#Sunday Respite

[possiblynya]

Look forward towards your own path, and let not your eyes wander unto another.

[gun-roswell]

Seated in the shade, sort of

“Sitting in the cooling shade, even if I’m going to be late, from Sunday” Gun Roswell  The sunshine on a Sunday is always great, but then again, when it gets too hot, then it’s no longer so, and the best place to rest, or at least have a respite, is under the shade on a seat made for that special place. And so, the whole day, might just be well spent, seated under the protective shade avoiding…

[hxneylavendxr]

hey if you were a mlp pony i think you'd be a unicorn with a teacup cutiemark that just came to mind 👍

also while i'm here these two songs are the same but with different vibes to them (ones that definitely match te night-day difference in the title) also rose mcdowall is the founder of strawberry switchblade so both have a similar sound to their music :D

:OOO OBSESSSSED with this double feature business here... that is so cool

these are so dancey and crystal nights sounds like its filtered through a little portable radio which is limitlessly sick

her music is so cute and her taste in word arrangement is transcendent <3 i love

[krispiecake]

Okay, without trying to take away from the joy we are feeling, we must stay vigilant. This ceasefire deal is 3 phases, the first is a 42 day pause for hostage exchange which is set to start on SUNDAY, as long as Netanyahu’s cabinet signs off on it. The IOF is not expected to fully retreat from Gaza, but stay to ‘mandated zones’. Palestinians are meant to be able to return to their homes, but with Israeli soldiers still there, this is not a guarantee. The 600 aid trucks a day into Gaza during this 42 day phase 1 is still not enough.

THIS IS NOT OVER. We do not know the details of phase 2 and 3, and nothing has been agreed for these phases in writing. We must not get complacent in this moment of respite. Please, do not stop fighting. This is not over until every Palestinian can return home, until the occupation is gone, until all of Palestine is free.

Keep protesting and campaigning, keep donating because aid organisations need all the help they can get, especially in the next 6 weeks, and it might be the only window people get to evacuate. This is a step in the right direction, but it is not over.

sources: 1 , 2

[tricoloreddango]

☆Positions they put you in☆

HSR men x female reader. Jing Yuan, Sunday, Blade, Aventurine, Dr Ratio. [back to m.list]

cw: smut, praise, biting, soft and rough, semi public in Dr Ratio’s. Established relationship.

Jing Yuan-spooning, on your side

It’s no secret Jing Yuan loves to keep his hands on you all the time. He’s a sucker for feeling your skin every moment possible, casually slipping his hand under your shirt when sleeping or watching a movie together, confirming you’re there with him.

Sex was no different. He would manhandle you without even intending to do so, wanting to have you close to him, merging your body with his on your bedsheets. That’s why he was currently entrapping your form from behind, as you both lied on your sides, a position perfect to hold you close and feel your body. His strong arms were wrapped one around your hips, pushing you onto his cock with draws in from his arms, the other around your chest, fondling your breasts and nipples with his hand. His lips kept sucking on your nape, biting, kissing.

The arm around your hips, its hand would slip between your thighs, rubbing your clit or against your entrance, wanting to feel where his fat cock drove into you. You were being pushed back and forth onto his length, bed creaking, his balls slapping you heavily, yet not once did his grip on you have loosened up, as he whispered praises into your ear.

“Can you feel it, how deep I go? Of course you can…you take me so well after all.”

Sunday-missionary

Despite Sunday’s oftentimes confident demeanor, you were well aware he could be no less but vulnerable and even embarrassed when it came to you both sharing intimacy. He was stilly fairly inexperienced, though always making sure you get your share of pleasure. Sunday also loved intimacy not just for some hedonistic desire, but for how close it put you two.

He couldn’t really handle any position where he couldn’t see your face. He wanted to see the one he loves, and he needed to be able to tell if you’re enjoying yourself.

Your legs wrapped around his hips, his arms under your torso, he kept rocking into you slowly but deeply, and his eyes would drift between where he disappeared and back onto your face covered in flush and pleasure, lingering there longer. Sunday was drinking in, not even realizing how much he was staring, and when you finally looked him in the eye, none of you looked away, hypnotized by the sway of your hips against each other. Until it was you who was too embarrassed to keep going, gathering blanket into your hand nervously.

“My darling…” he said softly, “Please keep your beautiful eyes on me. I need to see all of you.”

Blade-prone bone

His life full of misery, you were his respite. He did not like he often felt as if he was using you, despite how often you didn’t feel that way, wanting him the same way, if not more. But he could never deny himself of you, if you were offering yourself so shamelessly.

That’s why his heavy body was on top of yours, your face flattened against the mattress. Blade was not crushing you entirely, slightly raising his body above yours on his forearms against the mattress, each on the sides of your prone body, though it only led his harsh thrusts to be more controlled and with that, deeper. Each shove of his cock, you could hear how wet you were for him, and he would groan into your ear.

His face was buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, where he’d kiss you and latch hickeys onto. Where he felt you tighten around him again, he growled. “That’s it…take this pleasure I give you…you did earn it.”

Aventurine—cowgirl

You were his beautiful girl, one he loved to spoil you and see look her best. He loved for his eyes to take in your body every given time of the day, even more to fluster you with his charming compliments.

He also loved to see you on top of him, where Aventurine could observe and see everything that made you this beautiful, including anything he’d bought you recently. He was seated on the armchair in your shared bedroom like a king, your body straddling him chest to chest.

You worked so hard for him, holding onto his hands on your hips, as you sunk down his hard cock deep and fast to ride him with fervor. The necklace he’s given you same day before, kept bouncing against your tits, its green stone disappearing between breasts.

“I am a person with a great luck indeed…if this is who I get to have,” Aventurine praised with genuine pride and appreciation, his hand on your hip travelling higher to meet and grip your waist to push himself even deeper into you. He loved a whine he forced from you, and his other hand rubbed your clit in gratitude, followed by a heated kiss against your lips.

Dr Ratio-over his desk

Veritas would have never seen you in terms of simple lust. He’s seen you for each aspect of you, everything that made you. But even he, would fall a victim to your allure, and with that, desire.

He’s made it very clear he’s not comfortable with PDA at the very beginning of your relationship, only to keep breaking that rule without you even having to ask for. But this was reaching new levels of him thinking with his body, and not mind.

Dr Ratio had you currently bent over his desk, in the very same office of university he’s been teaching at. He was standing behind you, his body covering yours, and pressing your front against the desk; and kept you in place with an arm secured over your belly he stroked with his hand. You visited your boyfriend only to give him lunch, but whether it was something about the weather or any excuse you’d find for each other, you both couldn’t make it home first.

His other hand was covering your mouth, shushing you with a scold each time you tried to be louder than allowed. As much as he was going so far, he still wanted to protect both of yours privacy, not get caught by passing by professors or students. “Keep your mouth shut, love. You wouldn’t want others to hear you, would you?”

