Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You made him breakfast the way you always loved to the next morning. Eggs, soft and fluffy with a little extra cream and a sprinkle of salt, bacon extra crispy, and buttered toast with whatever jam he had in his fridge. He smiled as you placed the plate down in front of him, humming as he took the first bite.

“God I missed this.” He sighed out. You giggled, chewing on your own piece of toast as you leaned against the counter. “No eggs for you this morning?” He questioned. You shook your head.

“God, no, anything but eggs.” Your stomach wretched at the idea, but you shoved it down, focusing on the toast in your mouth instead.

“So when are you planning on telling him again?” Morty asked, eyeing you across the counter.

“When I get back.” You shrugged.

“So, today.” Morty offered. You cringed at the thought.

“Or, like, not today.” You countered.

Morty chuckled as he took a bite of his toast. You ignored it, taking a bite of your own as you thought it over. You could tell him. You would tell him. At the right time. You just had to butter him up a little first, make sure he was in a good mood, and before all of that, decide what you wanted to do with it.

You could just abort it. It would be quick and nearly painless, or, at least less painful than giving birth. Alternatively, you were sure Rick could keep it, for if you decided you wanted it someday. If you did, would Rick petition for its existence like he had with your daughter? You weren’t exactly sure where his line was painted. You knew where yours was, but it was a joint decision, if you wanted it to be. Part of you did. Part of you didn’t.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n?” Morty’s voice broke you from your train of thoughts.

“Yeah? Sorry.” You muttered, placing your toast down on the counter as you eyed him.

“I said you should probably shower and change before we head back.” He offered, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Right. Shower. I can do that.” You agreed with a small nod.

You spent an hour in the shower. The idea of seeing Rick was no longer bringing warm and fuzzy feelings to your gut, or lower. Instead, you were nervous. You knew you weren’t a good liar, and you were shit at keeping things from him. You overthought, and overreacted, and it brought more suspicion on whatever you were hiding from him every time.

You thought of how to tell him while you washed your hair, your body, your face. None of the ideas seemed good. The goal was somewhere in between ‘hey you’re a dad again!’ and ‘by the way I don’t want this kid!’. You weren’t exactly sure how to portray that, but you were fairly sure Rite Aid didn’t carry any cards with that on it. You checked on your phone while you blow dried your hair. They didn’t.

You dressed in your last pair of clean clothes, jeans that fit a little snug around your waist and a baggier zip up you’d brought in case. You weren’t sure how long you would be able to hide it from him, but the pressure didn’t help your nerves. You would have to wear baggier shirts and avoid being naked around him with the lights on. Eating less might help, but fuck, were you hungry. Morty was waiting on the couch for you downstairs when you finished packing up.

“I’m sorry, for last night, and today.” You mumbled as you slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you came.” He shot back.

“Yeah?” You questioned.

“It’s no different than when I first brought you back.” He chuckled. “And I didn’t kick you out then.” He pointed out. You laughed at that. “But if things don’t… go well, telling Rick, call me and I’ll bring you right back.” He spoke, his voice more stern now as he stared you down.

“Okay.” You agreed. That was the least of your worries. Him being angry would be a blessing. You needed him to be angry, pissed, annoyed, anything but happy that you were pregnant again.

“Let’s go.” He spoke, pausing as he pulled the gun from his pocket. “And come back soon, okay?” He requested. You knew there was a please somewhere in his tone and smiled at the kid, reaching your hand out to ruffle his hair in the way he hated. He swatted you away as you giggled.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy kid.” You joked, nudging him softly as the swirling pool of gold appeared before you.

“Sure hope not.” He muttered as you stepped through.

The garage was almost exactly as you’d remembered it, though the smell of burnt hair was the first thing you noticed as you entered. That, and the assortment of devices splayed out on the workbench. Rick had kept busy while you were out. Morty sat in your usual chair, across the bench from Rick as he worked. He smiled as he noticed you, raising to stand and waiting to approach for a hug. You dropped your bag down and wrapped the boy in your arms with a small squeeze.

“Hey Morty.” You gave.

“H-Hey. Good to s-see, g-good to have you home.” Morty stuttered out, his cheeks tinged with red. Right. Not Eyepatch Morty.

“Good to be home.” You ruffled his hair, which he didn’t mind, before turning around to say goodbye to his genetic twin. “Thanks for letting me stay the weekend.” You thanked.

“Yeah, yeah. Call me when you wanna come back.” He spoke. “Rick.” He greeted to the man the other side of the bench. Rick grumbled something you couldn’t hear. Eyepatch Morty accepted your small hug before leaving. You missed him every time he left, but you knew he could never be happy this side of the curve.

The moment he was gone Rick approached you, sliding his hands around your waist and pressing his warm mouth to yours. You hummed into him, giggling as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His kisses were warm, friendly, loving in every way you’d missed in your absence.

“Hi.” You giggled as you pulled away. He pressed another kiss to your lips before removing himself from your body.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, though his tone was off. Did you get hurt?

“Lots. I blindfired in a lateral loop and took out three ships.” You smiled. He raised an eyebrow at you before placing a kiss to your forehead, his hand at the back of your head pushing your skin into him.

“That’s my girl.” He spoke lowly against the skin. Your stomach swirled with that familiar blissful feeling. Well, it’s not like I can get more pregnant.

“Are you busy?” You asked, glancing up to his eyes with a pleading look. His eyes flashed between yours, conflicted, before he sighed.

“A little.” He admitted, bringing a hand around to scratch at the back of his neck. You bit down on your bottom lip in disappointment.

“Okay, well, can I borrow some paper and a pen maybe?” You questioned. He raised an eyebrow but turned to grab it regardless, handing it over and watching as you sat back against the cabinets on the cold concrete floor. You curled your legs in as you began writing.

Chapter Text

Morty, Eyepatch Morty, that is, had been right. Designing better suits for the women in Fleet 9A would benefit everyone and make you some money if the plans went anywhere. There were things other than the design itself that needed changing.

The reinforced joins wore badly over time, requiring constant maintenance and greasing. Occasionally, they jammed, leaving your leg bent or straightened when you attempted to move around. They also lacked a thermal layer, which, suspended in the vacuum of space, was helpful when trying not to shiver in the ship. The HUD was outdated on the helmets, which is why most people broke protocol and refused to wear them. You wrote these down, along with a laundry list of other problems, as Rick and Morty chatted in the background.

When you’d run out of problems you moved to the door, grabbing the bag off the floor and pulling the suit from the top of the clothing pile before dragging it back to your spot. You’d need to test the existing sync rate. You looked up to the boys before rising and tapping Rick’s shoulder softly. He turned to meet your eyes, clearly not happy to be pulled away from his work.

“Can I borrow a computer? Also a signal logger, oscilloscope, and wireless packet sniffer.” You questioned. He shrugged, reaching over the desk to open some drawers. He fished out a laptop and the other requested items, all from different spots, before handing them over to you. You liked that he didn’t need to ask what you were doing.

“Here.” He offered.

“Thanks.” You smiled before sitting back at your spot.

The sync rate for the existing suit had a 0.9s latency from suit to unit command, which you simulated on the laptop he’d given. It was bad, as you figured it would be, but to get it down to target, you’d need to overhaul the hardware transmission protocols, sensor systems, internal bus architecture, actuator command parsing, and middleware abstraction layers. You sighed softly as you pulled the notepad back onto your lap. Finally. Something to do.

Wireless packet compression and queuing could save you 250-300ms, signal relay node arbitration could save another 2-300ms, you figured. Powertrain actuator initialization delay would be lower, somewhere between 100-150ms, as would sensor interpretation and motion parsing. A buffer overflow and thermal throttling would be fifty, maximum. With these, you’d at least be closer to acceptable levels.

The current transmission layer used a compressed BLE 6.1 stack, with standard 2.4GHz ISM bands. Best case, the latency on that sits around 300ms, you figured. Mathematically, classical materials wouldn’t reduce that to where you needed it to be, but Rick’s work on quantum tunnelling meshed with your needs in your brain and you stood again to bother your husband.

“Hey Rick?” You asked softly. Again, the man turned, annoyed to be pulled away for the third time.

“Yes?” He questioned. He was cute when he was annoyed, you thought, as you watched his eyebrows twitch.

“Can I borrow a whiteboard?” You asked sweetly. Again, he sighed, moving towards his shelves and pulling the rolling one from behind it.

“Need anything else sugar?” He questioned, though you could hear his real question beneath the frustration in his tone. How many more times are you going to ask me for shit? You tried your best not to giggle.

“Nope. All good.” You smiled. “Oh, actually, I need-”

A blue dry erase pen was extended towards you before the question could finish leaving your mouth. You took it from him, a small blush on your cheeks, before leaning up on your tiptoes and pressing a small kiss to his lips. You could feel his mouth twitch against yours.

“Thank you.” You thanked before turning, dragging the white board back to your spot. Rick grumbled out an ‘mhm’ before turning back to his grandson and his own work.

The temptation to bother him again was strong, but the idea of working out a quantum spin tunneling mesh was far more tempting, and you uncapped the pen before writing it out. It would require using dedicated femtosecond-timed terahertz transceivers, you knew, and packet framing would have to be encrypted. You’d never worked much with encryption before, and you found yourself rather stuck.

You stared at it for half an hour, going over everything you knew and remembered, both from school and Rick’s work, before sighing softly. You could try to look it up, though you knew the chances of Google having that answer were slim to none.

“Orthogonal frequency chirps.” You heard the man speak from behind you. You turned, finding Rick no longer paying attention to his own work as he leaned back against the counter, his legs and arms crossed as he watched you work.

“Chirped signals instead of static carriers.” You thought aloud. Rick hummed out a softer, nicer ‘mhm’ this time. “So instead of TCP or IP framing…” You trailed off, still thinking aloud as you bit on the marker cap.

“Every packet would be N nanoseconds long. No retransmission.” He explained as he moved forward. “G-Give me, give me the pen.” He requested, taking it from your hand as you moved aside. He began writing on the board in the space under your work.

Data_μs = N_c x M x (B/log₂(M) x T

“So if you have 32 OFDM subcarriers, N_c would be 32 chirps.” He offered, erasing and plugging in the value for you. B, your total usable bandwidth per c would be 1MHz, and for modulation order put it at 16.” He gave.

“Four bits per symbol?” You questioned.

“Mhm. 16-QAM.” He responded.

“And for time it’s just this?” You asked, grabbing the marker from him now as you plugged in the segment.

T = 5μs = 5 x 10^-6s

“Yep.” He agreed.

“So…” You trailed off, quickly finishing the calculations as you chewed on the pen. “640 bits in 5 microseconds.” You offered.

“Or you could say it like a, l-like a normal person.” He teased. You rolled your eyes.

“128 Megabits per second.” You corrected. “But what about encryption? Do I just modulate the shape of the chirp?” You questioned. It was coming together in your head now, and you were quickly realizing just how helpful Rick’s knowledge had really been.

“You have to make a key, change the phase and frequency profile, sweep rate, and pattern, but yes.” He agreed. “Without a symmetric key it’ll just look like overlapping frequencies.” He explained.

“Could I use elliptic curve modulation? For chirp rate?” You questioned. He gave another ‘mhm’ as he eyed the board. “Wouldn’t that increase latency though?” You asked, looking up to him as he thought.

“If you’re deriving EC based modulation in real time for each message, yeah, a few microseconds.” He agreed, taking the pen from you again as he wrote it on the board.

f(t) = f0 + E(x,y) x δ(t)

“You could either use a dedicated crypto co-processor, which would land you around 80μs, or ASIC, for 3.5 μs.” He offered.

“What about a quantum assisted processor?” You asked.

“Yeah, if you want to spend a week working on superconducting qubits.” He chuckled. You shrugged.

“What if I used quantum dot-spin states instead?” You asked.

“That could work, t-trapped ions would be easier though.” He suggested.

“But bulkier.” You shot back.

“Quantum dots would be better for chip integration, and size.” He agreed. You cheered internally. Did I just win a mini-fight?

“So… dots then.” You finalized. He shrugged.

“Go nuts.” He spoke, handing the pen back to you and pressing a small kiss to your forehead before abandoning you for his work again.

You spent the entire day designing the transmission layer replacement. For once, you weren’t bored, spinning in the chair and watching him work. Even if it amounted to nothing, and you never finished the suit, you would still be glad you had something to do. When dinnertime rolled around, you were starving, and desperate for whatever Beth had cooked as the smell wafted into the garage. You could feel your mouth watering as you placed your papers to the side, standing and making your way towards the pair with a small frown.

“Can we go eat dinner.” You begged. Rick looked up from his work, his eyes glancing over you before nodding.

“Oh yeah. Dinner. I’m starving.” Morty spoke, placing his hand on his stomach as he rose from the chair.

“Same.” You groaned, hunching over with hands on your tummy now.

“Fine.” Rick spoke, placing his screwdriver down and reaching for your hand. You took it with no complaints, quickly moving towards the door and into the kitchen where the smell was emanating from.

Beth made spaghetti to welcome you back home, and you drooled over the plate as you waited for the family to take their seats. You avoided the meatballs again. Normally, you were a fan, but the idea of a ball of meat sounded rather disgusting at the moment. Instead, you added extra garlic bread and an extra scoop of pasta to your plate as you watched the family serve themselves.

“Jeez, d-did Morty forget to feed you?” Morty joked, staring at your plate. You blushed, biting down on your cheek as you shook your head.

“Sort of.” You lied through your teeth. I’m also pregnant with your aunt or uncle, so, that might be why. You bit your tongue as you dug into the meal, remaining silent and focusing on the delicious task rather than conversation.

That was one thing you missed about the ship. You had things to talk about there, conversations you understood and wanted to join in on. Relevant topics for people around your age. Rick must have noticed the shift in your attitude as he leaned a little closer.

“Are you making a new suit?” He questioned quietly, under the conversation Beth was having with her children. You nodded, taking another bite of crunchy warm garlic bread as you replied.

“Yeah. The ones we have are cute but they’re not practical. The latency is like, 0.9ms, and they’re one size fits all, which, it doesn’t.” You shook your head. “Especially for women. I mean, poor Phirin, her boobs are practically falling out of the damn thing.” You laughed. “Plus the joints get stuck, and the HUD is huge, like, takes over half my vision huge.” You added.

“Metal on metal or polymer fatigue?” He questioned, regarding the joints.

“Metal on metal, believe it or not.” You informed, taking another large bite of spaghetti.

“Th-They aren’t using molybdenum disulfide?” He asked, taking another bite himself.

“No, those cheap fucks. Mild steel on steel.” You answered. “So if you sweat, or get wet, they get stuck open.” You shook your head in disapproval with another bite of garlic bread. Rick leaned in closer to your ear, bumping his leg against yours before speaking again.

“How about after dinner you put it on, I’ll get you nice and wet, and then we can see about getting your legs stuck open.” He spoke in a low voice, quiet enough for the family to not hear. Your cheeks flushed red, your hand pausing mid garlic bread transfer as you looked over to him. He was smirking his usual smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he watched you blush under his gaze.

“Deal.” You agreed quietly, bringing your attention back to your pasta.

The moment your plate was empty Rick stood from the table, taking it and his own into the kitchen as you thanked Beth for the meal. Before she could pull you into conversation you were grabbed by the wrist and tugged from the dining room. You could feel the butterflies doing flips in your abdomen as he practically shoved you into the basement. The moment the hatch closed behind you his lips met yours, his arms wrapped around your waist as he backed you into the wall.

The man desperately pushed at the elevator button, shuffling you inside once the doors opened and pushing you up against that wall next. You moaned into his mouth, your arms draped over his shoulders as his pelvis pushed into yours. The familiar purple lighting of your room shone through closed eyelids as he moved you again.

“Rick,” You breathed out, disconnecting your mouths for a moment to voice your wants. “Can we, uh, maybe just like, a little-”

“I’m not being rough with you.” He deadpanned back, staring down at your face as his hand moved to brush hair behind your ear.

“Not like, rough rough, just, you know, a little… rougher?” You asked hopefully. His eyebrows knitted into a tight V as he caught your eyes again.

“Honey… I don’t want to cause another, uh, incident.” He spoke, his eyes flickering away in fear as he referenced the last time.

You understood where he was coming from, but you were tired of riding him and being perched against things. You missed his hands pulling in your hair, your ass red and spit from the depths of your throat smeared across your face. You’d settle for 30%.

“Please? Just, can we try?” You asked quietly. His fingers moved to your chin, gripping there softly as you refused to meet his eyes. He sighed softly against your skin.

“We can try.” He offered. “Without your memories I don’t know what will, don’t kill me for saying the word, trigger you, but we can try.” He offered. He was right, you did want to kill him for saying it.

“Don’t say that.” You shook your head, cringing.

“I just said don’t kill me for it.” He pointed out.

“Still.” You shot back childishly.

“Yeah? You wanna fight with me right now?” He questioned, his grip on your chin tightening. “Or do you wanna be good and bend over the bed?” He offered. You could feel that pool of warmth growing in you.

“I’ll be good.” You promised. You glanced up to him, your cheeks flushed and pupils no doubt blown as you watched him.

“Wh-What are you waiting for then? Bend the fuck over.” He growled, though his tone was still softer than you preferred.

You didn’t argue, instead detaching yourself from him and moving to bend over the bed. Rick cleared his throat and you turned to see what the problem was. His brow was raised as he watched you, confused, wondering what you’d done wrong.

“Clothes off.” He clarified. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip as you slid your sweatpants down your legs.

He won’t notice. We just ate, and the lights are dim. You pulled your jacket off next, ignoring the zipper as you grabbed it from the bottom and tugged the loose fabric up and off your body. You had nothing underneath, much to his pleasure, as he hummed softly before swirling his finger in the air.

“Do I need to tell you again?” He questioned.

Quickly you turned, bending over as requested and turning your head to the side to watch the wall. You’d missed this view. You could hear his steps approaching from behind on the metal floors. His warm hand trailed down your spine, moving your hair out of the way as he sat next to you.

“Move. Over my lap.” He requested, no longer gentle with his words. You did as asked, repositioning yourself so you laid over his lap. He moved you to the spot he’d wanted with strong hands on your hips before moving one hand to the center of your back and pushing softly.

His free hand smoothed over the skin of your ass once before delivering a sharp smack to the cheek. You cried out, your leg lifting in automatic protest, but he only chuckled, delivering another smack to the same spot before rubbing over it softly. He pinched the skin lightly, forcing a whimper from your throat, before smacking it again. You cried out softly, letting your head go limp against the bed as you reached your hand back to cover the spot. Quickly, your arms were gathered in his hand, held by the wrists against your spine, but the grip was soft. You could get out of it if you wanted. You whined in annoyance. You wanted the bruises.

“Hush.” He growled, giving a sharp smack to the other cheek in warning. You bit down on your lip with a small moan. The next smack was harsher, and you cried out again, dropping your head to the blanket after the stinging died down with a small groan. “Oh please.” It was patronizing in the way you loved, and you whined out softly as his chuckle reverberated against your side.

Another sharp smack was delivered to the same spot. You whined again, pulling lightly against his grip on your wrists.

Rick let go immediately, afraid you were panicking or needing to stop, but you used the new found freedom to cover the skin of your ass again, and he quickly regathered them in a slightly tighter grip.

“You wanna try that again?” He warned. You whined out softly again, wiggling in his lap as you became impatient. God please just fuck me already. “Lay still.” He growled, brining his down on the reddened skin again.

You were thoroughly slick by then, no doubt dripping down your thighs as you waited for any sort of friction. In an attempt for some, you slipped your leg off his lap, attempting to position yourself so your clit sat on his knee. He seemed to catch your drift and quickly moved your leg back onto the bed.

“I thought you wanted to be good, hm? What happened to that?” He questioned.

“Want you in me.” You frowned, attempting to move your leg again. Another harsh smack was delivered to the same spot and you moaned out again, feeling the rush of slick soak you this time.

“Patience.” He growled softly, gripping at the raw skin as he watched you squirm. “You want my hand baby?” He asked. You nodded against the sheets, only to be spanked again.

“Yes!”  You responded, tears welling in your eyes now from the frustration.

“Where are your fucking manners?” He questioned, delivering another hard smack to the same spot. You bit down on your bottom lip.

“Yes please.” You spoke, much sweeter now, almost in a beg.

“There we go.” He spoke, his hand flattening and smoothing over the skin.

It was colder compared to the surface and you sighed out at the relief. Slowly, his hand slipped down, gathering up some of the wetness before pulling his hand away. You could hear him moving his soaked fingers before placing them in his mouth and humming softly.

“Always so nice and wet for me, aren’t you angel?” He questioned, taking more from between your legs. “You want some?” He questioned. You didn’t know how to respond, your brain fuzzy and your body buzzing with desperation. Instead, two wet fingers were placed in front of your lips. “Open.” He growled. You did as asked, sucking the fingers into your mouth with a soft moan and cleaning them with your tongue before pushing off. “That’s a good girl.” He spoke, rubbing your cheek with his wet fingers before dragging them back towards your core.

“Fuck, please, Rick,” You begged softly, arching your back as you attempted to move your leg around once more. Blunt nails dug into your reddened cheek and you cried out softly.

“What did I say?” He questioned.

“To lay still.” You growled back. A sharp smack was delivered to your left cheek in response.

“Drop the attitude or you’ll get nothing.” He warned, rubbing the spot with the back of his hand before his fingers slipped down again.

