new episode brainrot ughhh
cw: asshole!rick, dubcon, degradation/praise, condescension
rick who hasn’t fucked you yet on account of him not being nice enough to. he makes it obvious he wants it, touches that are too creepy for someone his age to be doing so comfortably.
and you hate his guts. you hate how mean he is to you, how often he makes you cry just to smear your tears over your cheeks with no remorse. you hate how accomplished you feel at any slight brush of his fingers against you.
the worst part is you would let him have you. you think about it constantly. but every time his advances have pushed past possibility and breached a place of certainty, you remember how he treats you.
you know he wouldn’t be kind just cause he finally gets to be inside of you. you know a large part of him gets off on how easily affected you are when he’s cruel.
so, when he says he needs you to play guinea pig for something he found, placing his callous ridden hand on your shoulder and saying please in the face of your hesitation, you agree.
you’re weak when it comes to him. he knows it all too well.
it hurts, blindly and wholly. you can feel the scuttling chomps of your empathy center being eroded. it’s agonizing, but he’s giving you his full focus, eyebrows furrowed and concentrated frown there for everyone to see.
studying. analyzing. waiting.
“How do you feel?”
you felt good. extremely good. the colors around you seemed fuzzier. he looked more tangible than he ever had, pigmented and receptive. his eyes has a shine to them that you’d never seen before.
in reality, the one that existed beyond your liminal perception, he wore a similar expression.
it hardly took him any time at all to get you bottomless, scratching and tugging at his coat as you begged breathlessly to feel him deeper.
you beamed like the sun as he fucked you. gasping and preening when he called you his ‘dumb fucking crybaby’ because your head was all sunshine and rainbows. you heard nothing but honey drip from his tongue, the ownership being condensed and flatted to burn out the sour taste.
he patronized you, dug his blunt nails into the fat of your thigh. ‘finally found s-something you’re good at, baby. guess you’re not useless all the time.’
and you’d never felt more loved by him then. hearing praises of your beauty, your function. all intentionally fabricated so he could answer the burning scientific question of what it felt like to cum in you.
after, when he’d freed you from it, your head ached with the clashing images of the sweetness you’d absorbed and the degradation you’d been subjected to. he hadn’t explained what it did, and you were so confused and desperate to believe you wouldn’t enjoy being spoken to like that, that you took what he’d told you about possible hallucinations and moved on as though it hadn’t happened.
he kept trying to get in your pants, relishing in the knowledge that, when he finally did, you’d recognize the feeling of him there.