nai - black - twenty - she/her - american british jamaican
about me!
lover of sports, tv, film, music, and comics
especially: baseball, indycar, f1, basketball, chicago fire, the rookie, the pitt, johnnyswim, kneecap, zach bryan, nightwing, captain america, and the flash
dni: racist, homo/transphobic, maga, zionist
my works:
Chicago Fire
With All the Weight of What We Could Be - Stella Kidd x Kelly Severide: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chicago P.D.
Release - Dante Torres x Reader: Chapter 1
The Rookie
East Side of Sorrow (Tim Bradford Character Study/Backstory Fic): Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
The Pitt
Silence - Jack Abbot x Samira Mohan
Lego Connoisseur Jack Abbot - Jack Abbot x Samira Mohan
Sneakerhead!Frank Langdon Blurb
came across a tweet asking if ryland would get embarrassed if you asked him to flex and im oungngjrkfkd im wet im throbbing. he’s sitting at the kitchen table grading assignments and he’s wearing one of those tight dumb ass science shirts and you’re So Fucking Turned On for whatever reason. you plop down at the chair next to him and give him a cheesy grin and he looks up at you through his glasses like “can i help you my love?” and you waste no time before telling him “flex”. and you can see it in his eyes where he’s thinking about it, his face gradually getting more red. he laughs and asks you where this sudden urge to see his muscles came from and you’re just like i dont have to explain myself. flex your biceps NOW. he thinks about it some more, his face at Maximum Redness. then he puts his pen down, pulls back his sleeve, and flexes. and you’re the happiest woman in the world, squealing like a little girl and giggling and telling him thank you as you plant kisses all over his pretty face and you’re so fucking insane that you cant help yourself but bite down on his bicep which prompts him to be like ok thats enough LOLOLOL. but dont worry you’re both laughing during all of this and ryland’s happy to give you whatever you want no matter how odd the request.
Summary: When Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody was taken into care Smurf pulled some strings and got him put in a place close to Oceanside.
That place was with you and your parents.
Something Smurf would later regret when she realised that the bond you and Andrew forged in the month he was there was never going away.
The years went by and the older boy became your best friend. Your protector. Your person.
Fast forward and when Andrew gets out of prison he finds out Smurf’s hatred for you has gone to a whole other level.
Pairing: Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody x reader
Warnings: Smut, sub!Pope if you squint, overprotective Pope, piv sex, oral sex, established relationship.
A/n: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and I’m thinking of doing it as a series for the points in the series I think would be interesting. Especially flashbacks of when they were younger.
Three years of letters.
Three years of phone calls.
Three years of only seeing him on the other side of that thick glass.
Three years of that constant hollow ache in your chest meant that you were struggling to process the fact that he was stood in front of you. He looked nervous, his hands in his jeans pockets as he looked at you with that intense stare. The one you’d known for as long as you can remember.
You jump into his arms burying your face in his neck, him doing the same thing as though you could disappear at any second. This had to be a dream but the way he inhales deeply as his hands grip you closer to him makes it feel too real.
“I missed you so fucking much.” He murmurs against your skin and the shiver that goes through you is very real. He is really there.
“What…whe…” you’re struggling to get your words out, just staring up at him, unwilling to leave your place pressed into his chest. Your hands are holding his face and the way he nuzzles into your touch is like a punch to the chest. Every time you saw him in Folsom Prison he had kept up the mask you were all too familiar with, the one he has to wear all his life. Around his family, around the people they interacted with but not you. Seeing him soften for you instantly has you tearing up.
You pull him into your apartment and watch him look around, taking in your new place with a disapproving glint in his eye.
“When did you get out?”
“This morning.” You’d missed his voice this way, unfiltered, right in front of you.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have picked you up!”
He closes the small gap between you again, this time his hand on your cheek. “Didn’t want you to get your hopes up if something went wrong.” You nod in understanding, Deran had told you how much they’d messed him around in there even if Pope hid everything from you. “Plus I wanted to see the look on your face when you saw me.”
Your hands touch him everywhere, sliding over his chest, arms, shoulders and up to his hair, where those curls you always loved to play with used to be.
“This doesn’t feel real.”
“It’s real.” He grabs your wrist bringing your palm to his mouth, placing a kiss there. “I’m here. I’m out.” His voice breaks slightly on the last word.
You nod and pull him down so that his forehead rests against yours, staying that way, just feeling each others presence. You were his peace, his comfort. If there was a god he thanked him every day that your paths had crossed and that he had at least one thing in his life that made it bearable. No matter what you were to each other.
He would be whatever you needed.
And you him.
That’s just how it had always worked with you both.
He is the first to pull away and when he does it’s with his jaw clenched and that intense gaze looking around your apartment again.
Uh oh.
You saw him darken with disapproval at the downgrade. With the sheer shock of seeing him you’d forgotten… he shouldn’t even know where you lived now.
You’d had no choice. Pope had told Smurf to give you money from his cut of everything while he was in prison.
She hadn’t and it hit you hard.
You hadn’t realised just how much he did for you, no matter how much you’d argue and tell him not to. You’d quickly learned that was pointless. He wouldn’t ever see you struggle. He wanted you comfortable and happy. He took great pride in making your life easier, solving any problem before they could even hit you.
Your oil would be changed.
Tires pumped up.
Creepy work colleagues would quit out of nowhere.
Groceries in your fridge when you didn’t have time. He sometimes even paid your rent months in advance, you’d only hear about it from your landlord. So when Smurf had stopped sending you money not long after he was sentenced you had in fact struggled. He didn’t know this, of course. You knew he’d be beyond pissed, worry even more about you than he already was and maybe get in trouble. You didn’t want to put it on him.
So you lied. He had always sent his letters to Deran’s address anyway, over protective to a point that he didn’t want anything going to yours from the prison. You’d check his post box on your way to work everyday.
Pope had no idea that you had struggled for the last three years. Gotten a second job, kept the one you hated and still hadn’t been able to keep the comfortable apartment you’d loved.
You hadn’t told any of his family. Too proud. Too worried it would get back to Pope.
“You moved.” His glare fixed on you now but you knew the anger wasn’t at you. Not directly.
“Yeah…” You say with a casual shrug of your shoulders as you sit down on the sofa which looked out of place in the run down space, damp in the corners you’d given up on hiding.
He nodded slowly. The calm way he continued to take in the space made you grimace. Andrew’s anger was explosive, everyone saw that but you could always recognise the build up in a way no one else could.
“When?” His voice was controlled but the dangerous edge was there. He was piecing things together.
“Does it matter?” You can easily reach his hand from your place perched on the sofa. “Can’t we just enjoy this please?” Your thumb stroking his knuckles.
He sits down beside you stiffly but leans in like his body instinctively remembers it wants to be as close to you as possible even though his brain is distracted.
“How long have you been here?”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, he will not leave this alone that much is obvious. At least he didn’t find out while he was still in prison. “About six months after you went in.” You sigh.
Over two and a half years. His eyes snap to yours full of anger and hurt. His family hadn’t only sold his place, they’d put you at risk. The one person he had, the one constant. They hadn’t done the only thing he had asked while he rotted in that cell for them. Take care of you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Your hands find his face again, your fingers going to the spot at the base of his skull, the one that always made him melt. Not now though. He took your safety very seriously. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. It wasn’t your problem. I didn’t want to add to the shit you were already dealing with.”
Something terrifying flashes in his eyes, the look he gets before he does something he shouldn’t but you notice it’s different. Something in him has changed while he was in prison, he seems more unhinged, harder to reach and it breaks your heart. He hadn’t had you, hadn’t had someone there to ground him.
“You’re not a problem.” His voice is firm but soft, completely opposite to the look in his eyes. “You’re my responsibility. I told Smurf to look after you. That money was yours. I specifically set it aside for you.”
You melt at the words, you hadn’t known he had done that. Had thought about what would happen to you if he was ever arrested or worse. He felt that responsibility for you the same way you did for him. You had done ever since you found him crying all those years ago in your treehouse. You smile softly at him.
“I figured it out. I’m fine.”
He looks at you like you’re crazy and stands up abruptly from his spot starting to pace.
“She cut you off. That bitch.” He was shaking with the suppressed anger and all you could do was put your face in your hands. This has always been inevitable but here was the reason you dreaded it. His relationship with his family was already so toxic, this would only make things worse.
“She fucking hates you because I put you first.” He snaps as he kneels in front of you, grabbing your hands away from your face. His eyes are wild and you start to worry you’re in over your head. But no, this is still Andrew, your Andrew. “She knows I’ll do anything for you.”
You sigh. Thats exactly why she hated you. She knew that you were the only thing that could stop him being manipulated. If anything happened to you that would be the end of Pope doing any kind of dirty work for her.
That simple fact kept you safe from her schemes.
He already hated her for Julia but he had been too young then. Too confused and scared to stand up to her.
He’s still holding your hands and his thumbs stroke the back of your hand. You push your hands so that they are stroking up and down his forearms, bigger than when he went in, you notice.