This time, he wasted no time slipping them into you, curling them into your g-spot as you writhed on his lap. You sighed out in relief, opening your legs a little further. You moaned out softly when he added a third, working them in rhythm as he pressed against the sensitive spot, shooting pleasure up your spine and down to your toes. His thumb moved forward and settled against your clit, tapping it softly as you squirmed in his lap again.

“Please, please.” You begged quietly, attempting to grind your hips down on him. He hummed gruffly as he placed pressure on it, moving his whole hand now as his fingers slid in and out of you, his thumb rubbing up and down the nerve along with them. You cried out, tugging on the restraint of his grip on your wrist as your legs fell further apart.

“Is that what you wanted angel?” He questioned. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke.

“Yes! Fuck, yeah.” You breathed out.

“What do we say?” He patronized. You could barely think through the haze. His fingers worked magic you could never imagine feeling so good had you been doing it yourself.

“Thank you!” You cried out.

“C-Can you, y-you can take more, can’t you angel?” He questioned hungrily. You scrunched your brows. More?

Before you could push the question from your throat, you felt his ring finger slip from your heat and tap on your other hole, not pushing, but resting there. You cried out quietly, spreading your legs further apart and angling your hips up towards his hand. He chuckled.

“That’s my girl.” He spoke softly, rubbing his wet finger along the rim before pushing in.

You cried out, squeezing your fists together as your face fell further into the blanket. Pleasure shot through your abdomen, your pussy tightening and squeezing around his fingers as you dripped down to his thigh. He moved it in time with the other fingers, working you with his whole hand rather than just his digits. You were a moaning, whimpering mess, sweat sticking hairs to your forehead as you cried out into the fabric below, your legs falling farther and farther apart as you took everything he gave. Curses, mutters of his names, pleas, and notes of gratitude fell from your lips in long strings the closer you came to your edge.

“Fucking love this, don’t you baby.” He growled out. You could feel him beneath you, warm and hard, twitching and begging to fill one of your holes. Still, he worked on you, bringing you torturously closer with every passing moment. “You love it when I use both of my toy’s holes, such a dirty fucking girl for me.” He continued. “This what you were so desperate for the other night? Hm? Pretending it was my hands when you got yourself off in the bathroom right in front of your little friends?” He questioned.

You moaned out, unable to respond with words as your vision went white. Obscene noises were falling from your lips, completely incomprehensible as you melted in his hands. You were close, too close, and you never wanted it to end. You could spend eternity on his lap, falling victim to whatever he wanted to do to you. You’d take it with a smile.

“Answer me.” He growled, his fingers not slowing in their work.

“Yes, fuck yes!” You cried out. “Was thinking about, fuck, pretending it was you.” You moaned out.

“Bet they heard you too, didn’t they, noisy girl? I bet they all know how much of a slut you are for me, ho-how desperate you are for my dick every fucking day.” He continued. You cried out, nodding into the bed as you neared your limit.

“Fuck, yes, they, fuck, they knew.” You cried, remembering Alec’s teasing.

“Gonna have to get you that muzzle angel, maybe a gag, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut. Those moans are mine. That little throat is mine.” He growled. You could feel yourself squeezing around him at his words, but the pleasure was too intense to say anything else, to respond, to exist.

“Please, fuck, please Rick I’m-” You cut yourself off with a moan, your legs fully spread now as you writhed on his lap, begging for release as the knot coiled tighter and tighter in your core.

“You gonna cum on my hand baby?” He questioned.

“Please, please, please,” you cried out softly, “let me, please.” It was the only beg you could think of, the words tumbling out unconsciously as your legs began to shake.

“You want me to let you cum? I-Is that what you’re, what you’re asking sugar?” He questioned. It was torture holding back, torture listening to him tease you, push you closer with no promise of release.

“Yes! Fuck, please Rick please.” You begged again, pulling against the grip on your wrists as you cried. Tears fell down your cheeks in frustration as you pulsed around his hand.

“I think you can hold it a little longer, don’t you?” He patronized. A sob tore through your chest.

“No! No, please, I can’t, I can’t.” You shook your head against the blanket wildly, doing everything in your power to stop yourself from coming undone.

“What was that? I can’t hear you baby. You can beg louder now, nobody can hear you. Go on. Beg for it.” He growled. Still, his hand worked at your holes, rubbing against your clit with every movement. You couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t take it much longer.

“PLEASE! Fuck, please, Rick, please let me cum please, I can’t, I can’t hold it, I can’t, I’m gonna-” You could feel the edges of pleasure bleeding into what restraint you had left and cried, thrashing against him, begging him to stop to avoid disobeying his words.

“Cum angel, make a mess on my hand, nice and loud for me.” He spoke, increasing the pressure on your clit by just enough to prevent you from holding back.

You cried out, screamed as you pulsed around him, your vision white and your ears shot as you cried. The pleasure was unimaginable as it overtook you, curling your toes and arching your back without your permission as you came. You’d been so desperate for it, and it did not disappoint as the waves continued for what felt like forever. You were soaked through and through, a mess of a person and a mess on his thighs as you cried out his name.

When you could hear again, could feel your body against him rather than just existing, you were panting, hot and tingling as the wash of oxytocin flooded over your nervous system. Everything felt fuzzy, but not in the way you’d grown used to with anxiety. You’d missed cumming that hard. The grip on your wrists was still there, but Rick had stilled, his hand slipping out of you as you shook.

Rick moved you fully onto the bed, slipping out from under you and releasing your wrists as he undressed somewhere behind you. You still couldn’t open your eyes as you lay twitching on the bed, but you could hear his belt unbuckle, and his clothes land softly on the floor.

“Sit up angel.” He requested. You knew what he was asking. Ride me. Your body was too tired, your mind too muddled to begin to move and not coherent enough to keep a rhythm.

“Please, from the, from the back.” You begged quietly, shaking as you attempted to lift yourself up from the blanket.

“Is that, are you gonna be good?” He questioned, his interpretation of good changing now as you realized what he was asking.

“I’ll tell you if I’m not.” You whined out. The man behind you chuckled softly as the bed dipped from his added weight.

“Hands and knees then baby.” He corrected, his own hands landing on your hips as he pulled them up for you. Your arms were too weak from the continued lack of blood flow, and you kept your torso down, your arms stretched out in front of you as your legs tucked underneath. “God you look good like this.” He complimented, his cock sliding up and down your slit, forcing your legs to shake every time he pushed over the sensitive nerve.

He pushed into you slowly with a long, drawn out groan, his hands still on your hips as he held you to him. His attempt to bottom out was stopped when he hit your cervix, and you cried out in pain, pulling yourself forward unconsciously away from him.

“S-Sorry.” He groaned out. “Forgot about that.” He apologized. You settled back into your spot, waiting for him to push himself back into you again. The second time he avoided your cervix and you moaned out, the sensitive walls still begging for more as you pulsed around him. “That’s my girl.” He growled out softly.

“Fuck, please.” You moaned out, pushing yourself back on him. Faster, harder, please.

“Please what baby?” He questioned, though you knew your intentions were clear.

“Fa-aah-aster, please.” You begged as he rubbed the spot you loved so much. He did as asked, picking up his pace as he used your hips as handles. “And, fuck, harder, pl-mmm-please.” You added.

“Making a lot of demands down there aren’t you?” He growled, still doing as asked as he increased the viciousness of his thrusts, rocking your body forward with each one as your skin smacked together. “How about you be good and take what I give you.” He countered, though he’d already done what you’d requested. “Think you can do that?” He questioned.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good.” You promised. You were still blissed out from the first orgasm, the aftershocks running down your legs and through your core as he used you like a ragdoll from behind. The moaning mess you’d become would have been embarrassing had he been anyone else, but you didn’t care as you gripped your fingers into the sheet and whimpered out his name.

“Fuck, love seeing you like this.” He groaned out. “Ass up, j-just begging, begging for my cum. S-So pretty when you’re good for me baby.” He complimented. You could feel another rush of slick soak his cock in you. “C-Come, c’mere.” He grunted as his hands left your hips.

He wrapped his arms around your torso before pulling you up and back, leaned against his chest as he continued to fuck into you at the new angle. You cried out, his hands gripping your breasts as he held you to him. You leaned your head back to rest against his chest as his thrusts slowed, but stayed deep.

“Fuuuuuck,” you sighed out.

“Rub yourself angel, m-make another mess on me.” He spoke, dropping his head to your shoulder, his lips pressing against you as he spoke. You did as asked, reaching a hand down between your wet slit and rubbing softly at the sensitive nerve. You bit down on your bottom lip, watching his hands against your breasts. He leaned back further to let you watch him slide in and out of you, and you moaned out as you eyed the lewd scene, better than any porn you’d ever seen. You could see him glisten with your cum as he pulled out in the purple light.

You could feel yourself squeeze around him, your breaths growing heavy as you bit down on your bottom lip, rubbing at the nerve harder now as it readjusted to being used. His fingers brushed over your nipples and you moaned, your lip still caught in your teeth as you breathed heavy from your nose.

“So pretty when I use you like this.” Rick muttered into your skin, watching himself over your shoulder. You moaned out again, increasing the speed of your circles on the bundle of nerves as you pressed more weight into his chest. “That’s it angel.” He breathed out.

You glanced up to him, his pupils blown, eyes trained on your core. His hand fell from your breast, landing on the back of your head and scrunching the hair there softly. He pushed your neck forward, angling your head down to the spot it had been before.

“Watch.” He growled, removing the hand once you relaxed in his grip and bringing it back to your breast. You whimpered softly, your legs losing their ability to stay upright, or, half upright, as they shook. You were embarrassingly close embarrassingly fast, and it was taking too much energy not to succumb to the feeling.

“Rick, please, I’m-” You whined out, hoping he would get the message.

“Yeah? You wanna cum again on me baby?” He groaned out, squeezing a little harder at your breasts as his thrusts increased in pace.

“Please.” You whined quietly, your eyes shutting as the first waves threatened to wash over you. It was less intense than the time before, but equally as pleasurable, and you were struggling to keep your weight balanced as you felt yourself getting lost in it.

“Go on, gonna, fuck, gonna fill you up too, make you real nice and full baby.” He promised, his thrusts growing harsher as you squeezed around him. You came with a soft moan, your legs shaking and your hand slowing as your head fell to your chest with heavy breaths.

You pulsed against him, slow and steady in contrast to his fast paced rhythm. He groaned out, louder than before, as his lips pressed to your shoulder. You could feel the warm breath of his nose against your skin as he pushed himself deeper before stuttering.

“Fuck.” He growled as he came.

His grip on your breasts tightened and he spilled himself into you, the liquid only following gravity back down and dripping onto the bed. You moaned out again as you watched, moving your hand to get a better view. His hands slid from your breasts to your ribs as he moved the two of you, rolling onto his side and holding you to him as he slid out of you.

“Missed you.” He spoke quietly between breaths, fitting his body against yours and tucking your head under his chin. You hummed out softly, gripping one of his hands that lay across your torso.

“Missed you too.” You reiterated softly, playing with his fingers in the quiet of the room. Also, I’m pregnant with your kid. You bit back the last part. Now wasn’t the time. Tomorrow you’d tell him.

Chapter Text

You woke to Rick’s hands on your back, shaking you lightly with a quiet regard of your name. Groggily you turned over onto your tummy, placing your face in the pillow and groaning quietly. You were exhausted, despite the night’s sleep. Rick chuckled next to you, rubbing up and down your bare back as he attempted to rouse you.

“Come on, you’ll miss breakfast.” He warned softly. Ooh. Breakfast. You hummed softly as you turned towards him, instead pushing your face into the spot between his arm and the side of his chest. He hummed softly, moving your body closer with the hand on your spine. You could feel him brushing the hair back from the side of your face.

“’M tired still.” You whined.

“We can miss it if you want.” He offered. You shook your head with a small sigh, breathing in one last lungful of his scent before pushing your torso off the mattress. His hand fell from your spine as you sat up to stretch.

“I’ll get dressed.” You yawned out. You quickly dressed in baggy sweatpants and a hoodie-less sweatshirt before dragging yourself to the bathroom. When the door was shut you hurried to the mirror, lifting the sweatshirt up and the pants down to stare at your abdomen. When you turned to the side, the bump was still there. Rick wouldn’t notice it yet, you figured, but it wouldn’t be long before he did. You sighed. You’d tell him before then.

When your hair was combed and your teeth were brushed you head back to the bedroom. Rick was still waiting for you on the bed, scrolling through his phone as he glanced up at you.

“Your phone was buzzing.” He informed, his usual morning grumpy returning as he flicked his head towards the lit up device on the nightstand. You picked it up to read over the texts.

Pirate: Day one of asking if you’re a pussy until you’re no longer a pussy.

You bit down on your lip. You hated that he was right, and you hated that he had to put it in code only you’d understand.

Y/n: im a pussy

Pirate: I know.

“Do you want coffee?” He asked. Yes. Fuck, can babies have coffee? What if I wanna keep it? I don’t wanna keep it. But what if we put it in a jar? Am I gonna fuck it up if I have coffee?

“Uh, no I’m okay.” You shot back. Rick placed his phone down on the bed and you turned, meeting his suspicious glare as he watched you. “It’s been making me anxious.” You lied with a small frown. The suspicion disappeared, though you knew you’d been caught. He always knew when you lied, though you never knew how.

“Come on.” He urged, standing now as he moved towards the elevator. You always wondered how he dressed so quickly.

The family wasn’t used to you eating much at breakfast, and truthfully, neither were you. You hoped they’d play it off as stress eating when you grabbed a few pieces of French toast, some bacon, fruit, and asked Rick for orange juice. Morty gave you a confused glance, but the moment he caught your eyes it disappeared. I really need to get control of my fucking appetite.

You spent the day in the garage with Rick, sitting in the chair this time as you worked. Morty had left for school, leaving the two of you in comfortable silence. Rick was in and out, which you appreciated. He trusted you to be on your own more now, and the independence was helping reassure you that things were getting better. Still, when your brain went fuzzy, and the green started to sneak in, you struggled to push it back.

Thankfully, sensor and suit signaling redesigns kept you busy. The original suit had some sort of legacy IMU array system, run on I2C bus. Multi-sensor data was fused with a low power microcontroller, that sucked. You reworked the system on paper, starting with the IMU. Rick watched here and there as you designed a new dual-phase fiber-optic gyroscope system, which, when combined with MEMS coupled pressure mesh, was far more efficient than the original IMU.

Rick brought you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at lunch. You’d thanked him for it, only to get a small ‘mhm’ and a pat on the head before returning to his work. He made them the same way Morty did, which you appreciated.

You upgraded the shitty controller with a neural signal coprocessor Rick already had on hand, which he called the NSC-9, for parallel fusion logic. Optical backplanes with single packet motion vectors were fit into the suit architecture, and by your calculations, that brought the latency down from 160ms to 0.7, which you were more than happy with.

When Morty returned from school, you were exhausted. You gave up the chair and kissed Rick goodbye before abandoning the pair in favor of the couch and shitty TV. The house was relatively empty, with Jerry out of sight and Summer upstairs, so you stretched out as you turned on whatever show had been left behind and curled your head into the pillow. You always liked watching TV on your side.

Falling asleep was never part of the plan, but you appreciated the nap in the afternoon sun. Morty shook you awake a few hours later and you groaned, shoving your face further into the pillow like you had that morning, unwilling to rise despite the smell wafting through the house.

“Rick she won’t wake up.” Morty informed. You heard the older man from around the back of the couch a moment later.

“Well she’s not, UURP, she’s not dead. Just shake her harder.” He suggested. You could hear him take another swig of beer. Fuck I want a drink.

“I’m awake!” You called into the pillow frustrated.

“Dinner’s ready.” Morty explained quietly, removing his hands from your shoulders as you flipped over.

“What time is it?” You questioned, looking around at the darkened room. Rick was leaned against the back of the couch, beer in hand, staring down at you with hardened eyes. Does he know?

“Six thirty. Same time we have dinner every night.” He shot back. You nodded, rubbing your face softly before rising from the spot. Rick pushed himself off the furniture to join you, grasping your hand in his as he dragged you to the table. Okay, maybe not mad?

You ate mostly in silence, despite a few comments on Jerry’s bees and a new movie that was set to come out in fall. Summer talked with Morty about some new kid you had no interest in. Rick wasn’t afraid to tell them it was a stupid thing to talk about. Beth encouraged the pair to make friends with him, which was met with a teenage glare that screamed ‘you don’t get it’.

Mainly, you focused on the salmon and broccoli on your plate, or, what was left of it after you’d demolished it. The tartar sauce, you found out, was now disgusting, which was new. You’d always liked it before. The dill was overpowering now, and it took more effort than you anticipated not to throw up on the table. Still, you swallowed it down, ignoring Rick’s hand growing more tense on your thigh.

When your plate was clear, you debated getting more, but your appetite was already suspicious. Instead, with a grumble in your tummy, you helped Beth with the dishes, loading them into the dishwasher once they were rinsed and chatting with her along the way. Rick was already back in the garage with Morty by the time you were done.

One new thing you weren’t used to was the post dinner horniness. Normally, after eating, you felt too full to fuck, especially after a large meal. No longer was that an issue as you stared from across the garage, watching him write something down with the fingers you loved so very much.

You went back to work silently, running a quick test on the abstracted middleware in the suit. You’d have to ask Eyepatch Morty for another one after you were done dissecting it. Still, the thoughts persisted. You wanted to be bent over the table rather than working at it, your hands tangled in Rick’s hair as his lips worked down your neck. Morty, however, wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Instead of kicking him out, you quickly scribbled something on your paper, making sure Morty was staying in his section of the room by the corner of the workbench before speaking.

“Hey Rick can you help me with this?” You questioned sweetly. Rick looked up from his work, huffing with annoyance as he rounded the table before following your finger to the text you’d written there.

kick morty out and fuck me on the table?

“Morty get out.” Rick ordered.

“What? Why?” The boy questioned, throwing his arms up as he glared at the older man.

“Since when do I, y-y-you don’t need to know everything I fucking do! Come back in an hour.” He ordered again, crossing his arms over his chest. You avoided the boy’s eyes, your cheeks tinged pink as you stared at the sentence you’d written. A little more subtly would’ve been cool.

“Oh.” Morty spoke. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he did and you groaned internally. Alec’s words lingered in your head. Walk of shame. “I’ll come back later.” The boy bid as he turned to leave. The moment the garage door shut Rick’s hand was on your chin, gripping it softly and pulling your gaze to him.

“Are you that desperate that we had to kick my grandson out to fill you up?” He questioned softly, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip. You nodded, somewhere in a daze as you watched the man with pleading eyes.

“Yeah.” You admitted, barely above a whisper. The man chuckled as he took a step back.

“Get on your knees then angel.” He spoke, already unfastening his belt. You didn’t need to be told twice, quickly slipping from the chair and onto the cold, hard concrete floor. Your hands flew up, undoing the zipper and pulling at the fabric as he pulled himself from his boxers. For a man who claimed you were the one who was always ready, he did a fine job for himself, you thought, wrapping your hand around it.

You moved forward, pressing a kiss to the tip and earning yourself a soft groan. You giggled quietly before wrapping your mouth around the tip, pushing over the ledge of it and stopping there before sucking softly.

“Fuck I love your mouth.” Rick moaned out again with a sigh. You took him deeper, keeping your tongue in the back of your mouth to roll around the head and sucking in your cheeks to add pressure. His moan was louder this time and you smiled as you pulled back before pushing down again. He hit your throat at half his length, but your gag reflex hadn’t been optimal in recent days, and you pulled back a little before repeating the movement.

Rick’s hand fell at the top of your head and you flinched lightly. You knew where you were, who you were with, that you were safe. It hadn’t affected you as much as the time before, and instead of panicking, you took him deeper again, earning another soft moan and a praise.

His hand pushed at the back of your head. Your vision went green.

No, no, God not this again.

You felt tears well in your eyes as you froze.

*thunk*

Prime’s fist hit the back of your skull, forcing his cock deeper into your throat. You watched the teeth this time, knowing if you didn’t it wouldn’t be pretty.

*thunk*

He hit your head deeper, and your vision blacked out for a moment as he passed your throat. More than anything your body wanted to vomit as tears spilled from your eyes. You didn’t want to take him deeper. You didn’t want him in your throat. You wanted to go home, go back to your Rick, where you were safe.

*thunk*

You couldn’t breathe. Logically you knew you didn’t need to, but you couldn’t breathe, and you were starting to panic. When you pulled back, he hit you again, harder, with the bottom of his fist impacting at the top of your skull, hard enough to leave a goose egg.

*thunk*

Your nose was pushed to his pelvis, puke spilling around his cock and onto the floor as you choked. Your vision was gone, your body going limp, and you prayed he would hit you hard enough to kill you.

*thunk*

You heard the sickening crack. It was loud, too loud, and the pain was searing as it split in your head. You were still vomiting around him, but as you desperately tried to breathe in, you inhaled it, only making it worse. You did everything you could to stop your teeth from clamping down on him. Please, please kill me. Please, God, I don’t want to see this fucking green anymore, just kill me.

“Angel, please, look at me.” You could hear Rick’s voice from somewhere in the distance.

You could feel the cold of the concrete floor, not carpet, and you blinked a few times to focus your vision on the world around you. The garage. A fully dressed Rick, kneeled down at your side, holding your face in his hands as he searched your eyes for any sign you recognized him. You were crying, your breathing harsh and distorted as the dizziness began to fade. Home. You’re home.

“Fuck.” You breathed out, pushing back from his touch, scraping against the floor as you ran your hands through your hair.

“I shouldn’t have pushed on your head.” He shook his head, clearly upset with himself as he watched you.

