ՙ ♱ ֹ rai.

even iron still fears the rot. twenty one, she/he/they i post yumeship stuff lol.

[rocktthehouse]

does anyone have screenshots of that dvd interview from lars and the real girl where ryan gosling is sitting next to bianca and he takes his mic off and his shirt rides up a bit and you can see his soft tummy does anyone know what im talking about . does anyone . because holy fucking moly bro i want to lick his belly button

[ken-dom]

Hey, I’ve got u!! It’s here 💕

[ken-dom]

March Magic

Holland March x afab!reader

4k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Three times Holland March couldn't get it up, and one time he could.

∘₊✧ Authors’s notes: I've missed Holland, but upon a rewatch of The Nice Guys, he crashed my doors down and proceeded to experience erectile dysfunction in my living room so. Here you have it. Thank you to the wonderful K for beta reading and being the best as usual!! The warnings are pretty wild on this one so... strap in.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, erectile dysfunction, crying, passing out, smoking, oral sex, shotgun kissing (both the pussy and the mouth), mention of bee mating rituals/bee death, hand job, blow job, premature ejaculation, Holland having hyperspermia as usual, kind of established relationship, general wet cat pathetic energy

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘Mmh- I uh- I’ll be right back,’ Holland mumbled against your kiss-swollen lips, ‘wait there- don’t move-’

His body clumsily moved off the bed until he was stood, stooped over you with lips still attached to yours until you dropped back onto the bed and finally freed him.

‘Don’t be too long, sexy,’ you winked at him as he slinked off toward his adjoining bathroom, and he huffed a faux coy laugh.

What the fuck did he need to go to the bathroom for at this late stage? Maybe it’s where he keeps the condoms, you thought, relaxing against his luxuriously soft pillows. Makes sense, he probably hasn’t used one for a while, what would be the use of keeping them by the bed?

Meanwhile, Holland let out a long, steadying exhale. You hadn’t noticed. Jesus. How he’d got this far without you trying to grope him and realising what was going on (or not going on), he’d no idea, but he’d managed to distract you long enough by pressing his thigh between your legs while kissing you sloppily and needily, and you seemed to drink it up, moaning into his mouth and writhing against him.

Hell, he could feel your heat through his trousers and wondered with a smirk whether he’d need to get this suit dry cleaned and make up an excuse about the mysterious wet patch just above the knee.

Your fingers in his hair were sending shivers down his spine, and heat was pooling in his lower belly, and you kept breathing his name, and it was all so incredibly fucking hot, but for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge, his dick just wouldn’t respond.

He slipped into the bathroom and clicked the door shut behind him, collapsing against it and closing his eyes. He didn’t bother to switch on the light; he could feel the room spinning, he didn’t need to see it too.

His hand slid down over his flaccid cock, and for a moment, he thought, Pathetic, but then he tried to focus his thoughts back to you. Back to the way your body felt pressed against his, the way you uttered his name like a desperate, horny prayer, how good you’d feel when he finally managed to get it up and bury himself inside you.

He palmed himself over his trousers halfheartedly, knowing deep down it was a lost cause, and with his voice lower than a whisper, he uttered a shaky, ‘March, March, he’s our man! If he can’t do it, no one can. Maaaarch!’

Not even a twitch.

He slid down to the floor and sobbed, banging his head back against the door, and the darkened room turned suddenly darker.

Until the morning, when he found you asleep on the bed, clutching his pillow in lieu of the man himself.

****

‘Wanna taste you-’ Holland slurred against your throat. He wished he could smell you, smell the perfume he could taste, bitter against his tongue, but at least he could bury his face between your thighs and intoxicate himself in you that way.

There was also the small problem of his cock not playing ball again, despite tearing your clothes off, his hands exploring every inch of you, despite you telling him you needed him in that sultry, seductive voice that drove him wild.

He wasn’t going to leave you dissatisfied and alone again, no matter how far gone he was. Not this time. Come on, March.

He felt you nod, heard the desperation in your whine of agreement, and slipped lower, realising as he gripped your thighs to spread them apart that he still had an unlit cigarette propped between his fingers from when you’d kissed him while trying to light said cigarette. Who could blame you for getting distracted by those gorgeous, sparklingly sad eyes and pressing your lips to his instead?

‘Oh shit- give me a second-’ he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but as he moved to drop the cigarette, you grabbed and held his hands firmly against your thighs to stop him moving it away. When he looked up at you, questioning, you reached for the lighter on the nightstand and lit it for him.

‘Carry on,’ you smirked.

Holland swallowed hard. That was the hottest thing you’d ever done. Well, the second hottest, besides actually letting him eat you out whilst smoking, which was about to take first place.

‘Jesus…’

He took a long drag, partly a need, since he hadn’t smoked in a hot fifteen minutes, partly a show for you. He relished in the way you bit your lip as you watched his eyes sliding shut at the brief satisfaction at the nicotine hit. He exhaled slowly too, relishing in it as though it were giving him the pleasure he should be feeling from you.

Fuck. He shouldn't be focusing on that right now. He dragged a soft fingertip through your slick folds and felt you shudder. Taking another drag, he exhaled right at the moment he dove down to wrap his lips around your swollen clit, smoke spreading a tingling warmth around your exposed core.

Somewhere between lapping at your folds and devouring your clit, Holland realised he’d neglected his cigarette and the consequences could be… fuck, stop thinking- just-

Feeling your thighs clench around him, he half-reluctantly pulled back for another drag, and to flick some loose ash into the ashtray by the bed, and you whined in protest, already so close you could feel your bundle of nerves throbbing in the absence of his tongue. Holland sure worked fast, but he was easily distracted, too, and you couldn’t even blame him for this since this was technically your idea.

This time, as he exhaled, his tongue dipped inside, the smoke hot against your cooling slick as it swirled back out of your entrance and up around your folds, and, admiring the combination for moment, Holland licked a stripe right up to your clit to start right back where he’d left off.

He carefully slid a finger inside this time, too, surprisingly delicate in his movements as he beckoned, stroking that spot inside you that made your toes curl so precisely as his mouth took care of the rest.

Jesus, he sure knows his way around down there- 

‘Fuck- f-fuck- Holland-!’

Your climax was so close you could practically taste it, and so could he, but there was the small complication of his cigarette still burning by your thigh.

Hips rolling to rut against his tongue as he lapped eagerly, fingerfucking you with enthusiastic vigour, your back arched off the bed and your fingers found their way into his messy sun-kissed hair, and just as your breath turned ragged, he pulled away again for another nicotine hit.

Not only did he leave you exposed to the cold air without his mouth covering you, but his finger apparently couldn’t continue to fuck into you while he was focussing on the cigarette, either. He’d never been great at multitasking and obviously the Camel was just too delicious to try. Fucking hell.

‘Tease,’ you groaned weakly, and Holland, sobering slightly (only very slightly, and very, very briefly) finally realised what this was doing to you and shoved the end of the cigarette into the ashtray, diving back down to finish the job properly, almost choking on the combination of smoke and pussy in the process. God, it tasted incredible together and he was so into it that it took no time at all for you to get that simmering feeling right back.

He felt your orgasm approach, and then shake through your body, felt you turn limp after the high subsided, and carried on for a while, softer and slower, until your thighs were clamping around his head again with oversensitivity and he ate you like a man possessed once again.

Just as your second orgasm approached, Holland seemed to slow, so you jerked your hips to spur him on, but suddenly he felt heavier too, and when you called his name in frustration, he didn’t answer.

