#ricksanchezdwc

I know DWC ended last night so this is late but I couldn’t help fill this right now, because I love it. Thank you to whoever sent this! NSFW-lite

@ricksanchezdwc

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You hold his hand. Rickgiggles. Giggles. Then he swoops inand kisses your neck. You laugh out loud, putting your hand around his head ina movement telegraphing pure joy.

The woman, in a buttondown collared shirt with sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a faded apron,sits before you and smiles. If she thinks the couple who set up this tasting hasan extreme age difference, she doesn’t show it.

“Please, have a seat!”she says.

You release Rick and heremoves his lips from your skin. He holds your chair out for you and assistsyou into it.

Lowering himself into hisown seat, Rick keeps his hand on you. He’s playing this up well.

The baker has a widearray of cake slices arranged on the table.

“Thank you so much forcoming in today. It’s so exciting planning for a wedding, isn’t it? I mean it’sa lot of work, but so worth it!”

With varying degrees ofenthusiasm, you and Rick agree.

“So! Let me tell youabout what The Cakery Bakery can offer you for your big day!”

Rick snorts. You pinchhis thigh under the table, and he morphs the sound into a cough.

The baker doesn’t notice,so deep in her spiel.

“We have severaldifferent batter selections, from angel food to devil’s food, and of courseyour choice of fillings and icings. Let’s start here, with the angel’s food withstrawberry glaze—a classic!—and we’ll work our way from there, okay?”

This woman’s perkinesswas getting to you too, but cake! So you put up with it, just like he did.

You both dive in. Atfirst you’re both polite, taking dainty bites and acting interested in thebaker’s patter. The offerings are small, just a thin slice of each, so youshare. You let Rick finish the cheesecake. You get an extra bite of the Germanchocolate. It’s all good, each piece seemingly better than the last, and soon you’reboth focused on cake and each other rather than the woman trying to sell you ona wedding cake.

As your attention shiftedto shoveling cake into your mouths, inhibitions are discarded. It starts whenyou brush a crumb of gingersnap crust off the corner of Rick’s mouth. It endswhen he forgoes a fork and feeds you white almond torte with raspberry fillingby hand.

The sweet, soft crumb ofthe cake combined with the calloused and slightly salty taste of his fingers inyour mouth makes you moan, a little.

“You two are so cutetogether!” the baker gushes.

Cute, your ass. That cakeis damned delicious and Rick’s fingers in your mouth always makes you hot. Youapply suction to his fingers—to outside observers it’s to get the icing off; toRick, it’s a substitute for his cock—as he slowly withdraws them from betweenyour lips

The lecherous look yousee in his eye announces to you that he’s fucking turned on too.

There’s a pause for amoment, like the place is holding its breath.

“So …” the bakerasks. “Do you need more time, or have you decided …?”

Rick looks at you. Youlook at him, and lick the corner of your mouth indecently.

“We’re gonna need moretime,” Rick says, abruptly standing up and pulling you along with him. His labcoat swings in front of him, but you catch a glimpse of his hard-on tenting hispants. “Do you have-can we get this cake to, to go?”

He points to the almondtorte.

“A whole cake? Of course!” thebaker says, pleased. “Let me box one up for you!”

She bustles off.

Rick pulls you in close.His erection presses into you. “This was just supposed to be a scam forlots of cake, b-baby, not goddamn foreplay!”

You discreetly push yourtits together to create cleavage; his eyes involuntarily dart down to it.

“I’m gonna smear thatcake all over you and lick it off,” you tell him raunchily. “I can’t wait toswallow your cock covered in that sweet, sweet icing—“

“Let’s move this along!”Rick shouts to the baker, snapping his fingers to hurry her up.

 ⁂

Once home, you deliverwhat you promised.

“I can’t believe I ended up in space jail with you of all people,” Rick rasps in annoyance with a roll of his eyes, spindly arms folded across his chest as he huffs.

You want to tell him to stop being so dramatic. The situation at hand is not nearly as dire as he’s decided to punish you for. Then again, you did just destroy a planet. You. Specifically.

It all started with an election on a random planet in the FG sector of one of the many universes Rick and you have traversed on adventures you’ve always viewed as random but apparently that have some sort of purpose. On this planet the Grussians were gearing up to help elect a president to a coalition of states in the West. You didn’t really see the point of getting involved, but Rick was adamant as there was a payday promised.

