my little sideblog for all things ryland grace (and occasionally the other goslings)! thank you for reading!
all of my larger fics (not including headcanons/imagines/drabbles etc) are cross-posted on my ao3 which can be found here!
š¶ļø = nsfw
grace have mate, question? (f!reader) 11.4k PART 1 - PART 2
rocky and grace talk about the mates they left behind. grace finally gets around to making a video log for her
doctor's visit (gn!reader) 11k š¶ļø PART 1 - PART 2
you find it harder and harder to ignore the cute scientist that always sits next to you during your meetings
boredom (gn!reader) 3.6k š¶ļø
(y/n) is bored and ryland is stressed. why not solve both problems at the same time?
field trip (gn!reader) 1.1k
ryland and (y/n) take their class on a field trip
tight squeeze (m!reader) 2.7k š¶ļø
your intimate relationship with ryland takes a new step
rude awakening (gn!reader) 2.5k
your first time meeting rocky doesn't go well but ryland is oh so happy to have someone to hug
nook rivalry (gn!reader) 3.6k
when your little piece of heaven in the library is threatened, you take it personally aka your relationship with ryland has a rocky start
phm drabbles
uncle grace
showering with rylandš¶ļø
other gosling works
don't be mad (holland march x f!reader) 3.1k š¶ļø
sfw/nsfw holland march headcanons š¶ļø
neighbor!holland headcanons - part 2 - part 3
holland and lingerie imagineš¶ļø
sub-top holland imagineš¶ļø
morning lars imagine š¶ļø
ryland/holland/lars/colt sfw hands headcanons
ryland/holland/lars/colt nsfw hands headcanonsš¶ļø
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YOURE THE MOTHERFUCKING AUTHOR OF NEW HOME ON AO3?? WITH THE MIYA TWINS?? MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING
is there any chance of a fic for the rygos men in the same freaky vein as that work? š (please mother)
um š§āāļø feeling outed even though I literally have my ao3 linked for all to see but yes hello that would be me HAH
as of right now, I donāt have anything planned for the gooses in the same ballpark as that fic because it feels a little too freaky for them and the respected phm community š new home is mostly just an outlet for me to tame all of my nasty freaky kinky inner thoughts. that being said, if I said I DID have thoughts about the gooses from an omegaverse standpoint, would I be cancelled? haha please donāt bully me aha it was a stupid joke i hate omegaverse⦠(unless?)
nook rivalry (ryland grace x gn!reader)
summary: when your little piece of heaven in the library is threatened, you take it personally aka your relationship with ryland has a rocky start
wc: 3.6k
cw: enemies to lovers trope with slightly arrogant asshole pre-teacher!ryland
a/n: so sorry this request took so long dear anon who requested it a billion years ago! It took quite a while to find an idea that I liked and even now, it uhhh feels like dookie :ā) making ryland my enemy felt like making a field of flowers my enemy
You liked to think you were a pretty levelheaded person.
You made attempts to not let the little, mundane things in life bother you- things that wouldnāt matter in the grand scheme of things. Little blips to your day that were out of your control werenāt anything to lose sleep over.
However, Ryland Grace was an exception to your rule.
You didnāt know who he was or what he studied, nor did you care to find out.
In general, you were pleasant with everyone you crossed paths with and your first time meeting Ryland Grace wouldnāt have been any different from seeing any other random grad student if he hadnāt immediately pissed you off. To his credit, he didnāt even know he had done something to irk you and it hadnāt been his intention to be a thorn in your side- not at the beginning at least.
If you hadnāt already been having the worst day of your life (woke up late, missed bus and denied scholarship application, to name a few of the events that morning), maybe the two of you couldāve hit it off and been fast friends. He was probably nice enough and besides occasionally being a smartass, he had a good head on his shoulders. Smart, confident and easy on the eyes- all things that pointed to a person you could get along with.
So how had he immediately put himself on your shit list?
Well, he was sitting in your spot.
No, the little nook in the Universityās library did not have your name on it, nor did it actually belong to you.
But youād been sitting there, in the same sunny little spot of the library that youād come to call the closest thing to heaven youād experienced during your doctorate studies, every day since you began your research. After extensive lab work, youād disappear into the almost always empty corner of the library to type up your findings for hours at a time.Ā
No one had ever been in your nook before. Until Ryland Grace decided he wanted to sit there too.
Youād already had a day from hell so stumbling up to your spot midafternoon only to find that someone else had already claimed it with all of his stuff immediately infuriated you.
He seemed to be around your age, most likely working on his masters or PhD like you were. A spread of papers, books and packets were strewn over the desk surface, no apparent rhyme or reason to their organization. The guy was tapping away at a laptop where a huge spreadsheet of data was displayed, completely ignorant of your presence until you cleared your throat.
Any other day, you wouldāve grumbled about it but found a different area to plant yourself for the night. But not that day. You were too irritated and too tired to let this dirtbag take away the last scrap of peace you would get until the sun set.
The blonde haired intruder jumped at your pointed grumble, pulling a pair of wired earbuds out of his ears and looking you up and down from his seat. You most definitely looked like a hundred miles of bad road but you couldnāt have cared less.
āYouāre in my spot.ā
The quirked brow he gave you had you seeing red.
