#Pets product delivery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chubby-bun-bun · 4 months ago

Text

untitled (part 3)

You reunite with your crow friend! But it seems to need your help with… a man?

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of blood and death, descriptions of a panic attack, bossman is here yay

“Congratulations! You’ve just won the loyal customer raffle at Linkon Supermarket!”

“But I shop at Bloomshore Mart.”

“Yup, congratulations!”

You furrow your brows, eyeing the paper the delivery driver is enthusiastically waving in your face. Sure enough, it announces the conclusion of the famous supermarket’s year-end raffle, and there it is: your full government name printed neatly under “winner.”

Beyond his shoulder, you notice the other worker unloading boxes from the delivery truck. He’s dressed in the same uniform, with identical dark curls and also sporting a black face mask. He catches your gaze and gives a lazy thumbs-up.

There must be something wrong with your memory, because you could swear you haven’t stepped foot in Linkon Supermarket in years—let alone registered for their raffle. That place isn’t exactly known for catering to the humbler economic classes.

And it’s still 5:30 a.m. Have supermarkets always done graveyard shift deliveries?

“Thanks…” You squint at the driver’s name tag. “…Lukas.”

“No problem!”

Once the two workers finish unloading and stacking boxes of who-knows-what in your living room, they wave cheerfully before speeding off down the street. Half-asleep, you manage only a bemused wave in return.

You think you might’ve been cursed. Or blessed. It’s hard to say. Because ever since your crow friend escaped a week ago, it feels like you’ve already blown through a lifetime’s worth of luck.

In the span of days, you’ve gotten a raise and better employee benefits (odd, considering you’re still just an assistant manager), won lifetime vouchers for three of your favorite food spots, and now, apparently, won a supermarket raffle—complete with at least three months’ worth of groceries.

Rummaging through the boxes, you find they’re stocked with all your usual brands. Snacks, non-perishables, beauty products, household items—everything. Even fresh produce.

For the first time in a while, you won’t have to worry about going hungry.

—

You’re not sure why you’ve come back to the park tonight.

It’s late, and you’ve already visited the crows earlier, spoiling them with extra bags of peanuts thanks to your recent streak of good fortune.

The crows seem to wonder the same thing. While they peck enthusiastically at the peanuts, their beady eyes occasionally flick toward you, as if to silently judge your lack of anything resembling a social life.

Admittedly, you’ve been hoping to see your crow friend again.

You think you’re starting to come to terms with its disappearance. Life goes on, right? It’s just an animal, after all. It probably doesn’t feel the same complex emotions humans do—the kind that have you so affected by its absence after only a few days of sharing a space. (Maybe it was a one-sided friendship all along...) It probably just followed its instincts, leaving to do whatever it is that lone crows do.

Still, a petulant part of you feels bitter. Sure, it left behind a hoard of treasures—trinkets, gems, and gold so polished they must be real (though you’re not ready to think about where it might have stolen them)—but it could’ve at least waited for you to come home before flying off.

In hindsight, maybe it’s a good thing you never had pets. Your apparent abandonment issues would be a nightmare to deal with if they got lost, ran away, or died.

Suddenly, a familiar series of shrill caws pierces the air. Before you can process what’s happening, something crashes into your lap, a blur of loose black feathers hitting your face.

Could it be…?

The unmistakable garnet glint in the midnight-feathered avian’s eyes confirms it. Without hesitation, you scoop the bird into your arms, pulling it tightly to your chest, and press a rough, enthusiastic kiss to its head.

“Where have you been?” you exclaim, laughing as you nuzzle the void-like creature against your cheek, smothering it in an embrace. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

Its muffled caws are drowned out by your babbling. “Oh gosh—your wing! How is it?” you say, quickly pulling back to inspect it.

Its feathers look good—healthy, even. In fact, they almost seem brand new, gleaming like a freshly unboxed gadget. Its once-injured left wing no longer looks broken—or as you’d thought before, no longer resembling a mechanical part with a loose screw.

Before you can start fussing over it again, the bird suddenly wriggles free from your grasp and lands steadily on your lap. It caws again, but something’s different. It’s louder, more piercing—frantic. It paces across your lap, continuing to practically scream at you, as if trying to tell you something.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the sight of its feathers puffing up with each stressed caw.

You try to pat its head, hoping to calm it down, but it jumps off your lap and lands on the ground, still cawing. The other crows, clearly spooked by its urgent cries, start to scatter. Bewildered, you bend down, attempting to scoop it into your arms again, but it evades you by hopping a few feet away, still cawing—loudly.

“What is it?” you say, exasperated. I can’t speak crow!

You step closer, bending down once more, but it hops away—again.

You stare up at the heavens. This has to be some cosmic joke. You can’t believe you’re playing this strange version of tag with a bird.

You don’t even realize how far you’ve walked, now a good distance from the bench you were sitting on. You’ve reached the darker area of the park, still desperate to grab the cawing bird and figure out what’s wrong. Then, without warning, your foot catches on a tree root. You stumble, and before you can recover, you hit the cold, wet ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Well, there goes my good luck streak,” you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Good thing nobody’s around to witness your embarrassing lack of coordination.

“Tell me about it.”

The sudden presence of a deep, unfamiliar voice makes you freeze. Heart pounding wildly, you scramble to sit up, eyes darting toward the source.

