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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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Seventh Time's The Charm

Rydal Keener x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 1: Overstimulation

Summary: Rydal keeps asking you out.

A/N: Thank you so, so, so much @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading and helping out with this one!

Warnings: bit of a brat Rydal, overstimulation, hand jobs, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1066

Rydal had been a mess since you started. He’s asked you out a grand total of seven times in all.

The first had been a subtle, casual thing. Him leaning against the table running a hand through his hair in a manner that was causal personified but reeked of careful planning. He had suggested a date, as if he had been doing you a favour.

But had smiled when you politely declined, seeming as if he was expecting it, used to the casual ask getting a fifty percent success rate.

The second time however was more sincere, a slightly bigger thing. He put some effort into it. When you declined again he hadn’t smiled straight away. The flash of shock across his face was almost comical. He obviously wasn’t used to being turned down when he tried.

The third had been jokey, the fourth a little mean, the fifth was showy and dramatic, and the sixth had been sweet. And you’d almost said yes.

The seventh had been whiney.

“What’s it gonna take for you to go on a date with me?” He’d pouted, trying to put a friendly jokey edge to his tone, but it didn’t work.

You had snorted, “Why are you so desperate for me to say yes?” You knew the answer already of course, he wasn’t used to being told no.

“Why do you keep saying no?” He’d retorted, crossing his arms. “I know you like me.”

“So?” You’d grinned.

“So?” He’d given you the most exasperated look you’d ever seen, his eyes narrowing slightly and, his jaw all but dropping. “So when people like each other they go out.” He’d blurted out incredulously.

“Why?”

He’d glared at you and you’d laughed.

“Look, Rydal, you’ve got plenty of people just begging for your attention– to go on a date with you, why don’t you ask them?”

He’d sighed dramatically, “I want to go out with you, not them.”

“You’ll go out with me once and then you’ll be going out with them the next day,” you’d shrugged, there’s no anger in your voice, just matter of fact. “Just cut out the first step.”

His pout somehow became even more pronounced. “I’m not like that, that’s not what this is.”

“Rydal,” you’d given him a look, “come on, I’m not an idiot and I’m not trying to shame you or saying it’s a bad thing, I’m just saying that’s what you want.” You’d shrugged again. “I’m not so interested in it.”

“It’s not… I’m not…” He fumbled a little with his words, trying and failing to find the right one while a hint of pink brushed his cheeks. “I’m not some whore.”

You hadn’t been able to help but giggle at his turn of phrase. “I’m not saying you are.” You’d bantered lightly.

“You implied it. Implied I was just after sex.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I–…”

“Come on– the only reason you’re so interested in me is because I’ve said no.” You’d said as you sat back in your chair, raising your eyebrows.

“Really?”

“That’s not true.”

“I’ll prove it.”

You’d paused then. “Okay.”

He’d taken you out on a nice date, casual. Correctly guessing that you wouldn’t be overly impressed by anything unnecessarily showy.

And you’d seen the not so subtle smirk on his face when you’d agreed to come back to his, the cocky attitude when he’d opened his front door, the way he’d lent in for a kiss believing that he’d won you over completely.

But now that he was underneath you, his hands tied to the headboard with his own belt, his shirt open and his trousers and boxers shoved down to his ankles all while you were still fully dressed, his trademark self confidence was nowhere to be seen.

He squirmed, trying to buck his hips as you jacked him off quickly. “Ah, baby, fuck!” He screwed up his eyes, failing to keep his moans as quiet as possible.

You shifted your weight ever so slightly as you sat on his thighs so that you were pressing firmer on his legs, forcing him to stay still.

“Please, shit, please,” he begged, his plump bottom lip between his teeth.

Sweat beaded in his hairline, along his collarbone. Part of you was desperate to lean down, to suck and bite at his skin, but you’d contain that urge for now.

He whined your name, his eyes rolling back as he groaned and pressed his head into the pillow. His arms tense as he pulled at the belt around his wrists.

His cock throbbed in your hand, velvety soft and warm as you pushed him closer and closer towards the edge.

You could see why he was so confident. Other than his pretty face, long lashes and low, soft voice, he had an impressive dick. Thick and weighty with a slight curve that you knew would feel just wonderful to have inside.

“Please, please, can I touch you? Please–” he swallows, gulping in air, “can, can, oh god, I’m gonna come, please, you need to-” He gasps, surprised by his sudden orgasm. His toes curl as he comes, his back arching off the mattress as he spurts all over his stomach and your hand.