“She’s a bitch. We know this! She did it out of spite but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going anywhere, Andrew. She hates that.” He leans forward slightly and you scoot forward so his face buries in your neck again. “I’m okay.”
He pulls back his eyes searching yours for any signs of you lying but you keep them steady, strong. You and he had always done this. He was the physical strength you lacked and your were his mental strength when he needed it.
You were okay. You were tired. You had missed him more than you could ever have imagined but he was here now. All the bad shit you’d had to deal with for the last three years melted away.
“You’re not okay.” His hands went to your hips, gripping you tightly.
“I am. I’m the best I’ve been in a long fucking time because you’re here. So what if I live in a shitty apartment and picked up some extra shifts?! I needed a reality check anyway, you’d been spoiling me.” You let out a short laugh hoping he will at least smile.
He doesn’t.
“Don’t. You had to work harder. Live worse because of her.” He pulls you closer, sitting back on his heels so that he can bury his head in your stomach. You stroke along his back.
“I’m fine.” You know it won’t help. Know he can’t see past the fact that you’ve been alone, lived in a dangerous area, just getting by.
“You’re not.”
You roll your eyes. There was no arguing with him right now and you didn’t want to, just so happy he was here. That you were touching him.
You were each others person.
Had been for as long as you can remember and that had adapted over time. That included hooking up as you got older. He had been your first… everything and with him pressed into your torso, on his knees in front of you all you wanted to do was pull him on top of you. No doubt it would be the perfect way to distract him from his anger.
But it had been three years, even longer since you’d kissed or had sex and so you had no idea how to approach it.
You had wanted more with him for a long time but he was always scared of losing you. Fucking it up and not having you in his life at all.
You were too important to him, deserved more. He always had this fucked up idea that one day you would meet someone who did deserve you and when you did he would let you go. But until then he would look after you, take every opportunity to kiss you, touch you, be inside you that you gave him. He was the luckiest bastard in the world as far as he was concerned.
He also knew deep down he would never be able to let you go. Not really.
He feels your hips shift, the way your breath hitches. He knows you. He slowly leans up, his strong arms either side of you as his eyes, sad, angry and desperate take you in. The rise and fall of your chest, breasts heaving with the lace from your bra peaking out, your lips that he swore had been a constant thought in his mind since he last brushed his against them. He remembered the way he fit so perfectly in between your thighs. He had thought of it in every quiet second he got. Damn even the times he really shouldn’t think of you. There you were.
The moment is broken when there’s a loud bang from the apartment next door followed by angry shouting. You can’t stop yourself from jumping slightly, barely perceptible to anyone who hasn’t had decades to learn and memorise everything about you. His body goes rigid, his grip on your hips tightening as he pushes his chest against you. Letting you know he is here now. You almost cry with relief.
“That happen often?”
You just nod, so close to him that you barely need to move. He sees it. Feels it.
The confirmation hits him like a physical blow. He had seen the tweaker’s when he entered the apartment and now hearing the reality of your situation, it hit him. It wasn’t just the shitty apartment, it was the fear. The lack of security, the shouting matches and drugs. The fact you’d had to navigate it all alone. Sure you were no stranger to violence and drugs having been around him and his family most of your life but he had always shielded it from you as much as he could.
That shit didn’t reach you. He made sure of it.
“Andrew…” You can see the anger coiling in him again. “You were in Folsom Prison. I was in a shitty apartment. Stop…”
He stands up and the moment is fully gone. You fall back into the sofa with a heavy sigh.
“Don’t fucking compare it. At least I knew what I was dealing with.”
You shake your head, the thought of what he might have been dealing with in there kept you up at night, not the noise.
You cringe when the music starts up loudly in the apartment above you.
His face contorts with an anger you know will linger for a very long time if he doesn’t find an outlet. You really wouldn’t want to be Smurf right now.
“Pack.” He commands sharply. No room for argument. “You’re not staying here another night.
“Where are we going?” You ask as you follow him into your bedroom. Not hard to guess which it was as the door was open. He starts looking around the small sleeping area, finding a suit case he throws it on the bed and opens it.
“They got me a BnB. Didn’t want me at the house.” He says gruffly as he literally pulls the drawers from your dresser, tipping them into the suitcase. A big thing for him to not be folding them, that’s when you know he’s beyond coherent thought as the music gets louder.
The argument continues next door.
There’s people laughing loudly somewhere down the hall.
You place your hand on his back, softly saying his name but he moves away, his hands up and eyes wild. He’s overwhelmed, freshly out of prison and already blaming himself for things out of his control. You know he was probably being eaten up by guilt. You’re already making a mental list of all the things you’re going to have to work through with him.
So you just nod before helping to pack quicker. None of this was his fault. But you knew he would take the burden.
“I’ll come back for anything you leave. You’re not coming back here.” He says as he zips up the case and you put on your shoes and a jacket.
“I just need to grab something, I’ll be right out.” You tell him. There’s something else you need, can’t leave but don’t want him to see you get because then he will know…
Andrew of course just stands there, case in one hand and your handbag in another, staring at you with his head titled down like a moody toddler.
“Andrew…”
He just growls your name back at you. You sigh heavily as you grab the small stool and step on it to reach the vent at the top of the wall. You pull it off, feeling his eyes burning into your back. You pull out your jewellery box, put back the vent cover and hop off the stool before turning to face him.
“How many break-ins?” That’s all he says but his knuckles are white from the grip he has on your bags. This was exactly what you didn’t want him to know. You sigh knowing if you don’t tell him he’d find out himself anyway.
“Me? Just the one. I wasn’t here. Some tweakers looking for quick easy cash. They took my laptop. That’s all but I caught on quick and hid all my shit.”
He just stares at you. You know he’s adding it to the catalogue of things he’s missed. Things he wasn’t here to prevent. Things that had happened as a direct cause of Smurf being a vindictive bitch.
“Out.” Is all he says as he steps to you to grab your hand in his tightly, pulling you to the front door. You lock it and can’t say you feel anything but relief at the thought of never going back there.
You stay close to him and he sense’s the immediate shift. Revels in the way you mould into him, trusting him to handle the world while you navigate through it. It’s an old dynamic, one you both slip back into effortlessly, even after three years apart. He hates that you survived it alone, as resourceful as he knows you can be he hates that it was forced upon you.
Once you’re in his truck you let the last half an hour catch up with you. You can’t quite believe that in that time he had arrived back in your life and gotten you straight out of a bad situation. He reaches over and grabs your hand as he drives, threading his fingers through yours.
You know what he needs. He needs to look after you, he needs to fix what he feels is his fault. Most of all he needs you to let him and so you will.
“The BnB they got me is nice. It’s by the coast. We’ll stay there until we find something more permanent.”
You want to ask what he means by we but it’s not the time. You both know that and right now neither of you want to think about you both as separate entities.
You wonder if you ever had been.
“I missed you so much…” You say, your voice quivering. The last three years had been hard. You’d gone from having someone you could call for anything, someone you loved in whatever fucked up way you loved each other to being alone. To feeling like you’d lost a part of yourself.
He doesn’t reply just clears his throat roughly, you know he’s trying to keep it together.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“When an old lady answered your door and told me you didn’t live there anymore I went to Smurfs.” He lets go of your hand to make a sharp turn before reaching over to grab your thigh this time. His fingers digging in slightly. “Wasn’t the warmest welcome home.” You grab his hand in yours. “She told me they’d sold my place and Smurf knew where you’d moved to.” He shook his head but didn’t go into more detail. “Didn’t tell me why though.”
He pulls into a parking spot, breaking hard but his arm moves up across your chest to stop you from abruptly lurching forward in your seat. “Stay there.” He says as he gets out of the car, slamming the door before he locks it from the outside. He disappears into the reception.
You pull out your phone and see 3 New Messages
Smurf:
Pope’s out.
You scoff and roll your eyes at the first contact you’d had from her in years.
Deran:
Heads up. Popes on in his way and he’s PISSED. You moved?
Deran was the only one you’d kept in contact with. Seen him sometimes when you went to grab Pope’s letters but he was a busy guy and you wanted to avoid Pope finding out what was going on with you, so you’d avoided him.
Baz:
Call me.
“Fuck off.” You say out loud. You hadn’t seen Baz since Pope was arrested. You’d had a huge argument. You already had a rocky relationship with Baz but when you found out he’d been the one to pretty much leave Andrew behind… you flipped. You fully blamed him.
Pope opens the passenger door, your case and bag already in one hand. “Come on.”
You jump out of his truck and follow him to the room.
It’s set back slightly, behind some trees and the ocean air reaches into the room from an open window. The room is clean, a crisp white and bigger than your whole apartment. Pope puts your suitcase on the floor unzipping it. He starts to fold everything, putting it away in the drawers and you stand beside him, just watching. Knowing better than to try and help.
He’d only redo whatever you did.
“Where’s your stuff?” You ask.
“I’ll go get it later.” He says softly without even looking up. You just nod.
“Andrew…” You say softly, coaxing him to look up at you, your hand on his bicep.
He doesn’t.
