#i am rotting

[boop-le-snoot]

rickyl x reader blurb for @sinsandsweetness

cw: facesitting, human disaster rick grimes, teasing. 18+

without further ado,

Daryl's groan echoes throughout his room in the basement and bounces off the bare walls. The next noise is identical, but muffled. The fabric of her skirt rustles as he pushes it out of the way, tucking it sloppily into the waistband of her underwear- those, he doesn't bother removing. Just pushes the damp gusset to the side, fingers twitching from the hiss she releases as cool air meets the flushed lips of her cunt.

He doesn't waste precious seconds, just dives in. Nose smushed into the short tuft of her pubic hair, mouth enveloping both of her fat outer lips, nursing the essence off her like he would be sucking at the flesh of an overripe peach. Daryl hates those things - he's from Georgia, for fuck's sake, where everything is fucking peach flavoured - but she is just so sweet, so soft and sticky, he has problems with keeping his mouth off her most days. The meat of her ass plump under his rough palms.

He pushes at it, dragging her inner labia and clit along the seam of his mouth and she keens. The field of view is narrow - he can just about see the folded fabric of her top and the mounds of her heaving breasts, nipples poking through the cotton - but he can imagine. Her head thrown back, her bottom lip between her teeth. They've got the mostest privacy in the apocalypse in his basement but she is still so conscious of the noises she makes.

The noises he makes her make. Daryl flattens his tongue against her hard nub, flicking it with intent and precision. He wants, no, he needs to hear what she has been forced to hold back. His grip on her hips is bruising but it only eggs her on; experimentally, she rolls her hips over his mouth. Once, twice... he isn't sure who makes the low humming noise. Coulda be both of them, feeding off each other's desire.

“Baby, fuck, don't stop,” she pants through shallow breaths, the roll of her hips becoming a purposeful grind.

Daryl feels her skin protest to the drag of his coarse stubble. He'd gotten back from a long run just yesterday, had barely enough energy to rinse off the blood and grime and scarf down whatever stew that she had made with the Grimes' kids before he crashed down, hard. He is fully intent on making up for it, starting now.

Her hips stutter above him as more weight presses down on his chin; sticky cunt juice is pooling deep in his throat. He's drinking her straight from the source, swallowing her cunt with eager, too eager, gulps. If it sticks to the roof of his mouth, he'll suck it off his teeth just fine later. She grinds on him and he growls straight into her cunt, wraps his lips around her clit and sucks. Sweat gathers under his palms and in the spaces between her cunt and legs.

Her face must be flushed. Sweat dripping from her hair, clear droplets running down her face that he would stick out his tongue and lick, like a parched dog, whenever he gets to fuck her. The thought of her snug cunt enveloping his aching cock makes it pitifully twitch and release a dribble of precum into his boxers.

She's close. Daryl knows it because that's just who he is. Attentive, a hunter, a tracker. He tracks her upcoming release through the fluttering of the entrance to her cunt, through the pulsing blood rushing to her clit. The nub is hard in his mouth, he flicks it easily and with abandon. His neglected cock twitches in sympathy.

Suddenly, there is a creak. There are footsteps, wide, unhurried. Daryl knows those footsteps, is deeply familiar with them, and their sudden presence makes him pause. Somewhat stupidly - his nose is brushing her clit with every single inhale as quiet tremors run through her body. Made that much more obvious by how still he'd gotten under her.

“Listen, Dar-” Rick ends his speech as soon as it begins.

She shuffles in place, leaning on the back of the couch. From Rick's position near the entrance, she knows Rick can't see Daryl face-deep in her cunt. Rick can't see anything at all in the near-darkness, just her still-clothed chest and her stiff nipples.

“Where's Daryl?” Rick, while frowning, seems incredulous.

A silent chuff wafts over her cunt; Daryl's exasperation makes out in the form of a muted chuckle.

“Busy,” she replies without thinking, aware of the hoarseness of her own voice.

“Well I need 'em for a thing,” Rick shrugs and looks around again, as if Daryl would suddenly appear from one of the dark corners in the single, wide room. No luck for Rick, though: the object of his inquiry stays still and doesn't even try to hide his smile as he presses his wet mouth into the inside of her thigh.

She frowns. “Is it urgent?”

“Sorta,” Rick begins to eye her with suspicion. The cogs are turning in his head but the picture doesn't seem to be adding up. It is comical to see his eyebrows draw tight over his eyes. “So where is he?”

Before she has the chance to react, Daryl's strong hands make quick work of dragging her down his chest. He sits up, just enough to poke his head from behind the couch, his face shining wet even in the settling twilight. There is a wet spot lower now, too, on his stomach, where he so ungracefully dragged her sensitive cunt.

Rick's eyes bulge.

“Wha?” Daryl makes an attempt to wipe his mouth and unstick some of the unruly bangs from the mess but it just ends up making him look even more fucked. “Wha's so urgent dat ya had ta barge in here like dat?”

“Uh,” Rick replies eloquently, eyes stuck to the sheen on Daryl's face. Unconsciously, the sheriff licks his lips, and immediately looks away. “S'nothin', it can wait,” he finally says, yet makes no moves to leave.

She snorts. Quietly, under her breath, but the two men are just that good. Both are looking at her now, one embarrassed, one incredulous.

