If Daryl Dies, We Riot

Lover of all things Daryl Dixon, Walking Dead, and Norman Reedus Age:25

[cafe-velour]

In Sickness and in… Bodily Fluids?

summary: Dennis has an unfortunate run-in with one very determined toddler. You offer a solution.

𝒘 — Dennis Whitaker & Fem! Reader ⟢ ( SMAU ) established relationship. fluff. sunshine reader. please be kind 🙏

[ccandlehead]

𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑡 — 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

d. whitaker

IM SO CRAZY 4 U <3 (smau masterlist)

dennis getting jealous of a puppy

desperate rambley dennis

dennis with a sweetheart!reader

playground dates

jerking dennis off with your hand down his panties

casual dominance with dennis

service top dennis

tying dennis up and making him beg

soft dom dennis introducing his gf to the pittlings

b. al hashimi

“cuddling” to sleep

baran waking you up with head

being barans dress up dolly

dbf!baran hcs

dbf!baran helps you in the shower

mean baran forcing you to eat her out

mean baran + sensory play

baran with a hyperfem reader

sugar mommy baran hcs

mom gf baran at a party with you (fauxcest)

mom gf baran comforting you (fauxcest)

cannibal baran

sugar mommy baran fluff

mama dana and mommy baran taking care of you (fauxcest)

baran corrupting her little girl (fauxcest)

ships

crashtos wedding hcs

crashtos general hcs

lindavadis first time together

wanna see something specific? check my rules and request ^_^

[raz-writes-the-thing]

How Do Humans Reproduce, Question?

Ryland Grace x FemImplied!Reader

Fic Summary: Rocky wants to know how humans reproduce.

Fic type: crack treated seriously.

EVERYTHING: @xxxsugarcyanidexxx

PROJECT HAIL MARY: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, you really wished you had a bottle of wine. Possibly several. Yes, several would be nice.

Unfortunately, you had not had the hindsight to ask for more than one or two when you took flight on the Mary. You thought you would figure out the Astrophage shit and then pop off to whatever comes next.

That's not what Fate had in store for you though. And now, here you were- hearing Rocky and Adrian explain how they got it on. Not that it had really bothered you- the scientist in you had actually been pretty interested.

It was... Ryland's explanation of human reproduction that made you crave a large glass of wine. Or maybe a hard scotch on the rocks. Alcohol of some description at any rate. And plenty of it, too.

Rocky and Adrian were understandably horrified about the explanation Ryland had given- wherein at one point he had explained that the human male had a third leg and that third leg was inserted within the female.

Eridians (as you had kind of expected) reproduced with much less insertion of things and with more sophistication and less bodily fluids. Ryland had reacted less like a scientist and more like a child who hadn't expected to see a hairy spider on the wall.

Which is to say he'd reacted... badly.

"Bad, bad, bad," Rocky said, leaning away from Grace. "Humans are disgust."

"It can be quite beautiful, actually," you cut in before Ryland could dig this hole any deeper. "With the right person."

Ryland's expression shifted from confusion about his explanation being cut off to appreciation, gaze rolling from your feet upwards.

"True that," he chimed in, lips flicking into a smirk that you knew meant he would be proving the point later. You rolled your eyes and took another sip of your water.

"Gross, gross," Rocky blurted. "Humans mate now? No, no, bad."

You burst into laughter at the way Ryland coughed and immediately moved to damage control but it was too late. Rocky was herding an unbothered Adrian towards the door. You could hear Rocky's horrified chirping continue as they went down the hill towards the Biodomes' door.

Ryland turned from the open doorway towards you, hands on his hips.

"Well, I mean," he trailed off, glasses slipping down his nose. "Rocky thinks we're mating right now anyway- want to give it the old college try?"

You contemplated a moment. Just long enough to make him stew on the proposition.

"I think the hypothesis of how human reproduction works has been tried and tested beyond a doubt, particularly in our case- but if you're not sure then I think we should."

The gleeful whoop he let out almost made you change your mind. Almost.

[rockylandphm]

drunk in space

pairing: ryland grace x reader

synopsis. in which a little too much vodka aboard the hail mary turns a celebration into the confession ryland has been avoiding for years (3.2k words)

Everything in the Hail Mary looks fuzzy.

The halls seem longer somehow. The walls, usually a sterile white as far as you remember, are blurring together beneath the ship’s lighting. The equipment panels look like they’re dancing a little, swaying back and forth and back and forth and never really stopping. And there is a steady hum that’s vibrating through the floor beneath your feet.

With a pouch of vodka in your hand, you tilt your head to look around the ship in a mix of confusion and wonder. Everything looks as it has always been, the same things that had stared at you for years, and yet it felt totally different.

And above all, Armando seems to have grown a new pair. How stupid, the sight of two Armando's side by side each other. What was Eva Stratt thinking, approving the extra weight on the aircraft. But, you guess two highly intelligent robots wouldn’t hurt too bad. One for each of you.

“Whyyyy…” You immediately shut up when the word escapes your mouth, eyes widened at the sound. Your voice, to your ears, sounds slurred and heavy. Like somebody stuffed cotton into your mouth.

You intended to ask Ryland why there were two Armandos. You guess, backups were essential as it wasn’t like you could come knocking down another planet and demand for another robot that could take care of you. But why’d you only notice now?

So, you meant to ask. 

But your voice surprises you. 

“Did you say something?” Ryland asks, currently seated beside you.

With eyes unfocused, you turn to look at your crewmate with curiosity and then back at the Armandos.

While you’re busy contemplating your new found mystery, Ryland carefully reaches over and plucks the nearly empty pouch from your hand. It felt akin to defusing a bomb, like at any moment you’d notice and blow in temper.

Because a few minutes ago, when he had attempted the same thing, you had gotten surprisingly offended. Apparently confiscating alcohol was a deeply personal betrayal, and honestly, Ryland would rather perform another EVA than make you look at him like that again, with the same upset eyes—even if it was unintentional and under the influence of alcohol.

The vodka had been unboxed in the first place because the Taumoeba breeding program worked. The solution to humanity’s extinction wasn’t theoretical anymore, it existed. It was here, some on the ship with you, and some on the beatles that were currently on their path back home. And you were actually on your way back to Earth. Something the both of you had thought impossible. You didn’t know living was a possibility. 

Apparently, you’d taken the invitation of drinking far more seriously than he did because he’d only really needed the taste of alcohol to hide behind his feelings that has been growing tenfold since he’d first met you, and although he could never trust himself drunk around you (he knows his blabber mouth would confess in one way or another), a few sips wouldn’t hurt.

He needs it really because somewhere between the years of working together, you’d become far more than a crewmate to him. And Ryland doesn’t have a clue what to do about it, especially when there was now room to think about things that hadn’t to do with the Earth’s survival.

He thinks you'd both changed so much since you woke up aboard the Hail Mary.

Back then, you had just been strangers thrown together by circumstances that neither of you chose, desperately trying to save humanity that was billions of kilometers away from the both of you. 

And then Rocky happened, and while the mission had become easier with the help of Erid’s most talented engineer, the relationship between you and Ryland became infinitely more complicated. There was a tension that Rocky had always commented on, how weird human ‘mates’ behaved around each other, but you’d both prioritized the mission and remained unassuming of the other’s feelings so it wouldn’t get in the way.

And so it was months and years of problem solving, near disasters, and moments that only the three of you could truly understand. But now, the Hail Mary was finally pointed back home after Rocky’s generosity, and the hard parts seemed finally to be behind. 

But three became two, and two was a dangerous number alone with the company of alcohol.

With the vodka safely out of your reach, Ryland doesn’t even try to understand what you’re giggling about. He knows you’re hit, and the wholesome way you’re smiling is too adorable to question. He just lets you stare at the Armando like it was a Nobel prize winning discovery. It might as well be.

After gawking for a few minutes, you turn your attention to Ryland once more, scooting so much closer that your knees are pressed together now. Leaning in with a hand covering your mouth, you whisper into his ear. 

“Grace.”

“What?”

“Why are there two Armandos?”

Ryland feels like crying at how cute you are, even briefly considers launching himself into space. 

“I think you might’ve had too much to drink.” You pull away from his face, eyebrows knit as you shake your head in disagreement. You’re too shy to admit you’ve already been hit quite a while ago now. And you’re too prideful to believe you’re actually drunk.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You spent ten minutes arguing with a storage bin a while ago. And you think Armando has a wife.”

“The storage bin started it. And—” You suddenly frown, patting your pockets down and the shirt you’re wearing. “Where’d the vodka go?”

Ryland immediately looks away to avoid suspicion, but you don’t even give him a chance to defend himself because you’ve abruptly gotten up from where you were seated.

“Hold on.” You wobble alarmingly, and Ryland immediately stands at once with his hands stretched out in case you fall over. 

Ryland follows suit with his hands stretched out in case you fall over. “What is it now?”

“Gonna look for more vodka.” Eyes blinking rapidly, you step forward a little unsteadily and Ryland has an arm hovering around you in record time as you stop suddenly at a maintenance panel. “This has two of itself too!”

You’re already taking a step forward to investigate, but before you can, your foot catches on absolutely nothing and Ryland is grateful he had been ready to wrap his arm around your waist before gravity can finish the job of your falling over. 

“I think you’re really drunk, (Name).”

“‘M not drunk. The ship’s being weird.” You brush off his statement, waving a hand dismissively and detaching yourself from him so you can stumble towards even more things to see them up close.

Though, you don’t think your feet want to cooperate with you very much.

The second you wobble again, Ryland gently steers you back to a seat. 

He thinks, what would get you to behave? He tries to remember what he would’ve done with his middle school kids, what had always worked on them. Reverse psychology, or maybe making them think you believe them so they would pipe down?

“Okay. You’re not drunk. I believe you.” You smile victoriously at his statement suddenly, remaining in your seat, and Ryland sighs out in relief.

“I knew you’d come around.” You respond, bowing unsteadily before looking up at him with your crescent eyes and your crooked grin, and the boy really has to try his best not to get carried away with the overwhelming amount of feelings he has for you.

Especially when you’re looking at him like that.

He fails, of course, hearing his own heartbeat quicken and his palms start to sweat, but at least he tried anyway. In trial of calming himself down, his hands find your shoulders. Not necessarily romantically, but more like he’s attempting to redirect you, pushing you gently back into your seat when you attempt to get up again.

Ryland hears nothing but muffled protests from you, but he takes the limited time he has with your eyes peeled to clear his throat and recompose himself before he pulls his hand back.

Get it together, Grace.

Unfortunately, getting it together becomes difficult when you’ve pulled him to sit next to you, shoulder-to-shoulder because wow, he really wants you, hopelessly and embarrassingly. And maybe he’s just so touch-deprived, and you’re the only other human being on this cursed ship right now. 

But neither of you had ever considered crossing that line. There has always been something more important. And that’s what makes this so much harder. 

And besides you were friends, until you became best friends, and until Ryland started to feel something he was afraid to put a name on. Because you were just a crewmate, until he started searching for you everywhere, until he started caring way too much, and by then, it had been too late.

He can’t really think right now, can’t think of all the moments he wanted to kiss you but he knows it’d be better if he didn’t. He can’t think right now because you’re gripping at his shirt with your eyebrows twisted, lips pressed in a thin line as if you’re trying to discern the way you’re feeling right now.

“Grace, I’m a little dizzy now.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re drunk.”

You point at him accusingly. “I thought we agreed I wasn’t.”

And then you’re getting up again.

“Careful.” He mumbles under his breath, standing up and stepping forward. You always trust Ryland to be there before you fall.

But you can tell he’s tired. You don’t even know what time it is anymore. Everything’s so distorted and it’s all just static to you now. All you know is that you have to sleep so Ryland won’t have to babysit you anymore.

“Sleeping now.” You hiccup, body swaying in an alarming way as you begin to lower yourself toward the floor. 

Ryland has to grab you under the arms.

“Absolutely not.” He pulls you back, allowing you to rest most of your weight on him when you stumble while trying to sit back up with the help of his hands on your arms.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s the floor.”

“But you’re tired.” You whine. “I know. You always rub your eyes like that when you’re trying not to fall asleep. I’m being mean keeping you awake.”

Unfortunately, you are correct. He did just do it, but that was moments ago and he didn’t think you’d actually notice. “It’s okay, I’ll survive.”

“Don’t wanna keep you awake. You always have trouble sleeping.” The words come out so quiet that he almost misses them, and it makes his chest ache.

“It’s really okay.”

You grab both of his forearms. “You always take care of me.”

Your voice has significantly gotten softer now, words slurring together around the edges.

He does, he really does. But, you take care of him too. He thinks it’s the years aboard on the Hail Mary that has made caring for each other instinctual. The habit had grown long before he started looking at you and feeling nudges he absolutely should not be feeling.

And you’d always done the same. He’d wake up with a blanket draped over his shoulders when he’d fall asleep in the laboratory. Or see in his peripheral vision that you’d left a cup of water on his table before he’d realized he hadn’t drank anything all day.

Similarly, he’d always check your EVA suit twice before every space walk, and he’d learned exactly when you needed someone to talk to and when you needed someone to simply sit beside you in silence.

Caring for each other had evolved past something you thought about to an instinct. 

Ryland swallows, and he really thinks he’s going to pass out because here you are, looking at him again. In some delusional way, it makes him think you feel the same as him, even though he thinks it’s just wishful thinking. But the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only thing you know.

“Don’t do that.”

You blink. “Don’t do what?” 

“The staring.”

“‘M just looking.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Hard not to look when you’re so pretty.”

Ryland nearly chokes on his own saliva, coughing out nervously as he tries to recover himself. You immediately grab his wrists to stop himself from hiding his face. 

“This isn’t fair. You’re making this so hard for me.” He grumbles.

“Makes it hard for what?” You say into the space between your faces, which is so narrow you must be breathing each other’s breath. And he can smell the traces of vodka in yours. 

All he can do is freeze, because this really is so unfair. And even more so when you’re just blinking at him patiently, waiting for his answer.

“Please stop asking follow-up questions.” 

“No. You’re not answering me.”

Ryland closes his eyes, shuts them closed as he mulls over whether he should tell you. A second passes, and another, and the silence stretches between the two of you until he breaks it.

“Not to kiss you.” He mumbles begrudgingly. It’s okay, this conversation doesn’t count. 

This is exactly why drunk conversations are dangerous. But it’s okay, because you won’t remember this tomorrow. He thinks. Or, he hopes. 

“You wanna kiss me?” Another hiccup, and another inch closer. He’s sure he’s about to go insane. “What’s stopping you, Grace?”

The way you say his name sends shivers down his spine, makes the hair on his skin stand erect, makes goosebumps prominent from his bare arms. He tries so hard not to think too much of it, too much of your words, because you’re drunk and this doesn’t count.

“You’re drunk.” Ryland deadpans, trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you.

“I told you ‘m not drunk!” You let your head fall forward on his shoulder, and Ryland is grateful for the pause from the intense staring you’d both done earlier. He feels his face heat up, recovering from the conversation you’d just had, and what he had just admitted to you.

“Uh oh.” Your voice is muffled from being suppressed by his shirt, but he can sense your tone’s a little troubled. “I don’t feel too good.”

You don’t really remember how you got a paper bag so suddenly, so quickly. Maybe Ryland had already prepared one this whole time. Maybe he was just waiting for this to happen. The only thing you can feel is a hand rubbing your back and another pulling your hair back as you’re vomiting into a bag.

Tears prick in your eyes, and then you’re hurling again, coughing out as if it’ll help you. You don’t even notice Ryland has left your side until he comes back with a cup of water, making sure you drink all of it after wiping away the corners of your mouth.

“Sorry.” You frown, lips starting to tremble as you stare down at the floor, clearly dejected and ashamed.

Ryland sits down on the floor next to you, continuing to rub your back like he did earlier. “It’s okay. It happens. I vomited when I first woke up and realized we were in space.”

“But it’s gross, and now you’ll never like me. You’ll like someone else who doesn’t vomit in front of you.” He lets out a breathy laugh, not at how ridiculously sad you sound, but because the statement is so impossibly untrue. Because even if there were more than two humans aboard this ship, he doesn’t think he’ll ever like anyone else.

“I watched Rocky eat ammonia sludge. My standards for gross are completely destroyed.” Ryland lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Besides, this isn't gross at all.”

You sniff miserably.

“Hey.” He says, trying to get your attention after he's gotten all the laughter out. “It’s really not happening, okay?”

“What isn't?”

“The whole me-liking-someone-else thing.” His eyes flick down to the paper bag in your lap before returning to you. “I'm not gonna like someone else.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” His smile softens. “Pretty sure I've already made my choice.”

“And you won’t find someone better?”

“Considering you're currently the only human within twelve lightyears, I'd say the odds aren't great.”

You think about it for a moment, and then you remember you are lightyears away from Earth and it’ll take another few years before you’d actually make it back. And you start to giggle, which quickly turn into hiccups. “You make a good point.”

He pauses, then says, “Also because I don't want to.”

“So, you’re stuck with me then.” You smile stupid to yourself, playing with your fingers and suddenly feeling shy.

He wouldn’t want anything more. “Yeah, looks like I am.”

“Can we sleep now?” 

When he deduces you’re a little more coherent to start moving, he helps you back towards the sleeping pods which mostly consists of carrying you because your legs have apparently decided to retire for the evening. But he’s so strong in the way he carries you with his hands on your thighs.

When he finally reaches your pod, he carefully lowers you into the mattress. But before he can leave, your hand latches onto his sleeve. “Wait.”

