They’ll Never Listen

Liv | she/her | xxii | prev. rentskenobi I only bite sometimes

[rentsturner]

Liv, 22, UK, autistic

Current interests:

—> arctic monkeys

—> ryan gosling/project Hail Mary

—> eddie redmayne/the day of the jackal

—> trainspotting

—> game of thrones/hotd

—> britpop/indie music

You can find my main masterlist here and my Rygos masterlist here

Requests are currently OPEN (for Rygos characters only)

I’m very friendly, I promise, and my DMs are always open for anyone looking to chat or whatever

[prudejudee]

smth tells me colt would get a kick (get off on) having wrestling matches with reader….like yeah he’s gonna let her pin him a few times or whatever but the rush he gets when he gets to flip her back down and immobilise her…..and feel her struggling against his strength…..he’d love to bait her to try and free herself but she’s clearly not able to……i need a glass of water….

MGHHDMMS I LOVED THIS WOW OWOWOWO

You lunge first. He lets you crash into him, lets your weight drive him backward until his back hits the floor with a heavy thud. You scramble on top, straddling his hips, pinning his wrists above his head. He doesn’t resist. Instead he looks up at you with that lazy, heated smirk, hips shifting just enough to grind his hardening cock against your ass through his shorts.

"Pin me. Show me what you got."

You press down harder, thighs squeezing his sides. He stays there, letting you feel in control for a few long seconds, letting your pussy throb from the friction of his bulge. Then his muscles coil. In one explosive move he bucks upward, flips you clean over, and slams you onto your back.

The air leaves your lungs. Before you can react he’s on you, one thick forearm across your throat, his heavy body pinning your hips flat. His free hand grabs both your wrists and slams them above your head.

"There it is," he growls against your ear, breath hot. "Feel that? You’re not going anywhere."

You buck and twist, trying to throw him off. Your struggles only make his cock twitch harder against your thigh. He grinds down deliberately, letting you feel every inch of him swelling, thick and insistent. "Keep fighting. Love how you squirm when you know you can’t win."

You manage to get one leg hooked around his waist and try to roll him. He laughs low, shifts his weight—pinning that leg too, spreading you wider. His knee slides between your thighs, pressing right against your soaked pussy through your thin shorts. Every time you thrash he rocks his knee upward, rubbing your clit in short, filthy strokes.

"D'aww how cute. You think you’re getting free? Go ahead. Struggle Puppy its adorable."

Your hips jerk involuntarily, chasing the pressure. He notices. Of course he does. He drops his mouth to your neck and bites, sucking a mark while his free hand yanks your shorts and panties down just enough to expose you.

Two thick fingers slide through your slick folds, then push inside without warning. You clench around them, a broken sound leaving your throat.

"Fuck, you’re dripping..." he mutters, pumping his fingers deep while his thumb circles your clit. "All that fighting just makes you wetter, doesn’t it?"

You try to close your legs. He forces them open wider with his knee, adding a third finger, stretching you. The wet sounds of his hand working your pussy fill the room. Every time you push against his chest he just laughs and fucks his fingers in harder, curling them against that spot that makes your back arch.

He pulls his fingers out, shiny with your arousal, and shoves them into your mouth. "Taste how much you want this."

While you suck them clean he frees his cock, thick and flushed, and drags the head through your folds. He doesn’t push in yet. He just teases, letting you feel how big he is, how badly you’re leaking for him.

You thrash again—testing his grip. He tightens his hold on your wrists, leans his full weight down and finally sinks his cock into you in one slow, relentless thrust. Your walls stretch around him, fluttering. He groans as his forehead presses to yours.

He starts fucking you in deep, punishing strokes, each thrust driving you harder into the mat. Every time you try to twist away he pins you flatter, hips snapping forward, balls slapping against your ass. His free hand slides down to rub your clit in tight circles while he rails you, voice filthy in your ear.

"Come on, fight me. Show me how bad you want to get off."

You clench around him, orgasm building fast from the relentless pressure and the way he keeps you helpless. He feels it, speeds up—fucking you through it until you’re shaking and sobbing under him.

He stays inside you, still pinning your wrists, breathing hard. "Round two?" he asks, already hardening again inside you. "Or you tapping out?"

[rentsturner]

JUDE THIS IS SO HOT GONNA CUM

[mrs-calhoun]

Driver/Luke with reader who has a sensitive spot on the nape where they're just cutely rubbing readers neck and they press their thumb into the spot and reader lets out an uncontrollable noise and a full body tremble and driver or luke are like, Oh yeah? Really?

oh yes!! i can see this for both of them so well😵‍💫

going with Luke because I've had a bit of a Luke brainworm lately😣

He's truly just trying to fuck with you. Lazily massaging your neck on the couch, he gets an idea, causing a smirk to appear on his face. One of his hands strays away from the intended area and he presses down with his thumb. A soft moan escapes your lips at the pressure and chills are sent like electricity all throughout your body. You go still for a second before trying to act like nothing happened but of course Luke's not having that. "Uh uh, what was that?" Leaning forward, pulling you back towards his chest, trying to get a good look at your face. You move your head to the side in a poor attempt to hide. He quickly takes hold of your chin with his other hand, making you look back up at him. Your eyes meet his, he's just smirking at you, relishing in this new discovery. He does it again, and he relishes in your reaction. Without a second thought he takes your throat in his hand firmly and pulls you into a messy kiss. With teeth clashing, and tongues fighting for dominance, he repositions the two of you, pushing you back onto the couch before climbing on top of you, lips never breaking apart. “You’re gonna be making those sweet noises for me all night.”

---

HI GUYS... im so sorry i have been MIA for a while, was really preoccupied with the new discord server, but then i had some personal things go down but hopefully ill get back in the swing of things in no time. i hope this little thing is enough to hold yall over until i can post something!🤍🤍

[rentsturner]

NEED

[prudejudee]

HELLO JUDAS 😈😈😈😈😈 I come with thoughts of Daniel Dunne.

I’m thinking….im thinking….laying around with him in his apartment….smoking cigarettes and listening to vinyls….resting on his chest and noticing that his cock is just….its probably because he’s absentmindedly stroking your chest and your occasional kisses are making him horny. But he’s hard. Like really hard. And his pants are thin and his cock is MASSIVE AND

I’m sorry IM JUST RAMBLING BUT PLS DAN DAN DAN DAN DAN DAN DAN DAN

(ps his hands work as necklaces)

Hey i hc dan w a big fat thick dick hes a little scrawny so it helps the stereotype....

You're sprawled across his chest, your cheek pressed to the thin fabric of his t-shirt, your body a warm weight that rises and falls with his breath. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your shoulder, your arm, the curve of your hip something absent, automatic, like he's memorizing you without thinking.