“You know what helps me?” He asked. You furrowed your brows.

“What?” You asked softly.

“Not letting my brain go quiet. Every time I start thinkin’ too much about all that shit, I start making a list in my head of all the stuff my daughter liked. These, fucking stupid expensive little pony things, rainbow pajamas, clouds when the sun’s behind ‘em… it helps.” He explained.

“Danny liked Eggo waffles.” You breathed out, your hands registering the temperature of the floor as you dug your fingers into it.

“What?” Rick questioned, sitting down fully now as he watched you.

“He liked Eggo waffles with extra syrup. He said if you don’t put some in every square it’s too uneven. You have to put butter in every one too, so every bite is perfect.” You spoke. “And he liked whole grain ones better than the normal kind, cause they had better texture, with the syrup.” You explained. You met Rick’s eyes, desperate for him to catch on.

“Okay.” He spoke, bringing his legs in front of him to mirror your sitting position. “Danny liked Eggo waffles.” He repeated. You nodded.

“He liked Star Wars a lot. He had this pair of pajama pants with little, uh, R2D2’s on them.” You spoke. “They were gray and I borrowed them once and he offered to buy me a pair too so we could match.” You explained.

“Okay.” He nodded, scooting closer as he moved to wipe a tear from your cheek. It was helping. You felt a little less off balance, a little more like yourself.

“His favorite color was green. He liked it when the sun shone through leaves, that really bright green color, it was his favorite.” You whispered.

“It’s a pretty color.” Rick agreed. You moved forward now, fitting yourself between his legs and placing your thighs atop his. You leaned in to rest your head on his chest when his arms circled around you.

“Yeah it is. When we were walking home from school, by the soccer field, they had these little trees that faced the sun that time of day, but only in spring, and he’d point it out every time it was sunny.” You remembered. “He used to play soccer when he was younger, but he was really bad at it. I’d go to all his games and watch him lose.” You recalled. “I used to play too, but I only did it so I could be more like him. When I was little I thought he was really good, cause I guess I didn’t know the game very well and he always came back so happy.” You smiled. “So I joined the team when I was like, six, but I just sat in the field and picked flowers the whole time so they kicked me off.” You recalled.

“That doesn’t sound like you.” Rick spoke quietly, his hands rubbing up and down your spine.

“I guess not.” You agreed. “I used to be a little… distracted.” You remembered. “But Danny wasn’t, he was just bad.” You sighed. “His jersey was number nine, I think. After he stopped playing he hung it on the wall in his room.” You remembered.

“Yeah?” Rick asked, though you knew he was just responding to fill the silence.

“Yeah. I think it’s ruined now though. When he shot himself his, uh, brain matter got all over it. I never cleaned it.” You remembered.

“Hmm.” Rick hummed, clearly not liking the direction you were taking the conversation. “Did he play other sports?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No. He wasn’t a sporty person really. He spent most of his time playing videogames in his room after he quit soccer. He used to let me play COD on the Xbox. I think he was trying to teach me, but I was really bad so he gave up and just watched me run around.” You laughed.

“Now that sounds like you.” Rick admitted.

“Yeah. I guess it does.” You agreed quietly. You tried to shake the image of what was left of his head on the bloodstained carpet from your mind.

“Do you wanna take a bath?” He asked softly. You nodded.

“Yeah.” You agreed.

Ten minutes later the two of you were submerged in the tub, listening to bubbles pop and water swish as you moved your hands underneath the warm surface. Rick’s body was pressed to yours, his arms around your waist as he watched you sink into him. You hoped he couldn’t feel the bump. Were baths bad for babies?

“Morty’s probably coming back soon.” You spoke into the air, listening as it echoed off the walls. Rick shrugged.

“Who gives a shit?” He questioned. You rolled your eyes, reaching around to hit him softly.

“I do. Come on.” You urged, standing from the bath and wrapping another ugly red towel around your chest. Rick groaned as he stood to do the same. “I’m gonna go to bed early I think.” You admitted.

“Come back up with me.” He requested. You knew it wasn’t a request, and you knew he didn’t trust you alone at the moment either, both of which equally stung.

“I… I just wanna rest.” You spoke quietly. Rick shook his head, looping an arm around your waist and pressing his mouth to yours in a soft gesture, a quiet plead.

“Come on.” He urged. You nodded, still not happy with the outcome, and followed him back to the room to redress. You changed into more comfy clothes and reattached your hands when heading upstairs.

Morty was already waiting for the two of you as you re-entered, a smug smile on his face as he watched you. I wish. Rick sat in the stool before pulling you down onto his lap. You squealed in protest, but a quick pinch to your thigh had you rethinking your choices. Instead you sighed, leaning against his shoulder as he picked his work back up and ignoring whatever stare Morty was definitely giving the two of you.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were glad you didn’t stay down there alone. Rick’s shoulder moved and twitched as he worked, bouncing your head ever so slightly, though you knew he was being careful with it. You didn’t bother to watch.

Chapter Text

Your morning routine with Rick was part of life you’d learned to love. Routine was usually the enemy. It bored you to no ends, made you feel trapped, stuck to a planet and a life you no longer wanted. Now, it was a guaranteed dose of dopamine and cup of decaf coffee, which Rick had informed you he’d switched over to help with your anxiety. The way he said it let you know he knew you were lying, but he didn’t push it. You were grateful for that. You would tell him, when the time was right.

You drank the cup while Rick talked about something he wanted from another solar system. You leaned your head against his shoulder, reveling in the warmth of the cup and his skin beneath the coat and layers he always wore. When he was finished explaining what he wanted, why he wanted it, and how he planned to get it, you pressed a kiss to his mouth and set the empty cup down before heading upstairs with him for breakfast.

That part of the morning you enjoyed less. Still, you felt out of place with the family. You were good with Morty, you knew him well enough to talk with him for a while, and you enjoyed similar things, which made it easy to converse with him. You’d never been good with mothers, and the complicated dynamic didn’t help. You were younger than Beth, hell, you could’ve been one of her children, and yet technically, you were her step mom. She still treated you like one of her children sometimes, and it was odd, too odd to place the feelings.

Jerry treated you, well, you weren’t sure. You knew he was scared of you the same way he was of Rick. Having Rick on your side, you figured, perpetuated that, and yet he understood you weren’t him, and you’d respect him regardless of your husband’s feelings. Summer was Summer, and you loved her for it, but you spoke so little it was hard to ever get a read on what she was thinking, or what she wanted from you.

Instead, you stayed mostly silent for another morning, eating as much as you could without being suspicious before taking Rick’s hand and practically running back into the garage. You had your plan for the day, and Rick had his. Morty trailed along behind the two of you as Rick rambled on about whatever their plan was. You knew you’d be left alone for the day, and after the night before, you looked forward to it.

You removed the middleware stack entirely. It was written in a multi-threaded java based control environment, which was flawed in itself to begin with. Outputs were slowed by buffering and context switching, both of which you knew you could solve, but removing it and re-doing the system would be faster and cleaner. Rick and Morty left through a swirling pool of green as you planned the restructure, with a soft kiss placed on your lips and a warning to be good before they were gone.

To restart fully, you knew you’d want to use a hardware-synced microkernel, of which you went with VANTAR-K, for lowest latency. Microcode level instruction would be integrated through injection, to map command sequences to low level firmware pipelines. Traditional kernel-mode context switched overhead, but with VANTAR-K, cycle accurate predictability would reduce instruction path latency. Commands could execute through a zero-copy shared memory interface, with a DMA bus between the suit and and the control processor, to avoid serialization bottlenecking that you found on the previous IPC model. You could, theoretically, get full data transfers in 3µs packet bursts.

Control threads ran on dedicated RT cores. Command execution cycles had sub-millisecond alignment once the VANTAR-K synced to the onboard clock through an I2C-tunneled PCP handshake. For safety, you ensured that a desync or kernel panic was mitigated with a redundant supervisory kernel core reroute, that sent instructions to a watchdog-sandbox interpreter.

It was two when you finished working on it, leaving packet scheduling architecture until after lunch. You snuck into the kitchen, despite knowing nobody was home except Jerry, and made a peanut butter sandwich with extra jelly. You ate it at the counter while you made a second one. You’d ask Rick to buy them more bread when he returned home.

When you were finished with both sandwiches you dragged yourself back to the garage, more fatigued than you intended to be, and began working on the packet scheduling. You grabbed the laptop Rick let you borrow the other day and tried to work out the code. Rust was not a specialty of yours, despite what you’d learned from Rick. He didn’t use it often, and you struggled as you attempted to figure out the structure. You copied it and sent it to your phone before copying it again and texting it to Rick.

Y/n: do u think this will run?

You placed the phone down, sighing as you stared back to the laptop screen. You could ask Samatha, though really you just wanted a small break. Instead, you picked up the phone again and checked the other messages you’d been ignoring.

Pirate: Day two of asking if you’re a pussy until you’re no longer a pussy

Y/n: still a pussy but i had a good pbj

Pirate: Alec, Tally, Phirin, and Tyler say hello.

Y/n: tell them i say hi.

Pirate: Jace says hello too but I figured you didn’t want to hear it.

Y/n: wow, smart and bad at making eggs

Pirate: They aren’t that bad.  

Y/n: yeah if the goal is calcium carbonate

Pirate: I’m gonna tell Jace you say hi and miss him soooo much.

Y/n: fuck u

R: Change self.timestamp_ns = now.as_nanos() as u64; to self.timestamp_ns = now.as_nanos().try_into().unwrap_or(u64::MAX); If the uptime is too large the nanosecond value will exceed u64::MAX and cause silent truncation.

R: Change pub fn calculate_crc(&self) -> u32 {  0xDEADBEEF } to pub fn calculate_crc(&self) -> u32 { unimplemented!("CRC calculation not yet implemented") } to avoid accidental usage for placeholder.

R: You’re using packed layout correctly for a network embedded packet but you’ll need aligned access, and packed structs can trigger (don’t kill me) unaligned loads on U64 and U32 fields. Use read_unaligned and write_unaligned in those spots. Use a packed version at sterilization boundaries.

Y/n: what?

R: #[repr(C)] pub struct AlignedControlPacket { ... } // for internal logic

Y/n: oh. thank u

R: size_bytes() is safe but if your output is padded it won’t calculate correctly. If you’re sterilizing this with bincode or postcard (use postcard) it won’t match the bite array size. pub fn size_bytes() -> usize {  size_of::<ControlPacket>() }

Y/n: okay i can do that

R: And add default and copy traits. Here. #[derive(Debug, Clone, Copy, Default)] #[repr(C, packed)] pub struct ControlPacket { ... }

R: Switch packed to use only at boundary with transmission layer. pub fn set_timestamp(&mut self, now: Duration) { self.timestamp_ns = now .as_nanos() .try_into() .unwrap_or(u64::MAX); // Prevent silent truncation } pub fn calculate_crc(&self) -> u32 { unimplemented!("CRC calculation must be implemented before deployment") }

Y/n: ugh i hate rust

R: Just learn it. You’ll be fine. Do you need help implementing CRC32 with crc322fast (std) or embedded?

Y/n: i don’t even fucking know what that is

R: I’ll do it when I get home.

Y/n: no ill do it

R: Your funeral. Advil is in the bathroom cabinet, for the headache.

Y/n: love you

R: Love you too. Gotta go. Bye.

You sighed, staring at the messages with a small frown. This would take up the rest of your day, and that it did. When 6:30 rolled around, and your tummy growled, Rick still wasn’t home. You needed dinner, you knew that, as your body would be pissed if you didn’t eat, but dinner without Rick would be uncomfortable at best. If you didn’t show, and they knew you were here, and didn’t come, it would be rude. You groaned as you laid your head down on the cool counter.

Second option was to leave the house and wander around until you found somewhere to eat, or to eat a bunch of junk food snacks in the basement. Neither of those options sounded particularly good. The third option, which was slowly growing on you, was dinner with Eyepatch Morty. You grabbed your phone from its abandoned spot and shot him a quick message.

Y/n: wanna have dinner together tonight

It took a few minutes before he responded.

Pirate: What, right now?

Y/n: yeah im starving

Pirate: Sure. What do you want?

Y/n: anything

Pirate: K. Give me five.

You were still in pajamas, and took the five minutes rushing around the basement and getting dressed. Your jeans still fit, though they were more snug than usual, and you put on a baggier, hoodie-less sweatshirt again before spraying some perfume and brushing though your hair. You rushed back up to the garage right at the seven minute mark as your phone buzzed.

Pirate: You ready to go?

Y/n: yeah im ready

The swirling pool of gold opened in front of you and you smiled as you stepped through it, making sure your phone and cash was snugly in your back pocket. The restaurant on the other side was much fancier than you’d expected. The entry room was rather grant, with cream marble floors, large hanging chandeliers, and a red carpet that led to the stone podium. The walls were decorated with fancy art, but not modern art, more traditional, light toned paintings. The whole place practically sparkled. You regretted not wearing a dress again.

Had it been anyone else, you would’ve assumed it was a date, and you felt wildly underdressed until you met eyes with Morty. He was in his yellow shirt and jeans, and it put you at ease knowing you weren’t the only one in inappropriate attire.

“Hey.” You gave with a smile.

“Hey.” He gave back. “What’s with the impromptu dinner?” He questioned with a raised brow.

“Avoiding stuff.” You shrugged looking around at the crystals that gleamed white in the lighting.

“Rick?” He questioned, walking forward towards the man waiting at the front. You followed him, still in awe at the sheer expense the place must have cost to build, let alone decorate.

“No.” You shook your head. Morty didn’t push further as he approached the man, dressed in half a suit with a red bowtie. His hair was slicked back and gelled, and he smelled of aftershave and cologne you somewhat recognized.

“Morty, wonderful to see you again.” He smiled, taking his eyes from the sheet before him and focusing on the boy.

“Hey. Table for two, if you have it.” Morty shot back, clearly uninterested in the friendly chit chat.

“Absolutely sir. Right this way.” He motioned, holding his arm extended for the two of you. If he was judging your outfit, he said nothing about it, and gave no clues towards it based on his expression, instead keeping an Oscar worthy customer service smile as you followed in suit.

You were taken up a grand, curved staircase, past table after table of people dressed in clothes worth more than your car. Each woman wore diamonds, pearls, and gems you’d only seen in jewelry shops and movies, and every man wore a suit worth more than your existence. You tried not to feel self-conscious as you followed the pair up the stairs.

You were led into a dimly lit back room, just as fancy as the main entrance, but more private. Here, the chandelier sparkled a deep amber yellow, and there were only a few tables to be sat at. A couple sat towards the back wall, half painted wood and half fancy painted patterns littered in gold and white. A man and what you presumed to be his son sat against the opposite wall, chatting over a basket of bread, laughing a laugh that screamed yacht.

You sat in the chair Morty pulled out for you, placing your phone on the table as you grabbed the napkin from the plate in front. It, like most of the room, was wrapped in a ring of gold that you removed before placing the stiff fabric in your lap. You looked across the table in the sultry lighting to watch Morty do the same.

“Why so fancy?” You questioned quietly. The room was rather hushed. You could hear the conversations of the strangers without trying, despite the thick atmosphere absorbing the sound.

“I like the ribs.” He shrugged. You nodded, wondering how he’d managed to get you two in dressed the way you were.

He’d most likely done the owner a favor, or saved their life, or done something somewhere to deserve VIP treatment. It was something he learned from Rick, as much as he hated the man. Anywhere you went with either of them, you knew things would work out in your favor. They played the multiverse like a fiddle, and learned to make it bend to their wills and wishes. You appreciated that about them.

“So what exactly are you avoiding?” He questioned. A waiter came and placed a bowl of assorted bread on the table with a side of butter, and you immediately reached for the sourdough.

“Dinner with an alternate version of your family.” You sighed, taking the bread and buttering it up thickly before reaching to the salt. You sprinkled a little extra on before taking a bite. God I’m hungry.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I don’t really, like, fit in there.” You shrugged. “They’ve all kinda got their dynamics and I’m just an extra I guess.” You shrugged.

“You have Rick.” He pointed out with a stare.

“He’s out with Morty.” You shrugged. The boy’s face twinged to something unpleasant only for a moment before it disappeared back into his neutral resting face.

“My Y/n got along well with Summer.” He remembered.

“We’re not that close. She’s great and all, but she’s got her own stuff going on. She’s a teenager.” You shrugged.

“I’m a teenager.” He shot back. You laughed, taking another bite of the bread. It was the perfect mixture of moist and crunchy.

“Yeah, well, my options are limited.” You teased. He rolled his eye as he grabbed a piece of darker bread. “But you’re different. I mean, yeah, you’re a teenager, but you’re not a teenage girl.” You added.

“Thank God for that.” He sighed out. You raised a brow at him but asked nothing. Probably something to do with Tally.

“Thanks for picking me up though.” You smiled.

“Anytime. Beats the slop I was planning on having.” He admitted.

“Are you staying on the ship tonight?” You questioned. He sighed, taking an angry bite of the bread before placing it back on the plate.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Tally and I are fighting, sort of.” He explained. You frowned at him from across the table.

“You’ll figure it out.” You gave lamely. It was hard to do much of anything without any detail, of which you were unwilling to ask, knowing it would only annoy him.

“I know.” He agreed with a small nod.

“Are you guys, like, dating?” You questioned hopefully.

He shrugged, motioning for the waiter before pointing at his wine glass. You followed his gaze to the man waiting in the corner, who nodded once before scurrying off. Poor guy.

“Hooking up.” He shrugged.

“Well, I’m glad. I knew she liked you.” You teased, taking a sip of iced water as you watched the waiter return, a bottle of some fancy red wine in hands. He approached the table, leaning down slightly to speak with the boy in a quiet tone.

“For you, sir, the Cabernet Sauvignon, 2004 Penfolds.” He explained. Morty motioned to the glass and the man popped the cork before pouring a small amount to taste. Morty swirled it in the glass before taking a small sip. His eyes closed for a moment before he nodded.

“Leave it here.” He requested.

“Very good sir.” The man agreed with a small nod, placing it gently on the cream tablecloth. It was all so proper you wanted to laugh. Instead, you bit down on your bottom lip.

“You know, we could’ve just gone to like, Wendy’s.” You giggled when the waiter walked away.

“Wendy’s doesn’t have these ribs, and you’ll like the pasta.” He informed. You hadn’t even looked at the menu. Where was the menu? You looked around the table for it before giving up and taking another bite of bread. “They bring the menu’s once we’re settled.” Morty explained, following your train of thought.

“Oh.” You gave lightly.

“Have you never been anywhere nice?” He questioned. You shook your head with a small, embarrassed smile.

“Nope. Grew up lower middle class, super poor in college, even if I have been somewhere nice I probably wouldn’t remember, you know, cause uh, Prime.” You trailed off, looking down to the plate.

“We can come here more often if you like it.” He offered. His tone was plain, bored as always, but it meant more to you than he knew.

“Just warn me next time so I can wear something nicer.” You requested with a small laugh.

He nodded, taking the last sip of the wine before pouring himself more. You wanted some. It looked fancy, the bottle was weirdly shaped and the liquid was a rich purple red that screamed bad wine hangover. And I’m pregnant. No wine. You sighed softly from your nose as you reached for the bread again.

“You haven’t told him yet, have you.” It wasn’t a question. You shook your head as you chewed.

“Nope.” You admitted. “I’m just waiting for the right time.” You half lied.

“Make him dinner or something and then tell him. Isn’t that what people do?” He questioned.

“Yeah, when they’re keeping it.” You shot back.

“Then go get an abortion and tell him later.” Morty offered. You bit down on your lip. About that.

“Maybe.” You breathed out. He raised a brow at you, the wine glass still pressed to his lips as he watched you shift around in your chair.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” He questioned.

“No. I mean, not, I don’t know.” You mumbled. You could feel your face growing pink with the anxiety. “I don’t not want it, I just, don’t want it right now. I might just tell him to put it in a jar like the other one until I’m ready.” You admitted.

“Wait, the other one?” Morty questioned. Oh yeah. Forgot to mention that.

“Uh…” you gave lamely, taking another sip of cold ice water before finding his confused expression again. “We kinda already have a kid? Sort of? It’s hard to explain, but she’s in a jar in the basement right now until we’re like, ready.” You explained lamely. Morty was either in shock or he truly didn’t give a shit.

“You have a kid in a jar?” He questioned. Oh. Shock.

“Just her brain.” You clarified. “It’s complicated, and we got in this big fight about it and then I went out with Summer and we got drugged and I guess he went to talk to Birdperson about it and then we decided she’d stay there until I wanted her.” You breathed out, half word vomiting as you tried to explain that evening.

“Nothing surprises me anymore.” Morty sighed, taking another sip of his drink.

Another waiter, a different one than the guy before with the wine, approached with two menus, plated in gold and dark leather as he handed both of them to Morty. Sexist fuck.

“Would you like to hear tonight’s specials?” He questioned. Morty motioned to you and you shook your head. You wanted to be alone with your friend again. “Very well sir.” He responded before returning to whatever void he’d come from. Morty handed you a menu over the bread and you took the surprisingly heavy thing before bringing it to your lap. Pasta. Morty said I’d like the pasta.

There weren’t too many options, but all of them were out of your wheelhouse, and none of them were spaghetti. You’d never heard of any of them before. Tagliatelle al Tartufo Nero? Pappardelle al Cinghiale? Ravioli sounded normal, but ‘di Ricotta e Limone’ was more daunting than a can of Chef Boyardee.

“Do you know what you want?” Morty asked.