“Yeah?”

You look like you’re thinking very, very hard. And then, “can you stay?”

“What?” Ryland’s heart drops down to his stomach.

“Just tonight. Don’t wanna sleep alone.”

He stares at you, mouth agape, and then he stares at the pod that’s barely big enough for one person. Two people sleeping there would be absurd, absolutely uncomfortable, and completely impractical. It’s just a terrible idea all together, but he looks at you, and he looks at the hand gripping on his sleeve, and, “okay.”

Which is how he finds himself awkwardly folded beside you in a sleeping pod that wasn’t designed for this exact moment. Your head is settled just beneath his chin, with one arm draped across his stomach. And before he can process what’s actually happening, your breathing evens out. 

You’re asleep, absolutely knocked out. And you’ve left Ryland to think of the consequences of his saying ‘yes’ all by himself.

Ryland stares at the ceiling, thinking of the past few years you’ve spent together aboard the Hail Mary. He tries to think back to when exactly he started developing feelings for you, but his memory doesn’t go that far anymore. Not after everything that’s happened to get back home like this. 

His fingers find your hair without really thinking about it, gently combing through the strands as he keeps busy in his own mind. He thinks of the beatles on the way back to Earth, just in case anything happens to the both of you, he thinks of Rocky making his own way back to Erid, he thinks of you and how if you remembered any of this tomorrow, he’d probably die of embarrassment. 

For now, he doesn’t want to think about it. He just wants to keep feeling how warm you are against him, how long he’s been wanting to hold you like this, how this feels so much better than he imagined.

Because for years, he’d tried to mimic the touch of another human being, trying to recreate the feeling whenever your hand would brush against his, or when you’d hug for a few seconds after a particularly stressful part of a mission. 

Ryland allows himself to shut his own tired eyes closed. 

The rest of the consequences of his actions can wait until tomorrow.

[oddballwriter]

Senses Betrayal

Summary: You’re on Grace’s mind a lot, but only because there always seems to be something that reminds him of you.

Warnings: THIS CONTAINS SMUT AND SUGGESTIVE CONTENT, MINORS AND AGELESS DNI, I WILL SMIGHT (block) YOU!!! Reader is described to wear perfume and cosmetics such as lipgloss and implied to also wear clothing aimed towards women however I do not mention any specific pronouns, identity/labels, terms, or anatomy. There is mention of the reader’s chest but there is no definitive mention that reader has breasts. So the reader’s character can be gender neutral if you wish to see them that way or don’t mind them being placed in such clothing. Mentions of male genitalia and masterbation (Grace) and past penetrative sex in which reader is the one being penetrated. Despite!Grace. Slight pervert!Grace if you squint. Maybe even sub!Grace too but idk it’s in the eye of the beholder. Just know that Grace wants you crazy bad all the time.

Author’s Snip: I haven’t used my NSFW banner in a LONG time and I almost completely forgot it! I also nearly lost my mind trying to describe the pajama set because the types guide I was using to describe the neckline and shorts was confusing as hell and I didn’t even use the terms for the shorts. FML

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request. Reblogs appreciated but no pressure.

Word Count: 1.2k

You’re all Grace ever thinks about. You exist in the very folds of his brain and the gaps between his neurons. You treat his amygdala and neocortex like your own little palace where you nestle yourself in the space between each of his thoughts even if you didn’t intend to. But it’s the fact that even when you’re apart, Grace, or more so his brain, always figures out a way to find you in passing moments that in theory should be easily forgotten but will permeate through his skull and he never knows what to do with it.

The waft of a woman’s perfume walking past him that smells exactly like yours. Maybe not entirely, fragrance perfumes do react differently to the pH balance of a person’s skin and can make them smell different. Or maybe it's not even the same scent. Maybe she’s just wearing something similar, or a dupe, or just the right amount of things that mimic the smell, but his olfactory cortex catches it. Now off you go running around his head, and he’s faced with no choice but to keep walking. Because what is he going to do? Turn to this random woman that he’s never met and will never see again “Hey, you smell exactly like my partner!” and look like a total creep? Of course not!

It’s even worse when there’s something left by you. Like that flavored lip gloss that you always wear that tends to take a while to set. But Grace doesn’t mind, not until he’s in the middle of class, sitting at his desk editing the worksheets he’s making for tomorrow and habitually licks his lips to moistize them and his taste buds catch the remaining traces of said lip gloss. Now he has to fight the urge to lap at them or even scrape his teeth against them to chase that millisecond high that briefly makes him recall the feeling of your soft sweetened lips on his. Even his own sight betrays him in service of you!

You had made a list of things that the apartment was running low on and needed quickly. It was a short list and the department store along the route Grace bikes on the way home has everything needed. Dish soap, paper towels, a pack of tooth brushes, and coffee creamer. Four simple things. Luckily the layout of the store had the dental and kitchen needs section right next to each other. The problem? For some strange reason, the grocery section and the kitchen needs section are not immediately next to each other. Instead, the sections are half way across the store from each other, separated by the women’s sleepwear and undergarments section. Grace’s working theory is that either the person designing the layout of the store was really drunk or really smart and knew that predominantly women would be doing the shopping for the house, but the idea of a drunken store designer’s shenanigans sounded a lot more entertaining to Grace than the one of capitalism using misogynist gender roles to turn a greater profit, and Grace needed to get that coffee creamer.

Nice try capitalism! You aren’t going to turn a profit on Dr. Ryland Grace’s dollar!

Except along the track, one of the display mannequins caught his eye. It was wearing this set of pajama shorts and tank top. It wasn’t quite lingerie but it also wasn’t typical sleepwear either. The shoulders of the tank top were spaghetti straps that came down into a pleasant little v-neck cami style with a slight tuck where the bottom of a bust would be so you could possibly see all its shape while the rest of the shirt continued to wrap around the body. Not too tight, but still showing off a little shape. The matching shorts were at most going to barely cover whoever wore them’s rear and was just as form fitting as the top. Maybe someone could genuinely wear this to sleep. But the choice of fabric and shape told him that this could definitely be used as a way to tease a partner. And his brain told him that you would look nice in that.

It shows him flashes of your body and how the set would look wrapped around your shape. The teasing length of the shorts showing off your plush thighs only to end just before the curve of your ass unless you were bent, all the while the fabric would flex and hug your hips. The top of the tank being filled by the swell of your chest and the straps and the straps either barely being able to keep it all contained or slip off your shoulders slightly. Even the torso mannequin is in on this! It has no legs or arms but the way it’s molded to pose looks like its stretching, so there’s this little gap between the bottom hem of the tank and the top hem of the shorts and he can’t help but imagine you stretching in this and having a little bit of your midriff exposed to him while you make that sound that you always do, the one that makes his hearing betray him too and remind him of the sounds you make in bed.

Ryland feels dirty! He came here to get four things! But he’s stopped dead in the main aisle in front of the women’s sleep and underwear section, hot under the collar, thinking about you in slightly suggestive pajamas, like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle, just short of getting the fucking coffee creamer!

Capitalism does in fact turn a profit on Dr. Ryland Grace’s dollar, because he leaves that store with five things!

The version of you that rules inside of Grace’s brain is cruel! It’s turned all his senses against him in favor of you and the regions below his belt. However, their coups are easily thwarted by the fact that Grace can always come home to you where he can breathe in your scent, taste your sweet lips gloss, and see you in all your glory after having to hold off for so long. It’s when you’re gone that he’s helpless against their whims. That’s when all his senses go in for the kill.

Whenever you have to leave town for more than a day Grace is driven crazy by the fact that he can smell you on everything. The sheets and pillows on the side of the bed where you sleep, on the shirts you steal for yourself when you don’t want to do your laundry just yet, the things you touched when the moisturizer that you use for your hands hadn’t seeped into your skin just yet. He hates to admit it but in these times likes to bury his face in the pillows and smell your scent while he jerks off. It helps his sight display the images of your naked body behind his eyelids and his hearing recall the sound of your voice moaning and breathing out his name while he pleases you. And if he focuses hard enough he can get himself to placebo the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling that it’s your warm silky walls around his cock instead of his hand.

You’re all Grace ever thinks about and he likes it.

[moss-in-my-shoes]

Hope you don’t mind another Project Hail Mary and Iron Lung ask. I really like the photonic A/B/O. I keep thinking once they are on Erid reader gets zoomies, since they have plenty of room and in a new place. Or just burst of energy and needs to burn it off. Honey anything you write is amazing and I hope you are taking breaks

Thank yooooou omggg! And yes I am! This is super fun for me so when I take breaks it’s usually the time I take to write. I’m a-okay! Thank you for the concern!

I love a silly prompt and I’ve been writing a lot of angst recently so this is a good break in between, hope you enjoy!

Project Hail Mary x Iron Lung x Reader (platonic!)

Reader is twenty, Grace is early forties, Simon is late thirties, Rocky and Adrian are old ass rocks!

Masterlist Here!

MDNI

—

Feral Thing

—

The biodome was an act of scientific genius. You couldn’t imagine anyone on Asora could achieve anything as brilliant as this. A species that primarily relied on sound and echolocation with a very vague sense of sight had somehow manufactured a day and night cycle, weather, a beach, forest, and an entire home for you and your dads. Rocky insisted that everyone on Erid was eager to help and make your lives more comfortable after saving the stars and suffering in space for so long.

You’d been in space for way too long, cooped up, no place to let the energy out. You tussled with Simon and would clamber all over Grace on occasion, but that wasn’t what you’d been craving. The minute you were cleared and mostly recovered, you abandoned your shoes by the steps leading up to the house and started to run.

You dashed this way and that, doing cartwheels, rolling around, tossing sand everywhere. You were panting, sweating, covered in sand, and you never felt more alive. Your heart was beating around in your ribcage like a beat to a song and that song was open space to do whatever you wanted! The pup in you hadn’t been this free in such a long time, your scent strong and appeased, excited and ready to live.

You ran, jumped, and ran some more until Grace came walking by from his classes, smiling wide when he saw you digging a large hole with your bare hands. You tossed the sand aside, trying to see how deep you could go, dirty and disgusting in a way that made you feel like yourself. Crud under your nails, hands stained and coated in a layer of dirt, sand in your hair and scrapes on your knees. You perked up when you smelt him, sending him a smile as bright as the sun. He returned it with a wave before leaving you to your antics, assuming it’d be best to let you at it for a bit.

Rocky and Adrian came by soon after, walking around the biodome inside their specialized suits that made moving around much more efficient than the glorified hamster balls. They saw you standing knee-deep in the water, reaching down into the waves to pick up rocks, inspect them, then toss em as far as you could. You even skipped a few, getting more and more excited every time you managed to skip them further and further. Rocky hummed in question, looking up at their mate. The larger Eridian trilled down at Rocky, the two agreeing to go their separate ways for a moment.

Rocky went up to the house to check on Grace and to talk about lesson plans while Adrian trotted up to the edge of the water, “Little note, why are you so dirty?” They could echolocate the dirt and sand all over you, though a lot had washed off in the ocean, “Hey Adrian!” You turned in the water so fast you sloshed it around, getting the edges of your shorts wet, “this place is awesome!” Adrian made a sound akin to laughter, opening their front arms for you. They wrapped you up the moment they could, taking a claw and dipping it in the ocean to gently wipe dirt smudges from your face.

“Adriaaaan! I’m not that dirty!”

“I’ve seen pebbles fresh from recess cleaner than you.” They finished their affectionate cleaning with a purr, “do you wish to come up to the house with me?”

“I want to stay down here a little longer.” Adrian stood up, stretching out their long limbs, “I will call when Grace and Simon start dinner.”

“Okay! Thanks!” You waved as they left before getting back in the water, giggling when the cold touched your skin. It was about an hour later when Adrian called for you, but they got no response.

“Simon?” Adrian stepped into the kitchen where Grace and Simon stood in front of the stove, “what’s up Dri?”

“I called for [Name], but they have not answered. Where do they usually go in the biodome?” Simon perked up, “they didn’t answer?” Adrian shook their carapace in an imitation of the humans they cared for, “They were in the water last, not there anymore.” Grace’s scent went from content and happy to being tainted with a twinge of worry, but Simon kissed his cheek to calm his nerves, “I’ll go find them, you guys finish up dinner.” Grace nodded, “alright, call if you need us.”

Simon pulled his boots on and made his way around the biodome, searching spots he could smell your lingering scent in. It made him a bit giddy, the smell you left everywhere was happy and excited, making the alpha in him very very happy. His pup was happy and safe wherever they were.

He went into the forest last, your scent the strongest in the trees. He came upon you finally, taking fallen branches and building some kind of fort. You whipped around when he stepped into the small clearing you’d found, “Pa! Hi!” You put a branch down and rushed over to hug him, watching him make a face that was adoring and loving, “pup, you’re a mess.”

“Adrian said the same thing.”

“Have you been rolling around in the dirt?”

“More or less, yeah.” Simon playfully rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around you to start leading you back to the house, “it’s dinner time, but you need to wash up before you eat. Okay?”

“Yeah yeah, I know the deal.” He shook you a little at your sass, making you snort. Grace and Rocky stared in amusement at how dirty you were when you walked inside, ushering yourself to the shower before you tracked grime everywhere.

You watched the gunk go down the drain, suddenly very tired, like you could sleep for a hundred years. You barely got dressed before you collapsed onto the couch, face first and out like a light.

The four others in the house watched, a collective thought shared between them.

A mutual love for their pup.

—

That’s it for now! Hope you enjoyed! Have a nice day and stay safe!

- Moss Man

[multi-fandom-imagine]

🏖️Beach Fun || Ryland Grace ||

A/n: Poor Ryland can't catch a break.

The beach should have been relaxing.

That was the entire point.

Private stretch of sand, minimal people, the ocean stretching out in calm, endless blue while the sun dipped warm gold across everything. It was quiet in a way Ryland appreciated. Predictable, controlled, the kind of environment where nothing unexpected should happen.

And for the first five minutes?

It was.

You were walking ahead of him, barefoot in the sand, a loose cover-up draped over your shoulders, sunglasses perched on your nose as the breeze caught your hair just right.

He was doing fine, perfectly and completely fine then you stopped, turned and with absolutely no warning, slipped the cover-up off.

Ryland’s brain shut down.

Completely.

Because underneath was your swimsuit.

Minimal. Fitted. Designed with absolutely no regard for the structural integrity of any man within a ten-mile radius.

And unfortunately for him, he was not just any man.

He was the man standing right there.

His eyes locked.

Immediately.

Then darted away because he was Ryland then against all logic pulled his gaze right back to you and the tiny bathing suit that was barely covering your body.

“…this is—” he started, then stopped, because there were no words in any known language that could adequately describe what he was currently experiencing.

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“I—” he swallowed, hard. “You did not specify that this was...part of the outing.”

You raised a brow, amused already. “.....A swimsuit?”

“That is not—” he gestured vaguely in your direction without actually looking this time, because he was trying, trying....to be respectful and failing spectacularly, “—a standard data point I was prepared for.”

You laughed softly, stepping closer, completely unaware or maybe very aware of the effect you were having.

“It’s just a bathing suit, Ryland.”

“It is not just—” he stopped again, pressing his lips together as if physically restraining himself.

Because you were closer now.

Too close.

And the sunlight was hitting you in a way that made everything worse.

Colt’s voice echoed faintly in his memory. 'you look at her like she hung the stars'and for once, Ryland had no counterargument.

“…this environment is not conducive to rational thought,” he said finally.

You smiled, slow and a little teasing. “Are you saying I’m distracting you?”

“Yes.”

Immediate.

No hesitation.

No shame.

You blinked then let out a laugh, softer this time, something warmer threading through it as you reached for his hand.

“C’mon,” you said gently, tugging him toward the water.

He followed automatically because of course he did, because it was you.

The waves lapped at your feet as you stepped in, cool water curling around your ankles, then higher as you pulled him along with you.

He was still staring.

Not even trying to hide it anymore.

“…you are aware,” he said after a moment, voice quieter now, more focused, “that statistically, this is an unfair advantage.”

You tilted your head. “What is?”

“You,” he said simply, he wasn’t flustered now, wasn’t rambling.He was just…looking at you.Like he always did when he wasn’t overthinking.

“…that’s not very scientific,” you teased lightly.

“No,” he agreed. “It is not.”

The water reached his waist, he didn’t notice because you here.

Sun-warmed skin, soft smile, fingers still loosely wrapped around his and suddenly, the beach, the ocean, everything....Didn’t matter.

“…my heart rate has increased significantly,” he added after a beat, like he couldn’t help himself.

You laughed again, stepping a little closer. “Poor thing,” you murmured.

He exhaled slowly.

Not looking away.

Not even trying anymore.

“…I do not believe this is survivable,” he said, your hand grasping his as you gave it a squeeze. You weren’t even trying to be mean about it.

That was the problem.

You were just standing there in the water, sunlight catching on your skin, waves brushing softly around your legs, looking at him with that teasing little smile that always made his brain short-circuit.

“Ryland…” you said, tilting your head slightly, voice light with amusement. “You’ve seen me naked.”

He froze then parted his lips for a moment. “…yes,” he admitted carefully, like the word itself might betray him.

You took a small step closer, water shifting between you. “So you’re telling me a tiny little swimsuit is making you malfunction?”

That did it.

Color flooded his face instantly, spreading all the way to his ears as he tried and failed to maintain any level of composure.

“That was different,” he said quickly, stumbling over the words. “That was....contextually, it was a controlled environment this is—”

He stopped.

