#Rick/OC

[chronicroderick]

Rick Sanchez x OC Oneshot

Pairing for a mutual! First time with an OC that’s not my own, but of course I love Rick and Morty so much how could I pass up a request that was simply SO Beautiful!

Today was the day Rick decided he was not going to let Morty get away with skipping out on another adventure. Every other week it was "school work" this and "important conversation with Jessica" that.

"As if." Rick muttered to himself as he tinkered with the cloaking device on his ship.

A little bit of drool jumped out of his mouth as he spoke, but he simply licked his lips and gulped down some off planet alcohol from his flask. The longer he lay on his back with his particle level in hand the more he got worked up. Every turn of his vortex screwdriver reminded him that neither Morty or Arrow were around to help him. There was little sobriety left to keep the mad scientist's mind from spiraling down a path of fury. Arrow had been a part of their lives for a long time now – long by Rick standards anyway – but the maroon haired man had disrupted the dominion Rick had over Morty. In a way the reprieve was welcomed, since there was the large part of his heart that loved his grandson to death and disliked the maliciousness of his own nature; Arrow proved to be a more tender mentor for Morty which had allowed the boy to blossom into less of a snively mess. 

Rick's heart began to pound in his chest when he thought about Arrow, with his sharp tongue and careful eye. The younger man had saved him time and time again, never failing to be a loyal companion on every half-cocked errand to a different dimension. Rick shook his head violently in an attempt to clear the warm feeling growing in his chest. It was easier to be frustrated than to admit he was biting back the… L-word.

His pity party had gone on long enough. An adventure was what he needed! Morty would be coming along this time. That was a fact. After sliding out from under the car, he threw the tools on to the workbench in a cavalier manner and acquainted the last of his drink to the half digested contents of his stomach.

"Mortyyyyyyyy!" The old man belted out.

There was a cheerful edge to the call, but overall it sounded like he was gargling the name.

Portaling to the top of the stairs meant avoiding the obnoxious task of climbing them, but a small voice wondered if he could catch a glimpse of Arrow in the middle of some mundane task on the walk to his grandson's room. Maybe he'd be trying to open something in the kitchen that was just giving him more trouble than it was worth and his pointy ears would twitch in the pissed off way they do, or he'd be seated at the dining room table with a snack, and Rick would catch that all too famous flash of his sharp teeth. Each thought sent a tingle down Rick's spine.

His feet carried him through the threshold of his garage into the rest of the Smith's home. Half lidded eyes scanned the kitchen and dining room with mild disinterest as they both turned up vacant. The stairwell proved easy enough to manage since it did little compared to nights spent navigating crowded Nizellin festivals or infiltrating Gromflomite mother ships. It seemed Arrow had gone off on his own. That was fine, all Rick needed was the chance to lay one hand on Morty and they'd be off! Nothing the boy could do could prevent him from being dragged through a portal. Not tonight.

While running one hand through his tousled hair, the old man used the other to grab a vial from his pocket that was filled with fluorescent orange liquid, a stimulant he had got as a gift from Squanchy. He popped the cap off with his thumb which sent it shooting down the hall in the direction of Summer's room and threw his head back as he gulped it down.

"Let's go, baby!  Rick and Morty one hundr…" 

The scientist trailed off as his hand rested on Morty's door, which was cracked open just enough for a beam of light to spill into the hallway. Almost imperceptible, there was singing coming from inside. A voice Rick could pick out in a crowd.

"...I hear the wind call my name

The sound that leads me home again

It sparks up the fire, a flame that still burns

To you I will always return…"

Holy shit. The first thing that came to Rick's mind was the recognition of the steep drop in his stomach. His mouth twitched at the corners as he tried to register what to do, torn between throwing the door wide open or staying transfixed like a statue in the doorway.

"... I know the road is long

But where you are is home

Wherever you stay,

I'll find the way…"

Delicate fingers pushed Morty's door open just a bit more, the whisper of a breath escaped withered lungs, and brown eyes widened as they absorbed the sight before them.

His grandson had his head resting in Arrow's lap, while the man gently ran his fingers through the brunette curls, the look of concern in that arctic gaze paired with the melody that practically caressed the ear drums blessed enough to hear it struck a chord in Rick's very soul. Everything about the moment was tender. Any resolve about the events of tonight quickly faded. Instead a hundred memories flashed behind his eyes.

"... I'll run like the river,

I'll follow the sun

I'll fly like an eagle

To where I belong…"

A horrible day, blackened by the onslaught of violence from Sanchez’s oldest friend. It pained him too greatly to fight whole heartedly. Each blow Birdperson dealt him felt in some way deserved, so his own willpower came and went like a paper boat on the open sea. It had been Rick’s selfishness, his inability to let go, that had brought them to this, then suddenly the only thing standing between Rick and razor sharp talons is a little lizard man, hair shifting ever so slightly in the caustic breeze of enormous wings, but his demeanor not wavering in the slightest. Instead his lips are set in a determined frown while his eyes gave away the rift the fight tore inside him. He’d chosen Rick instead of his cousin by proxy, and that act alone made his cybernetic heart squeal with glee.

“... I can't stand the distance

I can't dream alone

I can't wait to see you

Yes, I'm on my way home…”

The inside of Rick’s ship, flying through the galaxy at a hundred light years an hour without paying attention to their surroundings, instead every molecule of his being is focused on the shy looking figure before him. Arrow’s voicing the concern that the scientist had – not so gently – pulled out of him as one would whisper at Confession. He was afraid of being left behind, afraid that one day he’d annoy Sanchez for the last time and be betrayed like so many times before. Rick did not push for any more details after that, instead he looked out the windshield in an attempt to hide the sympathy that plagued his features. The rage was almost its equal, but he knew the poor man might misplace such a negative reaction. He was engulfed with a furious vengeance against anyone who had harmed such a kind soul – but that distress was something Rick did not quite understand himself.

“... Now I know it's true

My every road leads to you

And in the hour of darkness

Your light gets me through…"

He absent mindedly tugged at the roots of his electric blue hair. The breaking of a few strands under the force brought him back to the present moment for just a second. Butterflies not only fluttered in his stomach, but threatened to take flight straight out of his esophagus, which would only prove to give away his presence. That was something he could not allow, because for the first time in a long time, peace had washed over him. Solace, in this private moment between the two most important people in his fucked up life. 

Rick bit his lip the second such a thought slipped through his mental defenses. Why should such a thing surprise him anymore, though? When it came to Arrow every carefully built barrier cracked eventually. He was the vine that grew no matter how many times you chop it down, the roots tenderly weaving their way between the bricks until the whole structure is compromised. Rick had never been one for pruning anyways.

“... You run like the river

You shine like the sun

You fly like an eagle

Yeah, you are the one

I've seen every sunset

And with all that I've learned

It's to you I will always, always return.”

His sweet voice quieted, Morty’s head still lay in his lap, maybe he had drifted off or maybe the melody had been as calming to him as it had to Rick that grasping the contentment for just a few minutes longer would be enough. Arrow’s head snapped up when he thought he caught a familiar green glow out of the corner of his eye. A soft smile donned his lips, but the bedroom door remained partially closed, and the hall seemed almost drearily quiet. Rick was in his own bed, wishing sleep would overtake him soon, hiding away those few minutes in his garden walls.

