Rated Mature. Some twisted shit below. A friend asked me to write about this pairing because he's obsessed with them. Frankly, as a good friend i obliged. As a fan of the walking dead, I have to say Lizzie creeps me out sometimes especially in the recent episodes and it was kinda fun writing into her state of mind.


Im just posting this so forgive me if theres any mistakes i haven't checked.


The seeds of war with the dead were almost unnoticeable past the prison gates, before the harsh grip of reality tore through the peaceful facade before they even had the chance to get comfortable.

How it came to foraging for food crumbs in the corners of dusty cabinets and being apart from everyone she had grown close to... she didn't know, and frankly, she wondered why it didn't bother her like it did the others who had survived.

She watched them for seventeen years... their emotions flowing through them and reflecting on almost every pore. Panic flowing through veins she could almost see it visibly bubble to the surface and burst through their skin. She tried to feel that - worrying about Mika would probably work, but the rush of adrenaline never came.

When thinking about the bloodshed that could - and eventually, would - overcome those she loved, it didn't give her an unsettling pang that quaked her heart like it would any other person. It gave her excitement, and her thoughts drifted into the locked away shadows of her mind, to their demise not by zombies - but by her own hands.

Heat swirls in her stomach as she thinks about the rush she'd finally feel; taking the life of somebody who wanted so badly to survive and see the end of this hell would die a death far worse than being bitten. She liked that thought a lot. So much that...

The sound of the door opening ceased her thoughts, and she only then notices her hands in her pants, fingers subconciously moving and she can't stop the moan that escapes her lips. She sees red, and it makes a smile play across her lips.


Lizzie doesn't make any move to cover herself, to make an excuse - or to even pull her hand out of her pants. She just smiles and asks politely if he liked the show.

In all eighteen years of his life, Carl has seen a lot of things. His fathers coma, the dead rising to eat the living, his mother's death, ... the loss of the prison and of so many important people. But, never has he seen something like this.

Lizzie can practically see the cogs in his mind turning, trying to contemplate what he has just seen. Lizzie could only laugh and - finally - pulls her hand from her jeans and licks her fingers clean. She sees Carl blush at that the tiniest bit dispite his disgusted face.

"What, you never did it?" she asks and walks towards him.

Carl stutters something incoherant - even stumbles a bit because his feet don't feel like they were standing on firm ground anymore. The earth feels like jello. Or maybe, that's just his legs.

"No.. I, ... I mean, who hasn't?" He laughs and tries to play it off cool, bragging about several occasions that wouldn't save him from this situation.

"Have you done it?"

Carl's momentarily baffled, pulled from him his rambling and hopeless attempts at saving his ego.

"Done what?"

"Had sex."

Lizzie's words are straight forward, and Carl can't tell if shes joking or serious, but her eyes tell him it's the latter.

"...I.. Of course I have." He can't hold her gaze and the floor suddenly seems like a lot more interesting object.


She's blunt.

"Awhile ago" Carl says, more confident, and he swears his lie almost works because Lizzie smiles and nods and he prays hes out of the woods now but -

"Did you get her to orgasm?"

Carl's sweating now. He rubs the back of his damp neck and he curses because the sherrifs hat feels like it's suffocating him. His eyebrows knit together and he laughs cooly. "Of course I did."

Lizzie inches closer to him, and Carl swears she can see through him. "How long did you last for?" she prods, and sticks her finger in his chest and pushes him as if teasing him.

It took all Carl had not to fall backwards on his wobbly legs, but his grip on the counter saved him the embarrassment of falling on his ass. His mind races. How long did he last? How long was he supposed to last? Carl almost prayed for a walker to show up right about now and just end his suffering.

Finally, he stutters out a number - "Five."

Lizzie's eyebrows raise, and Carl can only stare at her as a smirk forms on her lips. He starts to smile too. Was five good? Hell if he knows.

"Five what?..."

Carl reminds himself to make a mental note that when Lizzie grins, she puts the chershire cat to shame.

His face feels redder than the lavas in pompei, and his heart is racing so fast he feels like he's going to pass out. He wants to get out of this situation. Now.

He thumbs at the loose threads in his clothing and stands straight and looks her in the eye, only to look back down at the floor because fuck she's staring at him and it's too intense.

His tongue feels more tied than a ball of his grandmothers yarn and he's trying to think about all the talks he had with his father when he was ten; about the urges, the thoughts - then the dead decided to walk and screw everything up.

"Seconds." he finally answers, with as much confidence he could muster. He hoped she'd buy it. She had to.

His expectations plumeted when a shrill laugh pierced his ears and Lizzie doubled over and held onto the counter. The thought of a walker hearing them entered Carl's mind but was quickly quieted by the sound of cloth hitting the floor.

"You poor thing.." she trails off, and Carl sees skin, so much skin. She turns and shimmies off her jeans, looking behind her and gauging his reaction by each sway of her hips till she kicks her pants to the side and stands up staight. "Unhook this for me, will ya?" she asks, gestering to her bra.