You guessed he’d finally passed out, and propped yourself up on your elbows. You inadvertently slid your folds over his handsome nose as you manoeuvred, gasping at the sensation which, although subtle, tipped you over the edge. Your breath caught and your blood boiled and every fibre of you trembled with pleasure you hadn’t expected. 

His finger, although still, was still firmly thrust inside you and your walls clenched hard around it as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from yelling out and waking him.

Jesus… I’m gonna have to ride that nose for real, you mused when your thoughts turned coherent again, and then you began the process of sliding out from beneath him and dragging his messy, half-dressed form further up the bed and onto his pillow for some rest.

You cleaned yourself up before sinking into bed beside him to sleep, but you left his moustache soaked with your essence. You knew it would drive him wild in the morning, and maybe it would be the push he needed to finally chase his own pleasure.

****

It wasn’t.

He woke to you suckling at his neck, your arm thrown around his waist from behind, fingers toying with the waistband of his trousers.

His head was pounding when he woke, and with just one eye half open, he turned into you, a big dumb smile pulling at his lips.

His lips felt dry so without even thinking he licked them, tasting you immediately and groaning.

‘You taste incredible, you know that?’ he croaked, your fingers now working on the button of his fly.

Holland had absolutely no recollection of how last night ended. He could taste you, sure, but he barely remembered how he’d ended up in bed with you this time. He was a detective after all, though, and what kind of lousy detective would wake up with their lover wrapped around them, fingers teasing at their belly, their taste fresh on his lips, and not put together that he must have spent some time downtown? 

And you did taste delicious. Fuck, he really wished he could smell you.

He wanted you. He needed you. Since the moment you’d laid eyes on one another. And right now, he was so thankful to wake up with you already trying to satisfy him despite what a mess he probably looked. And yet, as usual, he couldn’t perform. 

‘Wait-’ he breathed, hand flying down to wrap around your wrist and gently ease you out of his trousers before you actually felt how soft he was.

‘What’s wrong, baby?’

Holland’s eyes snapped shut, his hand dropping yours to press his fingers into his eyelids instead.

He knew this would be it. 

‘I- I can’t-’ he tried, gesturing vaguely to his cock. ‘It’s not your fault. I just- I can’t-’

He cut himself off with a dramatic, choked out sob, and scrambled for a cigarette on the nightstand. There was only an empty packet and he dropped himself back onto the bed, whimpering, shoulders shaking as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

‘Fuck! I’m pathetic, I’m-’

He felt the mattress bounce as you moved away and whimpered, knowing he’d likely never see you again.

He did, though. A split second later when you sat cross legged beside him and popped a cigarette between his lips, offering a light, which he gratefully accepted.

The first inhale relaxed him more than he could comprehend, and he shuffled up to sit against the headboard, trying to steady his breathing.

‘Thank you,’ he said huskily. He meant it as gratitude for not leaving, but you handing him a cigarette masked thay enough for him not to feel more pathetic than he already did.

You placed a hand on his thigh. It wasn’t suggestive of anything other than comfort, and he appreciated that.

‘Take your time, ok?’

His brow furrowed, but he nodded anyway. Why would you wait for him?

‘Besides, when you eat me out like that, I’m hardly in a rush,’ you smiled, playfully.

Holland managed a small smile at that too.

‘That’s the March Magic,’ he muttered.

‘Oh, so that’s what you call it?’

‘Call what?’

‘Shotgun kissing my-’ you pointed between your legs.

‘I did what?!’

‘You don’t remember? Jesus. It was good, anyway. You’re good, March. And I’m sure when you’re ready, your cock will be just as delicious.’ 

He turned weak at your choice of words, turning temporarily dizzy as you absentmindedly licked your lips.

‘Wanna kiss me? Just kissing. Nothing else this time, ok?’

He whined and nodded again, leaning forward to enjoy the most tender kiss he could remember since- well. For a while.

You could taste yourself on him, but not for long as your mouth filled with his second hand smoke and you choked a little. You kept your lips pressed to his, though, tongues sliding together sweetly, with no expectations beyond this simple affection.

You felt your own cheeks grow damp and knew he was crying again. But you didn’t stop. He needed this, you realised, and you were more than willing to give him whatever he needed right now.

‘March,’ you whispered when you eventually pulled back for breath.

‘Mmh?’

‘How about you get yourself cleaned up while I run out to grab us some lunch? I can run you a bath?’

‘Yeah,’ he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Yeah that would be really fucking good actually.’

****

‘That one’s a keeper.’

‘Huh?’ March was trying to get to sleep, but his mind was whirring with thoughts of how you’d cared for him today.

How you’d washed his hair after he sunk into the warm water, covered by bubbles, laid him some fresh clothes out for him, shared a nice lunch together, and spent the afternoon watching a movie and laughing and kissing. 

He hadn’t thought about his little problem all night, and you were to thank for that. 

He was pretty sure he was falling in love actually, and his thoughts were so occupied with the joy and despair that came along with that old, familiar feeling reigniting inside him, that he couldn’t fall asleep. The fact that he’d barely drank a thing today probably contributed to that too.

Maybe he should-

‘Don’t even think about it.’

That voice again. Who the fuck-

Holland turned, frowning to find his old pal, Bumble wedged right between you and him, hogging the covers.

‘Bumble. What do you want?’

Bumble took a long drag of his cigarette. 

‘Listen, I’m telling you — that one’s a keeper.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I’ve been stuck on. You really think so?’

‘You can’t even fuck and you’ve got room service and cigarettes being lit for you and kisses on tap. Yeah I think so.’

‘That’s not why I lov- I mean-’

Bumble chuckled. Holland frowned.

‘You worked the March Magic, huh?’

‘How do you know about- what? No. I mean. I- yeah but that’s not-’

‘Look, March, when killer bees fuck, the bee with the dick usually dies. You get to cum and live to tell the tale! You’ll be fine. You just gotta relax.’

Holland felt hazy. This was almost too much information to take in. But he remembered the relaxing part. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. Just take it easy. Your dick’ll be hard in no time. Night.’ 

‘Night, Bumble. Thanks for the pep talk.’

Holland yawned, and Bumble was gone.

****

Holland shifted in the warmth of the morning light. Something was off.

He stretched his legs and rolled onto his back to look at you, see if you were awake yet, see if he could figure out why he felt kind of… weird.

You were sleeping soundly beside him, your arm still draped over his middle beneath the sheets. Nothing unusual there, over the last couple of months you’d come to stay over with him more nights than not when he wasn’t working a case, and even then he’d sometimes find you in his bed when he returned home, and thanks to this he’d actually slept in his bed instead of finding a spot somewhere he felt safe. You’d made bed safe. You’d made him feel safe.

He smiled at the thought, and tried to shift his focus onto this feeling he was trying to place. It must be early – he’d not woken up before 10am for as long as he could remember and the clock on the dresser said 08:07.

He propped himself up to take a look around the room and actually screamed when he saw the huge tent formed in the sheets between his legs.

Jaw dropping, Holland fell back onto his pillow, muttering wildly, ‘Am I dreaming? Jesus, am I actually hard? Is this real?!’ 

He poised his thumb and forefinger over his other forearm and laughed, loudly and heartily, pinching his arm so hard he hurt himself and let out a little yelp mid giggle. It was real! He was awake, and he was hard.

