Love that Ryland Grace is the opposite of so many male protagonist "heroes" in media and yet he's still so incredibly brave, resilient, and strong. That flimsy little science teacher saves the day.
But he also,
Throws fits when things don't go his way. Not a "I'm a bad bitch" destroying everything-type fit, but tossing a trash can, breaking a screen-type fit.
Cries. A lot.
Pleads. He begs.
Doesn't answer the call to action.
Shows weakness. Being a coward and being fearful are two things he defines himself with.
Doesn't end up with the girl. In fact, that girl isn't even interested and he isn't, either.
Cherishes friendship over a romantic plot or something stereotypically brave like, "I'm going to save Rocky so I can save his world." No, he wants to save his friend, first and foremost.
Squeaks. He squeals. He screams, loudly and very high pitched. He whines. He complains. He physically struggles to open a jar. He's clumsy as hell. He makes some of the least graceful noises one can make.
Is not afraid to be the primitive species lowkey.
I love him and everything he stands for as a male protagonist. Men need to know that they can be just like Ryland Grace and still be just as much of a hero and a man.
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cw — afab!reader, light bondage (just wrists being tied!!), blindfold, light overstim, some aftercare, not proofread, lowercase intended!
begging ryland to use his work ties to tie you up and to blindfold you while you have sex and he’s so apprehensive about it at first. ryland grace does not want to harm a single hair on your head, so tying you up and blindfolding you while he fucks you sounds completely preposterous to him at first. but you insist, telling him you absolutely want him to. you want him to take control and it’s not going to hurt you, that you know he would never do that to you. that you trust him.
it would take a lot of back and forth, open communication to show you actually wanted what you were asking for and what boundaries were going to be put into place. he would take it seriously, requesting a safe word to be established for if it ever became too much for you. he would research different knots, see which ones would keep you bound securely for long periods of time, but not be too tight or too uncomfortable for you. ryland is all about making the experience pleasurable for you while also being safe.
the first time he puts his skills to practice—he quickly understands why you requested this. losing two of your senses makes you hypersensitive—his usual kisses that he trails up your leg create goosebumps on your skin. your legs jolt involuntarily when he places a wet kiss against a spot you weren’t expecting. your breath hitches every time he ventures further up your thighs and closer to your cunt. and by the time he reaches it, you’re sopping wet for him. he still takes his time with you, working you open with his two fingers while his tongue circles your clit. your soft little moans and mewls travel straight to his cock, he has to grindhis hips down against the mattress to try to alleviate some of that pressure he’s feeling. before he knows it, your soft noises have turned into breathy moans as you cum all over his fingers. he doesn’t stop until the breathy moans have broken down into faint little cries from overstimulation. if you weren’t blindfolded, he would be able to see the tears that have welled up in the corners of your eyes and collected in your lashes.
“i’m going to keep going now, okay?” he says, his breath fanning over your sensitive cunt, causing you to clench around nothing now that he has removed his fingers. he knows you want him to be more direct, but the statement still ends in a question—a way to give you an out if you need one. his eyes are settled on your face, the black tie that covers your eyes and forbids you to see what he’s doing to you. his eyes travel to your hands and how they struggle in the red fabric of his tie. he’s never going to be able to look at that specific tie and not think of this moment ever again.
“yes, please.” your voice is quiet, but sure. ryland appreciates that.
“that’s my girl.” he praises, raising to his knees and taking hold of his hard cock in his palm and giving himself a few pumps. with how wet you are, he knows that the lube sitting in your bedside drawer is not a requirement tonight. he uses one hand and hooks it under your knee to raise it and give himself more room to slot himself between your thighs. he watches your chest, how quickly it rises and falls, then his eyes drift to your hands again. he notices how you’re twisting your wrists around in anticipation, how the knot is secure enough to keep them in place through all your movements. he gives himself a mental pat on the back for that.
he pumps himself lazily a few more times before taking the thick head of his cock and rubbing it through your folds, coating himself in your cum to lube himself up. you’re so warm and wet that he knows your cunt will have no issue with swallowing him whole. he continues the motions a few more times, teasing himself and you. he watches as you grow more impatient, how you shift your hips down to try to take in even the smallest bit of him to feel some sort of relief. he lets out a laugh, it sounds a little meaner than he intends for it to be and you whine, your cheeks turning red in frustration. he figures he’s teased you enough, wants to put you out of your misery, so he finally gives you what you so desperately want.