His needy moans are music to your ears, high pitched and breathy as he just collapses into pleasure, lets it wash all over him like warm soothing water.

You slow your hand, but don’t stop. You pump him languidly, long strokes now well lubricated by his cum.

He hisses, squirming a little, trying to move away from your touch. He softens slightly, his cock twitching and still half hard.

“Fuck,” he breathes in a shaky breath, looking up at you with large, watery eyes. “I, oh god, you made me come so hard. You’re,” he hisses, but bucks up into your hand. “You’re not gonna stop are you?” There’s a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

You shake your head. “How many times did you ask me out?” You say softly, injecting a slight boredom into your tone.

“I… erm… fuck…” He rolls his hips up to you, groaning as you pick up the pace.

“Seven, Rydal.”

“Seven?”

You hum an affirmative. “So I’m gonna make you come seven times, since you’re so desperate to have me.”

His eyes go wide, his cheeks flush. But there’s a smile on his lips and he nods rapidly. “Yes, god, yes please.”

Thank you for reading!

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ser-rctslcyer · 2 years ago

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And To Be Loved || Rydal Keener

Pairing: Rydal Keener x Gender-neutral! Reader

Word Count: 3.0k+

Synopsis: You want nothing more than to invite your best friend on vacation with you but it seems he needs a little encouragement– and maybe something more.

Warnings: Fluff, Romance, Banter, Love Confessions

A/N: some fluff for my dear @mccnknightstcrdst @einno-arko because we deserve nice things!

Translations: ανόητος - silly | Γαμημένη κόλαση - fucking hell | Αγάπη - Love |Σε αγαπώ - I love you

A cool breeze blows by, softening the hot gaze of the sun. The shade from the tree keeps the two of you cool enough as you sit on the bench. The two of you are finally off for the day, tours finished early as tourists had other places to be– mostly the bar. Rydal’s eyes are glued to the page, his pen scratching the paper as the words flow out of him like a running stream. You don’t want to be nosy, but you steal sparing glances, catching only parts of phrases and trying not to piece together what it all meant; admiring how beautifully neat his handwriting is. He had read some of his poems to you and you had treasured every single one. His talent, his passion for his art; he poured his soul into and you appreciated it. There are sometimes you wished you could have the tiniest bit of his talents just to tell him how you felt– but for now, baby steps.

Starting with a simple question.

You nudge him lightly, not enough to make his pen jump across the paper but enough to drag a bit of his focus out of writing. Or so you thought, yet he stayed quiet; head still down and eyes fixed as he filled the page. You did it again– pressing your elbow a little longer to his arms. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his pen finally coming to a halt.

“I hope you know you are disturbing the process,” he chuckles; reading over his sentence, quietly mouthing the words.

“I sure hope I am.” you hum, delighted; kicking your feet back and forth. He shakes his head, sliding his pen into his shirt pocket, closing his notebook, and holding it against his stomach. He turns to you, giving you his signature sly smile— the one he uses on you the most when he’s about to be a little shit.

“Do you need something, ανόητος?” you glare at him, yet his smile still remains. He only calls you that when you’re being a “slight annoyance” (his words), and whilst he meant it affectionately, he teased you too often with it. You shoved him playfully again, shaking your head before you spoke again.

“Well, we’re not going to be receiving as many tourists soon, which perfectly arrives around that time for a vacation.”

“Oh, so you’re going back home?”

“What? No, no, no,” you quickly got up off the bench, moving to stand in front of him, “I was going to ask if you wanted to go on vacation with me!” you opened your arms out, basically inviting him to say yes.

“A vacation where?” his head cocked, slightly to the side, a small wave of anguish running through you; he was always so technical.

“I don’t know, yet but depending on your answer I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“Are you sure?” he inquires, a look of pure concern bleeding through his eyes; different from the looks he gives when your about to do something stupid.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’ve been away from your family quite a while; won’t they miss you if you don’t take the chance to see them?” he pries, an unusual sadness in his tone.

“Probably, but they’d be more disappointed if I missed the bigger holidays and some birthdays.” you shrug, trying to not sound desperate. Your family could wait truthfully, so long as you gave them a call at some point.

All you wanted was to take him on this trip– just you and him

“I guess that’s fair– what are they celebrating in the states right now anyway?”