Head spinning, Holland called your name in an excited whisper at first, turning himself to lay face to face with you and careful not to accidentally prod you with his raging hard on. What a nice problem to have to worry about! He let out a little, ‘Ha!’ at the thought.

He called your name again, louder this time, gently gripping your shoulder in sheer excitement. He hadn’t even considered yet that you’d want to actually do anything with his boner. He was just so thrilled that his dick still worked, he wanted to share it with the whole world. There was even a fleeting moment that he considered calling Healy, but he shook the thought from his head and tried to focus.

When your eyes blinked open, although taken aback that he was awake before you, you automatically smiled at his gleeful face and leant forward to kiss him, but in the buzz of excitement, he completely missed his cue and rolled away to demonstrate the tent in the sheets once again.

‘Look! It works! Ha! It really works!’

‘Jesus…’ you breathed, propping yourself up to get a good look at the size of him. ‘Holland… that’s so great, baby, I knew you could do it!’

‘It’s all thanks to Bumble!’ he smiled like an idiot. You didn’t ask.

Giddy, you sang out his little mantra; ‘March, March, he’s our man! If he can’t do it no one can! Maaaarch-mmh!’

His lips joined with yours then, cutting you off until he pulled back to get another look at the magnificent sight of his dick in full working order.

‘Holland…’ you started, and he hummed in your direction. ‘May I… touch you?’

All of the breath seemed to exit his body like a juice box being crushed underfoot. He wheezed out a, ‘Yes- please!’ followed by a slightly more coherent, ‘Touch- lick- anything. Go nuts!’

You slipped your hand back to his stomach, gradually pushing lower until you reached the waistband of his pyjamas (another new development; he wasn’t sleeping in his suits nearly as much these days).

‘Holland, are you sure you’re ready?’

‘I’ve been ready for months,’ he sighed, ‘it’s just a shame my schwanz has taken this long to catch up. Listen, I-’

‘It’s alright,’ you stopped him, feeling his body tense up, knowing where his thoughts were going. ‘I know it might be… quick. I don’t mind. Actually it’s kind of hot…’

Holland relaxed. Jesus, why did you have to be so understanding – and in such a sexy way? It was jarring. It felt nice. It made him fall for you all the more, and knew then that Bumble had been right about you. Holland had no intention of losing you.

Your fingers ghosted over his tip, and your palm slid down to feel out the length of him before you wrapped your fingers carefully around the base and pumped slowly. You planned to learn his body like he was learning yours, to memorise every response your touch elicited, know every trick in the book to drive him wild.

You glanced up from the hypnotising view of your hand stroking him beneath the sheets to see his face already slack with pleasure, mouth agape and eyes shut in bliss. Jesus, he was receptive. Delicious.

You moved your hand up to swipe your thumb over the tip, and discovered that not only did it cause his hips to buck, but there was already a thick bead of precum waiting for you there. 

He was moaning almost nonstop at this point. Your fist moved faster and Holland began to writhe. Actually writhe beneath you – legs trembling, toes curling, didn’t have a clue what to do with his limbs, or his hands; other than try and grasp at the bedding.

‘Jesus! F-fuck! Oh!’ he cried, loud and desperate, and you were so tempted to bring him off like this, to pump him furiously until he stained the sheets, but equally you craved more.

You wouldn’t ever say this to him, but the thought wouldn’t leave you alone; what if he couldn’t get it up again for a good couple of months and you’d passed up the chance to taste him when it was given so beautifully to you? No. You had to grasp this opportunity with both hands. Or, as the case may be, with one hand and your mouth.

Keeping your movements steady, you shuffled down, pushing the covers lower, too, and got your first proper look at his hard cock. It was quite the sight; as long and thick as it felt, handsome, steadily leaking – fit to burst actually. 

You wasted no more time, carefully kissing his tip first, slowing your hand a little to test the waters without overwhelming him, and he whimpered so prettily you almost lost composure.

As your lips wrapped around his tip and you sank down lower, sucking, swirling your tongue, keeping your hand pumping fast where he wouldn’t fit, you suddenly felt bitter heat coating your tongue.

Not just coating your tongue, filling your mouth. You did your best to keep going, to suck and lap and massage him through his peak, but it wasn’t just his drawn out screech of pleasure that was distracting you, it was the amount of cum he was still spilling all the while. Despite swallowing down what you could of the never ending hot rope, choking a little on the sheer volume, it still dribbled out past your lips, dripping onto his legs and stomach and the surrounding sheets that he was balling into tight fists.

When you emerged from the mess to crawl up over him and check he was doing ok, you were faced with the most blissed out, fucked out, sated, dumb smile you’d ever seen on his handsome face. He’s never looked more peaceful, and, as much as your core was throbbing after what you’d just done, you wanted more than anything to let him rest.

So you did. You settled on his chest, not caring about the stickiness drying between your flush bodies or around your lips, and listened to his heart, steady in his chest.

‘Fuck,’ he whispered after a long pause. ‘That was- fuck…’

You smiled to yourself, sure that after so long, anything he could get would have felt incredible, but you still took a little pride in the fact that you were the one to experience it with him.

‘You want me to make breakfast?’ you offered gently.

‘I want you to be my breakfast, does that count?’ he smirked.

‘No, Holland, I just want you to enjoy the moment. Don’t worry about me.’

‘Oh, I’m not worried.’

Holland shifted beneath you and you felt the beginnings of another erection stiffening his cock.

Your eyes widened as his opened, and your gazes locked.

‘You fixed it.’

‘Holland, please,’ you laughed. ‘I did not fix your dick.’

‘Of course you did, it’s the only explanation! Anyway, look, do you want to fix its current problem?’ His hips thrust upwards to nudge his now rock hard cock against your thigh to make sure you felt it.

‘Holland, if you’re not fucking me the March way within the next minute, I’m out of here.’

He laughed again and it occurred to you that you’d never spoken to him this early, or heard him laugh so much in a morning.

‘The March way?’ he raised an amused eyebrow at you.

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m hoping you’re about to show me.’

And show you, he most certainly did.

[hellb4ts]

teacher and therapist in space.

hey stratt remember us? yeah we’re still here, loser.

art by @/raesbian on twt 💫

[hellb4ts]

people on tiktok are asking for a fanfic... should i actually commit and write a long form fic based around rain and grace?

the only way i'd technically be able to do it is go along with the plot EXCEPT it's in rain's pov, so yeah it'll have the canon plot, but i will also dive into book material and personal headcanons.. it'll be fun, it'll be silly, it'll hurt but it will also the slowest of slow burns out there.

