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movidita · 7 months ago

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earn your spot

rick grimes

cw mean rick (?) face fcking. dirty talk / dumbification

summary: you get turned on by rick scolding you and make it up to him with mindblowing sloppy. i hate writing bjs #menshouldneverfeelpleasure but it’s rick. sooo like.

you always feared for the day you’d be on the receiving end of rick’s rage, much less his disappointment. but you should’ve realized you were setting yourself up by being on your best behavior since the group rescued you. gunning for the loyalest soldier category set expectations a smidge too high, made your mistake seem all the more dire. you can’t remember what exactly you did — veering off of rick’s plan slightly on your last run in with walkers because you assumed your role couldn’t be that important — but you jeopardized the safety of the group and that’s all that matters. it’s hard to recall all the tiny details when you have a man scolding you about the principle.

it’s not like you haven’t seen him angry before, quite the opposite— you’ve witnessed a height of his rage once and it’s stuck with you ever since. rick’s the type of person you don’t want to upset, and not just because you’re intimidated, but because he has a sense of honor about him that makes you admire him. makes you want to please him and be labeled good in his book.

you knew you were fucked after being shooed away by him like an insistent fly while on the run. exiled to wait in the car on “lookout.” the ride back to the prison is eerily silent, and your muscles ache with how tense they are by the time he finally unloads. he has the decency to pull you to the side, away from watchful eyes, but his voice carries.

it’s a chastising. there’s no other word for it. the tears that sting the corners of your eyes are to be expected— you could never handle being reprimanded very well— it’s the heat gathering in your core that comes as a shock. rick’s dirty and disheveled from the run, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead while his eyes bore into yours. seemingly looking past your pout and glistening stare.

“are you questioning my judgment, kid?”

you can’t tell what’s meant to be rhetorical or not at this point, but you shake your head anyway, a nervous laugh pushing from your wobbly lips. “of- of course not.”

“then help me understand.” he says, almost defeatedly. he’s got you caged in at this point, unconsciously backing you further into the grimey prison wall. “i laid out the instructions clear and simple for you, did i not?”

with you being new, and rick being pulled in three different directions every five seconds, it’s not often that you have his full attention like you do now. never for this long, especially. it’s pathetic, but you don’t know what to do with it. you shrink in on yourself, thighs clenching together while your face grows warmer and warmer.

“i thought you were smarter than this. if you can’t handle a run, i think we need to rethink your role here.”

“no!” you exclaim. flashbacks to being all alone out there for so long ring through your mind. “i can handle it, rick. i’m sorry, i fucked up, i wasn’t thinking.”

“i don’t think you fully grasp that when we’re out there— it’s life and death. there’s no room for you to turn your brain off.” he lightly taps the side of your head for emphasis, and you involuntarily lean into the contact. it makes his eyes go curious, brows caving in just slightly. “it’s us or them. i can’t have another threat— another liability out there. or you may as well join ‘em.”

his words pierce you in the stomach like a knife. the whirlwind of conflicting emotions is making your head spin, and you reach for his arm for stability without thinking. “rick… i understand. i promise you, i do. i won’t disobey you again.”

his gaze slowly drops and lands on the contact in what feels like several heavy seconds. you’re frozen in place, unsure of whether to let go or not. the muscle of his arm relaxes when he meets your eyes again.

“i’m… disappointed. i’m trying to do right by you, but i need you to show me that you want to be here.” the way his voice has dropped an octave is distracting, and you feel the words as much as you hear them. feel them as a tingle up your spine, a pulsing that blossoms in between your thighs.

if you allowed yourself, you might wonder if he was talking about the run anymore.

“i do.” you nod. feeling emboldened, you squeeze his arm, eyes widening up at him intently. “how can i prove it to you?”

his eyes darken, and a smug sense of pride swells in you at the way his mouth drops open but no words come out. his eyes do a quick sweep of the area the two of you are in. empty cell block. secluded. alone.

“what are you asking for?” he tilts his head, almost challenging. “do you even know yourself?”

a lapse of confidence suddenly makes you hesitate. before you go to apologize and maybe run out of the room, rick speaks again.

“yeah, you know good and well, don’t you?” he whispers it like a thought between the two of you. “christ, i’m tryin’ to talk some sense into you and you’re lookin’ at me like…” he trails off, eyes dipping down to your lips. and then he laughs, turns his face and shakes his head.

“like— like what?” you feign innocence. pulling as he’s pushing.

he takes a step closer you didn’t know was possible, and you can feel the ghost of his weight against yours.

he seems to consider his next words. “do you know how distracting it is to have to watch you blink at me like that whenever i speak, like i’m some kind’a god? watch you fein for my attention, knowing i’d be the bad guy if i gave it to you how i want to?”

you’re too stunned to speak. from where you stand, any sudden movements and he might back away, might talk himself out of whatever it is that the two of you are building up to.

“you like it, don’t you? teasing me until i snap. i bet…” he sucks in a breath, and you hold yours in anticipation. the hand of the arm you’re holding tentatively comes to rest on your hip. “if i were to reach my hand down you’d be soaked through these tiny shorts.”

you gulp down all the saliva that has collected in your throat. your heart is thumping so hard you feel like he can hear it as you take it upon yourself. guiding his hand where you want it the most, where you’ve dreamt of it several times. his fingers slide against your clothed lips, and sure enough, you can feel the dampness accumulating.

“fuck.” he breathes out. his resolve seemed to crumble, head dipping as his free hand goes to pin you against the wall. “get this wet whenever i talk to you? hm?”

you nod quickly. might as well not hold anything back, now that you’re finally in the position you’ve been craving since you laid eyes on him.

“cmon, what’s got you all quiet now, honey? i thought you could handle it?” his fingers have gone greedy, attempting to circle your clit through your clothing. the friction feels like heaven, and you can’t stop yourself from bucking into his hand. “i thought you wanted to prove it to me?”

“fuck, yeah. i want to.” all you can seem to do is nod, desperate with it. your eyes dart to the tent in his jeans. it looks so hefty, thick and bulging. you’ve never wanted to see anything more in your life. “i want to make it up to you, rick. earn… earn back my spot here. just tell me what to do.”

“yeah?” he dips his head lower to force eye contact with you again. you take your hand and gingerly glide your fingers along the outline of him pressed against his jeans, bottom lip catching between your teeth. he doesn’t move, keen on letting you feel for yourself. “well… i‘m not sure if you can take it.”

the faux sympathy in his voice almost makes you whimper. “i can, i promise. please.”

he reached down to undo his gun holster and it’s all you need to hear to drop to your knees, forcing back a wince at the impact from the cold floor. he leaves it to you to unzip his pants.

“look at me.” he orders, the authority in his tone gives you no choice but to oblige instantly. he’s larger than life above you, and somehow a much hotter view from below. it spurs you on, makes you more eager to free his cock from its confines.

you pull his pants down just enough to watch it spring out. nothing could’ve prepared you for it; long and thick and meaty, already leaking from the swollen, red tip. the sight makes you audibly whine, much to rick’s amusement.

