friends. They roll through here; our boys are dead. And our women... they’re going to wish they were.”
Hearing those words come from Daryl, you instantly become scared. You avoid making eye contact with Shane as you walk towards him; he hands you Jace before resting his hand against your hip. He whispers, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Carol notices Daryl’s bleeding knuckles. “What did you do?”
“Had a little chat.”
When your brother starts to talk about ‘eliminating the threat’ you shake your head, not wanting to hear anymore, you decide to leave the conversation. “I’m going to take Jace inside.”
You didn’t doubt Randall was a bad person, and you believed you would rather wish you were dead if his gang tuned up, but you weren’t going to partake in anything to do with him.
—
“Can I ask you something?”
As soon as you hear Dale’s voice, you roll your eyes. You walked to the other side of the farm so you could be on your own with Jace. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Dale, but I’m not going to vote.”
“So you’re just going to stand by and let your brother kill the boy?”
You lean against a tree, continuing to stoke Jace’s thin, dark hair with your fingers. “My personal opinion on this doesn’t matter, but what does is keep our people safe.”
Dale looks disappointed. “So you agree with killing him; you just don’t want to admit it.”
Learning that Randall stood by and watched as men in his group raped two teenage girls in front of their father stirred something inside—emotions that you couldn’t shift. “All due respect, it’s different from us, Dale. I understand why it’s wrong, all of us against one kid, but…” You stop talking when your mouth suddenly becomes dry, and it takes you a moment to find your voice again. “I’ve met Randall’s before, and trust me, you want to be on the opposite side of them.”
Dale gives your arm a friendly squeeze and says, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
He licks at his lips and says, “I spoke to Shane earlier to try and convince him to change his mind.”
“I imagine that went well,” you snort.
“He was dead set on never letting a man like that near you again, and I had a theory you met men like that in the past; that’s why I’m sorry. Nobody deserves—”
“Dale,” tears fall from your eyes. “Just please, don’t go there.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. Just—they listen to you, Rick, Shane; hell, even Daryl seems to value your opinion.”
You remain standing in the same spot as the older man walks away. “Dale?” He turns back around to face you. “How long did it take you to stop trusting Shane?”
“I never did.”
—
You stand by the front doorway of Greene's farmhouse; everyone has gathered to talk about Randall’s fate. You had already made it clear you weren’t getting involved, a decision that received mixed reactions; some thought it was unfair, while those closest to you understood why you weren’t getting involved.
You hold your hand out for your nephew and say, “Carl, I need you to come help me in the RV.”
He pouts, “What with?”
“I need you to help watch Jace while I mend a bunch of torn-up clothes.”
“Now?”
“Go.”
Carl sulks as he walks by you to go outside. You didn’t really need his help in the RV, but you, Rick, and Lori wanted him out of the discussion.
“You’re really not going to share your thoughts on this?” Dale asks.
You glance around to make sure nobody else is listening in before answering. “Honestly, I don’t know what I think. I want to believe I’m a good person who votes against it, but then I remember what he’s done, and then I’m unsure. But I do admire you, Dale; it’s not easy. Always remember who you are.”
He gives you a slight nod, and then you leave the house.
—
You’re unsure of how much time has passed by when you hear a loud yell of pain. “Carl, stay here with Jace and lock the door behind me.”
You run out of the RV and in the direction of the field. Your brother calls out for T-dog to get a shotgun as he follows closely behind you.
Spotting a walker trying to bite Dale, you pull your blade out of your belt and stab it in the head before pushing it off him, but you’re too late. Dale’s stomach had already been ripped open, and he was bleeding out. “No! Rick, Rick! Help, over here!”
Daryl is the next person to arrive. He kneels down and says, “Hey, buddy, you’re going to be okay.”
Rick and Andrea both scream for Hershel to come outside as soon as they see Dale, but you knew there was nothing he could do. You hold Dale’s hand and kiss his forehead. “It’s okay; it’s going to be okay.”
Dale was so confused by the loss of blood that it was hard to know if he knew what you were saying to him. But you could tell he was in pain and choking on his own blood from the way he gurgled.
“Shane... Rick,” with glossy eyes, you look up at them, your voice breaking. “He’s suffering; please do something.”
Rick points his gun at Dale’s head, but he’s unable to pull the trigger, so Daryl takes the gun from him. You move further back as Daryl kneels down, but you still hold onto Dale’s hand, not wanting him to feel alone.
“Sorry, brother.” Daryl pulls the trigger, ending Dale’s suffering.
#the walking dead#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh/reader#shane walsh fanfiction#shane walsh fanfic#Shane Walsh#Shane Walsh/you#shane walsh x you#tomorrow’s promise#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead fanfic#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead fandom#twd x reader#rick grimes x sister reader
143 notes
·
View notes
Text
“compulsion” - part 2 of PICK YOUR POISON - (a dads best friends love story)
first part here
pairing- (Shane x fem!reader)
warnings- nsfw, 18+, age gap, dads best friends, drinking, oral (r!recieving), fingering, jealous rick… 1.8k wc
You’d been a complete tease since that night in the garage. You knew it. They knew it. Apparently the only one who didn’t know it was your father. Such an oblivious man. Unable to see the way his friends undress you with their eyes anytime they get a glimpse of you. Or the way you purposely wear the shortest skirts you own whenever they’re around. And today was no exception. A neighbourhood barbecue that your parents are hosting. Mostly an attempt in upholding the outstanding community member facade they desperately cling to. And with all your fathers friends who were invited, you decide that for your own form of validation, to put on your shortest sundress. A pale yellow with a soft floral pattern, almost unnoticeable unless you were up close. It was so short that you have to pull the sides down anytime you get up from your seat.
“Where you goin’?” Rick asks as you tug on the skirt, heading for the door to your house. Your shoulder now a little cold without his arm wrapped around it. Something neither of your parents seemed to notice. Or if they did they certainly didn’t care. Too busy in conversation, welcoming some of the newest Alexandria recruits.
“Washroom.” You make a face at him. He seemed almost appalled that you’d be leaving his side. He probably was. Always trying to keep you close. Closest out of the three. And that was keeping him on edge. Trying to maintain your attention the most effectively, and keep it on the low. In fact, the secret was making him a little jumpy. The weeks of stolen kisses and touches catching up to him too. Very, very secret touches. Hiding what was becoming an exhilarating and extremely complicated relationship between three different guys, all old enough to be your father.
He watches your hips sway as you walk into the house, flashing him a cute smile before making your way down the hallway.
