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Rick/Reader

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People in the neighborhood would often warn you to steer clear of the Smith's household. No one would shut up about how "different" they seemed to behave, "most unorthodox" compared to the other families in the houses surrounding it. There were whispers that it all started way back, when the previous generation owned it. They were "Sanchez" back then, and dysfunctional at that. There were stories about how there was almost never quiet coming from the house, always explosions or mechanical whirring, and if not, fighting, sexual activity, or both. It only seemed to stop when one of them left for good. Now that he was back, there was never a dull moment, especially for people desperate for neighborhood gossip. People spying would often notice strange, large gadgets being tested on the front lawn, sometimes loud noises and crashing, and some people swore the house once disappeared, taking a chunk of the house's neighbors living room and kitchen with them, before the house itself finally returned sometime in the early morning.

All this fear amused you, and everything else sounded like tall tales. They couldn't be THAT bad, could they?

The first time you interacted with the family, they seemed to be just your average folk, although there was a constant quarrel between the husband and wife. You didn't know what the fuss about Rick was, until you actually met him, of course. He was a unique man, obviously seemed to be primarily focused on his work, and that flask he was nursing near obsessive-compulsively was just a hint at the emotional baggage he seemed to carry. He wasn't young -could be your father, maybe Grandfather- but he was fit, scrawny, bony, lanky... just how you liked it. His mind, voice, spirit... it weirdly made you enjoy his company. You found yourself in love with his personality and attitude, even if it was grumpy, rough, and angry.

Not only that, he was hilarious, and he wasn't an old geezer, stuck in the past. He was timeless, and seemed to know literally everything. The more time you spent with him, the more you felt as if he were expanding your mind, as if he were whispering all his secrets and years of experience right into your ear.

You weren't sure when exactly you knew you were in love, but you think it was around the time he dropped you off at your own home, and while watching him leave, some part of you imagined him taking you over in bed, and dominating you like the weak little submissive bitch you were. You attempted to push it away, you were just friends... he probably didn't even think of you that way, but you didn't abandon the desire.
Soon enough, you were moaning his name as you fingered yourself, and every time it would calm down, you'd ask yourself: why? A part of you shamed your desires, but a bigger part of you loved it. and in no time, you found yourself drunkenly dry humping a practically wasted rick, after a pretty long discussion about inventing and science and all that malarkey. It didn't matter now, and you admittedly forgot most of what he even said. All you cared about was him whispering dirty things in your ear, leaving teethmarks all across your neck and shoulders, and hoping he'd allow you the honor of letting his erect cock inside of you.
Fortunately, he took you to bed that night. When you first awoke, a wave of emotions hit you, but mostly guilt and fear. Fortunately for you, drunk Rick had more control over himself drunk than you anticipated, and he admitted he had his eye on the prize for a while. You were delighted when he offered you a sip of his drink to nurse your hangover, before he dropped you off at your house once more, giving your ass a smack as you left, requesting you call him. You would most definitely not pass that up.

As time went on, everyone learned of you sleeping with Rick and began avoiding you, but you never minded. You were happy with Rick, and nothing was going to change that. Sometimes people would ask you what you saw in him, and damn if you ever knew, but you did know that you were somehow disgustingly in love, with what just happened to be an crass, gross old man.