“never seen a cock before, sweetheart?”

“never this big.” you admit, squirming to get some friction on your cunt. that draws a noise out of him, and you watch his cock twitch with it.

you grasp it hesitantly, looking up at him to check for his reaction. it’s been a long time since you’ve done any of this, and it’s not like you had much experience in the first place. you don’t want to disappoint him.

under the weight of his gaze, you reach out to place a kiss to his tip, letting his precum ooze onto your lips. his hips buck forward slightly into your mouth.

“christ, aren’t you pretty like this?” he sighs.

you feel yourself blush, kitten licking his tip to hide your smile as you gaze up at him. his eyes are lidded, his patience showing on his face. finally, you wrap your lips around his spongy head, suckling gently.

“alright, none of that. you don’t get to tease anymore.” he soothes your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, using it as leverage to begin moving your head at the pace he wants. he stuffs your throat all too quickly, your gags and moans muffled by the girth of him filling your mouth. it’s too much and not enough at once, and for the second time today you feel yourself about to cry. “just fuckin’ take it.”

it’s messy and suffocating, but you can’t think of any place you’d rather be than on your knees for him, letting him use your mouth to get off.

“your throat — feels so perfect, baby. about time i put this pretty mouth to good use, huh?” he chuckles breathlessly. you grasp his strong thighs for purchase, willing him to slow down. “i should’ve known this is what it would take to get you to listen. you just needed your fill, didn’t you?”

you nod as best as you can, eyes wide up at him. merciful, he pulls you off to let you breathe, watching a line of spit follow your lips. his dick is covered in it, glistening and raw. you splutter, and somewhere down the line the tears you felt had started flowing freely down your cheeks.

“rick,” your voice cracks pitifully. “it hurts.”

“i know, but you can take it, remember? you’re a big girl.” he places a hand sweetly on your jaw, rubbing his tip against your spit-soaked lips. “gotta be good at something if you want to stay here.”

the throbbing of your knees is overpowered by the ache in your cunt. you can’t believe the predicament you’ve found yourself in.

“you don’t have to think anymore, sweetheart. not good at that today anyway, hm? just relax your jaw and let me in.” he coaxes, pushing past your lips. you do as he says, letting your jaw go lax and his lips stretch into a mean grin. “there you go.”

all it takes is a few more thrusts of his hips. the sight of you with tears streaming down your face, squirming all over your heel for friction on your clit. the feeling of your warm throat constricting around him. he pulls out abruptly, and you watch intently as he rapidly fists his cock.

“here it comes, baby.”

he’s aiming for your face, but you stick your tongue out, desperate to take catch some of his seed on your tongue. his orgasm is ripped out of him, shooting off thick ropes that never seem to end.

you swallow it happily, yet somehow your smile is still bashful afterward.

he’s panting, shaking his head. “what am i going to do with you?”

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #😛😛😛#sexy

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movidita · 7 months ago

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when you sleep

cw dubcon. somnophelia. unprotected piv. dirty talk. prison era. secret relationship. not proofread idc.

the exhaustion festering inside rick’s bones takes the form of something more heady once his eyes adjust enough in the darkness to make out your sleeping form. clad in just his shirt and your cotton panties, rounded, plump flesh peeking out just enough to feel purposely teasing. it takes everything in him to constrain his groan, cock quickly filling the front of his blood stained pants. you’re none the wiser— turned away from him on your stomach as slow breaths cause your chest to rise and fall rhythmically.

gently, he reaches over your figure, brushing your wild hair behind your ear to get a better look at your pretty face. the lack of ponytail or braid leads him to presume you fell asleep on accident, probably succumbing to restlessness after having been waiting for him all night. that thought is what has him reaching down to palm at his bulge.

“my sweet girl.” he coos lowly. his voice sounds gravelly to his own ears after having spent the majority of the journey back to the prison in silence. “so beautiful, aren’t you?”

it’s as if a magnetic force brings his lips to your cheek, his calloused hand to your hip. cant help himself.

the bed dips under the weight of his knee, sliding it where one of your legs is perched off to the side. his warm hands feel you up innocently at first, sculpting the dips and crevices of your pliant body. reveling in how soft. . . how alive you feel. “missed you so much. missed touchin you.”

his inhibitions falter the longer he sits there, hovering over you. breathing you in. he lets his hips fall slightly to catch the friction of your ass against his hard on.

“god.” he laughs out in disbelief at himself. “feel that baby? feel me throbbin for you in your sleep?”

he looks up for a reaction, any indication that you’re somehow consenting and enjoying this, because he doesn’t know if he can just stop here. he pins his hands on either side of you for leverage as he bucks into you. the side of his brain nagging at him for how perverted he’s being is overtaken by the part that’s chanting desperately for more.

“drive me crazy. make me need you so bad, don’t even have to try.” he grits out the misplaced blame, his thrusts becoming more deliberate. he’s chasing his own high, using your unconscious body to get off. humping you like a dog in heat.

one particularly rough thrust jostles you slightly, making you shift in your sleep. rick doesn’t stop, not even when a soft groan slips out of your mouth. not even when you blink awake.

“rick? is that you?” the mixture of confusion and innocence in your voice only spurs him on, his breathing growing heavier by the second.

“shhh, it’s me, baby.” he places another kiss onto your cheek, soothing your hair out of the way in attempt to comfort you. maybe coax you back to sleep. his lips trail down to your shoulder, the snap of his hips never faltering. “so soft, honey. how’s it that in a world like this, you still feel so fuckin soft?”

your next words sound more clear, more awake. you turn to look at him in the dark. his hair falling over his forehead, still fully clothed and unshowered from the run. the lustful glint that has turned his eyes almost completely black. “what’re you doing, rick?”

“i know, i know. fuck.” he’s sympathetic, even as his hand travels up your shirt. as it trails along your stomach, as it gropes the fat of your breast. you gasp, your own hand coming to weakly circle around his bulging bicep. as if you could ever fight him off. “can you feel how hard you made me?”

you don’t respond verbally, because rick doesn’t count whimpering into your pillow as a response, but you push your ass back to meet his thrusts, still meek from sleep. he groans out, long and throatily and low, a proud grin etched onto his lips.

“there’s my girl. d’you miss me too?” his breath tickles the shell of your ear, followed by a rougher kiss to your jaw. “waiting for me to get home and take you?”

you nod as best you can in your position, letting yourself bask in the pleasure of having him pressed against you. you’re leaking, soaking the spot where your groins connect. rick has to reach down and feel it.

“sure feels like you missed me.” he chuckles, cocky. the rough pads of his fingers dip into your panties from behind, sliding along your slippery folds. “fuckin’ say it.”

“missed you s’much, rick.” you whine through delirium and pleasure, bucking down into his hand involuntarily. “was getting worried.”