Because you moved again.

Closer.

And now there was absolutely nowhere safe for him to look.

His hand lifted instinctively, then hovered awkwardly in the air as he gestured vaguely, helplessly toward you. “This is...” he tried again, voice tighter now, “....visually… disproportionate.”

You blinked. “Disproportionate?”

He swallowed hard, finally forcing himself to meet your eyes only for his gaze to betray him immediately, flicking down for half a second before snapping back up like he’d just touched a live wire.

“Yes,” he said, far too quickly. “There is significantly less fabric, than previously observed, and it is—” he exhaled sharply, clearly running out of scientific language to hide behind, “....distracting.”

You laughed, soft and warm, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“Distracting?” you echoed, your brow raised as the smile remains on your lips.

“Yes.”.

Another wave rolled in, pushing you just a little closer into him, your hand brushing lightly against his arm to steady yourself.

That did not help.

At all.

Ryland’s entire body tensed like he’d just been struck by lightning. “…this is not fair,” he said under his breath.

You smiled, gentler now, the teasing easing into something softer as you looked up at him as you placed your hand on his chest, his heart racing under your palm. “Ryland,” you murmured, “you’re allowed to look at me.”

“I am looking,” he said quickly.

You raised a brow.

He faltered. “…strategically,” he corrected, weakly.

That made you laugh again, quieter this time as your fingers then moved and lightly curled around his wrist, guiding his hand down from its awkward hovering position.

“You don’t have to overthink everything,” you said softly.

He looked at you and yeah that expression was back.The one that made your chest feel warm, the one that gave you butterfly's in your stomach.

“…I am not overthinking,” he said after a moment.

You smiled. “No?”

“No,” he replied, voice lower now, steadier despite the lingering flush on his face. “This is a very straightforward reaction.”

You tilted your head, curious. “And what reaction is that?”

There was a brief pause.

Like he considered dodging it.

Like he almost tried.

But then he spoke. “You are… very difficult to ignore,” he said simply.

Your breath caught, just slightly.Because he meant it.

Not teasing.

Not flustered.

Just honest....just Ryland.

The ocean shifted around you again, but neither of you moved this time.

And for once, Ryland didn’t look away.

But of course, when it comes to Rylan...nothing peaceful ever lasts. Especially when he has a brother like Colt.

The moment had been perfect.

Warm water, soft sunlight, your hand still loosely around his wrist, Ryland finally was finally not overthinking for once, just looking at you like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

And then....because of course.

“WHATS UP BITCHES!!!!”

Ryland physically flinched.

You blinked.

And just like that....The moment was dead.

You slowly turned your head toward the shore.

Colt stood there like a menace to society, sunglasses on, arms spread wide like he’d just arrived at a party no one invited him to.

Behind him, Rocky bounced.Adrian loomed.

You stared.

Then looked at Ryland.

Then back at them.

“…why,” you said slowly, “are they here?”

Ryland looked like something inside him had snapped.

“WHY ARE THEY HERE, COLT?!” he shouted, voice echoing slightly over the water as he turned fully toward the shore, composure gone.

Colt grinned. “Oh relax, I brought them for enrichment.”

“ENRICHMENT?!” Ryland repeated, incredulous, voice higher than intended to be.

Rocky let out a bright, excited cascade of tones, already moving forward into the ocean with absolutely zero hesitation.

Water splashed.

A lot of water splashed.

“STATEMENT,” the translator buzzed proudly, “NEW ENVIRONMENT DETECTED. SALINE LIQUID.”

Adrian followed more carefully, their larger form wading in with a deep, curious hum that vibrated through the water.

You lit up instantly. “Oh my god, you brought them to the beach—”

“THEY ASKED,” Colt shrugged, completely unbothered. “You said beach, they said ‘what is beach,’ I said ‘let’s find out.’ Boom! Science.”

Ryland dragged a hand down his face. “That is not how decisions are made...that's not even...”

Rocky bounced again, sending another wave crashing outward.

“QUERY?!” the translator chirped, “IS THIS MATING LOCATION.”

You choked.

Ryland made a sound of pure despair.

Colt lost it.

“NO!!!” Ryland snapped immediately, pointing at Rocky like he was personally responsible for his suffering, “this is not!!! there is no....why would you even—”

Adrian hummed thoughtfully. “ASSESSMENT,” the translator added in her deeper tone, “EXPOSED SKIN. INCREASED PROXIMITY. ELEVATED HEART RATE.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh.

Ryland turned bright red again. “THIS IS A BEACH,” he said tightly. “THAT IS NORMAL HUMAN BEHAVIOR.”

Rocky paused, waves hitting him, unfazed watching you both. “CLARIFICATION,” the translator buzzed, “YOU WERE EXPERIENCING MALFUNCTION.”

Colt pointed at him immediately. “HA! see, even they noticed—”

“YOU ARE NOT HELPING,” Ryland snapped.

Meanwhile, you were already wading toward Rocky, completely delighted, reaching out to touch his carapace as water rolled around both of you.

“Do you like it?” you asked warmly.

Rocky chimed, bright, enthusiastic as always when it came to you .“STATEMENT,” the translator rang out, “ENVIRONMENT IS… ACCEPTABLE. YOU ARE ALSO PRESENT. IMPROVES EXPERIENCE.”

Your smile softened instantly. “Aw, sweetheart…”

Ryland stared at that.

At you, standing there in the water, glowing in the sunlight, laughing softly as an alien the size of a small car leaned into your touch like an oversized puppy.

Colt sidled up next to him, dripping slightly from the water’s edge. “…you had, like, a whole romantic moment going, didn’t you,” Colt said, not even pretending it was a question.

Ryland didn’t answer, because yes he had this whole date planed out.

Colt clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I ruined that.”

Ryland closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. You did.”

Another massive splash echoed as Rocky bounced again, clearly thrilled with his surroundings.

Adrian hummed in approval.

You laughed and Ryland found himself watching you again.

Just like before.

Because even with Colt yelling, aliens splashing, and absolutely no peace left—

You were still there.

Still smiling.

Still looking at him like none of it mattered.

“…this is unsalvageable,” he muttered.

Colt grinned. “Nah, man. This is your life now.”

Ryland dragged both hands down his face, fingers pressing into his eyes like he could physically block out reality.

“I just wanted,” he groaned, voice muffled into his palms, “peace with my girlfriend.”

Behind him, a massive splash. Followed by delighted, echoing chimes.

You turned just in time to see Rocky, a eight hundred pounds of alien rock....roll.

Not walk.

Not step.

Roll.

Directly into a wave.

Water surged around him as he tipped sideways, limbs flailing in what could only be described as pure, unfiltered joy.

“STATEMENT...!” the translator crackled mid-motion, briefly garbled by the water before correcting itself, “THIS IS....HIGHLY!!!ENJOYABLE—!”

Another wave hit him.

He rolled again.

Adrian stood a few feet away, watching with a deep, vibrating hum that sounded suspiciously like fond exasperation.

“ASSESSMENT,” Adrian’s voice translated calmly, “ROCKY IS… OVERSTIMULATED.”

Colt doubled over laughing on the shore. “HE’S DOING ZOOMIES!!! OH MY GOD—”

You burst into laughter, covering your mouth as you watched Rocky attempt another enthusiastic roll, sending water splashing everywhere like a living boulder having the time of its life.

“He’s so happy!” you said, completely delighted.

Ryland did not move.

Did not look.

“I am not looking,” he muttered into his hands.

Another splash.

“NEW QUERY!!!” Rocky chimed loudly, mid-roll, “CAN THIS BE REPLICATED ON ERID—”

He hit a slightly larger wave, it flipped him.

Completely.

For a brief, terrifying moment, there was nothing but limbs and water and chaos then he righted himself with a triumphant bounce.

“SUCCESS—!”

Colt was crying now. “I CAN’T!!! HE’S A ROCK!!! HE SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO DO THAT—”

You waded a little closer, laughing, reaching out to steady Rocky as he enthusiastically nudged your arm like a giant, soaked puppy.

“Careful, baby..” you said between giggles.

“STATEMENT,” the translator chimed proudly, “YOU ARE ALSO ENJOYABLE.”

Your smile softened immediately. “Aw—”

Behind you, Ryland let out a long, slow exhale then finally dropped his hands and looked.

He took in the scene. Rocky rolling in the ocean like a creature who had just discovered happiness for the first time, Adrian hovering nearby like a calm, approving guardian, Colt absolutely losing his mind on the shore and finally you.

Laughing.

Bright. Warm. Completely unbothered by any of it.

“…this is not peace,” he said quietly.

Colt, still wheezing, pointed at him. “No, man, this is better.”

Ryland stared at him then turned his attention back to you, at the way you reached up to pat Rocky again, the way you leaned into the chaos instead of away from it.

“…I did not account for this variable,” he admitted.

Colt grinned. “Yeah? What variable’s that?”

Ryland didn’t look away from you. “…that I would not mind,” he said softly.

Another splash.

Another laugh from you.

And despite everything, despite the noise, the chaos, the complete lack of anything resembling his original plan.

Ryland felt something settle in his chest, it felt right, because you were here, because you loved him, loved everything about him, his brother, Rocky, Adrian.

Rocky bounced again. “FOLLOW-UP QUERY??!” the translator rang out, “WHEN WILL BABIES ARRIVE—”

“NO—” Ryland snapped immediately.

Colt hit the sand, laughing all over again.

And you? You just laughed too.

Because honestly, at this point, this was peace.

[prudejudee]

"Yes, Doctor." pt.2 —> pt.1

— Ryland experiences his first prostate exam with his favorite "Doctor."

CW || contains: Prosate/Anal play! Medical Play! Ryland addresses you as "Doctor."

Ryland's breath hitches at your words. He hesitates for only a moment before rolling onto his stomach, his movements careful and deliberate. His face presses into the pillow, arms tucked beneath it, legs spreading slightly as he settles. His ass is firm and pale, the muscles twitching with anticipation as you position yourself behind him.

"Good." you praise, your gloved hands sliding over the curve of his ass. You spread him open without ceremony, exposing the tight pucker of his hole. Ryland makes a soft, embarrassed sound into the pillow.

"Doctor... I've never..." he starts, voice muffled.

"First time?" You reach for the lube again, squeezing more onto your fingers. "Then we'll take it slow. But you will stay still."

You press one slick finger against his entrance, circling the tight ring before pushing inside. Ryland's whole body tenses, a strangled gasp escaping him. You work the finger deeper, feeling his walls clench around the intrusion, the latex making everything smooth and clinical.

"Breathe in for me.." you instruct, adding a second finger. You scissor them gently, stretching him open, watching the way his hole yields to your touch. Ryland's breathing grows ragged, his hips twitching before he forces them still again.

"D-Doctor—your fingers—" His voice cracks as you curl them, searching for that spot inside him. When you find it, his whole body jerks, a broken moan tearing from his throat.

"There it is," you murmur, pressing firmly against his prostate. You rub in slow, deliberate circles, watching his cock twitch against the sheets, already half-hard again. "Try to stay relaxed, patient. This is part of your examination."

You add a third finger, stretching him wider, the wet sounds of lube and latex filling the room. Ryland's hands fist in the sheets, his face buried in the pillow as you work his prostate with strict precision. Each press makes his cock leak, pre-cum soaking into the fabric beneath him.

"Doctor, please—it's too much—" he gasps, but his body betrays him, pushing back against your fingers despite his efforts to stay still.

You lean over him, your clothed body pressing against his bare back. "You can take it." you whisper with awe, your fingers never stopping their relentless massage. "You're being so good for me."

Ryland's cock is fully hard now, trapped between his stomach and the bed. You reach beneath him with your free hand, wrapping your gloved fingers around his shaft again. You stroke him in time with the fingers inside him, working both ends until he's shaking, desperate, trying so hard to obey your command to stay still.

"I'm going to make you finish again. Right here. On my fingers. And you're going to stay exactly where you are." you tell him, your voice low and commanding.

Ryland whimpers, his body trembling with the effort of holding still as you fuck him with your fingers and stroke his cock simultaneously. His prostate aches under your touch, his cock throbbing in your grip. You can feel him getting close—the way his walls clench, the way his breathing becomes erratic.

"Doctor—I'm—ohmygo—I'm gonna!—" he chokes out, his body going rigid as his orgasm hits. His cock pulses in your hand, spilling cum onto the sheets beneath him while his hole clenches rhythmically around your fingers.

You work him through it, milking every drop, your fingers never stopping their movement inside him until he's completely spent and shaking. Only then do you slowly withdraw, leaving him empty and panting, cum cooling on his skin and the sheets.

"Examination successful, i'll let you get dressed we're all finished." you say, stripping off your gloves. "For now."

[emmyc0z]

a few hours to spare

pairing : ryland grace x fem! reader

summary : takes place long before the movie. pre-hail mary flight. ryland lives a normal life with his pretty wife who he seems to barely have time for. his procrastination gets the best of him so she has to take matters into her own hands once in a while.

cw : suggestive content.

a/n : guess who finally watched project hail mary.

divider by @cursed-carmine

it’s a tuesday. and like any other day he spends the evening hidden away in his “office” grading papers that he’s severely behind on. the reasoning being, he gets behind on one test and then he’s handing out another whilst forgetting to mark the first and suddenly he’s on the fifth test of the year and has yet to mark a single page. then they sit in piles on his desk and he has to physically lock himself away from you because he finds it figuratively impossible to keep himself away.

so he hides in his makeshift office. which is really just a plastic room divider blocking off the living room from the kitchen, and a flimsy ikea table that holds a desk lamp and an apple-shaped vase (gifted from a student a few years prior) filled with various pens and pencils.

and as he does you remain in the kitchen to clean up after supper, a painstakingly catered dinner of cheap takeout from the italian restaurant down the street. the two of you, obviously being civilized people, plate it, so there’s always dishes to clean up on takeout night. a little counterintuitive but ..

when the two of you had finished eating, he dropped the bomb on you that he’d be swamped with marking again tonight. on movie night. on at-home date night. he met your frown with a soft, guilty kiss on your cheek, stubble tickling your skin before he pulled away and disappeared behind that stupid divider.

you huff at the reminder, sending bubbles from the sink flying. you swallow your frustration when he looks over the divider, eyebrows furrowed in concern. you only smile, and pretend you stubbed your toe.

now it was your turn to disappear, into the bedroom. you rifle through laundry, moving dirty clothes from the floor to the basket in the bathroom. its so out of the way for both of you after work that every week, without fail, you strip in the bedroom, and your clothes get acquainted with the floor for a couple days until one of you works up the energy to pick them up.

the clean laundry is next, piled up on the ottoman at the end of the bed. it supposed to be on the ottoman only, there for you to fold later on, but it’s been there for a few days. the both of you just pick from the piles in the morning, choosing to laze in bed for a few minutes and having to rush most mornings in favor of getting a few minutes of quality time in.

now the pile has accumulated so much that it expands onto the beds edge. you sigh, and begin to put away the lazily folded clothes. only fixing the ones that are incapable of fitting in drawers or hanging on hangars properly.

meanwhile, in the living room, ryland chews on a the cap of his pen. his forehead is creased right in the middle of his brow line as he tries to decipher children’s writing, and even further, how they’ve found the answers they have. some of them are absurd. some aren’t even answers and just little notes saying ‘sorry’ or ‘i don’t know’ to which he sighs, feels bad for about 5 seconds before he calculates a grade that will no doubt be disappointing. he tries to find marks anywhere, practically making up .5 marks.

he knows that any stress from this situation, and the large pile of papers that await his attention, is his fault. additionally, he’s aware that this also makes you upset. not because you don’t understand the work load of a teacher can sometimes invade personal time. but because you miss your husband.

he’s also aware that the rumours of the sun dimming are accelerating your anxiety, and tries to be patient when you lose your patience with him about work. he knows your scared about running out of time, so is he. but he values his kids almost as much as you, so he feels he owes them this at least.

the laundry pile dwindles under your hands, and you feel a small sense of accomplishment. identical to the one you felt last week when you did the same task. however, this time, a particular article of clothing catches your attention.

it’s a babydoll night dress. you had bought it the previous weekend in preparation for a nice, romantic evening with your beautiful, and consistently overworked, husband. only, it never came because he was exhausted from the school week. or, at least, that was his excuse when he woke up the morning after falling asleep on your lap on the couch.

tonight though. it was a school night so you’d have to be quick, but it was only 7 pm. if you could pull him away from the barrier of white papers keeping you apart then you could have a few hours. you smile, a mischievous hum leaving your lips as you throw the fabric on the bed and strip.

his eyes don’t shift when he hears your footsteps. he assumes you’ll take your usual position on the couch, and watch the tv on a low enough volume that he only feels mildly disturbed. but you don’t. instead, your hands travel across the length of his shoulders, nails grazing skin through fabric.

ryland shivers, setting his pen down to glance at you. his tired face excites, like the sight of you has breathed a sense of life into his withered body.

“what is this?” he breathes out, eyes anywhere but your eyes as they graze over your figure. his hands, one on the back of his chair and the other palm-down on his desk, twitch restlessly.

“just a little something i picked up. you like?”

“do i ever.. but.. why’re you wearing it tonight? what’s the occasion.” he sighs, defeated because he knows he is swamped in marking. he misses you and your soft skin. and now it’s on display for him and all he can think about is how he needs to create better answer sheets.

“no occasion, it’s a night dress. i was gonna head to bed early.”

“well i mean.. it’s not even eight yet, baby.”

