Ryland wants to be your real life husband, statement.
He’s sooooo nervous about crossing professional boundaries or something, like actual jittery about making it obvious how much he likes you and wants to spend time with you outside of work hours but doesn’t wanna fuck things up and make it awkward.
This man is just so damn helpful around work, always picking up your printing if he swings by the staff room and it’s there, maybe he brings you coffee on spare periods or during lunches.
You’d totally eat lunch together, probably do your supervision duties together too- some things are better with company. He also totally gets roped into playing with the kids when he’s on duty at the basketball courts.
He would see some of the kids doing the ‘this is for you meme’ and would a hundred percent dribble the ball towards the hoop, when the kids aren’t defending because they want to see the incoming disasters, and point a hand to you.
“This one’s for you.” And do a proper jump shot. He’d miss though. It's a close call, but it would bounce off the rim and bounce off sadly towards the side of the court. He slinks back to stand beside you, a little sheepish when he admits “okay I was always better at defence.”
The rest of the duty, and even for months afterwards, the kids would attempt to badger him into another try or point at you and copy his words with varying degrees of success.
You guys definitely chaperone each other’s school excursions. Like, they need a female and a male teacher by law, and every year when he takes his students to the planetarium for the astronomy unit, he asks you first, having already filled out the paperwork saying that you’re going to be attending.
Teachers are the cliquest mother fuckers around so best believe that everyone has just sort of accepted you and Ryland as one unit. The teasing in the staff room kicks it off, coworkers joking about Ryland being husband material. Then the admin girls calling him your work husband when he starts walking in with you in the morning (which totally isn’t intentional- he definitely doesn't time his morning commute so he’s chaining his bike up when you’re walking past the bike racks each day. He’d laugh, sunny and bright from the morning light, a little rosie flush high on his cheek. “Guess we’ve just got good timing”).
And once the students catch wind of this? Oh it’s over for you two.
If there’s one thing pre-teens love, it’s getting their grubby hands on a teacher’s personal life- especially their love life.
Your students joking about finding you a boyfriend is nothing new, you always laugh and evade the prodding, but maybe your friends with one of the kids mum’s or their older sibling, someone who’s just close enough to find a way to glance and your private social media, and gets the word around that you are single.
It starts simple, whinging in the morning while you read the daily announcements saying “But Miss, Mr Grace is perfect for you.” and then on Mondays they hit you with the “Did you and Mr Grace do anything over the weekend?”
They start referring to your supervision duties and ‘dates’ and during free time, when you let the kids pick music out, they play that one Raye song ‘where is my husband’, turning the chorus up loud enough that it lures Ryland in from a few rooms down, for a noise complaint.
Still, the music volume is nothing compared to the screeching a class of thirty-odd eighth-graders make, when the lyrics: Baby, where the hell is my husband? What is taking him so long to find me? play while Ryland rounds the corner of your classroom doorframe, leaning up against it with an amused smile at the sight of your rampant students.
His glasses low on his noise bridge as he looks at you over the rims, arms crossed as very obvious laughter threatens to spill past his lips.
You’d just hold your left hand up, mouth the lyrics to him. I would like a ring, I would like a ring I would like a diamond ring on my wedding finger. I would like a big and shiny diamond that I can wave around And talk, and talk about it. Maybe you’d wriggle your ring finger for emphasis. He’d raise his eyebrows, mouth ‘wow’ at you before reminding the students that there are other classes around and to keep the screeching to a minimum. He’d saunter back to his own class and the kids in yours would fawn over the whole thing- maybe asking if you’re already secretly married (a conspiracy that does its rounds every six months or so).
But the next day, you’d walk into your class room before the day really kicks off, a little wrung out from marking and last minute lesson plans, fully prepared to put on some lofi and have the kids do independent assignment work, go through the drafts you’d finally finished giving feedback on.
Your desk is tidy, as it usually is before the sheer mass of everything from your work bag is dumped on it throughout the day. But right when you’re about to chuck your bag in the middle of the wooden desk top, you pause. There’s a ring pop, in the center of your desk. No note or anything, but it’s early, and your room had been locked- only teachers with rooms in this block had a key, so there’s no need for a sticky note claiming the ring. There really is only one option.
