content izuku x reader, afab!reader, established relationship, p in v, consensual filming!!!!, sex tape, dirty talk, you egg him on really, possessive izu, rough sex. word count: 1.1k
this idea was spurred on thanks to love & money by luvcat!! this is absolutely not proofread so please ignore any mistakes teehee
thank u everyone for all the love on my previous izuku fic!! izu lovers unite!!! and reminder my asks are open if u ever want to share your thoughts/request something (> 𐃷 <)
the first time you suggest it, izuku nearly chokes on his water. in his defense, it does come pretty out of nowhere, with the two of you relaxing in the privacy of your apartment after a stressful day.
at least in the beginning stages of your relationship, izuku is very careful when it comes to you. not just in the sense of protecting you, though that is a large factor, but mostly in the duty he feels to ensure none of his messes include you. it's not like you're a secret—dating the number 4 hero and not being at least a rumor would be an impossible feat. but izuku is private, and anytime someone has even tried to ask for details about who this “mysterious person” he's often found with is, he shuts it down in his typical polite speech.
he's seen enough horrors to want to keep his personal and professional life as separated as possible, with the added benefit that it keeps you safe.
so imagine his surprise when you tell him you should film a sex tape.
"absolutely not,” is his immediate response after he composes himself, voice hoarse. he's already thinking of the absolute worst-case scenarios, anxiety clinging at his throat for events that haven't even happened. what if someone hacked his phone? or if he fell asleep and his fingers somehow managed to post the video, and then you, vulnerable and his, would be revealed to the world in your most intimate state?
he shuts the door to it so quickly you're left feeling guilty for even suggesting it. a mumbled comment and a kiss to your temple let you know he's not upset, just… a little freaked out.
which is why you try again not even a few days later. your lazy bout of morning cuddles gets a bit more heated (like usual), izuku pressed behind you with his hand down your panties. he's groaning pretty nonsense against your neck, distracted in keeping you as close as possible.
not distracted enough, however, since the second your hand reaches out for his phone in the nightstand, he's gripping your wrist hard enough to hurt. "i said no, pretty,” he says against your neck, and the disappointed tick in his voice is enough for you to give up.
and the idea is forgotten for the next few months, and with a partner as attentive and yielding as izuku, it's easy to let the conversation drop.
when it's brought up much later, it's not at all planned.
it's late at night, the moon the only source of light in your room, and izuku has your thighs in his hands, keeping them separated. he's as sweet as always, groaning low and deep as he fucks into your pussy, eyes locked to where you're connected.
"you're gorgeous,” he's grunting, barely sparing you a glance. maybe subconsciously, he's licking his lips, pupils blown out as he watches how he disappears inside you, thumb rubbing eager circles against your clit.
the look on his face is enough to have your hips canting, trying to match his movements, chasing after him any time he pulls out. "yeah?" you're muttering, much more confident than the whine in your voice suggests.
izuku can only nod dumbly in response, his head lolling forward when you squeeze purposefully. it has his hips snapping once, just a little harsher than intended, and he's smoothing down your thigh as an apology. his eyes never leave your pussy, though, and enamored is the only word you can use to describe it.
"you should just take a picture if you're gonna keep staring.”
you mainly say it as a joke, calling him out for his shamelessness. it's a throwaway comment, meant to tease, and yet it has izuku shuddering, his thrusts jerking and losing their rhythm, a quiet "fuck" slipping past him.
and oh, isn't that a reaction you weren't expecting.
you can tell from the way his eyes flicker to yours that he knows he's given you an entry, and you're taking it before he can say much else, momentarily happy to forget how good he feels inside you. "would you want that?" you start, sitting up slightly on your elbows, "you can look at it whenever you miss me."
izuku, quite wisely, stays silent, not feeding into what he knows is something you want. but if there's one thing you both have in common, it's your stubbornness. "or would you rather film it?"
the sound of his inhale is loaded, frustrated in a way he tells you he's struggling to keep it together. you're grinding up against him, your hands snaking up his stomach to his chest. "it's better that way, isn't it? a picture couldn't capture how good you're making me feel."
his tongue pokes against his cheek, jaw clenched tightly as his gaze lowers. guilty. his breathing has grown deeper, and you can feel his chest expand beneath your fingers. why you're so insistent, even you don't know. but you'll never pass on an opportunity to make him lose it.
"i can even moan real pretty for the camera," you offer innocently, trying to meet his eyes as he turns away from you. with a giggle, you throw an exaggerated whine of his name into the air.
he doesn't even give you a second before he's pulling out, your confidence depleting as he turns you around, one arm pressing your hips to the bed as the other reaches for his phone. "is that what you want?" he hisses, his voice shaking under what is probably his distaste for giving in.
it doesn't feel much like a win when he's pushing past your folds roughly, ignoring your startled yelp as he immediately sets a harsher pace. the next whine of his name is real, high-pitched, and needy as he starts rutting into you.
through the growing haze of your brain, you can still make out the quiet ding as he starts recording. his arm moves to press his fingers into your lower back, keeping you in place. he groans again at the way your walls tremble violently around him, trying to suck him deeper as if it were possible.
"that's it," he's panting, his eyes moving away from your figure to watch you from the screen of his phone, angling in such a way that only your back is visible, his hand splayed out on your skin. the soft staccato of your moans mixes deliciously with the smack of his hips against yours.
"show the camera how pretty you are," he mumbles, moving his phone closer to show the way you're stretched around his cock. a flare of protectiveness rushes through his chest when you moan louder, as if eager to show off how good he's fucking you.
the video will sit in his phone, never to be seen by eyes that aren't his.
puppyboy ! izuku x doctor ! reader 𐔌❤︎ ͡꒱ ㅤׂㅤ he's in his heat, and he doesnt know what to do!
CONTAINS ⟢ 2362 % pwop , hybrid izuku , human reader , switch izuku , smut , mommy kink , semi public sex , hand jobs , puppy heat/rut , breeding kink , 'goodboy' etc .
art by sillybillyken
"izuku midoriya?" you hummed, voice cutting through the sterile air of the waiting room, along with the sound of flipping paper. the dingy blue lights buzzed faintly over the patients, casting a flow over the row of plastic chairs as well as the patients in a pale colour. some were cuddling with their masters, seeking some sort of warmth and comfort, while some were alone, eyes fixed onto the ceiling, or nothing at all.
exactly like the figure tucked into the chair in the far corner of the room; his knees were drawn up just slightly while his boots rested on the plastic of the chair, and his cheeks were a flush of pink on his pale skin. his fluffy tail lay limp against the chair, occasionally catching the tip twitching.
the sound of his name made the soft ears on top of his head twitch before swivelling towards you before the rest of his body could catch up. he rose up with a flinch, his stomach feeling heavy, tail curling behind him defensively.
your smile tugged at the corner of your lips, letting your gaze drift over him and taking in the way his fingers subtly trembled and the way his green-coloured ears twitched even more when you stepped closer.
“follow me,” you hummed, turning around without waiting - papers in your hand rustling as you moved through the hallway. behind you, you could hear the shuffling of his boots, almost like he was about to fall over with each step.
as soon as you stepped into your office, your body had relaxed, the smell of medicine and metal disappearing in an instant, replaced by some sort of jasmine and old books.
you gestured towards the small seating area by the window, the armchair worn-out and scratched with a old blanket that had definitely seen better days. “please, sit here and make yourself comfortable.”
he gulped a large glob of saliva that was stuck in his throat as he had slowly walked towards the chair, sinking in an instant of warmth and familiarity.
while he was getting comfortable with the environment, you had busied yourself with the electric kettle, the water hissing as you prepared tea, setting the plate of cookies on the desk between the two of you - steam curling in the air.
“here,” you said softly, nudging the cup towards him, “you don’t have to drink it, but it’s there if you would like.”
his fingers had twitched, hovering over the mug’s handle, before wrapping around it with carefullness, not drinking but allowing the hear seep into his palms.
you had settled into your chair across him, fingers gliding across the keyboard as you pulled up his file - the screen casting a white glow across your face as you scrolled through his history. his behavioural notes, last check-ups, medication. everything seemed normal to you, at least.
“so, izuku…” you hummed, eyes still scanning the data. “last time you were here, you had your monthly check-up. but that was a week ago, so…” you finally looked up at him, taking a small sip of the steaming tea. “what seems to be the problem?”
his face flushed as he shifted in his seat, the soft blanket and worn chair creaking under him. his tail, which had been draped over the armrest, now thumping against the soft cushion, ears perking up as a low whine escaped his throat before he could even stop it.
“w-well…” he started, voice coming out breathier and more strained than usual. he cleared his throat, trying again as his hands rested against his crotch - closer to where the strain of his pants sat, each word falling out clumsier and whiny. “master had told me there was something wrong with me and you could only help me.”
his eyes darted everywhere but your face, cheeks a flushed red, the smell of the tea making his breath heavy.
“said something about being too… hot? or - a heat.” his voice cracked on each word. “i-i don’t really remember. i just… i’ve been feeling really strange. and restless - it’s like my skin doesn’t feel or fit right - like i need everything off my body.”
you nodded to each word, watching his movement as he finally looked up at you, eyes glassy and vulnerable.
“hm, i see.” you smiled, typing something on your computer before pushing away from your desk. “see, don’t worry izuku, this is completely natural for you. as your master said, you’re in heat - this is where you need to mate, make babies.”
izuku sighed in relief at your words, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “that’s good… i was scared you wouldn’t be able to understand what i was talking about since master was not here.”
his eyes sparkled as he heard your soft laugh, letting out a small chuckle to himself as well. “you can fix it right, doc? what sorta medicine would i need?”
a soft smirk appeared on your lips, one not so innocent. your finger tapped innocently on your chin, as you sat back with a screech. “well, you can’t get better with medicine persay…”
izuku’s face dropped at each word, panic filling his face. “w-what do you mean– i can’t get better? there’s no medicine–”
“it’s a different sort of treatment, a special kind.”
in an instant, his face relaxed and returned to one filled with excitement. “oh, that's what you meant, i was worried you meant i had to deal with this for the rest of my life!”
you rose slowly, moving towards the bed tucked in the far wall, one reserved for patients who need to lay down during examinations, or even when you need rest.
you perched on the edge, mattress dipping slightly under your weight, palms smoothing across the fabric of your thigh.
“come here,” you hummed, voice gentle. your eyes lowered, half-lidded, more of a silent invitation than a command. “sit.”
his head tilted, the green eats perched on top of his head, turned with curiosity. but, his brows furrowed, worry creeping onto his neck.
“i– i don’t really know…” he dodged, thumbs running over one another. “master doesn’t like when i sit on anyone’s laps – or even their lap. they say its… improper? or i’ll get too attached.” his voice grew uncertain. “are you sure it’ll be okay…?
you nodded slowly and reassuringly, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on your pants.
“positive,” you said, voice carrying a promise. “i wouldn’t offer if i wasn’t sure. and… i wont tell your master if you won’t.” you held a finger to your lips in a hushing motion.
a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “
“well… okay, if you say so!”
he let out a soft whimper as he stood up, each step was clumsy while his tail wagged in short sweeps behind him. as he walked closer, you couldn’t help but notice the unmistakable tent in his pants, straining against the fabric.
he perched on your thigh carefully, weight settling against you like he was a feather. his head hid into the curve of your shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as if he’d done it multiple times.
a soft sigh escaped him as your arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him closer. “you’re… warm,” he murmured, his voice muffled and drowsy against your skin.
you laughed at his observation, the sound vibrating through your chest and onto him. your fingers began to move, tracing slow circles around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles unwind under your touch.
“izuku,” you said gently, making him hum softly. “can i pet you?”
the word, ‘pet’, hit him softly, his eyes flying open widely, his head nodding with enthusiasm that his fluffy green hair tickled your neck and cheeks.
“yes– please!” his voice cracked with desperate excitement, tail wagging so hard now it thumped against your leg rapidly. “master doesn’t pet me enough, oh please, doctor! i’ve been so good, i promise, i’ll be so still, won’t move at all–”
“shh,” you soothed, laughter softly escaping your lips. “i believe you; you’re doing so well already.”
izuku let out a soft whine as your hands threaded through the fluffy mess of his hair, palms brushing against the base of those velvety green ears, the fold of his ears perking every so often, thumb tracing the edge of his ears.
a sound escaped his lips, something between a groan and bark rumbling against his chest. his whole body melted against yours as he didn’t have any bones, his head lolling further into the crook of your neck, eyes fluttering closed and hips slowly rutting back and forth.
“you’re so soft,” you murmured, more to yourself than him, fingers continuing their gentle strokes. “such a good boy.
a shiver ran through his spine at your words; you could feel his nails dig lightly into your dress shirt, breath coming in slow and heavy puffs against your collarbone, the tent in his pants practically growning by each second.
“thank you–” he whispered, one quiet and thick you almost missed it, “thank you so much, doctor.”
you kissed the top of his head softly, one of your hands sliding down his torso, resting just above his abdomen. “what about this bulge in your pants?”
his cheeks flushed at your words, soft moans escaping his lips as he tries to explain. “well, master say’s don’t– worry about it… that i should wait in my room until it goes away,” he whines, his palm moving to your wrist. “but it just hurts, especially when its pushing against my pants like this.”
his eyes were glassy and pleading; you could practically feel the pulse radiating from it.
you nodded slowly at his words, expression softening with sympathy. you pressed another small kiss against his head, letting your lips brush his hair as you spoke.
“well, i can help with that.” your voice was soothing. “can you take it out for me, izuku?”
he lifts his head in embarrassment, eyes widening in shock, lips parted, then closed, then parted again.
“take it out-?” he swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “uhm… are you really sure thats okay?” he rambles. “master said to never take it out in front of guests, and especially when it’s all leaky and hard like this. they said it’s– indecent? and– i should be ashamed, and–”
“don’t worry,” you cut him off softly, voice firm. your fingers withdraw and give him space, letting him know it was up to him if he’d like to continue or not. “it’s okay if you’re not ready; we can stop.”
“n-no, i do–!”
the words burst out of him desperately; he grabbed your hand with both of his, pressing your palm firmly against the straining bulge in his pants, his breath hitching and a shudder running through his body.
“if doctor knows how to fix it…” he whispered, voice hopeful, “then please, i trust you.”
with shaky hands, he fumbled with the waistband of his sweats, movement clumsy with urgency, pushing them down with his boxers, fabric pooling around his thigh. his cock sprang free, one clearly thick and heavy, slapping against his belly with a wet sound in the cool air of the office.
a loud, whiny moan escaped his lips as his head fell back against your shoulder with a relief that washed over him.
you couldn’t help but stare, your breath getting caught in your throat. he was… massive to say the least. the length was bigger than anything you’ve seen before; it flushed deep, the green hairs that trickled up his torso, and tip already dripping with precum that fell down his length.
your hand reached out, fingertip barely brushing his shaft, gathering the moisture that sat and pooled. he whimpered loudly at the contact, hips bucking involuntarily, chasing your touch.
“so pretty,” you muttered to yourself, eyes tracing each vein, the way his cock curved. “so responsive as well; you’ve been holding this in for a while, haven't you, izuku?”
he nodded restlessly, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. “yes–yes, doctor– mommy. ihave. it hurts so so much, please!” he cried, hips bucking with each stroke. his mind fogging up at the pleasure.
“wanna– ilove this so much, mommy.” he gasped, his hands frantically unbuttoning your shirt just so your shoulder is revealed, teeth biting harshly into your skin. “fuckk…”
“wanna get you filled with my puppies,” he mumbles, your hand moving faster, the other playing with his ears softly, whispering words of filth into them.
“you wanna cum, wanna breed me?” you taunted, fingers pressing against his tip, each dribble of precum leaking faster and faster.
“yes–yes–! please, mommy-!” he whined, his teeth sinking into your skin, deep enough to draw blood, to leave a scar that would last eternity. “wanna fill you up so bad.”
you coo’d at his response, hand speeding up as you pulled his hair, earning a sharp moan from his lips, eyes filled with tears and cheeks pinker than ever.
“iwanna–cum– something… it's coming out– ♡” he moaned, string of cum quickly shooting upwards, covering both your stomach and his own; however, your hand never faltered. “w–wait, i made a mess, sl–slow down!”
you let out a sinister laugh as you felt his body get rigid, your hand never slowing until his second orgasm, one stronger and louder than the first one. his thighs twitched, lips unlatched from your bruised shoulder to moan loudly.
the cum sprayed more wetter, thinner than before, leaving damp trails against the whites of your shirt.
your finger slowed down against him, but never stopped, just enough to keep the pleasure, but not fast enough for an orgasm. “how was that, izuku?” you hummed, kissing his tear-stained cheek.
without thinking, he had grabbed your wrists and flipped you both over, back hitting the rather uncomfortable mattress.
