౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ Veins And Vows 🤞

shane walsh smut in the works bc no one writes smut about his fine ass, and i’m sick of it!

I love dad bods 🥰

do you see of the Rafe’s in your AU’s having dad bods?

okay okay okay

blue!collar!rafe scc!rafe boxer!rafe

sexist!rafe ex!husband!rafe military!rafe

safe with me | R.G.

feat. Rick Grimes x sunshine!reader cw: MDNI 18+, established relationship, mentions of traumatic incident with family annihilation & suicide (you are responsible for the content you consume), mentions of child death, hurt/comfort masterlist

“Carol!” Rick called, jogging across the lawn to catch her after the town meeting. The sun blazed down, ruthless and disorienting after hours of being indoors. “How'd it go?” He asked, referring to the run she led this morning.

They both knew he was asking how it went for you specifically.

Rick didn't care about much else besides you and his kids these days. Alexandria ran just fine without him worrying himself sick; you’d shown him that.

Carol grimaced. “She hasn't come to find you?”

Rick's jaw clenched, his heart beating a bit faster. “Would I be askin’ if she did?”

“She, ah—she’s fine,” Carol clarified, sensing his mounting alarm. “But there was a—an incident.”

“What kind of incident?” He growled.

“We were clearing a property, and she went into the house first—”

His anger flared. “Why would you let her—”

“Because everyone matters, Rick,” she snapped. “I can't treat her special because she's yours.”

He grit his teeth. He knew Carol already paid you extra mind, so there was no sense arguing it.

“She volunteered anyhow, so I sent her. There were no Biters, but…” Carol took a shaking breath. “She found the family in the dining room, parents and two little boys. Practically nothin’ left of the bodies, half-eaten dinners in front of ‘em, rotten through. Mom’s brains all over the wall—”

“Alright, alright,” Rick cut her off, scrubbing a hand over his face. Fucking brutal. Rick had seen plenty gruesome scenes like it, but you—somehow you'd held onto your heart through the end of the world.

“I don't think she took it well, didn't speak the rest of the run. Passed her ration off to Rosita. Had that stare, y’know?”

Rick nodded. Had that stare himself on countless occasions. “She went home?”

“Far as I know,” Carol affirmed. Rick went to head that way when Carol grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. “Don't push her, she'll talk when she's ready.”

“I know, I know," he assuaged. “I’ll go easy.”

Carol nodded and released him, and he started down the road, breaking into a jog when he was sure no one was looking.

When he reached your shared house, sun-bleached siding and half-roasted grass, he slipped through the front door, finding Carl reading by the lone fan in the living room. The house was eerily quiet, save the cordant hum of the whirling blades, it's cedar bones heavy on its foundation.

“Hey,” Rick hissed, getting Carl's attention. “How is she?”

Carl shrugged. “Makin’ lunch. Not singing’ like usual,” was all the boy offered before turning back to his comic.

“Alright, take your sister and go on to Michonne's for a bit,” he said, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

Carl huffed his displeasure, but did as he was told, trudging upstairs to fetch Judith while Rick moved towards the kitchen. He waited to hear the scampering of Judith's footsteps and the click of the door shutting behind them before pushing through the small door into the kitchen.

You were staring down at the blue flames of the gas stove, an open can of soup in your hand. Completely frozen, besides your yellow sundress fluttering around your bare legs.

Normally, the sound of Rick's boots up the steps was enough to have you bounding out the front door and throwing yourself into his arms, even if he'd only been to the neighbors and back. And you always sang while you cooked, some scratched-to-shit record backing you up.

His heart cracked.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, careful not to startle you.

You blinked, bleary eyes focusing on the can of soup, then flicking back up to the empty pot. Trying to connect the dots of what you'd been doing. “I'm making lunch,” you said, barely above a whisper, and he wasn't sure if you were talking to him or yourself.

“I see, can I help you?” He asked, moving a little further into the room. Turning down the knob on the stove to reduce the lapis flame.

