#blue pants Rick

[apunkinspace]

He was never meant for the starlight, but what if he tried?

I forgot how much I love drawing space (though it took forever)

[in-sistant]

Opened pre-orders for my Rick stickers as Rick charms Pre-orders end 10/31 and you can order them here!

[cardinal-hexation]

Karma

[mortysmith]

eye color hcs

[sorrelpaws]

more requests!!!!!

[monbitemon]

who decided that summer smith wears white capris and a pink tank top. like why. 17 yr olds in 2013 weren’t even wearing that shit why does she have absolutely zero drip

poor girl no wonder her parents don’t love her, her pants don’t go past her ankles

[lennonblues]

Look ik they were all on acid or whatever but some of these fashions choices are so ????

[personne-reblogs]

Stunning

Happy Halloween yall edgy bitches heres have a rick

[writella]

Thinking about Rick and slightly innocent, touch starved, virgin, fem!reader— ♡

Just smut this time, 18+, mdni, wc: 1.8k.

Read part two: here!

“I usually just touch myself at the top,” you explain, verbalizing your actions as you rub your clit with your middle finger, your pointer and ring brushing up against either side of your lips. You’re breathless, already panting. Doing this in front of him was too much. You just couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was here watching, enjoying. “Barely even put my fingers in- I get nervous- never feels good.”

“Never?” There’s a bit of surprise in Rick’s voice, but the grin he’s hiding loves every second of you showing him how much you need something- something bigger, something or someone like him and his fingers— his cock.

You pout with a hmph, “No,” you whine, your eyes trailing desperately. “They feel like nothing when I do it. And I don’t know how to make it feel good.”

Your actions, your words, it makes his tongue peek out of the side of his mouth. It’s only just a little, but a tiny bit drool is at the edge, almost rolling down and onto his chin. He licks it away before it falls.

His eyes are dark and lustful, dazed with the sight of you in only a shirt, underwear discarded, rubbing your puffy, wet pussy so fast right in front of him. He had been talking to Daryl outside the house, came up to get you for dinner at his, but then he caught you. He didn’t mean to, but the door was just a crack open: with one eye he could see your legs dangling off the bed, nose and eyes scrunched so tightly as your fingers played with yourself, whispering his name. That’s what set him off, the sweet little “Rick… Rick, Rick,” pants that came out of your mouth. That’s what made him come in without knocking. He told you not to stop.

And now, he stands right in front of your bed. Any closer and he’d be in between your legs. He can see you staring down every inch of him, eyes so wide, hopeful yet hopeless. You’re pathetically whimpering and whining at his own— those sparkly blue and wandering ones. He’s just as invested in the sight as you are.

You look at his pink parted lips and his tongue you want so badly in your mouth, and lower too, so much lower. You see his slick, curly hair, and that scruffy beard— you wouldn’t even care if it would make your sensitive lips burn down there. You want it. So bad. Your eyes go down further, seeing the way his hands are placed low at his hips, his groin jutted forward… Fuck. You need to see what’s underneath.

You rub your clit faster with two fingers now, biting on your bottom lip, looking at his fat bulge and wondering if he’s just getting hard or if it’s always looked big like that. It makes you feel like this one of your daydreams… you don’t know if your mind is enlarging it, but wow it looks good. You’d honestly sit on him right there, jeans and all with your bare pussy. Who cares if he’s been working all day, dealing with God knows what outside these walls. You’ll take anything. You bet even the littlest bit of something from him probably feels better than when you’re alone doing this anyway. You were tired of it, you wanted to be touched; you wanted to be fucked— fucked by Rick Grimes.

Rick finally sits on the bed. His face closer to you now as he asks, “You’ve ever made yourself cum, sweetheart?”

You're hesitant to answer but you shake your head, shy and slow. You feel embarrassed.

A chronic overthinker you were sometimes, you could never be in the moment and finally get yourself over the edge. Thinking about Rick always led to thinking about how you shouldn’t be doing it. He was the leader of your group, he had a daughter and a son, ones that you were far older than, but just enough to not possibly be their mother… at least not the eldest, anyway. This was wrong, but there he was: watching, staring, gazing. It only made you more and more wet, you almost couldn’t breathe.

“Poor baby,” Rick drawls and you whimper at the phrase.

He decides to relieve you, but only just a little bit by brushing his hand on your leg, stroking your thigh as he finally sits down next to you. It makes you gasp as you continue to pleasure yourself. Reaching lower to collect wetness to put over your clit. Your back arches at the feeling of him.

The sight makes him grin, laughing endearingly. Just that— just his hand, not even on your pussy and you’re already reeling.

“Such a pretty little thing, and no one’s ever made you feel good…? Can’t even do it to yourself either?” He tisks at the thought. “It’s a shame, honestly.”

All you do is whine. You want him to do it but you’re too scared to ask. You want him to want to do it, without asking, go all in and make you his. Why won’t he? It makes your moan, mix with a groan as you think about it.

You look up as his hand moves higher to your hip and his name comes out all desperate and needy as you plead, “Rick-”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

He ignores you. “Put a finger inside yourself. Let’s try again, okay? How about that?”

You whine his name again, but you still do as he says. Your hand trails lower, inserting your middle finger into your wet hole.

“Start pumping… and how ‘bout this time you try to curl your finger upward after you go in, hm?” You try, humming in response to his voice and his hand moving back to your leg, softly rubbing up and down your thigh as he watches you.

He notices your breath hitching. “Good girl,” he coos, “add another.”

You attempt to pump yourself faster now with the two fingers inside of you, looking up at him. Your pussy twitches and you jut upwards at the sight of him licking his lips. “Just pretend it’s me,” he tells you, “And don’t stop. I wouldn’t.”

His hand rests back on your hip, fingers daring to reach your mound as they slide slowly, but he’s hesitating. He wants you to do it all by yourself, but he sees your face, sees what just his voice and his watching does to you. You were always a good listener, a team player, never skipped on doing your part when he asked it of you, but this, this new power he had over you? It was something else. He can’t help but want to see what happens when he gives you just a little more.

His fingers now lightly ghost over your lips and your eyes implore. Your gasp is shaky. You’re almost holding your breath waiting for the full press but… he doesn’t do it yet.

He’s being a fucking tease.

The cockiness is evident in his voice when he asks, “Want me to?”

“Yes,” you moan, loud and instantly. It’s pitiful, you’re a mess and you want him so bad you couldn’t help it, but the beg worked. Right after, he starts rubbing harsh circles into your clit, making you vibrate.

“Oh- ohmygod, Rick.” You try to keep pumping yourself but it becomes hard. You’ve dreamed about his hands, right there on your most intimate parts, making you feel good and showing you how it’s supposed to really feel. And finally. He’s doing it. His rough fingertips felt like heaven.

Your own fingers stutter. His hand and yours are just too much for you, especially because of how deep and fast he’s rubbing against your skin and bone. “Rick, please,” you want him to go lower, take over, and he notices how your fingers slow.

“No,” he warns. “Keep goin’.” His voice is stern, stopping you before you do, he takes your hand and helps you pump your fingers into yourself before letting go. “You’re doing that yourself. Go faster.”

Your cheek falls to the opposite side of the bed, whimpering sadly at his words, but you continue.

“You got it,” he encourages. “Put another finger in.”

“Another?” Your voice incredulous as you ask.

“Gotta train yourself with your fingers before you get mine.” He pauses. “And before you can get up to my dick… How do you think it’s gonna fit if we don’t open you up?”

You let out a moan, it’s the kind that you had only heard on tv in the past. Just the sheer thought of him insinuating that soon he would put himself inside of you sends you spiraling. You add a third finger, it feels tight, but good, especially with him there.

“There you go,” he says, stretching out the syllables. He feels his jeans tighten further as he watches you.

And you only get wetter. The squelching sounds from below are nothing you’ve ever heard from yourself before. Your pussy shakes and sucks your fingers below with Rick rubbing and pinching your clit at the top. You speak between pants, moaning again, “Rick… Rick, its too much.” You’re trying to keep up your pace but you feel your energy withering again. You close your eyes.

“That means you’re making yourself cum soon. Keep going.”

“It hurts, I can’t do it!”

“You can do it,” he nods, “and if you don’t… I’ll just leave you here.”

A quick, “No!” and a string of “mmms” come out as you whine. You don’t want him to go, so you try, you keep up.

Rick lets go of your clit and it makes you gasp sadly at the loss, but he’s pushing up your shirt, exposing your breast. He takes one hand to rub your clit again and another to roll one of your nipples. “This is the only extra help you get,” he tells you. “Now are you going to cum for me?”

You nod, “Yes, yes,” you chant, “I can do it for you, Rick.”

“Show me.”

You continue to pump fast, curling your fingers as he suggested before. You find a spongy part that makes you feel extra tingling in your lower stomach and you keep trying to push up against it with each pump of your fingers. You decide to open your eyes again to watch Rick as his eyes trail between your breasts to below, you choose to focus the way your fingers look as they go in and out of you and how his hand rubs and shakes you at the top. Indescribable noises come out at the sight. “I’m losing it,” you tell him.

“Just keep goin’,” he tells you. “See it through.”

You start panting in between your stringy moans, it’s breathy and hurried and long. You force yourself to not stop. “I’m gonna cum, Rick. I’m gonna make myself cum!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know you can. Be a good girl for me, you got it.”

And then you do. The butterflies spring. You continue to pump as you ride your high and then it’s done. You came.

Rick smiles, licking his fingers filled with your wetness. He stands up, knees making their way between your own that lay on the bed as he starts undoing his belt. As he drops his pants and his boxers you see his cock spring up. It’s glossy at the tip and although you haven’t seen many, you’re completely sure it’s longer than most.

But it gets you scared. There’s worry in your eyes. Your lip quivers despite the drool that comes out on the side. How’s it gonna fit?

“You ready?” He asks.

“But I thought you said your fingers first.”

He kisses your lips, fingers caressing your cheek as he whispers, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go slow.”

Then he pushes himself in. Right to the hilt.

He didn’t go slow.

[mortytheestallion]

let the light in

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, sex pollen, unprotected sex PIV, angst if you squint, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), rick being kinda mean, this fic is 18+ minors dni

A/N: this was a fucking beast of a fic i've been trying to wrangle for months. based on this ask

>> Come over.

>> Emergency.

> real emergency? or morty didn’t like your vat of acid emergency?

>> I’m not gonna ask again.

Rick usually enjoys messing with you too much. He’ll beat around the bush as long as he can because it drives you insane. He loves to dangle the unknown in front of you for as long as possible, right up until you just can’t take it anymore. 

You don’t bother to rush over anymore. You used to fall all over your apartment, scrambling to find your keys amidst paperwork and weekly takeout. Cursing and throwing piles of clothes everywhere, just for them to be sitting nicely on the hook you never use. 

Only for Rick to need the screwdriver two feet to the left of him. 

“It’s important I don’t get distracted,” He would grumble at your obvious frustration, a self-important thank you as you hand it over and he sends you back on your way. 

Asshole. 

Or the time he’d let Morty’s ointment sit too long, and you had to help wrangle him back home. You seemed to be the only one who got bit, however, as Rick made it away unscathed. Typical. 

You let out a sigh, uneasiness settles like a stone deep within the pit of your stomach. 

You don’t have time to look up from your phone before a portal appears in the corner of your room. You pause for a moment, taking in the green glow and slight pulsing sound. It must really be an emergency if he couldn’t even wait for you to make the drive. It wasn’t long by any means, but you can’t ever remember a time he’s gone out of his way to portal you over. 

Slight annoyance runs through you at the convenience he’s withheld from you all this time, but you push it away. This must be urgent. That doesn’t stop you from lacing up your shoes, slowly rising to meet the portal before the familiar falling sensation hits. You still haven’t gotten used to it. 

The garage is dark, save for something that glows blue in the corner. It's not lost on you that the house’s defense barricades are currently in place. 

Rick’s sitting low on the chair he keeps at his workbench. Slouched as he braces his arms against his knees, long legs splayed open. 

His hair is even more unruly than normal. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, and dried blood that mars his lower lip. His usual look of boredom adorns his face, yet the slight twitch of his lips betrays his cool demeanor as he looks you up and down. 

Your instinct is to shrink away from him, but you hold Rick’s gaze. His signature lab coat is missing, his blue longsleeve is riddled with holes and burn marks. More dried blood makes it cling to his right side, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. His long legs are spread wide as he casually lounges there, he looks much more broad than usual. 

“Are you okay?” Your breath catches, “I mean, is everything okay?” You curse yourself at the way your voice quivers under his unrelenting gaze. You hate that he has this effect on you. 

“I got hit on Gearworld-” Rick pauses, as if weighing whether or not to divulge more information, “Idiots are testing bioweapons on non-gear life forms.” His brow quicks at your panicked expression, he lazily holds one hand up to signal he’s going to continue. 

“I know this isn’t —uh, what you imagine when you slip those pretty little fingers into your pants at night, but I really need your help.” 

Your eyes go wide at his request. Sure you’ve helped him on all kinds of different planets in all different kinds of ways, but never anything like this. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck at the implications of what he’s asking. You can’t help but bite your lip, it doesn’t slip past you how Rick’s hips buck in response to the small action.

You can’t find the words. Why now? Why me?

“Now—now or never, baby,” His voice breaks your trance, “I got a fucking problem here and if you’re not into it don’t— I’m gonna take care of this myself.” 