“i’m feeling tired.” you tease with a shrug, lingering just out of reach.

“cmon, don’t go to bed yet. i’ve still got a few papers to mark but what if you sat with me?” he curses himself. ryland what are you doing? you have piles upon piles of tests to mark and your allowing your desire to sour your efficiency. he shrugs off his responsibility and pulls you closer by the lace trim of your dress.

now, however he expected you to sit with him it wasn’t this way. you sit side ways on his lap, one arm wrapped around his neck for support as the other traces along his shirt. it’s decorated with a science pun, and on any other man it would be icky. but on ryland it makes you swoon, blatantly aroused by the nerdiness of your husband.

he tries to moves back to his papers as your hand moves from chest to face, rubbing against his stubble.

“its getting long again, should i shave?”

“leave it for now? i like it.” your voice is soft in his ear, sultry wether you mean it to be or not. he swallows, marking pages with a shaky hand now.

your finger brushes against his jaw, and he turns to face you. “baby, what’re you doing?”

“m’not doing anything.”

“you’re distracting me.”

“your the one who told me to sit here.”

“yes but- obviously i didn’t think that through. you’re supposed to think clearly for me when i’m like this.” he leans in unintentionally, magnetized by the subtle pout of your lips.

“but i miss you, ryland. you’re using at-home date night for work.” you stay, again, just out of reach from him. and it seems to snap him back to his sense as he straightens and finds his self-control again. it makes you sigh.

“i know, i know, but you know i need to get this done. report cards are coming up..” his hand rests on your thigh, abandoning the table. and you know just from the feeling of his thumb grazing skin that you’ve got him. how easy of him.

“can’t you do extra tomorrow night?” you lean in now, and his other hand finds your waist. he’s acting like there’s any debate left in his body when you know his mind is made up. he deserted his pen, he was done for the moment his hand left the desk.

“i suppose.. i could spare a few hours for you.”

“yeah?”

“mm..” he raises a hand to remove his glasses, foreseeing your incoming desperation. its a small precaution to avoid having to buy new ones every time your two are intimate. but your hand stops him, and because he’s unfortunately whipped, he stops.

“please leave m’on. you look so good like this. like.. some kind of sexy scientist.”

“well, honey, i am a scientist-” you connect your lips before he ruins your fun, and his hands falling back in places signals he’s agreed to leave the glasses on. ryland’s stubble rubs your skin and burns in a way that has you squirming in his lap.

and he’s realizing, as he explores under the dress that maybe a few hours wouldn’t be enough..

[rockylandphm]

birthday on erid ; ryland grace x reader (0.9k words) — u and rocky keep track of ryland's bday. he knows what bday gift he wants from u

“Rocky, you’re gonna wake him up.”

Your whispers mix together with your giggles as the sound of claws lightly tapping against the floor pulls Ryland from his sleep. There’s a small, curious chirp from beside the bed.

Rocky, he assumes.

He simply buries his face deeper into the pillow in response to the commotion, arm tightening around your waist to keep you in place. 

“Grace awake. Grace pretend to sleep.” 

You laugh at Rocky’s remark, trying to keep your voice down. It’s one of the rare mornings where there’s nothing urgent waiting for the both of you. And Ryland fully intends to spend it in bed all day with you.

“Ryland.” You whisper, running a hand through his hair.

He habitually leans into your warmth, still half-asleep.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Rocky makes another sound from somewhere near the foot of the bed, almost like he’s reminding you both that he is, in fact, also here. “Birthday confirmed. Earth calendar difficult.”

You smile when Ryland cracks an eye open.

“You were keeping track?” He mumbles, a small smile on his face at the sentiment. The words come out fond, albeit still sleepy.

“(Name) make Rocky track. Rocky ask Adrian to confirm.”

Ryland finally turns his head so he’s facing you. Though, he doesn’t think he could have ever prepared himself for the sight he’s subjected to.

The soft glow of Erid’s light filters through the biodome glass, casting your face in the warmth of the artificial light. Your smile mirrors his sleepiness, and your eyes are crinkled in the way he loves. 

“Hi.” Your voice is still quiet, not wanting to pull him too quickly from the comfort of his sleep.

You can see the way his eyes slowly focus, blinking away the sleep. How he’s trying to process the situation. That you and Rocky were here, celebrating his birthday with him.

“Is there anything you want for your birthday?” You ask.

His lips press together as he thinks. He has tells when he’s deep in thought, even after all this time. His eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes drifting away.

His hand moves from being wrapped around your waist in favor of tracing absentminded patterns against your arm.

“I don’t know.”

Rocky leans slightly closer to the both of you. “Grace make no birthday request. Statement.”

“What do you mean, bud?” Ryland turns to look at his best friend, laughing a little at how he mirrors his movement. Rocky doesn’t need to move his carapace, but he does it out of habit.

“Grace has Food. Shelter. Water. (Name). Rocky think list is complete.”

A small smile tugs at Ryland’s mouth because Rocky is right. He has everything he needs. He has a home on Erid that the Eridians have worked hard on. He has his best friend, Rocky. And above all, he has you.

He looks at you for a moment longer than he probably means to.

“I think you’re quite spot on, Rock.”

“Not understand spot on. Explain.”

“You’re correct. I think you’re right.”

“Yes. Rocky correct.”

You laugh, and Ryland can only shake his head a little in fondness.

Because the possibility of this, of spending his birthday lightyears away from Earth still feels unreal. He had thought he was going to die out there with you, but Rocky had given him more time. Had granted moments like these with you.

“I have everything I need already.” Ryland says, a little quieter this time. Because he’s afraid that if he talks a little louder, he might start to cry at the overwhelming gratefulness that’s currently occupying his heart.

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Soft and romantic. You pull away, a little shy to be doing this in front of Rocky, though unsuccessfully as Ryland follows after you.

“Wait.”

You smile. “Ryland.”

“I wasn’t done.” Your boyfriend whines.

“Disgust.”

You laugh at Rocky’s off-handed remark as your hand moves to his hair, fingers brushing through it. “Later. I promise. If you're patient, you’ll be getting more than just a kiss.”

“What mean more than kiss, question?”

Ryland ignores him, expression immediately switching. It’s almost comedic how quickly he understands what you’re implying.

And sensing what you mean coupled with your shyness and your hesitation, he immediately says, “Rocky, you might have to go.”

“Why, question? Rocky stay. Rocky celebrate Grace birthday.”

“We’ll celebrate later with Adrian later out on the beach. (Name) and I just need privacy… for a moment. Just for now.”

“Human bonding, question?”

“Yes, buddy.” Ryland grimaces, not wanting to have this conversation with his best friend. He hopes Rocky thinks nothing of it.

“Negative. Rocky want join.”

You laugh at their exchange, and Ryland's panicked face at Rocky's request to join. You know the alien doesn't understand what exactly Ryland wants right now.

So, you try and help out.

“Ryland, do you really want it now? A little eager, aren’t we?”

There’s a blush creeping on his cheeks as he chokes out a ‘yes’.

This time, you try to explain to Rocky. “Rocky, we’ll meet with you later, okay? I just need to give Grace my birthday gift. I can only give it if it’s just him and me.”

“Understand. Will come back in one hour Earth time.”

And when he’s out of sight, Ryland wastes no time capturing your lips in his. 

He’s about to make the most out of the hour that Rocky has granted him, and his hand knows immediately where it needs to go.

[flowersunderme]

Look what you make me do

Pairing: dom!Ryland Grace x sub fem!reader

Warnings: Adults only (18+), mdni, explicit sexual content (smut), fluff, affection, plot-driven porn, breast stimulation (breastfeeding + light nipple play + computer that extracts), mention of possible abortion and loss of baby, little daddy kink, reader penetrated with a strange sex machine from space?, dildos and vibrators, many mentions of milk, Ryland crying and screaming (so hot), swallow cum, use of gag, anal sex, p in v protect, fetishism, chronic pain, glasses stay on, emotional vulnerability, tenderness, distress with comfort, established relationship (married couple though she doesn't remember), invasive medical procedures, AI-assisted treatment (Armando, computer robotic arms), Rocky and Armando voyeurs, (Rocky see, they fuck), caregiving dynamics, emotional dependency, loss of identity (amnesia), psychological distress, protective partner, gentle dominance dynamic (not explicit at first), use of pet names (good girl, little cow, space slut, whore, sweetheart), fear/pain and comfort, boundaries between humans and machines, ethical ambiguity in medical AI, bonding in survival situations.

Word Count: 9.3K

Summary: Rocky suggests that Ryland and the reader get together, so they do… very deeply. Grace has to take care of you.

Author’s Note: This was incredible. It gave me a headache. I need Ryland Grace so badly. I think after this I'm going to check myself into a hospital. I can't take it anymore. I can't live without him, please… send help. If you like this, thank you… you're as crazy and horny as I am. It starts off super soft and romantic and ends… PERVERTED PERVERT. As you know, like, share, and comment (if you're brave enough). Remember, requests are open. :)

One of the rooms at Hail Mary had become a complete mess. Dr. Grace and Rocky had agreed to sleep together, so they made a shared room with all their belongings. Ryland had a study, and Rocky… well, he had a lot of things scattered everywhere. So, Grace decided to help him tidy up. Then the conversation turned to their past lives on their respective planets when Rocky revealed he had a partner who was 186.3 years old. He asked if you had a partner too, to which you simply shook your head with a small, innocent smile. You were bothered by the wedding ring on the ring finger of your right hand, even though it's pretty. You'd like to be reminded of who your husband or wife is—if you're supposed to have one. Then he asked Grace, and he told the story of his breakup and that his ex, Linda, was now with someone named Mark. Rocky replied with what seemed to be seriousness:

"Rocky hates Mark."

They both laughed at the endearing comment while Rocky paced in circles, lost in thought.

"Why don't you two get together, question?" he asked.

You're sitting in an odd position, one leg bent on the chair while the other is extended, your foot resting on the desk. It seems to be a way your body soothes the pain in your hip. It happens when you sleep too: huddled against a pillow, face down with half your body on its side and only one leg raised. You're wearing a light pink babydoll, made of a light, flowing fabric, with an elastic neckline and soft ruffles, paired with matching shorts for a delicate and comfortable look. You and Dr. Grace, as the only humans on this ship, have developed a special (and/or space) bond and trust. It feels good not to be alone in space. You remember how unpleasant it was to wake up covered in tubes, naked, and scared… with those cups on your breasts. The machine that was monitoring your induced coma seemed to have its own electric breast pump. Disturbing. You assume you're a mother. Ryland gives you your space and doesn't ask questions about it, but you have to pump every few weeks. If you don't, you could get an engorgement or mastitis. It's been like a nightmare for you. But things have improved since then. Although your amnesia is proving quite difficult to cure. You still don't remember several things about yourself.

The atmosphere is calm as they chat with their alien friend. Your hands hold a Rubik's Cube that you try to solve, confused. Until Rocky's sudden question almost makes you choke on your own saliva. You lower your face to look at him. Sometimes he's as adorable as a small child. Your voice is sweet, low, and maternal as you answer, gently explaining to him.

"We're in this together, Rocky. We're a team. With you, too."

Grace laughed softly, sympathetically, and looked at you calmly, though a slight blush had appeared on his cheeks. Rocky made a small noise of confusion, as if he didn't quite understand what you were saying. The little alien again wore a curious expression, as if trying to process this new information.

"But you and Grace aren't doing anything to produce offspring," he asked. "Why not, question?"

Your cheeks also flush when you feel Grace's gaze and hear his laughter; you're a little shy too. You answer while I move a piece on your Rubik's Cube, trying to complete the face with the red squares. It gives you a nerdy look, like a virgin girl. You assume you aren't, even though you act like one. Your wedding ring sparkles on your finger.

"Produce… offspring? What would be the point of producing offspring? We're in space, we're going to die. We're far from Earth. It's not convenient."

Perhaps your words sound rather bitter or melancholic. But it's true. Besides, a spaceship isn't a good place to raise a baby. There are no toys, no stimulation, no garden to crawl in, or a sky to gaze at. It's sad. You speak about this topic in the most cultured way possible, like when you debate science, engineering, or numbers. Rocky is an engineer, just like you.

Grace seemed slightly taken aback by the somber tone of your words, but he understood. He had his own concerns. Rocky seemed to notice the melancholic tone in your words and expression, and made a small, worried noise. The little alien didn't have the same understanding of society and reproduction as humans.

Ryland decided to respond, trying to maintain a more neutral tone. He adjusted his glasses with a finger.

"She's right, Rocky. It wouldn't be appropriate or convenient to reproduce in a space environment."

You agreed with Grace, so you nodded slightly before turning your full attention back to the Rubik's Cube. Your fingers moved delicately and gracefully, assembling the figure with the corresponding colors. You didn't add anything else; you didn't want to upset Rocky with your depressing answers. A brief silence settled in the room until Rocky spoke again. He was curious and still interested in human sexuality. Also, he was very concerned about the fact that you had to pump. He didn't understand why. He was worried about you.

Grace remained silent as you focused on the Rubik's Cube. His thoughts were preoccupied, and he occasionally glanced at you as you played with it. The silence was broken by Rocky's voice, who seemed quite intrigued by the topic of human reproduction and sexuality. The little alien spoke again, this time bringing up a subject that seemed to be troubling him.

"Why do you have to express milk from your breasts, question?" he asked.

Rocky's sudden question made you feel more self-conscious than usual; you didn't know how to approach the subject. A shiver ran down your spine, along your back, as you remembered waking up naked with all the tubes and breast pumps attached to your chest. Your first thought was that you were in the middle of some strange medical or fetishistic torture. But it was something even stranger: you were in another solar system on a suicide mission. The point is, you didn't know how to navigate the topic of breastfeeding, and although you had thought about it on your own to draw your own conclusions… perhaps you needed to talk to someone about it. Despite being quite withdrawn, you worked up the courage to answer. After all, you trusted them.

"I could get sick if I don't. The ship has been doing it while I was in a coma, so I have to keep doing it. Besides, the Hail Mary stores it."

Both Grace and Rocky listened to your words carefully. Grace looked worried about you, while Rocky seemed even more intrigued. The idea of ​​the ship extracting milk from your breasts while you were in a coma sounded quite disturbing. The little alien made another small noise of concern, his dark eyes fixed on you, while Grace kept his gaze on you, his expression full of empathy and worry.

"And what will happen to the milk the Hail Mary stored?"

"I don't know. I'm certainly tempted to make myself a coffee with my own milk."

Your voice loses its somber tone when you make that little joke. Although it could also be a possibility. The bitter coffee was too bland, unappetizing. It lacked milk, cream, vanilla, cinnamon… sugar. So many things. Even though Rocky didn't have eyes, you could feel as if he were intently analyzing you with them, or perhaps they were Ryland's little blue eyes. You were still engrossed in your Rubik's Cube, now assembling the color blue… thinking of his eyes.

Grace chuckled at your joke, relieved that you'd lightened the mood with a bit of humor. He'd been thinking about it too, but it seemed a little odd. He adjusted his glasses, dangling from one ear, which kept them tucked under his oval, well-defined chin… framed by his soft beard. Rocky remained silent for a few moments, still processing your words and expression. Eventually, the little alien spoke again, curiosity still in his voice.

"Is your breast milk sweet or salty, question?"

"Sweet, I think it's sweet. I've never tasted breast milk."

You answer honestly and suddenly feel very uncomfortable in your seat, shifting around, searching for a more comfortable position. However, your attempts to get comfortable seem futile. Your hips hurt a lot; you can't understand why. It's a little irritating, it's annoying. You wish someone could hold them… or massage them. The ruffles of your babydoll sway, making you look adorable.

Grace, noticing your discomfort, bit his lip for a second before answering. His voice sounded softer than usual—almost as if he were choosing each word carefully.

"Um… Do you need me to help you massage them?" he said quickly, as if the question had slipped out without thinking. Then he added, "I mean… just because of your pain. It's nothing unusual. It's basic science about muscles and joints…"

Rocky turned his body in circles with dramatic slowness (like a living statue), emitting a low, musical-like sound:

"♩♫♫♪♪ (Liar)."

Your gaze lifted from the Rubik's Cube to see Ryland… sorry, Dr. Grace, biting his lip. He looked… cute. With his glasses dangling and his dark blond hair slightly tousled. You couldn't deny he was an attractive man. His questioning, the way he offered himself so religiously, took you by surprise. It was almost as if he'd read your mind. It was just what you needed. You laughed when Rocky called him a liar; you'd learned that word on since you hearded it.

"Yes, please. May I sit on your lap, Dr. Grace?"

You were comfortable enough to use the informal "Ryland" form, but you chose not to because you wanted to be polite and respectful. You stood up from your chair, approaching him shyly.

Grace didn't wait a second to answer. His voice came out quickly, almost too quickly. He shifted slightly in his seat to make some space, then replied:

"Of course. Come, snuggle up in my lap."

A small smile appeared on his face as he looked up at you, waiting for you to settle in. Rocky, the little alien, just stayed silent… spinning around excitedly with his five arms… legs?

Ryland's enthusiasm didn't go unnoticed. It was so obvious. Yet, you took it as a good sign. You was too deeply moved by these small displays of affection. You remember that you had no intimacy until you earned your engineering degree. So you know what it's like to be alone… it's not fun. It's stressful. You're glad they're alone in space… but together. Besides, the fact that they're completely exiled from the world was a brilliant idea. At least, it seemed that way to you. You'd always dreamed of moving to a small house in the middle of nowhere, in a remote field, and escaping society… or perhaps a cabin on a mountaintop. This was similar, but taken to the extreme.

