#rick the prick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grimesgirll · 1 month

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rick has to be the most possessive man you know.

you love him, but you also love daryl.

so that complicates things. it confuses you even more the number of times both of the men managed to have you bent over between them. being as jealous as rick is, it’s hard to believe that he could even think to share you. daryl’s his brother however, and you’re an individual, you can make your own decisions, rick guesses.

he can’t fault you for your obsession with his best friend. daryl’s a moral man, a provider, good looking enough that you can’t help but run your hands through his hair every chance you get. sometimes it takes rick some deep breaths and a moment of grounding to contain his jealousy. he loves you too much to not see red every time you’re swooning for someone who isn’t him. he even loves daryl but he can’t help it, not when it’s you.

so rick will never stand between you and daryl, not when you show no signs of ever dropping your infatuation with either man, especially not the sheriff. everyday when he comes home and plops down on the sofa after a day of his enduring constable’s duties, you’re on top of him in his lap. you don’t even have to be horny to make yourself at home with your head against his chest.

adoring his deep blue eyes, you straddle him every opportunity you get for the time to lock eyes, hands on his shoulders and his on your hips as you talk about your days. after a long day out in the community, it doesn’t take long for rick’s dick to tent in his jeans and you to feel a pressure against your clothed slit.

it isn’t uncommon for daryl or rick to come home and find you curled up with the other on the sofa. so rick has to endure the empathy exercise that is not dragging you from the sofa, tossing you over his shoulder and retiring to the bedroom for the night.

plush lips parted with only your breath coming through, you just melt into them whenever you have the opportunity. one look and you’re a puddle.

how can he not be jealous when you’re this fucking sweet?

he tries to extend daryl the same courtesy of enjoying you without the drama but rick is still getting used to the dynamic - more than the group is at this point.

the three of you were an unusual case but the group had gotten used to it after long enough. it only took a few weeks for them not to take a second glance at rick’s hands on your waist or how daryl’s crossbow could almost always be found somewhere around your sleeping situation.

that’s why it’s not awkward when carl knocks on the door in the mornings to hand judith off to his father and you and daryl are snoozing away in the background. you do your best to keep the pda to a minimum but the neighborhood doesn’t mind, so rick often doesn’t.

you think back to gabriel's church in georgia; you'd been hiding with the members of your group that had stayed while the others went out to do in the cannibals once and for all. your plan had went off without a hitch but that didn't mean that the event hadn't shaken you to the core.

one of the savages whose name you couldn't be bothered to remember had graphically described how specifically delicious your parts would be.

rick slashed his throat.

the entire series of events had rick on edge but even after the bloodbath, rick couldn’t stand to have you out of his sight.

“what’re you doin’ all the way over here?”

you tensed up.

“rick, i-,”

“why the fuck were you wandering off?”

you paused, recognizing the ire in rick’s voice when you hear it. you almost wanted to say nothing to avoid what you know will be a fight regardless but you know you’ll be accused of not speaking up.

“i didn’t mean to. i was stretching my legs. i’ll stay closer.”

“yeah, you will.”

the group’s known about how rick feels for you for a while.

it’s why you’re wrapped up in rick’s arms while you watch your newly assimilated group and the alexandrians trying their hands at the compound bows hanging around the makeshift archery range.

daryl’s leaving everyone in the dust of course.

“show off,” you whisper to rick who snickers in agreement.

this is nice; quaint and tranquil, just like the suburbs out to be. you never imagined ending up essentially married with two husbands and two children, shacked up in a gated community in a nearly million dollar house with the dead being a greater issue than a mortgage or getting the kids into college but you’re content with it.

you’d rather watch as daryl does trick shots - going as far to pull out the old splitting the arrow in half trick, which you almost whistle at. are they going to put an apple on the windmill next? you chuckle at the thought.

“when are you going up?” maggie calling your name snaps you out of your musings about daryl.

you scoff at her playfully. “you know i’m a bad shot, maggie.”

the redhead shrugs. “don’t think you’re as bad as you say you are. c’mon, even the kids are trying it.”

she’s not wrong - even sam is picking up a bow and giving it a try with some encouraging from ron.

“sure,” accepting the challenge, you untwist yourself from rick; not before indulging in one last full lipped kiss, a “good luck” on rick’s lips as you head to the picnic table to gear up.

you select a familiar looking compound bow and join daryl at the shooting line. he frowns when he catches sight of your arm.