āPardon?ā
āYouāre in. My spot.ā
He seemed at a loss for words, pointedly looking past you where you knew a slew of other perfectly empty desks sat. āUh⦠canāt you go sit somewhere else?ā
You ground your teeth together. āNo.ā
Gesturing to all of his stuff on the table, he shrugged in a half-assed apology. āSorry, Iām pretty comfortable here and Iām kinda busy, soā¦ā
The stare off the two of you had for several seconds was charged with tension. He wouldnāt back down and you didnāt want to either, but he had the advantage. He had already claimed your nook and if you went and complained to one of the library staff several floors down, they would look at you like you were crazy. Every spot in the library was first come first serve, you had no special claim to this specific spot.
So you moved. To a table very close to the one he occupied. And spent the better part of your evening glaring daggers at him.Ā
Heād look up occasionally, meet your gaze and go back to his studies, like he wasnāt bothered at all. It sure bothered you that he was so nonchalant about everything. You could only watch with a sneer as the sun slowly set, bathing your perfect little nook in warm, golden sunlight and in turn making the messy jerk look ethereal while you were stuck in the libraryās shadowy interior.
Youād been the one to leave first. It was late, you were exhausted and you had a 10 minute walk home in the dark. The stranger didnāt seem to be ready to leave at all, dutifully typing on his laptop and occasionally shuffling through the mess on the table for a notebook or sheet of paper marred with scribbles.
Heād looked up when you stood, giving you a smug grin that nearly had you flying into the booth to wring his neck. Unfortunately, there were laws against that so you just settled for a middle finger and left.
You thought that would be the end of it.
A one off encounter that youād fume about for weeks and a man who youād never see again. The university was big and hopefully youād made your point that the spot was yours so heād find somewhere new to study.
When you walked up to your spot the following day in much higher spirits, your good day shattered when you saw the familiar fluffy haired head over the back of the booth. Heād come again. And deliberately sat in your spot.
You decided right then and there that Ryland Grace was the bane of your existence.
For two weeks the man hogged your little piece of heaven. Try as you might to come earlier and claim it yourself before he could, he was always there. Did he ever do anything besides study? Did he eat? Did he sleep? Surely he didnāt spend the night at the library, but you wouldnāt put it past him to hide when the library staff shut the place down and stay until morning. The jerk would probably do that to be petty.
You couldāve found another spot. Surely there was another booth a floor up that was the exact same layout and would get just as much sun. But you refused out of principle. You wouldnāt let this asshole get his way. He wanted to sit in your spot? Fine. If your glares werenāt enough to deter him, youād turn to another method to smoke him out.
The shocked face the man gave you when you slid into the booth opposite of him one day was worth every drop of fury youād endured for those couple of weeks. His look of distress when you shoved all of his things to his half of the desk, leaving your half clean, was priceless.
āHey! Why??ā
āYou want to sit in my spot? Fine. Weāll share.ā
You began unpacking your things while the blonde tried to straighten out his. āYou messed up my system!ā
Neatly setting your own books on the desk and opening your laptop, you laughed incredulously. āThat was your system?ā
His scowl was searing. āYes. I donāt expect you, of all people, to understand my method of madness.ā
āWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?ā
Youād parted ways very angry that day.Ā
The next day, you did the same thing: sat opposite of him and pushed his things to his side. And the next. And the next. And the next. He slowly started to learn to keep his things on his half of the desk to save himself the trouble of āreorganizingā.Ā
One time, you were surprised to find youād beat Ryland to your nook and nearly jumped for joy. Finally! Your persistence mustāve paid off and heād found somewhere else to plant himself. You were all smiles- up until a thick book was dropped onto the table, scaring you half to death, and that stupid messy mop of hair plopped into the booth with a smug grin. Said mop of hair then proceeded to give as good as he got; shoving your things from his side of the table back to your side.
Thus began your slightly hostile relationship with the man you eventually learned was molecular biology doctorate student, Ryland Grace (you read his name on one of the papers that snuck across the invisible line on the table).
For the most part, neither of you acknowledged each other during your joint study sessions- any conversation was clipped and tense. You didnāt try to learn anything about him and he made no effort to learn anything about you. In fact, you werenāt sure he even knew your name which was fine by you.
While you rarely conversed, there were small things you began learning about Ryland just by observation alone.Ā
Number one, while he was studying molecular biology, he seemed to have a specific interest in the stars; life in regards to space and the possibility of life outside of our planet. You knew as much because he had this annoying habit of grumbling while he worked- speaking out loud and working through his thoughts verbally.
He also had a smorgasbord of space and science related stickers on the back of his laptop you occasionally stared at when you were trying to think. NASA, planets, beakers, science puns and the occasional fox sticker stared at you every day. You werenāt sure why the foxes were thrown into the mix but you werenāt about to ask.Ā
Ryland couldnāt ever seem to sit still. He was always bouncing a leg or tapping a pen. The one time you got after him for it, he only did it more so you never brought it up again.
You also noticed something that Ryland didnāt seem to even know about himself. It took a couple of days to work up the willpower to actually ask about it.
āDo you have contacts?ā
It was rare that you spoke to him, so Ryland looked up from the notebook he was writing in with a blink of surprise. āHuh?ā
āContacts. Yāknow, the things in your eyes that help you see? Or glasses?ā
āNo?ā He seemed truly flabbergasted.