“It’s October,” you answered, and Rydal still had the puzzled look on his face; the gears in his head still turning, “Halloween, remember?”

“Ah, I forgot.”

“Been in Greece too long, my dear rhapsodist; you’re forgetting your roots,” his smile twitches; exhaling harshly like he’d just been hit in the gut. He knows it’s unintentional, he knows that you’re unaware– but the looming thought of family shreds through him like an eagle catching its prey.

“And here I thought you didn’t know words that big.” he jests, shifting in his seat as he tried to peel away the awful feeling.

“Ouch, low blow man,” you stepped back clutching your heart, “not all of us can be master lyricists.”

“I don’t make songs,” he snorted, running his fingers through his hair.

“Oh but you do! Songs of pure devotion and sonnets of passion,” you serenade, raising your hand up in an elegant motion.

“Now who’s being rude now?”

“It’s not rude, it’s true! Tourist fawn over your flowery sultry syllables about Oedipus and his dear ol’ hot mom.”

“Γαμημένη κόλαση,” he drags his palms down his face, trying to repress the grin that starts to cling to his lips, “please never say that again.”

“But it’s true– the women practically were wanting to be your hot mom,” you tack on, a loud groan leaves his lips.

“Shut up.”

“I was explaining my point.”

“Back to your suggestion, where could we even go?”

“We could do Itay, Spain,” you pause for a moment, “perhaps France and visit The City of Love,” you shimmy suggestively which brings out a chuckle from him.

“Yeah, but how would we pay for that? We don’t make that much to be staying anywhere for too long.”

“Well, my dear, depending on where we choose, we can just take buses; but also I do have a good bit of reserve cash left, so all I have to do is exchange it and the fun is ours.” you bow dramatically, but there was no laugh that followed.

“I wouldn’t want you to spend everything just to invite me on your trip,” he admits solemnly; his words, yet sincere, shred your heart. You stand upright, brows furrowed as your eyes meet his again; the playfulness already long forgotten.

“You make it sound like your bad company to have around?” you questioned, watching the subtle emotions flutter through his eyes and lips.

“I just don’t think it’s worth wasting money on me,” he answered softly, eyes falling down to his feet. A sickly cool breeze blew by, while your heart ached as you stared at him. He was always pretty candid about not accepting much from you; even gifts you had to convince him, he was allowed to take it.

“Wasting mon– alright, that’s it, mister.” you stomp your foot, stepping up to Rydal and extending your hand out.

“What?”

“We’re going on a walk and you're going to be mostly silent as I explain something very important to you.”

“Okay.” his hand clasps yours and with a little tug, he pushes himself up off the bench.

“Where exactly are we walking to?”

“I told you, you’re listening right now.” you wiggle your other finger in front of him, before starting off away from the benches.

The sun was thankfully going down and so Greece was finally settling. He tried to keep his eyes on the things around you and yet they kept dipping back down to your hand holding his. You’ve held his hands' plenty of times over the last year and yet this one, this one makes his heart sing. His mind drifts to how perfect your palm fit against his, how the warmth between them feels almost like a soothing hug– how you clasp his hand tight enough, it feels like a promise.

He feels like a little kid again, freaking out over his crush showing him any bit of attention.

You walk toward the edge of the town, ending up on a beaten dirt road right before the coast. The water glimmers in bright yellows, deep oranges, and muddled reds as the sun takes its seat above the sea. He walks beside you, his hand tugged closer to your thigh as he stares ahead, lost in his own panicked thoughts.

“You know,” you begin softly, nudging him lightly with your shoulder, “for as much as I tease you, you’re not just my hot coworker, right?”

“Thanks?” he assumes, his confusion evident in just his tone alone. Your giggle calms him for a moment, as you come to a halt and he follows.

“Relax hon, I promise this isn’t anything truly serious,” he mourns the loss of your hand as you squeeze his shoulder. He nods his head curtly, trying to keep your gaze, the one he’s familiar with.

“I just want you to know, you mean a lot, okay? You were my first friend when I got here and I could never be more grateful for that,” his chest flutters, heart shaking as he digests your words. This was the first time, in a long dreadful time, someone had ever said something truly sincere to him– and he believed it.

“So when I want to indulge a little, especially on you; it’s not a bother! I am more than happy to spend extra so we can go fuck around The Colosseum,” your addition brings a laugh out of him, his first full one all day. He knows you’re still inviting him, he knows you’re being more than genuine when you say you’d spend extra for him, he knows it comes from an honest place of care– and it’s overwhelming.