You cringed, looking down at the rest of the list as you bit down on your bottom lip. The silence was deafening. You were out of your element by a good few lightyears. Well this is embarrassing.

“Get the Ravioli ai Funghi e Crema di Porcini.” He filled the gap with the suggestion and you brought your eyes down to it. No prices. No ingredients. Just the name. Funghi would be fungi, so mushrooms, which you liked. Crema was cream. You liked cream. You liked ravioli.

“Yeah that sounds good.” You smiled, handing the menu back to him. Your tummy grumbled and you reached for the piece of sourdough you’d been gnawing on.

“It’s mushroom ravioli with a creamy mushroom sauce.” He explained, clearly reading the room correctly. You nodded with a small smile.

“Yum.” You shot back. The moment the menus were placed to the side the man returned, with no pen or paper to take your order. You always found it odd that they were expected to remember the orders at certain places.

“Are you ready to order sir?” He questioned. Morty glanced to you before looking up to the man.

“Yeah. I’ll have the Costine di Maiale al Forno with Vendure Grigliate.” He responded. The words sounded like gibberish, and you cursed yourself for not learning Italian along with the thousand alien languages you’d picked up.

“And for a drink?” He questioned. You didn’t like his mustache. It curled up at the ends like they did in the movies.

“I’m fine with this, thank you.” Morty responded.

“And for you ma’am?” He questioned, turning to face you now with a serious expression. Oh fuck, how do I pronounce that shit again?

“She’ll have the Ravioli ai Funghi e Crema di Porcini.” Morty ordered for you. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Wonderful choice. And to drink?” He questioned, still facing you as he asked.

“I’m fine with wat-”

“Sparkling peach soda.” Morty interrupted. The man nodded, shooting you a smile before turning back to the boy.

“Excellent. I’ll take those menus for you.” He offered. Morty handed the man the thick slabs before waving him off. Back to the void you go mustache man.

“Peach soda?” You questioned with a raised brow.

“It’s good.” He promised. “Plus, you’re looking pale. Sugar will help.” He explained. You looked down at your hands. They did look a little pale.

“I haven’t been out much.” You explained. “I’ve actually been working on new suits, for the fleet.” You smiled. He smiled back, leaning back in his chair as he took another sip of wine.

“Yeah?” He questioned. You nodded.

“Yeah, I mean, the latency is… bad.” You looked around, remembering your manners and avoiding using the word ass. Such a good girl, using your manners. Rick’s words echoed in your mind and you shook them away, praying a blush didn’t rise to your cheeks as you tried to keep your thoughts on track.

“You can cuss, you know. We can do whatever the fuck we want here.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes.

“I wanna keep up the façade that we’re fancy.” You shot back with a giggle.

“Oh yeah, that outfit screams fancy.” He chuckled.

You looked down at the sweatshirt Rick had gotten you from the carnival you’d gone to a few Summers ago with Morty. It was a darker red, with a picture of a cartoon clown on the front and the name of the circus, Cirque du Rêve, across the top in black lettering. You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever.” You shot back with a small laugh.

“You’re right though, the latency is bad.” He teased. You ignored it as you continued.

“Yeah, and the joints get stuck open, plus it doesn’t fit right and it’s hot in there.” You recalled, finishing off the piece of bread.

“Well, when’s the first prototype?” He questioned. You shrugged.

“Not sure. I mean, I’m just sort of planning it all out right now, but if I can get all the materials, maybe like two weeks?” You estimated. He nodded, taking a bite of his own bread now.

“I bet the squad would test them out for you.” He offered. You smiled as you grabbed another piece of warm sourdough.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah, of course. They love you.” He spoke, as if it was obvious.

“I mean, yeah, I’d love them to.” You admitted. “I could like, send them over or something.” You offered. Morty shook his head as he chewed on his bite.

“Nope. Rules are rules. If they have to test it, so do you.” He reminded you.

“All together or all we perish.” You repeated the rule with a small sigh. “I’ll test it with them though, that would be fun.” You agreed. “We can test them out in the training room.” You offered.

“You’ll have to get actual testing done on them too if you want them adopted. Temperature, vacuum functionality, depth and pressure, the whole works.” He reminded you.

“I know. I just have to get the funds for it.” You admitted, chewing on your cheek.

“Nah. I know a guy that’ll do it for free.” He informed, taking another sip of his wine.

“Really?” You smiled. That was the one hump you were really nervous to get over. Rick could, of course, do all the testing, but he wasn’t accredited, and you didn’t want to ask him to be. You wanted to do it on your own, to accomplish something by yourself, or at least, without his help.

“Yeah, of course.” He agreed.

You could see the waiter rounding the corner from behind him with your plates. Back from the void. Steam rose from them into the air as he hurried towards the two of you.

“That was fast.” You spoke, eating the last bite of your second piece of bread as you waited for the man to place them down. He handed you your pasta second, and you stared down at it as your mouth salivated. Fuck this looks good. “Thank you.” You thanked quietly.

“Can I get you two anything else?” He questioned, directing it at Morty.

“No thank you.” Morty spoke. The man made quick work of leaving as you picked up your fork.

“This looks good.” You smiled.

“It is.” Morty shot back, picking up his own knife and fork as he cut into the meat. You did the same, slicing a sauce slathered ravioli in half before placing it into your mouth. The flavors melted in the most delicious way possible, with parmesan, butter, sage, some other spices you couldn’t name, mushrooms and carbs all in one delicious peppery bite. You moaned out quietly at the taste, giving Morty a grateful glance as you chewed.

“Holy shit it is.” You breathed out once you’d swallowed. He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with humor as he watched you.

“What happened to the façade?” He questioned teasingly.

“Fuck the façade, you gotta try some of this.” You offered. Morty chuckled again, moving his plate closer so you could put the other half of the sliced pasta piece on it. He picked it up with his fork before eating it, nodded with a small smile as he chewed.

“Yep. It’s good.” He agreed.

The peach soda was good too. Sweet, but not too sweet, and not an artificial flavor like you were expecting. You spent the rest of the meal talking about his plans with the fleet. He was enjoying it more than he’d originally thought, and though he didn’t want to do anything full time for them, his relationship with Tally had him spending more time there than he’d anticipated, almost two nights a week.

The rest of his time he spent on adventures, running errands, learning and exploring on his own. He loved that part of life too, and you were happy for him. His freedom from Rick allowed him to grow into himself in a way you appreciated, the same way you appreciated how your Morty’s time with Rick allowed him to grow into a version of himself with influence. Both were dynamic, and both were interesting.

He asked more about the suit upgrades, which you’d happily spilled about. You realized you were probably hype fixated, but you really couldn’t care less. You were just glad you had something to do besides spin in the chair, and Morty seemed to share than enthusiasm as he shared additional changes he’d want made. You noted them down in your phone as he finished his meal, your plate already cleaned as much as possible without wiping it down with bread. When the cheque came, Morty laughed as you pulled the cash from your back pocket.

“You’re not paying.” He shook his head. “And neither am I, they just bring it so I can tip.” He turned the small book around to show that the price came out to 0. “Plus, that wine is $170,000 a bottle.” He flicked his eyes towards the barely finished bottle of wine, left off to the side towards the wall, near the little candle lamp. Your jaw unhinged for a moment before you closed it again.

“Well, I have like, $300, if you wanna tip with it?” You offered.

“Nope. You ready to go?” He questioned.

You slipped the money and your phone back into your pocket before standing. You followed the boy through the room, around the corner towards the larger room, back down the stairs, past the first man you’d seen, and out of the grand, fifteen foot tall glass and gold doors down the steps. Once you reached the bottom, he opened another golden portal for you to step through.

“Thank you for dinner.” You smiled.

“Sure.” He gave nonchalantly.

His avoidance of anything remotely vulnerable was something you understood. Still, you liked to push the boundaries, and you leaned in to give him a small hug, avoiding the usual hair tussle you gave him as he’d fed you a good dinner. Still he hugged, back before pulling away.

“Tell your husband.” He warned, eyeing you with a small, only half joking glare. You rolled your eyes back at him.

“Fix things with your girlfriend.” You teased back.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved, watching as you strode through the yellow, back into your own dimension.

Chapter Text

Rick was already in the garage waiting when you stepped through Morty’s portal, tinkering with something at the workbench in the dark red chair you usually took. Your Morty was nowhere in sight. Rick lifted his head, catching your eyes with a glare as you approached. You shrunk back a little, stopping a foot in front of him with your hands in front of you as you waited for him to say something.

“What did I say about leaving the planet without telling me?” He questioned, finally placing the small metal tool down and swiveling in the chair to look at you. He looked good angry, his legs resting on the wheel’s arms, his hands on his thighs as his brow fitted into a soft V.

“Not to do it.” You mumbled, picking at the skin by your nails as you held his angry gaze.

“What did I say about leaving the galaxy without telling me?” He questioned.

“Not to, uh, not to do it.” You repeated, just as quietly. He hummed in acknowledgement, still not moving as his line of questioning continued.

“What did I say about leaving the universe without telling me?” He asked.

“Not to do it.” Your tone was more of a whine now. You knew you were in trouble, but really, was it necessary to keep asking?

“What did I say about leaving the curve without telling me?” His eyes were still angry as they kept your guilty ones.

“Not to do it.” You sighed out.

He stood, satisfied with your answers, still staring down with a frown etched on his face as his hands reached for his belt. Oh. Fuck yeah. You cringed at the snap of leather as he pulled it from the loops of his pants, your thighs pressing together in a hopefully unnoticeable move to relieve some of the newfound tension. He looped the leather once before using his other hand to point to the floor.

“Downstairs.” He ordered.

A rush of heat fell to your abdomen as you scurried to do as he asked, quickly placing your hand on the invisible scanner, a spot you’d memorized months ago, and climbing down the ladder. You could hear his footsteps following down the metal steps as you pressed the button to the elevator. You didn’t dare speak. Fighting would delay what you were oh so looking forward to. He was at your side when the elevator doors opened, and you quickly rushed in, aiming for the button to your bedroom floor.

“Not tonight angel.” He spoke, reaching around you with his body pressed to your back as he clicked a new floor.

You hadn’t seen it there before, and now that you looked at the panel, you realized there were four new floors, all below the control room. He had to be running out of space at some point, you wondered, as the core couldn’t have been too far. Maybe it was. You weren’t a geologist.

You stood silently as the machine brought you down, Rick still at your side, his body against yours. He made no moves to touch you, or to speak to you, both of which you were fine with. When the doors opened again, the elevator flooded with red light. It almost looked like a mancave, the way he had it set up.

Soft music was playing, though you couldn’t put a finger on the genre. There were two red leather upholstered couches facing each other in the center of the room, with a long, black and sleek coffee table between them. On the table laid out were various drugs, some you recognized, some you didn’t. At the end of the table was a large, deep brown leather chair, upholstered like the couches, and directly under the red light. The floors were a dark carpet, and aside from the shelves of liquor to your right and the mirror to your left, there wasn’t much else. Still, the room was a good size, and warmer than the other rooms of the basement.

“Rick what’s-”

“I’m gonna pour myself a drink and relax for a minute. You’re gonna sit down and tell me about your dinner, and how much fun you had. After that, you’re gonna bend over the couch, and do everything I ask until I’m done with you. I-Is that clear?” His mouth was next to your ear, his breath warm on your skin as he bent to your level.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and it was enough for him as he strode forward to the middle chair. You watched him sit before leaning forward, taking a crystal glass from it’s spot on the tray and turning it right side up. He removed the cap on the matching crystal whiskey holder before pouring himself a healthy amount of dark brown liquor.

“Clothes off.” He spoke, placing the cap back on but paying no mind to you as he sat back, liquor in hand. God he looks good.

You didn’t need to be told twice as you shed the clothing, your shoes and jeans first, underwear next, and then sweatshirt and bra. You moved towards the couch, figuring you could take the spot next to him in the corner. You always liked corner spots, plus, it would be easier to bend over it fast. The moment you began to angle yourself towards it Rick spoke again.

“On my lap, sugar.” He requested.

You stopped in your tracks, redirecting towards him, before standing in front of him, wondering how he wanted you. He gave you no time to choose as his glass was placed on the matching, square black table to his right with a soft clunk. His hands found your hips, spinning you around to face the elevator before you were sat on his clothed lap. He moved you back so you were flush against him before picking up his drink again and taking a smooth gulp you could hear from behind you.

“How was dinner?” He asked, his free hand resting on your abdomen as you leaned back against him.

“It was good.” You gave softly. Ricks hand slid up, cupping your breast and squeezing gently as he waited for you to continue. “We went to this super fancy place, and uh, I don’t think I was dressed for it.” You explained. Rick hummed behind you, his hand slipping from its spot before moving towards your other breast. You relaxed in his hold the best you could, feeling him grow beneath you.

“What did you get?” He questioned, his face closer to your neck now.

“Pasta. Um, mushroom pasta, I guess. All the names were in Italian. Morty got ribs. They looked good but he said I’d like the pasta more.” You gave, keeping your hands at your side as they picked up a sweat.

“Did you like it?” He asked. His hand moved down your torso, landing on the inside of your thigh where his thumb rubbed back and forth. You would perceive it as loving had you not been waiting for the imminent bruises on your behind.

“Mhm. It was the best pasta I think I’ve ever had. Plus the bread was really good.” You remembered. Again, Rick hummed softly behind you, slipping his hand down further to rest over your slit. He didn’t push his fingers between it like you were internally begging, but held his hand there as he spoke.

“What’d you guys talk about?” He questioned.

“Lots of stuff, um, he’s seeing this girl named Tally, from the ship. Well, I guess they’re just hooking up, but they’re a good match, so I’m kinda ho-oh-ping they’ll get together.” His hand slipped between your folds, collecting the wetness that was already pooling there and startling you, despite you knowing that was his plan.

His fingers spread the wetness from outside of your hole up to your clit and back, with so little pressure you were willing to beg for anything more. Still, you didn’t, and bit back a whine when he moved to your thigh again, dirtying it and bringing the unwelcomed chill of evaporation. He was toying with you, teasing you, and you never had much patience for it.

“What else?” He questioned, pulling your clouded focus back to the conversation. His hand slid up your torso again, cupping your breast before wrapping his fingers around your nipple. He didn’t tug, but rather brushed over it. You moaned out softly before speaking.

“We talked about the suits, he said he might have someone who will test them for me for free.” You breathed out. “And he gave me some notes for things that might be good to change. The squad might wanna test them out for me too, I mean, with me, I have to test it too.” You explained. Ricks hand had fallen down your abdomen again, right to the bump you were hoping he would avoid. He chuckled softly as he brushed over it.

“Seems like you had a good bit of pasta.” He teased, his voice too low for any sort of joke as it scratched at your brain in a way you loved. You ignored the way you were actively lying to him as you nodded. Good bit of your kid too. “Did you have fun?” He questioned, using the hand to brush your hair over your shoulder.

You heard the thunk of the glass on the side table again as his second hand joined the first. One slid down towards your core, testing you, teasing you there again as the other worked at your breast, his lips now pressed to your shoulder as you attempted to answer.

“Lots.” You breathed out, half in a moan as his hand moved back to your thigh.

“Good.” He praised.

You could tell he was happy you’d had a good time. Not telling him you were leaving was the problem, not the leaving in itself. It made you feel a little more normal, and you appreciated it with as much as you could with such a muddled brain.

“Bend over the couch.” He ordered, his voice impossibly lower as his hands slid from your skin.

You didn’t wait for more instruction as you stood, taking the few steps towards the couch in the red light before bending over the tall arm of it. Your feet barely touched the ground, but you didn’t mind the stretch as your head rested just at the cushion. You could hear the squish of the leather against your skin as you adjusted.

The next thing you heard was the belt again, the slap of leather against leather as he straightened out the loop. You bit down on your lip to prevent a whimper from escaping. You were alone there for all too long, untouched for too long, though it had only been a few seconds. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh when the warm, rough skin of his hand made contact with your lower back.

When the first hit came, you weren’t expecting it, and you jumped at the sting of pain it left in a stripe across both cheeks. You gasped before biting down on your lip harder. Rick chuckled from behind you, though his hand didn’t rub over the spot after like it usually did. Instead, another sharp strike was delivered to a spot just slightly lower.

“You need to learn to listen.” He growled. You nodded, though in the low red light, you weren’t sure if he saw it. You took a deep inhale of the leather before speaking.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke out.

“Too late for that angel.” He spoke, the faux sadness in his tone only adding fuel to the fire. You could feel yourself wettening further.

Another, harsher strike from the belt had you groaning out, your face now fully in the couch as you took the pleasurable dose of pain. Rick said nothing before hitting you again, just as hard, though in a different spot. You whined at that one, as the skin was more sensitive, but the man stayed silent. A third strike went higher, focusing on one cheek before quickly switching to the next, then back, then back again. Four quick, harsh hits that had tears pricking at your eyes in the best way possible.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. I-I-Is that clear from here on out?” He questioned.

You hummed out an ‘mhm’, knowing your voice would be shaky from the tears, only to be met with two more harsh whips from the unrelenting material.

“I said is that clear?!” He questioned, louder, meaner, and you cried out as a third hit struck both cheeks.

“Yes!” You cried. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs, and you knew he could probably see it glistening in the light.

“Yes what?” He questioned, hitting you again, though slightly softer this time.

“Yes sir.” You spoke. You’d sort of figured it out now. Sir when you were in trouble, or when he was angry. Daddy when he just wanted to have control, but wasn’t upset.

“Good girl.” He growled, delivering a final hit, the hardest one yet, to both cheeks before reaching forward and gripping the skin with blunt nails. You cried out into the cushion. “You gonna listen next time?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” You promised through tears.

His hand relented in its grip. The belt was tossed to the carpet with a soft clang of the metal before both hands were on your cheeks. They softly trailed down towards your core and you moaned out, begging with no words as you arched your back towards him. Two fingers trailed up and down your slit, spreading the wetness around before they were gone again. God please don’t leave me like this, please fuck me. You said nothing. You could hear him moving behind you, the rustle of fabric, before a familiar appendage was placed at the hole, sliding up and down your slit much like his fingers had, but much softer and warmer than they were.

“Do you remember what I told you?” He questioned, a warning somewhere in his tone.

“That I’m gonna do everything you ask until you’re done with me.” You breathed out. He hummed softly, sweetly as a hand gripped around your hip.

“There we go, you can listen. H-How convenient.” He spat. “I’m gonna fill up all your nice little holes now, and you’re gonna thank me for it afterwards. I-Is that, c-can you do that for me?” He questioned. Oh fuck please.

“Yes sir.” You spoke out, clenching around nothing as you waited for him.

He didn’t say anything else before pushing into you, groaning at the tightness of your heat. His other hand gripped to your free hip as you spread your legs further apart, begging him to go deeper as he fucked you over the couch. He slid out before pushing back in, avoiding your cervix as he nearly bottomed out with a moan.

“God you feel so fucking good.” He groaned out, one of his hands moving to rest on your lower back.

You moaned softly against the cushion as he increased his pace, listening to the sounds of him sliding in and out of you as the pleasure built in your core. The way he stretched you from this angle was your favorite, pushing as deep as he could without hurting you and sliding in and out against your g-spot in a way that had you seeing stars.

“Are you gonna listen next time?” He questioned, half in a moan as he used the grip on your hip to pull you back towards him with every thrust.

“Yes, yes sir I promise.” You moaned out, your hands reaching in front of you to grip the leather. Tears of pleasure blurred what red soaked vision you had left as your body rocked back and forth with the force of his thrusts.

“That’s better.” He praised, moving so he rubbed your ribbed wall a little harder. You cried out, feeling the hair fall down your back as your head sunk down fully. “That feel good baby? You like it when I fuck you from the back? Breed you like a fucking dog?” He spat. You gave a louder moan at that, ignoring the implication as you focused on the concept instead. God, fuck yeah I do.

“So much, so so much.” You babbled as tears fell down your cheeks.

“That’s right angel, that’s your place, isn’t it? Bent over waiting for, w-w-waiting for me to fill you up?” He continued.

“God, yes, yes, fuck.” You moaned out, spreading your legs just a little wider.

“Not gonna run off without, fuck, without telling me again are you? Gonna learn your lesson this time?” He questioned. God no I’ve learned nothing.

“Yes sir!” You cried out in a lie. You could feel his grip tightening on your hip, his other hand moving to mirror it on the other side as his thrusts grew harsher. “Please, please let me, t-touch my-”

“No.” He growled. “You can cum when all your holes are filled.” He spat. You whined softly, only to be met with a harsh smack to your cheek and a fingernailed grip at the sore spot as you cried out. “Y-You wanna fucking whine about it? I can stop right here and go back to whipping you darling, I have no problem with that.” He growled. You shook your head against the fabric, practically sobbing as he threatened to end the best feeling you could dream of.

“No sir, I’ll listen.” You promised through a moan. His pace sped back up from where it had slowed, his hands regripping your hips as he dragged you closer.

“Seems to be a fucking problem with you, doesn’t it?” He growled.

“Won’t be, it won’t be, I promise.” You swore, feeling the pool of heat in your abdomen grow as you tried to adjust your hips, to gain friction against the edge of the couch. Rick’s grip on your hipbones prevented it.

“That’s right angel, it won’t be when I’m done with you.” He growled.

His thrusts were growing harsher in a way that sent lightning through you and had your vision blacking out. Your hands were aching from their grip on the couch, but you didn’t care as he bottomed out in you again.

“You’re gonna, fuck, you’re gonna take my fucking cum and you’re gonna thank me for it.” He spat. “And then you’re gonna use that pretty mouth of yours to clean me off, got it?” He questioned. You moaned out at the thought, gripping the couch harder as you nodded.

