Hunter’s writing corner

thinking about reader who has been dating ryland for a few months. the sex is amaze at first, but lately it’s getting kinda stale.

it’s the same song and dance every time: missionary. not that it’s not great! it’s just…always the same.

you understand that ryland is very respectful and also less experienced than you are, so you let it go for awhile before saying anything.

but now here you are; making out on the couch while star wars plays in the back. he’s got you laid back, head comfortably resting on a pillow while he’s on top of you, attacking your neck with kisses and groping you beneath your shirt.

“i was thinking we could try something new tonight,” you whisper into his ear.

he pulls his mouth away from your neck, which is now thoroughly soaked with his spit.

“like what?”

“let’s go to the bedroom,” you suggest.

when you get to his room, you wait for him to walk over to the edge of his bed and then you take a seat beside him.

“ryland, i like you a lot…” you start.

“i-im getting nervous here, baby. is everything okay? we don’t have to do anything else. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and im sorry if i did,” he rambles.

you shake your head.

“no, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. i just want to try some new…angles.”

he smiles sheepishly, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck.

“okay! okay, i can do that. so like, upside down? behind? on top? in space?” he laughs, half serious, half joking.

“let’s just see where it goes,” you smile, knowing exactly where you want it to go.

bless him, he just wants you to feel good and he wants to do everything right all the damn time.

you get back into the swing of things, he lays you down on the bed and then he’s back at it, kissing your lips then trailing down to your jaw where he nips at a sensitive spot.

your hands find the hem of his t shirt and tug at it. he gets the hint and pulls it over his head, tossing it across the room.

he watches as you peel your shirt off and is pleased to find that you’re not wearing a bra.

he nudges you to lift your hips and he slides your pants off carefully before leaning down to kiss just above the waistband of your panties.

your breath hitches as he slides a hand under your knee and hooks it over his shoulder.

his breath fans over your soaked underwear and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent.

heat rises to your cheeks at that, and your fingers find his hair, gently combing through it.

“ry-ryland, please do something,” you urge.

he leans down and presses a kiss to your clit, which is throbbing beneath the slick-soaked cotton.

then he nudges it with his nose, tongue lapping at your hole through the thin fabric.

you moan and roll your hips, hoping he will take mercy on you and slide your panties off.

and he does.

he tosses them over his shoulder and scoots forward to really get to work.

“so wet baby. what do you want me to do to you?” he asks.

“t-touch me,” you beg.

“yea?” he asks, voice condescending in tone. “where, baby? need you to use your words.”

you roll your hips again as he leans in and presses a kiss where your hip meets your right thigh.

when you don’t say anything, he moves to kiss the inside of your thigh, further away from where you want him.

“f-fuck, ryland, please just eat my fucking pussy,” you huff in frustration.

“language,” he hums, but he doesn’t care too much because he gets right to work.

he’s taking you apart with his mouth now. his lips sucking your clit while two fingers thrust up inside of you.

you’re clenching around him, back arching up off the mattress, little whines falling off your lips non stop.

he loves hearing you like this, loves seeing the way you fall apart beneath him.

you tug his hair as he continues his ministrations. he’s moaning into your cunt as he begins to thrust into the bed, chasing his own pleasure.

you finally cum all over his face, legs clamping down around his head as you shout his name. you look and sound absolutely wrecked.

he is throughly pleased with his work.

he rises up from between your legs and crawls back up to your lips.

you can taste yourself on his mouth as he kisses you.

“so, what’s this new ‘angle’ you wanna try?” he asks.

he pulls back to look into your eyes and his heart speeds up in his chest. he really loves you, and he really really wants to do anything you want, anything that will make you happy.

“want you to take me from behind, ry,” you admit.

he groans, mouth falling open.

“i-i, i would love to do that. that is something i would love to —and can do to you,” he stutters.

you smile, admiring his dedication to your pleasure and the dorky way he shows it.