You hummed and sat back in your seat. āLooks like you need them.ā
āWh-ā
āYouāre always squinting at your laptop so I was wondering if you have some but are so stubborn that you refuse to wear them. If you donāt, it might be worth getting your vision checked. I canāt imagine your eyes and brain appreciate the strain you put on them every day.ā
Ryland didnāt speak to you the rest of the evening, which wasnāt too odd, but then didnāt show up in the library for a week. You wanted to say you loved the extra space, but you begrudgingly realized the table felt too big with him gone. You didnāt want to say you missed him, per se, but maybe somewhere adjacent.
When you saw Ryland after a week of absence- outside of the library for the first time- you had to do a double take.Ā
It was early in the morning- so early you could barely stand on your own two feet, which was why you were standing in the ever growing line at one of the cafes on campus for a cup of brain fuel.
You werenāt paying attention to who you stood behind in line, absentmindedly blinking at the slew of texts you received from a friend about a huge frat party happening that weekend that you werenāt planning on attending. A familiar notification sound jolted you out of your tired stupor.
Ryland had a unique chime that played any time he got a notification. It was the satellite phone jingle from the 3rd Jurassic Park movie. You suspected Ryland was a huge nerd about science fiction media but heād probably rather die than admit that to you. In and of itself, the sound wasnāt that annoying but youād heard it so often that it had seared itself into your brain and āPavlovās doggedā you into feeling annoyed when you heard it.
Sure enough, a familiar set of shoulders stood in front of you, all covered by a cream sweater.
āRyland?ā
The science student turned on his heel. He seemed just as surprised to see you as you were him. It felt like seeing a wild animal, seeing Ryland outside of the library. You were surprised in turn, to find a new addition to the manās outfit. Gold rimmed glasses sat on his nose.Ā
Rylandās ears quickly became tipped in red.
āOh. Hey.ā
He seemed embarrassed, like heād been caught red-handed.Ā
āNice glasses.ā
āThanksā¦ā
Your interactions were always awkward but this felt different. āFarsighted?ā
āYep.ā
āKnew it. They fit you though, if thatās any consolation.ā
āThank you.ā
Coffee suddenly didnāt sound appealing any more- not if you had to endure one more second of this horribly uncomfortable encounter. Your regular chats together werenāt always pleasant but they werenāt this odd. What changed? Was he angry that youād been right and pointed out something he himself hadnāt noticed? Was he embarrassed that youād proved him wrong? Was he that egotistical?
You stomped off without another word.
-
There was a hot, steaming cup of coffee with your name on it sitting in front of Ryland the next Monday.Ā
You hadnāt expected to see him at all in the library anymore, not after your last altercation, so you didnāt get a chance to turn and flee before he spotted you standing a couple of paces away, giving you a crooked smile.
You were too proud to run away now. You feared youād look weak if you did. And Ryland Grace was the last person you wanted to look weak in front of.
So you pressed on, pointedly not looking at the scientist and pretending he didnāt exist. Ryland watched you the whole time, You could feel his stare and you wanted to slap yourself silly when you felt your cheeks heat up.
When you made no move to talk to him after you settled, Ryland nudged the coffee closer to you with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat.Ā
You pursed your lips and kept your eyes on your notes.
āI feel like we started off on the wrong foot.ā His voice was cautious, like he was talking to a cornered animal. āIām sorry for being an ass when we first met. Iād had a rough day and I know thatās no excuse but itās the truth. I was feeling stubborn.ā
This was the most heād ever said to you in one go. You peeked a glance.
God did those glasses suit him. They made him look softer, somehow. Maybe they made his eyes bigger? Yeah that was probably it. Big eyes, like an alien.Ā
āCan we start over?ā
He stuck a hand over his laptop and held it out to you. A handshake. His fingers were trembling. Did you make him nervous? Your confidence took a nice little boost from the thought alone.
You didnāt hate Ryland. Not really. As much as it pained you to admit, you enjoyed his company and had missed it while he was hiding from you. He just annoyed you sometimes with his snarky comments. But even those werenāt that bad. Maybe it wouldnāt hurt to give him a chance?
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you carefully clasped a hand in his and gave him one firm shake.Ā
His ears bloomed red again and he held onto your hand a little longer than you thought he would.
āYeah, ok cool! Didnāt think you⦠would actually accept my offer so this is awesome. Your coffee order, I think I got it right? Iāve been peaking at your coffee cups for a little while to read the labels. Is that creepy? I didnāt mean it in a creepy way, I just wanted to make sure I knew what you liked if I ever got you anything.ā
This was a new side of Ryland- unsure, stammering and sweet? Maybe heād always been this way and you just hadnāt seen it.
You didnāt know how to feel about it.
-
Being āfriendsā with Ryland lasted about a week.
All too quickly did you regularly find yourself hidden in a far corner of the library between the endless shelves of academic literature, kissing each other senseless. Or making out in a quiet study room. Or whispering weak protests against his shoulder when he laid you back in your shared nook to suck a mark on your neck.
Turns out, Ryland didnāt hate you. Never did. Except maybe for a second the first time you got after him for sitting in your spot but other than that, he was just smitten (and terrified) of you which was why he kept coming back. He was still arrogant and a smart ass, usually when you asked him a question related to his field- like you were supposed to know what the boiling point of liquid helium was- but you found yourself enjoying his quips.
It was just another Wednesday when your relationship shifted.