@residentclown​ ‘s OC. For you dude, I hope you like it! I went through so many emotions writing it lol

[interloved]

dilf!rick grimes with age gap

description box: rick knows it’s wrong, but he can’t keep his hands off you.

warnings: slight nsfw warning, mostly a drabble , prison!era

RICK THINKS IT’S SO CUTE actually, this little crush you have on him. it’s so obvious by the way you’re always looking for him when you enter a room, or the way you always giggle at his jokes—they’re rarely actually funny but you seem to think they are—and the way you always puff your chest a little when he’s there, as if you’re trying to get his attention.

and he lets you. lets you indulge your little fantasies. lets you follow him around. lets you cling to his arm.

he knows he probably should put an end to it—for god’s sake, you’re half his age! he could be your father! but you’re such a pretty, young thing; such an emotional and sensitive soul and so dependent on him, you’re as cute as a button and he just can’t bring himself to.

you’re a crybaby. so sweet. can’t get anything done without him, but rick secretly likes it, he likes the way you need him to do simple things for you like opening a bottle. he’ll flex his arms while he’s doing it and watch you almost drool over his arm muscles. it’s so adorable, really, he thinks.

or when you need help reaching something high in the shelf. he’ll grind up against you, hand on your waist, as he reaches up. he loves the way your breath hitches nervously and the way your frame almost disappears in comparison to his height.

sometimes you’ll even fake problems. you’re not even trying to open that box, you just straight up make your way to rick, demanding he opens this box for you. you think you’re so clever; that he doesn’t notice, but he does.

you make him feel like he’s young again. like he’s twenty years old and still desirable. rick knows you think otherwise, by god you’ve made that obvious. he could’ve taken you right there at the shelf and he knows you would’ve let him, would’ve let him do unspeakable things to your body, would’ve let him have you. but he didn’t. because he has a ring on his finger. because he has a son. because he has a daughter. and although he doesn’t have a wife anymore, he restricts himself from any kind of contact this way.

but right now, he somehow doesn’t seem to care, not when he has you like this—legs propped up over his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, tears and runny mascara on your cheeks and marks all over your neck and chest.

he loves it when you’re like this. so unravelled. so messy. so pretty.

and he can’t help himself—he just has to have you.

[sefusneezed]

Katrumarius gets turned into a pickle its pickle katrumarius funniest shit ive ever seen

Comic Directory

Silly bonus panel that i am too tired to colour (it is 3 am)

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[donnyanne]

initially scrapped this sketch but will prob repurpose laterrr

[idledearest]

SPOOKY MONTH DOODLE PILE!!

familiarizing myself with the art style bc im upset i havent made fanart for the series since the beginning and i inserted like.. 2 of my ocs cuz i wanted to see what they’d look like in spooky month. also yes, i love bob and i have the urge to make a self-insert/oc just to smooch him.. i cant help it LARGE SCARY MAN 😭💕

for now my persona has to deal with him.. 😞

skid and pump are my kids 💀🎃

[hollowbonez324]

ART DUMP!

Heeyyyyy!

Totally didn’t forget about this account…

Here’s some art I’ve done since the last post! I post a lot more on my Twitter (@HollowBonez_324), so feel free to check it out if you want!

[sorrelpaws]

if i was going through the multiverse and i kept seeing these two everywhere i'd be like Whats going on here

[twdxtrevor]

WHO gave him the right to look so damn FINE -

[mutiniir]

Tfw the two gay peacocks at the zoo start a mating dance off

[marshall0w0]

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐍𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

rick sanchez x reader

anon request: please i can request literally anything with rick sanchez acting jealous. Thanks and if you don't accept requests just ignore this tags: sexually suggestive, possessive & obsessive rick, daddy kink notes: minors dni wc: 2.2k

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He is Rick Sanchez. The smartest man, scratch that, creature alive. He isn’t a mere human, he is a God. Whatever Rick wants, he gets. He invented interdimensional travel. He fucked a planet.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He knows that everything and everyone is replaceable. If someone dies he can just switch universes. Does he lose something? Same thing. Nothing is unique. There are millions of versions of everything. 

Rick doesn’t get attached.

That’s why when you confessed your feelings in a drunken haze Rick yelled at you. Rick thought you were at least smarter than Morty. You should have known that Rick doesn’t do feelings. That you’re nothing special. That you’re just a quick fuck when his cock gets hard and needs some easy pussy wrapped around it.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He didn’t understand why he felt pressure in his heart when you started crying, endless tears streaming down your cheeks as you apologized after he rejected your feelings. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt the need to reach his arms out and pull you into a tight embrace. Instead he insulted you as a whiny dumb bitch before disappearing through a green portal.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

So why was he fuming with rage as he saw you cuddled up on the couch with some other man weeks after he told you to fuck off?

A relentless fire, burning away any semblance of rational thought consumed Rick. His eyes smoldered with suspicion at the slightest hint of the man's attention toward you. Rick’s gestures became tense and guarded, his clenched fists betraying the turmoil within. Every smile directed at you from that dude sent a surge of insecurity coursing through Rick’s veins, twisting his features into a mask of possessiveness. Each innocent interaction fueled his rage until it consumed him entirely.

“Wh–Who the fuck is that–that lame fratboy on my couch?!”, Rick didn’t even bother to step closer, his voice dripping with anger. Your eyes shot wide open as you saw the tall scientists near the door. After your confession you avoided him as best as you could – after all you did live with the Smith family ever since your parents (their old neighbors) abandoned you. You never joined an adventure again. You never went into his garage to simply chat with him. You didn’t even ask if you could smoke space-weed. Nothing. That pissed Rick off even more because he caught himself missing you one time too many.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’m Michael”, Michael was a polite, handsome young man, who attended the same college you did. Smiling, he reached his hand out towards Rick to shake his hand, “Are you y/n’s grandfather?”

If looks could kill every version of Michael would be dead by now. “You’re fuck–fucking stupid.” Rick would’ve loved to just kill that boy or at least cut off Michael’s hand, which was dangerously close to your thigh. You two were way too close for Rick in general. “y/n, who is that? Your new–new lover, huh? You little– Spreading your legs a–already?”

Rick knew he was overstepping it. He should have never said that but he couldn’t help it. You didn’t talk to him for weeks after you said that you love him with all your heart and now you’re with some lame, boring dumbass? Is that what undying love looks like? 

“…You’re a fucking asshole, Rick”, Rick could hear you holding back your tears, the way your eyes started to water, your cheeks painted red. He hurt you – again. Meanwhile Michael had already stood up and made his way over to Rick.

„Listen to m–„ Michael didn‘t stand a chance, Rick immediately interrupted him. 