“i think… mommy needs a punishment for not listening to me.” he laughed, slowly pulling down your own trousers, revealing those pretty lace panties, damp in the centre.
his teeth grazed your inner thigh, biting sharply, earning a loud gasp from you. “let’s see how you like it… hm?”
a/n : i'm rusty at writing dont judge me..... its been ages. and ik this aint my usual kpop enha stuff but i did lowk fall out of it so #yolo
hi! you should maybe consider a hyperspermia izuku oneshot? 😓😓
⋮ so soaked .ᐟ izuku midoriya
╰ 18+ MDNI. light drinking, pool party!, reader in a bikini, reader with boobs and a butt (size not specified), jealousy, keeping quiet, hyperspermia, male masturbation, ← making you watch, following directions, nipple play (reader), blow job, cum eating (both parties), head pushing if you squint
“izuku? are you hard right now?”
izuku’s mind isn't as sharp as usual tonight. the stale canned beers he sipped throughout the night nipping at his tastebuds, pink tongue swiping across the bottom of his swollen lip as he attempts to focus on what you’re saying. he frowns, blown pupils lazily following along the invisible trail where your pointed finger leads towards, landing at the center of his swim trunks.
it wasn’t like izuku to sneak off with you, especially like this. popsicle stained fingertips interlocked as you tiptoed upstairs, staining the carpet with matching footprints each step you took into the dark hallway. he made sure no one saw the two of you slip away or the uncomfortably hard situation throbbing between his legs, quietly leaving your trashed friend group downstairs none the wiser to the situation now unfolding in kaminari’s spare bedroom.
it feels like forever once he’s gazing back up in your direction, double vision causing the pale four walls to appear as if they’re closing in on him. stumbling backwards, he not so gracefully steadies himself, the undersides of his knees thankfully biting into the footboard of the mattress, wooden grain cold to his damp skin.
you looked incredible right now. the yellow hum of the overhead light pouring over your soaked features, lips pursed together in a glossy pout, most likely upset due to your socialization coming to an abrupt end, but even better when he sat down; eye line directly level to your tits, the flimsy strings looking easy enough for him to tug at.
he’s been hard all fucking day. from the very moment you walked out in your bikini, he knew he’d end up in trouble, the little garment clinging to your skin in a way that made him sick.
sick of the way he kept catching his friends staring at you, nauseated at the way they continued to gawk once he’d catch them in the act. you were blissfully unaware that you had eyes glued to the back of your ass head all day long, but izuku? oh did he notice.
he couldn’t help it. it was his job to protect you regardless, yet the open staring from his friends towards his half naked lover only made his cock grow harder, fumbling with the elastic waistband and flipping his drippin’ tip upwards in a poor job of trying to hide it.
they can look, but they can’t touch. a weird feeling of jealousy bubbling under the surface of his gut, yet pride quickly took over his body, swallowing his sour heart full once he realized you were only ever looking back at one person.
him.
“i, uhm…” he clears his dry throat, running a hand through the damp green curls at the nape of his neck, looking everywhere but that damned bikini, “…sorry, i couldn’t help myself.”
“so you dragged me all the way up here to fix your problem?” you step forward, knees kissing his own, “you know, you could’ve ran to the bathroom and took care of this yourself.”
you look so cute when you’re pretending to be angry, eyebrows furrowed, goose bumped arms crossing over your waist, nipples hard in your damp bikini.
it’s like you’re holding a bone over a dogs head, and izuku begins to wonder if you picked the emerald two piece out with him in mind. it makes his cock twitch.
“i know i just…” he responds, thick scarred fingers extending over your hip to close the gap, lips only beginning to move when you reluctantly press into him, “…i’ve missed you a lot today.”
“missed you too izuku,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, breathing into the chlorine scented skin and kissing his jawline, “was hoping you’d come steal me away from everybody anyways.”
“mmm? guess you got pretty lucky then,” he teases, the tips of his ears down to his freckled cheeks burning crimson once he’s feeling your mouth pepper wet kisses down his neck, sighing when your milky canines graze the sensitive spot behind his ear, “everyone was looking at you tonight, i had to do something.”
your movements stop at that, breath tickling his earlobe, “is that a problem?”
izuku’s mouth goes dry, feeling as if he could cum on the spot just from your words alone, cock straining in his shorts and fluttering little signals from his tip just begging to be released.
he doesn’t know what to say. so he answers your question with another question, stumbling over his words and pushing back on his hands, large chest practically filling up the small mattress, “do you want it to be?”
.
izuku desperately hopes no one comes up the stairs looking for the two of you, swim shorts discarded on the floor next to the bed post, his bare cock flushed and slapping up towards his belly button.
unsure if it’s the girth or the sheer amount of cum built up inside of him being the culprit weighting his shaft downwards, his tip weeps for you; slit pointing in the direction of where you’re sat in front of him, legs crossed and hands spayed over his thighs, watching his cock cry out for your relief inches away from your face.
“w-want my help?” you stutter, maw slacked as he’s swirlin’ his hand around his beet red tip, the angle showing you just how he enjoys stroking his cock in your lonesome, long thick digits caressing downwards to grip at his wide shaft.
“nuh-uh baby,” he sighs, shaking his head, “want you to sit here and look at what you did.” izuku’s voice is laced in a layer of honey sap, words causing your cunt to grow uncomfortably squishy between your legs, thighs clenching together in second nature.
he slowly moves his fist back up to his tip, thumb rubbing around the slit and collecting the wad of glistening pre that weeps from it, coating the head completely with the thick liquid.
he was always like this. cock head just as soaking as your pitiful pussy. your nails dig into his thigh, mouth salivating at how painfully hard he is. “you’re acting like it’s my fault,” whispering, your voice is so quiet your sure he couldn’t hear it.
“well yeah baby,” his squelching movements halt, jaded irises meeting yours, “it is your fault.” he’s reading your expression intently, focusing on the slight hint of lust taking purchase in your fingertips, scarred skin dimpling once you're pressing into it—surely to keep you from falling face first into his thick cock.
izuku hisses at the feeling, wondering how your fingertips would feel digging into his cock instead. it makes the head pulsate, fat gleam of spittle pouring out the slit. “see how wet you make me?”
“y-yeah,” you agree, head nodding and eyes sparkling, “you’re soaked.”
soaked he is, clear liquid so sopping it drips down to his pelvis, salty substance so abundantly filthy you can practically taste it. izuku knows exactly how to put on a show, teasing his cock just as if you’d do it, hand swiveling around the shaft like a joystick just to squeeze at his tip, repeating the motions until the sounds fill the room.
but izuku needs more.
“fuck…” he mutters, greedy gaze eyeing the same bikini that got him in this mess in the first place, free hand reaching out to pull the strap down your bare shoulder, “…take your top off.”
he says it like it’s a demand, knowing you’ll listen to him because you have to, wide eyes leveling with you on the decision he already made for you; only waiting on you to catch up.
“w-what?” like when headlights meet deer, your eyes widen, looking up at him in confusion, “izuku, i didn’t bring a change of clothes and—”
“—don’t worry about that right now,” he cuts you off, notching a finger around the strap and pulling it backwards, letting go with a sharp ‘snap’ to the skin of your arm, “it’s your fault anyways, isn’t it?”
you don’t respond, stomach swirling once you’re sitting up, reaching behind and pulling the snug knot free, damp fabric falling on your thighs.
his jaw clenches, scarred fingers following the trail of goosebumps that lead from your shoulder towards your breasts, stopping right below the slope. when you’re believing he’s about to finally touch you, he stops, dropping his hand down to the bikini top, picking it up.
izuku wraps the garment around his cock, hips jerking once the fabric scratches at his sensitive tip, words shaky, “touch them for me. d-do it like i’d do it.”
biting your lip to keep the feeble moans falling from them, you bring a cautious hand up to your right breast, swirling your finger around your nipple.
‘just like he’d do it’ repeats over and over again in your whooshing mind, feeling the skin pebble beneath delicate fingerprints, sighing into the feeling.
izuku’s hand picks up, fucking his cock stupid with your top, watching the way you tease yourself. he’s taught you well.
“fuck, so pretty baby,” he goads, balls tightening as he approaches his orgasm, hand squeezin’ down roughly in hopes of starving it off, “it’s cold in here, yeah?”
you hum, hand squeezing the fat of your tit, eyein’ the way he’s watching you like a hawk. “warm me up?”
“fuck—come here, honey.”
izuku’s hand falls off his cock, bikini top long forgotten as his arms surge you forward, lips clumsily falling into yours. the kiss is all teeth and moans, sloppy sounds filling your swooshing eardrums as he bites down on your lip, spit-coated tastebuds exploring your own.
you wanted to eat him alive. depriving you of stimulation, the ache deep inside your core is almost painful, whining once his tongue slips past your lips. they fight for dominance and he lets you win, sucking on his tongue as if it was his cock, giggling when he grunts and gasping when his soaked head hits your thigh.
he tastes like the beer you hate; the bitter malt leaving a sour taste on your tongue, face scrunching.
izuku’s unoccupied hand pulls you away by the jaw, mirroring your expression. “what’s that face for?”
“tastes funny.”
a breathless laugh sighs from his lungs, slapping his cock against your thigh, letting the tip trace a clear path of slick down the flesh, “how about you kiss me someplace else then?”
you didn’t wait for him to tell you twice, leaning forward and placing a fat kiss to the bottom of his cherry colored tip. he always tastes good, way better than the cheap beer kaminari stocks his fridge with, and you can feel your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you pop him into your mouth, lips hugging the head flush to your tongue.
“be gentle, i’m close,” he guides, thumb trailing the line of your jawline to the nape of your neck, holding you in place.
“that’s okay,” you smile, hollowing your cheeks and taking him down your throat.
it’s messy, slobber and pre-cum mixing together inside your mouth, the thick consistency slipping past gaped lips and coating the sides of your cheeks.
it’s easy to help him out when he’s like this, assertive and quiet, letting you go at your own pace to get what he wants, sucking the tip like an ice cold lolly—stickiness included.
izuku’s breathing picks up, sculpted tummy tensing and freaking out, legs shaking beside you. he attempts to hold back the noises begging to slip out of his mouth, stifling curses with grunts.
your hands squeeze around his shaft, girth leaving gaps in your closed fists, moving up and down, up and down, batted lashes peering up at him.
his head is hung towards the ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows his moans, voice whimpering. “i’m close, fuck—gonna make a mess.”
you place one firm kiss to his tip, hand gripping roughly around his shaft, swollen lips murmuring, “please?”
when he cums, it’s always in abundance. cockhead shooting thick wads of seed all over your face, it’s hard to pull away from it, especially when his hand presses your mouth against it, forcing the tip back down your throat.
he’s looking down at you now, freckled face directly above the top of your head, holding you all the way down on his cock.
it’s hard to breath through the liquid spilling down your tongue, yet izuku encourages you, petting the sides of your temples in his hands.
“that’s it,” he moans, watching the way your cheeks bulge, cock still leaking down your throat, milky liquid spilling from the sides.
he swipes it up, hooking the coated finger into the side of your mouth, pressing past his cock to stick it down your throat. “take it, c-can’t leave anything behind, gotta clean me up.”
izuku’s been saving it for you. of course he’d prefer filling your cunt with his abundance of seed, cum webbin’ deep inside your withering walls, but he’d settle for this, watching you choke on his syrupy sap begging for air.
painting your perfect face with his cum, claiming that pretty lil’ mouth shoved full of cock, feeling the rivets of cum shoot down your throat, gooey mushroom tip hitting the roof of your mouth.
you gag around it, the sheer abundance overwhelming coating your face, dripping past your cheeks and down your neck.
“look who’s messy now.” he remarks, pulling you off of him. he lazily jerks his shaft, pulling the rest of his cum from his balls, letting the tip shoot down the valley of your breasts, clear warm liquid pumping down towards your bellybutton, “shows your all mine.”
“we’re both messy izuku,” you grin, two fingers swiping through the liquid on your belly, collecting a thick glob of cum and leaning over his bare chest, “wanna help me clean it up?”
izuku’s flushed face shines back at you, lips colliding with your fingertips, popping them into his mouth, groaning at the taste, “of course, baby.”
a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG :< catching up on requests this weekend hehe ty for requesting ty for reading i love you all xx
(having a good week) that’s right. the goal is to increase my baseline. make the spirals shallower until they spin lazily on the surface of the water, lose their suction. im not trying to fix it all at once, im trying to incrementally improve my way into something tolerable. and once im there maybe i can shoot for good
(having a bad week) and in my terrible forge i will temper the flames of ruin
feeling guilty over not working on your fic is so silly if you think about like why are you stressing over the hobby you do in your free time for fun lol wip not whip
I like to reframe this for myself if this advice doesn't immediately work to make me feel better (It is good advice, this is my hobby not my jobby).
But here's my second line of mental defence: I'm not NOT working on it. I'm letting it rest, like dough. It must rise in my subconscious. It's still there, doing its thing. I'm just not prodding it with my hot fingers. Let it rest. Let it rise. Its time will come.
𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ryland grace & fem!reader
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you're the medic on the hail mary and come across a photo that must've slipped from your personal supplies which changes the entire dynamic between you and who you thought was your co-worker.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.6k
𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i CANNOT believe it has taken people this long to jump on the ryan gosling train. as always, i this nawt proof-read whatsoever #lewl. nerdy silly white boy with biceps, i want you.
you thought you had it all figured out.
well...most of it anyway.
you thought that you know who you are, why you're here, etcetera or whatever, but a single photograph you discovered that had slipped into a nook of the ship has single-handedly destroyed all of the progress you've made in terms of remembering yourself.
your breath shakes just as badly as your hands, and you feel a nervous pounding in your chest accompanied by a pattern of drums in your ears.
this photo can't be real.
you repeat your name in your head. you are an astronaut, and one hell of a doctor. you are on this ship to assist in completing a mission with your co-worker, ryland grace, the only other crew member to survive the journey's coma.
co-worker.
so why the hell are you staring at a photo of the two of you kissing.
there's a little more context to it though, which actually makes everything a hundred times worse.
there's an arch decorated with an array of lush white flowers that frames you both on a sunny spring day, grace is dipping you into the kiss, a beaming expression on each of your faces as he does so. he looks happy, so you look happy, and you're also dressed in a traditional white gown while grace is wearing a tailored suit, but not black, because—
"black is boring," ryland uttered, elbow propped up onto your dining table while his chin rested on his fist. you looked up at him from your laptop where you were browsing websites to get him a suit.
"then don't wear black," you giggled. he reached for your left hand to toy with your fingers, eventually brushing a thumb over your engagement ring. "i thought you said you wanted 'traditional'," he teased.
you scoffed, "i did not say that!"
"you did say that."
"ryland."
"honey," he mocked with a smile. you grinned and smacked his hand away, tending back to your laptop.
"obviously if you don't want to do something, you don't have to do it. and i agree with you, black is boring."
ryland sighed dreamily, tilting his face into his palm after settling his elbow up onto the table again. "i love us. we're so compatible," he hummed.
you smiled shook your head a little in amusement, eyes still on your screen. "you're ridiculous."
"yeah, well, you're marrying me. probably makes you the ridiculous one."
ryland then wordlessly took the laptop from you to scroll through the options, then clicked on one of the sites. he scrolled a little more in silence, squinting slightly even though his glasses were right there that he could've put on. ryland clicked on the touchpad once more before turning the screen to you, dead serious.
"i want this one."
you blinked at the screen. he had pulled up one of the site's photos of one of their models showing off a tacky purple suit and an ugly gold tie, all pulled together by a matching purple fedora. your eyes flicked to your groom-to-be.
"now you're really being ridiculous."
"what's wrong with it?"
"you'll look like a pimp."
"nothing wrong with that," he shrugged.
you snatched your laptop back and deleted the tab with another smile and shake of your head. this time, he smiled back.
"i love you," he uttered.
you looked up again, lingering in those three words. he slid his hand towards you, palm facing the ceiling.
"i love you too," you murmured back.
you slid your hand into his, and ryland laced your fingers together, giving you a squeeze.
you thought you would carry on from there, but of course ryland had to open his mouth again; "even if i dress like a pimp?"
"oh my god."
the memory ended in a flash, and you dropped the photograph. looks like grace settled on a brown corduroy suit with a burgundy tie for a pop of colour. your own voice echoes in your head again; 'the brown will look nice in spring.', as does ryland's; 'i do look incredible in brown, don't i?'
you feel like your wedding ring is burning into your skin.
both you and grace knew you were married via your rings of course, you just couldn't remember who to yet, and it never occurred to either of you that it might've been to each other because why would it?
you take a deep breath, closing your eyes, before picking up the photo again to go find the supposed love of your life.
you navigated your way through the ship with a sense of urgency, photograph clutched in hand. when you heard a crash and a clumsy ‘uh-oh’ coming from the lab, you stopped by the doorway. suddenly the urgency disappeared. maybe this could wait until tomorr-
“who goes there?”
grace’s chair creaks when he leans back to get a peek of you hiding behind the doorframe.
when you look at him now, it all comes together.
ever since the two of you woke up from the coma, there’s been a gravitational pull that brings you two together. in terms of the mission, you operate in perfect unison and create such a steady flow that it makes everything feel oddly domestic. grace flicks a couple of switches there, you repair a part of the control panel here.
every time you both finish a task, it’s tradition to wrap it up with a high-five. however, one time when the two of you got too lost in the work, your fingers ended up intertwined and fell to your sides in a ten second hand-holding session where neither of you flinched.
as soon as the both of you realised, you each recoiled and spent a few beats staring at each other, marvelling at how natural the encounter felt like it was a subconscious effort. all grace could do was clear his throat and walk off, saying something about lunch.