“biiiiig stretch.” he hums, pushing in until you’ve taken him to the hilt. you let out a broken gasp as you adjust to his size, but just as he expected, you’ve taken him without any issue or need for lube. he gives you and himself a moment, hooking both of his hands under your knees and holding them so the sides of your calves are resting against his hips. he knows your impatience has returned when you begin wiggling your hips to signal that you want him to move.
he begins to rock his hips slowly, creating an easy rhythm that’s not too much to start out with. you feel so good, wrapped around him so nice and tightly. he slides in and out so easily with no resistance, evidence of how much you enjoy letting him take control with the added restraint and blindfold. he gains more confidence, snapping his hips against yours quicker and rougher. his hands slide down from your knees to your hips, gripping the flesh between his fingers and squeezing, his nails pressing crescents into your soft skin. ryland is enjoying this more than he thought he would, watching how your mouth falls open, then how your teeth nip at your bottom lip when you try to hold in your desperate little sounds.
“no, let them out, sweetheart. wanna hear how good i’m making you feel.” he encourages, his brain swimming with desire as he aches to hear you. you follow his instructions promptly, your teeth releasing your lip and your mouth falling open once again. only this time, sweet, broken moans fall from your lips as ryland works you up to yet another orgasm. his thrusts grow quicker, his skin turning tacky with sweat. the front of his thighs try to stick to the back of yours every time he delivers a deep thrust and they connect. he adjusts his angle, placing his hands down on the mattress while your legs are still hooked around his arms, bending you almost in half to where your knees are touching your chest.
the new angle allows him to reach even deeper, and it’s evident that you feel it from the way your broken moans have transformed into cries that turn louder with each snap of ryland’s hips. his own chest is heaving as he chases his own release, which is imminent. “give it to me, honey. let me have it.” he groans, waiting for the telltale signs of your orgasm before he allows himself to spill inside of you. it takes a few more deep snaps of his hips before you’re cumming, your legs shaking against his arms and your chest heaving as you try to retain oxygen.
his only complaint with this whole thing is that he can’t watch you as you cum. he so badly wants to reach up and rip the blindfold off of you, look into your pretty eyes as you cum around his cock, but he doesn’t, the need to respect your wishes and desires outweighing his own. ryland finally allows himself to cum, seating himself deep inside of you before he coats your gummy walls with his thick seed. he ruts into you a few more times, pushing his cum further up into you as you clench around him in the aftershocks of your orgasm. he’ll have to clean you up before the night is over.
when he finally pulls out, the two of you are breathing heavily and absolutely spent. he’s gentle with you, hands moving up to your head to slip the tie from your eyes softly, allowing your vision to return. he monitors your movements, sees the way your eyelids blink quickly to adjust to the light again. your lashes are wet and tears are still wetting the sensitive skin around your eyes. his thumbs come to your cheeks, wiping away the tears tenderly with the pads of his thumbs. once he’s satisfied with his work there, his hands move up, coming to your wrists to undo the knot that’s keeping them bound together to your headboard. once they’re free, he takes your wrists in his hands, his thumbs now rubbing soothing circles against the faint marks the fabric branded against your skin. he raises your wrists to his mouth, kissing at the red marks on your skin.
you watch him, admiring how soft he can be with you. how love pours from him and into you with every gentle gesture he gives you after following your wishes and completely fucking you silly.