You shift, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. His hand pauses, then resumes its slow stroking. Another kiss, higher, just below his jaw. He exhales smoke, tilts his head back, and you feel the vibration of a low hum in his chest.

"You're makin' it hard to focus on the music.." he mutters, voice rough, a little amused.

You don't answer. You just slide your hand down his stomach, palm flat against the worn fabric of his sweatpants. And there it is—the unmistakable ridge, the thick, heavy swell of him, already hard.

Not just hard. Massive. The kind of hardness that makes your mouth water, that makes your thighs clench instinctively. His pants are thin, worn soft from years of washing, and the outline of his cock presses against the fabric like it's demanding to be seen.

"Been like that for a while," he says, voice flat, like he's stating the weather. "You keep kissing me like that—" He gestures vaguely with the cigarette. "—it's just gonna get worse."

You press your palm against the length of him, feel the heat radiating through the cotton. His breath hitches, just barely. His hand stops stroking your chest and grips your shoulder instead, fingers digging in.

"You want me to stop?" you ask, voice low.

He doesn't answer. He just stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the floor, then grabs your wrist and guides your hand lower, pressing your fingers against the outline of his shaft. It's thick—so thick your fingers barely wrap around it through the fabric. He lets out a breath, almost a sigh, and his hips buck up just slightly, seeking friction.

You slide your hand along his length, slow, feeling every inch of him straining against the thin cotton. The head of his cock is already wet, a dark spot spreading on the fabric.

He groans, low and guttural, and his hand finds the back of your head, threading through your hair.

"Take 'em off" he says, voice strained. "Take my pants off. Now."

You don't need to be told twice. You shift, straddling his thighs, and hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. He lifts his hips, and you pull them down just enough to free his cock. It springs up, thick and flushed, the head glistening with pre-cum, the shaft veined and heavy. It's almost intimidating, the sheer size of it, the way it curves upward toward his stomach.

He watches you stare, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "What, too much?"

You shake your head, lowering yourself, pressing a kiss to the tip. He shudders, his whole body tensing. His hand grips the back of your head again, not forcing, just there, guiding.

"Open up, sweetheart." he says, voice low, almost a command.

And you do.

Later, after you've swallowed every drop, after he's pulled you up to kiss you with the taste of himself on your tongue, he flips you onto your back. Your thighs spread wide, your cunt slick and ready, and he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

He pauses, looking down at you and your soft belly, your plush thighs, the way your body yields to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown.

"You're gonna take all of it," he says, not a question. A statement. "Slow. I want to feel every inch of you."

You nod, breathless, and he pushes inside.

It's a stretch—a deep, aching, perfect stretch. He fills you completely, the pressure building as he sinks deeper, inch by inch, until his hips are flush against yours. He pauses again, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged.

"Ohfuck" he mutters. "You feel—" He can't finish. He just starts moving, slow and deep, each thrust pushing the air from your lungs.

The vinyl has ended by the time he comes, the record spinning silently. He collapses on top of you, his weight a comfort, his cock still pulsing inside you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then mumbles, "You're gonna make me buy a new record. That one's probably scratched now."

[rentsturner]

OH MY FUCKINF CHRIST JUDE IM

Gonna KISS YOU ON THE LIPS ANS THEN IMPLODEOH MY JESUS LORDSDDDDS YOUVE SAVED ME

[graceinorbit]

LOOSE ENDS

DRIVER X READER (NSFW 18+)

CW: (18+ MINORS DNI), Filthy smut, p in v sex, Driver is a munch, mention of blood and some violence, mention of knives and weapons, cursing

SUMMARY: You’re sent by Nino to tie up some loose ends; the loose ends being Driver after the disaster that was the pawn shop robbery. However, you don’t anticipate falling for the target.

NOTES: This is my first smut I’ve ever written help!!! Dedicated to @sirenxzel for the idea and @prudejudee for being the goose boys smut queen

Reblogs, likes, and comments are super appreciated I gobble that shit up like it’s crack <3

You hadn’t wanted to take the job. God, you couldn't stress how badly you didn’t want to take the job.

You were no stranger to who Shannon’s young protégée was. You’d seen him on more than one occasion when you went to the garage to conduct business deals on behalf of Nino; cars, parts, and other very illegal forms of contraband.

The tall, blonde, stoic man always kept to himself when you were there, bent over in the yawning recesses of a different car every time. Broad back turned to you, his dirty white shirt clinging to toned muscles as he rooted around under the hood.

Only once had you managed to meet his eyes, and the piercing blue irises that were always so full of unbridled violence had always sent a chill down your spine.

But, when Nino orders a hit, you don’t disobey. Unless you want to be the next one in the ground, laying with the worms.

So here you were, crouched outside on a metal fire escape in the dead of the night while the city below you went on, never sleeping.

The metal creaked dangerously beneath your weight, and you shifted on the balls of your feet. This building was falling apart, much like everything else in the city. In front of you, through the darkened glass, the apartment beyond was draped in shadows, obscuring all within.

You’d cased the building earlier that day, pretending to be another drunk straggler like all the other vermin that lived in the building. Just another lowlife trying desperately to find their way back to a bed to sleep off a drug or alcohol induced haze. You were certain this was the correct unit; after all, you were good at what you did.

There was a reason Nino entrusted the job to you.

You slinked toward the closed window like a cat, your dark clothing blending into the dark brick, and palmed the knife strapped to your thigh. Quiet as a mouse, you unlatched the window and slid it open smoothly, pleased that it made no noise. Then, you slithered through the opening, landing on the pads of your feet.

You turn to shut the window, then think twice. Better to leave it open in case a quick escape is needed. You were, at the end of the day, dealing with a dangerous predator.

But not more dangerous than you.

The dark apartment smelled faintly like oil, leather, and some kind of woodsy cologne. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could make out a small couch, dining table only big enough for two, a kitchenette, and a small hallway leading further back into the unit.

The place feels abandoned.

You know better than to hope so, however.

Standing up to your full height, you move down the hallway, passing a small bathroom that’s dark. Only one place left that your quarry could be.

The bedroom door is already open, much to your relief. You almost scoff.

A man as wanted by Nino as he was, and he didn’t at least lock his bedroom door when sleeping?

You peer into the shadows, squinting as you scan the room. Too late do you realize the queen size bed is empty, blankets pulled up. They’re only slightly ruffled, as if whoever lay on them hadn’t bothered to slip beneath the sheets. Your knuckles whiten as they tighten around the knife clenched in your fist.

Suddenly, a hand is around your throat, having snaked out from behind. You’re slammed against the bedroom wall, head aching with the impact against the cheap paint. The hand is replaced by a large forearm as it pins you to the surface. Through the shadows, you can see the figure towering over you is holding a hammer aloft, the blunt end hovering only a few inches above your eye socket.

Driver looms above you, icy blue eyes only faintly illuminated by the street lights shining through the blinds from across the room.

