Inbox/Requests/Asks - [OPEN] I'm open to anyone who wants to chat, vent, or give me any suggestions. I also love taking requests, as long as it doesn't go against my rules. Feel free to ask me anything even if you think it's weird, I don't judge and I am happy to help!
Current Project - Unwritten Rules
Important - I am a beginner writer so I am VERY inexperienced, please be patient with me. This blog contains both SFW and NSFW content. My SFW posts may include suggestive themes intended for readers who are 16+, so please keep that in mind before interacting. I do NOT recommend that any reader under the age of 18 to view or interact with my NSFW posts, as they do contain dark or explicit content. I am not responsible for what everyone chooses to consume online. These rules are here for everyone's safety and well-being.
DNI - AI consumers, Negative Nancies, Homophobes, Racists, anything related to those (I block freely and I block content I find distasteful)
Fandoms - These are fandoms that I will write for: Supernatural, The Boys, Harry Potter, Marvel, DC
Notes: THIS WAS SO DIFFERENT FROM WHAT IM USED TO SO I STRUGGLED A BIT BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY IT! AND AS ALWAYS FEEL FREE TO REQUEST MORE AND I LOVE YOU ALL!ও✦ ˙ ENJOY!
ᝰ.ᐟ Divider Credit: @uzmacchiato
The lecture hall was Ryland Grace's kingdom, a place of order and logic he controlled completely. Until today. He was mid-sentence, explaining the intricacies of RNA transcription, when a scent slice through the sterile air. It wasn't perfume or the lingering smell of cafeteria food. It was wild. Earthy. It was the smell of a forest floor after rain, of honey and musk, and it went straight to his head like a drug. His train of thought derailed completely. His eyes, sharp and analytical, scanned the room, searching for the source. They landed on you. You were fidgeting in your seat, looking flushed and distracted, and the scent was pouring off you in waves. His mind, the human part of it, tried to categorize it, to dismiss it. But the instinct, the deep, buried part of him he refused to acknowledge, knew. It was the scent of an untamed female, and it was calling to something primal and possessive inside him he didn't know existed.
You felt like you were burning up. You'd woken up feeling strange, your senses on high alert, and in your morning haze, you'd completely forgotten the little white pill that kept your life normal. Now you were praying the price. The fluorescent lights were too bright, the scratching of pens were like nails on a chalkboard, and Ryland's scent... it was everywhere. It was a clean, dominant musk that was making your stomach clench and your thighs press together. You'd always been drawn to him, but this was different. This was a physical, magnetic pull that was terrifying and overwhelming. You could feel his gaze on you, hot and heavy, and when your eyes met his, you saw something there you'd never seen before... a raw, hungry shock. He knew. Somehow, he knew.
The lecture couldn't have ended fast enough, You bolted the moment it was over, but you weren't fast enough. "Stay." His voice wasn't the calm, professional tone you were use to. It was rough, urgent.
You didn't have to look around to know he was referring to you. your heart began to hammer against your ribs. Ryland caught up to you in three long strides, his hands wrapping around your upper arm. His touch was electric, a jolt of pure head that made you gasp.
"What is that?" he questioned, his voice low and intense. He pulled you into an empty classroom, shutting the door with a sharp click. He crowded you against the wall, his body radiating a heat that match your own. He leaned in, not touching you, just breathing in your scent. "God, what is that smell?" He pauses, his eyes darkening. "It's... you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered, your voice trembling.
"Don't lie," he snarled, his eyes flashing with something dark and predatory. "You smell like... like you're in heat." The word was so crude, so primal, it sent a shiver of fear and excitement through you. He seemed as shocked by his own words as you were. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, a look of confusion and desperation on his face, a flicker of his human side. "I've never... I didn't even know I could... I need to smell you." He was on you again, his face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. A low groan rumbled in his chest. "You're not on anything, are you? Not on any suppressants or birth control?"
You could only shake your head, tears of humiliation and fear pricking your eyes.
"Good," he growled, the sound vibrating against your skin. "That's good." He pulled back to look at you, his eyes wild with a new found possessiveness as he remembered your lab partner. "The boy in your lab. The one who's always leaning over your shoulder. He's not allowed near you anymore. You understand me? You're not his." The shift in his tone was instantaneous, the raw discovery of your shared nature immediately curdling into a jealous rage. The thought of another male, especially that lanky, unremarkable undergrad, putting his hands on you, smelling your scent, was unacceptable. It was a violation. "He's not one of us. He could never give you what you need. He's just… human. He'd break. He wouldn't know how to handle you." He was talking fast, an obsessive fervor in his eyes. "But I do. I was made for you. We were made for each other. Don't you feel it? This connection? It's fate. We're meant to be mates." He wasn't asking, he was telling you, telling you the only truth that mattered anymore. Your head was spinning, the logic you prided yourself on dissolving under the sheer force of his conviction. He was making it sound so simple, so right.
He didn't wait for an answer. His mouth crashed down on yours, a kiss that was all teeth and desperation, a claiming. He backed you up against the wall, his hands roaming your body like he owned it. He tore at your clothes, his movements frantic, clumsy with need. "This," he said, his voice a harsh whisper against your lips, "is mine now." He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a perfect, possessive mark, and you cried out, a sound of pain and pure pleasure. He was claiming you, and some deep, hidden part of you was thrilled to be claimed.
He pulled you away from the wall, practically dragging you towards his office. Every step was a frantic, possessive march. He unlocked the door and shoved you inside, locking it behind him. His office was a mess of books and papers, but he cleared a space on his desk with one sweep of his arm, sending a stack of graded exams fluttering to the floor. He lifted you onto the desk, his hands gripping your thighs with bruising force. He stood between your legs, his chest heaving, his eyes burning into yours.
"I should have known," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "The way you looked at me. The way you smelled. I just thought I was going crazy." He ran his hands up your sides, his thumbs brushing against the undersides of your breasts. "But you're just like me. And you were going to let that boy paw at you in the lab? Let him think he had a chance?" He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "He doesn't. He'll never touch you again. You don't have to think about him anymore. You don't have to think about anything. I'll do all the thinking for you now." His words were meant to be comforting, but they were laced with a chilling control. It was easier to just agree, to let the complex thoughts melt away and focus on the overwhelming sensations he was creating. He unzipped his jeans, freeing himself. Your eyes went wide at the sight of him, thick and hard, with a strange, thick swelling at the base. He saw your expression and a cruel, triumphant smirk twisted his lips.