“too much?” he finally asks, eyes coming back down to look at yours, which are already on him.
“no, never.” you answer slowly with a simple shake of your head.
ryland has a feeling that his ties are going to be incorporated into the bedroom a lot more often—but he’s not complaining.
Would y’all beat me up if I said there’s potential for Daddy Ryland Grace? Hear me out. Only in a certain context. It would be a different play on the dynamic. Picture it.
You’re panting into each other’s open mouths, bodies slick with sweat, sliding and grinding like filthy animals. You say it. You call Grace Daddy, but he fucking whimpers to it…
That’s how I see it.
It wouldn’t trigger this insane dominant side of him. No.
It would unleash this pathetic desperation to give you everything. He’d fuck you with reckless abandon, crying and whining, promising to take care of you.
I was contemplating slipping it into one of my current wips but didn’t know if that would turn people off from the whole thing. I understand it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.
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Should I post my bloodymary mini fic to ao3 or no...
Cuz I have this irrational fear of the ao3 curse and I CANNOT afford my life getting any worse rn🥹
The stories I've heard from ppl that post on ao3 make me shiver in my timbers like wdym you got in a car crash, lost your leg, went into a coma for 10 months, and broke 9 of your fingers after posting a Drarry fic
Any encouragement/feedback/advice would be greatly appreciated, have a great day ദ്ദി(•̀ ᗜ <)
Summary: A nasty drabble all about Colt Seavers whimpering and begging and getting slapped and being pathetic.
Words: 420
18+ MINORS DNI!!!
A/N: this short fic was inspired by THIS TWEET!! the scream i scrumpt could not be replicated and i needed to get this out of my system…no promises that i will post more fics after this BUT! i did make a phmtwt account for those who would like to be moots…
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You rarely ride Colt. When you do, neighbors will have filed noise complaints the day after.
An endless string of loud whimpers accompanied by curses leaves his lips with every drag of his cock against your walls that hug him perfectly.
“Nngh—Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Baby, don’t stop…” His hands are anchored to your waist, his hips thrust up as you bounce on his length.
His eyes close in ecstasy and his head tilts back while his jaw goes slack. His hands travel up to your torso, finding anything to hold onto while your hole seems to suck his soul out from his cock.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” His moans reverberate against the walls at the delicious sound of squelching and slapping of your skin. He opens his eyes to watch how he disappears into you.
At first, you gently shush him when his moans grow louder the closer he gets to finishing. Your silent plea to avoid an eviction is drowned out by his whimpering.
“Yeah, you’re so good…just like that…” he remains unaware of your concerns, selfishly careless in letting the neighbors know how good your walls feel around him as your hips roll against his.
Your hand acts before your mind comprehends—the smack of your hand across his cheek resounds with the slapping of your hips, which stops once you realize what you did, though not without noticing the rut of his hips once the pain registers.
He moans before you can think to apologize. His pelvis juts up into you when you seize your movements and he starts to beg, “Do that again, please. Harder. Please, please, please, baby.”
His blue puppy dog eyes look up at you as if anticipating a treat while soft groans leave his lips as your hips begin to move again.
Your pace slowly increases again. Faster—harder. Soon, he’s left a blubbering mess again, practically melting onto the sheets as his nails dig into your sides.
Your hand lands on his cheek, harder this time. A loud moan escapes his lips and his hips thrust to bury himself at the hilt. His chest quickly rises and falls, his tongue darting out his open mouth to lick his lips.
He eventually comes with red, flushed cheeks, his hips snug against yours and a long, deep groan relieved from his throat. He lets out a series of soft whimpers as he descends from his high.
Sure enough, your landlord knocks on your door the next day with the concerns of your neighbors.
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taglist (comment if you want to be added!): @paintballkid711 @gruffle1 @ambertiger5 @literallyyyylilliann @rubybees @acciditties @yeahboyd0llfac3 @beabamboo @midnighttithe
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