“Why me?” You bite your lip, suddenly shy as you shift your weight. He lets out a groan, his spare hand dragging across his face in annoyance. Always the drama queen.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” You’re locked in a stalemate. His chest is heaving from whatever they’ve injected him with, although you have a pretty good idea by now. He looks at you like he’s hungry. It makes you lose your train of thought. He lets out a groan and a soft fuck. Pleasure shoots down your back and settles down deep in your spine, it makes you shudder. 

““You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the way you ogle me? I had to pull you out of an alien hole for god's sake, because you were too busy watching me instead of doing what I told you.” 

“You’re such a dick!” Embarrassment washes over you like a flood. The blood rushing through your ears is so loud as it carries the thump thump thump of your heart. 

It’s so Rick to have known about your feelings before you did. Part of you wishes you could crawl inside your apartment and never leave again. You’d just have to get used to the 24 DVDs piled against the TV, and apparently salisbury steaks are back. You could make that work.  

“Yeah I’m a dick with a problem so either get riding or get the fuck out.” 

Fuck he’s mean. You hate that it turns you on. You like to think that under different, less dire circumstances he’d be nicer. You know he cares for you, he wouldn’t keep you around if he didn’t. It’s so sick. You’re watching him get better, be better, and yet he seems to revert back just when you need him the most. 

You take a step toward him and he’s on you, instantly. His shoulders drop as rushes to get his hands on you. He huffs rucking your pants down your thighs. You kick your pants off the rest of the way, watching as he wastes no time to rip your lacy underwear off your body. 

“Fuck it feels good to do that for real,” you quirk an eyebrow at his statement, but he ignores you in favor of sucking a bruise where your hip meets your thigh. His other hand trails upward, tugging on your shirt to indicate he wants it off. You comply quickly, letting out a soft moan as he bites the tender flesh spot he’s been nursing below you. 

Rick always runs warm, handprints burning into your skin as he grips any piece of you he can get his hand on. You whine at the loss of contact as he uses his workbench you’re pressed against as leverage to bring himself back up to your level. 

You squirm underneath him, the press of the cool metal against your back combined with his rough clothes against your front proves overwhelming as he takes your face into his hands. 

He kisses you like you’re air and he’s drowning.

You go limp against him, allowing him to lick into the wet cup of your mouth. The metallic taste floods your mouth, he’s kissing you so hard his lip resplit. You can feel yourself clench around nothing as you bite it and he groans. 

His face is rougher, you realize, more than you imagined. Stubble rubbing against you as he makes his way down your neck sucking and biting. You can’t help the mewls coming from your mouth that he elicits, you can tell it’s fueling his ego as huffs below you. 

His sweater itches against you, but the burn only fuels the arousal as it pools within your core, you whimper as his hand brushes against your front. Your soft sounds egg him on as he returns to your mouth, he gives your lip a rough tug with his teeth before plunging back in with his tongue. 

Rick had always been rough with you, this was something else though. He shoves a knee between your thighs, groaning at how warm you feel against him. One hand reaches around to grip the back of your neck as the other catches the back of your thigh to bring your leg around his hip. 

He grinds against you this way, holding you so tight you worry you might break in half. You sigh against him, desperate for any contact that allows pleasure to ripple through you as the rough material of his pants continues to catch against your clit. 

Affection from Rick was so rare, you continue to drink in this feeling, relishing in being special enough to have him give you so much of his attention. 

You let out a whine as he breaks the kiss, upset at the loss of contact. He sucks air in through his teeth as he leans back, taking a moment as his eyes rake over your body. You take this as an opportunity to explore him with your hands, taught skin supported by firm muscle bounces back against your fingers. 

You don’t miss the way he’s straining against his pants, bulge prominent against the khaki adorning his legs. 

You take the natural pause as an opportunity to push his sweater up indicating you want it off, he wastes no time to fulfill your request as he rips it from his body in the blink of an eye. Goosebumps raise on his skin as his bare form meets the cool air, Rick presses himself back against you seeking your warmth. 

“Are you gonna fuck me, or-or are you just gonna—oh!” You squeal as he tweaks your nipple in warning, he gives into your request, nonetheless. You feel a slender finger drag down the length of your body. You lean forward to capture the corner of his jaw, biting softly to busy yourself as you wait for him to touch you. 

Your heart leaps, a shudder makes its way down your spine as his fingers catch on your clit, giving his attention to where you need it the most. You’re already wet and warm for him, a low groan escapes his throat as he feels you. 

He nudges a long finger between your folds, drinking in the sounds it pulls from you. He watches your expression intensely, the slightest indication of pleasure spurring him on as he seeks your validation. 

You can tell he’s holding himself back, sweat beads along his hairline as he’s lost deep in getting you off. You wish you could reach out and smooth his furrowed brow, but you’re cockdumb on his fingers alone. You always thought it would be good with Rick, but you didn’t know it would be this good. 

You buck into his hand as the arousal floods deep within the pit of your stomach, it's almost overwhelming how electric his touch feels. 

He shifts underneath you, attacking the soft spot above your collarbone as he sucks the flesh tender. He removes his finger from your clit, choosing to run it through your soft slit instead. You moan loudly at the sudden shift in contact, he grunts in response, releasing your shoulder from his bite. 

You open your eyes as he removes his hand, sucking in a breath as he brings it to his mouth and sucks. 

You gush as he moans around his fingers, the sound vibrating through his chest as you watch him savor you. He releases them with a pop, a strand of salvia linking them back to his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate as he pushes those fingers into you, and you jolt at the sudden contact. 

Your fingers are gripping the workbench so tight you’re sure if you looked down they’d be white. Your back arches as his fingers slide in easily to the knuckle. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He murmurs, but you know he wouldn’t hear the answer even if you had one to offer him, eyes half mast watching his fingers pump in and out of the tight channel of your pussy. He slips another finger into you, and your arms give out at the wave of pleasure that assaults your senses.��

Every muscle in your body tightens as he angles his hand so the flat edge of his palm can press against your clit. He continues to curl his fingers against the spongy piece inside you, focusing on how your cunt pulses slick and hot against him. 

“Fuck– Rick, I-I might, I’m gonna—” He can barely hear you, too distracted by the lewd he elicits out of you. There’s sweat beading along your hairline, he can feel your lowering muscles spasming as he twists and scissors his fingers. 

He picks up the pace, you can feel yourself dripping against his hand, clenching as your orgasm rapidly approaches. He moans as you grip his forearm, nails digging into the muscle. 

“Fuck!” You cry out as he fucks his fingers up, he twists his hand to press circles against your clit and you scream. You clench hard around him in soft, hurried spasms that make him choke on the groan he was about to let slip. He feels the rush of liquid that flows out of you as you burst across his knuckles. 

He watches as you arch off of his workbench, shuddering as he pulls pleasure out of you in waves. He thinks he could come in his pants from this alone, the pollen coursing through his veins making him lightheaded. His skin is too tight for his body, limbs feeling as though he’s moving through molasses. 

Every time you touch him feels like a douse of cool water. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of heat that makes his vision blur. He wants to bring you closer, he’d bury himself inside of you, carve himself deep within your chest if he could. Every cell within his body is screaming, urging him to lick and suck and devour you. 

“I can’t– I’m not gonna be able to be gentle with you,” you peer up at him, eyes wet from the intensity of your orgasm, “I won’t be able to take it slow.” 

You swallow, eyes flicking down to his crotch before meeting his gaze. 

“Do you think it’ll fit?” 

He barks out a laugh before curling his fingers you didn’t realize were still inside you. You cringe, at both the tender feeling and the loud squelch that emits from below you. 

“Yeah, yeah sweetie, it’s gonna fucking fit,” Rick wastes no time undoing his belt, wolfish grin ghosting his lips. He lets out a deep moan and fuck as he pulls himself out. 

You can’t help the noise you make at the sight of it, he’s thick and leaking. You wish you had more time, you’d love to take him in your mouth and make him see god. You take him in your hand instead, brushing your thumb along the top of his cock and humming when his body jerks with it. He thrusts into your grip impatiently, your fingertips catching every ridge and crevice along his length. 

You gasp as a calloused hand reaches up in one swift movement to grab your throat. 

He enters you with one swift movement, pushing your legs up to get a better angle, ignoring the way you groan as your back hits the wall.  

You ignore the pain, blooming for him—sucking him in with your molten heat that nearly blinds him. You want to make it good for him. You want him to know that you can be good for him. You want him to come back after a particularly rough day and bend you over his work bench, or call you in the middle of the night purring for you. 

“Fuck, Rick, oh my god,” your eyes roll back, cunt contracting around him. He responds with a heavy slap to your ass that lurches you backward, almost off of him before he slams back into you. His strokes are deliberate and powerful, he fucks you so hard he can hear it. 

He fucks and fucks you, every slam of his hips making your lashes flutter. You’re shuddering around him, walls spasming as you cross the line into overstimulation. You let out a strangled cry, your second orgasm hangs in front of your face and you start to push back against him, desperately seeking release. 

Rick’s jaw clenches, clicking from an old injury. He’s trying to control himself, but you’re burning hot and tight as all hell. He bites the inside of his cheek as you blossom around his length, throwing his head back as the loud slap slap slap of his hips keeps you dripping on his cock. 

You allow yourself to drink in Rick’s distracted state, dragging a soft hand up and down the side of his body, relishing in the way he shudders and gasps at your touch. The idea that he’ll discard you after this, making excuses about not being himself or reacting to the effects of pollen hits you like a truck. It almost sobers you out of your cock-drunk state. 

He draws you out of your spiraling with a strained gasp as your fingers find tender flesh, you hesitate before digging into the soft muscle with your nails. It pulls on your heartstrings to willingly inflict pain on him, but any remorse is instantly washed away at the way his dick twitches inside you. 

“Sh-shit, do that again,” Comes that dark, gritting baritone as he releases his grip on your legs, choosing instead to wrap a calloused hand around your neck, quickening his pace with sloppy thrusts. Rick lets out an honest to god moan and you clench around him. He pulls out abruptly, and you whine at the loss of contact. 

Hurt floods your features, anxiety clawing its way up your chest at the smallest sign of rejection. There's not enough time to ruminate before he’s back on you, sliding to the hilt. You hiss at the return of pressure, pain searing into you. Adjusting around him, you slide your nails down his back. He moans arching into your touch. 

“I don’t–,” He’s interrupted as a particularly deep thrust hits something spongy within you and you’re writhing under him. He captures your jaw in his firm grip forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyes. 

You look utterly fucked out. Tears leaking from the corners of your eyes make his cock twitch, he’s ready to come but he needs to tell you first. He needs you to know.

“I don’t think you understand just how fucking long— ” Your eyes go wide, “I’ve wanted to hit this hot fucking cunt.”

Each of his words is punctuated with a particularly hard thrust. Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession. 

“I know I’ve been a dick lately—” 

“Jesus, fuck, Rick, just shut up and fuck me!” You can’t take it anymore, god knows how he’s doing it in his state. Your outburst earns you a hard slap to your ass that he’s holding off the edge of the workbench, whimpering as his fingers dig into the burning flesh. Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you need it to be from him. Not from the Rick with aphrodisiac poison coursing through his veins. 

The room is dense with the sound of wet flesh coming together again and again as he takes his thumb and rubs it over your clit in short, quick circles. His cock throbs inside you, you feel your pussy making room for him where you didn’t think possible, allowing him to carve you open and make you his. He grips your hips harder as you try to push away from him, the pleasure overwhelming. 

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you. You–you wanted the Rick, baby, I’m gonna make sure it’s worth your while.”

His pace begins to chase something frantic, you writhe under him as he licks a hot stripe up the side of your neck. You’ve been reduced to nothing but high pitched moans, panting and shivering under him. Your pleasure crests until you feel you’ll explode.

And you do. Your vision goes black as your orgasm racks your body and you explode wet– nearly pushing him out of you as you shove the heels of your hands into your eyes because you cannot look at him right now. 

“Fuck,” He rasps, “Goddamn, did you— you just– you’re–,” it just melts into a pile of sounds before he’s groaning sinfully, a last, hard thrust before there is the telltale sprouting of warmth within you. 

You're drunk on him, absolutely fucked out as your walls still spasm around him. You yelp as he drops you back on the workbench before dropping down to his knees. 

He ducks his head to slide the flat of his tongue through your folds, tasting the slick that drips from you. You shudder, clumsy hands tugging his hair, pulling him off you. You manage to prop yourself up on one arm, looking down at him.

“God you’re fucking filthy.” “You like it.”

His chest is heaving, cock rehardening already from where it rests above the waistband of his unzipped pants. It makes you cringe, he must be in so much pain. 

If he is, he doesn’t let it show. It's something you’ve always noticed about him, the lengths he goes to hide himself from the world. From you.

He’s given you this, even in his own fucked up way he’s given you this. It makes your heart swell. Worry picks at you from deep in your subconscious, but you push it away for now. You want to give him something back, he knows how you feel but you need him to know. 

It’s why you’re sliding off the bench, sinking to your knees as he rises above you. 

“Damn, I would’ve fucking injected myself with that shit if I had known it would’ve gotten you here like this, for me,” He’s so fucking smug, stupid smirk gracing his lips as you take him in your mouth. You’ll wipe it off though, prove to him why he chose you. 

Make sure he’ll always want to choose you.

