the familiar keys jingling & currently being thrusted into the keyhole are enough to make you perk up from where you sat at on the couch that swallowed you.
“‘m home, sweetheart.” someone’s had a long day, judging by the sunken, navy eyes & the gruff tone in his voice that makes it sound like a growl with every word.
“hi, i missed you.” you’re immediately met with the sight of him plopping down with his back towards you, scooching back until he feels your shins. your head tilts in confusion as he hooks his hands around your calves & lifts them onto his shoulders where your knees rested.
“…you okay?”
“long day.”
that’s when you feel him lean his head back between the doughy flesh of your thighs & a pressure from his hands against the sides of your knees, is he squishing his head?
you chuckle from the tickle of the tips of his silky hair against your lap.
“weirdo, what are you doing?”
he snorts at the name & leans his head against your left thigh gently, his eyes shut in exhaustion.
“so now i’ma weirdo for being between my girls legs?”
“no,..you’re a weirdo for squishing your head with them!”
“oh, so a weirdo for loving my girls thighs?”
“…ugh”
he feels you lean back against the couch, taking it as a sign of victory for him in your little ‘weirdo battle’ & he sinks deeper between your thighs, sighing at the soft cushioning.
he’s unaware of the soft gaze from behind him, but it shows through your fingers which now gently scratch at his scalp, earning a grumble from him. “fuck, baby..”
it’s almost funny with how fast he manages to sleep, judging by the limp tilt of his head which now feel 2 pounds heavier against you & the soft snores that emerge from his parted lips. so cute.
“sleep well, baby. okay?”
you softly chuckle at his peaceful state & swipe a hand under his bangs to pull it back & you place a kiss on his forehead as if he wasn’t a six foot something sorcerer who kills people for a living, but the most delicate thing made of glass.
and to you, he was. but that’s only for you to see!
Cregan Stark welcomes Queen Rhaenyra to Winterfell—shortly after the birth of his first child with his targ!wife—only to notice that the usual protocols and ceremonies are rushed and the visitors ask for neither rest nor food after such a long journey. The Queen simply wants to see her daughter, bypassing even the wet nurse holding the baby to sit on the edge of the bed and take her child’s hand, tenderly caressing her face while her words in High Valyrian cause the Lady of Winterfell to soften into a childlike state—a side of her her husband had never seen before.
.
Rhaenyra Targaryen is welcomed at Winterfell—her first chance to meet her son-in-law in person—yet she has not the slightest interest in matters of kingdoms and lordships; her baby is inside the Great Keep. Her sweet, beloved girl—the only daughter the gods had granted her—had endured childbirth alone; oh, the poor girl, her darling little dragon. Rhaenyra will see her grandson and discuss the crown and relations with the North later; how could she prioritize such matters when her daughter is right there?
.
Daemon in King's Landing, finally as king–consort—regent while his wife its away:
hellooo this is me reminding u to write about sleepy bkg leaving ur apartment at night and begging for more kisses 🫡🫡
GO HOME! (2.5k)
— bakugou katsuki x reader
your boyfriend doesn’t want to go home.
cw: suggestive, swearing, pretty tame
“i can hear you not putting your shoes on!” you shout from your kitchen, refilling up your water bottle by your sink.
it’s nearing eleven pm on a weekday and you’re nearing the end of your bedtime routine. after finishing your final session of tussling in bed with your boyfriend, you sleepily got to showering and doing your skincare while bakugou was tasked to go back home.
you’re screwing your lid back onto your bottle, bag of popcorn under one arm as you step into your foyer. you find your boyfriend slumped in your chair for putting shoes on, doing exactly not that.
bakugou katsuki is in his thick grey socks, a random pair of black joggers he left at your flat and his oversized khaki hoodie. he looks handsome, always does, but this time he’s appearing a little disheveled. a flower wilting as the clouds begin hiding the sun.
you’re his precious sun with the energy to keep him happy and at peace, till he’s forcefully pulled from your grip.
his hoodie is unzipped, the right side awkwardly longer than the left from being dragged on in a tantrum. his white tee underneath is creased from yanking it over his head with a guttural sigh. he’s even got a water stain on it from hovering over you when you washed your face in the bathroom.
he’s got his head in his hands, legs spread with his travel duffle by his feet. he hasn’t even managed to grab his shoes off your neatly organised rack by your door.
you potter over to him, shaking your head softly with a sweet coo.
bakugou does not want to go home.
“baby. go,” you hum, dragging your slippered feet across your floor.
you tuck your body between his open legs, putting down your bottle and snacks to lightly tickle under his chin. you receive the harshest glare you’ve ever experienced from him, though it’s still miles below the ones he gives at work.
calloused hands find the bare backs of your soft thighs and lightly, he squeezes.
“you fuckin’ hate me,” he huffs, but his pout comes through. all his features softening under your attention, minus the twist in his brows. “gettin’ rid of me like this.”
you don’t miss the hickies on his neck, two maroon bruises because all you’ve done together these past few days is kiss, cuddle, eat and have sex. since bakugou became your boyfriend, he often forgets about his own apartment. his home is much larger, much more luxurious with built in speakers in the ceilings and a double headed shower. but he always lingers in yours, though he never outstays his welcome. even now.
“i don’t want you to leave but you need to pack for your mission tomorrow,” you smile, taller than him as he sits.
he feels delirious when he stuffs his face in your cotton soft stomach. you smell freshly showered, clean, cosy and like home. bakugou feels like his heart has been stabbed with a fork. he already misses you and you’re right in front of him.
it’s like he’s fighting the devil on his shoulder, to just stay over again tonight and get up early tomorrow. he can grab his shit from home and go straight there. he knows that plan will throw his whole day off tomorrow. also you hate waking up early.
he blinks at you slowly, like a cat that loves what he sees.
for you, it’s easy to get hot from his touch alone and that stare makes you nudge in closer to him. you want to sit on his lap, kiss down his neck again, despite being all over him an hour ago.
“you want me to piss off so you can watch love island,” he breathes, looking up at you with the sweetest ruby puppy dog eyes. there’s a scratchy tone to his voice, sleepiness clearly taking over though he fights it to spend a second longer with you.
you know for a fact you’re the only person in this universe that has seen katsuki like this. that thought alone makes you want to call up his job and say he can’t come in tomorrow. say he’s sick so you can cuddle his big head in your lap. who would you even call? the hero commission? his sidekicks? he is his own boss.
“i do have a load of episodes to catch up on since you’ve been here,” you say sweetly and he eyes your snacks, then your water bottle placed on the shelf beside him.
he’s a grumpy baby in a twenty seven year old, muscled man’s body. he scrunches his nose at the mention of that show. he hates all reality tv, so he says, even though he ends up asking you for details throughout every episode.
“just say you hate me,” he grunts, tilting his head up for a kiss.
you don’t give in just yet.
“i love you but you’ve gotta go. you’ll be even grumpier without sleep in the morning,” you smile.
he rolls his eyes. ever the dramatic one. “yeah, yeah. i get it. love you too.”
you stand there for a few moments. his grip on your thighs getting tighter, his chin in your stomach. he rubs his cheek against your palm, his stubble prickling against you with every move.
“you need to put your shoes on—,”
“you look so pretty like this,” he murmurs, even biting down on his bottom lip.
you narrow your eyes at him. you know exactly what he’s doing and it usually has a hundred percent success ratio.
he pulls off you, keeping his hands on your thighs to look down your body. stupidly, it causes you to look down at yourself too.
your soft pastel pink boy shorts because you get hot at night. your comfy low cut navy strappy top, that has seen better days but you have no need to replace yet. your nipples poke through the fabric and you don’t miss bakugou’s gaze wafting over them with his tongue poking his cheek.
he looks as if he’s about to moan or take a bite out of you. you can’t tell yet. you don’t mind either.
“katsuki, stop it. you were supposed to leave an hour ago,” you look to your clock beside your front door. “an hour and a half ago.”
bakugou grits his teeth then relaxes by kissing the strip of your stomach between your vest and shorts. he releases the quietest whine.
“i wanna stay here with you.”
even though he’s being dramatic, you’ll see him in less than a week, every word releases tingles down your spine.
you press a kiss to his lips, to which he eagerly pushes back. his hands sneak up to your waist holding you with purpose. it’s only a peck but everything he’s feeling is translated through.
“you’re killin’ me,” he says onto your lips.
“it’s not me, baby. you have the world to save tomorrow. you can make love to your girlfriend when you get back,” you say tenderly, brushing your thumb over his cheek.
“i’m givin’ you a good fuckin’ when i see you again.”
“you always do,” you shrug playfully and bakugou chuckles, shaking his head in resignation.
“fuck. fuck my life,” he grunts to himself, pulling his slides off your shoe rack and shoving them onto his feet.
“it feels like you’re obsessed with me, kats,” you giggle to yourself, stepping back so he has space to stand up and sling his duffle over his shoulder.
he raises one eyebrow, a huffy laugh releasing from his throat.
“hm? you think?” he takes his hand through his hair, a light pink blush on his cheeks from your attention. “‘course i fuckin’ am. i’m comin’ right back to get you when i’m done.”
you lift up on your tiptoes, hands on his pectorals, “if you say so.”
“i do say so. i am sayin’ that,” he mumbles, hands finding your ass to lift you with ease.
you wrap your legs around his waist so he doesn’t have to bend to kiss you.
“next thursday, okay?” he kisses the corner of your lips, feeling your cheeks rise. “and still text me. i’ll have my phone on me in the evenings.”
you smooth down his eyebrows with your thumbs.
“yes, dynamight sir,” you drawl, but you lean in to peck him, a noisy kiss that has him chasing after you. he moans softly.
“another.” he whispers.
with your arms wrapped around his neck, you give his bottom lip a nibble, one that causes an exasperated groan. then you slot your lips over his, pushing your tongue into his mouth to tangle against his. it’s long, wet and pulses throughout your body.
you push your chest against his as if you’re trying to merge into one, bakugou’s fingertips sinking into your ass cheeks.
it’s you that pulls away, landing two kisses on his lips for good measure.
“baby, no.” he complains.
since you’re the only one with self control here, you tap his shoulder.
“put me down now. you’ve got to go.” you say controlled and bakugou throws his head back in annoyance, “need you wide awake on the field so you don’t get hurt. i don’t wanna see a scratch on your pretty face when you come back.”
that gets him putting you down, your feet finding the floor. since getting with you, he’s much more mindful of his recklessness and getting hurt. bakugou doesn’t want to scare or upset you. you’ve become his beacon of light, his conscience and answer.
“my pretty face?” he grips the handle to his bag, a smirk rising. he’s still taking in his last few seconds.
you nod, “yes. come home safe to me.”
“i always do. don’t have to doubt me, princess.”
the pet name gets you rolling your eyes to hide how it makes your stomach do flips. he undoes both your door locks and slowly opens it with his shoulder like it weighs a tonne.
as if it’s becoming real all of a sudden, you throw yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around him in a cuddle under his hoodie. you feel complete once you stuff your cheek between his pectorals and you squeeze him tight as thick arms cradle you in. katsuki’s always warm and toasty, a tall standing mattress for you to fall asleep on.
despite you urging him to leave, it doesn’t mean your heart doesn’t ache.
“i’ll miss you,” you say, eyes squeezed shut.
you’re just as dramatic as him, you just hide it better. you’ll see him next week.
“i’ll miss you. gonna think about you when i’m on the camp site shittin’ in the woods.”
your laugh makes bakugou’s chest swell.
“you’re so annoying.”
he shrugs.
with all the power he’s ever possessed in one single time, bakugou lets you untangle from him.
“i’m gonna go now.” he looks down your empty corridor, “i could stay over tonight and leave in the mornin’—.”
“you’re not waking me up at three.”
he turns to you with a frown.
“fine. another kiss, to wish me well,” he demands.
that you can do.
a smush of your lips, you gripping his tee as his hand cups your chin.
“another. for good luck.”
you huff playfully but still you give him another kiss. one that has you opening your mouth and letting him slot his tongue in between. it goes on longer than you mean, with you dragging him closer and his hands land back on your hips.
it’s when he groans without realising, a hardening bump in his waistband pressing against your stomach.
“go now!” you say, pushing him off you and bakugou drags a palm down his face.
“fuck,” he breathes, shaking the horny off his body. not the time. “i’ll see you next week. lock the door behind me. all of them.”
“i always do!”
he flickers down your body, one step into the corridor.
bakugou bites down on his bottom lip, “i love you. can’t wait to see you again.”
you awe, gripping the door and peeking out, “i love you too. i’ll keep you updated. even send you some selfies.”
bakugou nods rapidly, “please. i won’t be able to reply quickly but i will.”
“okay, i’ll see you later.”
he’s about to step away, he swears he is though he looks back at you peeping at him.
“one last kiss then i’m outta your sight,” he promises.
you eagerly pull out from behind the door, “last one! then you have to go!”
“yeah, yeah, yeah—,” he’s rough in the way you love, placing a palm flat on your back to pull you into him. you practically fall into his arms but quickly you’re up on your tiptoes.
it’s a kiss with the energy that it could be the last one you ever have. a hero going off on a mission and leaving his beautiful girl back home. though this isn’t one of his high risk ones, heck he’s going on his own because he’s so capable. yet still the day he returns feels like forever away.
you practically eat each other's faces, unable to stay appropriate down to your last moments together. you twist to the left as he goes right, holding the back of his head so he stays close. he’s not shy to push his cock into you, letting you know all the ways he will miss you.
it’s loud and messy. it’s trying to remember every inch of him so you can recall it in your nights alone. it’s bakugou groping every part of you he can get his hands on so he can mark you as his.
your blonde sucks on your tongue and you don’t mean to palm him but he ruts into you at the contact. you moan as pleasure sparks beneath your skin, the length of him growing cupped in your palm. you’re wondering if there’s time for another session even though he was meant to leave two hours ago.
the kiss only ends because you’re both breathless, using your last breaths to connect with the other. there’s giggles from you and three extra pecks before you force yourself to step away, using your front door as a shield from your riled up boyfriend.
you watch as he adjusts himself, rolls back his shoulders in a stretch and tries to screw his head on straight.
“goodbye now. for real, kats.”
he nods sharply, stretching his jaw side to side. “bye baby. i’m hard now.”
“that’s your own fault for begging for more kisses,” you grin.
he pouts, “how couldn’t i when you look like—,”
“bye katsuki. my tv is calling me!”
“fuck,” he groans, holding onto his bag strap and throwing his head back, “bye princess.”
comments n reblogs are appreciated. part 2 comments are deleted.
Why McDanno from Hawaii 5-0 is an incredible and insane ship :
• Always calling each other babe (which yeah, for danny why not? He calls everyone babe (mostly Steve though)). But Steve he only calls Danny babe
• Constantly going on dates (like it's rarely justified as case related, sometimes the ep just starts and they're just hiking or fishing or whatever for no specific reason)
• The CONSTANT touching (I think there are multiple compilations on tumblr of just them touching each other, like them cuddling on the couch or Steve caressing Danny's neck, or Danny slapping Steve’s ass, or the regular bicep grab or torso slap)
• The I Love You's (which are only justified as platonic with I Love You, bro or I Love You man (sometimes not even that))
• The spanish "Te amo" instead of "Te quiero" translation
• "You're my Danno" (like what?)
• The whole fact that the show starts on the premis that 2.5 min after meeting Danny, Steve just changes his whole life trajectory and accepts to run a task force he didn't even want in the first place
• The usual "Basically raising a kid together" thing (Well 2 kids in their case)
• Steve mentioning that he loves Danny very much and is kind of married to him whilst he's on date with a woman
• The Carguments (they literally coined the term (I think?))
• The sharing organs thing (There was no hesitation just "here take a piece of my liver!")
• The Couple's Therapy (literal couple's therapy, Steve "misread" the pamphlet or whatever (which had a couple piggyback riding on it))
• The constant clocking of the characters ("are you talking to your wife"; "they in love again"; "I don't understand, I thought they weren't together?"; "How long have you two been married?"; "ok you two lovebirds" etc etc..)
• The buying a restaurant together (but it being a clear metaphor for marriage and the characters constantly comparing it to a marriage or referencing it like it's a marriage)
• The always entering each other's houses without knocking
• The eye fucking
• "I would have gone with the gay thing.. to you know keep our covers"
• "I'll give you a hug, I'll give you a kiss, pick a base"
• Steve caressing Danny's hand and arm
• "What are you wearing?" said over the phone
• Steve remembering exactly when they met to the minute
• "If I didn't put my finger inside of you, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now!"
• Them dancing together at Kono's wedding (+"you don't have to dance with me tonight" at Max's goodbye party)
• Danny comparing himself being worried about Steve to Tani being worried about Junior when it is heavily implied that Tani & Junior are in love
• Steve being more interested in watching a movie than making out with his girlfriend (+Plus always getting interrupted by Danny and ending up cuddling with him)
• Steve comparing himself to Danny's ex wife (After getting offended that Danny didn't consider him when making retirement plans because he just assumed it was agreed that they would spend the rest of their lives together)
• Just vibes atp
From here on out, it's mostly the actors doing things, but..
• The almost kissing blooper
• The "You've got the best ass and it's hanging out of a truck" blooper
• The fact that the actors were both on board (if I was told correctly) but that the showrunner was an absolute dick
I need to know BBs thoughts on Bobby's passion for filming. Does he try to do it just to prove he can? Does he think it's stupid?
Imagine he finds Bobby's old recordings of the reader (from before he started to distance himself, from before BB) and memorise every word, every expression of the readers and then finds himself doing the same for Bobby. I like to think that in a BB x Reader x Bobby scenario, BB becomes just as protective over Bobby.
