something about hyperfeminine reader x rick.... another anon said he'd adore pink nail polish & i so totally agree. maybe cause he's so rough and sharp edged? and it's the very opposite of him? so the pretty pink skirts & sweet perfume you always wear would make his brain fuzzy in the best way !! 🤧
using this as an excuse to write something extremely self indulgent 🤍 obsessed with this sweet, girly, almost bimbo reader that Rick can’t help but be a little extra soft with… <3
When he steps out of the shower and onto the bathmat, he can’t help but smile at the sight of you sitting on the sink, one foot up and crouched over, focused intently on the toenail you’re currently painting. And he can’t help but notice how cute it is that your tongue is poking out the side of your mouth.
Rick rubs a towel on his hair and then wraps it around his waist, walking over to the dresser in the bedroom and grabbing some boxers. You’re a little too immersed in perfecting the pale pink pedicure to notice that he even finished his shower.
“Need some help?” He asks, coming up to the sink and reaching into a drawer. Grabbing some shaving cream and a safety razor.
You look up at the sound of his husky voice. Taking in the sight of his wet hair. Curls forming and dripping onto his shoulders. His torso, glistening with little beads of water that are racing to meet the waist band of his plaid boxer shorts.
“Hm?” You say. The sight of him went straight between your legs, making you almost immediately forget his question.
“D’you need some help there, sweetie?” He nods towards the hand gripping at Essie’s ballet slippers.
“Oh. No, I just finished. Thank you though,” you smile up at him sweetly, screwing the cap back on the bottle and turning to let your legs dangle off the marble countertop.
He positions himself in between your legs and against the vanity, while you lean back on your hands. Watching his brows draw together in focus as he rubs shaving cream along his jaw, his chin and the bottom half of his face. Grabbing the razor, he starts to make long, languid strokes down his face and neck. The blade moving with ever curve of his jaw, so smooth and intentional. But he can feel you staring. Glancing from the mirror to your gaze and then back. Trying to fight the smirk from forming on his face.
“Is it hard?” You ask, oblivious to the teasing grin on his face.
“Shaving?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you scared you’re gonna cut yourself, or somethin’?” You ask, doe eyes wide and curious. And the sight makes him think about you on your knees, having looked up at him in nearly the exact same way, all sweet and eager and so fucking perfect.
Rick shakes his head, at both the intrusive thought and your question, “Not really. Don’t you shave your legs? It’s the same thing, sweetheart.”
“But this is on your face. And you’ve seen how many times I end up nicking myself.”
He smiles, knowing that it’s true. Watching you sit on the side of the tub, silky robe leaving very little to the imagination as you glide a razor up your legs, trying to go nice and slow and get every little hair. Turning sharply to look at him with wide eyes and a hand on your mouth when you both notice a crimson droplet, trickling all the way down to your ankle.
“Yeah. You aren’t so good at that are you?” He chuckles, pressing a quick peck to your mouth which you immediately wipe off because now there’s shaving cream on your nose.
It takes everything in his power not to kiss you again.
“So how do you always get it so good?” Your honeyed voice brings him back.
“Practice I guess. You wanna try?”
“And leave you with any more scars? No thank you.” You joke.
“C’mon. Give it a try.”
“You sure?”
He nods, urging the razor into your hand and leaning in for you, “Mhm. I trust you.”
You gulp at that comment. Hoping he can still keep that trust in a few minutes when you’re all done.
You try to copy what he was doing, going extra slow over the ridge of his jaw and the bump of his adam’s apple. He hums in approval and you take it as some kind of praise. Sitting up straight and a little more confident now that his hands have moved to your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter. Panties now flush with his groin.
“I did it.” You say triumphantly, handing him back the razor and letting your hands slide around his waist, fingers interlocking on top of his tailbone. Cheek pressed to his chest as he leans forward to rinse the razor under the faucet beside you. Tapping the metal on the counter twice. The sound echoing through the room, before he places it on a folded towel on the other side of the sink.