It wasn’t a tree root you tripped over. It was a leg—a stretched-out leg attached to a man slumped against one of the park’s statues. A huge, beautiful man, with silver hair and a pair of breathtaking garnet eyes, half-lidded and filled with amusement. He’s clutching his abdomen, the fabric there soaked in dark, ominous red.

Blood.

A field of red datura blooms. A starry night sky with the clouds beneath you. Mountains of gold against jagged walls. A burning plaza. A bloodied claymore.

You don’t register the ringing in your ears or the flash of blurry, unfamiliar images racing through your mind. Your gaze remains locked on the man’s injury. Before you know it, you’re shrugging off your puffer jacket and sweater. Now clad in just your turtleneck, you drop to your knees and press your sweater firmly against his wound.

You, waiting for your turn to walk on stage to receive your diploma. A university staff member rushing toward you. You, running out of the graduation venue. Two totaled SUVs. Three dead bodies.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you work methodically. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Apply pressure. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Just keep pressing. Don’t think about how much there is. Don’t panic. You fold the sweater tighter against the wound. Okay, stop the bleeding first. That’s all you know. Just keep the pressure steady. He’s losing too much. Is this enough? Should I tie it off? No, just keep pressing. Keep him alive.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. You have to save them. You have to save him. They can’t leave you. He can’t leave you. Not again.

“Sweetheart.”

The word, softly spoken, snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes lift to meet his, and the world seems to still. You’ve never met this man in your life, but the way he looks at you—it hurts. It feels like an ancient grief has surfaced from the depths of your soul.

You finally notice the state you’re in. You’re shaking. Badly. The cold winter air bites into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. Your palms are scraped from your earlier fall, but you hardly register the sting. The man’s hands—large and warm—enclose your trembling ones, grounding you.

And it’s like you’ve never known peace until this very moment.

note: can u tell the extent of my yearning to be spoiled with groceries LMAO

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

check out my other works!

#ori.writes #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #love and deepspace #sylus fluff #sylus angst #sylus hurt/comfort #sylus comfort

864 notes · View notes

poweredbycoffee · 1 month ago

Text

mornings with Ateez:

Hongjoong:

tends to wake up before you to get work done but will get back in the bed to cuddle you just before your alarm goes off so you wake up in his arms

will never admit it, not even to you, but being the little spoon is his favorite sleeping position

knows your breakfast delivery order by heart so he can surprise you with it

makes up songs to sing to entertain you while you’re both getting ready for the day because he says you inspire him

San:

you know it’s true love when he’s willing to lend you one of his plushies to cuddle

most likely to pout if you try to get out of bed before he’s ready to let you go

gives all of the kisses wherever he can reach to wake you up

will greet you with “hey beautiful” even if your hair is a mess and you woke up with bags under your eyes because he genuinely believes you still are

Seonghwa:

will wake up and finish at least sixty percent of the chores on your to do list before you’ve even opened one eye

brings you breakfast in bed for made up holidays such as the anniversary of your second and third dates

will never tell you how long you slept in if he knows you don’t have somewhere to be because he’d rather make sure you’re well rested

loves playing soft music in the background to start the day and can’t resist dancing you around your bedroom in your pajamas

Yunho:

sleeps in longer than you if he’s been up half the night gaming and keeps you in bed with one arm around you or his head on your chest

kisses you like you’re Sleeping Beauty to wake you up

if you’re too sleepy to walk to the kitchen for breakfast he’ll happily carry you there on his back, low key loves showing off that he can

can’t get enough of being the big spoon so he feels like he’s protecting you from bad dreams

Mingi:

feels bad that he can’t cook you breakfast as well as you can for him but will go to the nearest cafe at the crack of dawn to bring back coffee just the way you like it and your favorite pastry

has wound up giving you shirts of his that you borrowed to sleep in because he decides you look too cute in them for him to ask for them back

happiest when you use his chest or shoulder as a pillow

blushes when you check him out shirtless after he’s just woken up

Yeosang:

taught himself to use an absurdly expensive espresso machine to make you your morning coffee to bring you in bed, if you ask him about it he claims he wanted to know anyway

the couple that does their comprehensive skincare routine together stays together, never minds if you borrow his products or spray on one of his perfumes instead

loves small gestures of affection while you’re still asleep, petting your hair/holding your hand/kissing the top of your head

secretly enjoys how you get goosebumps when he whispers “good morning” in your ear with that deep voice of his

Jongho:

has glared at everything and everyone from garbage trucks to birds outside the window if they dare to disturb his morning cuddles with you

steals your pajama pants to wear if they have cute characters on them, especially bears

requires at least three fourths of his morning cup of coffee or tea before he talks, you both drink yours in comfortable silence on the couch

loves it when you have your head on his lap while he reads in bed

Wooyoung:

wakes up a little before you to watch you sleep with the goofiest lovesick smile on his face, thinks it’s cute when you hug your pillow in your sleep

certified blanket thief and you’re pretty sure he does it so you’ll cuddle him to stay warm in the winter

never ask him if he dreamed of you because there’s no way to tell if his answer will be cute or way too spicy for 7am

has walked around wearing only a towel around his waist after showering specifically to distract you from getting ready for work

#hongjoong x reader #san x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez fic #kpop fic #kpop #ateez imagines

421 notes · View notes

venusincleo · 3 months ago

Text

Time. iii.

Part One [i]. ♡ Part Two [ii].

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Aaron Pierre x Black!Reader, smoking, a lil angst, a lil fluff, teasing, p in v, creampie, slight overstimulation, pet names, DDLG kink, BDSM themes, Soft!Aaron, omniscient POV and more...