“Yes sir!” You cried as his thrusts stuttered.

His grip forcing you flush against him and he moaned, louder than before, before stilling in you, filling you to the brim with his warm cum. You moaned out at the feeling, widening your legs again to bring him closer.

“Fuck, that’s my girl, that’s my good girl.” He breathed out, moving his hand to your lower back and rubbing softly there as his cock twitched inside you.

Your need to cum was growing, and your impatience was biting at your throat as he slipped out of you, leaving you high and dry. His fingers tapped the side of your thigh as he pulled away from you. You bit back the whine sitting in your throat as you waited for further instruction, though in the lull, you knew he was watching the cum drip from you from behind.

“Stand up.” He spoke, softer now.

You did as asked, pushing yourself up to stand before turning to meet his eyes. They trailed up your body, still hungry, as his still hard cock twitched in the low light. Don’t men need refractory time? I guess he is half metal anyways. Rick moved to sit in the spot your face had been pressed in, placing his still socked feet on the coffee table as his arm draped over the side of the long couch.

“Lay down angel.” He spoke, patting the spot next to him as he watched you. “Face in my lap.” He clarified.

You did as asked, moving forward and kneeling in the spot next to him before laying down on your tummy. He looked impossibly bigger from the angle and you swallowed the excess saliva in your throat as you stared.

“I’m gonna put my hand on your head. I won’t push.” He informed. You glanced up at him, your eyes surely portraying whatever anxiety you were feeling about it, but the look he gave back was comforting enough to push it down. He won’t push. As promised, his large hand fell on the crown of your skull, petting softly at your hair as he waited for you to make the next move.

You leaned your neck forward and licked a long stripe up the side. You could taste yourself and his own cum, mixed along the shaft, and gave a soft hum of approval before repeating the motion in a different spot. Rick sighed, his hand still smoothing over your hair as you scooted forward on your elbows. He switched hands, brushing hair back from your face with one as the other moved down to rest on your back.

“That’s it angel.” He spoke sweetly.

You grasped him then, feeling him pulse in your palm, and wrapped your lips around his head, sucking softly at the post-cum leakage as he moaned. With little restraint you slipped him further into your mouth, angling your neck so he could tap at your throat before pulling back.

“S-Such a, such a nice mouth.” He complimented, the hand on your back stilling as you attempted to take him deeper. You gagged softly, but squeezed at your thumb in your free hand as you pulled back, tears in your eyes. “Too big for you baby?” He teased. You shook your head, your lips pressed against his head, wet with spit and cum before taking him again, pushing him to your throat and sucking as you pulled back.

You got a good rhythm going, your tongue never relenting on his head as your jaw ached with the feeling of him. He moaned every time he hit your throat, and his hand on your back tensed when you gagged around him, but he let you keep the pace you wanted as you attempted to suck him dry.

The hand on your head stroked it occasionally but lay mostly still as you worked. When you began moving your hand with your mouth, sliding up and down the wet shaft as you hollowed your cheeks to make it tighter, his hand gripped at your hair in pleasure. Still, he didn’t push.

“Fuck, just like that baby. N-Nice and, Jesus Christ, nice and deep for me.” He groaned out.

You could tell he was close when his legs began shaking, his hand twitching on your head before leaving it entirely, in fear he would push down and scare you. You took his head into your throat, wrapping your tongue around him as deep as you could and pushing against the muscle there. He moaned out, throwing his head back before leaning it forward again to watch you.

“Gonna cum in that pretty throat of yours angel.” He warned before his hips pushed up, forcing himself deeper into your throat as you gagged around him.

Hot, thick spurts of cum shot to your throat and splashed back from the closed muscle, only fueling the gagging as you tried your best to breathe through your nose. You pulled back a little, letting the rest blanket your tongue and back teeth before you pulled off. You gagged again, but Rick caught your eyes with an angry glare.

“Open.” He ordered.

You did as asked, sitting up on your knees and opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show the sticky white mess he’d made. He gave a small nod, his hand fitting around your cheek as he wiped some of the mess from the corner of your mouth.

“Keep that in until I’m done with you. No swallowing.” He warned. Your eyes widened as you nodded, squeezing your legs together to quell the growing need to cum.

You leaned forward, closing your mouth and pressing your closed lips to his, needing just an ounce of comfort. Gagging around him after the whole Prime incident brought back unpleasant memories, even without a full blown panic attack.

Rick seemed to understand your needs as he pulled you into his lap, his lips quickly covering yours as his arms slid around your waist. You kept your lips shut as you kissed back and Rick hummed softly as his hands fell down to your cheeks, pulling you closer when you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled away, a slight twinge of worry in his eyes as he watched your face.

“You up for more?” He questioned.

You smiled with lips sealed shut, nodding enthusiastically as your core still begged for release. Two holes down, one to go. Rick smiled back, a disgustingly attractive smirk that had your legs squeezing together again before he spoke.

“Bend over the couch again baby.” He requested, tapping your ass softly as you rose from his lap and did as told. You liked the position, but you liked it more when Rick stood behind you, placing both hands on your ass before bending down on one knee.

You could feel his warm breath between your thighs as he moved his head closer, licking a solid line from your clit to the end of your pussy, gathering some of his cum in his mouth before standing. He pulled your cheeks further apart with his hands before spitting the mixture and added spit down onto it. You whimpered softly at the warm, sticky mess he’d spat down onto it, keeping your mouth closed as his cum swished around against your tongue.

“Gonna stretch you out real nice baby, d-don’t worry.” He breathed out. His thumb rubbed circles into the puckered hole, not pushing in, but spreading the mixture around the rim before beginning to prod at it. “You have such pretty holes.” He spoke quietly, slipping the tip of his thumb past the ring of muscle.

You moaned behind closed lips, your foot raising off the floor involuntarily in response to the pleasurable intrusion. He pulled down, then up again, attempting to stretch you as his free hand rubbed circles on your lower back. Anal had always made you incredibly slick; the mixture of dehumanizing and down right dirty doing something unimaginable to your core every time. Now was no different as his fingers gathered up the extra slick and cum and distributed it to your back door.

“You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you?” He mused. “How about I give you a little present for being such a trooper, hm?” He questioned.

You nodded against the seat, giving a quiet ‘mhm’ as you agreed to whatever he planned to give you. His hand on your lower back left it’s position, exposing your skin to the slightly cooler air before your hips were being lifted. Something small and cold was placed on your clit, almost like a piece of metal tape. He pressed it there firmly, causing you to whimper, as you begged for more friction there.

“Just a little something I’ve been working on. Don’t worry, I can control it from my watch.” He spoke, though it was more of a threat than anything.

Before you could make any noise to question it, the tape began to buzz, hard. A vibrator. You moaned, louder this time as you spread your legs further apart. He chuckled from behind you, pushing his thumb further into the hole now that you were happy. The feeling combined was unimaginably delicious, and a combination you’d similarly always loved. His thumb bottomed out into you as you cried behind closed lips. The pit in your stomach was building fast, but you held back on it as you tried to focus on the feeling.

“You make noise when you’re close baby.” He warned, removing his thumb to swipe up more slick from your core. Two wet fingers pushed into the hole, slowly before they spread apart inside you. You cried out again, the vibrator still unwavering as he forced the muscle to stretch.

It felt good, too good, and you knew you wouldn’t last long this way, but he didn’t seem to care as he continued to move the fingers in you, spreading, twisting, thrusting in and out as his thumb ran around your rim. Tears brimmed in your eyes, quickly falling down your cheeks as your body begged for release. Your legs began to shake when he added a third. You could feel the knot tightening, growing and spreading, and you quickly made noise, loud despite the lack of an open hole to escape from, your legs kicking at him. The buzzing stopped. His fingers stilled. You wanted to scream, to kick him, to cry and shout. Instead, you stayed silent and sobbed.

“Not yet.” He growled. You nodded, unwilling to protest, as his fingers began to move again. It was indescribably good, the perfect mixture of pleasure, so much pleasure, and pain, but only a bit as he stretched his hand inside you. “Forgot how tight this hole is.” He muttered, turning the vibrations back on and listening to the scream trapped in your throat as you cried harder.

When he was happy with three, he added a fourth, pressing his fingers together like a cone and fucking you with it, slowly slipping deeper and deeper inside to stretch you. He spit down on them to keep them lubed before twisting. Your vision whited out, cum dribbling down the side of your chin and mixing with tears as you kicked back again in warning. The vibrations cut, and this time you did whine, though it was more of a frustrated scream than a whine.

“You poor thing.” Rick spoke, his tone dripping with something derogatory and disgustingly patronizing as he watched you shake beneath him. “I’ll fill you up again, don’t worry angel. I know that’s what you want, isn’t it?” He spoke. I wanna cum you asshole. You said nothing as you pressed your lips together. His fingers slipped from you when his cock slid up and down your slit, gathering the slick you’d produced in the time he’d spent stretching you.

He lined himself up before slowly pushing in, groaning and gritting his teeth as his fingers sunk into the bones of your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. You screamed behind your lips, your hands scratching at the leather in front of you as the vibrator began to buzz again. You wouldn’t last a minute like this, and Rick knew it as he bottomed out in you, finding a hole that could finally take his full length.

“Oh fuck yeah.” He growled, pulling back before entering you again, stretching you and rubbing against the shared wall of your pussy, pushing it into the ribbed wall on the other side as he moved.

He fucked you slower in the ass, which you always appreciated, but now as the vibrator continued to buzz and the feeling of him in you was so prominent, it was torture. You could feel yourself coming apart at the seams, and part of you wanted to keep quiet and cum anyways, but you knew you’d never hear the end of it if you did.

Instead, you gave into the angel on your shoulder and kicked at him again, moaning and whining as more cum dribbled from your lips in a desperate attempt to warn him. The vibrator shut off, leaving you incredibly close and slowly drifting further from your goal again. It was frustrating, beyond frustrating, and you sobbed into the leather, smearing snot and tears and a little cum on it as you cried.

“Such a good fucking toy for me baby, you take me so well.” He complimented in a moan, watching as he split you apart from behind. “M-Might be your lucky day, c-can’t last long in your ass.” He groaned, thrusting forward a little harsher before pulling back and doing it again.

“God I love it when you, fuck, such a good slut, letting me use all your holes. You like it when I fill you up all the way? Like it when I use you like this? ”

You were still teetering on the edge of the cliff, despite the lack of further stimulation, and anything could push you over at that point. Still, you screamed into your closed mouth, sobbing and kicking as you lost the last piece of restraint you had.

“Hold it angel, I know you can.” He warned.

You shook your head, your frustrated cries falling to deaf ears as he continued to fuck into you. You needed the vibrations back. A harder thrust. Anything, God, anything please. It was growing intolerable, and you were attempting to display that as you cried.

“Want me to, fuck, God, fuck, want me to fill you up baby?” He questioned, though he knew the answer without your screams to confirm it. He pushed himself deeper, fucking you faster now as he feasted on the scene in the dark red light. You could feel him stuttering, his legs shaking again as the vibrator started again.

You screamed, your voice cracking from the intensity of it as cum dribbled from the sides of your mouth, your lips shut between teeth as you angled your hips back and pulsed around him. Bright white flooded and overflowed the red of your vision, your ears ringing as lighting shot its way through your core, down your limbs and through your body as you cried.

You could hear him talking you through it, still fucking you as he filled you, his warmth coating your insides for the third time that night, but nothing was registering as you pulsed and squeezed around him, crying and shaking and screaming as you rode out your high, seeing stars and galaxies. You were clenching around him, your pussy pushing out whatever cum from him was left in you as it gripped around nothing in a silent beg. Slowly, the vibrations came to a halt, and you breathed heavily through your nose with eyes shut as he removed himself from your dripping hole.

“That’s my good girl.” He spoke quietly, his hands coming around your waist to lift you.

Your eyes met his face and he darted his around yours, taking in your tears, your snot, the small streaks of cum that had fallen from your lips as he rubbed the liquids from your cheek. Your pussy was still soaked, your ass leaking cum like your mouth now as you stood on shaky legs with blurred vision.

“Open.” He ordered, tapping on your bruised and puffy lips. You opened your mouth, cum dribbling out from your extended tongue as he watched with a small smile. “Swallow baby.” He spoke, softer now. You closed your mouth, swallowing what he’d given as you watched his pupils dilate further with lust. “Open.” He ordered again, watching as you did and showed the lack of evidence inside. “That’s my girl.” He spoke, pressing his lips to yours softly before petting your head again and pulling away.

You were panting, your body buzzing and beyond exhausted as you attempted to remain standing. Rick must’ve noticed the swaying as he sat, pulling you on top of him and pressing your sweaty, shaking body to his. Somewhere, you recognized that your body was buzzing because it was overstimulated, but the oxytocin and dopamine flooding your system drowned everything else out as you curled into his chest.

“What do you say, hm?” He questioned as he tucked your hair behind your ear, petting at your head again and pressing a kiss to the top of it.

“Thank you.” You breathed out. You could feel yourself leaking onto him from both holes, but he could clean you later. You wanted to rest there on his chest for as long as possible, wrapped in warm arms and safe from all the problems of the outside world. Like a bubble. You liked this bubble.

“I love you.” He whispered, pressing another kiss to your head. The music still played softly in the background as you pushed your face further into him. I love you too.

Chapter Text

The mess of the night before had been wiped away at some point in your long slumber. You still needed a shower you knew, you could feel it in your hair and on your skin, but you weren’t sticky when you turned in Rick’s arms, snuggling closer to his warmth as your phone chirped next to you. Fishy had woken to the noise, jumping up on the bed and bothering you as soon as he realized you were awake. You pulled the cat into your arms with eyes still closed, listening to see if Rick was awake yet.

“Who is texting you this early?” Rick questioned grumpily. Yep. Awake.

“Let me just stretch my eyeballs five feet to the right real quick and I’ll let you know.” You shot back grumpily. Your muscles were exhausted from the night before, your brain still fuzzy with sleep as you attempted to ignore the continued buzzing. Finally, you groaned and rolled the other way to grab the phone. Pirate, read the top of your screen, and you swiped on the call with panicked fingers.

“Hello?” You questioned as you sat up.

“Hey. I talked to that guy, for the suit testing, he can get it done for free but it’s gotta be next week.” He rushed out. You could hear the sound of a laser gun going off in the background somewhere, a siren, loud and drawn out, and the whirr of an engine. Well, he wasn’t at the fleet.

“You called me,” you swiped up on the call, unlocking the phone and checking your call log before speaking again, placing the boy on speaker now, “six times, to tell me this?” You questioned. “I thought someone fucking died!” You shot back.

“Fuck you, I’m doing you a favor.” He shot back with sass. You rolled your eyes.

“Thank you, for the favor. I can try to have the prototype done by next week.” You spoke, thinking of all the parts you’d need for it. There were a lot.

“No, you will have the prototype by the end of next week, because I already talked to the fleet about the suits and they’re interested.” He corrected.

“Dude! I haven’t even finished the design!” You whined, flopping back on the mattress. Rick chuckled next to you, patting your head as he rose from his spot.

“You’ll figure it out.” He spoke, using your line from the night before as the sounds from the other end of the line became more chaotic. “Hey, I gotta go, I’ll call you later.” He offered.

“Okay, okay. Be safe. Bye.” You spoke, sighing as you hung up the phone. You’d need a lot of help getting those parts in short notice, and you still had to figure out the actuator response replacement, integrated BUS system, and forty other things. “Hey Rick?” You questioned softly, almost ashamed as you realized you’d have to ask for help.

“Yeah?” He questioned from the bathroom. You could hear his toothbrush in his mouth as he spoke. Cute.

“Can you maybe help me get some stuff for the suit this week?” You asked.

“Are we whoring you out again for parts?” He asked. You giggled, remembering when you’d had to do it for your ship.

“Trying to avoid that actually!” You called back. The man strode around the corner, leaning on the doorframe as he continued to brush his teeth. His hair was always awry in the mornings in the way you liked.

“Sure. Just make a list.” He shrugged, heading back into the bathroom. You sighed softly, thinking over everything you’d have to do to get it done in time. A lot. Your brain gave up after a moment and you flopped back down the mattress, scaring Fishy away in the process.

“Sorry.” You whispered towards the ceiling.

Despite having something to do, and something to look forward to, you could tell your brain wasn’t up for reality today. There was that sinking, cold and slimy feeling in your chest again, and no matter how deeply you breathed, it wasn’t resolving on its own. Logically, you knew you were overdue for an appointment with Dr. Wong, but nothing in you wanted to go. Instead, you rolled over onto your side and pulled the blanket over your head.

“Giving up already?” Rick questioned from somewhere behind you.

“No, just… tired.” You gave lamely.

“Coffee?” He questioned. Maybe your morning routine would cheer you up.

“Decaf.” You requested, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

You were wrong about the morning routine cheering you up. You wrote out a list of everything you needed that morning before heading back to work on the integrated BUS system. Routing the prediction model through a dedicated AI-framework time interpolator was your last straw of the day, despite it only being 10AM. You pressed your forehead into the cold top of the workbench, feeling the hot tears welling in your eyes and doing nothing to stop them as you sniffled softly.

“Frustrated?” Rick questioned from across the table.

He had paused what he was working on, you could tell from the lack of noise, but being face down in the table prevented you from watching him. You shook your head against the hard surface and sniffled again to prevent snot from dripping down onto it.

“Bad day?” He questioned. This time, you nodded against the hard surface. “Do you wanna go do something?” He asked, softer now as he rounded the table. A warm hand fell on the top of your back, rubbing cirles there as he waited for your reply.

“Like what?” You questioned, though it was teary and muffled into the table.

“We could go to Blips and Chitz, just have fun.” He offered. You liked fun. You missed drugs. Maybe I should just abort it.

“Okay.” You agreed.

“Go get dressed baby, I’ll meet you back here.” He spoke softly, urging you up with a tap to your leg. You sighed as you rose, wiping the tears from your cheeks before turning to face him. He stared back down at you, a frown etched on his face as his brows fitted into a shape of concern.

“Thank you.” You mumbled quietly, reaching up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his mouth before dragging your body to the hidden hatch door.

It took twenty minutes to get dressed. You weren’t particularly enthusiastic about the idea of leaving the room, but you slid on jeans and a cute, cropped shirt Summer had begged you to get, before remembering that you were pregnant when you looked in the mirror. You sighed as you turned back to the pile of clothes you’d laid across the bed and chose something longer and black to hide the curve. Maybe you’d get lucky and he’d assume you were gaining weight. You doubted it. You threw on a little makeup and brushed through your hair before rejoining the man in the garage.

“You ready?” He questioned, turning to face you as the door shut with a soft thud.

“Yeah.” You smiled the best you could, reaching for his hand as he moved towards his ship.

He opened the door for you before helping you in and shutting it behind you. The ship was warm from its day in the sun, the smell familiar as you moved to sit criss cross in the worn, comfortable chair. Rick came around the other side and slid into his own seat before shutting the door behind him. Rick’s hand fell on your thigh the moment the ship was in gear. You smiled softly at it, picking at his fingers with your own as he drove out of Earth’s atmosphere.

He motioned to the stereo once the two of you had left the solar system and you scrambled for your phone, queueing up a few songs you liked before slipping the device under your thigh. You weren’t in the mood to talk, and thankfully, Rick picked up on it as he drove in reciprocated, comfortable silence. When he parked the ship half an hour later, you hopped out with warm limbs, only to meet the cold bite of the atmosphere with a small shiver. It was night on the planet, only making the temperature more unbearable as you tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your palms.

Rick’s warm hand met yours as he dragged you inside. You tried to hide the persisting frown as he led you through the front doors. The place was massive. The structure stretched upward in tiers, with three stacked levels shaped like rings on the coliseum, each tier glowing iridescent hues of pinks, purples, and blues. The aggressively angular architecture framed the enormous sign, rotating with the Blips and Chitz logo. Above, the ceiling disappeared into a glass dome. If sensory overload was the price for fun, you were on a payment plan by now. Honestly, the amount of lighting was bound to give you a headache, but Rick squeezed your hand softly in his, and you decided you’d do your best to leave your attitude at the door. He pulled you towards the right, where metaling game tables glowed with softer blues and purples, lining the curve of the wall.

“Do you wanna play Swimmers?” He questioned, glancing down at you as you leaned closer to him, narrowly avoiding brushing into a small crowd of aliens to your right.

“Sure?” You questioned, raising a brow at him.

Rick dragged you towards a large, round machine, equipped with a chair and a headset. He motioned for you to sit, which you did, before the old headset was placed firmly on your skull. Without another word Rick reached forward and pressed the large red start button ahead of you. Your eyes rolled back.

The games at Blipz and Chitz, you realized, were actually quite fun. Swimmers turned out to be a sperm race for the egg, which you lost six times. The duck adjacent species hunting game you tried turned you into a duck being hunted rather than the expected other way around. You sacrificed Rick to win, which he found rather funny as he dragged you to the next machine.

You’d never played skeeball before, which you’d gotten to try for the first time. You weren’t great at that either. Rick was. As you watched him play a few of the games, you realized there really was nothing that man couldn’t do perfectly, well, except survive a duck betrayal from his wife.

Rick, ever the gentleman, won you a small plush creature from a claw machine after you’d spent almost fifteen minutes begging for it. In total, you’d spent four hours walking around, talking, holding hands, and being on an actual, somewhat traditional date alone with him, which you realized you’d never really done before. It lifted your mood enough to pull a few smiles and laughs from your lips. You’d also racked up a decent amount of tickets; 3,427, to be exact. Prizes were always your favorite part of any game, and you dragged Rick to the counter to use them on something cool while he mumbled something behind you.

