Tension and Release (AO3) (not posted on Tumblr) | Ryland Grace x Female Reader | 7,661 words | 18+
When the stress of working on the world’s most important mission starts to get to reader, they have some ideas about how to work that out of their system.
Sunlight (AO3) (Tumblr) | Ryland Grace x Female Reader | 1,983 words | 18+
Ryland comes home from work to find you fast asleep on his bed, wearing very little, and does something about it.
(you are the something)
Pressurized (AO3) (Tumblr Part 1, Part 2) | Ryland Grace x Female Reader | 13,618 words | 18+
In your defense, there was no way of knowing the jar had become pressurized.
How were you supposed to predict that one of the un-touched jars of sample life picked up from Adrian had been metabolizing something over time? That when you picked it up in the lab and loosened the clasp it would explode all over you?
OR
When reader gets blinded by an irritant, who is the only other person for several lightyears available to clean it off her body?
Novice (AO3) (Tumblr) | Ryland Grace x Female Reader | 9,406 words | 18+
You let slip you've never had sex, or ever even been on a date. Ryland Grace is a very intelligent, very attractive biologist 15 years your senior. You don't expect him to offer to help.
---
OTHER RYAN GOSLING CHARACTERS
Practice Makes Perfect (1/2) (AO3) (Tumblr) | Lars Lindstrom x AFAB!Reader, 5,148 words, Mild NSFW (will get more explicit in part 2)
You had never imagined yourself close with Lars Lindstrom, he was too much part of the church crew.
When he approached you and asked to start volunteering at the Sexual Health clinic you managed once every two weeks you struggled to keep your jaw off the floor.
OR
After becoming unlikely friends with Lars Lindstrom, you offer to help him learn a new skill (the skill is sex).
---
ACOTAR
Yes, she does also write fanfic for ACOTAR and will probably write more when 6 comes out at the end of the year provided SJM doesn’t destroy loml Azriel’s characterization.
4 different Gwynriel fics (multiple unfinished, don’t look at me) available on my AO3
inspired by this post (with permission!) by the incredibly talented @superhoeva - you should go and follow Simone IMMEDIATELY as she has INCREDIBLY amazing fics and a brilliant mind which comes up with delicious ideas >:3 I do not claim credit for this idea, I just was possessed to write something because of it!
postgraduate student!Ryland Grace x afab!reader (they/them used). 18+. oral (reader receiving); p in v. FWB but you’re both down bad. cliffhanger ending. 2k words.
“Hey, are you still up for watching Alien tonight?” Ryland asks, his head peeking hopefully over the back of the sofa. You can tell he’s trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice and play it cool, but it’s not working… just like the way you fail to hide your flinch at the reminder.
“Haha, okay, that didn’t look good,” he says, “what’s up?”
“I’m really sorry, Ry, I’ve got a date tonight.”
You are sorry. You enjoy film Fridays - as he’s dubbed them - because the two of you barely get to hang out nowadays seeing as you’re both neck-deep in postgrad work. But Fridays are also prime date nights and sometimes these two things clash.
Like tonight. Your friend Allison has set you up with a guy from her debate team. He’s cute (though you’ve barely said five words to him so you’re not sure what she’s thinking), and you need to blow off some steam after a solid week of studying, so you’d settled on an answer of ‘eh, why not?’
Ryland’s face falls at the news but he quickly tries to regain composure, shrugging like you haven’t just ruined his day.
“That’s okay.”
It’s not. You feel really bad. You like Ryland. He’s a good housemate and a good friend. Spending an evening with him is never time wasted.
“Rain check? I’ll buy popcorn to make it up to you,” you say, and he softens again.
“Okay, I’ll let you off… so long as it’s the good brand.”
“Yeah, I know, god forbid popcorn gourmet Ryland Grace is caught eating a bag of sweet-and-salted which costs less than two dollars.”
He grins at your easy teasing of him, but that smile shifts into something more vulpine as he sits up in order to swing himself over the back of the couch and close the gap between you both. His body is warm and solid and you find your breath getting caught in your throat due to his proximity.