“let’s start how we normally do, ‘kay?” you mutter, stroking his hair gently.

with that, he’s sitting up and shoving his briefs down, pumping his length a few times.

he’s so hard. his tip is flushed and glistening with precum. it makes your stomach flip.

before you can ask if he wants you to blow him, he’s on you again.

you move to wrap your legs around his waist as he enters you. both of you letting out shaky exhales at the stretch.

you’re so warm, he swears it’s gonna kill him.

he groans loudly as he starts moving faster into you, the anticipation of seeing you bent over for him fueling him.

you let him pound into you, his confidence seems to build up a little more every time you all have sex.

you dig your heels into his back, urging him to keep up the pace.

his lips are right by your ear now, his shaky breaths sending goosebumps down your spine.

“yeah? you like it, baby?” he asks.

you nod and reach for his right hand, bringing it to rest gently on your throat.

he presses up onto his left elbow, eyes looking down at your face as he gently squeezes the sides of your throat.

your eyes flutter closed in pleasure, face contorted as you moan.

he lets out a feral groan at the sight, unsure how long he can keep going like this.

“wanna roll over, baby?”

you nod again, at a complete loss for words.

he pulls out of you and helps you flip over onto your stomach.

he grabs your hips and brings them up to meet his. your cheek is pressed into the mattress and he almost dies when he takes in the view of you arching for him.

he slides back into you and watches as your ass bounces with every thrust.

“g-god, oh my god,” he whimpers.

his hands tighten around your hips, moving you back and forth.

your cheek is still pressed into the mattress. you bury your lips into the comforter and moan as he quickens his pace.

he moves a hand to palm at your ass, thrusts growing sloppy as he watches the way you have started trying to fuck yourself back onto him.

his mouth falls open, he’s spewing random praises and groaning pathetically.

“good girl”

“squeezing me so tight, f-”

“g-god, i can’t take it.”

“keep throwing it back on me, atta girl.”

you are completely blissed out. you’ve pressed yourself up into doggy now, your arms threatening to give back out any time, but you’re determined to finish him off.

you press back harder against him, reveling in the way he whimpers as you squeeze him.

finally, he cums inside of you with a groan of your name and then you both collapse forward.

after a few minutes of deep breathing, he rolls off of you and runs to get you a towel to clean up.

“that was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he sighs, handing you your clothes.

“me too,” you agree. “i think this is the most i’ve seen you get into it.”

he shakes his head.

“nonsense. im always into it. i just knew what you wanted tonight, and went for it,” he smirks triumphantly.

he finishes putting his clothes back on, hopping to pull up his pants.

you laugh, taking a sip from your water bottle that sits on the nightstand.

finally, he sits down next to you and kisses your forehead.

“you better stay the night,” he commands.

you pretend to think about it for a moment.

“hmmm, okay. but that means we have to go get ice cream.”

Warnings: Pregnancy!!! Reader is someone who is capable of becoming pregnant, and mentions experiencing menstruation in the past. I don’t think I refer to them as strictly female, but keep in mind that the author (me!) is a woman so there may be slip-ups. Mentions of worries surrounding maternal mortality and birth. Also emetophobia warning for nausea and vomiting at the beginning!

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“For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” 

You think Jesus said that.

Or Matthew.

You don’t know, you never read the bible. Maybe you should’ve and you wouldn’t have ended up in this situation. Was this your punishment for having pre-marital sex?

You come to think of this quote one fine morning when you’re awoken before the synthetic sun in your dome rises. The moon is slowly lowering away in the sky, and your stomach feels something nasty.

A rush of adrenaline flushes through your system, immediately sending a panic of hot and cold sweat down your back while you feel last night’s dinner come up. You smack Ryland's arm draped heavily over your waist and he pulls it back with a sleepy “wha?”

“Off off, get off of me!” You scream-whisper, though there’s no one else around.

He pulls his arm away and backs up from you, going further into the sheets and accumulated quilts on the bed. 

You dart out of the bed, just barely avoiding tripping over your slippers on the floor and make it just in time to the bathroom where the entire content of your stomach is expelled. 

Gross. 

You lean your head on the toilet bowl and squeeze your eyes shut.

You’ve never gotten food poisoning from the human-meat burgers or the Mary's limited vegetation (that was now a garden in the dome) or the taumoeba sludge before - so what was making you sick? Some weird alien virus that Rocky unknowingly brought in? That one of Grace’s pupils somehow transferred to him?