He’s clad in his signature white scorpion jacket that you’d seen him in the day before as you tailed him through the city streets in an attempt to memorize his patterns.

You breathe hard through your mouth and move your knife hand behind your back, saving it for a better moment to strike.

His gaze rakes down your face; not cold or angry, but calculating. Analyzing. An eerie expression of calm encompasses his features. It scares you more than if he wore a mask of rage.

Hammer still held up, ready to swing down at any moment, he speaks in a low, smooth voice. “Who sent you?”

You don’t answer, staring up at him defiantly. A muscle in your jaw ticks.

”Nino,” he confirms for you. Of course it’s Nino. Who else would it be?

You don’t move or speak, performing your own little form of stubborn rebellion by doing so.

“Why’d you take the job?”

You blink, not anticipating the question. Why hadn’t he just brought that hammer down on your skull and ended it already?

”Because saying no wasn’t an option,” you say finally. And you mean it.

Driver notices the way your eyes flicker to every possible exit in the room, the exhaustion under your eyes, the faint bruise on your cheekbone. He notices everything.

And suddenly, the hammer in his hand is lowering. You furrow your brows in confusion at this, still staring into those deep blue eyes of his. He doesn’t remove his arm from your throat, but the pressure has lessened slightly. There’s a faint thunk as the hammer falls to the floor.

He’s looking at you now with a very predatory look, and your heart races. Against your will, a deep warmth pools in your body, flowing from your chest down, down to the apex of your thighs at that look. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly moves his now free hand down to your hip, fingers grazing the dark fabric of your jeans.

They dance along the hem before sliding back to the knife clenched in your fist. Gently, as if handling something fragile, he slowly wraps a large palm around your knife hand and moves it up, pinning it and the knife against the wall above you. He doesn’t look away from you once. The heat in your body flares brighter; you feel like a rabbit being pinned down by a dog.

With spine-chilling realization, you now know that you entered this apartment as the predator, but are now the prey.

With one hand pinning yours against the wall, his other one moves to replace his forearm on your throat. He doesn’t squeeze hard, but still presses. His hands are so large they almost reach all the way around your throat.

You can feel your pulse thudding painfully against his warm skin and you wait with bated breath, anticipating the cold slide of your knife into your belly.

But Driver doesn’t intend to kill you. No. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, the back.

“If you wanna tail someone, you should try harder to blend in,” he says softly, lowly. Then, his lips are on yours.

You gasp into the kiss; his lips are warm, soft, and hungry. He kisses you like a man starved, tilting his towering form into yours. Your body flares as if it’s been lit on fire, and your knife hand above you slowly relaxes. The knife clatters to the floor.

Driver replaces the weapon with his own hand, lacing his fingers through yours against the paint possessively.

Every nerve within your body is buzzing. The sensation of his lips moving against yours makes your head spin. As if sensing the weakness in your knees, he moves a jean-clad thigh between your legs. The sudden contact of the denim on your core sends an electric shock up your spine, and you accidentally bite down on his bottom lip. The coppery taste of blood washes across your tongue.

You expect him to grow angry, to throw you to the side and end you, but instead he whines. Like a dog. The noise almost short circuits your brain.

Sticking your tongue out, red with blood from his now cut lip, you drag it up his neck, leaving a faint trail of crimson. He groans deep in his throat; in one smooth motion, his hands leave your neck and palm and shoot to the bottom of your thighs as he lifts you into the air. You dangle, wedged between the wall and his hard body. Your legs wrap around his slender waist, and he dives in to kiss you again, even hungrier than before.

”Think you can break into my fucking apartment without me knowing?” He snarls against your lips. Your eyes roll back into your head at the gruff tone.

His tongue slides into your mouth without permission, lapping up the coppery tang of his blood. He rolls his hips into yours and you moan at the hardness pressing through his jeans into your core.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were supposed to kill him; instead you were two seconds away from being fucked against the wall.

In a split second, you decided, you weren’t killing this dangerous predator. Nino could go fuck himself for all you cared.

”What are you going to do about me breaking in?” You gasped as he sucked at the soft skin on your neck, where your jaw met your ear. There was undoubtedly going to be a mark after.

He bit down and you yelped. “No talking. You’re gonna keep your mouth shut unless I tell you to speak.”

He sank to his knees fluidly for a man with such long and gangly limbs, and expertly popped the button of your jeans with one hand. His heated gaze never left yours as he slowly and tantalizingly pulled your jeans down, leaving you in your underwear. When the article of clothing reached your ankles, he gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises and stared at the soaked front of your panties.

“Up,” he commanded, and you obeyed like a loyal puppy, lifting your right leg as he pulled the jeans down and over your sneakers. He repeated the process with the other side.

You stared down at him, breathing heavily and pupils blown wide as he rubbed one long finger on your clit through the fabric covering your cunt.

”Stupid slut, you came in here to kill me and now you’re soaked. You should be ashamed.”

Normally you would’ve bristled at the words, but instead they sent a fresh wave of slickness to the apex of your thighs. You moved against his finger, desperate for friction. “Please…”

The whispered words from your pretty lips made his jaw clench; he leaned forward and mouthed at your covered clit, tongue swirling over the soaked folds. He groaned and grabbed your leg, throwing it over his shoulder. He used two fingers to pull your panties to the side and dove into your slick.

”Oh fuck,” you yelped as he lapped at you. You’d never been eaten out like this before and your body was reacting with alarming speed as your fluids began to slowly drip down your thighs.

He licked, sucked, and ate like a man on death row, moaning deeply all the while. The band in your lower belly was beginning to tighten already, threatening to snap. Just when you thought the sensations couldn’t get any more overwhelming, two of his long fingers were entering you. Between the sounds of his mouth, fingers, and your combined groans, the noise in the room was filthy, almost embarrassingly so. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this good.

You clenched around his fingers and he began to palm himself through his jeans with one. hand, thrusting up into the air. The sight sent you over that cliff edge and you cried out as you came all over his face.

He didn’t even give you time to recover. As you struggled to come down from your high, he was standing and undoing his belt buckle; it clinked in the room as you gasped. Not even bothering to pull down his pants, he freed himself from his briefs. Your eyes went wide.

He was long with a thick vein pulsing on the side of his shaft. It curved slightly to the left as it stood straight out, the tip angry and red and leaking precum.

He grabbed your jaw in one hand and kissed you hard; you could taste yourself on his lips. “I’m going to fuck you against this wall now, and I better not hear silence while I do it.”

You whined at his words and moved your hips eagerly, desperate for something. Anything.

He picked you up again without any effort and your legs immediately locked around his waist again. You nearly sobbed as the tip of his cock brushed your entrance.

Without even needing guidance, he pushed up into you, grunting with each inch. You felt a brief pinch of pain as your body stretched to accommodate his length before it faded to pure bliss. When he was fully seated inside, he groaned weakly and dropped his face against your neck; his forehead was slick with sweat.