“Hey, handsome…” You use a certain voice. One he recognises no matter what the situation. It’s softer, almost like you would use to comfort a kid and tell them everything was going to be okay. It was one used in private.
You had decided long ago that you wouldn’t ever call him baby. The connotations of the word were negative to you once you realised who Smurf really was. The sickly sweet way she would purr it to Andrew and the other boys turned your stomach.
So you settled on handsome. Knowing if there was anything Andrew Cody needed it was a boost in confidence. To know someone found him handsome, attractive, kind. The opposite of all the things everyone told him he was.
He faltered slightly as he put away the last of the clothing from the case. It still worked you thought as he shifted closer to you, his head dipped.
He was home. You were his home. No matter where you were.
In the low lights of the room he turned to you, nose dragging against yours as his hands went to your waist.
Every time you’d had sex it had been spur of the moment, sometimes drunk, sometimes just a mutual understanding that you needed each other in that moment.
You knew he needed you right now.
He knew you needed him.
The air practically crackled with it and his breathing became more laboured along side the crash of the waves outside. Your hand dipped under his shirt to graze across his lower abdomen, just above his belt.
A silent question you’d both agreed to use over the years.
He nods his head, his face pressing against yours, lips not touching. “Yeah…” He says, a whispered moan.
You nod back as he starts to undo his belt. When his lips finally brush yours you let out a soft moan of your own before kissing him.
Something snaps in him. Three years of built up tension you assume and he dips to pick you up, one hand supporting your ass and the other fists in your hair, keeping your mouth against his as he deepens the kiss.
He carries you to the large bed in the middle of the room and lays you back onto it. You work to start undressing him, wanting… no, needing to feel him close. He helps you, quickly shedding his shirt before he busies himself with your jeans and tank top, kissing every inch of visible skin he comes across as he does. He’s panting and desperate and the sound of him has you writhing beneath him. You reach down to finish undoing his belt and as he kisses you he quickly disposes of his jeans before pushing your hands away focusing back on you.
“Missed this… missed you…” He groans as he pulls off your bra. As he dips down taking your nipple into his mouth you gasp arching into him. He sucks hard as his hand slips in between your legs, sliding through your wetness, to rub against your clit exactly the way he knows you like.
“Fuck…” You moan and you feel him grin against your breast as he laps at your sensitive nipple. You’re not embarrassed by how wet you are. You hadn’t been with anyone since the last time you’d been with him. Been too busy. Been too sad. Just not wanted to. You were desperate for him. Just as he was for you.
He begins to kiss down your body, murmuring against your skin like a prayer.
“Please… need you… thought about this…” Before you can respond he licks along your slit slowly, moaning, clearly exactly where he wants to be in this moment. This is as much for him as it is you.
Your hips roll into him as he devours you like it’s all he needs in the world. Three years without your taste, without hearing the sweet sounds you’re making. His tongue finds your clit pressing against it firmly, sucking gently as he slips two fingers inside you, crooking them just right.
You’re a whimpering, moaning mess, barely able to string together a coherent thought as you look down and see him buried between your thighs, his strong shoulders and arms rolling as he pushes your thighs apart and back to make more room for himself.
“Andrew…” The edge in your voice is one he would know anywhere, one he thanked his lucky stars he had heard enough to recognise. You were close, already.
Nothing built up his pride like making you come for him. You’d known that since the first time he’d done it and he looked like he’d just solved the mystery of life.
“I know, sweetheart.” He rasps softy from between your legs, looking up at you with that intense stare, watching you as he sucks on your clit whilst rubbing that sweet spot inside you. He knows exactly what to do to ease you through your orgasm when you begin to clench around his fingers. He groans against your pussy as you come apart and the vibration only sends you higher.
Your legs are shaking, you moan and pant as he works you through it, not letting up until he feels your body relax ever so slightly. His fingers still working you slowly, his mouth and tongue getting gentler but still sucking and licking softy.
“Wow…” You gasp and he finally sits up, licking his lips before giving you a slow, crooked smile, the one he didn’t show often, the same one that always got you into trouble.
He kisses your hip before crawling up your body. “Three years…” He mutters, his face nuzzling into your chest.
“I know… I know…” You whisper but it’s broken by a moan when his hard cock, wet at the tip slides across your thigh before making contact with your sensitive hole. You stroke his back and he trembles as he presses into you ever so slightly.
“Ne…need you to look at me…” He whispers and so you do.
“Take what you need handsome.” You whisper back, your hips rocking into him slightly. A look of pure relief, hunger and… you’re sure of it, love crosses his face as he thrusts forward, filling you in one stroke.
You both cry out, finally together again. His arms are shaking as he holds himself above you, not from exertion but because he’s so desperate, because it feels so good and he’s already so close. He’s home. He moans your name quietly, just for you.
He stays still and you grind up into him. “It’s okay… don’t hold back.” You tell him. You want this to be completely about him, especially after what he had just done for you.
He groans loudly, trembling all over, he pulls out slowly then slams back in. Over and over again. It’s desperate, his hips moving erratically as he buries his face in your neck, mouth warm on your skin.
Three years of wanting.
Three years of waiting.
Three years of trying to convince himself that friendship was enough.
His hand reaches for yours, threading your fingers together while his other grabs one of your thighs to wrap his arm around it and lift slightly higher to get even deeper. His pace quickens and the slight change of position makes you cry out, your pussy clenching around him so tight he can barely think.
“I… can’t…” You know what he’s trying to say. Know there was no way he was going to last much longer and you moan watching him come apart.
“Come for me…” You gasp as he buries himself deep inside you, his hot thick release coating your walls. He shakes and practically whimpers as he grinds into you, your pussy milking everything from him.
“Fuck… fuck…” Is all he can say in-between your name.
When he finally calms, still inside you, your sensitive pussy is still fluttering around him and you reach down to his ass, pulling him in, wanting him to stay right where he is.
“Love you.” You whisper in his ear before kissing his face.
You said it to each other often. Always distinctly making sure not to say. I love you.
Your friendship was too deep, too long to not be able to say it. He says it back, a quiver in his voice and you feel wetness on your shoulder that you know isn’t sweat.
He can’t help it. After three year of hell he was back with you. The one person who made him feel truly loved and accepted for who he is, flaws and all. A tear escapes the corner of your eye too, you turn to wipe it on the pillow as he slowly pulls out of you with an unhappy groan before lying beside you, his head on your chest.
This is what you had always done for him. Held him when he fell apart, been there for the ugly parts nobody else cared to be there for. Without conditions. Strong for him mentally when he couldn’t be. He holds onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Got you…” He says.
“Aways…” You kiss the top of his head, your hands continuing to stroke where ever they could reach comfortingly.
After a few minutes you smile. “I pictured that differently. I imagined making it all about you.”
You feel him smile softy, his fingers tracing your ribs. “It was about me. It was about us.”
“It felt like it was about me.” You laugh. “I am not complaining by the way.”
“I thought about doing that. Must have thought about doing that to you everyday I was in there.” He wanted to add that he’d thought about it everyday since you first let him touch you, maybe before then but he didn’t.
“Really?” You say somewhat shyly. You don’t get shy with him, not about this stuff but the thought that he’d been thinking about you in that way all that time made butterflies flood your stomach. “I wasn’t with anyone else. While you were gone…”
He stills beneath you. “You didn’t?” He asks almost disbelievingly. He knew you didn’t have a boyfriend or anything, you’d have told him, like you had in the past. Years ago now. A bastard who he couldn’t afford to think about right now while the anger was still bubbling under the surface. He assumed you might have found someone, even casually in the three years. He kisses your chest, not willing to think about what this meant. Why it made him feel so good.
“Didn’t want to.” You said simply.
You never push. The situation you’d been in all these years worked. So you didn’t push it. He was everything you ever needed, when you needed it but being without him for three years had you wondering.
Could you do this forever?
You knew he has issues, more trauma than you would ever be able to understand keeping him connected to his family but you weren’t sure you’d make another three years without him.
His thoughts were threading with yours, your fingers threading through one another's at the same time as you both imagined a future.
One where he was safe. You were both safe. No jobs. No prison sentence hanging over his head. No Smurf… maybe kids with his curls… him cutting the grass and fixing the kitchen sink…
You fell asleep eventually. The thoughts of the future coming back to you in a fog as his lips kiss your forehead, his fingers brushing back your hair from your face but then the click of the door shutting brings you back to reality.
He’s going to the Cody house. Probably to confront Smurf. You sigh heavily and pull the pillow he had briefly been on closer to make sure you remember.
DO NOT PIRATE ANYTHING. NOT SHOWS/MOVIES. NOT GAMES OR SAFER GAMES. AND CERTAINLY NOT BOOKS. AND DO NOT DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS. AND NEVER EVER EVER WATCH MUSICALS WITHOUT GOING TO THEM AND DONT USE ADBLOCKERS/OTHER ADBLOCKER TO AVOID ADS AND VIRUSES PIRATING IS VERY HARMFUL TO THE CORPORATIONS WHO WORKS VERY HARD TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF PEOPLE AND THEIR MONEY. ANYONE WHO PIRATES IS BAD. BAD PIRATING. EVIL. OH AND THIS
college boyfriend ryland who INSISTS on walking you to class and carrying your textbooks for you. doesn't matter if you have a bag or if you have class on the whole ass other side of campus. this man would wade through boiling hot tar for you; climbing three flights of stairs while laden with several heavy books is nothing to him in comparison. and how dare you think otherwise.
