babi🐾

@rickgrimes , farmers daughter take 1 , breeding kink. impact play. breathplay. heavy age difference. 18+ minors do not interact. reader has doubts. hold the moan. old perv rick. manipulative gaslighting rick. dumb and falls for it reader.

note: i love spit i want his spit. , not proofied

the texas heat was sticky enough. dry. the smell of the wood paint peeling off the barn , the mooing of cows , the huffing of steer. the broken wheel barrel your daddy said he would fix months ago. the bin of feed rick was meant to be giving the horses. all of it so null as it had been for 2 months.

2 months of becoming brainless, of letting cock take over your life. it wasn't your fault. would never be that your innocent little crush would fall so lewd, so untamed. wet squelches of your cunt echoed thru the barn house, tears welled soft in your clenched shut eyes as you whined and complained about how the hay-bale was scratching into the softness of your back where big rough hands had scrunched up your sundress. panties pried to the side by a dirt laced thumb. go help rick. that's what your daddy had sent you out to the barn for.

to bring him a glass of lemonade , maybe help move some hay if your tiny frame could have handled it. But rick? god he found a way every time to turn your sweetness, your kindness , the little flush of your cheeks that came in when you existed around him into just this. he simply couldn't keep his hands off of you, his eyes, his mouth. it was wrong of him, he knew that, knew damn well he shouldn't be doing anything apart from swallowing every thought about his best friends daughter.

"fuck baby face, she's crying for me huh? for misters cock?" the plushness of your cheeks doughy and pinched in his palm, squeezing until your mouth was back to open and pliant, pink little tounge pushing out between whimpers. the thick , perverted sound of spit hitting your tounge, a wince away from him embarrassment, hands coming to his chest in attempt to make some distance, stop the swirl in your thoughts. but he was simply too big.

the mass of his hands splaying your tummy, groping and playing with soft flesh as he laughed, laughed right in your face at your weak little attempts, at how wet your cunt was. "no good for it huh baby? too weak , like it too much , your pussy tells the mean man everything sweet girl. everything." you'd promised yourself the last time was the very last! but then he kissed your cheeks, told you how hard he was from seeing you in your cute little dress. and it was really no use.

he was 47 for christ sake. not a reason , not a rhyme for why his cock was ramming into the cervix of such a sweet young girl. backpack still dumped by the edge of the barn , set for college in new york this spring , smart. but apparently not smart enough to keep her legs closed for the one man she ought too.