#rickgrimes

Norman: We’ve a little thing we do if there’s a really intense scene and it’s just the two of us, I’ll whisper, “I love you,” and then he’ll whisper back,

Andrew: Fuck you

18+ mdni

“Sweetheart, ‘m tired.” Rick groaned, his head falling back into the fluffy pillows.

You whined in protest. “But I need you.”

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: you wake up horny. rick helps get you off fast.

warnings: smut, thigh riding, MDNI, +18, mentions of periods and pms

word count: 1.5k

an: save a horse RIDE A COWBOY

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‘Shh, shh. Gotta be quiet for me, baby’ Rick whispered into your hair.

Your face was hot as it pressed against the skin of his neck, red with a mixture of desperation and embarrassment at your predicament. You were sitting on Rick’s lap in the back room of the house he used as an office. He had risen early to go through some papers and prepare for a supply run, and you woke alone in bed with an ache you couldn’t ignore. It was the week before your period, and Rick had been expecting this. You got bad PMS, every month. It was always the same.

1. Extreme fatigue (he would come home to find you passed out on the couch still in your clothes and shoes).

2. Extreme mood swings (you would go from chatty to quiet in minutes, snapping easily at him and then getting upset and feeling guilty for doing so).

3. And, last but not least (and Rick’s personal favourite) extreme horniness.

It would have been your favourite too if you lived in another world, perhaps. A different world, where Rick wasn’t the leader of a community of survivors. Where you didn’t have to go on constant runs and raids to maintain supply levels. Where the two of you weren’t so goddamn busy all the time. If your lives were less demanding, you and Rick could indulge each month in this high libido. Instead, most months you’re left to make do with stolen moments of quick relief- moments Rick is happy to provide you with.

Like 10 minutes ago, when he looked up from his papers and saw you standing at the door of his office in your pyjamas, still blinking the sleep from your eyes. He watched you with soft eyes as your sock-clad feet padded across the wooden floor and made their way over to him.

‘Morning’ he drawled, and let out a quiet ‘oof’ as you planted yourself on his lap, yawning silently.

‘Morning’ you whispered against his chest and sighed, pressing your body closer to his.

‘You sleep well?’ He asked softly, hand trailing absently up your back as he left the papers aside for a while.

But you didn’t reply. He paused, waiting for your answer and then a smile tugged at his lips when he felt you shift on his lap, your crotch subtly rubbing a little against his groin.

‘YN,’ he said and you hummed in response. ‘I asked if you slept well?’

‘Fine’ you muttered, squirming a little more and then freezing when his hands planted on your hips. He leaned back to meet your eyes and his darkened when he saw the flush on your cheeks. You were looking at him shyly, not able to tell him what you needed. But it was clear. You needed relief.

‘You okay there, sweetheart?’ Rick smiled and you nodded but didn’t quite meet his eye. ‘You want something? Because you know, if you do, you just gotta ask.’

You shook your head.

‘You sure?’ he asked, fingers tightening on your hips as you shifted once more, flushing deeper. ‘Kinda seems like you want something.’

You shook your head, looking away.

‘No’ you replied.

‘No?’ Rick repeated, smiling a little at your stubbornness. He leaned a little closer, lips brushing your ear now as he murmured, ‘So if I put my hand down your panties right now, you wouldn’t be wet for me?’

You whined a little, pressing your face to Rick’s shoulder and rubbing over his lap once more, but he stopped you mid-motion, lifting your hips and adjusting you so you were left straddling one of his thighs. The new position offered more relief as you pressed harder against him, and you sighed a little breathlessly.

‘You need to cum, baby?’ Rick hummed, tucking some hair behind your ear. ‘C’mon, take what you need, sweetheart. Gotta be quick before Daryl and Maggie come for the meeting.’

The reminder of the arrival of the others in the group seemed to shock you back to reality, and Rick grinned as you began to move over his thigh.