You had Ryland pressed up against a line of shelves, cradling his head in your palms and soaking up the feeling of his glasses brushing over your cheeks while your lips slowly worked against his.Ā
The library was silent at this time of day, especially being in such a far off corner of it, so the only sounds you could hear were the creak of the shelves when Ryland pressed too far back into them, your mouths, and your breath. It was your favorite pastime when you were tired of writing essays.
When Ryland pressed his thumbs into your hip bones, you pulled away an inch to give him space. His glasses were smudged from your skin and barely hanging onto his nose. His stupid t-shirt (a navy blue top with a ringed planet graphic and the words āJupiter? I hardly know her.ā stamped below it) was rumpled and riding up on his navel, allowing you a glimpse of his happy trail.
āI start a new job on Monday.ā He breathed, eyes jumping between yours.
You pulled back even more in surprise. Ryland kept his hands on your waist so you didnāt go too far.
āReally?ā
āMhm. Itās a part-time lab technician job. The pay isnāt great but itāll help boost my resume once I get my doctorate and I need the extra income anyway.ā
You beamed. āThatās great! Are you going to be able to juggle school and work, though? Will it be too much?ā
Rylandās eyes fluttered when you ran a thumb over his cheek. āI should be ok. Butā¦ā He hesitated. āI wonāt have time to come here anymore.ā
Oh.
Neither of you put a label on⦠whatever it was the two of you had together, so you never had a reason to meet up outside of your unspoken joint study hours. Ryland stopping his visits here meant you wouldnāt get to see him.
Your hands slid from his face to his shoulders as you tried to put on a nonchalant face. This was just a hookup- a little fling that probably never wouldāve worked anyway. Ryland would continue his life and you would continue yours. It shouldnāt have hurt as much as it did to find out you would rarely, if ever, see the prospective scientist after Friday.
āIāll miss my desk partner,ā you smiled, hoping it wasnāt obvious how sad his words made you.
One side of Rylandās mouth quirked up in a smile. āYeah, me too.ā He seemed awfully nonchalant about the whole thing. You kicked yourself for being so blinded by the handsome ass that weaseled his way into your life. Ryland fiddled with the hem of your shirt and straightened it out a bit, tilting his head to gesture down the aisle.
āSo⦠should we go back to our spot and hash out our schedules, then?ā
Now you are confused. āOur schedules?ā
āYes? To find times that work for both of us to meet up? Like⦠between labs and such. Or in the late evenings. Or weekends. Or you could stay the night at my place- uh, unless I read this thing wrong?ā He let go of you to gesture between your bodies, beginning to fidget on his feet. āDid I read this wrong? If I did, forget everything I said because it was all just a funny joke-ā
You flew onto your tiptoes and flung your arms around his neck, only slightly shoving him into the shelves behind him to claim his mouth. Ryland made a noise of approval and wound his arms around your torso to lift you into him.Ā
Schedule swapping would have to wait a little longer and you offhandedly hoped that there were no security cameras this deep between the stacks of books because if someone was watching them, they wouldnāt enjoy what they were about to see.
coltās bloody ass broken ass crooked ass nose the last third of the movie makes me coo coo crazy. need that nose on me, need to see it between my legs. donāt get your nose realigned colt because I want to run my fingers over that lil bump in the arch forever idk Iāll shut up
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crying at that fucking image omfg anyway lemme tell you what I think about Driver (Iām still fresh to the Driver agenda so proceed with caution)
I adore this man.
Heās quiet and calm when he wants to be, extremely sweet and thoughtful around the people he cares about, fiercely protective about said people and will kill anyone who jeopardizes their safety and I love that.
Blushing and giggling and kicking my feet.
So much good angst potential with him UGH and I love angst (I already have a little idea in the oven).
Give me 100 fics where reader is in danger and Driver goes apeshit, Iām consuming all of them.
That kiss actually had my ears ringing. I had to pause for a second ngl.
So soft so gentle? His hand sliding under Ireneās top?? He looked like he wanted to absorb her??? The heavy leaning so he could kiss her as closely as he wanted to????
PLEASEEEE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Driver covered in blood had me feeling thingsss baby let me help you clean up.
Every interaction between him and Benicio had me crine, like thats Father. How furious he looked about the whole bullet thing had my toes clenching.
Driver telling Irene that her and Benicio should leave the city and then proceeding to quietly tell her that heād go with them if they wanted him to, even after she just slapped him had me in tears.
Mama anything and everything is happening in the backseat of his car Iāll tell you that much. Showing him things heās never seen before.
hi itās the anon that spoke about the baggy clothes but lacy underwear reader concept - thought you should know i read your post to it this morning and then was so busy all day running errands and could NOT think straight for a single minute. iām unwell (youāre too good at this)
ahhh glad you enjoyed! as a baggy clothes wearer myself, your idea really spoke to me so thank you for the inspiration! š«¶š«¶
Hi! I am absolutely giddy after reading your Holland March/neighbor headcanons! Theyāre both adorable and that part 2 with him going to her house drunk was really so sweet.
Would you be up to maybe a 3rd part where they finally go on a date? :)
You write beautifully and I love getting to read your ideas! Wishing you a wonderful day!
thank you so much! neighbor!holland is my heroin and you absolutely can have a part 3 (and 4 and 5 and 6ā¦)! (Part 1) (Part 2)
I think your first real date with Holland is a secret.Ā
Not a secret per se to Holly, or Healy or your circle of friends.