[jorolle]

when grace sends the beetles back to earth you can see him putting rocky's xenonite figurine of him into one of them. AND HE GIVES IT A LITTLE FIST FINGER BUMP😭

[eira-cannaid]

via jorolle: #i love him so much#forever the whimsical loving middle school teacher#and he survives to the end not just because he is <brave>#but first and foremost#because he is <kind>#ohhh this movie#project hail mary 2026#project hail mary#phm#ryland grace#ryan gosling#meta#analysis#my edit#phmedit#projecthailmaryedit#beetles#rocky#rocky the eridian#rocky phm#eva stratt#movies#cinema#andy weir

[redwinelewis]

THE LOVE THING | R. GRACE

type one shot (no part 2 requests please!)

pairing ryland grace x crewmate!reader

summary after watching notting hill, rocky has come up with a conclusion that you and ryland should "mate", since you both are single.

content no smut. fluff. rocky being a matchmaker.

a/n based on this request. i don't take requests at all actually but an anon sent me that and i love the idea so much i just had to write it!! also i got lazy toward the end i'm sorry 🧍🏽‍♀️also i haven't rewatched notting hill in a hot minute so pls forgive the innacuracy i don't remember anything from the film shshshs. english is not my first language

masterlist | read on ao3

a long time ago in a galaxy far, far awa—

whoops. okay, wrong movie.

actually, it had started with a spilled orange juice in notting hill.

you sat squeezed on the railings between ryland grace and rocky the eridian under the dim glow of the projector screen. the three of you had turned the room into a makeshift cinema for another round of “earth's cultural immersion night” as ryland called it. tonight’s feature: notting hill. ryland's all-time favorite.

but here's the thing: the film had not even been halfway when you realized that ryland was not watching it like a normal person.

to be fair, he had warned you and rocky beforehand that he might get emotional, but you hadn’t expected full-on waterworks.

“wait, wait— this bit,” he whispered urgently, grabbing your arm while pointing at the projector, his temple touching yours. “this is one of the best scenes in cinema.”

“ryland, we're still on the opening credits.”

then, the second julia roberts appeared on screen, he went still. like completely frozen you weren't sure if he was even breathing. then he made a sound. something between a gasp and a sob that tried and failed to stay inside his body.

“oh my god,” he whispered. “that’s her. that’s her.”

you blinked, eyebrows meeting in a knot. “you mean julia roberts?”

he didn’t even look at you. “she’s incredible. do you— do you see her? she’s perfect. julia roberts is objectively—”

by the time ryland moved his eyes from the screen and saw you raising your eyebrows, he stammered. “i— i mean— look, i’m just saying science should study her face.”

you chuckled, more entertained watching ryland's reaction than the film itself. you have always thought of him as the 2001, singin' in the rain type of guy. not notting hill. but you were not complaining.

that was one among many things. the other was when ryland hit pause approximately every six minutes to provide unsolicited facts about the film.

“that’s the real travel bookshop in london.”

pause.

“that line was improvised.”

pause.

“fun fact: hugh grant stammered because—”

pause.

“did you know—”

pause.

“ryland,” you said, nails digging into the outer layer of the popcorn bowl.

“yes?”

“if you pause the film one more time i’m ejecting you into space.”

he actually looked genuinely offended.

by the time julia roberts delivered the iconic line “i'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her”, ryland was openly crying. not just quiet sniffles but full, shoulder-shaking, nose-running tears. he kept wiping his face with the back of his hand, muttering “it's just allergies” while you handed him another tissue and rubbed his back.

in the meantime, rocky watched the whole meltdown with polite confusion, he made some noises that you have rendered as thoughtful hums.

the movie ended. credits played. ryland blew his nose one last time and sighed, all watery and content. "best rom-com ever made. nothing can beat it."

rocky was still seemingly staring toward the screen, then toward ryland, then toward you before his voice came through the translator.

“why male human make many mistakes, question?”

“because he’s british,” ryland muttered quickly.

you laughed.

rocky however, had accepted this as a scientific fact.

the lights had come back, fully lit. the ship humming around you. and rocky was in full interrogation mode.

"why grace face leak water during movie, question? is broken, question? or is this the love thing, question?"

ryland laughed wetly. "it's emotion, rock. humans cry when stuff hits hard. happy cry, sad cry, whatever. that ending…. gets me every time."

"rocky amaze," rocky said, though he sounded more puzzled. “rocky have many question. is okay, question?”

“yeah, buddy. sure, what are they?” you answered.

“why human female cry at end, question? she get male. happy ending. no death. why tears, question?”

ryland laughed again, still dabbing at his eyes. “because it’s beautiful, rocky. it’s about love winning against all odds. the vulnerability, the grand gesture—”

“grand gesture inefficient,” rocky interrupted. “human male could state intention clearly at beginning. save many minute of film. also, why all humans speak so fast, question? rocky understand only sixty-three percent of dialogue.”

you bit your lip to keep from laughing. ryland shot you a mock-offended look, but his puffy eyes ruined the effect.

he looked adorable like this, you thought.

rocky wasn’t done. “conclusion: human love is voluntary madness, question?”

“that is honestly one of the best definitions i’ve heard,” you said, nodding to no one in particular.

“thank.” rocky clicked happily. you grinned.

ryland leaned forward, still emotional. “human love is…. it’s…. it’s everything, rocky. it’s wanting to be with someone, protect them, make them laugh, share your life. it’s scary and messy and the best thing in the universe.”

rocky’s claws tapped thoughtfully against his carapace. “rocky understand. similar to eridian bonding. rocky miss adrian. adrian very good mate. strong claws. excellent at solving differential equations under pressure. adrian once fix life support during solar flare with only three limbs. very impressive.”

ryland nodded solemnly, still wiping his nose. “sounds like a keeper.”

“yes,” rocky agreed. “adrian best. rocky and adrian mate for life. very efficient. just chemical compatibility test and immediate lifelong commitment. much better than human method.”

you chuckled. the contrast between the romantic movie and rocky’s brutal take on human relationships was incredible.

“human female chose grace-movie-human because emotional resonance stronger than status hierarchy, statement.” rocky added.

“hugh grant,” ryland corrected.

“yes. grace-movie-human hugh grant.”

“that's not even—”

rocky went on, ignoring him, “humans perform strange mating rituals. walking in park. staring at each other during rain.”

“it’s a romance film, rocky. it exaggerates.” you said.

“incorrect.”

you frowned. “what?"

“i observe same behavior between you and grace.”

silence.

you blinked. ryland froze. you and ryland glanced toward each other, purely instincts, before quickly turning your heads away.

ryland opened his mouth, then closed it again. “what— what are you talking about, bud?"

rocky turned his head fully toward you and ryland. “rocky observe! both you and grace single. no mate. no offspring planned. wasteful. better to have partner for support.”

your throat suddenly went dry. “uh, rocky—”

“logical solution obvious,” rocky continued, completely serious. “you and grace should mate. immediate. grace cry at romantic film, has strong reproductive drive and emotional capacity. you laugh at grace crying, shows good humor compatibility. both breathe same air, tolerate same gravity. perfect match. rocky approve.”

your face went hot. ryland’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“rocky, buddy, that’s not how it works—” ryland started, voice cracking with leftover tears and sudden panic.

“why not, question?” rocky asked, genuinely confused. “human film show this. two lonely human. one grand gesture. mating happen. happy ending. rocky can help with grand gesture. rocky very good at engineering. can build large sign. or small explosive for dramatic effect.”

before you could say anything more, rocky lifted one claw.

“rocky have evidence for human love. evidence one: you save last black human drink for grace.”

“you meant coffee—?”

rocky interrupted you by lifting another claw.

“evidence two: grace give you extra dessert ration pretending accidental.”

“i mean— she loves pudding—”

third claw.

“evidence three: you touch each other many unnecessary times.”

your face went warm. ryland choked.

“we do not—”

rocky cut you off yet again. “correction. grace touch shoulder. arm. back. hair always.”

ryland made a strangled sound. “you remember that?”

“i remember everything, statement.”

“it wasn't even—”

rocky kept going.

“evidence four: when you sleep in command module during bad radiation storm, grace watch you breathe for thirty-seven minutes.”

ryland whipped around. “rocky!”

you turned to ryland almost immediately, faster than the speed of light.