You shook yourself, straightening with a too-wide smile. “I've got it!” You chirped, pouring the can into the pot. It spat and sputtered, entirely too hot. Rick snatched it off the burner, putting his body between you and the wrathful soup so you didn't get burned. “Shit! Let me get some towels.” You hurried away, frenetic energy wafting from you, spooked like a hare.

He knew that with one wrong move, it could tip into full-blown panic. “Honey, easy,” he soothed, catching you by the arms when your turned back towards him. “No harm, no foul.” He gently took the stack of towels from you, six for a few splatters of broth, and set them in the counter.

“I need to—” Your eyes were glazing again, hazy as the memory creeped back in.

“Don't worry about lunch, darlin’. I sent ‘em off to Michonne's for a little while.” He took your arms again, rubbing up and down your biceps to try and keep you with him.

“Oh,” you mumbled, glassy eyes drifting just past him at the wallpaper. “Why?” Your eyes refocused on him, brow furrowing slightly.

He leaned down to kiss the wrinkle away. “Too nice a’day for kids to stay inside. And thought you and I could spend some time together.”

“Oh,” you repeated. You fell quiet for a moment, and he could practically see the gears turning in your head, like you were trying to dredge something up you'd forgotten.

He waited patiently, sliding his hands down to hold yours.

“How was the meeting?” You finally asked, though your voice retained that same listless quality.

“Went fine. Same shit, different folks,” he said, shifting both your hands to his right one so he could bring the left up to cradle your face. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” You leaned into his palm, a rough, calloused thing against your supple skin, and your lashes lowered a bit, fluttery like moth wings. Something warm unfurled in his chest.

“C’mon, let me fix you somethin’ to eat,” he said, kissing your forehead again to hide the frown pulling at his mouth. He guided you back over to the stove, patting on the counter beside it. Your favorite spot whenever he got a wild hair to cook.

You hopped up, obedient little thing, and smoothed your skirt, crossing your dangling ankles.

He felt your eyes following him while he put on one of your favorite albums and resumed lunch preparations. He tried to keep his movements slow, fluid, easily trackable in your addled mind. After a few minutes though, you drifted off again, staring at a cracked tile on the floor.

Once the soup was simmering, he stepped towards you, moving to stand between your knees. “Pretty girl,” he hummed, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Why don't you tell me what's goin' on?”

You shook your head, tugging your chin from his fingers and turning your head away from him.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips along your hairline, balmy and salt-tinged from the heat. “You know I'll never let anythin’ happen to you,” he murmured. “Nothin’ out there can hurt you, or them, here.” He smoothed his hands over your ribs, the swell of your hips. “Not while I'm around.”

Tears welled in your eyes. That's a start, he thought. Out here, that numbness will eat you alive. Feeling is the only way to keep going.

“I’d rather die than let anything happen to them,” you whispered.

“I know, baby. I know.” He pulled you in for a proper hug, your face buried into the meat of his shoulder. “You take such good care of us, and I'm so grateful,” he said into your hair, kissing your crown. “You're a dream come true, darlin’.”

You cracked, a whimper eeking through your teeth, then another, until you were sobbing into his chest, fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt.

He sighed in relief, petting your hair while you purged the pent up emotions. “That's a good girl, there ya’ go. Let it all go,” he encouraged, your tears seeping through his shirt and cooling his sun-warmed skin. “You're alright now, I've gotcha.”

“She poisoned them,” you sobbed, thumping his chest with your fist. Barely hard enough for him to register. “She must have been so desperate—”

“This world makes people do monstrous things,” he said, flattening your fist out against his chest, willing his heart to beat slow and steady under your palm. “We can't try to understand it.”

“Do you think they knew?” You looked up at him, lashes dark and spiked with tears, eyes almost feverishly bright. Pleading.

He shook his head, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, deeply sorry that he couldn't give you the answers you needed. “We can't know, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

“We should have buried them,” you whispered, looking towards the window. “It wasn't right, leaving them like that.”