“What are you thinking?” He asked as you eyed over the wall of prizes. On orange shelves, an array of items were on display, most of them basic merchandise, with some cool things in between. In the long glass case in front of you were smaller prizes, only 20-40 tickets each. Candy, fidgets, prank toys, pins and stickers were on those shelves. Behind the purple counter, on the larger shelves, were shirts, hats, frisbees, lava lamps, electronics, a giant sex doll, vouchers for free meals, and other random things.

“We should get the dildo.” You laughed, pointing at it on the third shelf to the left.

“Why?” He questioned, staring down at you.

“’Cause it has a suction cup and I wanna stick it to the car.” You giggled. He rolled his eyes before telling the man to grab it for you. You handed over your slip and the man crossed 500 tickets off. “And I want a t-shirt.” You added. The same process was repeated, and you lost another 300 tickets. You weren’t sure what to get after that, so you glanced at the case below you.

“That gum is really fucking good.” Rick pointed at the blue cardboard box full of gum packs, flavored in a language you hadn’t learned yet. You ended up with three gums for 45 tickets, and a giant sticky hand, which he warned you not to use in the car.

Rick kept the piece of paper with the remaining amount of tickets, promising to bring you back whenever you wanted another prize. You agreed as you grasped his hand and walked back towards the entrance. The place was just as full as when you’d arrived. People filtered in and out of the walkway as you focused on the doors ahead.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom before we go. They have a running score for piss and I wanna see if anyone’s broken my record.” He informed you. You rolled your eyes at his boyish nature, pausing your walk with him as you leaned against the wall.

“Okay.” You agreed.

“You stay here. Don’t move.” He warned.

“Fine.” You agreed, though the machine to your left was looking more tempting by the minute. Series 9000 agent escape. Cool. Rick pressed a small kiss to your mouth before turning, walking through the bright magenta doorway as you stared straight ahead with a small sigh. You pulled out your buzzing phone and scrolled through the messages as you waited.

Pirate: What’s your price at for one unit?

Y/n: dont know yet

Pirate: Can you get it to me by tomorrow 8pm your time?

Y/n: yeah I can do that

“Hey.” The voice to your left wasn’t Rick’s, and you glanced up to the tall, large alien with a glare.

He was bright pink and at least six feet tall, with three eyes in the front of his cone shaped head and two teeth that stuck out past his mouth. A few scraggly hairs emerged from the top of the cone, while small, lighter pink bumps were littered across his body.

“Can I help you?” You questioned, raising a brow at him as you clicked the side button on your phone.

“I was wondering if you wanted some free tickets I have?” He questioned, smiling weakly at you as he pulled them from his pocket.

“Uh, no thanks. I’m good.” You declined, glancing over towards the bathroom doors. Hurry up asshole.

“You don’t have to do anything for them, just a gift for a pretty girl.” He offered again.

“I’m good.” You repeated, meeting his eyes with a meaner glare this time. He didn’t seem to get the message as he leaned in closer. You could smell something similar to corndogs and soda on him, a scent that was making you nauseous quickly, as he spoke again.

“You know, my friends and I have an extra seat at our table.” He hinted.

“Yeah, I bet you do.” You agreed. Who the fuck would want to sit with you?

The alien couldn’t have been this dense, you figured. Clearly, you were trying to be nice about the rejection, but you were getting fed up quickly. His hand moved forward, grasping a lock of your hair in his hand as he wrapped his thick, grubby digits around it.

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to get your hand off me before I electrocute you.” You offered in a growl, your eyes meeting his in a steel cold glare as you watched him.

“Oh come on, you really don’t wanna hang?” He questioned, pulling on the strands lightly, playfully, as he smiled.

“Five.” You warned. What were the laws here? Would you get thrown in jail if you just killed him? You did have that poison dart in your finger Rick had installed.

“If you just give me a chance-”

“Four.” You warned, angrier this time as your fists clenched at your sides.

“I’m not five, you don’t need to count dow-”

“Three, two, two and a half, two and a quarter, don’t have a heart attack, one.” You rushed out, pulling your hand out and ejecting the prongs at the things forehead. He jumped back, seizing up immediately as the volts rushed through whatever liquid he had in him. He jerked a few times before falling flat to his back, still twitching as you watched him with a small frown. You stopped the current.

“What’d you do?” Rick questioned, wiping his hands on his pants as he approached from the other side.

“I tried warning him.” You shrugged, still frowning down at the man as you watched him groan.

His large hands moved to his t-shirt clad chest as he seized again, this time without a current, and clutched at the skin there. His three eyes bulged out of his head, meeting yours in fear as he stuttered out a few breaths, attempting to speak, before going limp.

“Fuck, I told him not to have a heart attack.” You groaned, reaching forward to grab the tip of your finger from his head before reattaching it to your hand. “We should probably go.” You admitted, glancing up at your frowning husband.

He grasped your hand in his before rushing out of the place, tugging you along with him as you wove through the crowd. His legs were longer, and it was difficult to keep up with his pace without jogging as he dragged you out to the parking lot. Rick opened the door to the ship, rushing you inside and throwing the plastic orange bag in towards the back before sliding in his own seat and lifting the ship off the ground.

“Death penalty on this planet is not lenient.” He warned, driving out of the cold atmosphere as you curled into the seat. “Can’t leave you alone for one fucking minute, can I?” He questioned. You could see from his grip on the steering wheel he was angry.

“I had it handled.” You shot back.

“You killed him.” He pointed out, turning the ship and leaning your body into the large domed window.

“He touched me.” You shrugged. “And I didn’t mean to kill him. Not my fault he had a weak heart.” You defended.

“He was Egolphian, a static shock c-could’ve, c-can stop their hearts.” He growled.

“Then why the fuck was he at an arcade full of electronics?!” You questioned, crossing your legs and leaning them towards the door of the ship.

“Because he wasn’t expecting to be electrocuted? What kind of fucking question is that?” He spat back.

“Are you seriously mad at me? What was the other option? Letting him take me back to his friends to get felt up under the table?” You questioned angrily.

Rick growled, something low and mean in his throat before turning the ship again, harder this time. Your head bumped into the window and you yelped, reaching up to feel it.

“Fuck you.” You growled, glaring at him as you rubbed the tender spot.

“What was the other option? Hitting the asteroid dead on?” He snapped, throwing your words back at you.

“I wouldn’t fucking mind.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Quit it.” He warned.

“Quit what? Existing? Breathing? ‘Cause it seems like I’m doing everything fucking wrong today.” You narrowed your eyes at him as you watched his jaw set.

“Maybe just wait three seconds for me to get back next time before speed running a perma-ban on my favorite place.” He shot back.

“He was touching me!” You yelled. Is he being fucking serious?

“Then push him off!” He snarled.

“You want me to push the three hundred pound alien off?” You questioned with a scoff. “You can’t be fucking serious Rick, this is ridiculous.” You reasoned.

“Yes I’m fucking serious! I can’t leave you alone for one fucking second without something happening to you! Do you know how annoying that is?” He questioned.

“And that’s my fault?” You shot back. “I had it handled just fucking fine, I always have it fucking handled, Rick. What do you think I did during all that time with Morty, huh? Clung to him like some damsel in distress? Oh please, Morty, won’t you shoot that deadly monster for me? My delicate fingers are too weak to pull the fucking trigger.” You mocked.

“I-I-Is that what this is? You’re trying to prove to me that you can handle yourself or something?” He questioned, speeding up as he continued to weave between space junk and rocks.

“That was your point Rick! That you think I can’t! It’s not my fault that guy came up to me!” You shouted, heaving with angry breaths as the blood hummed unpleasantly through your extremities.

“I never said you couldn’t.” He snarled.

“You inferred it!” You snapped.

“Implied.” He corrected.

“Oh great! Thanks for that, grammar Nazi. You’re such a fucking asshole.” You growled.

“You wanna prove to me you can handle yourself? I can drop you off at aaaaany of these fucking planets sweetie, take your pick.” He offered, his eyes narrowed as he waved his hand around the area around you. Is he fucking serious?

“That’s your solution? To drop your wife off into space? For a genius, you really are fucking stupid.” You spat.

“You wanted to prove yourself!” He shouted.

“No I fucking didn’t! You’re the one telling me to! This whole time all I’ve said is that I don’t need to! You should trust me to take care of myself!” You shouted back, throwing your arms up in anger as you watched him. His grip tightened further on the wheel, making a loud squeaking noise as his sweat rubbed against the cork.

“I should trust you? A-A-Are you seriously trying to fucking, i-i-is that really what you think? The girl who, two weeks ago, was BEGGING ME TO KILL HER thinks I should trust her to not get herself killed?” He screamed. Tears rolled down your cheeks from the anger, your fingers shaking with adrenaline as a high pitched whine muffled his volume.

“I HATE YOU!”  You screamed back, crossing your arms across your chest as you turned your gaze forward.

The car fell silent. His movements on the wheel became less jerky as his head turned, staring you down with a set jaw. You ignored it, keeping your gaze ahead and recrossing your legs to push your body further from his.

“Excuse me?” He growled, his voice lower now, scarier. You’d heard that tone before, but not from him. You took a deep breath. You didn’t hate him. You were mad, beyond mad, but you didn’t hate him. Still, you ignored him in favor of the silence. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” He questioned again, his tone the same as the ship slowed to a stop. Well shit.

“Nothing.” You spat.

“Get the fuck in the back.” He ordered, pointing towards the area behind the seats. You rolled your eyes.

“No.” You growled.

“Do you really want to push it right now?” He threatened. Not really. “Get the fuck. In the back. Of my ship. Now.” He warned.

You sighed, uncrossing your legs and unclicking the seatbelt before crawling into the back. You crossed your legs and arms as you sat on the floor, staring out the back and into the mess of stars as you waited for whatever scolding you were bound to get. Rick parked the ship, leaving it to hover before climbing into the back with you.

A warm, harsh hand gripped at your chin, forcing you to stare at the man in front of you. His cheeks were red, his lips turned to a snarl and his breathing heavy as he glared with livid eyes. God he looks good angry.

“Don’t ever fucking say that again, do you understand me?” He growled.

You wanted to say yes, that you understood, or no, that you hated him. You wanted to punch him, to kick him, to scream at him for how he saw you. Weak. Incapable. The growing feeling in your abdomen wanted something else. You listened to it.

Instead of responding with words you leaned forward, uncrossing your arms and pressing your mouth against his. It took him a moment to register what you were doing before his hands gripped your face, harshly as his fingers pressed into your skull, his mouth moving against yours with a delicious mix of pissed passion. You moaned into his mouth, moving to sit on his lap as your hands tangled into his hair, his own arm moving around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Bend over.” He growled against your lips, moving his hands to your hips to move you across his lap.

You attempted to wiggle from his grasp, but his metal frame was much stronger than your calcium-based one, and you relaxed in his hold as his fingers gripped at the top of your jeans. He didn’t bother to reach under you to unbutton or unzip them. Instead, he pulled at the fabric harshly, tugging them down just past your cheeks before capturing your wrists in his hand.

A flat palm came down harshly on your cheek. You cried out, kicking at him the best you could from your position. He said nothing as he hit you again in the same spot. You knew you’d be wet as a river and fucked on the floor within a few minutes, but fighting him was more fun. Plus, you were still angry. His hand came down again, harder this time as you cried out below him.

“Where the fuck do you get off, hm?” He snarled, hitting the other cheek now as you bit down on your bottom lip. “Answer me.” He ordered, hitting the same spot. The sting was delicious, albeit painful, and you kicked at him again as you attempted to move off his lap.

“Fuck you.” You spat.

Rick growled. His hand left your skin before smacking back down, again, and again, and again, and again until tears fell down your reddened face and cries escaped your lips. It was a harsh sting that had you soaking, spreading down your thighs and glistening in the light of the ship. He continued, unrelenting, until you finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry!” You cried out through sobs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He spat. “You wanna try that again?” Blunt nails dug into the raw skin and you cried out, nodding as you wiggled again.

“I don’t hate you! I’m sorry for saying I hated you!” You cried. The nails relented, but another harsh smack was delivered to a spot lower down. You lifted your foot in response, hot, frustrated, and desperate as your skin burned.

“Hands and knees.” He ordered, releasing the grip on your wrists.

You moved off his lap with weak muscles, your arms shaking as you orchestrated yourself on the cold, dirty metal floor. You could hear his belt unhook and his zipper draw down from behind you. Finally. Warm fingers pried at your jeans, tugging them further down your legs before gripping around the bones of your hips.

“You’re lucky I like fucking you so much.” He snarled, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your soaked slit. You moaned out at the feeling, pushing back towards him as he lined himself up. “Your ass is red right now. Cum, and I’m turning it purple.” He warned.

You planned to respond but he pushed into you then, stretching you and forcing your body forward as you moaned out. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he pushed himself up to your cervix. Still, he didn’t hit it, and you knew he wouldn’t really hurt you. He pulled back, filling the car with obscenely wet noises before pushing in again, harsher as he started a pace.

“You gonna be good now?” He snarled. You moaned out softly, arching your back and pushing him deeper as you gripped the metal floor in front of you. “That’s my girl, s-so well behaved once you’re stuffed full, aren’t you?” He questioned.

“Fuck, yeah.” You breathed out.

“Is that what your problem is? Hm? C-Can’t remember how to behave unless you’re full of my cum?” He spat. “Or do you just like having the attitude fucked out of you?” He continued.

“Both,” You whined out. He growled from behind you, speeding his pace as one hand reached forward, wrapping in your hair and tugging it back. You moaned out, pushing yourself up on your hands to avoid hurting your neck.

“We can solve that, can’t we slut?” He spat.

“Mmmf, please.” You begged. The stretch was incredible from the back, you’d always loved it, but the way he was treating you, the pace he was fucking you, and the genuine anger in his tone had you melting in his hands, your abdomen warm and heavy with pleasurable tingles as you bent to his will.

Rick paused in his movements then, pulling out before turning you below him. You stared up at him, confused as you watched his eyes trail over you, half naked in the back of his ship, ready to beg for more if you needed. Instead, his hands left your body for a moment as he met your eyes.

“How rough can I be without causing problems?” He questioned. Oh fuck yeah.

“I don’t know.” You shook your head honestly. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin it with another… incident, but God you wanted him to be rough again. You’d missed it desperately.

“Would you tell me if it was too much?” He questioned. You nodded, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you eyed him hungrily. Please. “Say it.” He ordered.

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” You whispered, your elbows aching from the pressure into the metal below. “Please.” You begged softly, reaching your hand up to fit around his arm. You could see the shift in his face, his eyes growing hungrier as he stared down at you, pink wet cheeks and gaze practically pleading for it.

“Take your fucking shirt off.” He growled, shedding his own coat.

You watched him as you removed the fabric, tossing it into the front seat, uncaring for where it landed. He shed his sweater and undershirt as he watched you with an angry snarl that only spurred you on further. He tugged on the small bow between your breasts before motioning towards the bra.

“Off.” He pointed at the padded fabric with an expression you couldn’t quite place. You quickly unclasped it and threw it forward to join your shirt on the seat. His hands tugged your jeans until they were pulled from your ankles with a hard yank.

He reached forward, wrapping his hand around the base of your neck as you were pushed to the floor. He orchestrated his way between your legs, his grip harsh on your skin before his free hand grasped your breast. You moaned between teeth, catching his eyes for a moment before it was slapped, hard. You cried out at the pain before repeating the sound when his fingers tugged on your nipple.

“Aw, does that hurt baby?” He mocked. You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as he pinched harder. “Is that why you hate me? Hm?” He snarled as he moved to the other breast, smacking it just as harshly before pinching that nipple too.

A noise, somewhere between no and I’m sorry caught in your throat as he tugged on the sensitive bud. The hand on your throat squeezed before leaving the spot, instead working between your legs and spreading them further apart. You sighed happily, assuming he would re-enter you then. Instead, his hand came down hard on your clit, and you cried out, leaning up on your elbows in shock.

“Ow!” You spoke out. He caught your eyes, only to check if you were okay, before keeping his gaze and doing it again. You flinched, feeling the rush of wetness soak you further as you glared.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You want me to rub it and make it better?” He questioned patronizingly.

You bit down on your lip, nodding enthusiastically as you watched a smirk overtake his face. Instead, his hand slapped down on the nerve again, and you cried out with tears in your eyes as your back arched against the floor. You attempted to shut your legs, but he’d placed his firmly in between.

“Too fucking bad.” He growled. “You wanna hate me? I’ll give you a reason to hate me.” He spat before reaching down to pinch the nerve.

You squealed, kicking at him in protest. He stopped after only a second, sliding his fingers down to your sopping hole before plunging them in. You cried out in pleasure that time, scraping your nails against the floor as your legs relaxed again.

“You getting off on this? Hm?” He questioned, pressing into your g-spot as you moaned out in pleasure. “You like it when daddy treats his toy like trash?” He questioned.

“Fuck, please,” You whined, widening your legs as much as you could, a beg for him to fuck you again.

“Oh, look at you. So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you? You think you deserve that?” He questioned, curling his fingers into a delicious angle as you writhed with pleasure beneath him.

“Please, please,” you breathed out, reaching your hand down to your clit. It was smacked away before you could reach it.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing whore?” He spat, his eyes angry as he watched you. “I told you no. You’re not cumming.” He growled. You whined softly, turning your head to the side as tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Please?” You asked softly. The man chuckled above you as he shook his head.

“You’re my fuck toy, not the other way around.” He warned, removing his fingers from your wet core before gripping your face with the same hand.

The slick smeared across your cheeks as he grabbed them with one hand, squishing them together and forcing you to look at him again. It was dehumanizing in the best way possible, and you squirmed beneath him as you met his eyes.

“You wanna be a good toy, don’t you?” He questioned.

You nodded in his grip. He smiled down, a devilishly evil smile, before lining himself and pushing in to the hilt. You yelped as he bumped your cervix, and he moved back, clearly an accident, before pulling out and pushing in again.

You moaned out, wrapping your calves around his as his grip removed from your face. He leant his weight on one elbow by your head before sliding his other hand down to your breasts again. His pace was punishingly hard, forcing cries and moans from your sore, bitten lips as his fingers tweaked at the bruised buds.

“Fuck, such a tight little hole.” He groaned out, his eyes still on your face as he pinched the bud again. You yelped and he chuckled before doing it again. “You gonna apologize now?” He questioned, still keeping his pace as he filled you with warm electricity.

“’M sorry for, ow!” You yelped as he pinched again, “sorry for saying I hate you.” You apologized, though half was a moan. He shook his head, moving his hand to pinch the other now as he tsked his tongue.

“Not what I’m looking for.” He warned. You scrunched your brows. He was in the wrong earlier, and you stood by that. You weren’t going to apologize for something you weren’t sorry for. You kept your mouth shut, staring up at him with a glare now as you watched him. His eyes hardened. “Really?” He questioned, almost surprised as he watched you. Still, his pace stayed the same. “Maybe you’re just not full enough, is that it?” He questioned. You raised an eyebrow at him, but again said nothing.

He shifted his weight, stilling in you for a moment before grabbing the plastic bag from the floor to your right. He fished around in it for a moment before pulling out the sparkly, 8 inch dildo you’d gotten as a joke. Oh.

“Open up.” He demanded, pressing the plastic to your lips.

You did as asked, opening your mouth with a soft ‘aaah’. He smiled as he pushed the cold silicone past your lips, right to the front of your throat. You gagged, but he kept the plastic there, tapping on it with his finger and sending vibrations down your neck before pulling it out and pushing it in again. You sucked around it hungrily, still holding his eyes as you moaned around it. His pace picked up again, his eyes greedy as he watched you suck the toy in and out.

“Keep that in. Make it niiice and wet for me slut.” He ordered. You hummed softly in acknowledgement before his hand drifted down towards your core. He brushed over your clit and you cried out, but he kept trailing it down until he found your backdoor.

He used the slick that had dripped from your pussy to wet the hole before pushing a finger in. You cried out against the plastic in pleasure, widening your legs and arching your back at the sensation. Pleasure shot from your abdomen, flowing over you like a wave as a sweat formed on your skin.

You were still somewhat loose from the night before, aiding in the addition of a second finger as you moaned. He watched with an evil smile as he spread his fingers apart in you, fucking in and out of the tight hole in time with his cock. You were a mess, tears streaming down your face as you squirmed from the pleasure, unable to lay still with the energy thrumming through you.

He stretched you to four fingers in record time, the slick from your pussy and the desperation of your body speeding the process along. When he was happy with how stretched you were he pulled them out, leaving you gaping and begging for more around the dildo, still nearly touching your throat. He chuckled softly as he pulled the toy from your mouth, wiping at the spit that had followed with his free thumb before positioning the plastic at your empty hole.

Your eyes widened. For some reason, you hadn’t fully caught onto his plan, your brain too busy soaking in pleasure to recognize it. You breathed out a shaky breath, searching his face for any sign that he was kidding. Instead, you met the eyes of a sick, deranged man, and you bit back a moan as you widened your legs.

He pushed the plastic past the ring of muscle, slowly slipping it into the impossibly tight cavern. His cock at the other side of the wall forced you to squeeze against the toy, pulling obscene noises from your lips as he sunk it to the hilt. The only piece left was the suction cup, and you squirmed uncomfortably at the stretch, still not used to the feeling as he allowed you time to adjust.

“Th-That, y-you full enough now baby?” He questioned knowingly.