„Li–Listen to me, shitface. I know– You fratboys are all the fucking–fucking same. You wanna tell me y–you‘re serious about y/n?“, he stepped closer, „You– Could you give her your phone and promise–promise she wouldn‘t find nudes or chats from other pussies?“

Absolute silence. This was all it took for Rick to confirm his suspicions. „Now you‘re si–silent? Jesus. How predictable. Jesus fucking christ. You think just because you’re d–defending her right now she’ll let you have– get a piece of her? You– Do you really think y/n would do that?” More silence though now Michael’s expression almost matched Rick’s. Both were fuming with rage. Rick simply shook his head, pulled out his portal gun and ended up in his garage again. If he would have stayed any longer he would have ended up beating that fratboy to a pulp.

In the dimly lit confines of his garage, the air thick with the pungent scent of portal fluid and vodka, Rick's rage simmered beneath a haze of alcohol fumes. His knuckles whitened around his flask as he gulped down the fiery liquid, each swig fueling the inferno of jealousy and resentment burning within him. The echoes of a heated argument still reverberated in his mind, igniting a storm of emotions that threatened to consume him whole. His bloodshot eyes fixated on nothingness, yet his thoughts were consumed by visions of betrayal and deceit, twisting his features into a contorted mask of fury.

Rick's movements grew increasingly erratic, his drunken stupor amplifying the intensity of his emotions. Each swill from the bottle became a desperate attempt to drown out the insecurities gnawing at his soul. Yet, with every passing moment, the flames of anger raged higher, feeding off his intoxication like a relentless blaze devouring dry timber. Alone in the darkness, he surrendered to the tumultuous tempest raging within, consumed by a toxic cocktail of alcohol, jealousy, and resentment. Resentment towards Michael, you and most importantly – himself.

“Fuck it.”

His plan was to be teleported in the middle of your room, right in front of your bed. Instead he landed right on top of you on your bed. Maybe he really did have too much to drink. But fuck, did he miss this. Your silky hair, your soft skin, your body pressed against his, your eyes staring into his. The faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window accentuated the contours of Rick’s silhouette, casting a seductive allure over the scene. His gaze, intense and unwavering, bore into yours, a silent invitation laden with unspoken desires.

As you laid on the bed, a mixture of melancholia and yearning coursed through your veins, your heart quickening in response to his proximity. The air crackled with tension, charged with the palpable electricity of unspoken words and unfulfilled longing. Despite the intimacy of their proximity, there lingered a delicate balance between attraction and apprehension, a dance of emotions teetering on the edge of possibility. In that fleeting moment, suspended in the hazy embrace of moonlight, you found yourselves ensnared in a silent exchange of desire, your hearts entwined in the delicate threads of possibility.

“What…what are you doing, Rick? Please leave”, your voice was shaking, filled with sadness. Just like a few weeks ago when Rick rejected you. Honestly as the days unfolded, the weight of his decision settled upon him like a heavy shroud, suffocating him with the burden of regret. What once seemed like a reasoned choice now gnawed at his conscience incessantly, tormenting him with the realization of what he had forsaken. In the quiet moments of reflection, your presence lingered in the recesses of Rick’s mind, a constant reminder of the warmth and companionship he had callously turned away. He yearned for a chance to rewind time, to recant his words and embrace the opportunity he had foolishly cast aside. But as the echoes of his rejection reverberated through his thoughts, he grappled with the harsh truth that some wounds inflicted by one's own hand can never fully heal, leaving behind scars of remorse that serve as a painful testament to lost love.

In a moment of raw vulnerability, Rick found himself enveloped by a surge of longing and regret as he reached out to embrace you. His arms wrapped around your trembling form, pulling you close with a tenderness born from the depths of his remorse. With each beat of his heart, Rick felt the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken apologies pressing down upon him, a heavy burden he could no longer bear. As your bodies pressed together, he savored the warmth of your presence, a fleeting glimpse of the connection he had foolishly forsaken. In that embrace, Rick sought solace in the familiarity of your touch, yearning to erase the distance he had allowed to grow between you. But even as he held you close, Rick knew that some wounds run too deep to mend with a simple embrace, and the ache of regret would linger long after your arms had untangled and they parted ways once more. So, he didn’t let go.

“Why– Why did you b-bring that boy over?”, Rick whispered into your ear.

“…Why do you even care?”

With a heavy heart and a tangled web of emotions, Rick mustered the courage to lean back and face you, intent on conveying the depth of his regret for his earlier rejection. His words caught in his throat, a silent plea for forgiveness lingering on Rick’s lips. Yet, beneath the facade of contrition, a different truth simmered—a truth he dared not confess. Deep down, Rick knew that admitting his regret would unravel the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart, exposing the vulnerability he had long sought to conceal. So, with practiced deceit, Rick masked his true intentions behind a facade of remorse, weaving a tangled web of half-truths and feigned contrition in a desperate attempt to suppress the stirring of emotions he dared not acknowledge. In the shadow of his deception, the echoes of his regret remained unspoken, a silent testament to the complexities of love and the fear of baring one's soul to the object of Rick’s desire.

“Did you– Did you fuck him?”

“Why do you care?”

“y/n, st–stop with this shit. Are you dating him?”

“Why do you care?”

As you persisted, your insistence slicing through the fragile veneer of Rick’s composure, a simmering rage ignited within him, fueling the flames of his resentment. With each passing moment, your few simple words bore deeper into Rick’s wounded pride, stoking the embers of his anger into a blazing inferno. The weight of your expectations pressed down upon him like a suffocating weight, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he sought to shield from your penetrating gaze. Fueled by a toxic cocktail of jealousy and insecurity, his temper flared, unleashing a torrent of pent-up frustration and bitterness.

“What the fuck– What d–do you want to hear, huh?!”, Rick leaned on his hands, which were lying next to your head.

“Rick, listen, you rejected me. You didn’t want me, remember? I can fuck and date however I fucking want! ”

“No! You fucking can’t!”, he screamed into your face, “You said– You said loved me! Talking about– about undying love and now?! Now you get with s–some young bastard from co–college who only wanted to– to fuck you anyway!”

“That’s exactly what you wanted, too! You only wanted to fuck me!”

“That’s not fucking true! I– The last fucking weeks were pure torture. I fucking m–miss you! I can’t fuck–fucking stop thinking about you, y/n. I miss your fucking smell, your h–hair, your voice. Fucking e–everything! I miss your face, the–the way you nag me to drink more water. Jesus fucking christ! I miss you. Why– Why the fuck are crying even more now?!”

With tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, you listened intently as Rick finally mustered the courage to confess the truth hidden behind his guarded facade. As his words washed over you, each syllable laden with the weight of unspoken longing and regret, a floodgate of emotions burst forth within you. Your heart soared with a bittersweet symphony of relief and elation, the echoes of Rick’s confession resonating deep within your soul. The tears that spilled from your eyes were not born of sorrow, but of an overwhelming sense of gratitude and validation, as you realized that the love you had held in your heart had not been in vain.

In a tender moment suffused with the weight of unspoken truths and undeniable desire, Rick leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the hazy embrace of the moonlit room. With a gentle touch, Rick cradled your face in his hands, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin. As your lips met in a fervent kiss, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away to leave only the two of you entwined in the delicate dance of passion and longing. With each caress, the walls he had built around his heart crumbled, leaving him vulnerable and exposed in the embrace of her warmth. In that moment of intimacy, you surrendered to the magnetic pull of your shared desire, bodies entangled in a silent symphony of love and redemption.