Because obviously Reader is the very reason BB exists, he needs them like humans need oxygen. But once he accepts that Bobby isn't going anywhere (at least not without Reader being really upset) I think he'd slowly become attached to Bobby without even realising it.
Anyway, that kind of spiralled at the end (I'm an enemies to frenemies to lovers BB x Bobby truther) but I absolutely adore BB and need to see him interact with Bobby's slutty camera
so. bb's initial reaction to bobby's filming might surprise you.
because it's not that he thinks it's stupid. bb doesn't think anything bobby does is stupid, not really.
the resentment and the jealousy and the territorial snarling are all surface-level expressions of a deeper thing. which is that bb has studied bobby more meticulously than any film school could teach and he has, grudgingly, against his will, developed a respect for bobby's eye.
because bb watched bobby through the walls for a long time. watched him frame shots. watched him spend forty minutes adjusting a single light source. watched him hold junior terrence with the careful grip of someone handling something sacred. and bb understood, even before he understood much about humans at all, that bobby's relationship with the camera was the most honest thing about him. more honest than his words. more honest than his actions. the camera was where bobby put the feelings he couldn't say out loud.
bb recognised that. because bb does the same thing. not with a camera, but with himself. with his whole body. bb can't say "i love you" in a way that captures the scope of what he feels, so he says it architecturally. he dims the lights. he warms the room. he reshapes the backrooms around your sleeping body. bobby can't say "i love you" so he films.
same instinct. different medium.
so no, bb doesn't think it's stupid. what bb thinks, privately, in the part of his ancient brain that he'd never expose voluntarily, is that bobby's camera is the closest thing to bb's own method of love that a human has ever produced.
and that actually makes him uncomfortable because it means bobby is more like him than either of them wants to admit.
does he try to prove he can do it? oh, absolutely. early on, before the walls come down, before the arrangement settles. bb picks up junior terrence when bobby's not home. holds it. examines it the way he examines everything. total focus, reverse-engineering the mechanics from observation. he's seen bobby use it hundreds of times. he knows the buttons. the settings. the way bobby holds it steady against his shoulder.
he films you. just for a few seconds. you're in the kitchen doing something mundane (making food, reading, existing) and bb lifts the camera and frames the shot the way he's seen bobby frame shots and hits record.
the footage is technically perfect. the framing is precise. the focus is exact. every element of composition that bobby spent years learning through trial and error, bb replicates instantly because bb replicates everything instantly. it is, by any objective measure, a flawless shot.
it's also completely lifeless.
bb watches the playback and knows immediately that something is wrong. the shot is right but it's empty. it has no warmth. no personality. no point of view. bobby's footage (even the bad footage, even the shaky stuff, even the throwaway shots) has bobby in it.
not visually. energetically. you can feel the person behind the camera in every frame. the way the lens lingers on certain details. the way it finds light sources instinctively. the way it trembles, sometimes, when what it's pointing at is too much.
bb's footage doesn't tremble. bb's footage is a perfect empty frame and the absence in it is the absence of a self. because bobby's camera is an extension of bobby's eye and bobby's eye is an extension of bobby's heart and bb (who's been borrowing bobby's face and bobby's voice and bobby's mannerisms) cannot borrow bobby's heart. the camera requires something original.
something that comes from inside the operator. and bb is still figuring out what's inside him that isn't borrowed.
he puts junior terrence back exactly where he found it. never mentions it. files the experience under "things bobby has that I cannot replicate" alongside "the laugh" and "the dimple thing" and "the way she reaches for him."
but then.
then he finds the old tapes. the ones that work again once you return to reality and root yourself here once more.
this is the part that changes everything.
bobby keeps them in a box in the closet. unlabelled. or rather, labelled in bobby's shorthand. dates and single words. your name. places. "beach." "morning." "birthday." the personal archive. the footage that was never meant for distribution. the footage bobby shot because he couldn't help it, because pointing a camera at you was his love language before he knew he was speaking it and now that he has them back, has you back, they're once again his greatest treasure.
bb finds them because bb is curious. because bobby left the apartment and because the box was right there.
he puts the first tape in the player.
and the girl on the screen is you. but not the you he knows. this is the you from before. before the backrooms. before the neglect. before the flinch. this is you in bobby's bedroom with the golden afternoon light and your whole face is open and you're laughing (really laughing, the kind that scrunches your nose and shows your teeth, the one that makes bb feel dizzy) and bobby's voice from behind the camera says something dry and off-screen and you throw a pillow at him and the camera shakes because bobby's laughing too.
bb sits on the floor of the living room and watches all of them.
every tape. hours of footage. you at the beach with sand on your shins. you in bobby's car singing along to something on the tape deck, badly, beautifully.
you asleep on bobby's couch with the light falling across your face and bobby filming you for thirty unbroken seconds without moving because the shot was already perfect and he knew it. you turning toward the camera and mumbling "bobby, stop filming me" with a smile that means "never stop filming me." you and terrence arguing about something while bobby films from across the room, the camera shaking with his silent laughter.
bb memorises everything. every expression, angle, very version of your laugh and your voice and the way you push your hair behind your ear. he watches the tapes the way a scholar reads a primary source. reverence, hunger, with the dawning understanding that these tapes contain a version of you he was never given access to. the happy you. the unbroken you. the you that existed before bobby's distance carved the flinch into your posture.
and somewhere around the third tape (you and bobby on what looks like a road trip, you with your feet on the dashboard and bobby's hand on your thigh while he steers one-handed and the camera is propped on the dash filming both of you in profile) bb realises he's watching bobby too.
not as a rival. not as a template. watching bobby the way bobby watches you through the lens. with attention. with the slow, dawning recognition that there is something here worth looking at.
because the bobby on these tapes is not the bobby bb resents. this bobby is present. this bobby is looking at you between shots with an expression so openly adoring, bb sees himself. this bobby murmurs things off-camera that visibly fluster you. this bobby laughs (the real laugh, the one he hates) and doesn't try to catch it. this bobby is in love in a way that is stupid and gorgeous and completely unguarded.
and bb thinks: oh. this is what she's mourning. this is the boy she lost. not to death, not to distance, but to fear and comfort and the slow calcification of avoidance. this bobby (the one on the tapes, the one with the hand on your thigh and the voice behind the camera) this bobby was worth loving. this bobby IS worth loving. and he's still in there, underneath the checking out and the drifting. bb can see him. in flashes. in the moments when bobby forgets to be cool. in the way bobby's footage still trembles when the shot is too much.
bb starts filming bobby.
not with junior terrence. that's bobby's. bb gets his own camera that you help him buy. nothing fancy. secondhand. the kind of thing you'd find at a pawn shop, scuffed and functional. and he starts doing what bobby does. pointing the lens at something he wants to keep.
he films bobby in the kitchen making coffee. the way bobby's hands move. precise, habitual, the same sequence every morning. he films bobby on the couch watching TV, knee bent, the way the light from the screen plays across his jaw. he films bobby's hands on the camera equipment, the careful practiced tenderness of someone maintaining something important.
he films bobby looking at you when you're not looking at bobby. the expression that surfaces when bobby thinks nobody's watching. the one that looks exactly like the boy on the old tapes. the one that says: i'm still here. i'm still him. i'm just afraid, but i'm trying, for you.
and the footage isn't empty this time.
bb watches his own playback and the shots of bobby have something in them that the shots of you didn't. warmth. that tremble. not bobby's tremor, bb's own. bb's camera shaking because what it's pointed at has become too much and the operator is no longer objective.
bb does become protective of bobby.
gradually, completely, without his permission or awareness. one day bobby is the template he resents. then bobby is the rival he tolerates. then bobby is the co-parent of this impossible arrangement between you three. and then one morning bobby cuts his hand on a kitchen knife and bb is across the room with a towel before you've even stood up and all three of you freeze because bb just did the thing. the protective thing. the thing he does for you. the perimeter check. the threat response. the ancient instinct that says MINE and PROTECT and DON'T TOUCH—
except aimed at bobby.
and bb stands there holding a towel against bobby's bleeding hand and the look on his face is sheer horror because he didn't decide to do this. his body decided. his wiring decided. whatever ancient protective subroutine he runs for you has, without his knowledge or consent, expanded its perimeter to include the boy whose face he wears.
bobby looks at bb. looks at his own hand being held by his own hand. looks at bb's horrified expression.
"you good?" bobby asks carefully.
"fine," bb says. too fast. drops the towel, stepping back. retreats to the hallway.
bobby looks at you. you look at bobby. bobby mouths "what the fuck" and you shrug but you're grinning and bobby can see you grinning and bobby picks up the towel and wraps his own hand. he looks at the hallway where bb disappeared and bobby's expression goes thoughtful.
that night bobby leaves junior terrence on the kitchen counter with a new tape in it and a post-it note that says the battery sticks. hit it on the left side.
bb looks at the camera. looks at the note. then at the camera.
picks it up.
and the footage bb shoots with junior terrence isn't empty anymore. it has bobby's camera and bb's eye and the combination (the steady hands of something ancient holding the shaky heart of something borrowed) produces final product neither of them could have made alone.
bb doesn't show bobby the footage. bobby doesn't ask.
but bobby finds the tape later, unlabelled, tucked into the box with his old recordings, and he puts it in and watches himself from bb's perspective and sees the tremor in the frame. sees the way bb's lens lingers on bobby's hands. on bobby's jaw. your laugh. on the expression bobby wears when he thinks no one is looking. the slope of your neck. how you kiss bobby's jaw, you nose nuzzling against his pulse. tendons in his arm flexing when he holds you to him.
bobby watches the whole tape. rewinds. watches it again.
then he puts it back in the box and writes on the label in his neat handwriting: a single letter.
B.
right next to the tapes labelled with your name.
same box. same shelf. same archive of things worth keeping.
Bobby's been a shit boyfriend for months. When you disappear through a wall in the basement of Clark's furniture store, you wake up in the Backrooms, where a better version of Bobby is waiting. One who actually shows up, one who loves you, one who never, ever wants to let you go.
‽ part one / concept.
‽ part two.
‽ part three.
⸘ interlude: entity 0
‽ part four.
⸘ interlude: (b) for (b)etter
‽ part five.
‽ part six.
⸘ interlude: eighteen (coming soon)
extras:
҉ - main story canon compliant piece.
Ꮺ୧ shutter speed / camboy!bobby alt verse.
Ꮺ୧ making out w/ better bobby.
Ꮺ୧ better you! ҉
Ꮺ୧ "baby." ҉
Ꮺ୧ "open your mouth."
Ꮺ୧ pillow fort.
Ꮺ୧ in the beginning. ҉
Ꮺ୧ my, what long tongue you have.
Ꮺ୧ sunlight. ҉
Ꮺ୧ slow dancing. ҉
Ꮺ୧ rib time.
Ꮺ୧ conceiving w/ bb. / why seven.
Ꮺ୧ bb watching you w/ bobby. ҉
Ꮺ୧ intimacy hdcs w/ BB.
Ꮺ୧ memories. ҉
Ꮺ୧ cuteness aggression.
Ꮺ୧ twin au: one. / bb & bobby. / two. / three. /
Ꮺ୧ mr. kitty. / more mr kitty. ҉
Ꮺ୧ entity discourse.
Ꮺ୧ tolerance.
Ꮺ୧ giddy.
Ꮺ୧ real face.
Ꮺ୧ poly au: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].
Ꮺ୧ "i know a spot."
Ꮺ୧ dreams. ҉
Ꮺ୧ perfect shot. ҉
Ꮺ୧ pretty thing.
Ꮺ୧ if it purrs, it... ҉
Ꮺ୧ a chase.
Ꮺ୧ ticklish.
⎋ M.E.G. ENTITY 0 — RESEARCH FILE INDEX:
↹ MEG-ENT-0000-ADDM-██ — Restricted Addendum: Reproductive Capability Assessment (Filed Under Protest)
↹ MEG-ENT-0000-IR-0-31 — INCIDENT REPORT — FIELD OBSERVATION
Pegging Adrian from behind with your hand over his mouth so he will finally shut up. Except he just ends up whinging and drooling into your palm instead 😋
OTTIEEE i screamed a lil bit im ngl 😵💫 mocking him for being so stupidly loud, telling him if he can't be quiet you're gonna stop and that just makes adrian whine louder because of course he's a spoiled little brat when he's at the receiving end, the fact that he's testing your patience makes you edge him for a little bit, dragging out your hips until he can only feel the ghost of it pushing inside him, and adrian immediately starts begging against your palm, his voice muffled but still SO loud and panicked "oooohhhhhh shit! nonononnonoo- mphhhfuck! please babe- don't stop! - i'll be quiet- i promise"
Summary: There are battles even the strongest swordsman can’t win with a blade. Sometimes, all Zoro can do is stay by your side and hope the people he trusts make it back in time.
Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could make a Zoro x reader, and reader is sick because she was poisoned and the rest of the Strawhats go find the cure but Zoro an Chopper stay wirh reader (they're kind of a found family inside the strawhats, chopper is the son and reader the mom and Zoro the dad) Zoro and reader are dating. Please and thankyou🌸
Word count: about 9k+
Contains: hurt/comfort, established relationship, protective Zoro, devoted Zoro, lovesick Zoro, vulnerable Zoro, caretaker Zoro, Chopper being the sweetest little doctor, Straw Hat Pirates friendship, found family, poison, antidote hunt, emotional comfort, hand holding, gentle touches, sleepless nights, quiet confessions, recovery, happy ending.
Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n a few times, poisoning, serious illness, fever, delirium, blood, injury, medical treatment, emotional distress, temporary discussions of death, no major character death.
On the churning, overcast sea, the Going Merry cut through the waves with difficulty, carrying a crew that had only just come within a hair's breadth of suffering a far crueler fate.
A vicious pirate crew had seized control of an island. That, in itself, was hardly a problem for the Straw Hats, who had once again brought freedom to another helpless town. Still, victory had been anything but easy.
Chopper was still tending to everyone’s injuries, especially Sanji’s, after one of the scoundrels had ambushed him from behind and driven a blade deep into the side of his abdomen.
There hadn’t even been time to celebrate or properly recover before the Marines had inevitably appeared, as they so often did, arriving only after the fighting was over and there was no need for their so-called heroics. Besides, the Log Pose had already settled on its next destination, making it painfully obvious that setting sail immediately was the smartest option.
Compared to the others, you would have said you’d gotten off rather lightly. Your only injury was a shallow slash across your side, left by the enemy swordsman’s massive blade after it barely grazed you.
Of course, that had been more than enough to earn him Zoro’s wrath.
Not only had the coward avoided facing a fellow swordsman in a honorable duel, he’d committed the one offense Zoro considered utterly unforgivable.
He had laid a hand on the woman he loved.
The seas would run dry and mountains would split of their own accord before the green-haired swordsman allowed something like that to happen. Least of all without consequences.
He hadn’t been thrilled when you’d stubbornly insisted there was no need for your sweet little reindeer doctor to examine you afterward, brushing the wound off as nothing.
Still, he knew better than to argue.
After all, he wasn't exactly any better when it came to accepting treatment himself.
And, truth be told, you genuinely looked perfectly fine.
You were still full of energy, and aside from the cut itself, there wasn’t so much as a bruise on your face, arms, or anywhere else anyone could easily see.
Maybe he'd simply grown soft since you'd become part of his life.
Or maybe spending so much time around that infuriating lovestruck cook had started rubbing off on him.
Whatever the reason, the mere thought of you losing so much as a single hair was enough to fill him with a level of unease and fury he’d never experienced before. Somewhere along the way, your safety had quietly become the foremost objective of every battle he fought.
Looking back, perhaps the first warning sign should have been when you sat with Luffy and Usopp, listening to yet another one of the sniper's wildly exaggerated adventure tale.
Normally, stories like those had you doubled over with laughter.
This time, they earned nothing more than a faint, tired smile through half-lidded eyes.
Then again…
Who wouldn’t get tired of those two idiots eventually?
Maybe today was simply one of those days.
The next odd thing came when you turned down Sanji’s chocolate soufflé with vanilla ice cream, which he’d enthusiastically prepared the moment Chopper finally released him from his worried little hooves, a fresh bandages still wrapped around his stomach.
You had an infamous sweet tooth.
It was rare for you to refuse dessert of any kind.
Still, you insisted your stomach was simply unsettled after the excitement of the battle and promised you’d indulge a little later, thanking the blond cook with your usual warmth that even he couldn't bring himself to argue.
Once the Merry finally reached calmer waters, and after you’d finished helping Nami with navigation, it was even stranger that you declined her invitation to lounge on deck with Robin, reading and chatting over drinks while Sanji eagerly fussed over the three of you.
You claimed you were simply exhausted.
You’d taken the night watch before dawn, your eyelids felt unbearably heavy, and if you lay down now, you’d fall asleep instantly.
You didn’t want that.
You wanted to wake yourself up instead.
To accomplish that, you'd decided to train with your boyfriend.
Had anyone been worried before, that alone would've been enough to dismiss every suspicion. It was practically unheard of for you and the green-haired swordsman to go more than a day or two without training together.
Although your fighting styles differed considerably, that was precisely what made your sessions so valuable. Where one lacked experience, the other compensated.
A grin tugged at Zoro's lips as he launched into his usual Oni Giri stance, only for you to slip past him with practiced ease, darting around him as though you'd vanished altogether.
There.
That was more like it.
You stumbled ever so slightly.
Still, you recovered quickly enough to throw a counterpunch, only to arrive a fraction of a second too late.
Your mosshead deflected it effortlessly with a familiar click of his tongue.
“Tch. You’re slow,” he said, studying you carefully as he swung again. “Focus. I won’t go easy on you. And neither will anyone else."