[grimesgirll]

“are you guys coming to bed?”

you’re sitting up halfway, half lidded eyes fighting the hard fight to stay open.

blue eyes meet yours from the inside of the en-suite. “yes, one moment, sweetheart.”

your chest falls with your huffy breath. poised to pout, you splay yourself back onto the bedspread. what the fuck is taking so long? you’re about ready to bury your face in the pillow.

needy is the only word to describe you in the aftermath of nights like tonight.

fucked several times over, you couldn’t stand to be so far apart from your men. at least one of them should be on the satin blue sheets with their sinewy arms around you. their absence aches. you know someone has to throw away the condoms, fetch you a clean sleep shirt, toss the used towels in the hamper, etcetera. however, you’re too needy for them to just throw you one of rick’s oversized shirts and hang out in the bathroom without you.

you stretch your arms in an attempt to extinguish the last traces of energy in your system but you know you’d feel infinitely better in a pair of toned arms. head rolling to face the bathroom, you’re unlucky enough not to catch either of their gazes. it’s only your loud pouts that snap them out of whatever conversation they’re having.

“is someone in there whinin’?”

rick’s sultry smooth voice reignites something in you that has you responding with nothing but a hazed out moan. emphasizing the manner in which you flip yourself over to your stomach, sticking your ass up when you bury your face into the clean sheets in protest.

“don’t tell me she’s poutin’ again.”

“sounds like exactly that.”

you do your best to hide your snide smile when the bed lowers slightly right beside you.

“what do you need? a kiss?” the ex-sheriff plants an arm into the soft bed beside you to lean over and rotate you onto your back, caressing your hair and tonguing your mouth open - not that you gave up a fight.

“mhm,” you yowl into his mouth.

a matching groan rumbles from his throat as rick reaches down to inspect your panties. he chuckles. “just as i expected, two cocks and you’re still craving another release, silly girl.”

whenever he gets his fingers in your hair, you’re putty in rick’s hands. the simple sensation is satisfying enough to have you wincing when he withdraws his fingers, nearly kicking in desperation.

you can’t complain though because before you know it the man is moving his fingers from your hair to attack your entrance.

“shit,” you gasp into his mouth when two fingers pry you open.

“pretty girl need some lovin’ before she falls asleep?” daryl whispers into your ear and appears on your opposite side.

“just a little more.” rick concludes, lazily pumping a finger into you while you squirm beneath him. “i think we tuckered her out. maybe we give her one last release for being such a good girl and put her to bed.”

you nod eagerly and like that daryl is descending between your legs to lift up your rick’s oversized sleep shirt. still underwear free from when you’d first climbed in bed with them, daryl’s tongue lands on your sensitive center.

the redneck’s auburn locks are in your hands instantly as you pant, “daryl, fuck.”

“this how you like to wind down?” rick mocks with a mouth on your rosy right bud.

you muster enough energy to nod your head. “mhmm.”

“do the sounds of daryl lapping up your slutty pussy help you fall asleep before bed?”

your mouth falls open at the question. all you can do is babble, blubbering when rick bites down on your chest. “rick!”

“honey,” rick’s tone turns serious. blue eyes honing in on your cloudy stare. “awfully rude to be just callin’ my name when dear daryl’s the one fucking you with his tongue.” you can’t argue with that. “why don’t you give him some credit?”

crying out, a sob starts your apology. “sorry, daryl. your tongue feels so good,” you stutter through teary eyes, legs and lips quivering. “thank you for taking care of me before bed.”

daryl doesn’t respond; too focused on the task at hand.

rick’s face is still smug. “why don’t you ask daryl for permission to come, sweetheart?” rick muses with a hardened nipple between his fingers, painfully turning it over the pad of his forefinger and watching your face twist with wanton need.

“daryl!” you’re howling.

the man doesn’t stop.

rick snickers. “try again, honey,” he’s traveling up the bed to bestow a peck on your lips before they’re parting to plead at the man who’s taking you apart with his tongue.

“daryl, please,” you’re borderline wailing now, tempting rick with your fucked out tears and irregular breath. chest rising and falling with every respiration, you’re red with the need for release and the need for the redhead beneath you to spare you some grace. “please, i need to come, daryl. please, i want to come so bad, can i come? daryl!”

for the first moment in minutes, the archer briefly pops his vacuum of a mouth off of your weeping slit to give you the most serious look before granting you permission to, “make a mess, girl.”

leaning into daryl’s blessing, you ground your hips against his face and squeeze the hand that’s intertwined with rick’s as the pressure that had been heightening explodes.

the circles daryl’d paired with his unforgiving tongue do nothing but pulsate the pressure deeper throughout your sensitive bundle of nerves. the same nerves that were flaring and rocking you in galvanizing pangs of pleasure as if they’d also gotten that memo that daryl had given you permission to cum, encouraged by the warm tongue flat against you.

it’s only when your legs are about to collapse on top of his tawny head that daryl retreats, giving your spent cunt a light slap for good measure.

his face is glistening just as your cunt had been when he dove headfirst between your legs.

you’re bending forward towards him in an anxious effort to have him on your lips again. he’d been so close to you - you need him to be that close again. that’s why you’re about to sob when he gets up to head to the dresser. your tantrum is paused once you see that he’s bringing your water bottle to your lips.

the thoughtful man brings the straw to your lips, allowing you to take a long drink and signal for him to place the bottle on the nightstand. it’s not ten seconds before he’s grasping your face and giving you the long, drawn out good night kiss you’re always craving from him.

daryl’s flush against your left when your lips disconnect. if rick hadn’t caught you in his arms, daryl would’ve been closer but he’ll be rising early to hunt anyways, and he wouldn’t want to wake you.

rick’s arm lays atop your pillow and his head tucked on top of yours as you start to drift off, “night, sweet girl” being the last words you hear before you fall into the coziest slumber.

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Make It Back

A/N: A right of passage- sticking the reader character into the 'Andrea shot Daryl' scene :) Reader goes OFF on her, so be prepared lol. Sorry if you love Andrea

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader

WC: ~4k

Warnings: talk of Daryl's injuries, falling down the cliff, Walker attack- nothing too graphic; Andrea shooting Daryl but just grazing him; mentions of gore/blood- nothing too graphic; angst, comfort, fluff, cuddling; Daryl being sassy; reader character fighting with Andrea (yelling match)

Summary: You confront Andrea after she shoots Daryl, thinking he's a walker. With your anger taken out on her, you then comfort Daryl as he spends the night in the Greene farmhouse.

You heard the gunshot. Everyone on the farm did. You just didn’t know exactly what had happened.

Following Lori’s lead, you jogged around the house, hoping it wasn’t another accident like the one that almost killed Carl. It was a single shot. Why would anyone risk a lone round out in the open like this? On this beautiful farm.

Once you circled the house, landing in a clump of Herschel’s family and a few others from your group, all you saw was sun. Its rays were blinding yellow as they cut over the tall, deep treeline on the edge of the meadow. It was the middle of a gorgeous day.

You heard Rick scream. It was a booming, worried thing. Then he screamed again.

“What the hell is going on here?” Herschel bellowed. 

You moved closer to the field, the gravel of the driveway turning to grass under your feet as you neared the van. Dale was standing beside it with his hands on his head, panic clear in his figure as he looked out to the scene in the pasture. 

“Shit,” Andrea said as she hastily climbed down the ladder from the top of the van. She started whining, more to herself than anyone else. “No, no, no, Daryl.”

“What?” you asked, a cold shock running down your spine from the back of your neck to your heels in the dirt. “What? What about Daryl?”

“I-I thought he was a walker,” she said.

Your head whirled to the cluster of men at the treeline. You tripped, your feet rooted to the ground in horror and misunderstanding. Was Andrea actually saying-

“I shot him.”

You bolted at her confession. These days, you were used to running, having done plenty of it through the woods to escape walkers. Then, you had to be careful of roots and puddles and dead bodies and the trees slowed you down, making sprinting difficult. Now, as you watched Rick fall to his knees in the distance, reaching for Daryl’s head after it hit the ground, speed came easily to you. The open meadow of freely growing grass under the clear blue sky was practically a racetrack.

Andrea panted behind you and the useless coins in Dale’s jeans clinked together, but you were faster, your feet agile in their swiftness. Your boots didn’t pound into the dirt like theirs. You sped to Daryl, only slowing when Rick threw one of Daryl’s arms over Shane’s shoulder and took the other one over his own. Daryl’s body fell limp against them, his feet dragging.

As the men caught their balance, you took Daryl’s face in your hands, seeing it drenched in blood.

“He’s unconscious,” Rick said to you. “We’ll get him back to the house.”

You nodded, otherwise silent. 

Andrea, however, let loose her apologies and worries in a shrill voice that made everyone around tense up like their limbs were attached to drawstrings. 

You didn’t listen to her words. Or T-Dog’s or Glenn’s and you didn’t notice Rick pull something from Daryl’s neck. Only the grass had your attention as your mind ceaselessly spun. Your boots pushed the tall blades around, making them sway with your every step. The shades of green were glowing in the slowly setting sun until they were marred- darkened by the looming three-headed shadow making its way across the field. Daryl’s blood dripped with every step, leaving red droplets behind with the last of the dew.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea said. When she touched your arm, you jumped, jarred back from the peace of the meadow and into the grisly present.

You didn’t answer her.

Daryl was still unconscious by the time Rick and Shane laid him down in the bedroom. While they’d carried him into the house, you beelined straight to Maggie, asking for a rag and some warm water. You ducked into the bedroom and dodged the panicking men so you could sit on the bed and wipe as much grime from Daryl’s face and hands as you could manage before leaving Herschel in peace to bandage his wounds.

When the door to the bedroom closed you out, you sat on the floor in the hall. Earlier, you had wondered if what Rick told you was true, if Daryl was only unconscious. If the bullet had truly only grazed him. You only fully believed Daryl was alive when you washed his face clean. His brow even crinkled when the wet cloth touched it. He was in there still. 

Lori sat down quietly next to you in the hallway. She patted your knee. She didn’t have to say anything. You knew her well enough by now to know what she thought. You’re a good friend to him, she’d say. And he doesn’t have many.

You leaned your head back against the wall with a soft thunk and closed your eyes. It was tranquil there for a moment before a familiar, unwanted voice interrupted. 

“Can I talk to you?”

You opened your eyes to see Andrea standing above you and Lori.

“Now’s not a good time,” you said. It was awkward and uncomfortable. “I’m waiting for- for some word.”

“I’ll be quick,” she asked, sliding down the wall and sitting beside you.

Andrea had a knack for rubbing you the wrong way at the worst times. You wouldn’t call yourself a ‘strong personality,’ but she certainly was. Whatever it was deep down in you was constantly butting heads with whatever lived in her core. You disagreed with her most of the time, but tried your best to be patient and gracious given the losses she’d suffered and the emotions clearly wracking her. Still, you couldn’t help but feel she went about most things all wrong.

Like insisting she speak to you now.

So you stood up. You asked Lori to come find you when Daryl woke or when you could go visit him- whatever came first- and you left the house. The turmoil in your chest almost made you scream. But instead of letting it rip through you, you sucked in a deep breath and walked down the front steps. To be alone.

“(Y/N), wait.”

You could tell it was her by the sound of her voice. 

“Andrea,” you warned, “I’m not in a place to talk right now.”

“To anyone? Or just to me?”

“Does it matter?” you asked, spinning around in the gravel to face her. “Can’t you just respect that I’m- I’m trying to-”

“What?” she shouted, hands in the air. “Trying not to yell at me? What if I want you to? What if I want you to scream at me? Tell me I’m reckless! Tell me-”

“Tell you what you need to hear? That’s not my job.” You were calm, considering the outburst in front of you. “Just leave me be.”

“No.” She ran in front of you, standing with her feet spread wide, blocking your path from the farm house. Like a child. “I need to… I need to apologize. To you. For what I did to Daryl.”

A laugh escaped you. “Apologize to me?”

“Yes. And-”

“You know who you need to apologize to, Andrea?”

“Daryl, I know, but-”

“And Herschel and Rick and Glenn and T-Dog, and everyone else you put in danger when you decided to not do what you were told.”

You watched her jaw clench and set in place. Lowly, she said, “I don’t need to be told what to do.”

“Apparently you do. Apparently you don’t have your head screwed on straight!” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“No, Andrea!” you cut her off with a stabbing shout. “You’re gonna follow me around like this and beg for a piece of my mind? Let me give it to you! Lord knows no one else here will.” You took her arm, leading her away from the front of the house where your temper- or loss of it- wouldn’t disturb Herschel’s family. When she tried to talk over you, tell you she knew what she was doing with that gun in her hands, you snarled at her. “Shut up! I’m speaking now.”

***

You didn’t realize that the hidden spot you led her to happened to be just below the bedroom Daryl and the other men were in. You had no clue that your every word rode the breeze up and through the window above where Rick, Shane, and Daryl could hear you as clearly as if you stood right before them.

And you didn’t know Daryl was already awake.

Shane, arms crossed over his chest, peeked out the window at the sound of Andrea’s voice. He whistled to Rick. “Catfight.” 

“What?” Rick asked. He followed Shane’s gaze and shook his head when he saw you. “Nah, (Y/N)’s good. She’ll keep her head.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” Daryl grumbled. “Girl’s got a temper.”

“Never heard anything out of her,” Shane said.

“Thas ‘cause you ain’t never heard her complain ‘bout you.”

“Man, shut up,” Shane growled over Rick’s chuckles. “If (Y/N) gives Andrea a talkin’ to, that’s one less thing on my list.”