BKG/Summary: As you and Aaron maintain your budding love in your long distance relationship, your respective careers continue to grow exponentially. Your writing has picked up wonderfully, and your newest work is to hit local shelves with pre-orders out for delivery. When there is a snag in production and they print the wrong cover, fans are rightfully mad but have no one to blame but you. To help cope with the stress, you call Aaron, hoping that he can talk you down but as he's busy himself, all you get is solutions. To make up for his lack of sensitivity to a moment that may very well be formative to your career, he gets a one way flight to see you.

Word Count: 3.8k❣

A/N: ✴︎Happy New Year!✴︎ Tell me how you liked this one 💗🫶🏾

• • •

right now i need your loving, one way flight ain't nothin'... - NYL by Phabo

Light smoke billowed from your lips, taking the color of the bronze sky as you blew it out of your large window. Your eyes low and your mind clear, you gazed into the horizon, thanking God for the beauty He had painted ions ago. You gazed along the limited foliage and bustling street underneath your apartment building, and couldn’t help giggling at the fact that everything seemed to be orange under the filter of the sunset.

As your mind was numbed from any of the day's events, you thought back to the person you would have loved to share this moment with. Earlier in your hectic day, you had called him for some relief from life’s unexpected symptoms but you did not get the reaction you desired. Wise but stern motivations took the place of the gentle words you thought you were sure to receive.

Then, your yearning tone turned defensive, and that was not pretty. Before you knew it, you and Aaron had had a small spat about his tone, and then you were hanging up in his face.

It wasn’t like you needed him to make things better, but you at least hoped that he would love on you enough for you to see the solution for yourself. Instead, he made it seem like he was too busy to handle your emotions in the moment, like he was unable to make the time. Though, two short minutes of affirmations would have sufficed, no doubt.

Now, you were okay with not speaking to him for the rest of the day. You wanted to feel your high for as long as humanly possible.

With a levitating sway of your hips, you allowed your bare feet to usher you back into your living room, your patterned maxi dress flowing behind you as you turned up your speaker. As Jhene Aiko’s voice heightened in volume, you rolled your body to her sensual lyrics, joint in the air.

'Let’s go half on a son, how far do you wanna go? Ohhhhh…'

Just as you brought your herb back to your lips to take in a long puff, your phone rang, interrupting the music. Breathing out the smoke quickly, you rush to your phone, ready to decline the call when you see the contact photo. Aaron.

A deep sigh rushes past your lips as you press the green button, taking a drag from your j as you see the call connecting. Distracted by nothing in particular, Aaron’s eyes take a moment to focus on your face through the screen, but once he does, he scoffs in near disbelief.

“I see you found an outlet.” His deep voice is littered with droplets of venom, and you roll your eyes as you breathe out the smoke you were holding.

“I would much rather have something else for that but, here I am.” You are involuntarily calm, your logical mind wanting to give him back what he was dishing. But physically, the effects of the weed wouldn’t even allow you to be phased. You were just…there.

“Anyways, did you call for something or what? Cause I’m busy…” You bend down to your coffee table to ash your joint in your pretty glass tray, and then your red eyes meet Aaron’s on your FaceTime. He hears a hint of reciprocation of the energy he gave you this morning, and his eyes soften, his natural pout a bit more defined.

“Uh, yeah…I’m outside.” Without much thought to his words, you smack your teeth, and look at your j, examining the neatly rolled herb inside.

“Okay, nigga.” All he can do is chuckle at your reaction, and you look at your screen to see what’s so funny.

“No, I’m really,” He begins, and then you hear three knocks echoing on either side of your phone. “Outside.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you set your joint down in your tray and go to your front door. A quick glance through your peephole is all it takes to see Aaron’s large frame waiting right on the other side, and you instantly hang up the phone. After unlocking it, you swing your door open and meet Aaron’s eyes.

Every feeling that you had been avoiding bubbled up quickly, like seeing him was the last straw. Shit. You cursed yourself internally. You didn’t want to fold under his intense blue eyes, but as his softened demeanor waits to be welcomed in, tears sting at the sides of your eyes. Blinking to try and keep the waterworks at bay, you step aside and allow a space for him to make his entrance, looking off into the distance of your apartment.

Once he steps in, and waits for you to close your door, he watches you turn on your heel to face him. Soft steps in your direction lead him to the space right in front of you, and he leans his head down to be face to face with you.

“Come here.” His English accent sticks to his deep voice, and he places his hands on your hips to pull you in closer. You almost allow him to hug you, but as he begins to nestle his face in your neck, you reach your hands up to push him away from you.

“No. You hurt me, Aaron.” He keeps his stature, silently flexing his strength over you, but he moves back a little to try and respect your wishes. The tears continue to flood your eyes, but at this point, you don’t care anymore. You want him to see how he made you feel, you need him to.

Seeing you so upset with him makes Aaron’s chest tighten with worry. It wasn’t his intention to make you cry, it never was. But he couldn’t help but notice the tears threatening to spill over your lower lid at any moment.

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry.” His tone is soft, maybe the softest it’s been all day, and you find yourself looking up into his slightly upturned eyes. You want to kiss him so bad, just say ‘fuck it’ to all the points you had in mind to make to him. But you had to at least bring up the most pressing one, your mind wouldn’t allow you to forget it.

“Aaron, I-…” You begin, shaking your head as you try to form your words in a neutral way. A tear falls onto your cheek as you find just what you want to convey.

