#Shane/rick

[silhouettejo]

What could have happened IF Shane did bring Rick with him from the hospital…🤣

[manhum4n]

Intro post

Hello! You can call me Leon. I made this blog to ramble about dead dove content centering around the walking dead. I will mostly post about Regan, Shanerick/Sharick, and Shanegan. It saddens me to see a lack of dead dove fics and drabbles about regan </3

I am a Shane apologist idc. My glorious king did nothing wrong!

I am black, queer, and a freak fr 👅

You'll see on this blog dubcon, cnc, noncon, blackmailing, drugging, abuse, cannibalism, torture, piss, amputation, self harm, and a whole lotta other kinks.

My icks are scat and extremely underage.

Minors do not interact, you will get blocked.

My asks are open <3

Ship Dynamics:

Regan

I see them as switches, Rick tops most of the time overall but he definitely started off as the bottom. I mean, he literally got bitched in front of everyone in 7x1. Negan is mostly a power bottom except for when he was imprisoned.

Shanerick

Shane tops Rick all the time, Shane never bottoms. Rick bottoms in this pairing. He is not extremely submissive. But he does get vulnerable with Shane since that is his best friend after all.

Shanegan

Shane rapes tops negan all the time. Negan tries to fight back for dominance but he fails every time. Negan is like Shane's personal fuck sleeve. There are no le wholesome heart warming moments between them.

[gutsby]

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Pairing: Reader x Detective Dixon x Officer Grimes x Officer Walsh

Summary: Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Warnings: NSFW. Foursome! :-) Unprotected p-in-v, spitroast, double penetration, overstimulation, praise and degradation, bimbofication, throatfucking, painal, breeding kink, using c*m as lube, and a (consensual) strugglefuck. Elements of dubcon à la power imbalance and coercion. Age gap. Public indecency, evading arrest, assault on two cops, and general drunken stupidity.

“Goooooood morning, babycakes!”

Your best friend rolled the hem of her shirt over her chest and shimmied her shoulders at the big white semi truck about to pass under the bridge. The stranger at the wheel took one look at the woman’s tits and almost swerved across two lanes of traffic. The sight sent you and your drunken group howling with laughter, falling onto the ground as Maggie yanked her top back down.

It was five a.m. and freezing. The club where you’d been boozing all night had long since shuttered closed, and you and your closest friends from high school—home for the holidays and happily plastered—had gone wandering home in a daze. When one of the girls had stopped suddenly at the midsection of a bridge, you hadn’t been able to keep from sharing her smile the second she’d grinned and said, ‘For old time’s sake?’

In no time at all, you’d been lined up along the metal railing and ogling the unsuspecting drivers down below. The freeway was mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple tractor trailers and early morning commuters, but that didn’t matter.

Rosita was up next. You watched her eye an RV as it bumbled down the road and saw her take hold of her shirt just like Maggie had. Then, right when the camper got close enough, the brunette bent slightly at the waist, flipped her top up, and screamed at the top of her lungs:

“HEY BIG RED!”

A big, buff dude with a bright red handlebar mustache looked up from the passenger seat, as did the white-haired, bearded gentleman wearing a bucket hat beside him. The pair then watched your friend’s roadside spectacle with shared looks of wonder and awe, before passing under the bridge as slow as they possibly could. Rosita staggered off the ledge and reached for the flask in your hand, heedless of her breasts still hanging out.

“Your turn,” she chirped before taking a swig.

Your feet were already wobbling onto the concrete slab. From your vantage point, the outline of the sun was just then breaking out across the tops of the trees, casting the morning’s first rays across your bare skin. You stretched your arms out wide, Titanic-style, and basked in the warmth—likely looking drunk as all hell as you did.

“Ooo, this one, this one!” Maggie cut in presently.

You followed your friend’s gaze and caught sight of a sleek, glistening firetruck speeding down the road.

Perfect, you thought as your eyes soaked in the sight. You pictured the truck packed to the gills with hot and sweaty firemen inside, and your fingers itched at the bottom of your shirt. Curled under the fabric and ready to lift as soon as the time came. Even from a distance, you could make out a tiny cluster of uniformed men at the helm, each of their faces contorted with curiosity.

The truck sped up and drew closer. Maggie squeezed your hip, Rosita chewed her lip, and together, you all stared the firetruck down with bated breath until it was just about to go under the bridge.

In a blink, you flipped your shirt up and shook your tits back and forth for the men going by. Much to your surprise, the firefighter in the driver’s seat honked his horn a couple times, and another one, at the rear, stuck his grinning head out the window and waved.

You, Maggie, and Rosita waved right back, practically falling over each other in fits of laughter as you yelled,

“Call me, daddy!”

The three of you collapsed on the sidewalk in a heap of shitfaced hysterics. Rosita flung your flask to the side and smacked you playfully across your boobs—still out and proud and likely able to cut diamonds with how hard your nipples had gotten in the chilly morning air.

“Daddy?!” she wheezed, “You skank!”

You straightened up, partially splayed across Maggie’s lap, and wiggled your shoulders once more, feigning that high-pitched, ditzy voice you used whenever you were hammered,

“Daddy please fuck my titties, I’ve been such a bad girl!”

Then you gave the best porn star moan you could muster and started to pull your shirt the rest of the way off. Not thinking, you balled up the light pink fabric and threw it up in the air while Rosita cheered—‘Tits out for the girls!’—and Maggie almost pissed herself laughing. Really anything would’ve had your sides fit to split at this point, seeing how faded and adrenaline-drunk you were.

You reached up and waited for the top to fall back into your hand...until it didn’t. You cast a sweeping look across the three of you to see if your shirt had landed somewhere else, but the garment was nowhere in sight.

You turned and craned your neck to see over the railing.

“Shit!”

You scrambled to your feet and gripped the metal siding of the bridge, tits fully out and exposed to the world. You watched as an old Ford Ranger picked up speed and crushed the scrap of fabric under its tires, before the driver, in turn, gawked and honked his horn like a fool.

Just as you started to turn back to tell your friends the bad news—and beg them for a piece of spare clothing to cover you—a sound startled you all.

The short, sharp yelp of a siren straight ahead.

Your hands flew to cover your chest while Maggie and Rosita went floundering over each other trying to get up. A few yards away, a police cruiser had pulled up to the side of the bridge with its lights flashing bright red and blue.

Shit, again, seemed to be the resounding sentiment among you three as the car started inching closer.

“Stop right there!” a voice boomed over the PA system.

That only prompted your group to take off running.

You, cradling your tits in both hands, and Rosita and Maggie trying desperately not to trip over the curb, the wayside trash, or each other as they raced down the street.

Two car doors flew open. Then, the sound of that same voice, breaking out across the still morning air without the aid of the intercom and telling you to freeze right now, followed by the sound of footsteps. Boots thudded heavy on the ground below, moving fast and with purpose. Both pairs easily gained on your three retreating forms in a matter of seconds.

Maggie and Rosita were already leaps and bounds ahead of you. Too busy juggling your tits and struggling to breathe, you felt your heart sink.

Rosita shot a look over her shoulder and cried, ‘C’mon!’ as she eyed the cops coming closer.

I’m trying, you wanted to say, but couldn’t speak. Your chest was too tight, pupils blown wide with fear.

This was not the fucking time to be having a panic attack. But here you were.

Before you could stop yourself, you waved a frantic hand to your friends and somehow managed to scream, ‘Go!’

The girls slowed, tried to urge you forward, but, sensing that you weren’t keeping up and wanted them to go on without you, relented at last. They bounded off toward a side street and disappeared down an alley while you felt your legs start to falter beneath you.

“Freeze!” the voice bellowed again. Loud, gruff, and much closer to your ear than it had been before.

You did as he said, not because you wanted to, but because you had to, then, or your body would’ve given out. Still in the grips of terror and rampant intoxication, you stopped in your tracks, spun on your heels, and watched the two officers sprint toward you.

You started to raise your hands in surrender, but just when one of them approached—presumably to tackle you to the ground—your instincts took over. You scarcely knew what you were doing; you just felt your leg lift with the last bit of strength you had left, then, astonishingly, deliver a kick straight to the first man’s gut.

To the shock of you, the cop, and his partner, the man went tumbling backward. Fell straight on the pavement in almost comical fashion and grunted in pain.

“Rick!” the dark-haired one yelled reflexively.

His gaze darted back to you in an instant.

You knew you were capital F fucked. You didn’t bother trying to run and simply stared at the man left standing in a mixture of horror and dread as he charged straight at you.

Your flight response abandoned, you had only to fight. And, by the looks of your opponent, you sensed this motherfucker knew how to tussle.

Before you could even prime yourself for another kick, the cop had taken you down with one lunge. Pinned you flat on the asphalt and yelled right in your face,

“I said don’t move!”

You moved. You moved in his arms while he wrestled you to the sidewalk, snaked his hand around your front, pressed your back against his chest. You moved when he barked his orders once more, told you to get down now and stop resisting, and even wrapped his arm around your throat to force your compliance.

Chokehold’s illegal, asshole, you thought, fighting hard against his grasp. This cop played dirty, and appeared to give no fucks about who could see.

Just as his grip started to tighten around your neck, you heard the other officer back on his feet, talking sharply into his radio:

“Code 10-33. Requesting backup on Fayette Bridge.”

At the same time, the man above you was trying to shake his head, craning his neck to get his partner’s attention.

“Nah, nah, Rick, I got her!”

When ‘Rick’ didn’t seem to hear and kept shouting into the receiver, the burly cop turned his body to the side, squeezing your neck even tighter.

“Rick!” he called, “I got her right here, she’s— FUCK!”

Suddenly, the man’s voice broke off in a strangled yelp as you sank your teeth into the flesh of his arm. When he loosened his grip out of instinct, stinging with pain, you made a desperate attempt to slip from his grasp and get back on your hands and knees.

The freshly bitten cop just slammed you even harder on the ground, unleashing a string of expletives in your ear.

“Fuck you, pig!” you screamed back.

You weren’t sure what had come over you in the few short moments preceding this one—what had irked you so terribly to be inclined to kick one cop in the stomach and bite another on the arm like a feral cat—but there you went. Face down on the pavement with a set of handcuffs being clipped over your wrists.

You winced when you were jerked back onto your feet, the cop’s left hand on your shoulder and the other at your back. He shoved you to take your first steps forward, you instinctively told him to eat shit and die, and as a grim, unsavory unit, you walked toward the officer with his grip still fastened tight to his radio.

“You alright?” Rick asked, out of breath.

His gaze seared right through you to his partner—whose face, you could sense, was already beset with a scowl.

“Bitch bit me,” he spat.

You saw Rick’s expression change, watched his mouth move to speak again, when a sound crackled out of the receiver in his hand. A couple code words and street names you couldn’t make out.

“That’s— that’s alright, now, Officer Walsh has the subject restrained,” Rick returned hastily.

At present, Mr. Walsh had his thumb dug deep in your back, ostensibly holding tight to keep you subdued but more than likely just being an ass. He felt you flinch and gave you a fierce shake.

“Quit squirmin’, girl.”

“Quit pinchin’ me, pig!”

“You’d best watch that fuckin’ mouth’a yours.”

The voice above your ear had you easily outmatched in volume and tone, coarse as it was unkind.

You decided to try your luck anyway.

“Make me, pussy.”

The last thing you saw was the look of bewilderment leap to Rick’s face as Walsh thrust you forward, suddenly, and slammed you face-down on the hood of their car.

“What’d I say ‘bout that fuckin’ mouthin’ off?! Huh?”

“Shane—”

Rick grabbed this Shane’s shoulder in an effort to intervene. Tried prying him off before he could shove you down any harder, but his partner seemed adamant. Shane put his palm over the side of your head and knotted his fingers through your hair, quick to pull.