But a secret to Holland.
Youāve been dying for your neighbor to work up the courage to ask you out. You thought your feelings were pretty clear (you wouldnāt sleep on your couch with just anyone) but apparently not clear enough to him.Ā
You worried for a little while that he was hesitant to pursue you because he held some sort of guilt for wanting to date another person outside of his late wife- which you fully respected.Ā
It was actually Holly that gave you the final shove you needed. She told you one Thursday that she was going out of town with a friendās family for the weekend meaning her dad had nothing to do and the house would be empty.
āHeās been trying to figure out, statistically, what the perfect date is. He even had me to go the library to find books about it. You should just ask him out and save him the trouble because I think itās driving him crazy.ā
So you did. But in a way that wouldnāt label your outing as a date.
You had a sneaking suspicion that if Holland knew it was a date, heād panic and act weird or try overly hard to seduce you. You didnāt need that, you just needed him as he was.
So Friday morning when you went out to get your mail and Holland just so happened to also be getting his mail at the same time, you asked him if he would take you into town later that evening for groceries.
āMy car wonāt start and Iām almost out of milk.ā
āOh! Yeah! Sure. Absolutely. Definitely. Iām not busy later so I can take you.ā Queue a casual shrug. āAnyway, whatās wrong with your car?ā
āNot sure.ā
āI can take a look-ā
āThatās ok! Iāll worry about it tomorrow.ā
Holland follows behind you in the supermarket with the cart, leaning his forearms on the handle and donning a cheesy smile. Youāre both laughing and having a great time while you gather ingredients for dinner. Holland doesnāt think twice about what youāre putting in the cart, just ogling at you when your back is turned.
When you ask him for help cooking dinner, he says heās the worst person to ask but you wave him off and usher him inside. The two of you have a blast and a half, flitting around the kitchen together (the asparagus only gets slightly charred when Holland neglects his only job duty in favor of watching your shirt ride up when you reach for something) and you spend the next several hours talking.
A couple of glasses of wine are consumed and the two of you sit way closer than āfriendsā should on the couch, but nothing happens beyond that. You walk him to his door with a laugh once your night winds down.
āThanks for the date, Holland! I look forward to the next one.ā
Holland looks like heās trying to solve the world's hardest math problem, his wine muddled brain not helping him in the slightest. āDate?ā
You kiss his cheek and hurry home before your stomach explodes with butterflies.
Holland is on your doorstep the next morning with flowers and a carton of eggs. āI was thinking we have that second date today over breakfast?ā
You donāt do it very often, usually taking separate showers out of ease and privacy, but every once in a while you get an itch to join him.
Heās always startled when you yank the curtain back to step under the spray (the combination of the running water and his humming masks the sounds you make when you enter the bathroom) but heās all smiles once his heart slows, stepping back to give you some room. (āFancy seeing you here!ā)
The tiny shower in your shared apartment is⦠intimate when youāre both in it. Itās small enough that at least part of you is always touching him and part of him is always touching you.
Rylandās toned body dripping in warm water, cheeks flushed from the steam and hair plastered to his forehead was addicting in a way that is hard for you to describe.
It doesnāt always end in sex- the two of you sometimes just need the quiet comfort of each other. You wash his hair, nails raking along his scalp until he's practically purring and nuzzling into your neck. Ryland washes your body with gentle hands until you're putty in his palms.
Buuuuut sex was always an added bonus. Ryland wasnāt the biggest fan of shower sex, spewing nonsense about how itās one of the more dangerous places to do it because of the fall risk, but he never complained when you dropped to your knees in front of him.
The cramped nature of the shower meant positioning was hard. More often than not, Ryland had to pick you up and press you against the slick tile.Ā
Ryland is usually gentle, but heās especially careful in the shower- always making sure his grip on the backs of your thighs are firm and the hold of your legs around his hips are tight before he even thinks about sliding in. His thrusts are steady and calculated, no matter how much you beg him to go faster.
Ryland does love that clean up is easy after a round in the shower- a quick rinse and the two of you are snuggled up in bed in no time.
can someone please yell at me and tell me to work on my actual fics, not these blurbs (holland march in the bath is next)
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THE HOLLAND TOP-SUB WAS SO DELICIOUS THANK YOU FOR THE MEAL! ALSO THE NSFW HANDS WAS UGH, AMAZING CHERRY ON TOP!
Thank you, as always, for sharing your amazing thoughts. had me sticking my tongue out like that one animated cat gif. RAHH SO YUM
- eggy š„
THANK YOU HUNNYYYYYY Iām so happy you enjoyed! All of these rygos men are too addicting, theyāre all I think about day and night šāāļø might need a vacation in the funny farm here soon idk
YOUR HONOR, SUB-TOP HOLLAND WHO BEGS YOU TO LET HIM CUM INSIDE
Heās got you on your side, one leg thrown up and over his shoulder while he grinds down on your other thigh, keeping the gentle pace you ordered him to keep and damn near sweating. His hair is ragged, strands hanging over his eyes.
Youāve already cum twice thanks to him, the delicious drag of his cock and the trembling circles over your clit doing wonders- but you havenāt let him find his release.