He began to move slowly, almost teasing, lips against your ear. You gasped with each thrust, stars bursting behind your eyes.

“When this is over,” he grunted into your ear, speeding up, “You’re not going to go back to Nino. You don’t belong to him anymore.”

You cried out as his balls smacked against your ass; the room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin mingled with wet slaps.

He rutted up into you even harder, possessively. “I’m going to kill Nino. Then you and I are gonna get the fuck out of this city.”

The tip of his cock was hitting that spongy part of you perfectly and you could feel the edge of the cliff nearing. You wrapped your arms around his neck and fisted his hair as your body jolted up against the wall with each thrust.

He moved his head back to look directly into your eyes. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

“You understand?” He breathed in that calm voice.

”Yes, yes,” you cried out, absolutely fucked out of your mind with bliss. “I’m yours now. I’m yours.”

At your words, his hips stuttered and he groaned through gritted teeth. As his warm essence pumped into you, you tumbled over the edge with him.

You both moaned loudly, certain the neighbors would hear. He thrust a few more times, milking himself on you, and you jolted with the overstimulation.

He gently set you down on your feet and pulled out with a wet squelch. He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard. You stared up into his eyes, the irises almost completely swelled by his pupils. He gripped both your hips tightly.

“What happens now?” You gasped.

Driver looked at you for a long moment. He lifted one hand to brush a strand of sweat-soaked hair from your cheek. “Don’t answer your phone.”

He stepped back slowly, gaze never leaving yours.

“Nino is done.”

[rentsturner]

OH MH FUCK FHIS IS

IncreDIBKE OH MY LORD

[rentsturner]

I’m stalking your page rn I’m in your walls

come out and say hello ;)))

[prudejudee]

mmm thinking of riding colt's thigh. also that one scene where his mouth was covered with a hand. thinking of his muffled whimpers and barely audible sounds of him begging while you ride his thigh, just begging for anything more

mmghh yes so sorry these drafts are out so late lol HERE HAVE PRON!!!

His hands are on your hips, fingers digging in, guiding the rhythm. But he's not in control—you are. You roll your hips slow and deliberate, letting the friction build against your clit. The denim of his jeans is rough, a perfect drag that makes your breath hitch.

You pick up the pace, riding his thigh harder to chase that pressure.

His cock is straining against his zipper, but he doesn't touch himself. He just watches you, jaw tight, hands gripping you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered.

Then you lean forward, pressing your palm flat over his mouth.

His eyes go wide, then narrow with something desperate. He moans against your hand—a muffled, guttural sound that vibrates through your skin. You grind down harder, feeling the tremor run through his leg, the way his hips twitch involuntarily.

He whimpers. It's barely audible, lost behind your fingers. But you catch it—that broken, needy sound. He bucks his thigh up in an attempt to try to give you more, and you take it, riding the motion slick and hot.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, and he presses his forehead against yours, still muffled. His breath is ragged, hot against your palm. You feel his lips move, forming words you can't hear, but you know what he's begging for.

More. Please. Anything.

You lift your hand just enough to let him breathe. "What was that?"

"Please!" he gasps, voice cracking. "Please, I need—anything—fuck, just—"

You cover his mouth again, cutting him off, and grind down until you come, clenching around nothing, the friction dragging out every pulse of pleasure. He moans into your hand, long and low, his hips jerking beneath you like he's coming too just from watching, just from feeling you take what you want.

[rentsturner]

Oh mygODDDD GIMME IT

[iktheend]

i seem to be driven towards ryland whenever ive not had a good day so here’s another quick little comforting ry drabble…ill be back with the smut tmrrw

your duvet wraps you up in ryland’s warmth, his chest pressed close against you back and his arm wrapped around you. it’s been 15 minutes since you’d started to ramble about your day and how you’d been feeling recently and he’s just been there listening, his head giving soft nods in the crook of your neck every couple of sentences.

by the time you’d finished, you can feel the tears drying uncomfortably on your cheeks.

‘it all sounds really rough baby, but y’know, it doesn’t matter right here, right now, it’s just us for the next few hours and i’m here for you, yeah? you don’t gotta worry about all that tonight.’

you give a small nod through your sniffles and turn over so you’re now face to face, noses almost touching, ‘i love you ry.’

his eyes trace over all of your features, a sort of sad smile on his face, ‘i love you more, i don’t know what i’d do without you my gorgeous, smart, sweet, beautiful, wonderful girl. i love you so much.’

he pulls himself up slightly, just enough to lay a light kiss on your forehead and another on the tip of your nose, ‘you wanna sleep now?’

‘hm..can we watch a film?’ your voice is laced with all the tiredness and stress of the day and he replies with an ‘ofcourse’ as he takes his ipad from his bedside table and searches for you favourite movie, his arm now wrapped around your back as you both sit up to spend the next hour or so just being.

[rentsturner]

THE BEST EVER EVER

[cutiedrpepper]

age gap ryland grace drabble (18+)

in your defense, you really did just need extra help with your project

and it definitely had nothing to do with the fact that maybe you wanted to act just a little helpless in front of your favorite professor

so after class when you asked him for help, you really did try to hide the lust in your gaze

and in your defense, he returned that gaze and with lust dripping in his response, his hand gently spanning your lower back while he walked you out of his classroom

promising you his full attention and his help on your project later that night in a private study room in the on campus library

which led you where you were now, fully seated on his lap with his cock buried inside of you, two warm palms covering your ass, and your face hidden in his neck in a weak attempt to keep quiet

it was way past campus hours now, even with the building empty, the blinds were drawn over the windows of the compact study room, project long forgotten

which probably happened the second he stepped in behind you and locked the door

his palms slid further up and across your back, pulling you tight against him while he rocked up into you, deep hard thrusts pulling high pitched mewls and squeals out of your throat

“that feel good, baby?”

his lips graze your neck before leaning further down to suck and bite on your shoulder, his tongue soothing the now bruising skin

“no weak, pathetic boy your age-“

his hands leave your back, one now grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging backwards, forcing your eyes on his

his other hand finding and rubbing tight, wet circles on your clit

“-is ever gonna be able to fuck you this good, honey, hmm?”

he peers up at you over his glasses, a smug smirk painting his expression

“just needed a real man to fuck you? Isn’t that right?”

he rocks his hips up further, pressing impossibly deep inside of your creamy cunt, a white circle painting the base of his cock

“need you, ry- gonna cum!”

you finish with his lips crashing onto yours, his tongue licking into your mouth and his own orgasm following

by the time you’re stepping out of the library, his sticky cum is seeping out of you, coating your underwear and thighs while he walks you home

when he’s walked you up to your apartments front door, and can see that you’re safe and sound, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and assures you that your project is phenomenal, and that he WILL be cooking you dinner by next weekend <33

[bodeckerhedron]

RYAN GOSLING as RYLAND GRACE

➤• PROJECT HAIL MARY (2026) DIR. PHIL LORD & CHRIS MILLER

[thiccbeef]

Congrats on 200!!!!! I absolutely LOVE your writing so much! 💖

Can I get "Can you come pick me up?" and “Okay, you’ve had your fun, now help me clean this up.” with Driver?