“poor thing. gonna make it up to you.” he hums absently. too lost in the feeling of you. your puffy mound, the scent of your hair. he dips a thick finger into your spongy entrance. “look at that, always open up nice and easy for me, huh? could slide right in.”

you instinctively clench around him at that. your thighs threaten to close— they would if it weren’t for the way his knee has rooted in between them. “yeah? want me to stuff this little pussy?”

you manage to squeak out your confirmation and he removes his hand, but the sound of his belt unraveling behind you is enough to make you whimper in anticipation.

“yeah, you need it just as bad as i do.” he states. he takes a pillow from beside your head, lifts your hips with one hand and slides it under you in one swift motion. it’s a position he’s taken you in several times, but neither of you have gotten used to just how deep it sends him. and it’s one of those nights where he needs to be as deep as possible, breach uncharted parts of you. “don’t you?”

you feel his spongy, thick tip press against your entrance in the dark and squeeze your eyes shut. he’s painfully hard at this point, and it takes every last bit of resilience from rick not to shove himself inside and pound your cervix until it’s bruised. of course, you would take whatever he gives you without complaint. but he’s not a barbarian.

“oh— mhm. need you, rick.” you confirm, though it feels like you’re speaking through cotton with how exhaustion and pleasure are playing tug of war inside you. it’s far from a lie. you need him in more ways than one, much like how the rest of the group needs him.

only this part of it, the one saved for when the two of you are alone, spoken through silent glances and subtle touches throughout the day— this is sacred. just between you.

“you’re gonna get me, honey.” he knees your thighs farther apart to make room and eases his way in. his ego soaks up your gasp at the intrusion, the stretch.

it winds him too, sends him toppling forward and landing with his hands pinned on either side of you for stability. he’ll never not marvel at how warm and tight you are inside, sucking him in like you never want him to pull out. it’s almost gotten you pregnant more than a few times.

“yeah, that’s it.” he groans, careful not to wake anyone in your cell block. the heavy weight of him envelopes you from behind, pressing you uncomfortably into the prison mattress. your bones are sure to be sore and bruised from it tomorrow, but all you can focus on is his voice, his breathing, his scent— his cock. filling and stretching you so nicely. curving enough to slot inside your stomach.

he’s grunting out strings of praises into your ear — “so fuckin’ perfect. takin’ care of me…” — and all you can manage out are mindless mewls, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. he doesn’t warn you before he cums inside, just fucks into you rapidly until you feel the warmth blossoming in your abdomen. it momentarily snaps you out of your entranced state, and you attempt blink back at him.

“rick, did you—”

“couldn’t find condoms, baby. i tried.” he sounds completely unfazed. he kisses your cheek one more time before he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. “go back to sleep.”

and with that, he rolls over next to you. it’s not seconds later that you hear snores falling from his mouth. you try your best to ignore the feeling of his come leaking out of you and close your eyes as you snuggle up next to him, knowing he’ll be out of your bed long before anyone else wakes up in the morning.

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movidita · 7 months ago

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rick who comes home from a run all sweaty and covered in dirt but refuses to shower because he knows you love the way he looks when he is. who will find you wherever you are and immediately envelope you in his arms, holding you close against him, just wanting to feel you. who begins peppering kisses all over your neck, damp strands of his hair brushing across your skin. who reaches beneath your shirt, or dress, or whatever you've chosen to wear, just so that he can feel your skin beneath his fingertips. hands roaming over you, exploring every curve and dip as if it's the first time. who loses himself in you until he just can't take it anymore and has to have you right then and there. who will fuck you on the kitchen counter, against the wall, the floor, wherever he can cause he just wants to make you feel good ᡣ𐭩

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movidita · 7 months ago

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hold me close

pairing | husband!rick grimes x pregnant!wife!reader

summary | Reader is pregnant and her husband Rick Grimes is always caring and loving towards her, no matter what time of day.

wc | 1.2k

warnings | mentions of pregnancy/pregnant!reader, discomfort related to pregnancy

a/n | no plot, just soft and sweet Rick because he's a loving husband <3

Moonlight trickled through the large paned window and you were wide awake.

This was most nights; sleep would come fast but end just as quick. You exhaled, readjusting the pillow beneath your head with the hopes that would make you snug – and eventually you’d become tired.

But… nothing.

Everything was uncomfortable. The bed, the pillow. You twisted and turned, contorting your limbs around the sickly hot blankets but no angle or elevation was helping you sleep.

Opening your eyes wide, you grumbled.

“Let. Me. Sleep.” You tapped on the lowest part of your protruding belly with the hopes your unborn gremlin gets the hint. Let mommy sleep or nobody’s gonna like me tomorrow.

And so you scrunch your eyes closed with the hopes the warning was enough…but hell…not even a silly demand could make you fall asleep.

I guess I’ll start counting sheep or whatever sane people do.

First, you outlined your fuzzy slippers under the armchair and Rick’s comfy sweatpants folded neatly on the cushion. Judith’s toys were there too. Some were thrown on the floor from playing the day before. She has a habit of hiding her favorite toy in different parts of the bedroom every night when Rick brushes his teeth. It turns into a game the next morning of ‘daddy find my toy’. Rick usually shuffles around the bedroom and acts surprised when he finds it in the same spot every time: in your right slipper. Never the left, always the right one.

The soft snores from your husband beckon you to turn towards him. He was so peaceful, enjoying his dream about ‘who-knows-what’. And you wanted to be doing that too but you couldn’t and it was irritating. Every twist felt wrong and unnatural. Surely you were going stir crazy.

You groaned. With a last-ditch effort, you push your body to the left with the hopes you can relax on your side. But nothing.

Each second you lie in bed, every moment you're awake, it gives you more reasons to get up and go outside for air. If sleep was not happening, then fuck it – the day starts now.

The bed shifted before you moved. Shit, you curse.

Rick rolled over, turning his sleepy blue eyes on your contorted frame. The bedsheets slipped down to his navel and exposed his bare chest. “Hey.”

“Sorry.” You shift towards him slowly, “can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“Liar,” you hummed. “You’ve been snoring for over an hour.”

He smiled lightly. “Must be hearin’ things.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.” There was a pause as he stretched his arms and dipped his head back into the pillows. You admired his jaw and stubble in the hazy light as Rick scratched his chin. He was sexy, even when he wasn't trying to be which made your life so much harder than it should've been. Damn. You wished you had more energy to climb on top of him.

…That might also be one of the reasons why you were pregnant.

“Feelin’ okay?” Rick gazed back at you with admiration.

You nod.

He yawned, slowly inching closer until his arm draped across your waist. His large hand trails across your side, down to the swell of your belly. He keeps his palm steady. “Are you lettin’ momma sleep?”

You laughed, placing your hand on top of his. “Not since last month.”

“Now, you gotta let ‘er sleep,” Rick’s sleepy southern drawl was scratchy as he hushed his words. It was like he was whispering just to the baby, lost in his own little conversation. It was cute to watch his demeanor change from ‘husband to dad’ mode in a split second, even in the middle of the night. You loved how he doted over every single one of his children – even the ones he hasn't met yet.

His fingers rubbed a bit more before that arm slid back around your waist. He pulled you a bit closer before whispering, “what can I do?” This time his eyes were on you.

“Nothing, I'm just tired.”