Your hips rocked slowly and deeply, your panties and pyjama shorts creating delicious friction against his pants. You breathed deeper, your breath hot against Rick’s skin until he tapped your thigh and muttered, ‘Hey, sit up a little. Wanna see you, honey’.

You complied, a little dazed at the pleasure you were finally receiving- the pleasure that you needed since you woke up.

Rick’s eyes watched you darkly as you rutted against his thigh.

‘Poor thing’ he murmured. ‘Just needed a little relief, huh? That feel good?’.

You nodded vigorously and he smiled.

‘Yeah? You feel good, baby?’.

You nodded again. Adding, a little desperately, ‘Yes, yes. Feels good.’

‘Think you can cum just like this, sweetheart?’ Rick asked, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. ‘Or you need a little more help?’.

A half nod from you was all it took for Rick’s fingers to be pulling your shorts and panties to the side, removing the barrier between your pussy and his jeans. You moaned immediately as your clit came in contact with the rough denim and you bit your lip quickly to stifle the sound. Rick’s hands returned to your hips, gripping them as he guided you to rock faster back and forth against him. You looked down at where your bodies connected, flushing as you considered what you were doing. You worried for a moment about how wet you were.

‘Your- your pants’ you offered, a little lamely, as you had no intention of stopping. But Rick didn’t seem to care either, one hand trailing up your stomach and tracing over the hard outline of your nipple peaking through your pyjama shirt. His fingers dipped below the hem of the soft cotton, pinching and rolling the nub between his fingers. You groaned again, your hips faltering and he pulled the hand away again to steady your hips. You whined quietly at the loss of the stimulation, your nipples now aching too.

‘Shh, I know, I know. I’ll give you what you want’ Rick muttered, and then his face was leaning in towards your chest and his lips were wrapping around your stiff peak through the material of your top.

You sighed breathlessly as he sucked, throwing your head back as your hips moved faster and faster against him. You were sure he could feel you throbbing against his leg. He switched to the other nipple, tongue peaking out to circle and lap at the clothed nub and you released a long, low moan. You could feel him smile against your chest as your hands moved from his shoulders to find purchase in his hair, your fingers gripping his curls tightly.

‘You close, honey?’ Rick asked, releasing his grip on your breast.

‘Yeah’ you panted.

‘Yeah?’ He smiled, ‘Gonna cum? C’mon I wanna see it.’

A particularly loud moan had you dropping your head to the crook of Rick’s neck, attempting to muffle the noise against him. Rick snickered quietly.

‘Shh, you gotta be quiet for me, baby’ he whispered into your hair. ‘C’mon now. Let go. Let it all go, sweetheart.’

You bit down on Rick’s shoulder as you came, trying to silence the loud moan that left your mouth as your hips ground down him. You could feel his hands move from your waist as your movements began to slow, one rubbing your back soothingly, one patting your hair as he offered hushed words of encouragement and praise. When you finally came to a stop you pulled back to look at him. You couldn’t help but laugh a little quietly at how you must look to him- face flushed, hair messy from bed, pyjama shorts damp from your release, pyjama top damp from his spit, panting breathlessly. He smiled affectionately at you before sitting up as he heard movement outside the front door.

‘They’re here- better go wash up’ he whispered lowly, kissing your temple as you peeled yourself away from him to stand on shaky legs.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at his very obvious arousal straining against his jeans. Your eyes met his questioningly as he pulled his chair into the desk to conceal his lower half.

‘I won’t be long here’ he smirked. ‘Why don’t you wait for me upstairs. We can shower together- save water’.

He winked at you as you backed out of the room quickly, grinning as you hurried up the stairs before the front door opened. The echoes of Daryl and Maggie’s voices reaching you as they greeted Rick, his voice coming a beat after in a strained reply.