“You won’t always be able to pop up on me like this; phone calls are our primary form of communication right now. If you’re too busy for calls then maybe we should rethink this relationship.”

“I’m not too busy for your phone calls, Y/N. Today was just a bit stressful for me too but, I had no right to take that out on you.” His hands rub at your sides as he gazes into your eyes. “Truly, I apologize.”

A moment of quiet falls between the two of you, and you take in a deep breath, releasing it into the room.

“Thank you.” Your voice was near a whisper, as you took in his second apology. Comfortable now, that the two of you were on the same page, even if only for tonight, you reach your arms around Aaron’s neck, peering up into his pretty eyes yet again. Instantly, he pulls your body into his and brings his hand to your face to wipe your fallen tear.

A lush peck laces the lack of space between each of your lips, and then finally Aaron gets the hug that he yearned for. His strong arms squeeze around your body as he rests his head in the space of your shoulder and his large hands find their ways to the skin of your back. You feel his supple lips on your neck and you breathe in slowly, smelling the distinct scent of his luxury cologne mixed in with his pheromones. Your mouth nearly waters at the perfection of the warm, clean notes of his fragrance.

"I don't like seeing you cry, pretty girl." He rasps against your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

"I know." You run a dainty hand down his neck, along his shoulder and bicep, squeezing at the toned muscle. Mmm.

"Not unless Papa is making you feel that good." He trails his hands down your body, resting at your plump ass to give it a squeeze. Hearing your whispered gasp at his gesture, he brings his face back parallel to yours so he can see your expression.

Doe eyes stare up into his lowered ones, the energy in the room long past shifted, and waiting to be acted upon.

"You want me to make you feel good?" Your eyes flicker from his lowered gaze to his full pink lips, your vision shadowed by your long eyelashes.

“Yes.” As your vision is fixed on his pretty mouth, Aaron leans forward to seemingly give you what you want. But just when your lips get close, he pulls away, his intense glare demanding your attention.

Looking up into his eyes yet again, you press your body further into his, craving so desperately to feel his kiss. Instead of a kiss though, Aaron brings a strong hand to your shoulders, pushing your lovely black kinks out of his way. Sure enough, his tender hand wraps around your neck tautly, and he pulls your face right up to his.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” His chest rises and falls quicker as he watches your lips purse to reply to him.

“I want you to make love to me.” He closes in on your lips but when your eyes don’t leave his, he waits just a moment for your other requests.

“Start slow.” Your tone is breathy as you express just what you wanted and needed from your night. The ghost of a grin plays at Aaron’s lips, and then they finally connect with yours.

He parts his mouth almost instantly, the fulfilled desire of your tongue on his causing a soft moan to escape his lips. You aimlessly fight for balance, your tongues playing a tug of war you were okay with losing as long as it continued. Aaron’s hold on your neck stays firm for a few moments later, and then he slowly lets you go, bringing his strong hands to your ass through your flowing dress.

Your sure hands move to his shoulders to push his suit jacket off of his frame, and his arms leave your body to pull the tweed fabric off of him rather quickly. He throws his jacket to the side with no real regard for where it lands, and soon, his arms are back around you.

Aaron lifts you like you’re nothing, allowing your body to straddle his waist as he holds you up by your thighs. You don’t disconnect for any longer than a second, as you continue to press your needy kiss into his thick lips, feeling his hungry reciprocation. As you focus on the warm breath filling the space between your lips, and the secure hold you’re in, your body can’t help but react, your natural lubrication easing from between your thighs.

“Mm.” You grind your body against his, the friction of the clothes between you both being just enough to stimulate your throbbing clit. You whine against his lips, and he pulls away from the kiss to see your flustered face, as you bite your lip.

Seeing just how dire it is for you to feel something right now, Aaron carries you to your couch, where he lays you down softly. He lays over you as you keep your eyes locked on him, bringing a hand to your cheek as he presses his lips back into yours. As he delivers one of his slow, torturously enticing kisses, he rubs his hardened shaft against your heated core, grinding his hips against yours through your clothes.

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel yourself get wetter because of his efforts, and energy rushes through your body.

“Fuck, baby.” You breathe out, nearly being overcome with the feeling of him grinding into you. A deep breath leaves Aaron’s vocal cords in a gruff, stuttered tone, and he rubs himself against you just once more, pulling back just slightly to reach up your dress for your panties. But, when he feels nothing but your plush skin, he blinks slowly as he tries to contain his excitement.

As he takes his time pushing your dress up your body to reveal your moisturized melanin, his eyes trail past your hips, your navel, your torso and your chest to meet your pretty brown eyes yet again. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheek as you watch him intently, having a hint of an idea of what he’s about to do.

Gently, he tugs at the airy fabric of the dress you are barely wearing now, and his eyes turn stormy with desire.

“Take this off.”

You obey quickly, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it to the floor beside the couch. When your eyes meet his again, he lets a moment pass before he’s tugging his chocolate brown shirt off of his own body, revealing his soft, honey-toned skin and the rippled muscles under it. Your eyes instantly attach to the greek sculpture of his body, and you bite your lip absentmindedly as you caress his limbs with your gaze.

Under your longing specs, Aaron only leans himself forward, his body drawn to the thought of your willful and wanton touch. Catching on to his wants now, you sit up and allow your hands to grasp onto his waist, pulling him into you tenderly as your eyes flicker up to view his face.