“well, well, look who decided to come back,” grace quips as he wipes down a piece of equipment with a cloth. his glasses are practically hanging off of his face as they so usually do.
“y’had me thinkin’ you were going for a space walk.”
“grace.”
“without a helmet.”
“grace.”
“yeah?”
he finally looks up to see you holding out the photograph.
ryland’s hands freeze before he gently sets down the XRF analyser which looks to be like it was dropped in ramen water.
he rises from his chair, eyes refusing to peel away from the picture as he steps closer. he carefully plucks it from your fingers and slides his glasses onto his face properly to look down at it. white flowers, white dress, and a brown suit, because black is boring.
his head lifts back up to meet your nervous gaze.
“we’re married.”
it sounds like he’s saying it to himself rather than you.
you nod, trying to see through the blank stare he’s giving. dr. ryland grace, possibly one of the smartest men from earth has had his brain turned to mush by a photograph.
“you’re my…we’re-”
“married, yes, i know,” you snap.
“oh my god."
he inhales.
"oh my god..."
he blinks.
he pauses.
"oh my god-"
"grace!" you plead.
"you're my wife, and we're-”
“yes, grace, we’re married. can you please say literally anything else?”
he takes a deep breath, then suddenly hands you the photo again to start pacing around in a circle with his hands on his hips.
“grace…?”
“yeah.”
“are you okay?”
he stops, facing away from you and rubs a hand across his face.
“um…” he pivots to you on the spot, “i think so.”
you remain standing with your feet together, slightly curled in on yourself as you hold the photograph in front of you with two hands.
“do you…remember anything?”
ryland settles both hands on top of each other on the back of his head, inhaling deeply. “i’m starting to,” he says with the exhale, “do you?”
you nod. “bits and pieces.”
you drag your feet over to one of the lab tables and sit on the surface, staring down at the photo.
what now?
“i proposed to you at the beach,” ryland says.
you look up, and in his eyes, you see waves and a bright grey sky. you smile.
“you did,” you hum, setting the photo down on the table next to you. “when you got on one knee, you were too close to the water and it washed up on you so your pants got soaked.”
you giggle at the sudden memory. ryland smiles, “i don’t think i remember that part…”
“yes you do, you’re just embarrassed,” you grin. “and you stayed on one knee to ask the question because you were too proud to admit you made a mistake even though i was laughing at you.”
you’re in a fit of giggles now, and ryland just chuckles as he approaches you. his eyes land on the two bands around your finger; your engagement ring, and the basic wedding ring that so clearly matches his now that he looks closer.
suddenly, he reaches for your hand, thumb grazing over the humble gemstone on the engagement ring. your favourite gemstone, he suddenly remembers.
he lets the tender moment pass, then carefully drops your hand to place his hands on his hips.
“looks cheap. you probably deserve better.”
you give him a look before your eyes drop to the ring on your finger. you twist it a little, observing the gem from different angles.
“no…it’s actually pretty perfect,” you decide.
ryland watches you over the rims of his glasses, his heart beating quicker when he catches the complete genuineness in your tone. his eyes flick back down to the photo next to you on the table.
“we're really married, huh?"
you lift your head, gazing at him with a fond curiosity. what else could you learn to remember about this silly man?
“i guess so,” you hum.
ryland gives a nod and glances down at his own ring.
“okay…” he murmurs.
then, louder; “then let’s be scientists and figure this out.”
summary: when rocky asks ryland if he has a mate, he doesn’t expect his memories to be flooded with images of you
warning: ryland being stuck in space, angst! (gosh), fluff for the moments inbetween, not a happy ending, one use of mrs for describing reader, one flashback gets a little steamy
note: am i writing this when i have a request for scott miller in my drafts, but i can’t get over project hail mary or ryland grace? absolutely
word count: 3.4k
“rocky ask question, question?” the computerised voice of rocky echoed throughout the hail mary. both rocky and ryland had been sat in silence for a while, rocky in his xenonite ball and ryland sprawled out on the metal bridge, watching the ‘world’ go by through monitors that surrounded the room.
“go for it, rock.” ryland replied, sitting up and turning around to face rocky properly. his arms rested on top of his bent knees, his hands clasping together in front of him. the computer that translated rocky’s music was balanced precariously in between them and waited patiently for his friend to speak.
“grace have mate, question?” it came out soft, and, even lacking in facial features, ryland realised that rocky was asking this with the upmost care. of course, they had spoken about their crew members that they had lost along the way. rocky had spoken about his mate, but ryland had been quiet about himself.
“grace hear rocky, question?” the automated voice called out again causing ryland to lift his head up from where it had dropped between his knees. without realising, his eyes had glossed over, tears forming without the right conscious feeling behind them.
that had happened a lot, especially after waking up from his coma, realising his crew mates were gone and going through their belongings. ryland felt things deeply. so deeply that whatever had happened in his coma had stopped them from coming to the surface, shying away from being reachable to his conscious, but there enough to cause reactions like this.
“yeh, rock, i heard you. i still have trouble with remembering things.” ryland replied, wringing his fingers together as he thought of what to say. there was nothing in his personal belongings that suggested there being a ‘mate’, but he had had too many dreams of someone lately. someone talking to him after long days, someone taking care of him.
his head went foggy, the space behind he eyes began to hurt, and as ryland pulled his glasses away from his face, he closed his eyes and rubbed them harshly.
and suddenly, there was you. the grocery store lights were harsh around the corners of ryland vision, he saw the cart in front of you and the basket in his hands, but he didn’t see the corner of the cart growing ever closer to him until the clashing of metal snapped him out of his daydream.
“oh, gosh, i am so sorry.” you gasped, turning around from looking at the shelves to pull your cart closer to you before walking around it to meet ryland.
“no, no, it was my fault, i wasn’t looking-” he stumbled over his words, your eyes peering up at him as your hands covered your mouth. were you giggling?
“no, i’m sorry, i don’t know why im laughing,” you apologised again, dropping your hands as you balanced them against the edge of your cart. “i can’t believe i ran into you with my cart.” and your hands were over your face.
“hey, no, it was totally my fault!” ryland insisted, dropping his fairly empty basket to gently grab your wrists. he pulled them down to reveal your face once more before realising what he had just done. “oh, God, and now i’m sorry for just touching you, i don’t know why i did that.” then it was his turn to cover his face.
“i think we need to stop apologising, this isn’t going well.” you laughed again, this time more wholeheartedly as you mirrored his actions and pulled his wrists down with such care.
ryland let you hold onto his wrists for longer than what others would find appropriate for strangers. but there was something about you, something that he couldn’t put his finger on, but it felt something like fate, like he was meant to be here with your warmth wrapped around him.
neither of you moved for a few moments, your hands still on his skin as you looked over each other. his sandy hair was messy, he hadn’t bothered to do much to it that morning, but your eyes couldn’t be drawn away from the strands, flitting between them and his eyes. by your account, they were the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, and this man was just walking around with them freely. it was totally unfair.
“i’m ryland.” he finally said, breaking the silence that had sat comfortably between you two. you gave him your own name in reply, smiling wider as he repeated it back to you. you were still holding his wrists.
“well, ryland,” his name was sweet on your tongue, “i better get back to shopping. i don’t want to take up more of your time apologising.” both of you laughed again at your joke, your hands dropping his as you moved back to the handle of your cart. ryland didn’t pick up his basket.
“i don’t mind,” he started. “i’m pretty sure it was my fault anyway.”
“i thought we were done taking blame?”
“maybe i could try it once more?” you laughed at his words once again and smiled brightly, your chin dipping down to cover the blush that had started to warm your face.
“maybe you could try over dinner? if that’s something-”
“yes! yeh, i can do that.” ryland replied instantly, not letting you finish your sentence before eliciting another giggle from your lips. God, he wanted to do that until the end of time.
“tomorrow night?”
“yes, that’s perfect,” he nodded, pulling out his phone open his contacts and pass it over to you. “just not too late, it’s a school night.”
“oh, what are you studying?” you asked curiously, taking his phone and hoping to every external force that he wasn’t a college student who happened to look older for his age.
“well, i studied molecular biology, but im an eighth grade teacher now.” ryland explained, taking his phone back from you.
“wow, cute and good with kids? i think i hit the jackpot.” you smirked and watched as his face fell, a redness covering his cheeks as he looked down at his basket. pieces of words started to leave ryland’s lips before you said, “text me. i’ll see you tomorrow, mr ryland.”
he watched as you headed down the aisle, looking back over your shoulder for one last glance at the cute teacher who had somehow scored himself his first date since college. “yes, tomorrow!” he called after you, seeing you off with one final wave before walking in the opposite direction.
in that moment, ryland forgot all about his basket and the candy in it for his students in the coming weeks.
then he was back on the hail mary. rocky was in front of him tapping one of his hands onto the xenonite ball beneath him. the screens were still playing out a scene of an early spring day. ryland wiped away a stray tear that began to fall.
“i did have someone,” he started in a quiet voice, knowing no matter how much he whispered, rocky would hear him. he gave your name before continuing, “we met in a grocery store - it’s where people buy food. i bumped into this cart and just started apologising before we actually started talking, and i suddenly had a date for the next day. that was it. that was the start of everything.”
rocky was quiet as he took in ryland’s words. there was a certain somber tone to his voice that rocky hadn’t heard before, and he wasn’t fully sure what it meant. he could see that ryland’s mate had meant a lot of him. rocky should know, he has his own, of course. but for someone who was meant to be seeing their mate again, ryland seemed too… sad.
“grace still have mate, question?” rocky asked, tapping his hands again whilst moving forward in his ball.
“yeh. yeh, rock, at home.” ryland nodded, bracing his arms on his bent knees whilst looking at a very partially interesting spot on the floor.
“grace go home to mate, question?”
you. home. he was back there instantly. the lights low as he hung up his bike helmet on the special hook you had put up one evening, your scribbled writing above it on a plaque signifying what it held. ‘ryland’s helmet’ with a smiley face underneath it. he never knew he needed that until he had it. until he had you.
there was soft music playing in the kitchen, floating through the small living space and filling ryland’s ears as he pulled off his bag and yellow rain coat. next, he toed off his shoes, placing them next to your own before following the delicious smell of your dinner.
as he rounded the corner, his vision was filled with you, the usually glow around the edges as it soften his memories. you were graceful going back and forth between the cooker and the sink, carefully washing dishes whilst checking on the pasta sauce you had simmering away.
ryland was always quiet getting home. you knew he would be late getting back from work tonight, but you didn’t realise what time it was until you felt his arms circling your waist, his warmth perforating your clothes as you leaned back into his presence.
“hi, baby.” you whispered, smiling widely as you rested your head against his shoulder, your hands coming up to rest on his own on your stomach. “good day?”
“eventful, as always.” he replied, leaning down slightly to press a soft kiss into your check.
“did the kids like the mars model you made?” you asked, turning around in his hold to reach up and around his neck to play with the short hairs there.
“the model we made,” he chastised gently, placing a kiss on your nose. “but yes, they did. they asked if mrs grace had helped make it because it was too good for me to have done.”
“no they didn’t.” you giggled, one hand coming down to cover your mouth as you tried to not sound so amused at the almost insult.
“oh, they did.” ryland nodded, pulling your wrist down to press a sweet kiss on your lips.
“i mean, it was a good model.”
“it was, because mrs grace helped me out.”
“not yet, mr,” you reminded him, patting his chest lightly before pulling yourself out of his grasp and headed over to the cooker. “i don’t remember being asked any question.”
“of course,” he agreed, a hand hitting his forehead before bouncing back off it and hanging in the air. “what’s your ring size?”
as you turned to look at him, he was stood with a huge grin on his face, his glasses slightly wonky on his nose which made him even more endearing. your head was tilted to the side at his joke, a small smile fighting its way to the surface as you lifted a playful finger at him.
“you’re lucky i love you.” you reminded him, turning to quickly stir the sauce once more before looking back at ryland.
“i love you, too.”
and he did. he could feel it deep in his chest, like it had shimmied down from his heart and rooted itself in between his ribs as to not be forgotten. his chest hurt at that memory, thinking not only of you, but of his students and his classroom. that model had sat on his desk for months, proudly in place as he used it multiple times for different lessons.
he could taste your pasta sauce, feel how your hands felt in his hair, on his chest. he can feel the ache in his cheeks from how you made him smile, knowing you must have felt the same each night before going to bed.
ryland lifted his head back up briefly, his hands rubbing across his face in exasperation, and he was grateful that he wasn’t wearing his glasses in that moment. you always reminded him to be carefully whilst wearing them. he always poked himself in the eye after your statement.
“home is very far away at the moment.” ryland said, thinking about the warmth that came with the word, the slightly frayed and worn in couch that you both settled down on each night. the creaky floorboards that you both failed to miss each morning whilst trying to get ready.
“rocky go home to mate,” rocky stated, one hand coming up to tap on the opal stone embedded in his arm. “grace go home to mate.” another statement, one that ryland couldn’t bare to think about, let alone answer.
ryland never thought he’d have a place to feel like home. of course, he had a home, a small place in san francisco that held all his things and kept him safe and warm at night. until you, he didn’t truly realise that home follows another person around before coming back to him.
instead of finding a new place together, you agreed to move in with him. six months after your first date, you quickly realised that you were it for each other, and didn’t want to waste another minute apart. you couldn’t go another night without seeing him come home from work, and ryland couldn’t go another day without kissing you goodbye.
it took a couple of weeks to move all of your things over to his place. you didn’t live too far from each other, and ryland had a lot of furniture already, but you found it difficult to pack everything you owned into boxes and move it whilst both of you were working full time.
regardless of that, you still stayed at his every night, some boxes there and some at your old place. the impending deadline of your lease ending did very little to encourage you to move things over when all you needed was in bed next to you, snoring away softly as he had both arms wrapped around your body.
“ryland.” you whispered into the darkness. your face was close enough to his to feel his warm breath on your cheek. he had one arm tucked under your neck whilst the other rested as a comforting weight over your hip. your legs were tangled together as your hands rested on his chest, a science pun barely visible under your fingers, but you knew exactly which one it was.
“ryland.” you tried again, your voice getting slightly louder as you brought a hand up to stroke his stubbled cheek.
“ryland.” you said once more before you heard a grunt of a reply. his body moved closer to yours as you realised he was slowly waking up. “i’m going to move everything else in tomorrow.” your voice went back down to a whisper.
“hmm, that’s great, honey.” he mumbled, pulling you closer to him so that your bodies were flushed against each other. his head fell into the gap between the pillows and your neck, his breathing shallowing out again and his snores started up once more.
“ryland!” you still whispered, pulling back slightly to grab his face with both hands (and admire his sleepy state).
“is the house on fire?” he grumbled, just like moments ago, one eye opening slightly to look at your face and gauge what was going on.
“did you hear me?” you asked, a soft smile on your face as you watched him start to open his other eye. all you got was another grumble in response. he definitely hadn’t heard you.
“i’m going to move everything else in tomorrow, finally get it sorted.” you repeated, squeezing his cheeks as he processed your words and opened his eyes fully.
“sweetheart, that’s great!” ryland’s voice was soft and full of sleep, but his excitement was evident, especially with how he pulled you close to him once again and placed kisses down your cheek, jawline and onto your neck.
“i mean, it’s been long enough.” you giggled as his stubble tickled you, knowing it was late at night, but still feeling giddy at the thought of the rest of your life with ryland.
he pulled back from your skin, looking at you in the dim lights of your shared bedroom before leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. as always with ryland, it was soft, gentle, full of love and words that he said to you in person and seemed to perfectly translate into a kiss.
the arm that rested on your hip moved towards your back, pulling your chest flush with his as your hands found their way to the back of his head. the hairs on the nape of his neck had started to grow out a bit more lately, ryland having missed his hair cut the other week, but you weren’t complaining.
it gave you the perfect opportunity to thread your fingers through the strands, pulling on them slightly as his lips parted and a small groan escaped them. you took that as a chance to deepen the kiss, finding warmth and comfort in the way his lips felt against your own, how his skin was hot against yours and his hands held you gently.
with his arms still around you and your legs still intertwined, one of your hands let go of his hair and came down to fist the material of his shirt. kissing ryland always left you breathless, and it always left you wanting more. but you were also very aware that he had work in a few hours, it was a school night after all.
“baby.” you muttered against his lips. they were still gliding over your own, taking what was his and leaving nothing behind. “ry.” you tried again, the hand on his chest pushing up to meet the sharp edge of his jaw.
“yes.” he replied quickly, taking a short breath before kissing you again softly.
“dr grace.” you said with every intention of getting his attention, but he seemed to take it another way.