“wait, baby, you’re not even wearin’ your armband right.”

you shrug. “it’s been a while.”

he’s in you; fixing the nearly sideways arm shield. muttering about you never taking safety too seriously. you’d beg to differ but you’re too bewitched by his striking blue eyes up close. the man slides the band in place before dropping his hand back to your rear, letting a hand fall down your cargos as he gently shoves you towards the cylinder full of arrows at the spray painted shooting line.

the delight is all over your face when you knock your arrow with no notes from the bowman observing your practice.

archery isn’t your strong suit but you’d come into contact with it at summer camps in your youth and in gym class. your form is fantastic - or at least it always starts that way. the arrow that flies flies flawlessly and suddenly you’re beaming at the cheers once you notice your arrow a mere inch from where a bullseye should be.

maggie’s awestruck face and rick’s grin are enough for you to start knocking another arrow, sending daryl a cocky look.

the problems start when you reload and tilt your bow upright. you’re drawing your arrow back like your boyfriend showed you all of those times before, but something makes the auburn haired man stop and correct your form, saying, “here,” softly and moving your left arm long.

he steadies a hand on your hip as he helps to steady your aim. despite being momentarily tucked in daryl’s steel embrace, you feel eyes boring into it.

rick is striding over, not caring about glenn approaching the other end of the shooting line to give it a go or even your almost perfect bullseye.

“i think you would’ve gotten that one is daryl would’ve given you some space.”

an eye roll is sneaking out of daryl and rick still has his arms crossed. you shake your head to signify that it’s all a misunderstanding. “rick, i’m shit at archery because i’m shit at archery - not because daryl has his hands on me.”

rick grunts. “that’s not what i saw.”

you smile sweetly at the constable. “he’s just helping me learn to shoot, babe.”

“yeah, let her learn. might come a day when we’re out of bullets,” daryl backs you up, citing an obvious concern now that scavenging was growing riskier and riskier.

“might come a day when you stop drooling over every touch.” rick jabs.

an eyebrow shoots up. “you don’t seem to have a problem with me drooling over you.” you counter. “just wait until later. you’ll be changing your tune about all of this,” you gesture to daryl.

rick’s eyes are alight with something stronger than irritation, more personal than just being annoyed. he looks like he almost wants to bend you over his lap and you’re sure he’s about to say something just as embarrassing until a voice interrupts his thought before it comes out.

you and daryl seize your getaway when rick is summoned up onto deanna’s porch to try some of her famous peanut butter buckeyes. “proudly from ohio,” she’d proclaimed of the recipe.

midwestern sweets are the perfect cover for you and your archer to stowaway in the barn, somewhere it would take rick a long time to look. daryl has you next to him on a hay bale in an empty horse stall before you can even count how many horses are actually around. not that it matters with the stall dividers giving you more than enough cover.

the finger screwing you open has you screaming your face with pleasure. this is what you’d been wanting rick to do at the archery range. you would’ve done whatever he said for him to whisk you away and take care of that specific need right there and then.

“real quick? just to hold you over until later?” he’s massaging your worked up insides like he’s aware of every tension that’s been brewing in you all day long.

“dare’,” your ability to keep it together is slipping.

“you want me to fill you up with a finger now, baby?” daryl toys, middle finger joining his pointer in your pulsing cunt.

you say everything but no when daryl embarks between your thighs.

deanna’s buckeyes were delicious.

not as great as his mom’s peach cobbler but enough of a sign that this place is where the group should lay down there roots. where you three should put down your roots.

rick doesn’t want to be the overbearing boyfriend, not when you and daryl are on the other end of it. the idea of sharing you is still just so foreign. in bed, it mostly goes off without a hitch but during the daytime is another story.

jealousy manifests in all kinds of inappropriate ways - like spoiling your moment with daryl after you shot so well, rusty as you were not having picked up a bow in god knows how long. rick wants to apologize. the thought’s on his mind but the way his body moves, searching for you and his friend, he’s more of a predator than a man. moved almost as if by the primal need to be close to you. to know where you are.

so when he finally finds and daryl in the stable, he thinks his head might explode.

“the fuck are you two doin’ in this stall?”

your climax is put on pause as daryl freezes his tongue over your clit. despite your frivolous wrenching of his auburn waves, your efforts to at least enjoy a release before rick starts on his lecture prove to be futile. daryl’s not just abandoning ship but pulling up your underwear.

“and the fuck are you whimperin’ about?”

you stop; a deer in the headlights. “what?” you mumble through swollen lips.

“move the fuck over, daryl,” before you know it, rick is doing the unexpected and taking your lover’s spot sucking your clit.

rick doesn’t give you anytime at all to mentally or physically adjust to him just jumping in and slurping you up.

the lack of warning has you coming on his tongue and daryl’s eyes widening. none of you can be surprised by the fact that rick isn’t stopping. you’re fine with that; you can’t face his “i told you so” looks right now anyways.

rick rarely gets to eat you out as often as he wants to. usually it’s daryl torturing your sensitive cunt without abandon. the scene before you: rick, with a tongue treating you like the last popsicle in the hell, tongue fucking you even as you grip as his hair.

“rick,” you say starry eyed.

“he’s busy, baby,” daryl explains and settles into the spot next to you against the hay bale.