You approached, trying to remain professional, your face calm even though your heart was racing… your cheeks were flushed, and you were practically drooling over him. You lifted one leg onto his lap, then the other, straddling him. Then you placed your arms over his shoulders and snuggled up to Grace, while you continued playing with the Rubik's Cube behind his back.

Grace leaned back slightly in his seat as he felt you settle onto his lap, and he placed his hands on your hips and thighs, holding you firmly. He noticed your heart beating rapidly; he could feel it even through the soft fabric of the babydoll and shorts. His own pulse quickened as he watched you, noticing the flush in your cheeks.

"You look adorable," he whispered, a smile still on his face.

"I don't want you to see me as adorable. I'd like you to see me as attractive. I don't know how to seduce you."

Grace chuckled a little at your statement, but his expression shifted to a more serious and thoughtful one. His hands still rested on your hips as he gazed at you calmly, his fingers gently stroking the skin of your thighs. He couldn't help but notice how adorable you looked in that outfit and the way you were snuggling up, but he knew you needed his to tell you otherwise.

"You're attractive."

He whispered softly, gently stroking one of your thighs.

"I'm not… I look like a virgin, nerdy college girl."

You said without warning, reaching for the glasses dangling from his chin and adjusting them on his face. To prove your point.

Ryland couldn't help but smile again at your comment as you adjusted his glasses. It was clear that, for you, looking like a nerdy, virginal college girl was a bad thing. Grace, on the other hand, found it adorable and exciting, but he knew that wasn't what you wanted to hear, so he tried to think of something else…

He moved a hand from your hip to your thigh again, gently caressing your bare skin as he replied:

"You're beautiful."

"You can say what you really think, you know?"

Ryland remained silent for a few moments, his hand still gently caressing your thigh. He looked at your face and noticed your expectant eyes. He wanted to say something, but didn't know how to phrase it. Finally, he decided to simply say it, without hesitation or censorship.

"See these clothes? This outfit? This Rubik's Cube?"

He asked, gesturing to each item with his free hand.

"Yeah."

Ryland took a deep breath, as if he were about to make a confession. His voice dropped a little lower, almost to a husky whisper.

"You drive me crazy."

His hands tightened slightly against your hips as he looked at you intently. The frankness in his expression made it clear he wasn't joking.

"A brilliant engineer dressed like a good girl, playing at solving problems…" He swallowed. "It's the most dangerous combination in the universe."

"You're not serious..."

Ryland maintained his serious expression, not taking his eyes off you or hesitating for a moment. He raised a hand to gently caress your cheek, his fingers tracing a soft path across your skin.

"I'm completely serious. You're intelligent, astute, confident, and with a touch of innocence."

His thumb paused at your lower lip, tenderly caressing the soft skin.

"And you look absolutely adorable in those clothes."

"Can you give me a kiss…?"

The words of your request came out as a sigh. Grace's heart fluttered slightly in his chest, and he couldn't help but smile gently at the longing in your eyes. His hand still cupping your cheek, he leaned forward, his face slowly drawing closer to yours.

"Yes…"

He whispered, before finally pressing his lips to yours in a slow, soft kiss.

Your lips follow the calm rhythm of Grace's, and you feel better at the contact, the surge of dopamine and oxytocin. Your hands release the Rubik's Cube to surrender to the kiss; the object clatters on the floor. Your hands go to the nape of Ryland's neck, your fingers weaving through the strands and gently tugging at his hair.

"I love you…"

The kiss grew more passionate and deeper as your hands played with his hair, gently tugging at it. He let out a soft moan at your touch, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hand slid from your cheek to your neck, cupping the back of your head to keep you close as he continued kissing you with increasing intensity.

When he finally pulled back a few inches, his breathing was rapid and his cheeks flushed.

"I love you too…"

You smiled calmly, noticing with affection how tenderly Ryland reacted to the kiss. You leaned in to give him another quick kiss and then shyly hid against his chest. Rocky, meanwhile, swayed from side to side and made joyful noises. He seemed happy that, somehow, they had become a couple. It was simply inevitable.

Grace gently stroked your back as you snuggled against his chest, feeling your heart pound against his body. His hand moved in comforting circles, trying to soothe you. He also noticed Rocky's commotion in the background, glancing at the little alien with a gentle smile.

"Looks like someone else is happy."

"Yes…"

You answered calmly, observing the alien who was now much stiller. If it had lips, you're sure it would be smiling like humans. Rocky then spoke again.

"I have to sleep now. Are you watching, question?"

Grace looked up at Rocky and smiled gently at his request. He understood that the little alien needed to rest, and at the same time, he had other things on his mind. After all, he had a beautiful, intelligent girl on his lap who needed some attention.

"Yes, we were watching. You can go to sleep peacefully, my dude. Good night."

"Goodnight, Rocky."

His alien friend, made up of rock-like objects that resemble a spider, flops down, asleep, knowing he's being watched and cared for. Someone always has to watch him sleep; it's an Eridian custom. Rocky's people have developed a deep-rooted cultural practice of monitoring each other during their paralyzed slumber to ensure everyone's survival. Rocky doesn't sleep in the traditional human sense. Instead, he enters a state of controlled metabolic inactivity, something more akin to light hibernation or "going into rest."

Ryland watched as Rocky lay down and closed his eyes, entering his controlled state of torpor. It was fascinating, and at the same time, a little unsettling, how the Eridians slept like that. After a few moments, Grace turned hos attention back to you, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face.

"Well… now that we're alone…"

You feigned an innocent expression when you noticed Dr. Grace's mischievous smile. It was a new side of him, one you'd never seen before. You blinked a few times with your big eyes and tilted your head like a little girl. You were interested in what he was going to say.

"Yes?"

Grace chuckled softly at your feigned innocence. His hand moved back up to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb as he gazed at you with a mixture of affection and mischief.

"Do you still want me to massage your hips?" he whispered playfully, making it clear he wasn't just talking about physical pain anymore.

"Of course."

You commented calmly and cheerfully. Kissing someone after so long had stirred up your hormones. You felt flustered because of it.

He noticed the enthusiasm in your voice and the excitement in your eyes. It was clear the kiss had affected you as much as it had him. His hands slid from your cheeks to your hips, holding them firmly as he adjusted you slightly on his lap.

"Good. Can you lie down?" he asked calmly, but with a hint of authority beneath the surface.

You were used to hearing orders from Dr. Grace sometimes, regarding activities on the Hail Mary while they were conducting analyses or investigations… but never with that tone of desire. You swallowed, remembering how men behaved when they wanted something carnal. However, Ryland wasn't like that… he was a little tender, and clumsy… and polite.

You moved the chair until you were facing an empty table and let your sword fall onto it while still sitting on Grace's lap.

"Like this?"

Ryland watched you as you settled back on the table, still on his lap. He could feel the warmth of your body against his and the softness of your skin beneath his hands. Your sweet words quickened his pulse even more.

"Yes. Like that…" he replied huskily, as his hands began to gently massage your hips.

You felt completely exposed in that position. But for some reason, you liked feeling vulnerable under Ryland's gaze; it was like a safe haven. After all, it was an instinct… the need to be cared for by someone. Especially given your delicate state. You placed your hands docilely beside your head, your arms raised. Everything about your pose seemed to scream for him to take you.

"Do you think NASA denies sexual practices in space because they're real, Dr. Grace?"

A mischievous smile appeared on Grace's lips at your question. His hands continued to gently massage your hips, moving with a firm yet affectionate touch. He leaned closer, his face almost touching yours, and answered in a whisper.

"I don't know… although I have a feeling you're going to find out."

The close proximity and intimacy of the moment created an electric tension in the air, thick with desire and anticipation.

Ryland's comment makes you burst into a genuine, warm laugh. You never thought you'd laugh in a situation like this, on a space mission. But with him and Rocky, it's commonplace. The tense muscles in your hips begin to relax beneath his touch.

"Maybe we'll figure it out together."

You dared to reply, playing along. In the middle of space, you didn't seem like two awkward nerds… you were actually quite good at flirting. You dared to kiss him again.

Ryland was surprised to hear you laugh, but he couldn't help but laugh too. There was something contagious about how you reacted to his words. His hands paused for a moment on your hips as you began kissing him again.

"Together," he murmured against your lips, his voice full of promise as he returned the kiss with more intensity than before.

Rocky remained motionless in his corner, "asleep," though if he'd had eyelids and could have woken up, he would have lifted them to spy on the scene with alien curiosity.

The whole situation made you feel good and more relaxed, calming your stress and cortisol levels in the most human and easiest way: simply loving. You were grateful not to be alone on the Hail Mary. Ryland pulled away when he finished kissing you, his hands still on your hips. You, for your part, maintained your submissive position against the table. Then… that thing that terrifies you so much happens again. This system is strange. Why does it have to be so disturbing?

"Stimulation and extraction process initiating…"

The computer speaks with that robotic, emotionless voice. The Hail Mary's arms find you easily. However, this time they aren't so violent. They hold your wrists and keep you in place. The Hail Mary's artificial intelligence is… interesting, to say the least. An extraction of your breast milk with Ryland so close has never occurred before. So, at this moment, the Hail Mary seems to have detected him as the person in charge of you.

"Dr. Grace detected. Will he be in charge of the extraction?"

Ryland watched in surprise as the Hail Mary's arms appeared to grab him. He hadn't expected anything like this, and at first, he tensed up at the computer's unexpected intrusion. But upon hearing the AI's artificial voice, he quickly understood what was happening. He couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed when he realized what the Hail Mary was suggesting. Although, to be honest, he didn't dislike it either…

He took a deep breath and replied to the AI ​​in a firm voice.

"Yes, I'll take care of it."

This usually happened in the dormitories while Ryland worked in the lab. It gave you some privacy. However, that didn't make it any less traumatic and painful. Your face looks scared, but when you hear Grace's voice speak with such certainty… you think you feel a little better. You trust him.

"Understood, Dr. Grace. Instructions will be given."

The robotic arms still grip you tightly, but you don't resist. At least they aren't holding your legs like they usually do because you're sitting on Ryland's lap. You don't understand why it has to be so invasive. You suppose it's because it would endanger you if you didn't want to do it. The ship drops the funnels for your breasts.

Grace watches intently as the craft continues the extraction process, holding your wrists and lowering the funnels into your breasts. His expression softens, filled with empathy at your obvious discomfort. His left hand instinctively moves up and gently strokes your cheek in a calming gesture, trying to ease your anxiety.

"Everything will be alright," he whispers in a comforting tone.

He moves his other hand to grasp one of the funnels, preparing to begin. You give Ryland a small smile.

"Yes, that's fine. I trust you."

Then the computer speaks again.

"First, you must remove her clothing to expose her mammary glands."

Grace nods at your words, grateful for your trust. He returns a comforting smile as the computer speaks again. His voice sounds somewhat uncomfortable at the command to remove your clothes, but at the same time, he understands the logic behind it.

"Yes, I understand…" he replies softly, his hand still gently caressing your cheek before removing it and beginning to unbutton your babydoll. His movements are gentle and careful.

Once Ryland removes it, your round, full breasts are exposed. You're very embarrassed by this, so you end up closing your eyes and your cheeks flush. Even so, you seem to enjoy that Grace is doing this and not the robotic arms.

Ryland can't help but feel a shiver run down his spine at the sight of your exposed breasts. His eyes fill with admiration for your beauty, while at the same time he feels an overwhelming sense of protection and care. His hand reaches out again and gently cups your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin. His pulse begins to quicken.

"You're beautiful…"

"Th-Thank you…"

The computer gives the following instruction.

Ryalnd tenses at the sound of the robotic voice again, its fingers lingering on your skin for a second. The computer speaks with a coldness that leaves no room for shame or modesty.

"Apply sterile lubricant to the nipples before inserting the funnels."

Dr. Grace glances down at an automatic dispenser extending from a nearby wall. He swallows and lets out a nervous sigh… but then nods firmly.

"They hadn't used lubricant before…"

He freezes for a second, his gaze darting between the lubricant dispenser and your nipples. His voice comes out huskier than he intends.

"That explains why it hurt so much before."

He takes the dispenser with slightly trembling hands, applying a small amount of the cold, sterile liquid to the tips of your breasts. He bites his lip as he watches your reaction, ready to apologize if it hurts.

"It feels good."

You confess, though you think it's mostly Ryland's massage.

Ryland is relieved to hear that it doesn't hurt and that you even like it. He continues gently massaging your breasts, now with the lubricant, his fingers gliding over your smooth skin. His gaze is fixed on you, observing every small gesture and reaction. He feels his own body reacting to the situation, but forces himself to focus on you and the present moment.

"I'm… I'm going to try inserting the funnel then, okay?"

"Do what you have to do… Ry… I really trust you more than those arms…"

He nods gently at your words, his gaze clear with determination. He sets the lubricant dispenser aside and carefully picks up one of the funnels. His pulse quickens slightly as he holds it, but he does his best to remain calm.

"Here I go. Relax."

Carefully but firmly, he inserts the funnel against one of your nipples, watching your reaction intently.

You inhale and exhale deeply to stay calm, though you can't help but let out a soft moan as the funnel takes hold of your nipple. It sucks quickly and with some precision, seeking to stimulate your breasts to draw milk.

Ryland watches you intently as the funnel sucks on your nipple, noticing the small moan that escapes you. His cheeks flush at the sight, yet he continues to calmly massage your other breast. His pulse quickens and his breathing becomes slightly heavier than usual, but for some reason, this also makes him feel calmer in a way. After a while, he whispers in a soothing tone.

"Can you handle this?"

Your eyes remain closed; you want to reply, but your parted lips only manage a gasp. The computer answers for you:

"She can handle it, Dr. Grace. Please proceed to the next funnel."

He listens intently to the computer's commands, trying to control his pounding heart and rapid breathing. He nods at the system's command and carefully picks up the second funnel again. Gently, he places it on your other breast, watching as the other one is also suctioned. His hand moves from your cheek to your waist, gripping it firmly but gently to offer you some support.

You squirm as the funnels do their work. However, feeling Ryland hold you by the waist makes you feel less alone, making the process less traumatic and painful. The computer speaks again, leaving you breathless.

"Stimulation in progress. Dr. Grace may remove the patient's shorts and underwear. He may then remove his own lower garments to take her."

Ryland jumps at the computer's words, shocked by the outrageous and explicit nature of the command. His body tenses, and he bites his lip, realizing what the computer is suggesting. He forces himself to take a deep breath and look at you for a moment before silently nodding. His face is red with embarrassment, but he knows he has to follow orders.

"Okay… I'll do this, alright?"

"O-Of course…"

You don't know if the system would let you go if Ryland gave the order, but you certainly don't want to leave and you don't want to escape this situation. It doesn't seem like a bad idea to satisfy your sexual desires with your crewmate. You need more focus to complete the space mission; this will do you good. It will do you both good. One of the robotic arms extends a condom to Grace.

Ryland looks at the condom the ship offers him, and feels his pulse quicken even more. His breathing is heavy, but there's a clear determination in his eyes as he takes the object with trembling hands. He looks at you intently before speaking.

"I'm going to take your shorts off."

With slow, careful movements, he slides your shorts down along with your underwear. Then he pauses for a moment to look at you again.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, please…"

You open your eyes to look at him, pleading. At that moment, Grace's heart leaps at your gaze, sensing the plea in your eyes. With firmer hands, he removes his pants and carefully places them to one side. He takes a moment to put on a condom and then gently positions himself above you. His gaze remains fixed on yours, seeking your approval.

"Tell me if you need me to stop at any time…"

"Okay…"

You reply, trying to reassure his, though you know you don't want his to stop at any point. Ryland gets up and positions herself between your legs. The robotic arms also hold your ankles, spreading your thighs and positioning you for Grace. Meanwhile, the funnels continue to suck on your breasts.

Ryland settles between your legs, the robotic arms holding you in place. He looks down and sees the funnels sucking on your nipples as your body is fully exposed to him. His breathing is heavy, but there's an unusual tenderness in his eyes as he gazes at you.

"I love you…" he whispers before slowly thrusting inside you.

"I love you more…"

Although your next comment is innocent.

"You're so… big."

Ryland lets out a small laugh at your comment, though his smile is somewhat embarrassed because he knows what you're talking about.

"It's not that big…"

He replies tentatively, trying to remain calm despite what's happening. A small, mischievous smile plays across his lips.

"Do you like it…?" he whispers, as if it were a secret.

"Yes, very much…"

The computer speaks again.

"Do you require a gag for the patient, Dr. Grace?"

Ryland glances at the computer when he hears the question. His expression is one of surprise for a second, but then it shifts to utter horror. It's clear you're crossing a line with him.

"NO! NO! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT. I'm not going to use that on you, I don't want to hurt you."

Despite his repeated refusals, he can't believe what he sees through his glasses because you're giving him puppy-dog eyes… as if you really want it. You even open your mouth and stick out your tongue.

"Yes, that's a good idea. A gag, please."

Ryland's mind is a little reeling from the situation, but at the same time, he feels a kind of excitement. He's never done anything like this before, but he likes it. A lot.

"This system was created by a fetishist."

Ryland chuckles, almost involuntarily, as the computer obeys and slides a soft gag toward him. He takes it carefully and studies your expression before placing it.

"You're right…" he murmurs conspiratorially, "But I'm not complaining."