EXTRA smutty car smut in his mechanic uniform please heheh 😜

This is my last one (sad) and also longest one (happy). Literally just pure car smut with a Driver who loves to choke reader out and have her ride him in the car. Shes totally also not a squirter oops (driver is scared for his car interior but who cares really)

Word Count: 1721

What he's wearing when pounding your pussy LMAO

Of course, Driver answered the phone immediately. If it was you calling, he always did, even if he was in the middle of a ‘job’. It put him at risk more times than he could count, but what's a job or money compared to hearing the music of your voice? It was an easy choice, and he'd make it every time.

“Hey, sweetie!” Your voice filtered through the phone and he smiled, trying to ignore Shannon's piercing gaze. “How's your day been?”

“Okay,” he was quiet, “it's okay. How's yours?”

“Oh, it's been great! Listen, I was thinking me and you could go get some dinner and then maybe go drive around a little bit?”

Your voice had a cocky tone to it and he knew immediately that you knew that you had him. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Yeah, okay… that sounds good.” He pauses and looks over at Shannon, giving the man an innocent shrug of his shoulders. It elicits a pointed look from him, but he concedes muttering something about ‘young love’ and ‘bring me lunch tomorrow and we're good’. “Okay, yeah. Um…. I don't have extra clothes right now. I'll have t-”

“Oh that's fine! Besides we aren't going anywhere fancy and you look hot in the uniform. Keep it on.”

The final three words are a sultry purr and Driver has to fight the urge to groan loudly at the strain in his jeans. Without missing a beat, he puts all of his tools away, the slams of metal echoing throughout the phone and into your ears. It makes you giggle, knowing how desperate he is for your attention.

“Can you come pick me up?”

“Already leaving.”

~

A car pulls up next to your complex door in exactly 10 minutes, tires squealing as Driver slams on the brakes. That's a new record time for him. The door slams open as he rushes out, body draped in the blue denim of his mechanic uniform.

God it looked so good on him.

Somehow so perfectly loose but tight in all the right places, showing off his perfectly toned legs and ass. Through all the fabric you see it as he approaches you, the perfect strain of his cock pressing against the front of his jeans, aching to release.

“Hi, Driver,” you purr and walk up to him, placing a hand on his sternum, feeling the hard expanse of his chest under your hands. The way he looked down at you, a soft smile on his face combined with hooded blue eyes made a wave of heat pool in your stomach. “Goodness, baby you look so good.”

Without warning, your hand drifts lower, grazing over his length before cupping it and stroking him. The reaction is instant, and he groans silently, leaning forward to curl his body around yours. Fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding your hand up and down his covered shaft.

“How about we get in the car,” he nods silently, “we can go somewhere more private?”

“Y-yeah.”

As a reward, you give him one more solid stroke, grinning at the way his body bucks underneath yours. So desperate and needy.

With a quiet hiss he pulls back and opens the door for you, guiding you into the car with a hand on your back. It shuts behind you softly and he sprints to the other side, attempting to adjust himself all in one motion.

“Woods?”

“Woods.”

The entire ride there he is silent, hands white-knuckling on the steering wheel as you stare him down. Occasionally you tease him, running your fingers up his thigh and gripping his cock with dextrous fingers. You know you're in for it later, but that's exactly what you want.

The car slams to a stop at your destination and you watch as Driver's jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing into small slits. He turns towards you and leans forward, capturing your neck in a gentle hold. Fingers grip a fraction tighter, forcing blood to rush into your head. He pulls on you, guiding your head to his face and locking your lips together.

A groan escapes the both of you at the contact, and he squeezes tighter, making you so tantalizingly lightheaded. It's perfect, the pressure of his fingers against your neck, the way his tongue swirls with yours, and the pants and wet smacking that fills the air.

With a wet smack he pulls back, a string of spit still connecting your bodies. He cocks his head towards the back and opens the door, motioning for you to move.

“Now.”

Hastily you move, trying to unbutton your shirt as you open the car door and slip into the back. He waits for you, legs spread wide open, eager for you to slot your body on top of his. Of course you oblige, settling your barely, clothed dripping core on top of his straining cock, legs slotted on either side of his hips. You prepared for this, wearing your skimpiest, elastic shorts with one of button up shirts laying around.

His lips find yours again immediately, his neck craning up to meet yours as his fingers slip around your neck once more. As his tongue moves with yours, his other hand slips down, fingers circling the wet patch pooling on the front of your shorts. Both of you groan at the contact and without meaning to, you grind down on him, desperate for more contact.

“Off. Now.”

Instantly you oblige, shifting around awkwardly in the backseat to pull the shorts and panties down your legs, throwing the ruined pile somewhere in the car. His fingers tighten and pull you closer, forcing a wanton whine to choke out of your throat. Desperate your fingers reach town, zipping his jeans to release him before pawing them down.

“Stop.”

At your whine he tightens, forcing your head to crane towards him. His free hand moves, palm cupping your jaw as he pulls you back up to lock your lips again, tongues instantly sliding together. Calmer now, your fingers pull his jeans down to his knees, his cock now only being covered by the thin material of his boxers. You cup him, stroking him through the material, whining at the way he grunts into your mouth.

“Driver,” you pant against him, “p-please I need you, please.”

“So desperate now. What happened to the confidence from earlier?”

“I-I'm sorry I was just teasing,” you shove his boxers down, eyes shifting to look at his thick, red cock leaking with pre-cum. “Please, I-I'm sorry. God, please I need you so bad.”

“Earn it then. Ride me.”

Your fingers wrap around him, lining him up with your entrance and sinking down instantly, loving the burn and strain of his cock. With a grunt, he throws his back against the seats, watching with lidded eyes as you strain around his cock and grind desperately against him. But he needs to see more, so he slips his hand off of your neck and reaches forward, unbuttoning his flannel and freeing your breast from their confines.

The bounce so prettily on top of him and he groans softly, feeling as your warm, tighter walls flutter around him with every bounce, shaking your tits up and down. God, he could live an eternity like this, just watching you use him for his pleasure.

“Driver.. nnngg fuck,” she leans backwards a bit, angling her hips as best she can in the car to ride him better. A whine escapes her throat when he leans forwards, wrapping his fingers around his throat and bringing his other up, thumb beginning to circle her clit. It's all too much for her and she squeals out, riding his cock as she drools pitifully.