He leans back up to look at you. Pretty eyes and pouty lips. Hair all soft and natural, and tucked behind the dainty gold jewelry dangling from your ears.
“Y’look so pretty.” You marvel, one hand coming up to his jaw. Freshly shaved, so smooth and warm. With just the tiniest strip of leftover shaving cream that needed to be washed off.
You are so much prettier, sweet girl, he thinks to himself. Unable to form a verbal answer now that you’re touching his face. His heart doing somersaults like it was the first time. It isn’t. But he loves feeling like it is.
Being with you in this moment makes him forget what was stressing him out before his shower. Completely unbothered by the tedious week he’d had helping the Tobin with the walls.
Now, all he can even think about is you. Your face. Your voice. Your long legs and the holy temple in between them.
He closes his eyes at your touch, soft and delicately tracing your way down his jaw. The attention sending a tingly, serene feeling up his neck and down his spine.
He can’t even help what he does next. Not that he really needed to. And definitely not that he wanted to. He pulls you in, tangling his fingers into the locks at the nape of your neck. Kissing your soft, plush lips and tracing a tongue over your bottom one.
You taste like candy. And you smell like a vanilla cupcake. And the combination of the two makes him want nothing more than to take a damn bite.
Gosh, you couldn’t be more different from him. So pure and soft and sweet. So fucking kind and perfect. And though he may be a bit biased given your relationship and all, he’s positive that not a soul in Alexandria would disagree.
Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls your legs around his waist, and he can’t help but smile against your lips and think to himself how fucking lucky he is that he found someone who can be his escape. Who can make his brain feel all fuzzy and his heart feel way too full. Who effortlessly distracts him from everything that’s wrong with in the world, just by being your beautiful self.
season 5 scary beard rick getting sweet, hyperfem reader on her knees for him, and her just looking up all sweet and obedient and docile, just about ready to do anything for him I FEEL LIKE ITD DRIVE HIM WILDDDD
“Are you okay?” She whispers as he tugs her behind the barn. Neither of them wanting to attract any attention from the potential threats out in the woods.
“Just need your help with something, princess,” his mouth starts trailing down her neck as he pushes her up against the barn. Rough wood with the threat of a splinter catches on her sweater. It’s stretched out collar falls off her shoulder and grants him even more access to her neck. Nipping lightly at her collarbone.
“With what?”
He doesn’t answer, tilting his head up, he catches her lips and grabs her hand, placing it against the front of his jeans. Tall and hard under the dark denim, she gets the hint almost immediately.
It doesn’t take long before she’s on her knees. So obedient. The very impractical mini skirt she wears is riding up above her hips and the sight of her soft bare skin drives him wild. He’s thankful that her pretty lace panties are only shown to the wood siding of the barn and not the forest behind them. He holds one arm up against the wall for support, doubling as an unintentional shield to their intimate act. His fingers lace with her unruly locks, guiding her close enough to kiss him through his boxers.
“Atta girl,” he says as her fingers trace at his waistband. The site in front of him nearly catches him in a trance. She’s so pretty like this. All wide eyed and willing.
how do you think rick would react if you just broke down sobbing during sex without explanation? like just out of nowhere and can’t even explain what’s wrong kind of sobbing
I can’t say that this hasn’t happened to me so… this is more so what I wish would happen in this scenario…
He’d stop everything the moment he notices. Even though tears can be perceived as pleasure over pain, he knows you enough to tell that somethings not quite right. He knows your body language, your mannerisms. Rick knows you. And he knows that something is wrong. Even if you don’t entirely know what it is.
He freezes the moment he feels your energy shift.
“What’s wrong?” His brows furrow together in concern.
Your turn to try and hid your face in the pillow. Attempting to wipe your tears onto the flannel pillowcase. Sniffling quietly in hopes he’d just brush it off, “Nothin’… I’m - I’m okay.”
“You don’t seem okay. You’re crying.” He reaches up to wipe a tear from the apple of your cheek. It only makes the tears drop faster. “What’s wrong?”