But how could you keep quiet? Him hitting you from behind, his thick cock was angled perfectly, its vein rubbing your g-spot with each thrust. Veritas was not being easy on you either—his snaps of hips were mean and almost too deep, and he occasionally silently cursed when you squeezed around him, or managed to let out a beautiful mewl through his fingers. You could have noticed the effect you had on him, with the way his trapping arm gripped your midriff tightly.

“Just bear with being quiet a little longer,” he said, his deep voice now surely trembling, “And I’ll reward you even more once we get home.”

Thankfully, his desk was durable enough.

<3

[observeroflaplace]

D6 - Ring

Harsh spotlights fall upon a fighting arena barely some 18 films wide, surrounded on all sides by a massive cage. A massive crowd cheers with the force of a dragon’s roar; each voice indistinct in the excited collective.

Cutting through the chaotic cacophony, is the amplified cries of an announcer; through some means of magic or magitek yet out of sight.

“LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND EVERYBODY BEYOND! WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO TONIGHT’S RUMBLE! DON’T BE FOOLED BY OUR NAME, BECAUSE THESE FIGHTERS ARE ITCHING TO GO, AND WON’T GET ANY RESPITE UNTIL ONE OF THEM FALLS, OR THE BELL TOLLS!”

As the announcer gives their long-winded introductions, Izayoi examines herself. No sign of injury or dizziness, and no sign of aetherial memory tampering either. So then, how did the slender raen wind up here without remembering, if it wasn’t due to a head injury or magic? However troublesome, she knows what to expect; she’s been here before, and she seems to have swapped out her usual golden kimono for an equally flashy iridescent outfit and fox mask. A match then.

Before Izayoi can even check her pockets for her Ōfuda, they spring to life around her, the aether imbued beforehand all but confirming her preparations, even if she didn’t quite recall doing so. Well, not specifically for this, anyway.

With a wave of her hand, she makes herself vanish from sight with a glamour, running to the nearest door to the cage, and forming an illusory double to make it look like she blinked from one spot to another, and distract her opponent before the match even begins. As per the rules of this particular arena of course, the real me will have to go in too, as usual.

Izayoi grumbles as she realises the closest door is marked red; which with the blue accents on this prismatic white outfit, didn’t really match. As she’s about to switch to the other side, the announcer gives her reason to stay;

“IN THE RED CORNER! THE MISTRESS OF MYSTERY HERSELF, IIIIIIIIIIZAYOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIII!”

Izayoi scowls, and yells back.

“That’s not my stage name, asshole! Read the signup sheet!”

The announcer ignores her complaints, and continues.

“AAAAAAAND IN THE BLUE CORNERRRRR! THE BLADE OF GESAR, GANST- GANT- KANSEGSE! Is that how you-“

The inane ramblings of the announcer die out to Izayoi’s horns as she takes measure of her opponent. Rather than a hulking and brooding man, the likes of which fancies himself a mirror of the Oronir’s Khagan, Izayoi finds her gaze going far lower… to a woman shorter than she, but with several times as much muscle. In particular, what draws Izayoi’s gaze - and scowl - was the wool or fur lining to the other woman’s black lacquer armour. Was that fabric dyed gold? Was this burly idiot seriously stealing her thing? Or don’t tell me. She’s just wearing gold because it’s Oroniri yellow but extra.

While Izayoi was fuming to herself, the bell rings to start the match. She calms herself down, reasoning that this was a bit of an irrational reaction; afterall, there’s an idiot whom I KNOW is doing the gold outfit thing independently of me. Perhaps it’s just a big coincidence, and- WAITWHYISN’TSHECHARGINGATMYBODYDOUBLE.

The little blue-haired gym-and-war rat seemed to be entirely ignoring Izayoi’s carefully-woven illusion. It’s almost as if it wasn’t even there, and that the Raen wasn’t, in fact, hidden by those same magicks.

An axe to the side was all the confirmation Izayoi needed. The blow sends her careening a good few fulms to the side. Izayoi thanked the stars and seas, as well as this arena’s organisers, for the injury-dampening magicks woven into the arena; else she’d be in a lot of pain right now; and likely worse.

Though tumbling on the ground, Izayoi thinks quickly. She rights herself, and before she’s even on her feet, she’s pinning down her foe’s movements, and the Xaela’s position and direction. Easy pickings.

Izayoi focuses and unleashes magical covering fire to limit her opponent’s safe movements.

She channels aether through her fists to augment what would be a paltry and pathetic punch into an explosion of force. All she had to do was wind back right as the Xaela gets within… How the Hell did she get right up in my face? She was going half as fast as needed to get over here-

The Xaela’s boot collides with Izayoi’s gut. While she doesn’t get winded - much to her own surprise - she really feels the blow and the bruising that it’d leave.

That’s funny… She thinks. Isn’t that where I got shot by a rubber bullet by that big, hammer-wielding-

Izayoi hadn’t even blinked. The gold-clothes Xaela was immediately upon her once more, carrying an oversized hammer, midway through an overhead arc.

This is it. Izayoi winces. If I’m not concussed already, this’ll be how.

Izayoi shuts her eyes and braces for the blow, so tightly that her horns start ringing…

…the blow never comes, but the ringing becomes only louder and louder, even as she relaxes her eyes and opens them.

Tinnitus. From her previous fight in that same arena. One where while the rest of her head was spared, her horns took a beating, one she expected the rest of the moon to heal.

Izayoi groans as she wakes up in full from the incessant perceived noise. This was going to be a long day…

[verstarppen]

Hello beautiful human!!! So - I’m in love with the smau’s you make, and I had a thought for one… what about a Logan Sargeant x youngest royal reader (ya know, like a younger sister of Prince Harry and Prince William), and she is completely distanced from her brothers and is in love with/engaged to Logan? I just love the idea 🥰

Hope you have a wonderful day!!!

summary; not to flex, but how many f1 drivers can say they're dating a princess?

pairing; logan sargeant x fem! princess! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; for legal reasons im afraid of the british royal family and i don't want to get diana-ed so i've made her the princess of a land that may or may not be named after sims medieval please don't kill me; this is my send off to logan, thank you for your service king we love you <3

liked by eagle_hunter_2, ls2bathrug and 2,507,888 others

monarchofslayington Greetings! My butler proposed that it would be delightful to host a Q&A session, given the multitude of inquiries, both digital and handwritten, expressing a keen interest in the culture of Yacothia. Please leave your questions in the comment section.