And during recess, when you lean up against the fences at the basketball court, warm under the summer sun, watching Ryland chatter with the students. You note idly, that he keeps glancing over at you, cheeks as red as the ring pop you’re sucking on, as rosie as the candy has left your lips.
i canNOT stop thinking about sitting on ryland's lap while he grades his students papers
18+, nsfw content
Ohhhhmy god. The inherent closeness and like, affection of being on someone’s lap? I don’t think I'll ever shut up about it. I love it so much. Chat don’t get me started on cockwarming- that’s like, pandora’s box for me.
But knowing Ryland, if you were to end up on his lap- be it cockwarming, riding him or just straight up dry humping, it probably would have started innocuously enough.
Maybe after he gets home from work, the pair of you curl up on the couch together, half watching some movie while you soak in the proximity of love. But he knows that he’s got to grade these mock exams tonight otherwise there won’t be enough time for him or the students to revise before their actually exam.
So maybe he decides to do some grading on the couch rather than at his desk,trying at first to do it laying down, paper proper up against his closed laptop so he can still lay back with you curled up into his side.
But that doesn’t last too long, it’s far too difficult and his neck aches from the awkward angle. So he sits up instead, leant forwards to use the coffee table. You shuffle, head ending up in his lap, cheek shushed up against his thigh. That works for a little while too before he gets uncomfortable and stands.
You whine, rolling over onto your back to blink up at him, a little sleep-dazed. “Where are you going?”
“Gotta mark these mocks.” He looks down at you, a little pitying, also kind of devastated by having to remove himself from your side. He’d mull it over for a second. Logistically, he’s got broader shoulders than you, it wouldn't be hard to reach around you to write on the papers. And he’d be able to see over your collar easily, especially if you slumped into him like you often do when exhaustion pulls at your bones. And the chair at his desk is one of those proper ergonomic ones, marketed towards gamers but he’d bought for the reclining feature so he could lean back and stare up at the ceiling as he thinks.
“Come on, sweetheart.” He murmurs, holding a hand out for you to take. His fingers curl gently around yours as he pulls you to your feet, shuffling over to his desk.
Ryland splays out his papers on the desk and sits himself down, turning the desk chair to face you.
He reaches out with those gentle hands, gets them around your waist, your hips, pulling you closer and closer until you’re in his lap. Knees either side of his hips, he pulls you down on top of him, urging you to shuffle in closer until you can slump into his chest with your chin hooked over his shoulder.
“Perfect.” Ryland murmurs, a kiss pressed just below your ear as he scoots the chair in under the desk, stopping just before it pressed into your back and getting himself back on task.
But the issue is, the pressure and the warmths and the soft huff of your breath starts to get a little distracting. Your fingers are toying with the strands of hair on his neck, he’s been meaning to get a haircut but you always seem to like playing with it when he lets the locks grow out a little more.
He swallows thickly, remembering how you’d pulled at it last night while he kissed up your thighs, his name tumbling from your lips in a breathy whimper. His cock kicks a little in his jeans, spurred on by the way you shift in his lap, a warm and pressing presence.
Rylands breath hitches and you pull on one of those strands, finger curling around it, tangling it up with intention. “What’s wrong baby?”
That tone- it makes him weak in the knees, head lulling back with your gentle grip. You press a kiss to his temple, then lean back to look him in the eye.
Your pupils were blown wide, a little hazy with want.
“I, uh,” Ryalnd fumbles his words, closing his eyes to breathe out heavily as his hands find their home on your hips. You grind down, a drawn out motion that has a gasp stuttering out his mouth. “This wasn’t part of the plan?”
“Wasn’t it?” You murmur, kissing along his jawline. “Just wanted me to sit pretty in your lap, feel your cock kicking about and do nothing?”
“Wanted to grade my papers.” He manages,
“Okay, I can wait.” You reply sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips before standing.
“Huh?” He asks, a little dazed as his hands fall to his sides.
Ryland watches confused as you shuck your pants off. At first he thought you might just go back to the couch, maybe lay down in bed until he joined you. Then you hook a finger in the band of your panties and shuck those off too.
Your knees find their place beside his hips again, one hand braced on his shoulder for balance and the other undoes his jeans and fishes his cock out.
He can’t help but gasp, dick kicking in your palm. “Cold fingers-”
“‘S okay baby, I’ll keep you warm.” You press a kiss to his lips and lower yourself down onto his cock, allowing yourself one slow roll of your hips against his, relishing in the fullness before you settle back to where you had started. “Finish your marking. I’ll wait.”