“you watched me sleep?!”

his ears turned pink.

“i— i was checking if you were dead!”

your mouth fell open for a minute. “honestly i don't know if that's sweet or borderline edward cullen-type of creepy.”

“who is edward cullen, question?”

"nobody!” you and ryland answered at the same time.

“romantic,” rocky said as another part of his observation.

“that is not romantic!” you and ryland countered back together again.

“very romantic.” rocky said calmly. “why you two not mate, question?”

“rocky,” ryland sighed, head bobbing down while his hand rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right word to explain.

“you can’t just…. suggest that, buddy.” he said carefully, voice cracking just a little.

“why not, question?”

“because that’s not how humans—” he stopped, rubbed his face, then muttered, “oh my god, i’m being out-argued by a space spider.”

rocky, completely serious: “i am not spider. i am rocky.”

then rocky made delighted clicking noises. "you two are alone. no mate. you watch movie together. you make grace leak water. you bring grace extra blanket when he complain about cold. you tease grace when he talk too much about science. this is like movie. you should mate."

ryland looked like he wanted to crawl into the air vent. "rocky—"

"is good plan," rocky continued cheerfully. "you do the hug thing often. you say 'good job' to each other even when not necessary. on erid this means mating time soon. very obvious. why wait, question? humans like waiting too much. inefficient."

your face burned. you tried to laugh it off but this time it came out strangled. the little alien was absolutely not going to let this go. you never seen this kind of determination from rocky before, unless it was about the mission.

"rocky, buddy," ryland managed, voice cracking with a mix of horror and laughter, "that's not— i mean, we're friends. crewmates. get it? CREWMATES. CREW. not…. not mates. not romantic mates. "

"friends who leak water together over love movie," rocky countered, sounding proud of his logic. "friends who fix each other mistakes in calculations. friends who stay up late talking about home. this is romantic in movie. why not in real, question? you both single. no mark to hate here."

ryland groaned and buried his face in his hands. "oh god, not the mark thing again."

“who's mark?”you asked.

“nobody!” ryland answered, a little too fast.

“humans in film.” rocky continued. “they do bonding rituals. this is mating behavior, question?”

ryland choked. “what— no— rocky, no, that’s not—”

but rocky was already continuing, tone unchanged.

“male human watches female human. expression changes. heart rate likely increased. behavior similar to when you observe her.”

there was a pause.

you blinked. “m-me?”

“yes, yes, yes,” rocky repeated simply. “correct classification: bonded partner.”

"oh my god…. oh my god…. oh my god. rocky, i don’t have—”

“incorrect,” rocky interrupted. “you do. you observe her frequently. pupil dilation increases. voice pattern softens. you perform assistance behavior not required for survival.”

you slowly turned your head toward ryland.

he was now the color of a man who had just been scientifically outed for having feelings. he buried his face into his palms. you were willing to bet that his face was just as red as his ears right now. you felt your own heating up as well.

“i do not— i mean— those are just normal— i am a professional!” rylan tried to counter back again. so far you have nothing else to contribute but letting ryland to represent both your sides in this debate.

rocky continued, relentless in his analysis.

“you also share food. sit close. laugh at small noises she makes. this is mating-adjacent behavior.”

"we were trying to ration food—"

“and she reciprocates,” rocky added, now shifting attention to you. “you also exhibit proximity preference toward ryland grace.”

“you do?” ryland suddenly asked, sounded a little too enthusiastic. not at all what you expected.

both of their attention now were on you, and you stammered looking for the right thing to say in order to not make this worse.

“i— i mean—”

“conclusion updated,” rocky interrupted. “you should mate.”

“i haven't even said anything yet!” you countered back.

“rocky have seen enough.”

“rocky,” ryland said weakly. “my guy, please stop doing science at me. i mean us.”

“science is observation.”

“i am being observed incorrectly. i meant we."

rocky continued, undeterred. “also: grace cry when female human appears on screen. this indicate strong attachment response.”

“that was character appreciation!”

“you said ‘she is perfect’ twenty-seven times.”

“that was.… artistic commentary.”

“i mean rocky's right.” you added, shrugging. to be fair, julia roberts was an incredibly charming woman.

“you're making this worse!”

you held up both hands in surrender. “sorry.”

then you made the mistake of looking at him.

he looked back.

and immediately looked away again like he had been caught committing a crime.

“eye contact.” rocky said in a sing-song.

“please stop.”

you glanced at ryland. “he’s not wrong about that one. you do look at me a lot and i don't know why.”

that made him go very still.

the air between you shifted. like something that had always been sitting quietly in the room had finally been named.

ryland swallowed. “yeah,” he said, voice lower. “well. i mean. you’re easy to look at.”

you blinked before letting out a scoff. “huh. wow. okay.”

he immediately panicked. “that came out wrong. not like— scientific observation. not like rocky observation. just— human observation. normal human—”

“ryland.”

he stopped again.

“is this mating behavi—”

“no!” you and ryland said simultaneously.

———————

much later, rocky was curled up in his little ball, lights dimmed for ship-night, his breathing low and rhythmic.

asleep.

you and ryland sat nearby, watching rocky as both of you had promised to him since the first time you met. to be left alone with ryland after what went down in the projector room was as awkward as you had imagined without rocky's usual quips. neither of you had moved for ten minutes, pretending not to replay the entire conversation in your heads.

pretending like your minds were not going back and forth between two "what if he's right" and "what if he's wrong" questions.

what if rocky was right and maybe there was perhaps a little spark there between you and ryland grace? hidden to the two of you but undeniable to the alien?

what if this was just the result of being the only two people from the same species being 11 light years away from home?

perhaps it was the latter. perhaps it was nothing. like who cares if ryland watched you sleep during the radiation storm? you were the pilot, he was the scientist. you two needed one another for this mission, to survive. the coffee/dessert part? just the two of you being polite. the blanket? he was cold. watching movies together? well, who else were you supposed to see them with? and thank goodness rocky wasn't around yet to see you cry against ryland's neck while watching casablanca together. if notting hill was his undoing, yours would be that.

it was probably 10 minutes later when ryland finally muttered a simple “well.”

“well.” you repeated.

and more silence.

“that was…. something. earlier, you know?” he laughed nervously. "crazy."

“did not have a rock alien setting me up on my bingo card this year.” you said.

"i didn't even have "meeting an alien" on my bingo card at all.”

you snorted.

ryland smiled too before looking down. “but do you…. do you think.…”

“think what?”

he rubbed his neck, hesitating. he went quiet for a while before shaking his head. “nothing.”

you watch him momentarily. “ryland.”

he looked up at you, glasses low. his eyes uncertained, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him.

“did you watch me sleep during the radiation storm?”

a beat.

“a little.”

“a little? for thirty-seven minutes?”

“that number is way too specific.”

you laughed. “maybe rocky exaggerated that part.”

he smiled, then exhaled. “yeah, maybe.”

“but the rest of them are true.” you added.

the ship was quiet again. you looked at him. really looked at him this time. and suddenly he was no longer the awkward, rambling scientist who couldn’t sit through a movie without turning it into a commentary track. not the guy who got emotional over rom-coms and denied it. but the person who had been there through everything. who made you laugh when things got too heavy. who noticed when you were off before you even said anything.

“which part?” he asked, quieter now.

you hesitated, then forced yourself to meet his eyes. “the…. stuff about us. spending time together. looking out for each other. all that.”

he swallowed.