— Princess Y/N of Yacothia

view all 980,082 comments

benjamin_long_2000 what's it like living in a castle?

monarchofslayington In truth, it is rather tedious and profoundly tranquil—occasionally reaching an ambiance reminiscent of a horror film.

abhijeetdeppiesse DOES THE QUEEN REPLY

monarchofslayington No, it is the princess who does.

jantellerman81 Do you have lots of free time or are you busy all day?

monarchofslayington I lend my support to charitable endeavors, visit events as an esteemed representative of my family, and intermittently travel to bolster diplomatic relations with foreign nations. Nevertheless, I reserve Sundays for respite.

eagle_hunter_2 Are you looking for a prince?

monarchofslayington Perchance eagle_hunter_2 You can't just say perchance

liked by ls2bathrug, oscarpiastri, yacothiaracing and 672,361 others

logansargeant Big fan of Yachothia's unemployed driver support group

view all 51,451 comments

danielricciardo Aren't we all

yacothiaracing hey king

francolapinto i'm also seatless for next year so if you'd be so kind to help me slide into their dms

logansargeant I've got you, brother danielricciardo Mate francolapinto @ yacothiaracing are you my iron deficiency because i'm falling for you yacothiaracing sold dannielricciardo You can't be serious francolapinto ;)

liked by monarchofslayington, logansargeant, yacothiaracing and 988,984 others

fernandoalo_oficial Perfect night 🎉😀👏🏻

view all 320,842 comments

maxverstappen1 Night club so good I might buy another cat

monarchofslayington It would be an honour

realmvettel THE PRINCESS IN THE LIKES STOPPPP

julyestie i don't think people realize how crazy this is, imagine the prince of monaco likes charles' post armstrongslayer look at her following the whole grid is there lmaooo

logansargeant Thank you for letting me join

fernandoalo_oficial You're still a part of this logansargeant Who's cutting onions

liked by monarchofslayington, alex_albon, logansargeant and 213,951 others

lilymhe If Alfred had instagram he would've liked this post

view all 80,415 comments

monarchofslayington I am perpetually able to engage with social media via Her Highness, esteemed madam. - Alfred

alex_albon Can you share your Soup au pistou recipe monarchofslayington I shall not, good sir. alex_albon damn it

smilesargeant oh my god he's smashing a princess i never had a chance did i

forzapluto you and me both sister

ls2bathrug I am ever delighted to extend to you the gracious invitation of a visit 😊

ls2bathrug wait ls2bathrug fuck logansargeant Wrong account, doll ls2bathrug yes thank you captain obvious i hadn't noticed ls2bathrug STOP BLOWING UP MY NOTIFICATIONS YOU DEMONS

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, yacothiaracing and 1,252,352 others

monarchofslayington i can finally say this THAT'S MY BOYFRIENDDDDD HE'S MINEEEE

view all 542,098 comments

verstappler "how were we supposed to know" HER NAME IS MONARCH OF SLAYINGTON

papayasalad I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT

monarchofslayington i'll always be your rug, lando enjoyer

logansargeant 😘

monarchofslayington are you flirting with me or smthin

francolapinto the seat deal is still on right

monarchofslayington hmmmmm francolapinto was your mom an artist because she made a masterpiece logansargeant 😐

pic credits; instagram and pinterest

fic-specific taglist; @spilled-coffee-cup @onecojg @cixrosie @sheridamn @namgification @thehufflepuffavenger1 @sxrcxsm26 @mehrmonga @mellowarcadefun @dark-night-sky-99 @multifandomwhore-003 @theblueblub @julezstinkz @vamplyle @yuki-tsunodas @ttokkisbee @eloriis @raizelchrysanderoctavius @itseightbeats @nitiii @i-m-in-loki-s-army @prettymonegasque

blog taglist; @wtfisakilometer2 @aexitizen-ln4 @biitch-with-wifi @localwhoore @redbullphantasmagoria @cixrosie @sheridamn @weunstan @namgification @whatislifebutlemons @demvnsriot @stinkyjax @sxrcxsm26 @beskardroids @tbsloneely @mehrmonga @marymustdie @mellowarcadefun @geniusalpaca @theblueblub @ayrtonsennatea @resident-swiftie @moonraysandstars @tellybearryyyy @coffeehurricanes @vamplyle @mrsmelinda @ttokkisbee @eloriis @raizelchrysanderoctavius @ln8118 @neferaskingdom @emppusofi @itseightbeats @nitiii @abunchofbutterflies @kiki-sleeps

(there are so many references in this it's insane)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Heart V

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You're sick

Ingrid knew there would be health issues throughout your life. She knew that routine doctor's appointments would happen every year for you. She knew that the medication you took lowered your immune system.

She knew that at some point, you'd get sick.

She didn't realise it would be this quickly.

You woke with the sniffles which turned into a sore throat and then a headache and a bad tummy. It all spiralled from there.

It started on the weekend.

Saturday was spent going to a check up. Sunday was game day but on the drive home, you threw up all over yourself.

Monday was a day off and it was clear that you had no hope of getting better quickly. You were sniffly and tearful and it was an all-around bad time for everyone.

They take it in shifts with you. Ingrid stays with you for one half of the night. Mapi takes the rest of it.

There's twenty minute powernaps fitted in between it all when they can manage but most of their time is spent up with you as you struggle to find sleep.

"Mapi!" Ingrid calls," Come on, we've got to get to the car!"

She paces the length of the apartment with you in her arms. Your nose is all stuffy and you've woken up with the worst case of blocked ears of your life.

It's clear your ears are giving you the most grief. You whine and huff and desperately pull at them as if it will dislodge the build up in them.

Mapi's getting changed from her evening shift with you and Ingrid can do nothing but pace and pat your back in the hope of settling you back down.

It's been another bad night. You slept in short half an hour bursts in between crying, puking and crying some more.

Mapi skids into the room, still in her socks as she throws things into your bag, stocking up on medicine and water and your favourite toys. She hops around the room as she forces her shoes onto her feet before practically sprinting out of the door.

You make it to training just on time despite your awful wails the entire journey.

Patri and Pina both wince as Ingrid walks in with your sobbing form.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's sick," Ingrid says plainly," Badly. The doctor said it's the flu."

As if to prove her point, you burst into a violent coughing fit and Mapi is instantly trying to soothe your throat with water as soon as it's over.

"Did you give her medicine?"

Ingrid angrily drops her bag into her cubby. "Oh, wow, Patri! What a revolutionary concept?! Giving medicine to my sick toddler! Why didn't we think of that?!" She snaps.

Ingrid sighs deeply as she looks at herself in the mirror.

"Sorry," She says after a long breadth of silence," I'm tired. I didn't mean to shout."

"No," Patri says quickly," You've clearly got a lot on your plate. I hope the little one feels better soon."

There's a respite briefly during training when you decide the hot Barcelona sun is perfect for napping in and you sleep under a tree nearby, wrapped up in a blanket despite the warm weather.

Mapi learnt very quickly not to fight you when you said you were cold despite the fever ravaging your body. All she can do is hope that the extra warmth breaks your fever so you can feel better when you wake up.

She's kind of happy with the outcome of your nap.

You've sweated out your fever which is good but you still feel bad. Your nose is still stuffy and you keep rubbing at your ears to unblock them.

The worst part of this now is that you've got clingier than ever before. You latch onto Mapi as soon as you see her and refuse to let go.

