Last minute science

I think about him all the time 🪨✨️

[lastminutescience]

listening to project hail mary 🪨🚀✨️

my fav bits from chapter 21:

the crew being very pragmatic about their deaths and ryland just being so uncomfortable 😕

ryland almost killing rocky 😭

but at least rocky is alive and awake 🙏

rocky and ryland discussing evolution...

the issue with the feeding pump if y'all know the theories 😑

stratt slapping ryland out of it 🫢

ryland calling himself a rancher 😂

poor rocky freaking out about oxygen - i don't blame him he was on fire just a while ago...

[suspiriuums]

ryland grace x ares mission!reader PHM x The Martian crossover where you’re a crewmate on the Ares III mission and you’re now informing your boyfriend back home that you’re adding on 553 (i probably got that number wrong sorry) more days to your mission to rescue mark off of mars. the look on his face when you video call him shatters your heart. a tiny “oh…” escapes his mouth as his sad blue eyes make your chest hurt.

“he would have done the same thing for me,” you explain, swallowing to hide the tremble in your voice as tears threaten to escape your eyes.

you know the risk. your crew knows the risk. ryland knows the risk. yet even through the unimaginable pain of missing the other, millions of miles away, you both know this is the right thing to do. to risk your life to save a fellow traveler of the stars.

you press your lips tightly to continue the ongoing battle between you and breaking down into tears. it’s no use. unfortunately the all too familiar warmth of inevitable tears overpowers you and you let yourself succumb to your emotions.

“do you promise you’ll be watching when we fly by?” you ask, hand pressed to your chest to get your gasping under control.

ryland wasnt far behind on crying himself. “every night i look up at the stars and watch for you.” he says.

you let out another cry, looking at the live image of the love of your life in tears. you know you cant hog up the call time any longer. so after spending a few more moments exchanging sweet remarks, you two gently say you love each other and, reluctantly, hang up the call.

and in the lingering silence that follows, you continue to let the tears fall down.

CAN ANYONE HEAR ME ON THIS ONE

[lastminutescience]

i see the vision 💯

[cutiedrpepper]

until his glasses are on my face and his neck is fully marked 😵‍💫

[cloudytimelapse]

Jealous Ryland is incredibly pouty, his bottom lip jutting out a little as he watches another guy try to make moves on you. He keeps sighing dramatically, practically begging you to notice his irritation. Throughout the night, he refuses to leave your side, marking his presence with subtle touches - his palm resting warm against your lower back while you converse with others, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours whenever you walk, and his fingertips tracing slow, abstract patterns on your thigh beneath the table while you sit. He is oddly quiet. Then again, he can never truly stay silent, he only speaks when absolutely necessary, which is entirely out of character for a man who is usually a total rambling machine.

When you finally lean in and whisper, “Ry, come on. It’s nothing. I don’t care about whatever he said or is trying to do. I’m here with you, and I’m leaving here with you” the tension leaves his shoulders. It soothes him just enough that he starts talking a bit more, not fully back to his usual energetic self, but getting there.

The second the front door clicks shut at home, he is all over you.

“You only love me, right?” he murmurs, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“He can't trigger the supply of oxytocin to your brain like I do” he claims, practically pressing the words against your lips.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, baby?” he asks tenderly, breathless after absolutely devouring you.

[pure-sstarlight]

Cheers, To All Of Us

Ryland grace x reader (no Astrophage au!)

✶⋆.˚ summary: the petrova line was simply just a space misunderstanding, the petrova task force was supposed to dissolve, but that doesn't stop the monthly dinner.

✶⋆.˚ yaps!: HI GUYSSS so sorry I haven't been posting that much!!!! I've been so busy travelling around before school starts again lolz, kept on seeing angst about these goobers now i wrote this. mkay bye.

The kitchen of Eva Stratt’s temporary, heavily secured estate in the suburbs of Geneva smelled like caramelized onions, roasting garlic, and the sharp, unmistakable tang of a vintage red wine that cost more than Ryland Grace’s monthly teaching stipend used to.

There was no Astrophage. The sun was not dying. The Petrova Line had turned out to be an anomalous, beautifully complex, but ultimately harmless solar phenomenon—a cosmic hiccup that required a massive, global task force to investigate, only to culminate in a collective, international sigh of relief. The world wasn’t ending.

But Earth’s most chaotic, brilliant, and mismatched group of scientists and bureaucrats had already been thrown together under Stratt’s iron thumb, and by the time the "apocalypse" was officially canceled, they had realized something utterly baffling: they actually liked each other. Or, at the very least, they couldn't function without each other's specific brand of madness.

Thus, the monthly Petrova Taskforce dinners were born.

You stood by the kitchen island, a glass of white wine resting between your fingers, watching your boyfriend, Ryland Grace, passionately explain the cellular structure of a specific type of mold to Olesya Ilyukhina. He was using a breadstick as a pointer.

"I'm telling you, Olesya, if you don't control the humidity in the incubation chamber, the whole culture turns into a tragic, fuzzy soup. It’s basic biology!" Ryland’s eyes were wide, his hands moving in those frantic, expressive arcs that you had fallen deeply in love with. He was in his element—entirely safe, entirely nerdy, wearing a soft, slightly faded shirt that you had stolen from him at least three times this month.

Olesya, lounging back on a barstool with her boots resting casually on a rug, scoffed and took a long swig of her beer. "Grace, you worry too much. In Russia, we let the mold grow. Sometimes it makes the cheese better. Sometimes it makes the vodka stronger. You are too delicate."

"I am not delicate!" Ryland protested, though his cheeks flushed a faint pink. He looked over at you, practically begging for backup. "Tell her, honey. Tell her I’m not delicate."

You chuckled, stepping closer and leaning your shoulder against his. The warmth radiating off him was an instant comfort. "You cried last week because a stray cat wouldn't let you pet it, Ry."

"It looked hungry!" he defended, a pout forming on his lips, though he instinctively reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side. His thumb brushed sweet, rhythmic circles against your hip through your sweater. "And it had very expressive eyes."

"You are a soft man, Ryland Grace," Dr. Martin DuBois chimed in, walking into the kitchen with a platter of perfectly seared steaks. The French scientist looked relaxed, his usualy stiff posture softened by a few glasses of wine. "But we love you for it. Or, at least, we tolerate it."

"Thank you, Martin. I think," Ryland mumbled, though he couldn't hide the soft smile playing on his lips. He pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair.

The dining room table was a massive oak slab, large enough to seat the entire remnants of the task force. At the head of the table sat Eva Stratt. Without the weight of saving the human race on her shoulders, she looked younger, the sharp lines of tension around her eyes mostly faded. She still wore her suits, and she still possessed an aura that could make a grown military general weep, but tonight, she was currently engaged in a heated debate with Yao about the logistics of international shipping lanes.

"I’m just saying, Yao," Stratt said, slicing into her steak with terrifying precision, "if the Chinese maritime authority worked with the European sector on those specific routes, we’d cut transit times by four days."

"And I am telling you, Eva," Yao replied, his voice calm, measured, and entirely unbothered by her intensity, "you cannot legislate away a seasonal typhoon. Nature does not care about your logistical spreadsheets."

Across from them, Dr. Lokken and Annie Shapiro were deep in their own world. Lokken was sketching something on a paper napkin with a stolen eyeliner pen, while Annie leaned over her shoulder, pointing out flaws in what looked like a satellite orbital trajectory.

"If you angle the solar arrays like that, you lose 3% efficiency on the pivot," Annie pointed out, taking a sip of her sparkling water.

"Yes, but you reduce the mechanical stress on the primary gear by 12%," Lokken countered, not looking up. "I will take longevity over a 3% dip any day."

You watched them all, a deep sense of contentment settling over you. Next to you, Ryland was happily piling mashed potatoes onto his plate, his eyes scanning the spread with genuine joy. There was no dread here. No countdown clocks. No looming starvation of the human race. Just a bunch of incredibly smart, incredibly weird people eating dinner.

"Hey," Ryland whispered, leaning close to your ear so his voice wouldn't carry over the din of Lokken and Annie’s debate. "You doing okay? Not too overwhelmed by the circus?"

You turned your head, your nose brushing against his cheek. "I love the circus. Especially the lead clown."

He gasped, a dramatic, offended sound, though the crinkles around his eyes gave away his amusement. "I am a respected scientist, I’ll have you know. A former academic! A man of letters!"

"You have mashed potatoes on your chin, mr. respected scientist," you teased softly.

Ryland immediately froze, his eyes darting sideways as he tried to wipe it away with his sleeve. You caught his wrist, laughing gently, and took a napkin to dab away the rogue food. He stayed perfectly still, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. The look in his hazel eyes was so intensely fond, so completely devoted, that it made your chest ache in the best possible way.

"What would I do without you?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a sound meant only for you.

"Probably die of a preventable lab accident," you whispered back.

"Fair point. Entirely accurate."

As the dinner progressed into the dessert phase—a magnificent chocolate tarte that Martin had brought from a local bakery—Stratt tapped her wine glass with a silver spoon. The sharp clink-clink-clink instantly silenced the table. A habit was a powerful thing; when Eva Stratt signaled, people listened.

She stood up, looking around the table at each of them. Her gaze lingered on Yao, on Martin, on Olesya, Lokken, Annie, and finally on Ryland and you.

"Four years ago," Stratt began, her voice carrying that familiar, commanding weight, "we were all locked in a vat, staring at data that we thought meant the end of the world. We were miserable, overworked, and sleep-deprived."

"You threatened to throw me in a military prison, Eva," Ryland pointed out cheerfully.

"And I would do it again, Grace, don't interrupt my speech," Stratt said without missing a beat, though there was a rare, genuine smirk on her lips. The table erupted into soft chuckles. "My point is, we were brought together by a crisis that didn't happen. By all accounts, this task force should have disbanded, and we should have gone back to our respective corners of the globe, never speaking again."

She raised her glass. "But we didn't. Because apparently, none of you have any other friends who understand your specific brands of insanity. So, to the Petrova Taskforce. Long may we argue over dinner."

"To the Taskforce!" everyone echoed, glasses clinking across the table.

Ryland clinked his glass against yours, his fingers intertwining with your free hand under the table. His grip was warm, solid, and reassuring. When he drank his wine, he didn't take his eyes off you.

"So, Grace," Olesya called out, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. "Now that the world is officially safe, and you are no longer a glorified high school teacher, what is the next big project? Are you going to finally cure the common cold, or are you still playing with your little Petri dishes?"

Ryland set his glass down, pulling his shoulders back defensively. "Hey! My 'little Petri dishes' are currently mapping out a highly resilient strain of deep-sea bacteria that could revolutionize bioremediation in oil spills. It's actually incredibly cool."

"It sounds like a lot of sitting and waiting," Annie teased, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You should come over to the aerospace division. We’re launching a new atmospheric probe next month. Real engineering. Real explosions."

"No explosions!" Ryland said, pointing a finger at her. "I like my eyebrows exactly where they are, thank you very much. Besides, I have a very busy schedule. Teaching my university classes, running the lab..." He glanced down at you, his expression softening instantly into something so sweet it could cause cavities. "...and taking care of my favorite person."

"Ugh, look at them," Olesya groaned dramatically, though she was smiling. "They are like two puppies in a basket. It is sickening."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Ilyukhina," Martin chuckled.

"I am not jealous! I am a creature of iron and winter. I do not do... mushy." Olesya shuddered jokingly, taking another bite of her chocolate tarte.

A few hours later, the dinner party began to wind down. Yao and Stratt were sitting on the plush leather couches in the living room, a chess board between them, playing a game in absolute, intense silence. Lokken and Annie had moved to the balcony, watching the distant lights of Geneva and speaking in low, quiet tones about funding grants. Olesya was sprawled out on an armchair, fast asleep with an empty dessert plate resting on her stomach. Martin was in the kitchen, meticulously rinsing the wine glasses because he "simply couldn't trust Eva's dishwasher to do it correctly."