You knocked the attack aside and immediately answered with one of your own, rolling your eyes as you did.
“Wouldn’t dream of asking you to.”
Finding the opening you’d been waiting for, you drove your fist forward and knocked him off balance.
“I won’t go easy on you either.”
He smirked.
For a moment, pride and competitive excitement lit his face.
Then they vanished, replaced by unmistakable concern.
“…Y/N?”
You looked unusually pale.
And were you…
Swaying?
He was on his feet in an instant, closing the distance between you before resting one rough, calloused hand against your forehead.
His eyes widened.
You were freezing.
Not merely cool to the touch, but so cold that it almost burned against his skin, while tiny beads of sweat gathered and stuck hairs plastered to your forehead with a contradiction that made no sense at all.
You caught his wrist and gently pushed his hand away.
“It’s nothing,” you murmured. “Guess the rain from this morning got into my bones.”
Taking a nearby towel, you lowered yourself onto the floor.
The room spun for a fleeting moment.
Something you would never, under any circumstances, admit to your caring overly protective boyfriend disguised as a grumpy brute.
“Tch. How’s that ‘nothing’ when you’re shaking like someone tossed you into the freezing depths around Drum Island?”
He tossed his swords aside and sat beside you.
“Come on. We’re going to Chopper.”
He reached for your hand, intending to pull you to your feet, but you stubbornly refused to budge.
“If I’m not feeling better later, we’ll go. I don’t want to worry him over something so silly. The poor kid’s been through enough today.”
You reached up with icy fingers and gently stroked his cheek.
Typical.
Absolutely typical.
Part of him was annoyed.
The rest of him was, rather inconveniently, softened by that stubborn kindness of yours.
That was just like you.
Whenever things became chaotic—and with the Straw Hats, chaotic days were hardly uncommon—simply because, as you always put it, you didn't want to "be a burden."
He studied you once more, lingering on those impossibly kind eyes, eyes so deep that he'd always been able to glimpse the quiet strength hidden behind them.
Lightly flicking your forehead, he pulled you firmly into his chest instead.
His warm, solid body wrapped around your trembling one, and without thinking, you melted into your grumpy swordsman in a silent attempt to steal as much of his warmth as you possibly could.
It always felt safe in his arms.
Now more than ever.
"If you're not feeling better in twenty minutes," he muttered, burying his face in your hair, "I'm dragging you to Chopper myself, and I don't care how much you beg, argue, or threaten to curse me."
Several quiet minutes passed before he reluctantly decided that a warm cup of tea might do you some good.
The moment he shifted, trying to unwrap his arms from around you, you protested immediately, nestling even closer and pulling them right back around yourself before he could get very far.
"Tch. Easy there, woman," he grumbled, unable to stop the corner of his mouth from twitching upward despite himself. "I'll be back in a minute."
Ignoring your sleepy little complaints, he reluctantly pried himself free.
“I’ll be back,” he repeated, casting one last worried glance your way.
He looked over his shoulder one last time.
You’d already curled into yourself, trying to preserve what little warmth remained.
Sighing, fully aware there was no point telling you to go lie down in the girls’ quarters because he’d almost certainly end up carrying you there anyway, he headed for the kitchen.
Fortunately, it was empty.
He immediately began rummaging through the neatly arranged cabinet.
What kind of tea do you even make for someone like this?
Rosehip?
Green tea?
Mint?
Chamomile?
Maybe sage?
Or lady’s mantle?
He was still squinting at the labels when the most irritating voice on the entire ship rang out behind him.
“Get your filthy paws off my perfectly organized cabinet!”
Curly Brows practically hissed the words.
“What do you want?”
Zoro shot him an irritated glance and grabbed the first tea packet he could reach.
“None of your business, cook.”
He waited for the kettle to finish boiling.
That only deepened the blond's disbelief.
"I'm sorry... what?"
He eyed the teabag in Zoro's hand with open suspicion.
“What does a clumsy gorilla like you need tea for? Or is this just a distraction while you raid my sake stash again?”
Zoro slammed a fist onto the counter, splashing boiling water over the rim of the mug.
“Would you shut up? I can drink whatever the hell I want.”
Snatching the mug, he stormed out, leaving Sanji grumbling behind him as he wiped up the spilled water.
When he returned to the Crow's Nest, where the two of you had been training, you immediately tried to stand the moment you heard him come in.
One eyebrow lifted as he took in your face.
Your cheeks had regained a faint flush.
“What're you getting up for?”
He awkwardly held the steaming mug toward you.
“Here.”
You accepted it with shaky hands, smiling despite yourself.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Taking a careful sip of the warm herbal tea, you couldn't help smiling a little wider. The fact that your rough, soft-hearted swordsman had brewed it himself was obvious enough from the tea being completely plain—no honey, no lemon, nothing Sanji ever would've allowed to leave his kitchen—yet somehow that only made it sweeter.
“I’m already feeling much better.”
A faint blush dusted Zoro’s cheeks at the nickname, but he kept watching you closely.
Your lips were still unnaturally pale.
Even holding the mug seemed to take effort.
He stepped toward you, reaching for your hand, only to pause the instant your skin met his.
Moments ago, it had been ice cold.
His brows drew together as he tightened his grip ever so slightly before placing the back of his hand against your forehead, his eyes widening in genuine alarm.
Only minutes ago you'd been cold enough to make his fingertips ache.
Now you were scorching, your skin hot as the steel upon which Wado Ichimonji itself had once been forged.
"Woman..."
His voice came out lower than he'd intended.
“You’re burning hot.”
You laughed weakly.
“Now isn’t really the time for compliments.”
He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes in a way that barely concealed his relief that you still had enough energy left to tease him.
“Come on. We're going.”
He tugged gently at your arm.
"No," you protested with the same stubbornness that always managed to test the limits of his patience. "I don't feel sick at all. I'm just tired."
Enough was enough.
This is for your own good.
He was already preparing to scoop you into his arms and carry you to the infirmary himself.
He never got the chance.
The rapid clatter of tiny hooves echoed across the wooden floor before a small pair of antlers poked through the doorway.
“Y/N!”
Chopper beamed, a book tucked carefully beneath one arm.
“I brought the book we’re reading before bed tonight. I think it’s the one you mentioned—”
The smile vanished from his face almost instantly.
He hurried over.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s not feel—”
“It’s okay, dear Chopper,” you interrupted brightly before Zoro could finish, already pushing yourself to your feet. “I think I just caught a little cold.”
You smiled as though nothing whatsoever was out of the ordinary.
“Zoro’s making a fuss, you know how he is. Hypocrite. As if he’d ever let you examine him over something this small.”
You lifted the mug ever so slightly.
“See? I'm perfectly fi—”
You took one step.
Then another.
Tiny green specks suddenly danced across your vision as darkness began closing in around them, spreading slowly from the edges until it swallowed everything before your eyes.
It felt as though something impossibly heavy had wrapped itself around your body and pulled you downward like a stone, while the mug slipped from your fingers, striking the wooden floor before rolling away, its warm contents spilling across the planks.
For one strange, suspended moment, it felt less like falling and more like flying.
Like drifting through a dream where the ground never came.
In reality, strong arms caught you before you ever hit the floor, pulling you tightly against a broad chest while voices called your name somewhere in the distance, their words swallowed beneath the persistent ringing in your ears.
You couldn't make out anything beyond that dull buzzing and those muffled voices, only the strange sensation that you were moving farther and farther away, as though you were no longer standing on solid ground at all, but floating gently downstream, wherever the current chose to carry you.
The tiny infirmary was filled with a chaotic chorus of voices, some calm and collected, others bordering on outright panic.
“Lay her down like this.”
“I’ll get the thermometer!”
“Robin, cold water!”
“Nami, grab some towels.”
“Everyone, back up a little. She needs air.”
“Sanji-kun, panicking isn’t helping right now! Go prepare the herbal stimulant mixture for me. It’s on the shelf in the left corner, second-to-last bottle.”
Everyone rushed about in a frenzy.
Everyone except Zoro.
He still held you tightly against his chest, barely registering the commotion around him until Chopper called his name several times.
“Zoro… Zoro!”
“I can’t examine Y/N properly unless you let her go.”
Only then did the green-haired swordsman realize how fiercely he’d been holding you, as though loosening his grip would somehow make you slip away.
Unsure of what else to do, he reluctantly did as Chopper asked.
He stepped back, lowered himself onto a stool in the corner of the room, and buried his face in his hands.
He felt useless.
His mind replayed the entire day over and over, tormenting him with every missed warning sign.
He’d noticed every little hint that something wasn’t right.
Every single one.
And yet he’d still let you convince him it was nothing.
She sparred with me… I knew she looked pale…
I should’ve made her come here sooner.
Nami hurried back with everything Chopper had asked for and looked down at you anxiously.
“She probably just pushed herself too hard,” she murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from your pale, sleeping face. “She’s been overworking herself lately.”
Sanji appeared beside the bed almost instantly, handing Chopper the strange herbal concoction he’d prepared.
“Exactly, Nami-san! Our hardworking, wonderful Y/N has completely exhausted her poor little body! She’s been fighting nonstop this past week, insisted on taking night watch, and then this heartless marimo made her train on top of all that!” He glanced toward Zoro. “Is that why you came looking for tea?”
Zoro didn’t answer.
He simply stared at the floor.
“…No.”
Chopper’s voice was quiet as he checked your pulse.
His expression changed instantly.
He counted again and his face paled.
“This isn’t good.”
He gently lifted one of your eyelids and shone a small light into your pupil.
“Her pulse is much slower than it should be… And her breathing’s labored. This isn’t exhaustion.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Even Luffy, how ever unusual it may be, had nothing to say.
Carefully, Chopper lifted the hem of your shirt to examine the cut on your side.
Then he froze.
The wound looked nothing like it had only a few hours ago.
If it had been healing normally, a thin scab should already have started forming.
Instead…
The skin surrounding it had turned an unnatural shade.
So dark it was almost purple.
Tiny blood vessels had burst beneath the surface, spiderwebbing around the wound.
Medical books were scattered across the infirmary floor.
Stacks of them surrounded Chopper, while Robin knelt beside him, helping him flip frantically through page after page.
With tears welling in his eyes, the little doctor desperately searched for any poison whose symptoms matched yours.
Dozens of books later…
Nothing.
He’d ordered everyone else to keep you awake, terrified that if you drifted off to sleep, your pulse might slow even further.
Nami quietly replaced the cold compress on your forehead.
Sanji hovered nearby, fussing over you even more than usual, trying to coax you into taking soup, broth, vitamin tonics… anything that might bring even a little color back to your face.
Usopp enthusiastically launched into one ridiculous story after another, while Luffy, partly out of habit and partly in an earnest attempt to keep you awake, repeatedly patted the mattress or nudged your shoulder.
Each attempt earned him an immediate chorus of horrified protests.
“Easy!”
Sanji barked, promptly introducing the captain’s face to the floor with the sole of his foot.
Throughout it all, Zoro remained silent.
Motionless.
Sitting beside your bed, he held your cold hand in both of his, absentmindedly stroking your wrist every so often, never once taking his eyes off your barely-open ones.
“Damn it!”
Chopper’s small voice cracked.
A heavy book slammed into a shelf.
Then another rustle.
In equal parts fear and frustration, Chopper hurled yet another useless medical text aside. It struck one of the shelves, knocking loose a massive old encyclopedia.
The worn leather cover had been rubbed so smooth that even its title had long since disappeared.
Robin picked it up first.
“…Chopper.”
“...I know this.”
Together they quickly realized it wasn’t a medical encyclopedia at all.
It was a collection of records describing the unique flora, fauna, and natural characteristics of various islands in this region of the Grand Line.
Tucked away within one small section was a passage describing a rare toxin extracted from a plant found only in the forests of the very island they’d just left.
Long ago, the island’s warriors had coated their weapons with it.
The poison was infamous because even the smallest scratch was enough.
The victim would appear perfectly fine at first.
Days later, horrifying symptoms would begin to emerge, ending in certain death if left untreated.
“Quick! I need a sample!”
Chopper bolted toward your bedside, ushering everyone out of the infirmary.
He hesitated only briefly before allowing Zoro to stay.
The little reindeer hurriedly prepared his instruments before carefully moving toward the wound.
“I’m sorry, Y/N…”
His voice trembled.
“This is going to hurt. But we’ll save you.”
“…Do you hear me?”
Tears blurred his vision as he searched your half-lidded eyes for any sign that you could still hear him.
Almost imperceptibly… you smiled.
Then gave the faintest little nod.
Without a word, Zoro tightened his grip around your hand.
By the time the anchor was dropped off the neighboring island and the sails had been lowered, the Straw Hats had already worked out a plan.
Chopper had compiled a list of every herb they would need, complete with careful sketches to help identify them.
“You have to be as fast as possible.” His voice wavered despite his best efforts to steady it. “Robin, Sanji, you’re looking for the Frostveil Bellflower. It looks like an ordinary daffodil, only slightly larger, but we need its root. You’re also searching for the Veinshadow Nightbloom. It resembles a dark violet, except its leaves and petals are shaped like aloe. You’ll find both deeper in the forest.”
He turned to the others.
“Luffy, Nami, Usopp, search the open fields and ask the locals if they’ve seen either the Cryofern Rose or the Venomspire Lily.”
His little hoof tapped anxiously against the floor.
“Don’t lose the drawings. We have to be absolutely certain.”
He looked down at the papers scattered across the desk.
“The best outcome would be finding all of them…”
His voice cracked.
“…but even one of these plants could make all the difference. Every minute matters.”
As he began folding the sketches with trembling hooves, Robin rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
She’d already memorized every single plant.
Not only the ones assigned to her and Sanji, but the others as well.
Just in case.
“We’ll bring back everything we find,” she said gently, her voice calm and unwavering. “As quickly as we can.”
Luffy adjusted his straw hat and gave a thoughtful nod before flashing the bright grin everyone needed.
“She’ll be okay before you know it! …Right?”
He walked over to your bed and cheerfully smacked a hand against your knee.
“Captain!”
A chorus of horrified voices immediately filled the infirmary once again, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of Zoro’s swords shifting ever so slightly in warning.
Your eyelids fluttered open just a fraction, enough for Luffy's grin to widen even further.
“We’re gonna be even faster than ya think! So hang in there, okay? You’d better be there to welcome us back!”
“I will,” you whispered, your voice rough and barely audible.
A tiny smile found its way onto your lips.
Your caring crew hurried to prepare for departure.
Usopp busied himself checking his ammunition, stuffing his arsenal of gadgets and improvised weapons into his satchel.
Nami spread a map across the table, carefully marking routes and possible search areas while assigning responsibilities.
Despite the obvious fear in his eyes, Usopp straightened his back and bravely declared that he'd question every local they came across if he had to.
At one point Sanji slipped out without a word.
When he returned several minutes later, he was carrying two wicker baskets and a backpack slung over one shoulder.
Nami frowned.
“…What’s all that?”
“Our supplies,” he replied, patting the backpack, though that much hardly needed explaining.
“And these…” He carefully placed the baskets on Chopper's reading desk. “…are for these two idiots.”
He nodded toward Zoro and the the reindeer.
“They'd forget to eat altogether if we left them to their own devices. This way they'll have everything within arm's reach.”
Only then did he turn to Chopper.
His voice softened immediately.
“I’ve already made enough soup to last our dear Y/N-swan three days. There are vitamin drinks in the refrigerator.”
It was his quiet way of lifting at least one burden from the shoulders of an overwhelmed doctor and a devastated swordsman.
At least they wouldn’t have to worry about cooking.
Sanji stepped over to your bedside and carefully tucked the blanket more securely around your shoulders, as though a little extra warmth could somehow chase the illness away.
“Don’t you worry, dear Y/N-swan. You’ll be back on your feet before you know it. We’ll make sure of it.”
His eyes drifted to Zoro, who had remained seated beside your bed all this time, rooted to the floor, the conversations around him barely reaching his ears.
Sanji rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a brief, sympathetic squeeze.
“Come on, mosshead. Snap out of it. She's tough. We'll find everything and be back before you know it.”
The green-haired swordsman gave the faintest grunt.
It was his own peculiar way of acknowledging both the words and the gesture.
He’d memorized every herb himself, despite having no intention of leaving the ship.
Someone had to protect Chopper.
Someone had to protect the Merry.
Most importantly…
Someone had to stay with you.
He hated how utterly useless he felt.
Yet the thought of leaving your side—even for five minutes—not knowing whether he'd ever see you again, was unbearable. Worse than any agony he had endured, worse than every wound that had ever carved itself into his body.
His rough fingertips absentmindedly traced the delicate bones of your hand, gently rubbing his thumb over your fingertips as he silently blamed himself for everything.
Most of all for the fact that this wasn’t something he could simply cut down.
He would’ve carved a path through every forest on the Grand Line.
He would’ve burned the world itself, from the depths of hell to the highest heavens if it meant finding even one cure that could save you.
“I can’t go after it.”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Even saying the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“So I’m doing the only thing I can. I’m keeping you here until they bring it back.”
He swallowed hard against the lump tightening his throat.
“You hear me?”
His fingers closed around yours a little more firmly.
“You don’t leave before they get back.”
One by one, the crew turned toward the exit.
Each of them had spoken to you before leaving, offering encouragement, reassurance, hope.
Whether you could truly hear them or not didn’t matter.
They wanted you to know they’d do everything they could.
“We’ll be back soon!” Luffy called as he reached the door.
Then, for the first time since this nightmare had begun, another voice cut through the room.
“Bring back everything,” Zoro said without taking his worry-clouded eyes off you. “Even if you’re not sure it’s the right plant.”