“Want me to rub your back?”

A smile crept across your face before yawning. “That might be nice…”

His hands drift over to your side, pushing up against your lower back when you slide closer to the edge of the bed. You moaned, relaxing against his callous hands. “Keep them there, sheriff.”

He stifled a laugh as his body met alongside yours. His hands took turns kneading and swirling your muscles in different directions. It was so calming and gentle. Every touch felt like butter melting into your skin. You might not be tired but you sure were relaxed.

“Mmm.”

“Like that?” Rick’s playful voice made you grin.

“Yes.”

“Good, I’ll keep goin’.”

“No. No, I should move.” You stretch your legs, “I’ll get up. You need to sleep.”

There was a pause as you tried to swing your legs over and prop yourself up. The momentum wasn't enough. Your weight was so disproportionate from the pregnancy that it was almost impossible to fully roll over and lift yourself up. It only took one second of struggling and that was enough for Rick to meet you halfway.

“Need help?” he asks quietly. “I’ll help you up.”

“Oh, now that’s hot,” you snickered as you pushed yourself up from the sunken mattress. As soon as gravity took hold, you felt the pressure in your bladder as the baby weighed heavy on what felt like every organ you had. Rick went to follow behind you, but he stopped when your lips pecked his forehead. “Stay. Sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

“Nah, I’ll come sit with you—”

“I’ll be right back. Okay?”

Rick wasn’t one to just give in and agree to anybody. His wife was the only exception. You cherished that he loved you so much, so much that he’d stop being stubborn and lie back into the pillows with a quick ‘alright’.

And you did plan to be back soon.

But plans get messed up sometimes. When you woke up in Judith’s room, cradling her against your body in the padded rocking chair, you saw Rick already bright eyed and dressed for the day. He slipped on one black sock as a wide grin plastered across his handsome face.

“Mornin’ beautiful.”

“Morning,” you hummed and rubbed on Judith’s back.

You remember a bit of last night. After leaving the bedroom, you made a warm drink, cleaned the kitchen, folded the laundry, and finally checked on everyone once the sky brightened. Carl was fast asleep, his sheriff hat neatly placed on the top of his dresser next to the clothes he’d wear for the day.

But when you got to Judith’s room, she was up. Dark eyes watered as she clung to the side of her crib, like she was already awake after a bad dream. So you came in, changed her into clean yellow and pink floral pajamas, and made her a bottle. You passed out some time after Judith fell back asleep in your arms.

Rick scooped his daughter up his arms. “You should get some rest before you pass out on the couch. I’ve got ‘er and Carl so go lie down.”

“No way.” You slipped off the rocking chair with one hand on your bump. “I’ve had this craving for crunchy granola and milk all night.”

“Granola?” You can hear the twang of sarcasm on his tongue which sounded funnier because of his cute accent.

You nod. “Carol snuck me an extra batch before portioning it out at the pantry.”

He was grinning, watching you waddle down the hallway and stairs as you rambled on an on about this craving. “—crunchy granola, not soggy. The baby is very specific, Rick—”

><<>><

#rick grimes

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movidita · 8 months ago

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I don’t know about y’all, but season 5 Rick got me feeling some kinda way…. like MEOWWWW, every time I see that fine, beautiful man.

“Shut your fuckin mouth!” He spat at you as he abused your cunt. He had a tight grip on you jaw, his mouth mouth next to your ear, whispering the most disgusting yet sweet words to you. “Be good, hm?” He mumbled, still keeping his rough pace as he felt you go over the edge for the nth time that night.

“Thereee you go.” He said to you, his pace now slightly altering as them became more messy and unsteady. He quickly pulled out, making a mess on your hips and stomach as he took in deep breaths.

“You alright down there?” He asks in his iconic accent.

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movidita · 8 months ago

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hi angel! I love your writing so much, I loved your daryl fic <3 could I make a request for rick smut? you could write anything about rick and I'd love it <<3

hi hun! my brain instantly went to some "we shouldn't do this" smut and that's kindawhat i conjured up :] hope u like it!!

rick grimes x f!reader, oral (fem!receiving), ricks shlong, 1.6k words

The rain started just after noon, a slow drizzle that quickly escalated into a downpour. By the time you and Rick realized the herd was closing in, the storm had become a deluge, turning the forest paths into rivers of mud. The walkers were relentless, forcing the two of you to sprint through the trees, your boots slipping on the wet ground.

“This way!” Rick shouted over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. His hand shot out, grabbing yours as he pulled you toward a narrow path. The chill of his touch shot through you, grounding you even as the chaos pressed in.

The cabin appeared out of nowhere, half-hidden by the rain and overgrown foliage. It was old and weathered, its shutters hanging crookedly and the roof sagging in places. But it was shelter, and more importantly, it had a door that locked.

Rick shoved it open with his shoulder, ushering you inside before slamming it shut. He shoved a standing closet across the door, catching his breath once he knew the both of you were secure. You leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, your clothes soaked and clinging uncomfortably to your skin.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, dripping water onto the creaking floorboards, the storm raging outside. Rick turned, his piercing blue eyes scanning you for injuries.

“You good?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

“Yeah,” you managed, though your pulse was still racing. “You?”

He nodded, brushing a hand through his damp curls. “We’re lucky this place was here. Could’ve been bad out there.”

“Could still be bad,” you muttered, glancing at the foggy windows. The walkers weren’t far behind, and the flimsy-looking cabin didn’t inspire much confidence. But for now, it was quiet—no groans, no shuffling footsteps.

Rick moved further into the house, crouching to inspect ashes left in a fire place. “Looks like someone’s been here recently. Should be enough to get a fire going.”

You watched as he worked, gathering scraps of dry wood and kindling from the corners of the room. The way his hands moved—quick, efficient—was almost hypnotic. You’d been on enough supply runs with him to know he thrived under pressure, but there was something different about seeing him like this, in a rare moment of quiet focus.

Once the fire caught, warmth began to seep into the room. You sat cross-legged on the rug, holding your hands out toward the flames while Rick shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair to dry. His shirt clung to him, damp and outlining the broad planes of his shoulders, his strong biceps and chest. You tried not to stare, but your eyes had a mind of their own.

“We should stay here tonight,” Rick said, breaking the silence. “Let the herd move on.”

You nodded, though the thought of spending the night alone with him made your heart pound for reasons that had nothing to do with fear. The unspoken tension between you had been simmering for weeks—glances that lingered too long, the occasional brush of his hand against yours, words left unsaid.

The rain intensified, battering the windows and drowning out the world outside. You both settled into an uneasy quiet, the crackle of the fire the only sound.

It wasn’t until later, after the initial rush of adrenaline faded, that the weight of the day’s events truly sank in. You were sitting on the couch now, stripped of your sopping jacket with Rick beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. His head was bowed, his hands clasped together as he stared at the floor, his leg bouncing ever so slightly–in concentration or anxiety? You couldn't tell.

“You ever stop pretending, Rick?” you asked apprehensively, your voice barely above a whisper.