She's kind of glad all they're doing now is general fitness stuff because there's no way she could do anything technical with you still attached.

It's pushing it doing fitness stuff too but Mapi had come prepared.

It was an impulse purchase when you first fell sick and Ingrid had laughed until she cried when it arrived. Mapi was not dissuaded and she brought out her purchase, ignoring the snickering from Patri and Pina behind her.

With you still clingy and wanting nothing more than to crawl into Mami's skin, you let her manipulate your limbs into the toddler carrier.

She straps you in and then straps it to her chest.

She stands and has to find her balance quickly before triumphantly turning around to show everyone her solution.

They all laugh but Mapi doesn't care, not with the way you relax so easily against her and not when you fall into another fitful sleep.

[v6quewrlds]

Joe comforting you after a bad day or week? Just cuddly, clingy, hype man Joe that would do literally anything to make you feel better.

imagine venting to joe.

The evening sun threw a warm glow through the blinds, casting slanted shadows across the living room floor. Feeling the weight of the day's troubles, you tossed your phone onto the couch and sighed.

You craved quiet, darkness, and the solace of your own thoughts. Slipping out of your work clothes, you stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to cascade down your body, hoping it would wash away the day's tension. The steam filled the bathroom, creating a cocoon around you, a brief respite from the outside world. Your eyes closed as you let the water run over your face, imagining each drop carrying away a piece of your stress.

Once clean and in your favorite oversized t-shirt and the baggiest sweatpants you could find, you made your way to the bedroom. The bed looked like heaven, an inviting oasis of comfort that promised relief from the pounding in your head. You slid beneath the cool sheets, your eyes drifting shut as you reached out for Joe's side of the bed, feeling the emptiness where he should have been.

Joe, typically the first one home, was unusually late tonight. Your thoughts swirled with worry as you lay in the quiet emptiness of your shared space. Your phone remained silent, no texts or calls from Joe to explain his delay. Normally, you would be annoyed at the lack of communication, but today you were too drained to bother.

The house was eerily quiet, save for the occasional tick of the clock on the bedside table. Your eyes grew heavy with each passing minute, and you drifted in and out of a light doze, your body craving the deep sleep that eluded you.

It was the sound of the garage door rumbling open that jolted you out of your half-sleep. The thump of Joe's footsteps grew louder as he entered the house, a mix of relief and anxiety washing over you. You didn't realize how much you needed to hear his voice, to feel his presence. The bedroom door creaked slightly as he peeked in, his eyes searching for you in the dimly lit room.

"Babe?" he called out softly, noticing the mound of blankets where you lay. "You okay?"

Your voice was muffled by the fabric as you responded, "No, not really."

Joe's concern grew as he saw your outline under the blankets. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on your back. "What happened today? You didn't text me that you got home," he said, his voice filled with a quiet concern that made your heart ache.

You shifted, rolling onto your back, and pulled the blankets down to reveal your face. "Just a bad week," you whispered, your eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion. "I had to fire Maya today."

Joe's eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned in closer. "Maya? Why?"

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling beneath the blankets. "It was the numbers. She's been making too many mistakes, and it's setting us back." You paused, your voice thick with emotion. "But she's been with me since the beginning. She was like family."

Your eyes searched his, finding solace in the blue depths as he nodded for you to continue. "And my migraines," you continued, your voice cracking slightly. "They're getting worse. I can't think straight."

Joe's face fell. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have picked up dinner, or at least come home earlier."

"I didn't want to bother you." Your voice was small, almost apologetic. "I know you have enough on your plate. And with the game on Sunday, I just…"

Your words trailed off as Joe shook his head. "You could never bother me," he murmured, his hand tugging a stray braid back into your silk scarf. "If you're feeling like shit, I want to know. That's what I'm here for."

You nodded slowly, exhaling a shaky breath.

Joe's expression softened even further. "I'll grab you some water and something for the pain. Be right back."

He disappeared into the hallway, the sound of his footsteps retreating briefly before returning with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. You propped yourself up on your elbows and took the offered pills with a grateful nod, downing them with a gulp. You watched as Joe carefully placed the glass back on the bedside table and then slid under the covers with you, his body warm and solid against yours.

With an arm around your waist, he pulled you closer, tucking you into his side. You let out a contented sigh as his hand began to trace small, soothing circles on your back, your eyes fluttering closed once more.

[eskir]

softly lay me down - sunday x reader

when he's tired, he seeks out you - fluff

a/n - honestly i wrote this bc i someone said they wanted sunday fluff somewhere. so i'm delivering one of the least concerning/angsty things i can write. also i need smth nice before aventurine angst

"Are you alright?"

You ask as your fingers brush through his hair, trailing down to his wings. You caress them gently, but sadness blurs your vision as you watch him. You can see the way exhaustion clings to him, and how he holds onto you for a respite from the feeling.

He only hums out a yes to your question, burying his head deeper into the crook of your neck. His embrace tightens, a silent plea for comfort, as he conceals his weary face. Even then you can see the way his eye bags have deepened. But you can only give him a comforting smile, a dim light in his world of darkness. So he turns his head towards you, shooting you a ghost of a smile

The internal conflict of the Family have been weighing on him for a week. You didn’t understand how the Family could have such drawn out arguments, and Sunday wouldn’t explain it to you either. Perhaps it was out of an old habit of his, the one where he prefers for the world to lay its problems on him and not the ones he loves.

It’s always too hard to tell what runs through his head as he tries to hide his thoughts and feelings. But even with that knowledge, you’ll still comfort and help take his formal gloves off. You play with the strands of his hair, letting the scent of his conditioner surround you. He provides comfort to you, draping his body over you and exuding that familiar warmth. So you embrace him back. Eventually as the night matures, you’ll lay him down to sleep, guiding him safely through the night.

And with the morning light, he’ll take off the ring you gave him with a kiss. He switches it for his formal gloves, but still slips it into his pocket with a reverence akin to one reserved for an aeon.

But it’s still evening, and your ring is on his hand. That hand reaches up for your face, tracing your jawline. He gets up slowly, looking down at you with a sly smile, one that he doesn’t have to fabricate when he presents himself as a representative. He can be himself with you. He can kiss your forehead and let his wings brush up against your cheeks in this safe place.

And when he does so, he genuinely smiles when seeing your reaction. You’re laughing, commenting that his wings tickle as you push him away affectionately. He lets out a deep chuckle, rubbing your face with his hand and showering you with kisses, nuzzling his cheek into yours.

If he isn't fine, at least you're by his side.

[baeshijima]

— as we are

some may call him overbearing. you, on the other hand, find he is anything but that.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 848 wc, fluff, mayhaps a teensy bit of angst if you squint hard enough, established relationship, pre-penacony storyline

A/N : in a "match your freak" competition but my opponent is reader. (sits on the shore and stares out into the sea waiting for his drip marketing and light cone reveal so i can change the post layout to have his lc…)

There is a tender gentleness in the way Sunday loves.