The crew paused.
Nobody needed him to explain.
If there was even the slightest chance a plant could help…
Chopper would figure it out.
“Aye, aye!”
And with that, they broke into a run, disappearing from the deck into the island’s forests, leaving behind the quiet infirmary and the dear, weathered little ship that—for what felt like the first time ever—had fallen unnaturally silent.
No laughter.
No shouting or bickering.
No clatter from the kitchen.
No footsteps racing across the deck.
The Merry felt impossibly still.
Almost mournful.
As though even its little sheep figurehead had drawn its wooden mouth into a sorrowful frown and quietly wept alongside the crew.
Tiny hooves worked diligently, cleaning your wound as carefully as possible, trying to remove every trace of the poison before replacing the blood-soaked bandages with fresh ones.
The moment the white gauze came away, what little color remained in Chopper’s face vanished.
The strange discoloration had spread farther, while the darkened veins branching from it had only grown more pronounced.
At first glance, someone might have thought the wound was improving. It bled less than before.
But the wound itself told a far different story.
Barely conscious, you watched the little reindeer through heavy eyelids as he apologized every single time he had to touch the injury, knowing full well how much it hurt.
At Zoro’s insistence, Chopper hurriedly showed him exactly how to clean and redress it.
The swordsman was determined to do something.
Anything.
Even through the haze clouding your mind, you somehow found the strength to lift your hand and rest it atop the fluffy doctor’s hat.
That little reindeer…
You remembered the story he'd once told you—the loneliness, the rejection, the years he had spent believing he had no place in the world—and the moment you'd heard it, you'd known that if he ever chose to join your crew, you would do everything in your power to protect him.
Just as you had.
Your fingers weakly patted the top of his reddish-pink hat.
“…You always apologize. You don’t have to.”
Your gaze drifted toward the small window in the infirmary door.
Darkness had swallowed the sky.
Had you really slept through the entire day?
“…Did you two eat?”
A familiar click of the tongue answered you before words ever did.
Zoro carefully lifted a glass of water to your dry lips.
“Do you ever stop, woman?”
His calloused hands tilted the glass with surprising care, though not quite enough to keep a few stray drops from slipping down your chin.
You looked up at him.
Something about him felt…
Wrong.
Lost.
You’d never seen him look like that before.
“So... you didn’t.”
“We did.”
His answer came immediately.
“You wouldn't know. You were asleep.”
Brushing the damp strands of hair away from your face, he let the back of his fingers linger against your forehead long enough to check your temperature while Chopper quietly slid the thermometer into place once more.
“Think about yourself for a change. Tch. Just rest.”
He adjusted your pillow before settling back into the chair beside your bed.
Whether it was the gentle rocking of the Merry or simply the exhaustion weighing down every inch of your body, you couldn’t tell.
Warm, heavy drowsiness slowly settled over you once again, drawing you back into sleep's embrace.
When the thermometer finally chimed and displayed yet another disappointing number, neither of your boys said a word.
They merely let out quiet, weary sighs, and Chopper rested his head beside your legs.
The quiet scrape of wood against the floor broke the silence.
He looked up just in time to see Zoro opening one of the baskets Sanji had prepared before pushing it toward him.
“I’m not hungry,” Chopper murmured, barely audible.
His forehead still rested against the edge of your bed.
“You are.”
No answer.
“Chopper.”
Only the steady rhythm of waves against the hull.
“Eat.”
Zoro pulled out a sandwich and all but shoved it into the little doctor’s hooves.
“Or I’ll feed you myself.”
A pause.
“You know she’d be worried sick if she found out.”
Only after Chopper reluctantly took it did Zoro grab one for himself.
“Tch. Unbelievable. Even now she’s still nagging us about eating.”
His voice faded into little more than a whisper.
I’d sooner let the fires of hell swallow me whole…
Be forgotten by the world…
Lose every battle I’d ever fight…
…than never hear that nagging again.
It was the dead of night.
The hour sailors called the witching hour, when even the sea itself seemed to be asleep.
Zoro jolted awake from a dream he hadn’t even realized he’d fallen into, his heart still racing.
He’d been running as fast as his legs would carry him, chasing that damned pirate just as the bastard lunged toward you with his blade once again. He had been close enough to stop him—close enough that one more step would have done it—but the instant he swung, all three of his swords shattered into countless pieces, scattering across the ground before he could reach you..
He took a slow breath, forcing his pulse to settle, and looked up.
You were still there and breathing.
Reality, mercifully, had turned out kinder than the nightmare.
His hand still rested around yours.
Something else, however, weighed across his lap.
Warm.
Tiny.
Soft.
Blinking the last remnants of sleep away, he looked down.
Chopper had somehow curled up against him, fast asleep, his hat lying forgotten near Zoro’s feet.
…How did this even happen?
He honestly couldn’t remember.
Carefully rolling the stiffness from his neck, Zoro slid one arm beneath the little doctor and gently lifted him.
He froze for a moment when Chopper stirred.
But the reindeer only mumbled something unintelligible before settling again.
Zoro tucked him into the spare bed in the infirmary before quietly returning to your side.
He brought your cold hand to his lips, holding it just tightly enough to remind himself you were still there.
“You still owe me that rematch.”
His fingers slowly combed through your tangled hair.
“You cheated. You counted that punch after I told you it didn’t.”
He enclosed your hand between both of his, warming it with his own breath as though the two of you were stranded somewhere in the snow.
Idiot.
“Don’t you dare think I forgot.”
The bitter, slightly sour taste of another vitamin tonic still lingered on your tongue.
You could barely keep your thoughts together, though the clumsy way your green-haired brute of a boyfriend and your tiny, fluffy son fussed over you almost made you smile.
The moment you weakly gestured that you wanted water, they both jumped to their feet at the exact same time.
Before either of them reached it…
The Den Den Mushi rang.
Zoro picked up the receiver while Chopper hurried to bring you a fresh glass.
“Any luck?” Zoro asked quietly.
Static crackled.
“Not yet.”
“Keep looking.”
He hung up without another word before gently replacing the cold compress on your forehead.
The deep furrow between his brows hadn’t left in days.
Neither had sleep.
Chopper looked just as exhausted, dark circles settling beneath his small eyes.
“…Sorry…”
Both of them leaned toward you instantly.
“What?”
“…Trouble…”
Chopper broke first.
He buried his face against Zoro’s leg as quiet sobs shook his tiny body.
Zoro simply closed his eyes.
Absolutely typical.
Even now, you were apologizing.
The mountains in your chest rose with trembling effort before sinking again, as though each breath was saying its own reluctant farewell.
After setting aside the bowl of soup that had ended up spilled across the blankets far more than it’d ended up inside you, Chopper quietly sat beside your bed and watched your frail figure..
Life had become so much brighter after joining the Straw Hats.
After meeting you.
He had found safety beneath the wings of his new family, but most of all in your embrace, and against Zoro's broad chest—or, more often, behind his legs whenever danger appeared and instinct sent him running toward the strongest place he knew.
You read bedtime stories to him.
Made cookies together after persuading Sanji to let you take over the kitchen.
Prepared hot chocolate.
Patched up the little injuries he brushed off after training.
Comforted him after difficult days.
Wandered flower fields and collected medicinal herbs beside him.
Played with him until sunset.
Made him go to bed when he got lost in his studies.
Now…
He was the one caring for you.
Changing your bandages.
Replacing the cold compresses.
Counting every heartbeat.
He’d even tried reading the very book he’d brought the day you collapsed, hoping some part of you could still hear him.
The words never made it halfway down the first page.
His voice gave out.
His little body shook with tears.
“Oi.”
Zoro was beside him immediately.
“What happened?”
“I-I-if I’d n-noticed the cut sooner… We would’ve had hours... hours more to hel her. I f-f-failed her…”
“Don’t.”
The word came sharp.
Firm.
“No.”
Zoro blamed himself enough already.
There was nothing the kid could have done.
“We’ll make it.”
It sounded less like reassurance…
…and more like a prayer offered to whoever might still be willing to listen.
They hadn’t heard from the others by the time a storm rolled in.
Not that it mattered much. Shut away inside the infirmary, they barely noticed the rain hammering against the ship.
What frightened them far more was that, like the sea outside, you too had become restless.
You tossed restlessly beneath the blankets as beads of sweat rolled endlessly down your temples. Your body burned with fever, yet shivered uncontrollably, but that wasn’t the worst part.
What truly terrified them was when you began talking to people who weren’t there.
Reliving memories no one else could see.
Sometimes your voice turned bright.
Almost joyful.
You smiled with innocent happiness, speaking as though you were once again leading Chopper through a field of spring flowers on some long-forgotten island.
"Come on," you laughed softly, reaching into empty air. "Give me your hoof. Let's race to that tree over there."
Your hand missed him entirely as you tried to sit up, only for your boyfriend's strong arms to ease you gently back against the pillows.
Then, without warning...
...the dream became a nightmare.
“No… Please… Let him go!”
You shook your head frantically as tears streamed down your face.
Zoro and Chopper kept calling your name, trying to pull you back, but nothing reached you.
“I’ll do anything… Just let him go… No…”
Chopper couldn’t bear it anymore.
He broke down crying too.
Meanwhile Zoro stroked your arm, calling your name over and over, trying to gently shake you awake, speaking in a voice so impossibly soft that even he hadn't known he possessed it.
He had no idea how much time had passed while he held you against his chest, rocking you with slow, instinctive motions as Chopper clung silently to his leg.
Only after your breathing finally settled did he notice how violently his own hands were trembling.
Some time later, you drifted back to yourself just long enough to weakly beckon the little doctor closer.
“You’ll take care of everyone for me… right?”
Before Chopper could even react...
Zoro answered. Firmly and immediately.
“You aren’t going anywhere. So stop talking like that.”
He took your hand again, replacing the cold compress on your forehead with the other.
“Save your strength. Especially if you’re just going to keep saying crap like that.”
Afterward, he muttered a quiet apology under his breath before leaving to make yet another cup of tea from the herbs Chopper kept in the infirmary.
Maybe this one will help.
The storm inside his chest only grew fiercer.
Helplessness.
Fear.
Guilt.
Rage so fierce it barely fit inside him.
They had cornered him from every direction.
Before heading toward the galley, he stopped beside the ship's railing and drove his fist into the wood with all the strength he had.
The impact echoed through the empty deck.
It hurt.
But not nearly enough.
The little reindeer’s fluffy head had quite literally fallen into one of the medical books, finally defeated by the relentless pull of exhaustion.
The poor kid had done everything he possibly could. Every medicine had been administered on schedule, every bandage changed, every vitamin tonic and herbal remedy coaxed into you. Your fever had finally, stubbornly, come down a little, and your pulse had stabilized enough for him to breathe.
For what felt like the hundredth time, strong arms carefully lifted him from where he’d fallen asleep and carried him to the spare bed, tucking the blanket around him with all the clumsy care of someone terrified of waking him.
“He wore himself out,” your voice rasped quietly through the silence. “Both of you did.”
Zoro returned to his place beside you, lowering himself to one knee next to the bed as his calloused fingers brushed through your hair before tracing the increasingly pronounced curve of your cheekbone.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
Gathering what little strength remained, you lifted a trembling hand and cupped his cheek.
“…Are you scared?”
“No.”
The answer came through gritted teeth.
“…Liar.”
A faint smile tugged at your lips.
“As if there’d be anything to fear. Those idiots will come barging back with the cure any minute now.”
“Zoro… if…”
“No.”
He cut you off immediately, refusing to hear whatever was coming next.
“If something…”
You tried again.
Two fingers came to rest lightly over your lips—not harshly, but with quiet resolve.
“Don’t waste your strength on things that aren’t happening.”
He drew in a slow breath, his gaze drifting upward for the briefest moment before returning to yours.
“You made me a promise. No backing out now.”
Across the room, Chopper stirred in his sleep.
His half-asleep ears twitched at the sound of your voices.
He didn’t dare move.
Didn’t dare make a sound.
“…I don’t know how to do this without you,” Zoro admitted quietly.
“You don’t get to…”
His voice faltered.
“We’re supposed to chase our dreams together. You promised all of us... You promised me... and the kid.”
The little reindeer’s ears slowly drooped against the pillow.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pretending to remain asleep so he wouldn’t interrupt.
Silence settled between the two of you.
Long enough that Chopper thought the conversation had ended.
“…Some protector.”
Zoro rested his forehead against the edge of your mattress.
“I always thought…” he murmured at last, lifting his head just enough for his eyes to settle on your intertwined fingers, holding them as though loosening his grip for even a heartbeat might somehow make you disappear, “…I always thought my job was to stand in front of the blade. The bullet. To take the hit instead of you.”
A bitter laugh escaped him.
“And it turns out I never even noticed the thing that was killing you while it was right in front of me.”
He closed his eyes.
“I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
Zoro had never been afraid of blood.
He’d spent years drenched in his own.
But yours…
Yours made something inside him seize.
Every bruise blooming beneath your skin, every tremor running through your body, every ragged breath you struggled to draw… he felt each of them as though the poison had chosen the wrong victim.
It should have been him.
It didn’t matter that fever had left your skin slick with sweat, or that you were too weak to lift your own head.
You were no less beautiful to him.
No less precious.
If anything, seeing you stripped of every defense only made the ache to protect you grow sharper.
When he finally looked up, there was nothing left in his eyes but unguarded truth.
“There isn’t a single thing this poison can do to you that would make me turn away.”
His voice remained low.
Steady.
“If you can’t walk, I’ll carry you. If you can’t eat, I’ll feed you. If you’re afraid…” his thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles, “then you’ll have someone to be scared with. If the fever makes you yell at me… if it makes you hate me… I’ll wait until it passes. And if you look at me and don’t remember who I am…”
He swallowed.
“…I’ll introduce myself all over again.”
Now he took both of your hands in his own, holding them with the desperation of a man who felt as though he were pleading with fate itself.
“Listen to me. I don’t care how much this hurts. I don’t care if you’re afraid. I don’t care if you’re tired.”
He slowly shook his head.
“Just hold on a little longer... Just a little longer, okay?”
His eyes wandered across your face as though trying to memorize every feature.
The thought angered him the instant it crossed his mind.
No.
He wouldn’t have to remember.
You were going to be here.
“You can’t leave now.”
The words came out softer than he’d intended.
“Not before they get back. Not before Chopper gives you the cure.”
He took another slow breath.
“After that…”
A tiny smile ghosted across the corner of his mouth before disappearing just as quickly.
“After that, you can yell at me for forcing all those disgusting medicines down your throat. You can tell me my tea tasted awful. You can tell me I panicked over nothing. I’ll even admit you were right about that one argument.”
His voice caught.
“And then… We’ll pick up right where we left off.”
He watched you for a long moment.
“I’m not finished with you yet. We’ve still got too much left to do. We still have stupid things to argue about. You still have to convince Chopper to take your side against me again. You still have to get on my nerves.”
His grip around your hand tightened.
“You still have to grow old with me.”
Only then did he realize what he’d said.
Yet there was no room left for embarrassment.
It was simply the truth.
The truth he’d needed you to hear.
His eyes lowered once more.
“So…”
He searched for the words for a long time.
“…don’t take that away from me.”
Dawn had yet to fully break over the bleak sea when the rest of the crew finally returned to the Merry, exhausted and desperate.
Zoro wasn’t sure exactly when the endless darkness of night had given way to the soft lilac hues that came just before sunrise, but the hurried pounding of feet against the wooden deck snapped him from his thoughts. Voices echoed through the ship, calling names, accompanied by a faint whistling sound that grew louder with every passing second.
Then the infirmary doors flew open as your filthy captain practically launched himself through them.
“Chopper!! We did it!”
He landed squarely on top of the little reindeer, knocking him onto the floor before Zoro could even react. A heartbeat later, the swordsman was already hauling Luffy back by the collar, ready to scold him for causing such a commotion and nearly flattening the very doctor you all depended on.
“Have you completely lost your damn mind?!” Sanji shouted as he rushed in right behind him, somehow managing to be just as loud despite yelling at Luffy to be quiet. “You can’t charge into an infirmary like that, you reckless idiot!”
The cook looked as exhausted as everyone else. His blond hair was full of leaves and tangled from pushing through the forest, dirt streaked across his clothes, but the moment he reached your bedside, all of that seemed to disappear.
“How’s our dear Y/N-swan holding up?” he asked quietly.
Zoro simply gave a small nod.
You’d held on.
Long enough for them to make it back.
One by one, the rest of the crew crowded into the room, each in varying states of disarray. Robin’s clothes had been snagged and torn by branches and thorns, Nami stood there breathing hard with windswept hair, while Usopp was practically covered in mud from head to toe.
“No time to waste!” Chopper cried, hurrying over to them, his eyes shining with hope. “What did you find?”
Robin and Nami immediately set two large sacks filled with herbs and flowers onto the table.
“We gathered everything that resembled the illustrations,” Nami explained. “And the locals suggested a few other plants they thought might help, so we brought those too. Everything we could find.”
Chopper didn’t wait another second.
His little hooves dove straight into the bags.
“Where’s the Bellflower? …Good. You brought the roots too? Excellent.” He looked up so suddenly that everyone nearly jumped.
“JUST TELL ME YOU DIDN’T WASH THEM!”
Robin calmly stepped beside him, instantly becoming his second pair of hands.
“These three belong together,” she said, sorting the plants with practiced precision. “The roots for these were separated… and Cook-san wrapped the Veinshadow Nightbloom individually. We barely managed to find this one. Apparently it’s out of season.”
Her steady presence settled the frantic atmosphere threatening to overwhelm the room almost immediately.
Meanwhile, Sanji had already thrown himself into preparing everything else.