With an expert movement (one he'd never practiced), he adjusts the gag over your lips to prevent any unnecessary sounds… or perhaps just to make this more intense.

"Mmmh…. mmmmh…"

Grace looks at you with a malicious smile as he adjusts the gag and watches you try to speak.

"What's wrong, little one? Can't you talk?" he says in a soft but almost mocking voice.

"Ehmm… ehmm… Ry… Ry…."

Ryland leans forward slightly, propping himself up on his arms, and moves closer to your face. His smile widens as he hears the frustrated sounds escaping through the gag.

"Huh? What's wrong? I can't understand you," he says provocatively, almost mockingly, his eyes gleaming at you.

"Ehmmm…. ehmm… um…kiss…t… mmm… Ry…"

Your hips move, seeking more friction; it's obvious you want him to thrust into you.

Ryland remains still for a second, processing what you're trying to say. Then, his smile widens and his eyes gleam mischievously. He left a pretty kiss upon the gag with love.

"Do you want me to fuck you harder?" he asks softly, gripping your hips more firmly.

Without waiting for an answer (though he knows the truth perfectly well), he begins to thrust inside you with slow but deep movements at first… only to gradually increase the pace.

"Oh… oh… mmm… mmm…"

As you enjoy watching Ryland move, the computer speaks again and the breast pumps suction harder: milk is visible in the tubes.

"Excellent. Starting stage 2, pumping."

Ryland hears the robotic voice and feels the funnels suction harder, noticing the flow of milk in the tubes. His breath catches for a second at the sight, but then he grunts softly.

"Fudge it…" he mutters through gritted teeth as he quickens his thrusts inside you, "Do you like being milked like this?"

His hands now grip your hips tightly, almost leaving bruises unintentionally. The computer seems to be enjoying this a little too much.

Damn, you love it. This is so much better than how the process worked before. You want it to be like this forever. You want Ryland to do it from now on. You want him to milk you like a cow.

"Aaaah… mmm… mmm… hmm…"

Your moans are muffled by the gag, but they're meant to be affirmation. The computer speaks again:

"Dr. Grace, continue stimulating the mammary glands with your hands."

Ryland doesn't need to be told twice. His hands, still tracing your hips, slide eagerly upward and grip your breasts firmly. The suction cups continue to work as he kneads your skin gently at first… but then harder.

"Just look what you make me do…" he growls against your ear. "Do you like being my little cow?"

All you can do is nod, your teeth pressing against the gag as a way to hold back the orgasm you're about to have. Because Ryland hasn't stopped moving gently against you, alternating between faster and slower rhythms. You think men are all wooden logs, hard and immobile… and you assume Grace was the same. Yet he seems to move his hips the way a woman twerks. Can he never take his cock out of your vagina, please? Your pussy can be his home from now on.

His fingers play with your nipples between the suction tubes, twisting them just to hear you moan more. He can press them against the soft, suction-enhancing plastic.

The computer emits a beep of approval, as if it were observing every tiny detail. It's a voyeur. Grace feels a little embarrassed but also excited at this moment; all of this no longer feels like a routine process for him.

"I need to do something," he murmurs as he takes the small robot from the ship by the arm and places it close to your face. "Open your mouth."

The computer's small robotic arm removes the gag and extends a tube toward your mouth. The top has a small, round opening, like a tiny baby bottle. It seems to be trying to feed you something… but what? Before you can even ask, the computer answers for you.

"Nutritious liquid."

The small arm gently pushes the tube toward your lips as it waits for you to start sucking.

Ryland watches you as they place the bottle to your lips and you begin to suck from the tube. His eyes darken even more as he sees you like this. It's as if a new side of him awakens at the sight of you consuming the substance… and he loves it.

"You're such a good little cow… my little space cow."

The computer emits a satisfied beep as the liquid fills your mouth. It has a slightly sweet taste, similar to soy milk, but not unpleasant. The way the tube slides into your mouth and sucks it in, along with Grace's comment, makes you feel even more like a real cow.

"Good cow," the computer repeats. Ryland smirks and throws his head back as he thrusts into you with gentle swaying motions, the system's mechanical tone saying those words. His glasses fog up as he breathes heavily, then he lowers his head to watch you continue sucking on the tube and moves faster and more roughly. His glasses fall off and dangle from one ear, resting on his jaw.

"Please, more."

You manage to say it as you swallow. Rylad bites his lip at the sound of your plea. His hand instinctively moves to stroke your hair as the computer adjusts the flow of the nutrient solution, making it go down faster.

"Look how hungry you are…" he murmurs hoarsely. "Do you like being treated like this? Like a little animal?"

His fingers gently press against your scalp as he watches you swallow everything without protest.

"I love it, I'll take it all for you… Dr. Grace."

Ryland feels a shiver run down his spine at your words. His hand pauses in your hair for a second, then he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and lust.

"Fuck…" he growls, his voice rougher than before, "Since when are you so dirty?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pushes the tube deeper into your mouth as he quickens his thrusts inside you.

The computer responds calmly and casually as it monitors your condition. The Hail Mary's small robotic arm (Armando) continues to deliver the fluid regularly, the tube now deeply inserted into your mouth. The fluid spills slightly down the sides, wetting your cheeks like milk.

"Patient shows signs of arousal. Suggestions: Increase stimulation and production accordingly." System announces.

The computer's comment doesn't go unnoticed by Grace, who had already sensed your arousal. The comment confirms what he already knew, and he feels a mixture of satisfaction and lust upon hearing it from the system.

"Yes… yes, make it produce more," he replies in a raspy voice. "Produce more, cow."

The computer beeps in approval, as if obeying your commands, and the small robotic arm begins to subtly push the tube inward to make you swallow more liquid. A soft sucking sound is heard.

"She's in need. Production is increasing."

Ryland grunts at the computer report, his hands gripping your hips tighter. The sight of your mouth full and your breasts dripping is too much for him.

"Fudge… it…" he gasps. "See what you're doing? How you drive me crazy?"

His thrusts become chaotic, without a fixed rhythm, driven only by pure desire. The constrictors suck so hard it almost hurts… but he loves it.

The computer emits another approving beep, indicating the system's satisfaction that production is increasing. Armando continues to provide fluid regularly, and the computer adds a new tone to its report:

"Time to change position."

The robotic voice sounds almost as if it's observing a laboratory and taking notes on every detail. The small system's robotic arm lowers again, removing the bottle from your mouth and preparing to change the tubing.

Ryland freezes for a second, processing the computer's suggestion. Then he looks down and sees Armando coming down with a new attachment… one clearly designed for penetration.

"Pfft, seriously?" he mutters through gritted teeth, his voice raspier than ever.

But there's no time to protest. The mechanical arms are already rotating you onto your stomach as the system prepares to continue "the process." Grace can only swallow hard and adjust his position behind you. Even his hands move to lovingly settle you on the desk.

The position is new and a little awkward, but the robotic arms manipulate your body with ease. Your breasts hang like firm drops over the edge of the desk while the rest of your body rests there. Your ass is at a perfect angle to be observed in this upside-down position, and Ryland has never left you. So you still feel his cock bumping against you and being squeezed by your vaginal walls. Armando adds more lubricant to the new tubing, which flows smoothly from the dildo's opening, and Ryland adjusts the funnel tubes to fit your breasts, gently adjusting their position to rest on your nipples. After a few moments, the robotic voice is heard again:

"All set, Dr. Grace. Proceed."

Ryland watches the new robotic attachment extract some lucrative fluid from the orifice with a mixture of surprise and lust. His breathing quickens as the computer grants him permission to continue.

"Fuck…" he murmurs, gripping your hips tighter this time, "Are you going to let this thing fuck you too?"

Then he begins thrusting inside you again… but now there's a third element at play.

The dildo held by the robotic arm between you, from Ryland's side, slides between your buttocks and quickly finds the tight little hole you've never given to anyone. But which you'll most likely give to Grace as well.

"Yes, yes… daddy. So you can take it later."

Ryland feels a shiver at your response. His hand slides forward and grabs the back of your neck, turning your face and forcing you to look at the robotic arm impaling you. Your cheeks are flushed and you have a pained expression on your face; you feel feverish from the double penetration. But god, it feels so good. Ryland leans back on your back and then his hand loosens its grip. Instead, noticing how dazed you feel… he lovingly strokes your neck.

"Tell me again…" he pantes against your ear, "Do you like being treated like a whore?"

The system accelerates its movements in sync with his, thrusting into you mercilessly while the computer records every muffled moan. Your tight hole takes it very well. Each time your pussy feels excited by Ryland's cock, your anus opens wider and trembles

The words tumble from your mouth almost automatically, filled with pleasure and excitement:

"I love it… daddy."

The robotic voice gives a small beep of approval, but Grace barely notices. The only sound he needs is your voice saying those words. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently strokes your cheek.

"Good…" he says softly. "You're a good cow. Such a cute little space cow. My little space cow."

Ryland gasps at the sight of you in that position, the robotic arm thrusting deeper inside you. His hand releases your face only to grab your hair and pull you back, arching your back. Your breasts, dangling from the extractors, sway with the movement.

"Look at yourself…" he growls against your ear again. "See what you are? A space slut."

The system adjusts the speed of the mechanical arm to perfectly synchronize with his thrusts, now slower and more intense. You whimper softly.

"Yes… yes…. Dr. Grace. I am. I am…. your space slut."

Ryland lets out a soft moan at the sound of your voice, your words catching in your throat…

"You're my space slut. Understand?"

"Yes… I understand. Am I your little cow too?"

"Yes, you're MY cow. All mine. I'm going to milk you every day, whenever I have the time."

The words sound even better now that he's accepted them. He can sense the excitement in your voice… and that only excites him more.

The computer beeps again in approval, as if confirming their words. Armando, with the dildo, continues moving, observing the couple's every gesture and movement. Carefully, the computer adds more fluid to the tube hanging in front of you, waiting for you to suck. That damn arm came back wanting to feed you.

"Come on… drink, cow."

"Yes, Daddy."

You open your mouth to receive the bottle again, or some other extremely strange, unidentified object that is just another damn tube from the Spaceship. You eat again.

Ryland grunts at your words, his hands tightening their grip on your waist as the robotic arms immobilize you in that position. He's clinging to you like a baby koala.

"Fudge it…" he gasps. "Since when are you so obedient?"

The system adjusts the pressure of the mechanical arm inside you, making it vibrate slightly to heighten the sensation. Grace can't help but chuckle at how perverse this has all become. You can't help but moan and gasp with whimpers as you are penetrated through both holes and drink the nourishing fluid.

Ryland grunts at the sound of your voice, his pulse racing even faster as the robotic arm penetrates you with precision and watches you eat. His hand slides to your mouth, forcing it open and making you release the tube. He covers your lips with his palm as he hears your moans.

"Shut up…" he murmurs against your ear. "Don't let that fudge computer hear how much of a slut you are."

But his eyes gleam with lust as he says it, as if he actually wants to hear you scream it louder. You also notice that he's crying while doing all this, just like you. This is too much for both of you. Ryland cuts off your breath with his strong, veiny hands, then lets you breathe again as he releases you. As if that wasn't enough, Armando brings him a vibrator, which he quickly places against your needy, aroused clitoris and turns on. The sudden vibration, plus the sensation of your two tight holes being filled and stretched, makes you scream in pain and move your hips up and down, seeking release.

This way, you reach orgasm, and your belly lingers with lingering spasms of pleasure. You cry, you give thanks, you moan, and you scream as if you're in a manic frenzy. It's intense.

"Thank you, thank you, sir. Thank you so much, Dr. Grace."

Ryland's hands move over your body, trying to comfort you, affectionately caressing your curves. Then they return to your hair and stroke it gently. He's never made a woman feel so wild. God, he loves you.

"You're okay, sweetheart. You're okay. You're welcome."

The computer responds with a beep of approval, its robotic voice still sounding almost as if it's enjoying the show.

"Dr. Grace: The second hole is ready for you."

The mechanical arm momentarily withdraws from your anus while the computer adjusts its program. Then, without warning… the system pushes you further face down against the table and lifts your buttocks into the air.

"Ready for alternative procedure."

Ryland stares, eyes wide, as the computer positions you like that. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of your exposed ass, and for a second he seems to forget how to speak. He's crying like a baby because he doesn't want to hurt you and hides behind a dominant demeanor.

"Fuck…" he finally manages to say, "Are you going to let me fuck you here too?"

He closes his eyes for a second and bites his lip to keep from moaning too loudly. Then he licks them needily. The computer waits a second before speaking again, as if it knows exactly when to wait to be heard. It sounds excited too. You feel like a guinea pig in a lab, they're doing weird experiments on you in the middle of space at the Hail Mary. But hey! You like it.

"Proceed, Dr. Grace. Proceed."

Ryland doesn't need to be told twice. With a low growl, he thrusts forward without hesitation (now in your other hole), his breath ragged and his hands gripping your hips with an almost painful force.

"Fudge it…" he gasps. "Look what you made me do."

"Ry… Ry… my little ass."

Ryland freezes when he hears you, his eyes darkening with lust. His hand slides forward and grabs your hair, forcing you to look at the robotic arm that's thrusting inside you again. This time, it's his beautiful cock penetrating you. He also hasn't moved the vibrator away from your clit.

"Say it again…" he growls against your ear. "Do you like having your little ass fucked?"

"Yes… no… it hurts…"

Ryland immediately pulls away upon hearing you, his gaze filling with concern. His cock withdraws from your hole, and your anus closes instantly, but the sensation of it having already been opened and stretched lingers. It burns slightly. The computer also seems to notice the discomfort and removes the nipple covers, awaiting commands.

"Recommended interruption. Proceed to the next position," it asks in its robotic voice.

Grace moves completely away from you, still looking at you, concerned.

"Are you okay? Where does it hurt?"

Stupid, cute, and clumsy Ryland Grace. Where the hell is it going to hurt? He just penetrated your ass.

"Next position?… I'm… fine."

Wow, you recover quickly. Your chest rises and falls, and your head aches from the pressure. You feel feverish and dizzy, but incredibly horny. Your brain has shrunk to being a tiny space cow and a whore. You don't want to be an engineer or a savior of the planet anymore. Screw the world, you just want Ryland Grace to keep fucking you.

The computer beeps in approval, and the system places you in a different position. This time you're lying on your back, your legs raised over Grace's shoulders. His concern seems to lessen slightly, but he's still staring at you. His glasses are dangling, and tears are in his eyes.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt, sweetheart? We can stop…"

A small alarm sounds from the robotic arm, which is still in the air. The computer beeps a warning to Grace.

"Dr. Grace, the patient is showing signs of agitation."

"Please… I need you, Ryland. Please continue…"

Ryland lets out a sigh of relief mixed with lust, caressing your legs and then your cheek before repositioning himself between them. His cock now slides back into your tight pussy. The vibrator of the sex toy pulsates between you.

"Just tell me if it hurts…" he murmurs as he begins to push inside you again, slower this time. "Is this better?"

His voice is rough but filled with genuine concern.

"Yes, but we have a problem."

Grace's face paled with terror.

"The glasses stay on."

He lets out a relieved sigh and quickly adjusts his glasses with both hands behind his ears. Once they're in place, his hands return to your body. Now he caresses your breasts to soothe what the dildos have done to you while sucking. You moan softly. All the roughness is over; now they only move inside you calmly and lovingly as he strokes you.

After a while, Ryland leans forward and hugs you tenderly, resting his forehead against yours. His voice is soft in your ears as he moves a little more firmly, careful not to hurt you.

"Everything's going to be alright, my precious cow."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, gently kissing your forehead before shifting his weight onto one arm. His other hand moves to stroke your hair.

Moans fill the room as he makes you feel safe and pampered. You can feel the pace of his thrusts quicken, but he stops every now and then, as if he's still afraid of hurting you.

"You're… so good," he gasps. "So beautiful…"

However, he doesn't get your answer. Your eyes have closed. Ryland notices how you relax and your breathing slows. His hand gently caresses one of your breasts as his voice drops to a husky whisper:

"You're falling asleep, aren't you?" It's not a question; he knows.

The system beeps with a warning: "Fatigue levels detected. Proceed with caution." Grace frowns but doesn't stop… he just slows down even more.

The computer beeps in approval as the speed slows, and Ryland takes a moment to adjust your position so you're more comfortable. He lowers your legs from his shoulders, so they now dangle over the edge of the desk. Then he places his hands behind your back to lift you and pulls you close. Your arms move lazily, resting on his shoulders in the embrace, and your legs wrap around his hips as you remain seated on the desk. The position changes the angle, allowing him to penetrate you more deeply. His hand moves to your hair and gently strokes your strands.

"Relax… I'm here," he whispers in your ear. "Sleep… I'll take care of you…"

This is how Dr. Grace finds release. With slow, deep movements, aided by the vibration of the toy that's still there, lovingly embracing you as you feel numb, precum oozing from the tip of his erection. He kisses your face: cheeks, the crown of your head, your forehead, your nose, your chin, and finally your lips. You, for your part, have had orgasms throughout the entire process, which you haven't been able to identify because of how overstimulated you are. But you feel incredibly happy and tired. Your belly seems to have a life of its own, moving with each gentle, sweet thrust as it has throughout the session: spasming, rising and falling like your breasts.

Ryland lets out sighs like a kitten, first a long one… and then a shorter one. While his penis can no longer hold back and he ejaculates inside you. His semen fills you to the brim; now he's the one who seems like a milk cow. You moan, somewhere between reality and dream… coming with him.