A warm hand settles on your back, rubbing slowly up and down. You peek over your shoulder with teary eyes and see Ryland, his glasses crooked on his face. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep with sleepiness. He still got up to make sure you were ok, anyway. Your heart pangs.

“Do I look ok to you?” You croak, reaching a hand up and slapping around to find the handle in order to flush, face still pressed against the rim of the toilet. The water goes down the drain and some of the splashback hits you in face. You gag again.

The shower starts up behind you and Ryland is dragging you up and away from the toilet, wiping your gross face with the edge of your t-shirt before pulling it over your head.

“Let’s get you in the shower, ok?” He helps you shimmy out of your underwear and under the warm spray of the water. You let the shower wash you clean and press your face against the nice, cool tile. 

“I don’t know what that was,” you murmur. Your cheek is smushed against the tile and your words come out funny. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten sick like that before - not since I was a little kid.”

He looks up from where he’s cleaning the bathroom and his eyes find yours, though the glass of the shower is starting to fog your vision. He starts to undress and wiggles in behind you. 

Normally you’d take the time to ogle him - now that you two had been living with consistent food and nutrients for a couple years (thanks Eridian scientists!) he’d begun to pack on a healthy weight that you were happy to admire any chance you got.

But right now all you could think about was the deep pit in your stomach and the nervousness that something wasn’t right. Something about you felt wrong.

You lift your cheek from the tile and let the spray of warm water hit your face, scrubbing at your cheeks and mouth and letting all of the invisible germs wash away.

Turning to face your boyfriend (or your mate as Adrian and Rocky continued to refer to him as - vice versa for referring to you), you can’t help the tiny giggle that comes out.

He still has his glasses on.

“You must be so tired,” you coo, pulling his glasses from the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry for waking you in such a panic."

" 's okay, just wanted to make sure you were okay." He groans and pushes his nose into the wet crook of your neck, chuckles reverberating through the both of you.

That was your first sign that something was up. 

The nausea persisted, coming and going as it pleased. You didn’t have many other symptoms, besides the occasional tenderness in your chest - but you chalked that up to weird Eridian gravity symptoms. Your joints had been killing you.

It had been about 5 Earth-weeks since then.

The second sign was the way Rocky and Adrian had been treating you. 

They were always kind, generous, and sweet in their own over-bearing, sassy way. But now they were treating you like you were made of glass. Rocky knew you weren’t made of glass - all three of you had survived the shitstorm that was the Hail Mary and its complications.

None of you came out of that unscathed. If anything you had more mental scars than physical, and even then you had tons of physical scars. Ryland’s arm had taken a life-time to heal and left behind silver mottled burn scars, but he was all the braver for it. Rocky had a chip or two missing from his carapace, and you had a number of small burns and abrasions that had left behind rough tissue.

The point is - you weren’t fragile. Humans were very sturdy and resilient.

So why in the world was every Eridian around you treating you like you were one wind gust away from flying through the sky and breaking all of your bones? 

“Grace and _____ mate, question?”

You look up from your spot crouched on the ground of the greenhouse, picking at a cherry tomato stem (how they had survived the intergalactic space trip, you aren’t sure). 

“You know Grace and I are mates, Rocky.” You stand and wipe the dirt on your hands onto your pants.

Eridian soil here had been curated perfectly to work with your select few plants thanks to some friends in high places (tomatoes, some “off-brand” greens that you’d been eating instead of lettuce, snap peas). It wasn’t hard to get friends in high places, being the saviors of the planet and all.

“Incorrect understanding,” Rocky states, skittering forward. He no longer had a use for his hamster ball, thanks to the xenonite suits that had been crafted for him and Adrian after a warm welcome home. 

“Grace and _____ mate approximately two Earth-weeks ago, question?” He inquires, tilting his carapace at you.

You sputter out a laugh, and slap your hands over your eyes, leaving more dirt all over yourself. 

“First of all, that’s none of your business!” - you chastise - “And second of all, no! I will not let you watch us have sex in the name of science!” 