Carl's dumbfounded, but he nods absentmindedly, his pants feeling tighter now than they were earlier. He almost trips as he makes his way over her, trying to abide by her wishes and hide his growing member at the same time was not easy.

As he unhooks it, - or, tries to, anyway. - he stares at the amount of flesh exposed to him, and Lizzie can feel his eyes raking down her body, drinking in every inch of her.

She steps backwards as her bra comes undone, pooling to the floor with her shirt and jeans. Her ass presses against Carls groin and he outwardly cusses. "Liz-" he manages as she grinds against him.

In the distance, the two can hear chatter, the sounds of their group going about their daily lives. Lizzie mouths something to Carl and he barely has time to think about what she could of possibly said before she rips her underwear off and it joins the pile on the floor.

She's naked now, and Carl stares dumbly; taking it all in. He's late to notice his hard member pressed against her ass until she wiggles against him and fuck it takes everything he has not to curse at the lust feeling coursing through him.

He tries to think straight. There are people about thirty feet away from them behind a closed door. It's a possibility they could walk in at any moment, but that seems to spur his desires on further and he chasties himself for that; Lizzie seems to catch what he's thinking and whispers honeyed words.

She turns so she's facing him, and smirks inwardly at the bulge in his jeans. She hadn't expected him to be this inexperienced... yet to be well 'gifted' in certain physical aspects.

She tugs at his belt and rips his pants down before he has the chance to object and she kisses him - it surprises him, but hell he's had a lot of surprises today. She pulls down his boxers and she can see more than sense his embarrassment.

"It's okay." she says, and Carl feels stupid for believing her.

His doubts go out the window though when she grips him - hard.

He bites back a moan and pain soon comes after, a lot of pain. It's replaced with a mortifying pleasure as she strokes him up and down with the same unrelenting grip.

He's too caught up in the moment to notice her smirking that would once again put the chershire cat to shame. Lizzie grabs his belt, pins his hands behind his back and ties them tightly behind him.

"What the fuc-" he begins to protest, but he's shushed by the finger against his lips. The same fingers he had seen were inside her pants when he walked in on her earlier...

He tries not to think about that. Or about anything else except what's going on. Was this all some kind of sick joke?

Lizzie frowns at his worry. "Never heard of bondage?"

Carl shakes his head and Lizzie's smile reapears, dancing happily across her face.

She leans against the counter, giving him full view of her from behind.

He can only stare and dumbly waddle towards her as she calls to him.

"Do it." she whispers and he tries to move his arms and struggles against the leather of his belt.

The ache in his member is growing stronger and the lust feels like a tidal wave washing over him. He presses his hips against rear, and she shivers at the touch, lets out a small moan that spurs him on and he's just about to enter her when she speaks:

"No. On your knees."

Lizzie teases herself against him and Carl can feel her heat and she's dripping on him and-

"Now." she demands.

Carl obliges and stares at her womanhood in front of him. It's slick and shiny and before he can admire any further Lizzie bites out another demand, and the boy has to ask her to repeat it again because he's absoufuckinloutely he heard that wrong.

"Lick me."

She's dead serious.

He obliges, not much else to do with his hands behind his back.
He doesn't exactly know what he's doing but he does it anyway; starts off with slow licks to get the idea of what she tastes like.

Carl decides he doesn't exactly hate the taste, so he licks again.
He wets his mouth and sucks at her lips and she grows wetter, coating his mouth and tongue and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.

Experimentally, he sticks his tongue in. She convulses at that, gripping hard onto the sink and arching into his mouth. She cusses, and mumbles strings of swears into her arm as he runs his tongue up her slit.

"I'm almost-" a shiver breaks her sentence "...close." she said and it takes all her willpower to get off the sink and help him untie his bindings.

Carl's on his feet again within seconds and she's positioned herself back against the sink. Lizzie's trembling, and her smirk is ever present on her lips as she looks back at him with a blush gracing her face.

"Fuck me."

Carl hears his name leave her lips as he grips her hips and enters her with such force that he surprised even himself. He's waited long enough, and as he leans over her and fucks her against the counter he kisses patterns down her shoulder and leaves love bites on her back.

His hands snake around her hips as he fucks her, travel up her stomach and to her breasts.

She squeezes her legs against him when he pinches her nipples.

"Harder" she moans out and he obliges, and fuck she swears there's going to be bruises on her breasts when theyre done because the pain is overwhelming and she loves every second of it.

Lizzie orders him to bite her, and when he doesn't she barks out harsh commands and threatens to leave him where he stands, unsatisfied.

She comes when he breaks skin, and uses his tongue to soothe the bitemark on her shoulder. She shudders and comes down from her high, and he continues to thrust inside of her as she rides out her orgasm.

"Fuck" he whispers as he watches her unravel, and he comes inside of her after she does.

He pulls slowly out of her, savoring the feeling.

She leaves a second later, pulling her clothes on and mumbling out a quick thanks. As she walks out the door, her shoulder and breasts bruised, she smiles and sees red flash behind her eyelids. Twisted faces screaming in agony and blood burns into her brain, and she swears she almost comes again at the thought.