It shows in the way he has a habit of putting others before himself, inadvertently causing him to neglect himself at the worst of times. It shows in the meticulous care he devotes to his sister, having even the most minute details embedded within the crevices of his mind. It shows in the moments where he nags at you for not taking better care of yourself, to which you find yourself subject to a less than impressed stare when you make a rebuttal of his hypocrisy.

Well, you find that the latter can be more annoying than it is welcome (mostly due to the fact his nags tend to be unprovoked when your guard is down, sometimes resulting in him chasing after you in your feeble attempts to escape), but you can at least acknowledge it comes from a place of care. Begrudgingly so.

Regardless, it doesn’t take away from the reality that Sunday only goes so far because he simply wants the best for you. After all, who would willingly speed-walk after you while reciting the basic necessities humans need in order to be healthy and happy? Certainly not someone who doesn’t care!

A slight shift halts your thoughts. Glancing down towards your lap, an involuntary smile tugs the corners of your lips at the sight of Sunday dozing away peacefully. You lift a hand to card it through his hair, mindful of the studs perched along his wings — as well as the wings itself — in case you accidentally awaken him due to its sensitivity.

(While it would be rather amusing to see him awaken in a fluster, you’re not mentally prepared enough for another one of his scoldings. Well, you suppose you also don’t want to interrupt his rare moment of rest as well.)

Light seeps in through the slight opening of the curtains. Translucent rays cast him amid a golden radiance, its gaze settling along the curve of his cheeks, brushing through his hair, and counting each strand of his lashes in a dim glow. Had you not known any better, you would have thought of him to be divinity itself.

With your fingers contentedly caressing through soft grey hair, a stifling warmth soon creeps up on you. The light which once cast a precious glow on your lover mere seconds ago now leaves an uncomfortable warmth searing into the back of your hand. It is a little unbearable, but nothing you cannot handle if it means preserving this peaceful moment a little while longer.

Well, until Sunday squints from the sunlight making contact with his closed eyelids with a small grimace, resulting in him attempting to block it out by the protection of your stomach, that is.

A brief sigh escapes you. Reaching behind you as best as you could without stirring the slumbering man on your lap awake, you clutch the velvet curtains in your free hand. With a careful pull towards you, the main source is blocked out. Remnants of the uncomfortable heat lingers on your skin, but you find yourself unbothered as you take in the subtle, sleepy smile now etched into his relaxed features.

Honestly, you’re surprised he allowed himself a respite such as this. You are more than accustomed to his vehement refusals, with him often insisting he has no need nor the time for even a moment’s rest when there is much to be done. It’s an obsession, almost, the way in which he hyper-focuses on even the most trivial of details. Not a single thing can be out of place; not a single thing can be anything less than perfection itself.

Sunday, in spite of his flawed methods and, in your humble opinion, horridly stubborn demeanour, is someone whom you hold in high regard. Behind his stern and almost rigid-like composure belies a selfless man who wishes for nothing more than the happiness and freedom of others. Behind a calm gaze akin to that of an omniscient being is a man who brushes off any and all concerns for his well-being, a tight-lipped smile and light tone doing little to distract you from the brief clench of his fists and subtle pause which stretches on a little too long to be considered a breather.

Again, in your honest and most humble opinion, he is wretchedly stubborn — that, or he simply doesn’t know how to rely on and confide in others, despite the many times he himself has been confided in.

You take him in once more, seizing this rare moment in which you can see him as he is wholeheartedly without all the layers and walls and barriers he meticulously has built up around him.

Should a time in which he is ready to relinquish the burdens he carries amidst his quiet solitude come, you will embrace all that he is with welcoming arms; even if it wholly consumes you.

There is a tender gentleness in the way Sunday loves. Some may find his care to be overbearing, but you find that it is not overbearing enough.

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

[gun-roswell]

The red bench for a respite

[alluringlight]

Sunday x Reader (Drabble?)

Sunday’s only regret was you. 

He’d tried his best to suppress any feelings he had for you, smothering them within him, keeping them tucked secretly away behind his breast pocket, in the innermost reaches of his heart. 

Of course, he would not spare you from the sweet dream. Only he needed to suffer, for everyone else to partake in the sweetest of dreams, cocooned and safe from the harsh realities of the monotonous drudgery of life. He’d alone remain strong, so all the weak could indulge and live life as they wished. 

He presided over these dreams, but he did not know the ins and outs of them all, did not know what each individual person wished for, nor what they lived out in the comfort of safety. 

And he couldn’t stop his curiosity, you, his sweet little secret respite; what life did you truly wish for above all else? 

With the promise he’d never invade the sanctity of your dream again, he peered down, seeking you out amongst a sea of others. 

Only to be met with his own visage. 

In your dream, you were with him. Laughter and sweet nothings spilled between you, love curled into your forms as if you’d always been together, as if you’d always loved him. As if you needed no other. 

With a heavy heart, what if’s and what could have been on the tip of his tongue, he pulled away from the comfort of your dream, bitter on his palate like medicine. 

He returned to his gilded cage, hoping for you to remain peacefully asleep in the safety of your dreams.

[moonybelgug]

⋆˖☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

warnings: !MDNI! subby sunday my beloved, afab!reader, PEGGING, he takes it like a good boy 😈, idk man i wrote this half asleep forgive me for any mistakes

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ���࿔

Sunday looks up at you through his lashes as you bring his legs down after removing his pants, his thighs pressed together. He grins, his smile mischievous as you devour him with your eyes. He's so pretty, you think.

You kiss the bulge over his underwear, something thin and soft. His thighs are your next target, leading up to his soft stomach and chest before meeting his lips and kissing him deeply. Sunday wraps his arms around your shoulders tightly, like he's using you as an anchor during this time. Teeth scrape against teeth, lips are bitten, tongues are touching. Sunday's wings flap around his head, reminding you that this is real life, not some simulated universe. Your hand travels down his chest and belly and into his underwear, gently stroking his cock, teasing the pink tip as it weeps and weeps. His moaning is loud, but luckily, your room is so far isolated from everyone else that you have nothing to worry about.

His nails dig into your bare shoulders, scraping up skin and tugging on your hair as his legs start twitching violently. The wings on his back curl around his belly as he whines, coming in your hand.

You kiss him deeply, wiping his spend on his soft thigh, grabbing the flesh and kneading while it's in your hand. You kiss his neck as you give him respite, biting gently, listening to his soft cooing as his breathing begins to slow. You gather some of his leftover cum to slicken your fingers before gently circling his rim with them and pushing through when you feel him slacken his hips.

Sunday's mouth hangs open as you stretch him out, letting all his pretty sounds be heard and giving you ample opportunity to lick into his mouth. You kiss him deeply, moving from stretching to finger fucking. He suddenly breaks from the kiss with a cry, his legs opening wide then closing abruptly as he squirms in your arms, his back arching off the bed. His wings are pinned to his head as he lets out a guttural sound, and you can only watch in awe as he orgasms again.