“Nah, man, I ain’t takin’ lip from some halfwit bimbo—”

“Hey!” you started, only to have your words muffled with your head forced back on the hood.

“Shane!” Rick snapped this time, taking a harder grip of his shirt and yanking him back. To your dismay, Shane kept a chunk of your hair clenched in his fist and probably dislodged a dozen or more strands when he was pulled away.

You let out a gentle groan as your head hit the car for a third time and the two officers broke off in a skirmish.

“You heard what Dixon said,” Rick hissed.

“Fuck what Dixon said!”

“You cain’t just— you got no right—”

“I got every right, man, lemme tell you sumn’—”

Before Shane could ‘tell you’ much of anything, though, the two were rendered silent by the sound of tires on pavement close by. A halt, a tense moment, a car door swinging open and closed, and a whisper passed quickly from Rick to Shane as the two exchanged a look,

“You fucked up.”

You tried tilting your head up toward the windshield to sneak a look in its reflection, maybe see who was coming. You couldn’t make out a thing.

Then, presently, the voice of a much more hushed, humbler Officer Walsh as he spoke,

“Detective Dixon, how’s it—”

“Six bucks.” Another man, presumably Dixon, cut in.

“Huh?”

“Six bucks fer this fuckin’ coffee. Tastes like dirt.”

Oh, uh, yeah, you could just sense Shane shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he searched for the right words to say, maybe scratched his head once or twice. Fortunately for him, Rick came to the rescue.

“Tried that new place on Main, huh?”

“Nic and Norman’s, yeah. Eggs were runny as shit an’ the waitress kept callin’ me ‘Dale’,” the man, now presumably Dixon but not Dale, said in a huff.

It was as if you weren’t lying flat on your tummy with your top off and your hands cuffed behind your back. You stupidly hoped the new man hadn’t noticed you.

“Well who’ve we got here?”

Shit.

You heard footsteps approach, but you didn’t turn your head. Your lungs expelled a small, shaky breath as this detective came by and stood inches from your bent form.

“She and her friends were flashing their tits to the cars passing under the bridge,” Shane declared, a touch too smug as he said it, “The others got away, but this one was sweet enough to grace us with her presence.”

“Kicked me in the stomach and knocked me on my ass,” Rick added.

“Bit me, too.”

You heard a low tsk-tsk as the detective clicked his tongue. Took another sip of his mud-flavored espresso and shook his head above you. Your skin burned with the imprint of his gaze.

“Spring break come a little late this year?” he teased.

“Fuck you,” you muttered.

The men let out a collective chuckle at your tart words. You could just picture the smirks and sly glances shared between them as they watched you writhe against the hood of the police cruiser and try not to give them the satisfaction of seeing your breasts splayed out underneath you.

You were ashamed, admittedly, unsure of how to proceed with three cops at your rear and few options at your disposal besides swearing up a storm. At last, you decided to shift your gaze in their direction and shoot them a glare—more of an empty threat than any real message, but you didn’t care.

You turned and immediately wished you hadn’t.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Daryl?!”

This time, Rick and Shane were the only ones to laugh out loud, before quickly stifling the sounds when they realized their superior hadn’t shown a hint of amusement.

Daryl Dixon, the detective, and your brother’s best friend from college, stared down at you with a look of horror.

“Y/N,” he stammered, in shock.

It was clear he was trying with every fiber of his being not to look down at your tits, but his resolve was only so strong. Finally, he settled on looking away, fast, and staring off in the distance while you readjusted yourself.

“Been a minute,” he said, trying for a curt, awkward nod.

And a minute it had been. The last time you’d laid eyes on the man had been at a Christmas party hosted by your brother and his husband four years ago. You’d exchanged all of ten words in polite, drunken pleasantries, and he’d stumbled off at the end of the night with a gorgeous redhead dressed as Mrs. Clause. You hadn’t heard hide nor hair of him since.

For a moment, Rick’s eyes danced indeterminately between you two. Shane’s remained fixed on your face.

“You know this little hellion, Detective?”

Daryl cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uh, that’s— that’s Aaron’s little sister.”

“No shit?”

The words came out faster than Shane could think to stop them. Your hometown was no great metropolis, and even he knew of your brother through a friend-of-a-friend and several cousins’ babysitter’s grandma’s Aunt Carol, or some similar relation. He and Rick had probably partied at your lake house a couple times in college.

“Uncuff her.” Daryl’s voice had already lowered some, pacing away to give you privacy.

Shane obliged and freed you from the handcuffs. When you turned around, only the back of Daryl’s body was visible to you as he ducked inside the backseat of his car.

He returned a few moments later with a blanket. Tried his damndest not to let his vision stray an inch from your face as he handed it to you. Then he beckoned Rick over, and the two exchanged a few quiet words by his sedan.

“You got rabies or anything?” Shane was eyeing the tiny crescent of teeth marks on his forearm.

You rolled your eyes.

“Worse. I’m one of those walkers.”

Shane gave you a look that conveyed he was just as annoyed but didn’t say anything more, even when you made a face at him. He just crossed his arms, leaned back against the squad car, and gritted his teeth. Before you knew it, Daryl and Rick were walking back.

“I’ll take her to the station,” Daryl said.

“Alri—”

“What?” you cried, “For what?!”

You knew for damn what. You just couldn’t believe your brother’s best friend wasn’t planning on giving you a family friend freebie of some kind.

Officer Walsh supplied an answer for you nonetheless, “Let’s see, now: public intoxication, public indecency, open container, and aggravated assault on two police officers. That clear things up, sweet cheeks?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Disorderly conduct, too,” Rick chimed in. Trying not to smile as he said it.

The only ones still not amused by anything this situation had to offer were you and Daryl. The detective looked positively pissed and ready to chuck his cup of coffee over the bridge, while you wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ether. The two of you exchanged a brief, uneasy look and quickly looked the other way.

Rick and Shane were already retreating to their cruiser. You just watched them, almost forlorn, and pretended not to see Daryl signaling for you to follow him.

“C’mon now,” he murmured.

“Can’t you just let me off with a warning?”

Daryl was treading closer to you now, hand outstretched in an almost gentle sort of gesture. Like he wasn’t about to cart you off to the slammer.

“Y’know I can’t do tha’,” he replied, “With all the fuss ya caused, Captain would have my head.”

When you wrenched your arm away from his grasp, you saw him frown.

“Hey,” Daryl said, a little more sternly now, “Don’t make this harder than it needs ta be.”

You watched him reach for you again.

Your first instinct was to shrug him off. Your second was to flee.

You weren’t sure why you even tried it—it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, like they did in the movies, to take off sprinting down the street. You gave it a shot.

Unfortunately for you, your feet didn’t carry you far, and Daryl had you snagged in his arms in about five seconds flat. You glanced to the first cop car and saw that Rick and Shane hadn’t even stirred from their seats. Just grinning and laughing at your attempted escape.

Detective Dixon had you by the bicep now, leading you toward his car with a little more force in his step. You were cursing, writhing, fighting every effort of his to corral you into the backseat, but, without much trouble, he pushed you in.

Rear doors locking automatically, you had little more to do than sit and pout and feel every bit the brat as Daryl buckled himself in and started the car.

“C’mon, Dar, this isn’t a joke. I could lose my job ‘cause of this,” you whined, threading your fingers through the wired metal barricade that separated you.

Daryl watched and waited for the other cruiser to fall behind him. Then he started off.

“Shoulda thought about tha’ before ya decided to show yer tits off ta the world, no?”

“Like four people saw us.”

In the rearview mirror, you could’ve sworn you saw a ghost of a smile cross Daryl’s lips.

“I got a pretty colorful phone call from a man named Eugene saying he saw three girls danglin’ half nekkid from a bridge tryin’ ta flag down a firetruck...Don’t sound all that discreet to me.” Daryl shrugged, pretending not to see you slump back in your seat.

“We were drunk!” you cried.

You threw your hands up and let them fall at your side, while Daryl made a wide left turn.

“So?”

“You’ve done plenty of dumb shit when you were drunk, Dixon. Don’t even start.” You raised your hand like you were talking to your mother as an angsty teen. The man in the driver’s seat hardly seemed fazed.

“Oh?”

You paused a beat, then jolted back up as an old memory stirred in your mind.

“Like— like the time you got so shitfaced on senior night that you stumbled into my room thinking it was the bathroom,” you said, hastily, “Pissed all over my floor.”

Daryl’s eyes darted up to meet yours in the mirror, sharing in that vague and ugly recollection from his college days.

“That was yer room?” he winced.

“I was twelve and terrified,” you said, hovering as close as the metal wall would allow you, “Didn’t even know what being piss-drunk meant until you decided to relieve yourself all over my Barbie rug.”

“Ah shit...I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Let me out and we’ll call it even?” you ventured.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl said, shaking his head, “Not how that works.”

You balled your hand in a fist and struck the wall between you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips. Try as you might to fight it, you were still slightly buzzed and far more prone to anger than you normally would be. Daryl gave you a look.

“Pipe down, princess, ‘s’ain’t the end of the world.”

“And who the fuck are you to say?” you snapped, clenching your jaw.

Daryl pressed a bit harder on the brakes as he brought the car to a stop at a red light. Then he shot a look over his shoulder. His brow drew in just slightly.

“Yer a real brat, ya know that?”

“Really, pig?” you sneered.

“Yeah, slut.”

Your mouth fell open at the sound of Daryl’s first real insult. He’d been all placid smiles and gentle eyes, never lapsing in the civility of his rank or his respect for you, his close friend’s sister, until that point. You watched as his gaze visibly hardened and moved away from yours, foot hitting the gas when the light turned green.

“What did you just call me?”

“A fucking slut. ‘Cause tha’s what ya are,” Daryl answered, not missing a beat.

Had he lost his fucking mind? Who did he think he was? The man carried on, starting to increase the car’s speed,

“Nobody’s showin’ off a pair’a tits that damn pretty ‘less they’re a whore, ya know?”

You sat back in awe, hardly aware of the cruiser’s growing acceleration, or the fact that Daryl was just then starting to turn down a road you—and Rick and Shane—had never seen before. You were too offended. Flustered.

“Excuse m—”

“Yeah, I looked. You’ve got an incredible rack, really,” Daryl admitted as he cut you off, “Too bad it’s attached to such a worthless little slut.”

“Get fucked, Dixon,” you hissed, beating your fist against the divider once more.

“Oh, believe me, we will.”

Your blood likely would’ve run cold in your veins if you had the first clue what he was talking about. What did he mean by ‘we’? Why had he started smiling when he’d said that?

Presently, you looked out the window.

Where the everliving fuck had he taken you?

Instead of finding yourself parked outside the King County Sheriff’s Department, as expected, you cast a sidelong glance to the left and the right and saw nothing but trees. Wilderness. You were parked in a clearing, at what appeared to be a campground...in a quarry?

You turned back to Daryl, suddenly rigid with fear.

The driver’s side door was already slamming shut behind him. Instead of deigning so much as a glance at the back, he strode right past you and went over to the car that had just pulled up. Rick and Shane appeared just as confused as you were as they came to a stop.

You watched them, dumbstruck, pulse pounding in your ears as a hundred different thoughts danced in your mind and grew progressively darker the longer you stared. Were they going to torture you? Kill you? Cuff you to the car and kick the living shit out of you until you bled from the mouth and begged them for mercy?

There was no way the drunken fratboy of your youth, now a detective on the police force and your brother’s best friend, would do something so heinous, right?

You slinked back in your seat when you saw all three men turn and approach your car.

Now, more than ever, there was no place but the police car you wanted to be as Daryl flung the back door open and stuck his head inside.