When the bathroom door opens, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Shane. With a flirty grin, your body moves quicker than your mind. Pushing the man back in as he tries to object, but you don’t let him. Pressing your lips to his and pulling him in by the back of his neck.
“What-”
“Mhpm.” You don’t even let him answer. Just continue kissing him all hot and needy, while you close the door behind you, pulling him close against you as you start to feel him relax. To accept that this was happening.
The entire day was torture. Each one of them very aware of your cries for attention, but not offering to do anything about them. When you tried to pull Rick upstairs to your bedroom he got all tight jawed and told you to cut it out. Pinching your ass as he led you towards the backyard. And Daryl, silently shook his head when you teased your fingernails up your thigh, lifting your skirt to show him the colour of the thong you were wearing. Ugh, they’re so boring. No fun at all.
It’s such a shame too. You want them so bad and they barely seem to acknowledge it. You woke up this morning all hot and needy, hand in your panties before your alarm even wrang. And seeing the men all perfect and groomed wasn’t helping. In their Sunday best button ups, with a spritz of cologne that made your head dizzy. It was intoxicating. The way you actually crave them. The way you feel like you need them. You’re already addicted and you’ve barely even had a taste.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’m a virgin?” You ask Shane in between messy kisses, hands already tugging at his belt, more than hinting at the real reason you decided to trap him in the costal themed bathroom.
He laughs against your lips. He tastes like beer. And you like it. A lot.
“Absolutely not.” He leans back. Tone more serious now. “Are you?”
An amused huff escapes your lips as you rest your head against the bathroom door. “No. But I wish I were.”
You pull him in again, tongue tracing his bottom lip as you kiss him. “Wish it coulda been you who popped my cherry,” his hand is under your dress, rubbing you through your panties. “Who fucked me and corrupted me,” you continue against his lips, the softest moan escaping your throat at his touch.
But he pauses. Trying to catch his breath, still rubbing soft circles on your clit.
“Ain’t too late for that second one.”
He’s right. It’s not.
“Probably woulda been better then some 16 year old jock on prom night. What’d he last, 30 seconds? Bet he couldn’t even make you come, huh?” He asks, fingers finding their way into your panties now, spreading your arousal onto your clit, and dipping inside.
“No- “ you gasp at the intrusion. “Was- was my high school gym teacher. Cheated on his wife with me in the girls locker room during lunch hour.”
Shane couldn’t help the laugh that left his mouth at your confession. Vibrating against your own lips. And you smile because he’s amused. But you aren’t joking. And it’s really not that funny. Truly wasn’t your proudest moment.
“Now that, I believe.”
You’re done talking, so you pull his smile against your own and whimper into his mouth. His fingers already pumping slowly inside of you. Finding your sweet spot with ease. Making your bare toes curl against the cool tile.
From the moment you woke up, you’ve needed this. Needed to come. All over his fingers. His cock would be ideal, but he told you no already. They all came to an agreement. Daryl, Rick and him. Said it was “crossing a line” or some bullshit. As if finger fucking your best friends daughter while he’s flipping burgers on the back deck isn’t.
“Please, Shane- need you so bad-” you whine against his lips. Hips involuntarily bucking into his hand.
“Fuck, baby-” you know he’s trying to hold back.
“Just-uh,” he groans, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your panties down in one swift motion. Taking your right thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.
Your hands tangle in his hair at the feeling of his mouth on your cunt. His hands are under your dress, nails digging into your ass and pulling you even closer. The warm slickness of his tongue moving up and down on your clit. Pleasure swirls in your stomach and silent whimpers escape your swollen lips.
“Taste so fucking good-” he groans against you, bringing two fingers up and teasing your entrance. Leaking with arousal and spit. Absolutely begging to be filled. To be fucked.
“Ohmygod,” you moan, pressure building in your core as he curls his fingers. Sucking and lapping at your clit, like he just can’t get enough.
“Gonna come, Shane-” you tell him, hands tightening their grip on his dark locks. Your left leg is starting to tremble, and you’re climax is approaching much quicker then you were hoping. Thanks to his tongue replicating what you can only assume feels just like heaven.
And right when that tight, hot band in your core feels like it’s about to snap, you feel the wood behind you move, and hear the door handle rattle. Someone trying to use the bathroom that had thankfully been locked in between frenzied kisses and grabby hands.
“Occupied!” You squeak, eyes widening at the interruption. Your heart practically skipping a beat at the prospect of being caught.
You feel Shane’s movements halt to a stop, big, brown eyes looking up at you from between your legs.
“Shit. sorry, sweets.” You’re father’s deep voice carries through the door, and a cheeky grin forms on Shane’s handsome face. Once the footsteps retreat down the hall, he puts his index finger to his lips and shushes you. Be quiet, baby.
“Keep going-” your voice is hushed and shaky. Desperately unashamed to be begging for his mouth. His fingers. His nose, and how amazing it feels grinding against your pulsing clit. And wether he heard your pleas or not, he obliged.
You raise you hand to your mouth and bite down on the fleshy side of your palm, silencing the sounds you both know you can’t contain. And you’re close again in a moments time. Eyes rolling back and hips jutting forward. Muscles aching already.
Oh my god.
“Don’t stop, please, please, please-” you beg him for your orgasm. And he gives it to you. Coaxing it out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Feeling a warm wave of pleasure erupt from your cunt, going up your stomach and down your things. And you bite your lip trying not to moan but it feels way too good and you can’t help it.
Not that Shane minded.
“Fuck.” You whisper, core twitching as he pulls his sopping digits out of you. Looking you right in the eye as he kisses your clit, one last torturous time, before he takes your panties, pulls them back up and fixes your dress. He washes his hands as you catch your breath, still leaning against the door. Face flushed when you see him smirking at you through the mirror.
“Think you can behave the rest of the night?”
You nod eagerly, “Yes.”
“Good. Now go back out there and pretend you didn’t just come all over my fingers, alright? Have a drink, eat some food. Be a good girl for us.”
You left the bathroom before him, checking that the coast was clear before slipping outside and eyeing the open spot still next to Rick. He notices you immediately and holds up a red solo cup, cold condensation already dripping down the plastic.
“Made you a drink,” he hands it to you as you sit next to him, the side of your thigh flush with his, keeping him extra close. And before his arm can make its way back around your shoulder, his eyebrows pinch together in a confused scowl.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, inspecting your dopey expression.
“Hm?” You look at him as innocently. Clearly still little dazed from your trip to the washroom.
Rick’s face twitches when he notices. Your thighs are actually trembling. Already sore from keeping yourself standing on one foot, while coming hard on another man’s face only moments earlier.