“You know– You know I’m not good with…emotions and shit. But– But you’re important to me and–and I’m not letting another man touch what’s mine.”

“You were jealous?”

“I wasn’t– Fuck it. Yes, yes, I was. Wanted to k–kill that motherfucker. The way he–he had his arm around–”, in the middle of his rant you wrapped your legs around Rick’s waist, pulling him closer. His crotch pressing against yours.

“Just so you know, I have been very, very lonely the last few weeks.”

“Oh? S–So you’ve been a good–good girl for daddy, huh?”, it didn’t take long for Rick to get hard, his bulge pressing against you, his hand now choking you slightly, “F–fuck, princess, daddy’s going to–to reward you for being so patient.”

[donnyanne]

happy hug a giant day!!!! even the tinyphobic giants deserve a hug too, it's exposure therapy :3

just be careful of positioning tho-

[sayafics]

No More Chances

Rick Grimes x reader

Oneshot

It's probably the dirtiest thing I've ever written, but I have no clue if it's actually good😭 but it is my first actual xreader fic, so hopefully, i did okay.

Warnings: smut, spanking, daddy kink, slight dub-con

Masterlist

Abraham had spotted you first - a small and timid little thing hidden in the darkness of the container at Terminus. You had whimpered and shied away from them as he called to you, asked you your name, and how you had gotten here.

The truth was you didn't know. Not really.

All you had known were the four walls they had kept you confined in, and even then you hadn't known how long it had been.

Days. Weeks. Months?

It all felt like a blur, drifting in and out of sleep, terrified they would come and take you to the place they had taken countless other poor souls who had never returned.

It seemed it didn't matter how long you had been there or how scared you were, Abraham wasn't someone who gave up so easily. He poked and prodded and questioned until you opened up hesitantly, introducing yourself with a dry and cracking voice, strained from disuse.

There was something familiar in your quietness, in the way you spoke softly and asked questions with such bold curiosity, the way you settled in so easily despite just meeting him and the people he travelled with. It reminded him of a life long gone, children long passed, and it was then he decided he would take you in and care for you as his own.

When they had escaped from Terminus, Abraham had been the one to drag you along with a tight grip on your forearm, never letting go and repeating the same three-worded instructions at every step - "stay close, kid."

If the others had noticed his peculiar behaviour, they hadn't said much. Nor did they think to look twice.

You had been trapped with them, suffered perhaps more than they had at the hands of Terminus, and lost more than they could imagine. It bound you to them in a way they couldn't deny.

Well, all but one man.

Rick Grimes.

Stubborn and angry and feral. A wolf disguised as a man, a predator prowling around your form like he was waiting for a moment of weakness before he striked.

But you never gave him the chance.

You barely spoke to the man, sticking to Abraham, who you slowly saw an older brother in, and Rosita, a dear friend.

You picked up where you had left off with ease, holding your weapons with comfort as though they had never left your grip and swinging them in raw instinct, taking out everything that stood in your path.

You could hold your own, a fact Abraham praised you for. Still, it didn't stop Rick from treating you like a child - not letting you join Daryl on hunts despite him promising to keep an eye on you, denying your requests to walk ahead of the group in case they ran into walkers or trail behind in case someone snuck up on them. It was as though he saw you as a child, and the thought grated upon you.

It continued, for all the long days and cold nights you spent on the road to the harrowing days you spent adjusting to Alexandria.

Even when Rick had taken charge of the community, a fierce and powerful leader, he made sure to use his voice to do nothing but deny you your freedom.

It frustrated you to no end.

Perhaps that's why you were doing something as stupid as this.

Rick had said you couldn't join them on the run, said if you stepped a toe out of line and disobeyed him as you had many times before he would teach you a lesson so you never did so again.

He always made threats like this, it was simply another empty threat.

Or at least you had hoped it was.

You walked through the woods near Alexandria - if Rick wouldn't let you scavenge with him and Daryl, then you would have your own little adventure.

All had been going well until you burst through some shrubbery to be met with the groans of dozens of walkers.

A hoarde.

It wasn't as big as the ones you had seen before, but it was too large to handle alone.

You could do nothing but stumble away, running in the direction you prayed was back to Alexandria. But it seemed fate was not on your side, as everywhere you turned, there was nothing but more walkers.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart sinking with dread as your eyes burned. This couldn't be how you went out.

No.

You wouldn't let it be.

You looked around you, searching with eager eyes for a tall and strong tree. You sprinted towards it, grateful for being a natural climber as you clambered your way as high as you could get.

You would wait them out, hope they disappeared and left you be.

And they did.

But it had taken hours. Night had fallen, and your eyes had slipped shut as you leaned back against the tree trunk, knowing you would regret choosing to sleep here when you woke in the morning.

When you had woken the next morning, it had taken you the space of a breath to realise the walkers had finally let you be. And it took the space of a heartbeat to realise you had been missing the entire night, and though Rick may not have noticed your absence at first, Abraham and Rosita would have.

Shit.

You chambered down the trees hastily, almost losing your footing multiple times before jumping down the rest of the distance. Small scratches littered your arms, and you were lucky your cargos protected the soft flesh of your calves and thighs.

It was fine, you told yourself.

Rick had never followed through on his threats before. It would have to be a cold day in Hell before he started today.

If anything, the man did everything in his power to avoid you. This would simply be another one of those times.

If she was lucky, it would only have to be Abaraham's admonishing she'd have to endure - perhaps Rosita, too. But Rick? He would give her that stare he always did, like he was disappointed at her rebellion. Frustrated at her disobedience.

Something else darker always laid beneath his gaze, something she had never been able to make out.

When she drew closer towards the gates of Alexandria, she debated sneaking over the gates and pretending as though she had never left.

But it seemed fate had beat her to it once more.

Carol stood on the watchtower, fixing her with an exasperated stare as she turned back slightly to yell - "found her!"

There was a quiet commotion as bodies clambered up the platform, and up rose the figures of a disappointed Abraham. And a furious Rick grimes.

Huh.

Well, double shit.

Rick was heaving with anger, nearly jumping down the platform as he ordered the gates to be opened.

Abraham stayed standing next to Carol, and her heart sank with guilt as she found herself unable to meet his gaze.

She sped up towards the gate, hoping to ask for his forgiveness and pretend none of this had ever happened. It wasn't as though she had gotten hurt.

She was safe. Perfectly fine without a scratch.

Rick's voice boomed, echoing violently in the space between them as he blocked her hurried path to Abraham.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Her lips parted in shock as he made his way forward, his hand took a hold of her face, his fingers pressing into her cheeks forcing her lips out in a pout as his brows furrowed in concern, despite the bubbling anger in his gaze.

"'m fine. Just in the woods, no big deal."

You wouldn't be.

Your words were whispered, like you were terrified to set him off.

He clenched his jaw at your words, but you could see how his shoulders relaxed minutely.

"The hell were you doing outside the gates, sweetheart?"

His voice was tinged with anger, and still, he used that stupid petname he could never put away.