Once he calms down, he moves away from you until you're lying on your side and his arm is around your waist, as if you were a stuffed animal. He remove the vibrator from you and turn it off.

Ryland whimpers and cries with emotion; he needs to calm down. With your last bit of strength, you bring your hand to his face and stroke his cheek. Grace squeezes his teary eyes shut in anguish as he sniffs and presses his face to your belly. They both rest while you gently stroke their hair.

[taeswolfie]

What do you miss about home?

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Ryland Grace x fem!Reader

Word count: 273

In the little holodeck, Ryland leans against Rocky's ball, computer in lap as he shows Rocky some of Earth's scenery. "One thing I miss is the fog." Ryland muses. "What about you, Rock? What do you miss most about home?"

"Mm." Rocky hums. "My mate."

"Wait, what?" Ryland sits up and turns to look at his friend in shock. "You got a mate?"

"Yes."

"I mean, not that you- I'm sure- I'm- what's their name?"

"Name is," Rocky sings a flourish of melodic tunes, sweetened by his affection.

Ryland nods. "It's beautiful. How long you been together?"

"186.3 years."

"Like the honeymoon phase."

"No understand."

"That's a joke, Rock. That's a long time. You've been together a long time."

Rocky lightly touches the gem embedded in his arm. A gift from his love. "Is not enough." Ryland's lips twitch in a small smile. "Grace have mate, question?"

"Uh, I do, actually, yeah. Surprisingly."

"Why surprise, question?"

Ryland tilts his head back, looking at the simulated sky. "Because people have thought that I have my head in the clouds and I didn't really wanna live in the real world." He heaves a little sigh, glancing at Rocky before looking back down at his hands. "They're right. But she's always stuck by me. Ever since we were kids. She keeps me grounded."

"What is Grace mate name, question?"

"Her name is Y/n." His tone is soft with his own affection.

"I like Y/n."

He huffs a laugh. "Yeah. Me too."

"How long Grace Y/n mate, question?"

"20 years."

"Long time."

He twists the simple band on his finger. "... Not long enough."

[oddballwriter]

bloodymary x reader where simon has been a bit distant lately, and it eventually comes to light that he’s had thoughts of straight up just biting grace and reader and he doesn’t know why but he’s scared that one day he might actually do it and he doesn’t know if he could live with himself if that ever- what the heck is cute aggression?

Cuteness Aggression

Summary: Basically summed up in the request

Warnings: Simon having some self distancing issues and trouble vocalizing, typical Simon in fanfics tbh

Author’s Snip: I thought this was so stinking cute I just had to write it

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request. Reblogs appreciated but no pressure.

Word Count: 1.1k

You and Grace don’t really notice it at first. You understood that a relationship was still new to Simon let alone the fact that he was in a relationship with two people at the same time. That’s a lot to unpack. And Simon had a lot of other things to unpack. Furthermore, Si had the habit of self-isolating when he was feeling troubled and found that it was best to let him go and return when he felt better. But that time had long passed now and you were getting a bit worried considering he’d just abruptly leave during moments that you thought were nice.

Simon had informed Grace that the plants in the greenhouse had seemingly started to crossbreed between each other, even bringing him in to look at them since he knew Grace would want to see. Grace was obviously enamored by the finding, rambling on about how amazing it was.

“I mean, I knew that the team was curious about natural pollinators when I talked about them and said that they wanted to give engineering some a try. But I don’t think they’ve managed to perfect it quite yet. Something about them not getting the hierarchy right. So it's amazing to see that they’re doing it on their own without any outside intervention unless… Unless you count as one! It’s actually quite possible!” Grace says before taking a hold of Simon’s hand and looking it over with glee. “You’ve mentioned that some of them have the ability to flower, so maybe when you tend to them, they’ve been placing their pollen on your hands and you tending to the next one has caused contact so that they can reproduce new adaptations. It makes me think of what else you can create if you start experimenting with it.” he continued as he looked up to Simon with a smile.

Both men hold their gaze on each other for a brief moment before Simon abruptly pulls his hand back and quickly mumbles out “Yeah. Maybe.” and looking away to signify that he wanted the moment to pass. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, Grace awkwardly nods and says “Well, I can’t wait to see what you make.” before leaving to return to what he was previously doing, but not without worrying if he had maybe said something that made Simon feel that way.

Then there was the time you had borrowed the laptop to watch some movies with Simon. Grace was off consulting with Rocky and Adrian about something, opting to let you and Si have some alone time together. It wasn’t too uncommon to spend one on one time with Simon since it was clear that he was susceptible to letting himself fade into the background and make himself the third wheel. It was a means to boost his confidence in the relationship. Tonight, you were watching one of your personal favorites. You both were settled under the warmth of a blanket while you watched, slowly scooting closer and closer to each other until you found yourselves shoulder to shoulder all while you kept your eyes on the movie. At some point, one of your favorite scenes played out and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I always loved the way they shot this scene.” you remark.

“Yeah?” Simon asks as he looks down at you.

“Yeah. I think it’s pretty. Don’t you?” you confirm as you look up towards him for a moment before looking back to the screen. And there is this calm pleasant quiet that nests in the moment until Simon abruptly scoots away, almost making you fall over because you weren’t expecting to lose the support from having previously been leaning on him. You look to him only to catch him stealing a quick glance back at you before shooting sights back toward the movie. You just try to shrug it off and do the same, but you thought that you two were having a nice little moment.

All these strange interruptions to moments where you thought you were having a good time, even a genuinely romantic moment, where Simon would seem to have some sort of thought cross his mind, immediately pump the breaks, and want distance. Again, you’ll happily give it to him. But you’re just so worried. That’s why you and Grace are taking the initiative and confront him when he does it again while you were all laying under the observatory section of the biodome, where there was no artificial sky so that you could see the natural stars and cosmos of Erid. You were all just laying on top of each other silently watching the celestial bodies gleam when Simon started trying to worm his way out of the cuddle pile, which was very noticeable considering he was in the center.

“Are you alright?” you softly ask. “Yeah. I’m fine.” is all Simon says in response till Grace chimes in. “Are you sure? You’ve been acting off these past few days. If something’s bothering you, you can tell us. You know we’ll never judge you, right?” Grace assures him. “I know… it’s just…” he hesitates for a bit.

“I have this weird urge to bite you guys sometimes.” Simon blurts out. “Not hard or anything. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s just… I don’t know? I look at you sometimes and you look really nice and the moment is really nice, and normally I would just let it pass by but recently, I just-” Simon tries to clarify but ends up cornering himself into an odd conversation and stops. He looks embarrassed by his confession and looks back and forth between you and Grace, anticipating some sort of negative reaction, but it never comes.

Instead, Grace chuffs out a little laugh. “You mean like gnaw on us a little?” he asks. Simon nods to which you come in. “That’s perfectly normal, Simon!” you tell him. “It is?” Simon questions. “It is,” you nod. “I do it all the time with Grace. I only stopped because we didn’t want you to be weirded out and think that we just bite each other for no reason.” you add.

“It’s called cute aggression. That just happens. It’s perfectly normal as long as you aren’t actually trying to take a bite out of us. You don’t need to leave every time you feel it.” Grace assures him.

“But what about all my teeth?” Simon questions as he gestures to the shaper teeth that now rest on the side of his mouth due to his mutations. “Well, if you’re overdoing it we’ll just tell you.” Grace reassures him, “I sort of imagine it’ll be like a cat making biscuits or something.” he remarks.

“Here, why don’t you come back and you just let it happen if it comes to you.” you offer as you make way for him to come back into the cuddle pile with you and Grace. Simon takes the offer and wedges himself back in, continuing on with the moment as usual.

[rockylandphm]

pushing it down and praying

pairing: colt seavers x reader but also not rly but also ryland grace x reader honestly it's up for interpretation (coltland twins agenda)

synopsis. when ryland grace is taken by the stars, you and his twin brother are left behind with nothing but shared grief or in which, you keep looking for your lost love in colt’s eyes, and colt keeps pretending it doesn't break his heart

word count. 2.1k words

note. uhhh this is my first fic for the goose universe so please take it easy on me. this was loosely based off of that scene of harry and hermione dancing in deathly hallows. and also inspired by this fic

The thirteenth of February was the last time when everything was all right. The day when, back in the Earth you knew, the Earth that held Ryland Grace, soft feet padded to where you’d fallen asleep on the couch.

Another late night waiting for your boyfriend to come home, and another night waking up as he carried you gently towards your bedroom. 

“‘M sorry for coming home late again, honey.” His voice was quiet. Almost afraid. Like he didn’t want to startle you awake. You try to mumble a response, it’s inaudible, but it makes Ryland smile. “After tomorrow, I’ll be yours again. I promise.”

Ryland had said it with so much sureness you thought was true.

“I love you.” The last words you’d ever hear from him, in a voice so calm and so gentle. The tone forever haunts you in your dreams, and how you were never able to say it back.

Later, and perhaps for the rest of your life, you will think that maybe if you’d said something, if you’d been a little more awake, you could’ve changed what happened next. Instead, you fall asleep without knowing it’ll be the last time you would ever see Ryland Grace.

–

The next few months of missing Ryland have been slow, yet so fast. Time proves itself to you the way it did when he left, painful and with no explanation. You remember checking the clock when you left on Thursday–it was 9am. Now it’s Sunday, 6pm. 

But sometimes, it almost feels like February 13th, and in those days, there is a slither of hope that he’d come running home to you.

It never happens.

It’s quiet in your apartment, save for the sound of the rain that seemed a little louder in the living room, and the distant radio you’d left on in hopes it would fill in the gaps of silence. You think quiet is something you should be familiar with, but you can’t seem to escape the strangeness of how certain sounds can be so deeply missed–footsteps padding to pick you up, the scratch of a pen, the rustling of papers, the clicking of a laptop, and the mumbling under his breath. 

The only other sound accompanying the rain now is your stifled sobbing, trying not to be loud, trying not to be deafening–as if volume has something to do with taking away the pain. 

You crave to be released from the world that was once Ryland’s too. Now he’s fallen out of it, and you’re stuck mourning someone you’re not sure is dead or alive, or is coming back to you. You’re stuck pleading the dimming sun for answers, for reasons why. You futilely ask if somewhere, in a place between Earth and wherever he was headed, he feels the same weight of a heart coming down with pain, your pain.

You don’t think you can take the quiet anymore. His silence is deafening. The apartment used to be brilliant, used to contain his constellations of ideas. Now, it was a grave of buried hopes and buried conversations that you will never have with him.

To satiate the silence, you call the only number you know. The only other person who bears the same weight of unanswered questions when Ryland left, the same pain. His twin brother.

And maybe Colt shouldn’t have been surprised. This isn’t something he isn’t used to–your number, calling at odd hours of the day. And like routine, he drops anything he’s doing so he can accompany you. That’s the least he can do for his brother.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

There’s something very sad and lonely in the air when Colt enters what was once your shared apartment with Ryland. You’d given him your spare keys when news broke of Ryland in space, and his twin brother has been trying his best to take care of you, to pick up the pieces that Ryland had left without warning.

“(Name)?” 

Colt hears you before he sees you, quiet sniffling leading him to the living room. 

You’re anchored on the seat by the window, staring dimly at the harsh patter of the rain with your back hunched over. Your leg is folded, chin on your knee, and you don’t notice how drenched the poor man is beside you, braving through the rain because of one call from you. 

He notices the traces of tears on your cheeks, like you’d been crying for hours. He ponders over leaving you alone—maybe he could sit quietly on the couch, waiting until you addressed him, or maybe he should talk to you. 

The pour of the rain is punctuated by the sound of the radio, and a familiar tune plays on the radio. 

An idea pops in his head. 

Colt walks over to where you’re seated, standing there, staring at your hands. There is a hesitation in his breath, in the way he moves to outstretch his hand towards you. 

You move to look at him, and the sight of him shocks you every single time.

He looks exactly like Ryland, the same expressive brows, the same blonde hair falling untidily across his forehead. Even his eyes. His eyes that are currently fixed on your face and on your hands are the same color–blue and brilliant.

There’s a stirring in your chest that parallels heartache. 

Colt still has his hand outstretched, and you’re not sure what he wants to do. Your eyes are still red and swollen from crying, and you’re sure your nose is in a similar state.

You look at him with a questioning look, but he just gestures at his hand. You comply with your own, and almost instantly, he closes his fingers around yours. 

The shape is familiar, the same broad palms, the same nails. But his hands are rough and scarred where Ryland's would've been a little smoother. Calloused from years of stunt work and hard landings. There are tiny scars scattered across his knuckles. Evidence of a life entirely his own.

You try hard not to think about it, flattening the thought before it can grow teeth.

Before you can ask what he's doing, he's pulling you toward him. Not close enough to be alarming. There’s still a good gap between you both, just enough for you to feel the most human you’ve felt in a while.

You don't realize you're moving until you are.

Colt sways the pair of you gently to the music, just a little off-beat. His movements are uncoordinated, and he’s swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. You’re not sure he’s done this before, and in this light, he looks nothing like Ryland. Just Colt, a stranger turned friend trying to make you smile. 

“You’re bad at this.” You whisper.

“I know.” 

Before you can stop him, he’s spinning you beneath his arm. The suddenness allows a startled laugh to escape from your mouth, and the sound surprises the both of you. It only encourages him. 

He has spent months trying to drag sunlight back into a room and has finally managed a single ray. A silver lining.

You and Colt dance in the living room, cheeks nipped crimson by the sandpaper winds of the rain and the cold summer, and your feet stumble against his, and he nearly trips over his own feet, and you've danced through almost the entirety of the space of your apartment, and you’re not quite sure he should be leading, but he doesn’t seem to be backing down.

Because that’s just who Colt is. He has always thrown himself into extreme situations, thrown himself into danger, into sadness, and he commits to it completely. He is someone who is not afraid of anything, the same person who keeps you grounded with his cheap clothes and messy hair, and a deep caring you never asked for but need.

Colt takes another step toward you before spinning away again, under your arms, you under his, and his timing is so fucking awful, and at one point he almost crashes into your dining table, but he never once lets go of your hands. 

You didn’t know until now how much you needed a moment like this. The both of you. A moment that felt sweet, that finally allowed a few minutes of rest. A comfort that momentarily interrupts the sadness that is bound to seep its way in again in a few hours. 

For a second, grief loosens its grip.

You’re swaying now, left and right and left and right and your fingers are still tangled together, and the song is dying down, but neither of you make an effort to speak. You simply look at each other, letting the memories of the past few months pass. There is a ghost of a smile brushing on both of your lips.

There is something strangely intimate about this moment, about being seen when you are grieving. You’d never told him, but you’d seen him too, crying when he thought no one was looking. You’d heard him mumble a prayer, a plea to bring his brother back home. Similarly, Colt’s seen it all–the continuous calling, the sleepless nights, the way your eyes always seem to wander, always searching the sky. 

He knows enough to memorize the shape of your sadness, knows enough to know where it lives. And he’s trying so desperately to keep the both of you afloat.

“I’m sorry for calling you.” You say suddenly. “You really don’t have to come all the time whenever I do.”

Colt’s features immediately soften at your sudden confession.

“I just…” You swallow. Your throat feels dry. It feels hard to speak. “I don’t know. It’s a little easier with you here.”

His heart drops to his stomach. “I’ll always come.” Colt says, and it sounds dangerously sincere. And he’s looking at you a certain way. Like he wants you to really listen to what he’s about to say. “I’d do anything if you asked.” 

You hate that he’s being so kind, and you hate the way your heart flutters at his words. You don’t want to think about what that means, what he means. 

The distance between the both of you suddenly feels important. Necessary. A safety buffer from a line neither of you are supposed to cross. 

You shift your weight from side to side, shuffling your feet, and you feel his hands squeeze yours. You almost wish he could be a little closer, but you know if he were, you’d feel suffocated with the pressure of guilt, or from something else entirely. You’re not so sure anymore.

And just as easy as this moment had come to you, pain rushes in again, relentless in its pursuit.

Ryland and Colt are not the same people. 

Colt was not the boy you had lost to the stars.

You know this. You have always known this. Yet some selfish, grieving part of you keeps searching, trying to find traces of the man you lost, trying to gather pieces of him in the person who looks exactly like him, but just isn’t him.

You selfishly imagined him in every moment with his brother, imagined dancing with him, imagined looking into his eyes instead. And you’re unknowingly breaking Colt as you search to remember Ryland. 

You had broken into his walls, shattered them down, tried to steal Ryland’s likeness, and Colt let it all happen. He stands there, answering every phone call, staying awake with you through nights when sleep feels impossible, and he watches you search his face for someone else. 

And he sees the devastation in your eyes, when you realize that he didn’t have Ryland’s habits, his light, his entire being. You loved a man among the stars, not the one grounded on Earth. And yet he still tries to make you smile, and every time you do, he’s unsure if it’s genuine or because you’d imagined giving it to someone else–and it fucking hurts. 

It hurts because somewhere along the way, he stopped seeing you as his brother’s girlfriend, stopped seeing you as an obligation. And he feels guilty because he knows it’s wrong, but he can’t stop himself from wanting. There is nothing moral about falling in love with the woman his brother left behind, but he can’t seem to stop himself. 

And he tries so hard to convince himself he’s only seeking you because you are the closest thing he has left of his twin. You are the last thing his brother loved. Colt tells himself that often–a repeated prayer, a continuous and painful reminder that you are not his. It’s just grief reaching for grief. Loss recognizing loss.

Nothing more. 

Nothing more.