Rick’s palm flattens on your thigh, pushing it into the seat and halting it’s shakiness.
“Really?”
“What?” You ask, voice sweet as honey.
“You know what.”
“I- I tried to take you upstairs n’ you got all grumpy-” you stutter, trying to defend your sinful actions.
“I said later.”
You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out. And you’re a little surprised to feel a jolt between your legs at his jealousy. How hot it is that he’s a little mad. A little… possessive.
“M’ sorry,” you whisper in his ear, tucking yourself in closer to his side, sipping the drink he made you. “Can make it up to you. Promise.”
He rolls his eyes. Annoyed and jealous and irritated that it wasn’t him who had his way with you in the bathroom, so well that it made your legs shake. But regardless of his hostility, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in against his warm body. And you notice that his grip tightens when Shane walks by, giving you a charming smile and a flirty nod.
Annoyed and defeated, Rick sighs and leans in. Close enough that his lips brush your ear.
“Alright. Upstairs. Now.”
part 3
-
(Daryl’s part will be next… hope you all enjoyed💗)
taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck
#twd fanfiction#smut#shane walsh fanfiction#shane walsh#shane walsh smut#shane walsh x you#shane walsh x reader#Shane Walsh x y/n#dbf!rick#dbf!shane#dbf!daryl#dads best friend!trope#pick your poison
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Caution: contents hot
Shane Walsh x Reader
Summary: A little coffee accident has you meeting Deputy Walsh.
Rating: T (for now) // WC: 1,3k
Warnings: None, except that it's a totally silly plot 😅.
A/N: I wrote this a couple weeks ago, and I might just write the smut to it at some point. I just felt like posting this now, since it ends on a “good” part.
Finally, after standing in line for ages, you made it out of the coffee shop with your precious hot drink in hand and headed straight for your car. You weren’t in any particular hurry, but you’d had a long day at work and wanted to enjoy that drink before driving over to the grocery store. Sitting in an overcrowded coffee shop didn’t appeal to you, however, and that’s why you chose to simply return to your car to relax in peace.
Arriving at the car, you placed the cup on the roof and rummaged through your purse to find the keys. Meanwhile, a dark pickup pulled into the space next to yours, forcing you closer against your car as you kept searching. After finally locating the damn keys and pulling them out for a second to press the unlock button, you reached for the cup again, intending to open the driver’s door.
And that’s when everything happened very quickly.
Since you had backed up into the parking space and the pickup had driven into its own spot the other way around, both driver’s sides ended up next to the other. The person in the pickup had just opened the door to get out, while you took a step back as you did the same, only to get inside yours. Except that this step backwards had you tripping over the person’s feet, and in your flailing while you grasped for something to hold on to to stop your fall, you let go of the cup, which went flying back. As you caught yourself on the edge of the half open door of your car, you knew where the contents of your drink had landed from the loud cry of surprise and hiss of pain coming from behind you a second later.
Letting go of the door after regaining your balance, you whipped around to find a man in a police uniform pulling at his drenched shirt to get the fabric away from his skin.
“Oh — Oh my God. I'm so sorry… Shit, shit, Shit. I'm so, so sorry, sir. Are — are you — are you okay?” you gasped out, worry and embarrassment making your face burn hot.
“I… kinda. I-” he grunted, before you realized how stupid your question was and kept talking.
“No, of course you’re not fine. I just poured scalding coffee all over you… I really am so sorry. I-”
“No, yeah, I’m — shit — I'm okay,” he groaned, wincing as he pulled at the fabric over his chest.
“Really? You sure? ‘Cause — you know, you don’t really look — shit, maybe if-”
Not thinking at all in your panic, you took a step closer to him and quickly undid three of the uniform buttons to pull the shirt away from his skin.
“We need to see how badly you got burnt, maybe you need-” You suddenly stopped in your frantic rambling and stilled your hands as you realized what you were doing; standing in the man's space, with your hands holding his shirt wide open.
Letting go of him as if you’d been burnt yourself and springing away from him, you lifted your wide-eyed gaze from the man’s chest and towards his face. Which didn’t help you articulate any words, either, as his features finally hit you. Not only did you shower and burn a police officer with your drink, but you also had to embarrass yourself by almost undressing an incredibly good-looking police officer.
“I’m… so sorry,” you breathed. “I just…”
To your surprise, the man’s lips slowly pulled up into a smile. It wasn’t a mocking smile, but an amused one, which had you relaxing a tad.
“It’s okay,” he said gently, tilting his head to one side as he ducked his face slightly to look at you curiously from under his brows.
Your eyes fell to his chest as he did the same, and you grimaced at the reddening skin.
“This has to be painful, though,” you mumbled, holding your hand back from reaching out again.
He uttered a small bark of a laugh and nodded his head from side to side as he opened the shirt the rest of the way. Since your eyes were already on his chest, they instantly took in the rest of his torso without you being able to stop yourself.
“Uh, yeah, kinda, yeah. But…” He shrugged as he trailed off.
Your eyes snapped back to his face as your neck heated again with another form of embarrassment.
“I can go into the pharmacy and grab you, like, a cream or salve or something,” you interrupted, desperate to make it better.
“Nah, it’s fine. I got what I need at home. Thankfully, you hit me just when I was gettin’ off my shift and not on,” he laughed.
You cringed at the reminder.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect to be this close to you and-”
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, okay? Shit happens.” He put a hand on your arm and leaned in slightly to look you in the eyes with a sincere expression.
“Still,” you breathed, his proximity making you slow with coming up with a reply. “I’d like to make it up to you.”
At your words, the man’s eyes slid to your lips, which had your eyes going wide again in surprise, since he deliberately brought his eyes back to yours very slowly.
“You don’t have to,” he assured you in a low tone that had a shiver running down your spine.
“But I want to,” you insisted, swallowing at how his eyes went from your mouth to your eyes again at the statement, this time quickly. “The dry cleaning. Let me pay for it? Can’t be cheap to clean a police uniform, right?”
The man contemplated you, as you forced yourself not to look at his gorgeous body, the dips of his hips that were visible in your peripherals calling to you. He slowly grinned and took a step towards you, which had you automatically taking a step back and colliding with your back against the side of your car. He put a hand on the roof of your car as he leaned in.
“If you really wanna make it up to me, then how ‘bout you join me for dinner?”
It took you a second to understand his suggestion. You stared at him, surprised. Was that really happening? Was he coming on to you? Just like that, in the middle of a parking lot? After you'd injured him, no less. And you hadn't even exchanged names.