Ryland is really hot. There’s no two ways about it. You have no idea how he’s able to get to the gym as much as he does but you’re not complaining, especially when his rough, broad hands slide up your sides.
“Want some help warming up? I could make you come before you head off.”
You pretend to think the question over, wriggling a little in his grasp as if attempting to break his hold. He doesn’t let you. You don’t try very hard, anyway.
“Mm, I was gonna shower. I’ve only got half an hour before he’s here…”
“I won’t need that long,” he hums, hand sliding round to cup your cunt over your jeans, “c’mon, let me give you a reason to need to wash up, huh?”
Fuck. When his lips meet yours you melt into him, because if there’s one thing Ryland Grace is incredible at - other than molecular biology, of course - it’s making you come so hard that your cunt feels it for hours after.
The first time he’d suggested it, you thought it was a joke… but one look in his eyes let you know how serious he was. He’d eaten you out on the couch and sent you on your date with his spit still coating your upper thighs. Since then it’s sort of become… a habit, a ritual. And, of course, strictly casual.
Yeah. That’s fine.
You try not to think too much about how you feel about Ryland. Because he’s your roommate. And your friend. And surely he can’t be interested in anything more with you, not when he could have his pick of anyone on campus, really.
Surely he doesn’t want you. Not like you want him.
Ryland moves you until you’re up against the back of the sofa and drops to his knees with far more force than must be comfortable. It’s only a matter of seconds until he’s working at the button of your jeans, kissing your mound over the denim as if he is rabid to have a taste of you. Shaky, excited hands drag your pants down along with your undies, allowing you just enough grace to kick them off of one foot - the leg of which he then hooks over his shoulder before he dives right in.
He eats you out like a man starved and you’re fucking ambrosia. His tongue circles your clit, soft and gentle little movements as if his eagerness was all an act… then he dives in so hard that he’s able to stick his tongue inside you. You gasp and grab his hair (something that, over these sessions together, you’ve learned that he likes a lot) and drag him further into your folds, earning you a muffled moan from his preoccupied mouth.
“Fuck,” he chokes against your cunt as your hips begin to meet his tongue beat-for-beat. He buries his face in further and you can feel the ridge of his nose bump against your clit. Fuck, it’s a shame he took his glasses off… they get so steamy and sex-fogged when he leaves them on, it’s goddamn devastating to look at…
You come all over his face within a couple of minutes, because he’s a fucking master at this. He doesn’t stop, eating you through it with broad strokes of his tongue, desperate to get every drop of you onto his palate… and then he keeps going.
“Ry—!”
“C’mon, gimme another. Wanna make your legs weak.”
The sentence is only half-heard from between your thighs but you get the idea when he slides a couple of fingers inside you, too, after rolling up the sleeve of his cardigan to the elbow. You gasp and almost topple backwards over the sofa but he has you pinned safely in his grasp, his other hand grabbing onto your hip so hard you’re sure he’ll leave marks where his fingertips dig in.
He makes a beckoning motion inside of you - because he knows just where to hit by this point - and you soak all the way down his arm to where his woollen sleeve sits.
Ryland grins lazily up at you as he rests his chin on your heaving stomach. He checks his watch.
“Seven minutes out of thirty. Plenty of time for a shower.”
He follows you into the bathroom. You have no issues showering in front of him because, well, you’ve both seen each other naked before, so it’s not weird, right? If it is, you just try to blatantly ignore the intimacy that it suggests between the two of you, being nude like this. Not sexually nude but… casually.
Like real lovers are.
“So where do you know him from?” he asks. Fuck, his chin is still covered in you, shiny in that little beard he’s trying to cultivate. It’s both mind-bogglingly erotic and also pretty cute.
The shower squeaks as it turns on and steam begins to cloud the room. Ryland stays next to the glass screen, probably to hear you better over the water flow. You soap up using the nice stuff he always makes sure to buy you when he sees it’s on offer.