“I- I don’t know, I just-“ your voice cracks and more tears fall. Frustrated at yourself for ruining the moment. Unable to understand why you’re even crying, and more importantly why you can’t seem to stop.
“Hey,” he’s careful when he pulls out. Gently lying back down beside you with his arm propping himself up to look at you, “let’s just take a break, okay?”
“I’m sorry I don’t why I’m-” your voice chokes and you bring the blanket up to wipe your dampening cheeks, “I’m sorry this is- ugh-”
“What on earth are you apologizing for? You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart. Nothing wrong at all.” His voice is low as his hand comes up to brush your hair out of your face, petting and smoothing it down repeatedly in sweet, soothing motions.
“I’m ruining the moment -I- I don’t even know what I’m sad about- it’s just, it’s embarrassing.” You wish you didn’t sound so pathetic, and the thought that Rick might be thinking that makes you cry even harder, head tucking right into his chest where he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. Warm hands rubbing up and down your bare back.
“Darlin’, you haven’t ruined anything, I promise. Sometimes…” he takes a breath before he continues, choosing his words carefully, “-sometimes doin’ things like this, y’know, it can, uh- it can bring out emotions you didn’t even know you had. Ones that are deep inside or bottled up. And it just so happens that right now is when your body feels ready to let em’ out. It happens. There’s nothing wrong with you. I promise you, it’s okay.” Ricks tone is gentle and rather convincing, despite the dreadful pit that’s formed in your stomach. And the arms that are holding you close feel safer than anywhere you can imagine. Walls or not.
You stay tucked into his chest until you have no tears left to cry. Trying to relax and calm your shaky breaths. Inhaling deep and slow, taking in the scent of the man holding you. His skin. His pheromones. That alone is calming in itself. Allowing your mind to cloud over and momentarily pause your incessant overthinking. His touch has your eye lids growing heavy and grateful for Ricks overall sweetness and his more than understanding reaction.
Rick slapping your pussy until you're all puffy down there. Rick can punish me any day.
this concept has taken over all of my thoughts. every single one.
cw- 18+, impact play
His hand comes down on you with a sharp sting. The impact jolting you forward with a squeak. Too surprised to say anything else, you stay there wide eyed on all fours. He does it again. Shoving your face going into the pillow, you try to hide the pained sound escaping your throat.
Ouch.
You try reaching back for him, trying to get him to just cut it out and fuck you already. But despite your efforts, one more crack of pain comes down on your cunt, sending a hot, stinging sensation up your spine.
“Hey,” you let out a whine at that one, “Be gentle.”
You hear him laugh from behind you, hand going to caress your sensitive skin. Kneading up your ass and trailing down to feel between your legs. Running his fingers through your wet folds. Rubbing circles on your clit and making you squirm. Already dripping in anticipation.
“I’ll be gentle when you learn to behave, how’s that sound?” He slaps your pussy once more and you try to bite your tongue. A muffled cry gets stuck halfway up your throat.
“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”
“Yes, sir,” you’re arousal is damn near dripping down your thigh. The pain has morphed into something almost pleasurable, having made your clit all sore and swollen. Now even more sensitive to his touch.
“Are you gonna behave? Gonna be good for me, now?”
“Yes. I’ll be so good, Rick. On my best behaviour, I promise.”
You’re nodding frantically as you twist back to see him. Messy curls falling in front of his eyes, and a devious smirk is splayed across his five o’clock shadow.
“Actions speak a hell of a lot louder than words, baby...” You can feel his cock teasing at your entrance. His hand comes up to tangle in the hair at the base of your skull and he gives you a nice tug. Head snapping back with an involuntary moan.
season 1 Rick is definitely the kind kind of guy who likes to make love. Like he’s so tender and sweet and maybe some would call it vanilla but it never bothers you because it’s just so intimate. He always has you in missionary so he can look right in your pretty eyes and tell you how much he loves you. So gentle and caring and not afraid to smile against your lips or giggle a little as the two of you get all tangled up in his sheets.