“Hey,” he grinned, “Wanna talk?”

Before you knew it, your feet were planted on the rocky terrain directly in front of Daryl’s car, and your hands were clasped together. Not cuffed this time—just folded and trying to look as polite and unassuming as possible.

“We’ve got a proposition,” Daryl started, steady.

You watched him pace back and forth while the two other officers stood back in silence. Shane wore the faintest smirk.

“You don’t wanna go to jail, right?”

You shook your head no.

“Good, ‘cause we don’t really feel like bookin’ ya,” Daryl continued, “Too much paperwork an’ all tha’ bullshit.”

You nodded along, slowly. Relieved to hear you weren’t getting arrested but waiting to see what the ‘But…’ was.

“But, y’know— it wouldn’t be fair to let ya go that easy.”

You kept nodding. Now looking at Shane and Rick and finding both of them smiling.

“So I say we make ourselves a deal. That okay with you, sugar tits?” Daryl sneered.

You balked at the name but swallowed your pride and answered, ‘Uh huh’ in a small voice. Squeezed your hands even tighter together.

Daryl approached you for the first time. You stood there, trembling, still thinking there was a chance that the three of them might just beat the hell out of you right then and there—and you flinched when Daryl lifted his hand to your cheek.

He brushed a few loose hairs from your face.

“I think you need to start by saying sorry.” His voice was almost serene.

You blinked a couple times up at Daryl with wide, oblivious eyes, shaking your head when you didn’t understand what he meant.

“To Shane,” Daryl added.

Softly, he tilted your chin toward his friend, who was grinning even bigger now.

You struggled for a second, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before stammering:

“I-I’m sorry, Shane.”

Your voice barely reached them in a whisper. You were so confused.

And, just as you started to wonder if that was all they really wanted, or if there’d be some other catch, Daryl decided to supply you with a wordless answer before you could even ask. The “catch” caught you right on the backs of your legs as Daryl gave them a gentle kick, causing both to buckle underneath you. You fell to the ground on your hands and knees and straightened yourself up just in time to see Shane make his leisurely approach.

“I’m sorry, Shane,” you spluttered again, thinking he just wanted you to grovel there in front of him.

Daryl and Shane exchanged looks. Then they smirked at you.

“I think Shane would rather you show him how sorry you are,” Daryl said, suddenly leaning over to collect two handfuls of hair behind your head, “With your mouth.”

At any other time, such condescension dripping from a man’s tone would have turned you off—and pissed you off—immediately. With Daryl and Shane standing over you now, the former’s fingers slotting through your hair and the latter’s working to unzip his pants, you couldn’t imagine yourself being any more aroused.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, all at once.

They were there to fuck you, not fight you.

At least not in the way you’d imagined anyway. No doubt Shane was keen to get his fill, and might be a tad more aggressive than the others to get it, but Daryl would make sure he didn’t push too hard. He held your head in place while Shane pulled out his cock.

And, you hated to say it, but your mouth was salivating for a taste. You couldn’t be bothered to look up at either man now, just soaking in the sight of Shane’s thick, veiny member and feeling your face being moved closer to it. Not minding you were being manhandled as a gentle moan escaped your throat.

“Wanna show Shane how sorry ya are? Show him how good tha’ slutty little mouth’a yers can make him feel?” Daryl hummed.

“She’s droolin’, man,” Shane said, hardening at the sight.

You were. You couldn’t help it. You felt a thumb swipe at the spit that had just begun to trickle out of your mouth and sensed Rick at your side, enthralled as all the rest of them. Then that same finger drifted down to your tits, smearing the moisture all over one nipple before pinching the peak between two digits.

Your lips parted with another small whimper at the sensation, and Shane took that as his window to thrust his cock in your mouth. Caught off guard, you couldn’t help but gag when his tip hit the back of your throat, but Daryl steered your head back just in time so you weren’t choking on that first, single stroke.

“Easy, easy,” Daryl chided his friend as he watched your eyes water and your hand reach up to steady yourself against Shane’s thigh.

“You kiddin’? She fuckin’ loves it,” Shane grinned, “Don’t you, slut?”

You licked your lips and nodded. Didn’t bat an eye when Shane brought the head of his cock back down to your lips, and you quickly enveloped him in an open-mouthed kiss of sorts. Shane groaned at the sensation and couldn’t help but rut his hips.

“Such a fuckin’ whore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Daryl helped move your head up and down his length while you stared up at Shane with the prettiest, most fucked-out expression you could manage, and you felt his length twitch in your mouth. Daryl pulled you off.

“Now what do we say for kicking Officer Grimes, hm?”

Before you could answer, your face was tilted to the left, and you were met with the sight of Rick stroking his length at your side. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to Shane’s cock, you looked up at the friendlier of the two officers and gave him a smile.

“I’m sorry, Officer Grimes.”

This time, Daryl let Rick take the reins, for a moment, and move your mouth over his shaft. You happily accepted him between your lips and started bobbing almost instantly. You relished the pleasure that flooded those soft blue eyes, the way they winced just a little when you took him to the back of your throat. Like he wanted to fuck your face but felt too overcome with some feeling or fear to give it a try.

You decided it was cruel to make a man so polite wait a second longer than he needed to. Presently, you pulled off Rick’s length with a gentle ‘pop’ and turned your head back over to Daryl.

“Can you please tell Officer Grimes to fuck my throat?”

All three of them froze for a second, taken back by the filth that had just come out of your mouth, still spoken so sweetly. You stroked Rick’s cock and pretended to be oblivious of what you saw. Deep down, you knew by the glint in their eyes they were yearning, lusting, fucking you in their minds with every innocent blink you made. You felt Daryl’s grip tighten in your hair.

“You heard the lady,” Shane said, words directed to Rick but gaze never leaving you.

Out of habit, his hand came to wrap around his own cock as he watched you take Rick’s. You glanced between the two of them, placed a quick kiss on the tip—first on Rick’s and then, to the men’s surprise, on Shane’s—and parted your lips when you moved back to Rick.

Officer Grimes didn’t hesitate this time. He leveled himself with your mouth and pushed all the way in. You started to moan, but the sound was audibly cut short by a spasm in your throat. Rick reached the back of your warm, wet orifice with ease and, going further than Shane ever went, actually slid down that space. Exactly how you wanted him. You bobbed your head and hummed to show your appreciation.

Encouraged by how eagerly you swallowed him and how quick your whimpers were to reverberate down his length, Rick moved his hips. Watched you gag once or twice and blink through a couple tears, before Daryl wiped the moisture away as Rick had done for your spit. You were every bit the pampered and primped fuckdoll in their hands, bobbing and licking and sucking him dry.

“Good girl,” Daryl murmured, massaging your scalp when you gagged again.

“Takin’ me so well,” Rick groaned as he fed you another inch.

Shane continued pumping his cock, grunting out expletives, and watching you all the while.

You pulled off of Rick for a moment. Whether it would piss them off or turn them on, you didn’t really care—but you reached up to Shane and replaced his hand with yours, before dropping a kiss over the head of his cock.

All three men seemed to love it. Especially Daryl.

Though he hadn’t made a move to get his own dick wet just yet, you got the sense the man loved to watch. Loved to see your mouth sliding up and down and swallowing more cock every time, thinking to himself what a nasty, filthy little whore you were and just waiting for the moment it would be his turn to claim your throat and the rest of your holes as his own. In the meantime, you wanted to give him a good show.

You jerked both Rick and Shane in either hand and chanced a look over at Daryl.

Locking eyes with him, you moved down over Rick and sucked half his length in your mouth. Then, just as quick, you took Shane between your lips and gave the tip a wet, spongy kiss before taking him to the back of your throat. The mound in Daryl’s pants grew even more pronounced.

“Hey,” Rick said, grazing your cheek with his knuckles, “Ain’t you gonna say sorry to Detective Dixon, too?”

You moaned against Shane’s throbbing length and made sure Daryl saw your tongue swirl over the tip. Teasing him now.

Presently, Shane pulled out of your mouth and grabbed hold of your hair.

“Gonna make him feel real good with that slutty little mouth’a yours, huh?” he growled.

You nodded and smiled. Wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and started crawling over to Daryl as soon as Shane let you go.

You couldn’t believe he’d waited this long—couldn’t believe you’d been sucking his friends dry all this time and hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse at him. Daryl watched you with a comfortable, lopsided sort of smirk as you made your way over to him, clearly enjoying this view of you on all fours.

Not even a guillotine could take away the head you were about to give this man.

When you finally reached his knees and straightened up enough to reach for the zip of his brown slacks, you felt a hand catch you around the wrist. To your surprise, Daryl held you back and yanked you onto your feet.

“I wan’ my apology someplace else.”

That ‘place,’ you would come to learn, was simply on top of his car. Splayed out on the hood of his cruiser with your pants dragged all the way down to your ankles and kicked off at your feet. Daryl carried you there and stripped you down to your panties, leaving you all but naked and ogling him with keen, hungry eyes. Rick and Shane were quick to follow suit and seemed just as eager as you were to watch this scene unfold.

You reached for his clothed erection once more but found your hand swatted away.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl shook his head.

You raised an eyebrow in question. You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself moaning instead when Daryl slipped a finger past your panties and between your folds. Somehow finding your clit quicker than you could even dream, he circled that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb and teased the seal of your entrance with his middle and ring fingers.

You clawed at his wrist.

“But Dar— I-I wanna taste you so bad,” you pleaded.

Daryl grinned and plunged his two fingers deep inside you, holding your hip to the car to keep you from squirming. He nodded to Rick, who took that as his cue to press down on your other side. Together, they had you pinned to the hood and helpless under their touch.

Daryl curled his fingers up and caused you to moan.

“How bad?” he asked.

“So—” your voice broke off in a gasp when the pads of his fingers stroked your G spot, “So bad, Daryl, please.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was savoring every second of this sight: you with your legs spread, begging and pathetic as he and Rick held you down. He probably would’ve liked to keep you there a little longer, maybe teased and fingerfucked you to the point of tears, but he got the sense that his friends weren’t possessed of quite the same patience. He’d just have to save the overstimulation for later.

Before you knew it, Daryl had given Rick another quick nod, released you from his hold, and pulled you off the car—before steadying you back on your feet, facing the vehicle.

Your hands flew out to catch yourself, but, before meeting metal, intercepted Daryl’s broad form instead. He took a seat on the front end of the car and caught you in both of his big, calloused palms.

“How ‘bout that taste, hm?” He was already starting to unbuckle his pants.

Finally. You promptly started to sink to your knees, when a light slap struck your cheek. You peeked up at its source and found Daryl shaking his head once more.

“Stay put,” he instructed as he started to pull his cock out of his boxers, “Rick’s gonna fuck tha’ slutty little cunt while ya suck me off, alright?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a signal—and an effective one at that—to get Rick off his ass and hurrying to get behind yours. In the next second, you felt a set of warm, calloused hands on your hips and a tender grip tugging you back to meet someone’s crotch.

Your pussy twitched with the realization of your current predicament: bent over between the two men, with Daryl’s cock mere inches from your face and Rick’s member throbbing above your heat. Never once had an image like this materialized in your mind’s wildest fantasies, but now that you were here, stuck between these two with Shane just then drawing closer, you found yourself turned on to no end.

You parted your lips to allow Daryl entry when Rick teased the head of his cock up your slit. You took just the tip of Daryl, trying to stifle a moan, and the man behind you rubbed the length of himself up and down the seam of your cunt to collect all your juices. Another inch of Daryl in your mouth and you were whimpering with the feeblest look up at him, needing Rick inside you too.

Daryl held your gaze and ran a hand over your head.

“Little slut needs her pussy fucked, does she?”