“I don’t, not really. Allison set us up together. She’s been trying to do that a lot, recently, but I don’t know, she must have terrible taste in men because all the dates she sends me on recently kinda suck.”
There’s a beat before Ryland answers.
“Yeah, that’s… weird.”
Hang on, doesn’t he know Allison? Don’t they do that chess thing together…? Ah, there’s no time to mull it over, you’ve gotta get moving. The knob squeaks as you turn it and you step out, grabbing the towel Ryland offers you and drying yourself off.
“Shall I wear red or black?”
“Black. Red suits you, but the black makes your eyes pop.”
You didn’t know you had eyes which could pop, that’s sweet. He trails after you as you plod to your bedroom and grab the outfit he suggested. With your back to him, you don’t notice the way his eyes linger on every inch of you.
“Will you be out late?”
“Who knows. If this guy is anything like the last ones, definitely not.”
“I’ll keep Alien out then.”
“Ha! Sure. I’ll swing by the store for popcorn on the way back if we end things early.”
There’s a knock at the door as you put your finishing touches on. Without thinking, you press a kiss to Ryland’s cheek as you scoot past him in your doorway. You can still smell your orgasm on him.
“See ya later. Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t,” he lies.
As you leave and say hi to the guy at your door, you try not to dwell on how you wish it was Ryland taking you out instead.
Ryland waits up.
It’s only eleven pm when he hears your keys in the door, and he pretends to be grossly engaged in whatever show is on the TV which he hastily switches on. Oh no, it’s To Catch A Predator, he can’t seem to interested in that or it’ll look weird—
You don’t notice the TV, though. You just walk inside and throw your bag on the ground in defeat.
“Oh, hi. You’re back early. Are you okay?” Ryland asks, trying to affect nonchalance. You groan.
“He talked about nothing but the goddamn debate team for the whole night. Do you know he thinks abortion should be made illegal, by the way? Because now I fucking do!”
You throw your hands in the air in exasperation.
“Hey, come here.”
He scooches over to make room on the sofa for you, which you drop into as if you were made to be in the space by his side.
“I should stop trusting Allison with this stuff. I just wanna meet someone nice,” you sigh. Ryland wraps his arm around you and you let yourself slide over until you’re plonked against his chest. He rubs soothing little patterns on your arm with his thumb.
He hits play on Alien.
It goes for about ten minutes before you speak again. He hasn’t registered any of the plot, anyway, too hooked on the feeling of you against him.
“I got the popcorn,” you say quietly, and he’s glad that, from where you lie, you can’t see the smile which erupts over his face.
“Forget the popcorn. Lemme cool you down for the evening.”
He tugs you into his lap so easily, kissing you soft and slow and gentle, the way you deserve to be kissed. The way he wants to kiss you every day if you’d let him. Because fuck, it’s fine being your roommate, but he needs to be so much more. Needs it more than he needs air, more than he needs a heart to pump his blood - because you are his heart at this point, aren’t you?
He slides your underwear off and pulls out his cock from his sweats. You stroke it a couple of times before lining it up and sinking it down, breath rough in your throat as your warmth engulfs every inch of him. Ryland buries his face in the nape of your neck as you start riding him right there on the couch, moaning and gasping at how full he makes you.
If he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough then he can pretend this is more. He can imagine this is any day for the two of you, just a normal couple having sex, committed and public with your relationship. He can imagine he’s trying to get you pregnant, trying to start a family with you… fuck, he can imagine it’s your goddamn wedding night, and he’s spent the whole evening celebrating your love on the dance floor, and now he gets the pleasure of having you all to himself for the rest of your lives, and he knows he’ll take care of you…
You drag yourself away just far enough to lock him into another slow, tongue-heavy kiss. Ryland goes willingly. He’d let you do whatever you want. He’s a fucking spaniel at your heel, really. He’d be your dog, or your toy, or whatever means he can stay close to you.
There’s no way you feel the same though.
Right?
His Nokia buzzes. A text from Allison.
i can’t keep doing this, ry. i’m running out of shitty guys to set them up with. you gotta come clean to them about how you feel at some point.