“it’s too late for that, honey.” he mumbled, finally pulling away from your lips to press gentle kisses on your cheek and jawline once again.
“i know, we should get to sleep,” you gasped as he found his favourite spot and decided to bite the skin slightly. “i only wanted to tell you my plan.”
“and i think it’s a great plan.” ryland pressed one last kiss against your lips before moving you further down the bed to let your head rest against his chest. his arms were still tightly around your body, keeping you safe as if anything could happen at any time. as if anything could take you away from him.
you said a quiet “goodnight” into the room as ryland kissed the top of your head. all you could feel was the vibrations of his voice on your skin, but you knew what he had said. only after that did you finally close your eyes and start to drift to sleep, thinking about ryland and tomorrow and the day after that. you thought about the day after that as well, for good measure.
ryland thought about the same thing, too. he thought about you and your future home, somewhere away from the busy main streets, but still somewhere that collected the fog in the early morning. he pictured a large yard out back, a few kids and maybe a dog running around as he chased you down, doing whatever he could to hear that giggle another time.
the thought hit him hard, his hands running over his face and through his hair once more. it wasn’t the same as how you used to do it. none of this was the same for what once was. he never would have left you on earth if this was what he would come home too. ryland was just grateful that his memories had finally come back.
“grace sad about mate, question?” rocky perked up gently, sensing something wasn’t right about his friend but not knowing what.
“yeh. we were together a long time-it was meant to be a long time.” ryland sniffled, his hands falling limp in front of his body as he looked back over to rocky.
“not long enough.”
ryland agreed, “not long enough.”
masterlist!
requests! please send me ryland grace thoughts bc i cannot get over this man
tagging people who might like this! @crystalzweig @heartburriedintauceti @lostinwildflowers @pagesfromthevoid @doctor-ryland-grace @redwinelewis @effloradox @deanssecretary @yearningforsolitude @icantthinkofafuckingnameatm @stargirl-meltdown @bibigo-lover @eridianhearts
Heavy Handed Science Lesson. ( Ryland Grace x Fem! Reader, NSFW, 18+ Oneshot )
*lays this at your feet because i have no where else to put it *
Title: Heavy Handed Science Lesson.
Pairing: Ryland Grace x Female!Reader.
Rating: M, 18+. ( MINORS DNI. Heavy mentions of anatomically correct phrasing, P in V, no condom ( let's make responsible choices here guys ), Ryland discovers a certain..... something really gets him going. )
Words: 2.6K.
Summary: Ryland Grace tries his hand at Dirty Talk. It works. Maybe a little too well.
Ryland Grace Masterlist.
The familiar stretch of Ryland as he shifted slightly under you was a perfect and grounding presence as you moved, trying to time your motions with his own to form a rhythm that made your toes curl. Your room is quiet, save for the soft pants between your mouths, the occasional tangling of the tongues and the hard sounds of bodies meeting.
Ryland moves his large hands from your back where he had been holding you against him, to your hips to let you rise and quite frankly - ride him into the mattress like your life depended on it. His grip was slightly sweaty, but endearing earnest as he tried to guide your erratic movements. He gets it just right, and a moment later, the poor scientist has his head thrown back against the plush pillows, his eyes falling shut and his mouth slightly open as he lost himself in the slick sensation you were giving his cock.
“Ryland…” You moaned and earned another shift from his hips rising to meet yours as your hands rested on his chest to keep yourself steady as you bounced, or more or less, grinded.
He’s mumbling under his breath, a pretty common occurrence as he was very much trying to keep it together, but slowly, his eyelids flutter open and his blue eyes meet yours. Your breath hitched as Ryland tightened the grip on your hips and drove upwards, bruises on the horizon for your hip bones. There was barely any color left around his irises, they were completely pupil-blown and flickered with a clouded desire that you could feel your stomach clench in that sort of pre-orgasm ride you were seeking.
But… There was something else there, too. A gaze of… Analytical curiosity.
“You’re just so…” He panted, chest rising and falling rapidly as you drew your fingertips against his soft pecs, slightly perked from the attention they were suddenly receiving. Quickly, Ryland lost his train of thought when you rolled your hips, a particularly practice move you had skilled that made him whimper under you, his teeth sharp and biting down on his bottom lip to keep it mildly sedated.
“Ohhh… Baby… That’s…” He sucked a hard breath in through his teeth. It was painful, but it mixed with the pleasure of your hot walls hugging his swollen cock. “The… friction… Variable… Less than I projected.”
You groaned quietly, rolling your head back and letting his words really sink into you. Ryland was not… a dirty talker, but when he did, it came out in absolutes. Scientific phrasing. The things that made him comfortable and over the times you had been together, it became incredibly sought after and even sexier than other dirty talk you may have had.
“Your… ha---!” A sharp sound left Ryland’s mouth that tapered into a stagnant groan upon feeling you clench him purposefully. “Your natural lubrication is uh… exceptionally… efficient at… at…”
The cute blonde under you trailed off, his hips bucking up involuntarily, making both of you gasp as you braced your hands against him a bit harder. The smile on your face couldn’t be helped, it was slow and lazy and it made Ryland whimper again as you leaned down, changing the angle for just long enough to kiss him. All this, your movements never faltered and you relished in the absolute mess your boyfriend became at the new position and its offerings.
“Is that what y-you’re thinking about right now? Friction coefficients, Dr. Grace?”
That jilts him. Darkened eyes meet yours, wide and surprised at the use of his professional name and then dropped to your chest, bouncing delictably in front of him as a grin spread across his expression.
“Oh…” Ryland’s voice dropped an octave as rubbed your hips in his hands, feeling the skin react to his touch perfectly. “Oh you s-shouldn’t have don-done that…”
He was a mess, his blonde hair spread against the pillow, his mouth swollen from the makeout session that led to this situation, but the next words come out loud and clear, “That activates my methodological rigor.”
A.K.A, that turns me on. A lot.
His hands tighten on your hips, trying to take control of your rhythm and leaving you to bite at your bottom lip to stifle the loud moan that threatened to come out. Ryland… Took that personally and now it was his mission to get you louder. "Okay. So. The stimulus-response relationship. For every... for every unit of force you apply... um..."
There is a moment of lapse in his words when you clench around him again, this time as you bounced up and the sensation was more focused around the head of his cock and then down the length as you came down, almost sitting. "F-force. Like... like that..."
The clever scientist tired to push up to meet your next downward stroke, but unfortunately, he was not very good at… Timing beats. There is a mid-judge in the situation and he slipped out, leaving you empty.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry…” He groaned as he reached down, grabbing himself and fumbling to guide. He could blame the dim lights, but he could very well blame the fact that he had his pretty girlfriend sitting on him, eager for more and he was just… Not smooth. “Let me… Gah… Re-calibrate trajectory here.”
That made you laugh, a soft blush playing at your cheeks as you reached down, cupping his hand and helping out as best you could. He teased you for a moment, letting the swollen head of his cock play against your clit before he slid right back in, filling you up and earning him another roar from you as you tossed your head back. “Ryland…”
He sputtered, trying to regain some of the authoritative demeanor, though his face is bright red and he’s once again staring at your bouncing chest. Not staring. Oggling.
“A-As I was saying… For ev-every unit of force applied…” You did just that, moving your hips forward and sliding down him, a bit rougher than before. “Th-... F… Fluffer…” He squeezed his eyes shut, “Ther… M…”
You felt so good, words seemed so far away but he forced them, “There’s a corresponding… cascade of… Mh… Neurochemical stuff.” He hated that word. ‘Stuff’ when you could just be specific.
“Dopamine,” He raised his hips and your breath got caught in your throat in a violent motion as you came crashing back down on him, “Oxytocin…” Another raise of Ryland’s hips, this one got you to see stars, he was using incredible force, his knees coming up and it was clear that leverage was his best friend.
You came tumbling down, dropping your forearms by his head and instead of exerting intense bouncing, you resorted to hard grinding and occasional bounce when you got your hip to rise enough.
Ryland moaned at that, meeting you down and letting his mouth fall onto yours to swallow a few of your sounds without shame. Having your mouth landing on his already open, he was appreciative as his tongue swept against yours and you drew back, bringing Ryland’s bottom lip between your teeth for a second before letting go.
“God… Your pupils baby…” You bit your bottom lip this time, letting your nose bump against his, “They’re v-very dilated… Tex-textbook example of arousal.”
You nodded, resting your forehead against his as Ryland took control, despite you still being on top of him. With his hands still on your hips, he drove into you with a very steady pace that told you that he wasn’t over yet, he wanted to stave off as long as it took for this little… Spontaneous little science lesson to come to a natural close.
“And the anatomy?” He laughed breathlessly, but his voice was low and thick with lust, letting his eyes take pleasure in peeping at where you two were joined.
“God, the anatomy. D-do you feel how your… internal muscles are contracting?” You barely managed a nod at that and moaned softly against Ryland’s mouth as you kissed him.
“It-it’s called a peristaltic wave… It’s an… involuntary…” You clenched him purposefully again, “Hn…. Spasm designed to… to…” He twitched.
The words are lost to Ryland, his mind clearly short-circuiting from the abundance of pleasure. What better thing for science than an example, “To do that to me.” He forced himself to finish, his voice strained at how tight you felt. “It’s s-so… perfect…”
Ryland moved to guide your hips, eager to change the angle and hit that spot deep inside of you. He pushed you slightly forward, but overestimated the force needed and nearly sent you tumbling headfirst off the bed.
“Woah!” You yelp, unfortunately not out of pleasure. “Easy there, Dr. Grace. No need to give me a concussion in the middle of our experiment.”
He laughed under his breath. He liked that you were referring to it that way as he softened his hands as your hips. “Sorry, sorry. Calculation was flawed. Let’s… Let’s try…” Ryland moved you more gently. Carefully, having taken those notes all scientists needed to in order to make adjustments. “Angling your pelvis… Posteriorly.”
Your hips moved back a bit, angling a bit awkwardly at first but you caught his drift. Ryland though, demonstrated by wiggling his own hips which felt good as he was still inside of you, but it was almost a motion so absurdly cute that it made you giggle. You followed his clumsy instructions, shifting your hips ever so slightly and suddenly, his next thrust upwards hit that spot perfectly. You cry out loudly, your back arching in response as goosebumps flooded your skin. Rolling your head back, Ryland watched the tense nature of your neck as you let out almost inhuman sounds from the back of your throat.
“There we go.”
He seemed a bit more rampant, bringing his hips into yours as you came down on him, floating hard but sinking slowly. There was a breathless smile on his face as he watched your reaction with intensity. You were so… so… pretty…
“That’s the uh…” Ryland struggled for the scientific term. “Anterior fornix. Or- I-I guess you know it by the G-spot.” Hearing him say something crudely tangled with the fact that he was abusing that body part with the force behind his thrusts from below sent you spiraling.
“I-I think based on yo-your reaction, baby…” You moaned louder when Ryland went that much deeper. “This is a highly e-effective stimulation point.”
You’ve had it. With his words still floating in the air, you take control back over and press your hands hard onto his chest, using your body weight against him to keep Ryland from moving and he was more than willing to comply as his knees came down and you happily moved one of the hands from his chest back to rest on his knee. You tilted above him just a bit.The pace that is set is frantic, chasing that feeling that only he gave you.
Ryland's lecture devolved at that point turning into breathless moans and extremely fragmented observations. “T-the pressure is… building,” He panted, tossing his head back before forcing himself to look at you as you rode him. “It’s a po-positive f-feedback loop…” His words felt jumbled together as you tightened around him, “The more you ride me, the more I feel and the more I want.”
Ryland lost it there for a few moments. His hands roamed from their safe place against your hips upwards to your breasts where they grasped desperately, though he was hoping to go for… experimental. “Th-the secondary s-sexual characteristics like-like to be played with, huh?” He was getting dirtier. Losing what little control he had left. “Yeah?” He squeezed them hard. “They lik-like tactile stimulation.”
You nodded wildly, grinding your hipbones into your boyfriend’s hard. It was then that whatever was holding Ryland back just… Snapped. His babbling became just as erratic as your hips, a testament to how truly overwhelmed he was.
“I-I’m so close…” He gasped, his voice a ragged whisper and eyes locked on your face as it was twisted in pure ecstasy. He liked the way you looked. So sickly entwined in the desire for his cock inside of you, begging with just your body and sounds that you wanted him to cum deep inside of you. “A-are you close? B-because I t-think I’m g-go… My sy-sytem is… about to overload.”
You had to hand it to him. When he went into lesson mode, he went all in.
Those words are your metaphorical and physical undoing. Hearing Ryland’s voice so strained and so deep in his chest, rumbling and rough, combined with the absolutely relentless pleasure, sent you over that crested edge. You yelp out his name uncontrollably as your orgasm crashed through you, a blinding and searing wave that made you scream his name again. And then again when he lifted his hips to meet yours.
Your body convulsed against his, your back so arched and ridged as he squeezed your breasts harder than he meant but it seemed appreciated as you moved against him. Your inner muscles clamped Ryland’s hard cock, uncontrollably spasming against him and giving him only a sensation your pussy managed to exude in him.
“Oh, god.” Ryland’s voice was hoarse from over excretion. The sound of his skin literally slamming into yours sounded in the room as you were more than willing to let the handsome scientist use you like a piece of lab equipment. His cock twitched, you could feel it against your walls as he moved rapidly. “I… F… I’m c-cumming…”
With a final, clumsy thrust upwards, Ryland felt relief to follow you over the edge, spilling into you with a series of shuddering, guttural moans as he tensed under you, hands sliding roughly down to grab your hips and keep you down on him. Your name was chanted over and over again, his head throwing itself back against the pillow once again as he thrashed it, eyelids squeezed shut that the corners of his eyes wrinkled from pressure.
Every pulse of his hot cock pumping you full, every spasm the organ gave as he emptied himself and helped ease your orgasm, you were able to feel to incredible precision.
“Ry…” You whined softly, rolling your hips in the seated position as Ryland held you to him like a magnet.
Without much energy left, you collapsed onto him, your chest crushing against his and in any other circumstance, you’d have readjusted for comfort but you just didn't have it in you and let Ryland wrap his arms around you, holding you to him as your breath exploded onto the side of his neck, pressing a hot kiss against his heavy jugular. In return, Ryland nuzzled his face into your hair and drew in a deep breath, trying to collect it in his series of pants.
Your hips were still making small circles, trying to ease both of you back down without completely crashing. The room now was silent, except for the sounds of your hard breaths against each other's skin. Ryland traced your scapula with the tip of his finger, sweat having built up in the energy used and you felt sticky against him. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, and in fact, it was a deeply intimate moment.
After a long moment of you two trying to recollect some sense of self, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Conclusion,” He murmured against your hair. “The… hypothesis was… Correct. The results, in my professional opinion, are highly significant and we should uh…” He raised his eyebrows, “We should definitely run the experiment again… For… Data collection.”
You lifted yourself up against him a bit, Ryland giving you a bashful and goofy smile as if he did not just rail your brains out. “For science?”
"fuc— fudge— fudge, fudge, fudge—", he breathed. His hand besides your head now clawing the sheets so hard, you are certain you heard a pop. His breathe is uneven, hitting your shoulder. His other forearms just laying flat against the mattress, some of your hair underneath but you don't complain about it.
"are you alright?", you breathed. It was apparent that you were smiling. It could be heard in your voice, for Pete's sake! Your hand traveled from his ribcage, all the way up to his cheek. Oh, that made his breathe stutter.
"yeah— yeah, oh, I'm so fine—", he stuttered. His hips moved. Slowly. Every slow drag out, he closed his eyes. His lips pressing together like they were concealing every secret he had. And, every push in, his eyes opened. Not like he could see much, his glasses fogged up from his own breathing.
"I'm so okay— very okay. Everything is— greangh—", his head dropped on your shoulder when you hooked your legs around his waist. A teasing smile on your lips quickly turned into a open mouthed gasp when his hips snapped on their own.
The hand on his cheek moved to rest on the back of his neck. "Ryland—", you whispered. That seemed to catch his attention as he moved up from his position of laying over you. Now, you could see all of him.
His chest moving from the uneven breathes. His fogged up glasses. Hair slightly askew, falling over his forehead. His lips parted, you could see the sheen layer of sweat glisten under the mood light.
You could tell he was about to say something, your hips moved before his lips could. Grinding against his, begging, screaming for more friction or action or anything. The words stuck on his tongue immediately turned into a choked groan.
"wait— wait, wait, wait", his hand pressed on your stomach. Which did nothing to motivate you to wait. It just pressed you harder against the feeling of him inside, your back arched as you let out a moan, "oh—"
His hand lifted like he touched lava, literally. You opened your eyes, glaring. Was he really adamant on not letting you get off tonight?
Your hand wrapped around his wrist as you yanked him forward, his free hand scrambled to find a solace while yours just pulled him closer by the back of his neck.
"Ryland Grace, if you don't fuck me right now. I swear—", he didn't even have to let you finish. His hips already started moving. Making you take a sudden breath before falling back down on the mattress.