“I have one condition,” you found yourself answering to your own shock.
The man smiled slowly and lifted an expectant eyebrow.
“Shoot.”
“Dinner’s on me.”
He clearly hadn't expected that, since he blinked once before he grinned and began laughing. He leaned in that bit closer, which almost had him in kissing distance. “Deal.”
“Okay… good.”
He didn't move, though, which had your heart racing and your eyes going from his lips to his eyes. When he finally did pull away, he only gave you enough space to get your door open. It was as you stared at him that you saw the name tag dangling from his open shirt.
“Be at my place in an hour… Deputy Walsh.”
You enjoyed his look of surprise, before he glanced down at the tag with a chuckle.
“Shane,” he revealed, and stared back at you expectantly, but you only got into your car with a small smile.
“The car is registered under my name,” you hinted, as you got the window down to talk to him.
Shane ran his tongue over his front teeth as he watched you with amused interest. It thrilled you to have this attention on you. Not waiting for a reply, you put your car into drive and drove out of the parking space. As you slowly made your way down the aisles of cars, you saw Shane writing something down on a notepad.
#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh x you#shane walsh#jon bernthal#reader insert#the walking dead#shane walsh fanfiction#the walking dead fanfiction
146 notes
·
View notes
Text
Coming Home pt. 5
DBF! Daryl, Rick, Shane & Negan x Reader
TW: Severe age-gap, older men
Chapter Index
Rick cursed, going to shield you from Shane's sight with his body.
"What the fuck do you think yer doin?" he seethed at Shane's cocky smile.
Rick's rage skyrocketed as he noticed Shane's eyes glance at your body underneath before he shrugs, "You should be thankin' me. Her good ol' dad was gonna be the one to come in and check on ya'll. Givin how ya were lookin at her earlier, I kinda figured it'd be sumn like this."
"Thank you," Rick grit his teeth, "Now leave."
"Nah, I dun think so. What would good ol' dad say knowin' his friend was aboutta fuck his little girl? Dun think he'd be too happy about it, but that's jus me," Shane drawled, picking at his nails.
"Shane," your timid voice called out, still in shock over what just happened, "please don't tell him."
Shane's cocky demeanor softens at the sound of your voice, and he sighs, "Gorgeous, I wouldn't do that to ya. 'N Rick, stop standin' over her like a rabid dog and let her dress herself."
Rick practically growled at Shane's words, kind of proving his point. You gently tapped the man above you on the arm, a quiet signal that it was okay. Rick sighed, tucking himself back into his pants and helping you put your clothes back on while trying to protect you from Shane's unwavering gaze. It was no use however, Shane's dark gaze drunk in every ounce of exposed skin he could. You heard him take a sharp inhale of breath at the brief glimpse he got of your wet pussy. Rick also heard it, whipping around and glaring the younger man down.
Shane cleared his throat and motioned for you to grab the drinks. Rick snatched a few off the counter, the blue balls clearly bothering him, and you did as well, taking a few into your grip. You guys began to head out of the room with Shane the last one to leave, grabbing the remaining bottles and giving a small chuckle.
As you guys approached everyone else, your dad exclaimed, "The hell took you guys so long?"
You felt Rick freeze and Shane took a step forward about to speak up, when your voice sounded out, "I accidentally dropped 2 of the beers and they shattered on the ground. Rick was helping me clean up cause the glass got everywhere."
"Aw, you didn' get hurt, did you," your dad ask, concerned as Rick and Shane looked at you in astonishment, marveling at your quickly thought out lie.
"Nope," you said cheerfully, "everything is all good now. They were very...helpful!"
You all kept the façade up as you went to your seats and settled down. You tried to ignore the dampness between your legs and Daryl's curious gaze. Daryl's eyes kept switching between you, Rick, and Shane, but when Shane gives him a smirk, he scowls and goes back to eating. You all easily reenter the current conversations at the table and time goes by until the incident with Rick feels like a weird fever dream. Even though Rick caught you a bit off guard, you were super pleased to know that at least one of the men you were interested in was willing to get with you. You hoped that once the party was over, you'd be able to have a talk with him and maybe make it a reoccurring situation.
Dinner did eventually begin to die down, with the folks with children the first to head out. Next were the couples, tipsy and giggling amongst themselves, probably going home to have some fun. Everyone helped clean up after themselves before heading out, and eventually the remaining group went outside to the porch to rest. Your Dad was having a conversation with Morgan and the local priest, Gabriel. You decided that this would be the perfect time to go talk to Rick but as you went to find him among the remaining people, Daryl sought out your attention.
"Hey," his gruff voice called out, "gotta momen'?"
You sighed, "What's up, Daryl?"
"Ya migh' be able ta pull the wool over ya daddy's eyes, but don'cha lie ta me," he leaned in, "Wha were ya doin' w' Rick?"
Your face flushed and you harshly whispered, "None of your damn business."
"'m jus tryna look out for ya. I care about cha," he mumbled, his eyes searching your own.
You maintain eye contact, getting lost in his desperate gaze before huffing, "You had your chance."
Rage flared in Daryl, "The sunnabitch touch ya?"
His head whipped around, searching for the sheriff. You grab his arm roughly and bring his attention back to you.
"What I may or may not be doing with him is again, none of your business. Don't you dare start anything," you hissed.
Daryl blinked at you. Internally he was fuming, but seeing your angry gaze directed at him was enough to reel him back in. He nodded and you took that as your chance to leave. The porch surrounded the house so you went to go look for Rick at the sides but as you did, you bumped into another person you were trying to avoid,
Shane chuckled as he grabbed onto your arms, "Whoa there, gorgeous, where ya runnin' off to?"
"Shane please, let me be. It's embarrassing enough that you saw me... that way," you mumbled.
Shane leaned into your side, whispering into your ear, "Was it? Cuz I found you to be mighty damn cute."
He presses a fast and hard kiss to the side of your head, "If you ever want a real man to treat you good, I will never say no to someone as lovely as you, gorgeous.”
You stammer a little as Shane saunters off into the night, throwing a grin and wave.
Rick comes up behind you, "We need to talk."
You beam up at him and he feels a pang of guilt knock through him. You follow him and you both find a quiet nook.
"So I-," you both began, and you let out a light laugh, not noticing the grimace Rick had.
"You first," you smile but Rick shakes his head, indicating that you start.
"I, uh, really enjoyed what happened," you said bashfully, "and I was hoping we wouldn't let this be a one time thing?"
Your hopeful tone and shining eyes made Rick feel like the worst person in the world, and maybe he was.