He should have told you about the fact that this particular planet detonated their bomb guns with a swift blow of carbon dioxide and mucus. You couldn’t help that you sneezed at the inauguration, and one of the top security personnel just happened to be standing next to you when you turned in his direction.

Chaos had ensued (again), and suddenly you were surrounded by inter-galactic security with guns pointing at you from every direction. They knew Rick given his standing offenses, so they cuffed the two of you (under the guise of “precautionary measures”) and pushed you towards the open doors of the cop spacecraft. It was when you were getting in that you had another sneezing fit, and the uniforms went ballistic piling into the vehicle. They pulled the craft up from the planet and out into space as quickly as they could.

When you were a safe distance away, you saw the explosion. The whole planet burst into a fiery cacophony of chaos and destruction before becoming a fireball that burned from bright orange quickly down to ash.

Rick was staring you down, fuming.You shrugged coquettishly, trying to smile at his disdain.

The present Rick, who was in a jail cell with you now, suddenly began to laugh. “You know, baby, you’re a mess.”

You smile at him. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He smiles too though it’s thin and ghostlike. Never show too much is his motto. “Yeah, that much is true.”

You’re certain he already has an exit plan for this situation even if he hasn’t told you what it is yet…Rick is always three to ten steps ahead…

I laughed so hard at this. And I have a true-life-action adventure story this fill is based on …

@ricksanchezdwc

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“Is that REALLY what you want us to write on your custom-order cake?”

You look the kid working the counter of the bakery dead in the eye.

“Did I stutter?”

He pinches his lips together, and you can tell he is one second awayfrom calling for his manager.

“Listen,” you say, “it’s a joke. Trust me. He’ll love it. And I’ll giveyou an extra twenty bucks as a tip under the table if you do it. Okay?”

The kid considers this, then agrees.

You tell him to use the light blue icing—it matches Rick’s hair—and overseethe three little words he pipes on the top of the cake.

“Exclamation point?” he asks, poised at the end of the last word.

You shake your head no, but praise that it looks very nice. Theballoons around the outside really set it off. The kid shakes his head too,then boxes it carefully and slides it across the counter to you. You pay thebill with a credit card, and slip him the twenty you promised.

You’re all smiles as you leave the store.

 ⁂

At the Smith household, you’re greeted and invited in. They’re allinterested in the cake, but you smile secretly and tell them it’s a surprise.After all the niceties are complete, you’re shooed to the garage.

Rick is there, of course, working intently on god-knows-what. He nevertells you.

“Hi, baby!” you call cheerfully. You know his family is listening.

He barely acknowledges you.

Carefully you close the door, but it sticks slightly open. You makeyour way over to his side.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snarls. He hates being interrupted.

“It’s your birthday, silly!” you giggle. “I brought you a surprise!”

He turns to you with a look that would make small children cry. Very gently,you scoot the box onto the workbench beside him, using the cardboard to scootsome of his tools out of the way to make room for it. Rick looks suspiciouslyat it.

“Go on!” you urge, gesturing towards it and taking a half step back.

With a scowl, he drops the screwdriver he’d been holding in an obviousshow of irritation. There’s some muttering from the vicinity of the doorway,and you know his family is spying on the two of you.

You and Rick both ignore our audience.

He snaps the tape holding the box shut.

He opens the lid.

He stares.

His lips mouth the words you specifically asked to be written there.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SATAN”

He glances up at you.

“You’ve been a real asshole lately, you know?!” you bark in his face. “Happybirthday, prick! I hope you choke on it!”

There are gasps from the kitchen. Rick sits startled by your outburst.Then, as you’re panting from the explosion, he laughs in your face.

He laughs so hard he holds his belly, and tears pool in his eyes. Thatdoes nothing to dispel your rage. He’s been so mean lately, so unnecessarily a bastard—

Rick can sense you’re getting ready to spit in his face or swipeeverything off his work station or something. He grabs you, still laughing, andeven though you struggle, pulls you down into his lap.

“Oh baby—“ he says, and interrupts himself with another peal oflaughter.

You try to get out of his grip, but can’t break it.

“Baby, baby—you’re the absolute best.You put up with so much shit—you wanna get out of here? It might be mybirthday, but I’ll take you off world, anywhere you want. Make up for beingsuch an asshole lately. Okay?”