Almost completely overtaken by the needs of your flesh, you place a series of supple kisses along Aaron’s abs. Your eyes don’t leave his stare as you decorate his skin with small pecks, teasing him just a little. But as his mind is dead set on how pretty your face is from this angle –and the tingles that erupt underneath his skin wherever your delicate hands are holding him– soft moans sneak through his lips.

Your skin heats at every moan, as they get more and more pronounced, and you get a bit sloppier with your technique. Instead of the innocent feather-light kisses you were delivering before, you part your lips to widen your kiss along his skin. Your wet kisses sound in the quiet room, ad-libbing over the music that had started back up on its own some time ago. The song you make is just enough to make Aaron even harder, and his whispered sounds of pleasure harmonize perfectly with your energy.

“Lay back.” He keeps his composure the best he can, his mind swirling with thoughts of you taking control of him and doing whatever you wanted. Yet, as you layed against the yielding cushions of your couch, luscious brown skin glistening underneath the dim light in your living room, all he knew is the only place he wanted to be, was with you. And he’d be damned if he messed it up over a phone call.

Slow hands reached for the button of his pants, and he took his time undoing the fastens that kept the fabric up on his hips. His movements sped up just a little as he got the pants off of his legs, and across the room, out of the way. The black breifs that once decorated his lower body are close behind, and then it’s just you and him.

Aaron’s kisses start at your feet, feather-light, gentle. He allows himself whatever pacing he found reasonable, for cherishing every piece of you. His lips trail up your calve, his large hand holding your leg in place as he nuzzles his nose in your skin to smell the luscious lotions you had put on hours earlier. As he gives the same amount of attention to your other leg, his kiss tender as ever as he memorizes every detail of your skin down to tracing scars, you can see just what his intentions are.

Your eyes water just a little as you watch him make a mental note of all of your details, goosebumps raising along your skin as he runs his strong hand along every inch. A gasp leaves your lips as the dopamine surging through your veins makes way for your skin to be even more heated, more pliable, more sensitive to his touch. He looks up for a moment to check in and when he sees your beautiful eyes staring back at him, a small grin raises on his lips.

The smile falls as he kisses up each of your thighs, the puddle between them worsening as he got closer. His lips fall onto the side of your thighs, traveling to your hips and the stretch marks that came with your grown woman weight. He caressed the skin adoringly, littering smaller kisses on each stripe of lighter skin he found. The breath caught in your throat as you thought of the implications of his doting actions, and the tears that had welled in your eyes were threatening to spill over.

“Aaron..” You called for him in a near-cry. Instantly, he brought his face right in front of yours, and you ran your hands along his shoulders, pulling him between your legs. His thick lips captured yours without any direction, and you kissed back eagerly, your manicured digits easing into the short curls on the back of his head. He drags the kiss on for a few more seconds, readying himself at your slick opening. When you feel his thick tip easing in just slightly, you wrap your legs around his waist tightly, trying to brace yourself for his length.

“You are so special to me, Y/N.” He mumbles against your lips before he pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t care.” You reach your hand up to cup his cheek, as he continues to speak his heart to you.

“I love you, Y/N.” Aaron gives your lips a lush peck before he presses his forehead against yours, easing his throbbing cock into your wetness. You growl softly at the familiar feeling, a slight pressure reminding you of your first time together.

“Mmh, I love you too.” You whine, feeling him pull back out slowly, to thrust once again before he caught a swifter rhythm. All you can do is draw in more air, your exhales laced with high pitched exclamations of unexpected bliss.

“Daddy’s so sorry, princess.” He goes to nestle his face in the crook of your neck as he continues to make love to you a bit recklessly. Your breathing gets faster, your chest heaving up and down as you feel your climax rushing through your soma.

“Aghhh.” You squeal lightly, throwing your head back at the overwhelming feeling of his thickness going in and out, in and… out…in…and…out. Aaron recognizes your falsetto-esc moans, and leaves kisses on your ear before he whispers to you.

“Ugh, this alright?” He asks, his deep moans doing nothing but making it worse for you to concentrate on breathing right.

“Yes, baby… Shittttt…ugh y- so thick.” You almost hoped that he would take it easier on you, but Aaron had no such plans. His strong hands reached to your legs that were crossed behind his back, and pushed them up so that your knees touched your chest.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, staring down at your connection and the tracings of your pussy juices that decorated your folds, and his entire length. A gravelly moan leaves his vocal cords as he slides back into your opening, you welcoming him in with the tightest fit, and your eyebrows turn upward at such a fill.

“Fuckkk. I’m ‘bout to cum, baby.” Your whiny confession is followed by a hearty moan, and then you cover Aaron in your essence, dripping down your cunt to the couch beneath you, and circling his cock in the process. He slows down just a little bit, though he has no intentions of stopping, and leans toward you to give you the most silken kiss. Then, as he pulls away from your lips, gazing down into your eyes, he thrusts at this new, slower rhythm.

“Mmh, pussy so good.” A growl laced his mumbled words, as he fought the urge to pick up the pace even slightly. With rushed, panting breaths, he reached his hand up to your neck and grasped it just tight enough.

You feel a jump in the pit of your stomach as he works your core, effectively digging yet another nut out of you. As you feel just a little overstimulated, you reach up to his hand that is wrapped around your neck, and hold his wrist in place. You wouldn't dare tell him to stop. But it was so much, and he was so girthy... you didn't know how much more you could take.