…
season 5 Rick folds you in half and fucks you so hard your eyes roll back and you can’t even make out any words. He props a leg up on his shoulder so that he can hit your cervix with every thrust. And if his hands aren’t wrapped around your neck, then he’s grabbing onto your jaw and spitting in your mouth. Squeezing your cheeks as you swallow, making sure you’re watching as he splits you right open. “That’s it. Take it. Just take it, baby. That’s it.” And he would never forget to tell you just how pretty you look taking his cock. “Fuckin’ made for me, aren’t you? Ain’t that right, pretty girl?”
Thinking about messy, rushed make out sessions with Rick. How you both know you’re probably way too young for him, so you’re trying to sneak around and take things slow. But it’s just so hard because you’re so damn eager. So pretty and young and inexperienced and you just make him feel like he’s 20 again. All giddy and excited. Secretly meeting in the middle of the night, behind your parents place, pressed up against the siding of the house. Wet, messy, open mouthed kisses with your tongue practically shoved down his throat because you just need him so bad. You’re grabbing at his arms and his shirt and his belt, trying to pull him in even closer. And he loves it so much. Palming your breasts through your sheer, white long sleeve. His other hand on the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair and pulling ever so gently. He nudges his knee in between your legs so that he can situate himself right up against you. And his denim clad thigh feels so fucking good, rubbing through the thin fabric of your cute, little, sleep shorts. Without even meaning to, you moan directly into his mouth. His cock actually twitches at the sound of your little whimper. Completely infatuated with how needy and desperate you are. And he’s praying to god that it’s all for him. For every quick, heated, secret moment with him.
Rick in between your legs. Fingers in your cunt, curling upward to hit your sweet spot. The one that always makes you squirm. His tongue on your clit, constantly moving up and down, and his other hand gripping your hip so tightly you wince. And you won’t fucking stay still for him. But you’re just so warm and wet and trying your hardest to breath nice and slow. You can’t help that you’re a little reactive. That you shake and twitch at his touch. So you try your best to be good. To do just what he tells you to. “That’s it, baby. Take it. Just relax. Just take it. Such a good girl for me.” And him mumbling into your skin is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and you cum so much quicker than you wanted to. And he can tell by the whine you let out and the grip in his hair, so he makes sure to keep going. Even when you push on his head and tell him it’s too much. He loves the way you clench down on and spasm around his digits. Loves the way that tears well up in your eyes from the pure bliss he’s making you feel. And you’re literally dripping down his hand and his face is so soaked with your slick and cum but neither of you care. Because you’re so drunk off each other that you’re starting to feel dizzy and he’s starting to get sloppy but even then, it’s still working. And since he never stopped, you cum again with a shaky moan until finally, he lets you push him off. Kissing your sensitive clit and making you twitch once more before he chuckles and leans in for a real kiss. Unbuckling his belt and praying to god that you’ll let him fuck you until those pretty little tears run right down your face.
i have stepdad!rick brainrot rn, i’d love one where he punishes the reader for being out past curfew, rick sitting by the door watching another boy drop her off
i’m so excited to see where you go with this omg <33
cw- stepdad!rick, dub con? kinda toxic tbh but… it’s fictional so… all for funsies <3 oh and um… not proofread (is it ever anymore?)
The porch light is on and you know you’re screwed. Walking up the creaky steps to the front door and gently turning the handle. Your stepdads figure, standing at the counter sorting some papers. He glances over at the sound of the door latching behind you.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” His gaze goes back to the stack of papers he’s sorting.
You place your bag on the stool next to him and go for the fridge. Grabbing a glass of water and taking a sip before answering.
“We lost track of time, I didn’t mean to-“
“It’s 1 in the morning. Curfew is 11.”
“I’m an adult. I don’t have a curfew that’s ridiculous.” You almost laugh.
“You live under my roof don’t you?”
He’s fully focused on you now. Standing there. No papers in hand.