You were sure he hated you. He confirmed it with every glare, with every denial to your requests. But he wouldn't stop calling you that.

You didn't reply, cheeks flushing with embarassment as you pulled your face away from his grip and looked over his shoulder to see your friends armed to the teeth, very likely having gotten ready to search for you as they presumed you were in danger.

You met his eyes, taken aback by the rage that was pouring from them. You couldn't help the way your eyes burned as you shifted on your feet, "'m sorry, Rick. Didn't mean to stay-"

"No. No apologies this time. What on earth were you thinking? Leaving Alexandria without telling anyone? We thought something happened to you!"

You swallowed roughly, unsure of what you could say to make it all better.

It seemed you didn't have to.

"I've had it with giving you warnings only for you to ignore it like the little brat you are," his words were strained and hushed as he tried to hold back from raising his voice and alerting others of his intentions.

"I promised you you'd get punished if you didn't listen to me and stay inside of Alexandria. Not only did you leave the gates, you stayed out the whole night!"

"I didn't mean to! I swe-"

He didn't give you time to finish, hand wrapping tight around your wrist as he began dragging you into Alexandria.

He paused next to Daryl. You gave him a pleading stare, but he only shook his head minutely.

You had messed up this time. Bad.

It was one thing to leave the gates. Another to be missing the whole night and not tell anyone where you had gone.

"Keep everyone out."

Your stomach rolled with anxiety at Rick's words, and Daryl only nodded in ascent. You tried to look back for Abaraham, ready to cry out to him so he could spare you of Rick's wrath.

Rick only tugged you after him once more, "sorry, sweetheart, but Abaraham can't help you this time."

She knew it had been Abaraham who had stopped him from disciplining her all those other times. It seems this time had been too much for him to accept as well.

She couldn't help the tears that pooled in her eyes at the realisation she truly disappointed Abraham. Rick only scoffed as he dragged her to his house, empty aside from his seething form and her worried one.

He closed the door behind them, walking past her as he paced up and down the small living room space. She could only watch him anxiously, shifting on her feet as she watched his shoulders tense and his lips twitch into a familiar snarl. He was so angry.

"I knew you were wreckless," he started, his voice pitched with incredulity, "but you have to be a whole 'nother crazy to go and spend the night in the woods. What if something happened, huh? Did you even think before you left? 'Course you didn't, brat like you thinks of no one but herself."

You ground your teeth at his words, anger fizzling up and replacing the guilt you previously felt.

"Oh, please. You would've loved it if I never came back. Hell, it's your fault I was out there in the first place!"

He stood still from his pacing, his back to her as he looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes - "my fault?"

"Yes! You never let me do anything. You act as though I'm stupid and incompetent."

"Well, clearly, I was right."

"Oh, fuck you, you son of a bitch. You're always so arrogant," you couldn't help the words that spiilled past your lips, as though months of frustration had finally found an opportunity to make itself known and unburden your conscious.

"You always tell me what to do, like I can't think for myself," your voice gradually grew louder as you drew closer to him, "but I can! I'm so much more than what you think of me. You're not my dad, Rick. So stop acting like it."

He had turned to you fully by the end of your rant, head twisted with a dark smirk upon his face that promised exactly what he had been threatening you with the moment you had joined the group - discipline.

"You done with the speech, sweetheart? The things I tell you to do are for your own good, I'm protecting you."

"Then why does everyone else get to do stuff? You take Rosita and Tara on runs with you, but you make me stay in these stupid walls. Hell, even Enid's left Alexandria more than me!"

"I told you. I'm protecting you."

"That's so dumb, and if you think I'm going to stand here and accept that, you are too."

He clenched his jaw, running a hand over his face before a scoff left him, "wanna know why I don't let you out?"

She didn't say anything, just watched as his eyes grew so dark she could no longer make out the blue hues of them.

"Because you're nothing but a stupid little girl who doesn't know when something is too much for her. 'nd I ain't going to watch you get yourself killed."

Stupid little girl?

Your hands trembled in anger as your eyes darted to the nearest thing. You reached for the throw pillows on the couch, throwing it at Rick's head as he stepped back to avoid everything you threw his way.

"Fuck you, Rick. Fuck you and your stupid saviour complex!"

When you ran out of things to throw, you drew closer to him with fury burning in your eyes. "I have more than proved myself in this group."

You poked at his chest, meeting his eyes with vicious challenge - "I deserve to be here," you pushed at his chest as rage ate you up, "and I don't need you protecting me. You're not my father. You're not anything to me. You're just some lowlife sheriff from a small, forgettable town that gets off on controlling people."

You paused, your face falling at your words.

No.

No, you hadn't meant that. Not really.

You wanted to hurt him, but not like this.

Rick was tough, yes. And so stubborn. But he was a loyal man who would do anything to protect his people, and you knew that included you.

Shit.

You were scared to look him in the eyes, worried you would see nothing but disappoint in his eyes. A more selfish part of you worried that he would walk away, let you be without talking to you again. As much as you hated the way he controlled your every move, a small and guilty piece of your soul craved his overprotectiveness, playing into the fantasy that he only acted like this because he cares.

"Get upstairs."

His voice was devoid of emotions, more of a barking order than anything else.

You finally looked up at him, confusion flooding your face as you took in the fire that burned in his eyes - "what?"

"Upstairs. Second door on the right."

You scoffed, "I'm not some dog for y-"

His hand clamped over your throat, tugging you closer until your noses brushed together and his warm breath fanned over your lips. You could feel yourself grow warm under his intense stare.

"Go upstairs, now. I'll give you thirty seconds before I drag you up there myself, understood?"

When you didn't answer, he squeezed your throat lightly in warning, and you couldn't help but hold back a whimper.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

If you wanted to disobey him, mock him and ridicule him then he would do what he had to, to show you your place. You would learn by the end of today, he'd make sure.

"Yes, sir?"

Your voice trailed off as a question, one that Rick replied to with an amused hum - "we'll work on that."

He took his hand off your throat, stepping back to cross his arms over his chest. You tried to ignore how broad they made his shoulders seem, how large and intimidating he was when he stood over you.

You swallowed harshly before he nodded his head towards the steps and you couldn't help but run up into the room he told you to meet him in.

You didn't have the nerve to look around and see how the man lived. No, your heart was racing with fear as you wondered what exactly he planned to do.

Downstairs Rick locked all the doors, his way of making sure no one could get in. He wouldn't want anyone disturbing the both of you.

You could hear his footsteps growing closer, like a ticking time-bomb. You didn't know what to do with yourself. You stumbled backwards until you reached the window and a glance outside showed how everyone went back to their daily lives now that you'd come back safe and sound.

You tried to look for Abraham, but before you could spot the red-headed man, Rick made his way through the door.

He shut it behind him, hand reaching back to click the lock shut before placing his hands on his hips and scanning for form.

His gaze paused on your arms, tutting slightly at the light scratches left from your frantic climbing of the tree - "arms hurt?"

His voice was quieter, much more passive than it had been downstairs. Still, it did nothing to calm your trembling heart.

You shook her head minutely, to which he narrowed his eyes, "use your big girl words."