"Forgot to mention that part, didn't they?" he growled. But instead of pushing into you, he surprised you by sinking to his knees. The sight of this graceful man on the floor before you was dizzying. His glasses, usually perched so perfectly on his nose, were now slightly askew, and the lenses were fogged with the heat of his breath. He looked up at you from under his lashes, his eyes beautiful and burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.
"I need to taste you," he murmured, his voice a raw, desperate thing. "I need to know if you taste as good as you smell." He didn't wait for an answer. He hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you to the very edge of the desk, burying his face against your core.
The first touch of his tongue was a shock. It was a slow, deliberate lick, a thorough exploration. He wasn't just tasting you; he was learning you, memorizing your every response. He circled your clit with a maddening precision, his hands gripping your hips, holding you still when you tried to writhe away from the overwhelming stimulation. "Ryland," you gasped, your hands fisting in his hair. "Oh god, please."
"Please what?" he murmured against your slick flesh, the vibration making your whole body tense. "Tell me what you need."
"You," you sobbed. "I need you."
That's my brilliant girl," he praised, his voice a low rumble against your skin before he doubled his efforts, his tongue flattening against you, his lips closing around your clit to suck. The pleasure was a relentless tide, building and building until it crested, and you cried out, your body arching as your first orgasm crashed through you. You began to panic when you realized he wasn't stopping. He lapped at you through the aftershocks, his tongue delving inside you, wringing another, sharper climax from your oversensitive body. The pleasure was almost painful, a relentless, overwhelming wave.
"Ryland, I can't," you whimpered, your mind going hazy, your thoughts dissolving into a sea of sensation.
"You can, and you will," he commanded, his voice losing its soft edge, replaced by a firm, dominant tone that sent a fresh jolt of arousal through you. "You're going to give me one more. Show me how good you are for me." He slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot deep within as his mouth returned to your clit. It was too much, too intense, and when your third orgasm hit, it was a blinding, shattering thing that left you limp and trembling, your mind a blissful, empty void. He was right. It was easier not to think. It was easier to just feel.
He finally pulled back, his chin glistening with your arousal. He stood, stripping off his own clothes with frantic efficiency. His body was lean and corded with muscle, his cock thick and heavy, a prominent knot already swelling at its base. He took off his glasses, setting them carefully on a stack of books before turning back to you. The world without the barrier of his lenses seemed sharper, more primal. He knelt on the couch between your trembling thighs, not entering you yet, just resting his weight on his elbows. "Look at me," he commanded softly. When your dazed eyes met his, he smiled, a genuine, tender smile that took your breath away. "You're so beautiful like this. All mine." He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against you. "Last chance. Are you sure? Just say yes and I'll make you mine... forever."
You could only manage a weak, breathy, "Please," your body already begging for him.
That was all the consent he needed. He pushed into you slowly, and the sheer size of him was breathtaking. The preparation could only help so much, the stretch was painfully exquisite, a feeling of being completed, of being made whole. When he was fully seated, his knot pressed snugly against your entrance, a perfect, impossible fit. He began to move, his thrusts deep and measured. "Look at you, taking me so well," he grunted. "Made to take me perfectly." He leaned down, his mouth hot against your neck, sucking and biting a path up to your ear. He was leaving marks, dark hickeys that bloomed like purple flowers on your skin, a public brand of his possession. "Fuck... goin' to breed you. Until you're carrying my pups..." he growled against your ear.
The words, filthy and possessive, sent you spiraling into another orgasm. Your body clenched around him, a desperate, milking pull. "Ryland!" you screamed.
"That's it, take it," he snarled, his rhythm becoming erratic, more desperate. "Take all of me." His thrusts grew harder, more forceful, and you could feel his knot swelling, stretching you further, demanding entrance. "Going to fill you up you're full of me..." he grunted, his voice ragged.
His words were your undoing. The pressure was immense, a fullness that sent you over the edge again and again. With a guttural roar, he gripped your hips and slammed into you one final, brutal time, forcing his knot past your tight entrance and deep inside you. The sensation was a blinding mix of pain and pleasure so intense you saw stars. You were locked together, truly and permanently. The feeling of being so utterly loved, so completely filled, sent you into a continuous state of orgasmic bliss, your body clenching around his as he pumped you full of his cum.
He slumped against you, his body trembling with the force of it. For a long while, you were both silent, just breathing, tied together in the sweaty aftermath. The overstimulation slowly faded into a warm, pleasant hum. He shifted, careful not to jolt you too much, his knot still holding you fast. He started pressing soft, loving kisses to the marks he'd left on your neck, a silent apology.
"You okay?" he murmured against your skin, his voice now soft, the rough edges gone.
You could only hum in response, your mind too blissed out to form words.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "That's good, my love." He gently stroked your hair back from your face. "I've got you. Just rest." As you lay there, limp and stuffed, he carefully pulled out of you with a low groan.
You let out a sudden yelp when you felt his fingers brush against your sensitive pussy, he collecting the cum that began to leak out. He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied hum. Then, he gently pressed his fingers back against your entrance, pushing the warmth back inside you.
"Can't let that go to waste, sweetheart," he murmured, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes. "Every drop needs to stay right where it belongs."
He was marking you from the inside out, ensuring there was no part of you that wasn't his.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the wild, predatory energy seemed to drain out of him. The possessive glint in his eyes was replaced by something softer. He cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Right. So. That was… a lot." He adjusted his position, getting a better view of you. "Just so beautiful," his voice filled with softness, a shy smile forming.
His hair a mess, his cheeks flushed. He looked so earnest, so hopeful, it made your heart ache. "Just so beautiful. I will take care of you forever, my love," his voice filled with admiration as a shy smile began to form. He couldn't help but to lean down, kissing you, soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the bruising, claiming ones from before. It was a promise.
˚☽˚.⋆You introduced your boyfriend, Ryland, as your husband to your colleague.
₊ ⊹[Just some fluff since I was busy!]