He feels her tighten around him, and without warning she cums, gushing around his cock and covering his uniform in her squirt. It doesn't stop her though and she continues, riding him harder and harder until she's crying, completely drunk on his cock.

“F-fuck,” he can't help the sounds that escape him now. She's so tight and wet, squeezing him with a death grip, squirting all over him like a whore. And her perfect tits, bouncing up and down right in front of him, right in his face. His thumb circles faster and he grunts loudly, feeling her cunt tighten around him. “Y-you're such a whore aren't you?”

“Yes, yes!” She squeals, “just for you!”

“Come on. Give me another one.”

With a final squeeze of his fingers, she comes again, screaming and squirting around his cock, soaking him and his car with her juices. It's too much this time and he stutters, hips bucking as his cock twitches and spills into her, filling her tight, aching cunt with his seed.

Instantly, she goes limp, body falling back against the center console and he reacts, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her on top of him. His cock is softening inside of her by now, but he pays it no mind, choosing instead to stroke her hair and tuck her head into his neck. Their chests heave together as the come down, panting and soft whines filling the air as she comes back to reality.

When she does so she pulls back, eyes shifting around to look at the mess she made. She winces and looks back up at him, fingers instantly moving to wipe some of the liquid off his shirt. A chuckle fills the air as he watches her, unable to resist laughing at her panic. His shirt will be fine, the upholstery of his car, however?

“Okay, asshole!” She smacks his chest lovingly and he smirks, cocking his head as he looks up at her, “you've had your fun. Now help me clean this up!”

At her insistence his cock twitches, hardening inside of her slowly. He bucks his hips up and smirks, when she drops forwards and whines, tucking her head into his neck. Without a word, he wraps his arms around her back and continues thrusting up, holding her steady as he fucks into her aggressively. She's so hot like this, so pliant and needy as he uses her. It's only moments later, she's gushing around him, soaking his thighs.

“O-or not!” He laughs loudly and pulls her closer, locking their lips as he thrusts upwards. “This is fine, too!”

[rentsturner]

Give it to me

[romanticgumchewer]

i have no idea what to suggest for Colt but that man is the loudest moaner, the prettiest crier, the dirtiest talker, and THE best plowing you can get from a man will come from him

he also seems like the type to take you off to the side of a set (working at a studio) behind some prop stuff and out of the way for some quick, filthy, hands-over-your-mouth-so-no-one-can-hear-you-scream-his-name kind of public sesh after he gets all worked up from some crazy stunt

i need him, desperately

reading this gave me a visceral reaction and i will not tell you exactly what it was because i am sure you can imagine it

but like you are SO right. i heard all of those groans and moans he did after falling through stuff and onto stuff. i saw him cry to taylor swift and when he was getting gasoline poured on him. colt is so loud in bed man. and it drives you WILD every other guy you've been with tries to be macho about it. only those little grunts and heaving breathing. but colt is just so expressive about his pleasure and the pleasure he is giving you.

"right there, sweets? god, you feel so fuckin' good. could do this all day."

"want everybody to know who's making you feel this good."

"come on, sweets, come all over me"

and GOD don't even get me started about him dragging you off set after a stunt cause he's too amped up on adrenaline and has popped a stiffy!!!!! he's promising to be quick and making you swear to be quiet even though you know HE'S going to be the problem in this situation. he's got you pressed up against the back of some actor's trailer, making the whole thing rock while he pounds into you from behind. hand over your mouth while he's got his teeth clamped onto your shoulder to keem himself from making any noise.

it's delicious and dirty and you definitely get a complaint from the actor but WHO CARES you have colt seavers dripping down your legs for the rest of the day ooooooooo i love him so much

[prudejudee]

Him giggling like a shit while dragging you off because hes so horny it has him freaking OUT

[prudejudee]

Ok cant stop thinking about court and his "is that it?"

Two thick fingers slide in deep, curling slow and deliberate until they drag right over that sensitive spot inside you. Your whole body jolts. He feels it instantly.

"Is that it?" he asks, voice low and calm like he’s just confirming a fact. He presses again, firmer this time, and your hips buck up into his hand. A broken sound slips out of you. Court watches your face and his eyes are unnervingly steady, and does it once more—same angle, same pressure—watching you shake. "Yeah. That’s it."

He keeps his fingers moving in tight, steady strokes, never rushing, just grinding over that spot again and again until your thighs tremble and you’re gasping his name. Every time you clench around him he murmurs the same quiet question, like he’s checking. Like he wants to hear you confirm it with every desperate twitch of your body.

AND WHEN HE'S FUCKING YOU OH MY GOD.

When he finally pushes his cock inside you, it’s the same thing. He sinks in slow, hips rolling until the head of him drags across that same spot. Your breath catches hard. Court’s mouth brushes your ear.

"Is that it?" he asks again, almost gentle. He pulls back and drives in once more, hitting it dead-on, and your moan comes out ragged. He doesn’t speed up. He just keeps that same deep, measured pace, asking it every few thrusts like he’s testing, confirming, owning the way your body reacts. Each time he says it you flutter around him, and he keeps going, calm and relentless, until you’re shaking and coming apart underneath him with that same phrase still echoing in your ear.

[rentsturner]

FUCK ME SIDEWAYS

[prudejudee]

so I saw a tiktok the other day and it had a hotel room with a giant bed and across from the bed was a giant glass shower. and the bed was positioned perfectly across from the shower like a perfect window for whoever is on the bed and i couldn’t stop thinking of court!!!!! oh my god!!!!! 😩

Mm this is sooo court and also colt...BIG BIG HOLLAND VIBES THO..

The glass shower is a damn spectacle. Square, floor-to-ceiling, right in the middle of the room like it's daring someone to watch. Holland doesn't even pretend not to stare. He shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on the chair, and settles onto the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on you as you step under the spray.

The water slicks your hair flat, runs down your spine, curves over the swell of your ass.

He watches your hands glide over soapy skin—across your breasts, between your thighs, fingers slipping where he wants his mouth to be. His cock is already half-hard, straining against his trousers.

He doesn't bother unbuckling his belt slowly. He yanks it open, pops the button, drags the zipper down with one rough pull. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, and he wraps his fist around the shaft. He strokes himself lazily at first, just teasing, letting the heat build while he watches you press a palm to the glass. Your nipples are hard, your cunt visible through the steam as you spread your legs slightly, giving him a clear view of yourself.

His pace quickens. He leans back on the bed, legs spread, fist working his cock from base to tip, thumb smearing the bead of precum that's already gathered at the slit.

His breathing gets ragged, matching the rhythm of your movements as you tilt your head back under the water, letting the spray cascade over your throat, your breasts, your belly. The wet sound of his palm sliding along his shaft fills the quiet room. His hips start to buck into his grip, chasing that tight knot coiling low in his gut.