Ryland had steered you toward a small, secluded alcove near the back of the house, where a massive bay window looked out over a darkened, manicured garden. A soft rain had started to fall, the tiny drops drumming a peaceful, rhythmic beat against the glass.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the hallway lights and the occasional flash of distant sheet lightning. It was warm, quiet, and completely removed from the brilliant minds arguing in the other room.

Ryland sat on the wide cushioned window sill, pulling you down between his legs. You leaned your back against his chest, sighing happily as his arms immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you securely against him. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his soft curls brushing against your cheek.

"You smell like vanilla and that fancy soap Stratt keeps in the guest bathroom," he murmured, his voice a low, rumbling vibration against your back.

"It's expensive soap, Ryland. I had to make the most of it," you whispered, tilting your head back to look at him.

He smiled, a slow, lazy thing that reached all the way to his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It tasted like sweet chocolate and red wine. When he pulled back, he didn't go far, keeping his face inches from yours.

"I'm really glad we came tonight," he said softly.

"Me too. Even if Olesya spent half the night making fun of your biology rants."

"Hey, she respects my intellect. She just expresses it through aggressive teasing. It's a cultural thing, I'm sure of it." Ryland chuckled, shifting his weight slightly so he could tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your jawline, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "But seriously. Looking at them... looking at you... I just feel incredibly lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Yeah." Ryland looked out the window at the falling rain, his eyes reflective. "Think about it. If that stupid solar line had actually been a threat, we’d probably be in some tin-can spaceship right now, crying over freeze-dried food, praying we don't accidentally blow ourselves up. I would have been pulled out of my classroom, thrown into some terrifying government black site, and I might never have met you."

You reached up, placing your hand over his where it rested on your waist. "You think you wouldn't have found me?"

"I think I would have looked for you," he corrected gently, turning his gaze back to you. The intensity in his eyes was staggering, filled with a profound, unshakeable certainty. "In every universe, in every timeline, I think my brain would just naturally gravitate toward yours. Like a homing beacon. But I'm really glad we got the universe where we just get to go to dinner parties, teach students, and come home to a bed that doesn't rely on zero-gravity tethering."

You twisted around in his embrace so you were facing him properly, draping your arms over his shoulders. "You're a hopeless romantic, Dr. Grace."

"I am a man of science," he countered, though he was already grinning, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. "And scientifically speaking, you have a highly measurable, statistically significant effect on my dopamine levels. It’s basic chemistry."

"Oh, really? Is that a peer-reviewed study?"

"I'm currently conducting the long-term trials," he whispered, his eyes dropping to your lips. "The data is very promising. Highly repeatable results."

"Show me the data," you challenged softly.

Ryland didn't need to be told twice. He leaned in, closing the distance between you with a kiss that was entirely different from the quick, playful ones from earlier. This one was slow, deep, and thoroughly intoxicating. He pulled you flush against him, his hands sliding up your back, his fingers gripping the soft fabric of your sweater as if anchoring himself to you.

The sound of the rain outside seemed to fade into a gentle hum, swallowed up by the warmth of his mouth, the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against your chest, and the absolute safety of his arms. Ryland kissed you like you were the center of his universe—not a dying star, not a world to save, just you.

When he finally parted from you, both of you were breathing a little heavier. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a breathless, blissed-out smile on his face.

"Yeah," he breathed, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your sides. "The data is definitely conclusive. You're stuck with me."

"I think I can live with that," you smiled, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like laundry detergent, rain, and the faint, comforting scent of the outdoors. You let your eyes close, completely content to just exist here, wrapped up in him, while the brilliant minds of the Petrova Taskforce bickered softly in the next room.

By midnight, the gathering had officially dissolved. Yao had won the chess match (much to Stratt’s quiet, simmering annoyance), Olesya had woken up long enough to demand a ride from Dr. Lokken, and Annie and Lokken had finally stopped talking about orbital mechanics, now, Annie and Martin are the ones to argue about who was paying for the Uber.

Ryland was holding your hand as you walked out to his modest, sensible sedan parked in Stratt’s driveway. The rain had slowed to a gentle, misty drizzle, making the asphalt shimmer under the streetlights.

"Do you want me to drive, Ry? You look exhausted," you said, noticing the slight droop in his eyelids as he unlocked the car.

"No, no, I got it," he said, opening the passenger door for you with a dramatic bow. "A gentleman always drives his brilliant partner home. Plus, I like watching you listen to your true-crime podcasts in the passenger seat. Your concentrated face is very cute."

You rolled your eyes but climbed in, laughing as he closed the door safely behind you.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet and peaceful. The heater hummed a warm, steady stream of air against your ankles, and the dashboard glowed a soft green. True to his word, Ryland kept one hand on the steering wheel while his other hand remained firmly planted in yours, resting on the center console. Every now and then, when the traffic slowed, he would lift your hand to his mouth, press a soft kiss to your knuckles, and then return it to its resting place.

When you finally reached your apartment, the clock was nearing one in the morning. The apartment was cool and dark, a stark contrast to the lively, brightly lit estate you had just left.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Ryland kicked off his shoes, shed his heavy jacket, and immediately slumped onto the living room sofa with a dramatic, full-body sigh.

"Oh, thank science," he groaned into the cushions. "My couch. My beautiful, beautiful couch."

You walked over, standing above him with an amused smirk. "You act like Stratt's house wasn't equipped with literal luxury furniture."

"It's too fancy," Ryland said, turning his head so his cheek was pressed against the fabric, looking up at you with big, sleepy eyes. "It expects too much of me. This couch knows I am a goblin who likes to eat cereal out of the box at two in the morning. It accepts me."

"And do I accept you?" you asked, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"You tolerate me, which is even better," he grinned, reaching up to snag your wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulled you down onto the sofa with him. You yelped in surprise as you tumbled onto his chest, but his arms were already locked around you, rolling the both of you over until you were tucked securely against his side, his long legs tangled with yours.

"Ryland, we need to brush our teeth," you complained, though you weren't making any move to get up. The couch was incredibly comfortable, and Ryland was essentially a human radiator.

"Five minutes," he mumbled, his eyes already closed as he buried his face in your neck. "Just five minutes of gravity simulation. Then we brush teeth."

You smiled, letting your body relax completely against his. You listened to the steady, slowing rhythm of his breathing, the soft patter of the remaining rain against your own bedroom window down the hall, and the utter, beautiful silence of a world that was completely, boringly, wonderfully safe.

"I love you, Ryland," you whispered into the dark room.

He didn't open his eyes, but a soft, deeply contented smile broke across his face. He squeezed you just a little bit tighter, holding you close to his heart.

"Love you more," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "To the moon and back. Or, you know... just right here. Right here is perfect."

[lastminutescience]

aww love seeing them all happy and stuff 🥰

[heartach3d]

weird | ryland grace

okay I changed it up just a tad in the beginning hope it's okay!! Also I know I lowk posted like thrice in one week then ditched but finals caught up on me hard 😒 I'm finished though and now I have so much free time so I hope this gets posted soon! also one more thing sorry I made this one with some female pronouns but still no distinguishable features! sorry one more thing actually I lost the request 😕

"please let me go.. I've a degree in engineering! erm I've learned a lot these past few weeks I know how to handle basics around the ship." I stopped to ponder any other ideas I could've said to convince her to let me go. "please stratt I need to be with my husband!"

the memories come on every once in a while, describing the situations you've forgotten about and sometimes make you think it would have been better off forgotten for good.

then you curse every thought of that. no matter how horrid the scenes are and the feelings they invoke its better than being left with nothing but your name and age.

the same thoughts also brought you and your coworker husband together again. it was a shock when you'd first figured out you were dating- even married. but now it feels domestic, even in space floating around in a tin can.

"what are you thinking about over there?" Ryland calls from across the room. you look over from the book in your lap, in which it's pages haven't turned in a while. he was doing something scientific, something you'd probably never been able to figure out noting that you nearly failed 9th grade science.

it was a stretch asking to be aboard the hail Mary. of course engineering needed specific science but that doesn't mean you had to memorize every single method. you wouldn't have anyway, the physics you need for work is already hard enough.

"something less important than you're thinking of" you call back with a smile whipping your head back over your shoulder. he snickers with a little "doubt that".

rocky was also a fine addition to the hail Mary as he- they? knew a good collection of science aswell. they were a good team, you'd stare every once in a while heart warming at his paternal instincts.

even if rocky was older than we'd ever be.

"why she not help?" Rocky peered up at Ryland with an act of moving his hands over to where you were. "well... she doesn't really like all this sciency stuff." he was still focused on the experiment, not looking up.

"need to be qualified to be on ship, yes question?" the hexagon insisted "well actually all I need is for her to just sit there and look pretty" finally looking up from tinkering, ryland nodded at him in reassurance.

"gets me through the day" he looks back down to the thing he was fidgeting with and points to something "how does this work if you don't have it connected?" which he made a solid point. but rocky was still thinking about what he said earlier

"what that mean?" he moved around in the ball to be closer to sight line. "it doesn't have anything to power off of?" he seemed to have thought it to be a easy conclusion. "no, pretty thing"

he questioned if he heard that right or maybe it was a new word, pronunciation? but it very soon clicked that rocky was referencing to his previous words.

"oh. I meant I can do all this work for her while she... does all the emotional work" he looked up and stared blankly towards the wall in figuring out the wording, eventually deciding on what he said.

she walked by and kissed his forehead, almost on cue ruffling the hairs on the nape of his neck as she walked past as to make a point despite not hearing any of their previous conversations.

Rocky just stared at the man blankly (which was interpretated as a stare by ryland) with confusion running through his brain before settling on something.

"humans weird weird weird."

I just realized I haven't made a story with Rocky specifically having lines in

[lastminutescience]

dream scenario really 😌

[prudejudee]

Longer hair older neighbor ryland (sfw link ) — NSFW MDNI

Ryland stood in the hallway outside your apartment door, taller than you remembered, his longer hair falling in loose, sun-streaked strands around his face. The invitation had come casually enough—"come over after my shift"—but the way his eyes had lingered on you at the café counter told you it was anything but casual.

Your apartment was small but cozy, fairy lights strung along the window, a stack of vinyl records by the turntable. You'd shared a bottle of wine on the couch, talking about nothing and everything—your annoying manager at the cafe, his recent obsession with a new hobby he picked up.

The conversation flowed easy, the way it always did between you. But there was an undercurrent, a tension that had been building for months, ever since you'd moved in next door.

and next thing you know...

Your clothes were scattered across the floor. Your shirt near the kitchen island, his jeans by the coffee table. You were naked, straddling him on the wide leather couch, your back to his chest. Reverse cowgirl. Your thighs spread wide over his thighs, your pussy already slick and stretched around the thick length of his cock.

God, he was big.

You'd felt it the moment he'd entered you, a slow, deliberate push that had made you gasp, your fingers digging into the couch cushions. He filled you completely, that heavy weight pressing deep, spreading you open in a way that made you feel utterly fulfilled. Now you rocked back against him, taking him inch by inch, your ass grinding against his pelvis.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice low and rough. One hand gripped your hip, guiding your movements, while the other tangled in your hair, fingers curling into a fistful of strands. He pulled, not hard enough to hurt but enough to tip your head back, exposing the long line of your throat.

You moaned, your rhythm faltering as the sting on your scalp sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your clit. You gasped, your hips rolling in a slow, circular motion, grinding yourself down on his cock.

He didn't stop. He tugged your hair again, a sharp, possessive pull that made you arch your back. The movement changed the angle, his cock sliding deeper, rubbing against that sweet spot inside you. Your breath hitched, a shaky cry escaping your lips.

You lifted your hips, letting his cock slide almost all the way out before sinking back down, a deliberate, torturous pace. The head of his dick caught on your entrance, stretching you wide before he pushed past, filling you completely. Each time you took him, the sensation of being so full made you dizzy.