Rick never loved you more than he did in that moment, his heart leaping up his throat, choking him with affection. “I'll take care of it, baby. Don't you worry.” He couldn't resist pressing a kiss to your temple, your forehead, your nose, adoring you so much it ached.

“You will?” You turned back to him, fingers tightening on his shirt.

“Daryl and I will go as soon as I know you're alright,” he promised.

“But—”

“No buts.” He placed a thumb over your lips, quieting your protest. Another sign that you were feeling a little more like your usual, stubborn self. “Now, think you can eat a little f’me?”

You eyed the soup warily as he clicked off the eye and fetched a spoon, returning quickly back between your legs.

He dipped the spoon into the broth, lifting a small amount to your lips. “Just a few bites?”

You folded your lips together and shook your head.

“Baby,” he sighed. “You need to eat somethin’. I won't go until you do.”

But instead of indignation flashing in your eyes, he saw a prickle of fear as you stared at the spoon. Guilt curdled in his gut.

“Here.” He put the spoon in his mouth, eating the bite instead, then scooped a second bite, offering it to you again. “We'll eat it together.”

You didn't look convinced, but you parted your lips anyways, and he fed you a small sip.

“Good girl,” he said, taking the rest of the bite himself. “You trust me, don't you? Would I ever give you something that was going to hurt you? Hurt Carl or Judith?”

“No,” you mumbled, accepting a second, larger bite. “You wouldn't.”

“I'll share every bite with you if that's what you need, whatever I gotta do to make you feel safe,” he promised.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. He set the spoon down to hold your waist again, tugging you to the edge of the counter to feel your body press fully against his, his arms braced across you back.

“Promise me that if I ever start to lose it, if I ever pose a danger to those kids—” your voice splintered, brittle with emotion. “That you'll do whatever you need to keep them safe.”

He couldn't even think about it, the fleeting idea enough to make his chest constrict painfully, his stomach roil. “I'll do what I need to do to keep all three of you safe,” he promised instead.

“Deal,” you sighed, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

He shifted that final inch forward, catching your lips in a tender, top-lip kiss. You softened, nails raking through the hair at the nape of his neck as he drew you closer, languishing in the honeyed taste of you. Finally relaxing now that he was sure you'd be alright.

After a moment, you broke the kiss to breathe, your nose congested from crying. He grazed his thumb over your bitten lip, smiling softly at your slightly dazed expression.

“You're safe with me, darlin’,” he assured. “Always.”

© agreeeeeeeeeee 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

MDNI 18+

slow intimate domestic things with simon riley!

mentions of: pure fluff, simon riley is a devoted husband, worships the ground she walks on, brief smut at the end, vaginal sex

having a slow and peaceful life with simon riley in the country side ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

simon stood in front of the grill shirtless flipping the meat with ease, the tattoos that adorned his arms on display, his silver dog tag around his neck. his muscles softening up after coming back from his mission, a soft layer of fat around his stomach from lounging around and having lazy moments with you. his sweatpants hung loosely around his hips displaying the happy trail and v line that went down to his cock.

you laid on the day bed as simon grilled, he was determined to be the one that made your stomach full, to be the one to look after you. he loaded your plate with food, simon didn’t follow the traditional norms of the wife cooking, no. his whole life he promised to himself that he would work hard to provide for his wife, and now he had you, he. was determined to have you lounge around having the easiest life.

when simon took care of everything, he meant everything.

he would wake up bright and early to cook breakfast for you, the sound of bacon sizzling filling up the kitchen as he plated your food with the utmost care. simon was never one for presentation when it came to food, as long as it tasted good he didn’t care. but he cared when it came to you, which was why he meticulously placed the food in an arrangement you would like, his thick fingers readjusting the small fruits scattered on the plate. the sight was almost comical, a man made from pure muscle fussing with the presentation of a simple breakfast, scowling whenever his large hands knocked a berry off.

he would walk to your room, his steps slow and gentle making sure that the wooden floorboard underneath him wouldn’t creak. he would wake you up gently, kissing your forehead before readjusting your pillow when you sat up, draping a blanket over your lap for extra warmth.