He doesn’t see what it says. He’s too busy narrowing his world down to you in his lap.
But, when you hear his phone vibrate, your instinct is to look over… and you do see it.
tags: @kenstimetoshine @nerd-do-well @kiffycreative @bookerdefay @pixiebuggz @regalfirebird @go-bonkers-go-foolish @inthegalaxxy @sexyleftist @julepod @cosmicyeehaw @s4turnsb3st @qardasngan @valentine-blue @wereallbrokenangels @h4rumichan @irlr0gue @writingpromptsworld@pygmandelions (lmk if you wanna be added or removed!)
colt seavers teaching you how to do fight choreo. one of his big hands fisted in your hair, close to the root (so that he can perfectly control the amount of tension being exerted; no risk of yanking too suddenly or too hard). and he shows you that, when you fall, it should always be on the outside of your thighs or your glutes (his palm smoothing over you, gentle, outlining, and you can't help but imagine the sound that would result if he were to lift that hand and bring it back down with some force). how, when you're choking someone, or being choked, there's never any real force exerted, just a loose hand held around your neck (a promise of pressure that never arrives). are you paying attention? you seem a little distracted. this is important, you know. now, when you're trying to make it look like someone's slamming your back against a wall—
I don’t know what your familiarity with TTRPGs is but If you’re down here’s a fun idea. 3 to 4(earth) years back to Erid is a pretty long time, and yeah there’s plenty of perilous space stuff to deal with but you can’t tell me Rocky and Grace wouldn’t love DnD or some equivalent. It’s like a puppet show with more math! I just want to DM for these dorks.
No external scheduling conflicts in space.
thank you for the request!!! i literally was cackling while writing this lmfao. i hope it's okay that it's a little on the shorter side!!
three's a (dnd) party - ryland grace x reader
also posted on ao3 | my masterlist
It's a long way to Erid. You have just the idea to pass the time--some good, old-fashioned tabletop gaming.
~2.4k words; fluff; (almost crack honestly lol); established relationship; dnd
taglist: @umbranull @lilredbird101 @carolineesnell @sillybillyp9 @pixiebuggz @yennimxchi @joccey @cityofstvrdust @cookieecaake @qardasngan
The 3D-printed dice are ready. Rocky, after about four hours, had finally picked a class: artificer, which was, quite literally, the first one you had read out to him, and the one you told him he should pick, but then he had insisted on hearing about the rest of them, how each one works, the most optimal races for them all. It then took another hour for him to craft a backstory, after Grace had mentioned he was pretty sure those were important.
So. It’s been about average, so far, for a first session.
Grace is a wizard. (“They’re the only ones with degrees, as far as I can tell.”) More specifically, a wizard named—
“You can’t just use your own name,” you pout. “That’s lame.”
He looks at you in disbelief. God, he’s going to be a problem during all of this, isn’t he? “How is that lame? My name fits in a fantasy setting. I already sound like a wizard.”
It sort of does, to be fair, but that’s not the point. “Rocky picked a different name.”
“Is true! Rocky pick a great name.”
Grace grabs Rocky’s character sheet (which you had to fill out for him, obviously) and peers at the name. “Right. Because ‘Tinkerstone’ isn’t totally on the nose.”
“Just—pick a different name. Please? For me?” You give him your best puppy dog eyes, even throwing in some fluttered lashes.
After a long sigh, he erases his name and thinks for a few moments, clicking his tongue and tapping the eraser against his temple. “Alright. I’ve got it.”
“Great! Let me—are you serious right now.”
“‘Wheatland Mercy’ is a perfectly respectable name for a wizard.”
You let it slide, because it’s been five hours, and you haven’t even started playing yet. Part of you wonders if you should have just given them premade characters, at least for the first session, so they can decide if they actually like playing. “Whatever. It’s fine. Everyone has their stats rolled?” They both give you a thumbs-down. “Perfect.”