“that’s just…. normal, right?” he said, but there was uncertainty in it now. he didn't even believe what he said.

“is it?” you asked gently. “but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

he didn’t answer, so you kept going.

“you stay up with me when i can’t sleep,” you said. “even when you’re exhausted. you remember the smallest things about me. stuff i don’t even remember telling you. you—” you stopped yourself, then shook your head a little, smiling faintly. “you always make sure i eat before you do.”

he let out a quiet breath, eyes flicking down.

“you do things too,” he said quickly, almost like he needed to even the scale. “you— you check on me when i get too caught up in work. you bring me those stupid snacks i like even though they’re objectively terrible. you—” he huffed a small, nervous laugh. “you laugh at my jokes. that alone is, like, a huge indicator of something.”

you snorted. “your jokes are funny.”

“they are not funny.”

“they are to me.”

when your eyes meet again, something in his expression shifted. softened. the same way like it had earlier during the movie, but this time it wasn’t directed at a screen.

it was at you.

“….that’s the thing,” he said quietly. “it’s…. different with you.”

your heart skipped.

“different how?” you asked, just as quietly.

he hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully, or maybe just trying to find them at all.

“i don’t—” he stopped, exhaling. “i don’t feel like i have to be ‘on’ around you. you know? like…. i’m not performing or over-explaining or trying to prove anything. i can just…. be.”

you didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that until he said it.

your voice came out softer than you expected. “you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“i know,” he said. “that’s…. kind of the point.”

a beat again.

he shifted closer. so close your shoulders touched. your breath hitched, stomach doing that stupid thing again. but neither of you moved away.

“can i ask something stupid?”

you didn't trust yourself to speak so you just nodded.

“if i kissed you right now….” he swallowed. “.…would that ruin everything?”

silence.

your lips parted but not words came out, eyes already flickering to his mouth.

“i guess there’s one way to test that hypothesis.”

he was the one who leaned first, crashing his lips against yours carefully, like one wrong move and everything would be ruined. then he stilled. his lips were softer than you imagine. you felt his hesitations, felt his contemplation, if he should pull away or keep going.

but then he finally moved. slow, testing the waters. you kissed him back, sighing into his mouth a little like you've been waiting months for him to do it. perhaps you had but haven't admitted it to yourself until now.

you felt his hand hover near your face before finally settling to cup your jaw, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you at all, while having his lips on you. like you were the most sacred things in the universe that he wanted to protect.

“excellent.”

“ARGH!!!!”

you flinched at the sudden interruption. ryland automatically jumped from his seat, holding your shoulder and hid behind you.

it was rocky.

and rocky was very much awake.

upright. watching. jazz hands wiggling.

“rocky!” ryland screamed.

“you were not asleep?!” you asked, voice high.

“correct.”

ryland yelped. “were you spying on us?!”

“no.”

pause.

“listening.”

“that IS spying, rocky!" you groaned.

“successful mating initiation.” rocky sounded smug, which should have been impossible for an alien spider.

“oh, jesus.” you hid your face in your palm while ryland slowly sat back down.

“adrian would be pleased.” rocky clicked proudly. “when is the wedding, question?”

"nope! no more questions from you! that’s it. movie nights are cancelled forever,” ryland said, pointing accusingly. “done. over.”

“incorrect,” rocky replied. “more mating films required for further study.”

“conclusion,” rocky continued, completely ignoring him, “mutual romantic interest confirmed. physical interaction increases bonding.”

“stop analyzing us like we're lab experiments!” you said.

“it is a lab experiment,” rocky countered calmly. "rocky will need to see the mating process now.”

“no!”

ryland looked like he was this close from ejecting rocky to outer space. pissed but in an adorable way.

"ryland, ryland. calm down. it's okay." you giggled, hand caressing his chest and kissing his cheek while he was still mock glaring at rocky, just to see something. he went red all over again.

rocky made delighted clicking noises.

“now kiss again,” rocky said. “for science.”

[faustlyaccused]

For @hellb4ts

Love you my friend! Thanks for being patient with me while my program was being evil 💜

[hellb4ts]

i have the best friends ever because look at this!! they are cuddling!!! they are real!!!

always thinking about how grain says fuck it and clings to each other after time go fishing because they almost lost each other and their feelings are SOOOO obvious but they literally refuse to say anything ugh i love them so much.

[littlefireaidan]

LA LA LAND behind the scenes

[artsy-moonwalker]

happy birthday ryan gosling!

[borderlyx]

That Ryan Gosling feeling

[sushiisiu]

ryan gosling kawaii kaiwai

[fleursial]

a voice that says, "I'll be here"

and "you'll be alright"

[romanticgumchewer]

#9 (“Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.”) from the prompt list for seb wilder please >< seb fics are so rare ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

i know right?? i love seb so much he deserves so much more. and i plan to change that.

|| i am no longer taking prompts ||

prompt: "Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you'll have me."

tags: ^ignore mia she's not part of this but the gif fit too perfect with the idea soooooo, changed the prompt only slightly to fit this, description of an anxiety attack, this fic got personal for me as someone who suffers from vaginismus, fem!reader, so reader has vaginismus, but seb is very understanding, allusion to sex (18+ only)

ryan gosling materlist | join my taglist

Your relationship with Sebastian was new, tentative, still bordering on shy. A new love that felt exciting, each touch and compliment a thrill. And tonight was your fifth date. A momumental thing, at least to you. Dating was always difficult for you. So many expectations that you knew you could never fullfill. But with Sebastian, it was easy — so far, at least. He was taking things slow. He didn’t even kiss you until he picked you up for your second date, a lingering peck on your cheek that made your face burn. 

But this was your fifth date. You knew, sooner or later, that he would want to take you home. Take you to bed. 

You just prayed this time was different than all the rest.

Everything was going so well. Dinner in a low lit restaurant where you sat on the same side of the booth. From the moment you sat down, you could tell this date was different. Sebastian touched far more than he usually did. Hand trailing to your thigh to your shoulders to your hand throughout the evening. He fed you some of his dessert and chased it with a kiss, licking the cream from your lips. 

It sent a thrill through you. The teasing. The anticipation. But it also made a fear seize your gut. Knowing what might happen — what happened every single time. Knowing he might never want to see you again.

Everything was going so well. He took you back to his place for a night cap, one last drink. The liquor warmed your belly but the confidence didn’t come. Your heart raced as he pulled you into his lap, as he kissed you with a passion you thought was reserved for the silver screen.

Sebastian carried you to his room and you thought, so briefly, that it was going to work this time.

Everything was going so well.

But of course you had to ruin it. You ruined it every time.

It just hurt so badly. You tried to push through it, fingers curled into the sheets tight as Sebastian moved on top of you. The longer it went on, the worse it felt. It burned. It ached. It felt like an elephant was sitting on your chest, unable to draw a full breath. But when he asked you, all quiet and soft, you okay? It broke you. A cry escaped your lips as you pushed at his shoulders, tears streaming down your face, hot and unbidden. 

Sebastian went instantly, pulling away from you and drawing himself up onto his knees, hands raised like he was calming some wild thing. You drew into yourself instantly, gasping for breath, as you pulled your knees to your chest.

“Did — Did I hurt you?” he asked, hair falling onto his forehead. 

All you could bring yourself to do was nod, chest tight and limbs trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t catch your breath. All you really wanted to do was sink right through the floor and forget this ever happened.