Nothing more.

And yet, he will still pick up your calls in a heartbeat, and do anything you asked him to. And he will keep letting you because he loves his brother, and he misses him too, and you remind him of a time when he was still a twin.

Outside, a deep black blankets the sky. The stars start to scatter themselves across the sky, and Colt sees the familiar distant look in your eyes, the wandering gaze to the skies, searching for the man that neither of you can reach.

You don’t know how to stop searching. Colt doesn’t know how to tell you that every time you do, he feels himself losing his brother all over again.

[hailmarysdoll]

cool about it - ryland grace

fandom: project hail mary

pairing: comforting!ryland x sick!femreader

word count: 1.3k

content: fluff, hurt/comfort, crying, kisses, use of pet names, TW: mentions of throwing up

summary: just ryland being your only anchor when you get a fever in the middle of space.

a/n: hey my loves! I felt like i needed to put some fluff in between all the smut I've been posting.. (there's much more to come,) this was not proof read and I am currently half asleep so have mercy. feel free to leave requests in my asks!

Today was just like any other day on the Hail Mary. It was surprisingly quiet, only the sounds of Ryland and Rocky fidgetting with various objects was heard. That was until you woke up, letting out a sharp cough.. then a thump, and then the sound of gagging.

This caught both of their attention.

The two of them headed to the dormitory as if you were literally dying. Which you felt like you were.

As they walked into the room, the only thing visible was you violently throwing up whatever space dinner Mary had given you earlier into a bucket.

"(Surname) is leaky. Making terrible sound." Rocky said, rolling over to you in his xenonite ball.

Ryland crouched down to your level, pressing his hand to your back. "I see that, pal."

"What is wrong? Question." Rocky asked curiously.

You shook your head, lifting it from the bucket. "I feel like shit. That's what's wrong."

Ryland exhaled a soft laugh, thumb rubbing against your shoulder. "Yeah, that tracks." He nodded.

Rocky gently bumped into your knee, shifting his torso towards you. "Leaky from mouth cause pain? Question." He said, tilting himself as if it would help him understand. He finally came to a conclusion: "Humans very fragile. Statement."

Ryland laughed again, shaking his head softly. "Not exactly fragile.. she's just.. having a temporary malfunction." He said, standing from where he was crouched so he could grab something.

He reached up into a cabinet, grabbing a small cloth and then putting some water from a left over water pouch onto it. He crouched back down beside you, pressing the cold cloth to your forehead.

You sighed. It felt amazing. You were absolutely burning up.

"You look miserable." He said.

"Thanks." You replied.

"Hold this while I go get a thermometer, okay?" He asked, taking your wrist to press your fingers gently into the cloth.

You obliged, holding it against your head as you closed your eyes.

"Human body is stupid. Statement." Rocky said, his ball pressing against your side.

"Tell me about it, Rock."

Just as Rocky was about to continue, Ryland returned. He pressed the trigger, causing a thin red laser to point towards your forehead. It took about 15 seconds for it to register your temperature.

Ryland sighed. "Yep.. 38C⁰. That's like... 100.4." He sighed.

Rocky let out a soft sound. "Temperature is too high for human. Human may die!" He exclaimed.

Ryland laughed. "She's not gonna die, Rocky. She has a fever."

"No understand."

"I'll explain it later, bud." He said, standing up once again.

You groaned softly, pressing your head into your knees.

Ryland frowned. "Hey, you're gonna be fine. We'll take care of you. Not sure if Rocky can do much but he will certainly make the effort."

You shook your head. "Just let me die." You said.

Another sound was heard from Rocky's sphere. "No! Human can not die! Grace and Rocky help (Surname)"

"Yeah, what he said." Grace walked across the room, rummaging for an emergency kit. There he found a small packet of over the counter fever reducers.

He brought that and the water pouch to you. He crouched down once again. You didn't look up though. He sighed, sliding his hand onto your chin, making you look up at him.

"You're gonna be fine. Here, take these." He said, handing you the small packet and the pouch. You took the fever reducers and swallowed them.

"Into bed you go." He said, pointing at you.

⪻────★────⪼

Later that evening, Rocky was fast asleep against your cot. He was "watching you sleep" but just ended up falling asleep himself. You moaned softly, looking towards the laboratory light in the distance.

You still felt terrible. You were absolutely drenched in sweat.

"Ryland..?" You called out.

It was only seconds before he was by your side.

"Yeah?" He asked, brushing his hair back.

"Can you get me some water?" You asked, pushing yourself up into a sitting position.

"Of course." He nodded, moving across the room. He grabbed one and brought it over to you as quickly as possible.

You took it, downing it easily.

You pulled it away from your lips and looked at him, forehead glistening. "I feel so horrible, Ry." You said with a frown. Everything hurt. The slight movement of your eyes, the tense muscles in your body, and most importantly your head.

"I know you do.." He nodded, moving closer so he could brush a damp strand of hair out of your face.

You bit your lip, chin quivering softly as you tried to hold in your tears, but you couldn't.

His expression faltered to an almost panicked one. "Hey.. It's okay.." He murmured softly, wrapping his arms around you. He rubbed your back gently.

You took a shaky inhale, and then breathed out, letting yourself cry now.

"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise." He said.

Sweetheart... Your heart fluttered but you brushed it away. Your breath hitched as you breathed in to speak again. "I.. I can't-"

"Can't what?" He asked, pulling back gently to look at you.

"I just- I feel so terrible.. and.. I'm in space so there's hardly anything to do about it. It sucks." You said softly.

"I know, honey." He said, kissing your temple.

This was the most touch ever between the two of you. And he was calling you pet names. Of course.. at your most vulnerable times.

"I'm sorry.. " You said, wiping your tears from your face. "You probably have better things to do and I'm just.. being dramatic."

"Hey. Don't say that. You're sick.. it's okay to be frustrated." He brushed the back of your head. "Plus. Your feelings are far more important than anything else right now. We don't get into business for at least another three months." He said.

You sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest.

"You wanna go back to sleep?" He asked, his hands moving to your cheeks so he could tilt your head up.

You nodded, shivering slightly.

He frowned. It was only seconds before he climbed in beside you. It was a shock, but you scooted over.

"C'mere." He said, holding his arms out.

You moved closer, pressing yourself into his chest.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, but then he looked down at you.

"You know I've missed you while you were sleeping." He admitted.

You looked up, right into his eyes. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "Rocky is a talkative pain in my ass, love him regardless, but geez." He said.

You giggled softly. "I know."

He smiled almost immediately as he heard your laugh. "There she is.. there's that laugh I missed." He said.

Your heart fluttered. God why was he like this.

He always made subtle comments, soft flirting, etc. Yet he never acted on it. You figured this was just like any other time... especially since you were sick with a more than likely contagious fever. But you were proven wrong.

He grabbed your chin gently and pulled your lips to his. He kissed you, but you pulled back almost immediately.

"Ry-" You stuttered.

"I'm sorry- Was that to far?" He asked.

"I.. no.. but..I don't want you to get sick-"

He let out a breath of relief.

"Oh thank god. I thought I was being rejected for a second. That would've been... so awkward for us." He said. "But anyway. Does it look like I care if I get sick or not?" He asked, tilting his head.

"N..no.." you answered.

"That's right, sweetheart." He paused. "And if you haven't been able to tell.. I'm completely in love with you." He said, pressing him lips to yours again.

The two of you kissed for what felt like hours. You only stopped when he pulled back.

"I uh.. I love you too, Ry."

He grinned sleepily, his glasses falling off his face.

You smiled, despite feeling pretty bad, and you gently rested your head against his chest.

"Sleep. It'll make you feel better." He murmured.

"You've already done that for me."

[appletreat]

mixing heartbeats ryland grace x gn!reader (fluff) synopsis: you calm ryland down with your heartbeat m.list / wc: 1k

   “okay, follow my finger,” you hold up your index finger, moving it left and right and then up and down. your finger moves quickly, but slow enough that he should be able to keep up with it.

  ryland’s eyes follow close behind, only flickering to your face a couple of times. lowering your hand, you reach for a small flashlight, reaching it up to his eyes. “look straight ahead, right at rocky. i’ll just flash this in your eyes real quick, coming in from different directions to make sure your eyes are dilating equally,” you lean a little closer to him, flashing the light into his left eye. 

  tears quickly populate in his eyes as the bright lights quickly enters and leaves his pupils. “is grace okay, question? is grace dying, question?” the translator for rocky echoes throughout the ship, the sound of his carapace knocking against the xenonite followed quickly thereafter.

  “grace- ryland will be okay, i am just checking for a concussion. it’s.. well it’s a medical condition that humans can get if their brains rattle around too much,” you turn back to look at rocky, clicking the flashlight off as you set it onto a small makeshift table, “after our latest brush with death, i’d like to make sure he’s not concussed.”

  you had done a few tests already, making sure his balance and cognitive abilities were still up to par. however, the darkness of the room and the light tests were where you felt you could get the best assessment. even if he didn’t have a concussion, testing the pupils and breathing would help make sure he could make it to erid. 

  turning back to look at ryland, he’s noticeably looking a little anxious. from what he can remember, his last encounter with the team’s main doctor wasn’t pleasant (considering the whole ‘sending into space unwillingly thing’). and most patients you had on earth were adverse to doctors, so it was something you became attuned to. “are my eyes dilating correctly?” he tries to straighten his back some, only to hunch over slightly. 

  “yeah.. yeah your eyes are dilating correctly. uh, rocky, would you mind heading out for the duration of this check up? in human culture it’s common to give a doctor and patient privacy,” you tilt your head back slightly so you can see him in the corner of your eye. 

  “human culture is absurd.”

  “someone’s learned a new word,” you look back at ryland, raising an eyebrow at his sheepish smile.

  “but if important in human culture, rocky will leave. let rocky know when human culture is finished, statement.” he shakes his carapace, almost mimicking the way humans shake their heads. he quickly skitters off towards the main control room, maybe working on the next steps for the tau amoeba. 

  “he could’ve stayed in here, i would’ve been fine with it.”

  ryland shifts in his spot, runs running up and down his thighs as he lets out a deep breath. gaze flickering anywhere but your own now, he slides his shoes across the flooring, creating a rhythmic motion. “sorry, i figured it’d be better to have him out of the room so he’s not freaking you out with his questions,” you lean over to grab a stethoscope, bringing the ear pieces up to your ears.

  resting it against his top, you lean towards him, listening for a steady heartbeat. it’s quicker than a typical resting heartbeat, his bouncing leg not helping. “ryland, i’m going to try an exercise to calm your heart a little bit. i know medical doctors are a sore subject for you, so i want to make this as easy as possible. can you give me your hand?” reaching out your hand, you wait for ryland to reach out his.

  once he does, you extend his index and middle finger, placing them on your wrist. “do you feel my heartbeat?”

  “yeah… you’re definitely pumping blood right now.” he closes his eyes for a moment, listening as you start to direct him. 

  smiling to yourself, you nod. “okay, so take a few deep breathes with me and we should be able to regulate your heartbeat a little,” you take in a deep breath, followed quickly thereafter by ryland.

  you get him to try it a few more times as you place the stethoscope against his chest again. his heartbeat has slowed to a typical speed, no arrhythmia that you can hear. his hand stays fixed on yours, finally calming down at the feeling of your heartbeat. glancing up, not even a foot away from him, you can see how tau ceti is illuminating him. light fixated on his stubble and his blue eyes. 

  suddenly everything feels so close. his soft hand against your wrist, the small callouses rubbing against the back of your palm. his knees touching your thighs as he tries to sit patiently. your own heartbeat begins to quicken, hands and face feeling warm from the contact. taking in a deep breath, you move the stethoscope to another spot, goosebumps crawling up your arms.

  tilting his head, ryland watches you evade eye contact, heartbeat only growing faster. “do you need someone to help regulate your heartbeat?” he questions, knee pressing a little harder against your thigh.

  looking up to meet his gaze, you can see the small smile on his face, his eyes fixed on you over his glasses. shaking your head, you pull the stethoscope from his chest, quickly pulling them out of your ears to set them back down on the table. “what are you talking about?” you question back, freeing your hand from his grasp.

  “you just seemed a little flustered there,” he shrugs his shoulders, hands clasping in front of him.

  “and you seem to be doing alright, no major injuries, so i will go find rocky,” your eyes widen as you holding back a smile. standing up quickly, you walk backwards out of the room, knocking into the wall on your way out. 

  smiling back at you, ryland watches as you walk away, happy that you seem to feel the same as he does. 

[rockylandphm]

it’s been months being on stratt’s vat and ryland is missing you ; ryland grace x reader and a sleepy moping conversation at midnight (~1.0k words)

“Ryland?”

It’s 12am when he calls, somewhere in the middle of an ocean.

Your boyfriend is like draped curtains, falling flat and leaning his back against the wall of his small room. His eyes are shut, and he’s trying so hard to dial in on just your voice.

It’s easier that way, easier to pretend you’re curled up beside him in this bed that's only built for one, easier to ignore how every crackle of static reminds him this is only a phone call and how the pressure he feels when he presses his back against the wall is cold, and could never mimic how you’d hug him.

“Are you busy?” His voice almost cracks from how quietly he’s speaking. Nothing but a low whisper.

“Hmmm, never.” You croak out.

But Ryland can hear the rustling of sheets from your end, can almost picture you sitting up and blinking away the initials of sleep that he can hear dripping from your tone.

The thought makes him swallow thick, teeth chewing on his bottom lip.

“Just miss you.” He breathes out slowly, head tilted back and staring at the ceiling. His bed is cold when it would’ve been warm with you.

“And I wish— we didn’t have to be so far away. I’m sorry for leaving you all alone there.”

It’s been 2 long months since he last saw you. All he has from you from the unexpected way he had left are pictures of you on his phone, and a sweater you had knitted for him a few birthdays back. And these occasional phone calls that will never suffice to the way you sound in person.

“Issokay.” You hum, breathing out calmly at the sound of his voice that you hadn’t heard in a while. Hearing him has been sparse, with how secret everything was. “Miss you too, Ry.”

The static and buzz of voices through speakerphones muffles parts of your words that deeply makes Ryland upset. But, he doesn’t miss the way you say his first name. How odd the name sounds, that it doesn’t occur to him that aboard this boat, he is merely Dr Grace.

To you, he is Ryland—the man you’d fallen in love with down the line of working together, who would hold your hand and kiss you, who would grade papers with you while sipping a bit of wine that always left him a little tipsy.

He wasn’t just a noun that followed a project. He was much more than that to you.

“Ry? You still there?” The tone of your voice is gentle, and it’s enough to pull him out of the tangle of his thoughts.

“Sorry, honey. I was in my head.”

“You do that a lot.” There is a knowing in your voice. And it’s undoubtedly fond.

“Thinking about you, though. I always think about you.”

He really does.

He thinks of you now, imagining how you look right now with tired eyes. He’s thinks of what it would be like if he was there right now. You’d probably be asleep, tangled up in each other’s limbs, and one of his arms would’ve gone numb beneath you but he’d never move it.

It would look uncomfortable from an outsider’s eye, but he knows. Knows how it feels to have your heartbeat pressed against his and how nice it feels.

He also thinks of you outside of the four corners of this room. The few moments he has a break, his mind is already looking for you. And it keeps searching as he gets coffee for one now, as Yao says something he’s sure you would’ve laughed at.

Everything makes him think of you.

“Do you know when you can come home?”

“No. They— I still don’t know.” He bites down on his lip, swallowing hard as he fights the sob brewing in his throat. Your heart clenches at the way he sounds, knows that when he feels, he lets it take over him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can wait. I’m good at being patient.”

His heart twists, stomach in knots, and a stubborn lament in his throat.

“I don’t want you to keep waiting. I… I feel bad.” Shaky. A few tears have slipped past. And he tries to distance himself from his phone so you don’t hear the way he’s sniffling.

“How are things going there, hm? Anything you can tell me?”

A smile pulls at his lips, albeit small. You’re trying so hard the nauseating pain of missing you. You’re offering a bandaid. A temporary fix for his longing.

“Things are good. We found a solution for this problem we were having. They’re working on it now.”

“Not overworking you? I don’t want you coming home to me with a head of white hair.”

He laughs at the thought, running a hand through his hair. “I think I’m already starting. Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Hmmm, might have to break up with you, Ry. I’m into blonde guys more.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I really wouldn’t.” You giggle from your end, and Ryland’s heart flutters at the sound. He can almost see you with your crescent eyes and the scrunch of your nose that always makes an appearance when you laugh.

He tries not to think about it too much. Tries not to picture himself right there with you, and how you’d be asleep in his arms right now, limbs tangled. He knows it’ll only rip the bandaid he’d desperately plastered on himself.

“You had a long day?”

“Yeah.”

“Not sleepy yet?”

“Just a little.” He admits quietly, a yawn escaping his mouth.

There’s a stifling from his end, and you can only assume he’s slipped himself into his bed, finally allowing himself to lay down. Maybe this way, he could pretend you’re next to him.

“Want me to tell you about the kids?”

“Yes.” He sighs out in a quiet exhale, unmoving. “If that’s okay.”

So you tell him stories, no matter how menial, anything to keep him company. You talk about the budding romance between some students, you tell him about the latest teacher parent conference, anything. You know he just needs to hear your voice, has told you before how simply hearing you comforts him—it’s a calm only you can offer.

Ryland breathes in and out slowly.

It’s one thirty in the morning now, and there’s quiet snoring in the background.

“Goodnight, Ry.”