⁀✮₊⋆.˚⟡⁀✮₊⋆.˚⟡⁀✮₊⋆.˚⟡⁀✮₊⋆.˚⟡⁀✮₊⋆.˚⟡
The gallery was buzzing with a low, sophisticated hum. Soft lighting gave the abstract art on the walls an illuminating effect, and the air was filled with the clinking of glasses and murmured conversations. Ryland looked distinctly uncomfortable, his shoulders hunched slightly as he clutched a glass of champagne he had no intention of drinking. He only came because you asked, and for you, he would walk into a supernova. You squeezed his hand, a silent reassurance, and he offered you a small, grateful smile.
"There she is," you murmured, spotting your colleague, Elena, across the room. "Come on, I want you to meet her."
Ryland's grip on your hand tightened subtly, but he followed dutifully as you navigated through the crowd.
"Elena!" you called out with a warm smile.
Elena turned, her face lighting up in an instant. "Hey! I was hoping you'd make it. And this must be..." Her eyes drifted curiously to Ryland.
You beamed, a surge of pure, uncomplicated pride welling within your chest. You looked at Ryland, who was trying his best to look casual and failing miserably. The words came out so naturally, so easily, it was a wonder they had the power to completely undo him.
"Elena, this is my husband, Ryland."
The effect was instantaneous. It was like watching a computer crash in real time. Ryland's entire body went rigid. The polite, strained smile he had been wearing vanished, replaced by a flustered, surprised expression. His face turning a bright shade of red, you giggled as it reminded you of a tomato.
"H-hus...wha-? Husband.. Me?" he stammered, the words getting caught in his throat.
You offered him a soft, adoring smile, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Yes Ryland, you're my husband," you teased softly.
Elena, bless her heart, just chuckled, completely charmed. "It's so lovely to meet you, Ryland. She talks about you all the time."
Ryland just stared at her, his mouth opening and closing silently, like a fish out of water. His brain was clearly malfunctioning.
"He's... he's just so happy to meet you too," you chimed in smoothly, saving him. "He's a man of few words."
"Few words is an understatement," Ryland suddenly blurted out, his voice an octave too high.
You had to physically bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. He was so endearing it hurt.
"Well, it's lovely to meet you, Ryland," Elena said again, her smile genuine. "I'll let you two get back to it. Enjoy your evening!"
As she walked away, you turned to Ryland, who was still staring blankly ahead, his face a fiery shade of red.
"You okay there, space man?" you whispered, leaning in close.
He slowly turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of horror and awe.
"You called me your huh-..husband.." he breathed, his voice still shaky.
"I did," you confirmed, your grin widening. "Because you're my soon-to-be husband."
He let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. He looked down at your joined hands, then back up at your face, and a slow, shy smile spread across his lips. He felt relieved to know that you wanted to be his, not just his girlfriend, but his wife. His forever lover.
"Did you not like it?," you said softly.
He let out a soft, breathy laugh, the blush remaining vibrant and visible. "I loved it, sweetheart," he said, his voice finally steady.
He leaned in and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to your temple, a silent thank you. And in the middle of the crowded gallery, with your hand in his, he looked happier than you'd ever seen him.
Because of the memory loss Ryland doesn't remember what he was like during sex, that he was a Dom. But as the fem reader get closer to Ryland and their relationship changes to sexual things come up.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Remember ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
(Ryland Grace x Fem!Reader)
★Summary: The request!!
𑣲⋆✶Rating: E
⟢․⁺Tags: Established Relationship, NSFW, Smut, Implied Consent, Possessive Ryland Grace,Praise, Unprotected Sex, Orgasm Denial, Blow Job, Oral Sex, SoftDom!Ryland Grace, PWP, Aftercare, Not Proof Read
✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ
✧Notes: UHMM HELLO?? THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!! SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG. I hope you guys enjoy it!! I'll be working on the next request hopefully either tomorrow or sometime this week. LOVE YOU GUYS!!
ᝰ.ᐟ Divider Credit: @uzmacchiato
The silence in Ryland's apartment had changed over the months. It was no longer the heavy, empty silence of a man lost in his own fragmented mind, but a comfortable one, filled with the soft hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic tapping of your fingers on your laptop. You were curled up on his couch, a blanket draped over your legs, while he sat in the armchair across from you, pretending to read a book. You knew he wasn't reading. His gaze kept drifting to you, dark and intense, a look you'd become intimately familiar with. It was the look he got when he was thinking too hard, when a ghost of a feeling would brush against the edges of his consciousness and leave him frustrated.
"You're staring," you said, not looking up from your screen. A small smile played on your lips.
"Sorry." The word was gruff, but he didn't look away. "Just... thinking."
"About?" you prompted, finally glancing at him. The dim light of the lamp caught the sharp line of his jaw and the slight furrow in his brow. He was handsome in a way that made your chest ache.
He sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "I don't know. It's... nothing. It's stupid."
You closed your laptop, giving him your full attention. "Try me."
He hesitated, his jaw working. "It's just... sometimes, when you're close like this..." He gestured vaguely between you. "I get this feeling. Like... I don't know... I feel like I'm supposed to be doing something. Saying something. It's right on the tip of my tongue, but it's gone before I can grab it."
Your heart fluttered lightly. This was becoming more frequent. These flashes of an instinct he couldn't name. You knew what it was, or at least, you had a very strong suspicion. The search you'd done, the old interviews you'd stumbled upon by accident, they painted a picture of a man who was confident, commanding, and not at all the gentle, slightly lost soul you knew now.
"Ryland," you said softly, getting up and crossing the small space to kneel in front of him. You placed your hands on his knees. "And what do you feel during it?"
His hands immediately came to rest on your waist, his thumbs stroking the fabric of your shirt. Ryland often did this as a way to ground himself. "Strong. In control. And... I want to tell you what to do." He said the last part so quietly, almost ashamed, like it was a sinful confession.
You looked up at him, your expression open and encouraging. "So tell me."
His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of panic in their depths. "What? No, I couldn't. I don't even know what I'd say. What if it's... wrong? What if it's not me?"
"It is you," you insisted, your voice firm but gentle. "It's a part of you, Ry. A part you lost. If you want, I can...maybe help you find it."
