Rick Sanchez X Reader (Oneshots)

Evil!Rick X Reader X Rick

(NSFW)
By:braddcckbetsy

•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Your fingers flex nervously on the steering wheel as you turn into the darkened driveway. The house looks still and sleepy; not even the security lights flick on at your car's approach.

>>Come over.

>>Now.

His texts, blunt and to the point as always, are what brought you to Rick's family's home at this late hour. No questions, no sweet words, just a command that he expected to be followed unflinchingly and immediately. It never even crossed your mind to not do exactly that.

Switching off the engine and the headlights, you drop your keys into your bag and retrieve your phone.

>Out front.

Your palms begin to sweat as your stare at the lighted screen, waiting for a response. Your heart jumps when you see the 'read' receipt next to your message, breath picking up when the flashing ellipsis signals he is typing a reply.

>>Garage door.

With shaking hands, you lock the phone and drop it into your bag before climbing out of the car. Excitement thrums through your limbs as you make your way over, heart pounding, heat settling between your legs with a damp throbbing. You have no idea what to expect, which of course only added to the thrill; you'd been wet since the first text message if you were being completely honest.

Just as you were lifting an arm to give a light tap on the metal to alert him to your presence, a low, mechanical groaning indicates the raising of the automatic door. It stops at about two feet off the ground, orange-tinged light spilling from the gap onto the cement drive. Your mouth falls open slightly, breath huffing out with excited arousal.

A soft scraping of leather on concrete, and then a shadow of legs falls from the other side of the door.

"Well...come in,"

his gruff voice, muted slightly by the barrier between you, breaks the silent tension.
Mouth dry, you lick your lips before questioning,

"Um...?"

"Crawl."

A simple demand. The authority in his voice has you dropping to hands and knees with alacrity, ducking your head and shuffling forward to move into the lighted garage. Black shoes and dark-trousered legs meet you on the other side, but when you begin to lift your head to look at him, he raises a foot roughly to push down on the back of your neck.

You're held locked, arms trembling as they fight to keep your face from making uncomfortable impact with the hard floor.

"K-keep your—euugh—head down."

You nod mutely at the order, blonde hair swinging in a shining curtain on either side of your face, blocking your peripheral vision. The foot is removed, kicking at the purse you still held clutched in one hand, sending it skittering into some far corner. The garage door mechanism shudders to life once more, grinding closed with a heavy finality.

You tremble in the silence that follows.
He circles as if studying you, saying nothing, only occasionally making low, considering noises in the back of his throat. On his second pass, he stops behind you, the shift in the air and the swish of fabric indicating that he had shifted to a crouching position.

You jerk in startled surprise when his hands slide up the hem of your dress, pushing the stretchy gray material up over your hips, baring you to the cold air. A finger latches underneath the waistband of your thong, dragging down and tugging the soaked fabric out of the way of his inspection.