"sorry— I didn't realize I was stalling, heh—", he breathed. "Did you know, that sex functions as a moderate— oh my gosh", he moaned, his hand moving to rest on your hip.
"moderate—", his other hand pushed his glasses up, "exercise that burns 3 to— to", his hips moved. He talked so much, "4.2 calori—mphf—"
Your hand, that was resting on the back of his neck just moved. Two fingers prodding at his lips before resting in his mouth when he opened them to speak. You could feel the warm saliva and soft muscles around it, teeth careful not to graze your fingers.
"shh—", your eyes closed, focusing on the way he feels. But not before you saw the way he nodded and feel his tongue push your fingers to the roof of his mouth.
a/n: I need to make out with this man while he tells the weirdest and the most useless facts he knows while I'm trying to shut him up
summary ryland really enjoys it when you wear his clothes (like, really, really enjoys it) cws no spoilers/no mention of the petrova line, smut (now with some plot!), oral sex (m and f receiving), unsafe sex, ryland grace whimpers don't try to tell me otherwise, tooth-rotting fluff wc 3.3k words
i'm alive guys i've been reading project hail mary and i finished chapter twenty-three today... i'm distraught. anyway, i'm seeing phm in 70mm imax next week! :) also the title is from the lana del rey song love song :) (double smiley face, happy happy happy)
One of the first things that you learned about being in a relationship with Ryland Grace was that he really, really liked it when you borrowed his clothes.
The first time that you found this out was when you were both out walking, and neither of you figured that it would be a good idea to check the weather. It was normally cloudy, and cloudy, foggy days were the ones that he enjoyed the most. He brought his raincoat as he typically would, but you didn’t bring a raincoat or an umbrella. It wasn’t raining when you left, just a bit foggy.
But you were about halfway from the bookstore that you had gone to together to the cafe that you were visiting when it started downpouring rain. It was a light sprinkle at first, and you were only about half a mile away from the cafe, so you figured that you’d be alright. But the second it started thundering, you were a mess.
You were both running for it, but he stopped about halfway there because you were drenched. Ryland insisted that you wear his raincoat, and you insisted that he was just going to get wet if you did. But he wore you down, especially because you were pretty sure that some of the rainwater was about to get in your eye.
By the time you got to the cafe, you both looked ridiculous. Soaking wet, just like half of the other people who had just walked in to seek refuge from the storm. But Ryland laughed the second he looked at you. Not like he was mocking you, or like he thought you looked silly. But because he thought you looked adorable. He didn’t really care that either of you were soaked when he kissed you, because you looked ‘so irritatingly cute’ in his raincoat.
The second time had been one of his silly shirts.
It was the first time that you spent the night at his apartment, and you didn’t bring anything to wear the next morning because you hadn’t been expecting to spend the night at his apartment. You’d dressed up the night before, and as cute as a sundress was, you really didn’t feel like wearing it over coffee at six in the morning while he got ready for work. He just suggested you wear one of his shirts and borrow a pair of pants that had been left the last time one of his female cousins visited - he even called her to assure you that she wouldn’t mind.
But he hadn’t really realized until you walked into the main room of the apartment that he was going to really, really enjoy the way that you looked wearing it. The familiar pun that he had only ever really seen on himself, the cotton that clung to his skin differently than it looked against yours. He nearly poured the coffee right down the sink because he was so distracted.
The moment you got closer to him, he had his hands around your waist and his lips pressing gentle little kisses against your neck. You were half-tempted to let him keep doing that all morning, especially when he let out these pleased hums that sounded almost like the human equivalent of purring right against your skin. But you noticed that his hand was tipping the coffee pot, and you were quick to stop him before he poured boiling bean water onto your feet.
Besides, he was going to be late. Ryland was many things, but late was not one of them. He cared too much about his students to be anything other than punctual. Half of the time, they showed up early so they could ask him questions, and other times, they showed up early because he often had something going on with the board to keep them entertained as soon as they walked in. The kids loved him, and he cared about them far too much to be late.
So he left on time, and you learned for the second time that he really, really liked the way that you looked in his clothes.
This time was different, though.
It’s been about two years since you started dating, and about two days since you moved in. None of your things were really unpacked yet, and you had taken the week off from work so you could focus on moving in.
It had been a surprise when Ryland asked you. You weren’t married or engaged, but you knew exactly why you weren’t either of those things or living together; Ryland was afraid of getting his heart broken. He didn’t want someone to come into his life and immediately come out of it. His last relationship hadn’t ended very well at all, and that was something that he had told you about around the time that he asked you to move in with him.
The very prospect of someone hurting him was something that he decided that he couldn’t bear, but it just so happened to be something that made your stomach turn in equal measure. It made it a somewhat easier decision for him. He still had that fear in him, but he trusted you. He trusted that you were telling him the truth, and you had always been patient with him. You never asked for things to go further than they were; you never asked for more commitment than he was ready for. You understood him, and his limits, and that things would be on a timeline that was comfortable for both of you, rather than what was comfortable for society.
So now you were in his home, halfway finished with unpacking the box that contained everything that you had for the kitchen and the bathroom. You were taking a bit of a break, Ryland probably wouldn’t be home for another three or four hours, so you weren’t trying to get done especially fast since you didn’t have much to do otherwise. Given that you’d taken the week off of work to move, and given the fact that you knew you would be busy moving so you made no plans, you really had nothing much to do other than unpack and take little breaks.
You didn’t expect Ryland to come home at… roughly one in the afternoon, though.
“You’re early,” you didn’t take much of a moment to let that surprise linger, though, because the second you had the words out of your mouth, you also had your arms wrapped around his neck. Ryland sighed as he felt you pepper kisses along his cheeks, his arms wrapping around you in return, even though he had his bag and helmet still on.
“There was a-uh-” He was a little distracted, trying to set his back down and also return your kisses. But he eventually pulled back enough to speak and take the bike helmet off his head, turning around for just a moment to hang it on the rack that it was always on. “A water issue thing, so we had a half-day while they’re fixing it.”
“I see-well, did you get lunch? I can make us lunch. I haven’t eaten yet. I was just about to, actually. But then you came home.”
“Yeah, that sounds-”
His words seemed to halt the moment that he got a good, long look at you. One of his shirts, again. It wasn’t one of the science puns, but one of the cat ones that he had. Those seemed to be your favorite, so you were wearing them more often than you were wearing anything else. But he was more drawn to the fact that you were also wearing one of his sweaters.
He had a few.
There was his favorite sweater that had the foxes on it, the one that he was wearing right now. But he had some more sweaters than just that. You were wearing one of the sweaters that didn’t have any print on it, but it was just as comfy and easy to move around in. He had given you full permission to wear his things since yours were unpacked (and because he liked seeing you in them), so you didn’t really think about asking first.
“You look so good.”
“I feel like I’m a little bit of a mess from unpacking. I got a nasty papercut earlier from one of the boxes.”
“Lemme see.”
You held your hand out for him to inspect. It was nothing major, just a little cut on your pinkie finger. But he brought it up to his face, still. Ryland treated the minor wound like the most serious thing that he had ever seen, and it admittedly made you laugh a bit to see him inspecting the cut with mumbled phrases like ‘this might need stitches’ and ‘let's get lunch at the hospital, this is serious’.
But your slight distraction was lifted when you felt him wrap his hand fully around yours to tug you against him.
“You look really, really good.”
“Yeah? So you do you, I think it’s cute when you get helmet hair.”
Ryland didn’t mind when you reached up to fix his hair. He waited until you were finished to press his lips against yours. It was gentle, at first. Ryland never pushed; he was always gentle and patient with you every time you kissed. He cared so much that it made your heart ache with nothing other than pure admiration and love coursing through your veins.
But when you very clearly reciprocated and tangled your fingers into his hair, Ryland let himself get a bit looser. His hands found your hips before he carefully guided you back against the couch that you had been sitting on. You let him sit you down on the couch, let him press you back against it, too. But you did stop him after a moment to cradle his cheeks.
“You sure? You just got home.”
“Mm-mhm, I’ve never seen you in one of my sweaters before.”
“Really?”
“Never.”
“Huh, coulda sworn-”
“Are you okay, though? We can just have lunch.”
Attentive. Ryland was always attentive. There wasn’t a single time in your relationship that he wasn’t making sure you were comfortable, happy, and satisfied when you were together. It always made you feel all sorts of soft when he asked for permission to do things because you knew you were lucky to find someone who cares as much as he does.
“Yeah, yeah. Missed you, I always miss you. I want you.” You could feel him getting a bit hard against your thigh, and you had to bite back a noise at the realization.
“Good, perfect.”
Ryland didn’t waste too much time. His hands moved slowly over your hips, his lips pressing back against yours. But this kiss was a bit different than the last. You could feel his tongue against yours, his teeth nipping at your mouth. You reciprocated all of that, a quiet moan filling his mouth and spurring one of his hands to skim down your waist before pressing beneath the leggings that you had been wearing around the house.
“Shit-” You moaned against his mouth as you felt his fingers tease the wetness that had seeped into the panties that you were wearing. They were nothing particularly sexy, just a plain, light blue pair of cotton panties that felt comfortable enough to squat and move around in while you were unpacking. But Ryland liked you in anything, everything, or nothing at all. So when he whined against your lips, you didn’t think twice about your choice of undergarments.
His fingers pressed below your panties, his middle finger tracing along your folds. He connected the wetness that was gathering at your entrance to bring it up to your clit, pressing circles against your clit. Gentle pressure, just easing you into the feeling like he always did. Ryland was careful as he trailed his lips against your cheek, down your jawline, and headed down to your neck. He kissed your skin softly, but traced his tongue against your neck when your back arched closer to him.
When you whimpered as two fingers pressed inside of you, he soothed you with another kiss to your mouth. “Shh, I got you. Does that feel good?”
“So good, don’t stop please.”
“I won’t. Hey- I’ll even make it better.”
Ryland’s hand left you carefully so he could use both to tug your leggings down your hips. You kicked them off, deciding that you’d rather worry about picking them up later than delay him.
Ryland loved going down on you; you learned that rather quickly, too. He liked the way you sounded, the way that you tasted, the way that your fingers felt tugging on his hair. He liked to please you, sometimes more than he liked receiving pleasure himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to come, because he very much did. He just liked to make sure that you were having a good time, and sometimes, you wanted to reassure him that he didn’t need to keep fighting for approval, which he would always have unconditionally, but you weren’t quite sure how.
Your head fell back against the couch cushion when you felt his mouth against you. The one thing that you really enjoyed the most about when he ate you out wasn’t just that he was good at it (he was), but that he whined when he did it. You weren’t sure you were ever so into the noises that came from a man’s mouth until you met him. He didn’t seem to have much of a filter in the bedroom, and the moment you found that out, you were certain that you were going to enjoy it to the fullest extent.
Your joint noises filled the room as his lips and tongue pressed against your clit. Your noises were more like whines, too, but he didn’t mind them. He seemed to rather enjoy it, really. He thrived off of it. Two fingers pressed back inside of you, your hips arching as his name left your mouth a couple of times. Ryland only worked a bit harder, licking and sucking against you while your fingers tugged a bit harder on his hair.
But you were close, so close, and you wanted to come with him. You often anted to some with him, even when he often wanted to just keep eating you out.
“Ry-Ryland, I want-”
He knew. He knew you, so he stopped, kissing up to your stomach before resting his head there for a moment. “I got you, I’ve always got you.”
Ryland sat up after that, letting you help him to undo his pants while he pressed soft kisses to your cheeks. Your head tilted as you finally got his pants off, your teeth sinking into your lip while you contemplated before you moved. Ryland let out a little ‘oof’ when you shoved him back against the couch, straddling his hips. He was quite prepared for you to ride him, but you made no effort to get him inside of you just yet.
“I wanna suck your dick.”
“You-oh-uh-you don’t have to do t-that.”
“I want to, though.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to taste you, and I like the way you moan. Oh, and I like it when your hands are in my hair. That one time that you kinda like… directed me, that was hot.”
Ryland’s cheeks darkened as his eyes met yours. “Yeah, okay-”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, please.”
You smiled softly and kissed his cheek before moving lower. You took the time to take off his sweater and his shirt, kissing down his chest and stomach before lingering near his cock. You stopped, though, your eyes finding his again. “You’re positive? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m-yeah, I’m positive. You won’t make me uncomfortable, I promise.”
With that permission, you didn’t bother spending too much time thinking about it before you had your lips around him. Teasing at first, careful. You liked to make sure that he was enjoying it, and you liked to draw it out. But mainly, you wanted to savor it. Ryland seemed almost hesitant to take pleasure for himself, and you figured it was because he was afraid that he’d seem greedy and then you’d want to leave him or something. But that was something that you were working on, even if your way of doing that with him right now was giving him a blowjob.
His head fell back against the couch, his lips parted, as you sank your lips fully around him. Ryland’s hands found your hair, brushing it away from your face while you moved your lips around him. Your movements were careful, but just messy enough that they didn’t feel robotic. But you were mainly focused on him. The way he sounded, the way he looked right now.
Every little noise was cataloged into your brain; the way his face looked when he was flushed and moaning was etched into your memories. He looked so good like this, and the only thing that you could really do was stare at him while you sucked him off.
It had been months since you had your mouth around him, so you weren’t surprised when he gave in to what you had mentioned to him. His hands gently guiding you, urging you to move just in time with what he needed right now. And you listened, you obliged. You liked the way it felt. The little tugs, the thoughtful movements. He never pulled hard enough to hurt, nor did he ever push you too far; he just kept things at a steady pace.
It was a bit more erratic when you felt him getting closer, precum dripping onto your tongue while you worked your mouth over him. But just as quickly as his climax started approaching, it stopped. He pulled you off of him with care, making sure not to hurt you.
“Wanna come inside you, not…. not with you on the floor.”
Sweet. He was the sweetest man you knew.
You nodded and moved so you were straddling him again, Ryland’s hands on your hips as he finally guided you down so your pussy was wrapped around his cock. He always filled you so well, your head lolling to the side slightly before you caught yourself and leaned down to kiss him.
The rest was a flurry of movements and noises.
Your hips moving against each other while you rode him, your lips pressed softly against his so you could still listen when he whimpered and moaned into your mouth. Each movement was curated at just the right time so you both felt good. You knew that neither of you was going to last very long, with the whole moving thing, you hadn’t had sex in almost two weeks.
You were both a bit of a mess. Moving needily and quickly, the noise filled with the obscenity of wet skin slapping skin. But the moans were almost sweet. Quiet moans of each other's names. Not pornographic or aggressive, just something genuine. Something that made it ten times better for you when you came around him, and when the pulsating of your inner walls made Ryland come inside of you in return.
Your head was pressed against his chest when all was said and done until he leaned down to press kisses against your neck.
“I think you should keep your clothes packed and always just wear my clothes.”
“And I think that, if I did that, we’d never do anything besides make out and have sex.”
“Maybe, that wouldn’t be so bad, though.”
You laughed and flicked at his arm before standing up.
Once you were situated, he held his hand out so he could guide you to the kitchen since you had mentioned wanting lunch. Though the moment his first (and only) instinct was to reach for the ramen, you were quick to direct him to sit back down while you made something. But even while you cooked something simple for lunch, Ryland leaned beside you, telling you all about some funny stories from school that day.
The only thing that you could really think about now, and every time that you were with him, was that you were the luckiest woman alive to get to be with someone as sweet, and pretty, and kind as he was to everyone and everything.
It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise to learn that he felt the same way about you.
Shane Hollander really is the guy of all time. he's gay. he's autistic. he's wasian. he's the best hockey player in the world. he married his 8 year situationship. he's a millionaire but only because his mom said so. he has beautiful freckles. he had sex with a man for 8 years but the possibility that he might be gay only crossed his mind when he called him by his first name for the first time. to convince himself he was straight he started dating a movie star. he came out as a bottom. he does yoga. his situationship offhandedly suggested getting married for citizenship and he immediately stayed up until 4 am scheming so that wouldn't happen. he's an olympic medalist. he has a dog. his wedding song was diamonds by rihanna. he likes ginger ale.
ilya: i didn’t set up an ad campaign with the two of us together, call you pretty, tease you in the shower, and then almost get caught by your mom in the elevator for you to get our anniversary wrong. since summer before, shane
SYNOPSIS ㅡ you've always had the biggest crush on your friend, Shane Hollander, but never confessed to him, your sixth sense about his private life too aware of your incompatibility. Until one night, at the MLH Awards' after-party Shane invited you to, your relationship takes an interesting turn.
CONTENT WARNING ㅡ f!reader, oral s (buffet time), threesome (f/m/m), ilya is society's worst menace istg, teasing (like a lot), reader is really hesitant at first, hair pulling (again, it's buffet time), an4l fingering leading to s, double penetration (this fic came to me in a very horny dream don't @ me / jk)
WORD COUNT ㅡ 6k ; ao3 link!