He searched your face, looking for any signs of revulsion or fear. He found none. Only warmth and a steady patience that never failed to undo him. "I'm scared I'll hurt you," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
"You won't." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I trust you, Ry."
He kissed you back, desperately and hungrily. The kiss told you everything he couldn't say.
He was tired of being a ghost in his own life. He wanted to be whole.
"Come here..." he growled against your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulls you up, guiding you to straddle his lap. The blanket was quick to fall to the floor, forgotten. This was different.
"Ryland," you breathed, your hands tangling his hair as he kissed a trail down your neck.
"Stay still," he commanded, his voice slightly hoarse. The command sent a jolt straight through you. When he felt your shiver, he instantly pulled back, his eyes filled with uncertainty.
You quickly shook your head, lips parting. "No... Don't stop. Please..."
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. It was a look you'd never seen before, and it was devastating.
"Good girl."
The words hung in the air between you, so natural, so right, that it was almost comical that he'd ever forgotten them. You could see the realization dawn in his eyes, the flicker of recognition.
"Take this off," he said tugging at the hem of your shirt. His voice was still rough, but it was laced with a newfound confidence.
You didn't hesitate, pulling the shirt over your head and dropping it to the floor. His eyes roamed over your exposed skin, his gaze possessive, hungry.
"Fuck," he breathed, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "You're perfect. All mine."
"Yours," you choked out.
He leaned in, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and teasing until you were gasping, your hips rocking against his growing erection. The friction was intense but it wasn't enough.
"Ryland, please," you whimpered.
"Please what?" he asked, releasing you with a wet pop. He looked up at you through his lenses. "Use your words."
"I-I need you," you moaned softly, the overwhelming pleasure clouding your thoughts. "I want to taste you...please."
The request hung in the air, so much filthier and more direct than your usual pleas. Ryland's breath hitched, his pupils blowing wide. You often found yourself getting lost in his eyes, it looked almost galactic.
"You do?" he rasped, his voice thick with want.
You just nodded, sliding off his lap. The floor was cold against your knees, but you didn't care. Your entire focus was on the straining fabric of his jeans, on the man watching you with a mixture of awe and raw, primal need. You made quick work of his belt and button, your fingers fumbling slightly in your haste. He lifted his hips to help you, and you tugged his jeans and boxers down in one go.
His cock sprang free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. The sight made your mouth water. He was bigger than you'd imagined, and the thought of him filling you up sent a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your legs.
"Fuck," he breathed, his head falling back against the armchair as you wrapped your hand around the base of him. He was hot and heavy in your palm, the skin velvety soft. You gave him an experimental stroke, and his hips jerked, a choked grown escaping his lips.
You leaned in, flicking your tongue over the head, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum. His whole body went rigid.
"Sh-shit," he stuttered, his hands flying to your head, not to guide, but just to hold on. "Don't...don't tease."
You smiled, taking him into your mouth. The wet heat of him was intoxicating. You started slow, swirling your tongue around the ridge, sucking gently at the tip. He was planting now, his fingers tightening in your hair, his grip possessive. His glasses starting to fog up slightly from his heavy breathing.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice strained.
You glanced up, meeting his dark, intense gaze through the smudged lenses. The sight of you on your knees for him, his cock in your mouth, seemed to undo him completely.
"That's it," he groaned, his hips beginning to move in shallow, tentative thrusts. "Take it. J-just like that."
You took him deeper, relaxing your throat until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his base. He let out a string of curses, his control fracturing. He started to fuck your mouth, his movements growing more desperate, more erratic. You could feel him getting closer, his thighs tensing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
You didn't pull away. Instead, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, taking him as deep as you could. With a loud, guttural groan, he came, spilling hot and thick ropes down your throat. You swallowed it all, milking him for every last drop until he was done, his body slumping back into the chair.
He pulled you up into his lap, his hands shaking slightly as he cupped your face. He reached up with one hand and pulled his glasses off, tossing them carelessly onto the table beside him. "That was...fuck," he breathed, before crushing his mouth to yours. He could taste himself on your tongue, and it seemed to ignite something in him again. He kissed you with hunger, his hands roaming over your body.
"My turn," he growled against your lips. He stood, lifting you effortlessly and carried you to your shared bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his body covering yours. He didn't waste any time stripping you of your remaining clothes until you were bare beneath him, bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the window.
He spread your legs, his gaze falling on your slick folds. "So fucking wet for me," he murmured, more to himself than to you. He lowered his head, tongue delving into your heat, and you cried out, your back arching. He ate you out with intense focus, his tongue and fingers working together to push you closer and closer to the edge.
"Ryland, I'm gonna..." you gasped, your hands fisting in the sheets.
"Not yet," he commanded, pulling away just as you were about to tip over the edge. You whined in protest, but he silenced you with a searing kiss. "You'll come when I say you can."
He quickly discarded his remaining clothes, his cock thick and hard again. He stroked it a few times, his eyes on you, admiring your beauty. He settled between your legs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and serious.
You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. F-fuck me, Ryland, please.."
That was all the encouragement he needed, He thrusted into you in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt. You both gasped at the sensation, the perfect, rightness of it. He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead resting against yours.
"F-fuck," he breathed, the word a choked gasp. "You feel so good. So tight... like you were made for me."
"I was," you whispered, your voice shaky with pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
He started to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, a deliberate rhythm that stole your breath. He was watching you, his eyes dark and intense, taking in every gasp, every shudder, every arch of your back.
"You like that?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "You like my c-cock filling you up?"
"Yes..." you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. "P-please..."
"Tell me," he demanded, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. "Tell me how much you like it."
"I-I love it," you cried out, your back arching again as he hit that perfect spot inside you. "I love your c-cock. I love you."
The words seemed to unleash something in him. His control snapped, and he began to fuck you at an impossible speed, his hips colliding into yours, the bed creaking in protest. The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, the slap of skin to skin, his guttural groans, and your high-pitched cries.
"Mine," he growled, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin, but just enough to leave a possessive mark. "All fucking mine."
"I'm only y-..yours, Ry," you sobbed your mind going blank with pleasure.