Daryl violently shifted the pillow under his head. “Dun even wanna know what’s on yer list.”

Shane shushed him, spitting on the window screen, and nudged Rick. “Wanna listen to her.”

***

You stuck an accusing finger at Andrea, keeping her staring at you and squinting into the low sun. “You need to understand, there’s no ‘girl jobs and boy jobs’ here. It’s not that simple. Just because you don’t like doing laundry and washing dishes doesn’t mean you get a gun to flaunt around by default.”

“They’re wasting my skills!” she hissed.

“Those guys,” you pointed out to the pasture, where Daryl went down, “Rick, Shane, Daryl- those guys are trained with those weapons. They were fucking cops and hunters, Andrea! That’s why they get the guns right now, not because they’re better than us, or whatever the hell story you’ve told yourself.”

“Then I should be trained the way they were,” she said. “Before they took it from me, I had my own gun for years-”

“After what you did today, I hope you never get your hands on another gun! You put every one of those guys in danger today. What if your aim was further off, huh? What if you shot Glenn? Or Rick? You could have killed him right in front of his boy! Right after Carl got back on his feet, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does!” 

“Are you sure?” The sun was beating down on your back. The heat of its rays added to the roiling in your gut, making sweat drip down the side of your face and pool on your lower back. Its slick had your t-shirt clinging to you. “Are you really sure? ‘Cause if your shit aim was a half an inch better, you would have killed him today! One of our own. And you’re acting like you barely care- you’re here apologizing to me?”

“You’re closest to him,” she grumbled. “I was trying to be-”

You spoke over her meaningless words. “Daryl is an asset to this group. He keeps us safe, feeds us- he was coming back from looking for Sophia and what thanks does he get? A fucking bullet to the head. You took down a good man today-”

“I thought he was a walker!” Andrea screamed in defense.

“So what?” Your throat ached from its work and Andrea flinched. You forced a calming breath before you continued slowly and deliberately, hoping some of your words would actually stick in her head. “We are so lucky we’re allowed on this property. That we found this doctor.”

“I know.”

“And he asked one thing in return. No guns. You were told by Rick, by Shane- no guns. You saw- you thought you saw one walker and you waste a bullet on it? That one gunshot could have led a whole herd to this house, Andrea. What would have happened then?”

“I get it, okay?”

“I don’t think you do. Four men went out there to take down that walker. They explicitly told you not to shoot that gun. And you did it anyway. And for what? Pride?”

She stared at you. Then she shrugged flippantly. “I wanted to do it. I knew I could do it.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it to you.”

***

Shane whistled again from his spot in the window. “If we ever need a lawyer, she’s the one.”

Daryl laid his head back on the pillow after holding it in the air to listen carefully to your argument. His cheeks, ears, neck and chest were hot and flushed from your words about him. 

“She still down there?” he asked. 

“No,” Rick said. He rounded the foot of the bed and walked towards the door of the bedroom. ��I’ll go check on her. She’ll wanna know you’re alright.”

“He’s red as a tomato,” Shane said, slapping Daryl’s foot, “but alive, right Daryl?”

“Barely,” he grumbled. 

***

It was Lori who found you first. She grabbed your wrist and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Daryl’s okay,” she said. “You can go up and see him now.”

You ran your palms up over your cheeks and into your hair, feeling the sweat that had gathered. You sighed. “Maybe later. He should probably rest.”

“He was askin’ for you,” Rick said, appearing behind Lori with a hand on the small of her back. “Go on up.”

At that, you nodded and headed for the bedroom.

Miraculously, you didn’t run into anyone else as you made your way through the house. You would have been embarrassed to see one of the Greenes after what had gone down today in the pasture or even after scolding Andrea, whether anyone had heard you or not.

You couldn’t quite get yourself to open the bedroom door, even as you stood before it, hand on the knob. There was no talking or snoring or shifting of sheets from the inside and you debated if you would be a disturbance or a comfort to whatever mood you’d meet inside.

Finally, at length, you pushed it open.

Daryl was shirtless, legs tangled in the thin sheets on the large bed. He only took up a small portion of it, though he was laying almost diagonally across it so he could watch the door. Of course he and his tracker’s ears had heard you open it. He looked at you with narrowed eyes. 

“Hey killer,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t even.”

You stood in the doorway, watching him. His arm was tucked tight under his head as he looked away from you and down into the sheets. He tucked them up all around him, blocking his injury and most of his skin from view. You knew why, but ignored it. You instead stared at the bandage tied around his head. It made his short hair stick up wildly, like a bloody coyote in the woods. 

“You wanna be alone, or you want me to stay?” you asked, hanging onto the doorknob. 

He shrugged. “Dun matter ta me.”

That was the closest to a yes you were ever going to get. You closed the door behind you with a soft click and walked to the emptier side of the bed to sit on its edge. “You need anything? Water, or-”

“Got it,” he said, blindly pointing to the nightstand beside the bed.

“Kay.” The air in the room was hot, but since the sun was setting lower and lower each minute, you knew there’d be a breeze blowing through the lacy curtains soon enough. You wiped your brow again. “How are you feeling?”

“‘Bout as bad as I look.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

You breathed out a laugh. “You looked like death itself before, though, so this is an upgrade.”

He glared at you, but it was playful. For him, you knew it was. “Well, I was shot.”

“Yeah.” 

You swallowed hard at the reminder. Next to his glass of water was the bowl and cloth you’d brought to him earlier. You reached for it now, wringing it out some before bringing it to his forehead which was as damp with sweat as yours was. 

“What else happened out there?”

“Nuthin’,” he said, shrugging off the cloth. 

You didn’t budge and asked again. “You look rough, Dare. Herschel said there was something with your side too? I saw all the blood.”

He was quiet, attention again on the sheets as you dabbed at his forehead and cheeks. There was still blood on his chin and grime on his neck- mud and something else you didn’t care to guess at. You stopped at his shoulders. It was clear he didn’t want you looking anywhere near his chest or back, buried in the sheets. 

Then you noticed him watching you.

“You…”

“Hm?” you pushed.

“You were worried? ‘Bout… ‘bout me.”

“Of course I was. Still am. You’re one of us, we’re all worried-”

“I fell. And a couple’a walkers found me.”

Panic shot through you like lightning, branching through your veins and up your limbs. “Walkers?” No one told you. No one said anything about a bite or scratch or anything- “Is that, the injury on your side, it’s from a walker?”

“No,” he was quick to correct. “Nah, I fought ‘em off. Didn’t get me.” “Christ,” you whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to keep the unshed tears stuck in your eyes.

“When I fell down the cliff, I took an arrow through my back.”

It didn’t-couldn’t-register. “You fell down a cliffside?”

“Twice.”

That was all you could take. The emotion, the stress and panic of the day, of the weeks past, caught up to you in one drowning swell. You felt your lips tremble and tried to keep them shut up tight, tried to count the bumps in the washcloth still in your hands, dripping on the knee of your jeans.

“Ay,” Daryl said, gruffly. He took the washcloth from you and smacked your arm with it before tossing it near its bowl. “Dun do that. Dun- dun cry fer me-”

“Argentina?”

“Wha?”

It made you laugh. It was a wet, snotty laugh and the curve of your cheek pushed out a fat tear that carved its way down your face. “It’s a song,” you said.

“Don’t start singin’ neither.”

You chuckled again, losing more tears and the fight to not cry in front of Daryl. 

With a painful grunt, he moved himself on the bed, opening a spot for you. He patted the empty space, mumbling. “Come on.”

You kicked off your boots and laid down on the bed, mirroring him. One arm supported your head, while the other tucked tight against you, keeping to your own space as you looked at him. His teeth dug into his lip over and over as he studied the hair and freckles on his arm as if he’d never seen it before. 

“Were you scared?” you whispered.

After a long while, narrowed blue eyes met yours and he nodded.

“Out there alone.” Your voice broke, shaking with the tight breath in your chest. 

“S’alright. M��back now.”

You flopped on your back, away from him for a chance to breathe. You were losing your grip and you didn’t want to break in front of him. You were there to support him, not force him into comforting you. But the thought of him in fear and suffering alone was stubbornly lodged in your throat. 

“When I was out there climbin,’ that’s what I was thinkin’ ‘bout,” Daryl said. “Thought ‘bout comin’ back. Seein’ ya. Knew I had ta get back.”

His words hung in the air. They were soft and open, his voice less harsh than usual. 

“That’s right,” you said. Using the collar of your t-shirt, as sweaty and dirty as it was, you wiped the tear tracks from your face and cleared your eyes.

“Now we both look bad as I feel,” Daryl said.

“Shut up,” you said. But you laughed.

The air felt clearer now. It wasn’t so stifling hot and you watched the transparent curtains dance in the breeze coming in through the window. Again, you turned to him, laying on your side, able to study him more. Daryl, however, seemed like he couldn’t bear the attention. His flitting gaze fell on just about everything in the room except you until he seemed to settle upon the safety of the bare ceiling above, studying it as if it were a map to a hidden treasure. Like a cure to the world’s mess.

“You okay?” you finally asked.

“Did you mean it? What ya said?”

“When?”

One of his hands flew up, gesturing toward the window. “Earlier. To Andrea.”

You hummed, lips glued together for a moment. “You heard all that?”

He chuckled. “Loud and clear. She deserved it.”

“Mm. Just lost my temper.”

He grunted, agreeing. “But’cha- what ya said ‘bout me.” He struggled for the words, throat and mouth working for the right thing to ask. “Said I was a good man, ya mean that?”

“Of course.” You sat up, moving your face into his line of vision. You made him look at you. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. And I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t think it.” Your fingertips grazed his skin, tickling down his cheek until they turned the other way, your knuckles running the same path for good measure. “You are a good man. I see you. I see the things you do and no matter how much you like to hide it, I know you have a big heart. I’ve seen it.” You gave him a soft shove on the shoulder, teasing. While you were there, close to him, you brushed the hair off his forehead before returning your hands to yourself and laying back flat on the bed.

He grunted and pressed his lips together, staring at where your face had been, the spot that was just the bare ceiling now. Then he shrugged away from you and turned to the opposite wall and grumbled, “S’not what I asked, girl.”

“Gave ya some extra bang for your buck, that’s all,” you said. When he didn’t turn or even chuckle, you bent towards the floor for your boots. “Want me to go? So you can get some rest?”

He gave you nothing in answer. You at least hoped he heard what you said, took it to heart. But, you thought, that’s what you get for blubbering all over his bed. Only slightly bothered, you leaned towards the nightstand to see if he had enough water for the evening. Then, you’d leave-

“Dun haf’ta go,” he mumbled. 

“Oh.”

“So long as ya don’t go all girly ga-ga on me again.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he peeked at you over his shoulder. “You mean telling you that I actually care about you? Then don’t go tryin’ to die on me again.”

He flopped over. “Ya think I wanted to fall off the damn cliff? Fuckin’ horse threw me off.”

Setting your boots back down, you settled into the bed next to him. “Horse shoot you with your own crossbow too?”

“You shut your mouth, girl.”

“Mhmm.” you hummed, grinning.

Like two parallel beings, you laid opposite each other, close, but not touching. You used your own arm for a pillow and tucked yourself under the sheet of the bed. Daryl looked past you, as if watching the door as another breeze blew through the room.

“Here,” he said, shimmying up towards the head of the bed and sliding the arm of his uninjured side under your head. You laid close, tucking your arms into your chest so only your elbows and your knees crossed over into Daryl’s space.

At least, it was that way until he leaned down into you, resting his chin on your forehead and letting his other arm drop over your side. You let loose a sigh at the touch- he’d made it back.

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 3

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Part 2 here // Part 4 here

Warnings: 18+, negan masturbating, negan being all sweet and protective

A/n: I thought this would be the last part, but it was so long I had to break it up. Part 4 will be posted soon!

Negan’s POV: 

I waited all night for her but she never came. Hopping back on my bike, I drove back to the sanctuary the next morning. I spent the next few days drinking in my room and missing her. Trying to give her space was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

Two of my wives came to check on me, and I rudely dismissed them. And told them to kick rocks, for good. I wouldn’t even be able to get my dick up with anyone else but her. This girl has me wrapped around her goddamn finger and I don’t even know her name. 

I sat on the couch, closed my eyes and imagined her face. Our night together. How I fucked her through her little shorts. I imagined her lips between mine and the little sounds she made as she scratched my back. Fuck. 

I rubbed myself through my pants, imagining myself between her legs before I got impatient and pulled my cock out. I spit in my hand and began stroking it, focusing extra on the tip. My head pressed against the couch and I groaned, jerking my dick faster. Fuck, fuck fuuuuck. 

"Boss, we've got a problem." Fucking Simon. 

Tucking myself back in my pants, I walked over and flung the door open, clearly annoyed with an extreme case of blue balls. We walked towards the back exit quickly while Simon filled me in on the situation. 

“Rick and the rest of them are outside." Simon explained. "He said he only wants you.” 

“Of course he does.” I chuckled before walking out onto the balcony. “Well, what a nice surprise. This better be good Rick. I was right in the middle of something.”  

Her silky black hair caught my attention almost instantly and I couldn't take my eyes off her. She stood beside Rick and my heart sank for two reasons. I couldn't let her get hurt in the middle of all this. And what the hell was she doing? She couldn't seriously want this.

I leaned next to Simon's ear and whispered. “Make sure everyone knows that one is off limits." I nodded towards my girl. "If anyone harms a hair on her pretty head, it'll be the last thing they ever do."