“Well then go or join in, I was just about to cum,” she rolls her eyes, letting the annoyance bubble up and pop on the surface. She was close, until someone so rudely interrupted her beeline for pleasure. She didn't push down and get on Daryl's face for nothin', after all.

It's Daryl's turn to snort. He does so as he's laying back down and adjusting his grip on her hips, ready to pull her back in. “Naw, Rick ain't like dat. He's ol-fashioned,” and it's just friendly banter, all bark and no bite in Daryl's voice, but Rick begins to walk before Daryl's even through with it. In his defense, Daryl seems only mildly perplexed.

Mostly, he's amused. And then his expression is obscured by her body as he drags her cunt back up to his face and begins slurping. Noisily. On fucking purpose.

“Oh,” she gasps, at nothing in particular. At the feel of Daryl's wet hot tongue gathering what's left of her arousal. At Rick's red lips tilting into a haughty smirk. At Rick's finger dragging along her lips.

His hands taste of motor oil, metal and gunpowder. She wraps her tongue around, applies gentle suction to the tip of his thumb. The flavour combination is known to her, by Daryl's own hand, but current configuration is vastly unfamiliar. She meets Rick's eyes and grinds down on Daryl's mouth, her weeping cunt doing exactly nada to silence his satisfied groan.

[neurodivergenttales]

It's such a viscerally depressing feeling when you go back to old self-destructive behaviours that you thought you'd left behind

[lovelettersfromdoll]

no motivation to do anything

[moondwellerthatdwells]

One talks about stuff, the other makes stuff

Edif: tumblr messed wwjth rhe quality click to view HD 4k 20988888p image

[outkast777]

I kinda miss doin the asks for my ask blog but I literally have no motivation to draw or do anything

[tattoo-kisses-and-what-ifs]

what is my purpose if not torturing myself

[virtualmosshroom]

god i feel awful

[vague-idea]

There’s a knock at the door. Tallulah has finally fallen asleep after a dozen reassurances that he isn’t getting back into that machine. That he isn’t becoming a pilot. He won’t do it. He can’t do it. She’d fallen asleep clutching his hand, and he slowly detaches her to answer the second knock. 

When Wilbur answers the door, he isn’t certain who he’ll find. Phil, with his assurances that he should accept the drift, that they would be safe. Roier or Jaiden with apologies they couldn’t pick up the mantle he had to take. Even fucking Fit, with some new hairbrained idea after this latest fight against the binary. 

Quackity stares up at him, eyes wide with a fist raised. "Oh, uh. Hey."

"Hey," Wilbur repeats numbly. A thousand memories he has no right to know flit at the corners of his eyes. He pushes them down, knowing he could take them apart. Pick at them with a finetooth comb and understand the man who stands in his doorway. He could find every insecurity, every failure. Quackity could be made into something unlovable.

"I didn't want to be alone tonight," Quackity says, and Wilbur remembers an expensive bottle of tequila and an empty apartment filled with drunken sobs.

He doesn't push away the memory. Wilbur allows himself this one. He knows Quackity knows his own. The terror of watching his father step into that mecha, knowing this could be his last. His own empty apartment, keeping his eye on the horizon while Tallulah was at school, at Phil's, anywhere but by his side. The knowledge he could sign one contract and everything would change. Quackity knows him.

Wilbur lifts his hand, letting his hand cup Quackity's face. His thumb traces his lower lip. "I understand."

Understand me, he wordlessly asks.

Quackity huffs out a breathless laugh. "Tallulah asleep?"

Wilbur nods. "Come inside?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Understanding. Wilbur takes his hand and leads him in. They won't talk much. That's not what this is. This is just... existence. Acceptance. One step forwards after a thousand yard sprint backwards. This is just tonight. 

Tomorrow can bring what it may.

........

@bonesandthebees has given me brainrot over drift compatibility 

[bladeemadoka]

[yotepawz]

rotting things makes me happy <3

KINK / DSMP DO NOT INTERACT

[youdcallmeyourbunny]

📌pinned📌

'08🍒 she/her🍒 girlblogger🍒 lana del rey's daughter in spirit🍒 mia goth enthusiast🍒 prettiest girl you'll ever meet🍒

[zepeppeli]

Top three fun summer activities you could be doing at home!!! 🌼✨

1) Rotting

2) Yearning

3) Animal crossing

[neurodivergenttales]

Mental illness can be like seeing yourself disappear in real time and not being able to do anything to stop it

Before long you stop recognising yourself and it’s like you’re not even a person anymore

[lovelettersfromdoll]

[mrpicasso-face]

The sun rises

Over a barren waste.

All that was,

Is no longer.

All that would be

Will not.

There is only this,

Right now.

The dirt,

The wind,

The timid fingers of light.

Rest now,

There is nothing left to fear.

The worst has come to pass,

We remain.

We are all that's left.

Now,

All that is to be done

Is to rest

And remember.

[thatonepizzaman]

I have so much art stuff to work on

I’m honestly stressed I wanna draw stuff that makes me happy but also wanna be productive.

I’m going to have a serious burn out once I’m done with all of this.

I’m just gonna stay up and sacrifice my sleep to finish another art piece