His head snapped up, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, your heart thudding in your chest. “You act like none of this means anything. Like we’re just two people trying to coexist, and that that’s all it’ll ever be.”

Rick exhaled sharply, standing abruptly. He started pacing, his boots thudding softly against the floor as the firelight casted his shadow across the room. “We can’t do this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “It’s not right.”

“Why not?” you challenged, standing too. The both of you illuminated by the warmth of the fire as it warmed your skin, your voice rising above the droplets that hit the roof. “What’s stopping you? The rules? Rick, there are no rules anymore... Didn't you say that to Shane?"

He turned to face you, his expression torn, conflicted. “It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ve got a group to think about. Responsibilities. I have Michonne, I think, This—this would only make things harder.”

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. “You’re absolutely right,” you said quietly, your voice feigning sincerity with every ounce of your being. “We shouldn’t do this...”

The air between you felt charged, thick with unspoken words. Rick’s breath hitched, his eyes searching yours for a hesitation he wouldn’t find.

He surged forward, his hand cupping the side of your face as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was all tongue, teeth, and desperation, all-consuming, weeks of suppressed feelings erupting all at once. You balled your fists into his damp shirt, pulling him closer as you both stumbled back onto the couch.

“Goddammit,” he muttered against your lips as his hands found your waist, his voice raw. “We shouldn’t—”

“Then stop,” you whispered as one hand tangled deeper in his damp curls and the other held the rippled muscles of his back.

The firelight flickered as clothing flew across the room. You peeled off his shirt while shimmying out of your pants, his hands dipping beneath the fabric of your top before yanking it off entirely. His touch was both rough and tender, his hands exploring the skin of your chest like he couldn’t get enough. He kissed his way down the soft skin of your neck before marking it as his, stubble scraping deliciously against your flesh. His tongue swirled around your nipples, giving them both enough attention to make your cunt flutter around nothing.

Outside, the storm raged on, but inside the cabin, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you—your breathless whispers, the heat of the fire, the way his name fell from your lips like a confession.

His lips traveled further down your stomach before he scooped up your thighs and placed them around his shoulders. Without warning, he licked a fat stripe over your clothed core, your back arching immediately as you practically grinded on his tongue. Lord knows it's been a while since a man's had his mouth on you.

But none of them were as good as Rick. His baby blues met yours as he pulled your panties to the side, feeling his cock twitch against his zipper at the sight of your glistening arousal. He lapped up your juices, moaning at the taste of you as he swirled and sucked your sensitive bud. You squealed as he held your legs impossibly tight, restricting your movement as he ate you nastier than a starving walker would have.

He eased a finger into your tight hole, slowly massaging that gummy spot inside of you that made heat burn in your thighs and stomach.

"Gotta get you nice 'n ready for my cock, Baby, hmm? How's that sound? Gon' get nice 'nd ready for me?" Rick was on another planet as he babbled, obsessed with the way your hole took his finger so well. He eased in another, his hips automatically pistoning into the couch at the sound of your moans, imagining just how well you would take his cock.

"R-Rick please... Need you so bad, please..." You were in tears as he played with you. He gave you enough stimulation to bring you to the brink of cumming, but never enough to throw you over. You pawed at his curls that were between your legs as he looked up at you. He almost looked drunk as he pulled his eyes away from your cunt.

"What'd ya need, Sweetheart?" He cooed at you as he sat up. His frame rising up above you as he unbuckled his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. "You need somethin' from me?" His mocking didn't cease.

"Yes, Rick! Fucking please..." You pleaded as you watch him work his belt out of the loops of his jeans at a agonizing pace. He pulled his pants down just enough to free himself from his boxers. The sight made your mouth water.

He was thick with a slight upward curve, thick curls at the base, and his tip was an angry red, pre smeared all around it. You reached out to take him into your hands but he moved away, your hands retracting.

"Keep those hands where I can see 'em. You wanted my cock so bad, right? You're gonna have to ask real nice for it, Sweetheart." He said, dragging his hands across your stomach, scorching the skin beneath his fingers.

You huffed as you stared at his cock as he teasingly tapped it against your perked clit, each little nudge making your hole flutter. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, whispering his name like a prayer through whines and whimpers of desperation.

His hand reached out and rested on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "So sensitive... If I had known that I would've fucked this pretty pussy weeks ago.." His thumb slipped into your mouth, his cock drooling as your lips immediately tightened around it.

"Since you like to whine so goddamn much, you can suck on that while I fuck you stupid."

mlist

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movidita · 9 months ago

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I NEED SOME MORE RICK ANYTHING. MEAN RICK RUDE RICK AHHH COCKY RICK

nghh im thinking thots about the fact that rick has a big dick, big as in your mouth has to stretch so so wide for it to fit inside :( and something about it makes him even harder - maybe the way you look up at him with teary eyes full of determination, the way you whine when he tries to pull you off with a soothing "s'okay, sweetheart." because you will get him all the way down your throat!

eventually he resigns to letting you. he sits back and watches as you slobber and sniffle all over his cock, drool down your chin eyes half lidded. the tip of his finger traces over the stretch of your lips around the girth of him and his lips curl into a half smile. "perfect little mouth. trained just for me, yeah?"

the moan u let out around his cock is what finally makes him cum <3

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movidita · 9 months ago

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Getting caught by brother!Glenn sneaking around with Rick???

this is short soz x

18+ mdni

You thought you were sneaky.

Rick always left your cell early, before anyone was even awake. You kept the noise to a minimum— well you tried to.

Stolen kisses were in secret, you thought.

Whenever his hand reached down to grab your ass, you were always alone. Or so you believed.

Apparently not.

Apparently it was obvious the two of you were sneaking around— according to Maggie.

And of course, she went to Glenn.

So when your bicep was gripped and you were pulled to the side by your brother, you weren’t surprised.

“Hey, what is going on? You have something you wanna tell me?” Glenn spoke, quietly. His eyebrows furrowed in irritation.

You stared at him blankly, “Uh. . .”

The brother scoffed, “Don’t play stupid. You and Rick.”

Your eyes widened, mouth agape, “I was going to tell you—”

“—When?”

“When I knew for sure what was going on between us.” You defended, crossing your arms. What you were saying was true, you were waiting to tell anybody about you and Rick. Especially because the loss of his late wife was so fresh. “I’m sorry, but it’s not like you came to me when you and Maggie happened, you went to Hershel first!”

Glenn chuckled, a hint of nerves behind it. “Just be careful, okay. He’s a lot older than you.”

Smacking his shoulder you scoffed, “I know what I’m doing, Glenn. I’m not a child anymore.”

“I know you’re not.”

#the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick x reader #rick grimes fic #glenn rhee #glenn twd #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x fem!reader #twd imagine

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movidita · 10 months ago

Text

Stockholm Syndrome

part 8 of series, part 7 and other parts here

notes: hi guys totally didn’t disappear for a year or anything anyways here’s you being kidnapped by shane

word count: 3.4k

(shane x reader)

18+

The early dawn races past as you come to, straying further from home with every passing second.