After hastily washing the dirt from his hands, he placed a glass of water beside Chopper before rushing into the galley to boil water for sterilizing the knives and instruments. Bowls, mortar and pestle, cloths, every tool that might be needed for preparing the medicine was arranged within easy reach before anyone even thought to ask.
Nami quietly leaned toward Chopper.
“…Is it enough?”
The little doctor ran his hooves across leaves, examined roots, smelled flowers, compared every petal to the illustrations spread across the table.
Nobody dared speak.
Every pair of eyes remained fixed on him.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, his little ears lifted.
His eyes lit up.
A tiny smile spread across his face.
There was hope.
“…This is it.”
Usopp let out a laugh that sounded as though it had used the last of his strength before collapsing flat onto the floor with his arms behind his head.
“See?! I told you I’d find everything! It wasn’t easy, but…”
“YES!” Luffy cheered. “She’s saved! Sanji! Get the meat ready! That’ll cheer her up right away!”
For the first time in days, laughter almost found the room.
Almost.
Through it all, Zoro never left your side.
Your hand remained clasped securely in his as he silently waited for instructions.
At the worktable, Chopper had already begun.
He grated roots with painstaking precision, mixed resins and plant extracts together, heated them to exact temperatures inside tiny glass tubes before cooling them again, measuring every drop, every change in color, every shift in consistency. Robin silently passed him each instrument before he could ask, while Sanji adjusted the flame without ever interrupting the process.
Everyone wanted to help.
No one dared interfere.
Silence settled over the infirmary.
Glass gently clicked against glass.
Only short instructions broke the stillness.
“Mortar.”
“Knife.”
“More water.”
“Not that one.”
As Chopper carefully drew the finished medicine into a syringe, his hooves began to tremble.
The entire crew held its breath.
This was it.
If this didn’t work…
Sensing the little doctor’s fear, Zoro carefully supported you exactly as instructed before placing one steady hand on Chopper’s shoulder.
A silent promise.
I’m here.
Swallowing hard, Chopper uncovered the wound once more—darker now than ever before—and gently drove the needle beneath your skin.
Now…
All they could do was wait.
One minute passed.
Nothing.
Five.
Still nothing.
All the while, Zoro held your lifeless hand inside both of his, offering silent prayers he would never have admitted aloud.
Take anything from me.
Anything but—
Then…
Was that…
A pulse?
Or had he imagined it because he wanted it so desperately?
His head snapped upward, studying your face before his gaze dropped back to your joined hands.
One finger twitched.
Barely.
The slightest pressure against his palm.
His breath caught so sharply it almost hurt.
Warmth spread through his chest, melting away days of fear and guilt all at once.
He didn't think he'd ever known happiness that felt quite like this, nor gratitude so profound. Strange as it was, he found himself thankful even for the anguish that had brought him here, because without it, he might never have understood how precious this moment truly was.
Even the ache in his chest felt like something to treasure.
It was a feeling he'd never been good at expressing, yet one he suddenly never wanted to lose.
“…Chopper.”
His quiet voice drew every eye in the room toward him.
“…She's squeezing my hand.”
The sun finally rose over the Merry as she continued rocking gently upon the waves.
From somewhere on deck came a very familiar voice.
“YEAH!! TIME TO CELEBRATE! SANJI! BRING OUT THE MEAT!”
You were still asleep, but your temperature had finally stabilized, and the dark veins surrounding your wound had begun to recede.
That alone was enough for your exhausted crew to celebrate.
The ship gradually came back to life.
Everyone bustled about the deck and through the halls, tidying things, preparing food, talking louder than they had in days.
Only Zoro remained rooted beside your bed.
And Chopper, who constantly hurried between Robin and Sanji before rushing back to check on you again, unable to stop himself from making sure you were still breathing… still sleeping… still there.
Your green-haired swordsman waited for only one thing.
To see your eyes again.
To look into their familiar warmth one more time.
Only then would the weight crushing his chest finally lift.
He understood that the poison had drained every ounce of strength from your body and that you needed sleep more than anything.
Still…
He couldn’t help being impatient.
Just one look.
One smile.
Then maybe he could finally allow himself to sleep too.
His thumb absentmindedly stroked your hand, which was growing warmer by the hour.
He felt your fingers move.
“You’ll complain later that your back’s gone stiff,” you murmured, your voice rough with sleep though unmistakably brighter than before. “You should go lie down.”
A little color had finally returned to your cheeks.
Zoro was on his feet before he even realized he’d moved, still refusing to let go of your hand.
You couldn’t help laughing at how utterly lost he looked.
He finally collected himself before rolling his eyes.
“You scared the hell out of us, idiot.”
He knelt beside the bed again, gently placing your hand against his broad chest.
Only now…
Only now could he breathe again.
“I’m sorry.”
You smiled sheepishly.
“I didn’t even know what was happening.”
He clicked his tongue.
“Don’t apologize,” he muttered.
Your thumb traced absentmindedly over the thickened scar across his chest.
“From now on,” he said firmly, “you’re getting examined after every fight. I don’t care.”
“Deal.”
You smiled and then looked at him with quiet understanding.
“You were really worried, weren’t you?”
“Tch.”
His eyes wandered toward the chair across the room.
“Oh…”
You added almost casually.
“I accept., by the way”
“Huh?”
“The rematch.”
A teasing smile tugged at your lips.
“I still think that punch counted… but if you want another chance that badly, I’ll beat you again as soon as I’m out of bed.”
A quiet snort escaped him.
“Yeah? I'd like to see you try, idiot.”
You were teasing him again.
That alone was enough to convince him everything would be all right.
In that rare moment of privacy, relief washing over him now that everything had finally turned out all right, he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it, lingering where your pulse beat beneath your skin, simply to feel that wonderful proof of life one more time.
“I missed y…”
Rapid little hooves pattered across the floor before the sentence could leave his mouth.
“Y/N-san!”
Chopper practically launched himself onto the bed, wrapping both little arms around yours and nuzzling against it with a relieved sob.
“I’m so happy you’re okay!”
Tears streamed freely down his cheeks.
“I-I-I was s-so scared…”
You gently wiped his face, smiling as you wrapped your free arm around him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
That only made him cry harder.
“Z-Zoro didn’t sleep for t-three whole days… I thought…”
“Y/N-SWAAAN!! AN ANGEL HAS DESCENDED FROM THE HEAVENS! THE LIGHT OF THE GRAND LINE HAS RETURNED!”
Sanji burst through the door carrying your favorite dessert along with a beautifully arranged platter of fresh fruit, several pieces meticulously carved into little hearts.
With his free hand he shoved Luffy away, who was already reaching for one.
“I knew you’d be fine! I brought meat too!” Luffy beamed, triumphantly holding up an enormous drumstick while chewing on another.
You laughed again as Chopper pushed your captain away with both little hooves.
“She can’t have that yet! It’ll make her sick. She hasn’t eaten properly in days!”
“THAT’S EXACTLY WHY SHE NEEDS IT!”
Nami and Robin squeezed in beside you from Chopper’s side, effortlessly pushing Luffy even farther away.
“DON’T EVER SCARE US LIKE THAT AGAIN!” Nami snapped, eyes suspiciously bright despite the stern expression she was trying to maintain.
Robin simply smiled softly before patting your knee.
“You’re precious to all of us. We’ll have to take even better care of you from now on.”
“Good thing we made it back in time,” Usopp declared proudly, puffing out his chest.
“All thanks to Captain Usopp! Every local we met fell to their knees, offering rare medicinal plants to honor my unmatched bravery!”
“Oh, please. Give me a break.”
“Then I ventured deep into a deadly jungle, defeating every terrifying beast that dared stand in my way…”
“...There were only rabbits in that forest.”
The room gradually filled with louder laughter, overlapping voices, playful arguments, and the warmth of life returning exactly where it belonged.
You smiled wider and wider, overwhelmed with gratitude for the incredible people surrounding you.
Your family.
Turning your head, you gently squeezed the hand your green-haired swordsman still refused to release.
His eyes were already drifting shut.
With his free arm, he carefully lifted Chopper, who had fallen asleep sitting beside the bed, settling the tiny doctor comfortably against his lap.
A tired smile crossed his face.
He pressed one last kiss against the back of your hand before leaning his head back.
Sleep claimed him almost instantly.
Still smiling, you reached for a nearby blanket and quietly draped it over both of your boys.
Then you settled back against your pillow, listening to the colorful chatter filling the room, every now and then glancing toward the two sleeping figures at your right.
cw: fluff-smut, FILTH, MDNI‼️, established relationship, post PHM, alien cultural misunderstandings, biology gone terribly right, enthusiastic scientific observation, Sex Ed with Dr. Ryland Grace™, science-induced horniness, unintentional voyeurism (non-sexual intent), consensual observation, exhibitionism awakening, not your usual morning sexy time, praise kink, fingering, oral m!receiving, protected sex, breeding kink (fantasized), pregnancy discussion (no pregnancy), mutual pining, excessive affection, somehow still touch-starved Ryland, Ryland completely forgetting how to remain objective.
summary: Adrian is trying their absolute best to care for Erid's only human pair. Rocky supports to the fullest.
The million dollar question: Why does Erid's only human pair keeps performing mating behaviors when they have no intention of reproducing?
Adrian insists that only a live demonstration can provide the missing data. After all, the most important thing is the health and wellbeing of the only endangered species on Erid. Proper care requires proper research.
Unfortunately for Ryland and you, the endangered blue macaws in question are... the two of you.
Both of you swear it’s just a normal morning.
As usual Rocky and Adrian stop by during breakfast, the conversation drifts from crop yields to the newest improvements in the biodomes, and for a blissful hour, everything feels perfectly ordinary.
Then Adrian chirps. “My Love, question.”
After months of hearing Ryland call you nothing else, the Eridians had simply concluded that My Love was apparently your name.
“Yes?” You replied, still chewing on your breakfast.
“Ooh…” Ryland visibly shrinks to himself. “That’s never a good way to start a sentence.”
“Adrian has reviewed the human educational materials.”
“Okay…”
“Anatomical diagrams are excellent.”
Ryland sighs in relief.
“However.”
“There it is.”
You glance nervously at Ryland and he doesn’t look any better.
“Demonstrations are insufficiently detailed.”
You blink. “What do you mean, demonstrations?”
“Anatomical lecture video is informative.” Adrian continues.
“Good.”
“The reproductive process remains… incomplete.”
“…Incomplete?”
“It explains gametes, fertilization. It does not explain why bonded humans repeatedly perform reproductive behavior but intentionally prevents fertilization, why no complete explanation for behavioral sequence, question?”
You nearly choke on your drink. Beside you, Ryland quietly closes his eyes, accepting his fate.
Then Adrian continues, earnestly.
“Current hypothesis: pair-bond maintenance.”
Silence.
“Secondary hypothesis: stress regulation.”
Ryland rubs a hand over his face.
“Third hypothesis: recreational.”
“…No.” Ryland already knows where this is going.
Both Adrian and Rocky tilt their carapace.
“No?”
“No.”
Another thoughtful pause.
Rocky joins the conversation. “Would additional—”
“ROCKY.”
“Adrians need details, can’t understand from Earth’s science video.” Startled Rocky clicks in confusion.
Ryland being Ryland, keeps trying to avoid explaining any further, but his curious friends won’t stop asking either.
“Grace.”
“No.”
Neither Eridian seems remotely discouraged, they simply exchange a series of thoughtful clicks before Adrian tries again.
“Observation also insufficient.”
Ryland frowns. “…Observation?”
“Cannot understand from only listening to Grace and My Love.”
The room falls completely silent.
“…What?”
“Why humans so noisy while mate, question?”
“…Excuse me?”
You clasp a hand over your mouth as a loud gasp of realization hits you, Ryland looks like he’s considering launching himself out the nearest airlock.
“Wha—how did you—”
He points accusingly between the two Eridians.
“You’ve been watching us?” Now he actually sounds horrified.
“Listening,” Rocky corrects. “Not watching.”
“That is not better!”
“It was not intentional,” Adrian says. “Biodomes transmit sound efficiently.”
“Very efficiently.” Rocky added as an agreement. “Eridians incredible hearing, why Grace keeps forgetting, Grace dumb.”
Ryland’s face drops at that.
“Your resonance frequencies are impressive.” Adrian added.
Ryland groans loud enough to make both Eridians click in concern. But oblivious to the source of his distress, Adrian asks their next question.
“If offspring are not desired, why perform reproductive behavior? Grace and My Love performs frequently.”
Ryland makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a dying star.
You finally realize what the problem is. Embarrassment simply… doesn’t translate across species.
You clear your throat.
“You’re approaching this like it’s only biology.”
Adrian tilts their carapace. “Clarify.”
“For humans, reproduction and pair-bonding overlap, some behaviors have biological functions, but they’re also shaped by emotion and personal relationships, a way for us to express how we feel for our…mate.” You try so very carefully, explain to them.
“Curious.” Adrian pauses for several seconds before chirping. “Adrian wishes to improve understanding. Can Grace and My Love demonstrate now?”
“…D-demonstrate?”
“Yes, demonstrate humans mating ritual.”
Ryland swallows at the thought, immediately understanding what Adrian is asking for.
“Grace and My Love explains better than Earth’s videos.”
“Yes, like puppet show.” Rocky chitters happily, completely missing the weight of the favors they are asking for.
“They’re not judging us.” You sigh, looking towards Ryland.
“No.”
“They’re not making fun of us.”
“Nope.”
“They’re literally writing biology notes.”
“…Yes…We’re the only humans in their system.” Ryland groans, dragging a hand down his face. “That somehow makes it worse.”
Silence settles over the room. The two of you steal uncertain glances at one another.
Finally, Ryland clears his throat. “…You’d have to ask her. I’m not making that decision for both of us.”
Lies.
You know him well enough to catch the flicker in his eyes. Curiosity, embarrassment. And beneath both of them, the unmistakable excitement he’d been trying so desperately to hide.
Ryland likes the idea.
Your own thoughts aren’t much better, it should horrify you. But for reasons neither of you expected, that doesn’t repel the two of you. Instead, it got you pressing your legs together.
Ryland caught that, his hand finds your thigh beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze and you lace your fingers through his.
The corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly.
Neither Eridian misses the exchange.
“Grace’s heart rate has increased,” Adrian observes.
“Body temperature elevated and behavior consistently indicates Grace ready to mate now.”
Both Rocky and Adrian clicks happily.
“Agreement!”
Ryland nearly chokes.
“W-What? No—that’s not—” He gestures helplessly between the two Eridians. “I-…I, of course I’m aroused, s-she…she’s my mate and both of you just put the thought in my mind so early in the morning.”
Heat rushes to your face.
The worst part is knowing neither Rocky nor Adrian means anything by it.
They’re not voyeurs.
They’re scientists.
They’re trying to understand.
To them, this is no different from asking how human lungs work, or why humans laugh, or what makes a pair bond last a lifetime. No judgment, no hidden motive. Simply another scientific question
That makes it so much harder to say no.
You sit there in silence, feeling so caught red handed, cause you know very well, to you and Ryland it’s entirely something else. Your eyes slowly find Ryland’s.
There it is. Neither of you really needs convincing anymore.
“We…can,” Your voice comes out much quieter than intended. “I-I guess?”
“…What?…” Ryland blinks.
“We can…” You swallow, forcing yourself to finish the sentence. “…demonstrate.”
For a heartbeat, he simply stares at you.
The words have barely left your mouth before Ryland is pulling you into him. His lips crashing onto yours in a hurried kiss, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wraps securely around your waist.
You instinctively circle your arms around his neck, melting into the familiar warmth, answering his kiss without hesitation.
Desperate. His tongue pushes past your lips as he tilts his head to the side to kiss you deeper, his hands are quick to under your shirt, wandering over your skin in slow, affectionate strokes, lingering wherever they land, hesitant to move.
He pulls off the kiss, just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, both of you struggling to catch your breath as he creates the smallest sliver of space to speak. “You see?” He never takes his eyes off you. “What you call a human mating ritual isn’t just for reproduction.” His thumb lazily traces your cheek, he can’t help touching you.
“Speaking for the two of us…specifically.”
A fond smile softens his voice. “We do this… frequently because it makes us feel the closest to each other.”
His nose brushes yours. Featherlight. Lingering there for a heartbeat before nosing against your cheek with a quiet, contented sigh, rubbing himself against you in the most habitual gesture that seems almost beyond conscious thought. “It feels good,” He whispers, the words swallowed by the warmth between you.
“Pleasurable.”
As if he still isn’t close enough, he nuzzles fully into you, cheek ghosting slowly along yours before settling into the curve of your face, smiling to himself when you instinctively lean into the touch. “And…” He kisses softly under your ears, sending shivers down your spine.
“I love making her feel good.”
His confessions so soft it leaves you speechless, you can only hide your face against the crook of his neck, far too shy from his actions. Especially, knowing that in just a few moments, your sweet alien friends will be diligently documenting everything that follows in the name of science.
“My Love is responding to Grace’s touch, mating behaviors reciprocated.”
Ryland lets out an awkward chuckle. “…Right.” Then he shifts his attention back to you.
“Up.”
You don’t hesitate.
The moment you jump up, Ryland sweeps you into his arms effortlessly, holding you close enough that your laughter brushes against his neck.
“Ry!”
“Couldn’t wait,” He admits with a sheepish smile as he hurries toward the bedroom.
Rocky and Adrian exchange an excited series of chitters before following several steps behind, dutifully continuing what they believe to be an extraordinarily important scientific observation.
Ryland sets you gently back on your feet before turning to face the two Eridians.