You bit your lip in an attempt to hold back any retort but still couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you spoke, "no, sir."

He shook his head, disappointed in your attitude - "gotta teach you a lesson. That kind of attitude isn't gonna work with me."

You couldn't help but snort light, wondering what exactly he planned to do, "what? You planning on grounding me?"

He didn't say anything, only drew closer to the bed before his hands went to his duty belt. Your heart began to sink in your chest as you watched him throw the duty belt onto the bed, quickly reaching for his actual belt and slipping it out from the loops of his jeans. He folded it in half, slapping it lightly against the palm of his hand.

He pointed towards his dresser with it, the top of it bare, but there was a mirror placed at such an angle that the whole room was reflected in it.

"Bend over on the dresser, trousers down."

You swallowed harshly, eyes widening with incredulity.

"You can't be serious?"

He clenched his teeth, "does it look like I'm joking, sweetheart? Dresser. Now."

"No."

He took a few steps closer to you, "either you willing walk to that dresser and take your punishment like the big girl you say you are, or I'm gonna throw you over my lap and not stop until your ass is too sore for you to even walk straight."

You could tell he wasn't joking, could tell from the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped the belt.

You couldn't help the way your voice quietened as you twisted your hands and shifted on your feet, "how many?"

"Why? Are you scared?"

You couldn't help it when your eyes narrowed in defence, huffing your way to the dresser, kicking off your shoes and not stopping in a show of bravery. It wasn't until you actually stood in front of it that you slowed down, hands trembling as you fiddled with the button of your cargos.

Your trembling hands were noticeable and only worsened when two hands creeped around your waist, and Rick spoke into your ear, his voice almost soft.

He unbuttoned your cargos, your breath catching in your throat as he slipped his hands into the waistband to help push it down your legs and reveal soft, baby-pink panties, "just twenty, yeah? Think that'll teach you your lesson?"

Twenty?

God, you wanted to high-tail it and run.

But he had locked the door. And even if you did manage to leave, you knew Rick would find another way to punish you.

Maybe this was the easiest option. He just needed to calm down, to get over his ego and think he taught you a lesson. He didn't need to know you thought you were right.

You leaned over the dressor, leaning on your elbows as a shaky breath escaped you, "yes, sir."

"Good girl."

You couldn't help the shiver that ran down your spine at his praise.

"Need you to count after every one, hm? You miss a number and I start again."

"What? That's not fair."

"Then you better not miss a number."

You tried to push yourself up straight, not believing he actually meant what he said, "this is so stu-"

Thwack.

A gasp escaped your throat, and you were sure the belt had left its mark on you.

"Get back down and start counting."

You did as he said reluctantly, unwilling to test him when he striked you once already.

"One."

You couldn't help but whimper as he struck the belt again, this time two in a quick succession on the soft underside of your cheeks.

"Two- three."

"Look at you, counting like a big girl. What was it you said to me?"

Rick ended his question with a lash directly on your plump cheeks, relishing how the skin turned red and raised under his strength.

You wanted to retort, but you didn't think you could do more than count without your voice breaking. Your eyes stung with tears, but you held them back, hands clenched into tight fists as you tried to stop yourself from reaching back to cover your abused bottom.

Fuck Rick and fuck his rules.

You wouldn't let him win.

"Four."

You would take every lash and count without breaking.

You could do this.

Right?

"Ah, yeah. That I meant nothing to you, right?"

Three were thrown in quick succession, tears pooling in your eyes as your voice finally broke whilst you counted to seven.

"That I ain't your father?"

Thwack.

This one had been over your upper thigh, the pain radiating towards your pussy and you couldn't help the whine that escaped you as you counted eight, praying he couldn't see how your traiterous cunt twitched and moistened at the strike.

"I'll be the best damn daddy you ever had, sweetheart."

Another three strikes over the same senstive area across your cheeks, the skin already turning a mottled red as you moaned slightly as the sound of him calling himself your daddy.

Fuck.

Another strike hit your cheeks, this one softer as he tutted into your ear.

"My poor baby," your eyes met his through the mirror as you held back a whimper at his words. Tears were falling down your face as you held back a cry. "Looks like my little girl forgot to keep counting."

Your eyes widened as you realised it meant he would start all over again.

Rick couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, a dark cadence that had you shivering as you shook your head at him in the reflection.

He came closer to you, pressing up against your tender backside, the harsh material of his jeans rubbing against your bruised bottom to make a horrible, aching burn. Through the haziness of your tears and hesitant arousal, you could feel something press against your cunt, something big and hard and you knew exactly what it was.

Your hands moved to tighten on the edge of the dressing table, trying so hard not to rub back against him.

"Seems like I'm going to have to start again, huh?"

You couldn't help but break into a sob, "no, no, no. Please, I'm sorry. I don't want more."

He petted your hair, using it to start pulling you to him so your back was flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you in place.

You whimpered as his jeans rubbed harshly against your sore bottom, Rick placed his chin in the crook of your neck, cooing at you through the reflection, "maybe if you ask me really nicely, I'll listen."

You held onto his forearms, your fingers gripping his arm with trembling strength as you whimpered and cried, "please, I'm so sorry. Please don't start again."

"Please don't start again, who?"

"Please don't spank me again, sir."

"Hm, don't think I like that one, sweetheart."

You just stared at him through the reflection, confusion painting your face until-

Oh.

"Daddy," your voice shook as you whined the word, unable to stop yourself from rocking back on him in instinct, "daddy, please. Don't want n'more," your voice broke as you cried softly, "hurts s' bad."

One of his hands drifted to splay over your lower abdomen, using the pressure to push you back against his cock, hissing quietly in your ear.

"See, daddy would believe you baby. But I think you're lying."

Your fingers come to pull at his as they drift lower and lower, knowing he would find your panties damp, "no 'm not. Please-"

You would whine and beg and cry if it meant he wouldn't spank you with the belt.

He clicked his tongue, dropping his hands to stand back and run his eyes over you. He reached forward to drop the belt on the dresser, "I have a better idea, hm?"

He moved away from you, making his way to the bed to sit comfortably on top. He leaned back on his hand, his pupils still blown with anger, but now there was something more.

You watched as he jerked his head at his lap in the reflection, "c'mon baby. Come lie down on daddy's lap and take your punishment like a big girl."

Turning to him, you couldn't help the petulant whine depsite knowing you would get nowhere, "don't wanna."

He scoffed, leaning forward to rest on his elbows, "either you come yourself or I'll bend you back over that dresser and give you fifty."

You fisted the sheets in your hands, burying your face in your arms as he ghosted his fingers over the curve of your back, drifting down slowly over the bruising flesh.

You knew you could barely endure another twenty, so his threat was enough to make you stumble to him, your bottom already much too sore from the incomplete lashings he gave. You stood close to him, and he barely gave you a second to breathe before manoeuvring you over his lap.

There was something different about it this time. Something that felt more intimate, more gentle as he pet your head and murmured for you to count.

The first slap came too quickly - a sharp intake of breath of the pain burned on top of your sensitive skin.

"O-one."