He shakes his head sternly, "This can never happen again, (Y/N)."
You gaped at him, "W-what?“
”Yer dad is my friend, you could be my daughter's age. What I did was vile. I'm so sorry for doin' that to ya, w' what's been happenin' w' my ex-wife and the kids, it jus' took a toll, but it dun excuse my behavior. I should've never-"
"Enough," you sighed, "we did it. You didn't take advantage of me, I wanted it."
"I can't believe this is happening again," you murmured, running your hands through your hair.
Rick's brow furrowed, "Wha' was tha'?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Okay. That's fine. Have a good night, Sheriff."
You walked away, reentering the house and going straight to your room. After both Daryl AND Rick now rejecting you, you think you needed a break from older men.
Taglist: @eternalrose81
#daryl dixon#daryl x reader#the walking dead daryl#twd daryl#daryl x you#daryl dixon x reader#twd#twd daryl dixon#x reader#rick grimes smut#rick x reader#female reader#shane x reader#daryl dixon smut#twd shane#smut writing#shane walsh#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh x you#shane walsh x y/n#rick grimes#twd rick
139 notes
·
View notes
Text
⊹ ⋆ ꒰ఎﾟMOODBOARD ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹
shane walsh x farmer’s daughter!reader
“c’mon, baby” shane kissed your neck softly while wrapping his arms around you in a back hug. “i didn’t mean to scream and scare you, you know that” his rough voice whispered in your ear while he pressed his chest against your back and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your angry facade much longer. turning around, you looked up at him with your pretty doe eyes and he wasted no time in holding you by your waist, keeping you close to him. “i’ll make it up to you, doll” his hands descended to your ass, gripping strongly and in that moment you already forgave him.
#shane walsh#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh moodboard#shane walsh twd#twd#the walking dead shane#shane twd#shane walsh x y/n#shane walsh x you#shane walsh x farmers daughter#farmer’s daughter#farmer’s daughter moodboard#shane walsh fanfic#shane walsh x oc#farmers daughter aes#shane x oc#fanfic#shane walsh smut#shane walsh fluff#shane walsh angst#farmcore#coquette#farmers daughter#shane walsh imagine#jon bernthal
128 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Collection of My TWD WIP
These are a collecting of all my works that I’ve been working on which also lets you all know that I have my requests open!! This currently what I’m working on, if I get requests, I will make a separate post about those!! If you wished to be tagged in certain ones, please let me know and I will tag you.
I will be taking requests for The Walking Dead seasons 1-3, just make sure you have read my RULES before asking.
❛𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫❜ ⚘ 𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡
SERIES
(Y/n) (L/n) is a single mother to a one year old baby girl who recently moved to Virginia to start a new life without her drug dealer ex boyfriend. She finds a job opportunity at Blue Ridge Diner and a friend pulls strings for her to secure an apartment for her.
Negan Smith is a ten month divorcee, hired as a manager at Blue Ridge Diner after the previous one quit. He throws himself into work to get his mind off of his mistakes and divorce.
The two of them swear to themselves that they will keep their heads down and avoid any trouble to lick their wounds. They met at the chaotic and shit diner where they try to steer clear from each other…
Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, MODERN AU/NO OUTBREAK, age-gap (Reader’s in early thirties, Negan’s in mid forties), terribly written smut, alcohol use, smoking use, descriptions of abuse (Emotional abuse and neglect, domestic violence), toxic relationships…
𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 𝐏𝐓.3
MINI-SERIES
Things become even more tense at the farm where he starts to question your loyalty and if you’re willing to sneak behind his back, would you sneak around the others? (PART 3)
Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, sexual content, oral (M), heavy angst-to-fluff, TWD violence, blood, heavy swearing, mentions of death/killing, threats (not aimed to reader), penetration, unprotected sex, outdoor sex…
𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬
Negan never once forgot about his wife and daughter, especially his daughter. He always knew he wasn’t present in your life as much as he would be, he was there but wasn’t there. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but after the apocalypse, he spent every resource he could to find you and make it up to you.
Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, SEASONS 7-DC, emotional negligence, parental negligence, swearing, mentions of infidelity, rejection, TWD canonical violence… (To be added/Edited)
© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. None of the photos used belong to me!
Credits to @cafekitsune and @benkeibear for the dividers. Gif of JDM credits go to @londoncapsule.
#x reader#x female reader#daryl x you#daryl smut#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x reader#daryl fanfiction#twd daryl#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon#negan x reader#negan smith x reader#negan smith x you#negan smith x y/n#shane walsh#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh x y/n#shane walsh x you#twd x y/n#twd x you#twd x reader#the walking dead x you#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead x y/n#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#negan smith
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
i refuse to just let you slip through my fingers ••⊰⊹
— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader
— type: ficlet
— summary: as the group is stranded on the highway, you make use of the terrible situation to find supplies. until you collapse from overworking yourself and shane tends to you.
— tags: scavenging, sleeping, shane playing nurse to you, lori & rick make brief speaking cameos
— tw: dehydration, implied infant death, passing out
— word count: 1,574
— a/n: find my other posts concerning shane, which take place after/before this, here
While the rest of the group was more than displeased with being stuck on the highway…you were actually enjoying scavenging. All of you were surrounded by countless vehicles, full of numerous types of supplies: food, clothes, medicine, drinks, batteries, weapons, ammunition…the list went on and on. Not to mention fuel and car parts.
You understood the uncertainty and fear of being dead-in-the-water, right out in the open, which they all were feeling, but for the first time in weeks, you finally had something to take your mind off of things.
You’d taken a laundry basket with you as you went from car to car, looking for anything of use. And each time you’d filled it to the brim, you’d walked silently back to the arrangement of the group’s vehicles and dumped what you had found wordlessly on the ground, or on the inside of the RV, before walking away again.
Carol and Lori and Dale merely stared after you before beginning to sort through and divvy up whatever you had come across.
You heard, at one point, a male voice say from behind you, lowly—even if you still obviously heard them, and it wasn’t as if it was something rude which would hurt your feelings—“she’s like a little machine”. You think it was Rick.
T-Dog had tried to talk you into taking a bottle of water that you’d found, but you’d merely shrugged him off before walking away to see what else you could find. It was like a great treasure hunt.
When you open the back passenger-side door of a red sedan, peeking in, you immediately slam back into that same door, eyes filling with tears, hands coming up to cover your mouth.
You let out a strangled sob and Shane, who’d been looking over an arsenal Carl had found earlier, immediately jerks his head in your direction.