He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and you screamed as he found your weak point. He smirked, a wicked, triumphant look on his face, and aimed for that spot again and again, until you were a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him.
"Come for me," he commanded, his voice rough and demanding. "Now, sweetheart. Come all over my cock."
His words helped you come undone. With a final, shattered cry, you came, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your vision went white, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. He fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming more inconsistent as he chased his own release.
With a loud, guttural groan, he came, burying himself deep inside you as he spilled himself into you. He collapsed on top of you, his body shaking with the force of his release, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
For a long moment, you just lay there, tangled together, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in a frantic, synchronized rhythm. The air was thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction, and for the first time in a long time, Ryland's mind was quiet. The ghosts were gone, replaced by the the warmth of you against him.
Eventually, he stirred, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at you. His hair was a mess, his face flushed, and his eyes were soft, filled with a warmth and tenderness that took your breath away.
"Hey," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Hey," you replied, a lazy smile spreading across your face.
He leaned down, pressing a soft gentle kiss to your lips. "Are you okay?" Did I hurt you?"
You shook your head, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. "No. You were perfect."
He smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile that made your heart ache. "So were you, my love."
He carefully pulled out of you, causing you to whine at the sudden emptiness. He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth. He gentle cleaned you up, his touch impossibly careful and loving, entirely different to the raw, primal passion from earlier.
He tossed the washcloth aside and pulled the covers over the both of you, gathering into his arms. You settled against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close.
"I love you, Ry."
"I love you more, sweetheart." He whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. "More than I ever thought possible.
You lay in comfortable silence for a while, your bodies entwined, your breathing slowly returning to normal. The weight of his arm around you was a comforting, grounding presence, and you felt safe, cherished, and utterly, completely loved.
"Stay right here," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with devotion. "Just for a little while. Let me hold you."
You snuggled closer, your eyes drifting shut. "I'm not going anywhere."
And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, Ryland knew with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that this was exactly where he was meant to be.
TA Reader x Prof Ryland. Maybe reader had to go with Ryland to a conference, they don't share a hotel room but have one with connecting doors. Reader brings some toys along and Ryland hears her using them. Later he uses them to on her.
✩˚₊‧Perks of Being a TA✩˚₊‧
(Professor Ryland Grace x Fem!Reader)
★Summary: Annon's amazing request!!! 𑣲⋆
✶Rating: E
⟢․⁺Tags: University AU, Professor/TA, Teacher-Student Relationship, NSFW, Smut, Implied Consent, Possessive Ryland Grace, Degradation/Praise, Spanking, Pussy Slapping, Age Gap, Use of Vibrators, Unprotected Sex, Spitting, Ryland being a nerd, Slight Dumbification, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Dom! Ryland Grace, Mirror Sex, PWP, Slight Exhibitionism, Not Proof Read
✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧
Notes: This is sooo brillianttt!! Give your brain a kiss for meee ♡ Also, for those who requested just know i'm not ignoring it. I'm just a really really slow writer but trust me ill be getting your requests done soonn!! Feel free to send more! PEEP THE BANNER I MADE AGHH IF YOU GUYS USE IT PLEASE GIVE ME CREDIT I LOVE YOU GUYSS ENJOY!
ᝰ.ᐟ Divider Credit: @uzmacchiato | It looks so freaking good!
The air in the conference hall was thick with the scent of old paper, stale beer, and the low hum of a bass heavy song from the lobby. It was the final night of the annual Molecular Biology Symposium, and you were watching your Professor, Ryland Grace, try to disappear into his pint of craft IPA.
He wasn't a natural at these things. In the lecture hall, he was a force of nature, his hands carving complex protein chains in the air as he explained enzymatic catalysis with a feverish intensity. But here, surrounded by his peers making small talk, he looked like a specimen that had been pinned to a board. He'd push his glasses up his nose, take a sip of his beer, and offer a tight, polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
You'd been his TA for two semesters. You knew the man behind the awkward genius. You knew he kept three different kinds of cereal in his office cabinet because he often forgot to each lunch, and that he hums a tune when he's trying to work through a particularly stubborn problem. You knew he was brilliant, kind, and completely, utterly oblivious to the fact that at least half the women in the department, including you, had fantasies of getting in bed with him.
The head of the department, clapping him on the back, had been the one to arrange the rooms. "Since you two are presenting together, it makes sense to put you near each other. Your rooms are joined. It's good for efficient coordinating."
Ryland had simply nodded. "Sounds reasonable."
He saw a convenience. You saw door and privacy.
Finally, after an hour, you were back in your room. The connecting door was just a slab of wood, but it felt electrifying. You could hear him moving around in his room, the familiar shuffle of his slippers on the carpet, the click of a lamp being turned on. He was probably settling in with a journal on his lap, his idea of a "wild Friday night."
You weren't going to let this chance slip through your fingers. You were tired of being the bright, attentive TA who brought him his coffee and corrected his typo. You wanted him to see you as someone else. someone more than just a TA.
You hurriedly unpacked your things. Clothes, books, and then, from a hidden pocket in your suitcase, a shiny, pink case. You opened it and there it was. Nestled in black foam, was a rose colored vibrator and a smaller, bullet-shaped one. Your two entertainments for the evening.
You took a long, hot shower, letting the steam and the scent of hotel soap wash away today's stress. You dried off, slipped into a thin, worn t-shirt of his that you had "borrowed" from a lost-and-found box in his lab months ago, and a pair of laced panties. You settled onto the king-sized bed, propping yourself up against a mountain of soft pillows.
You turned the rose colored toy onto its lowest setting. It let out a low, familiar hum, the kind of sound that could be mistaken for the hotel's old air conditioner if you weren't paying attention. But you knew Ryland was paying attention, which only fueled your excitement and arousal.
You closed your eyes, letting your mind wander. You thought about his long, slender fingers explaining base pairs on a whiteboard, the low rumble of his voice when he's in deep thought, the way he'd look at you, really look at you, when you offered a solution to a problem he was stuck on. He would look at you with pure gratitude mixed with something dark.