He let go of your hair, both hands now gripping your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He started to thrust up into you, meeting your descent with sharp, hard pumps, his pelvis slapping against your ass. The couch creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your wet noises, the slick slide of his cock in and out of you.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled, your hands scrambling for purchase on his knees. You rode him harder, faster, your thighs burning with the effort, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

He leaned back against the couch, watching you—the curve of your spine, the way your ass bounced with each thrust, the flush spreading across your skin. He reached up again, grabbing a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you back against his chest.

You could feel every inch of him inside you, the way he stretched you, the way his cock throbbed with each beat of his pulse. You rocked against him, desperate for more friction, for the pressure on your clit that would send you over the edge.

He seemed to sense it. One hand slid from your hip, moving around your thigh, his fingers finding your clit, swollen and slick. He rubbed you in tight, precise circles, timed to the rhythm of your fucking.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave, your body convulsing, you clench around his cock in rhythmic pulses. You cried out, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his legs. He kept thrusting through it, his own control fraying, his hips slamming into you as he chased his own release.

He came with a guttural groan, his hands gripping you so hard they'd leave bruises, spurting deep inside you, filling you in thick, heavy pulses. He pumped into you, each spasm drawing out his climax, until finally he stilled, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

You stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. He softened inside you, but neither of you moved, your body still wrapped around him, his arms wrapped around you.

[rockyhatemark]

nook rivalry (ryland grace x gn!reader) summary: when your little piece of heaven in the library is threatened, you take it personally aka your relationship with ryland has a rocky start wc: 3.6k cw: enemies to lovers trope with slightly arrogant asshole pre-teacher!ryland a/n: so sorry this request took so long dear anon who requested it a billion years ago! It took quite a while to find an idea that I liked and even now, it uhhh feels like dookie :’) making ryland my enemy felt like making a field of flowers my enemy

You liked to think you were a pretty levelheaded person.

You made attempts to not let the little, mundane things in life bother you- things that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Little blips to your day that were out of your control weren’t anything to lose sleep over.

However, Ryland Grace was an exception to your rule.

You didn’t know who he was or what he studied, nor did you care to find out.

In general, you were pleasant with everyone you crossed paths with and your first time meeting Ryland Grace wouldn’t have been any different from seeing any other random grad student if he hadn’t immediately pissed you off. To his credit, he didn’t even know he had done something to irk you and it hadn’t been his intention to be a thorn in your side- not at the beginning at least.

If you hadn’t already been having the worst day of your life (woke up late, missed bus and denied scholarship application, to name a few of the events that morning), maybe the two of you could’ve hit it off and been fast friends. He was probably nice enough and besides occasionally being a smartass, he had a good head on his shoulders. Smart, confident and easy on the eyes- all things that pointed to a person you could get along with.

So how had he immediately put himself on your shit list?

Well, he was sitting in your spot.

No, the little nook in the University’s library did not have your name on it, nor did it actually belong to you.

But you’d been sitting there, in the same sunny little spot of the library that you’d come to call the closest thing to heaven you’d experienced during your doctorate studies, every day since you began your research. After extensive lab work, you’d disappear into the almost always empty corner of the library to type up your findings for hours at a time. 

No one had ever been in your nook before. Until Ryland Grace decided he wanted to sit there too.

You’d already had a day from hell so stumbling up to your spot midafternoon only to find that someone else had already claimed it with all of his stuff immediately infuriated you.

He seemed to be around your age, most likely working on his masters or PhD like you were. A spread of papers, books and packets were strewn over the desk surface, no apparent rhyme or reason to their organization. The guy was tapping away at a laptop where a huge spreadsheet of data was displayed, completely ignorant of your presence until you cleared your throat.

Any other day, you would’ve grumbled about it but found a different area to plant yourself for the night. But not that day. You were too irritated and too tired to let this dirtbag take away the last scrap of peace you would get until the sun set.

The blonde haired intruder jumped at your pointed grumble, pulling a pair of wired earbuds out of his ears and looking you up and down from his seat. You most definitely looked like a hundred miles of bad road but you couldn’t have cared less.

“You’re in my spot.”

The quirked brow he gave you had you seeing red.

“Pardon?”

“You’re in. My spot.”

He seemed at a loss for words, pointedly looking past you where you knew a slew of other perfectly empty desks sat. “Uh… can’t you go sit somewhere else?”

You ground your teeth together. “No.”

Gesturing to all of his stuff on the table, he shrugged in a half-assed apology. “Sorry, I’m pretty comfortable here and I’m kinda busy, so…”

The stare off the two of you had for several seconds was charged with tension. He wouldn’t back down and you didn’t want to either, but he had the advantage. He had already claimed your nook and if you went and complained to one of the library staff several floors down, they would look at you like you were crazy. Every spot in the library was first come first serve, you had no special claim to this specific spot.

So you moved. To a table very close to the one he occupied. And spent the better part of your evening glaring daggers at him. 

He’d look up occasionally, meet your gaze and go back to his studies, like he wasn’t bothered at all. It sure bothered you that he was so nonchalant about everything. You could only watch with a sneer as the sun slowly set, bathing your perfect little nook in warm, golden sunlight and in turn making the messy jerk look ethereal while you were stuck in the library’s shadowy interior.

You’d been the one to leave first. It was late, you were exhausted and you had a 10 minute walk home in the dark. The stranger didn’t seem to be ready to leave at all, dutifully typing on his laptop and occasionally shuffling through the mess on the table for a notebook or sheet of paper marred with scribbles.

He’d looked up when you stood, giving you a smug grin that nearly had you flying into the booth to wring his neck. Unfortunately, there were laws against that so you just settled for a middle finger and left.

You thought that would be the end of it.

A one off encounter that you’d fume about for weeks and a man who you’d never see again. The university was big and hopefully you’d made your point that the spot was yours so he’d find somewhere new to study.

When you walked up to your spot the following day in much higher spirits, your good day shattered when you saw the familiar fluffy haired head over the back of the booth. He’d come again. And deliberately sat in your spot.

You decided right then and there that Ryland Grace was the bane of your existence.

For two weeks the man hogged your little piece of heaven. Try as you might to come earlier and claim it yourself before he could, he was always there. Did he ever do anything besides study? Did he eat? Did he sleep? Surely he didn’t spend the night at the library, but you wouldn’t put it past him to hide when the library staff shut the place down and stay until morning. The jerk would probably do that to be petty.

You could’ve found another spot. Surely there was another booth a floor up that was the exact same layout and would get just as much sun. But you refused out of principle. You wouldn’t let this asshole get his way. He wanted to sit in your spot? Fine. If your glares weren’t enough to deter him, you’d turn to another method to smoke him out.

The shocked face the man gave you when you slid into the booth opposite of him one day was worth every drop of fury you’d endured for those couple of weeks. His look of distress when you shoved all of his things to his half of the desk, leaving your half clean, was priceless.

“Hey! Why??”

“You want to sit in my spot? Fine. We’ll share.”

You began unpacking your things while the blonde tried to straighten out his. “You messed up my system!”

Neatly setting your own books on the desk and opening your laptop, you laughed incredulously. “That was your system?”

His scowl was searing. “Yes. I don’t expect you, of all people, to understand my method of madness.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You’d parted ways very angry that day. 

The next day, you did the same thing: sat opposite of him and pushed his things to his side. And the next. And the next. And the next. He slowly started to learn to keep his things on his half of the desk to save himself the trouble of ‘reorganizing’. 

One time, you were surprised to find you’d beat Ryland to your nook and nearly jumped for joy. Finally! Your persistence must’ve paid off and he’d found somewhere else to plant himself. You were all smiles- up until a thick book was dropped onto the table, scaring you half to death, and that stupid messy mop of hair plopped into the booth with a smug grin. Said mop of hair then proceeded to give as good as he got; shoving your things from his side of the table back to your side.

Thus began your slightly hostile relationship with the man you eventually learned was molecular biology doctorate student, Ryland Grace (you read his name on one of the papers that snuck across the invisible line on the table).

For the most part, neither of you acknowledged each other during your joint study sessions- any conversation was clipped and tense. You didn’t try to learn anything about him and he made no effort to learn anything about you. In fact, you weren’t sure he even knew your name which was fine by you.

While you rarely conversed, there were small things you began learning about Ryland just by observation alone. 

Number one, while he was studying molecular biology, he seemed to have a specific interest in the stars; life in regards to space and the possibility of life outside of our planet. You knew as much because he had this annoying habit of grumbling while he worked- speaking out loud and working through his thoughts verbally.

He also had a smorgasbord of space and science related stickers on the back of his laptop you occasionally stared at when you were trying to think. NASA, planets, beakers, science puns and the occasional fox sticker stared at you every day. You weren’t sure why the foxes were thrown into the mix but you weren’t about to ask. 

Ryland couldn’t ever seem to sit still. He was always bouncing a leg or tapping a pen. The one time you got after him for it, he only did it more so you never brought it up again.

You also noticed something that Ryland didn’t seem to even know about himself. It took a couple of days to work up the willpower to actually ask about it.

“Do you have contacts?”

It was rare that you spoke to him, so Ryland looked up from the notebook he was writing in with a blink of surprise. “Huh?”

“Contacts. Y’know, the things in your eyes that help you see? Or glasses?”

“No?” He seemed truly flabbergasted.

You hummed and sat back in your seat. “Looks like you need them.”

“Wh-”

“You’re always squinting at your laptop so I was wondering if you have some but are so stubborn that you refuse to wear them. If you don’t, it might be worth getting your vision checked. I can’t imagine your eyes and brain appreciate the strain you put on them every day.”

Ryland didn’t speak to you the rest of the evening, which wasn’t too odd, but then didn’t show up in the library for a week. You wanted to say you loved the extra space, but you begrudgingly realized the table felt too big with him gone. You didn’t want to say you missed him, per se, but maybe somewhere adjacent.

When you saw Ryland after a week of absence- outside of the library for the first time- you had to do a double take. 

It was early in the morning- so early you could barely stand on your own two feet, which was why you were standing in the ever growing line at one of the cafes on campus for a cup of brain fuel.

You weren’t paying attention to who you stood behind in line, absentmindedly blinking at the slew of texts you received from a friend about a huge frat party happening that weekend that you weren’t planning on attending. A familiar notification sound jolted you out of your tired stupor.

Ryland had a unique chime that played any time he got a notification. It was the satellite phone jingle from the 3rd Jurassic Park movie. You suspected Ryland was a huge nerd about science fiction media but he’d probably rather die than admit that to you. In and of itself, the sound wasn’t that annoying but you’d heard it so often that it had seared itself into your brain and ‘Pavlov’s dogged’ you into feeling annoyed when you heard it.

Sure enough, a familiar set of shoulders stood in front of you, all covered by a cream sweater.

“Ryland?”

The science student turned on his heel. He seemed just as surprised to see you as you were him. It felt like seeing a wild animal, seeing Ryland outside of the library. You were surprised in turn, to find a new addition to the man’s outfit. Gold rimmed glasses sat on his nose. 

Ryland’s ears quickly became tipped in red.

“Oh. Hey.”

He seemed embarrassed, like he’d been caught red-handed. 

“Nice glasses.”

“Thanks…”

Your interactions were always awkward but this felt different. “Farsighted?”

“Yep.”

“Knew it. They fit you though, if that’s any consolation.”

“Thank you.”

Coffee suddenly didn’t sound appealing any more- not if you had to endure one more second of this horribly uncomfortable encounter. Your regular chats together weren’t always pleasant but they weren’t this odd. What changed? Was he angry that you’d been right and pointed out something he himself hadn’t noticed? Was he embarrassed that you’d proved him wrong? Was he that egotistical?

You stomped off without another word.

-

There was a hot, steaming cup of coffee with your name on it sitting in front of Ryland the next Monday. 