Eyes glossy, you let in a deep breath, hoping to regulate yourself but instead, all you do is moan out loudly. You throw your head back yet again, this time unintelligible whimpers and mumbles leave your mouth, and a tear runs down the side of your face.

"A-Aaron." You croak quietly, grabbing at his hips with your free hand. You find yourself grasping at any flesh of his that is visible to your hazy eyes, and he just sighs in delight.

He bites his lip to try and stifle his own cries but moans slip through his teeth so eloquently, you can tell he's close. His strokes never falter; they just get sturdier, firmer. Soon, he's squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment to hold on for as long as he can.

With a few more thrusts and a couple more loud moans, he was releasing all of his gooey, warm elixir right inside of you.

“Ohh.” You breathe out tiredly, another wave rushing over you in your trembling climax.

Aaron pulls out of you tenderly now, hearing your combined moisture sound lewdly in the room. When he saw the mixture ease from your slightly stretched opening, he smiled boyishly and placed a kiss on your forehead and then your lips. You hum lovingly, revelling in the feeling of him giving you the soft Aaron you'd craved all day.

The two of you share a quiet beat, just trying to catch your breaths. And then a resolution pops into your head.

“I need this every day. Every once in a while ain’t cutting it.” You express, still catching your breath from your great session. He chuckles at your forwardness, and pecks your lips yet again as he thinks about how he could make such a request happen for you.

“Then maybe…I move closer…?” He ventures, just a bit unsure. With sparkling eyes, and a hand to his cheek you assure his suggestion with a bit of levity.

“Maybe you should.”

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

MDNI Banner by @renyanovyn

༓TAGLIST༓

@userthatlovessmut32 @blyffe @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @dreamavenue99 @writingsbytee @mymindisneverhere @gg-trini @nayaesworld @the9sychwardlibrary @jaza23

*let me know if you want to be added to the ongoing taglist in the comments*

#aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x reader #black fanfic writer #my fic #smutty fanfiction #smutty smut smut #18+ mdni #18 + only #mdni #Spotify

430 notes · View notes

littlemssam · 6 months ago

Text

Patch Updates

As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache, when updating my Mods!

---

Make sure to download the updated XML Injector when you Patch your Game!

Patch 1.110.265 Updates (All other Mods should still be compatible!):

Advanced Birth Certificate Anti Heat Pill (Pets) Autonomous Gardening Autonomous go Jogging when Sims are Stressed & Children can Jog too Better Butler (and Hire more Butler) Better Nanny (Second Nanny & more) Calendar Tweaks Carryable Performance Stage plus Sing Songs! Collectibles (Rock Digging) Rework (Slower/Harder) Flea Market appears every Sunday Food Delivery Service Go for a Walk with Cats Healthy Drinks Hire certain Vet Employees Hire certain Sims (incl. Family Members) at Restaurants Housewarming Party (instead of Welcome Wagon) Improved Kids Night Light Improved Practical Spells Kids can go for a Walk with Dogs Let Friends Age Up More Away Actions More Buyable Venues and new Venue Types More Woodworks My Little Neighborhood Objects don't share Inventory Parenting Skill for Teens & more Personal Objects (Computer, Tablets & more) Power Napping on Sofas Pregnancy Overhaul - Pregnancy Belly Part Pregnancy Overhaul - Can do more Part Retail Overhaul - Hire certain Employees Part Retail Overhaul - Go Shopping – More Options Part Sell more self made Woodwork at the Flea Market Sleep In Small Archaeology Overhaul Small Invite to Hang Out Overhaul Teach me the Rumbasim

Random Small Mods

Auto Grab Drink when Eating Purchased Items delievered via Mail Keyboard Piano sounds Copy Graduation Photos and Diplomas Better Power Water Production Higher Skill Faster Candle Making Bouncer Only Homeless Sims Fan Stans Only Homeless Sims New Hug Animation If Confident No Auto Club Gathering (Active Household) Horse Jump Parkour Teen Can Buy Lottery Ticket NPCs Auto Massage & Meditation Vampires No Cold Breath Lower Fire Chance Vacuum Time and Autonomy Changes Release all Ghosts & Get Urn for

Random Bug Fixes

Deliver Baby at Hospital Elevator Fix for Toddler & Pets Murphy Beds Fix Trait Buff Fixes Weather NPC Deaths

Probably obsolete, pls remove and test without it:

Stop Eating Spoiled Food Fix

EA patch fixed that in 1.110.265 "Sims will not eat spoiled food autonomously."

Other adopted Mods

Always keep a Doctor at Hospital Change Into Towel Everywhere Faster Gardening Homework Tweaks Immortality Potion Tweaks Keep Books after Publishing Kiss Neck for Adults More traumatic divorce for Children Play Cards Anywhere Subject Homework Tea for Children Violin & Guitar Bugfixes

---

My Site with all possible Download Links: lms-mods.com

Support Questions via Discord only please!

#littlemssam #sims 4 mods #updates

572 notes · View notes

melon-fodder · 3 days ago

Text

I FOUND MY PLACE | one

s. aizawa x fem!reader

masterlist | next

wc: 3.2k

tags: swearing, mentioned drugs, shinsou’s hero name is ‘mindjack’, banter, mic is kinda gross but it’s all in good fun, sort of flashback (really it’s just recalling certain past events and is written in past tense, short description of a seizure, the beginnings of a beautiful fake relationship

So quick. So casual. Mindless, even.

There’s a hand on his back, movement behind him, and a familiar voice, your voice— “right behind ya’, babe.”