He watches you turn, bending slightly at the waist, giving him a perfect view of your ass and the way the water trickles down between your cheeks. That's what does it.

[rylndgrce]

thinking about prof!ryland who you call one night when you’re extremely drunk at the club, which leads to him taking care of you.

mdni. mentions of past sex but nothing happens while reader is drunk. sweetie pie ryland. gn!reader. reader cries a few times. use of pet names (angel, sweetheart). brief reference to this other fic that i wrote. reader does throw up once and its mention twice afterwards! 2.5k words.

The lights have begun to hurt your eyes—the ones that are a little watery from trying super hard not to cry. Your friends probably have a valid reason for leaving you here. That's what you try to tell yourself. But you’re a little panicked because you’re too far from your apartment to walk there, especially with sore feet, and you don’t have money for an uber. The situation would feel less world ending if you weren’t so drunk, at one in the morning, standing outside in the cold.

When you press the call button next to his contact, it happens purely on instinct. You always go to Professor Grace when you’ve had problems. It started out as simply wanting some extra help on the school work before it slid into something a little more friendly. You began coming to him with other things like gossip he pretended not to be invested in and the details of your day-to-day life. When you showed up to his office, stressed out of your mind, it led to his desk being cleared off so he could fuck you on it, mumbling something about how sex is an efficient form of stress relief.

The sex became something of a routine that neither of you wanted to put an end to. You both liked it—loved it, even. It started to feel natural despite how it very much wasn’t. A grad student fucking their professor. You’re sure he would lose his job if anyone ever connected the dots.

That thought lingers in your head for a few seconds too long before the quiet sound of your call being answered followed by an exhausted hello pulls you from.

Suddenly your eyes are watering again. First you put his career in danger and now you’re waking him up at this hour on a Saturday.

“M’sorry Ryland,” the words tumble out far slurred than you intend them to. You can feel the embarrassment flooding through your system when you hear it. God you’re so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

You can hear the sound of rustling from his side of the phone, and his voice sounds a little clearer. More attentive than earlier. “What’s wrong?” He says it in this concerned voice that finally brings on the waterworks.

“My friends are gone. They left and m’not sure if they’re coming—comin back f’me. And this club is suuuper loud an’ there’s this, uhm, this guy who looks freakishly like that guy from that movie we watched.” You’re blabbering through the tears, words occasionally interrupted by a sniffle or broken off so you can repeat yourself. “The one with the rings. He looks like that actor. Elijah . . . Elijah something. He looked like him but way scarier and I really don’t wanna go back inside, too bright. But—but I'm not sure how m’supposed to get home and I forgot to water my plants and—“

“Calm down, angel, it’s okay.” There’s more shuffling on his end as you nod your head despite how he can’t see it.. You sniffle again, slightly swaying where you stand outside the club entrance that’s lit up by neon blue and purple. “Where are you?”

His question leaves you stumped for a second. What club is this again? There’s so many in the city and you vaguely remember being at a different one before this. Your friends were probably scampering off to another one when they ditched you here. You’d gone to get another drink and got a little too distracted talking to the bartender. You recognized her from one of your classes. By the time you went back to where your friends were, they had completely vanished.

“Hello? You still there?” Ryland had this little spike in his voice that you barely manage to catch.

“Mhm. Yep. Lemme—lemme check. I don’t remember.” You mumble the last part as you twist around to look for some kind of sign. It takes a second but you eventually see one and read it out loud, trying a little too hard to keep your words perfectly pronounced.

There’s a quiet jingle that comes through the phone speaker followed by what you assume is his front door shutting. “Okay, I’m on my way. Why don’t you stay on the phone with me until I get there.”

You mumble something in response as you move back towards the building, overwhelmed by this sudden need to sit down. When you meet the wall with a little less grace than you wanted, you slide down it until your butt meets the cold concrete.

You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there for. The entire time Ryland kept trying to pull you into a conversation—talk to me goose—which you met with short slurred sentences. You’re resting your head against your knees when you hear the beep of the call hanging up.

You almost start crying again until you hear the quiet call of your name. You blink blearily as you look up from your phone, seeing Rylands familiar figure getting closer and closer until he’s crouching right in front of you. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“You hung up.” Your voice comes out a little strained. You’re trying really hard not to start crying again.

“I know, I’m sorry.” His hands are pulling you up from the ground. When he has you on both feet, he makes sure to keep one arm wrapped around your waist as you lean into him. “I had just pulled up when I hung up.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.” You’re actually crying now, chest shaking with little sobs. No one ever wants to say goodbye to you tonight. Not your friends, not the bartender when she had to go help another customer, and now not even Ryland.

He coos at you, his other hand reaching up to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “No, don’t cry! I’m so sorry, please don’t cry.” He shuffles a little, moving your body with one arm so you’re standing directly in front of him, allowing him to try and make eye contact with you. Your eyes barely meet his—bloodshot and glistening. You must look like a mess if the tender look he gives you says anything. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was just worried and I hung up when I saw you sitting all lonely and sad on the ground. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

His words calm the quiet storm that has been brewing in your eyes. “Promise?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I pinky promise.” Ryland pulls his hand from your face so he can hold his pinky out for you. You link yours to his without hesitation. “Now get in the car so I can take you home. It’s cold out here and you can barely stand.”

Always a gentleman, Ryland opens the car door for you—the same car he picked you up in last week to take you to an entirely too fancy dinner. Turns out he hadn’t rented it, he’s always had a car, he just lived so close to campus that biking back and forth was cheaper. He also just really enjoyed the exercise. His hand presses to your back as he helps you into the seat, taking extra time to buckle you in.

You take that moment to take him in. His hair is roused in a way you’ve only ever seen after sex, his glasses have slid down the attractive slope of his nose, and he’s wearing one of those stupid science t-shirts you’ve become begrudgingly fond of paired with grey sweats. Even in this casual state Ryland looks unbelievably attractive. It’s unfair.

The drive to your apartment is quiet, albeit the soft hum of his radio. You can tell it’s System Of A Down but you’re having a hard time putting a finger on which song it is. Each time you try to focus on the lyrics you get distracted by the occasional swirl of nausea in your stomach.

“Hey, we’re here.” He offers a gentle smile before climbing out of the car and coming round to your side. He’s speaking sweetly when he helps you out of your seat and up the stairs to your door. “C’mere, Angel. Let’s get you inside. That’s it, you’re almost up the stairs. Where are your keys, let me get the door.”

You shake your head a little too quickly. The previous nausea gets stronger. “No, s’okay. The lock doesn’t work, you can just open it.”

“The lock doesn’t work?” You wince at the sudden raise in his voice and lift your hand to cover his mouth.

“Shhhhh, you’re too loud.” You whine, not bothering to fight him when he pulls your hand away. “I had to pretend it worked whenever you dropped me off because I was worried you’d think I'm a broke loser. S’really not that bad! I have a lock on the, uh, the inside that works. One of those chain slidey ones.”