A wizard and an artificer don’t exactly make the most balanced party, but you’ll make it work. Fudge some of your own rolls, so they don’t die right away. You take a quick second to get everything in order: your dice, notes, the little makeshift divider you had made to hide your rolls. There were some campaigns on the laptops—maybe Stratt thought the crew might like to pass the time with some tabletop games before killing themselves—but you decided to make a homebrew quest. Nothing crazy, but it gave you more flexibility.
“When does game start, question?” Rocky is already wiggling a little bit, nudging some of his xenonite dice around.
“Right now, just—okay.” You clear your throat. “Alright. The two of you—Tinkerstone and. Wheatland Mercy,” you grit out. Grace gives you a finger gun and a smug smile. “You’re walking through a forest—”
“Why, question?”
Alright. They’re both going to be a problem, apparently. “Will you just.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes for a second. “What’s your backstory, again?”
Rocky’s chittering turns solemn. “Very tragic. Tinkerstone whole village get exploded in war. Tinkerstone vow to avenge family. Tinkerstone kill kill kill. But Tinkerstone worried it will not fix hole in heart. Tinkerstone very lonely.” And then he’s bouncing up and down, singing in his normal register. “Is good! Rocky make good story.”
You look over at Grace, whose brows are raised, and his lips are sort of puckered, as if to say, well, that’s a lot to unpack. “Yeah. That’s—that’s really great. Um. Okay, well, how about this: you and Wheatland are—”
“Wheatland Mercy,” Grace interrupts pointedly. “He only goes by his full name.”
“Of course he does,” you grumble under your breath. “Anyway, you and Wheatland Mercy have teamed up to help avenge your village.”
Grace raises his hand. Oh, now he decides he’ll wait his turn. “I’m not sure that fits my character.”
You give him the deadest look you can conjure. “Alright,” you grit out. “What is Wheatland Mercy’s background.”
He launches into what you can only describe as the most longwinded backstory you have ever heard. Apparently, Wheatland Mercy was once a poor, dirty orphan, who only ever dreamed of being able to use magic. One day, he was taken as an apprentice by an old wizard who could sense his potential, and Wheatland—sorry, Wheatland Mercy—quickly became a famous magic-wielder. But his fame drew envy, and at a very important ‘wizard summit,’ one of his rivals sabotaged his demonstration, and he was disgraced and cast out of high wizard society. Now he wanders the lands, teaching little children about magic, waiting until the day that some catastrophe happens and he can use his magic for the greater good. (There were a lot more details than this. This is the Cliff Notes version.)
So. Alright. They’re both using this as a kind of therapy session. Cool. “Well—you just said he wants to use his magic for the greater good. I feel like helping Tinkerstone fits that.”
Grace nods and jots something down in his notebook. “That makes sense, yeah. Okay, continue.”
You are regretting suggesting this with each passing moment. “Are there any other burning questions before I keep going?”
They both look at you and shake their heads. Well, Grace shakes his head, while Rocky moves his carapace side-to-side.
“Great. So the two of you are walking through a forest…”
--
“Rocky roll a natural twenty.”
Grace flings his hand out to gesture at Rocky in frustration. “He’s cheating! It is statistically impossible that he has rolled this many twenties in a row.”
“Rocky not cheating. Grace lie. Grace lie lie lie lie lie lie. Grace mad that Grace roll so bad.”
“Rocky,” you chide, because you suspected the same thing about five minutes into them actually playing, “did you load your dice?”
He’s silent for a moment. “No understand.”
You’re pretty sure he does, but on the off chance that he doesn’t, you’ll explain it. “It’s when you build the dice in a way that makes sure it will roll a certain way every time. We call it ‘loading dice’ because you literally load the weight inside unevenly to do that.”
“Oh. Understand. Then yes. Rocky load dice.”
--
Grace is staring down at his sheet. He has been doing this for almost five straight minutes. “Grace. It’s your turn.”
“I know. Just give me a second. I’m planning the most optimal actions to take.”
“And you couldn’t do that during Rocky’s turn?”
“I was distracted. Now hush. Let me think.” He keeps looking down, periodically jotting things down and scratching them out, mumbling things to himself. “Okay. I cast magic missile. On the—on the goblin with one health point.”