“If we’re doing this…” He rubs the back of his neck. “…We’re doing it properly.”
“Exactly.” Ryland points at him. “…Scientific method…”
He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then he reaches for your hand. “This,” Intertwining your fingers with his, he begins. “comes first.”
Both Eridians lean forward. “Humans don’t begin with reproduction.” Adrian chimes.
“Yes, we begin with trust.”
Ryland smiles at you before continuing. “Everything starts with communication. Consent. Making sure both people are comfortable.” His thumb traces slow circles across the back of your hand. “Touch isn’t just physical.” His voice soft. “It’s reassuring.”
Then he lifts your hand up to his face
“I’m asking even though I already know the answer.” A faint smile tugs at his lips before he tilts his head just enough to brush a lingering kiss on your knuckles.
So impossibly tender.
“Repeated confirmation.” Rocky notes to himself, Adrian continues. “Must indicate mutual willingness before progression.”
Ryland nods.
“That’s one of the most important things about humans.” He looks back at you, his expression softening. “And honestly…” Another sheepish grin spreads across his face.
“I just really like holding her.”
You can only blush upon his statement.
“Human mating consists of numerous affectionate behaviors before, during, and independent of reproduction.” Adrian clicks happily.
Ryland chuckles. “…That’s actually a pretty good summary.”
“They really are just writing biology notes.”
“I know.” Ryland sighs. “…I still can’t believe I’m teaching alien anthropology with my own relationship.”
“In the name of science?” You ask teasingly, biting on your lips to hide the smile.
“In the name of whatever they are trying to conclude.” His reply makes you laugh, cupping his cheeks in your hand, holding him softly as he slowly kneels in front of you.
“May I?” He asks, pressing a lingering kiss to the waistband of your shorts.
A smile tugs at your lips as you nod in reply.
He carefully slid them down, letting them pool around your feet.
Then slowly, so slowly, his fingertips trail upwards from your ankles, tracing a slow path over your skin until they reach the hem of your shirt. He gently lifts it, easing the fabric higher before pulling it over your head, his lips following in its way with absentminded kisses, he can’t bear to leave an inch of you untouched.
He guides you to the bed, helping you settle comfortably between his legs. He pats his chest, silently asking you to lean back against him.
You do, resting against him while facing Rocky and Adrian.
The two Eridians remain completely focused, watching with undivided attention of scientists attending an important lecture.
Ryland clears his throat. “Next step,” Effortlessly switching into teacher mode despite the growing heat in his body, “you make sure your…mate is ready to take you.” Referring to you as mate got him feeling some type of way, actually and verbally claiming you. He says it so naturally, and you like it, for all you know you are his.
You tense with anticipation, mentally preparing yourself for what’s coming.
“Relax,” He murmurs, offering you a reassuring smile as his hands gently guide your legs open. “Show them My Love, they can’t observe if they can’t see.”
Now that this is actually happening, embarrassing excitement floods through you. Something about Ryland explaining this as seriously as your eager audience sends different kinds of thrill through your body.
His hand remains intertwined with yours, easing you as he continues his demonstration, he slowly runs his fingers along your heat, breath shaking slightly the moment he feels your wetness.
“hhnnh—Ry…”
Two of his fingers gently spreading your folds open.
Never in your life have you felt this exposed, and to your own amusement, your body refuses to hide how affected you are by leaking more of yourself.
“You like this don’t you?” Ryland teases as he never stop tracing over your entrance.
You can only answer him with muffled moans, stuffing your face against his neck. It’s impossible to keep looking at Rocky and Adrian, too ashamed of how much you are enjoying yourself in this situation.
Ryland lets out a soft breathy laugh before returning to his explanation. “The human female body is just…amazing…” His voice lowers with admiration.
“Extraordinary.”
Ryland softly nudges on the hood of your clit, exposing them. “You may already recognize this structure from the anatomical video,”
“This…this is the clitoris, It’s one of the most densely innervated structures in the human body, containing thousands of sensory nerve endings. Unlike many other parts of the reproductive system, its primary biological function isn’t reproduction itself, but sensory perception.” He glances briefly toward Rocky and Adrian before continuing.
“So by stimulating it…she’s going to experience a great deal of pleasure.”
He does exactly as he’s describing, his finger starts rubbing slow circles on your little nub making you writhe from the contact, panting softly into his skin.
“Everything we’re doing right now has a purpose.”
Your fingers tighten around the hand intertwined with yours while your other hand finds his wrist, holding on through the overwhelming vulnerability of the moment.
“We call this foreplay,” Ryland continues. His voice is calm, but every sentence carries a little more enthusiasm than the last, clearly enjoying whatever is unfolding upfront. “It’s part of how humans prepare physically and emotionally before reproduction becomes possible.”
He lightly pinches on your clit and a tiny yelp escapes you.
Adrian chirps. “Mating noises increase. Therefore, mating noises indicates to experiencing pleasure, question?”
Ryland lets out a quiet laugh. “Well… not all humans are particularly… vocal.”
His eyes drift back to you.
“But lucky me, she is.”
A helpless whine escapes you at his words. Ryland bites his lower lip, unable to hide the smile threatening to break free. He looks almost unfairly pleased with himself, every little sound you make is another reminder that he knows you and your body by heart.
“I like how expressive she is,” Ryland continues working on you, somehow not losing the almost lecturer-like tone. “Her reactions tell me whether she likes what I’m doing or not, if what I’m doing is welcomed, and if I’m taking care of her the way she needs.”
Rocky and Adrian exchange a thoughtful series of chitters. “So vocalization functions as communication.”
“For many humans, yes,” Ryland replies. “It’s not universal, but it can be an important part of how partners understand one another.”
You lift your face up to find his eyes never looking away from you. There’s unmistakable hunger in his eyes.
“I’d say, she’s enjoying herself.”
The contrast between his composed explanation and the way his finger doesn’t stop toying with you leaves your thoughts in complete disarray. If this is his version of talking dirty to you, you need him to keep talking this way.
A push of his finger past your entrance breaks your busy thoughts.
“Now, I need to make sure she’s relaxed enough to continue.”
Soft whimpers slip past your lips the moment he pushes a second finger.
“That’s it,” He murmured warmly.
You never quite get used to how he just seems to know exactly what you need.
“Open up for me...”
So skilled with his movements, his fingers perfectly in tune with how he moves his hand, opening them as he goes inwards, closing them as he goes outwards. In and out just like that, the pad of his fingers rubs against the warm spongy walls inside of you.
“Kiss…” You whisper, voice trembling. “W-want kiss.”
You need him to kiss you. To ground you. To give you something to hide behind, because being so completely exposed as the center of his lesson for your sweet, unsuspecting audience that are diligently taking notes is almost more than your flustered heart can bear.
Every explanation he gives seems to make it worse. Speaking about you with such quiet admiration, each sentence carries the tenderness of a love letter that is whispered gently against your skin.
“Mhm.” Ryland glances briefly toward Rocky and Adrian, unable to hide the quiet pride in his smile, proudly showing off how good he takes care of you. He kisses you slow, a little messy, humming softly into the kiss when he feels you biting on his lower lips.
You can’t stop moaning into his mouth as he swallows them whole. Especially when his knuckles deep fingers curl inside you, hitting exactly on your sweet spot, making you twist in his hold. You jerk off the kiss, breathless.
“R-ry! please…”
He feels it immediately, the way your walls flutter before clamping hard around his fingers, he answers you with a moan, somehow feeling the pleasure himself just from watching you.
“Come on Lovey, you’re so close.” He murmurs.
Your body trembles against him, broken sobs of his name spills off your lips. You bury your face in the crook of his neck again, squirming helplessly in his embrace as wave after wave of high crashes over you.
Ryland slows down his finger, talking you through it by whispering soft praises by your ear.
“There’s my girl.”
The words are followed by featherlight kisses along your temple, soothing you as your breathing slowly begins to steady.
Adrian chirps delightfully. “My Love has reach climax. Does this count as a successful mating, question?”
Ryland lets out a quiet chuckle. “Not quite.” He continues easing you, his lips brushing your cheek between explanations.
“As I said, the human female body is extraordinary, they are capable of reaching climax more than once and that doesn’t necessarily mean reproduction has occurred. Before we start the intercourse, it’ll be more comfortable for her this way.”
Rocky and Adrian diligently noting down the new information.
Ryland gently withdraws his fingers, taking them in his mouth long enough to steal a lingering taste of you before a quiet, helpless groan slips from him.
His eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment.
Just how much he’d rather be doing you properly right now, going down on you, feasting on what’s left of you for him. Instead, he exhales a breathless laugh, acknowledging the fact that his face would be in the way of the demonstration, when the whole point was for Rocky and Adrian to actually see what he was explaining.
It will only complicate things and raise far more questions than it answered.
With visible unwillingness, he pushes the thought aside and brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” He asks softly. “Good to continue?”
“Yes…” You answer almost immediately, nodding eagerly, still tucked safely against him. “Please, Ry~”
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Atta girl.” He presses soft smooches across your cheeks. “Help me out will you?”
You pull yourself from the comfort of his embrace, shifting to kneel beside him, your gaze never leaving his as you kiss your way down, all while pushing on the hem of his shirt. The shirt is in your way.
You give it a small, impatient tug. “Take it off,” Your whine sounds almost annoyed at how the shirt is covering him.
Ryland chuckles under his breath, unable to hide the amused smile spreading across his face. “Bossy,” He whispers under his breath, already reaching for the hem of his shirt.
You answer by kissing the smile right off his lips, your hands fumble with the waistband of his pants tugging the fabric down hastily, just enough to free him.
Ryland lets out a shaky breath as his cock sprangs out all tall and ready, the heads throbbing angry red, leaking shiny beads of precum.
You too can’t help the embarrassingly needy whine at that sight, one that never fails to make your mouth water.
He is just so pretty everywhere, all for you.
“Well…” He looks down at himself and laughs under his breath, clearly trying to slip back into his teacher mode. “I…I don’t really have much to explain about the human male. Specifically myself.” His sentence falters as your touch steals the rest of his thoughts. “I’m just—”
Your hand wraps around him, leaning into the curve of his neck, you lick on his skin before leaving a series of lingering kisses. You playfully nip on his skin, sucking on them softly as you hum in contentment, unable to resist leaving your mark.
“F-fuck…” He cries out. The softness of your lips on his neck paired with the way your thumb is circling on his dribbling tip. All the sensation steals the last of his composure, his head tips back against the headboard as a shaky moan escapes him.
He closes his eyes for a brief moment before forcing himself to continue. “While some human males… need more time to become physically ready…”
Another breath catches in his throat.
“I’m…” Ryland laughs breathlessly. “I’m just always like this with her.” The confession earns warmth across his cheeks that has nothing to do with embarrassment anymore. “I-I think…” He exhales another quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I t-think you’ll explain m-me…much better Love,” Meeting your eyes with an utterly helpless smile.
“I… I can’t.”
Gone was the composed lecturer tone. All that’s left is a hopelessly, thoroughly, and utterly undone Ryland.
Rocky clicks several times, spinning around in rapid succession. “Grace incapable of objective scientific observation.”
Ryland snorts, though it quickly catches in his throat. “Yeah, well—hnngh…” He struggles to gather a sentence together. “You… have no idea how incredible she is.”
Adrian pauses from taking notes.
“Grace’s explanations contain an unusually high frequency of compliments.”
Rocky clicks knowingly. “Bias detected.”
“It’s called…” Ryland breathes out another shaky laugh. “…being in love, Rocky.”
You bite back a smile, delighted with his response. “Okay,” You say sweetly. “Let’s stop teasing him.” Saying that while you proceed to do the exact opposite, never actually moving your hand and only toying around his tip.
“My Love also demonstrates mischievous behavior,” Adrian notes.
You grin. “There are lots of ways humans approach foreplay. While Ryland used his hand on me…” You glance up at him with a look that promises trouble. “…I’m going to use my mouth.”
Ryland exhales sharply, hips jerking up at your words.
“He prefers that,” You tell the two Eridians with a knowing smile. “You two just watch him,” You continued. “You’ll understand.”
And despite his flushed out situation, he smiles at your remarks.
You give him a long lick from the base back to the head, suckling softly on them before slowly taking him whole.
Ryland’s whole body shudders instantly at the feeling of your warm mouth around him.
You start bobbing your head pulling out soft whiny grunts from him before he can stop it.
Rocky chirps excitedly. “Grace equally vocal.” Adrian immediately added to the observation notes. “Pair demonstrates reciprocal vocal communication.”
Ryland, looking thoroughly dazed, manages to lift one hand just enough to flash Rocky a weary thumbs-down. Then his hand slides down into your hair, tugging on them softly when you start gagging on him. “S-slow down…” He breathes out. “You’re gonna hurt yourself…and I’m—” A choked moan cuts him off.
“I’m not gonna last…”
You hum pulling off him with a soft pop, wiping the corner of your mouth before reaching over to the bedside table for a condom. To this day, neither of you knows why the Hail Mary had an emergency supply of condoms tucked away in the storage. Guess whoever packed them had somehow anticipated some scenarios.
You silently thank them every single time.
Holding it up for Rocky and Adrian to see, you explain, “This is one of humans contraceptives. It goes over the male reproductive organ and acts as a barrier, preventing sperm from reaching the female reproductive tract. That way, pregnancy doesn’t occur.” You press one last lingering kiss on his length before carefully rolling the condom into place, earning a quiet hiss from him.
“We’re…actually running low on these,” You admit, cheeks warming as you realize just how quickly the supply has dwindled.
Ryland lets out a breathless laugh, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face at your flustered confession. “Back on Earth, we had plenty of different contraceptive options,” He adds, slipping back into his lecturer’s cadence. “But here… our choices are a little…limited…”
You glance hopefully at Rocky and Adrian. “If… you two wouldn’t mind helping us…” The request alone makes your face burn. “I could mark a few possible ways that might be possible to recreate…here.” And you just can’t withstand your own request anymore, instinctively folding yourself into Ryland’s embrace, letting out an embarrassed sound as you do so.
He catches you immediately, laughing softly as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Another reason why humans separate intimacy from reproduction.”
You nod against his chest. “Our situation just…” You trail off before quietly finishing, “…isn’t one where having a baby would be responsible.” The words linger heavier than you expect. Not because you’re unhappy, quite the opposite actually.
You have Ryland.
You have Rocky, Adrian, and everyone else.
A home, strange as it may be.
But if circumstances had been different, if it had been back on Earth, living an ordinary life together. With a man like him? You’d spent half your life pregnant and the other half wondering how you ended up pregnant again. You are definitely having his babies, constantly. The man wouldn’t stand a chance, Ryland would’ve looked utterly bewildered every single time.
You know yourself well enough to admit the truth. You will never find yourself not pregnant.
The thought makes you smile into his shoulder, but some dreams simply belong to another world.
Ryland notices the change in your expression immediately. “Lovey...”
“You okay?” He brushes a thumb across your cheek.
You nod, smiling a little wider this time. “Just thinking.”
Before either of you can say anything else, Rocky’s excited clicking fills the room. “Okay. Now showtime! Hurry, hurry!”
The quiet moment dissolves instantly.
You slowly lift your head from his shoulder. “Uh…Ry…” Your voice comes out even smaller this time. “You should explain this part…” There is simply no way you’ll be able to. The moment he starts, it will be impossible for you to state actual sentences, you are not going to embarrass yourself by trying.
“Of course,” He kisses the top of your head before looking at you with a smile that barely hides the need in his eyes.
“How would you like to have me?”
“The one where I c-can lean on you…” You trail off, already feeling your face burn more and more. “You know which one…or just however you think is… s-suitable for the observation.”
Your answer earns a fond smile.
“You are adorable.”
Ryland clears his throat. “Intercourse,” He begins, “…well the real deal.” attempting to gather what little composure he has left. “This is the actual reproductive act.” His own thoughts have become an absolute mess.
Of course they have.
He’s about to fuck you and he needs to explain it in a very biologically proper way as he do so. That too in front of two alien scientists who are watching with the enthusiasm of graduate students attending a guest lecture.
Without another word, you settle where he asks you to, following his lead. He gently raises your legs, draping them over his own to keep you comfortably in place. The position leaves you spread open all for the two researchers to see and they still have absolutely no idea why humans find any of this embarrassing.
“This part,” Ryland says, stealing a quick glance toward Rocky and Adrian, “isn’t that different from the educational material you already reviewed.”
Both Eridians chirp in agreement.
He lets out a nervous laugh. “So… I guess this is mostly for completeness.” His scientific tone remains remarkably steady, though you catch the tiny stutter that slips into his words. He grabs himself by the base, aligning his cock with your entrance to slowly glide through your folds, coating himself with the slick already waiting for him. “As we’ve already explained, a proper foreplay and preparation make the process considerably more comfortable. To simply say it, the wetter she is…the better.”
“Ry—nhh…i-inside…” An impatient whine slips past your lips as you instinctively buck your hips forward, trying to coax him to push in.
Ryland only chuckles under his breath.
“Patience, My Love…” He murmurs, tightening his arm around your waist just enough to keep you still. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, lingering there for a moment before smiling against your hair. He then continues his explanation.
“It’ll still feel snug, just not uncomfortably tight. She is relaxed and that makes it easier for her to r-receive…me.” He swallows. “…easier for me to slide in, because the body naturally provides lubrication.”
You know him well enough to hear the cracks beginning to form beneath the composed explanation.
He’s losing the battle with his own desire.
The two of you are trying.
Desperately trying.
Holding back so much, to present this like a proper, respectable scientific demonstration. Instead of whatever exploration this has become. Fighting every urge to just go rabbits at each other the way you usually do, where the second you’re alone together, any remaining dignity gets launched straight out the nearest airlock.