“Fuuuuck, fuck yes, yes, ‘m full.” You moaned out, moving your hands to his arms, needing to hold onto something.

“Good. Put your legs on my shoulders.” He ordered.

Your legs shook as you drew them up, doing as asked and placing them on the bones of his shoulders. You cried out as he continued to fuck into you, the angle only putting more pressure on the plastic in your ass as you bent yourself in half for him. His hand between your legs gripped around the silicone before beginning to move it, slower than the pace he’d set with his cock, but not by much.

The scream you let out was feral. Rick’s thrusts faltered as he watched your face scrunch into pleasure, your back arching as much as it could in the position as both cocks worked in you, stretching you, forcing pressure on your g-spot as you shook beneath him. Your nails dug into his arms as you cried out, unintelligible words spilling from your throat in a long string as your teeth chattered with adrenaline.

“Has my slut never been stuffed full before?” He questioned patronizingly, his hand adjusting from the elbow he leaned his weight on to pet at the top of your head. You shook your head, unable to respond with words, and he chuckled as he leaned down, forcing your legs to bend further as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“N-No.” You breathed out against his mouth.

He chuckled before pulling back, fucking into you harder now as he worked the dildo in and out, an opposite rhythm that kept moans spilling from your throat uncontrollably. More than anything you wanted something on your clit, wanted to be pushed over the edge and into the heaven of cumming with both holes filled.

“Next time we’ll get another one and I’ll make you airtight. You want that? You want all your, fuck, all your holes filled up?” He questioned. You moaned out at the thought, nodding as your body rocked along the cold metal floors in a discombobulated rhythm. “Look how fucking obedient you are now with both your holes stuffed.” He continued, still keeping his rhythm as he glanced down to your bouncing tits.

“Mmmm, ohh fuuuck.” You moaned out in agreement, still unable to speak.

“Can barely even handle it, can you? L-Look at you, your fucking teeth are chattering.” He growled. He was right, your vision had half faded, your body shaking almost uncontrollably from the pleasure as he trapped the shared wall between alternating cocks. “You can take it slut, I know you can, nice and good for daddy.” He warned.

You nodded, your fingers digging further into his skin as one legs slipped down to the crook of his elbow. He caught it there, holding it for you as your body gave up any sort of muscle function.

“Gonna, fuck, gonna fill this tight little hole of yours angel, u-use you like the fucking cumrag you are.” He growled. You cried out, nodding your head as the stretch in your legs furthered. “You want that slut? Wanna, fuck, wanna get filled up baby?” He questioned, his thrusts growing sloppy as you panted beneath him.

“Fuck, p-please, please fill, fill me daddy.” You managed, though you could barely recognize the voice as your own.

“That’s my girl.” He growled. “B-Been so good for me angel, you wanna cum too?” He questioned. Your eyes shot open at the question, almost in disbelief, and you caught his with a quick desperate nod.

“Please, please, please, please.” You begged, over and over again as he smirked down at you.

“Such nice manners.” He spoke, his voice low in a growl as he attempted to hold back. You could feel his legs shaking as he held himself up. “Rub yourself angel, cum while you’re nice and full.” He urged. You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately dropping your hand to your clit and rubbing soft circles on the sensitive nerve.

The feeling was almost too much, the pleasure overtaking any last ounce of pain from being stretched. You cried out, throwing your head back and exposing your neck to the man as you shook violently beneath him.

“That’s a good girl, s-such a good girl for daddy.” He purred, only egging you on as you sprinted towards the cliff. “S-So pretty when you’re stuffed like this, aren’t you? My perfect girl.” He continued. You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clenched around both cocks.

“Please, please, ‘m gonna, nmmm, please,” You begged, the words barely forming let alone leaving your mouth as your body clenched.

“That’s it honey, go on, make a nice mess on me.” He spoke, his thrusts faltering as you tipped over the edge.

You could feel him spilling into you as you screamed, raking the nails on your free hand down his back. You clenched around him once, twice, before the pleasure shot through your core, like hot lava throwing through your veins. Still, both him and the silicone were moving inside you, but the squeezing of your muscles and the rhymic pulsing slowed their speed as white overtook your vision.

Your ears rang with the intensity, your legs fully shaking as your teeth chattered with each moan. You could feel your heart pounding, your brain no longer able to keep up as black seeped in from the edges of your vision. You let your head drop to the floor as you gave up trying to fight it. You opened your eyes again a moment later, your head cradled in Rick’s hand, still full, as he stared down with a smile. You smiled back as best as you could, though your body was still humming with pleasure.

“You passed out.” He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your lips. You breathed out a soft, warm sigh as you relaxed in his hold. He pulled himself out of you before doing the same to the toy, earning himself a whine as you curled into a ball on your side, still shaking and freezing now from the cold metal you were laid upon.

“Cold.” You muttered through chattering teeth.

“Let’s clean you up and get you dressed again, I’ll turn the heat on.” He promised. He reached around the seat, grabbing your shirt and bra before urging you to sit up. You did as told, your body worn and exhausted as he slid the fabric over your arms and reclasped it at the back. Your shirt was next, and he slipped it down your body before grabbing his sweater from the floor and turning it inside out, tugging it over your head too.

“Your sweater.” You mumbled. He grabbed your jeans from the floor and began tugging them up your body.

“You need to warm up.” He spoke, his hands moving quickly to fasten the button before putting his own shirt and pants back on.

“You’ll get cold.” You pouted. He shook his head.

“I’m fine angel. Go sit up by the heat.” He nodded his head towards the front of the car. You could feel the last of the pleasure leaving your body as you sat yourself down in the chair, curling into a ball as the heat blasted towards you.

When Rick joined you in the front he quickly pulled you into his lap. You didn’t protest, instead curling into him as he started the ship again. The argument was still simmering in the back of your mind, but you tried your best to ignore his implications as you closed your eyes against his shoulder. His free hand worked up and down your back, rubbing softly at the layers above your skin as you calmed down. A kiss was pressed to your temple and you hummed softly, gripping the fabric of his lab coat as you wiped the remainder of tears away on it.

“Oh what am I, a tissue?” He spoke. You nodded into his chest.

“An asshole tissue.” You managed through shivers.

“Are you still on that?” He questioned. You shrugged.

“I’m not useless. I can handle myself.” You reiterated. He sighed, and you pulled back, the fire of anger reigniting in you as you stared at him. “You still don’t think I can, do you?” You questioned.

“You can in certain situations.” He gave. You furrowed your brows at him, pulling farther back and untangling your fingers from their place.

“Certain situations?” You questioned. He rolled his eyes as he sped up the ship.

“Yes. Certain situations. Controlled situations.” He offered.

“I can handle myself anywhere Rick.” You growled back.

“No, you fucking can’t. D-Do you know what would’ve happened if I came back from pissing three minutes later?” He questioned. You didn’t respond as you moved off his lap, back into your own chair. “They would’ve taken you straight to fucking prison, and you would’ve been tried and executed within the hour.” He growled.

“Or, I would’ve escaped before they caught me, driven away, and had no fucking issues.” You shot back.

“And when the Galactic Federation comes knocking for you then what? Hm? You’re gonna stay on the run for the rest of your life? You really think you could pull that off alone?” He questioned angrily.

“I can do anything.” You spat back, crossing your arms as you stared out the window.

“So fucking naïve.” He grumbled under his breath.

“Asshole.” You grumbled back.

Chapter Text

You ignored Rick the whole ride home. When he parked the ship in the garage, Morty was already waiting for the two of you, a blissfully unaware smile on his face as he greeted you. You slammed the door to the ship as you hopped out. Your butt hurt from the spanks and stretching combined, and you tried your best to walk normally as you greeted the boy.

“D-Dinner’s ready, we all, uh, w-w-we kinda waited for you.” He admitted, glancing between the two of you with a nervous grin.

“Thanks Morty.” You smiled, following him and the older man through the kitchen and into the dining room. The family was all sat, plates empty as they watched you enter.

“Finally.” Summer groaned, reaching forward towards the green beans at the center of the table. You were touched they had waited for you, despite your terribly sour mood.

“I hope you guys are hungry.” Beth smiled, reaching forward herself to grab some mashed potatoes.

“Starving, thank you.” You smiled over at her.

Rick followed behind you, sitting in his chair and reaching toward the sliced white meat as you walked behind his chair. You winced as you sat, the stinging pain from earlier now a deep sharp ache as you placed your cheeks on the wooden surface. Ow. Rick snickered from beside you, and you shot the man the angriest glare you could manage.

“Did you guys have fun?” Morty asked, still completely oblivious to the situation.

“No, look at them. They’re fighting.” Summer teased. You moved your gaze to her before sighing, reaching forward to grab the spoon she’d placed back down in the yellow ceramic bowl.

“We’re not… fighting.” You breathed out.

“News to me.” Rick spoke sarcastically, picking up the metal spoon after you. You shot him another glare.

“Is it?” You questioned sarcastically, narrowing your eyes at the man.

“Sorry, did you need another reminder? ‘Cause I can bend you over right-”

“Rick!” You growled in warning.

“I’m just agreeing with my granddaughter.” He feigned innocence, grabbing the fork from the spot next to him.

“Because you inferred that I was essentially useless!” You snapped, forgetting about the food as you turned your body towards him.

“Implied!” He shouted back, his face distorted into anger as he turned the same way.

“Inferred. You inferred, from observations on my behavior, that I couldn’t handle myself.” You growled.

“And then I implied it when we were arguing about it, which is really the only relevant point here.” He shot back.

“There’s no relevant point here! You’re just wrong!” You argued. The rest of the table melted away as you fought, the anger boiling in your abdomen again as you watched the idiot of the man.

“I’m ‘just wrong’? When am I ever fucking wrong?” He asked, almost bored in his tone. It only made you angrier.

“Right now! Literally right now, Rick.” You spat back.

“I’m not wrong. You got trigger happy, and if I wasn’t there, your head would be rolling around somewhere on the floor at a Federal Outpost.” He spat.

“Trigger happy?! He was fucking touching me!” You yelled back. “I handled it perfectly fine, it’s not my fault his heart was made of wet fucking paper!” You argued.

“You couldn’t handle half the, half of the shit I see every week!” He growled, throwing his hands up with a tight knitted brow.

“Being able to handle myself means knowing when I can’t handle something and avoiding it. I avoid situations where I’m not likely to survive, Rick, the same way everybody who’s capable of handling themselves does.” You reasoned.

“And that’s the fucking difference, Y/n. There is no scenario where I can’t handle myself.” He growled.

“I never said there was! I’m not comparing myself to you Rick I’m not fucking stupid! Obviously I can’t handle the same shit you can, you’re… you! That doesn’t mean I’m some airhead that genuinely cannot keep herself alive.” You spat.

“You don’t even want to keep yourself alive!” He shouted, his face going red again as he heaved.

“That’s not even fucking relevant!” You shouted back.

“How is that not relevant? Equation A is resolved by solution x, you being dead, or solution y, you being alive. Equation B is resolved with solution x, you being dead, or solution y, you being alive. They’re just, th-they’re just different slopes on the same fucking plot! Do you need me to, d-do you want me to draw it out for you?” He insulted. You could feel your hands shaking for another reason now as you watched him.

“If I wanted to be dead, I’d be fucking dead. I know you think I’m retarded, but I know how to purchase a gun, and bullets are dirt fucking cheap.” You growled.

“And if I didn’t put so much effort into keeping you alive the past few months, I’d be eating dinner at your fucking grave.” He growled.

“Because of a situation you put me in!” You snapped, crossing your arms again as you glared. Rick’s face morphed from anger to rage as his jaw set. You recognized the look from earlier, but you refused to shrink back.

“I didn’t put you in that box, Y/n.” He growled, low and dangerous. Part of you was worried he’d stab you with the fork he was gripping so tightly.

“You didn’t prevent it either.” You growled back.

You could see a twinge of hurt flash across his face before his eyes steeled over again. He leaned back, crossing his arms like yours as he glared from his chair. The silence was deafening. Not once did you break his gaze, holding it with just as much resentment as you watched him.

“G-Green beans are good.” Morty spoke quietly, clearly afraid of the situation unfolding in front of him.

You’d completely forgotten about the family. You refused to look up from the spot on the table your eyes had fallen to, instead choosing to stand on sore, shaky legs and leave. Fuck you Rick.

“Just so you don’t lose your shit over it later, I’m leaving the fucking curve.” You growled, turning to meet his gaze with fists clenched at your sides.

“Great! I’ll see you when you get home in a body bag.” He snapped back.

“Maybe I’ll buy those bullets and make it easier for you!” You smiled through gritted teeth.

Tears welled in your eyes. You swallowed them down as you turned on your heel, grabbing your phone from your pocket and pulling up your calls with blurry eyes as you entered the garage, slamming the door behind you. The line rang twice before he picked up.  

“Hey.” He spoke. He didn’t sound busy.

“Can I sleep over tonight?” You questioned, a sob breaking through your throat as you pressed the phone tighter to your ear.

Without skipping a beat, a pool of swirling yellow opened by the shelves on the wall. You hung up the call and stepped through.

Chapter Text

Morty’s house was beginning to feel more and more like a second home. You recognized the smell by heart now, though this time it was mixed with something warm and brothy, a soup maybe. When you’d been portaled into his living room, the fireplace was already going, and Morty was waiting at it, drink in hand, legs crossed as he flicked his head over to you.

“Hey.” He offered.

“Hey.” You sniffled back, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

You joined him by the fire, glancing at his spot in the large comfy chair to your right as you sunk into the farthest left spot of the long leather couch. You curled your knees to your chest as you tried to clear your head.

You felt icky. Used. He found you useless and incapable, fucked you as hard as he could and then went right back to feeling that way. You weren’t sure what the feeling was, or if it even had a name, but it wasn’t pleasant. Bile rose in your throat. You swallowed it down. The mold grew. As if it was implanted, your brain pulled something from the back of your memory again, like it had with similar words before.

I laid sticks on your bones

I wove twine between your ribs

I stuffed fluff that I found between the gaps in your fingers

And carved out a hole with small stones

But then I ruffled my feathers

And the fluff fell from its crevices between your skin

And the twine between your ribs loosened

And the sticks I laid so carefully clattered to the floor

And now I must make a new nest

On a much less comfortable tree

If only my wings would stop itching

Much like the words before, you couldn’t place them. You knew them by heart, you knew they meant something to you, but you couldn’t quite remember why. It gnawed at you as the feeling, the icky, heavy feeling grew in your chest. And your butt hurt.

You sat in silence for a while, though you weren’t sure how long. The fire warmed your toes at the edge of the couch. Morty said nothing as he sipped from his glass of whisky, swirling it around before placing it on the side table. You knew he was going to speak, but you didn’t want to talk about any of it. How could Rick see you that way? And if that was how he saw you, why did he keep you around?

I can’t leave you alone for one fucking second without something happening to you! Do you know how annoying that is?

You remembered his words. At the time, they had stung a bit, but now the ache was much deeper in your chest. It wasn’t your fault. People were stupid, and pushy. Aliens were too. Pigs, all of them.

“So…” Morty trailed off, meeting your eyes with his uncovered one as he took another sip of his drink. “Rick?” He questioned.

You sighed as you nodded, wiping away more tears with your sleeve. His sleeve. Rick’s sweater. Fuck. Does this trigger him? Should I take it off? You pulled the sweater from your body and set it beside you before tucking it under your legs.

“Did you tell him?” He questioned curiously.

“Not yet.” You shook your head. Your voice cracked from the sob that threatened to break through again. “We’re just… fighting.” You grumbled.

“About?” He pushed. Normally, he wasn’t this persistent. You didn’t appreciate it.

“I killed a guy at Blipz and Chitz and he freaked out on me for it. I dunno, I guess it just, devolved into this big fight, and he said I shouldn’t be trusted to handle myself or whatever, and then we fucked, like, really fucked, and he still didn’t apologize! He just went right back to saying I wasn’t responsible enough to keep myself alive. And then we got in this big fight at dinner in front of everyone and he told me to come back in a body bag, or something like that.” You huffed.

“And what’d you say?” He asked with a raised brow.

“That I’d buy bullets and make it easier for him.” You grumbled. Morty chuckled, placing the drink down as he watched you.

“Rick loves Blipz and Chitz. Getting him banned is suicide.” He informed. Yeah, starting to gather that. “Why’d you kill that guy anyways?” He asked.

“He wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You sighed out.

“That seems like something right up his alley. I wonder why he freaked.” Morty pondered. “Not that I give a shit about Rick, it’s just odd.” He added. You nodded.

“I know. I wasn’t really expecting it either.” You admitted. “And then he kept saying I couldn’t be trusted to take care of myself, like, can you fucking believe that?” You questioned, meeting his eyes again. Morty cringed at your words. Oh no fucking way. “You can’t be serious.” You growled. He rolled his eye as he reached for his glass.

“Look, you’re suicidal at best. I’m pretty sure you’d sacrifice yourself for a squirrel if the opportunity came up.” He spoke gently. “I’ve only known you since the whole Prime thing, and maybe you were different before, but your will to live is waaaay below the bar for average.” He added.

“Okay but I’m not talking about killing myself, I’m talking about just surviving situations. Like on the ship, when I was flying us, I did literally everything I could to keep us alive, and it fucking worked.” You pointed out.

“Because you weren’t alone.” He countered. “Would you have done the same thing if you’d been the only one out there?” He asked.

You thought about it for a moment. No. I would’ve taken them out with my own ship. Fuck. He seemed to recognize that you were coming to terms with his statement.

“Your distaste for breathing affects your decision making, whether or not you see it. Rose-colored glasses, or whatever.” He motioned with his hand as he spoke.

You sighed, turning your gaze towards the fireplace as it flickered with the air. He was right. It affected your decision making, and truthfully, while you’d stayed on the line of not caring if you lived or died, previous to the Prime incident, you definitely fell over the line at some point since then. You really didn’t have much will to live left, and as you went over scenarios in your mind, you were more likely than ever before to sacrifice yourself, for anything and anyone. Damn. He was right.

“I blamed him for the Prime thing.” You whispered, picking at the fabric of your jeans as you recalled the argument.

“Ouch.” Morty chuckled. He enjoyed Rick’s pain, and while you could ignore it normally, it settled terribly in your chest now.

“I fucked up.” You admitted. “He was right, I just… I couldn’t see it, I guess.” You shrugged.

“Nobody can see water when they’re in it.” He reassured. “But you are, like, the least reliable self-reference I’ve ever met.” He laughed. “The autobiography would make millions.” He continued. You let out a soft, laugh-like sigh as you nodded.

“Yeah. I should write a book.” You laughed quietly.

“More like a series, with all the shit you’ve been through the last few years.” He pointed out. You giggled as you leaned back into the couch, settling into the heat of the room as the last of the anger fizzled out.

“What are we on, book eight?” You joked.

“At least. Make sure you pull a Rowling and split that last one into two parts, double the profit.” He teased. You sighed softly as you directed your gaze back to the fire.

“I think I have to apologize to him.” You whined out.

“Meh.” Morty shrugged.

“You’re a bad influence.” You joked, narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

“I’m a good influence. How many times have I bugged you to tell him you’re pregnant?” He questioned, glancing towards your abdomen. “Is it noticeable?” He questioned.

You stood, pulling up the fabric of your shirt and down on the hem of your jeans just enough to expose the bump. Angling your body towards the side so the fire could illuminate the outline, you finally stopped sucking in, looking down at the noticeable curve and moving your arms up to your chest so he could see.

“Oh shit, it is.” He spoke, leaning forward as he trailed his eyes over the bump.

“I know, he made a fucking quarterback or something. For six weeks, this thing is huge. I looked up six week bumps on Reddit and this is definitely one of the larger ones.” You sighed out.

“Seven weeks. And second babies are different, I think it’s more noticeable the second time around.” He informed.

“Shit I totally forgot about that.” You whispered, lowering your shirt again as you sunk back into the couch.

“How far along did you even get with the jar baby?” He asked as he took another sip.

“Five months.” You breathed out.

“How hasn’t he noticed?” The kid laughed, shaking his head. You stood again, repeating the process of pulling on clothes before sucking in. The bump disappeared, as you knew it would. Morty breathed out air through pursed lips.

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” He commented.

“That and baggy clothes.” You added, sitting back down with a small groan. “I should text him.” You sighed out.

“You could call him if you want, I need to finish dinner anyways.” He admitted, standing from his spot with a sigh of his own. “Are you staying to eat?” He questioned. You nodded, peering up at him from your spot.

“Yeah. I didn’t exactly eat Beth’s dinner.” You admitted. You’d have to apologize to them too. God, this sucked.

“Come to the kitchen whenever you’re done.” He spoke, letting his hand slide off the back of the chair as he turned to leave.

You sat in silence for a moment, pulling your phone from your pocket and staring at the empty screen. No texts. No calls. You navigated to Rick’s contact. He was still ‘R’ in your phone. You’d never thought to change it in the two years you’d known him. Without overthinking it, you changed it to Rick before sliding back to the phone number. You pressed it, bringing the phone to your ear and waiting.

Honestly, you weren’t expecting a response, especially after your comment about Prime. He’d been hurt. You could see it on his face the moment you’d said it. You knew he most likely felt guilty about it and you’d thrown it back in his face like it was nothing. God I’m a shitty wife.

“Hey.” He was pissed. You could hear it in his voice as he spoke, but he’d answered. You were glad he’d answered.

“Hi.” You whispered into the line, bringing your knees in closer as you cupped the device to your ear. “I, uh, I think maybe I was wrong.” You stuttered out.

“You think?” He questioned. Just take the apology, fuck.