You whimpered into the sheets. These felt worse than the belt, and some part of you wished he would grab it again so it could be less painful.

He slapped another three in a quick succession, all in the same place making you whine and push into him, barely able to hold back a gasp as the rough seam of his jeans brushed over your clothed clit.

Your hand reached back over your sore bottom, but he only tutted as he shifted his legs and used his spare hand to pull your hands away - "try that again, baby and I'm gonna start all over again. Now count."

"Two, three, f-four."

You could hear the sobs you held back as they weighed heavy in your throat.

"Told y' so many times this would happen," there was a quiet fury in his voice, "but did y'ever listen? No."

He slapped you twice, once over each of your upper thighs and despite the way you pushed away from him you couldn't help but slip your legs open a little wider, trying to feel the drag of his jeans against your cunt as something foreign burned low in your gut.

You shouldn't be feeling like this.

What was wrong with you?

You were sure there was a damp patch forming on your panties, and it wouldn't be long until Rick could see it. Still, his voice, the pain, the feeling of his muscled thigh under your twitching cunt. You couldn't help it.

A large smack sounded against your bottom, a cry escaping you.

"Even now, y' ain't paying attention. Do you even realise how dangerous it was that you left? That you never told anyone? What you did was stupid!"

He continued to throw slaps across your bottom, each one bringing you into a fit of sobs and cries as you hid your face in your arms whilst counting. Still, the burn began to grow into something more, and you couldn't help but push down against his lap to try and find some relief.

You had finally reached twenty, and it was as though the final slap across your tender flesh had broken a dam.

You sobbed and cried into your arms, apologies spilling from your lips as a flood of arousal and guilt and anger came over you once more. Anger at yourself. For leaving Alexandria after Rick told you not to. For shouting at him and telling him he meant nothing to you.

For liking the punishment.

Rick pulled up your body, pulling you into his chest. You whimpered as your tender bottom ached when you placed pressure on it. You wouldn't be able to sit down for days. Maybe weeks.

He held you against his chest, hushing you and murmuring praises into your ear as you hiccuped against him -"such a good girl. Took your punishment so good, didn't you? Did so good, baby."

You couldn't look him in the eye, unsure of what you would find. You sniffled quietly, tears calming at his petting and praises.

"You know what good girls like you deserve?"

The cadence of his voice lowered, but there was no hesitation in his words. The hand that brushed your hair drifted to your bare thighs, pushing apart your knees to rub circles into the soft flesh. His other arm tightened around your waist, reluctant to let you go.

"Rick..."

Your voice was shaky, unsure. You had a feeling you knew where this was going, but was it right? You hadn't even known Rick could have felt this way for you, but then again - sex was sex. And this must have riled him up as much as it did you.

He just wanted to burn off energy, and you were here - pliant and submissive to his wills.

His fingers traced their way closer to your panties, slipping under the waistband to stretch it out before letting it slap back against your skin.

"From the look of your panties, I'd say you enjoyed that a little too much," there was a hint of amusement in his voice, "but I think my girl deserves a reward for taking her punishment so well."

My girl.

His girl.

He doesn't give you a chance to reply, fingers slipping into your underwear to trace around the lips of your cunt, dipping in to carefully trace around the hole Rick had been dreaming of from the moment he saw you in that Terminus container - you looked like a quiet and timid girl, but he could see the wildfire that blazed through your eyes. The one that shone through whenever you were too close to death.

He had come to enjoy it and fear it. Afraid to see it because it meant you had brushed death once more, but the sight of it overtaking you burned him in a way he couldn't help but crave.

Your hands came to wrap tightly against his wrist as his fingers finally met your clit, quiet whimpers escaping you. They intensified into reluctant moans as he moved his fingers despite your hold, your hips rocking back into his lap as you whined at the ache of your bruised bottom.

He shushed you, bucking his hips up against the sore flesh as he held you tighter and sped up his fingers. He circled your clit, fingers dipping down to your hole and back up as he leaned down to press his lips against your ear.

"Does that feel good, baby? You like how daddy's touching you?"

You couldn't help but let your head fall against his shoulder, tears burning your eyes as you edged closer and closer.

How long had it been since you had been touched like this?

The only hands that had ever touched you had been your own, and you were sure they never made you feel like this.

Keeping his hands in your panties, he used his other arm to twist you so your back was against his chest. You could feel the subtle movements of his hips as he pushed up against you, and with the pain of your sore bottom, the pleasure of his hand between your thighs and the pleasurable groans of the handsome man behind you, you couldn't help but cant up your hips, encouraging him to move faster.

"Need more, please."

"Please, who?"

"Daddy," you couldn't help it when you moaned out the name, couldn't help when your hands reached back to twist in the strands of his hair and tug him forward as you twisted your neck to place pretty kisses against his jaw. Your head fell back against his shoulders as one of your hands slipped down to join his. He only tutted, biting your ear playfully before pulling his fingers out.

You couldn't help the tears that spilt as you whined for him to not stop.

He didn't listen to a word you said, standing up to throw you higher upon the bed. You watched as he grew frenzied, chest moving frantically with every breath as he clambered upon the bed. His lips reached for your neck, sucking and biting the flesh and leaving deep marks on your skin that you were sure everyone would see tomorrow. Still, you couldn't help but whimper and whine, hips tilting up in search of his heat to press against your own.

He littered kisses down your neck, the fingers that had just been inside of you tracing your soft lips before pushing inside to press against your tongue. You couldn't help but roll your eyes back as you tasted yourself on his fingers, whining as you sucked him clean.

His hand left your mouth, trailing down your throat to leave a wet streak as both his hands reached for your top, only to tear it in half so your breasts could spill from the material. He licked them, laving at them and sucking heavy marks.

His hands went to his pants, undoing the button and zipper to pull out his stiffened cock. You were barely able to take a glance before he filled your vision - him and his blue eyes, so dark and full of lust as he whispered against your lips.

"Gonna fill you so good baby, you want that, huh? Yes, you do. Gonna make you feel so good."

Before you could even whimper in reply, he pressed his tip against your hole. His breath caught in his throat, and your hands came to sit on his shoulders, only just realising he remained dressed whilst you were bare beneath him.

He shushed you, lips coming to press fluttering kisses against the dip of your throat as he pushed in further.

"So tight, baby. Doin' so good- almost there."

Almost felt like forever, your back arching as you ached to pull more of him in with a broken moan. His nose came to brush against yours as he gave shallow thrusts, pushing in deeper with every one. His tongue came to lick the plump flesh of your lips, and you couldn't help the broken whimper that escaped you as your lips parted and your tongue escaped to meet his own.

You moaned when he bit you tongue, feeling the way his lips twisted into a smirk as he pushed himself closer to press his lips against yours.

The kiss grew heated, a clash of teeth and a tangle of tongues and spit and moans as Rick's movements grew uncontrolled. He rocked deeper and further into your pretty cunt until he bottomed out, groaning against your lips as he enjoyed the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him. You couldn't help but tilt your hips down, grinding against him as you searched for friction against your clit.

Rick hiked one of your legs over his hip, lifting the other over his shoulder as he dragged you even closer.