The table is starting to look like a really attractive surface to smash your forehead against. “Alright. Well, it’s an auto hit, I’ll just give it to you. The goblin is dead. That was your last spell slot, right? What cantrips do you have?”
He peers a little more closely at his character sheet. “Uh—‘Light’ and ‘Control Flames.’”
“Those are—those are really bad. Why did you pick those?”
His face looks almost panicked, like he’s about to get a bad grade in DnD. “I don’t know! I was going for a theme!”
--
Well, they just barely managed to scrape through the encounter. Rocky is kind of insanely good at this, even after he quickly made some normal dice. Grace is—he’s trying his best.
“Okay. You’ve just reached the nearest town. The two of you have a little bit of gold, so you can buy some supplies if you want. You should also consider finding a place to rest, so you can restore health and spell slots.”
They argue about this for—it’s a long time. Rocky really wants to blow all their cash on new weapons and armor, even though neither of them really need all of that. Grace is theorizing about the economy and the spending power of a gold coin. You try your best to stay silent through all of this, even though it is sort of killing you on the inside.
The compromise they reach is a new set of gloves for Rocky before heading to the town’s inn to see if they can rent some rooms. You are not going to let them do this without some good, old-fashioned roleplay. “Welcome to The Roaring Boar,” you say with a charming smile. “What can I do for you two fine gentlemen?”
Grace raises his eyebrows. “Is this—are we supposed to be in character?” You give him a flat look, and he holds his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright, I was just checking. Okay, um.” He closes his eyes for a second and shakes his shoulders a little. “Hi. We are hoping to purchase two of your finest rooms.”
“You’re in luck! We have two left. That will be three hundred gold.”
“Three hundred—their economy is in shambles, I knew it.”
You are going to force him to actually do this, even if it kills you. “Everyone’s fallen on hard times, unfortunately. It’s because of the war.”
Rocky chimes in. “Tinkerstone understand. Tinkerstone whole village explode—”
“Are there any other rooms available?” Grace butts in, before Rocky can recite Tinkerstone’s entire backstory. Again. “Or the stables, or something?”
Your dice plunk against the metal table. Oof, that’s not good. “I’m really sorry. We’re completely full for the evening. You could try the next town over?”
“But—but—it’s the middle of the night.” It is making you really happy, how quickly he’s getting into this. “And we just barely survived a goblin hoard. Is there…could we do any work, or something? To help pay for the rooms?”
You give him your best apologetic look. “I’m really sorry, there’s nothing I can do.”
Grace drums his fingers against the table for a few seconds. Then, a grin slowly spreads on his face. “This is out of character. What does this innkeeper look like?”
“Um. I don’t know—it’s. She’s an elf.”
He writes something down. He has been a very diligent note-taker this entire time. “I need more specifics.”
“She’s a beautiful elf maiden. Ethereal, even.”
“Oh,” he says, his smile widening even further. “So she looks like you.”
You give him a fake eye roll, even as your face warms up a little bit from the incredibly cheesy line. “Sure.”
Another note gets written down. “Alright. I am going to flirt with the innkeeper.”
Your cheeks are starting to hurt from how much you’re smiling. “Roll for charisma.”
“Nine.”
Hm. Yeah, this is going to be really funny. “What do you say to the innkeeper?”
Grace does his best to give you a good smolder. “These really are hard times, if such a—a ravishing maiden, such as yourself, has to work here to get by. You should be in a palace, really, being fawned over and waited on, hand and foot. It’s what someone as beautiful and kind as you are deserves.”
Wow. That’s just—wow. Unfortunately, you rolled a seventeen, so. “Well, that is very kind of you to say,” you simper. You let that hang for a moment, before: “But we still don’t have any rooms.”
“Dang it. Well, Rock—sorry, Tinkerstone. It looks like we’re sleeping on the side of the road.”
Rocky finally pipes up. “Let Rocky try.”
“Of course. Roll for charisma, Rocky.”