As you let your toy work its magic, you can't help but let out a soft, quiet moan. You tried to stifle your moans to the best of your ability as the hum continued, sending waves of pleasure to your pussy. You pictured him in the next room, probably sitting at the desk in his pajama pants, scribbling equations in his journal. The thought of him, just a few feet away, separated by nothing but a door was intoxicating. The thought of him coming through the door and catching you in the act caused you to let out another breathy moan.
You fidgeted with your vibrator, turning the setting up a notch. The hum grew louder, more insistent. A steady, rhythmic buzz that was definitely not from an AC. You let another sound escape your lips, a little louder this time. A soft gasp.
You began to get lost in the pleasure, forgetting about remaining quiet. Soft needy moans escaped your pouty lips as you began to feel the heat build in your core. Your hips began to rock against the toy, chasing the friction, your breath hitching with every circle. The pressure coiling tighter in your belly, a familiar, delicious tension. You were so close, right on the edge, your mind filled with an image of him bending you over his desk—
And then it stopped.
The humming ceased. The pressure vanished. Your eyes flew open. You looked down at the toy in your hand. It was dark. Dead.
Then you heard it.
A soft, decisive click echoed from the other side of the connecting door.
The sound of the deadbolt being thrown back.
Your blood ran cold. Your heart seized in your chest. Every muscle in your body seized. The humming silence that followed was more deafening than the toy had ever been.
He had unplugged it. From his side. he must have the outlet that connected to your nightstand.
The door swung inward, revealing Ryland. He wasn't in pajamas. He was in dark trousers and a slightly wrinkled button-down, his hair a mess, his eyes dark. He was no longer awkward. No longer oblivious. He was predatory and you felt like the prey.
He closed the door softly behind him, the click of the latch echoing in the sudden silence. His gaze dropped to the dead toy in your hand, then back to your face. A slow, sharp smile cut across his features.
"I was running a diagnostic. The harmonic frequency was inconsistent with the hotel's HVAC system. Too high-pitched. Too... organic." His gaze dropped to the dead toy in your hand, then back to your face. A slow, sharp smile cut across his features. "And now I have my data. Turns out, my most promising TA is also the most desperate little slut."
The crude word made your eyes slightly widen as you had only ever heard him swore twice but it also sent a jolt straight through you. Before you could answer, he was on the bed, his hand wrapping around your wrist, his grip firm. He pried the toy from your fingers and tossed it onto the nightstand.
"Such a dumb girl," he scoffed. "If you're going to make so much noise, you're going to do it right. And you're going to do it for me."
He gently pulled you off the bed and onto your feet, his hands wrapped around your arms. He spun you around to face the full-length mirror on the closet door. You were a mess. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair slightly ruffled, and your lips swollen red. He towered behind you, his body heat radiating onto your back, his chin hovering over your shoulder.
"Look at you," he whispered against your ear. "All this time, I thought you were my brightest, my most focused student. But you're just a needy little thing, aren't you? A fascinating paradox. So much potential in that brilliant little head, yet your body is so... primitive. So easily overridden by a simple stimulus." He taps your temple with one finger. "This part works so hard. But this part..." His hand drifts down to slap your clothed pussy, "...just wants to be fucked. Is that true?"
Your mouth opened but the words were caught in your throat. His hand came down onto your ass as he grew impatient.
"Answer me."
"Yes," you choked.
"Yes, what?"
"Y-yes, Professor."
"Good girl." He pulled the t-shirt over your head, leaving you in just your panties. His eyes met yours in the mirror, dark and possessive. "Look at you. So perfect... made just for me." He gripped your chin, turning your face towards him. "Open," he demands. You were quick to obey, opening your mouth. He gathered a good amount of saliva in his mouth and spat into yours. "Swallow it."
You did, the act so filthy and humiliating it made your thighs clench. He released your chin, a dark satisfaction in his eyes. "On your knees," he commanded, nodding towards the plush carpet in front of the mirror. You sank down without hesitation, your knees sinking into the soft carpet. He positioned the mirror so you had a perfect view of yourself. Kneeling, flushed, in just your panties, with him standing over you like a god.
He retrieved the rose-colored toy from the nightstand, not with haste, but with clinical curiosity. He turned it over in his long, slender fingers, the same fingers you'd watched a hundred times trace complex molecular diagrams. He found the button and pressed it. It hummed to life in his palm. He watched it vibrate for a moment, a thoughtful frown on his face, as if assessing its power output. Then, his eyes met yours in the mirror. "Is this the best you can do? No wonder you were making so much noise. Inefficient design." He then pressed it against your soaked panties. "Let's see if we can achieve better result with proper application."
You began to squirm as the pleasure shot through you. "Look at yourself," he muttered in your ear, his voice a low growl. "Making such a mess for me..."
Your gaze fell to the mirror in front of you, your eyes locking with your reflection. You saw your face, contorted in pleasure, saw Ryland behind you, his expression was of intense concentration. Just as you felt the first wave of your orgasm begin to brew, he ripped the toy away. You cried out in frustation.
"No," he said dryly. "You don't get to cum yet. You haven't earned it." He brought his hand down in a sharp, stinging slap directly on your pussy, right through the wet lace. The sensation was a confusing mix of pain and pleasure.
"You wanted my attention? Now you have it. All of it." His breath ghosting your neck.
Ryland hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive skin. With a sharp tug, he ripped the delicate lace, the fabric immediately tearing. He tossed the ruined scrap aside with a sinister smirk.
"Much better," he murmured, his eyes darkening as he stared at your exposed pussy in the mirror. "Such a pretty pussy... gonna mold it to fit my dick and mine only..."
He picked up the smaller, bullet vibrator. He presses it directly against your clit, his other hand gripping your hip, holding you still. "Be a good girl and stay still." The vibrator turns on against your clit, the stimulation was brutal. It was too much. You tried to squirm away, but his hold was unbreakable. The familiar pleasure returned, causing you to let out uncontrollable moans and mindless babbles.
"P-... Please," you sobbed, "Ry... please, 'm gonna—"
"No," he growled, pulling it away again. He spanking your pussy once again, harder this time. "You come when I say so." He alternated like that for what felt like an eternity, bringing you to the edge with your toys, his fingers, and the filthy whispers, only to snatch it away with a denial and a stinging slap. You were a sobbing, writhing mess, your entire world narrowed to the reflection in the mirror and the gorgeous man torturing you so beautifully.