He drops the hatchet in his hand, the blade clattering against the ground, as he begins hastily heading in your direction. “Y/N!”
You don’t respond, you instead continue staring in wide-eyed horror at whatever you’d found inside that car.
“Darlin’, look at me, what is it?”
You shake your head, sobbing harder.
Finally, he reaches you, pulling your hands away from your mouth as he looks you over in a panic. “Were you bit? Babydoll, talk to me.”
You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “N-no,” you whimper in reply.
Finally, he turns around, looking into the car and he lets out a low curse when he sees: an empty carseat, covered in blood.
He stands again, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, turning you so that he’s facing the car instead of you. “Shh, shh, it’ll be alright.”
You sob into his chest. “That was so horrible,” you say, choking on each word.
He cradles the back of your head, cursing himself for letting you look through all those damned cars on your own.
But you’d seemed determined to do it—to clean out every one. And, in truth, he admired it you for it. For making so much use of yourself and your surroundings—the current situation you all felt stuck in. All while a couple of others wanted to bitch and complain instead, expecting other, more capable individuals to, once again, figure it all out for them.
After the CDC…seeing you so up and active was a welcome change. He’d hoped you were finally doing better, even slightly.
He fears this will become another mental setback for you.
Once you’ve calmed—having exhausted yourself from crying—he walks you back to the RV and you lie down in the back, quickly falling off to sleep.
The next day, when Shane tries checking in with you to see how you’re doing—how you’re feeling—you give him a mumbled “I’m fine” before wandering off. And you fear opening every door that you place your hand upon the handle of.
But you do it anyway, because you want to be alone.
It’s in the middle of the day when the sun is at its highest when it happens.
You’d just been about to climb up into a big-rig to check the cabin when you’d felt suddenly light-headed.
You shook your head, the disoriented feeling that’d come over you only getting worse. You try to swallow, but your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth. And you suddenly realize that you haven’t sweated nearly all day, despite the fact it’s nearly a hundred degrees out.
Your vision swims, the world spinning in slow motion, and you fall.
The last thing you hear before you close your eyes—your vision filling with black dots—is a deep southern voice yelling your name.
As you begin to come-to, everything feels—seems—dreamlike. You’re dizzy, your head lightly spinning. It feels like you’re lying down on something soft…a bed? And the atmosphere feels humid.
You feel something being pressed to your lips and you swallow as cool liquid wets your parched mouth and throat.
“How the hell could you do that to me? Haven’t…haven’t I already lost enough? What, you want me to lose you, too? You may not give a damn about your own well-being, but I do. I ain’t just going to let you kill yourself. You’ve tried it time and again, and I’ll keep saving you as long as I have to. Or until I can’t anymore.”
He was rambling, whoever he was. Names bounce around your head: Rick, Dale, Jim, Shane, Glen, Ed. But you feel so exhausted that you struggle to match this voice to any particular one.
The liquid fills your mouth again and a cool cloth is pressed to your forehead, another dabbed against your neck and the tops of your breasts, even your stomach. You realize that your legs are bare.
You swallow and the bottle is removed from your lips.
“Honey, I don’t…” He trails off for a moment. “I don’t know what to do. How to make you want to live. I get it: your feelin’ like you don’t have a reason to anymore. After everythin' you’ve been through…you’ve lost everythin' and everyone you’ve ever loved—cared about. But I refuse to just let you slip through my fingers. So, you go ahead and try. And I’ll be there every time to catch you.”
You feel the cloth being lifted, a pair of lips being pressed to your forehead, and then the cloth being lied back down.
He takes your hand in his for a moment and then you hear footsteps coming closer. And then there’s a female voice. “Rick needs you.”
A rough hand gently smooths some hair away from your face. “Little busy at the moment, Lori.”
A beat of silence, then, “I can sit with her.”
“I’m the one who’s lookin’ after her.” His voice sounds defensive now, protective. “If she slips away and I’m not here-”
“She won’t. It’s just dehydration. She’s still breathing. Her heart is still beating. She’ll be okay. I know she will.” Her tone is gentle, understanding.
Finally, with a slight squeeze, he releases your hand and you hear a chair squeak as he stands. “I’ll be back this evenin’.”
When you wake, it’s late, the RV dark, and a man slumped against the bed, his head resting against your stomach, the fingers of his left hand twined between yours as he sleeps.
The damp cloth against your forehead had grown warm you’d been asleep so long. You reach up with your free hand—your limb feeling heavy—and you remove it, dropping it to the floor.
You reach down, gently running your fingers through the man’s hair, and you know those curls can only belong to one individual: Shane.
He stirs for a moment, then returns to lightly snoring.
You lift your head, then lie it back down near-immediately, feeling a headache beginning to form from the simple action alone. You groan and the sound wakes him.
He slowly lifts his head, letting go of your fingers as he rubs the heel of his hand against one of his eyes.
“Y/N?” He asks quietly, his voice hopeful.
“Mm,” is all the reply you can manage.
He breathes a sigh of relief. “’Bout damn time, sweetheart. Been sittin’ here near all damn day waitin’ for you to open your eyes.”
You blink against the darkness, the only light being the moon shining in dimly from the window to your right side. Enough for you to finally make him out.
You lift your arm, which still feels rubbery and somewhat disconnected from your shoulder, and you gently cup the side of his face.
He smiles, laughing lightly. He rests both of his elbows against the side of the bed, taking your free hand in both of his, holding it up to his lips.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again. You understand me?”
You nod.
“How could you even-”
You cut him off, already knowing where he’s going with his train-of-thought. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself via dehydration. I just…I just didn’t think about it I was so preoccupied.” You lower your voice, whispering. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
He shakes his head. “Do it every damn day. Guess this one was no different.”
You smile.
“Did…” He sighs, looking down. “Did you hear anything, while you were asleep?” He looks up to you again, forehead creased.
You rub your thumb against his cheek. “Not if you didn’t want me to.”
#fic: twd (shane walsh x reader)#shane walsh x y/n#shane walsh x you#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh imagine#twd x you#twd x y/n
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
A little less awful - Shane Walsh
Summary: When Shane comes close to losing you, he realizes that just the idea scares him more than he thought. But things aren't easy, not with a man like him.
(Post S2) Shane Walsh x Reader
Usually I only write about Steve Harrington, but this time I wanted to try something different. I know Shane isn't the good guy, I know he's not that loved too, but he's given me a great inspiration to write (and then every once in a while my love for morally gray characters takes over) so here's this little work because i admit, it's my fault, but i wish I could see more of Shane. Also my man Jon Bernthal deserves everything.