Whether you dozed off or blacked out is debatable, but unimportant. More confused than you are sore, you sit yourself up as fragments of last nights memories resurface. For just a second, you question if it was only a dream- to be fair, you were awake for all of ten minutes, and barely conscious for half of it.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” Shane grumbles, all too nonchalantly. His eyes are locked on the road ahead, his elbow resting on the open window.

You’re hesitant to start talking, still holding onto that slim chance it was all a twisted nightmare. After a few shallow breaths, you finally manage to spit out one lousy, but all encompassing question. “Shane?”

“I know,” he answers, instantaneously. “You don’t know what happened, or what’s goin’ on. You’re scared. I need you to just-“

You can’t help but to blurt out, skipping over a disclaimer that would have been far too long. “Where are they?”

“Look- Im gonna explain everything- but I need you to stay calm. Gotta to trust me, alright?”

Your silent, wide-eyed focus cues him to get on with it.

“Now I dunno where the hell you were off to when shit hit the fan, but- Randall got loose. He was armed, surely pissed off. We chased him in circles, finally shot him dead after a good couple a’hours. Gunshot drew in a herd nearby, and, well,” he huffs out a deep sigh, making for a dramatic pause before finishing his monologue. “Wasn’t long before those things took over the farm, swallowed it whole.”

A lump builds in your throat as you assume worst. “Are they ok?”

Shane cocks his head, taking a breath to speak. The way he hesitates to get a word out prompts you to inquire further.

“Are they dead?”

“I don’t know,” he insists, leaving not even a beat of silence between question and answer. He’s seemingly inconvenienced by your concern, but catches himself, taking pause before correcting his tone. “I don’t know. All I know is I barely made it out of there alive. And you,” he points out, panning his attention over with an exaggerated look, “You were just about a blink away from becomin’ a pile of bones. So why don’t we just focus on the fact that we’re sittin’ here, flesh and all.”

“Well then where are we?” It was as if he expected no resistance. No worries, and god forbid any questions. Just a yes sir. “Where the hell are we going?”

“Far as we can.” His response is firm, delivered in a ‘cause I told you so manner.

“No,” you protest through tears. “No, no you have to turn around. Please, Shane I’m beggin’ you.” Your eyes flood as your pleading gets you nowhere, and he grows more impatient.

“Look, Sweetheart. Even if they survived, ain’t nobody gonna be there but a bunch a’ walkers. You’re just gonna have to accept the fact that they’re gone, alright? Ain’t sweet but it’s the truth.”

In desperation, you tug at his sleeve. “Shane please, we have to try we can’t just-“

Once again, you’re interrupted before you can even get a couple words in. “They never saw you as family anyway,” he barks, making it apparent now that he’s just trying to get to you. Trying to shut you up.

“Don’t say that.” His lazy jab doesn’t deserve much more than an eye roll, but it starts a fire in your chest, just as he intended. “You don’t know that.”

“I’ve seen it,” he shoots back, throwing his hand up as if to shoo your words away. “We all did. The way Hershel didn’t give a shit about you, or your well-being. He’d have never let Maggie or Beth go off with Rick, the way he did with you. No,” he chuckles, “not in a million years.” His fist is clenched so hard around the steering wheel, you’re almost sure it will leave an imprint. “Nobody came lookin’ for you when Randall was on the loose,” he piles on. “Didn’t even cross their minds, did it now?”

“He’s cared for me since I was a little girl.” Your southern accent jumps out when you raise your voice, something you’re totally oblivious to- and something that leaves Shane trying to stifle a smile.

For now, he has to play that tough guy, bad-cop character. A role he plays too well- So well, that his next line is almost actually convincing.

“Yeah? N’ why’s that huh? What, did Mommy and Daddy skip town, leave you on his doorstep with a blanket and a rattle? He got stuck with you. If he had to sacrifice one a’ you, you’d be the first to go. You’re a smart girl. Deep down, you know that-“

“Fuck you Shane. Fuck you.” With your fingers gripped to the door handle, you make a demand- one that would never actually work out.

“Let me out right now Shane. I swear to god.”

Right away, the truck screeches to a halt. He steps down to the pavement, slamming the door behind him as he circles around the vehicle, whipping yours wide open.

Taking this as your invitation to leave, you reach down for your bag and begin to scoot out of the passenger. Shane’s quick to stop you, restraining you against the seat with minimal effort. His hands are clamped tight over your shoulders, and he’s leaned in a little too close- ensuring you hear his message loud and clear.

“Be mad at me all you want girl. Ain’t gonna change nothin.’ No more daisies n’ ponies. No more pedicures. This is where this shit gets real.”

He pauses to throw a look over each shoulder, making sure there’s nothing sneaking up behind. When he continues his lecture, his voice carries even more grit than it did before.

“Matter fact, it’s been real this whole damn time. You just got lucky. A head start, your hand held the whole damn way- Hell if I were you, I’d just shut the fuck up, how ‘bout that.”

Defeated and with nothing much left to say, all you can do is stare through a furrowed brow. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath while he reciprocates the stubborn eye contact. He eases up after the moment passes, releasing his restraint and assuming his cop-like stance.

“Now if you wanna leave, be my guest. One less damsel in distress I gotta worry ‘bout. But you won’t even make it fifteen feet into those woods all by yourself, I’ll tell you that much.”

He leans back in, reaching to dry the tears from your cheek. It wasn’t romantic, or hardly even genuine. It was quick. Calculated. Like a way to pass his cruelty off as some sort of pep talk.

“You really don’t have much a choice,” he adds. With that, and a reassuring pat on the thigh, he shuts the door. While his delivery could use some work, he’s not entirely wrong. What he is, is a liar- but you won’t find that out until it doesn’t even matter anymore.

The beginning was tough. Cold, sleepless nights, in unfamiliar places. Canned peas. Few words exchanged, apart from “C’mon” and “stay here”. The days began to blend into one another as they turned to weeks, making for one long, foggy dissociation. You finally settled at an open clearing after you got sick of chasing your own tails, allowing a somewhat tame environment for the time being. Just a place to catch your breath, and twiddle your thumbs. And wallow in self pity.

While hardly any walkers wonder up to the property, you almost wish they did. At least it would be something to look at, instead of your worn down boots or the dirt beneath your fingernails. The overwhelming boredom forces you inside your own head, leaving you to face a constant internal debate. It’s a one sided negotiation, where you try to convince yourself that the others are alive. That they’re safe. Together. Somewhere just around the corner.

As time dragged on, Shane became more bearable. Beyond bearable, even. He’s softened up since the farm, and in turn he’s backed off. Without all the conflict and tension, all that stress, a new side of him has had a chance to show- rather, an old side. The version of him that you barely ever had a chance to meet in the first place.

Reluctantly, you find yourself crushing on him, the way you did at the start. Seeking his praise and validation, blushing when he gives it to you. It’s nothing serious, and nothing compared to Rick- but it is something. You try not to pay it any mind, and feel guilty when you do. Maybe it’s the concussion, hell it might even be Stockholm syndrome. But you just can’t help yourself. He’s got this charisma about him when he’s not flying off the handle.