ANYA'S CORNER ㅡ before anyone jumps down my throat for inserting a female reader into Hollanov's love dynamics, I just want to get something off of my chest: as a bi girl myself, I wanted to experiment with this idea I had since I saw the first episode, and I wanted to share it in the hopes you all would give it a try. Also, it's been a minute since I wrote something this lengthy in English, so I excuse myself in advance for any typos you might find, enjoy!
THE SECOND PART IS OUT!
P.S. ㅡ I'm fully aware of Shane's sexuality, but I'd like to be more specific: this is a work of fiction, and as I previously stated, I wanted to try this out, hence why I wrote this. There are a lot of wonderful hollanov's fics out there, and if this one isn't of your preference, you can always skip it! Bye <3
MHL Awards' After-Party, 1:30 AM
"Take me out of my misery, please."
"Come on, you did all the talking. It wasn't that bad. "
You swirled the clear liquid in your glass from side to side until little riptides formed at the centre, then let out a tired sigh.
"You're right, it wasn't. It was awful. Again, kill me. Or take one of my high heels and stab me with it. I'm done."
Your date for the night — who happened to be Shane Hollander, one of the best hockey players of his generation and long-time friend of yours truly —, came closer to brush his knuckles against your shoulder.
It'd been the lightest, friendliest of touches, yet it sent sent shivers down your spine as if he had literally touched your raw nerves.
"You and your flair for the dramatic. Believe me when I say that, tonight, you've been the best plus one I could hope for. You need to iron out some wrinkles on your ability to talk without getting lost in the flow, that's all."
You, a professional yapper, raised an eyebrow, feigning offense.
"Yeah, getting advices from the president of the socially awkward club really helps me."
"Well, I can afford it," Shane's hand rested on your bare back. "People want to see me play hockey, not chit-chat."
"Fair enough."
Painfully aware his touch was reawakening feeling you had long-past buried, you shifted position on the stool and crossed your legs.
The party was just getting started and you were worn out already. Out of all the women flowing in and out of the hall, you weren't the worst-dressed —the long, black silk gown you had purchased on a whim last year finally came in handy—, but you were definitely the most anxious one.
As you finished torturing the second smooth vodka of the night by drinking it, you waited for it to graze past your throat to ask:
"Hey, would it be consired a douche move to ditch you and hit the sack? This mere mortal has an early shift in five hours."
"You're spreading yourself too thin for that shitty job."
Shane, whose hand was still on your back, did something you'd only dreamt about: he cupped your face with the other one, his thumb circling the dark circles under your eyes that makeup struggled to conceal.
Heart almost leaping out of your chest, you looked at Shane as a deer caught in headlights.
Why was he acting like that? It was not out of character for him to be affectionate, but tonight, something in the way he was moving was different.
"Okay, spit it out," you narrowed your eyes at him. "What is happening?"
He shrugged. "Is it that weird that I worry about a friend? You look like death. Also, you deserve better."
Still stunned by the sudden tenderness, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"I understand, Shane, but I can't quit yet. The bills won't pay themselves, and I really need the extra money."
"Yeah, about that," Shane sat on the bar stool besides yours, his hand now on your thigh. "Come work with us."
Yes, something was definitely up, but you were too enthralled by his suggestion to worry about anything else. "Us?"
"Yeah," he clenched the dark silk of your gown into a fist, then released it. "You know tons of languages, and you're way overqualified for the job you have now. Besides, didn't you say you wanted to travel and spend more time around the world? Well, you have the brains and looks to back it up, miss. You will be a fantastic asset."
"Geez, thanks." You blinked, then frowned. He hadn't asked you a question, rather stated a fact. "Pump the brakes. 'Will'?"
Shane cleared his throat, his freckled cheeks dusted with pink. "Take your phone."
To say you were confused was an understatement.
"Wh- give me a minute."
It took you ten, actually, to fish your phone out of the purse, check every email until you found the one sent by Montreal Metros' HR team.
You read the whole thing twice, then opened the attachement linked below.
"This can't be real."
Shane kept watching as your brain finally understood what you were look at.
It was a contract.
"Per my request, our team's board drafted it a couple of days ago. I made sure there are no catches or loopholes whatsoever. It just needs a signature, and it'll be effective immediately. You can quit your shitty job, now."
He had just made possible for you to hang out more while having jobs you both loved.
You wouldn't have trusted anyone one else but Shane's foresight to deal with such an important matter.
Overwhelmed, you signed the contract right away, put away your phone and leaned closer to kiss his cheek.
Your resignation letter was going to be the first time you'd do when you woke up.
In your bed.
Happily employed by one of the best hockey teams in Canada.
"You're a mad man, Shane Hollander," you were smiling so hard it almost split your lips apart. "But I still love you very much."
All anxiety and tiredness gone, you were in the mood for celebration.
Turning to the bartender, your ordered another smooth vodka. "You know what? Make it double."
Shane sighed. "You know I can't drink tonight."
"I know," you waited for the barman to refill the glass, then raised it above your heads. "I'm drinking for you, too. It takes a lot more than a few drinks to knock me out. Remember that party where some idiot tried to challenge me at beer pong and- hey!"
You whipped your head around to see who had just had bumped into you and almost made you spill the drink.
'Almost' being the second understatement of the night, because a masculine hand engulfed the one you had around the drink.
And it wasn't Shane's.
"You drink like Russian." Blonde, curly hair brushed against your back as the other man took your drink and pressed his elbows onto the bar counter, his green eyes fixated on you.
"I like it."
All tiny hairs behind your back stood up. You knew who he was. Everyone did.
Tonight, your friend hadn't been the only major leaguer praised for his skills on ice, after all.
Shane looked behind you and scoffed. "Fuck off, Rozanov. This is a private conversation."
"But this is public space. I go where I like, Hollander, and I like it here."
His deep voice oozes cockiness, and you didn't like it. Not even one bit.
"You made your point. Can I have my drink back, now? We weren't done talking."
Rozanov shot you an enigmatic look. Then he got up, touched his lips to the glass and threw back his head.
Rage an icy fire in your stomach, you watched as the other hockey player drank your prized vodka without taking his eyes off of you.
Once emptied, he left the tumbler on the counter, tilted his head towards you again and smiled.
"You didn't say please."
You went to cuss him out in English but stopped in your tracks. Shane was right: you knew a shit ton of languages.
"How rude of me to not get on my knees for the great Ilya Rozanov," you said in Russian, words tumbling off your tongue effortlessly, "but I don't like bullies."
The sudden change of language surprised Shane, but not Rozanov.
"What a colored image. And I recognize a brat when I see one. Guess what? I love to tame them."
Okay, maybe it was the alcohol, but Ilya's voice paired with Shane's hand on your lower back had you cross your legs together harder than needed.
"Brat or not," you spat out in English, unflinching, "you owe me two drinks."
"Why think so small?"
Rozanov tapped his fingers on the counter to get the bartender's attention. Once he got it, he pointed at one of the vodka bottles in display. "May I have one delivered to my room in ten minutes, please?"
"Of course, mister Rozanov."
"Thank you," he turned to look at you again. "Play a game with me. If you win, you have back your drinks and extra vodka."
"And if I loose?"
Ilya grinned. "You will see."
All too familiar with your competitive sides, for they were so alike his, Shane stepped between Rozanov and you.
"I don't think it's a good id-"
You touched his arm to cut him off. There was no going back. "Do we really have to do this in your room?"
"Unless you want to make a fool of yourself here, yes," Rozanov stretched out his hand. "Deal?"
"One last thing: Shane comes with us."
"The more, the merrier."
"Fine, then. Game on."
You took his hand. Well, tried to, because before you could shake it, Ilya raised the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it.
Such a delicate act for an asshole like him.
As the three of you began to make your way upstairs, however, something totally flew over your head: the thrilled look Shane and Ilya shared behind your back.
Well, you were solemnly screwed.
You should've figured that much out the moment you stepped into Rozanov's hotel room.
In your defense, you were a little too preoccupied by what Ilya was planning to realize you had just walked straight into a trap.
A trap that closed shut around you when you saw the bottle and Shane locked the door.
"You good with games, yes?" Ilya asked nonchalantly, his attention focused on dragging two chairs across the carpet.
It didn't mean he wasn't staring at you, because he was and damn if he wasn't stunning.
You waited for Shane to sit on the king size bed before leaning against the wall. Those infernal high heels were killing you.
Also, you wanted a clear view of your opponent.
"As a matter of fact, I am. Can't wait to have your ass beat in a card game, Rozanov?"
"So bratty," Ilya clicked his tongue. "But no, no cards. I was thinking questions and... what was other one?"
Shane chimed in at that moment. "You mean 'truth or dare'?"
You shot him a deadly look. Whose side was he on?
"Yes! I want to play truth or dare with you."
"It's a party game. There are literally no rules," you explained, annoyed. "It's impossible to decide who wins."
"Well, you can play a variant of it. I will be the referee." Shane pointed a finger at both you and Rozanov. "I know you two so well that I can immediately tell if you're lying or not."
I know you two so well.
Before you could ask Shane further explanations, and why he seemed to enjoy so much watching you bicker with his arch-rival, Ilya clapped his hands. The motherfucker was smiling ear to ear.
"Perfect. What do you choose?"
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Truth."
"How many languages do you speak, pretty girl?"
You didn't know what took you aback the most between the question and the pet name, so you focused on the former. For that, you had a straight answer.
"Ehm, besides English and Russian? Fiv- wait, six languages. I have my final Greek exam in a week."
Rozanov turned to Shane. At your friend's affirmative nod, the other man waved a hand towards one of the chairs.
"Good. Sit."
Every muscle stiffened by the commanding tone, you held Ilya's gaze.
"I'm not a dog. Say please."
"It's like the pot calling the kettle black."
You were in front of Shane in the blink of an eye; you grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head upwards to meet your furious gaze.
"Not helpful. You gotta pick a side."
Out of reflex, he used a hand to steady himself... which happened to be your hip.
"Can't do it. If I'm biased, you two won't have a fair game. Don't you want to win?" He rubbed his thumb again on the fabric and scowled. "Hey, you're not-"
Ilya plopped into the second chair, loosened the tie's knot and then, staring intently at you ad Shane, spread his legs wide enough to stretch the fabric of the tuxedo pants.
That did the trick, because your mind spinned back to him.
After giving Shane a warning to play fair by tugging his dark, luscious hair one last time, you went to your chair but didn't sit.
"Well?"
Rozanov tilted his head again. "Sit with me, please."
Pleased with yourself for winning that round, you sat across him and crossed your legs. Close as you were, your heel grazed his thigh with every breath you took.
Ilya awarded you with a smile. "Good girl."
Speaking of breath... yours got stuck in your throat as your mind conjured images upon images of Shane and you at the beach.
If your friend was jacked, you couldn't fathom what Rozanov was packing under his clothes.
What the hell, girl? Snap out of it. He's the enemy.
Eager to get this over with without having any other horny thoughts about either men — it was bad enough you were having new ones abot Shane, but Rozanov? That was the icebreaker—, you stated:
"It's my turn, now."
"That was warm-up question. The real one is this," Ilya's arrogant smile blinded you.
"What colour is your underwear?"
"What colour is yours?" you retorted at once, heat spreading across your body like wildfire.
"Ladies first."
You crossed your arms. "I refuse to answer."
"That's a choice," Rozanov leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. "But if you don't, there's penalty."
"Which is?"
He looked at his tuxedo, then at your gown. "You take off clothes. First who ends with nothing on, loses."
Ah, there it was. The infamous catch.
You rose to your feet so quickly you almost kicked him in the sheen.
"I'm out of here."
Halfway to the door, a hand grabbed yours. This time around, it was Shane's.
"Wait, don't go yet. We thought you would've liked it."
Again with the 'we'. What was he-
Realization hit you like a truck. "I get it. You both are in this. Is the contract part of the gig, too?"
He shook his head, alarmed by your flat tone.
"No, of course not! It's one hundred percent real. I would never do that to you."
You rubbed your knuckles against your chest. Your heart was racing.
"Yet, you lured me into your boyfriend's room to play some weird strip game."
Shane's face dropped and went still. "How long have you known about it?"
"That you were not into girls? Five years, give or take."
You raised a finger, ready to answer his real question. "Or that you're dating one of the most annoyingly good-looking men in the hockey world? You gave yourself away when he spread his legs. You looked at him with heart-shaped eyes."
"Aw, you're not so bad yourself," came Ilya's voice from where he was still sitting. He had only tuned in to acknowledge your compliment, but discarded the rest. "Even Shane thinks so, you know?"
"Ilya, not now."
Overstimulated by his proximity, you stepped back to stare at them both.
"Yes, now. I deserve to know what the fuck is happening here tonight."
"You just said it."
One of the dress' straps slipped off as you turned to to Rozanov."What?"
Green eyes gazed you up and down again.
"Fuck. We want to fuck you."
The world started to spin at breakneck speed, and it didn't help the fact that Shane fixed the strap, his fingers lingering over your heated skin.
"You're joking."
"No, we're not," he met your eyes and smiled. "You're the only one I trust to share this part of me without worrying about you using it against me. And yeah, Ilya's right: I do find you hot, even if-"
"I'm not your cup of tea." You finished his sentence. Somehow, some of the weight on your chest disappear.
Yet a question remained unanswered.
"Do you really want to do this, Shane? I'd rather die before making you uncomfortable in any way, especially when it comes to sex."
He kissed your shoulder. "I do, and so does Ilya. It might not seem like it, but ever since I told him you'd be with me at the party, he couldn't wait to finally meet you."
"Did he really?" you whispered, then strutted to where Rozanov was.
"Since I'm no quitter, I'll answer your question and have my damn vodka: underneath all this, I wear my birthday suit."
Shane was about to explain what it meant, but you shushed him.
"He's a smart boy. Let him think."
Intrigued by the situation, Ilya thought it over for a minute, then looked up.
"You're naked?"
"Only one way to find out." Leaning over, you pressed a hand on his cheek. You made a mental note for the future to map every mole of his. He really was beautiful. "You know what? I dare you to touch me."
"Woah." Shane's panicked voice cut through the moment. "What about truth or dare?"
Ilya got up slowly and took off his jacket. "It can wait. I want to touch her."
You stood still as he towered over you, the hunger in his eyes hard to miss. If Shane's body heat had your stomach in a knot, Ilya's threatened to scorch you from head to toe.
"You sure about all this?" he asked, hands a hair's breadth away from you. He was being serious.
To have him ask for consent again persuaded you to stretch your arms towards him and smile.
" Само собой, Илия́. "
Of course, Ilya.
Giving the get-go in Russian put him at tease, considering how fast his hands flew to your collarbone.
He outlined its edges, then descended towards the shoulder blades, the ribs... only to brush past your clothed nipples and plunge his fingers into the deep V-neck of your gown.
Every stroke was utter torture.
"Uhm, I'm still not sure. I want to check here." He placed the other hand on your hip. "Okay?"
You gave a curt nod, aching to have him closer, too, because now you were painfully aware of Shane's body flush agaist your back —how long you'd been like that, though, you didn't know for certain.
Both you and Shane gasped as Ilya spank your ass, before his fingers slid downward and past the dress' split.
He reached the apex of your inner thighs with little to no effort, and eased two fingers inside you altogether.
Back arched at the delicious stretch between your legs, you sighed while Shane did the same, his eyes trained on Ilya's movements.
"Ah," Rozanov smirked. "So wet and naked. Naughty brat."
Too engrossed by his and Shane's proximity to form a logical thought, you mumbled something and bucked your hips towards him.
"I need more."
He chuckled, yet he caved in a bit and curled his fingers, making you squeeze hard around them.
"Say please."
Groaning a very frustrated but needy "please", you half expected Ilya to resume moving at a slow pace, just as he had done until then.
But something in your plea made his self-control snap, because before your mind could fully register what was happening, he was on his knees with part of the gown's lower part in a fist pressed against your hipbone.
And his mouth was on your most intimate flesh.
"Oh, my God." One of your hands gripped his curls, but it wasn't enough. "I-"
"I got you," Shane's raspy tone scraped the side of your neck, his breath mingling with yours. "Hold onto me."
Just as he whispered that, you threw your whole wight on him, your other hand anchored to the arm he wrapped around your chest.
He was really strong, you were dead sure of it. He could've manhandled you without breaking a sweat, if he wanted to.
The same could be said about his boyfriend, who was having the time of his life lapping up every drop of your arousal.
He kissed your inner thigh before asking: "So, who you like more, pretty girl? Me or Shane?"
Shane's grip shifted under your breasts as you moved to look down at Ilya, brain already starting to lag.
Truth was, they were both driving you insane. Yet, you weren't giving him the satisfaction to blow his ego out of proportion.
"Not everything is a competition, you know?"
"It is with us."
And with that, Ilya went full demon mode: his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking furiously as you yelped, sandwiched between him and one of the most important people in your life.
You braced yourself, Shane's presence as comforting as ever; without him holding you, you would've collapsed on the floor already.
Shane Hollander, your dearest friend and eternal crush who knew you inside and out.
Shane fucking Hollander, who was now nibbling on your ear lobe while whispering sweet nothings.