Ryland going on a ramble and you’re playing with his hand while he does so, just idly, half-listening but 100% letting him continue because it’s cute before you plant a soft kiss to his fingertips and the poor man just short-circuits
summary: a stranger forces the you and ryland to face the truth about your feelings for one another.
“i heard sophie m. is dating jake p. now,” you say, smiling as you input your grades into your laptop. ryland looks up from his paper, eyebrows furrowed, “but i thought you said she was dating his friend Kyle?”
you and ryland had built a ritual over the last two years. every saturday morning, you get together and grade assignments together at a diner. you both claim to enjoy having company for such a mundane task, but really it was just an excuse for you two to see each other outside of school. sometimes it was really productive, and you guys could knock out a good amount of grading and enjoy the rest of your saturday. but most times it ended with you telling ryland all the middle school gossip your students had blabbed to you.
you brought your large mug to your mouth, shaking your head before you took a sip. “no apparently she was just saying she liked him to make jake jealous.”
ryland scoffed, laughing at the craziness of middle school drama. “how do you know all of this?” ryland loves that the kids love that the kids absolutely adore you and tell you everything. he loves even more that anytime you hear anything, you go running to tell him.
“what can i say? i’m their favorite,” you shrug, smiling brightly at ryland.
“uh-uh, nope. i’m the favorite,” ryland nervously plays with his pen. you two just sit there, stare at each other, smiling like idiots. ryland has to fight the urge to not reach his hand over to yours and touch you. to any one else watching, it’s so obvious that you two are in love, but you two are too scared of ruining the friendship to even say anything.
“mm okay, we’ll see who they pick for teacher of the year,” you lean back in your chair, bringing your leg up onto your seat. ryland rolls his eyes,
“you know i had a perfect winning streak until you came along,” he breaks the eye contact, it was getting a little too intense for him, and looks down at the quiz he was grading.
“it’s cause i’m the favorite,” your retort comes out sing-songy and you pull your glasses down from your head back onto your face. ryland takes the cap off his pen, throwing it at you, gently. his cheeks are pink from giggling and your cheeks are now burning from smiling so big.
“that wasn’t very nice now was it, mr. grace,” you say, attempting to use the assertive voice you use with your students, but the way ryland is peering at you over your classes is making you crumble.
ryland’s heart almost stops with the way you say his name. it makes him want to drop to his knees and worship you. mr. grace. it’s going to replay in his mind for the rest of the day.
he places his hand over his heart, and he can feel it hammering in his chest. “you’re right, i’m sorry.” you two return to grading silently. every now and the you’ll take turns taking a peak at one another. ryland’s glasses sliding slightly down his beautiful nose, lips peter as he chews on the end of his pen. and you’ve never been more jealous of something in your life.
ryland watches as you bite your lip, concentrating on your work. his eyes dip down to your chest when he sees you playing with your necklace. the oversized zip up your wore not zipped all the way, exposing your collar bones and one of you’re shoulders. the little lace trim of the tank top you wore drove him insane. he wanted nothing more to leave kisses and marks down your skin.
focus, ryland. you need to focus on your work. but of course, right as he had dragged his attention off of you and got back into the groove he was interrupted by something else.
“hi there,” a man stood at the end of the table.
you and ryland both snapped your necks at the same time. “uh, hi,” you said back, confusion laces your tone. you look in between him and ryland.
“i’ve been sitting at the counter for the last 45 minutes and i’ve just been captivated by you this whole time.” the man says, smirking at you. he looks about your age, sure he’s good looking but he isn’t your type. you awkwardly chuckle at his response. “oh. thank you, i’m flattered.”
ryland is tense. he’s now sitting perfectly straight just watching, intensely. his first instinct is to grab your hand and pretend to be your boyfriend , to protect you. but then the doubt starts to creep into his mind… what if you like this guy? what if this is the meet cute you’ve been waiting for? and ryland has to just sit here and watch.
“you really are beautiful. isn’t she just breathtaking,” he looks over at ryland for confirmation. you look at ryland who’s mouth is now slightly open. he’s trying to formulate words but he’s scared. “i uh-“ ryland clears his throat, “yeah, she’s pretty,” he mumbles, looking down at his papers.
your eyes widen a little, taken aback by his comment. you try fighting a smile because it hits you: ryland grace thinks your pretty.
“this your boyfriend,” the guy asks, not even giving ryland a chance to actually answer. “no!” you both say at the same time, a little too defensively. the guy chucked, taking a clean napkin from next to you and one of your pens, scribbling something down on it.
“well, here’s my number. give me a call if you ever want to go on a date,” he says. he stands back upright, gives you a wink before leaving.
you turn back to ryland, the whole thing happening way too quickly for you to wrap your head around. one look at ryland and you bust out laughing at how ridiculous that was.
“okay, well that just happened,” you take a sip of water, hoping it will regulate your system.
“are you gunna call him?” the words fumble out of his mouth. they come out before he can even stop them, and he’s now embarrassed that even asked. you look at ryland, who’s trying to hard to keep his focus on his quizzes, trying his hardest to pretend he doesn’t care at all. but of course, you can see right through him.
you pick up the napkin, and pretend to contemplate. “hmm, i don’t know. it’s been a while since i’ve dated. it could be fun,” you shrug, trying so hard to remain serious. but ryland jerks his head up. “what?” his voice comes out a little higher than anticipated. you fight the laughter from coming out.
“i mean, yeah, if you’re interested you should go.” he tries taking a sip of his coffee, acting nonchalant.
but of course, you had to push his buttons one last time.
“i don’t know, word on the street is you think i’m pretty,” you smirk, and ryland chokes. you start laughing, and you scoot out over your side of the booth, and sit next to him, patting his back softly.
“you okay, ry” your laughing uncontrollably now, and he looks at you a little pouty, eyes a little glassy from coughing.
“i’m okay. i promise,” he says, and you rub his back, soothing him. he lifts his head and you guys lock eyes. you can tell he’s shy now, his gaze is so innocent and soft, glasses a little crooked on his face. your other hand comes up to fix his glasses, and he sucks in a breath.
“i asked you a question mr. grace,” you voice is soft, face just inches away from his. ryland’s gaze drops down to you lips and he licks his.
“i do. i think you’re probably the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen,” he whispers. he can’t take it any longer, and leans in kiss you. it’s gentle, like he almost can’t believe it’s real. your leg slides over his, pressing between both of his. one of his hands goes to cup your face while he ghosts his fingers along your thigh, too scared to touch you. you hum into him, and he can feel his cock twitch at the small sound.
you pull away from the kiss, both of you out of breath. “i think you’re pretty too, ryland. just the most handsome man ever.” you say giving him a quick kiss again, then on the tip of his nose.
you try sliding away to move back to your original side, and ryland whines, pulling you closer.
“okay fine, i’ll stay in this side,” you say, reaching over the table to grab your laptop. ryland picks up your leg again, to drape over his. you had him wrapped around your finger now.
just wanted to write out some of these as a bay area native who really resonated with ryland's love for the city, first thoughts about ryland lmk what y'all think :)
SF born and raised, obviously. the only child of two professors (one at sf state, one at ucsf (a science-only grad school!)) who loved him dearly, but they were really focused on their jobs so he was also a bit of a latchkey kid. beneficial in many ways though because from a young age he learned everything about san francisco and has loved it ever since. could navigate the city with his eyes closed and loves how unique sf/bay area culture is, also crafted him into a massive LA hater, will not tolerate LA propaganda. will also immediately shut down anyone who tries to call sf "san fran."
a nerd from the very start, loved going on field trips to the california academy of sciences, exploratorium, and curiodyssey (he now plans these very same field trips for gcms every year). literally had to be dragged out of these science museums a few times, especially the chabot space and science center, when he finally went in his 7th grade year.
went 2 hours away for school at uc davis (~30mins away from travis air force base, for my book readers!), and stayed there through his PhD. it's here he got really good on a bike, and learned how to carry anything you could ever need on one. had a really colorful bike while in school that he loved, but it got stolen during his last year of grad school and he thinks it's the most violent he's ever felt, wanting to find the person who stole it. he also developed a hatred for people on ebikes because they rode through campus way too fast, and he vowed to never ride one himself, until he started bike commuting through sf and realized that biking the hills are so much worse than walking them; bought an ebike after like his first week of doing it. loved davis so much and still visits for picnic day every year, but also went home a lot while in school because he missed the city. GO AGS!
lives in an apartment right next to ocean beach, even though he really can't afford it, but he missed the beach too while in school, and did not want to be separated from it again.
california sober. canon does not affect me. this is the most california sober man i have ever seen.
favorite food comes from local mexican and japanese restaurants.
even though he bikes almost everywhere, he does still own a car. this one.
not a huge sports guy, but he ran cross country in middle and high school and made some really good friends through that, kept running club XC in college, but isn't a "runner" anymore. he stays in just good enough shape to participate in the escape from alcatraz triathlon annually. also has a soft spot for the sf giants and the 49ers, goes to at least one game a year, and stays pretty up to date with them.
a girl dad, cannot wait for the day he's able to reasonably buy a cargo bike to take his daughter(s) around the city, pointing out all of his favorite spots.
sf is his favorite city in the world, and he'd never live anywhere else. sf and greater bay area culture is so unique and special to him, and will share his feelings about it with anyone. even though he's a white nerd, he's extremely well-versed in the diverse cultures and their contributions (food, music, celebrations) that make the bay unique: black, hispanic, chinese, filipino, etc, and emphasizes their importance to the bay in the classroom all the time.