Your POV, earlier that day: 

“We go in quick, and we don’t leave until Negan is dead. Understood?” Rick’s voice sounded far away and I realized my mind had been wandering the entire time, not able to concentrate.. Or accept Rick’s plan for Alexandria to go after the Saviors. I couldn't lose someone I...

Care about… again. 

“Y/n?” Rick asked, tilting his head at me. 

“Yes, understood.” 

The ride over took ages it seemed like. My head rested against the window of the truck while I watched the sun slowly start to disappear. I should be thrilled. This is what I’ve wanted for so long - to get revenge. 

So why did I want to save him?

“I dunno if I can do this.” Daryl’s focus remained on the road as I spoke. “I know you don’t understand it, but there’s good in him. I’ve seen it.”

Daryl scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

“I just don’t wanna see anyone else die, Daryl.” I wiped a tear from my cheek.

“Some people deserve it.”

“And we don’t? Think about all the ones we’ve killed.”

“Not the same.” Daryl mumbled. 

“But it is. That’s the world we live in now. We do what we have to to survive. We’re all… psycho murderers, really.”  

“Listen to yourself. What do you think Glenn would think about you defending the man who killed him?” 

I sat quietly for a few moments, focusing my attention back on the clouds. “I think he’d be proud of me.” The gravel suddenly rumbling beneath the truck let us know we were getting close to the sanctuary and Daryl pulled over, parking near the others. 

“You’re either with us, or ya aint. But you need to hurry and decide.” Daryl warned before he quietly exited the truck and met up with the others ahead. 

I owe them for everything they’ve done for me. Everything they did for Glenn. I closed my eyes before hopping out of the car and quickly caught up with the rest of the group. Daryl gave me a nod and the rest of the tread was quiet. I tried focusing my mind on anything but Negan, disassociating to the best of my ability - a skill I’ve perfected over the past few months. 

“Negan needs to surrender. This has to happen now. This is the only way.” Rick’s voice rang through my ears as I stood near him, shielding myself with the metal that stood between us and the Saviors. Peeking out, I watched Negan appear behind the railing, an arrogant smirk forming on his lips.

“You’re gonna make me count?!" Rick shouted. "Okay, okay. I’m counting. 10….”

Negan eyes traveled to mine and his gaze softened. I stared at him, silently begging him to surrender while Rick counted. He studied me as if he wondered if I wanted this. 

Of course not. Surrender, goddammit. 

I watched him lean over and whisper something to Simon while his eyes were still on me. Simon nodded and took out his radio, signaling something to the others that I couldn't hear. 

The sound of Rick's gun cocking distracted me, and without thinking, I jumped in front of him, pulling the gun with with me. A bullet went straight through my foot, but I barely felt it.

I heard Negan cursing in the background amongst all the other chaos transpiring. Walkers were filing in now and everyone eventually scattered. I limped as quickly as I could, trying to escape before my feet lifted off the ground. I quickly realized it was Negan and he rushed us to an empty trailer nearby, shutting the door behind him when we made it inside.

“Oww.” I groaned, limping over to the wall and sliding down it. I pulled off my bloody sock and shoe and cringed at the bullet hole in my foot. The pain was starting to set in now.

“Shit.” Negan grabbed a first aid kit from a cabinet above and kneeled down, wrapping my foot. “The hell were you thinkin' darlin'?.”

He looked up at me, slightly grinning and I rolled my eyes. He finished wrapping it up, kissed my forehead, and sat next to me on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. His hand rested on my thigh protectively and I wanted to reach for it and hold his hand but I couldn’t. We both sat in silence for a few moments before he finally spoke.  

“You never came. I waited on you all night.” 

My heart ached at the thought of him there alone. “I told you, Negan. I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

“Yet.. you just took a bullet for me.” I could hear the cocky smile through his voice. 

“Why did you want to meet?” I asked.

“I guess I thought maybe if we went back to our place, you’d see me differently. The way you did that night, and I’d actually have a chance to win you over.”

When I looked over at him, I saw the man he was that night. Before I knew his name and all the horrible things he had done. I replayed everything in my head - the steam from his shower, our deep talks about our old high school days, his wife Lucille and how her death broke his heart, and how he read to me. And then I remembered him in between my legs, but stopping before it got too far because we were both tipsy.

How could the same man who bashed someone's skull in be the same one the had enough decency not to take advantage of a woman? I wanted so desperately to believe in the man he was that night - for that to be the only version of him. 

“Listen baby, I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have." His voice was lower than usual when he spoke. "I get that you don’t wanna see me anymore and I’ve gotta learn to be okay with that. I don’t want to be a constant reminder of your brother’s death.” He leaned his head against the wall. “Fuckin' stupid of me to think this could ever work, huh?” 

With every word he spoke, my heart broke into smaller pieces. If Negan would have died today, I’d hate myself for the rest of my life for not going back to the cabin and meeting him that night. As difficult as our life would be together - for so many reasons, I can’t live without him. 

“Negan..” 

“Yeah?” His hazel eyes met mine and he looked like a sad puppy that I desperately wanted to comfort.

“I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

He nodded, clearly hurt and I watched his eyes fill with tears before he looked down. 

I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t regret what I was about to say. “But I love you. And I want to find a way to make this work.”

His eyes darted back and forth between mine before his hand cupped my face and he kissed me all in one motion. I've missed his lips so much. His mouth was gentle, like he was scared to break me, but I wanted him to, so I pulled him closer and opened my mouth slightly. His tongue slipped in and collided with mine, making me see stars. After a few moments, he pulled away, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against mine. 

“I love you so fuckin’ much, sweetheart. I’ll never disappoint you again.”

“I know.” And I did. I believed him. Gunfire in the distance quickly snapped us back to reality but we held each other, neither of us willing to let go first.

"Negan, I've gotta go back with them."

"No. Stay with me at the sanctuary until we figure out a plan? I'll take care of you and-"

"We can't. You can't stay here, Negan. It's not safe, they'll come back for you. Rick won't stop until you're dead."

"Then I'll kill him first, doll. Simple."

"No. You're not killing anyone else - none of my people. I can't lose anyone else. The only way everyone survives this is if you surrender."

Negan scoffed. "And then what? Be a goddamn prisoner and Rick's little bitch for the rest of my life? Not gonna happen, darlin'."

I sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

"Hey, you're not giving up on me already are you?" Negan's hand rested again my cheek as he urged me to look at him.

"No.. no, I just, I dunno what to do."

"We've got all night to figure it out, doll. We don't have many options. There's no way you're going back to Alexandria on that foot. Come on." Negan stood, holding his hand out to me and I took it. "Stay close behind me, baby."

I nodded, gripping the back of Negan's shirt as he kicked the door open, flinging a few walkers in the process. I helped as much as I could, stabbing a few with my knife as Negan worked our way through the crowd.

Luckily the sanctuary itself seemed untouched. The walkers were only outside in the yard while a couple of guards secured the entry to the sanctuary doors. They opened them quickly as Negan and I tumbled in. His hand wrapped around my waist, helping me walk with my hurt foot.

We could hear Simon and the others around the corner. Turning the corner, Negan whistled his favorite tune and I watched in awe as the rest of the saviors bowed before us.

"I bet you all thought I was dead, huh?" Negan chuckled. "Here's a little refresher on who the hell I am. I wear a leather jacket, I have -“ He paused, leaning into you. "Hell’s your name darlin’? You never told me.” You whispered your name in his ear and giggled. He turned back to the saviors, finishing his speech. "I have y/n, and my nut sack? Is made of steel. I am not dyin' until I am damn good and ready."

What a dork. My dork. I thought, looking up at him as he spoke.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a honeymoon to get to. No one knocks on my door. Simon, you're in charge. Don't make me regret it."

Simon nodded and Negan lead us down the hall to a large door at the end. He held the door open for me as I walked through. A bachelor pad of the apocalypse. Exactly what I imagined. I smiled at him and he returned the gesture, flashing his white smile before he walked towards me and immediately wrapped me in his arms. My head rested against his chest and I felt his heart beat. For once, I felt safe.

Part 4 here. If you’ve read this far, thank you. 🥹💗

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[sorrelpaws]

rick at various ages

[seancekitsch]

HOT TO GO: an Adrian Chase x Reader x Rick Flag fic

Rick knows he shouldn't shit where he eats. Rick knows Waller would demote him in a second if she knew he was letting you and your de facto guard dog have special privileges on this mission. Rick knows he shouldn't take you up on your offer to play a game.

Warnings: threesome smut, drinking, smoking, slight knife kink, rick is a good man, reader and adrian are nuts, villain!reader, non canon compliant i like to play god and make people kiss, this is filthy, dirty talk, task force x neck bomb jokes, slight daddy kink, spitting, choking, reader is a little mean, its not poly but its certainly something

You know exactly what the file in ARGUS says about you. A boring little dossier about the full extents of your powers, your record, all of your known aliases (even the embarrassing ones), your allies, and even the common ways you’ve tried to escape capture. Nothing in the little folder says anything about your observation skills. 

Nothing about how easily you pick up on phone conversations, how easily you commit to memory a glance of words on a screen over someone’s shoulder. Nothing about how you take in the tiny details, changes in expression or exactly how many things you can use in a room to kill someone in increasingly resourceful and creative ways. 

Thats how you figured out Rick Flag has a type; a type that you fit into well. You didn’t mean to overhear his phone call with Waller, but you would be using it to your advantage. 

You know about June Moone, about your dear friend Harley, and now his blue eyes settling on you as you try to get in and get out of this mission without fucking about too much. He likes his girls a little messed up. You figure trying to unseat Green Arrow as mayor through completely legal means and then forcibly reforming the prison system does it for him. It helps for you that he’s attractive; that means you don’t have to just use him, you can enjoy him too. Who knows, you might even get to know him enough to admire him as much as you admire the man who named himself your personal protector. 

Adrian Chase had apparently put himself into prison in order to talk to you, inspired by your idea of justice and progress or something. He offered protection and you’re not one to turn down a free advantage. You didn’t exactly expect to like him though, knowing the reputation he has and the awkward way he approached you at first. But Adrian was quick to win you over, and you'd spent countless nights talking to each other through the bars of your cells. You even one night tried to "go on a date" in the mess hall. His humor turns you on though, his protection lets you run your mouth without consequences. He's killed for you before, and you damn well know he'll do it again. Waller even seems to know you're a package deal, seeing as she let the two of you be on this mission together. You don’t say it, but you hope this mission gives both of you enough time off your sentences to get out around the same time. You’d love to hang out with him free, even if you refuse to say it. Belle Reve doesn’t exactly allow conjugal visits, though. 

You watch your peripherals, Adrian on one side sipping his Corona and keeping the men of Task Force X away from you, Rick on the other side with his eyes tracing your curves as you sway to the music. Adrian to the naked eye looks like he’s not paying attention to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He sways awkwardly and scans the crowd, one eye always on you and his fingers every so often brushing against your leg. His way of checking in. Rick is more stiff, Rick is more obvious about watching you. You notice his fist clench when you brush your knuckles against Adrian’s arms. You notice how tight he holds his beer. You notice the fit of his pants. 

You catch on to the fact that Rick knows what Adrian is to you, because he only decides to make his move towards you when Adrian moves away to make two more drinks for you. 

You nod to the bar stool next to you, eyes not leaving the small crowd. Funny, you'd heard these missions are some kind of Suicide Squad, but here you were with the crew of sixteen still hanging on strong. 

“Great party, thanks for hosting,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm, although maybe you shouldn’t be too harsh on the guy. He’s not the guy that put a bomb in your neck.

“Sure,” he laughs, low and under his breath, and he clinks his beer bottle against your empty glass.

“Can I ask you something?” Rick slides up next to you at the bar, looking past you instead of at you. It’s clear he’s trying to sus out Vig, who is dancing back towards you with his two signature concoctions. You roll your eyes at the Colonel, but lean in anyway, pushing your chest closer.

“I don’t know why I’d talk to you, unless thats an order,” you snark at him, and maybe thats unfair, but it’s part of the game. 

“It’s not… don’t do that,”Rick dismisses your wide smile, the game of cat and mouse begun. You know exactly what he’s about to ask, but you have to make him work for it. 

“Why him?” he asks, eyes darting from you to the man behind you briefly. You smirk, of course he asks that. Probing, looking to see if he has a chance; thinking he’s being slick about it. Adrian turns back towards you as if summoned, his weird ability to just know making him come back as if the leash around his neck were tightened. He has another drink for you, pink and fizzy. 

You roll your eyes and grab the drink Adrian made for you from his hand, lifting it to your lips.

“Well, it was either him or Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Man,” you joke, voice deadpan as you punctuate your statement with a swig from the glass. You grimace. It’s almost all rum. Adrian is handsome but, my god, is he bad at ratios.

“Yeah…” Adrian joins the conversation eagerly, ready to agree with whatever you say before actually processing it. His eyes widen behind his thick glasses as he turns to fully look at you. He finally figured out what you were implying, and a smile slowly forms on your lips hidden by the rim of the glass.

“Wait really? But he’s got that, like, tree hand!”

You snort with laughter, and Rick cautiously laughs too. Like he’s in on the joke, you think. 

“It would be like that scene in Evil Dead, but consensual,” Adrian continues, his voice rising just like his concern. You roll your eyes at him, already expecting this reaction. Adrian talks big game about being unshakeable but you find it so easy to rile him up. 