"Look how good you're being," he purred, his voice finally softening. "Taking everything I give you. You deserve to be rewarded for being such a good girl. So patient just for me... " The idea of him being inside of you made you frantically nod your head, not wanting to wait another moment. He rose to his feet, his movements fluid and powerful. He unbuckled his belt, the sound loud in the quiet room. He removes his trousers unhurriedly, your breath caught at the sight.
You gulped nervously at the sight before you. His semi-hard cock was long and thick. Your eyes traced the veins that ran along his length, blushing as a bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip. The sight was beautiful yet intimidating, causing your body to clench with fear and desire.
He knelt behind you again, his heat pressing against your back. He positioned himself at your entrance, not pushing in, just letting his thick head rest against your soaked folds. You could feel the weight of him. He was so much bigger than any of your toys.
"Last chance to back out," he whispered.
You knew what you wanted.
You pushed back against him, a silent, desperate plea.
A dark chuckle. "Such a good girl... 'm gonna take good care of you." He gripped your hips with both hands.
"Watch the mirror, sweetheart. I want you to see yourself getting filled by me." He pushed into you in a slow stroke. The stretch was incredible, a burning, pleasurable ache that caused your breath to hitch. You were so full. You eyes nearly roll to the back of your head as your mouth forms a silent 'o'.
He paused. buried to the hilt, his grip almost painful. "Fascinating," he breathed, his voice a low rumble against your ear. A deep, humiliating blush spread across your cheeks and down your neck. You couldn't believe you were being fucked by your professor and you enjoyed it entirely too much.
He gave you a moment to adjust, his thumbs stroking circles on your skin. Then, he picked up the small, bullet vibrator. "Remember this?" he asked, pressing it against your clit as he slowly pulled out, and slammed back into your pussy. The fullness of his cock and the sharp, buzzing pleasure on your clit caused your vision to turn white.
"Fuck, look at you," he grunted, setting a brutal pace. "Taking my cock so well. Just for me..." He drove into you again and again, the sound of skin slapping filling the room lewdly. "You're so fucking tight. Gripping me like you don't want to let go. Such a greedy little pussy."
His constant switch between praising and degrading you was intoxicating. "So good for me," he'd pant, then follow it with, "Just a desperate little slut, aren't you?"
The coil in your belly tightened again, impossibly fast. "Please, Ry..." you sobbed, "I can't... n-need to cum..."
"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice strained. "Milk my cock..."
The command was all you needed. Your orgasm shattered through you, a violent, wave that left your legs shaking and moaning loudly. Your walls clenched around him, making him to groan, his pace faltering.
He kept the vibrator pressed against your overly sensitive clit, and he kept fucking through your orgasm, chasing his own. The overstimulation was painfully exquisite. Just as you thought you couldn't take another second of the intense buzzing, he twisted the base of the bullet vibrator.
The setting changed from a steady hum to a fast, pulsating, almost erratic pattern. A new, sharper shot through you, so intense it was almost painful. "There you go," he grunted, his voice strained. "Look at you, gripping me so tightly. Such a perfect, messy little girl."
His thrusts quickly became erratic and inconsistent. "All m-mine..." He buried himself deeper into you with a brutal thrust and you felt his cock pulse inside you, his warmth flooding you as he came with a harsh groan.
He collapsed against you, his weight pinning you to the floor, both of you slick with sweat and breathing heavily. After a long moment, he pressed a soft, surprisingly gentle kiss to your shoulder. He nuzzled your neck, his voice softened, whispering against your ear. "Good girl," he murmured. "My brilliant, perfect girl." He paused, then added, "By the way, your methodology for the PCR amplification in Tuesday's lab was flawed. We'll discuss it in the morning. Over breakfast." Ryland's sudden switch back to his nerdy self earned him a playful groan from you.
Summary: When your professor catches you at a party with another guy, he decides to give you a reminder as to who you belong to.
Rating: E
Tags: University AU, Professor/TA, Teacher-Student Relationship, NSFW, Smut, Implied Consent, Jealousy, Jealous Ryland Grace, Degradation/Praise, Vaginal Fingering, Spanking, Power Imbalance, Age Gap, Not Proof Read
The stack of midterms on his desk is nearly a foot high. You've been grading for an hour, the red pen feeling slick in your hand, when Ryland clears his throat. You look up to find him watching you, through his glasses, his expression remaining unreadable.
"Take a break, we need to talk," he says, his voice flat. He pushes his phone across the desk. The screen is bright with a screenshot of an Instagram story from one of your classmates. You're in the back of the pub, smiling as a male student leans in to say something in your ear.
"Care to explain why my TA, the one who assured me she was too busy with grading to attend my lecture, had time for a social gathering?" His tone dangerously mild.
"It was just for an hour," you said carefully. "It was Sarah's birthday. I literally told you I was going."
"You told me you were going home after you finished the work I gave you," he corrects, his eyes narrowing. He stands up from his chair and walks around the desk. He stops next to you and leans against the wooden surface, crossing his arms while looking down at you. You can't help but gulp at the sight; the tension in his jaw and the anger in his eyes made him look intimidating yet graceful. You notice his gaze shifting back onto his phone. "And who is he? The one who looks like he wants to crawl inside your ear?"
"He's just a friend," you mumbled, staring at the polished wood of his desk.
Ryland lightly pushes off the desk and crouches down to your level, forcing you to meet his gaze. His hand shoots out, gripping your chin firmly. "Look at me," he commands. "We don't lie to each other, remember? That's our one rule. So let's try again. Who. Is. He?"
"He's nobody," you whisper, the pressure from his fingers making your jaw ache.
"Nobody," he repeats, pretending to think. "You blush for 'nobody'? You let 'nobody' get that close to you in public?" He releases your chin, only to let his hand trail down your throat, his fingers wrapping around it just enough to feel your pulse fluttering beneath his touch. His lips quirk into a cruel smile as he feels your heart beating rapidly. "I think you need a reminder that you're my TA. My Responsibility." He pauses. "My girl."
He stands up, his presence looming over you. He turns to the bookshelf behind him, scanning the titles before taking out a book of poetry.