“Eugh,” The Eridian scoffs. “Rocky have no desire to watch human mating ritual! Gross, leaky, loud ritual.” You can see him shudder in place.

Making your way to the entrance to the greenhouse, you hold the door open for him and the two of you make your way towards the front steps of your home.

“I’m sorry, but I guarantee whatever your mating ritual is, it isn’t any more pristine and pretty than mine is if your eating habits are anything to go by!” 

Rocky moves back and forth like he’s shaking his non-existent head at you. “No, Eridian mating ritual is beautiful and natural,” he argues.

You hadn’t had the joy of getting so much as a glimpse at such a thing. Eating was a very private endeavor for Eridians, and you imagine mating was - considering it was all the same orifice. 

Maybe you should ask Adrian if there are any educational books on it? Though you still haven’t found a way to transfer Eridians’ almost braille-like books into something that was readable with your own eyes.

“Uh, mine is natural too pal.” You wiggle out of your dirty gardening boots and place them by the door of the front porch. “It’s only natural that I want to have sex with my hot nerd boyfriend.”

A three fingered grip tugs on your pant leg before you can reach for the front door. Confused, you turn around and sit on the top step to be closer to Rocky’s level. 

“What’s up, bud?” 

Rocky is uncharacteristically quiet. The only time you ever hear him this quiet is when he’s tinkering away at something and using his weirdly adept three fingers (and multiple arms) to fine-tune a piece of equipment that’s barely the size of your thumb.

“Ok, you’re scaring me dude.” You reach out and pat him through his thin, xenonite suit. 

“_____ is not aware of growing life form?” He asks. His volume is just barely loud enough for you to hear, like he doesn’t want anyone else (Grace) eavesdropping from inside. 

You have no idea what he’s talking about. Was he referring to your greenhouse? Those were growing life forms. Maybe they had snuck some weird Eridian sea-creatures into your dome-world’s beach. Did Eridians even have sea creatures?

“You’ve gotta be more specific Rocky.” You shake your head at him.

 “_____ have an extra heart beat,” he reaches a hand out and touches ever so gently over your stomach - you can feel the heat from underneath the xenonite gently warming your skin - “right here,” he continues.

Ok, things are starting to make a little more sense at this point. But your first thought isn’t to be rational, it’s to freak the fuck out without making a scene and attracting Grace to you where you’ll have to explain yourself.

You shake your head frantically and grab Rocky’s hand, dragging him with you down to the beach and far away from your home. 

“There’s no way!” You exclaim, slapping a hand over your mouth. You didn’t even know you could still get pregnant.

 During the events of the Mary, you hadn’t experienced a single period - whether from stress or malnutrition. You’ve been kind of living on edge, trying to see if it’ll come back or not now that you’re sufficiently fed and well taken care of. 

This would certainly explain the nausea and the tenderness. And Rocky was right, you and Ryland had gotten a little frisky maybe once or twice, or three times, or a bunch of times throughout the entire time you’ve been living together post-Mary.

God, how could you be so stupid?

This is where that quote from earlier comes into play. Something something, blah blah blah, god said don’t judge people. Yeah, you’re convinced this was a cruel joke. 

You and Ryland had been binging The Walking Dead on your projector-screen tv (thank you Stratt for illegally downloading the entirety of the internet and every piece media in the world!) and you had off-handedly mentioned how stupid it was to bring a baby into the apocalypse.

That baby would never live a normal life, and it was an extreme risk even considering bringing it into such a world. You had said just as much, and Ryland hummed in agreement from where his head was snuggled into your lap.

Now, this wasn’t exactly the apocalypse. 

You guys had a nice home, in a nice perfectly-curated biodome, with scientists who took care of you and friends who loved you and all of these nice things that you didn’t even know if you deserved. 

But if you had this child? It would never know other humans besides you and Grace. What would happen when you died of natural causes? You wouldn’t want to put your child through that! What if you died in childbirth? The maternal mortality rates of people without access to proper care was huge. 

You fall into the sand and crumple into a sad, leaky human ball. Rocky fawns over you while you sob your conflicting emotions out, trying to make you sit up (and succeeding - he’s a rock. He’s strong). 