Title: Decompression.
Pairing: ( Established Relationship ) Ryland Grace x Fem!Reader.
Rating: M. ( VERY NSFW, 18+ MINORS DNI, FEM REC, FACESITTING, MENTIONS OF PUBIC HAIR, LET THIS MAN FREAKING EAT. P*RN W/O A PLOT, OKAY MAYBE A LIL' PLOT. )
Words: 4.4 K.
Summary: Ryland hears about a certain... Position and he was a little nervous asking you to try it out.
☆Ryland Grace Masterlist☆
Ryland let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of stress alongside it as he tugged his tired, heavy body into the bed beside you. His body sank deeper into the mattress, tucking himself in comfortably right beside you. The jostling caught your attention as you watched the blonde get comfortable with another sigh escaping his pretty mouth, the sheets cool against your skin becoming a deliciously stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body.
“Long day?” You murmured, voice nothing more than a low hum in the quiet room. Ryland’s eyes fluttered shut as you rolled from your back to your side, the movement intimate and sensationalized in his mind as you were moving closer to him. Propping your head up on your hand, the fingers of your other began tracing an idle circle on his chest, following the defined lines of his pectoral muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt, taking refuge in the steady, reassuring beat of his heart under your touch. You eyes were watching the mesmerizing movement of his sternum rising and falling with cascading breaths.
“Every day is long when you’re trying to wrangle in a bunch of 6th graders.” Came Ryland’s simple reply, his voice drawn and raspy with exhaustion. You frowned a bit at that as he managed a tired smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your forehead. Ryland let his fingers linger, tracing the curve of your brow in a sort of reverent dance before tucking the hair behind your ear. “But, it’s better now. Infinitely better with you here…”
That stirred you to snuggle in closer to your boyfriend, pressing a soft and fluttering kiss to the rough stubble of his jaw. The texture was prickly against you, your mouth curling into a small smile as he turned his head to look down at you, capturing your lips in a barely-there sort of kiss. “Hmmm… I’m glad I’m able to help you decompress a bit.” You whispered against his lips, breath warm against Ryland’s face as he shifted a bit beneath you.
Languidly, Ryland lifted his head up enough to capture your lips more ardently, relishing in the way that your head dipped to meet him half way. His fingers began playing against the skin of your arm, and there was something there under the surface of the moment. The shift in energy from one input to another as his mouth became increasingly more hungry against yours.
And between the heated kisses, dancing of tongues and prying fingers, you had managed to tug his shirt over his head, tossing it aside to be collected later, your hands splaying immediately to explore the warm skin of his chest. Ryland responded in kind, it was only fair, and who was he if not that? His fingers, not as graceful as yours, fumbled with the hem of your shirt ( his shirt, you were borrowing ) and tugged it off in one choppy motion caught between a few laughs.
You arched into his hands as Ryland trailed them up your body, letting his palms slide along your bare breasts for lack of a bra was your way to go to bed. His thumbs brushed against your nipples until they hardened under his touch. The sound of rustling hit the air as you were both eager to shed the remaining clothes until you were skin to skin.
“Hm…” The tension sparkled in the space between the two of you at the sound of Ryland’s deeper set voice. “Speaking of decompressing….”
“Mhm…?” You encouraged him, your fingers resuming their exploration of his chest, down his body to taper along the ‘V’ of his waist.
“W-well, I read about this… Thing.” He whimpered when you lightly played your teeth against the smooth skin of his neck, “A position.” The words came out in a rush. He was already sounding flustered, Ryland’s cheeks beginning to flush a very delicate and yummy shade of pink.
“A… position?”
There was a shuffling noise beneath the two of you as Ryland nodded his head nervously, drawing his bottom lip in between his sharp teeth in the very way that sent something primal through your brain. Something that tugged you to grab hold of it with your own teeth and drag him back in for another kiss. Your expression told him ‘go on’, your body eager against his in a wall of intense heat.
Ryland swallowed. Hard, so much so that you could audibly hear it in the quiet bedroom. “Uh.. It’s uh… O-one where… One person,” He trailed his hand up your arm, tickling along to your shouldercap. You shuddered, mouth hovering just above his as you threatened another kiss. “One person sits on the other’s face. For pleasure.”
And there it was.
You lifted your head up to look at him properly. He was adamantly avoiding eye contact, his pretty, pupil blown eyes focused on something just over your shoulder as he pressed his fingertips into the cushion of your skin, seeking refuge from it in lew of the sort-of-confession he just laid out into the air. A slow, mischievous grin spread across your face as the pieces fit together, as you unscrambled Ryland’s shaky voice.
“Oh really, now?” You teased, voice laced with the utmost sensual amusement that made the man under you squirm. “And where exactly did you read about his particular position, Dr. Grace? In that peer-reviewed journal you keep under your bed?”
Ryland sputtered, moving under you just enough to almost knock you over onto your back. You were almost positive his entire body was flushed a crimson red, visible even in the dim light coming from the nighttable lamp. He was going into acute panic, his eyes darting from their fixed position on the wall behind you, to your eyes for only a split second before trailing around the room, looking for something, anything that could lead to an actual explanation. He spotted his stack of books in the corner, affectionately named ‘the leaning tower of book-zias’ and decided on that.
“Research!” Ryland squeaked. “Research,” His voice came out more collected this time but still held a semblance of worry around the out-most edges. “For uh… Human… Anatomy studies?” He sighed hard, letting his head plop back against the pillow with a soft thump.
The laugh that spilled from your lips wasn’t one of judgement or cruelty, more of a melodic tinkling that Ryland felt fuzzy around as you quipped softly, “Human anatomy studies? Is that what we’re calling it now?” Your fingers began their descent against the skin of his chest once again, relishing in the sensation of the staccato beat of his rapid heart.
“No…” He admitted, folding faster than Ryland wanted to but… There was barely any fight in this one. You probably thought he was disgusting. “I just saw it somewhere and I was curious and I thought… Maybe if you… Wanted to try…”
His voice trailed off into nothingness, the embarrassment palpable and coming off every fiber of his being in droves. Oh yeah, he just totally ruined his chance at getting laid tonight. He reached a hand up and ran it through his semi-mused hair, still wet at the ends from the shower he took before bed. It was a nervous habit of his that you’d come to recognize while dating and it made your heart clench every time you saw it. With a small huff of a laugh, you propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with a softened expression of admiration as the hand that had been so vicious in its movements against his chest moved up the curve of his thick neck to captivate around the stubbly hair of his jawline.
“You want to try it, don’t you?” You were pressing but you weren’t being mean about it. You knew Ryland too well, you knew the way his mind worked, the way that his curiosities often got the better of him. It just depended from time to time whether or not he vocalized those to you.
Ryland forced himself to meet your gaze, his entire nervous system telling him that uhhh hey, that might not be a good idea! But, he did it anyway. And despite the unspoken shame he was feeling, there it was. Right in the swirl of his dark blue eyes, still dilated to the point of losing color. The raw, unfiltered desire to experience something that piqued his interest, specifically with you. Only with you.
“Yeah…” He confessed like a cardinal sin, voice barely above a hush. “I--- I do… If you’d be okay with that. Consent is important, I don’t want you to---”
You replied not with words, but with actions as your head dipped down and captured his mouth in a kiss. Slow and intentional, Ryland’s eyes fluttered shut at it as your lips conformed to his perfectly, letting him know the silent affirmation of your trust in him and the desire to try something new. “We gotta make a deal though,” You murmured against him and shuffled a bit. “You’re going to have to tell me where you really heard about it.”
“Maybe.” Ryland uttered heatedly against your lips, his hands coming up to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones as you smiled and allowed him to trace the expression for a few seconds. As if he were saying a reverent goodbye to you before you disappeared above him. “I’ll tell you later.”
“That a promise?”
“Maybe.”
He crinkled his nose at you as you began the task of shifting positions. You knew the basic concept of what the position foretold. Where you were supposed to be, Ryland already in his spot and waiting with anxiously baited breath as you chomped down on your bottom lip. Getting there, to where you needed to go, was a whole ‘nother story. The movement was less than graceful, it was an awkward tangle of limbs as you straddled Ryland’s chest, your knees on either side of his ribs, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for balance.