You hadn’t expected to see him at all in the library anymore, not after your last altercation, so you didn’t get a chance to turn and flee before he spotted you standing a couple of paces away, giving you a crooked smile.

You were too proud to run away now. You feared you’d look weak if you did. And Ryland Grace was the last person you wanted to look weak in front of.

So you pressed on, pointedly not looking at the scientist and pretending he didn’t exist. Ryland watched you the whole time, You could feel his stare and you wanted to slap yourself silly when you felt your cheeks heat up.

When you made no move to talk to him after you settled, Ryland nudged the coffee closer to you with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat. 

You pursed your lips and kept your eyes on your notes.

“I feel like we started off on the wrong foot.” His voice was cautious, like he was talking to a cornered animal. “I’m sorry for being an ass when we first met. I’d had a rough day and I know that’s no excuse but it’s the truth. I was feeling stubborn.”

This was the most he’d ever said to you in one go. You peeked a glance.

God did those glasses suit him. They made him look softer, somehow. Maybe they made his eyes bigger? Yeah that was probably it. Big eyes, like an alien. 

“Can we start over?”

He stuck a hand over his laptop and held it out to you. A handshake. His fingers were trembling. Did you make him nervous? Your confidence took a nice little boost from the thought alone.

You didn’t hate Ryland. Not really. As much as it pained you to admit, you enjoyed his company and had missed it while he was hiding from you. He just annoyed you sometimes with his snarky comments. But even those weren’t that bad. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance?

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you carefully clasped a hand in his and gave him one firm shake. 

His ears bloomed red again and he held onto your hand a little longer than you thought he would.

“Yeah, ok cool! Didn’t think you… would actually accept my offer so this is awesome. Your coffee order, I think I got it right? I’ve been peaking at your coffee cups for a little while to read the labels. Is that creepy? I didn’t mean it in a creepy way, I just wanted to make sure I knew what you liked if I ever got you anything.”

This was a new side of Ryland- unsure, stammering and sweet? Maybe he’d always been this way and you just hadn’t seen it.

You didn’t know how to feel about it.

-

Being ‘friends’ with Ryland lasted about a week.

All too quickly did you regularly find yourself hidden in a far corner of the library between the endless shelves of academic literature, kissing each other senseless. Or making out in a quiet study room. Or whispering weak protests against his shoulder when he laid you back in your shared nook to suck a mark on your neck.

Turns out, Ryland didn’t hate you. Never did. Except maybe for a second the first time you got after him for sitting in your spot but other than that, he was just smitten (and terrified) of you which was why he kept coming back. He was still arrogant and a smart ass, usually when you asked him a question related to his field- like you were supposed to know what the boiling point of liquid helium was- but you found yourself enjoying his quips.

It was just another Wednesday when your relationship shifted.

You had Ryland pressed up against a line of shelves, cradling his head in your palms and soaking up the feeling of his glasses brushing over your cheeks while your lips slowly worked against his. 

The library was silent at this time of day, especially being in such a far off corner of it, so the only sounds you could hear were the creak of the shelves when Ryland pressed too far back into them, your mouths, and your breath. It was your favorite pastime when you were tired of writing essays.

When Ryland pressed his thumbs into your hip bones, you pulled away an inch to give him space. His glasses were smudged from your skin and barely hanging onto his nose. His stupid t-shirt (a navy blue top with a ringed planet graphic and the words “Jupiter? I hardly know her.” stamped below it) was rumpled and riding up on his navel, allowing you a glimpse of his happy trail.

“I start a new job on Monday.” He breathed, eyes jumping between yours.

You pulled back even more in surprise. Ryland kept his hands on your waist so you didn’t go too far.

“Really?”

“Mhm. It’s a part-time lab technician job. The pay isn’t great but it’ll help boost my resume once I get my doctorate and I need the extra income anyway.”

You beamed. “That’s great! Are you going to be able to juggle school and work, though? Will it be too much?”

Ryland’s eyes fluttered when you ran a thumb over his cheek. “I should be ok. But…” He hesitated. “I won’t have time to come here anymore.”

Oh.

Neither of you put a label on… whatever it was the two of you had together, so you never had a reason to meet up outside of your unspoken joint study hours. Ryland stopping his visits here meant you wouldn’t get to see him.

Your hands slid from his face to his shoulders as you tried to put on a nonchalant face. This was just a hookup- a little fling that probably never would’ve worked anyway. Ryland would continue his life and you would continue yours. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did to find out you would rarely, if ever, see the prospective scientist after Friday.

“I’ll miss my desk partner,” you smiled, hoping it wasn’t obvious how sad his words made you.

One side of Ryland’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Yeah, me too.” He seemed awfully nonchalant about the whole thing. You kicked yourself for being so blinded by the handsome ass that weaseled his way into your life. Ryland fiddled with the hem of your shirt and straightened it out a bit, tilting his head to gesture down the aisle.

“So… should we go back to our spot and hash out our schedules, then?”

Now you are confused. “Our schedules?”

“Yes? To find times that work for both of us to meet up? Like… between labs and such. Or in the late evenings. Or weekends. Or you could stay the night at my place- uh, unless I read this thing wrong?” He let go of you to gesture between your bodies, beginning to fidget on his feet. “Did I read this wrong? If I did, forget everything I said because it was all just a funny joke-”

You flew onto your tiptoes and flung your arms around his neck, only slightly shoving him into the shelves behind him to claim his mouth. Ryland made a noise of approval and wound his arms around your torso to lift you into him. 

Schedule swapping would have to wait a little longer and you offhandedly hoped that there were no security cameras this deep between the stacks of books because if someone was watching them, they wouldn’t enjoy what they were about to see.

i have no idea how grad school works

[lastminutescience]

awww i loved the ending!! 🥰

[doctor-ryland-grace]

Multiples: A Character Study in Pleasure.

( Drabble Set. )

──➤ ♡ WARNINGS: RATED M. NSFW, MDNI, 18+. Sex, dirty talk, swearing. ──➤ ♡ Prompt: Telling them their cock is big. ──➤ ♡ Characters Included: Ryland Grace, Holland March, Lars Lindstrom, Colt Seavers, Driver. ──➤ ♡ Total Words: 3.4K.

You were tracing the line of Ryland’s jaw slowly, your thumb brushing against the stubble there as you leaned down from your position in his lap, the bouncing motion you had set becoming nothing more than a delicious grind as the scientist tossed his head back aimlessly against the pillow with a groan. The rhythmic motion between you faltered slightly as you whispered to him, playing your lips against his, “F-For a man who spends all his time looking into microscopes and studying molecular compositions y-you’re surprisingly… well endowed in other departments.”

God, you were dirty talking just in the right way to get Ryland to turn into a babbling mess, his eyes squeezing shut behind the almost foggy nature of his skewed glasses. You could feel him tense beneath you as you clamped your walls intentionally, grinding up before slowly coming down and resting in a seated position with a swivel of your hips. Heat rushed to his cheeks before you pulled back to see the faint blush spreading across his sharp face. Ryland’s Adam’s apple bobbed deliciously as he tried to lubricate his throat enough for a response, as if that was the only sensory issue here. 

“W-well, st-statistically speaking,” You smirked at the sound of his voice being a little higher than usual as you set another deliberately sensuous pace. “H-Human male anatomy follows a no-normal distribution curve---!” Ryland nearly yelped at the sensation of your walls tightening around his hard cock, pressing into places he wanted to memorize. You can’t help but smile breathlessly as his hands come to rest on your hips, helping ease you into a more leveraged position, feeling the tangled entrapment of your thigh muscles spasming. 

“T-technically, someone has-has to occupy the upper percentiles… It’s just…” He drew a deep breath in and fluttered his eyelids open to make eye contact with you when you swirled your hips once again, the friction almost too much for him to handle. “Probability, really.”

Ryland managed to growl out those last two words as his hands loosened enough to allow you to continue bouncing as you scientific compliment came rushing in and out of his brain, trying to cope as it mixed tediously with the pleasure running through his entire body. “B-but um…” He added, fingers digging into the fleshy skin that rested right above your hipbones and helped lead you into a better rhythm.

“T-thank you. I-I think?” He was not thinking, in fact. How was he supposed to when you were… Well, doing what you were doing?!

A gasp escaped your mouth as Ryland’s hips came to meet yours half way, the head of his cock pressing against the spongy part inside of you that made stars blister momentarily behind your eyes as you tossed your head back with a moan that sounded suspiciously like his name. “J-Just making an observation.”

“Yo-you’d be a great scientist.” The blonde man let out a shaky laugh, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as you captivated his gaze, hands daring enough now to come up along the scape of your curves to grasp your chest. “I-I suppose it’s one variable th-that’s working in my favor.”

“I think i-it’s working more in mine.” Your voice was nothing more than a low purr.  

Something about that caused Ryland to snap, and within moments, your back was against the bed and he was perfectly slotted between your open legs, your feet tucking into the fleshier nature of his lower back. He guided himself, eyes locked between your bodies and watching the stretch his cock gave you. The analytical scientist gave way to the man who was clearly pleased by your compliment even if he didn't know quite how to handle it. You lifted your hips up slightly to give way to a different angle, the slow drag of Ryland’s cock against your inner walls making you both gasp as he sunk back into you to the hilt. 

The room was nothing more than a hazy mess with cigarette smoke clinging to the open air and the dim glow of a single lamp on your lover’s bedside table. He was above you, his usually clumsy grace replaced by a focused intensity as he shoved your leg up, relishing in the sensation of your other wrapped lazily around his narrow waist. Holland’s hand grasped at the muscle of your calf, pulling you infinitely closer with each thrust of his hips, his breathing coming in ragged pants as his pink lips planted a heated, saliva stricken kiss to your leg.

You were completely lost in the sensation of his cock relentlessly pounding into you until you felt him shift, the mattress rippling as a new angle was introduced, the head of his shaft now hitting a spot that made you thrash your head back. 

“Fuck, Holland!” You moaned, one of your hands coming to grasp at his wrist, fingernails digging slightly into the skin there. He hissed into the moan that left his smirked mouth. “R-right there.”

“You like that, baby?” He responded with a guttural sound, picking up the pace and driving into you with what felt like a renewed purpose. You were getting close, your entire body was shouting at you. The tension in your stomach, your leg tensing around his waist and urging him even closer, your walls tightening around him to the point where Holland had the feeling you were going to milk him for all he was worth. More than okay in his book. “O-Oh, you r-really like that.”

“G-God, you’re so deep.” You squeezed your eyes shut and chomped onto your bottom lip, but that was pointless as another groan tore through the air. Irrationality was winning, as it so often did in the throes of pleasure. “You’re so fucking big, Holland.”

The blonde above you seemed to catch for a moment at that, a slower reluctance being placed into his thrusts as his breath caught in the hollow of his throat in a sickeningly sensual way for your eyes to feast on. You can feel his cock twitch inside if you, he must have been replaying your words again and again as a stuttery laugh escaped his lips, his upper half careening down so he could place a messy kiss to your mouth. 

“Jesus,” He murmured against your lips, tongue pressing against yours for a moment. “Y-You can’t just say…. Shit like that when I’m trying to concentrate.”

Holland let your leg go, instinct taking over and within moments, it joined your other around his slim hips, his forearms coming to trap you to the bed as his cock grinded into you. You moaned, “W-why not…? It’s true.”

His rhythm faltered the second you tightened around him intentionally, bringing your hips up to meet his before Holland found the willpower in himself to proceed. Deeper, harder this time. He needed you to cum on his cock. “B-because it makes me want to…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into nothingness as you clenched around him again. 

“To what?” You teased despite your tone being incredibly breathless. 

“T…To fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” Holland forced himself to finish a coherent statement, dark, pupil blow eyes meeting yours in a heated frenzy. “Make you feel every,” He deliberately grinded his cock as hard as he could inside of you, “Inch.” He did it again, the compliment clearly going to his head and there was now a set pace as Holland was determined to prove your words right, over and over again.