“No, no no. No leaking,” he winces when you use your shirt to blow your nose, but being a great friend he continues to comfort you anyway. “_____ not happy to have offspring, question?” He asks.

Your voice is hoarse when you finally speak, resting your cheek on your arm to look at Rocky. “I don’t know how I feel… There’s no one I’d rather have a baby with but - there are so many risks.”

Risks. Ryland Grace was not a risk taker.

Sure, he had changed quite a bit and earned his stripes after being forced into a life-saving planet-saving mission, but you did not know him to be a huge risk taker. God, the only way they got him to set foot on the Hail Mary in the first place was by knocking him out.

You had no idea how he was going to react. You had never discussed having kids before because it seemed so out of the question. You hadn’t even talked about getting married. It seemed kind of pointless on a planet that didn’t follow such a tradition. 

“I don’t know how to tell him.”

For a while the only sounds are the waves crashing on the shore, and the artificial seagull sounds that loop every now and again. The silence isn’t awkward, if anything you’re comforted by the familiar presence of a friend you’d traveled with for years before making it to Erid.

“_____ talk to Adrian, and Rocky talk to Grace.” Offers Rocky. 

“That’s really sweet, Rock, but I should be the one to tell him.” You muster up the courage to admit. It’s the right thing to do. You can’t imagine things wouldn’t get worse than they could be if he finds out from someone else. 

“Ok, _____ think about it long time. But not too long… Human offspring ready at 40 Earth-weeks.”

…

“How do you know that? Where did you learn that?”

When you and Rocky had come inside after your heart-to-heart, you just explained your runny nose and teary eyes away as the wind down at the beach. “The scientists must have been trying out some new weather patterns,” you joked.

Your boyfriend hadn’t batted an eye at the moment, but apparently he had noticed something was off because later that night after brushing your teeth he had cornered you.

“Woah! Slow your roll cowboy!” You push your hands against his chest, appreciating the solid warmth there while simultaneously holding him back.

“You aren’t telling me something,” Ryland’s eyes narrow behind his glasses. He doesn’t look upset with you, just inquisitive and a little concerned. Like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, babe.” You tut, hooking a finger into the collar of his t-shirt. “I’m an open book.”

He stares at you for a second, to the point where you have to look away from his blue gaze because he’s freaking you out. You feel like he can read your mind or something. You try to wiggle out of his grasp and he lets you, dropping his arms to his side. 

“Did you get freaky with Rocky and Adrian or something? Because I would not judge you for that. I’m actually a little curious too,” he hums in thought.

You choke on your own spit, slapping a hand against your chest to try and chase the frog out of your throat. 

“What?!” You can’t even believe he said that. Actually, you can. You admit there is something enticing about the couple… Maybe it’s the sass… Maybe all that alone time with Ryland Rocky on the Hail mary had gotten to you... Maybe you and your boyfriend are just both too curious and too into aliens for your own good. Scientists, man. 

“Ok, no I didn’t do that - but good to know we’re both open to the idea,” you start. “But that’s not what I’m hiding.” You don’t even realize that you’ve admitted to hiding something until the sentence leaves your mouth. Your jaw snaps shut and you scramble away into the kitchen with Ryland in pursuit.

“So you are hiding something!” Ryland exclaims, trailing behind you with a grin on his face. 

“Noooo! No I’m not!” You loop the dining table and run towards your room, shrieking with laughter when he gently tackles you to the bed. His arms around you in an instant, heavy and warm and smelling like him. Like sea salt and home. 

You snuggle your face into his chest and crawl on top of him, wrapping all possible limbs around his body. He laughs softly and brings one of his hands up to your face, urging you to look at him. He doesn’t expect your eyes to be watering when you do. 

“What’s in that noggin of yours, huh?” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. 

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out. 

“You’re kidding.” Ryland breathes. You can feel his heart skip a beat from where your hand is searing through the material of his shirt. 

“I’m dead serious.”

“Nice to meet you dead serious.” 

You lightly smack him.

“Oh you think you’re funny Dr. Grace?”

“I was just testing the waters for a dad-joke this soon,” his hands move to your waist. His blue eyes flit down to look at your stomach, though you wouldn’t be showing anything this early. 