“Well, one thing I know for sure is you’d be a terrifying gladiator.” he chimes in on your joke, earning a light ‘tsk’ from you.

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“You should, your strength would be celebrated and favored amongst the people and especially the emperors,” he hummed, enjoying the grin that graced your lips.

“Oh, they would love my crazy.”

“Unless it was Commodus– then he might’ve jumped in and beat you to death,” another laugh leaves him as you put on your most exaggerated shocked face.

“Well shit, it’s a lose-lose either way then? He kills me or I kill him and get killed for treason.”

“A tough life, fit for only the best of the best.”

“Glad, you think I’m so cool then,” you bump your head against your shoulder, letting it rest there as the two of you watched and listened to the soft crashes of the waves. Your hand finds its way back to his, interlocking your pinkies and he wishes this moment could last forever– but at last, dreams are only meant for the sleeping.

“Thank you though, I just didn’t want to be a burden on you,” he answers, tilting his head down to look at you; greeted by the sight of your beautiful eyes.

“Hon, you could never be. You’re my friend, and if anything I am more than happy to do things for you– to help you. Truly, meeting you and getting to know you have been one of the best experiences of my life; I’m so happy I met you, Rydal.” you confessed and he tenses. Never in his life did he think such words would be directed at him. A life alone is what he believe he deserved, that loneliness he let burn into his heart– and now it all fell apart.

“Why are you crying, hon?” your voice is soft as you turn towards him, chest to chest; your hands gently caressing your face.

“Because you’re too nice to me,” he sniffled, a small whine leaving him as you brushed the tears away with your thumbs. He clutches his notebook tighter, his other hand pressed against his pant leg; fingers digging into the fabric. Feeling nothing more like that little kid who failed again; it’s embarrassing to him.

“As if you don’t deserve it, you’ve been nothing but kind to me since too; let me give it back for a change.” you squeeze his face gently; a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Okay,” he nods; you pull him into you, squeezing him into a reassuring hug. He lets himself finally relax, all of his wound-up emotions leaving him in one breath. He closes his eyes, taking in the salty air as he tucks his face into your neck.

“Better?”

“Better.” he answers and you smile, taking his hand again before you turn to start off down the path again.

“Actually, there’s something I want to tell you,” he stops again, your hands jerking a small bit as you came to a halt, “or well I think I need to,” his voice grows quiet and you stand in front of him again; still holding his hand.

“Yeah?”

“It might ruin things,” he warns, so unsure of what outcome he might get but he swallows down his fears.

“I doubt.”

“Αγάπη, it isn’t some joke,” he stresses, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“And I’m not joking,” you squeeze his hand, “I doubt it’ll ruin anything.”

“Are you sure?” the uncertainty is there again and you remain firm.

“I promise,” and with those two words, he proceeds. He lets go of your hand and opens up his notebook, flipping through a chunk of full pages till he found the one he was looking for. He scanned over the words before looking back at you, taking in a deep breath.

“This might not be as eloquent as I usually am, but for some reason, the words tend to evade me when it’s you.” he glances back at the page, lips quivering the longer he stared at the dark scribbles. So much thought, so many emotions, here across these pages he spent hours obsessing over; trying to get right and yet it doesn’t feel enough– it doesn’t feel like him. His eyes close as he shuts his notebook again and when he looks back at you, he lets the feeling he’s let stew for the last two years, flow-through, “Σε αγαπώ.”

“Σε αγαπώ and there are not enough words, in any language, for me to properly tell you the feeling that burns beneath my heart for you. I know for a poet, that sounds awfully pathetic but everything just seems to blur, and my emotions– wound so deep, everything breaths in just one rhythm– you. I know this is sudden, I know it's awkward, I know you might not feel the same but I need you to know–” he catches his breath, feeling the tears prick his eyes again but he ignores them for the ones shining in your own.

“I need you to know, I love you.” he admits, the weight that had been holding down his chest evaporated as your lips, find their resting place– right against his own. The kiss is sweeter than any chocolate he’s ever tasted and softer than any of the round puffy white clouds in the sky. One of your hands find his jaw, as the other rests over his chest; etching small circles into his heart. His notebook rest against your lower back while he holds the back of your neck. This moment already starts sinking into memory, the gentle sound of an ocean full of you.