Lars was always so careful with you, as if you were something too precious for this world that might break if he wasn’t paying enough attention. And as he shifted his hips, pressing into your warmth, earning himself a soft gasp from your lips, nothing screamed as aggressive or overdone. It was just you and your boyfriend, the evening light filtering through the curtains of his bedroom to cast warm glows to juxtapose against the Winter air outside as his cock stretched you in an almost overwhelmingly absurd way.

Your inner walls fluttered, spasming around his girth as he settled a bit more between your legs, letting them case around his larger body and easing his chest against yours as the dark blonde let a whimper leave his parted lips.

“L-Lars.” You whispered, your hand coming up to cup the side of his face, his eyes squeezed shut in focus as he himself was in an adjustment period. Common for him, you let Lars work it out the way he needed as you traced your thumb along his cheekbone. He couldn’t handle those dual sensations and a moment later, his head collapsed into the crevice of your neck as he gave an exploratory shuffle of his hips a few centimeters out before plunging back into you. 

“T-That feels really good.” You moaned softly into his ear causing a shiver to blister down his spine. 

“I like… I like when you ma-make those sounds…” He admitted, his voice strained and barely a notch above rationality. “It’s… It’s really nice…”

A smile tugs onto your face slowly as you tuck your fingers into his thick hair, seeking to motivate and calm him down from the prospect of overstimulation. “I like making those sounds for you…”

Lars’s cock twitched at that, the motion so minute but you could feel it inside of you as you shifted just a bit beneath him, readjusting on the pillow so you could look up at him properly when he pulled his head back. “A-And I like the way you feel around me…” His blue eyes drifted along your expression before they locked onto your lips as a sole point of concentration. “It’s… Tight but in a good way… A really… Good way…”

Your boyfriend's words made you clench around his heavy cock, causing him to gasp out, his eyes widening at the new sensation. “Oh-oh, that’s… That’s something…”

You nod in agreement as a blush overcomes your entire being, urging him down so you could place a gentle kiss to his lips. He had been asking silently by staring at your mouth, a whisperless thanks being given as his moustache tickled you as you muttered, “Y-you’re bigger than I expected.” There was that breathless laugh of yours that Lars thought was so cute. “Y-You feel so good in me.”

And for a moment, the man above you didn't respond. There was no motion from him until you felt the sting of a very deliberate drag of his cock against your walls that made you tremble. He pulled back from your neck, your skin immediately missing the heated sensation of his breath against it, Lars’s brows furrowed in minor confusion. 

“R-really?” He asked, and there’s something so genuinely surprised in his tone that it made your heart ache a little as you brushed your fingers through his hair as your words settled into the air and into his mind. Something shifted in Lars’s expression. The shock of your compliment slowly melted into something warmer, more confident. A shy smile tugged at the corner of his plush lips, his mustache lifting with it.

"I-I’ve never really… thought about it like… that…” Lars trailed off, his cheeks flushing a deep red against his pale skin, only minorly disrupted by his facial stubble as he inched out of you before sinking back in as far as he could reach.

Your back arched off the bed slightly, pressing your taut chest against his as you let a low moan out. “Is… Is this okay?” Lars asked after a few moments, repeating his thrusting motion that sprinkled the best sensation along your core. “I do-don’t want to hurt you…” His voice was straining to keep itself contained and not delve too far into the pleasure. Yet. He would once he knew you were good to go. 

You nodded wordlessly, your mouth slightly agape as you sucked a breath in as Lars shuffled his hips against yours. “Y-You’re perfect, Lars.”

The cheap mattress of Colt’s trailer bed dipped beneath your knees, the worn sheets cool and contrasted against your palms, stark compared to the heat of the desert outside. Being on all fours was common now, it’s what the blonde stuntman liked as you arched your back to display the fleshy bounce of your ass for his hungry eyes.

His cock was so hard it felt like one little bit of attention made to it was going to make him cum as he positioned himself at your entrance, a small hiss leaving his mouth as he gripped his needy hard-on with one calloused hand, the other grasping with a possessive strength at your hip to get you in the most optimal angle. You were surely going to have bruises there in the morning, but it was all worth it. “Ready?” Colt asked, his voice low and rough, incredibly different from the charming demeanor he showed the film crew when performing stunts. 

You could only nod, your breath catching in your throat aggressively as he pushed in, painfully slow. The head of his cock disappeared as you were given time to adjust to the stretch. Even after all this time, the initial penetration was enough to make you go crazy, your head dipping as you urged your body not to shake prematurely as your toes curled. Colt watched his cock bury itself so deep inside of you that he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than that point of primal contact.

“Fuuuuckkkk.” You gasped as air finally met your lungs again, his cock filling you up completely, his taut hips pressing against your ass and conforming against him like a puzzle piece. “Y-you're so big.”

“What was that?” His hands tightened on your hips, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Your cock.” You clarified with a huff, pushing back against him and causing the large man to stumble a bit before he regained composure. “It f-feels even bigger in this position. Like I-I’m being split in half.”

What a visual. Colt responded with a low chuckle as he began to move. It was slow at first, too slow for your liking as you grasped at the sheets with a tiny moan before it increased into a set rhythm. Enough to get you both going for now, but not enough to cause anything to be over too soon. If there was one thing Colt was good at, it was teetering on that very line.

“Yeah?” He grunted, a hand coming down to grasp at your ass and urge you to grind into him as the other wrapped delicately around your neck to keep you arched instead of letting your body falter. “Tell me more, baby.”

“So thick.” You moaned hoarsely as Colt picked up pace, jutting his cock into you as best he could, the sound of skin slapping skin seeping into the air of the small trailer, the controlled movements he was known for giving way to something far more urgent. The bed groaned loud under your combined weights as Colt drove into you, your body reacting as best it could as you met him thrust for thrust, pushing back to take him deeper as his long fingers exploded against your neck and held you. You needed every inch of him, and he had to know.

“I-I’m going to cum a-all over y-your big cock, Colt. Fuc… Fuck… don’t stop.”

Colt's rhythm faltered for a moment as he processed your words. "Fuck," he muttered, his voice strained. "You say things like that and I'm not going to last."

"Don't last then," you challenged, looking back at him over your shoulder. "Just fill me up and show me what a stuntman can really do."

Lazy mornings seemed rare with your lover. Even more so when he came home at the early hours of the morning, unexplained but always willing to tug himself into your bed with the favor of stress release. And this early Tuesday morning was no different, the predawn light filtering through the small blinds of your apartment, casting faint, gray stripes across the rumble sheets that were close to being discarded.

The air was cool on your exposed skin, raising goosebumps and hardening your nipples only to be soothed by the solid wall of heat pressed against your back. Driver was behind you, his chest a firm plane against your shoulder blades, one arm curled possessively around your waist and keeping you against him. His other hand was holding onto the base of his cock, teasing your entrance, urging you to prop your leg up so he could enter.

Not like it was even a question as you did just that, sleep still tugging on your movements as the blonde pushed into you with an inch by inch stroke that made a shudder explode down your spine, felt in Driver’s sternum as he pressed his chest more ardently to your back, lips barely ghosting against the shell of your ear as a silent moan cased there. Driver’s movements were always economical and precise, somewhat tearing more into the idea of performing a function rather than fucking but that’s just how it was.

There was an intensity to him that both thrilled you and unnerved some part of your rationality, but it made you only want him more as he focused behind you, shifting his hips against your ass and pressing deeper. You gasped softly, the hand around your waist dripping between your semi-open legs. 

Driver’s rhythm didn't change at your sound, but his blue eyes which has been closed, fixed on some obscure thought of his nice it was to be with someone like this, opened and slowly came to focus on your face. He watched you, his expression unreadable in the dim light but there was a crack in the facade as you moaned again, his mouth twitching. 

“Mmmmm… Y-You’re always so much bi-bigger than I remember, Driver.” You panted into the air, your voice barely a tangible whisper for him. But, he heard it. And for a moment, nothing changed. He continued his steady, measured pace of railing into you as if he didn't hear your compliment at all. “You feel incredible.” 

That was the nail he needed. You felt it - a subtle shift in his fingertips, the way he moved behind you before giving you a slightly deeper thrust forward. You groaned at that, feeling him stretch you like it was the first time, head tilting to the side. Driver’s gaze met yours immediately and you’re both frantically searching for something. 

“Y-You’re being awfully quiet.” You observed, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face as he thrusted deeper into you, his free hand coming up to grasp your thigh to keep your leg from rebounding and clamping shut. Driver didn't bother responding verbally, but you were in for a treat as he leaned his face in to capture your lips in a tired kiss, languid and bustling with the affection he so often chose to ignore because it was easier in his line of work. His lips brushed against yours before captivating down your jaw to your ear. 

“I’d rather listen to you than listen to me.” He moved behind you once again, the bed frame creaking a bit with that as his cock hit that spot inside of you that made you grasp at the side of his face in desperation, his thrusts becoming that much more purposeful, more attune to your reactions.

The compliment that had gone vaguely unnoticed, at least in your perspective, was driving him crazy to the point where Driver became irrationally focused on your pleasure, determined not to understand every nuance and sensation. He needed this more than he could tell you, so he was going to show you.

[doctor-ryland-grace]

I need to let you know that I've been plagued with the idea of stealing Ryland's glasses right before you go down in him and he nearly finishes right there looking at you as you stare at him over HIS glasses..... I cannot get this out of my head ... I need to share this LMAO

Literally I'm pretending i don't already wear glasses as I write this lmao

Title: Visual Stimulus. Pairing: ( Established Relationship ) - Ryland Grace x GN!Reader. Rating: M. MDNI, 18+. ( Blowjob, Ryland Grace is trying his best to keep it together. )

Words: 1.6 K. Summary: You get a glimpse of Ryland through his... Glasses. ( literally if you wear glasses - no you don't not for this oneshot LOL. ) ☆Ryland Grace Masterlist☆

You were snuggly between Ryland’s long, spread legs as he leaned back against the makeshift headboard. His slender fingers were tucked and tangled deeply in your hair, a last ditch effort to remain in some sort of control as your mouth bobbed deliciously on his cock. With one particular suction of your lips, Ryland found himself jolting and throwing his head back with a small thud, exploding the very vulnerable line of his throat, his breathing ragged against the muscle causing it to spasm in time with the thick vein on the underside of his heady, heavy and yummy cock. 

“Nnn…. My go-goodness… Y-You’re incredible.” He panted, his voice low and nothing more than a strained rumble that vibrated through your fingertips where one hand rested on his taut thigh to keep yourself steady.

You moaned at the compliment, allowing your lover the same sensation of vibration as you glanced up at him through your eyelashes, admiring in real time the blissed out expression on his face, his eyes squeezed shut behind his golden frames before dropping your gaze to the way his chest was rising and falling with each shallow breath, never enough to bring him enough comfort. That’s when an idea - something simple - playful and wonderful sparked into the back inklings of your mind. 

With a deliberately languid pace, you popped your lips off his needy organ and licked your lips, rubbing your fingers against the inner most part of his thigh, tracing the thinner hair there before it danced upwards, your upper body leaning against him and capsizing his cock against your chest as your grasp brushed against the juxtaposed coldness of his metallic glasses. Ryland’s blue eyes, now completely swallowed by deep dilation fluttered open, hazed with pleasure right as you hooked your pointer finger and thumb around the left earpiece and slid them right off his face. 

He blinked at that, his entire world suddenly soft and very unfocused. “H-Hey, what are you….”

He began protesting but that didn't seem to matter as the query died right in the air as you settled back into position, holding Ryland’s gaze as best you could, using your tongue to unfold the arms of his glasses and placing them on your face. They were comically large, this was not the first time you had worn them, but it was the first time you had worn them in this context. And boy oh boy… Ryland’s mouth dropped, slightly agape and his jaw slacked, his brows furrowed in a way that was more bewilderment than his lack of sight.  