Shouta stiffens, eyes (the good and the bad) going wide as his whole face turns crimson as if he’s some schoolboy.

You don’t notice. He doesn’t think you even realize what you just said, like it tumbled from your mouth on instinct as you passed behind him. An absent-minded warning: don’t back up, I’m right here.

It’s nothing.

And, it leaves Shouta spinning.

Which is absolutely ridiculous. It’s not like he’s unfamiliar with terms of endearment. One of his best friends was a dominatrix for fuck’s sake, and some of those habits slipped into her every day life. Shouta misses Nemuri, but he does not miss being called ‘pet’ and ‘lover’ and many other things not worth mentioning.

The point is ‘babe’ is tame. It’s meaningless. It has no right to make the hair on his arms stand on end, especially considering whose mouth it came from.

In a perfect world, Shouta would be able to walk away and never think of this again.

Unfortunately, this world is cruel and unjust. He can’t just walk away. Instead, he has to walk beside you, the two of you making your way through the nearly empty bullpen to the office on the other side.

Ito Takeshi doesn’t look up from his desk until Shouta closes the door. He’s a few years older than Shouta himself with thinning silver hair, beady black eyes, and abnormally large pointed ears.

“Good to see you two,” Takeshi gruffs insincerely. “Take a seat.”

Both of you do, and when the older man slides two folders across his desk, you both take those too.

“Normally, I wouldn’t put you on something like this, Eraser,” Takeshi starts, stops to glance at you and assures, “right up your alley, though, don’t worry.”

Shouta starts skimming the file, only half listening as Takeshi rattles off the same information that he’s reading.

Ken Nakamura, a newer face in the underbelly. Young but ambitious, just earned himself the Drug Lord title at age 24 which has obviously gone to his head considering he goes by Lord Ozmotic.

“His quirk is Osmosis,” Takeshi explains around the toothpick in his mouth. “Sole reason he’s gotten to where he is today. Started out as a delivery boy when he was a teenager, was able to move more than the average runner, moved up the ranks pretty quickly ‘til he decided he could run a ring better than his boss, Kashimoto—you’ve heard of him.”

“How is he using his quirk these days, do you know?” you pipe up. “I assume he’s not running his own product.”

Takeshi shakes his head, toys with the toothpick. “I’m not one-hundred percent on it, but we’re pretty sure he’s using it to lace his shit with something else.”

“Something else as in an illegal quirk supplement or as in fentanyl?” Shouta questions, and for some reason it makes you snicker. He squints over at you, but you just wave a hand as if to say ‘don’t worry about it’.

Babe.

“Neither,” Takeshi answers before Shouta can even begin to spiral again. “There’s a quirk element to it, but it doesn’t modify others’. From what we’ve gathered from the samples brought in, there’s some kind of hypnosis effect.”

“Like, the people snorting or smoking or whatever—it hypnotizes them?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Takeshi answers you.

Shouta sits with that for a second. The other man wasn’t lying when he’d said this wasn’t a typical mission for Shouta.

“This sounds better suited for Mindjack,” he mutters pointlessly.

“Yeah, and I’d love to put him on it, but he’s—”

“Out of town,” Shouta cuts him off, “yeah, I know.”

Out of town, of course meaning deep undercover where Hitoshi has been for a month now.

“I mean, if anyone’s gotta replace him, you’re probably the best option, right?” you offer with a little smile. “I’ve been partnered with your protégé for long enough. Time to see what you can do, Aizawa.”

Your grin widens, tongue now poking out between your teeth, and Shouta feels his cheeks heat again. Slumping further in the plastic chair, he tucks his face into his capture weapon and grumbles, “you know what I can do. I taught you just like I taught him.”

“Hmm, not quite. I don’t recall getting private lessons, thank you.”

Shouta rolls his eyes. “You trained plenty with Mic.”

The fact that Hizashi took you under his wing at Shouta’s request is neither here nor there, and honestly, sometimes he regrets ever having asked at all—usually during combat scenarios when Shouta is close enough to hear you mutter, “DJ punch” whenever you clock an opponent.

Terrible habit. Makes him chuckle every time without fail.

“Yeah, but that was different. I could’ve learned a lot more by someone with an emitter quirk like mine,” you sigh in an exaggerated manner.

Shouta resigns himself to your theatrics, having become accustomed to the pouting and melodrama over the past couple of years, knowing that most, if not all, is disingenuous and that you only do it to annoy him.

“Deprived me of valuable learning opportunities—how could you, Zawa? It’s the cat thing, isn’t it? Or is it because I don’t fit into your sleepy guy aesthetic?”

“It’s because you’re a brat,” Shouta bites. “Or is that news to you?”

You look smug, like it’s exactly what you wanted him to say, which is equal parts confusing and irritating, but before Shouta can pry into that Takeshi is speaking again, “this is good, actually. This could work really well.”

“What’s good?” you question.

Shouta follows with a dubious, “what can work?”

Takeshi looks from Shouta to you then back to Shouta, flipping that goddamn toothpick the whole time.

“You’re not gonna like this, Eraser.”

Shouta levels his darkening eye on the man, a sinking feeling settling low in his gut.

“Try me.”

~•~

“That is fucking hilarious!” Hizashi howls, clapping his hands together as he rocks back and forth on the couch.

Shouta glares at his so-called friend, considers revoking that title. When did he become such a sadist? (He has been for a while, but the blonde usually saves it for different settings.)