"Stand up," he orders. When you hesitate, he lets out a harsh "Now."
You quickly obey, afraid of what might happen if you didn't. He motions for you to bend over the desk, right over the half-graded stack of papers.
"Stay there. Don't you dare move," he says. He runs a hand over your back, from your shoulders down to your waist before flipping your skirt up harshly. He feels the curve of your ass before giving it a sharp, prominent smack, making you jolt and let out a yelp. "You seemed to be confused about your duties. So we're going to clarify them."
He opens the book of poetry. "I want you to recite 'Sonnet 147'," he says close to your ear, his voice laced with a hint of mocking softness. He kisses the back of your neck and he brings down a harsh slap on your ass. "Spread," he commands, tapping on the side of your thighs. You try to spread as much as you can while still maintaining balance. He pulls your underwear aside and runs his finger through your slick, feeling the wetness coat his long digit. "Shit... Just wanna fuck you stupid over this desk."
He quickly slides a finger in without a warning, causing you gasp and let out a loud moan as he stretches you open. You try to keep your balance steady as he adds another, slowly moving his fingers in and out of you.
He chuckles, a low, dark sound that vibrates against your back. "So wet already," he murmurs, his fingers curling inside of you, finding that spot that makes your knees nearly give out. "All this from a little slap? Or is it because you like being caught? Knowing that I would be watching, that I would get jealous."
His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing in tight, punishing circles. The two sensations clashing is overwhelming as you begin to feel the heat build in your core.
"R...Ryland, please," you gasp, your fingers digging into the hard wood of the desk.
"Please what? Please stop?" His fingers come to a stop, causing you to let out a pained whimper. "Or please don't stop? You need to use your words, sweetheart. Just like how you're supposed to be reciting that sonnet. So, let's try again." He waits, his fingers positioned inside you, unmoving.
You struggle to remember the lines, your mind foggy with pleasure and the need for more. "My... my love is a fever... longing still..." you begin your voice trembling.
"Good," he mutters, rewarding you by moving at a steady rhythm. "For that constant... n... need of you, I.. am not well." He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Can feel you gripping my fingers, you're truly pathetic for enjoying this... so desperate for it, aren't you?"
He thrusts his fingers deeper inside of you, making you cry out. The sound echoing in his quiet office, causing you to freeze, terrified of being heard."
"Uh-uh," he tsks, pulling his fingers out of you abruptly. The emptiness causing you to let out a needy whine. Before you can process it, he brings his hand down onto your ass, this time harder, leaving a sharp burning sensation against your skin. "You'll take what I give you, and you'll be quiet and grateful about it. Unless you want the entire campus to hear how my TA gets off on being used and punished like a dumb little girl."
You bite your lip hard, tasting blood, determined to stay silent. He hums in approval, the sound a low rumble in his chest. He spreads your wetness over your folds, teasing your entrance.
"Keep reading." He commands.
"For that... for that I am not well, I am not well..." you pant, desperately.
He finally pushes back into you, this time with three fingers, stretching you deliciously. "That's my girl," he praises, his voice mockingly sweet while he continues to brutally fuck you with his hand. "You're mine. Every inch of you. If I catch you with that boy again, I won't be so forgiving. I'll bend you over his desk and fuck you in front of him if that's what it takes to drill that into that thick skull of yours."
Notes: This is my first time writing LOL, I am just posting this for now because I'm still working on "Unwritten Rules." I've been lacking motivation sadlyyy but I'm trying to get at least one fanfic out before classes resume. This is so poorly written but hope you guys enjoyed it and have a good day! Mwah!!<3
This blog contains both SFW and NSFW content. My SFW posts may include suggestive themes intended for readers who are 16+, so please keep that in mind before interacting. I do NOT recommend that any reader under the age of 18 to view or interact with my NSFW posts, as they do contain dark or explicit content. I am not responsible for what everyone chooses to consume online. These rules are here for everyone's safety and well-being.
Readers 16 and older are welcome! However, please proceed with caution, as some posts contain explicit content that is not suitable for those under 18. My posts that feature suggestive or explicit themes will have a content warning.
Boundaries
These are my boundaries, nothing personal! This is here to ensure that I feel comfortable and safe on my own blog while interacting with everyone.
Please be respectful and patient with me! I may take some time to respond to my inbox, requests, and asks because I have a busy life outside of this blog. Understand that any delays aren't purposeful, and I do try to stay active and reply as soon as I can.
I am also an beginner writer, therefore I am still learning and will make mistakes along the way. I really do appreciate suggestions as it can help me improve my writing. All I ask is that any suggestion or advice should be shared respectfully and kindly or I will unfortunately have to block you.
My inbox is always open for anyone who wants to chat, vent, or share ideas with me! I do my best to respond as soon as I can, though I cannot promise immediate responses. If you do feel like you want to pop in for a chat, don't hesitate!
I still have my right to ignore or block anyone who creates a negative, hostile, or unsafe environment. My priority will always be about maintaining a welcoming and comfortable space for both myself and others.
What I will Write:
ᨳଓ NSFW/SFW
ᨳଓ Romance Ships/Poly ships (It can be xReader or existing characters!)
ᨳଓ Oneshots
ᨳଓ Headcannons/AU's
ᨳଓ Fluff
ᨳଓ Triggering Subjects (I do not have a problem writing about mental illnesses, SH, drug abuse, and other related subjects, however I will NOT romanticize it.)
What I will NOT Write:
ᨳଓ SA/Rape
ᨳଓ Incest
ᨳଓ Teen Romance
ᨳଓ Pedophilia
ᨳଓ Pregnancy/Parenthood (I don't know why but I don't feel comfortable writing about this.)
ᨳଓ Age Regression
What I will write for NSFW: Dacryphilia, Spanking/Slapping, Dom/Sub, CNC, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Piss Kink, Degrade/Praise Kink, Pet Play, Anal, Biting, Getting Caught, Teasing, Orgasm Denial/Control, Overstimulation, Roleplay, Gun/Knife Kink, Age Gaps, Blood Kink, Mild Objectification, Jealous/Angry Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Marking (hickeys, light bruises, etc), Sneaky/Quiet Sex, Rough Sex, maybe more! If what you are looking for isn't listed, you can always ask!