You nodded, bobbing gently over Daryl’s member. You were just preparing to ease him in another inch or two when all of a sudden, the head of his cock jumped to the back of your throat as Rick thrusted into you.

It was far less gentle than you’d expected, sending you deep down Daryl’s length and causing you to gag. You hardly had time to adjust, or pull off of the man in front of you to catch your breath, when Rick started pounding you from behind. Rutting his hips, grunting in time with his thrusts, and slapping your ass in quick, ruthless hits. Daryl groaned above you as you had no choice but to deepthroat him again and again.

Shane, ever impatient, approached your free hand and guided it toward his erection. He wrapped your fingers around his cock and helped you stroke him quick, all while your mouth and pussy were presently occupied by Daryl and Rick’s sloppy thrusts.

“Ya like gettin’ spitroasted, huh? Like gettin’ fucked in two holes at once?” Shane sneered.

“Fuckin’ loves it,” Rick answered for you with a smirk, “Never seen a pussy this wet in my life.”

You imagined all of them could see and hear the arousal oozing from your freshly-fucked cunt, but you sensed no one liked it better than Daryl. The man was entranced with the sight of your form getting fucked from behind, sucking him deeper, looking up through your wet, tear-stained lashes as you let him fuck your face. That pure euphoric look in his eyes was almost like a drug—you wanted nothing more than to keep it there as long as you could.

Mere minutes later, Rick’s hips were stuttering against your own and his cum was spraying all over your insides. You didn’t stop sucking Daryl.

Shane gladly switched places with Rick and took a greedy handful of your hips before pumping his cock once or twice. You flattened your tongue against Daryl’s member and took him even further down your throat.

The man behind you was panting, right about to breach your folds when a sight below him held him in place.

Rick’s load was just then starting to dribble out of your pussy, leaving a long white trail of milky residue down your slit.

Shane clenched his jaw.

“Still hungry for more, slut?” he said through gritted teeth. To your surprise, you felt his fingertips trace the outline of your cunt and start moving up toward your other hole.

He was coating your asshole with Rick’s cum, grinning when you flinched.

“Think she’s ever been fucked in the ass before?” Shane asked the others. He slipped a digit inside your hole and watched you moan on Daryl’s dick.

Daryl pulled you off his cock and held you by your hair, your mouth saturated with strings of fresh saliva.

“Have you?”

You swallowed and shook your head. Daryl didn’t let his gaze linger on you another second. He signaled to Rick.

“Right there,” he pointed with his chin.

You hardly knew what was going on or where Rick had hastened off to. All you could comprehend was the gruff tone of Daryl’s voice telling you to get up, now, and the feel of Shane’s hands still holding you, guiding you back to your feet. When you didn’t move fast enough for his liking, Shane simply swept you up in his arms bridal-style and started carrying you himself.

Over his shoulder, you spied Daryl and Rick exchanging words and the latter placing the blanket you’d worn earlier on the ground. You almost felt tempted to ask Shane what they were planning to do, just starting to speak, when the man brought you over to the spot and set you right down.

The three of them had you circled in an instant.

Before the question could even form on your lips, you watched Daryl join you on the blanket. His smirk was evident.

He patted his lap for you to come straddle him.

When he started to lie down, your hands followed suit, eager to rest on either side of his chest, but another touch held you back. Behind you, Shane had grabbed hold of your hair and turned your head to face him.

“Spit,” he ordered, holding his hand under your chin.

You did as you were told and watched him rub your spit all over his shaft, before bringing his hand up to your face again and repeating his command.

At the same time, Daryl had lifted his hips and was guiding you closer to his cock. Your gaze moved down, then up, then over at Rick with a look of confusion, only to dart back to Daryl when you felt him split you open with a single thrust.

You had just been impaled on Daryl’s cock, mind reeling at the stretch and sensation, when you felt two fingers slip between your legs from behind. Daryl gripped your face and brought it down to his—wouldn’t let you look over your shoulder as the other man’s hand started to traverse the contour of your ass.

You were pulled in for a kiss as Daryl bottomed out inside you. Tongue hardly able to keep up with his as moans and whimpers went bubbling up in your throat, you just sat there, straddled him, and let him use your pussy any way he pleased. He snapped his hips and groaned your name between your lips, while the hand that was prodding you from behind finally reached its intended destination.

You yelped into Daryl’s mouth the second you felt a full, hefty finger slip inside your ass. Officer Walsh, no doubt.

The two men at your rear all but moaned as your tight little hole contracted around Shane’s finger and Daryl continued to pound you from below. It was odd, that sharp, disparate feeling of Daryl’s cock drilling your pussy while Shane’s digit pumped a much slower pace in your ass. Your senses had kicked into overdrive, and you couldn’t keep from showing your pleasure with every sound that you made.

Shane withdrew just long enough to add another finger, smearing a mixture of cum, spit, and your own juices all over your walls for lubrication. You sensed him moving closer, when Rick grabbed hold of his shoulder.

“Give her a minute,” he muttered.

Shane scoffed, shaking him off.

“Little whore looks plenty ready to me,” he retorted as he eyed your slick, sensitive hole.

Suddenly, your throat was clasped in Shane’s big hand and your head pulled tight against his chest. He had taken his cock in his other hand and was angling his length just right to press the head between your cheeks. Daryl had slowed almost completely.

“C’mere.” Daryl beckoned you closer with a tender look. When you leaned down to lay flat on his chest, he smiled, stroked your hair, “Jus’ hold on ta me, alright?”

Your walls were already squeezing his cock like a vice and your fingernails making white-hot crescents in his shoulders—you couldn’t hold him tighter if you tried—but you nodded. You let him kiss you again, felt a little more fit to take his tongue this time, and eased down along his shaft until you were filled to the brim with nothing but him.

That last part changed as soon as Shane thrust into your ass.

You jolted forward and instinctively tried to pull off his cock, but Daryl held you tight. Brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face and started peppering your skin with kisses the louder you whimpered.

“Doin’ so good for us, baby— takin’ our cocks so well,” he cooed in your ear.

You whined at the fierce burn between your legs as both Daryl and Shane pushed inside you. Rough fucking was one thing, but being penetrated in both holes simultaneously while sandwiched between two men just brought the sensations to entirely new heights. You clawed at Daryl’s shoulders and damn near sunk your teeth straight through your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” the man below you mumbled as he watched your face contort in a medley of pleasure and pain, “Tha’s my good girl.”

“Fuckin’ whore,” Shane spat, shoving his cock even deeper. Clearly not one for tender anal training.

Now it was Daryl going slow and sweet, just barely stirring his cock inside you while Shane slapped your ass and yanked your hips over his own. You saw Rick’s previously-deflated cock grow hard in his hands, and you proceeded to watch him watch you as he stroked himself a few feet away.

You needed another distraction. You caught Rick’s eye and simply licked your lips in silent invitation. He was filling your mouth in a matter of seconds.

With three cocks pumping in and out of you, you felt every bit the fucked-out brat you knew they’d wanted to claim. Your brain had all but melted to mush in their hands, your body manhandled and fucked every which way while your thoughts yielded, in turn, to pure anoesis.

There was something unusually freeing about being a living, breathing fuckdoll for these three King County cops. You couldn’t get enough.

Rick pulled his dick out of your mouth just long enough to slap you with it.

“This what ya needed?” he teased, tapping the head of his cock on your spit-painted cheeks, “A good fucking in all your holes to make you behave?”

You stuck out your tongue and tried to nod, your body still shaking with every thrust from Daryl and Shane. Instead of pushing back in, Rick simply rubbed his cock all over your face and shot you a look that was soaked to the core with condescension. Somewhere below, Daryl began toying with your clit.

You sucked in a breath between broken moans and clenched harder around both men inside you.

“Think she wants a switch,” Rick grinned.

In a minute, you felt yourself hoisted back up—Shane pulling out and Daryl rising swiftly to his feet. Two sets of hands helped maneuver your body to a position you’d never tried, never even seen before as your legs hooked over either one of Daryl’s arms and your ass was thrust back. Then, to your relief, it was Rick at your rear this time, rubbing his tip along your red and stretched out hole while your head came to rest on his shoulder.

You were pressed between the men once more and cradled comfortably in their arms. Daryl took care not to rut into you too hard while Rick was still coating your arousal across the hole Shane had just fucked raw.

“Shh, shh,” Rick’s lips dropped close to your ear while he pressed a wet finger inside, trying to relubricate the area.

You wiggled and squirmed, a bit too sensitive to keep still at this point, so Shane reached in and took you by the throat.

“Hold still,” he snapped. Stroking himself with his free hand.

You watched his eyes drift down to the spot where he’d just been, where Rick was trying to squeeze into, and felt the first real twinge of bliss when you felt the head of his cock tease your entrance. This was softer, even sweet. Paired with Daryl’s extra slow thrusts and the sounds all three were making as you spread your legs even wider, you first became aware of a knot in your tummy.

When the warmth of your ass enveloped just the tip of him, you felt it constrict even tighter.

Rick let out a groan and struggled to keep from thrusting too hard. Shane tightened his grip on your neck.

“C’mon now, sugar tits, don’t act like you ain’t just—”

“Shane,” Daryl growled.

Rick didn’t stop. You squeezed both cocks and moaned.

“I’m just sayin’ if the slut could fit my cock in and—”

“Fuck,” Rick hissed.

You were bouncing in between them now, head lolled back on Rick’s shoulder and hand pressed flush against Daryl’s chest. Steeped in pleasure as they stood and fucked you stupid.

Shane continued to tug his cock and stare you down with hungry, possessive eyes.

Daryl’s moans turned to shallow grunts while Rick’s breath fanned soft across your cheeks in ragged breaths. You writhed and you grinded between their two bodies, too lost in your own ascent to pleasure to sense anything else. Your skin was wet with a sheen of sweat and both holes all but soaked between the two men. Their cocks plunging in and out at a vicious pace until the coil in your stomach was nearly starting to ache.

“Feelin’ good?” Rick hummed in your ear.

“Gettin’ close?” Daryl joined.

Shane’s hand closed around your throat until your lungs could scarcely breathe and your vision blurred with stars. Making one last strangled moan, you rolled your hips and felt something taut and tight and blisteringly hot break loose across your abdomen—and not just the ropes of cum shooting deep inside you.

Alongside that tiny eruption came a blitz of pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Your body went haywire, every square inch of your skin alight with ecstasy and your mind going numb in a surge of bliss. You moaned and felt the walls of both holes spasm desperately over Daryl and Rick alike, and suddenly, something far beyond your control seemed ready to tear your body in two.

A beat of silence. Your consciousness gradually returned.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing to grace your sight was Daryl’s shining face, grinning ear to ear with the happiest expression.

You blinked and watched him closer.

As your vision adjusted and the world came clearer into view, you caught a glimpse of what seemed to have stretched Daryl’s smile so wide—and what had made his features so unusually luminous in this light.

Your eyes widened.

Daryl glanced to Rick, then Shane.

“Who knew she’d be a squirter?”

Presently, your juices were coating Daryl’s face and chest, having spurted straight from your cunt in the throes of climax and spraying all over his front.

Your pussy still clenched and convulsed as the cum from either man went seeping out of both holes.

Even Shane was left speechless, having just milked the last of his own release and watched you come undone in near-pornographic fashion. His chest was still heaving, blinking in disbelief and exchanging sly looks with Daryl and Rick every now and then. Rick pressed a kiss to your shoulder and smiled.

And, just when it seemed any one of you were liable to break that spell of silence with a laugh, the rattle of radio feedback startled you all.

Somewhere amidst the articles of clothing strewn around you, a walkie talkie clipped to one officer’s belt rang loud with the sound of a voice from a neighboring county’s dispatcher.