None of this is normal.
Both you and Ryland are doing your absolute best to pretend that it is. As if any of this could possibly be considered ordinary.
It isn’t.
And somehow, that’s exactly what makes the whole situation feel so ridiculously exciting.
With one smooth push, he is in.
“Ry!” You yelp helplessly, as if he hadn’t been inside you for months instead of less than twenty-four hours.
“I know…I-I know, Lovey.”
His hand smooths over your hips in slow, reassuring strokes, seemingly meant to calm you down. But the shaky breath that follows, gives him away almost immediately.
He’s just as much trying to calm himself.
Slowly, he starts moving his hips, pulling back just enough to settle right back in.
The drive is just crazy, it’s almost comical how impossible it is to keep your hands off each other, or maybe you’re just a little too sexually compatible.
It doesn’t help that life on Erid is alarmingly peaceful.
No emails.
No jobs.
No bills.
No taxes.
Just the two of you, hopelessly in love, with far too much free time on your hands. The odds were never in your favor.
He pauses, catching his breath. “I—… I need a second.” The groan that leaves Ryland borders on feral as he buries his face against your shoulder, huffing and puffing, trying to collect himself to continue his very serious, very scientific lecture.
Rocky tilts his carapace. “Grace respiratory efficiency decreased.”
“I’m aware.”
“Teaching quality also decreased.”
“…T-thanks.” He chokes out.
“She just—feels good…” He admits with a shaky laugh. “…Too good.” Every word comes out as heavy as the roll of his hips. Pumping in and out of you in deep slow thrust, the measured pace lasting around two seconds before he starts ramming into you.
You? you’re gone, stupidly moaning and babbling his name at every sweet graze of his length, you’re no longer capable of forming words.
One of his arms remains securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while his other hand drifts upward to fondle on your breast.
“The breasts…” Ryland manages between uneven breaths. “Their primary biological purpose is lactation, b-but…” He swallows “…like the clitoris, the nipples also contain numerous sensory nerve endings. Stimulating them during intimacy can… increase pleasure.”
You gasp loudly when he tugs on them between his fingers, sending shivers through your whole body.
“Y-yes!…please~”
Ryland’s composure cracks into a dazed lovestruck smile. “You’re so pretty hmmm…” He practically whines out the words. “So, s-so pretty Lovey…you’re so pretty.”
The admiration in his voice is so genuine it makes your heart squeeze.
Rapid clicking.
“Grace deviates from lecture.”
Ryland grunts. “I know.”
“Compliment unnecessary for scientific accuracy.”
“It is for me.”
“…Fuck.” He lets out another helpless laugh. “They’re so pretty...” He can’t resist giving them a teasing little bounce.
“Everything…e-everything about you is so pretty My Love.”
Adrian’s claws never stop moving. “Grace repeatedly interrupts explanations to compliment My Love.”
Rocky clicks. “Pattern consistent.”
“Can we not… not put that in the paper?”
“Already documented.”
Ryland groans.
The hand on your waist travels down between your legs, back to circle your clit. “And…” He says, pausing to steady his breathing as he feels you clenching harder immediately from the stimulation. “…since pleasure is the goal for us,” Another shaky inhale. “Again, the special little button.” By the end of the sentence, even Ryland sounds unconvinced that he’s still giving a demonstration.
“Fuck—that’s it!” He groans out. “I—I can’t anymore.”
His face disappears into the crook of your neck, muffling another helpless sound as he sucks at your skin, hard enough to leave an obvious mark. “I’ve explained…all that I can.” He forces himself to look towards the two Eridians, his eyes glassy with the strain of holding himself together. “I want to f-focus… on her.” Another shaky breath escapes him. “Just… save your questions for later...”
“Please.”
It’s almost funny. How he is begging them like they force him to keep talking.
A chorus of giggly chirps answers him, clearly amused by how thoroughly the great Ryland Grace has fallen apart.
“Reason, Grace no longer capable of coherent explanation.”
“Both of you…” Another breath catches in his throat. “…are absolutely paying us back for this.”
“Not a problem,” Adrian replies without hesitation. “Adrian and Rocky will compensate Grace and My Love appropriately.” Followed with another round of cheerful clicks.
Neither Eridian realizes they’re teasing him.
Which somehow makes it even worse.
His thrust grew more and more erratic, growing closer and closer from how you’re clamping mercilessly on him. Every ounce of composure he’d been clinging to, slips through his fingers.
“I wish…” His voice catches, and the confession escapes before he can stop it, “wish I could b-breed you like they said.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, as if he immediately regrets saying it aloud.
He swiftly flips both of your bodies, pinning you down against the bed as he snaps his hips harder. “…Wish I could fuck you full of my cum.” One admission becomes another. “You’d look perfect carrying my babies…all swollen and pretty.” The impossible dreams he’d kept buried slips free before he can stop himself, before he can think better of it.
“W-want too…Ry! hnnngh—” You breathe, the words breaking apart between uneven breaths. To your own embarrassment, you can feel tears gathering in your eyes. “want y-your babies~”
It feels ridiculous to be on the verge of crying now, of all moments. But the longing beneath his words reaches somewhere far deeper than either of you expected.
“You’d be beautiful…I know you would,” His voice trembles, laced with wonder and heartache. “I wish we could have a family.”
The words force both of your breaking points.
Your body convulses under him, crying out his name as you milk everything he got in him. He buries his face against your neck, making you catch even the littlest desperate sound out of him as he spurts ropes of white cums into the condom, clinging to you like you’re the only thing anchoring him. Your face pressing against the mattress, muffling the sounds of you falling apart.
The tears finally spill off your eyes, not from sadness. But the overwhelming ache of loving someone so much that, for one fleeting moment, the impossible feels close enough to touch.
Ryland peppers open-mouthed kisses along your neck before trailing them slowly down your spine, every lingering kiss meant to soothe you through the last waves of your high as he carefully pulls out of you. He drops his body beside you, pulling you in his embrace.
“Such a good girl..” He whispers, “Always did so well for me Lovey.” pressing a tender kiss so lovingly on your cheek. “I love you…”
His soft kisses continues all over your face, brushing away the tears clinging on your lashes before gently fixing the hair that’s sticking on your forehead. Simply holding you close until your breathing gradually evens out beneath his embrace. Only once he’s certain you’ve settled does he finally lift his gaze to the two Eridians.
“You…” He clears his throat, still sounding delightfully wrecked. “Both of you.”
Rocky and Adrian perk up immediately.
“There’s a procedure back on Earth called a vasectomy.” He gestures vaguely, his thoughts clearly still scrambled. “If you can recreate something similar…”
You don’t quite catch where he’s going, your mind still floating somewhere in the haze of your high.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I just— I really need to be able to finish inside her.”
“…Yes…” You answer absentmindedly, before your own words register, heat immediately rushing to your face.
“If you can figure out a permanent contraceptive, anything that makes me sterile, please…” He lets out a tired laugh. “yeah…forget the payment talk, just give me that.”
Rocky responds with a rapid burst of amused chitters. “Grace exceptionally desperate.”
Another click.
“Grace wants permanent solution because Grace leaks too much.” Rocky chirps.
“Leaky space blob.”
Ryland groans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder.
“…I walked right into that one.”
Rocky chirps triumphantly while Adrian quietly adds another line to the growing stack of observations, sounding almost pleased with themself.
“Conclusion,” Adrian chirps. “Grace requests sterilization to increase mating frequency.”
Ryland lets out the longest, most defeated sigh of the day.
“…That is, unfortunately, an accurate conclusion.”
afterwords: I AM SO IN LOVE WITH HOW IN LOVE ROCKY IS WITH ADRIAN ughhhhhh…
i just hope this doesn’t freak you guys out, i think it’s so funny and hot at the same time, AND YEAH IDK RYRY FELT SO ASSERTIVE AND SASSY, I JUST CAN’T STOP WRITING HIM AS A SOFT DOM, I WANNA DO THINGS FOR HIM…ANYTHING, woof woof~
English isn't my first language, so there might be a few awkward phrases or grammar mistakes here and there. If you spot any mistakes, feedback is always appreciated.
Thank You so much for reading this -actual Grace ❤︎
fine i will make a request, i'm sure it's been done but i don't care.
rocky asks ryland and y/n to demonstrate how human sexuality works for eridian xenobiologists. is that much whimpering an essential part of the process question?
so I know @nothxbb has also done a “can we watch” scenario and you should read it here, but this is my take on it 😌
afab!reader x Ryland Grace, oral, p in v, silly terms used for genitals, talking aliens through what’s happening, slightly dom!ryland, Grace is a bit of a tease, one breeding kink mention, the Eridian OCs are arguably too freaky
"We would like to watch you mate."
Ryland snorts coffee out of his nose and you just sort of stare at the two Eridians in front of you. They've been making more and more visits to your dome recently as the pre-eminent xenobiologists of their species, doing everything they can to learn about the human body and how it ticks.
And they've been getting more and more personal with their requests. Which is... fine, you suppose, if you had aliens in your back yard you'd probably want to know how they operate inside and out, but it's been getting a bit crazy lately.
The other day, they asked to watch Ryland piss. He let them. You yourself were a firm no on that one.
"Mate?" Ryland manages, after he's finished wiping his espresso off of his chin. Nye, the more science-minded of the two, bobs her carapace as if nodding. Her partner in life and in science, Theroux, an obsessive question-asker, bounces in anticipation.
"Yes, Theroux and Nye want to watch Grace and the botanist mate. We know you have been mating for some time now, it is no secret across Erid. This would just be a close-up," Nye states.
Yes. 'The botanist'. That was how you introduced yourself when you got here after the several-year journey and it's sort of stuck. It's been cute to have a nickname given by aliens so you don't mind it at all.
You do mind them knowing you and Ryland are fucking like rabbits. That seems... personal.
"It would be very exciting! Theroux could write a paper on human biology and it would be incredible for human-Eridian relations! Does Grace not want human-Eridian future, question? Grace wants to see our socities break down and go to war, question!?" Theroux asks, throwing their hands in the air. Nye pats them on the back.
"No, obviously not--"
"Then it is agreed! Botanist and Grace will mate and Theroux and Nye will observe and take notes. And you will talk us through the process! Amaze amaze amaze!"
"Guys, can we discuss this between ourselves? It's a very... intimate thing for humans," you plead, as Ryland pinches the bridge of his nose. The Eridians seem to exchange a glance - hard to do for creatures with no eyeballs but they manage it - and Nye nods.
"We will give you time to speak. Thank you for your consideration."
With that, the two of them hop off of your sofa and skitter out the door, as if they've just pitched you a business idea rather than asked to watch you go at each other hammer-and-tongs.
"Let's have a fresh coffee," you suggest, and Ryland nods weakly.
The two of you don't address it for some hours after, not until you're done eating your me-burgers and the faux sun has set in the dome. He washes up, you stare out over the beach.
"I mean. We could do it."
"Do what?" he asks. It's been such a busy day, he's genuinely forgotten.
"What Nye and Theroux asked."
His hands still around the rim of the mug he's cleaning.
"Oh. I... really?"
"If you wanted. I mean, I've considered it, and I think it will be okay. If you don't mind, that is."
You know him well enough to know the little signs of his arousal. His throat bobs as he swallows, his pupils blow slightly wider.
"Only if you're sure, sweetheart."
"Positive."
"Okay. Okay, I'll let them know," he says, voice low. You swan over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his back.
"Shall we get some practice in?"
He follows you to the bedroom so quickly that he almost rolls an ankle.
They set up a little sex-pod for you. There's no other word, that's what it is: a bed, some chairs, and a ton of Eridian computers for them to make notes on.
"Nye and Theroux have lit candles to help improve 'mood'," Nye informs you both, pointing at the few little glowing lights around the bed.
"Oh. Thank you."
You pull the bedsheet tighter around you, suddenly weirdly self-conscious. The two of you are naked below the bedding you've draped around yourselves, and you suppose clothes don't really matter to echolocaton-based Eridians, but this all seems so... much.
"We can back out," Ryland whispers, his lips tickling the shell of your ear as he leans in. His hot breath makes you shiver and you shake your head.
"No, let's... let's do it. I want to."
"Excite excite excite. Please head to the human sex area," Theroux says, pointing at the bed. You have to stifle a laugh because of how silly this all is, but follow Ryland's lead when he drops the quilt to the ground and gets on the mattress.
"What position?" you ask, quietly.
"All," suggests Theroux, and Nye elbows them.
"How about just missionary for now?" Ryland chuckles, and helps you lie back. You try to concentrate only on his face and ignore the clacking of keyboards from the goddamn aliens beside you.
"Okay."
"Good?"
"Good."
Ryland lifts your arm so he can place a kiss to the pulse in your wrist. It goes a hundred miles an hour and you gasp.
"What is point of this, question?" Theroux pipes up.
"It's to stimulate your partner. Light touches can get humans excited, expecially on erogenous zones."
Oh god, he really is going to talk them through this. Which means he'll be talking you through it. He must feel your heartbeat pick up even further from where his lips nestle against your skin, because he kisses you properly then. For a moment you get lost in Ryland, the sweep of his tongue, the press of his naked body against yours...
clack-clack-clack
"Humans are very quiet when mating," Theroux states.
"Social discomfort," suggests Nye. You squeeze your eyes shut. To take your mind off of it, Ryland suddenly begins to pepper kisses down your body: one to your sternum, one to your nipple, one to your stomach, and then--
"Ry?!" you ask as he gently pulls open your legs. He looks up at you.
"What is it, what's the matter?"
"You... you're not gonna... in front of them?!"
"I was planning to," he says, with the tiniest hint of a smirk. You almost explode.
"It's not really necessary though, is it?"
He looks actually offended by that.
"It certainly is to me. What's the point of doing this if you don't come?"
"'Come', question?" echoes Nye.
"Orgasm. A great release of pleasure. It makes mating enjoyable for humans."
clack-clack-clack-clack
"And this is needed by vagina-having partner for human mating, question?"
"No," you say, as Ryland chimes in, "absolutely."
You have to listen to Ryland explain the difference in orgasm importance when it comes to genitals in humans, and all the time you can feel his hand tracing down your thigh and coming to rest on your cunt. His thumb carefully parts your folds and begins to stroke your clit, and you get wet embarrassingly fast.
"Oh, understand. What is Grace doing now, question?"
"Remember I just mentioned erogenous zones?"
"Theroux remembers."
"This is one of the most important ones for a vagina-having human. The clitoris. Fantastic for stimulation."
"Ohh, excite excite excite!"
"That's the idea," Ryland mumbles, so quietly you think that you're the only one who catches it, and just before you can tell him off for being cheeky he dives into your cunt tonuge-first.
"Fuck!" you moan, arching your back as he works at you with his mouth. An arm comes up to clamp around your waist, holding you in place so he can eat you out as the scientists watch. It's a lot. He's very good at it, too, one second fucking your hole with his tongue, the next reaching up to suck on your clit, then going all the way down to your other entrance...
You do kick him a bit, then. You both like a bit of ass play, but at this moment in time, you don’t want to explain the point of anal to the Eridians. Not today.
Not unless Ryland is the one taking it, maybe...
You're pulled back into your body and out of your small daydream as Ryland picks up the pace, and soon you're coming all over his face. You pant and whine and moan as he eat you through your orgasm, leaving you boneless and satisfied.
"Is it done now, question?" asks Theroux, confused. "Why Grace's extended appendage not been used, question?"
You glance down as Ryland gets to his knees in front of you. He's so hard that he's dripping. That's always a compliment to be honest, that he gets that turned on just from the taste of you.
"I'm about to use it,” he says, his voice gravelly, as if it's getting more and more difficult for him to remember this is meant to be a lesson of sorts. You open your arms and bring him down into your embrace, kissing him long and slow, tasting yourself on his tongue.
A beat.
"Grace and botanist taking too long..." Theroux grumbles.
"Let humans enjoy," Nye retorts. As you kiss, the sound of keyboards fill the air, the scientsits electing to take copious notes as you make out.
"I'm going to use my extended appendage now," Ryland states, and you snort in laughter.
"Are you going to put it into my wet orifice, Dr Grace?" you ask, cocking your head to the side, and it is so silly for him to be turned on by that... but you know that he is, because he loves when you call him by his title. His cock bumps against your slick cunt and out of the corner of your eye, you see Theroux slap Nye's arm.
"It sure is," you whisper to Ryland, a punishment for his earlier little quip, but he soon silences you as he slides inside with one easy thrust. You gasp, your cunt still sensitive from the orgasm he gave you, but it’s quickly overtaken by pleasure as he begins to fuck you properly.
It’s always good when you do this with Ryland, and this time is no different. He knows how you like it: long, slow, but hard. He snaps into you with rough rolls of his hips and you can hear the satisfying slap of his skin against yours.
His eyesight is shot without his glasses, but he stares down at you as if you are the centre of his universe. In response, you cross your ankles at the small of his back and drag him impossibly closer into you, so deep you practically feel his heartbeat syncing with yours.
“Why botanist do that, question?”
“To have him further inside me. Sometimes it feels better for vagina-having humans. Certainly feels better for me,” you take this question, and it makes Ryland grin smugly. You wipe it off his face by concentrating and then tightening around him, and he yelps.
“What was that noise, question?!”
“He’s getting aroused.”
“Ooh. Grace not already aroused, question?”
“More so.”
“Understand. Good time for Grace!”
“Yep,” he agrees, through gritted teeth, as he continues to keep up the pace. You kiss your smile into his shoulder.
clack-clack-clack meets slap-slap-slap, and you can tell Ryland is really having to concentrate on not coming. However, coming is the point of this, so you reach up to take his face in your hands and bring him down for a kiss. It’s messy, it’s desperate, and his hips begin to stutter as he gets closer to finishing.