Heās literally gnawing on your calf to keep his moans at a minimum- near tears, heās so overstimulated. His cock is rock hard and Holland genuinely canāt remember the last time heās felt so blue-balled.Ā
You finally give him permission to cum after what felt like ages, but told him he has to pull out.Ā
āP-Please baby, let me-ā whine āinside, please.ā
āNo, Holls. Youāre the one who was too lazy to go out and buy more condoms so you have to deal with the consequences.ā
āItāll be okay just this one time, right? I mean, what are the odds-ā
āHolland.ā
He does pull out eventually, letting out a genuine sob when he's forced to leave your warm, pulsing walls. He has to fist his cock a couple of times to coax himself into an orgasm, and spills onto your sex in lieu of spilling inside. Holland collapses but soon has to hump out another load onto your stomach because the first hadnāt been enough to drain him.
(hollandās not-so-secret fantasy is to creampie you one day who said that)
iām really bored tonight, if you couldnāt tell. got so many holland thots in the cranium
hello i dont have anyone else to say this to - obsessed with the idea of reader only wearing baggy/loose/oversized clothing but then wearing lacy or skimpy underwear under those clothes; i feel like the goslingverse guys (esp holland??) would be so obsessed with that, that theyāre the only ones who know about this. anyway. sorry. thatās all. i just had to get it off my chest.
OH YEAH ALL OF THE GOOSES ARE EATING THAT UP but since Iām on a Holland grind Iāll focus on him because heās definitely losing his mind in this scenario UGH
I can just imagine kissing Holland crazy style for the first time, things are getting heated and his hands snake their way under your clothes. The second his fingers brush over your lacy panties and/or lacy bra Holland is stopping the kiss cold turkey to look at you with flushed cheeks.
āAre you wearing lace?ā
ā⦠yes?ā
āFor me?ā
āMaybe.ā
Heās bricked up immediately.
Donāt even get me started on lingerie. He loves everything you wear but if Holland comes home to find that youāve shed your looser fit clothes to wear a dainty little piece you got just for him that shows off every curve, heās tearing his clothes off as fast as he can (and tripping over his pants when he has them around his knees). Heās obsessed that you never let the average person get a proper look at your body and leave that honor entirely to him.
If you go out on a date and give him a little sneak peak at what youāre wearing underneath your clothes before you leave, heās sweating the whole night and has to keep adjusting his slacks to hide his erection because he keeps thinking about what heāll be gifted with when you get home.Ā
Half of Hollandās paycheck goes towards your underwear/lingerie fund.
hello ! first off how are you!!! i hope you're having a lovely day :0 secondly, i cant stop thinking about your holland march and neighbor!reader post it makes me giggle so much im spinning around my bedroom in hysterics
i was wondering if you have any more thoughts on the dynamic ie. holland slowly trying to weave his way into his neighbors life ! i like thinking about him visiting sometimes trying to be very impressive, and every time he comes back home, holly gives him a reality check, saying that returning tupperware does not equal having game. holland insists he has this in the bag though (he doesnt). hes so pathetic and hot im crying šš
The image of Holland returning Tupperware but spending WAY too much time fidgeting on your porch before he knocks is KILLING ME he's definitely looking at his reflection in the window next to your door to make sure his hair and mustache look pristine and his tie is straight. Then you answer the door and he's stuttering and forgetting what he came over for AHHH I need him.
do i have more neighbor!holland ideas?
do i have more neighbor!holland ideas?
oh you bet i do (part 1)
Holland makes a point to never let you see him as shabby looking as he did the day you first met. If heās not in a suit for work, heās at least wearing nicer pants and a loose button up. He was gonna make sure that if you do ever see him in his boxers again, itās because youāre in his bedroom (or heās in yours) and heās pulling you under the covers.
He tries to play it cool for the first couple of weeks after you move in, wanting to make sure youāve settled and making sure he doesn't come on too strong. After bringing you flowers that first day (your first bouquet of many), poor Holly becomes the March householdās head baker. Holland canāt bake worth shit, but Holly can. So heās full of bribes and promises of books and things in return for a dozen cookies or a plate of brownies to bring to his new neighbor. Holly does it, only because watching her dad fumble the beauty next door makes her laugh (and because he genuinely seems interested in someone for the first time since her mom died).
Youāre all smiles when he shows up with baked goods, inviting him in with a wave. Holland wants to fall to his knees.
The first time he had come over with cookies, Holland soaked in every bit of information he could about you from what he could see in your house.
He learned small things, like your hobbies and what he could guess was your favorite color. But the main thing he noticed was the lack of things that pointed to you having a partner. There werenāt enough belongings for two people, unless youāre with someone whoās an extreme minimalist.
Holland couldnāt have been happier.Ā
You were so nice. So warm and welcoming. Holland was immediately enamored.Ā
He would go over every day if he could, but he held himself back. He allowed himself one visit a week, sometimes two (or three). Any time you came to his house didnāt count towards the total.Ā
He offers to mow your lawn (he rarely ever mows his own), heāll bring your newspaper to your doorstep if he sees it in your driveway, heāll offer you rides into town when because he just so happens to be heading into town at the same time as you.
Heās so proud of himself, believing with his entire being that heās oozing with charm.
Holly disagrees.Ā
She says no man who spends that much time staring out of the kitchen window just on the off chance heāll be able to catch a glimpse of his neighbor has any game. He had about as much charm as a lovesick puppy in her eyes.
As much as you love Holly, you would have to disagree with her opinion.