Ryland watched you with wide, wandering eyes doing what his instincts told him to do. His large hands came to rest on your hips, his slender flingers pressing gently into your skin to leave a trail of fire in their wake. Despite the heat, you felt a deeply rooted shiver in your spine as you looked down at him, the sensation of Ryland’s ragged breathing against your inner thighs causing you to stir and feel momentarily displaced.
He wasn’t looking between your legs yet, though he could smell you, the draw was so powerful that he found himself counting in his head to keep himself collected. Ryland was focused on the way you moved above him, the way you tried to keep hold of his eyes.
Ryland’s scientific mind, usually so precise and analytical, was overwhelmed. The sensory input alone was primal and dug into the deeper recesses of his brain to tickle along the edge of instinctual conquest. The scent of you came back to the forefront, a clean and intimate musk that was unique to you filled his lungs like the most delicious air, his restraint right at the cusp of collapse. He knew - God, Ryland knew it was a biological imperative, the body’s way to call to his brain in a way that made him feel powerless to ignore.
“A-a little closer?” Ryland shuddered a breath out of his mouth. He was holding on for you, the way you looked down at him with a deepened trickle of want. Ryland had been trying to hold on, maintain some sort of control, to be the composed man of science he always was---!
You nodded shyly, letting your hands leave his shoulders in favor of the headboard as you skidded your knees upwards. It was awkward. Even Ryland had to admit that as you hovered above him, trying to get your knees to settle comfortable on the uneven nature of the pillows and bed below before you managed to get them cupped around his head, Ryland’s strong hands aiding you as he dropped his touch from your hips to your thighs. The gaze that had been impertinent to your trust in him was broken, but as Ryland held your weight above him, you were trenched in the deeper aspect of it as a result.
It was a slow, almost scientific descent. Ryland’s eyes traveled down the enitre line of your body, over the bonier ridge of your collarbones where he loved to placed his mouth, over the fleshy bits of your breasts where he loved to squeeze and play, over the soft curve and fuzz of your stomach that was often trailed with hot, saliva slicken kisses until they reached their hungry destination. The air hitched in his throat, a choked and pitiful excuse for a sound that was a half gasp, half surrender.
All the nervous energy, the flustered embarrassment from the moments before evaporated, replaced by a deep respondent hum of pure, unadulterated awe. Because Ryland could see everything. The soft curls of your pubic hair framed your folds, and nothing about it was the sterile, smooth perfection from clinical diagrams. This was real, natural and profoundly beautiful. Ryland could see the delicate hue of your pussy, deepened with your arousal, the slight glistening of your wetness catching the lamplight and the almost fiery appearance of the fine hair. This was you, presenting yourself to Ryland like an offering, a secret shared now only between the two of you.
“A-are you ready?” You muttered from above, leaning your upper half against the headboard to give yourself more of a vantage point of what your boyfriend was doing.
He nodded wordlessly, almost positive that no rational words would even form. As you lowered yourself onto his face, Ryland’s entire world narrowed to this single, overpowering sensation. The first thing that immediately struck him was the heat. A humid, intimate warmth that bloomed against his mouth and chin, sticking to his skin and beard and it was far more intense than he’d ever imagined, way more potent it seemed than when he had you on your back with his head between your legs. Ryland’s brain was tickled once again by that primal surge, something ridiculously set into his DNA from antiquity, something possessive roaring to life inside of him as his nostrils were filled with your sweet aroma again.
And Ryland’s initial tentativeness wasn’t just from inexperience, though it was incredibly plentiful as his mouth opened in anticipation. It was from an attempt to process the crazed reality of it. He was a man who dealt in vast ideas, microscopic and cosmic distances, a man who taught about the different forms of rocks! And now, the most profound intimacy he could calculate or conceive of in any retrospect was happening at zero range. The soft weight of you on his face was grounding, a pressure that anchored him to the moment and silenced the everlasting calculations and worries that usually plagued Ryland’s mind. There was no way to overthink this. He was only allowed to feel.
When his tongue first came out to play, you jolted. “Ryland!”
He hummed against you, not wanting to lose any form of momentum as he began data-collecting in the best way he could think of. The texture of your pussy was silky, the flesh yielding for Ryland so easily as he slid the muscle from your clit, down to your entrance, repeating the process as the taste of you exploded against his tastebuds.
You involuntarily clenched your thighs around his head with a gasp of excitement at the feeling of Ryland’s prominent nose against your clit, fingers grasping at the headboard so tightly that your knuckles were turning that unholy off-white color. Ryland wasn’t ashamed to admit to feeling a bit of… Pride at your reaction. He was causing this. He was the source of your pleasure, now, and all of the times before, and all of the times in the future he could foresee.
The stubble on his jaw became a tool for him to use. Ryland could feel the way it created a delicious and abrasive friction against your pubic arch as he snaked his arms around your thighs to hold you more surely by your pelvic bone. He wasn’t even sure why that seemed like a good idea, but it was almost immediately rewarded when you, through the haze of the pleasure, felt confident and stable to move, found a rhythm against his face that wasn’t entirely suffocating, but it was just enough to get Ryland to moan against you causing another rocket of ecstasy to shoot up your spine.
There was a shift of weight above him as you tucked your feet in to rest against his clavicle, another leverage point as you pressed your hips a bit harder to grind against Ryland’s expectant mouth, almost losing yourself completely in the tangling sensations of his beard getting caught in your pubic hair with your motion, the heady pressure of his nose smashing against your pussy and his tongue, fast at work to bring you to your climax. This was quite frankly, the most erotic thing that Ryland had ever experienced. His own hard-on, laying against the expanse of his stomach, a smear of pre-cum tracing his belly-button, was slowly becoming a throbbing, insistent presence and a tell-tale sign of how much you were affecting him.
Every gasp you were giving, every moan that sounded a lot like his name vibrated through your entire body and directly into his bones as he pressed his tongue into your entrance, holding down on your thighs to keep you in place as you essentially rode the muscle, Ryland peeking it in and out at a heightened pace. That’s when it happened. Ryland could feel the sting of your fingers grasping at a handful of his blonde hair, the sensation an exciting counterpoint to the softness of your pussy against his mouth. He was no longer just a scientist observing, he was an active participant, completely consumed by the act of giving you this pleasure. Ryland felt rightfully powerful, needed and completely and utterly yours. And he wanted it no other way.
“Ryland, Ryland, Ryland…” You chanted like a prayer, eyes falling shut as you rolled your head back. He relished in the motion, able to see it from his perch as his own eyelids fell shut slowly.
The rhythm of your grinding evolved sharply, growing more frantic and desperate, now a race that was both chaotic and perfectly synchronised. Ryland could feel the subtle tremors beginning in your thigh muscles, the way your breathing hitched and caught wilting in your throat as you tried to tell him to keep going and not to stop. Each tiny gasp and groan became shorter, more desperate as you chased your release.
The blonde beneath you adjusted his grip, his fingers pressing more firmly into your pelvic bone as if guiding you against him as sparks of adverse pleasure began tightening in your lower stomach. The confidence of which Ryland moved below you was staggering and left him surprised as he felt like he was learning your body’s language all over again with each shudder than shattered against him, each swallow of your pussy he was able to get down his throat and each coaxed friction as you began tediously grinding your clit against his nose. He couldn’t breathe, but that was no longer the point as he pushed your hips down onto him. Harder than before, needier than before.
“R-right there!” You managed to gasp out, Ryland’s tongue dripping deeper inside of you than it had before and curling right against the cusped bundle of nerves inside. Not directly on it, unfortunately Ryland’s tongue wasn’t long enough for that, but it was more of a kissing sensation against it, just enough to drive you insane as you bucked a bit more wildly against his handsome face, seeking refuge in the way that he held you above him, the way that he let you press your weight against him in a desperate plea to be closer.
“Please, please…. Don’t stop…” Your voice was hoarse, the muscles in your neck strangled. “Please don’t stop, Ryyyy….”
And here’s the thing. Ryland had no intention of stopping. The sound of your vocal cords, so strained, the taste of you blooming across his mouth, lingering now in his beard, the feeling of your incoming orgasm against his face was all too intoxicating in the best way possible. His movements become more intentional, Ryland raising your hips before bringing them back down as his mouth trailed from your sleek entrance back to your clit to swirl for a moment before diving back in. His own needs were secondary now, almost forgotten in the intensity of you.
“I-I’m going t-to cum…” You whispered, almost shamefully as the realization washed over you. It was going to happen. Ryland wasn’t going to pull away and whatever mess you were about to make was going to be messier than usual.
You glanced down at him. Finally, he thought as his eyes met yours in the flurry of the moment. Just in time to get an eyeful of the show.
He swept his tongue in one long, languid motion from bottom to top. You could feel the pressure of his nose against your entrance momentarily before it dragged upwards, leaving your body only to be replaced by the sensation of Ryland’s hot mouth swallowing your clit.