“made yer favourite luvie.”

simon wasn’t the best with his words, slightly awkward at times so he expressed it through his actions. whenever something in the house broke down he would be the first to fix it, crouched down with tools in his hands as he focused on the task, determined to fix it to ease your stress. he didn’t see repairing things as labour, but instead removing your burdens just to make your day a little stress free.

after a long stressful day he made sure the house was clean before you got home, dishes washed, clothes folded away, and your favourite chamomile tea hot and ready on the kitchen counter. simon basically memorised your whole routine, ensuring the blankets were draped over the couch with the cushions fluffed and positioned to your liking so you could read after your bath. the moment you returned home and ate his dinner he would start the bath. ensuring that the water was up to your preferred temperature, with your favourite essential oils and candles that dimly lit the room up. he would pick the softest and fluffiest towel just for you, and hang it on the hook near the door.

he wanted to show he cared, remembering every detail so you could relax, knowing everything was taken care of.

sex was an act of worship for him, gently taking his time to kiss every single part of your body. “i love you,” he muttered as he kissed your neck, then your shoulder, then right under your breast. “‘m always yours,” his voice filled with love as he stared into your eyes. before you simon was never one to do missionary, preferring no eye contact so he can fuck and leave. with you however, he took his time, moving slowly as he peppered you with kisses, coaxing multiple organs out of you as he talked you through it.

“i know swee’heart, it’s a lot yeah? but ‘m here, jus’ let it go.”

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @prettyinpink-bimbo @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy

raw. absolutely raw. next question.

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSkf4Yfqm/

I saw this TikTok and it's so cute! Can you write smt like this with military!rafe, I just feel like this would happen with them lol.

(for the sake of this blurb, the twins’ names are callum && emerson)

rafe’s packing his things for deployment, shirts and rations piled onto the living room floor while one of your twin boys sit on the couch watching tv. you’re in the kitchen, brows furrowing before you yell, “cal, come here baby!”

momentarily looking up from his task, he notices the little boy still sitting on the couch, before he says to him, “callum, your momma’s callin’ you, don’t ignore her.”

he doesn’t budge.

rafe doesn’t even notice the other boy beginning to clamber down and make his way over to the kitchen while he discards his bag. “callum?” he asks confused, pointing to emerson who’s still sitting on the couch, tilting his head at his dad before shaking his head.

“no?” rafe repeats, eyes flicking over to the toddler waddling over to the kitchen. moving around the couch, rafe catches up to the little legs, picking him up in his arms before questioning, “are you callum or emerson?”

you lift your eyes from where you’re cooking, shaking your head at the exchange but keeping quiet, letting rafe figure it out on his own.

“i callum,” the toddler babbles, and you’re grateful that they’re too young to have developed the trick of pretending to be the other twin.

“jesus, you’re callum,” he mutters, settling the boy on the kitchen counter for you to talk to him as you first wanted to.

“mixing up our kids rafe?” you chuckle, focusing your attention onto callum who’s trying to grab the potatoes you just cut, prying it gently out of his hands.

“no, dunno where you got that from,” he grumbles, not accepting his mistake in his usual stubborn fashion. walking back to the couch, the look he gives emerson, a slight cock of his head and narrow eyes as if to make sure it’s really him, doesn’t quite go over your head. you’ve seen it too often - rafe always mixes up your kids.

Catch me riding his dick like I’m a professional

how do you theoretically ride someones dimple? asking for a friend.

his little "no no no" I'm gonna be sick this man cannot keep doing this to me 😣 MY BABYYYY

military!rafe on facebook

NOT THE DOG TAG LMFAO 😭 u just know he posts motivational quotes too “are working hard or hardly working?”