“I was wrong.” You corrected. “I guess I didn’t realize how the whole, you know, not wanting to be alive thing was affecting my decision making skills.” You admitted quietly.

“Mhm.” It wasn’t a friendly hum. You sighed, the rest of the apology stuck in the back of your throat as you waited for him to say something else. He didn’t.

“And I’m sorry for throwing the whole Prime thing in your face, that wasn’t, that isn’t how I feel, I just said it to be mean.” You admitted. You heard him sigh into the receiver before he spoke again.

“BugAnne called me from a burner phone when I was in the bathroom. That’s why I was so pissed about the dead guy.” He admitted. Rage simmered somewhere deep in your gut. I fucking hate that bitch.

“Oh.” You spoke through gritted teeth. I’m gonna fucking kill her.

“I told her to fuck off the second I realized it was her. She was just drunk and angry.” He explained.

“Rick I…” I’m pregnant. Say it. Say it. Don’t pussy out. Say it.

“I should’ve told you, I’m sorry. A-And I wasn’t angry at you, just the situation.” He explained. Did he regret leaving her for you? Were you too much of a burden now, and he was only just realizing it? Would he prefer someone like her? Someone capable of handling themselves?

“Because you still like her?” You asked, feeling the tears well in your eyes.

“Where the fuck is your head at?” He questioned. “Jesus, you need to stop jumping to conclusions like this, you’re gonna drive yourself mad angel.” He spoke, almost chuckling now. You swallowed down the hurt. “I was angry at myself. That whole situation with her, it shouldn’t have happened. I thought you were dead and… I wouldn’t have, n-none of that would’ve happened if I had known you were alive. I should’ve known you were alive. You were twenty feet from me and I didn’t even know you were there, I left you there, alone. And she, she encouraged me to get over you, and I’m mad at her for it, but I’m mad at myself for it too.” He explained.

You turned your gaze to the amber light of the fire. It went silent for a moment as you thought of what to say. You would’ve been mad at yourself too, in his position. You still hated her guts. What the fuck is she doing calling my husband?

“So you yelled at her?” You asked, almost hopefully.

“Yeah.” He breathed out. “I told her to fuck off, that I should’ve never tried to move on from you. That she was a mistake.” He explained.

“Okay.” You agreed. You felt numb.

“And I’m not, I-I’m not mad you killed that guy.” He added. “It was just misdirected anger. It’s not your fault you’re young and hot, and I shouldn’t have tried to blame you for it.” He apologized.

“Okay.” You agreed.

Still, you didn’t feel better. You felt icky inside, cold and damp in your chest. You wanted to be close to him, to curl into his chest where it was warm and dry. You didn’t want a new nest, you wanted your old one back. Still, the idea of going home wasn’t particularly comforting. You’d fought in front of everyone, and facing that wouldn’t be fun.

“Are you coming home tonight?” He asked. You sighed as you turned away from the fire.

“I… I don’t know.” You admitted. “We kinda fought in front of everyone.” You reminded him.

“They’ll get over it. Morty’s pissed at me.” He informed with a small groan. You giggled.

“Good.” You agreed.

“You got the little turd on your side.” He grumbled. You gave another small laugh. Love you too, kid.

“I, uh, Morty made dinner.” You explained softly.

“Go eat. Just, text me if you plan on coming home, okay?” He requested. You did want to go home. You wanted to fall asleep in his arms. Were mood swings a symptom of pregnancy this early on?

“I’ll come home after dinner.” You promised.

“I love you.” It was quiet, almost ashamed, but it warmed your chest all the same.

“I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” You spoke, equally as quiet before hanging up.

You placed your phone in your back pocket before following your nose into the kitchen. The conversation had helped, but still, you weren’t quite back to neutral. His words still echoed in your head. I can’t leave you alone for one fucking second without something happening to you! Do you know how annoying that is?

 Is that how he saw it? Would he prefer it if you stayed away longer and gave him more time without having to entertain you? You could probably spend more time with the fleet. They liked having you around, and you liked being there. It gave you another purpose. Most people your age had friends, family, school or work, things to do that weren’t hanging around a man. Maybe more space would be good for him, and Morty probably missed hanging out with him too.

“Soups on.” Morty spoke, distracting you from your thoughts as he placed two steaming white bowls on the counter. You looked past the rim to stare into it as you approached. Chicken noodle soup. Yum.

“Thanks.” You spoke quietly, slipping into the chair and taking the spoon from its spot on the sand colored counter. While hot, it wasn’t unbearable, and the taste was incredibly good. He’d really improved on his cooking skills since you’d left.

“Well?” He questioned, eyeing you from the side as you chewed on an egg noodle. You nodded, humming softly with a smile as you turned your head towards him.

“It’s really good.” You complimented. “And no celery.” You smiled. You hated cooked celery. Actually, you hated celery all around. The strings and taste of crunchy water was nauseating to the core. It always felt like chewing on tooth roots. Morty knew that, and as you fished around in your bowl, you confirmed that there was none.

“There’s celery, I just fished it out of yours.” He explained. Aw.

“Thanks.” You giggled, taking another spoonful with a soft hum. The broth was salty and well flavored, and the chunks of white meat chicken weren’t overcooked, nor were the noodles.

“Did you guys figure it out?” He questioned.

“I guess.” You shrugged. “I mean, we apologized or whatever but, I dunno. Maybe we need some… space, or something.” You thought aloud.

“Space?” He questioned.

“I just, I don’t want him to feel like a babysitter. I don’t need a babysitter, I’m not a child. But the way he talked about me earlier I just, I dunno. I feel like… like a burden or something.” You admitted quietly.

“You’re not a burden, at least not to me.” Morty offered. “Sure you need a little more monitoring than a man, but that’s par for the course. Women are disadvantaged multi-universally. Evolution follows the path of least resistance, I guess.” Morty shrugged. “If he’s gonna take you out and about, he’s gonna have to deal with that. It’s not like he’s unaware of it, I mean, there’s a reason they rarely take Summers anywhere.” He continued. You shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s aware of it, but it’s still extra work for him, and I’m sure it gets in the way. He said it was annoying.” You sighed, spooning more of the delicious liquid into your mouth.

“Everything is annoying to him.” Morty scoffed. “But he keeps taking you out, so obviously, it’s not that big of a deal.” He shrugged.

“I dunno.” You muttered.

You stirred your soup around with the metal spoon, watching the pieces and cloudiness at the bottom swirl and mix with orange tinted clear broth. The noodles moved in a swirl with the motion of your spoon. Forced oscillation was fun to watch. f = 1/T, you remembered. You stopped stirring, watching the liquid move with natural oscillation next. f = 1/2 π sqrt gk tanh (kh). Everything was so simple when broken down into equations. Why couldn’t everything be math?

“If I’m so much to deal with, why does he keep me around?” You asked, mostly to yourself, as you stared into the swirling food. Morty gave a soft sigh as he glanced over at you. It went quiet for a moment before he placed his arm on the table.

“Look, don’t tell Rick I kept this, but I took a scan of his brain a while ago, when I was the president of the Citadel.” He explained. When he was what? When was this? “I needed the portal fluid recipe from him, since I couldn’t get it from Prime.” He explained. “It was after he met you for the first couple of times and I… just, watch it.” He sighed out before tapping something on his watch.

Like Rick’s own watch, a hologram projected up into the air, blue and fuzzy for a moment before the image appeared. You recognized the garage door, Rick’s hand reaching for it and opening it before heading to the familiar fridge. He opened the door, taking a bottle of beer from the inside door before using his implanted bottle opener in his finger to pop the top. He threw the cap to the counter before rounding the arched corner into the living room. He burped from the carbonation before landing eyes on you.

Pretty.

You could hear his voice, though you remembered that moment, and he’d said nothing. His thoughts. His eyes trailed down you before settling on your face.

“A tutor?” He questioned.

I could teach her a thing or two.

You laughed as you listened to his internal monologue. Such a boy at heart, despite his age.

“Yes Dad, a tutor.” Beth confirmed, though Rick’s eyes didn’t stray from you. He zoomed in on your face, which you didn’t know he could do, though it made sense with his prosthetics. He examined the color of your eyes, the curve of your nose, of your jaw, your lips, for longer than necessary, before zooming out again.

God she’s fucking pretty. The fuck is she doing wasting her time here?

“Y-You’re paying someone for something I could do gagged and blindfolded?” He questioned. Again, his eyes stayed trained on you. You pushed your glasses up your nose as you stared back.

Cute.

Morty scrubbed through the memories, his finger on his watch as you watched the fast forwarding of events.

And then he was back in the kitchen, leaned against the counter, watching in his peripheral as you and Morty entered. Morty was angry, and you trailed behind, rather uncaring as you focused on the kid.

“Hello.” You spoke. His eyes focused on your face again. Red looks good on her. Her tits look good in that.

You rolled your eyes at his inner monologue.

“Why don’t we get a little caffeine and some sugar? Maybe a soda and an orange?” You offered the boy.

A quick fix for an energy burst. Unsustainable, but helpful short term.

“Bitch.” Morty muttered as he passed by to grab an orange.

“Fuck you.” Rick spat back. Little piece of shit. You only want her around so you can sneak more photos for the fucking porn generator. I should fuck her just to throw it in your face.

“Well fuck you too! You’re such a piece of shit Rick!” Tears welled in his eyes as he turned to stare into the POV. You frowned, still on the other side of the room. Rick glanced over to you before looking back at the kid. I know. Wanna watch?

“Y-Yeah? I’m the piece of shit?” He questioned, standing up now to full height. You sighed somewhere in the background.

“Morty, let’s just grab the soda and go, yeah?” You’d offered. Rick’s eyes flickered to you. Shut up, stop defending the little weasel. You should see what’s on his phone.

“At least I’m not perving on my math tutor with AI porn.” He shot back. He glanced his eyes to you and watched your face contort into disgust. Yeah. I know.

“What the fuck Rick!” The boy yelled. Don’t look at me, you’re the one doing it.

“Jesus Christ!” You exclaimed. Rick’s eyes flashed back to you, and he watched your clearly annoyed actions as you muttered something to yourself, yanking open the fridge, grabbing a soda, taking the coke and slamming the door shut before shoving it into the kids hands. Well this is a fun turn of events. Is she flustered or angry? “Lets go.” You ordered.

“Y-Yeah, whatever.” Morty spoke, turning to leave out of the kitchen.

“Well it’s trUURPue.” You deserved to know. Maybe now he won’t take pictures. You rolled your eyes. Oh?

“Dude, I don’t give a fuck. Leave me out of this.” You glared. Ah fuck I’m hard. Why don’t you care? He watched you exhale through pursed lips before meeting his eyes again. God you’re pretty. “Sorry.” You’d apologized. What are you sorry for?

Morty scrubbed through more memories on the watch, passing adventures, dinners, interactions with you, with aliens, with Morty, until Rick was stepping into your old bedroom through a portal. You missed your old room a little. Seeing it hurt.

“Are you avoiding me?” He questioned. He eyed you from your position on the bed, laying on your tummy with your feet in the air. Did I read it wrong? Are you not into me?

“No.” You spoke. Liar.

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why are you avoiding me?” He questioned. Did I cross the line? “My therapist said I need to, communicate, if I have a problem.” God this is embarrassing. Fuck you Wong.

“Your… therapist?” You asked, sitting up as you spoke to him. Are you fucking deaf?

“Yes. My fucking therapist. Why the fuck are you avoiding me? I-Is it because I felt you up l-last time we hung out? Because it seemed like you were really enjoying it.” You were grinding yourself to death on my fucking thigh. Your cheeks heated red. Are you embarrassed? You shook your head no. Are you lying? “F-Fine, whatever. Just, fuck you.” I don’t need you.

Morty scrubbed through the explicit memories that followed, through the next chunk of time. You watched in a blur as his life played out before you.

“Rick you’re basically a doctor, do something!” Summer spoke, motioning to your body on the floor. You were out cold, your skin pale and sweaty as you twitched. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck happened?

“I’m not a doctor!” Shut up Summer holy fuck.

“Close enough! Fucking do something!” She ordered. Shut up. What does it look like I’m doing?

“O-Oh jeez, what, what’d you do to her?” Morty questioned. You little turd. The fuck are you blaming me for?

“Nothing! She was like this when I got here!” He defended. He moved to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist as he took in your features. Infection. Pupils aren’t reacting properly to light. Check her head. He moved behind you and moved the hair at the back of your head to reveal deep, angry gashes. What the fuck did you do? You tried to sit up.

“Oh hi guys.” You spoke, your voice far away in a haze.

“Y/n, what happened to your hand?” Beth questioned.

“My hand is blue?” You questioned, looking down to your hand. Jesus you’re out of it.

“The wrap is blue, what happened to your hand?” He was panicked as he unwrapped it, his fingers holding a slight shake you hadn’t noticed at the time. Did you do this to yourself? Silly girl.

“Oh! My car!” You exclaimed. Great she’s fucking broken.

“What do you mean your car? Jesus Christ, do you even know where you are?” It was rhetorical. You clearly didn’t know anything.

“I hurt it fixing my car. I didn’t fix it though, it’s at school.” You explained. You attempted to pull the hand from him. He yanked it back. You pouted softly at him. God don’t do that right now. Why were you fixing it? I can fucking fix it. Let me fucking fix it.

“Today?” He asked. This doesn’t smell like it happened today.

“Yesterday.” You corrected. You tried to stand and take back your hand, but Rick’s hand quickly pulled you back. Quit it.

“Stay down, let him look at your hand.” Beth pleaded softly. We could just tie her to the table. She moved to look at your head. “There’s a gash, two gashes, and I think she hit it again when she fell. She’s probably got a concussion.” I know. Her hand landed on your forehead as he continued to unwrap the blue fabric.

“Warm.” You muttered, shivering now as you unconsciously leaned into the touch. Fever.

“And a fever.” He added. How long have you been sick? Fuck that’s nasty. That’s your fucking bone, why the fuck didn’t you call me? You should’ve fucking called me. Who the fuck did these stitches, a toddler? And this wrap is fucking soaked. God, you should’ve fucking called me. Just let me fucking fix your shit.

Morty scrubbed again. You remembered that day, in bits and pieces. Rick had been so mad, but really he’d just wanted to help, and you hadn’t been letting him. Still, you tried your best not to let him. You didn’t want to seem incapable, but he wanted you to rely on him. You just couldn’t figure out why he was so insistent on it, even now.

You watched in fast motion as Rick beat Trent to death in his own apartment. That was one thing you’d been wondering for a while. You didn’t know what had happened to him, though you assumed Rick had killed him off. Beating him to death was more personal than you expected.

“Wait, go back.” You requested. Morty raised a brow before returning to the scene and letting it play.

“ -thought you could get away with it? Huh?” He growled. I’m gonna fucking kill you. His fist slammed into the side of the man’s head with a sickening crack. “You sick fucking piece of shit I’ll skin you alive, you hear me? Leave you up on this wall right here for your wife to find.” He continued. Nobody fucking touches her.

“Okay, okay, enough.” You spoke, feeling nauseous with the amount of blood. Must be the pregnancy. Morty scrubbed forward again. He paused when you were on the couch, next to Rick, leaning over him to speak with Morty. You remembered that day too. You’d brought flowers.

“I-I think it’s upstairs, if you wanna see it.” Morty offered. You were to Rick’s right.

“I’d love to.” You agreed.

Morty jumped up and ran towards the stairs, leaving the two of you alone. Yeah, fuck off kid. You fell silent before leaning in and pressing a warm kiss to his cheek. This an apology?  You leaned in and pressed another to his lips. We’re not fucking, why are you kissing me?

“Thank you.” You whispered quietly. Now quit fighting and let me take care of you.

“H-Here!” Morty called from behind. Fuck off kid. Let me talk to my girlfriend.

Your eyes widened at that. You weren’t his girlfriend back then, you remembered. You wouldn’t be for a while, at least not officially. Rick considered you his girlfriend so quickly, it sort of threw you off.

“We weren’t even dating.” You mumbled quietly. Morty said nothing as he scrubbed forward more, only by a day before stopping again. You were back in your old apartment.

He stood on the kitchen side of the counter as he watched you push cereal around your bowl with a frown. You did not look happy. Eat.

“M-Morty and I are going out for a bit, f-few days. Think you can keep yourself alive while I’m gone?” Probably fucking not. I’ve gotta put a monitor in you. You rolled your eyes at him. Bitch.

“Managed for this many years Rick. I’m sure I can.” You’d shot back. I saved your ass last week are you fucking dense? You stood up from the stool and abandoned the breakfast. “I’ll see you when you can fuck me again.” You spoke, leaving the room. What? The fuck are you on about? He strode forward, grabbing your arm and yanking you back to face him, making sure you were far enough back to not hit your head on the cabinet as you bent over. He was angry. “What?” You questioned. You’re so dense.

“I-Is that what you think I’m doing? Avoiding you because you’re fucking peri- y-you’re bleeding?” He spat. Do you really think that lowly of me?

“Uh, yeah? We’re fuck buddies. If we can’t fuck, why would you be here?” You questioned. God you were bitchy. Is that all you think of me? Am I nothing more to you? Did I read this wrong?

You frowned. You didn’t want to see more. You were hurting him back then, though you didn’t know it at the time. Morty scrubbed forward, sensing that you were upset. He played it again a few days later. Rick was in Wong’s office, alone, sitting on the couch as he watched her from across the room.

“So you’ve made it official.” She noted. I just fucking said that.

“Yep.” He agreed.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship. Do you see it heading down the same path as the others? Or do you feel it’s different this time?” She questioned. I didn’t love the other ones, so I’d say it’s pretty fucking different.

“Feels like when I met Diane.” He admitted.

You bit down on your lip as you watched. What the fuck did he just say?

“She’s not like Diane, her personality is different. Very different.” He spoke. “But I don’t see it crashing and burning, I guess.” He shrugged. She’s not going anywhere.

“So you feel it’s going somewhere positive.” She noted. Again, just said that.

“Yes.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Uncomfortable.

“What does that mean for you now? When you met Diane it was marriage and children, but as we’ve talked about, your views have changed, so where does that lead you?” She questioned. Anywhere she wants to go.

“I don’t know.” He admitted.

“Can you see yourself falling in love with her? Having a future?” She questioned. If I wasn’t in love with her I wouldn’t have sat through that whole fucking family therapy.

You waved your hand in the air and Morty paused it in response. You didn’t want to see more, it was intrusive, at that point. He’d loved you so quickly, and frankly, you had too, though you’d fought it for a while. Sometimes you still did.

“My point is he wants to take care of you.” Morty pointed out. You sighed, taking another spoonful of colder soup now as you thought over the memories he’d played.

“I don’t want it though.” You grumbled quietly.

“But you need to accept it when you need it.” He countered. “And you shouldn’t feel like a burden for taking his help when he clearly wants to give it to you.” He argued. “He likes being the big man, the big savior, or whatever.” He half insulted. He was right. Rick liked being the most important person in the room. He liked being the most important person to you. He liked being relied on by you, which you hadn’t really caught onto before. He seemed so annoyed by it when it was other people.

“I guess you’re right.” You muttered. Can we talk about anything else? “How are things with Tally? Did you guys sort out that fight?” You questioned, filling your mouth with more soup as you scooted the bowl forward.

“Yeah, we’re good.” He nodded. You smiled over at him, watching as he rolled his eye and sunk back into the backed stool. “Shut up.” He grumbled. You giggled, turning back to your soup with an innocent look.

“I didn’t say anything.” You giggled into the broth.

You finished the meal while teasing him about Tally, which he didn’t seem to mind as much as you thought he would. Still, the moment the bowl was empty he was pushing you back to your own home, reminded you to tell Rick you were pregnant. You ignored the request as you hugged him goodbye and landed yourself back in the garage.

Rick wasn’t there in his usual spot, instead he was already in your room, laying in bed, staring at the ceiling when you entered. You tossed the sweater you were carrying to the floor and stripped before speaking.

“Come shower with me.” You requested softly. He turned, eyeing over your naked frame with a small smirk.

“Again?” He questioned. You shook your head with a small giggle.

“No, not again, a shower. A normal shower.” You corrected. He frowned softly before standing. Rather than making his way towards the shower he approached you.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, fitting his hands on the sides of your waist as he stared down at you. God I love you.

“I’m sorry too. You were right.” You admitted. “Can we just, forget about it and clean off? I’m kinda still dripping cum.” You proposed. He smiled, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before lacing his fingers with yours and leading you towards the shower.

Morty had the figures by 8 PM the next evening. You’d spent the entire day pricing out all the components, both individually and in bulk. The suit was a hefty price, nearly six times what the current suits cost, but they were inarguably superior in every way. Rick had given up two days of his time to gather everything you needed. While it made you uncomfortable to ask, he seemed happy to have something different to do.

It took four days to fully finish. You hadn’t tested anything out yet, but Rick had given input here and there on how to cohesively work everything together, and you’d appreciated it as you found yourself out of your element. Still, the suit was finished. You’d need to wear a bodysuit underneath, something simple and flexible, so you’d bought those too before texting Morty that the first one was ready.

He scheduled the tests for two days from then, right on track. It was nice to have something to look forward to. He agreed to pick it up and bring it to the man at some point in the next day, which alleviated some of your anxiety.

You weren’t in the mood for meeting strangers, especially with how shit you’d been feeling. Bloated, nauseous, and irrationally upset at almost everything. Rick chalked it up to your period, which you were planning on refuting, but decided against.

You could tell him after the tests were done. You would tell him after the tests were done. You just had to figure out how.