Words: 3k
It's a rustle in the middle of the meadow, broken branches and trampled dry leaves. The noise of quick footsteps and heavy breathing approaching. A thud, a moan and then footsteps again. You run fast in the direction of an abandoned house and behind you a horde of walkers is chasing you, so many that this time you can't help but think it's over. Really over.
You've been scared many times since this hell started devastating the whole world, your life and erasing what you've known. You were scared when you saw your father transform, your friends die - by the walkers or equally monstrous men - but you have never feared for your life like you are doing now. It's just that things have been going well for a while, far too long, and you felt like you could manage to live in peace here. You were obviously wrong.
You have only one thought in mind. It's the face of a man, his strong features, short hair that is growing back, eyes darker than the night, so full of demons that only you know how to keep at bay. If you don't reach the cottage soon the walkers will make you their meal and no, you don't want to die. For you. For him. He'll never admit it openly, he's not a man of big demonstrations, but you know you're the one holding him together, that if you die he falls apart.
Also you don't want to die before hearing those words leave his lips. You don't want to die before you know that there is still some hope in the world, some kind of love. Above all you don't want to die to feed these damned monsters.
Out of breath you let go in a cry of frustration, while you feel your legs getting weaker the only thing that drives you is the adrenaline. With one last desperate shot you reach the house and he's here, rifle in hand, ready as always.
"Shane!" you scream. You have never been so happy to see him in your life.
"Go inside, hurry!" he replies as bullets whiz through the air, impacting what remains of the walkers rotting skulls. You mentally thank the fortuitous coincidence that made you find an armory on your path weeks ago, there was nothing left but an old silencer hidden in a corner. Your little miracle. You see Shane drop his stoic mask for a moment when he runs out of bullets, or maybe it's the rifle jamming, you don't know, you don't understand and you don't have time to do it, you grab the hunting knife placed on the chair behind you, in the small veranda of the house. With a small jerk, ignoring his protests, you move away to stab one of the two remaining walkers in the head, splashing all the blood around. Shane is immediately at your side, ready to kill the other with his dagger. Then, making sure they're all dead, he turns around and, with his back to you, walks towards the house.Your home. You silently observe the tortured dead bodies. You wonder if one day you'll find a familiar face among them, you wonder if anyone will find yours, if they will ever have compassion.
You don't have any, you can't. Shane taught you that you don't have to have any to survive.
"Shane" you began by breaking the silence as soon as you reach him, leaning against the wall for support. You're so tired you just want to fall to the ground, but you can't. You don't want to be weak, not in front of him. He 's always so strong, ready, invincible.
Sometimes you wonder if he's even human.
When you found him wounded in a field months ago, none of your old group gave him a chance of survival, no one wanted to take him with you except for you and Arnold, a former war doctor. Arnold was good and if it wasn't for him Shane would be dead. It was your job to take care of him. He was unconscious and in the throes of a delirious fever and you dragged him along with a makeshift stretcher made of wood and rags for a day and a half without respite before finding a place to let him recover. The other members of the group left you with him and you didn't object, because people who leave behind a wounded but alive man - in a world where being alive is a privilege - will do the same with you.
Shane woke up 3 days later. It took him weeks to recover. He never told you what happened to him, he only said he deserved it. You didn't believe him, cause in the end you wanted him to be a good man. You wanted to know saving his life was worth it. Then you hit the road again, Arnold died and you two were left alone. You've become each other's only comfort, even though Shane Walsh is a difficult comfort, a difficult man that you sometimes feel you don't know. know nothing about. It's Ironic since he the only thing you have left in the world.
With the bloody knife still in hand he walks towards you. He's not threatening you, he wouldn't hurt you and you know it, that's why you stay still. "Y/n fuck! why do you always mess up? You're not able for once to....Keep quiet, not go wandering around almost getting caught by those bloody walkers. No cause there's always fucking Shane to save you ass" He yells. You look into his eyes for a few seconds.
"You could have left me there"
You reply without a single emotion in you voice, moving away from him without looking back. You know Shane is trying to grab your wrist, you know he stops before doing it. He looks at his arm outstretched towards you, the muscles, the hand shaking with anger and fear. He dropps the knife from his other hand and brought a hand to the back of his neck like he always does, then let it slide over his face and when you are gone, hiding in the only room of the house, he let himself slide to the floor, caught in the realization that this time he could have really lost you. That it can happend at any moment and it's not that he hasn't thought about it before but this is time... It was so close. So real. He feels something acid rise in his throat, a knot, a block of cement. He would like to throw up.
He wasn't there to protect you, like always.
Like he has never protected anyone, because Shane isn't able, because Rick has always been the one able to defend his people. He misses him, his brother.
He also misses Carl. And Lori.
They were family, the one he wanted to protect, the one he destroyed without apology or justification.
You screwed up, Walsh.
He looks at the closed door of the bedroom and Shane wonders if he's destroying you too. Since the moment he opehas opened his eyes and saw you cleaning his wounds he has decided he wanted to be better. he still does, he wants to try to find himself - the man he was before all this, who ran to the hospital to save his best friend, the policeman Shane Walsh - but a good person doesn't treat their loved ones like he treats you.
A good person doesn't hurt someone he cared about like he is hurting you, like he is ruining you with his only presence here. A good person wouldn't stay in this house so long. No, he should have followed the original plan: find you a safe place, with other good people because there must be someone like this in the world. Maybe Rick. He should have find him leave you with him and you would be safer.
He will do it.
Then he will go away forever, so as not to stain yourself with his darkness, with his madness. Because Shane has now discovered a beast in himself and is afraid that the time will come when he will not be able to contain it again. Truth is that every day he repeats himself that you will leave the next one and it never happens and every day the idea of letting you is harder to accept cause he is just an selfish peace of shit.
When evening falls, you barricade yourself in the house and light the fire in what is left of the fireplace, in silence, with brusque gestures that reveal nervousness. Shane kicks out a couple of squirrels and starts quietly skinning them with his knife, like Daryl taught him to do a while back. He throws you one without even looking at you and you sit cross-legged around the hearth, to roast what little meat you can get. You lack real food.
You're hungry and you're tired and you want to cry, but you don't.
Shane would think you're crying for him and it's not like that, really.
You don't care about his reaction, you don't care about his outburst and you don't care that he doesn't talk to you, that he doesn't trust you and that he keeps his distance when you just want human contact. It doesn't matter that he touches your hands and then builds walls between you, that he kisses your neck at night or holds you in your sleep like you are the most precious thing on earth without ever taking an extra step towards you. You don't care about these things, they can't matter when you're experiencing the end of the world, right?