“I love you too,” you rasps softly, pecking his lips again, “I love you and if I was half as good with words as you, I’d tell you a million times over in just one simple sentence.”

“Now who’s being a lyricist.” he grins, kissing the corners of your lips.

“I’d write thousands and thousands of songs if it meant kissing you like that again.” you hum cheerfully, brushing your nose against his as you nip his bottom lip.

“Perhaps you should get on it.” he huskily whispers, only to be met with a small surprised chuckle. He raised his eyebrow at you curiously, struggling to contain yourself when it all finally made sense.

“I’m sorry, I–” you try to excuse but it’s too late, and you laugh hysterically into his chest. He tries to keep his own composure but the joy is contagious and he ends up laughing just as hard. It’s dark now and nothing but your amusement echoes.

“It was such a nice moment.” he sighs, trying to catch his breath after a moment.

“You have to watch your words, my little poet,” the pet name makes his heart soar and his legs feel wobbly, “I have no self-control.” you chuckle one last time before sealing your lips over his. The kiss is almost about the same, passionate and hungry but neither of you drive to speed through the moment.

“I’m very thankful for that.” he pants, pressing his forehead against yours as the two of you sway gently.

“I saw you look at your notebook– did you write that down all for this moment?”

“I was going for a flowery romantic confession, truthfully. I tried to write it out, but most of the words never came, so I improvised some lines,” he smiled, looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes.

“I’m glad you did, sweetheart,” you congratulate with another sweet kiss, “you’ve done the one thing that makes poets, great.”

“And what’s that?”

“Spoke from your heart,” you muse, the compliment brings forth another rise out of him; he kisses you again.

“So, when can I take you out on a date?” he murmurs against your lips.

“If you do one thing for me.”

“Which is?” you hook a finger under his chin, making sure he keeps his eyes on you.

“Pick a place and go on vacation with me.” you smile and he licks over his lips.

“Italy.”

“Are you still trying to get me to be your gladiator?” you tease, earning another bright beatuiful laugh out of him– something only you can do.

“You already are; the warrior of my heavy heart,” he confesses and you awe quietly.

“Ah, my little poet strikes again.”

“My place?” he inquires, as the two of you look up at the dark sky, littered with little white specs of starlight.

“Yes, there’s still a bunch I must do to mollify my emperor’s, heavy heart.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Then c’mon! There’s no time to waste!” your hand instantly finds his, and you take off. Rydal struggles to keep pace but once he does the two of you are giggling down the road and onto the next chapter of your lives; together at last.

#rct fic #rydal keener x reader #rydal keener x genderneutral! reafer #rydal keener x gn! reader

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 3 days ago

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@ivystoryweaver's excellent comment on Seventh Times The Charm (I know it's not an ask, but I can't help myself.)

Rydal Keener x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: Rydal's about to have number five.

Warnings: bit of a brat Rydal, overstimulation, hand jobs, blow jobs, a little sub drop, slight sub/dom, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1254

Rydal sobs, tears heavy on his thick lashes and spilling over his flushed cheeks, mixing with the pooling sweat on his neck and collarbones.

He hiccups and gaps, his hands still tied to the headboard with his own belt. His shirt is open and crumpled, the cotton soaked with perspiration and splashes of his cum. You’d pulled his trousers and boxers off completely by now though.

He’d come four times so far. “Over halfway now,” You’d teased him when he moaned and spasmed, barely a dribble leaking from his abused cock onto your hands and the mess on his stomach.

You had taken pity on him after number two, making it clear that he could tap out at any time. But he’d just smiled, mouthing ‘more’. You were pretty sure he was taking the game as a personal mission, a vendetta almost. He couldn’t back down from your challenge.

You’d pushed his legs wide, sitting crossed-legged between them so that your knees pushed and spread his inner thighs.

You pumped his cock languidly, his length nearly back to full mast.

“You think you can manage another one?” You tease lightly and his cock throbs under your hand.

He nods, whining softly, trying to keep a little control over himself. He looked a mess, but a very beautiful one. “Yeah.” He swallows, his voice weak.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” You shrug, slowing your hand a little and he hisses.

“Please, I’m not tapping out, I’m not.” He whimpers, feebly bucking his hips up into your grip.

You hum, putting on a show of thinking it over. “I don’t think you’ll make it to seven Rydal,” the way you say his name makes him shiver, “I don’t think you’ll make it to five.”