Ron Anderson x Reader

✦•····························································•✦•····························································•✦

summary: Ron’s never let anyone help. You’ve known about the bruises for a while, but this is the first time he lets you see them up close. The first time he talks about it. The first time he doesn’t pretend he’s fine. warnings: mentions of abuse, injury descriptions, blood, wound kissing, hinting parental abuse, emotional distress, cursing, bad writing, long backstory

words: 1.2k ✦•····························································•✦•····························································•✦ Pete was already temperamental. Leaving bruises was rare, but yelling wasn't. Ron learned to be quiet and channel the anger. Sam cried. Jessie pretended. After the breakout, things became worse. Pete was angrier. Ron was cracking. Sam cried louder. Jessie smiled harder.

Every night, Ron would sneak out. It didn't matter to him where. Anywhere was better than being around his dad. He liked the comforting silence the night brung. Feeling the cold breeze tingle his wounds. He didn't tell anyone. He didn't plan on it. Until, he met her. He had seen you before helping in medical center or helping unload after runs. Something about you left him curious. The way he'd see you and if he'd look away for a second he'd be gone. The way you seem to know exactly what to say or do in stressful situations. It always left him wondering and sometimes even wanting. The first time you guys talked was at a welcoming party. You had stuck behind Carl the whole night, scanning the room as if walkers were going to break in at any moment and you HAD to be the one to jump in the action. When no one was looking, or at least when you thought no one was, you snuck out the front door. Ron followed. He opened the door and saw you sitting on the porch stairs. He hesitated before slowly approaching. He cleared his throat, "Not much of a party person I'm assuming?" you rolled your eyes, not looking up. "No," You said dryly, "so go away." But he didn't. He sat next to you and talked to you for the rest of the party. Turns out you guys got along pretty well. You guys shared trauma, experiences with the outbreak, and a couple sarcastic jokes. You weren't as tough and mean as you looked. As you're friendship grew, the more you'd find out about his home life. Often going up to his house with comics, only to leave because you heard thumps and crashes from inside. Seeing him wear long sleeves or hoodies when it's a million degrees outside. Then one day you wander into his room uninvited and find him shirtless with bruises all along his arms and stomach. He used the usual excuses, he fell down the stairs, got a little too rough when play-fighting Carl or Mikey, and the list goes on. Until, one night he comes through your window scared, hurt, and sad.

-----

You lay in your bed reading some book you found collecting dust in one of the basements. It was boring you to death. Until..

knock...knock....knock..

You wake up from your bored-like trance and sit up. You look around. knock...knock..

You stand up and head to the window. What you can make up was a silhouette of a boy. Brown hair, bushy brows, a slouchy set of shoulders, Ron? You open the window, "Ron? What did you get a nightmare and wet the bed or something?" you tease with a slight smirk. He look's up at you. Your smile drops as you step aside and he slowly drops in. Blood was gushing out his nose and dribbling off his lip, he had a bruise on the side of his face, and you had a gut-feeling that wasn't all.

He limps toward your bed and sits down. You grab your chair and place it in front of him. "What happened...?" you ask softly. He hesitates, responses calculating in his head, but each answer seems odd to say aloud. "I-I'm sorry." he finally whimpers, keeping his head down, shoulders shaking slightly. "I’m sorry," he repeats, voice cracking. "I shouldn’t have come here. I just—" He swallows hard. "I didn’t know where else to go."

Your heart drops. "Ron… what happened?"

He shakes his head, wiping his nose with trembling hands. "He-he just lost it. He had too much to-" he lets out bitter laugh, "You know my mom- it's like she can't even accept or talk about it. She walks around with some stupid smile all the fucking time." His voice got slightly angry, words forced through his gritted teeth. "Then Sam-" he continues, "my mom just locks him in his closet all night, so all he knows is just to do what mom says or run away. Then my dad-" he paused and his head voice drops, sniffling and shaking. He shakes his head, "I hate him. I hate him so, so, much." Tears start to well his eyes.

You watch him silently, thinking of anything to say.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, "I didn't know where else to go." You hugged him. He fell into your shoulder and just cried. It felt like forever and your shirt was soaked with a mix of nose-blood and tears.