The electricity passed between you, so raw that it felt like it was going to take you both down. Ryland held your gaze as his tongue worked to curl deeper inside of you, finding that perfect angle that his fingers had a knack for, the very one that made your entire body convulse. He could feel your moan against his tongue, sending a bending shiver through his entire body to rest in the head of his overly-sensitive cock.
When your orgasm finally hit, it was like a wave breaking over you both. Your body did its thing. It tensed above Ryland, his heavy hands still locking you in place, your thighs clamping around his head tightly as a watery cry left your lips. “G-God, Ryland!”
He held you through it, his tongue working lovingly, his nose caressing your pussy so gently as you rode through the pleasure, back arching ever so slightly as your essence spilled down his beard, trailing along the coarse hairs on the underside of his jaw. Ryland’s heart was pounding in his chest, he could feel the spasms of your thighs and the coiling and tightening of your pussy. Ryland felt a sense of awe that he could do this for you. That you let him do this for you.
He moaned against you, moving quicker than before to lap up what he was able as your body began relaxing involuntarily against him, almost boneless and completely spent. The fingers in his hair left as he shuffled a bit, placing a few lingering kisses to your sensitive thighs before helping you as best he could. You shifted off his face, Ryland’s hands careful as if you were made of glass as you collapsed beside him on the bed.
Through a half-lidded stare, you glanced at him and felt an inadequate amount of embarrassment at the sight of his flushed cheeks and his beard, glistening with the evidence of what just transpired. You licked your dry lips as a wall of affection tore through you at the sight of Ryland… Disheveled, aroused and so, so proud of himself. “Uh… wow.” You laughed breathlessly with a goofy smile, Ryland propping himself up on his elbow to look at you.
His blue eyes were dark with need, but there was something else there too. Maybe… Tenderness… And a vulnerability that made you lean over and capture his mouth in a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue as you urged him to follow you back, Ryland almost crushing his chest against yours. The kiss was a collision of desperation and relief. Your lips were soft, minorly demanding against your lovers, his tongue sweeping in to claim your mouth with an urgency that stole what little breath you had left, at the same time, offering you more of yourself to taste.
Ryland’s hand which had been resting on your hip, slid up to grasp at the back of your neck to pull you impossibly closer until there was no space left between your bodies, your legs wrapping around the narrowing of his waist as Ryland snuggled himself between them.
“I’ve… wanted to do that for a while…” Ryland confessed, lips tickling against yours. Each word was swallowed up by you as you drew him in for a slow kiss, feeling the length of his cock against your wet pussy, causing yet another shock of pleasure to run through both of you simultaneously. You admired the way that Ryland’s eyebrows creased at the contact, his eyes fluttering in concentration that was wearing very thin.
“Why did you wait so long?” You responded and let your fingers tuck into his blonde, sweaty hair. He drew a slow breath in, collapsing his arms around your head so he could rest on one forearm, the other now happily tucked between your two bodies so he could position himself just right against your swollen entrance.
“I-I knew you’d ask me where I heard a-about it.” He murmured cutely, the blush on his face more from his words than the mere fact that his cock was straining for some sort of release.
“W-will you ever tell me? I need to thank the s-source personally.” You teased, head tossing back against the pillows a moment later as the head of Ryland’s cock was swallowed by your tight pussy.
꒰ Teacher!Ryland Grace X SchoolCounsellor!Reader ꒱
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: One of Ryland’s students is struggling in adjusting to their new environment, so he decides to take them to the newly-appointed school counsellor, you!
𝐀 / 𝐍: gender-neutral reader! All interactions with this post are super appreciated bc im turning this into a series (yay!) ‹𝟹 I lowkey proof-read this like 3 times so if there’s any mistakes I will cry probably
Being a school counsellor for 6th graders was, for the most part, a humble job.
Their earliest brushes with sadness rarely ran deeper than a confiscated ipad of the overwhelming dread of vegetables sitting threateningly on their dinner plate.
“And how did eating the broccoli make you feel?”
It was a sentence you’d repeated more times than you cared to admit. Honestly, after working at so many different schools, it was almost comforting hearing the same problems over and over again, at least one comforting constant in an otherwise changing job when you bounced from state to state. It was a stressful process, but you found more stress in staying in a place where you remained unhappy, constantly searching for the feeling of belonging to something, belonging somewhere.
It was your first week at Grover Cleveland Middle School. It was a humble, slightly-worn down building with long, narrow corridors bustling with students of varying ages, interests, and their respective social hierarchies between individual friend groups.
The noise of the students echoed throughout the dimly-lit room they’d given you, it’s walls bare with a single window giving view to the courtyard, the mandatory green space that the students often loved to have a picnic on. The sunlight filtered through the half-closed curtains, illuminating the desk with a rich, golden glow situated in the middle of the stale room.
The office itself was painfully plain. White desk. White walls. White curtains. White chairs. Not exactly the optimal environment to encourage emotional vulnerability, more so to encourage someone into psychosis.
You were almost certain that the room had been a janitor’s closet before its renovation. The smell of fresh paint and cleaning chemicals stuck stubbornly to the walls despite your desperate attempts with an inviting, floral-scented air freshener to liven up the space. If you were going to spend most of the hours in your week here, something seriously needed to change.
Your office sat in the middle of one of the busiest corridors in the school, directly opposite what looked to be a science classroom. Through the small, slightly fogged window in the door, you could see the paper constellations hanging down from the ceiling, science-related posters strung up all over the walls in a chaotic assortment. This classroom was one of the louder ones. Working in school buildings always meant dealing with a constant wall of noise, between an intrusive bell, children screaming in the corridors, it wasn’t exactly a great place to practice anything zen-related.
Unlike most of the school’s you’d work at before, though, the sounds coming from this room were’t made up or chaotic yelling or an exhausted teacher on the verge of quitting halfway through a class. Rather, students genuinely enjoying their learning — being encouraged to engage in a way that was fun for them. Laughter often spilled out into the corridor alongside the repeated chanting of a word you couldn’t quite make out, though it sounded positive.
Whoever taught that class was clearly very good at their job.
A small knock tapped against the door, the sound echoing slightly around the mostly empty office. Students hadn’t exactly been flooding in and out since you’d arrived. Mostly, teachers just used the room to dump badly behaved kids for ten minutes as some kind of punishment, which completely defeated the point. It was supposed to be somewhere comforting. Somewhere students actually wanted to be. Unfortunately, the bare walls and lingering chemical smell weren’t doing much to make that point convincing.
“Come in!” You called.
Your hand immediately moved to rescue the coffee cup sitting dangerously close to your notebook, though not before you noticed the faint ring-shaped stain already pressed into the crumpled paper.
The door creaked open slowly before a man peeked his head around the frame. Blond hair, slightly shaggy but in a way that looked intentional. His hexagonal glasses rested low on his nose, his pale blue eyes flickering towards you.
He was dressed in a blue striped shirt with a slightly bobbled grey blazer hanging neatly over his shoulders — professional enough to match the deep red tie tucked beneath his collar, though the blue jeans covering his legs balanced it out a little. A real tie, too. Not one of those sad clip-on ones teachers always seemed weirdly attached to. The same royal blue lanyard hung around his neck, “GCMS” repeated down the strap just like yours.
Even while looking professional, there was still personality in the way he dressed.
“Wow, you’re tall for a sixth grader!” You spoke lightly, elbows propped up against the desk, hands coming to rest comfortably under your chin.
The man paused for a second before adjusting his glasses, a smile quickly spreading across his face as his eyes settled on you.
“Yeah. Hit a crazy growth spurt at ten. Doctors say I’m a phenomenon but I try to stay humble.” He matched your energy easily, hands settling on his hips as he glanced briefly down at the floor with a quiet laugh. “I’m Ryland, by the way. Room opposite you.”
Even if he hadn’t told you, you would’ve guessed that classroom belonged to him. He had the exact kind of energy you imagined behind the happiest classroom you’d ever heard — warm, welcoming, effortless.
“Um…no, your name is mister Grace?”
A small voice interrupted from somewhere behind the door. Your attention shifted towards the small fingers curled nervously around its frame before one of the students stepped into view, looking up at her teacher in confusion
“Oh— yeah!” Ryland said quickly, looking momentarily panicked. “First name Mister, second name Grace”
His eyes flicked towards you briefly.
“I uh…forget my own name sometimes.”
He was trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d created, his expression silently asking you whether any of what he just spewed sounded believable.
“That’s okay, Mr Grace.” You smiled, trying not to laugh as you introduced yourself. He nodded slowly in response, repeating your name under his breath like he was committing it some part of his brain.
“You know, since we’re all sharing names…” You continued.
The little girl behind the door immediately peeked her head around at that, drawing your attention towards her properly for the first time. She looked shy, her wavy-brunette hair cascading elegantly down her shoulders, eyes filled with apprehension.
“Hi… I am, um…Lacey.”
Her voice barely rose above a whisper as she shuffled a little closer to Ryland, clearly using him as some kind of safety net in the nerve-wracking moment. Ryland seemed to notice immediately, crouching down so he was closer to her height.
That was cute.
“Aw, Lacey’s a pretty name.” You said gently.