“Please, I will, please.” Fresh tears wet his eyes, he bites his bottom lip and blinks heavily at you. The burn of overstimulation has long twisted, crystalised into a deep and constant ache that makes him want to scream and sob and beg for your touch. He’s desperate to come again, you see that praise in your eyes as he loses himself.

You chuckle lightly, slowing your hand even more and moving back.

“No,” He sobs, about to say more when he realises you’re simply changing position. You lay down on your stomach and run your hands over his thighs. His muscles twitch under your touch, his skin on fire.

When your warm wet tongue lightly licks over his balls he screams, quickly giving up any pretence of self-assuredness.

“God, please, fuck, fuck, fuccck,” He pants and groans, pulls desperately at the belt around his wrists. “God, that feels so!” His legs shake, pleasure twisting and churning in his stomach, building at the base of his spine to a dizzying high.

When you slowly drag the flat of your tongue up his cock he’s sure he’s died and gone to heaven. There simply isn’t any other explanation.

He whines, blurting out meaningly sounds and noises of appreciation as you lick. “Please, please, please, please!” And when you swirl your tongue around the tip before softly taking the head into his mouth he’s sure he passes out for a split second.

“Oh fucking god!” He jumps, his back arching as you suck and moan around him, one of your hands pressing against his inner thigh, the other splade across his stomach and tracing patterns in his previous spends.

“Please, oh, please please please, I’m,” he swallows, trying to keep his eyes open so he can watch you, commit the vision of his cock disappearing past your lips and into your mouth to memory. “I’m gonna come,” he sobs, he can’t stop it. Can’t even try to. He’s too far gone, his body practically trained to just give everything to you at this point.

You suck him deeper, moaning an affirmative as he gasps for air, you slide your fingers from his thigh to lightly knead his balls and he swears loudly.

“Please, please, just once, just once after,” he moans, high on the pleasure, “I need to make you come.” He sobs, trying to find the energy to string his words together in a vaguely coherent sentence. “I need to. Let me lick you, I’m so-” He whines loudly, his body practically vibrating as you bob your head and take him a fraction deeper. “I’m good at it, I promise, I swear, I can make you come so quickly. Please, I need it, please!” He pants, wriggling in your grip, struggling to get closer and pull away at the same time. “If, if, if I make you come, will you, will you, can you, please, let, let, let me see you again?”

You suck hard and he shrieks, his entire body paralysed and tense as pleasure runs along his nerves like a current. He sobs your name, eyes closed tight as he writhes.

He doesn’t spill into your mouth, his balls utterly milked from your previous actions, but you suck and swallow none the less.

You only take him out of your mouth when he collapses back onto the mattress, breathing hard, his eyes glazed. Gently you stroke the hair back from his sweaty forehead and give his lips a soft kiss.

“You okay?”

He nods weakly. “I can keep going.” He whispers, hazy and unfocused.

“No.” You say gently and he whines instantly.

“I can, I can,” fresh tears start to build.

“Shhh,” you stroke his cheek tenderly. “You got a towel, a flannel in your bathroom?”

He nods, pressing into your hand.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

He sniffs, holding back a sob but nods.

You undo the belt, rubbing his hands and wrists and peppering his fingers with soft kisses before you leave the room.

He swallows and stays still. You hadn’t told him he could move, and he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to even if he wanted to.

There’s a weight in his chest, a hollowness that hurts. He wants to cry.

“Here.” Your voice makes him jump, but he’s so, so glad to hear it. You help him to sit up a little and drink from a glass of water before you wipe him down with a warm cloth and help him out of his shirt completely.

“Thank you,” he mutters, his voice close to breaking.

You stroke his hair, getting on the bed next to him the second he paws at you. You wrap your arms around him tightly, hugging him and whispering sweet words while you cover his face in kisses.

He giggles, pressing closer to you and hugging back. The weight lifts. The hollowness fills.

After a while, he smiles a little shyly, “Why did you stop?”

“You needed a break.”

He shakes his head, giving you a little playful false bravado. “I was fine, I could have done nine.”

You laugh kindly and stroke his hair. The touch makes him keen, press closer and sigh happily. “No, I think that would have put you in a bad place.”

He opens his mouth to protest for a second and then shuts it. He nods once, looking down.

Gently you hook your finger under his chin and tilt him back up to look into your eyes.

“Can’t have you broken if I want to play with you in the future, can I?” You smile as you tease and Rydal shivers, excitement pooling in his belly.