He gingerly picks up the non-weighted xenonite dodecahedron with one of his claws before letting it drop to the floor of his enclosure. “Thirteen. Human thirteen,” he clarifies, even though he really doesn’t need to.
You rolled a four. This is awesome. “And what does Tinkerstone say to the elven maiden?”
“Hello, beautiful female.” He juts his carapace up while he sings. “You are very beautiful. Tinkerstone very attracted. Tinkerstone think that Tinkerstone can treat you well.”
DnD is such a beautiful, wonderful game, you think. “Oh. Well that’s—thank you, Tinkerstone. You really have a way with words. I suppose—I can give you the employee discount.”
“Seriously?” Grace whines. “That was terrible!”
“It’s all in the dice,” you nod sagely. “The dice, Grace.”
--
Rocky is leaning all the way up against the clear xenonite as you speak, low and theatrical. “And then, as the drow gasps out his last breaths, he says, ‘I know…who gave the order…to explode your village. It—was—’” You pause for dramatic effect. “And then the drow lies still, and you know that you’re not going to get anything else out of him.”
“What, question? But. Who explode Tinkerstone village, question?”
You smile and start collecting your papers, folding up the little divider. “You’ll have to play again, question some of his associates to find out.”
He literally stomps one of his claws. “No. We keep playing.”
“We need to sleep, buddy.” Grace is barely upright, at this point. He’s been a pretty good sport about it all, though, despite being about ready to pass out on the table. “We can play again tomorrow.”
“…Fine.”
The two of you clean everything up before heading down to the dormitory. “So,” you murmur, already almost half-asleep yourself, “did you have fun?”
“Mm-hm. It was great. Even if I totally should have been able to seduce the elf maiden.”
You snort and lie down on the floor, on the two mattress pads set up next to each other, laden with blanket after blanket. “Should’ve rolled better, then.”
He settles in next to you, wrapping you up in his arms, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Rocky patters in to watch the two of you sleep, after he gets you both to promise that you’ll continue tomorrow. You’re just happy to have found something to pass the time, help make the years it will take to reach Erid go by a little easier. And—you’re happy that they both enjoyed it, happy that Grace is holding you, happy that Rocky had fun.
This is... egregiously self-indulgent and entirely uncalled for. Enjoy.
kade auberon x gn! reader, nsfw
“Oohhhhh….”
The sound punches out of him as your lips slide over his length. Kade shifts his legs, breathing raggedly. The tension between you finally came to a head in a very literal sense when you backed him against the hanger wall and dropped to your knees in front of him. His pants were undone just enough to get him right where you wanted him. You put a hand on his thigh and suck lightly, and his head thunks against the wall. You pull off. “Feel good?” you ask as you mouth at the underside of his cock.
Kade pants in response. You feel him tremble from where you’re touching his leg and you soothe your hand up and down the fabric. You take him back into your mouth and start working him in earnest. He groans, his hips jumping minutely, and it's enough to make you gag. “Shit, sorry,” he huffs shakily. You wrap a hand around his base and bob your head to let him know all is well. You look up at him to find his eyes tightly shut and his tongue poking minutely out from between his lips. Cute. You swirl your tongue, wanting to see his expression change. Kade’s mouth falls open and his head tilts back again, baring the shivering column of his throat.
You take his gloved hand and guide it to your face, and he rests his fingers on your cheek with a gentleness that’s surprising but not unwelcome. You hum your happiness, making Kade gasp.
“Sweetheart?” he manages. He strokes your cheek in a gesture that feels almost absent. You release him. “I can… take it from here,” Kade says, his eyes unfocused. He looks dazed.
“Do you want me to stop?” you ask simply.
His jaw works. “... no.”
You suck on his tip gently, then gulp him down and Kade grunts. You find a steady pace and within a minute he’s coming down your throat with a growl he couldn’t quite bite back. You stand, savoring the remains of his bitter release on your tongue. Kade licks his lips as he rights his wardrobe, having yet to meet your eyes, and his bashfulness makes you smile.