The blonde felt his cock twitch at the sight of you between his legs, his golden frames teetering right at the edge of your nose. Great googly moogly. His brain went into overdrive as you leaned forward, lowering your head back to where you had been before and eagerly took the head of his cock into your wanting and hot mouth.

Not just his brain. Specifically, his amygdala decided that you wearing nothing but his glasses was enough to get him to that crested edge. His orgasm felt imminent as you kept your eyes locked on his, drawing down his cock, your tongue sweeping along the underside and took pleasure in watching his unfolding over the rims of his frames. 

The sound that Ryland made was nothing short of a strangled, sharp gasp that almost flirted with being painful. His entire body went rigid, his hand flying from the security of your hair to grip the sheets on either side of him, his knuckles turning a sickly off-white with intense exertion.

Ryland couldn’t stop himself - his hips bucked involuntary, a single, hard thrust that you took with as much grace as you could, the gag hitting the air and mixing with the visual of you sternly looking at him from over his glasses as a warning of ‘don’t do that again’. He wasn’t going to but… It was hard not to when you kept looking at him like that! In his own glasses!! 

It was remarkable to watch him come undone with just your mouth and a shift in perspective, Ryland’s eyes now squinting to see the finer details of your work as you slicked your mouth up and down, your hand coming to grasp the base and rub at what you were unable to fit. You watched, fascinated as the confusion in his eyes that had been so evident only moments before were instantly replaced by a raw, unfiltered shock of acute arousal. 

“O-Oh my stars.” He breathed, the words barely audible in the tugs of moans spilling between them and the juicy sounds from your mouth swallowing and suctioning along his cock like it was your lifeline. His eyes widened as they fixed on the sight of your lips stretching around him. It’s the look on your face, he’d told you many times before, that did it for him more times than anything else. The sight of his pleasure becoming yours. This… The entire situation was something else entirely. This felt like a claim on his darned soul. 

You hummed softly around him, churning your hand to meet your lips as you picked up pace, the motion more erratic and less about staving off the inevitable. You must be able to feel hos his cock was twitching uncontrollably against your tongue, the stream of pre-cum spilling and exploding down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before forcing themselves open. Ryland couldn’t bear to miss a single second of this. Not this, no no sir.

The poor scientist is on a razor’s edge, his control completely shattering the simple and very intimate act of you wearing his glasses. And the sight of Ryland, through his own lenses, looking down at you like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered was more than enough for you as another groan of desperation left him. 

“Y-You can’t J-ju… I-I’m gonna…” He stammered, his words dissolving into a guttural plea of tiny ‘please’s as you peeped at him from over the rims once again, your motion causing them to shine and capture his attention once again. Ryland’s so close, his entire body is coiled tight like a spring, all because of a silly pair of glasses and the way you’re looking at him through them.

You were fortunate enough to feel the moment his control snapped like a rubber band. It’s in the sudden tension in his thighs, in the way his breathing hitched in the hollow of his throat and stopped all together for a few moments before he forced an unwanted inhale. Ryland’s eyes were dark behind your shared blurry vision, locked in some dance with yours, pleading now and severely overwhelmed. 

“Please…” He whimpered. The word was fragile and broken and was the only encouragement you needed.

You took his cock deeper into your mouth than before, almost to the point where every motion downward was threatening to cause another gagging moment, your movements sure and steady and eyes never leaving his. You hummed again, that low, deliberate vibration mixing with your hand and mouth giving Ryland the final push he sought, but never really needed. He’d have come undone just at the sight of you in his glasses alone, the rest was just icing on his cake.

His back arched and contorted, a beautiful, taut sensation in your capped vision, his muscles spasming with need as a choked, breathless cry escaped his parted lips. You tasted the rhythmic pulse against your tongue as the salty and unique flavor of his cum exploded onto your taste buds and down your throat. Ryland felt his entire body shuddering against yours with the sheer force of it, his hands tangled so deeply into the sheets they were beginning to feel like second skin. His eyes finally relinquished observation, now tightly squeezed shut, his expression a perfect picture of blissful surrender at the hand of your skillful mouth. 

For a suspended moment, the only sound in the warm and raunchy room was his ragged breathing as he slowly, bonelessly and defeatedly sank back against the headboard, his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. Gently, your mouth released his softening cock, and with a swift motion, you pressed an all too lingering kiss to his hip before sitting up. You still tasted him in your mouth as you plucked his glasses from your nose, folding them with the same kindness you had used to take them. With a smattering of kisses against his chest, you leaned over and placed them on the side table along with the alarm clock he’d made. 

Ryland was still taking his time to reboot, blinking a few times as the world came back into fuzzy focus, his eyes finding yours immediately and they were filled with a dizzying amount of adoration as he grasped the back of your head and pulling you down for a slow kiss that tastes like his cum and of the shared intimacy of the moment.

“I love you…” Ryland murmured against your lips. 

You smile into the kiss, feeling the tickle of his stubble against your lips. “I love you too, Ry.”

Taglist: @strigiform-titan @whats-my-hyperfixation @negativefoursanity @everythingismadeofchaos @t0nystank @greenlalianime @my-cat-can-slay-dragons @gardenavenue @whore-msc @goslingcore @rivercattail @ambertiger5 @starsbelongtotheworld @emmyishere77 @wayward-avenging @rocktthehouse @unabashednightmarepizza @lowbudgetdoll @lastminutescience @anixszci @lov3lanuage @hailholyground

@allthelittlethingsssss @sl13-ce @nicassie @emblunt46 @cemeterystardust @ckq-fics @writingforrhys @brunomarzbootylicker @icomewithpeace @theemeraldcorporalnik @kusogeki@starsbelongtotheworld @s4turn3st @astroangel-3000 @electro-elemena@poopoopeepeesupreme @bigsloppycrush @exactlyelectronicstudent @sayadinaa @lorraine-ackerman @sixtiessongs @introvertathome @petersluvbug@moon-trash1507 @romantics-and-eternity @faelvz @reredaydreams @ummilovesidneycrosby87 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @cestlavie03 @matt-murdockk @shittyprofilebutfuckit

[oddballwriter]

Ryland Grace x reader where you were also sent off on the Hail Mary with him (for what specific reason is up to you) but imagine that you’re also an arts and culture nerd and are well versed in all sorts of literature, theatre, and art from all sorts of cultures.

I feel like Grace would already like hearing you talk about your interest in the subjects and gladly listens to your rambling. But imagine when Rocky joins the team and sees how you and Grace spend your break times, Rocky asks what you’re doing and you explain that you’re reading a book or looking at some famous paintings and admiring the work and its meanings. Rocky doesn’t understand but is still curious and wants to learn about it, so you humor him and decide it’ll make a great way to pass the time between figuring out how to save the universe or whatever.

It takes Rocky a bit to understand that humans like to make up stories, him mentioning that it sounds ridiculous, and he can sometimes get mixed up between “false human stories” (fiction/mythos) and “real human stories” (history). He also gets a little frustrated with “art history lessons” because obviously you only have images of paintings and Eridians can’t see like humans can. But I do think he likes hearing human stories and how different they can be.

He says he likes history more because “It more useful. Tells story of humans and what they do. Not fake.” but he’s lying. When you read Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet to him and Grace while hanging out Rocky got really mad at the ending. “Romeo Juliet cannot die! Romeo Juliet mated pair! Take great lengths to reunite and then DIE at end?!?! Bad bad bad! Bad story! Bad ending!”. You jokingly said you’ll read him a fairytale where the characters get to live happily ever after… he thought you were serious and you didn’t want to make him any more sad so you did.

It is really funny when you tell him love stories and you and Grace are either together romantically or are pining because then it comes back around to bite you when Rocky references them when talking about you and Grace. Like maybe Grace was sleeping in and Rocky freaked out and he just goes “(Name) kiss Grace to wake up, question?! Work for Prince and Princess in the tail of the fairy, statement!”. And you have to explain that the story of Sleeping Beauty isn’t real as you shake Grace awake all read in the face.

Maybe Rocky catches Grace looking longingly at you while you work, unaware, and Rocky asks “Is (Name) Grace green light, question?”. Grace is very confused until Rocky says “Green light like in Great Gatsby story. Grace look at (name) how Gatsby look at green light and think of failed mate Daisy, statement.”. And that’s how Grace found out that his yearning ass is so obvious that a rock with no eyes could see it.

[lastminutescience]

a rock with no eyes can see it!! 😭

[thiccbeef]

”is that my shirt?” and “how long have you been standing there?” Ryland grace fluff pleasee?? 🥹🥹

”is that my shirt?” and “how long have you been standing there?” Ryland grace fluff pleasee?? 🥹🥹

Word Count: 1108

I normally find adding music lyrics to fics cringe but I felt it was right for thr plot here. Enjoy some pure cringe, fluffslop from me!

Ryland had been gone for far too long. Really he should've known better than to leave you alone and unsupervised for the entire day. Sure, he had friends (one) and he wanted to spend time with her occasionally, but you got bored alone. And with boredom, comes ridiculous at home shows- meant for your eyes alone.

Music was blasting. Currently some older Katy Perry songs were blaring in the midst of early to late 2000s music. And you were dancing and singing along with it, unconcerned about anyone possibly perceiving you in such a state. Ryland was always home super late on these days, and there were still at least two hours to go.

You barely even knew the lyrics really, but all that mattered right now were the vibes as you half cleaned the room. And dancing alone late at night with a hairbrush as a mic and a cat for a backup dancer was pretty fun.

Through it all, you don't hear the front door open, see the cat run out of the room, and the consequential footsteps of a curious boyfriend inching closer and closer to your shared room. You just continue having fun while absentmindedly looking through a dirty clothes pile for something that was actually yours.

Maybe laundry should've been on your radar instead?

The door creaks open slowly and you remain ignorant, completely engrossed at the task at hand. Suddenly you groan and throw your head back towards the ceiling, trying to recall where you last left your favorite bed time shirt.

“Where the heck?” The music crescendos and you forget your plight for a moment, continuing to dance and sing pathetically bad. You do a quick spin and for a moment you swear you can see a blurred figure standing in the doorway.

Wait. What.

Your body stiffens and it's almost as if the music disappears entirely as red, hot shame creeps up your neck, igniting your skin in flames. A millennia passes as you turn around, your shoulders tense and eyes impossibly wide. He stands there in the doorway, a wide grin on his face as he tries desperately to hold in a laugh.

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he snorts and steps forwards, “is this usually what you do when I'm gone?”

“Y-yea- NO! No, I usually do very productive things like laundry and reading books and…… and….”

“Dancing?”

“Ugh, how much did you see?”

You step towards him dramatically, feet dragging across the floor as you groan loudly. A cocky chuckle escapes him as his hands find your hips, pulling you closer.

“Is that my shirt?”

“You ignored my question…”

He pointedly ignores you and his fingers slip down, playing with the hem of his shirt draped over your torso. They linger for a moment before his eyes flicker up, locking with yours as adoration fills his face. He's so beautiful like this, so unexpectedly soft and calm for a man who's so high strung and clumsy all the time.

“You also ignored my question.”

“I asked first!”

“I guess both will remain unanswered then. Forever, to remain life's greatest unsolved queries.”

“You are so insufferable, Ryland!” You smack his chest gently, not actually putting effort or malice into the motion. “How much did you see?”

“Enough to come to the conclusion that you are a very bad dancer.”

He jolts back as you raise a playful hand again, giggling as you aim for his chest. Trying to run is futile, not with the vice grip you have on his wrist. So, he relents before leaning in, slotting his body against yours as his lips unexpectedly capture yours. He sighs into it and chuckles when your hand drops limply to your side as you probe his mouth for entrance. It's slow and methodical- a far cry to your previous fervor.