You want to scowl back. But you’re already in trouble. And being a brat won’t help your situation. Not when Rick is already coming in at you. Backing you into the corner cabinet. Your ass hitting the cool marble as he approaches. Cornered.
“Answer.” He demands. Annoyed. No. Angry.
“Yes. I do.” You day through a clenched teeth. He’s still in his work clothes. The police uniform that Deanna gave him way back when they first arrived here. When he first met your mom. When he first took notice of you.
“Who were you with?”
“A friend.”
He breaths out what you assume is a laugh. An unimpressed huff of air and the smallest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.
“A friend, hm. Don’t know many friends that touch eachother like that.”
He must have seen you. Watched the boy drop you off from his spot on his chair under the living room window. Watched you kiss the boy goodbye after he opened the car door for you. No doubt catching the way his hand grabbed your ass when he pulled you in for another.
Though Rick seems exceptionally calm if he had seen.
“I’m sorry.” It’s not sincere. And Rick can hear it too.
“About the boy? Or about being out past curfew. Curfew that’s been set in place for all of Alexandria by the way. Not just you.”
“Since when?” This is news to you.
“Since one of your friends fucked up and got three of our people killed.”
There was an incident. A recent one. Only a few days ago actually. Some pretty heavy drinking was involved. Shitty decisions were made and it cost the community three precious lives. An open gate in this world will do that.
“I didn’t realize. No one told me.” You’re telling the truth. He must sense it because his jaw relaxes slightly.
But he moves in even closer. If that was possible. You feel trapped. A heavy weight pulling you further into the counter space between his hands. Ricks strong arms framing your entrapment.
“You missed the meeting,” he leans in, though it doesn’t feel particularly intimate. More intimidating than anything. “I wondered why that was. Wouldn’t have to do with some… friend would it?”
You shake your head. Your heartbeat is off the walls and you want him to close the gap between you so desperately. You want him to bend his own house rules and make a fucking mess out of you right here on the counter. Right here in the kitchen where your mother could walk in at any moment.
Right where he refuses to touch you out of his own moral agenda. Outside it didn’t matter. But in this house, touching you was rare.
He’s so close it hurts. His nose almost brushing your cheek. The stubble on his jaw scratches your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. Lips so warm against your ear. Brushing the gold metal hanging from your lobe.
“I don’t believe you.”
His voice is quiet. Soft and deep. But It makes you shiver as if he’s just yelled at you.
“I-I…“
“Shhh,” he cuts you off. He’s smirking against your cheek. Though nothing about his demeanour is funny. You’re in trouble. That’s all you know.
“You broke the rules. And you lied to me-“
“I’m sorry-“
“Sweetheart, if you interrupt me one more time, your ass is gonna be sore for a week.”
You gulp. Fuck. Ok.
“You’re not getting away with just a slap on the wrist this time. Not tonight, baby.”
He kisses your lips. Gentle and warm. And you’re more than eager to kiss him back. To make it up to him. Anything. Everything. All for him.
It’s not like the boy from outside means anything. He’s nothing compared to the man you live with. The one that sleeps down the hall from you every night. Tempting you with just the smell of his skin and the blue in his eyes.
Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in close.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper against his mouth between kisses. Muffled and faded into the moans that can’t seem to stay put.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it this time, sweetheart.”
You tug on his hair. Hoping he’ll just let you give him your body as a form of repentance. But it won’t be enough. He needs to punish you himself. To show you some real discipline.
“What are you gonna do?” You ask finally, pulling away for a moment. Just for show really. Giving your most innocent doe eyed act in hopes of even a smidge of pity from the officer.
He doesn’t buy it for a second.
He smiles and your heart skips a beat. You know by the look on his face that you’re in for a night. A week. Maybe longer.
You realize quickly that it isn’t a matter of what he was going to do to you. It was a matter of what he would refuse to do to you. No matter how hard you begged.
And judging by the arousal already seeping through your panties, he’d have you begging on your knees in no time.