You don’t get a verbal response from him, just a strong squeeze from the arm he has wrapped around your middle as he ushers you inside the door.

You’re extremely grateful that you decided to clean before you left. The only thing out of place is the glass on your counter from before you left and your school supplies sprawled across it—open notebooks, a textbook, your closed laptop, and the pouches you keep your pens and highlighters in.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Ryland is quick to figure out where your bathroom is, his hands never leaving you even when you drop to your knees as you empty the contents of your stomach. Your throat burns by the time you're done. You don’t have a moment to process before a wet rag is being gently dragged over your lips.

“There you go, sweetheart. All better. Now let’s get you to bed.”

He’s carefully pulling you up from the floor so he can take you to your room. “I wanna brush my teeth.”

“You can’t, it’s not good after you just threw up. It’ll damage your teeth. You can brush them in the morning, I promise. I’ll get you some water instead.”

Ryland barely navigates his way to your bedroom in the barely lit hall while also trying to keep you steady. You would feel guiltier if you weren’t so drunk and relishing in the warmth of his body pressed to yours. Professor Ryland Grace, despite what others might think, is incredibly sturdy. You can feel his biceps and the muscle beneath his shirt. His figure is only visible if he wears the right clothes, and the typical suits he wears in the lecture halls and lab rooms do a decent job at covering it up.

When he pushes open your bedroom door, you’re reminded of the fact you forgot to unplug your fairy lights. Another thing you’re grateful for. If Ryland had to turn in the big light, you’re pretty sure you’ve thrown up again. You hate that light.

“Let’s sit you down. Is it okay if I find you something more comfortable to wear?” When you nod your head, almost moaning at the softness of your mattress when you clumsily stumble into sitting on it, he tutts at you. “Words, I need you to use your words.”

“Yes, s’okay. I don’t mind. My pajamas are in the bottom drawer. I think. I dunno.”

Your body falls back into the mattress the second he steps away from you, arms stretched out as you sigh in content. You almost fall asleep like that before you feel Ryland pulling the shoes off your feet. “Sit up for me.”

Annoyance hits quick and disappears quicker. You don’t have a chance to whine before your clothes are being pulled off your body. The feeling of his hands against your bare skin makes you melt into him. You’re almost leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulders before he stops you, guiding your head through the hole of your hoodie and then repeating it with your arms in the sleeves. It doesn’t take him long to help shimmy some shorts up over your hips. “That’s better, yeah?”

“You lied.” You watch his brows furrow as he thinks.

“About what?”

“You said you’d get me water. First you didn’t say goodbye and—and now you’re lying to me.”

If you weren’t drunk you would notice the way he’s trying and failing to hide the humor on his face. “I’m just so awful, aren’t I. Why don’t you get under the covers while I go get you a glass of water. Can you do that for me?”

You hum a yes as you shuffle up towards your pillows. You listen to him quietly move out of the room, the distant sound of your cupboards being open and closed as he searches for where your cups are. You manage to pull the blankets up just enough to slide your legs under them when he returns, glass half full of water as promised. You murmur a thank you before you greedily take it from his hands.

“Slow down, don’t drink it so fast.” His hand steadies the glass when you tip it towards your lips. When it’s empty he takes it from you completely. “Lie down. Is it okay if I stay for a little while to keep an eye on you? I don’t want you throwing up in your sleep.”

When you nod you’re reminded of just how sweet he’s being towards you. This man came to a club at one in the morning to pick you up and drive you home. He walked you into your apartment and remained even when you threw up. He helped you change out of your clothes and is now tucking you into bed. You’re crying again.

“What’s with all the crying? You’re okay, everything’s fine.” He coos, reaching out to wipe away your tears for the second time tonight. His expression shifts when your breathing hitches from a soft sob. “Talk to me goose. Why’re you crying?”

You would typically laugh at his stupid, old man sayings. He’s not even that old. But you’re just so consumed by this festering guilt and bubbling appreciation. “You’re too nice to me. You need to be less nice.”

His expression shifts into something tender when he smiles at you, his thumb brushing away more of your tears. “But I like being nice to you.”

“You’re stupid.”

He laughs at that—warm and a little too endearing. “I don’t disagree with you. We can talk more about that in the morning. I’m gonna unplug your lights so you can sleep, okay? I’ll stay on your couch if you need me.”

When he stands you don’t hesitate to reach out and grab his hand. The alcohol combined with the sleepiness you’re starting to feel leaves you a little unfiltered. “Stay with me. Pretty please?”

Ryland can’t bring himself to say no to you. You fall asleep shortly after your room falls into darkness, feeling the weight of Ryland’s body lying beside yours above the covers. When you wake, it’s a little past noon. He’s made you something to eat and called someone about your lock. You don’t have room to argue when he tells you he’s paying to have it fixed.

[rentsturner]

Brb gonna go shoot myself

[rylndgrce]

professor ryland grace and reader who is obsessed with dad rock. i mean im not really a dad rock person but just imagine sex with ryland after he distracted you from studying after class and you’ve still got your airpods in and “sex on fire” by kings of leon is blasting in your ear while he fucks you. yeah okay. walk with me please.

also love you and your writing

ohhhhh baby we are not walking we are RUNNING with this. you’re actually the smartest person on the entire planet!! i love dad rock. dad rock is my shit. this is perfect. i will be making sure a similar scenerio appears in another professor! ry fic but with deftones.

you came to his office to run over some of the concepts you’re still a little muddy on. and it was going well, after he cleared things up you just decided to stay in there for a bit with the initial intention of revising your notes more.

one thing just led to another. you go from sitting on the couch he has for visitors to being perched on the edge of his hardwood desk that trembles each time his hips meet yours. it’s an intoxicating combination to the song—the feeling of one of his palms on your back while the other rests on his desk beside your hips, using his hold to lean you back enough to make him sliding in and out of you easier.

you don’t even realize he’s been talking to you until he’s leaning back far enough that his face is in front of yours. his lips are moving but but you can’t make out what he’s saying. you blink a few times before reaching to take one of your airpods out. “What?”

He scoffs, but it lacks any real annoyance. “So you’re not even listening to me? You’re an awful student.”

His hips roll into yours in a way that nearly has your eyes rolling. Instead you squeeze his shoulder tighter, the fabric of his shirt scrunching between your fingers. “Yet you fuck me like I’m your favorite.”

He starts to say something but you don’t have any interest in knowing what it is. You cut him off with a kiss, shoving your tongue into his mouth and feeling the wetness of his own as he moans. You haphazardly push the earbud into his own ear. The least you can do is share the experience.

When you two break apart, a string a saliva connecting you both, he mumbles something about being an undergraduate at the time the song came out. Neither of you ignore the way he twitches inside you after he says it.