The both of you stand like that for a while, lips lock as his hands play and knead at your waist like a man starved. He pulls back and presses a quick peck to your lips before standing up fully and looking down at you with a cocked head and a smirk

“I'm just joking, you know- you look cute. I think you should dance and sing more often.”

“Oh no, sir. Not happening. Not unless you pa-”

“Oh, what was that you were saying? Unless I joined you?! Well, don't mind if I do!”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulls you back in before grabbing your free hand and extending it in a slow dance. He spins you around gently, rocking your bodies with clumsy, untrained movements as he starts to obnoxiously sing.

“When I see your face!”

“No!”

“There's not a thing that I would change”

“Ry, stop,” a giggle escapes you as you try to move a hand up to block his lips, only stopped by his forcing you down. He doesn't miss a beat in the song at all, serenading you the entire time with purposely bad singing. “Ry!”

“Just the way you areeeeeeeeee!!!!” The chorus continues and he smirks, “I'm not stopping until you join!”

“Okay, okay!”

So, you join, awkward and timid at first as Ryland speeds up your movements, forcing you to dance wildly with the beat. It's a slow song, but he doesn't care as he spins you around, forcing you into a dip. But, in classic Ryland fashion, he drops you- straight onto the floor with a loud clang.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!”

An arm extends to pick you up, but you just laugh and grip it tightly, delighting in the way his face drops in panic immediately.

“Oh, no.”

A firm tug sends him careening to the ground with a loud gasp. His arms flail and his hands press to either side of your head as he catches himself on top of you. He stays like that for a second, chest heaving as he catches his breath, all while you cackle at him.

“I guess there's egg on both of our faces now, huh?”

“Yeah, it appears that there is, Ry.”

Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him down to meet your lips once more. A sigh escapes his lips and into yours as he lowers himself down, pressing his body tightly against yours.

“You do look really good in my shirt, though.” He whispers into your mouth.

“Hmmm, I should wear them more often, shouldn't I?”

“You can have the whole dang wardrobe!”

“Well, that's good. I didn't do the laundry….”

[s-trawberryv-eins]

Authors note: This was in my drafts dated September 2024. I don’t remember writing it? I don’t remember who it was for. I haven’t written in years but here u go

Too Much? For Now.

Self insert I guess? Drabble. I don’t know.

WC: ????

-

“You’re fuckin’ annoying!” The door shut behind him. Not all the way, not with any force at all. But enough. Enough for the prickly feeling to spread through her chest. Up her neck, down her arms. Settling in her bones and belly and throat. The familiar tug at her heart.

She knew he didn’t mean it. He was joking, messing around. He’d called her annoying a million times before. He’s playing. But that didn’t matter.

Back to the mattress, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, she felt herself struggle for air. It wasn’t a dramatic gasping, there was no choking or fighting for a breath. It was just uncomfortable.

“Hey. You okay?” His voice pulled her from her thoughts, but the panic stayed.

“Mhm! Yeah!” Her voice was strained and breathy. He knew.

“Yeah? What’s going on?” He sat down next to her on the bed, leaning over to look at her when she didn’t respond. “Hey. Babe. What’s wrong?”

Her eyes were wide, startled and the unease potent. “You called me annoying”

“Yes, I did. Did that upset you?” His voice wasn’t condescending. It wasn’t confused. It was steady and inquiring.

“Yes”

“I call you annoying a lot. Does it always upset you?”

She shook her head no.

“Does it upset you like this a lot?” She shook her head no.

“It’s happened maybe a few times.” He remained leaning over her, eyes darting over her face and chest, trying to get a measure of how bad she felt.

“Okay. That’s okay. Can you sit up for me?” His hands found home on her back and thigh as she did as he asked, supporting her as she moved herself. “Good job. Can we take some deep breaths?” Her breathing wasn’t too erratic but he knew to get ahead of it.

“I’m dizzy. I feel lightheaded.” His hands rubbed slow circles in their places, soothing her as he continued to talk her down.

“That’s okay. Just focus on your breathing for me. Nice and deep, slow. We’re okay. You’re safe. Promise.” She looked over at him for the first time, the concern on his face clear and endearing.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to. Dunno why it set me off.”

“Nothing to apologise for. You’ve done nothing wrong, you don’t have to explain yourself.” His smile was bright and full of adoration. She managed a shy one in return. Her breathing slowly levelled out.

“Can we lay down again?” They did. His hands still soothing her from a short distance as to not smother her.

“I’m proud of you”

“I didn’t do anything”

“Two notes on that one; one. Yes you did. You told me how you felt, and you got through it. I’m proud of you for that. Two. You don’t have to do anything for me to be proud of you. I’m always proud of you.”

He smiled as he looked at her slightly overwhelmed expression

“Too much?” She wanted to say no. She didn’t want him to stop saying things like that to her. She knew one day it wouldn’t feel like she didn’t deserve it. But he knew her and she knew he could tell.

“Maybe just a lot right now”

“Too much right now? We can do that”

He pressed a few sweet kisses to her forehead. She smiled softly, blown away and a touch breathless.

-

[kenough-for-me]

Drag Path

Ryland Grace x Reader ~~ Doctor!Reader feels guilt over lost crewmembers ~~ 1.3K Words

I dug my heels into the gravel; As evidence for you to unravel A drag path etched in the surface; Can you find me?

Requested by: Anon

Dead.

They were dead.

Two of the three people that you had been sent on this mission to protect, to make sure that they accomplished their task alive, were deceased.

You had woken up last from the coma that was designated for every passenger on board the Hail Mary, partially because you were the last to be put into it.

The first few months after lift-off included regular rounds: making sure that the systems were all working accordingly, watching the monitors, stimulating muscles in case the machine to do it had a short.

Once everything had been working properly for two weeks, that was the timeframe Stratt had ordered you, you would lie in your designated pod and allow yourself to be put into a coma.

You had gasped awake as the coma began to wear off four years later, struggling weakly against the IVs and machines, even against the nanny bot that you had helped design.

Stumbling away from the bot, you lean against the furthest wall that was out of its reach, legs trembling like those of a newborn deer.

Your eyes snapped back and forth around the room, mind swimming with memories of the reasoning behind the trip as your body tries to calm itself from the adrenaline of being woken up, breath coming out in sharp pants.

Four pods, all of them seemed to be empty now that you were awake.

A shuffle at the entrance of the sleeping quarters instantly causes your gaze to snap over, finding a man standing there with wide eyes, holding what you could tell to be a blanket that slowly begins to slip from his hands.

Blond hair and blue eyes.

Ryland Grace.

His name flashes in your mind, memories of what Stratt had told you flashing alongside it. The science teacher who was sent against his will.

For the betterment of the world.

Is what Stratt had drilled into your mind.

“You’re awake.”

His voice came out breathy, almost trembly, as he continued to stare at you, the look on his face reminiscent of somebody who had seen a ghost.

You don’t answer his astonishment, though, your mind still trying to catch up with everything that was happening.

Continuing to lean on the wall, away from the nanny bot that continued its effort in trying to grab you, your eyes stare into his.

“Where’s Yao and Ilyukhina?”

Your throat ached from going unused, words scratchy, before you gulp a wad of saliva to try and lubricate it, cringing at the slight sting that follows.

Ryland’s face shifts as the name leaves your lips, his eyes moving down to the blanket as he bends down to pick it up. Your brain instantly catches on to something being wrong.

Were they sick? Were they hurt? What did you need to do to help-

“They didn’t make it.”

Everything stops.

“What?”

That’s not right. You had double, triple, quadruple-checked everything before you allowed yourself to be placed into a coma. Everything was working; everything should have been fine.

They should be awake.

That’s when your legs finally give out, slowly sliding down the wall until you’re seated.

You barely process as Ryland makes his way over towards you, barely feel the softness of the blanket that he had wrapped around your shoulders, barely hear his words as he tries to speak to you.

You were the medic. The doctor sent by Stratt to make sure that all four passengers were healthy for the mission, healthy to save Earth.

And two were dead.

Your very purpose for being sent on this mission was an immediate failure.

You had failed Earth.

You were a failure.

Guilt gnawed at your very bones, a chill rolling through you even with the fuzzy blanket Ryland tucked around you. A sick feeling settles in your stomach, and your eyes stare blankly ahead.

You stayed like that for quite some time.

Ryland tried his very best to keep calm about the situation.

From waking up with no memories and surrounded by two corpses, to having to keep his excitement down at seeing you awake.

He wasn’t alone.

Ryland sat near you, not touching, just near. He knew the sudden touch might be too much for you at this time. He didn’t want to overwhelm you after he had to inform you of such news.

He watches as you curl in on yourself, your eyes staring at the floor.

He couldn’t remember you; his memories were still barely coming forth, but he still had human decency. He could sense something was troubling you; he just assumed it to be the fact that your crewmates had died.

Ryland wasn’t wrong.

But he wasn’t entirely correct.

Your eyes are forced to focus on something being suddenly shoved in your field of view, your thoughts of guilt momentarily screeching to a halt, and instead, figuring out what it was.

Ryland was holding a small tube, a brown mixture barely peeking out from the grip he had on it, the meaty smell instantly hitting your nose. The words ‘Day 1 Meal’ were printed on the side.

Right.

You hadn’t had solids in years, only being provided nutritional slush from an IV. Your stomach growls at the thought of finally getting to eat.

Right.

You needed to eat.

Glancing over, you find Ryland slurping on his own meal tube, noticing that his mixture had a few chunks in it, clueing you in to the fact that he had been awake for quite some time before you.

His arm was still outstretched, the tube held just high enough to meet your lips, but his gaze remained forward, unnoticing of the thoughts brewing behind your eyes.

The offer was clear: he would hold the tube for you.

Something in you flutters, a feeling you instantly push down as you lean forward, slurping the mixture while your own gaze moves towards the opposite wall.

For a short while, the room is only filled with the sounds of slurping and the occasional shuffle of movement as the two of you adjust your seated position.

Ryland had finished with his first, setting his now-empty tube aside as his focus went entirely to squeezing what little remained in your meal tube.

“I’ve already sent them off.”

His voice, softened by the moment, interrupts the quiet.

Your shoulders tense as you're reminded of why you felt so down in the first place. Even though you were stuck on the Hail Mary, were you truly worthy of being its medic?

You had already let two crewmembers down.

Could you handle letting down the third?

“Hey… at least we’re not alone.”

Your gaze slowly moves over towards Ryland at his newest set of words, leaning back to silently show him that you were done, stomach full from such a small amount.

When you meet his gaze, a jolt is sent through you at just how hopeful he looked at the sentiment of not being alone, the slight quirk of his lips in an awkward smile.

Not alone.

Resting your chin against your knee, your gaze remains locked on him as you take in his words. He was right, this mission would’ve been hell if only one survived.

Could the mission have been done? Yeah, but the emotional turmoil that one would’ve been sent in would be worse.

The guilt that had pooled deep in your veins lifts ever so slightly.

You had failed two, but you could protect one.

You could prove that you were worthy of being a part of this mission.

Lips slightly quirking in your own awkward smile, you give a small nod in agreement to his words, shifting the blanket on your shoulders as you sit up straighter, your legs stretching out in front of you.

Maybe it could turn out all right with just the two of you.

“Yeah, we’re not alone.”

[oddballwriter]

When you and Grace have a baby after properly settling down on Erid and deciding you want to raise a child together Rocky and Adrian are absolutely fascinated by them and how you and Grace take care of them, and also just how weird and finicky babies can be

Dude imagine being an Eridian and hearing a human baby cry for the first time??? Like fully cry??? That would be fucking terrifying!!! Just this very loud high pitched continuous wail erupting from something so small and frail. I’d be doing the Eridian equivalent of shitting myself! What do you mean they do that because they need something but they don’t know how to speak?? This does also make them very fascinated when you or Grace start tending to them and they almost immediately stop after getting what they wanted.