“We can… do this again?”

You nod, “If you want.”

“I do want.” He smiles and kisses you softly.

Thank you for reading!

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ser-rctslcyer · 2 years ago

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Hunger || Steven Grant + Rydal Keener

Pairing: Rydal Keener x AFAB! Gender-neutral! Reader

Word Count: 700+

Synopsis: Returning from a night out only leads to one thing.

Warnings: NSFW, Polyamory, Coded Language (clit & cunt), Light Boob Worship, Breeding

A/N: this was suppose to be an ask for @mccnknightstcrdst but i lost my fucking mind

The door was shut just as fast as it was opened; locked and left creaking against the frame as your body was pressed into it. Steven’s lips fit snug against your own, stealing the very breaths away from your lungs and filling them with a burning desire. Rydal’s hands worked quickly over the button of your shirt, warm hands kneading the soft flesh of your hips for a moment, before freeing you— you shake as the cool are from the flat hardens your nipples.

A hand snakes its way into your pants, fingers brushing and rubbing over your folds; tingling shooting through you as you felt his ring enter your core— finger curling inside of you. Moans leave you, devoured by Steven’s own as he cups your breast; his thumb rolling the pebbled buds as he licked the inside of your mouth. It was silent other than the soft needy panting between you all and you relax into the door as your lovers get you off.

Its not for long before your being whisked away, tucked between the two of them as their lips find purchase on every inch of skin they can reach. Hands wander and knead, drawing whines out if you as you cling to keep yourself steady. Your moment of reprieve is only when their lips find each other and they share a lustful kiss.

They pull away from you briefly, getting you out of your bottoms and shoes quickly, leaving you exposed for the both of them. Steven cups your cunt, peppering you jaw in kisses while Rydal’s fingers work you clit, nipping at your ear. You wobble and their grip tightens before they exchange a knowing look.

Steven moves behind you and Rydal moves upfront, holding you upright as the curator’s hands finally leave your body. You hear him struggle to undo his pants, too eager to pull his cock— quiet curses echoing from behind you as he finally gets a hand on himself. A few strokes and his hand is already back on your hip, and in one swift motion he pushes his cock all the way inside of you, knocking the air out if you.

Whimpers leave the both if you as you adjust, clamped around his cock like you want to keep him there. The boys keep you in places from moving, driving your brain into deeper pleasure as you feel the pressure in your lower stomach where he’s buried inside. After a while, his hand trials over your stomach, pressing against the small bulge as he grinds his hips— back and forth.

Back and forth.

Before pulling himself out nearly all the way and shoving himself all the way in. The sudden thrust makes you cry out as Steven begins rhythmically slamming his dick into you with such precision your toes curl. He moans against your neck, soft whines of “moonlight” and “love” leaving his lips; his other hand finds your chest again, squeezing, and letting more whines free from your mouth.

Blurry-eyed you look back to Rydal, who watches, licking over his lips before falling to you knees. You can barely make it out but you see him, pumping his cock, eyes glued to Steven fuck your sloppy wet hole. He notices your gaze, winking teasingly before leaning in and placing his mouth over your cunt— tongue flicking over your clit. The whine gets caught in your throat as he times his lapping with Steven’s thrusts, pleasured shiver wracking over your body and your stuck.

Stuck with this overwhelming sensation growing in your belly. With every flick and press of his tongue, with ever sharp thrust and squeeze of your tit, the soft wet smacking sound that echoes between you three— its damn right intoxicating.

The fire in your belly boils, dam breaking as you cum so hard you see white. Relishing in the cries into your neck as Steven buries himself inside of you; hand pressed firmly against your stomach as he fills you cunt up. Both of you are panting as Rydal licks you through the aftershocks until you begin to squirm. He stands, licking his own wet lips and placing his own cum covered fingers into your mouth for you to clean.

Once you’re done he kisses you, groaning at the taste of himself— and then Steven captures your lips, licking the rest from your mouth. Worn looks are on all of your faces and yet desire still lingers in your eyes.

Minutes of needy kisses pass and it is decided— there’s still a bed to ruin.

#rct fic #steven grant x reader #rydal keener x reader

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toracainz · 2 months ago

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Dear heavens

Rydal is such a little cutie with way more confidence than anyone as young and as attractive as he is should have for his own good

I don’t even know if that sentence is correct or makes sense but damn what matters is the image of that man at the reader’s mercy like