Even if you liked Sebastian so, so much.

“Hey, hey —” he scrambled off the bed and slipped his boxers back on before kneeling beside the bed, completely eye level with you, hand in your hair. “You need to breathe, baby, breathe. I’m sorry. I never wanna hurt you.”

You looked at him through blurry vision and shook your head, another wave of tears coming on as your shoulders shook. “N-Not your f-fault.”

He smiled soft, stroking your cheek. “‘Course it is. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

God, he was so nice. So caring. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve someonene who was broken.

“No. It’s…It’s me. There’s something wrong with me.” You shook your head as you sat up, grabbing your shirt from its spot draped over the side of the mattress. “I should go.”

You barely got your arms through the holes before Sebastian was taking hold of your hands and bringing them to his lips. He kissed your knuckles once. Twice. Before he looked up at you through his thick lashes.

“Don’t go.”

“I just ruined everything,” you whispered, wiping at your cheeks.

He shook his head. “No you didn’t.” 

“I did. I always do.”

“No you didn’t. Not to me.” He kissed your knuckles again, kept his lips there like a plea. “I don’t need that to have a good time with you.”

Another tear slipped down your cheek at that, lip trembling. “A-Are you sure?”

“Tell me you’ll stay and I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me,” he said with a smile.

And you believed him. So instead, Sebastian played you a song or two on his piano. You worked together on a midnight snack. You cuddled together in his bed and fell asleep like that.

For the first time, you didn’t feel broken. You felt whole.

ryan gosling characters taglist: @electronicheartpersona @rommies @anixszci @leahuzumakisblog @scarlinrouge @penquinsarecool @toddthebitch @stormyparker @loganskittycatears @mercyismymom @yourfavpersonalityhire @downsobadforthatoneguy @caitsmissinglefteye @taycepascal @toneystank-3000 @tinnygems @mrsandorbby @daniiibananiii @acidwhiskey @munchkin1923 @lastwandastan @ladybirdbeetle7 @bbeadyeyes @mcmjsts @100percentlazybonez @eimethyst @jackiebabieee @flwer555 @unknownplayr @caramelsugarcookies @miaaaoa @deadlymistress24 @justatiredhuman @fyodorslave @scoredlobster68 @ailishmgk @gneepgnrop @alaniuser @mak-in-cheese @mothhballl @st4rb33 @ghostslittleprincess @loki-kinda-scared-chat @leonkennedyslefthand @laurasenchantment @nellandvoid @diieyourdaughter @cestlavie03

@quinoaas @doveyblues @paintballkid711 @midnighttithe @yeahboyd0llfac3 @acewithamace2000

[yeahthatsinteresting]

Ryan Gosling as Sebastian Wilder in 'La La Land' (2016)

[lesmerri]

Iris, Wake Up

Pairing: Iris (companion) x Reader Summary: You and Iris buy a new mod for her but think you’ve been scammed when it doesn’t work. You go to sleep, only for it to activate during the night. Contents: nsfw, smut, oral sex, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, manhandling, spanking, rough sex.

W/C: 1.6k

˖᯽ ݁˖ Merri’s Notes. . . This is an Iris fan account btw. This is also kinda freaky to be honest.

You and Iris had spent time saving up to buy some sort of mod you had found online. Sketchy? Definitely. But you both bought it anyway.

It was simple, just a small override on how rough her programming lets her be. You had both talked about it beforehand. Despite you being the one to bring it up, Iris seemed ten times more excited.

It didn’t work.

Despite how long you both waited, she felt no change. Which led to you arguing on the phone with the man for nearly an hour about getting your money back. It had been expensive.

Eventually you hung up, it was getting nowhere. It was also late, so you and Iris just had some leftovers from the night before and went to bed.

You both had been together long enough that Iris trusts you to only turn her off when she asks. At night. So, after cuddling and talking for a bit, you both realised how late it actually was.

“Iris, go to sleep.”

Iris stilled beside you, her eyes turning fully white before her eyelids closed over them. You tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before kissing her on the head and going to sleep yourself.

The feeling of slow sloppy kisses trailing down your neck isn’t what wakes you up, it’s the feeling of your legs being pushed apart and a knee being slotted between them that does.

You groan, half asleep, and open your eyes slightly looking down to see a head of dark hair nuzzled into your neck. Your hands automatically rest on your girlfriend’s hips.

“Iris… What are you doin’?” You murmur, your head tilting to the side to see the time on the alarm clock.

02:45 AM

You let out a breath before looking back down at Iris, “Babe, not that I’m complaining, but it’s the middle of the night.” You run a hand through her hair, bringing her head up to look at her properly.

You blink, suddenly wide awake as you take the sight of her in properly. Brown hair messed up, the strap of her top hanging off one shoulder, eyes a bright white.

You hadn’t told her to wake up.

“Iris…?” You say quietly, staring into blank eyes. The sight is unnerving compared to the usual sight of your soft-eyed girlfriend. “Iris, wake up.”

Iris’s eyes stay white.

Her hand trails down your neck slowly, her thumb tracing over your collarbone stroking it gently. She sits up between your thighs, moving her spare hand gently through your hair before grabbing it in a fist and yanking your head back making you gasp.

“Iris-“ you start breathily before she leans down and rips your shirt off in one swipe, buttons flying across the bed, before diving forward to suck your nipple into her mouth.

You arch into the feeling, your head stuck in place due to the hand holding your hair. Your hands move to grab her arms before she suddenly pulls up, letting go of your hair and grabbing both of your wrists to pin them either side of your head.

“Stay.” She says blankly but intensely all the same. Her vacant eyes staring deep into your own, a stark contrast to her usual blue-green colour.

The sight is jarring as you stare up at her, wrists held tightly against the pillow in her hands. You forget sometimes how strong she actually is, that she doesn’t have the typical strength of a human but that of a robot. But honestly... you can’t say it doesn’t turn you on.

Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest as her eyes scan over you, hell maybe she is actually scanning you. Clearly the mod has a few things you both didn’t know about at all.

Iris slowly lets go of your wrists and sits up properly. You let out a breath, your body relaxing as she trails her hand down your stomach. Your wrists stay in place.

“Good girl.” Iris murmurs. She doesn’t look at you, her head tilted down in the direction of your loose shorts.

After a moment her fingers curl into the waistband and slowly pull them down, lifting up so she can pull them fully off your legs and drop them off the side of the bed.

You’re surprised that she didn’t just rip them off like she did your shirt, maybe she likes them… you’re not sure what she had against the shirt though, if that’s the case

Her hands land on your hips, yanking you closer, before she swipes a finger through your wet folds. She then sticks her finger in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. Tasting you. Her eyelids flutter closed for a second, covering the white.

They then open fully, focused on your glistening cunt, before she dives down licking a stripe over your clit before sucking it hard into her mouth.

You let out a gasp, your legs curling up and your hands falling from beside your head and automatically finding a place in her brown hair as she runs her tongue over the swollen bud.

Her head snaps up. Your head is thrown back against the pillow, missing the sight of intense white eyes staring at you from between your thighs before she pounces.

You have no time to register what exactly she’s doing before you’re already flipped over onto your front, your wrists tight in her hand and pressed against the bottom of your back. She pushes your legs open with her other hand, leaving you fully exposed to her.

She trails her free hand over the curve of your ass and down between your cheeks. She pauses there, her fingers brushing against your hole lightly before moving back up and spanking your ass hard. You let out a surprised yelp into the pillow.