He pulled back from your lips, a string of saliva attaching his reddened lips to your pouting ones as you looked up, seeking his gaze - his pupils were blown, drowning in lust as he pulled back his hips before thrusting back in. The motion jolted your body up the bed, a long whine escaping at the feel of his cock dragging in and out of your cunt with a delicious burn.

Fuck, was this what you had been missing out on for so long?

You suddenly wished Rick has spanked you sooner, especially if it was always going to end like this.

His thrusts were slow, each drag hot and delicious as he pulled back slowly only to thrust in with barley retrained lust. Your hands went to the base of his neck, twisting in his curls, and you tugged his closer to press your lips against his once more. He muttered praises against your lips, slipping his tongue in to meld against your own.

Your hands dipped lower, fingers brushing against the base of his cock causing his to jolt at the sensation, your head tipping back as the tip of his cock brushed against something that had you seeing stars.

Your hands slipped under his shirt, holding back a moan at the feeling of his skin against your palms - wanting to feel more, needing more.

"Rick- please."

His began trailing kisses down your jaw, biting the skin teasingly as he whispered against your flushed skin - "what do you need, baby? Hm? Tell me what you want."

"Fuck- need to feel you. Wanna touch you, Rick."

His thrusts slowed down to a stop, causing your eyes to burn with tears at the lack of stimulation as you reached for his shoulders when he pulled back. He tutted when you whined at him, pushing roughly into your hips, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

He pulled off his shirt, throwing it over his head as he readjusted your legs around his waist and gripped your hips tight. His hands went behind your back, pulling you up so you sat seated upon his lap with your chest pressed against his own.

He started slow once again, hips softly pushing into your own as the shallow thrusts causing your hardened nipples to brush against his chest, already sensitive from his abuse.

Your bottom burned at the new position, but you couldn't help the way it curled into a pleasurable heat as you rested your weight on your knees and took it upon yourself to fuck yourself on his heavy cock.

You pressed yourself further against Rick, panting in the crook of his neck as you hid your flushed face, a hand sneaking between your heated bodies to touch your aching clit.

"Shit. You makin' yourself feel good, sweetheart? Touchin' yourself like that."

"Feels s'good."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes back, pushing down harsher on his lap, desperate for his thick cock to hit that perfect spot again.

Rick bit your ear, a hand coming to wrap softly around your throat - "well, we can't have that now. Can we? That's my job, princess - makin' you cum."

His voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper, squeezing your throat in warning as you grew more desperate against him. His hand dropped to your hip, tightening against the flesh as he pulled you off his cock and positioned you onto all four's.

"Just can't let me have m' fun, can you? Gotta take care of y'rself, like I can't do it for you. Fuckin' brat, you are."

You placed your head in your arms, back arching as you pushed back in search of friction, voice laden with tears are you apologised.

"Sorry, Rick. Please, need you so bad."

"Oh, now you need me, baby?"

His hands came to rest on your bottom, squeezing the sore flesh of your cheeks as you groaned into your arms. He saw how your hole clenched at the sensation, holding back a groan of his own at the sight.

He leaned forward, pressing his hard cock against your cunt and grinding against it softly, ignoring the way you pushed back against him in a silent plea.

"What do you want, little girl?"

"You. Please, need you so bad."

"Need me to do what, hm? C'mon, use your words for daddy."

"Fuck- need you to fuck me, daddy. Wanna feel you inside me, wanna feel good. Plea-"

You couldn't finish your words, voice breaking out into a cry as he thrusted into you in one swoop. A long moan, broken and whining, echoed throughout the room, and you flushed at the idea your desperate voice could be heard from outside the window.

You held onto his wirst as his fingers finally met your clit, leaning back into his embrace as he traced vigorous circles onto your throbbing pussy.

Rick's hand twisted into your hair, tugging you back against him so he could grope your breasts with one hand and touch your desperate, wet cunt with the other. His fingers ghosted over your cunt, his head tilting back with a groan as he rammed into you relentlessly, endless whines escaping you as he brushed over that special place again and again and again.

Fuck.

"Atta girl, this what you wanted?"

You could only nod as you ground your hips against his hand, head tilting back to rest against his shoulder as you placed a hand on top of each of his own, pushing him to touch you harder. To leave his mark. To make it so that even when he had let you go, all you could feel was his touch.

"Yeah, didn't even need a spanking, did you? Just daddy's fat cock in your desperate little cunt, right?"

"Yes-yes, yes. Fuck, yes. Just needed you, Rick. Just daddy, please."

"What is it, baby? You close?"

You could tell from the way his voice wobbled, the way his muscles tensed behind you, the way his arms pulled you closer and his thrusts grew sloppy that he was too.

"Need to cum so bad-"

"Not until I say so, baby. I'm gonna cum so deep inside of you, gonna feel me for days. You want that?"

You couldn't help the tears that escaped you now, using every muscle in your body to try and stave off your orgasm as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His words only turned you on further, breaths shuddered as you twisted your face to hide in the crook of his neck with tears leaking.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Look at me, yeah?"

You met his gaze, only to have him press his lips against yours. You moaned desperately against him, hissing as he bit your lip before running his lip over it to soothe it.

He twisted you around on his cock so your tender breasts were pressed against his chest once more, moving to press you against the bed as his hands held onto your hips for dear life. He leaned over your body, lips hovering over your own as your nails scratched along his back, so deep you were sure they'd leave marks.

Good, you thought. You were sure your own body would experience a similar fate.

He leaned down to your ear, just as your pretty hole fluttered desperately around his fat cock - "cum."

He had whispered it, but you heard it for what it was. An order your body was aching to give into.

You broke out into a delectable whine, body seizing as your cunt clenched around him and milked him for all he was worth. He groaned against your ear, fingers pressing so deep into your flesh that you were sure his handprints would be bruised and buried into your skin.

You found you didn't mind.

He rocked gently into your hips as you overcame your collective high, sighing softly into the space between your lips as his tongue dipped in searching for your own.

You pressed your lips against his with a quiet sigh as your tongue brushed against his tentatively, and Rick couldn't help but twitch inside your warm and sopping cunt.

Shit, maybe he should've spanked you sooner. Especially if it meant he'd end up with his cock in that warm place between your thighs.

And it was also safe to say Rick didn't leave you on your own again. No, instead you were attached to his hip - and his cock. And it didn't take long until the others had caught on, with one too many of them catching an eyeful of the sinful acts.

It was safe to say that you never really did ignore the man's orders again. Not unless you were feeling particularly desperate for his attention.

Rick couldn't help it, though. With your bratty attitude and pretty cunt he couldn't get enough. And you had to admit, there was something addictive about that dominating power he held being placed upon you with his undivided attention. Who wouldn't crave such a thing?

[apunkinspace]

Hnngggg I need more of them. I need lore. I will attack if not given more Rick Prime lore.

Edit: forget to mention, how this is going off the idea that maybe some (or most) of the inventions that we see from C-137, are inventions that Prime had originally shown him or made.

[darkforze]

IT'S FINALLY DONE. I don't think I'll draw for a week tbh lol

I put a lot of work into this. Reblog if you want to, it's appreciated if you do.