“That was fun,” you offer. Kade clears his throat and finally looks at you. He seems almost angry, until he surges forward and kisses you and you understand it isn’t anger that has him grabbing you at you like this. You meet him with equal hunger and the kiss turns messy fast. Kade wrenches away so he can look at you, searching your face with an intensity that makes you shiver.
“My turn?” he asks lowly. He squeezes your waist.
“Show me what you got, starfighter,” you challenge, before reclaiming his mouth. Kade picks you up without interrupting the kiss and carries you to the bedroom.
Tag List: @ken-dom, @pixiebuggz, @cosmicyeehaw, @avocado-writing, @eridianhearts, @s4turnsb3st, @qoemchu, @therylandgracehugger
pairing: ryland grace x female english teacher!reader
summary: [inspired by this post] tired eyes make for big mistakes.
warnings: 18+ smut! (mdni!), textfic, sexting, really more suggestive than anything, short/not detailed, ur nickname in his phone is goose cuz y/n sounds stupid. baby’s first x reader!
word count: 600+
joshuaa: send?
ryland!: is this flyer a mess?
the notifications came in quick succession.
you rubbed your eyes, tunnel vision setting in as you graded a hundred essays. quickly as to not stray too far from your goal, you fired off two replies, setting your device facedown as you stretched.
another two dings.
joshuaa: wdym looks good?
ryland!: oh!
"oh no," your eyes grew wide. you had made a fatal mistake.
the photo— a lowlight nudie— took up your whole screen, the name at the top? ryland.
goose!: oh my god
goose!: i'm so sorry ry
goose!: it won't let me delete it
goose!: oh my god i'm so sorry
you forgot all about the second chat, your tinder booty call becoming less than a shadow in the back of your mind.
god what were you thinking? you could never show your face again! and to think you’re supposed to chaperone the field trip together next week!
ryland! is typing...
the bubble popped on and off screen, you felt a lump in your throat.
ryland!: hey, it's okay! i'm not mad!
ryland! is typing...
ryland!: i'm still a man you know
oh!
ryland! is typing...
ryland!: would you feel better if i sent one too?
you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped your lips. ryland grace takes nudes?
goose!: you don't have to do all that
ryland!: you don't want me to?
ryland!: not that i assumed you did!
ryland!: ahh guess the eggs on my face now huh
a soft smile tugged at your lips.
goose!: i won't pretend im not curious
ryland! is typing...
ryland!: [image]
wow.
it wasn't even a cringey weird angle like every other picture you’ve recieved! it was... well, it was nice. not professional or anything, but, you get it.
your ears turned hot as you (subconsciously) started to imagine how many thrusts it might take to fit that inside.
what a stretch! he'd for sure leave some bruising behind. oh god, it would hurt so good!
your mind wandered to the hands— exploring your body, rested on your throat...
ding!
ryland!: bad?
you fumbled through your next message.
goose!: good!
goose!: really really good
goose!: ryland i didn't know u were packing like that
a little humor to lighten the load, a classic tactic within your friendship.
ryland!: really? and here i thought i had big dick energy smh
you laughed out loud at that one.
goose!: i mean, i had made an inference before
goose!: context clues
ryland!: a hypothesis
and all at once it didn't seem too bad. sure, the hot science teacher across the hall had seen your full frontal mirror pic, but it doesn't even matter. because even with the forbidden fruit hanging from the tree— the one that drives every man to a life of evil— ryland was still ryland.
ryland!: you have a rockin bod btw
well... mostly.
you bit your lip, hesitating before sending the reply. fuck it, what’s the worst that can happen?
goose!: thanks! come get on it!
it was a joke! can't a lady make a saucy joke around here?
ryland! is typing...
ryland!: be there in 20. should i bring wine?
ryland!: no that's too much
ryland!: right?
careful what you wish for, right?
goose!: just you and the monster downstairs
you cringed, placing your face in your palms for a mental time out.
Thinking about cockwarming with Kade…He’s busy working on something while you’re on your knees with his cock in your mouth. Once he’s finally done he’ll finally be nice and touch you where you need it the most.