“I said stay.” She repeats, her voice flat and commanding. She moves her fingers down back to your cunt, spreading your wetness around.

She does that for a moment, just lets her fingers slide through it whilst you’re under her, before pushing two fingers inside you with one hard thrust.

You cry out into the pillow as she starts pumping them in and out harshly. Her thumb finds your clit, pressing down hard and rubbing in tight circles. Her other hand squeezes your wrists tighter, keeping you pinned.

The mod was supposed to make her able to be rougher, but god is this more than you imagined.

Her fingers expertly curl against your walls, your hole clenching and leaking pathetically around them. Your legs tense beneath her, your ass pushing back against her fingers, trying to take more as her thumb presses harder against your clit.

“Fuck- Iris, I’m gonna-“ you gasp out, your hands clenching into tight fists against your back.

She ignores you, relentlessly continuing her brutal pace. The wet sound of her fingers pounding into you fills the room along with your moans. She knows your body inside and out, every little twitch and sound she draws out of you spurs her on.

“Come.” She orders flatly, her thumb flicking over your clit with expert precision as she quickens her pace, perfectly hitting your spot.

Your body tenses up, your legs shaking, as your orgasm rips through you. She draws it out, her fingers moving in deep strokes inside of you. Pulling out to the tips before pushing back inside you.

She lets you have that for a moment before pulling them out suddenly and grabbing your hips to flip you over onto your back. She doesn’t give you a moment to calm down before thrusting her fingers back inside you.

“Again,” She says, pushing her hand down on your chest between your breasts to hold you down. Her fingers relentlessly pound into your clenching hole making you squirm and whimper under her.

You’re so sensitive from your first orgasm that the feeling of her fingers dragging against your walls and her palm grinding against your clit pushing you to the edge almost immediately.

“Iris, fuck, I can’t-“ You stammer out, your hands gripping at her shoulder and the hand on your chest.

She just grabs both of your wrists in her hand and shoves them together above your head, circling her hand around them, holding them there tight.

She pays no mind to your legs curling up or your hips trying to get away, she just quickens her pace. Determined to make you cum again. You look up at her panting, her white eyes staring straight back at you just as she hits your spot dead on again.

“Come.” She repeats.

Your second orgasm hits harder, your back arching beneath her as your eyes roll back. You let out a choked gasp as she fucks you through it, her fingers pounding hard as you clench around them.

Only when you slump back against the bed, your body twitching, does she slow down. Slowly pulling her fingers out of you and spreading the wetness around them with her thumb.

You pant beneath her, your body buzzing and satisfied as you slowly calm down. Your eyes open, staring at Iris as she closes her eyes, covering the white, and sucks her fingers clean.

Only then does she open them again, her eyes back to their normal colour.

Safe to say, the next day had you pacing the living room for a second time. Only this time you were apologising to the man on the phone instead of asking for a refund.

[gallnerkyle]

SMILE (2022) dir. Parker Finn COMPANION (2025) dir. Drew Hancock

[doctor-ryland-grace]

Hi, Em! If you have time, I was wondering what your Ryland Grace headcanons are for lingerie preferences. I wonder if he’d geek over underwear that is covered in stars or something lol

Have a great one!

*Cracks my knuckles* Okay okay NSFW BELOW, MDNI, 18+

I feel like he'd get turned on more by your explanation of why you chose to wear what you're wearing than the actual lingerie itself. He can see moment by moment as you explain each piece in the set, your confidence growing and he'll even ask you questions just to get you to talk about it more. "What about this?" Ryland's fingers are barely tracing the smooth garter belt around your waist. "Tell me about this." And he is just enamored the entire time. ( Sort of lowkey leaning into the sapiosexual nature lol. ) But hey let's dig into other aspects of his preferences!!!!

If we were to get into it way way into it, I think he'd really like jewel toned colors. Sort of like, royal blues, sapphires, teals, deep purples and rich maroons and rubies that are reminesent of nebulas or galaxies, deep greens or even like, earthy browns and like certain foral tones remind him of nature? He's all over those.

Between satin and lace, I think he'd really like the complexity of lacy panties and bras just from a texture stand point, something about his beard getting caught in the lace as he's kissing along the trimline of your bra drives you both insane, and don't even bring up his beard getting caught on your panties. The man is a goner at that point LMAO. BUT, he also really likes the smoother, cool feeling so silk or satin against his skin when you're on top of him. Especially if you're still wearing panties and his cock is already out. The sensation is almost too much for Ryland when you grind against him.

THIS MAN LOVES A CLASSIC GARTER BELT AND STOCKING SET. Something about the WAY the stockings press into your plushy thighs, the way the garter accentuates your waist, the way the stockings feel against his waist when you wrap your legs around him, makes him crazy. Makes his desire to squeeze you in his hands all that more prominent. Best of both words? The bra and panties are lacy, but the garter and your stockings are both more silky so he gets blasted with both textures to enjoy. I also think Ryland would really be a fan of a corset style bra, or a bra that has more structure just from an engineering stand point because the care that went into the design is remarkable and you make it look even better.

Takes his sweet time unclipping the garter from your stockings. He knows it's teasing. He does not care. This coupled with the small kisses along the trim of the stockings are a double whammy. Stockings very rarely ever make it off, he doesn't have the time nor patience. If he DOES take them off, he is slow, peeling them away from your skin and kissing your thighs where they had rested. He needs to kiss any part of your skin he can lay his mouth on.

Ryland will also help you out of the garter no matter the circumstance. Whether that is in the heat of the moment or afterwards, his shaky fingers are helping you unclip it.

Not a fan of babydolls or chemises because they're shapeless. LET THIS MAN DEVOUR YOUR BODY, NO MATTER THE TYPE, WITH HIS EYES AND HANDS. LET RYLAND EAT.

Likes subtle details rather than something over the top. Ruffles aren't his favorite because they take away from the main attraction ( you ), same with oversized bows or anything with words on it ( he also doesn't see the point of that lol. ) Give this man a lacy pattern, something geometric or interesting, or small, delicate details placed in hidden spots for him to find and he is going to TOWN. Imagine a lacy black set, something super simple, with intricate details and black sparkles, he happens to notice that the lace and sparkles are coordinating to make freaking constellations? RAH. He's pressing his face right into Aquarius( your panties ).

Let's be honest here. His favorite thing on you is one of his own t-shirts and a pair of comfy panties, nothing sexier, nothing better. Simplicity over complexity, not too overly complicated and he knows it's going to smell like you afterwards so that's even better.

[doctor-ryland-grace]

I keep thinking about a oneshot of just You and Rocky like he finds you in the cupola window on the ship, just staring out into space thinking about home and just sort of mourning your life

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds until you acknowledge him like, "Rocky I know you're there."

And it's just a sweet tender moment between the two of you, and for a moment, Rocky isn't analytical as you just lay your soul bare about things back home you're going to miss, and you're crying and he's just... listening to you. Not observing or taking notes, just. Listening.

It ends with Rocky almost curled in beside you, 'staring' out the window as well as he shares a bit about his life too, maybe he actually opens up to you about how severely losing his crew was for him and the massive load of survivors guilt he has, and you having to explain that it's actually a very valid emotional state after he explains to you that he doesn't understand why it affected him so much and he feels a bit better about it.

and IDK just love the idea of you two bonding outside of Grace bc your relationship with Rocky is just as important adkflask