Your skinned knees hang over the edge of the truck bed, your legs mindlessly swinging back and forth over the grass below. As dusk closes in, the hum of the crickets nearly overpowers the rhythm of Shane chopping firewood. You look down to your last cigarette as you roll it between your fingertips, the temptation competing with your restraint. Giving in, you pull the lighter from under your waistband. Good a time as any.

With your left hand, you take it to your lips, igniting the flame with the other. Your eyes shut as the smoky tobacco provides you a sweet, nostalgic comfort. If you close your eyes, it almost feels like you’re sitting over the porch railing- waiting on Rick, with a lipstick tucked in your bra and a lily behind your ear. Praying to god you don’t get caught this time.

“Pass me that lighter?” Shane’s request rips you right out of your daydream, placing you back into your reality that leaves much to be desired. You toss it over, forcing him into a crouch to compensate for your poor aim. He stays down, focusing intently as he lights the fire, and the hot glow casts upon his face almost instantly.

Taking his seat around the pit, he rests his elbows square on his knees. “Cmon now, you gonna sit down or you just gonna stare at me all night?”

With your palms pressed flat, you lift off and hop to the ground, reaching back to grab a throw before joining. A natural sigh escapes your lips as you plop down next to him, wrapping the the blanket tightly around your shoulders.

“Gonna share?” He only ever seems to like cigarettes when they belong to you.

“Better make it count,” you warn, passing it over. “My last one.”

As he clamps it between his fingers, his free arm heavily drapes across your shoulders, pulling you close. He takes a nice, solid drag, savoring the smoke in a way that’s almost theatrical.

“I’m sure we can find some more tomorrow,” he suggests, flicking the ash before returning it back to you. “We’re gonna do a little apartment huntin’. Find us one of them RVs, how’s that sound?”

“RV?” The idea seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Recreational vehicle, Sweetheart,” he corrects, getting way too much satisfaction out of it.

You roll your eyes as you blow a cloud of smoke off to the side. “I know what RV means, Shane.”

“It’s gettin’ cold out here- only gonna get colder. We won’t last another week sleepin’ in a truckbed. Put it this way- we don’t get a roof soon, it ain’t gonna be walkers that kill us.”

“Think we’ll be able to find one that works?” If you’re sure of anything, it’s that this isn’t necessarily an original idea.

“The ones that work’ll be parked in backyards, not abandoned on the street. Safer to avoid town anyway. We’ll go house to house, way up in the back roads. Grab some food and clothes along the way. That way we can stock up. Lay low for winter.”

“Makes sense.” It sounds nice in theory, but you know too well how disappointing reality can be. “I’d be lyin’ if i said I wasn’t a little scared, though.”

“Ain’t nothin we ain’t seen before.” Rubbing up and down your arm, he pulls you in tight. “Go on and get to bed- got our work cut out for us tomorrow.” He plants a quick kiss on the top of your head, followed by a hand ruffled through your hair before sending you off.

Like most nights, you lie awake counting sheep. Only able to really drift off once Shane gets into bed behind you- you felt a sense of safety in his arms, oblivious the danger that courses through his veins. His rough fingers trace up and down your skin, lulling you to sleep. Leaving him to be the one lying awake, consumed by his own whys and what ifs.

If she knew the truth about me, about what I’ve done- would she still trust me? Does she trust me to begin with? Is she afraid of me?

His thoughts and doubts never take him very far, or vice versa. His instinct is to shut it down, correcting himself before it gets too real.

It don’t matter. She doesn’t have a choice. She should be afraid of me.

_____________________________________

“We’re just gonna line the back roads. If it’s lookin’ questionable, we turn our asses around and keep it pushin’.” Shane squints into the rear view, pulling by the brim as he fits his hat to his head. “Ain’t takin’ chances today.”

And that’s exactly what you did. Up and down dozens of driveways, some stays longer than others. You got scared out of a few neighborhoods, making for hours of driving before finding any luck. It was kind of nice just cruising around, swapping your craziest stories while Abbey Road played front to back. You almost forgot what you set out for in the first place, until you rolled straight into the jackpot.

It was one of those rocky dirt roads, a mile standing between each house. The kind of street that never made it on a map, and has to be described with a combination of left turns and barely-distinct landmarks.

The pickup wobbles as you roll down the first driveway, which measures a quarter mile on its own. It’s lined with all sorts of outdoorsy stuff, giving the impression it may have been home to a bunch of teenage boys. That would later be confirmed when you made it up to the bedrooms. They were a little too nostalgic.

Upon entering the home, you guys lucked out. While there’s no RV to be found, there aren’t crowds of walkers either- only one or two, here and there. You’re able to maintain this pattern all the way down the road, acquiring a pretty impressive collection of canned goods and clean socks as you pass through.

The day seemed to slip away, the sky fading to a dull gradient before you knew it. As the driveway brings you to what must be your seventh or eighth house of the day, Shane starts spewing his game plan- which has to be his ninth or tenth by now.

“Alright after this one, we call it a day. Take what we got and hole up in one of these places for the night. Start again tomorrow.”

Your jaw drops as you draw in a gasp, cutting yourself off before you can say “yes sir”. There it is, sitting pretty in the front lawn, answering all your prayers- well, most of them. Turning to face him, your eyes are all lit up like a Christmas tree.

With a subdued eagerness, he leans forward, pressing his chest against the wheel as he looks past you. Seeing the RV for himself, he instinctively nods- though he’s quick to remind you.

“Don’t get too excited now, Girl. Still gotta find the key, r’member?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you respond through a sarcastic tune. With a toss of the hand and an eyeroll, you hope he read your slight annoyance as a playful joke- You really don’t want to piss him off. Not now, not after such a long, mildly successful day.

While Shane sniffs out the key, he sends you upstairs in search of something useful- clothes, soap, extra shoes, anything really.

You go room to room, filling up a duffle along the way. Most of your time is spent snooping around the master bedroom, testing out perfumes and admiring the collection of kitten heels. It can’t hurt to try out a few pairs, right? You simply can’t help yourself, and you could almost shed a tear as you slip your foot into the black leather.

Across the room, the perfectly made bed catches your eye. Red satin sheets, a nice fur throw. One of those real fancy bed frames with the curtains, all tied back in velvet ribbon. You wonder who all of this belonged to, and you can’t help but use context clues to draw up an image of them in your mind. Her taste is apparent, and you figure she was the cool aunt, sexy secretary type. Probably married to an older, rugged man that she met at a local bar- the type of guy to survive this thing.

At least that’s what it seems, the way his masculine influence almost overtakes the delicate interior design. His half is peppered with tasteful taxidermy and hunting memorabilia, quickly snapping you back into reality- if there’s anything really useful in this house, it’s gonna be right here. You bee-line it to the closet, kicking your borrowed heels off in between rushed steps.

As the knob turns and clicks, you can almost hear the angels sing. Before you, a collection of fur so large it could send a vegan straight into a coma. Fox, mink, raccoon- it would be easier to list what wasn’t there.