Rocky and Adrian do love to draw parallels between human baby and pebble care. Like when you explained that you were currently humming a lullaby to your baby and rocking them to sleep, Adrian immediately says “Eridians do similar activity with pebbles. It is called 🎶🎵🎶. Eridians emit vibrations that regulate pebbles energy to initiate sleep cycle.”. But then there are new ones like burping and swaddling them, or giving them a pacifier, and feeding would probably look insane too since they can see everything going on inside the human body.

They do have a lot of questions that just never end though…

<“Why human pebble grab and put objects in eating orifice when cannot eat, question?”>

“Because that’s how they learn and explore the world around them right now.”

<“Why human pebble walk like Eridian when (Name) Grace walk on only two legs?”>

“It’s called crawling. Their leg bones aren’t ready to hold their weight to walk yet so that’s how they get around.”

<“Why-

You get it. Humans are strange but human babies are stranger.

The two live the baby though. They love them as if their own and would defend them just as hard if harm ever came their way. They’ve basically become their god parents. They love their weird and somehow even squishy-er alien godchild.

[lastminutescience]

they would also build the BEST baby furniture for them 💯

[rylandgracesbump]

Ryland Grace x Reader (the morning after your first time)

Summary: Its the morning after your and Ryland's first time together. He is his cute awkward self, until things get steamy again. (Smutty 18+)

Rating 18+ / Word count: 1K

Read Part 1 here / Fic of your first time! (smutty 18+)

Find my Ryland Grace fic master list here! (smutty 18+)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I woke to sunlight streaming across my face. I rubbed my eyes, still heavy with sleep, and when I blinked them open, Ryland was already awake beside me, propped on one elbow and watching me with a soft, almost hungry look.

"Good morning" He said, in his raspier morning voice, now seeming shy that he had been caught staring.

"Mhmm, Good morning" I smiled back at him, stretching my arms.

"You looked so peaceful," he said quietly. "So pretty. I didn't want to wake you."

A slow smile tugged at my lips. I yawned, stretching a little, and he leaned in to press a gentle good-morning kiss to my mouth. The second our lips met he moaned, low and content, like he couldn't help it.

"Last night was really good," he murmured against my lips. "I'm still feeling it. Still feeling you."

We kissed a little longer, slow and lazy, until he finally pulled back and cleared his throat. The shy, awkward version of him returned.

"Do we... do we need to talk about last night at all?"

I blinked at him, still smiling sleepily. "What do you mean?"

"Like... what last night was. What it meant between us?"

He looked so nervous, like he was bracing for something complicated. I answered him by pulling him into a deeper kiss, fingers sliding into his hair. Between kisses I teased, "Not unless you don't want us to have sex again?"

His eyes widened. "No—no, I most definitely want to keep having sex. With you. A lot. Please."

I laughed softly and kissed him again. Ryland tugged me closer, pressing our bodies together, and I could already feel how hard he was again, thick and insistent against my thigh. One of my hands stayed in his hair while the other slipped beneath the covers, rubbing slowly up and down the rigid length of his cock through his boxers. He moaned into my mouth, hips twitching.

Just as the sound left him, his watch beeped sharply on the nightstand.

"Fuck," he groaned, going limp against me in defeat. "I have to get up."

I didn't stop touching him. I kept stroking, slow and deliberate, while he kept kissing me between every protest.

"You have to stop teasing me," he breathed, struggling to pull away from our kiss. "I'm supposed to get up..." kiss. "and shower..." kiss. "and teach my morning class..." kiss.

I groaned in protest as well. He was nice and warm, and I never wanted this moment to end. He licked along my bottom lip, then finally pulled away with one last quick kiss before rolling out of bed and heading for the bathroom. He turned and smiled at me, taking in the view of me still naked in his bed, before turning towards the bathroom. The door was left resting in-between shut, and just barely open.

I was left aching, thighs pressed together, a slick wet spot already forming between them. Still panty-less from the night before, I reached up and toyed with one of my nipples, biting my lip at the sharp little spark of pleasure. When I heard the water finally start running, I let my hand drift lower, parting my lips and circling my clit with two fingers before sliding them inside myself, slow and steady.

I continued to work my fingers in and out, taking breaks to draw figure eights around my clit. Heat started to build quickly. I was already so sensitive and needy from our slow, sleepy kissing. My breathing grew shallow, the room spinning a little as I danced close to the edge. My free hand moving off of my tender nipple, to grab a fist full of the sheets, as I concentrated on my building orgasm.

Then I heard the rustle of movement from across the room.

My eyes flew open. Ryland stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. His eyes were dark, bottom lip caught between his teeth, one hand resting on his hip while the other slowly palmed the obvious bulge in the front of the towel.

"You're so close, I can tell. Go on, show me how you come"

I huffed a soft, embarrassed laugh and closed my legs, cheeks burning. He looked unfairly good. Still sleepy, warm, still wet from his shower, already needy again. I reached a hand out to him.

"Not yet," he said quietly. "I just wanna watch."

My face grew hotter. "Ryland..."

"God, you look so beautiful all spread out like that." He swallowed. "Finish for me, please."

I took a shaky breath and opened my legs again, circling my clit the way I had before. It didn't take long. My body was already wound tight. When I pushed a third finger inside myself, the stretch tipped me over. My orgasm ripped through me, thighs shaking as I came hard around my own fingers.

The second I started to come down, Ryland crossed the room. He pulled my thighs apart and dipped his head between them, licking me clean with slow, delicate strokes of his tongue. When he was satisfied, he took my wrist and brought my slick fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean one by one. Then he leaned up and kissed me, deep and thorough, letting me taste myself on his tongue.

When he finally stood, he brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"Relax today," he said softly. "Have breakfast. Have coffee. When I'm done with work, I'll come home and look after you properly."

He gave me one last quick kiss, then turned and headed back toward the bathroom again, leaving me flustered, and already counting the hours until he returned.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If you enjoyed this:

Read the full fic on wattpad! 10+ chapters! (Smutty 18+)

Read pt 1 of this scene here!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[thiccbeef]

I'm so fucking proud of u bestie

Really need this to <3

Ryland + “You don’t have to tell me anything, we can just sit here.” + angst/comfort/fluff

<3

ILY AND CONGRATULATIONS YOU DESEVE A MILLION FOLLOWERS!

Ryland + “You don’t have to tell me anything, we can just sit here.” + angst/comfort/fluff

Word Count: 1196

PSA: idea of reader being therapist was actually @eridianhearts hearts idea. I just loved it and asked permission to use it for this drabble. So, credit goes to them. Thank you!

Ryland was everything you weren't: intelligent, successful, funny, and so, so painfully beautiful. It's easy to feel insignificant next to him, especially when he and Rocky were the saviours of the universe- not you. You were just a glorified therapist who was unlucky enough to lose your memory alongside him on this suicide trip.

When the both of you woke up, Ryland had found his place on the ship immediately. Sure, he was confused, and sad, and angry, but he knew one thing- he excelled at science and mathematics. Comparatively, you struggled to follow along with his ranting, feeling inadequate compared to his brilliance. Nothing on the ship even made sense to you. You didn't know mechanics, you couldn't pilot, you weren't a biologist. The only thing that you knew, was that you knew nothing.

That feeling eventually compounded when you met Rocky. The best engineer and mathematician you've ever met in your life. And you couldn't even understand how Ryland rewired the lighting.

You had eventually learned that you were intended to be the on-board therapist. However, without any memories or any other reasonable skills, you were essentially useless. A staggering waste of carbon, as Ryland would kindly put it.

He would never say that to your face though, but you knew he thought it deep down inside.

That's how you found yourself self-isolating in a tiny space ship careening towards an unknown alien planet. It was hard, in such small confines, but you managed enough- preferring the deafening silence to Ryland's and Rocky's inquisitive stares.

They tried their best to help in any way they could, but it didn't help. Despite how good you were at helping others, how good at listening you were, you couldn't talk about it. You were made to be a listener and that's how you'll remain.

Hopefully.

The mental health room, lovingly termed the ‘don't go crazy room’ by Ryland, was your favorite hiding place these days. It was easy to tuck away against the black LED panels, wrapped tightly in dark clothes and blankets allowing you to blend into the wall seamlessly. Of course, Rocky could find you at any time, but he must know how much you need the isolation.

Ryland doesn't, however.

So, he finds you with your head resting against the panels as your body shivers with something unknown, something deeper and more complex than sadness. He knows something is wrong immediately, that much is evident by the way he sits down next to you- uncharacteristically calm and silent. His hand slips underneath the blanket and his fingers intertwine with yours, filling you with a warmth that shakes your body. It should be comforting, but all it does is fill you with dread.

Here he is, doing your job.

A tremor escapes your body as you cling desperately onto propriety. Do not cry, do not panic, calm. It's useless though and you cough as a choked, sob escapes through your lips. It's swallowed down in a moment and cold, deliberate calmness seeps over your heart, chilling you to the bone.

“Hey, don't do that.” He leans forward and pulls your hand, forcing your body closer to his. You don't fight it and allow yourself this simple comfort, despite not feeling deserving of it. “You can cry, it's okay.”

The tears well in your eyes again at his simple reassurance and you're unable to stop the flow this time, feeling as the cold streams cascade down your face and onto his shirt. It's pathetic really, the way you rely so heavily on someone who should be relying on you. He's the savior of the universe and here he is, consoling a lonely, devoid soul because they can't manage to do it themselves.

“What's wrong?”

You don't answer him, choosing instead to tuck yourself into his neck, body shivering as his arms wrap around you. A second later he pulls you into his lap, allowing you to lay your burdens onto him, despite how much you want to shoulder them alone.

Soft, gentle lips press themselves against your head, lingering in your hair as he whispers kind praises to you. It's all incoherent over your crying, but the thought and intent is what matters and it makes you feel lighter all the same. He doesn't pry, he never does.

“It's okay, y/n. You don't have to say anything, we can just sit here. How does that sound?”

You hum into his neck, vibrating his skin and he jolts, body shaking as tickles vibrate down his spine and into his toes. He giggles for a moment and hugs you even tighter to him, shaking you back and forth as he scolds you for ticking him- even if it was unintentional. It makes you smile and laugh at how goofy and how unapologetically him, he is.

The both of you sit there for a long while, wrapped in each other's arms as you find a comfortable solace in each other. You might be the last two humans alive in the universe, but at least you're alone together. And nothing will change that.

Suddenly, his fingers find your jaw and he turns your head towards him, locking your eyes together. He smiles gently and leans in, pressing his warm, soft lips to yours in a loving kiss. There's no passion or heat, only pure love and adoration as he slowly moves his lips with yours, molding you together. He presses one last, lingering peck to your lips before pulling back and smiling, his fingers stroking your cheek.

“I don't know what's wrong… and it's okay if you never tell me. But never hide from me again and please never hide your emotions.” He sighs and looks away, his lips quivering as emotions brew. “You and Rocky are all I have… P-please don't hide from me..”

“I-I'm sorry, Ry,” a choke escapes your lips, “I'm sor-”

“It's okay. You'll tell me when you're ready. I… I just can't do this without you.”

You chose not to respond and instead, you press a kiss to the corner of his lips before tucking yourself into his neck once again. Is it selfish and horrible to feel relieved at how much he needs you?

Maybe.

Probably.

But at least he needs you as much as you need him. And it makes you feel useful- which is enough for now.

A new presence makes itself known finally as Rocky loudly rolls into the room, screeching with excitement.

“Rocky join hug time too?”

Both of you stare before breaking out into soft laughter, your bodies shaking as Ryland leans his head back against a panel.

“Oooo apologies. Rocky interrupt private, quiet time. Rocky leave!”

“No, no… it's okay Rocky come here. We were missing something anyway.”

He trills loudly and rolls up to the both of you, loafing up in his ball as he presses his body tightly to the xenonite glass- as close as possible. The warmth of his body seeps into you and Ryland, and you all lay there, enjoying the silence together. Instead of painfully alone.