“rick, rick!” you’re stirring up straw around you as rick adds a finger to his artful invasion of your pussy. the tongue isn’t enough, no, he needs to penetrate you with a finger as well. it doesn’t matter that his nose is shiny with your slick or that you’re begging for a break. you’re gonna overload all over his face like the good little slut he knows you are for him.

at least that’s what he tells you after he holds you down and tag teams you with daryl to incur a whirlwind of pleasure from your sensitive pebbled flesh to your slippery entrance. your kicking legs don’t phase him, much less than tsunami of pleasure that washes over you and coats his mouth.

the intense breakdown from inside your core has your mind completely wiped. you’re so fucked out, you’re begging for rick to do the dirtiest things to you on this hay strewn floor.

“you need me to smack your pussy baby?”

“yes, rick!”

the light sting that flushes your cunt has you gasping into daryl’s mouth when he leans over to lock puffy lips with you. another swat or two is more than enough to have you even wetter than you were when rick interrupted you and daryl. the stretch you’re expecting comes more as a squelch for the first few inches.

rick has gotten used to you over time but as daryl props you up on his lap, you grit your teeth. the older man is hitting that marianna trench deep angle with his horsecock fitting for the stable that’s on the verge of battering your cervix.

kudos to daryl, you think. how supportive of your fucking antics. you know why that is.

daryl will let rick go as far as he does because he knows it’ll end up with the three of you right here. right on top of each other, gliding into position wordlessly. the tent in his pants has been freed and by the way he’s palming himself, you can tell he’s not saving that thing for your mouth.

the massive cock splitting you up and imprinting some kind of shape, begins to pulse. you’re ready to come all over him when you feel an intrusion at your sopping hole.

“what the-,”

“relax, it’s a finger.”

“you’re cutting in here already?”

daryl raises an eyebrow at his brother. “you’re tellin’ me that you don’t wanna double stuff her?”

you clench around rick at the younger man’s words.

rick laughs, wrapping his arms around you before starting to roll over, “well, when you put it that way.”

and he sends his tongue down your throat as soon as the second dexterous finger struggles inside of you. the pressure ebbs and flows from pain to pleasure. regardless, the pain is dull enough that the hold rick’s maintaining on your sides is enough to distract you.

you’re draped on top of rick, snug against him but he still starts to run his cocky mouth.

“i thought the bigger dude’s supposed to be on top. isn’t that what that magazine you guys found said?”

daryl raises a tawny eyebrow, not bothering to slow the pace of his fingers. “you’re really gonna brag about your dick right now?”

rick pistons his hips upwards, squeezing a cry out of you and proving his point.

“you’re an asshole,” you’re muttering as you endure another pointed thrust.

rick gets his recompense when daryl finally feeds his own impressive cock, centimeter by centimeter at first - eyeballing it and checking in on you and rick as you both start to squirm.

daryl’s struggling to not give it one heroic thrust and dive balls deep but he knows that would probably tear you in two. theres no way you can handle anything other than slow right now. rick is the same with a matching flustered expression. he accepts your hand when you grasp his much larger palm in yours.

the once cocky constable is now absolutely being shut up by your all encompassing, air tight walls and daryl’s cock edging you two as he edges further inside of you.

daryl’s fingers were pipe cleaners in comparison to his meaty cock cramming into you as if you weren’t meant for only one. it doesn’t matter though. no one would hear you complaining. this isn’t the first one they’ve stretched you on both of their cocks and it won’t be the last - not if you have anything to do with it.

once the man above you is a bit more firmly entrapped in your tight warmth, you start to move your hips back. rick is smirking beneath you when daryl warns you with a spank not to squirm too much - not if you want both of them to come in you. the conditions have you settling your hips and clinging onto rick, stilling with the close contact as daryl sandwiches you into him.

rick has no reason to complain, not with the sunlight coming through just the right panes of the barn’s skylights and painting your face and your hair a delicious shade of golden hour. daryl’s disposition is made only more chiseled and picturesque with the waning daylight.

neither of them are lasting long with the way the day’s gone.

you don’t make it a piece of cake holding on regardless. wound up since rick first pulled you into his arms back at the range, you have no patience for the men overfilling your walls. your hips can’t wait to thrash and jerk just like daryl’s. the archer is rasping in your ear to calm down but with the blush bringing, brain fogging pressure that two cocks in your entrance brings, you barely listen.

your constable comes first of course. he’s the one that sets off the real showstopper of a release that wrings a cry so loud out of you that one of the horses sighs in the background.

the warmth of his come fills you from his position buried deep in your pussy. it’s slipping out of you with each erratic propel of daryl into you, fucking the two of you straight through your orgasms.

come floods from your womb and out of your entrance, spilling down your thighs once daryl finally pulls out. he whistles and gestures for rick to check it out but the man is too worn out to look between your sticky thighs. instead, you’re flush against his chest and he’s calling daryl down with the two of you.

tangled together in the hay, you can’t think of a better way to spend this idyllic day.

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