He finally calmed down a bit and lifted his head. "Can...can you help me?" he asks. You nod immediately and get a first aid kit from your desk drawer. You quickly clean off face.

"Is that all?" you ask hesitantly. He nods slowly then takes off his sweater, then his shirt. Bruises were traveled among his left arm, hand, and on the sides of his stomach. "Oh Ron..." you whisper sadly as you softly trail, your fingers among the bruises. Although he let out small winces at each touch, he let you continue. "It's nothing. It's just a scratch." he mutters. You grab his hand and run your thumb along his wounded knuckles.

You slowly lift his hand higher, brushing your thumb across his knuckles again. Without thinking too hard about it, you lean down and press a soft kiss against the bruised skin. Ron stiffens, startled, but doesn’t pull away.

Your lips linger for just a second before you whisper, “It's more than just a scratch.”

His breath catches, and he looks at you like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. You move carefully, kissing the inside of his wrist, then the bruise on his forearm. Each time, you’re gentle, as if the bruises might break under your touch.

When your eyes meet his, he’s trembling slightly, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy. It’s vulnerability, raw and unguarded, the kind of look he rarely lets anyone see. His chest rises and falls, fast and uneven. Then, almost without thinking, as if the words he can’t say are spilling out through his body instead, he leans forward.

Your lips meet his in a brief, hesitant kiss. It's soft, desperate, and trembling with everything he’s been holding in. You pull back slowly and meet his eyes once again. They have a sense of fear, he's asking for any sort of sign of reassurance. You grin softly and he follows. After, you quickly bandage his knuckles, then run some ointment on his bruises and cuts. Theres a silence during this, but not an awkward one. It's relieving. Calm. A break for Ron.

"Thank you." he whispers. You nod before getting up and tossing him a maroon knit crewneck and extra pjs.

"You're staying here tonight."

"B-but..my dad- when I'm not-"

"I'll wake you up before sunrise."

You give him a reassuring grin. He doesn't say anything and nods. You hand him the clothes, and he takes them with shaky hands. For the first time tonight, his shoulders drop, just a little.

“Thanks,” he says again, softer this time, like the word doesn’t even cover it.

You nod, sliding back into bed while he changes. When he finally crawls under the blanket beside you, there’s a beat of silence, only the sound of his breathing evening out. You let your eyes drift shut, but not before you feel him shift closer, just enough that your shoulders brush.

For once, he doesn’t seem afraid to fall asleep.

--

rickgrimesxfem!reader

summary: hot showers and hot moments are two of the few pleasures left in an apocalyptic world, so instead of being embarrassed by your little unexpected encounter, you and Rick decide to take advantage of the comfortable situation that has recently came your way.

word count: 2,6k.

warnings: unprotected sex (p in v), little praising and dirty talking, etc. (not proofread)

requested: yes (by anonymous).

a/n: it may not be exactly what you asked for, but I felt like adding more than 'a little bit of smut' to this one (i was so needy), hope you like it all the same.

+18 content below, minors dni, nsfw, please do not read it if you're uncomfortable with this topic!

Showers—hot and drawn-out showers—, one of the many privileges that you and your group now enjoyed, thanks to the Alexandrians' hospitality.

The water running over your skin, carrying away the filth along with it as it reached the shower’s floor, disappearing through the drain with a little swirl. The vapor emanating from your wet body taking up the whole room, misting the bathroom’s mirror. And that purity feeling, both physical and mental, when you step out, enveloping yourself in a towel, just as if the water could wash away the stresses and turmoil of the day.

It was moments like these that made all the struggles and hardships worth it—the battles, the injuries, and even the sacrifices—just to relish in these simple pleasures once again.

It was a rare occasion to experience calm and quietness in the house, given that you lived with three adults, a teenager, and a baby. Therefore, when the house was left empty, you seized the opportunity to take a well-deserved shower.