"I-It's too hot here," you managed to mumble, and he immediately hooked his fingers under the straps of the gown, pushing them past your shoulders.
The dress didn't have enough time to pool at your feet, for Ilya took care of it, first.
His hand was still fisting it, so he pulled back to yank it past your hips with a single motion, then helped you kick it to the side.
With only your high heels on, you watched as the blonde spread your legs wider, but before he could dive in again, you hid your face in the curve of Shane's neck.
Figuring you wanted to say something, he hugged you tighter, his lips crashing against your ear.
"What do you need?"
"Both of you. Naked." you panted, fighting the urge to kiss him and pull Ilya's hair. "It's not nice to leave a girl hanging like this."
"We will be, too," was the Russian boy's answer. "But not now. Later."
"We want to love you a bit longer." Shane added, then kissed your cheek. "Is it me or you look leaner than last summer?"
You were having none of it.
First, you pressed yourself against him once more, the outline of his growing erection engraved in your skin; then, without missing a beat, you yanked at Ilya's curls.
"Take them off. Now."
Luckily for you, both men complied your request.
Soon, their shirts joined your dress on the floor, and Shane's naked chest collided with yours.
Meanwhile, Ilya was enjoying the show with a wicked smile on his lips.
"Better?"
"Much better."
"Good." Without further ado, he stuffed his face between your legs again, his tongue coming out to play with your engorged clit.
This time, however, he also coated his fingers in your arousal, only to sneak them behind, between you and Shane.
"What are you d- oh."
Breathless, you keeled as Ilya spanked you.
Just a moment before he slipped both his index and middle finger, slick with your cum, into your other hole.
"You're not as tight as I thought," his voice was as deep as his fingers and tongue were going in out of you at a slow, excruciating speed. "You use dildo, right?"
Tearing your eyes away from him, and too shy to respond, you went quiet. But Ilya didn't stop.
"Am I wrong?" His attention was now on Shane.
"Nope," your fiend tilted your chin sideways to meet his lust-filled eyes. "She uses it all the time, and I remember a time when she told me she rode it so hard it snapped in half. She had to get another-"
In a desperate attempt to shut him up ㅡ he really knew a lot about your sex life; you couldn't have him air out your dirtiest fantasies like that, you kissed him on the lips.
It was supposed to be a peck, nothing more, but he held you by the back of the neck to deepen the kiss, to indulge in the taste of your lips.
Just as you were to melt into his touch, you realised you were not sandwiched between him and Ilya anymore.
Confused, you looked around only to see Shane was carrying you to the bed.
As he laid you down, you thought you heard him whisper, "It's not enough. I want more," but the moment was gone as quick as it came by.
Gentle as always, he took the high heels off your you, kissed your crossed ankles and turned to his boyfriend.
"How about you kiss me now, Ilya."
The blonde shrugged and hauled your friend in his arms, then ran his fingers through Shane's hair.
"Never a problem for me."
Your chest heavied with pride: Shane confided in you so much that he entrusted you with his most precious belonging: his love for Ilya Rozanov.
They kissed with the intimacy of two people who'd done that for ages, their bodies fitting like pieces of a puzzle.
You watched in awe as they moaned in each other's mouth, palmed their erections through the stiff fabric of the tuxedos.
"You can taste it, can't you?" Ilya beamed at Shane, who was busy unzipping both his and his boyfriend's pants at the same time.
"You taste her in my mouth and you like it."
Blood boiling at the explicit comment, you flushed and turned to look at the nightstande closest to you. Bingo.
Hands itching to pour yourself a drink, you scooted over to the bottle of vodka, and you were about to unscrew it when Rozanov's voice stopped you.
"Ah-ah. Leave the bottle. We're not done with you."
"No worries, you guys have fun. Pretend I'm not h-"
Whatever the fuck you wanted to say died on your lips, because the moment your eyes were on the boys again, you found Shane on his knees, his lips stretched around Ilya's cock.
Dear God, if this is a dream you better make sure I remember every detail when I wake up.
But it was no hallucination, just your mind struggling to wrap itself around the fact that your friend was some kind of god of deep-throating, because there was no way Rozanov wasn't big.
No, scratch that. Big and girthy.
Both of Ilya's hands went to yank at Shane's hair, a string of curses in Russian leaving his parted lips as the other man's head bobbed up and down his dick.
Their synced moans pushed aside every thought about vodka, and you found yourself getting on all fours to yet again inch closer to them, like a snake slithered forward to listen to the charmer's song.
They both looked so good that you almost didn't catch Ilya's winking at you... or that Shane had taken one f your hands and wrapped it around his erection.
"Make him cum." Ilya ordered, and you were more than ready to oblige.
You stroked Shane carefully, just to test the waters, and he bucked in your touch, eager for more.
And you did give him that by matching your movements with his as he blew Ilya's brains out—who almost broke his neck to watch you both do your thing.
It didn't take long for them to come at the exact same time with a strangled moan, Shane's ropery strings glazing your hand as he swallowed Rozanov's with a sigh.
As for you, you were too stunned to speak, or to even move away to give them space.
Not that they'd allow you to do it, anyway, because as soon as their shared orgasm subsided, the first one to grab you by the waist and bent you over to kiss him was Shane.
The taste of Ilya's scent still lingered in his mouth, and you drank it up with every clever stroke of your friend's tongue against yours.
"Not gonna lie, what you did was fucking hot." he commented when you both came up for air.
"What I did?," you slapped his chest, fighting through your throbbing pussy to keep talking. "You are... wow."
"Agreed." Ilya joined you and Shane on the bed, curls dishevelled and a loopsided smile.
"But as I said, we are not done."
You looked at his cock and gulped. He was still very hard and very huge.
"Hell, no. I can't compete with the throat goat here: he'd humiliate me. My head game is waaay weaker than his, I can tell you that much."
Shane slightly smacked your thigh, but his eyes were still dark, lustful.
"You can suck him off next time. No, we want to try something else with you."
You grinned. Next time. What a time to be alive. "Go on, tell me."
"I'd rather show you."
For the second time in the span of half an hour, Shane moved you around as if you weighed nothing.
He put you on top of him and let you adjust your knees around his hips while you pushed back your hair to better look at him.
"You want me to ride you? As you so proudly declared, I'm really good at it."
Shane smiled, his hands finding purchase of your hips as if he had done it a million times.
"Something like that, yeah."
Another naked body came into frame, Ilya's fingers tracing your spine with wanton desire.
The golden necklace he wore engraved itself in your skin as he pressed himself harder against your back, then he kissed your jaw with tenderness.
"Ready to take both?"
"Huh?" Your eyes went huge so fast you feared they'd roll out of their eyesockets.
"I can take Shane, but not you, Ilya."
"Are you implying I'm not that big?" Rather than offended by your words, Shane seemed amused by the terrified look on your face.
"Shut up, you know that it's not what I meant." You stared at Rozanov.
"If you don't fit in my mouth, you sure as hell can't down there, mister."
"You mean here?" He kneaded your ass with a hand, eliciting a soft gasp from you.
"First time, uh? It will fit. Trust me."
Shane came to his boyfriend's aid. "Hard to believe, I know, but he's right."
You thought it over for a moment, then looked them both and said:
"Well, I guess there are worse ways to die than being stuffed to death by dicks."
Then, without giving them time to reply, you took Shane's cock by the base and instead of letting him slide inside, you lifted your hips and took every inch of him slowly, bottoming out with a loud exhale he echoed.
You felt full to the brim already.
Wanting to move, you readied yourself to do so, but Ilya rested a hand on your abdomen, blocking you.
"Wait. Don't move."
He fumbled with something by the nightstand, and you thought it was lube.
You needed tons of it if you wanted to walk out of that room with your own legs.
Turned out it wasn't lube, because when Ilya whipped your head around, he was barehanded.
Knowing what was coming, Shane stood watch as he said, "Open your mouth."
You complied, and as Rozanov kissed you, liquid fire coated your mouth.
Surprised by the taste of smooth vodka, you swallowed eagerly, yet Ilya held you still as he devoured your lips with the same intensity he had while he ate you out.
"Oh, fuck." You felt Shane's cock twitch at the sight of you and Ilya making out.
By the time you parted, he was throbbing.
But Rozanov wasn't done. He spit in his hand, then gestured his boyfriend to do the same; once it was done, he kissed you again, taking your mind off from the thought of ending impaled you on his dick.
Think positive, think positive. If there's a hole, there's a goal, as poets say.
Still, as he coated his girth with both spit and lube, you couldn't help but gulp at the sensation of it against your back.
How the hell did Shane take him without dying!?
"Relax, now," Ilya kissed your shoulder and guided the tip to your other entrance, breached past it with a little scream from you.
"You're doing good. Come here."
He reclaimed your lips for a kiss, this time while teasing your perched nipples.
Shane lifted himself from the headboard to flick your clit, anything to distract you as your body accomodated Ilya's cock.
Once it did completely, you bit his lower lip and pulled Shane's hair again. "Oh, fuck."
The will to ride him or move against Rozanov was gone, replaced only by the need to not move.
The boys understood immediately, so they did all the works in your stead. They started to move in tandem: as Ilya came out of you, Shane rammed himself back inside, all as they both took turns kissing and stroking every inch of skin they could reach.
You reached your breaking point faster than usual, but it was to be expected.
"I'm close."
Instead of slowing down, the fuckers locked eyes and grinned. Oh, no.
"Who makes her cum first gets to pick a movie of his choice."
Ilya bent down to kiss him, then did the same with you. "Done."
"Guys..." you trailed off, your body bruised beyond human comprehension as they started to move, the only sound in the room the one of skin slapping against other skin.
You came unsurprisingly hard around them both, your vision going white as you felt your body collapse on Shane, Ilya following suite behind you.
Their voices came back to you in waves as you tried to detangled your limbs from theirs.
Needless to say, you failed miserably, because when you opened your eyes, you were still on top of your friend.
Something sticky was leaking out of you, and you saw both boys looking sheepisly at the mess.
"'s okay, guys," you slurred. "'m on the pill. You both are crazy as fuck, by the way."
"You put up with us, so I guess we're not so different."
Shane and Ilya helped you get off and onto the bed, crushed between their bodies. You were growing fond of the feeling by the minute.
Even if your arms were as heavy as lead, you succeeded at raising both to rest them on the boys chests.
Tracing Ilya's moles with the left one, you sighed.
"You made me cum at the exact same time, so I get to choose the movie."
"Not fair." Shane protested immediately.
"When two dogs fight, the third one wins."
Ilya drank another shot of vodka, looked at both you and Shane and asked: "Is it like 'a pound to go to poundtown'?"
Silence.
Then you bursted out laughing so loud you slapped a hand over your face to muffle the giggles, but Shane's amused chuckle had you spiraling all over again.
"Oh, my God, Ilya. Who taught you that?"
Meanwhile, poor Rozanov was at his wits' end.
"Harris- stop laughing, I'm serious!"
Shane kissed him. "Ah, Ilya, I think I'll never get tired of hearing you say such things in English."
Rozanov placed a kiss on your forehead.
"Good thing I now have someone I can talk shit about you in Russian."
Your friend copied Ilya, but rather than your forehead, he kissed your cheek.
"Pff. As if we haven't been talking shit about you in Japanese for years, already."
"Asshole. I hate you."
"Nah, you don't."
Smirking, you smacked them across their chests.
"You're both adorable. Next season, I'm going to have so much fun fucking around with other foreigner hockey players."
"Please, don't," Ilya pinned you down with his gaze. "From now, you can fuck only with a Canadian and a Russian. End of story."
Shane squeezed your hand. "Wow. You're so romantic, Ilya..."
"Fuck you."
"Yeah, yeah, I love you, too. Anyway, he's right. Again. What do you think? Do we have another deal?"
You looked at the ceiling, then back at them, another smile threatening to split your face in half.
SYNOPSIS — what’s better than a boyfriend? Two boyfriends who spoil you rotten the day of your birthday. You can ask them anything you want… and you do so in the bedroom, where Shane and Ilya will give you the ultimate birthday gift.
CONTENT WARNING — f!reader, established poly relationship, canon divergence, consumption of alcohol and tobacco, reader has some tattoos, dry humping, voyeurism, bit of throat-fucking, rough sex (m/m), mirror sex, brat taming, use of a d!ldo, tit sucking, size kink because yes <3, spit and cum used as lube (don’t do this at home, please), spit kink if you squeeze, multiple orgasms, quirofilia (I’m afraid my fixation with hands really shows here), v4ginal sex with a lil’ twist, aftercare ‘cause our boys are sweethearts <3
WORD COUNT — 4.4 ; ao3 link!
ANYA'S CORNER — this fic can be interpreted as a second part to this one; also, if I had a nickel for every time I wrote a fic settled in a nightclub with reader’s boyfriends, I’d have two nickels... which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice (truth is, I love nightclubs’ vibes, not their crowdedness lmao)
P.S. — the same disclaimer I put in the first part applies here, too; that being said, enjoy and bye! <3
Your boyfriends really outdid themselves. Not only did they wake you up that morning by bringing a giant cake to your bed, then gave you some of the best presents you’ve ever received, oh no.
The greatest gift came in the form of a surprise birthday party at your favourite nightclub in Montreal.
How they managed to do that without spoiling anything, you didn’t know.
What you did know, though, was that you were surrounded by the most important people in your life, including your friends. Some of them you befriended at your old job, but most of those who were at the club tonight were part of your boyfriends’ friends’ inner circle.
Someone put a drink in your hand.
Turning, you saw Svetlana and Elena a few inches from you, the bright lights almost blinding.
“Birthday drink for the birthday girl.” Svetlana said in a singsong voice, her curls a fiery halo around her face.
With that, you were at your fourth tequila shot of the night, yet you were still reasonably sober.
You flashed both girls a smile, then chugged down the alcohol. Elena clapped her hands and all but dragged you and Svetlana on the dance floor.
While making a bee line to get there, you managed to stop long enough to give Shane the little glass and steal a kiss from Ilya.
They were both sitting at the bar counter, their gazes never leaving you.
“Join us, my loves,” you breathed, hand stretched towards them. “The dance floor is waiting for you.”
“In a bit,” Ilya smiled, his dominant hand on Shane’s thigh. “We want to watch you dance with your friends.”
You pouted, eyes shifting to Shane. Out of the two, he was the one who folded faster whenever you asked for something.
“Are you sure? Work kept us apart, lately. We haven’t seen each other a lot, this week.”
After Shane gave a quick look to your outfit and sighed — according to him and Ilya, you looked a little too good in flared jeans, high-heeled boots and the velvet top Yuna got you for Christmas —, his eyes softened as they landed on your pouty face.
“I know, but we need to discuss something about next month’s match, first. Go ahead, we’ll be with you soon.”
“Come,” Elena rolled her eyes and took you by the hand as she said loud enough for them to hear over the music, “Let them plot while me and Svetlana show you what a good time truly looks like.”
And with that, the girls spanked you at the same time, making you giggle. “Incorrigible, the two of you.”
Still, you looked over your shoulder as you reached to the dance floor. Even if they feigned indifference, you knew them too well not to notice they’d been staring intently at your ass.
You had to admit it: they were right. Those jeans hugged your every curve just right.
And you were going to use every weapon in your arsenal to make them drop the act.
Sandwiched between the girls, you had to shout over the music to inform you were going to take off your jacket. They stepped aside as you shook the leather jacket off your shoulders.
A collective gasp behind you.
“When did you get this?”
You ditched the piece of cloth on the nearest chair and smiled.
“Last week. It healed quicker than expected, but it itches.” You knew your friends’ eyes were on your freshly tatted back, as two other pairs were, too. “The tattoo artist gave the all-clear to keep it uncovered, so here we are.”
“Girl.” Without touching them, Elena traced the fine lines inked on your skin with her fingers. The design started from the shoulder and ended just below the hipbone.
“You got a damn tiger tatted on your back a week ago and didn’t think to tell us? Wait. Did Ilya and Shane know about it?”
“I think they do now. Look at their faces.” Svetlana pointed out with a smirk.
The three of you turned and it took a lot of effort from your part not to run to your boyfriends and kiss them both stupid.
They were shocked, aroused and pissed off all at the same time. You had wanted to surprise them later, in the intimacy of your bedroom, but they had left you with no other choice.
Blowing them a kiss, you started to dance with the girls, hypnotized by the flashing lights around you.
Two men flanked you, Svetlana and Elena as another song started to play. To your surprise, they weren’t Shane and Ilya, but another couple you had cherished for forever.
“Guys, you made it!” You all but flew in Scott’s open arms, while Kip hugged Elena and smiled at Svetlana.
Considering your line of work, you had crossed paths with Hunter’s team more than once and, over time, a friendship blossomed between the two of you.
Then, when the bond deepened, Scott introduced you to Kip, and you fell deeply for the barista.
No wonder Scott loved him so much.
“Happy birthday, gorgeous,” Scott happily huffed as he wrapped his arms around your middle, careful not to touch the tattoo. They'd seen it from afar as the entered the club, Kip informed you.