“Calm down, Spaghetti Squash. You’re much sweeter than he is,” you pat Adrian’s cheek and he beams at you, wide mouthed and toothy and tipsy. You drag your hand slowly down his face, tracing his jaw before you let your hand fall back into your lap. 

“And Handsomer?” he fishes for the compliment, and you playfully frown at him. 

“You always ask questions you know the answer to,” you tease, and Adrian’s smile never fades. 

Rick must be feeling pretty voyeuristic right now, you think, watching two people who just plainly adore each other flirt and touch in front of him; but Rick also doesn’t flinch away from this, you notice. Maybe he likes watching. 

“He makes me laugh,” you answer your commanding officer, turning back to him finally.

“Is that a Who Framed Roger Rabbit quote?” He asks, brows furrowed, but a smirk on his face. Okay, play ball, Colonel Flag.

“See, Adrian? I told you Goody Two Shoes was a man of taste,” you glance up at Adrian again before focusing your attention back on Rick Flag. Zero in, Aim, Kill. 

“Is that how you see me?” he asks, a challenge. 

You tilt your head, a non-answer. Yes, kind of. He himself is good. Maybe too good. Thats probably why he does this silly little Icarus dance and gets too close to people who can and will burn him when they kiss. You glance down at his drink, then back at him and the light glistening of the residue of beer on his bottom lip, the way it shimmers in the light. 

Rick is handsome in a way Adrian isn’t. While Adrian is THE choice when it comes to general compatibility and attraction and survival, Rick is A choice. He’s serious, kind, and genuinely tries to see the good in everyone, even if there isn’t any to be found. He’s a gamble, mostly because he’s more willing to gamble. He would put his faith in you and hope you would be by his side even without a bomb in your neck. He’s built like Magic Mike. 

“Let Adrian make your next drink,” You tell him, lying, “He’s a master mixologist.”

Rick’s eyes move from you to your protector, whose gloved hand is now possessively on the back of your neck, right where the bomb was placed. 

“And why should I do that?” he counters. Adrian tenses. 

“Because maybe,” you grab Adrian’s hand and clasp it within yours, “We’ll let you keep drinking with us. You have my vote, you need to earn his.”

Rick laughs, and slumps back from you; his eyebrow twitches in curiosity. Hook, line, sinker. You squeeze Adrian’s hand. 

“And how would I do that?” Rick asks. 

You laugh as you take his free hand, leading both him and Adrian to another room. 

Rick doesn’t understand this game. 

All he knows is that he seems to lose every card he pulls, and at least half of the cards you pull. He went to college enough to know this is some deranged version of King’s Cup, but he doesn’t remember a rule that lets Adrian lick rum off of your chest or a rule that means you have to pop off a round when you pull the King. 

After his third seemingly bad card, he realized you were lying about the Vigilante’s mixing abilities. He’s a heavy pour with no eye for ratios, not unlike his heavy handed and uneven idea of justice. Rick figures thats why you and that maniac fit well, both twisted and curious and reckless in the same ways. It’s attractive in you though, as much as it is off-putting about Adrian. 

Ricks eyes follow Adrian’s tongue though, wet and flat and lavishing the liquor between your breasts, watching how he leaves goosebumps on your skin in his wake. He watches as Adrian shamelessly dips his face into the opening of your vest, realizing that he would push the younger man out of the way for his own turn if you gave him permission. Rick knows he shouldn't shit where he eats. Rick knows Waller would demote him in a second if she knew he was letting you and your de facto guard dog have special privileges on this mission. Rick knows he shouldn't have taken you up on your offer to play any game, let alone one involving alcohol.  

You seem to whisper something to Adrian, his rum soaked chin between your nimble fingers and he moves away to take his seat again. 

“My turn,” you smirk as you pull the next card from the deck, flipping it to show Rick instead of yourself. 

“Jack of Spades,” he tells you. Your eyes dart to Adrian before you smile at him. That can’t be good. 

“Never have I ever,” Adrian clarifies. Rick squints in confusion.

“I thought Jacks were categories,” he says, challenging the younger man. 

“Well now they’re not,” you chime in, something sweetly venomous in your tone, daring him to keep pressing the issue. Rick is a man that knows when to back down. 

He sighs as he puts up his hand, three fingers ready to go. You and Adrian both put up a hand as well, and you start as the card puller. 

“Never have I ever… fucked Harley Quinn,” you stare him down as you wiggle your fingers, a cheap shot at him. Rick will remember that. 

It’s his turn. 

“Never have I ever… been arrested,” Rick admits, and you narrow your eyes at him as you and Adrian both put down a finger. 

There’s a bit of pride in Rick’s posture as he settles in, all of you now on equal footing. 

“Never have I ever,” Adrian starts, then pauses, biting his tongue between his straight teeth, “Worked for a government that lies.”

It’s clear that was supposed to be a dig at Rick, competition between the two.

“Ade, baby, you’re doing that right now,” you whisper to him in a soothing voice, husky but gentle. His shoulders immediately drop in disappointment. 

“So you drink,” you tell him, nudging his hand holding the glass with your knuckle. He drinks, and puts another finger down, his admittance to defeat this round. 

“Okay, okay,” you draw the attention back to yourself, despite your eyes watching the way Adrian’s adams apple bobs as he swallows. 

“Never have I ever gotten a promotion.”

Again, Rick is the only one to put down a finger. Now he and Adrian have one finger up, and you still have your two. They’re on the same level, something they both have to be painfully aware of as you eye them up like you’ll catch and cook them. 

“Never have I ever gone to prom,” Rick offers quickly, shutting up any giggle that might be on your lips as you put a finger down, now tied with the men. 

“You poor things,” you muse, but Rick can tell you don’t mean it. There’s sarcasm on your tone that makes him think maybe the movie Carrie wasn’t too far off. 

“Never have I ever been an only child,” Adrian says, quickly, like hes trying to throw the whole game away. There’s something about how he shifts in his seat that looks like he’s starting to get antsy of it. 

Only you put your finger down. You’re out first, a fact that surprises you as much as it probably surprises the others as well.

“Shit,” you swear under your breath, and take a quick swig of your drink. 

“What do you want me to do?” you ask, refusing to look at either of them, your scowl settling into your features. Right, the loser has to do something for the winners.

Your file comes to mind for Rick, and your reactions to the failed mayoral race. 

Adrian wordlessly pulls you onto his lap, and your smile returns, if only briefly. 

“Dunno about Rick, but I want you right here,” Adrian tells you, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Well, we can keep playing if you want,” Rick offers, “Y’know, we can all lose… learn a little bit more about each other.”

Anything so he doesn’t have to see that pout again. 

Fuck, Waller’s gonna skin him. 

You shrug, and he figures thats all he’s gonna get. 

“Never have I ever had a secret identity,” Rick offers, and Adrian happily puts his finger down. He’s out too. 

“Never have I ever,” you glance between the two men, and for the first time you look like you didn’t have one loaded in the barrel, “Had… a threesome.”

Rick’s eyebrows shoot up as he too puts a finger down, finally out as well. 

“No way, who?” Adrian asks, and this is maybe the first time Adrian has addressed him personally. 

“A good man doesn’t kiss and tell,” Rick replies.

“Boring,” Adrian says. 

And then he pulls a card, as if the air in the room had not just crackled with tension. 

Queen.

“So its questions?” Rick asks, hoping the rules haven’t changed again.

“Do you finally get it?” you reply, jumping right back into the game. 

“Why did it take you so long?” asks Adrian. 

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Aren’t you military trained?”

“Didn’t you say you knew we were crazy like an hour ago?”

“Hasn’t… ugh… shit,” Rick runs out of steam the questions firing too quickly. 

“Take your shirt off,” you don’t miss a beat, shrugging, “because you lost.”

If you had thought earlier that tonight would have gone as well this, you would have really thought you lost your mind. Adrian twitches, thrusting a little harder into you, an attempt at a poker face forced onto his face. Rick’s eyes trained on you, maybe the same way he trains his eye on a target. 

Rick leans back in his chair, in only his boxers, sweat coating his chest as he does nothing to hide the fact that he’s hard watching this display. 

Adrian lazily rolls his hips into you, your jacket partially obscuring what’s happening, but you know Rick isn’t stupid. He knows Adrian is fucking you, knows your skirt is pushed up in just the right way and your underwear pushed to the side. 

Adrian was barely subtle when he did it, rearranging you on his lap after the latest round of mini games had him losing his own gear and pants. You'd managed to be winning, your jacket and your skirt still on, your boots and vest tossed somewhere behind the chairs. He got handsy, big and warm and calloused against your skin. They traveled under your jacket, down your body, down your skirt. He hitched up. his knee, pushing you further back onto his lap, using his adjusting as an excuse to maneuver himself out of his boxers and under your skirt. You know you faltered, eyes fluttering as his length pushed against you, a shuddering gasp as you felt his hand pull your underwear to the side. 

Adrian, however, acted nonchalant. He joked and took swigs of his drink and talked with you and Rick as if he wasn't playing you like a fiddle, as if he was not positioning you to sit pretty on his cock. 

This is actually only the second time you’ve fucked Adrian. You don’t count hand stuff between the bars or weird touching in the mess hall when you have time out of your cell. You know his cock, but you’re still surprised at how amazing it feels when he fills you, sat on his lap and filled to the brim with him, the only movement his little thrusts pushing even deeper than you thought possible. 

Rick watches like a hawk, and you wink at him as he pulls another card. 

“Eight,” He reveals.

“Pick a date,” You explain.

He points at you, and you lean over to grab your drink. The change in angle makes you moan, and you do so shamelessly. 

“Ade, want me to grab one for you while I’m down here?” you ask, knowing another moan will escape you when you lean back again. 

“Fuckin… Yeah,” Adrian gasps. He’s so cute. 

You grab a card and pull yourself back up, attempting to bite back this moan. You fail as you lock eyes with Rick, something animalistic in his gaze. You shiver. Fuck. You want him too. You tear your eyes away from him to look at the playing card. 

“Ten,” you tell him. 

“Truth or dare! Alright!” Adrian is enthusiastic. 

“Okay, babe, truth or dare?” He asks you. 

“Truth,” you respond, deciding to play it safe at first. 

“Boring!” he exclaims, “ But, are you loving this right now?”

You nod, laughing as you lean into him. Again, Rick is a voyeur. 

“Rick,” you address him, still in Adrian world, still curled into him.

“Yeah?”

“You jealous?” You ask.

He’s silent for a moment, long enough for you to turn and look at him again, this time with hunger in your eyes. 

“Yeah, kinda.”

You laugh, a little too dark to be a giggle, a little too light to have malicious intent. 

“Truth or dare, Adrian?” Rick asks, which surprises you. 

“Truth,” he declares, and punctuates it by rolling his hips up into you again, dragging himself against you, and you bite your lip. A show. 

“Do you consider me a challenge?” he asks. Oh, it’s a dick measuring contest, you realize. 

He contemplates it, and then moves his hand to your face, his thumb on your lip. You open your mouth, taking the digit between your lips, sucking. 

“I don’t know how I could even think of you as a challenge. I mean…” He trails off, his index finger tapping your cheek. 

“Fair enough,” Rick concedes. 

“Truth or dare?” Adrian responds, to Rick, which surprises you. You look between the two men, stilling any motion, like the freeze frame before a fight. 

“Dare,” Rick all but snarls, clearly calling Adrian’s challenge. It's interesting, being fought over like this. People have fought over your resources, your power, your alliance, but never yourself. It's a bit of an ego trip, one that strokes you better than any cock could.

“I dare you to try and show her a better time than I could,” Adrian says, and then looks to you. 

His hips still as his eyes meet yours, a silent as if this is okay? You want this? And maybe, will you still pick me after all of this? His eyes are bright behind his glasses, not shying away from the fact that he’s watching you, his thumb still between your kiss swollen lips. You lead the charge, you let Adrian follow. Strangely loyal, awfully endearing. How is it that you spent your entire life in the Pacific Northwest without passing him earlier? 

You nod, giving him the okay, and take his hand into yours, pulling his thumb from your lips. You swivel your hips, quietly moaning as you resettle yourself in his lap, and let him press a possessive kiss on your neck.

“You sure?” you whisper to him, and he shrugs nonchalantly. Adrian doesn't really seem like the kind of guy that would be okay with this, but if he says so, you cannot deny it. 

Wordlessly, you motion for Rick to approach, and he crosses the room slowly. He gives you a show, his underwear leaving little to the imagination, the light layer of sweat making his muscles shine in the light. Rick smirks at you, easygoing despite how you can see his hand twitching. Is he sure he’s had a threesome before?

You lick your lips as he stops in front of you, and Adrian grabs for your jacket. You stare up at Rick expectantly as Adrian pulls the leather down your arms, baring your chest to the Colonel. His eyes travel down your body shamelessly, committing your body to memory, painting your portrait in his mind.

“So how should we…?” he trails off, not sure how to proceed. Adrian makes a decision for him, though, and puts his hands firmly on your hips. You’re not going anywhere, especially as he fucks up into you, the chair below him creaking. He snaps his hips to claim his place and also yours. You’re not going to fucking move. You gasp, hand reaching back to steady yourself against his firm chest, fingers flexing against his muscles. This doesn't deter Rick, however, who takes another step towards you, stopping just in front of your knees.