“All available units, high-speed pursuit in progress— Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound, GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution.”

All three men stood to attention. Daryl and Rick lowered you quickly to the ground while Shane went scrambling for his clothes.

“Suspects are two male Caucasians. Be advised they have fired upon police officers. One Linden County officer is wounded.”

“Shit!” Rick hissed.

“Unit 1, unit 3, to eastbound Route 18. Two miles west of Interstate 85. Will patch in Linden County sheriff radio.”

“Is tha’—” Daryl started.

“We need to go,” Shane interrupted.

Another voice broke out over the line,

“Roger that. We’re five minutes south of the Route 18 intersection.”

Daryl tossed you what garments of yours he could find and snatched your arm in a breakneck haste. Before you could so much as slip your shirt over your head, though, you found yourself carted back over to his squad car and pushed toward an open door.

“What’s—”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

For reasons you couldn’t yet understand, you knew this call didn’t bode well for any of you. You took one last look at Officer Grimes and felt a twist in your stomach.

[anini--panini]

Threw this together in 5 minutes to remind myself to draw them together one day

[grimesgirll]

back when you were shane’s girl, rick would barely look at you.

it didn’t matter that shane was banging lori behind both your backs. rick was still nothing if not wildly respectful.

you could’ve used the company back then on the farm when your relationship with your boyfriend was slipping. when quiet tent quickies weren’t enough for you.

now, what would shane think of the girl he thought wouldn’t be able to go on without him, happily getting her guts rearranged by his best friend?

rick had held out as long as he could but with lori long gone and carl not taking up any issue, there was no reason to deny himself you. in the wake of all that tragedy, there was nothing better to ease his mind than your sweet, sweet cunt.

shane would be seriously pissed off to learn that not one but both of your holes were being filled by your fellow original atlanta camp members.

the archer that ground his gears so much was taking up your mouth with his cock, enjoying the way that every thrust of rick’s sent you straight down his length.

if shane was in the room or even in the hallway, he wouldn’t be able to miss the downright debaucherous sounds coming from the three of you. rick lands a light slap on your ass, a reminder that you’re not the only ones within these walls. rick was nothing if not wildly polite.

you wiggle your hips back into him in response, feeling your core tighten as daryl fucks your mouth. shane could never fill you up this way: he was one man after all.

the record time that shane had you soaked and coming undone was nothing compared to how fast rick and daryl warmed you up. if they even breathed in your pussy’s direction you were suddenly squeezing your legs and starting to drip with arousal.

you miss shane, but even as you clamp down on rick in your pussy and hum around daryl in your mouth, you remember that everything happens for a reason.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: Between Rick, Daryl, Dale, and Shane, who would you punch?

Glenn: No one! They’re my friends, I wouldn’t punch any of them!

Y/N: Shane?

Glenn: Yeah, but I don’t know why

[darlingshane]

Frank // Shane

[punchitmrsulu]

Guys, we now have official confirmation Rick woke up 3 weeks into the apocalypse. That means Lori and Shane were going at it within 3 weeks like it was no big deal. 3 weeks. 3 motherfucking weeks.

They waited like 30 minutes after the whole thing went down.

That was some wife and best friend he had.

Michonne didn't give up after 8 years. Rick didn't give up after 8 years. Daryl spent 6 years looking for him, he only stopped cause shit started going dow back home and he had to help.

Rick traded up in every single way. I mean WAY UP!!!! He went from 0 to 1000000000000!!!

[movidita]

You were so sweet.

Constantly looking to please everyone else— specifically the older men who had shown up to your daddy’s barn just a few days ago, three in particular.

Two officers and an archer.

Putting on your sweetest smile, bringing fresh lemonade and platters of fruit out. Offering a hand wherever you could fit it.

God, how eager you were to please.

And it wasn’t like they didn’t know it. Taking full advantage of the fact they could bend you to their will and render you all flustered with just a few of their sweet words.

Your three favourite pieces of eye candy working out by the barn. Hammering pieces of wood, heavy lifting with those arms, those arms that had you weak at the knees and a shy crinkle in your forehead.

Currently preparing them lunch. Bacon sandwiches and three cold crisp beers you’d stolen from your father’s cabinet.

Making your way over to them, cowboy boots pattering against the earth. Sundress flowing in the breeze, your hair secured tightly with a pale pink bow and a basket of sandwiches on one arm whilst the other struggled to hold three bottles in one hand.

Shane’s eyes lit up when he saw you, catching the attention of the other two as he straightened up from his position, leaning on the truck.

“Heya, sunshine.”

You smiled politely at the three. “Hi, I brought lunch!”

Passing them all a beer and setting down the basket on top of the trucks hood.

Daryl grunted in thanks, the first to reach over and grab his food. However, Rick just looked down at you, a cocky smirk on his face. “Didn’t have to do all this.”

Your smile only grew, “Well, Daddy said you’d be getting hungry ‘bout now. Figured it’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for us.”

His arm made its way around your shoulders, “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“No worries.” Your small hand wrapped around his wrist that was drooped over your shoulder, “I do hope you like them, used the last of the bacon.”

“For us?” Shane replied, taking a bite out of the perfectly cut triangle.

You giggle, nervous under their gazes, “Like I said, it’s the least I could do.”

The men took in your appearance. All farmer’s daughter looking. Plump lips, glistening with whatever gloss you’d put on. Your yellow sundress that stopped just above your knees, straps loose around your chest, beads of sweat coating your cleavage under the intense heat. Cowboy boots and that dainty bow— you sure fit the part.

You stayed with them for a while. Now propped up on the hood of the truck, swinging your legs back and forth. Gawking at the men as they worked. Sipping on one of the three’s beers every so often. Silently praying the trees gave you enough cover and your father couldn’t see your antics.

The fact they were working shirtless had your arousal pooling in your panties. Squishing your thighs together as you did your best to maintain calm.

But, fuck, those arms.

Every second became increasingly harder. Sipping and sipping, trying to distract yourself from the three older men.

The sun was starting to set. A faint orange painting the farm.

You were a little more than tipsy now, giggling at yourself, head tipping forward.

Hoping down off the truck. Almost tripping over your own two feet.

“Careful there, don’t wanna land on that pretty face.” Shane smirked, helping you stay upright as you adjusted yourself.

“Been drinking our beer, sweetheart?” Rick questioned, approaching your side and smirking down at you. Fully aware you had been drinking, the entire time. The way they’d look back every few minutes, taking in your giggling form atop their truck.

You fake a frown, “Nope.”

Daryl threw the last piece of wood to the pile, “What would your daddy say if he saw you like this, huh?”

Your eyes widen, dreading the fact you’d have to sneak past him when you returned inside. “Righttt, Daddy.” Your words slurred with a dopey smirk on your face.

The men knew they couldn’t just send you back inside, giggly and stumbling. They’d be kicked out the second your father found out they had let you drink.

“Want some water?” Rick questioned, leading you away from the barn and towards the sea of tents adorning the farm land.

You hiccup, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

Shane scoffed from the other side of you. “Wasn’t aware you were such a big drinker.”

“‘M not.”

He let out a laugh at that, taking in the sight of your half-hearted pulling your feet along and holding onto Rick in order to stay upright.

They led you over to Daryl’s tent as it was the farthest away from the group. Sitting you down on a log and passing over a bottle of water. It was late now, majority in bed, including your father. You figured it would be easy to get inside unnoticed.

“Drink up, girl.”

You huff, “Want to take my boots off. . .”

Daryl rolled his eyes, entering his tent and zipping it up. Clearly not in the mood to deal with a mumbling mess.

“Take ‘em off then.”

Instead of removing them yourself, you stuck your feet out in front of Rick, gesturing for him to pull them off for you. In which he did, of course. Crouching to your level and carefully slipping your feet out. Revealing the white frilly socks you had on underneath.

He set the boots down beside you.

“And the socks.” You hiccup, “Can’t walk across the field in white socks!”

He smiled at you, “Course you can’t.” Rick removed your socks, tucking them into your shoes and standing to his full height.

His hands gripped yours, pulling you up and directing you towards your house. “You gotta be quiet, okay?”

You nodded, holding onto his arm as he led you. One of his arms around your waist and the other holding your cowboy boots.

You eventually reached the porch, Shane disappearing to his tent on the way there, Rick had said something about him being able to get you there just fine and he should just head to bed. Shane grumbled but complied with the man.

Now it was just you and Rick. He practically pushed you up the stairs as you did your best to spend as much time as you could with the officer.

Stopping in the hallways to giggle at framed pictures of you and your sisters. The man couldn’t hold back his smile, despite him wanting you to shut up, he couldn’t help but enjoy seeing you so smiley and relaxed in comparison to your usual desire to be perfect.

“Come on, sweetheart, quiet down.”

The two of you finally reached your bedroom after all your stumbles and slurred words.

When Rick opened your room, he wasn’t surprised to be met with such pink. Pink, flowery bedsheets. Tulips in every corner of your room. Your vanity was adorned by many trinkets and items he had never heard of. Heart-shaped pillows, and what stuck out the most— a pile of discarded clothes on the floor by the window. A plain white dress and a pair of pink lace panties.

He gulped, averting his eyes and leading you over to the bed. Trying to push away the thoughts of you, you wearing just those panties, you without the panties. He’s a sick man, he thought. You were much younger than him, you were his host's daughter. He couldn’t do that.

Rick carefully laid you down, pulling the blanket over your body. “On your side, okay? Don’t wanna choke on your own vomit, yeah?”

You were practically asleep the second your head hit the pillow, mumbling something incoherent as you drifted off.

He smiled down at you. Staring for a few seconds, just taking in the peaceful look on your face for the first time today.

(was originally going to be rick, shane and daryl but i didn’t really know how to write for three so it ended up being rick butttt i could do some other parts with the other two if anyone would like)

part two

[sadslay]

- BASOREXIA ⋆☆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

(n.) the overwhelming desire, or sudden urge, to kiss someone.

warnings — set during s1 ep6, very short (sorry), light nsfw content

daryl hadn’t known you for long, no more then a few weeks at most but in the short time he had known you, he felt as though he’d known you for years. thanks to not only his brother’s judgements but also his own, he believed you to be some entitled snob that would never looked twice in his direction. his jaw had just about hit the ground when he had discovered you had both grown up in the same neighbourhood, even went to the same community school before him and merle had moved away.

he could never describe the way he felt around you. daryl had always understood he was never smart, not in the ways that mattered or not in the ways that would impress you but he was sure - so goddamn sure - that were was a word or two to describe the way he’d felt about you in the short time he had come to know you. the word daryl was searching for - but would never find - was basorexia.

sitting on a countertop behind a rounded table, watching the others cheer and pour drinks brought a sense of familiarity to you. it reminded you of a simpler time. you focused on lori and rick as they playfully bickered on weather or not their son should try some of the red wine dale was serving, but daryl - who sat beside you, nursing a bottle of beer- was entirely focused on you. the way you looked under the white led lighting of the cdc bunker and the way you giggled as carl pushed away the small cup of wine he had just tried. everything you did was perfect in his eyes, absolutely everything.

“you gonna share that bottle dixon?” you queried, gently nudging into his shoulder as you flashed him cheeky grin.

daryl let out a breathy chuckle, not saying a word before handing you the brown bottle, watching you intently as you brought the bottle up to your lips.

“you should stick to soda pop kid.” shane mumbled as daryl stood up to walk around the table, in hopes to secure another bottle as the current one had almost run out.

“not you glenn.” daryl smiled - that was one of the first times you had seen him genuinely smile - leaning in to grab another bottle before teasing, “keep drinkin’ little man, i wanna see how red your face can get.”