Building trust with quieter students was always important. A good first impression mattered far more than immediately jumping into something intimidating like ‘come into my office and talk about your feelings’. An approach that almost never worked.
“Th-thanks. My mom gave it to me.”
Ryland laughed softly under his breath, shaking his head a little as Lacey glanced up at him for approval. The second she noticed his smile, some of the tension visibly left her shoulders. Kids were interesting in that way. So much of how they understood the world came from the reactions of the people around them. All the usual, human emotions like: encouragement, embarrassment, comfort, fear — it was all learnt in their most vital stages. That’s what made teaching an important job. And as for Ryland, he was clearly very good at it. If everyone had a teacher like him, the world would probably be a better place.
Ryland’s hand rested gently against Lacey’s back as he tried to guide her into the room, but the second she realised what he was doing, her whole body tensed. She shook her head quickly, tears beginning to gather in her eyes.
“Hey, hey.”
Still crouched, Ryland’s hands rested lightly on either side of her shoulders so she’d look at him properly. Concern softened his expression instantly.
“It’s okay. I know it’s scary, Lacey, but I checked.” His voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. “If she was a scary monster, she would’ve bitten me by now. You just have to trust me.”
A part of you wanted to laugh but the other part of you felt defeated, your posture falling slightly in the chair.
Lacey had clearly convinced herself you were something terrifying, which honestly wasn’t uncommon with kids her age. Anxiety had a funny way of turning unfamiliar situations into danger, especially for children already used to instability.
“If it helps,” You begun, lifting a small bag between your fingers, “I have candy with your name on it!” With a smile, you shook the packet lightly.
Lacey’s attention snapped towards it immediately, her nervous expression fading almost instantly.
Always works.
“No way,” She gasped, eyes widening. “Those are my favourites!”
Her entire demeanour shifted as she wandered properly into the room, pulling out the chair opposite your desk.
“Sorry, Mr Grace,” she announced while struggling to tear the packet open, “you can’t have any. My name’s on them.”
“That’s okay, Lacey. You enjoy them. I’m gonna head back to class now — just tell her what you told me.”
Ryland stood up, with Lacey spinning around in the chair to wave at him as he backed out of the room. Before leaving, Ryland glanced back towards you, offering a small smile and reassuring nod.
Somehow, you doubted that would be the last time you saw him today.
Lacey’s family moved constantly from state to state because of her dad’s job, never staying anywhere long enough for things to feel permanent before packing up and starting over somewhere new all over again. She struggled with group discussions, avoided speaking up in class, and seemed terrified of drawing attention to herself. But even through the nerves, it was obvious she was intelligent — probably more than most kids her age. Her anxiety was just getting in the way of showing everyone how brilliant she really was.
“What you could do,” You began, leaning forward slightly. “is think of those feelings like a big scary monster trying to frighten you” Your hands lifted dramatically, fingers scrunched like claws, your nose scrunching up in an attempt to look scary.
Lacey immediately laughed.
“And what’s the best way to deal with a monster that’s trying to scare you?” You quizzed, nodding slowly as you awaited her response.
Her lips pursed together as she thought carefully.
“Show them you’re not scared?”
“Exactly!” Your hands clasped together gently, a proud smile on your face. “You have to be brave first. And the more times you do that, the easier things start feeling until the monster really isn’t that scary anymore.”
She paused for a moment.
“And you seem like a very strong girl, Lacey.” You added softly. “I know you can do it!”
Excitement practically lit up her face at the praise, her head nodding eagerly as though something had finally clicked into place.
“Thank you, I am ready to go back to Mr Grace now. I want to show everyone what I learned.” She shot up from your chair with purpose, a proud expression falling across her face as she stood there, almost triumphant.
You walked around your desk and into the doorway, opening the heavy door for her before stepping out into the corridor beside her. Together, you took a few steps towards the classroom. You knocked briefly, then pushed the door open as you motioned for her to step in. She walked with a new sense of confidence, and Ryland watched her closely as she returned to her seat; a mixture of relief and disbelief flickering across his face before he glanced up at you. You held your hand up, eyes squeezing softly as you smiled before closing the door as gently as you could, your feet trailing you back into your office.
Around thirty minutes passed while you typed up your notes; recording what Lacey had shared, along with your observations and the small but noticeable improvement in her behaviour. The soft clacking of the keyboard was oddly satisfying, far better than scribbling down messily on the coffee-stained paper.
In that moment, the bell rang.
A sharp, irritating sound that somehow still managed to energise the entire school.
Lunchtime.
The corridors filled instantly with the noise of students spilling out of their classrooms. Footsteps thudded against the wooden floors as they made their way towards the canteen; some running to get there first, others taking their time, laughing with friends as they went. Once the initial bustle had died down, there was a soft knocking at your door before Ryland pushed it open, closing it gently behind him with a quiet click.
“I don’t know what you did but, she was amazing!” He fawned immediately. “She was participating like I’ve never seen before. She was even starting class discussions on her own.”
His praise made a light blush creep up on your cheeks, the admiration in his voice almost impossible to miss.
“I mean, are you some sort of witch?” He blurted out suddenly before his eyes quickly widened “Oh god—no, that sounded rude. Not like a wrinkled, gross, mole-ridden witch. A nice one. A welcoming witch that lives in the woods and talks to animals.”
He was speaking faster now, clearly trying to outrun his own mistake.
You laughed softly in response, closing your laptop to give him your full attention and reassure him that he hadn’t offended you one bit.
“Thanks, Ryland. I’m afraid I can’t give away my secrets, or you’d put me out of a job.” Your voice lowered slightly for the next part. “And the government might be listening.”
That earned you a smile, relief seeming to crash over his face.
“Hey uh…” He started, suddenly less confident. “You don’t happen to have another bag of candy, do you? And does it extend to teachers as well? I, um… forgot my lunch.” He looked down at the floor, a sheepish manner washing over him.
“As a matter of fact…” You pulled a bag from your drawer, grabbing a pen from on your desk, quickly scribbling Ryland Grace across the front of the packet before holding it out to him.
His eyes lit up almost immediately, catching onto your earlier metaphor.
“No way, it has my name on it.” He took the packet from your hands, awkwardly fumbling to hold it up as it almost slipped from his grip.
“Sure does.” You laughed, relaxing back into the leather chair, eyes watching him intently.
“Thank you, I am starving” He exclaimed, quickly dropping into the chair opposite you. “So, first week, huh?” He grinned, fingers already tearing into the bag in a way that was almost primal.
He grabbed a handful of candy — probably more than three — leaning back exaggeratedly as he tossed them into his mouth, as if he was a 6th grader trying to impress their crush. Maybe that’s why he was so good with his kids, he was one of them.
“How are you uh…finding it?” He turned sheepish again, realising that was probably not the socially-acceptable way to eat candy in front of someone he just met.
The two of you talked through the rest of lunchtime. Time slipped easily between topics, one conversation bleeding into the next until the hour was nearly gone. Ryland was easy to talk to. He had that kind of presence that made silence feel optional, like anything you said would be met with patience instead of judgement. A little awkward, a little nerdy. But it was in a way that felt refreshing rather than performative. Besides, nerdy was probably listed as a requirement under his job description.
The bell’s relentless ringing sounded through the corridor once again, sharp and intrusive enough to make you flinch slightly. Ryland, meanwhile, was unaffected; meeting you with an awkward grin.
“I better be getting back,” He exhaled, steadying his hands on his legs as he pushed himself up from the chair.
Your eyes dropped to the empty wrapped still clasped between his fingers.
“There’s a wastebasket just behind you” You stated, pointing to the corner of the room. The small mesh container sat depressingly in the darkened space, barely visible unless you focused properly.
Ryland glanced over at it, but he didn’t move, staying stationary as his gaze shifted back to you.
“No, that’s okay!” He spoke quickly. “I uh.. don’t want to leave my trash in your room!“
His tone wavered halfway through, the sentence shifting slightly as he spoke. He sounded unsure — like he wasn’t entirely confident he was making the correct social decision. This must be a theme with him. His hand settled on the doorknob, gently twisting it open to get ahead of the threatening student foot-traffic that loomed over him.
“Oh!”
He spun back around as if he’d just remembered something important.
“You know, um, if you’re looking to spruce up the room a bit, there’s a great shop just off Sixth Street. I always go there when I’m biking past. They’ve got loads of little trinkets, fidgets…” He trailed off, beginning to gesture hurriedly with his hands as he ran out of items to list. “Anyway, It’s like a paradise for sixth graders. My students love everything I get from there.”
“Perfect. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” You gave him a sweet smile, head tilting slightly.
“Yeah— I’ll see you.”
He gave you one last look before stepping out and pulling the door closed a little too quickly, shutting with a sharper thud than intended. A muffled ‘Sorry!’ followed immediately from behind the door. You bit down lightly on your bottom lip, unable to stop the smile that spread across your face.
After the students had returned back to their classrooms, the office settled back into silence, but it didn’t feel quite as sharp as it had before. Just quieter in a more comfortable way, as if Ryland’s energy was still lingering in the room.