“Well?” you ask, expectantly, and his smirk turns into a smile as he huffs out a small laugh. Rick unceremoniously yanks down his boxers, already leaving little to the imagination but still you cannot hide the shock in your eyes when you finally see his cock. 

Rick’s cock is long, handsome as he is, and a delicious shade of pink. You reach out, fingers curling around the base of his cock as you smile up at him. If Rick didn't know better, he’d think you were an angel. Good thing he knows better.

You pump his cock at the same rythm Adrian fucks you, his thrusts and your fist moving in tandem. You’re mesmerized by the way Rick’s brows scrunch up, as if you've unlocked his kryptonite, attention being the thing to break through his attempted cool exterior. Its beautiful. He’s beautiful.

You laugh, lips breaking into a smile, and you bend forward, Adrians grip on your hips changing his angle inside you shifting. He groans behind you appreciatively, and one of his hands gives your ass a slap. Rick flexes, and rolls his shoulders back.

“Do you like that?” you ask him, your voice a seductive whisper. You don't slow your rhythm, you don't look away; Adrian doesnt slow his rhythm, Rick doesnt look away.

“I like you,” Rick responds, just as flirty. You laugh, breathy and light, never breaking eye contact with your commanding officer. You roll your hips, feeling Adrian’s hands tightening on you. 

“Of course you do,” you say with a roll of your eyes, finally breaking the contact. Your hand moves slowly, concentrating on running your thumb up and down the vein on the underside of his cock.

“Want some more?” he asks, stepping between yours and Adrian’s legs, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hear from behind you, Adrian cursing as his hands loosen their grip on your hips. 

You sigh, you should have known this would happen. Adrian doesnt seem like the sharing type, even if Rick is. You release your grip on Rick’s cock, leaning away until you back touches Adrian’s chest. You look up at him, and he doesn't look at you. 

“Adrian?” you coo, voice venomously sweet. 

He grunts.

“Adrian?” you call to him again, voice like a song as you reach up and run a finger along his jawline. 

“What?” he practically spits the word.

“Honey, where is your cock right now?” you ask him gently as if you don’t both know, continuing to run your finger along his jawline, a comforting gesture. 

Finally, Adrian leans into your touch, and his arms wrap around your waist. One hand dips down, and he teases your clit. You gasp, moan turning into a giggle. 

“In this sweet pussy,” he answers. 

“Uh huh, so let Rick play a little. His presence here is an unethical power imbalance and I think he knows that. He’s gonna play nice with me,” you tell him, scrunching your nose at him cutely. You turn your attention back to Rick, raising an eyebrow to silently ask him if he agrees. He smiles slowly, and you reach out for him again.

Rick guides your hand back to his cock, letting you grasp him once more. 

Your teamwork resumes: Adrian You Rick, Adrian You Rick. Adrian setting the speed, the pace, leaning back in the chair for leverage to fuck up into you. Grunt, moan, gasp. Groan, gasp, moan. For the first time since the game started, you can actually hear the music floating through the air from the little radio. Some crooner sets the background for this devil’s threesome unfolding. 

You speed up your movements, breaking the rhythm, and Rick inhales sharply between his teeth, a loud and discordant noise that seems to break the spell. Adrian’s hands seize your hips roughly again, seeking to possess you. 

Fuck.

“Listen, Man,” Rick addresses Adrian awkwardly, his jaw twitching as you speed up your movements even more, your wrist working him over. 

“What, man?” Adrian asks, petulant and sarcastic. You didn't know he knew how to do that. He’s full of surprises, you think. 

“Don't you think I know what's happening here?”

Okay, that makes you pause. Maybe Rick is more perceptive than you originally thought. 

“Your girl here is trying to honey pot me,” he explains, his hand reaching down to adjust your grasp on him, tighter, “Am I right?”

You nod up at him, nervous for once. 

“She figures if she shows me a good time I’ll pull some strings to give you time enough off your sentences so you can be released together,” he explains, and Adrian’s grip on you softens, only to have his rough hand run up and down your side. 

“Are you gonna?” Adrian asks, his desire to be out with you overtaking his desire to comment on an unethical exchange of sexual favors. 

Rick only shrugs.

“Why not?”

That seems to be the only answer both men need, and you breathe a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding. 

Adrian’s hand dips forward again to find your clit, and your next breath is a shuddering gasp. 

“You wanna be a honey pot?” he asks you, his pressure on your clit increasing, almost painfully. You nod, a needy whine escaping your lips. 

“Then show Colonel Flag how sweet you are,” he commands you, his lips now against the shell of your ear. He speeds up his fingers, panting into your ear as he shallowly thrusts into you, your bodies flush. You feel helpless, a moaning mess losing yourself to your own pleasure, almost embarrassingly so. Your head rolls back onto Adrian’s shoulder, and your over kissed lips part into a dazed smile. You meet Rick’s eyes as Adrian’s movements start to make your body jolt and shake. Your orgasm, rapidly approaching, evident to everyone. 

“C’mon baby,” Adrian encourages you, his fingers digging into your thigh, holding you open as he continues his onslaught, pleasure and pain now one in the same, white heat beginning to seep into the corners of your vision.

Until the dam breaks. Adrian holds you in place, only slowing down to give you slight mercy. Rick watches intensely, his eyes never leaving your face, even as your eyes roll back and your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body wracked with tremors as your orgasm hits you like a flooding storm. Adrian holds you tightly through it all, bringing you back to earth slowly. Your chest heaves, and your eyes meet Rick’s again. 

Sweet enough? You silently ask him, and he smiles, understanding fully. Adrian seems to understand too, as he pulls you up off his lap, hissing at the air hitting his cock, cold compared to the heat of your cunt.

You stand unsteadily, almost dizzy as you use your legs for the first time in over an hour. Rick reaches out for you, pulling you into his arms as you steady yourself, his warmth radiating over you.

“Wanna lay down?” he asks, as if he already knows what you want. Yes, yes of course you do, you nod your head and he leads you over to the little table, pushing all of the discarded deck onto the floor as he gently lays you down. Adrian gets up and joins Rick, standing on the opposite end of the table. You lay back, face to face with Adrian as your spine flattens out against the formica. He smiles at you sweetly, and you return it, before he winks. As if you read his mind, you open your mouth for him, and he leans down and spits between your lips. You smile up at him, eyes full of nothing but adoration. 

“You want my mouth?” you ask him, and he shakes his head no. Rick the voyeur switches places with him, rounding the table until he’s standing next to your head. 

“Stay still,” Rick warns you, his hands gently tilting your head back to lean off the edge of the table. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you obey.

“Don’t,” Rick pauses, grimaces, blushes red as a tomato, “Don’t say that.”

You immediately tilt your head back up, looking for Adrian with wild amusement painted on your features. 

“Did you hear that?” you giggle, snapping your fingers at Adrian from his spot between your legs. He laughs along with you, pointing at Rick, who rolls his eyes. 

“Colonel’s got a Daddy kink!” you laugh, only stopped when Rick pulls your back down, bringing your attention back on him to shut you up.

“You want a taste?” he asks, grasping his cock by the base, and stepping closer to your bruised lips.

You nod, eagerly. The tip of his cock touches your lips, and you gladly part them to let Rick push his cock between them. You push your tongue out to taste him, salty and hot against you, your tongue massaging him as you take him fully into your mouth. Fuck, he feels good in your mouth, just as good as you thought he would. He pushes slowly, whether hes testing the waters or afraid to hurt you, you arent sure. But you want more, no, need it even. He takes a few more shallow thrusts, slow and even and safe.

We can’t have that, now can we?

You grab his hips, thumbs dipping right against his v-line as you pull him closer to you, taking him as deep as you can. Rick gasps, then groans in surprise, his voice strained as he gets used to the sensation of his cock down your throat. 

Adrian, not one to be outdone, only watches the show for a moment before focusing his attention back to your cunt. Which, in his opinion, is only too clothed. 

Adrian pushes your skirt up around your waist, bunching the fabric up ungracefully. His fingers rake down the front of your underwear, wet and twisted and useless now that Adrian had already made a previous mess of them. Impatient to a fault, repositioning you to pull them off smoothly would take too long. 

Your focus is pulled from the heat of Rick’s cock by cool steel against your hip, and without pulling yourself off of Rick you hum, trying to get attention as you ask what the fuck is going on. Rick reaches down to rub his thumb along your chin in comfort.

“Adrian’s got a knife,” Rick explains, and as you feel the elastic of your underwear break, you relax once more. You had told Adrian one night in your cell that you wanted him to do that to you once he got his knives back. He’s a good listener.

 You swivel your tongue along Rick’s cock, the hot velvet soft skin and salty sweat. You hollow out your cheeks, pride blooming in your chest as the commanding officer groans like a much more desperate man.

Adrian’s cock once again presses against your entrance, a key into a lock, and he sinks into you slowly, a loud and blissful moan spilling from his lips. You can only imagine the smile on his face. The same smooth drag, the fullness of him returns to you, and you moan around Rick’s shaft. You feel the shiver up his spine from here. He likes that, you notice, and file it away in your mind to use against him. 

Adrian is not slow and gentle for long, though, quickly picking up speed now that he has the freedom to have you spead out below him like this. 

His hips slamming into you shakes the table, rocking your mouth farther onto Rick’s cock. You gag, sharply inhaling through your nose to try to keep control. You reach out to him, your fingers wrapping around his forearms to stabalize you, so that maybe next time Adrian decides to be rough it wont end with Rick bruising your vocal cords. Rick moves his hands, gripping the edge of the table to keep you in place. Adrian hammers into you, fucking you onto Rick, once again a tandem rhythm between the three of you.

“Jesus, Colonel, is that your dick?” you hear Adrian ask as he presses your thighs farther apart.

“Yep,” You hear Rick confirm, his hand coming off the edge of table to brush his fingertips across your neck, “Pretty little throat your girl’s got.”

“Don’t I know it?” Adrian asks, and that effectively ends their conversation again. You’re glad 

theyre starting to get along. You feel Adrian’s hands running up and down your thighs, massaging his thumbs into the muscles, but you can only be so pliant beneath him when tension builds and pools in your stomach, threatening to bring you over the edge again. 

You try to focus on one or the other. Try to focus on keeping your cheeks hollow and your tongue moving for Rick. Try to focus on not coming again on Adrian’s cock while he teases and manipulates your body. You feel like you're failing though, and falling all the same, your muscles feel weak against both of them, hard and strong, your body filled with white-hot heat like molten lava.

Adrian breaks your thoughts by yanking both of your legs together, your knees knocking together roughly. Heat turning supernova, you moan loud around Rick’s cock, and he himself moans in response. 

“That gonna get you to come for me again?” Adrian asks, laughter in his voice as he places both of your ankles on one shoulder, hugging your legs to his chest. The angle is… divine. Your eyes screw shut tightly, stars bursting behind your eyelids. He’s such a little shit.

You hum affirmatively again around Rick’s cock, and his hips stutter against your face, knocking into your chin.

“Fuck, Doll, you gotta stop doing that,” he sighs, but you can barely hear him. No, you’re focusing to holding onto your sanity. Everything feels so so so much, everything is Adrian and Rick, Adrian and Rick, and you melting between them. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. 

A strangled cry fights its way from your mouth, and a cord snaps within you. You shudder, and Adrian leans down to pin you down even further, slowing down this time to give you a little mercy. He is sweet. He works you through your orgasm slowly, gently pulling it from you, gently letting you back down to earth, gently letting the pleasure crash over you in waves. He thrusts slowly, dragging himself from you before every slow thrust in, taking you apart and putting you back together. You float back down into yourself slowly, held by both of them. Adrian pressed against you and Rick now running his fingers through your hair. 

Rick pulls out slowly, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and finally you can swallow properly, your sore jaw slack and tired. Adrian presses a kiss to the back of your knee, pulling out as well. You groan at the loss of him, at the heat leaving your body. Then again, at the feeling of goosebumps covering your skin. He lets your legs down gently, your heels coming to rest on the edge of the table as he holds you lazily. 

Rick leans down, eyes dark and lustful, handsome and fully focused on you. He is dangerous. 

“Can I have that honey pot, gorgeous?” Rick asks you, face close enough to kiss. You lean up, craning your neck to do just that. He tastes like rum and vanilla, sickeningly sweet. Your hand reaches up to pull him even closer, your nails raking through his soft hair. Rick’s hand quickly finds your chest, his thumb brushing over your nipple. What a tease, you think. 

He parts his lips from you slowly, eyes staying closed as if savoring the moment to commit to memory. 

“You can have whatever you want,” you whisper, and Rick seems to preen at that. He stands tall again and moves to take Adrian’s place. Adrian doesn't budge though. 

“You gonna…?” Rick trails off, holding out his hand to gesture Adrian to the side. Adrian still doesn't budge, his feet planted to the floor. You roll your eyes, bored of the competition. Men. 

“I think I’m good here,” Adrian shrugs, his fingers idly running up and down the side of your leg.

“Don’t act like she’s not the one that holds your leash, Vig,” Rick shoots back, pointing out a truth, “Everyone sees how you protect her. She's a big girl.”

Adrian visibly deflates, his shoulders drooping. If you didn’t know better, you would think Rick’s gaze is softening in guilt. But you do know better. 

“Don’t worry, babe, you’re the only one that gets to come inside,” you stage whisper to him, looking at Rick the whole time. He gets it and nods instantly in reassurance.

“Better be,” Adrian pouts, “And maybe he should only get you from behind.”