“it seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly.” rick spoke, standing up to look at the man who had reluctantly let us in an hour or so prior.

“he is more than just our host.” t-dog smiled, raising his glass of red wine.

“booyah!” daryl cheered, raising a bottle of spirits into the air before sitting back down beside you, offering you a sip of the new liquor.

you placed the empty bottle of beer beside you before taking the bottle what you assumed was whiskey and cheering, “booyah!” before taking a swig.

“so when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc?” shane asked, breaking the cheers and thanks coming from around the room, and almost instantly everyone fell quiet. “all the ah the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?” he asked, looking at the lone scientist.

“we're celebrating, shane.” rick answered quickly, sitting back down beside his son. “don't need to do this now.” he added.

“whoa, wait a second. this is why we're here, right?” shane asked rhetorically, looking at rick before continuing. “this was your move, supposed to find all the answers but instead we uh we found him.” shane explained, his very tome and expression seeming on edge and untrusting. “found one man. why?”

“well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left. went off to be with their families and when things got worse, when the military got overrun, the rest bolted.” the scientist explained, the entire mood shifting.

“every last one?” shane asked sarcastically.

“no, many couldn't face walking out the door. they... opted out. there was a rash of suicides. that was a bad time.” the scientist continued, his voice shaky as he explained the fate of the cdc.

“you didn't leave. why?” andrea asked, placing her half empty glass of wine onto the crowded table.

“i just kept working. hoping to do some good.” he explained.

“dude, you are such a buzzkill, man.” glenn groaned, looking at shane as he slumped back into his chair.

later that night, after every had begun settling in for the night you found yourself lying awake in a sleeping bag a meter or so away from glenn. your hair was still damp from the warm shower you had no more then an hour prior. you pulled yourself up from the sleeping bag, wrapping your arms around your chest before wandering out into the hallway to find all but one light left on. daryls room. the door had been left open, allowing you to lean up against the doorframe as you watched daryl pull a clean shirt over his head and shoulders before noticing the brown bottle by the head of his sleeping bag.

“still hoggin’ the bottle huh dixon?” you giggled, causing daryl to spin around as the rest of his shirt fell down his torso.

he weakly scoffed as his eyes traced up and down your body, most of your legs exposed from the shorts you had found in some drawers while a baggy shirt hid most of your figure.

“d’yer reckon we could find the rest of ‘is stash?” you asked eagerly, looking up at daryl as a breathy chuckle fell from his lips.

“nah, yer cut off woman.” he chortled, as you walked further into his room “yer already drunk as i am.” daryl added.

your eyebrows almost immediately pinched together as you dramatically scoffed, “that shower sobered me up real good.” you teased, bending down to grab the bottle before taking a sip of the room temperature liquor. “‘n what would be so wrong with that?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest.

“nothin’!” he defended, his hands weakly rising into the air before dropping back by his side. “s’just you look like you can’t handle your booze is all.” daryl teased.

you dropped down onto the near by couch as you slurred, “i can handle my liquor jus’ fine.”

closely you watched daryl as he plopped down beside you, taking the brown bottle from your hand before taking another swig.

“women can never handle their liquor.” he mumbled, a weak laugh escaping his lips, making you frown.

“dixon.” you mumbled, looking across to his eyes as they remained focused on the bottle in front of him. “that sounds like a challenge.” you smirked causing the man to look up with a devilish grin plastered on his lips.

he extended his arm, offering the bottle to you. you took the bottle from daryl causing a soft giggle to leave your lips as you brought the rim of the bottle up to your mouth. taking another swig of the brown liquor - burning your throat - you rested the bottle in your lap.

“yer gonna be wasted.” he noted, trying to hide the grin sneaking onto his lips.

“you’ve never even seen me drink,” i scoffed, “for all you know i could’ve been a drunk before all of this rubbish.” i added, handing the bottle back to daryl as he shuffled a little closer.

“‘cept i do, yer told me ‘bout an hour ago that you barely had your first drink before the world went to shi-.” daryl teased, his words cut off as your hand covered his mouth, quietly shushing him.

“i told you that in confidence, and i said first legal drink.” you pouted as daryl’s hand lifted up to connect with yours that was still covering the majority of his mouth.

you could feel daryls breath on the palm of your hand as he let out a small chuckle but as his hands slowly began to peel yours away from his mouth, his lips began to purse, leaving a soft kiss on your skin. you watched him as his lips continued further down your wrist, his hand loosening before finally letting go to reattach at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him as you lips met. quicker then you could have ever imagined the kiss grew heated and passionate as you found yourselves pulling each other closer. in an act of desperation you pulled yourself onto his lap, resting your knees on either sides of his hips as you sat down on his lap, but it still didn’t feel close enough.

when you had suddenly pulled your lips away from daryls, leaving him confused and afraid that he had overstepped, but as your hands cradled his cheeks and a smile began to creep onto your lips he was left in a state of confusion.

“been waitin’ for yer to do this for a while.” you grinned, your eyes wandering around daryls face, admiring every little detail thanks to the close proximity.

“thought you were only doin’ this cause you’d been drinkin’.” he answered glumly, his hands still loosely hovering over your hips.

you shrugged weakly, a smirk creeping onto your lips as you whispered, “needed some liquid courage.” before your lips connected to his prickled jawline.

“scared of me huh?” he asked, his grip tightening around your waist as your delicate kisses began to tickle his skin.

“m’not scared of you.” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, slowly beginning to work your way back to his lips.

but just as you went to reconnect your lips, daryl slightly pulled away, his eyebrows pinched together as he whispered, “ya think i’d say no to yer?”

you stayed silent, shyly nodding. heavy breaths filled the room as a weak muffled scoff left daryls lips. you let out a little chuckle at your own foolish mind for getting in the way of an action you had been wanting to pursue for some time now.

“didn’t think i was your type.” you commented, combing a piece of hair out of your face before your hand reattached to the base of daryl’s neck.

“didn’t think i was ya type either.” he breathlessly chuckled, his hands remaining firmly gripped onto your waist.

a soft giggle left your lips as your lips momentarily connected with daryls before pulling away to whisper, “your one hundred percent my type.” you smiled, your very words making daryl scoff in disbelief before your lips reconnected with his.

daryl was in heaven on earth. he had never imagined this happening and now with you on his lap, your mouth slowly beginning to part from his lips as you trailed down his chin and jaw, your entire body now beginning to slide down. his chest rose and fell heavily as you rested on your knees, your hands now beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle.

“ya- yer don’ have ta-“ a groan slipped from daryls lips as you began to peel away his jeans, the very action sending him into a euphoric state and with you on your knees before him, something much more lustful and libidinous began to grow.

the following morning daryl woke up to you wrapped around his body, the sleeping bag - intended for one person use - was sprawled out over your two bodies, providing some warmth. your arms were wrapped around his torso, and your legs were intertwined with his. daryl looked down at you, admiring your soft delicate feature as you peacefully slept for the first time in months.

daryl thought you were so deep in sleep that nothing could possibly wake you, so when a strand of your hair fell across your face, tickling your nose and lips, daryls hand rose from his side. as he began to brush away your hair, your eyes began to flutter open, causing daryl to freeze as he trucked the strand of hair behind your ear.

“morning.” you grumbled, your arms pulling away from the warmth of daryls body to stretch.

“mornin’.” he hummed, following your actions of sitting up right, the pair of you sitting shoulder to shoulder. “yer hungover?” daryl teased, beginning to rub his face before combing his hair out of his face.

“shut up.”

[virginsexgod69]

❝ Bribery ❞

18+

pairings Shane and Rick x f!Reader

summary Rick and Shane catch you stealing and you do what it takes to convince them not to arrest you.

cw smut, unprotected p in v, oral (male and female receiving), power imbalance, slight age gap, tit fucking, spanking, pussy slapping, spit, degrading names, public sex, car sex

2.8k words

"I didn't even take anything!" you pleaded with the mall security guard. 

"I saw you shoving shit in your pockets in the security cameras, lady," he deadpanned. 

Well shit. You were caught. 

"You don't know what you saw! It was probably someone else who looked liked me an-" 

"Save it for the cops," he interrupted. 

"You called the fucking police over some lipgloss?!” you snapped. 

"Is that a confession?" the overweight security guard speculated. 

"Oh fuck this!"  

  With the stolen lip gloss tube secured in your back pocket, you made a run for the exit. The slow clomps of the security guard’s feet attempting to chase you faded behind you as you ran. Once you were out of the mall, you scoured the parking lot for your car -a white, beat up 2006 Honda Civic. As you fiddled around in your purse for your keys, you heard the familiar sound of a police siren. 

“Godammit!” You cursed, running away from the siren while still feeling for your keys. 

  Bright headlights obscured your vision before you felt the slow moving cop car knock you down into the asphalt. The bright lights went away and you heard the doors open and close. Two familiar figures approached and stood in front of you, but made no move to help you. 

“You again,” said an irritated Officer Walsh. 

“Me? I didn’t do anything I was just leav-“ 

  Before you could finish your sentence, he roughly gripped your upper arm and yanked you up from the ground, pulled your hands behind your back and forcefully slammed you over the hood of the car. 

“Rick,” he said to the other officer. 

You felt his large hand smooth over the curve of your ass before slipping into your back pocket and pulling out the tube of stolen lip gloss. 

“Office Grimes, is that y-“ 

“Shut it,” he ordered. Yup, it was him. 

  One of them -you couldn’t tell who- pulled you into standing up straight. The two men who you’ve become quite familiar with over some tome stood tall over you, staring you down with skepticism and disappointment apparent on their faces. 

“Shoplifting, again?” Rick questioned. 

You looked at them with an overdramatic offended look on your face. “I bought that, fair and square!” You lied. 

“Show me your receipt then,” Shane challenged, making it clear as day he didn’t believe you were innocent. 

FUCK FUCK FUCK

 You panicked as you pretended to search all of your pockets for a receipt you knew you didn't have.

"I-uh...must've...um...dropped it when uh...you hit me with your fucking car!" you said, trying to shift the blame on them. 

They shared a look then looked at you with expressions that told you they're not buying a damn thing you said. 

"If you were anyone else, we'd let you go. But Y/N, you have a track record, so we're gonna hafta take ya into the station," Rick said, strong arms crossed over his chest with your lipgloss still in his hand. You looked at him with large, sad, pleading eyes, then at Shane with the same look. Neither of them budged so you dropped the act. 

"Fuckin' pigs!" you shouted at them before running off to go knows where. The two men chased after you on foot, barking orders at you as they did. They weren't far behind, but there was still a good amount of space between you. You gave up on looking for your keys and just continued to run. When you couldn't hear their footsteps anymore you stopped and leaned against some car. You were about to relax but the sound of sirens got your heart racing again. In their car, they chased you out onto some empty road before you finally couldn't run anymore and collapsed into the grass on the side of the road. The car halted to a stop a few feet away from you before the men got out and ran over to you. 

 This time it was Rick who yanked you up from the ground. You were too out of breath to argue, or say anything for that matter. 

"No innocent person would run away like that," Rick hissed in your ear. He forced your arms behind you back and cuffed you then dragged you over to the car where Shane waited. He walked over to you, looking down at you the entire way. His large, rough hand grabbed you jaw and forced you to look up at him. 

"You wanna explain yourself 'fore we throw your ass in jail," he said venomously. 

 The severity of the situation finally hit you as your teary eyes stared into his cold brown ones. You couldn't go to jail, especially over some cheap lipgloss. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as your brain worked to find something to say. 

"C'mon, Shane. We used to go to the same church, y'know this isn't really who I am," you pleaded as you choked back sobs. 

You could've sworn you saw Shane's resolve soften, but before he could say anything, Rick cut in. 