It’s hard to stay mad at him. You try to hold your ground, try to pout,but it’s nigh impossible. He knows it.

Rick sets you down and stands up. He keeps hold of your hand.

“Bring the cake, baby. I got some naughty idea of uses for that, andthey aren’t for an audience,” he tells you.

Whoever is left listening at the door makes a gagging sound.

Rick smirks. You grab the cake, and follow him through the portal heopens.

“Follow my lead.”

“Follow your lead? Follow your–you’re fucking drunk and we’re so busted. You didn’t even get your pants up properly before getting in the car! Follow your lead how? Chug vodka? Pass out? Rant about string theory? Puke a little down my front? I told you to let me drive!”

“Listen, j-just–”

The officer made it to the driver’s side window and tapped on the glass. Rick lowered it.

“S-some-something wrong, Officer?”

“Were you aware you were going 75 in a 35 zone, and weaving all over the road?”

“Oh, oh sorry sir! I, uh, it’s hard for me to drive correctly when-when this little nympho is going down on me. I-I told her no, that - that we can have some fun sexy times when I’m not behind the wheel, but you know women…”

Your jaw cannot drop any further. He was going to try and blame his reckless driving on you?! Oh hell no.

The officer’s flashlight shone in your eyes, momentarily blinding you.

“That’s incredibly irresponsible, miss,” he says disapprovingly, “not to mention dangerous. Like he said, there’s a time and a place for blow jobs, and while he’s operating a motor vehicle is not one of them.”

This guy bought it?! Son of a–

“I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” he continued. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“No sir!”

The light blinds you again and you know the warning was directed towards you.

The officer leaves the side of the car; Rick waits until he drives off before pulling back onto the road again.

“Beautiful, baby!” he sings. “You did your part so well, opening that pretty little mouth of yours, like you’d been sucking me off–”

“I’m gonna bite it off, next time,” you grump.

He just laughs.

@ricksanchezdwc

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“Hey!”

Rick spins around on you.

You cock your head andlook confused.

With a suspicious look,Rick continues down the sidewalk. He’s always a half a stride ahead, with hislong spiderlike legs, but you trot after him.

“What the actual fuck!”he spits at you.

You hold your hands up,the very picture of innocence.

He grabs your shoulders,his fingers pinching too tightly.

“Ouch! Rick, that hurts!”

“What the fuck are youdoing?” he demanded. “You think I don’t feel what you’re doing?! I don’t haveanything in my pocket that you would possibly need or want or even fuckingunderstand—“

“What do you mean?” youinterrupted. “I’m not trying to pickpocket you, your butt is just amazing!”

Rick stops in the middleof a word, his jaw loose. You can see the wheels turning in his head.

“Ah—“ he finally repliedeloquently. “—well, then—“

@ricksanchezdwc   NSFW-lite

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@ricksanchezdwc 

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He’d worked hard. Took theopportunities that came his way—and some he forced, covertly—and molded theminto what he wanted. What he needed. He had plans, big plans, and being anameless drone forever in this hive wasn’t one of them.

He paid his dues. Wasstill paying them, in a way, but in short order that wouldn’t matter. There’dbeen whispers recently. Rumors of a vacancy. It was what he’d been waiting forall this time.

And whether it was favorsdue or favors promised or money crossing palms, he damn well made sure his namewas whispered alongside that magical word vacancy. In the same breath, even.

He slipped into hisuniform. He smoothed the leather of the holster around his thigh and buckled itinto place. The long white coat, starched just enough to be crisp but notenough to hinder movement, fell easily into place. Muscle memory instead of consciouseffort helped his hands fasten the chest strap over his left shoulder to hisbelt. Out of habit he made sure his epaulettes were straight. His boots, alreadypolished, got one last quick wipe down after he stepped into them.

Last but definitely notleast, he paid extra attention to the stylized “R” insignia that representedthis Citadel.

He gave himself one lastlook to make sure everything was in place.

Soon, he told himself.

Soon he’d be out of thisfucking Council Guard uniform.

Soon he’d be done withthis standard Rick hairstyle.

Soon he’d be finishedwith this standard Rick name.

Soon he’d take a seat atthe Council.

Soon.

Soon.

Rick Prime smiled athimself in the mirror, and headed out to his post.