“This soon? I just told you!”

“Yeah,” he looks away in thought. “You did.”

He seems conflicted, as are you. You hide your face in his chest again and try not to let the tears well up. At least you know he’s not going to push you away, no matter how he feels about it. Right now you're a mix of scared and happy.

Ryland’s hand slips under the hem of your shirt and draws circles on your back. It’s quiet for a few minutes. You’re too nervous to say anything else, and it seems he doesn’t know where to start. 

Finally, he speaks up. “I’m conflicted.” His voice rumbles in your ear. 

“Me too.” You squeak out. “Should we compare and contrast our reservations about the matter?” 

The laugh he lets out shakes his body. “Gosh, I should’ve brought the whiteboard from the Mary so we could draw a flowchart or something.”

You agree but don’t voice it, finally sitting up and pulling away from him entirely, but still in reach. 

You cross your legs and pull the edge of one of your blankets into your lap, playing with the knitted ends of it. “We really do have to talk about it, Ryland.”

His hand searches for your skin again, settling on your ankle. His brows are furrowed handsomely, you think. He's always handsome.

“It’s a huge risk. To you and I both.” He finally speaks up. 

You shake your head. You knew he would say that. You tell him as much. “I knew you were going to say that!” A finger wags at him, drawing a huff of laughter out.

You have to agree, it’s a huge risk. But then again, you have doctors and scientists and engineers, an entire population of Eridians willing to drop everything to help you. You have community. Your child would never be short of love, even if something happened to you. 

“Think about how good the doctors here have become at taking care of us,” you supply. 

It’s a true statement. After you two (plus Rocky) had arrived on Erid, you had been quickly ushered into a human-safe containment where they nursed you back to health. You both had been lacking a lot of vitamins, and you were surprised scurvy didn’t take you away for good. 

The doctors on Erid had allowed your old wounds to finally heal, and during the whole process you had supplied them with human medical knowledge - promising to give them some of your medical textbooks on board later when you were in better shape. 

“Plus, if we’re that worried we can always boot Armando up again.” Your hand waves vaguely in the direction of the dormant Armando in the house. He’s been powered off for quite some time now, but ready for use if an emergency ever arose. 

You know his head is turned away from you because he’s started crying while you were off in thought.

Your Grace is a big crier, and you love that dearly about him. You kneel forward and put a hand on his cheek, turning him to look at you. Sure enough, the tears are welling up in his beautiful jeweled eyes. Your thumb rubs gently against the scruff of his jaw. 

“I could never forgive myself if somehow there was - some freak accident - something goes wrong,” his voice wobbles. “I could never forgive myself for taking you away. For taking you away from our child.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “It wouldn’t be your fault,” you breathe. “It’s a two person job here, Ryland.” Your hand musses up his hair, running your fingers through it. 

“Plus you know how Adrian is,” you continue. “I guarantee they’ll do everything in their power to get me the best of the best doctors to monitor me and keep us smooth sailing.”

His laugh is watery but he nods his head. If Rocky was a spitfire, Adrian was something else entirely. Usually people would say opposites attract, but it was like your Rock friend had mate-bonded with a mirror of himself x100.

“They wouldn’t have to deal with Earth problems,” Ryland realizes, shooting a little straighter up.  “No war, no childcare costs for us, no taxes.” Those were just a few of the things your child would never have to worry about on Erid. 

God, you didn’t miss taxes. You can’t believe there’s a possibility that a human child can be born and never even have to hear the word taxes. 

“No sun randomly freezing, and if it does - they have two badass parents who’ve fixed it already once.” You offer. “But we’ll have to come up with a very very thorough homeschool regimen eventually.” 

Ryland shakes his head at you in disbelief, but a smile is pulling the corner of his lips up.

“This is going to be a crazy period of scientific observation for Erid. You’re going to be a bonafide experiment.” He hangs his glasses on the side of his ear in that weird way he does, and wipes his tears away with the back of his hand. 

Suddenly, he looks down at your legs where you’re kneeled beside him. 

“Why are your pants covered in dirt and sand?”

You put a finger to his lips and move his glasses to the small table next to your bed.