You eat looking down, obviously hungry. Shane instead looks at you chewing slowly. Once finished he leans on his elbows, he sighs watching the fire dance in front of him, then you again, illuminated by the orange light of the flames.
You are pretty. No, you are beautiful.
Shane knows it, he's always known it, but now it's like having an apparition in front of his eyes. You're perfect even now, tired to the point of exhaustion, with dirty hai and badly tied hair while eating a squirrel. You're beautiful and you're the only thing he has. His angel, his savior. And he has no right to desire you, to have you by his side. He has no right to look at you like that. You lift your head crossing his gaze with arched eyebrows
"What are you looking at?"
"I'm sorry I yelled at you." he replies unexpectedly. You throw away the remaining bones and clean your fingers as best you can, trying to have a semblance of elegance under his watchful eye. You hug your knees, sinking your face into them. Shane tilts his head, trying to catch your expression. He knows you're on edge and he's terrified of seeing you cry in front of him again, he's not good at that sort of thing anymore. Once, oh, once he was very good but now, now he's afraid of always making mistakes and he prefers not to try for fear of hurting you more. He doesn't want to hurt you, he can't bear the thought of letting anyone else down. He would rather die. And he hates that you have met him now, that you will never know a world where he was just Deputy Shane Walsh, and not Shane Walsh the survivor who tried to kill his best friend, the one who was sleeping with his wife, the one who wanted his family, the leader no one wanted, the hero no one recognized.
Shane Walsh, the villain from someone else's story.
"I'm sorry I made you angry." he adds, with a strange softness in his voice.
It hits you. Usually he would have just waited for your anger to subside and everything would have returned to normal, but something inside him changed and he couldn't say when. Stupid lonely man, stupid weak heart.
"It doesn't matter."You reply. You've almost resigned yourself to always seeming the weakest, it was like this even before, with your group and it's like this now. You want so much to look strong for a moment and show Shane how much potential you have, but after getting chased by a horde of walkers for trying to hunt something for him you think you've lost all hope. A cold shiver runs down your back and you unconsciously try to warm your arm with one hand
"I was a fool." You continue letting out a little sad laugh. You approach the fire with disjointed and awkward movements and he smiles without realizing it, finding your awkwardness terribly cute. He has seen you run miles of tree-lined paths, jump and scramble for survival with extreme ease and then you get stuck at the simplest things. It's sweet. Shane always says your problem is that you your head too much "And you don't use it at all"
He shakes his head, gets up and goes away. You, lost in thought, stare at the fire without wondering where he is going. When he comes back a few minutes later he has a blanket in his hands and sits next to you draping it over your shoulders.
"Thank you..." you whisper. "You must have thought I'm weak." Shane shakes his head again in disagreement
"No." he answers. You nod, holding back tears and rest your head on his shoulder slowly, for fear of a rejection that won't come. Before he can even feel your weight against his body, Shane is already hugging you, squeezing you affectionately. The truth is that he cares about you, he is afraid of losing you because he knows that if he loses you, he loses everything. His purpose is to keep you alive, to find a better place for you. Today he got scared but he never thought of you as weak, after all if you really from walkers, you would have been one of them. The only thought makes him shiver. You don't deserve such a terrible end.
You raise your head with slightly shining eyes and just smile tenderly. "Even if you treat me badly sometimes, I know you're a good person, deep down." you say. Shane looks you in the eye. His gaze is veiled in night yet sparkle with a new light that you have rarely seen in him and that you recognize immediately.
Affection. Devotion. Lust.
Shane wonders how he can hold on, how he can keep you away when you're the only thing keeping him grounded, wonders how he's done it so far because now that you're so close, with your soft skin ready to be kissed, he understands incredibly difficult. He Imagines the sensation of your warm skin under his big hands, the way your nails could dig into his back, the way your little hands would grip his shoulders, the softness of your voice becoming a moan softly begging his name.
He looks away, he'd better never have such thoughts. He couldn't think of you like that, you're... You're still good, still uncorrupted by the new world, still willing to believe there's something good in the world and he doesn't want to screw it up. But you don't care about this, about what he did, what he could do. You care that despite believing himself evil and dangerous, Shane Walsh has always protected you.
He has kept you alive. He has caressed you, with his fingers barely touching you, while the world tried to suffocate you. And you want more now, you want to discover all that Shane Walsh can be and give, you want to discover what it's like to be a part of him. He turns his head towards you again and it's the anticipation of something, the trepidation of a moment, you shiver under his warm and slow touch. His fingertips brush your ears as he brushes the hair away from your face.
"Are you still cold?" He asks. His voice is hoarse, broken. This strong and intrepid man you've seen defeating monsters, now he almost seems to be afraid of you. You grab his hand, he lets himself be guided as you bring it to your lips and kiss his fingertips.
"Y/n" he whispers.
"Don't say we can't, don't say that," you mutter.
"I can't... I don't" You shake your head.
"But do you want, Shane?" He can't deny it, he swallows letting his gaze run between your eyes and your lips, so damn close to his fingers that he feels your warm breath tickling him. "I don't want to hurt you"
You smile. "Let me" You begin "Let me prove to you that you can't hurt me Shane." he remains motionless, closes his eyes, a gesture of surrender as you approach and place a kiss on his cheek, long, then one closer to his lips. You hear him sigh as he grabs you by your hips with his big hand, squeezing the fabric of your sweatshirt.
"Shane" You whisper, moving towards his neck, leaving moist kisses in the way drawn by his veins, you can feel his heart beating and you think that today this is all that matters.
Warm flesh, beating hearts.
You and him.
Shane decides that right now he needs nothing more than to stay here. With you maybe the world will seem a little less awful.
#shane walsh#shane walsh imagine#shane walsh x you#shane walsh x reader#twd x y/n#twd x reader#twd imagine#the walking dead#the walking dead imagine#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead x you#jon bernthal#jon bernthal x you#jon bernthal x reader#frank castle#rick grimes x you#rick grimes imagine#rick grimes x reader#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixion x reader#daryl dixon x reader
504 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shane’s girl 🤎
#shane walsh#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh x you#shane walsh x y/n#jon bernthal#jon bernthal x reader#twd#twdedit#the walking dead#the walking dead Shane
34 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
towingoncall
Towing On Call
belle-ayitian
Fashion Crack
dog-food-international
Dog Food International
ya-fuetodo-blog
•Lalari•
lovebigfat
FAT❤️