Faster than you can down a shot of whiskey, you’re decked out, head to toe. Coat, mittens, bomber hat, boots- the whole nine. Hell, with all this gear? Who even needs a roof.

“You alive up there?” Shane shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

A wave of excitement washes over you, knowing this will earn you some brownie points from Shane for sure. Maybe even a little respect.

“Comin,” you shout back, stuffing the last of your discoveries into the duffle. With your arms as full as possible, you make your way to the top of the stairwell. “This look warm enough?”

He cracks a smile, taking in the sight before him.

The bag plops halfway down the stairs, heavily tumbling down the rest. Like a kid playing dress up, Shane digs right in, slipping on his own lion-esque fur. He opts for a knee length coat and a pair of fingerless sheepskin gloves, checking out a Davy Crockett hat in between.

“Pretty cool,” he admits, almost beaming. He takes a moment to straighten his jacket, and you can tell he’s trying to suppress a smug look from showing up on his face.

Luckily, he spits it out before you have to pry.

“Now I don’t mean to one up you or anything, but-“ As he reaches into his back pocket, a faint jingle gives away the surprise. He proceeds to show off the infamous keys, dangling them midair like live bait on a fishing boat.

You plow the rest of the way down the stairs, practically jumping into his arms. Naturally, he spins you on a 180, planting a couple playful kisses on your face before setting you down. His hands remain gripped around your rib cage, lingering long enough for you both to pause- for a brief moment, you watch as his expression softens, melting into a look you recognize all too well.

Though it almost feels like you’re going against your desire, you shy away, shifting your eyes to the floor to break the contact. Shane follows suit, but in a much smoother fashion. His hands drop from your torso and he backs away just a touch, readjusting your coat back onto your shoulders.

“Livin large this winter, huh?” With one brow raised, he’s got a friendly smile, with a touch of that familiar look still seeping through. “How ‘bout that?”

“Like kings,” you add, your expression still coy and your cheeks starting to flush. While the jacket weighs down heavy, you haven’t felt this light in a while. That impending doom, that awful winter you were anticipating, is starting to look more like a vacation. And that asshole deputy you sleep next to every night, though you know you shouldn’t think of him this way- You’re not sure if you can resist him much longer.

————————————————————————

I think i’m gonna do a big time jump to prison era, i’m pretty sure having to write for only Shane is what made me lose interest lol. so excited to progress with the story, i’ve had plans and ideas about it for sooooo long:) Rick will be back soon i prom

taglist:

@strnqer @liquidsmoothdomme @mysticalsuitkryptonite @lovelyygirl8 @alienkidd182 @watersofmars @imwaytoolazyforthis @salemsspace2 @starsm00n @eternalrose81 @dixonxgrimesposts @pinchofhoney @apocalypticdadlover @puppybittingotherpuppy @redanddeadsblog @paincreass @litterallnobody @p3achfairy @dilfsandmartinis

#the walking dead

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movidita · 11 months ago

Text

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who would not fawn so easily for the first man who showed her any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious— although… maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would, women mostly. Although you did have your suspicions of others who think the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were could find during lunch breaks from work on house porches, or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings– basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments about their friends or complaining about their co-workers; but anything of great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckilyyou had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a very quiet and intent listener making you the best kind of person to say anything to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable or experienced than you. And boy did some of the ladies have the most tmi things to say to you. Some people were a little too mean or weird for your liking, but others make you feel like you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about your community leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on your ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, and anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss with others. “But I don’t really think about them like that.”

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment, “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs and you guys don’t have anything fun.” Knowing you made a point, your brows rise as you look back in her direction.

There was an Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting but you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. You had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, and most importantly, the find of all finds, one of those Ultimate Guide Complete Life Story magazines of none other than Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the beef between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history and the drama within it. You were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian and you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess, I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” What was with this upward hitch in tone you could not control? “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sent a look your way you didn’t see. You were refusing to look at anyone now. You know how you sounded.

“Exactly, cause it’s typical,” she says. “Classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it… which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask incredulously. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two girls. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Secondly, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it. You knew that situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed and nervous. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Obviously you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the contempt in her voice and it makes you feel bad for your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago anyway,” the girl chimes in, changing the tone, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made in order to do it. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

Rosita scoffs, “Let’s not call that love.”

“That’s reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also to win back some favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But now it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight, a romantic, someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you, find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find all of that romantic.

These thoughts swirled in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough as you touched yourself, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car the other day getting to your brain far too much. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the girls in town you thought you weren’t and tried to not be. How could Rick be the love of your life? He was everyone’s… Wonderings like this became worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick more often. Quickly, he wasn’t just a local celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. It’s not exactly like you were the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must be telling you more than you should know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’d ask you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn for the guy like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It would just be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just secret, you gave into the idea that this would continue but then he hasn’t spoken to you in two weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are though, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively, smiling lightly.

“Good morning,” he politely says. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind you makes you, in your white cotton midi sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Upstairs? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. You often overanalyze your words around him, worrying you’ll sound immature or just stutter. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking (thankfully), you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, and as he sits your thighs touch. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It feels like you’ve craved this, any kind of touch from him for ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to where you legs met. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It was one of her most famous songs. Amor Prohibido.”

He nods his head. “Probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs. He might remember hearing about her in the news if you gave more context but you don’t, so that’s all he could say.

“Um…” you start off slowly, unsure, “Will you tell me what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His is mouth open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out. You continue in order to fill the silence, “Nothinh is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight, you know. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never mean to make you sad. Especially not you.” Your heart skips at that last bit. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too fresh.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating to reason, or compromise. He won’t listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because he sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard, almost looking like maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. “This is not information for everyone, but the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group of women, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement a thought you actually already knew this from Rosita told. Still you feel humbled he felt like he could share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he continues.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This happened a month ago but it was obviously still affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

“We did so much rebuilding you,” you acknowledge.

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. He goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly try to console. You’re trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly that I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you your space for your to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on, you’re confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you know already and I didn’t even need to tell you, you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I’ll admit, I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can… I try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens slightly and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, then let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, you chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like feelings a slow bulge start to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I- I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze, turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, what he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster.I said yes to everything…” Was he second guessing everything now, you felt embarrassed. “I feel maybe we remember this differently.”

You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

“It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly as he realizes how fast your heart went. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hand from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing it once as you start speaking again. “And you’re kind, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head and deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. That’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

There’s the Rick you remember from the last time. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” quiet but with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mmhm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt while he says it. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you to engage in the activity you wanted to do and calling you beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control because each time this happens although it’s only been twice and each time he talks to you, which has been plenty, you steal a little more of his heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. “Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster than start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I… make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says lightly.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe, it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to allow his embarrassment to fade, though it’s hard. He can tell you were just excited about it actually. He still looks to the side though, like you usually would. Your eyes widen at that. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast”, he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say kindly. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You had already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up with his help.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he instantly starts to kiss you again. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. It was your turn to be pleasured now. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

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