Hollandās attempts to woo you, as obvious and silly as they may be, were working.
From the very first time you saw him- in his bright yellow boxers and extreme bedhead, watering flowerbeds that honestly looked like they had more weeds than flowers- you liked him. He was a little goofy and acted much more confident than you believed he really was, but you liked it.Ā
You looked forward to his visits and found excuses to visit him just as often as he found excuses to visit you.Ā
Once, Holland comes to your house absolutely plastered. Heād meant to go to his own home after a night of drinking but heād been over so often lately, his drunken mind mustāve been on autopilot. Itās 3 am and you answer the door with a steak knife before you realize who it is.Ā
Drunk Holland is so happy to see you ("Heyyy! What are you doinā in my house? Finally moving in?")
You let him in, half dragging him to your couch as he uses you as a crutch. Holland babbles to you for an hour, apparently forgetting who heās talking to for the majority of it and telling you all about his cute neighbor who heās falling in love with.
You listen quietly, smiling so much your mouth hurts until Holland passes out with his head tucked in your lap.
When he wakes up the next morning, Holland is convinced he finally got alcohol poisoning, kicked the bucket and by the grace of God, somehow ended up in heaven. Sprawled on the couch together, his body prone between your legs and head resting on your chest and breathing together, he had to pinch himself and pinch you to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
I JUST GOT BACK FROM MY 12 HOUR SHIFT TO THE GREATEST GIFT! Iām so glad you get me with his hands, what you wrote is EXACTLY how I pictured them and their hand language. Iām literally giggling and kicking my feet, I will be rereading that religiously yip yip yip. (I also would love to hear your nsfw thoughts, statement.)
Queen, genuinely thank you so much it made my day. Still giggling and kicking my feet thinking about it LOL
- your eggy anon š„
EGG IāM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!
ask and you shall receive baby, NSFW rygos hand headcanonās coming right up! uh Iām writing these way past my bedtime so if this whole post is incoherent, that would be why (part 2 to this post for those who may have missed it!)
RYLANDās hands are long. He can reach and massage parts of you that you canāt reach on your own. Heās able to curl his fingers and press against your walls in such a way that you swear heās slowly rearranging your guts to mold perfectly to his digits. If you plead enough, heāll even stick those fingers in your mouth, pressing firmly on your tongue to make you drool. His precise control over his hands means heās methodical in the bedroom. He knows just where to touch you, when to touch you and how to touch you so youāre able to get the most out of your time with him. With patience and practice, he knows your body better than his own. Basically, Ryland can play you like a fiddle. One specific thing he does that drives you crazy is use those long fingers of his to push the extra droplets of cum that drip out of you back into your heat, coaxing it deeper where itāll stay. Heās always mesmerized when he does it and frankly, you enjoy it too much to bother asking why
HOLLANDās hands like to wander and heās not ashamed to hide it. Keep this man on a tight leash when youāre out because he can and will touch you in ways most would find insanely inappropriate for the public eye. Youāre at a restaurant sitting side-by-side at a table that has a long tablecloth? His hand is already on your knee and winding between your thighs within minutes of ordering your drinks, right in front of your waiter. Walking down the street? His hand is in your back pocket. Driving him to meet one of his clients? Heās leaning over the center console to unbutton your pants/pull your skirt up or do whatever it takes to reach whatās underneath. His hands are always moving when youāre alone too- sliding under your shirt when youāre trying to brush your teeth or tugging your towel loose when youāve just stepped out of the shower. You occasionally get your revenge by pinning his hands above his head when you ride him to oblivion, not letting him touch you like he wants as punishment
LARSā hands are huge. Heās hesitant to really use his hands to their full potential at first; for whatever reason, heās terrified he might hurt you. Only after youāre able to reassure Lars that he couldnāt hurt a fly, much less hurt you, then he gets a little bolder. His hands dwarf every part of you he touches. Palming your chest, cupping your cheek, splaying between your legs all has you weak at how much surface area his hands cover. The aching stretch that his fingers provide have your eyes rolling back into your skull. Itās only a matter of time before Lars realizes just how easy it is to make you squirm and becomes confident enough to use that to his advantage. Heāll even hold a palm to your throat once heās comfortable, not squeezing hard enough to cut off your air but just enough so he can feel your neck bob under his hand.
COLTās hands are rough. As mentioned before, his hands are a little worse for wear but it only makes things all the more enjoyable for you. The scrape of his callouses against your flesh- when he trails his fingers down your sides, smooths his thumbs over your nipples or slipping his middle finger into your heat- the scuffs are enough to have your back arching off the bed. Heās teasing both in and out of the bedroom. Coltās hands will edge you until youāre seeing white before heāll pull away, just to see you beg for more. Once, he had you straddling his hips and riding his hand to pleasure yourself, barely able to find relief while being impaled on only one of his fingers, so worked up your eyes were lined with tears. He was so turned on by the sight that he came untouched and shot ropes of cum all over himself.
might try to watch drive tomorrow 𫪠gotta see what this driver guy is all about
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HIII I HOPE YOU ARE WELL! I HAVE BEEN STALKING YOUR PAGE RELIGIOUSLY! YOU ARE SUCH AN INCREDIBLE WRITER AND YOU REALLY UNDERSTAND THE CHARACTERS SOOOOO DEEPLY! I hope you are treating yourself kindly and staying hydrated!
also I FEEL LIKE YOU MIGHT GET ME COZ ALL MY FRIENDS THINK IM WEIRD BUT MAYBE IM JUST A FREAK!