You slide your hand up his thigh as he pants, coming down from the high. His soft stomach dripped in white as it trailed into the creases of his thighs. You think about how happy you'll be cleaning him later as you lean in to kiss him again.

Sunday takes you in his weak arms, kissing you back with lazy, slow ministrations as his hands come up to grasp your face. He lays back into the pillows that the two of you had gathered throughout your travels together, and you practically had a nest. And he pulls you with him, lathering your lips and cheeks in his sweet, wet kisses.

"Sunday," you croon, catching his attention long enough to make him pause and look up at you. "What else would you like?"

He blushes just a tad before smiling and glancing away. Still terrible at putting himself first. "Well, you just being here is enough," he says.

You laugh, laying beside him, pulling him into your arms, and kissing his neck. "You're still wanting. I can feel it. Just tell me so I can give you what you need."

Sunday hides behind his wings, glancing away. He makes you grin, knowing what it is he wants. A gadget you had managed to smuggle out of Penacony's Dreamscape, something you found while scraping the shopping districts for anything interesting.

Sunday's face flushes at the toy coming into his site, watching as you use his spend and some bottled lube to slicken it up. His eyes follow your hands as you fasten it around your hips and thighs. You reach for his face, nudging the wings away from his cheeks so you can kiss him as you nudge that soft, rubbery tip against his hole.

He whimpers as you lick into his mouth, pushing in slowly so he can adjust to the size, his legs wrapping around your waist instinctively.

“Tell me if it hurts, dove,” you say, kissing his neck and biting down for good measure.

He coos in reply, his back arching as the base of the toy sides in, your hips kissing his.

This sight is so familiar, yet every time, it elicits the same reaction from you.

He’s so cute.

Sunday squeezes your hips with his thighs, warm and soft against your body. Your hands squeeze at his flesh as you set a steady pace, his hips easing up and down with each thrust. His eyes flutter shut, the rhythm of your movements amplifying his need for more, so he tugs you close with his legs. You slap the inside of his thigh, urging him to be patient but only receiving a petulant whine in response. That pout… You quickly give in, hiking his thighs up and pushing him back into a better position for reaching that sweet spot and earning your well deserved reward of him crying in your ear, soft coos like a dove. Sunday’s knees crook at your shoulders, ankles crossed in the air as the faint jostling of the bed mixes with the sound of your skin connecting and his sniffles and calls. It’s not long until his legs seize, tensing as though trying to control some invisible force from overtaking him. His eyes roll back when you press down onto him, pushing your weight into that final thrust. His voice squeaks when he comes, his breaths coming out in sharp and heavy gasps as his legs shake around your neck.

You sit back, pulling the rubber out of him to give him a reprieve, though he whines. After taking the contraption off, you lay down on his chest. Sunday wraps his weak arms around you, holding you as close as possible, his wings extending and wrapping around you as if he wasn’t the one who’s just been fucked.

“Love you, dovey,” you purr as he buries his face into your neck.

⋆˖☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[elizaleclerc]

two hearts, one home ☁️

charles leclerc x reader

summary: charles comfort after fem mc comes home from work with a migraine <\3

author's note: first post ever lol hope u like :,) also taking requests for more little blurbs! just message me

song: sweet creature by harry styles

word count: 1k

As you trudged through the threshold of your apartment, every step felt like a heavy burden on your tired feet. The long day at work had left your body drained and weary. On top of that, a sharp migraine had taken root in your head, making the second half of the day a struggle to get through. You could feel the tension radiating from your temples, as if tiny hammers were pounding away at your skull. Each breath was a chore, and you longed for the comfort of your bed, hoping it would alleviate some of the pain and exhaustion that consumed you.

Migraines were a familiar foe, often forcing you to retreat into the safe cocoon of your bed, shutting out the world and all its distractions. But today was different; there was no luxury of seclusion or quiet solitude. A crucial deadline loomed over your head at work, leaving no room for rest or respite. The persistent tapping of keyboards and boisterous conversations bombarded your senses, threatening to tip you over the edge with every passing second. Each sound felt like a sharp jolt to your throbbing head, aching with intensity. Tension coiled tightly in your mind, ready to snap at any moment.

With each step, the sharp click of your heels reverberates through the empty apartment, the sound echoing off the stark white walls. Yet even this noise is quickly engulfed by the incessant pounding in your head, a steady thump that feels like a constant reminder of your stress and anxiety. Your throat is dry and scratchy, evidence of a day filled with tension and worry. The faint taste of coffee still lingers on your tongue from a rushed morning, adding to the overwhelming sensory overload.

You languidly laid your purse on the counter and flicked your heels off your worn feet. It was a sluggish and melodious movement, as if your body was being pulled along by a slow-moving river and your actions carried the weight of the world.

Charles, clad in comfortable sweats, practically flew towards you with open arms. His embrace was warm and enveloping, his vanilla-scented skin bringing back memories of lazy Sundays spent in bed together. But today, that scent sent a sharp pain shooting behind your eyes. You mustered up all your energy to hug him back, but he immediately noticed something was off. He pulled back, his emerald eyes searching your face for answers.

“What’s wrong?” His voice, like a soothing balm, caressed your ears with its gentle murmur. It was as if he could sense the fragility of your body and mind in that moment, his tone soft and compassionate. His words were like a warm embrace, enveloping you in comfort and understanding.

Your eyes fluttered tiredly, “Migraine.” It was all you could manage to say, each word feeling like a heavy weight on your exhausted shoulders. Every uttered syllable and slight movement caused your already weak body to grow weaker.

Charles’s entire demeanor shifted as he tenderly placed his hands on either side of your face, his touch as gentle as a feather. “Oh mon chéri, I’m so sorry.” You managed a small smile for him before he took your hand and led you to the bathroom. “Let’s get you feeling better,” he said softly, his concern evident in every word and action.

As his fingers delicately traced the lines of your face, Charles used a soft cotton pad to remove each layer of makeup with gentle and precise movements. In between, he would pause to press light kisses against your lips, as if trying to revive you from a deep slumber. The pain in your head remained, but his tender affection brought some relief. Once finished, he slowly ran a brush through your tangled locks, his eyes focused on every move to ensure your comfort. You watched him through the mirror, admiring the love and care he showed towards you in such simple actions.

Each delicate touch was like a precious gift, cherished and savored amidst the throbbing pain in your head. With Charles by your side, it seemed as though all pain in the world faded away. His love was like a fragile, golden thread weaving its way through every moment spent together. As you sat there, exhausted from work and burdened by headaches, he presented you with your favorite silk pajama set and helped you change out of your stiff clothes. His skilled hands moved up to your shoulders, kneading away the tension as you closed your eyes in relief. Soft kisses trailed along your neck as he continued the massage, his warmth and presence alone enough to soothe your entire being. As the minutes passed, you couldn't help but feel better under his loving care and attention.