“Put a baby in me while they watch,” you hum into his ear, and it’s such a weird thing to coo, but he’s gone anyway. Come floods your tender walls and the feeling of it pushes you over the edge too, cunt twitching around him as he empties.
He rolls off of you so he can tuck you in against his arm and drop post-coital kisses all over your face.
“Now is finished, question?”
“Yes, now is finished,” you confirm.
“Amaze amaze amaze! So when pebble coming, question?”
You and Ryland both stare at Theroux.
“I’m… do you think I’m pregnant now?”
“Yes. Otherwise what is point of human mating, question? Plus Eridians want human pebble. Excitement for whole planet!”
“I’m on birth control.”
“Birth… control… question?”
So you have that conversation as Ryland tries to hide his giddily amused smile. You slap him lightly on the pec to try and get him to behave, but he just grabs your hand and squeezes it instead.
“Oh. This is disappointing,” Theroux sighs, their whole carapace bobbing with the movement.
“Untrue. We have learned much about human biology. Thank you, Grace and botanist,” Nye corrects.
“Don’t mention it,” Ryland chuckles.
“Same time tomorrow, then, question?”
Ryland splutters in surprise, and all you can do is laugh.
tags: @kenstimetoshine @nerd-do-well @kiffycreative @bookerdefay @pixiebuggz @regalfirebird @go-bonkers-go-foolish @inthegalaxxy @sexyleftist @julepod @cosmicyeehaw (lmk if you wanna be added or removed!)
based on my post from last night about rocky and Adrian wanting to watch purely for science and ryland being kinda too into it. "4 scientists standing in a circle consenting to let each other watch" to quote myself lmao
3k words, smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, all consenting adults
-----------------
It’s not like the topic of sex hadn’t come up in the years you spent traveling with Rocky to Erid - he was curious by nature, fascinated by the human body and all its inner workings - but he respected the fact that it was meant to be a private act. He would pretend he never heard you and Ryland when things got a little steamy, making himself busy on the far end of the ship until the sounds quieted down.
So now, sitting on the beach with Ryland, Rocky and Adrian, you were stunned into silence by the blunt questions being directed to you. “You want to what?” Ryland gapes beside you. “Rocky, Adrian want to observe human mating,” said so easily in his melodic tones. Ryland looks at you for help, not sure how to continue this conversation.
“For science!” Adrian chimes in, “you are first humans we’ve known, we want to study everything.”
“You watch Rocky eat, this seems like fair trade,” Rocky states, tapping a claw against the sand. You choke out a laugh, willing the heat in your cheeks to dissipate. “Sorry,” you start, glancing at Ryland to see the pink dusting his cheeks, “you want to watch us… have sex?”
“Yes, observe sex,” Adrian settles a little further down, tilting their carapace toward Rocky. “I know is private ritual,” he hums, “but could be good data to have.”
Ryland nods slowly, staring at his knees while he thinks. Finally, he sighs and faces you, “we would ask the same thing if we were in their position.” He purses his lips, biting back a grin at the shocked look you shoot him. “You’re thinking about it?” You ask, disbelief coating your words.
He laughs, throwing himself back to lay in the sand. “I’m just saying I don’t think it’s such a crazy thing to ask.” He gestures to the aliens next to him, “like, they’re hundreds of years old, they’re intelligent beings, they’ve got a brand new species of equally intelligent life living in a terrarium on their planet, surely they’d want to know.” He lifts his head just enough to look at you, trying to gauge your reaction to his thoughts.
Before you can form a response, Rocky stands proudly. “Rocky already heard all noises on ship, human mating very loud.”
You groan, kicking Ryland’s leg when he lets out a belly laugh at that. “Can’t you just like, watch porn on your laptop?” You’re grasping at straws at this point. “No,” Rocky says immediately, “Grace said porn isn’t realistic. Rocky want to see real thing.” Ryland laughs again, covering his face with his hands, “I did say that.” He peeks at you over his fingers, snorting when you roll your eyes and flop into the sand beside him.
“Hey,” he turns his head to you, “only if you’re comfortable with it.” You think for a moment, trying to find a reason to deny the advancement of science other than sheer embarrassment. “It does feel a little like we’re zoo animals,” you sigh.
“We are zoo animals,” he whispers, hand finding yours, “but we have a choice.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles, “besides, they could learn so much about our biology, think of the studies they’ll be able to do with a few samples from us.”
“Samples?!” Your eyes go wide, “you’re already thinking about jerking off in a cup for them?” He turns away with a cackle, “they’re already studying our bodies,” a quick point to a bruise on his arm from the most recent blood draw, “why wouldn’t they want to learn about reproduction? They already know how it works, we tag-teamed so many of those conversations on Mary.”
You groan, squeezing your eyes shut like you can make the conversation end if you can’t see any of them. “Come on,” Ryland whispers against your cheek, “let’s be guinea pigs.” The grin he cracks is thrilling, like he’s finally living out a fantasy he didn’t know he had. “You’re a fucking nerd,” you breathe quietly, smiling when he buries his face in your neck. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes, fine, we can do it,” you mumble, laughing when he throws a fist in the air and turns to Rocky and Adrian, still sitting quietly beside him. “Okay, we’re in,” he’s all business suddenly, “how do you want this to work?”
“Just want to watch, we go now?” Rocky stands and starts heading in the direction of your little house. “Wha - now, now?” You stammer out, eyes flying to Ryland when he stands and offers a hand to help you up. “Yes, now,” Adrian answers, launching into a list of positions they researched and ranking which ones they wanted to see the most.
—-------
The house is quiet, late afternoon light filling the space with a nice glow. You stand nervously in the bedroom, watching as Rocky and Adrian make themselves comfortable on a bench Ryland dragged in. You set your boundaries on the walk back: the Eridians wouldn’t talk, if either of you were uncomfortable at any point you’d stop, Ryland wasn’t allowed to teach while actively fucking you. All the normal stuff.
He sidles up to you slowly, hands coming to rest on your waist. “Really? A cuck bench?” You laugh, gesturing to the other side of the room. He laughs too, winking while he draws closer, “a scientific, observational cuck bench.” He stops before he kisses you, “just focus on me,” he breathes against your lips, feeling your body release a little tension at his proximity.
You melt into him when he finally presses his lips to yours, trying to push your nerves to the back of your mind. Ryland takes his time, kisses you slowly, passionately, like he’s trying to draw out every insecurity from your body, like he wants you to enjoy it with him. Gentle fingers slide under your shirt, spreading over the warm expanse of your back. He pulls you against him tighter, groaning quietly when you roll your hips against his.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers in your ear, teeth nipping the sensitive skin below it. You tilt your head to give him more access, breath hitching at the way he sucks marks on your neck. You can already feel his erection against you, pressing insistently as he sinks his hands under the waistband of your pants, fingers squeezing the plush flesh of your ass. You palm him through his sweatpants, feeling him shiver against you when you get the pressure just right.
He chokes on a whine, pulling away from your neck just long enough to get his shirt off. Your hands trace over the expanse of his stomach, you can’t help but admire the extra weight he’s put on. He grins against your lips, big hands cupping your face before he’s moving to pull your shirt off too.
The cool air against your skin suddenly reminds you that you’re not alone. Ryland feels the tension return to your frame, shifting so your back is to the aliens in the corner. He strokes your arms and kisses you soundly, his tongue claiming yours in an attempt to keep you in the moment with him.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs under his breath, feeling the goosebumps that raise under his fingers. “Cold, sweetheart?” His smile makes your heart skip again, he looks at you like you hung the moon. You nod and he twists his mouth like he’s thinking of the best way to warm you up. “Want me to help?” He’s teasing now, clearly getting a thrill out of making you grin despite yourself.
“Lay down for me,” he kisses you again for good measure. You climb on the bed, laying against the pillows while he sheds his pants with a wink. “Love you,” he whispers into your skin as he works his way up your body. You arch enough to let him unhook your bra, accepting the deep kisses he gives you when he throws it to the ground.
A soft moan makes its way out of your throat when he licks down your neck and chest, slowly working his way to your breasts. He looks up at you from under his lashes when he takes a nipple in his mouth, eyelids fluttering when you stroke a hand through his hair. He sucks on your breasts like it’s his job, drawing out sounds from you that are almost embarrassing in current company.
When you tug his hair with a murmur of his name, he groans, tongue vibrating against your sensitive nub and pulling a whimper from you. He pulls off with a pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple. The sight sends a shock to your core, your hips rolling against him and head tilting back. He smirks to himself, shifting so he can get your pants and underwear off.
He sits back on his knees and takes you in. Soft hands lift your leg, his lips leaving sweet kisses from your ankle to your knee. He lays flat, dark eyes locked on your pussy, not even trying to hide the growl that claws its way out of him. Seconds tick by with no additional contact, you reach for him, tugging his hair again.
“Please, Ry,” you whisper, moaning when he licks a stripe up your core like that’s all he was waiting for. The first taste has him groaning against you, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing on your thighs. “S’ good,” he whines into you, pressing your legs further apart.
You throw your head back, grinding your hips when he bumps your clit with his nose. It’s a little exhilarating knowing that you’re being watched in such a vulnerable position. Ryland between your legs, slowly taking you apart with his tongue, encouraging you to take what you need. And it doesn’t help that Ryland seems to be working twice as hard as normal, like he’s trying to show off to aliens who don’t know any different.
You feel a hand leave your leg and soft fingers prod your entrance. He looks up at you without breaking his rhythm, waiting for permission that you give quickly, willingly. You feel more than see the smile that pulls at his lips, then he pushes in and squeezes his eyes shut. “Oh, baby,” he groans into your skin, “so tight, so warm. This all for me?” Your breath hitches, you love his mouth in these moments.
“Just for you, Ryland,” you moan, back arching when he slides a second finger in. He growls again, speeding up his movements and chasing your release like it already belongs to him. A curl of his fingers has you bucking into his hand, spreading your slick against his chin and cheek. You clench down, guiding his head to exactly where you need him to tighten the coil in your stomach.
He flicks his tongue and sucks just right, staring up at you with wide eyes as he feels you building. Little groans of, “mhm, mhm,” fall from his lips, spurring you towards the edge. A gasp pulls from your throat and your whole body tenses, heat rolling through you in waves. You grind against his face, feel him lick up your release as it spills around his fingers still nudging that spot inside you.
You flop down in the bed, breath coming in harsh pants, and take a second to assess your body. Your legs were tingling, vision a little fuzzy, core spasming as Ryland slowly pulls out. He stays where he is, pressing kisses to your thighs and hips, whispering praise until he sees your face relax fully. When you reach for him, he moves quickly.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling when you let out a small sound. “Doing okay?” He asks against your jaw, fingers intertwining with yours and lifting above your head. “Yeah,” you breathe, “I could go for another one.” It’s your turn to wink at him.
“I can get back down there if you want,” he teases, licking into your mouth when you laugh. “Mm, Ry, I wanna come with you,” you hold his face with your free hand, thumb swiping against his cheek gently. That sweet pink shows itself on his skin again, making you giggle as he drops his weight into you.
“I think we can make that happen,” he groans, shoving his boxers off with one hand and kneeing your legs farther apart. You spread easily, so wrapped up in the man above you that you forget there’s been an audience here the whole time.
He wastes no time, slotting his tip against your entrance with a whimper against your shoulder. You roll your hips just right, feeling him slip in. He shudders above you, “sl-slow baby,” he begs, “y’ got me so worked up.” A sharp nip lands on your neck, causing your head to drop back again with a moan.
“Love those noises you make, so sexy,” he’s talking to distract from the fact that he’s not moving. “Can feel you squeezing me already, god, you’re amazing,” he slides in another inch, gasping and groaning when he feels your walls give way for him. “Oh- oh baby, fuck.”
You try to relax, try to make it easier for him, but the sounds falling from him are so hot, you can’t help the occasional clench that rocks you both. It takes him a while to push all the way in, he does everything he can to keep it together when he bottoms out and you gasp right in his ear. He’s not usually so sensitive, you briefly wonder if being watched is doing it for him that much. He did agree to it pretty quickly, after all.
He gives a testing thrust, panting above you with the effort. You roll your hips when he finds a rhythm, feeling how he squeezes your hand still in his above your head. He builds speed, practically fucking you into the mattress with the depth of each thrust. You’re a mess beneath him, moaning and gasping, head tossing and turning, free hand sinking nails into his back and neck.
A steady string of “yes, yes, yes,” punches out of him, like he couldn’t keep the words in if he tried. Without breaking his pace, his big hand grabs the back of your thigh, heaving it up towards your chest. The new angle makes your eyes roll back, his cock reaching deeper and deeper. A growl rips from his throat, low tones vibrating against your chest. You hug him to you tighter, taking everything he gave you with barely concealed elation.
He feels you clench around him particularly hard, feels how close you’re getting. He releases your hand to grab your other leg, pushing it up to match the other one. The position pushes the air out of your lungs, your legs shaking under his hold. “Give it to me, sweet girl,” he rumbles, “come on my cock, baby.”
You slip a hand down to where you’re connected, gathering some slick and rubbing your clit in rough circles. Your fingers brushing against his length almost makes him cum, he whimpers into the air and grits hit teeth to stave it off.
The sensations build, your body going taut as you finally crest the wave. A broken cry rips from your throat, legs shaking against his strong hold. It shatters through your whole body, heat and sparks for what feels like an eternity before you can suck in a breath. You clamp down on him and it tips him right over, a loud groan signalling his end before you feel warmth flood your walls.
He fucks you through it, dropping your legs in favor of leaning forward and kissing you messily. It's all teeth and tongue, he’s practically drooling into your open mouth. Your body relaxes against the sheets again, letting him press you into the mattress with grounding weight. He places sloppy kisses all over your face and neck, eyes half lidded in his own daze.
“Jesus, okay,” he laughs with his face hidden, “I was really into that.” A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, your hands cupping his cheeks to lift him up where you can see him. “I could tell,” you smile at his blush, “it’s been a while since you went for a mating press.” He grins into your palm, “Adrian mentioned it and I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he sighs, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of your thumb.
He rubs your side soothingly, turning his head to Rocky and Adrian, “you guys, uh - you got what you needed?” You look over to see them stand, stepping off the bench like normal. “Rocky has questions, statement.”
You and Ryland burst into giggles, “yeah, of course. Just give us a few minutes to clean up?” They amble towards the door, “Rocky, Adrian wait on beach, have much to discuss.”
You don’t have a chance to ask what that means before they’re gone. Ryland turns back to you slowly, “I know they don’t have anything to compare that to, but is it weird I wanted to impress them?” He looks shy, like he can’t believe that just happened. “They’re actually talking right now about how much of a beast Grace is in bed,” you laugh, squeezing his cheeks when he goes bright red.
He groans and rolls off of you, covering his face with a pillow. “You’re never gonna let me live this down,” it comes out muffled but you hear it anyway. You shift to lay against his side, “hey, I was as much of an eager participant as you were.”
“Besides,” you skim your fingers over his chest, “it was kinda hot, seeing you so lost in it.”
“Lost in it?” He snorts, pulling the pillow away. “Mhm,” you hum, “like you were drunk on me.” He grips you tightly with both hands, sliding you up his body until he can kiss you properly.
“We should ask them to make alcohol so we can do that again tipsy,” he whispers against your lips, smiling when you push his head away with a laugh. “Adrian’s got more positions they want to see, anyway.”
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ryland would SO be down for the science and accidentally discover new things about himself, like he's just always down to experiment lmao
bb nuzzling bbb's (baby bb) cheek and he's so still next to them. this creature that stalks perimeters and never quite stops moving, and he's lying on his side in the nest, near motionless, curved around this tiny thing like a parenthesis around the only word that matters.
and he's purring. but it's not the purr you know. not that deep chest-rumble he gives you when you run your fingers through his hair, or the low possessive one from the dark. this one is gentle. pitched high and soft, almost a song. frequencies you can barely hear but the baby can, because the baby is half him and tuned to him in a way you don't quite understand. and your child gurgles back. this wet, happy, nonsense sound, a little bubble of noise that isn't language yet but isn't not language either, and BB's whole face cracks open.
that grin. the crooked one. the huge one. the one that looks wrong on the Bobby-face because it's too wide, too fierce, too full of something no human expression was built to hold. he grins at his child like he's been handed the answer to a question he's been asking for an eternity. what is this for. what am I for. why did I exist.
oh.
this. this is what it was for.
and the baby reaches for him. chubby fingers grabbing at nothing, finding his jaw, his mouth. one tiny fist closing on his bottom lip and pulling, and he lets them. he'd let this child dismantle him molecule by molecule. he makes another frequency, a low warm trill, and the baby kicks both legs and shrieks with delight and grabs at him harder and he's glowing. and he doesn't even notice because he's looking at his child and his child is looking at him, babbling, and the feedback loop between them is so pure it fills the air.
eternity alone. you don't understand what that means. you can't. no voice, no touch, no warmth, no name, no face. nothing but the corridors and the hum and the dark for longer than anyone can comprehend. and now there's a hand the size of a plum on his cheek and it's his, half him, half you, proof that something that was never supposed to love learned how.
proof that something that was never supposed to create anything but fear made this instead.
nothing will ever touch your child. nothing. not the entities, not any researcher, not the dark, not time itself. whatever comes through that corridor will meet him first, and he will be the last thing it ever meets, and he'll come back to the nest after with blood on his hands and lie down next to your baby and purr that soft high frequency again like nothing happened.
because nothing did. nothing will. he'll make sure of it. for the rest of always.
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