Iām NOT a hands person, but Ryanās hands actually make me likeā¦feral.
He uses them in such an expressive way and it always endears me so much to his characters. You can get a sense for who his characters are just by how they use their hands in both mundane and complex situations, along with interacting with another person and how it kinda gives way what his characters are thinking.
Also the way Ryanās thumb is kinda likeā¦square at the joint makes me gnaw at my enclosure (is it possible to get gender envy via someoneās hands? If so, I also have that) .
Anyway. Yeah LOL
- eggy
EGGYYYYYYYY I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS! šš as someone who is deeply self conscious about everything I write, it means so much to hear from kind eggs like you š„¹
I donāt think youāre crazy at all because I am a hands person so I have several thoughts about all of his characters and their hands! hereās little hcās for the current Rygos on my mind!
RYLANDās hands are steady. Long and precise, several hours in labs and handling delicate microscopic life means he has a lot of control over his movements- until he gets flustered. When you do something that gets his heart racing, his concentration gets shot and he gets uncoordinated. Its so endearing. Fumbling fingers, unsure touch. He talks with his hands, sometimes communicating with them even more so than his mouth. One of your favorite things to do is to lay next to him and listen to him ramble about something or other while his hands wave in the air. Ryland has veiny hands and ooooh how you love mapping the raised bumps they make in his skin, following their trails up his arms before they disappear. After his dance with death when he saved Rocky, Rylandās right hand and arm are very tender and stay overly sensitive to touch for a long time thanks to his slowly healing skin. You both have doubts itāll ever truly heal, leaving his raw skin vulnerable and raggedy. It becomes a daily ritual for you to carefully apply burn cream to the puckered scar. Ryland says your touch alone ebbs the pain more than any medicine (heās sappy like that).
HOLLAND has shaky hands. At the beginning of your acquaintance, they shake because heās drunk. Clumsy and fumbling thanks to the whisky in his system. His hands are shaking when he tries to woo you the first time you meet, attempting to smoothly brush an eyelash off your cheek which ends with a thumb in your eye, an angry you and a frantic apology from him. He tries not to drink around you after that. But then, his hands would shake because heās nervous. You terrify him. Something about you calls to him- more than the fleeting attraction heād have towards those he might want a fling with. He actually wants to try with you, which scares him. Holland both hates and craves the way you make him feel and his hands reflect that. Heās so unsure and cautious around you, dying to touch you but too worried about what you might think. Why would someone like you want a screwup like him? On multiple occasions does he reach out to graze your arm or hold your thigh before he second guesses himself and pulls back. Only when you reach out to him first- grabbing his wrists to bring his hands to your hips so you can kiss him stupid- do his hands stop shaking around you.
LARSā hands are hidden- at least for a good several months after you first meet. Always covered by thick gloves, even when the weather gets a little warmer. You werenāt sure why but never pried for answers- if Lars wanted you to know, heād tell you. It was rare that you ever touched at all, the inly contact being the occasional brush of his hand against yours while youāre walking together which heād pull away from like you were a hot pan. It shouldāve hurt you, that he seemed so averse to touching you, but it didnāt. Thatās just how Lars was. The first time you actually saw his hands, you werenāt at all surprised by what they looked like. They were strong- thick fingers, meaty palms- hands to match the rest of him. When Lars started experimenting with touch, carefully dusting his fingers over your skin to see if it hurt, you found Larsā hands to be extremely soft: both physically and in the way he kissed them over you. Once heās comfortable enough, Lars LOVES holding your hand. While his trumps yours in size, he feels like your hand is protecting his- a lifeline when he gets overwhelmed while around other people. He relies on that tether and has a hard time letting go when youāre alone again.
COLTās hands are rough. As a stunt man, especially one whoās been around the block as many times as he has, his hands have roughened up over the years. Small scars, callouses, fingers that have been broken more times than he can count and fingernails that have seen better days. Despite that, his touch couldnāt be more gentle. The way he cradles you, cupping the back of your head to hold you close- not once has his toughened hands hurt. Heās maybe a little self conscious of them? Not too much, heās overall very confident with his body, but when you point out the light catch of his skin against yours when he rubs a thumb along your neck or slides a hand down your bare spine, he gets worried the roughness bothers you. That couldnāt be farther from the truth of course and you spend ample time kissing his palm and fingers to get your point across. His hands are also very teasing; poking your soft spots to get you to laugh, flicking your ear to get your attention or swiping something out of your back pocket so youād come to him later begging for his help because somehow, Colt was always able to find your misplaced things.
i kept this pg for the masses but uh⦠i have many nsfw thoughts as well if thereās any interest (nsfw part 2!)
waking up before him and getting up to make coffee or something before wandering back to bed to find him still asleep. itās mid summer so you have a rare, warm morning meaning lars is barely covered by a thin sheet. sprawled on his back, naked, burly body on display, the sheet is leaving nothing to the imagination aka his dick print is PROMINENT. heās soft, cock resting over his thick thigh but you already know that even soft, lars is packing something monstrous. the scene is so domestic and innocent but also so insanely hot that you wake him up with head and watch as his cock comes to life all on itās own until he blinks awake HAH