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N. You have a record. This is who you are and this is the shit you do." 

 Rick's cruel words caused a pang in your chest. Hearing such things from a man who once trusted you enough to babysit his kid hurt. You really didn't think a few misdemeanors here and there would cause two people you once looked up to to think so lowly of you. You tore your jaw from Shane's grip and turned to face Rick. 

"Rick, I-"

"Officer Grimes," he corrected. 

Ouch. 

"I-I promise I'll stop breaking the law, honest! I'll even make it up to you guys, just please don't take me to jail!" you begged.

"How do you plan on making it up to us, Peach?" Shane asked using an old nickname you haven't heard since high school.  

You knew exactly how you were gonna make it up to them. 

 You slowly lowered yourself onto your knees, ignoring the way the ground dug into them. You looked up at Rick with innocent doe eyes. 

"Take off your pants," you rasped. 

  You honestly weren't even sure if they'd give into your advances, at the very least you expected some kind of pushback. But both men eagerly undid their belts and pulled out their hard cocks. You shuffled your way over to Rick, not caring how the rough road scratched your bare knees. You licked at the pre-cum leaking out of Rick's pretty, red tip before pressing a chaste kiss to it. You stuck your tongue all the way out, licking up and down his length like it was the coldest, tastiest popsicle on the hottest summer day. His breathing shallowed as he did his best to keep his composure.After having enough of teasing him with your tongue, you took his entire length into your mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat as you did your best not to gag. Rick couldn't take it anymore and grunted in pleasure. You looked up at him through your long lashes. He looked like he was in heaven. His head was thrown back in pleasure, giving you the perfect view of his Adam's apple moving with every pleasurable moan that escaped him. You bobbed your head up and down on his dick, moving at your own pace until he couldn't take it anymore and grabbed a fistful of your hair and began fucking your throat. You felt him twitch in your mouth as you choked on his large size. You were making him feel good and that made you feel good. You could feel yourself soaking your panties and wished you weren't cuffed so you can stimulate your aching clit. 

"Oh god, Y/N. You're taking me so good...good girl," Rick praised between pants. His praise alone was enough to make your cunt throb. Rick's rhythm became sloppy as he felt himself about to cum. You started into his eyes, nonverbally begging him to cum down your throat and whether or not he understood your silent pleas, that's exactly what he did. You swallowed every drop of him as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth. 

"Damn Peach, when'd you become such a slut," Shane taunted with a smirk on his face and his dick in his hand. He took in the sight of you, already drunk on cock, mascara tears running down your cheeks and a streak of drool leaking down your chin. He stepped closer to you as he brought himself to his climax. 

"Say 'ahh'," he ordered. You eagerly opened your mouth as he came all over your pretty face shamelessly. You blinked his cum out of your eyes as you swallowed what got into your mouth. 

"Damn, look at 'er. She takes one cock and she's already all fucked out," Shane teased. 

"Pretty lil thang still hasn't cum yet," Rick commented, noticing the way you were shifting around in an attempt to stimulate your needy clit. 

"You think the lil felon deserves to cum?" 

"Maybe we gotta fuck a lesson into her. Oughta teach her to quit stealin'." 

"Alright," Shane agreed, "But I get 'er pussy first." 

Rick reluctantly agreed. Shane pulled you up from the ground and quickly had you bent over the hood of the car like he did earlier. He took a minute to admire how good your ass looked in those tiny shorts before he practically ripped them off, taking your panties with them. He roughly smacked your ass a few times before spreading your cheeks open with his big, rough hands. He spat on your already dripping cunt before slapping it too. You whimpered in pleasure and tried to close your legs, but he kicked your ankles apart. He lined his dick up with your desperate hole that was already clenching over nothing. 

"Jus' fuck me already, Shane," you slurred. 

 Teasingly, he rubbed his length up and down your slit, coating his already leaking tip with a mix of your slick and his spit. You wantonly whined in an attempt to get him to hurry up and put it in you already. And he finally did. Slammed himself all the way in, earning a scream from you as his rock hard dick hit all the right spots inside of you. He stayed still for a minute causing you to squirm. He leaned over you and whispered in your ear. 

"Be patient, or 'm not gonna let you cum." You stopped squirming and he finally pulled out before ramming himself back inside of you. Your warm walls hugged his cock perfectly as he plowed in and out of your perfect pussy. The sounds your bodies made were so filthy and sinful it only made you clench around his cock even harder. More tears streamed down your face as he fucked you so good you could only babble nonsensically, begging him to make you cum. 

"Ah, Shane, 'm gonnaa," you stupidly babbled. 

"S'alright, Peach, I'ma get you there," he said as he thrusted into you sloppily, his own climax reaching him once again. You screamed in pleasure as you were overcome by your orgasm. As you came, you clenched down on the officer so hard he almost came inside of you, but he resisted until you were through riding out your orgasm. He quickly pulled out and released himself all over your lower back. 

"Rick I need ya, please Rick I wanna feel you inside a' me," you begged. 

 You looked so fucked out laying on that car hood that the men wondered if you even knew what you were saying. Rick walked over to you and unlocked the handcuffs, finally freeing you. Before you could react, he roughly flipped you over onto your back. 

"If you even think about makin' a run for it, I won't hesitate to throw your pretty lil' ass in jail." 

"Yes, Officer Grimes," you whined. Hearing you call him 'Officer Grimes' made his cock twitch. He animalistically tore your tank top off before giving your bra the same treatment, leaving you completely naked and vulnerable to the two fully clothed men. 

"You've got such pretty tits," he complimented as he rubbed his hands up your body. You let out little whimpers and moans, just waiting for him to fill you up and split you open on his cock. His large, warm hands finally found their way to your neglected tits. He grabbed a handful of each one, roughly kneading them. You squirmed and moaned just wishing you had something to rub your clit against. It was all too much. His thumb and forefinger pinched and twisted at your sensitive, hardening buds, earning the most pathetic, wanton moans he's ever heard. Unable to handle it anymore, you reached your now free hand down to your clit and began rubbing circles on it. Rick grabbed your wrist and slammed it against the car's hood. 

"The hell you think you're doin'?" 

"Rick, please!" you sobbed. You desperate pleas and endless begging finally got to him. He lifted your legs, putting them over his shoulders before lining himself up with your abused, aching pussy and slowly sinking in. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the heavenly sensation. 

"What a pretty slut, takin' me so well," he praised once he was all the way in. Your cunt just loved the way Rick filled you up so good. "Jus' look at the way I fill you up," he admired as he pressed on his dick outline through your stomach. Shane watched the glorious way your tits bounced with each of Rick's thrusts. You looked like such a whore, spread out and completely nude, eyes rolling in the back of your head, mouth open, tits bouncing. It made him hard again. Rick rubbed rhythmic circles on your throbbing clit, making you see white and arching your back as another orgasm washed over your body. Rick kept pounding into you as he chased his own orgasm. When it finally came, he filled you up as your pussy milked him dry. His eyes rolled back as he threw his head back in ecstasy. 

"Bring her over here," Shane demanded from the backseat. He sat in the back, facing the open door with his pants down as he stroked his hard-again cock. 

"I'ma fuck those pretty tits." 

  Rick smirked as he forced you back down onto your knees. You stumbled a bit and fell into Shane's arms. He looked down at you and smirked to himself, proud of the mess he made on your face. One of his large hands kneaded one of your tits, whole he continued to stroke himself with the other. He spat on his hand, lubing up his cock before squishing your tits together with both hands. He groaned in pleasure as he stuck himself between your warm, soft mounds. The unexpected penetration of Rick’s tongue in your pussy had you moaning in unison with Shane. He was practically making out with your lower lips while Shane fucked your tits. The feeling of his warm mouth sucking on your overstimulated clit made your mind go blank as you screamed his name. His tongue redirected itself to your needy hole, tasting every bit of you and reaching places your fingers couldn’t. As the pleasure became too much, you gripped Shane’s muscular thighs, digging your nails into his flesh. His head was thrown back in pleasure as he tightened his grip on your tits. 

“You’re doin’ so good, Peach,” he praised. All you could do was moan in response. The friction of Shane’s veiny dick sliding between your tits combined with Rick’s skilled mouth eating you out put you in a state of euphoria. You screamed the mens’ names as you came for the third time today. Shortly after, Shane came all over your chest. Once you came down from your orgasm, you slumped over onto Shane due to your exhaustion. Rick got out from under you and picked your scattered clothes from off the ground, keeping your panties for himself. Shane helped you into the car and Rick tossed you your clothes. 

…

“We’ll let you off with a warnin’. But this is the last time, Y/N,” Rick said, sternly. 

“Yes, Officer Grimes,” you sleepily mumbled as you dressed yourself in the backseat. 

“We’re serious,” Shane affirmed as he drove. 

“I know, Officer Walsh.” 

 You slept the rest of the car ride, worn out from all the fucking you endured. Once they pulled into your driveway, you woke up and exited the car. 

“Don’t let us catch you stealin’ shit again,” Rick shouted from his rolled down window as you walked to your house. 

“Okay. Can I keep the lip gloss though?” 

masterlist

tbh, i don't even like shane, but this idea came to me in the shower a few days ago and i couldn't resist =p

[razzledazzlebeach]

Daryl Dixon took awhile to age mentally

As I read more and more analysis about Daryl and rewatch some of the earlier seasons, I wonder if it was intended for his character to have some kind of age regression issue. (I didn't do, like, extensive research, I just looked into some CPTSD and age regression signs on a few different sites, so this is just an idea I'm tossing out in hopes of hearing some other perspectives!)

The first situation that really catches my attention is his reaction to Merle being left in Atlanta. Now, obviously, this would be an incredibly emotional time for anyone and it's not entirely out of place to just say he was very distraught over the news and anyone could have reacted the same way he did. I just think that the specific way he did might have some signs. If you think about a grown man, especially one who was raised in a very macho household, you would assume that their reaction might be to storm out or yell at someone. Although Daryl did yell, he also started crying and pacing. It seemed almost as if he was having a full-on meltdown. Some signs of age regression are meltdowns (Ranting, shouting, insulting others, threatening others, whining, angry tears, or getting physically violent) that ring any bells?

I couldn't find a gifs of that exact moment :(

It probably didn't help that the entirety of the camp was staring at him as all of this happened. Temper tantrums can happen because someone is scared/ashamed and can't regulate themselves. (Like sensory overload.)

Another thing that I want to kind of address is the way Rick responds to Daryl when he's having these sorts of meltdowns. Throughout the series, and in the third episode, we see Rick bending down almost horizontally just so he can make eye contact with Daryl. He speaks to him like he's a child, and instead of feeling insulted, Daryl actually takes comfort in it and calms down!

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic, do you think we can manage that?"

What is age regression?

We all know that Daryl was abused as a child, and trauma like that can sort of freeze the brain. This is a quote I really like that explains it: “It doesn’t necessarily make you stuck at a certain age, but instead, [you are] acting out the emotional wounding that happened at that age,” Lapides adds." People may start to regress because they are triggered or feel threatened, and an apocalypse seems like it would cause a constant trigger. Daryl might be reverting back to childlike behaviors as a trauma response. (honorable mention being the nail biting, but that's a bit of a reach) Shane being the way that he was could have also been a trigger for him.

One of the symptoms of age regression is overly clingy behavior. And you are probably thinking, "well, if there's anything Daryl has, it's not clingy behavior. He's a loner." I disregarded this too for awhile before I really thought about it. He is highly independent when he's doing things he's comfortable in, like being in the woods or going for runs. But when it comes to making decisions or being social, Daryl immediately clings to someone who he knows will do it for him. Most of his life he had Mere to hide behind. The most outgoing and shameless person alive. I don't think Merle ever asked Daryl his opinion on anything. He would decide, and Daryl would follow, and I think Daryl took a lot of comfort in that. So when Merle was gone, he latched onto Rick because he was the best choice. He knew Rick was a very righteous man who had plenty of leadership qualities. He knew Rick would make decisions for him, and give him directions.