“So, how does it feel to be old?”
“Funny, shouldn’t you be answering that?” Laughing, you slapped Scott on the shoulder, signalling him to put you down. Once he did, Kip came to stand by his husband and kiss your cheek, wishing you a happy birthday.
After saying hi to the girls, the hockey player asked: “Where are your debouched boyfriends, anyway?”
“Right ther-” You cut yourself off.
They were not at the bar counter, anymore.
“Uhm…” Svetlana’s voice focused your attention elsewhere, right on the dance floor.
Shane and Ilya were dancing some meters away from your group.
And as the teasers they so loved to be whenever you acted like the brat you so loved to channel, they were grinding against each other, backs turned on you.
“Oh,” Kip commented, blushing. “Did you fight or something?”
Stunned, you picked your jaw up from the floor and inhaled so profoundly you felt your lungs adhere against the ribcage. Those two got back at you in the nick of time.
“If we hadn’t before, we will once I get my hands on them.”
Svetlana looked at Elena, then turned to you. “Wanna give them tit for tat?”
“You don’t even have to ask.”
Elena smiled, waved at your friends to stay there to enjoy the show and dragged you and Svetlana a scarce meter away from your boyfriends.
“Let’s see how long they can resist having to watch you while you touch somebody else.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
First you leaned against Svetlana, and she grabbed you by the hips, laughing, while you mirrored her movements. All while Elena danced close to you both, her eyes beaming with mischief.
Not even bothering to see if Ilya or Shane were watching, you turned to look at Scott and Kip from across the dance floor.
And if the hockey player’s smile was anything to go by, then you were dead certain your boyfriends were going to be livid.
Good.
“Come closer.” Elena prompted with a little grin.
As you did, the dark-haired beauty candidly kissed Svetlana’s cheek, then brushed her lips against yours.
“Остопизденеть.” boomed a very familiar voice beside you three.
“Wow, that didn’t sound nice.” Elena looked at you and Svetlana. “Did he just cuss me out?”
Svetlana shook her head, her own flirty demeanour suddenly reignited by Ilya’s exclamation.
“No, don’t worry. It’s more like ‘I’m so sick and tired of this shit’ sort of thing.”
The girls giggled, but you? Oh, you were having the time of your life.
As the icing on the cake, Scott and Kip joined you for an impromptu shot battle; as you linked both arms with the men’s, one shot in each hand, something in the air shifted.
Pretending you didn’t notice anything weird going on — or that a pair of hands you would’ve recognised everywhere had got hold of your hips —, you stared directly into your boy friends’ souls and smirked.
“On the count of three. One, two-”
Blonde, long curls was all you saw as one of your shots disappeared behind them. Ilya drank the tequila as if belonged to him all along, indifferent to everyone’s annoyance.
“You really got to stop doing that, Ilya.” Svetlana told him in Russian, because you had told her and Elena what he had done the first night you met.
He ignored her and, unflinching, he angled your head upward to meet his hungry eyes, then furiously pressed his lips against yours.
Still dazed by the stunt he just pulled, you melted into the kiss, but it took you a while to understand what he was doing.
He hadn’t swallowed the shot, rather he was making you drink it directly from his mouth.
Again.
“Double shots for the birthday girl, right?” Shane whispered in your ear. “Wait for the other one, now.”
You fought back a moan yet regained your sanity by pushing them both away to drink the shot still tangled with Scott’s arm. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction to see you all hot and bothered so soon.
Then you leaned low enough for Kip, Hunter and the girls to let them hear you say, “If by tomorrow at noon you don’t hear from me, just know I will be passed out in my king-size bed. Come rescue me, please.”
“Nah, I think you will be exactly where you want to be, girl.” Kip commented with a sly smile.
His husband nodded and ruffled your hair like the gentle-mannered giant he was.
“Go get them, tiger.”
“You’re so not funny.” You wailed, then turned to Svetlana and Elena. “Girls?”
“Sorry, babe,” the auburn of Svetlana’s hair burned as bright as her eyes were shimmering with malice. “I’m catching an early flight to Boston.”
“And I’m working all day. Go be with your men, love.” Elena added.
All pleas fallen on deaf ears, you waved your friends bye and went to retrieve your leather jacket, ready to accept your fate; needless to say, both Ilya and Shane were shadowing you.
They continued to do so in silence even after you got home and undressed.
Clothes discarded on the floor, and still in your underwear, you climbed onto the bed, crossed your legs and stared back at them.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” Shane asked.
“Are you just going to stand there and do nothing?" You clarified and pointed a finger at where they were. “The night’s still young, you know.”
“We might,” Ilya crossed his arms and tilted his head. “You lied to us. You deserve no other gift.”
“Oh, come on! I didn’t lie per se. I was just waiting for the right moment to disclose this to you,” you turned to show the tattoo in all its glory. “But you missed the clue. I had to improvise.”
“Still, no sex for you tonight.”
For me? That’s oddly specific, you thought to yourself with sudden clarity.
Then you noticed the boys’ bulges and a huge, gigantic wave of insolence washed over you.
Smiling, you jogged to where they stood and patted their erections with the back of your hand, eliciting soft moans from both.
“Go on, then. You can have the room. Once you’re done, you can join me in the living room.”
Your fingers fished around Ilya’s back pocket for a second, then grabbed the cigarette packet. “But I’m taking this with me.”
Before taking it out, however, you gave his ass a good squeeze.
As you pulled back your hand, though, Shane wrapped his fingers around your wrist and yanked you closer.
“You picked up a nasty habit.”
“And whose fault is that?” you purred, unwavering, eyes diverting to Ilya. “Have fun, my loves.”
You tried to get past them to reach your living room, you really did, but they both had moved with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine long before you realised what they were doing.
You ended up on the bed again, but before you could attempt to get up once more, Ilya’s hand was on your stomach, pinning your whole body to the mattress.
“No, no, no. You stay. You watch.”
His lips touched your ear shell gently as his fingers played with your panties’ lacy front. “Shane is good boy and he deserves to be fucked by me. If brats like you don’t behave, they get nothing.”
Instead of stinging, the words went straight to your core.
Leave them to toy with your arousal without lifting a single finger.
Yet you held your ground and pushed your chin upward in defiance.
“What are you waiting for? Do your worst. Tame me.”
Totally unfazed by your arrogance, Ilya unzipped his jeans and his cock slapped against your lower stomach.
The sheer girth of it always had your mind buzzing, but this time you had no time to do it because he positioned himself right above you, one of his hands grabbing the headboard as the other tapped your chin.
“Open.”
And you did as Ilya ordered with narrowed eyes, taking every inch with ease. You’d done it plenty of times by now.
Still, you found yourself gasping for air when he suddenly thrusted into your mouth, the tip bruising the bottom of your throat.
“Fuck.” Shane was now at the side of the bed, eyes gone huge. “Are you sure you’re not choking her?”
“Of course. I’m teaching lesson to her, and she is loving it, trust me.” was Ilya’s cooly response, totally contrasting with the white-knuckled grip on the bedhead.
He was unbelievably hard in your mouth, every little movement a fine stroke on his flesh.
Out of frustration, you moaned around him and a string of Russian curses escaped his lips. The hand on your stomach raised to get in your hair.
“Behave.”
And with that, Ilya started pummelling in your throat, quickening the pace as he felt you growing restless underneath him.
“Look at this,” Shane’s index pressed against your throat, right where the indent of Ilya’s cock was. “You’re taking him so, so well.”
“True,” your other boyfriend agreed, punctuating that matter of fact with a sharp thrust that left you breathless. “But you will do better.”
Rozanov halted his movements and got off slowly, leaving you to yearn for more.
Astonished, you watched as he extended a hand towards Shane. The dark-haired man spat on Ilya’s palm, then moaned as he was hauled closer by the Russian to start a heated kiss that had both backing off to your wardrobe’s mirrored doors.
After stroking their erections together with his spit, Ilya turned Shane on the stomach, then stroked his girth with what was left of his and your saliva.
And as you finally regained control of your body, hand sneaking to the cigarette packet, Ilya eased himself in Shane with a single, relaxed thrust.
Both panted at the same time, but Shane was a goner as soon as Rozanov started to thrust deeper, one of his hands pushing his boyfriend’s face against the door as the other one pumped his cock.
You had just lit a cigarette and brought it to your lips when the two stared at your sprawled form on the bed through the mirror. Shane’s laboured breath had fogged the surface, yet his eyes had been on you for a moment before Ilya delved harder repeatedly, each thrust matching the equally maddening pumps of his dick.
You fought against the brutal need building in you to touch yourself while watching them, an act you’ve been doing since the three of you became an item.
Ilya and Shane had talked you into doing it more often, to be honest, for you had considered it an intrusion of their privacy for the longest time.
“This is such a sensitive topic… I don’t want you to think I’m fetishizing you or anything like that.” You’d been on the verge of tears when you had told them that three months earlier, the three of you lounged on Ilya’s couch.
“You both are gorgeous as hell and I adore the life of you, that’s why I have the impulse to do it, but I’d understand if you feel uncomfortable. Plus, I know people talk behind my back about my relationship with you two, it’s just that I don’t want to caus-”
Shane had stopped your yapping with a finger to your lips. “Fuck them. We don’t give a shit about anyone else’s opinion but yours. If you want to do it, do it.”
“But-”
“He’s right,” Ilya had guided your hand between your thighs, his thumb dragging along the crotch seam of the jeans. “Don’t feel bad about it, because we do not. We like when you touch yourself.”
Green orbs met yours in the clouded mirror, cutting through the memory. As always, he knew Shane’s body language as well as yours.
“Do it.”
One hand sneaked past your panties, fingers quicky spreading your other lips apart as you watched your boyfriends love each other. Moaning at the sensation of being filled, your fingers slotted inside you, you timed their rhythm with Ilya’s thrusts.
They were both so close to their orgasms that you could feel Shane’s moans in your bones, as you did with Ilya’s.
“Wanna cum for me, baby?” Ilya breathed in his ear and Shane keened in response, a hand grabbing his ass to go faster. The other one flew to the mirror door, leaving a sweaty handprint on it as Rozanov did take up pace, the tempo he set so frenzied it made the whole wardrobe shake.
Shane came with a panting whimper, legs trembling as the orgasm washed over his body.
Ilya held him but didn’t stop thrusting until he shoved his face against Shane’s neck and cursed, his own release coming down on him as hard as the other boy’s. “You let your hair grew too much, Hollander. It tickles.”
“Fuck off, you love it.”
When they both returned to planet Earth, Ilya removed his hand from around Shane’s erection to lick it clean. The Russian teaser was aware of his effect on his lovers, so it came as unsurprising when Shane got another hard-on.
“Later,” Ilya kissed him. “We have other thing to do, now.”
“Uhm.” Shane turned to look at you and smiled. “I need to rest a bit, first. You fucked my brains out.”
You had another puff of the cigarette, the other hand still buried between your thighs, when Ilya walked over to you.
“Did you like it, birthday girl?”
“Not as much as Shane. You did fuck him stupid.”
The aforementioned gave you and Ilya the finger, yet he wasn’t as offended as he wanted to sound like when he stated, “Stop stroking his ego or his head will grow so much he won’t be able to put a helmet on again.”
“You two can stroke other part of me,” Ilya cooed, his gaze fixated on your panties. Well, what was left of them, anyway. The flimsiness of the underwear didn’t go unnoticed.
His smile grew impossibly bigger. “You’re soaking wet. You like us a lot, uhm?”
“Duh.” You rolled your eyes; both observations were the understatements of the century. “Hey, how did you get so good with dirty talk in English?”
“Audiobooks.”
As if that answer sufficed, he put out your cigarette in the ashtray on the bedstand and hovered over you once more. He tried to nudge away your hand but failed.
“Take off panties.”
“No.”
He narrowed his eyes, tone as deep as he could drive himself into you and Shane. “I’m not asking again. Take them off, or I will not play nice.”
Suppressing an irritated sob — as a new wave of slick painted your thighs —, you removed your fingers.
But the brat in you awakened with a fierce roar.
Mischievous as ever, you lifted your hand to his face, tapped on the lower lip and the moment his lips parted, your fingers glided inside his mouth.
“I said no. You do it.”
An exasperated but very horny sigh from Ilya, the sound reverberating around your drenched fingers as he sucked on them, the taste of your arousal as intoxicating as Shane’s.
“Still haven’t lost the attitude, have we?” your other boyfriend asked, completely compelled by the scene playing in front of his eyes to do nothing more but sit by the bed, voraciously eating up every second.
“Ah, my love. We all know you’re the angel, here. Rozanov and I are the imps who corru- Ilya.”
All thoughts went down the drain because the fair-haired demon’s mouth was now on your clothed nipple, sucking and biting through the lace of the bra as if his life depended on it.
He used a hand to knead the other one, his fingers pinching and rubbing and- my God.
He took a breather just to stare up at you and growl, “I warned you”, then continued the relentless attack.
You grabbed him by his hair and mewled, the orgasm you denied yourself to watch them come rushing back to light your entire body on fire.
“Close already?” Ilya asked innocently as if he hadn’t started that whole mess himself in the first place. “But brats don’t deserve to come so soon.”
His entire presence vanished from over you.
You hadn’t realised you had your eyes closed until you opened them again to glare at your boyfriend.
“You just fucking didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.” He indulged in the sight of you, bothered and a breath away from coming just by having his mouth on your tits. “First, I want to try something. Shane.”
You whipped your head in his direction as he leaned towards your nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. Already see where it was going, you squirmed and tried to get away.
All to no avail, because Ilya’s hand was pinning you down again.
“Guys, come on…”
“Ah, not so brave anymore,” Ilya motioned for Shane to pick up the object you kept in that specific drawer and made space for him to join you two on the bed. “The feisty kitten got her nails clipped, yes?”
“I will claw both your backs while you sleep if you don’t stop teasing me.”
Your self-control crumbling before their very eyes, both your boyfriends shared a meaningful look.
Two things happened at the same time: Shane spat on your beloved blue-purple dildo, coating its entire size while Ilya’s teeth came to grab your panties, pulled it down your legs as his fingers went behind your back to unclasp the bra.
Now completely naked, underwear tossed somewhere behind them, Ilya gestured for you to get up; too riled up to disobey, you obliged.
“Get on your stomach.”
Again, you did as he ordered and changed position to get on your hands and knees and then down, back arched enough to draw a moan from both men.
“Beautiful.” Shane brushed his fingertips against the tiger. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell us the moment you got it.”
“I wanted to,” eager to feel them closer, you pressed your ass against Ilya’s cock, its tip poking at you. “Didn’t wanna spoil the surprise, though.”
It was Ilya’s turn to touch the tattoo. “It suits you. With this view, we can’t wait to fuck you forever.”
A startled scream bubbled in the back of your throat as he pushed inside you, your inner walls so sleek he hadn’t needed to prep you further. He buried himself to the hilt, balls pressing against your skin.
“Ssh,” Shane cooed and without missing a beat, he slipped in the dildo under Ilya’s girth, stretching you out in ways you hadn’t experienced before. “You’re doing well. Breathe.”
“And she likes it, too.” A playful slap on your ass, Ilya rotated his hips to help you adjust to the new feeling. “She is clenching like crazy around my cock.”
“S-shut up.” You stuttered, out of breath, as you accommodated both lengths through gritted teeth.
By the time you did, you shot a glance to your boyfriends and grinned. “Go on. Isn’t what you were waiting for?”
Shane and Ilya moved in synchro, coordinating their antics to never leave you empty, but at some point, they were always inside you at the same time.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I’m cl-“
“Yes, me too,” Ilya gave a sharp thrust as he bent down to kiss between your shoulder blades. “Come around us, pretty girl.”
You were tensing around them all too soon, the so-long denied orgasm slammed against your ribcage so violently you fell on your front, lower back still encased by Ilya’s hands as he and Shane continued ramming into you.
Eyes watery with pleasure, your head turned to look at them kissing, and a strangled moan from your part was all it took for Shane to remove the dildo and for Ilya to do the same.
He came on your back with a slow hiss, careful not to hit your tattoo.
Meanwhile, your other boyfriend had disappeared into the bathroom for a minute or two, walking back to you both with hot towels and the soft promise of a warm bath.
He helped you and Ilya clean yourselves, then awarded you with a smile. “Let’s get you into the bathtub.”
“Can’t soak into water for long. The tattoo…”
“I have you, don’t worry. Come on.”
With that, Shane lifted you by the back of your thighs as you, too spent and sated to function properly, got carried by him into the bathroom.
He eased you into the tub as Ilya got behind you, his fingers already in your hair to detangle it; Shane, on the other hand, was giving little pecks to your scrunched nose.
“I really need to get a jetted tub. Enough space for you both to fit.” Your voice came off slurred, almost a whisper.
Both men kissed your face, then Ilya beamed. “You are pro at that, already. We have no complains.”
“Idiots,” you scuffed, raising both arms to pat their annoyingly beautiful faces. They were beaming with sheer adoration. “You’re lucky I like you.”