It’s a little petty on Adrian’s part, but you have a bond. The Colonel is an interloper at the end of the night, and Adrian’s comfort is important. 

“I can work with that,” Rick pipes up, slapping a reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder, which surprisingly is not shrugged off. Adrian even looks a little surprised at the turn of events, as if he’s used to others making him put up more of a fight to get what he wants.

You turn yourself over, ignoring the ache in your core, dropping onto your feet off the edge of the table to bend over. The cool air hits you, and finally you realize just how wet you are. Fuck. 

Adrian is reluctant as he moves in front of you, but he seems thankful of the shitty table, and the ability to kiss you before he grabs your head to lower it on his shaft. He kisses you softly, holding both sides of your face in his big hands. You press your lips to his eagerly, a salve to whatever hurt his ego feels in this whole situation. You know you’ll hear an earful when you go to sleep next to him later, but you don’t mind. Not when he looks like that.

You’re broken from your thoughts by the feeling of another pair of rough hands; this time finding purchase on your hips. Adrian breaks the kiss somewhat reluctantly, licking the seam of your lips before he pulls away. 

You smile up at him again, and he grabs his shaft, pumping from the base to the tip twice. Like a fucking pornstar. 

“Open up?” he asks, and you oblige, dramatically parting your lips and sticking your tongue out for show. His nose scrunches, his glasses fogging slightly as he laughs through his nose, and he inches closer to you, teasing you with the tip just out of reach. You pout, and then smile as he gives in, resting the fat head of his cock against your tongue.

Rick’s cock brushes against your entrance, only for a moment, and then he pushes his entire length into you with one thrust, filling you entirely. 

You moan, loud and wanton, pushed further onto Adrian’s shaft as well. Both of them fill you, completely.

Rick lingers, savoring the feeling of being fully inside you, holding your hips and your bodies flush together. He pulls himself out again slowly, almost completely, dragging against you, friction that makes you whine, open mouthed and loud around Adrian’s shaft, and his grip on your head only becomes tighter. Rick takes the opportunity to land a hard smack against your ass, hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to make his mark on you the way that Adrian has, hard enough to lay claim to you.

He then begins thrusting in earnest; long, savoring strokes you're sure he will remember later, fucking his fist in the shower. 

The edge of the table digs into the flesh of your thighs, you can imagine the indents they'll leave, a sweet reminder as you're sure it'll be sore to walk tomorrow. He presses into you deep, each thrust harder than the last, each thrust earning him a moan.

You push back against him, arching your back into each of his movements. Adrian moves differently, barely thrusting his hips, small movements while he keeps himself deep in your mouth, his tip kissing the back of your throat with every little push of his hips. 

The room fills with moans, all three of you together harmoniously, hitting your stride. 

“Fucking amazing,” Rick sighs, beginning to speed up his thrusts, his hip bones bumping against your ass.

“Right?” Adrian agrees, his thumb swiping against your cheek. Wet, like the rest of you.

“You’re a lucky man, Vigilante.”

And without warning Rick changes his angle, hips now connecting with the bottom of your ass, and you nearly scream. This new angle… this is… excruciating pleasure. 

He reaches a part of you that your hadn't already known, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that makes your vision blur. He hits it over and over, your eyes rolling back into your head as your orgasm rushes almost embarrassingly.

You feel yourself tightening around him, feel all of your muscles seizing. You try as hard as you can to keep your jaw where it is for Adrian despite the fact that Rick has the rest of your body curling in on itself.

He speeds up, continuing to hit that spot, hit that place in you. Your toes curl, and you lose your composure quickly, now moaning every time he fills you to the hilt. 

You moan on Adrian’s cock, your throat vibrating around his cock, and at some point he just stops thrusting, enjoying the feeling of you on him in your current state too much.

Rick keeps thrusting, your back arching to the point where your body almost comes off the table, your hips rising almost uncomfortably to meet the angle he has set to make you come beneath him, and expertly so. You're barrelling towards that high, bracing yourself to let yourself go, to go limp around Rick Flag, to show him…

“Fuck,” Rick curses, pulling out harshly. He taps the tip of his cock against your ass a few times, and then sighs deeply.

“You are something else,” he laughs, his free hand running down your hip. Adrian takes this as his cue, and pulls himself out of your mouth too. Unlike with Rick, you whine at the loss of Adrian. You look up at him through your lashes, his smile cocky and excited. 

“You wanna finish the job?” you ask your protector, and he nods eagerly, the smile never slipping.

You turn your attention back to the older man. 

“It’s okay, Colonel,” you coo, your voice once again sweet with that venom, taunting, “You can have my mouth again.”

Rick isn’t going to think twice about it, and he switches places with Adrian to stand in front of you again, gathering your hair in his fist. You lock eyes with him as your tongue darts out of your mouth, a gentle lick to the head of his cock. He shudders, clearly ready. Well, you’re not one to waste time. You pull him in closer by the hips, taking his length back into your mouth. 

He groans appreciatively when the back of your throat meets the tip of his cock again, kissing it. Quick, shallow thrusts this time, less about exploring you and more about an eagerness to meet his end, and to watch you meet your end once again. He holds your head still, fucking your mouth, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have cards to deal as well. 

You swivel your tongue along the vein on the underside of his shaft, mapping it like hills and valleys. 

He’s quick, head thrown back in pleasure and chest heaving. Adrian is not one to be outdone though, and enters you equally as quickly, no show or frills or gentleness this time. He enters you as a means to an end as well.

Both men thrust into you hungrily, chasing a high only given by you. Adrian reaches down, bending his body over you until his fingers reach your clit again, moving with a pace and desperation to make you scream around Rick’s cock. His arm will probably be as bruised as your thighs will be tomorrow morning, but it’s clear he doesn’t care, hammering into you again. 

The tension you felt under Rick comes back almost immediately, your body tensing and curling for Adrian now as he puts himself deep inside you. Rick has to almost work against Adrian, his own thrusts having to fit in the waves and crashes of Adrian’s hips.

Adrian works you over, your body constricting and tensing under Adrian’s generous moans, watches you as you start to lose it.

“That's it babe, show the Colonel how good you are,” Adrian encourages, the pressure of his finger on your clit now almost violent, knowing how ready you are.

“Let go,” Adrian urges, his voice so low and wanting. Instead of you, its Rick that lets go, filling your throat with his release, salty and hot, but easy to swallow. He tastes good, not too much not too little. You swallow him down eagerly, making eye contact the entire time, and you're almost sure he sheds a tear. 

It's seconds later that Adrian makes you come again. 

You shudder, hard and unsexy under him, and entire loss of control, but you hide none of it from Rick. He knows you, or at least he should. Adrian comes shortly after, his release with a groan, and the two of you sink to the floor as a unit, connected, held together. Adrian keeps you close.

Your head shoots up from Rick’s shoulder as if you’ve been burned, your eyes wide as you turn your face towards the pile of his clothes. The Colonel unravels himself from you and the Vigilante, a pile of limbs doused in sweat and spit and salt. His phone vibrates; the case clattering against his belt buckle, the screen a bright intrusion to the dim lights, reflecting off of the rum bottles like christmas lights. Rick stumbles towards it, pulled by duty. Adrian pulls at you by the handful, fully enveloping you in his embrace. One so new and yet already so comforting. You picked right when you set your sights on him. 

Rick bends down to pick up his phone, showing you a great view of that ass of his. You rake your fingernails over Adrian’s bicep, tracing the scar tissue lines across soft freckled skin while you watch what the other man does. 

Rick’s screen illuminates a grimace on his face. Your brows furrow in confusion, and then realization.

“Waller?” you ask, voice partially muffled by how Adrian has himself wrapped around you.

“Yup,” Rick confirms, knowing he’s probably a dead man. 

You and Adrian burst into laughter.

He’s so fucking dead. 

Rick slips on his underwear and leaves the room to take the call. 

[virtualreader]

birthday present

rickgrimesxfem!reader

summary: you weren't expecting anyone to remember that today was your birthday, and definitely did not expect a certain cowboy to give you not one, but two birthday presents.

word count: 1,2k.

genre: smut (and a little bit of fluff)

warnings: p in v (unprotected), fingering, sensory deprivation, praising.

a/n: this is my first time writing smut, I know I have a lot of scope for improvement, so feedback is certainly appreciated.

+18 content below, minors dni, nsfw, please do not read it if you're uncomfortable with this topic!

"C’mon, take it. I got it for ya," Rick insisted, handing you the small box. The messily wrapped newspaper sheet was held in place by a delicate blue ribbon, which attempted to form a bow on top of it.

You were always living in a daze, with no sense of time. However, Rick was surprisingly able to keep track of the days and make sure to surprise you every year with a small gift. Some years, it would be a bouquet of flowers, and other years it would be a small trinket that he had picked up on one of his runs. Regardless of what it was, it always brought a smile to your face and made you feel loved.

You couldn't help but wonder how he managed to keep track of the calendar when you could barely remember what day of the week it was. But that was just another one of the many little mysteries that made him such a special person to you.

You carefully untied the ribbon and unwrapped the newspaper to reveal a small, silver necklace. The pendant on the necklace was in the shape of a cowboy hat, a nod to Rick's own hat that he always wore and which now belonged to Carl. You smiled, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

"Thank you, Rick. This is beautiful," you said, putting on the necklace and admiring the way it caught the light. Rick grinned, pleased with your reaction.

"Well, I couldn't let your birthday go by without getting you something," he replied. "But that's not all. I've got one more surprise for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blindfold.

He covered your eyes with the cloth, tying it loosely behind your head. Normally the darkness would be something scary, not knowing what’s around you or what could happen next, but you had to admit that in these circumstances it pretty much turned you on.

You felt Rick’s hand on your arm, guiding you through the house. He closed the door of what you supposed was your bedroom behind him. And before you could even ask what was going on he put your hand on his throbbing budge.

You gasped in surprise, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Rick, what…?" you started to say, but he interrupted you.

"Happy birthday, darlin'," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I wanted to give you something special this year."

You felt his lips on yours, and you couldn't help but lose yourself in the moment. The blindfold made everything feel more intense and intimate, and you were grateful for the darkness that allowed you to focus solely on the sensations coursing through your body.

As he pushed you down onto the bed, you could feel the intensity of his passion emanating from his movements. Rick's desire was palpable as he moved frantically on top of you, his body consumed by lust.

Briefly pulling away, he hiked up his shirt, revealing his taut, muscular abdomen. With your hands pinned up against the bedhead, you felt a shiver run down your spine as Rick's mouth found the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue teased and tantalized your skin, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

“We’re going to have to work on keeping you still, baby.” he rasped against your neck as you wiggle under him.

The grip on your hand tightened, and the old bed squeaked along with your motion, creating a melody you completed with your purring.

His hands traveled to your pants, muddy from the gardening labors you were in charge of, and got rid of them, and continued to undress you until your body was completely exposed to his feverish gaze.

He took a moment to contemplate your body after he had relieved himself of his own clothing, damn, you looked so pretty subdued to his control. His tongue danced over your nipples, and the moan that escaped your mouth in response made Rick smile boastfully.

As you were about to complain, he interrupted you with a stern grunt and ordered you to open your mouth. Caught off guard by his sudden demand, you hesitated. He then slid his fingers into your mouth and used your saliva to lubricate them.

He spread your legs and pushed the two fingers inside you, causing you to gasp in pleasure. He moved them slowly at first, but gradually picked up the pace, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. You moaned in ecstasy, your body writhing beneath him as he continued to pleasure you with his fingers.

Each movement was deliberate and calculated, designed to bring you to the brink of orgasm and keep you there. You pulled your head back, your mouth open as you groaned, your legs stiffening.

As he looked at you, he couldn't help but think about how deliciously wet you was. Your body was practically begging him to do something, and he couldn't resist any longer.

He leaned in close and whispered in your ear, "God, I want you so badly right now." you shivered at his words, feeling a wave of desire wash over you. He continued to tease you, slowly running his fingers up and down your arm, sending chills down your spine.

The blindfold heightened the intensity of the pleasure, making it more satisfying and enjoyable. The lack of visual stimulation allowed the other senses to become more acute, leading to a more immersive experience. The anticipation of not knowing what would happen next added an element of excitement and mystery to the encounter. It added a new dimension to the experience.

“Rick…” you hoarsely begged.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” his deliberate teasing causing you to soak his fingers even more. “Tell me.”

“You,” his fingers leaved your hole. “I want you inside me.”

Next thing you knew, his tip was tentatively brushing your entrance. His barely perceptible touch tingled you, your whole body quivering in anticipation. He slid his hands to your hips, a firm hold on your sides, yet not hurting you. With your leg resting on his bare, broad shoulders he thrusted his cock against your walls, both fitting as key and lock.

Your spasms squeezed his warm rod, bringing him closer to climax. "Such a good girl." he praised you, the sound of your panting filling Rick's ears with satisfaction. His heady scent, more intense than ever, got you higher than drugs.

Finally, when you could take no more, Rick released you, allowing you to come down from the dizzying heights of pleasure. You were left panting and sweating, your body spent from the passionate experience.

You gasped for air, your body trembling from the intensity of the orgasm that had just wracked through your body. You couldn't believe how incredible it had felt, how Rick had managed to bring you such an incredible amount of pleasure. You were completely spent, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the orgasm. Rick lay next to you, his arm draped over your waist felt comforting and safe.

“Just so you know, I turn forty next month”

How could you possibly refuse to gift the man whose smile mesmerized you?