Carol and Rick's mothering

Circling back to the way Rick would react to Daryl's outbursts, carol sometimes did the same thing. I know some people ship them, but honestly, at least in the earlier seaons, I got major mother/son vibes from the two of them. Especially when Beth died and she was trying to teach him how to grieve. The forehead kisses, the pookie nickname, all of it seemed to point in that direction. There was also another time Rick pulled the "Can we manage that?" move, and it was during Aiden and Glenn's fight in S5. He made sure to get low enough to make eye contact, and block his pacing. He kept telling Daryl that "We can't do this now." It all just looks a lot like he and carol are parenting Daryl, if only in moments where he is feeling intense stress and that trauma triggers.

Anyways, this was just a few ideas I was tossing around, and very clearly this in my first analysis lol, any thoughts?

[grimesgirll]

“good fucking girl.”

is definitely not something rick should be saying to his best friend’s girlfriend - especially not with his cock halfway down her throat.

the moment shane had stepped out for a run with glenn and michonne, you and rick were all over each other. you couldn’t handle sneaking into rick’s bed down the hall anymore. you were bound to end up in his lap on the sectional, pawing at him like a bitch in heat.

it’s not that shane didn’t fuck you; he took every chance he got. you’re just enamored with rick. ever since your boyfriend had “shared” you with his fellow officer, rick had been on your mind.

the way his brown constable’s jacket fit against his muscles when they flexed. the glint of his chocolate curls. how good he is with judith.

rick gets you goin’ in a way shane hasn’t for quite some time. he was right when he got you down on your knees back at the rest stop. you did look at rick like you wanted to drain him and then have him bend you over and fuck you silly - and that’s what ended up happening.

ever since that day, shane got off on toying with you and having you sit on rick’s cock in addition to his own. he uttered excuses about the stresses of their new duties as constable but you just slid down your denim skort and squealed the occasion away.

you’re quiet now, nice and muffled on rick’s dick as you swallow around him. the motion has him twitching in your mouth. wanting to finish off inside of you for the night, the thick length in your mouth is withdrawing and suddenly you’re in that familiar face down position again.

“so wet, baby,” rick remarks in awe as his length brushes your slippery entrance.

you’re squeezing your thighs together - trapping him between the pillowy soft surfaces. “rick,” you cry. “c’mon, already.”

“what’d we say?”

you swallow, a tear from how needy you are sliding down your cheek. “please, sir.”

you could care less if shane walked in right now. as long as rick keeps driving his hips into yours and breathing your name like a prayer, you’ll be content. content to get fucked silly by the man before he takes you in his arms and spends the night with a hand on your waist and his nose buried in your hair.

that’s after though.

now, you’re being nearly fucked up the couch.

rick’s just enjoying the way your sweet little cunt grips him like it needs him. the little thing sucks him in even better than your mouth.

and you’re a whole other story. sweat sticking to your glistening forehead, you’re babbling incoherent thoughts, strung out on the cock molding you to his shape.

your slick is pooling around rick like he’s in the fucking atlantic. so close to losing it all over him already, you’re making an absolute mess of the couch that you’ll have to resolve before shane gets home. don’t want him suffering from any fear of missing out.

the man is swept from your mind when rick absolutely crams his cock inside of your clinging cunt. the kiss to your cervix is enough for you to start seeing spots around the older man making you take his cock so well.

every time you park your pussy on rick’s thick dick and come, you ground down, grasp his hand, do anything to get as close as possible. feeling him to skin to skin is second only to feeling him fill you up. the filthy praises coming from his lips come close as well.

“fuck, baby, so nice and tight. you want me to come inside you, huh? have shane come home to this pussy all messy?”

you’re shaking your head like you have any idea what you’re asking for. “yes, rick! i want you to make a mess of my pussy.”

“then come all over this cock, honey.”

“mhmm, rick, i-,”

“that’s it.”

“i love how deep you are, rick-,” you’re bumbling like an idiot and muttering a string of “i love you”s as the dam bursts and you come undone on rick’s cock.

the pulsing warmth beneath you is accompanied by a husky, “i love you too,” and a chorus of your name into your shoulder as rick used his horsecock to fuck you two through your climaxes.

the friction on your clit heightens the heat surrounding you and flooding into you from rick. you’re almost overwhelmed by the bruising kisses rick purples onto your neck as he gathers you on top of him.

“you did so good, honey,” he’s praising you and you’re just nodding, humming, “thank you”s and “i know”s until he’s bear hugging you again. the way he nuzzles into your neck from behind and exhales into your hair is enough for you to forget trudging up to bed and drift off into rick’s touch right there.

you’re already asleep in his arms but he takes the time to stroke your hair and kiss up and down your temples. god, he loves getting this time with you to himself - even if you’re asleep.

with you pressed against him and your heartbeat thrumming, the world is still and rick realizes something - he’s never letting you go.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Six | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)

Word Count: 1.2K

Author’s Note: Oof—alright, it's been a hot second, everybody. Apologies for going MIA for a while (life, y'know?). I haven't forgotten about this fic and I know that none of you have forgotten about it based on the amount of notes and messages I get (which I appreciate greatly). Thanks for sticking it out with me guys. Excited for you all to see what I have planned in the coming chapters. In the meantime, let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

“Fuck!”

The expletive escapes your lips before you can think twice about it. You nervously look around the camp, searching for Carl and Sophia. The last thing you need is for Lori and Carol to get on your case because you accidentally taught the children swear words. After realizing that neither of them is in earshot, you let out a sigh of relief. 

You look down at the garment in your lap. Shane had thrown a pair of his cargo pants at you earlier this morning, grumbling about a hole in one of his pockets. You had woken up earlier than him, probably because he had returned to your shared tent far after everyone else in camp had retired for the evening. This was becoming somewhat of a routine for the two of you: Shane sneaking around in the middle of the night thinking you’re asleep; meanwhile, you spend the restless nights in your tent waiting to see if he actually comes back. You never ask him where he was in the morning—knowing that Shane would brush you off by saying he was on watch as if you don’t understand that the shifts rotate every night. Another sigh escapes your lips as you defeatedly throw the pants onto the table before you and turn your attention to your finger, which you had clumsily stabbed with a needle while attempting to fix the garment.

“You ‘lright?”

The sound of Daryl’s rough southern drawl makes you jump. You look up and see Daryl standing a few feet away with his raised hands. He takes a few careful steps toward you—his movements are slow and calculated. Your brow furrows at the sight—did he think you’re afraid of him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“It’s okay, Daryl. I was just a little distracted.”

Daryl nods at your words before taking a seat beside you at the table.

“What’d ya do to your hand?”

He leans toward you slightly to get a better look, his concerned eyes raking over your hands, looking for any sign of injury. A small smile spreads across your face as Daryl continues to worry about your well-being. You raise your hands to show him that you’re perfectly okay.

“It’s nothing. Just pricked my finger—Shane has a hole in his pocket, and I was never good with a needle and thread.”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you speak. Daryl chews on his bottom lip as he looks at the cargo pants on the table. It’s ripped along the seam, an easy fix—he’s done it numerous times for his own tattered jeans.

“Give it ‘er.”

You look at Daryl’s outstretched hand in disbelief for several seconds before handing him the needle and thread. Daryl snatches the pants off the table and gets to work. You watch him curiously—his brow furrows as he focuses on the task at hand. Daryl momentarily lets his attention drift to you; he awkwardly shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how intently you’re watching him.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t make you back down like everyone else.

“Just surprised, is all.”

“What, Shane doesn’t know how to sew?”

He meets your incredulous gaze and can’t help but laugh. The sound is still foreign to his ears, even though it’s becoming somewhat of an ordinary occurrence when he’s with you. He’s much more used to the sound of Merle yelling, music blaring, old motorcycles' roar, and the forest's peaceful ambiance. 

“Well, you shouldn’t have to do everything for him.”

His genuine words should comfort you, but instead, they nag at you. You shouldn’t have to do everything for him. You shouldn’t have to turn a blind eye to your boyfriend’s nightly habit. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller for his convenience. And yet, here you are. 

“You have a cigarette?”

The question catches Daryl off guard. He’s only seen you smoke once—that night at the campfire, and he swore it was his fault. Your words from that night still rattle around in his head. You’re a bad influence, Dixon. He completes his final stitch, bringing the thread to his mouth so he can rip it off with his teeth. He places everything back on the table before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and offering it to you. You take one from the pack, twisting it in your fingers before placing the cigarette between your lips. Daryl notices your hesitation as he hands you his old lighter, so he waits until you’ve lit your cigarette before pulling out one of his own. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, but something about this doesn’t sit right with Daryl.

“What’s goin’ on?”

You furrow your brow at his question, feigning confusion, but Daryl doesn’t relent. He simply raises a brow at you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. You let out a defeated sigh before answering his question.

“It’s just Shane…”

You trail off thinking that since it’s relationship drama, maybe Daryl wouldn’t be interested. But he doesn’t try to change the subject or brush you off, instead, he gives you his undivided attention. He watches you quickly look around camp, scooping the area and taking account of who is around. A frown pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips as he realizes that you’re once again looking over your shoulder for Shane.

“He wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was always a hothead, but he wasn’t always so cruel.” 

“Hey…”

The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and you look up at him. A part of you wants to cry at how attentive Daryl is at this moment. It’s been so long since someone has shown you this kind of care.

“You ain’t gotta defend him to me.”

Daryl watches as a single tear falls down your cheek at his words, and he begins to panic. Did he upset you? Was he out of line? Had he gotten the situation between you and Shane wrong? This isn’t his forte. He wishes he was a different man—a better man, a softer man. He wishes he was more like his mother and less like his father. That she could have lived long enough to teach him a few more life lessons—like how to comfort someone you care for. 

Before he has the chance to spiral completely out of control, he feels your fingertips find his, and his heart damn near stops. He involuntarily pulls away from your touch, and it makes him wince. He sits in the shame of his response to your touch. A better man would have been able to return your affection. Finally, he meets your gaze, expecting to see the hurt he caused by his reaction. Instead, he’s met with a smile so warm and tender that he can practically feel the shame in his body melt away.

“Thank you, Daryl.”

A small, affectionate smile pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips. 

“It was nothin’.”

You shake your head at his words. What he did for you today was far from nothing, but you let it go, opting to turn your attention back to the cargo pants on the table before you. As you admire Daryl’s handiwork, you can’t help but hope that Daryl knows that Shane’s pocket isn’t the only thing he stitched back together today.

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[sinsandsweetness]

Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?

now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)

been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)

I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗

PICK YOUR POISON

(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count

You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.

“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.

Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”

You ignore his attitude.

“Mom needs you.”

“For what?”

“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”

He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.

“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.

“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.

“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.

“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.

They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.

You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.

They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.

The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.

But they are.

They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.

You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.

When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.

But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.

Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.

“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.

“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.

“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.

“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.

“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.

He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.

Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.

“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.

“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.

“Right.”

Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.

But you didn’t.

“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.

“Which one?”

“Bud’s fine.”

You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.

To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.

“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”

You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.

Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.

“You gonna share?” You ask.

Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.

“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.

“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.

“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.

“Not a chance.” You smile.

He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.

“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.

“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.

“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.

“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”

You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.

“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.

“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.

You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.

To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.

“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.

part 2

-

(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)

taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker

[moonlover9191]

'I can fix him!' You say. Meanwhile, him;