Your final destination, a luxurious white comforter and perfectly plush memory foam pillows beckoning you. As you settled into the soft embrace of Charles's arm, your mind finally began to let go of all its worries. Lying in bed, with your head still nestled against his chest, you couldn't help but marvel at the peacefulness that had come to you. Charles's heart beat steadily like a metronome, guiding you into a deep state of relaxation. With each rise and fall of his chest, you felt yourself sinking deeper into tranquility. In this moment, wrapped in his warm and protective embrace, the chaos of the world slipped away and all that existed was this safe haven of peace and love.

Your ultimate goal was not to drift off into sleep, but rather to simply ease the strain on your overworked mind by resting your heavy eyelids. Migraines often robbed you of the ability to sleep, making relief seem like a distant dream. Charles grabbed a book from his nightstand, propping it up to read on his lap. As he silently lost himself in the pages, the predictable sound of flipping paper lulled you into a peaceful daze. He would pause to place tender kisses on your temples, while his other hand held you protectively at the waist. Despite the struggles and hardships of migraines, you were grateful for moments like these when Charles's love enveloped you like a warm blanket, soothing both body and mind.

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

evil rick x reader

request: evil rick x reader? but... with a softer version of evil rick? tags: soft dom rick, kinda angsty, daddy kink, praise, p in v, dirty talk, fingering, age gap, pet names (baby girl, little one, baby, good girl), fluff notes: inspired by an audio i found on tiktok. it’s linked at the end of the fic. you’re welcome, rickfuckers words: 2.7k minors dni!

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the empty room, Evil Rick sat alone in his couch, the only company being the dim glow of a solitary lamp. His frail fingers clutched a faded photograph, a relic of happier times, now serving as a painful reminder of what once was. The man in the picture wore a wide smile, surrounded by loved ones who had long since vanished from his life. Beth, Summer, Jerry and even his Morty.

Evil Rick was a man consumed by loneliness, a loneliness that seeped into his bones like a bitter chill, never relenting, never fading. He had outlived his friends, his wife, and even his own child, leaving him stranded in a desolate landscape of memories and regrets. 

But perhaps the cruelest twist of fate lay in the betrayal of his own flesh and blood. His grandson, once the apple of his eye, had become a shadowy figure, lurking in the periphery of his existence, only to emerge when in need of something. Morty had exploited him, manipulating his emotions for his own gain, leaving behind a trail of broken promises and shattered trust.

Rick's heart ached with the weight of betrayal as he stared at the photograph, tracing the faces of those who had once filled his life with warmth and laughter. Now, all that remained was the hollow echo of his own solitude, a vast emptiness that threatened to engulf him whole.

In the midst of Rick's profound solitude, there existed one flicker of light, one beacon of warmth in the form of his neighbor, you. You were a young woman, your vibrant presence a stark contrast to the dull monotony of Rick's days. Despite the gaping chasm of years between you, you had extended an unexpected hand of kindness to the elderly man next door.

Every Sunday like clockwork, you would knock softly on Rick's door, bearing a homemade cake adorned with delicate frosting and sprinkles of sweetness. The gesture was simple yet profound, a small reminder that amidst the vast expanse of loneliness, there existed pockets of unexpected kindness.

For Rick, those Sunday visits were a lifeline, a brief respite from the suffocating weight of solitude. He would eagerly anticipate the sound of your gentle knock, his heart lifting at the sight of your radiant smile as you presented him with your latest culinary creation.

But then, without warning, the Sunday visits ceased, leaving Rick adrift once more in a sea of loneliness. One week passed, then another, and still, there was no sign of you at his door. The absence weighed heavily upon Rick's heart, casting a shadow over the one bright spot in his otherwise dreary existence.

He found himself consumed by worry, his mind plagued by questions that remained unanswered. Had he done something to offend you? Have you grown tired of your weekly ritual? The uncertainty gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of unease that refused to dissipate.

As the days stretched into weeks, Rick's anxiety reached its peak, his thoughts consumed by visions of your smiling face and the tantalizing aroma of your cakes. The way he would much rather eat you up. He longed to reach out, to inquire about your sudden absence, but fear held him back, fear of intruding upon your life or worse, of discovering a truth he was not prepared to face.

And so, Rick waited, his heart heavy with the weight of unanswered questions, his only solace the memories of those precious Sundays spent in the company of his kind-hearted neighbor. Desperation clawed at his soul, driving him to seek solace in the bottom of a bottle.

With trembling hands and a heavy heart, Rick reached for the whiskey bottle tucked away in the recesses of his cupboard. He poured himself a generous measure, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light of his solitary abode. With each sip, the harsh burn of alcohol seared his throat, momentarily numbing the ache of longing that threatened to consume him whole.

In the hazy fog of intoxication, Rick allowed himself to drift into a realm of bittersweet memories, his thoughts lingering on the warmth of your smile, the few times his hand caressed your thighs and your cheeks blushing instantly. He raised his glass in a silent toast to you, a silent plea for your return echoing in the caverns of his mind.

And then, as if summoned by the depths of his despair, there came a soft knock on the door, so gentle it was almost imperceptible against the backdrop of Rick's inebriation. Startled, he blinked away the haze clouding his vision, his heart pounding in his chest as he staggered towards the source of the sound.

Rick swung open the door, his breath catching in his throat as he beheld the figure standing on his doorstep. It was you, your eyes filled with concern and compassion.

"y/n," Rick breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "I–I thought…why are you here?"

A flicker of sadness passed across your features as you gazed upon Rick, your heart aching at the sight of the man you had come to care for. Without a word, you stepped into his home, the sadness disappearing from your eyes as you showed him a big smile.

“I visited my family for two weeks. Missed me?”

“You wish”, Rick snickered. He did miss you and he missed teasing you.

With a confident stride, Rick stepped aside, allowing you to enter. His eyes lingered on your figure, tracing the curves of your body with an unabashed hunger that set you ablaze with desire.

"I made this for you," you said, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness as you presented him with the cake.

Rick's lips curled into a sly grin as he accepted the offering, his fingers brushing against yours in a tantalizing caress that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins.

"Thank you, baby," he murmured, his voice dripping with seduction.

You felt yourself growing weak at the knees under Rick's intense gaze, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"Rick, are you alright?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, “You seem drunker than usual.”

"I'm more than alright," he replied, his voice low and husky. "Especially now that you're here."

You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks as Rick's words washed over you, the air thick with tension as you danced on the edge of something electric.

Rick was always drunk when you came over. He was always teasing you yet you could feel that something was never quite alright with him. Carefully you put the cake down before walking over to his couch and taking a seat. Rick’s eyes never stopped staring at you. Slowly he followed suit, sitting down right next to you. His knee pressing into your thigh while his arm laid on the couch, right behind your back. Evil Rick’s thought were spiraling, getting dirtier and dirtier by each second when suddenly–

“You have a family?” You found the picture Evil Rick had been staring at before.

For a moment, a flicker of pain passed across Rick’s face, his expression clouded with memories long buried beneath layers of loneliness.

"I did once," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But they're all gone now."

Your heart ached at the sorrow in Rick's voice, your own emotions swirling as you reached out to gently squeeze his hand in a gesture of comfort.

As you lounged on the couch, the air between you and Rick crackled with a potent mix of tension and desire. Rick sat with his arm draped casually over the back of the couch behind you, his legs spread wide in a display of relaxed confidence. You, feeling the heat of his presence, couldn't help but lean into his proximity, your body humming with anticipation.

In a moment of vulnerability, Rick's head began to droop, his exhaustion evident despite his attempts to hide it. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke.

"Do you ever wonder if some people are just meant to be alone?" he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Your heart clenched at the raw honesty in Rick's words, the ache of loneliness reflected in his soulful gaze. But beneath the sadness lay a simmering undercurrent of desire, a magnetic pull that drew you together like moths to a flame.

As Rick's head rested against your shoulder, you felt a surge of heat course through your veins, your body responding instinctively to his proximity. Despite the weight of his sadness, you couldn't ignore the overwhelming attraction that pulsed between you two, a primal urge that begged to be satiated.

With a hesitant touch, you reached out to gently caress Rick's cheek, your fingers tracing the lines of his weathered face with a tenderness born of longing.

"Some people may feel alone, Rick," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "But that doesn't mean they're destined to stay that way."

Evil Rick's gaze met yours, his eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight of your flushed cheeks and parted lips. In that moment, the barriers between you dissolved, leaving only the raw intensity of your shared desire burning bright.

Unable to resist any longer, Rick closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that ignited a firestorm of passion between you. And as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of your desires, you found solace in each other's arms, two lonely souls finding refuge in the heat of your mutual longing.

As Ricks's lips met yours in a hot, sloppy kiss, a primal hunger ignited between you, consuming all reason in its fiery embrace. Your mouths moved in a desperate dance of passion, tongues intertwining with a fervor that left you both breathless and wanting more.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the heady scent of Rick's cologne, the rough texture of his stubble against your skin sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you surrendered to the intoxicating whirlwind of desire.

Rick, emboldened by your response, felt a surge of primal possessiveness wash over him. With a low growl, he pressed you against the back of the couch, his body pinning you in a gesture of dominance.

The air crackled with tension as Rick loomed over you, his gaze smoldering with unbridled passion. Your chests heaved in unison, the heat of your bodies mingling in the confined space between you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you gazed up at Rick, your eyes dark with desire. You felt an electric current coursing through your veins, igniting every nerve ending with a fiery intensity that left you trembling with anticipation.

“Do you want to–want to help daddy feel less lonely?”

Red tainted your cheeks as you heard Rick call himself daddy. If only he knew that this was exactly what you would imagine while playing with your soaking pussy almost every night.

“…Yes”

Swiftly Rick positioned himself between your legs, his hard on pressing against your crotch. As usual you were wearing a skirt, which both you and Rick were more than thankful for. It made everything easier–faster. His calloused hand pulled your skirt up. A growl fell from Rick’s lips as he pushed your thong to the site to take in your pussy.

“Fuck…b-been dreaming about this pussy, baby”, his hand reached down, his finger moving up and down between your folds, “Already so wet. I didn’t even do anything…yet.”

Grinning he pressed his thumb against your clit, circling, taking in the way you arch your back and move your hips to meet his finger on your most sensitive part.

His other hand ventured upwards. He ran it lightly over the curve of your breast before briefly circling your nipple. You unconsciously arched your back and a sigh was the only sound that escaped you. He felt you stiffen briefly. Reassuringly, he squeezed your waist lightly, simultaneously trying to show you that it was okay, but also to urge you to do more.

"It's okay, baby girl" he murmured in your ear and as his hand moved a little further down and now circled your belly button, Rick felt you relax again. His lips made their way down your neck. He pressed delicate kisses onto your heated skin and when you willingly tilted your head to the side to give him more room, he let his tongue glide along your artery.

Rick flooded you with stimulation. His thumb was still playing with your clit while he sucked on your neck and his other hand kneaded your tits. Without warning, Rick eased his middle finger inside you while his thumb continued to take care of your pearl.

“S–such a good girl, for daddy”, he cooed, his finger being clenched by your needy cunt, “So fucking wet for daddy. See? Took another finger in.”

Rick continued to fuck you with his two fingers while planting soft kisses all over your body “You’re doing good, baby”, he reassured and praised you over and over and over again. His raspy voice filled your head. Rick took his time prepping you because he knew that not everyone could simply take his cock. He wanted both of you to feel as good as possible.

Need flooded every fiber of your body as you reached down and tried to unzip his pants. You wanted him badly, now. As soon as Rick understood what you tried to do, he took it upon himself to free his cock from his ever growing pants. When you saw it your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Rick Sanchez, your lonely old neighbor from next door, had a big cock, veiny and hard as a rock, pre cum leaking from its tip. Upon the sight your pussy clenched and pulsated around his fingers harder, something that Rick didn’t miss out.

“Hm, guess you like what you see”, Rick pulled his fingers out to wrap his hand with your sickly sweet juice around the head of his cock. “Daddy is going to–to reward you for taking his loneliness away.”

He pulled your legs over his shoulders, his thick cock now pressing exactly against your wet entrance. Oh, how he would love to just ram inside, his tip kissing your cervix as he pounds into you like a wild animal in heat, filling you up with his cum, breeding you like the good lil’ girl you are. Not now though, at least not tonight. Evil Rick felt something deeper, more than just sexual attraction and bent up rage, he felt an emotional connection.

Rick could feel your legs trembling against his chest as he eased into you with a slow space. Your cunt stretched around his cock, taking him – almost sucking him in. “Ahh…R-Rick–daddy.”

“‘s okay, baby”, he lowered himself, kissing your temple and pushing the rest of his length into your squelching pussy, “Ugh…fuck, y–you’re tight, baby, daddy’s g–good little girl.”

“yours…I’m yours, daddy.”

That was all Rick needed to hear. He began to thrust into you faster, harder feeling your walls tighten around him. He loved the sounds you two made together – his balls slapping against your ass, the wet sloppy sounds your pussy made everytime he pushed in and out, his own growls and moans filling the apartment.

He loved the way you squirmed and trembled under him, how you begged for him to fuck you even depper (though he was already hitting your cervix). He was filling you up completely, Rick was the biggest cock you’ve ever taken. Your hands reached out, grabbing his biceps, scratching him and leaving marks.

He loved how you made him forget his loneliness, the betrayal and rage rooted deep within him.

“fuck…ugh, oh…oh my god…ugh– daddy loves you…ah, that’s daddy’s good girl.”