“No it fucking isn’t. She was a student. How am I supposed to fake—”

“By treating her like the professional she is now,” Hizashi cuts him off, says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He isn’t wrong, but that doesn’t make the situation any less awkward.

“Shouta, it’s been years. She’s a whole-ass adult now and a kickass hero. Also, ya know,” Hizashi wriggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t. Don’t say it.”

He’s ignored, as always.

“Really cute.”

“Jesus Christ…” Shouta pinches the bridge of his nose, shakes his head.

“And that’s keeping it PG. That hero costume fits her real—”

“For the love of god, please stop,” Shouta begs. Hizashi’s comments are disturbing, but even worse is the feeling that’s settling in the deepest part of Shouta’s stomach, a certain defensiveness that he hasn’t felt in a while.

It’s natural, though—to feel protective over you, that is. He’s protective over all his students, past and present.

“Does it not bother you that she sat in your classroom for three years? You trained with her one-on-one when she was a kid.”

“And, now she’s an adult,” Hizashi emphasizes. For a moment it looks like he’s about to spew more bullshit, but to Shouta’s surprise (and relief), his friend ends up sighing and leaning back. It seems he’s finally taking Shouta’s concerns seriously.

“Listen, I’m not saying I’d bring her home to fuck,” he waits for Shouta’s full-body cringe to pass then continues, “what I would do is treat her the way she deserves. Take her fucking seriously, Sho. You know what she’s capable of. I’ve heard the way you talk about the missions she and mini-Eraser go on. They rock it. If anyone is gonna make it awkward, it’s you.”

Shouta pouts. He can’t help it. Fuck, he hates when Hizashi is right.

“She’s just…” he scrubs a hand down his face, shakes his head. “She’s so fucking young. How am I supposed to make anyone believe that I’m…”

“Screwing her?”

“Dating her,” he snaps. They sort of go hand-in-hand, but Shouta refuses to conflate the two entirely, refuses to give himself the mental image.

Hizashi chuckles, throws one long leg over the other, lacing his fingers together at the back of his head.

“You just gotta act like a sleazeball,” he smirks, “act like the type of dude who’s into that kinda shit—young, pretty pus—”

Shouta is just close enough to be able to kick Hizashi with his good leg. Right in the knee. Hard. And he doesn’t feel even a little bad as the blonde swears loudly.

“Stop. Now.” It comes out as a growl, and Shouta feels his hair start to rise before he quickly gets ahold of himself.

“I’m just messing around! Fucking—quit lookin’ at me like that,” Hizashi pouts, grumbles under his breath, “don’t have to worry about anyone not believing you, that’s for sure,” Hizashi grumbles.

“What was that?” Shouta bites.

Never one to back down, Hizashi is loud and clear when he says, “just keep defending your girl like that and you’ll fit right in.”

Bold as he may be, Zashi still yelps like a bitch when Shouta lifts his foot as if to kick him again.��

Your girl, he had called you.

Shouta’s girl. His.

It’s strange—unfit for who you actually are to him.

That said, the concept makes something stir in Shouta’s chest, a feeling that isn’t entirely unpleasant.

~•~

You flew under Shouta’s radar during your first semester at UA, mostly due to the fact that you were placed in general studies. However, once you showed what you were capable of, Nezu quickly had you transferred into the hero course.

You sat at the back of the 1-A classroom, trying your best to avoid any and all attention. Shouta could appreciate that, could relate to it, and because of that he took pity on you.

Rarely would he make you answer questions out loud unless he could see that you were genuinely interested. If the approved curriculum required any sort of public presentation, he tried to time it so that the bell would conveniently ring just before your turn. Of course, you had to undergo some torture alongside your classmates—couldn’t have anyone accuse him of showing favoritism—but truly, he took it easy on you.

Other than when you were forced into paired drills or group projects you mostly stuck to yourself. For a while Shouta assumed it was a maturity gap, maybe even a confidence issue.

Then, he saw you seize for the first time.

He’d known it was a risk, a side effect of overusing your quirk, but at that time you’d only ever complained of it causing headaches.

Despite all of his training, all of the rescue missions he’d been on, emergency procedures he’d had to perform himself, Shouta was not prepared. Not entirely, at least.

He did everything he was supposed to do—rolled you onto your side, shoved his own capture weapon under your head, told the nearest kid to start a timer, and when it was over, he delivered you to Recovery Girl himself.

It had only been a few minutes, but it had felt like an eternity.

An eternity of deviated eyes and terrible, rhythmic body jerks, of gnashing teeth, blood and spit dripping from the side of your mouth.

A minute or an eternity, it didn’t matter—it was long enough for the rest of the class to gather. To watch. To gawk. All eyes on you.

And, when you came back to UA after a couple days of recovering, those eyes were suddenly full of pity, and Shouta understood, then, why you kept to yourself.

“It’s like they’re afraid to breathe in my direction. Like one wrong look is gonna make me collapse or something,” you’d said, sitting in your usual spot in the classroom while every other student took their lunch in the cafeteria. “Promising young hero to weakest link in the blink of an eye.”

“It was about four minutes, actually,” Shouta corrected from his sleeping bag. “Considerably longer than a single blink.”

You peered at him, eyes a little narrow, voice dripping with sarcasm— “your attention to detail is truly admirable, sensei.”

It made him snort in an undignified manner, which made you smile. Barely there, but there nonetheless.

“Just one of my many sparkling personality traits.”

“Blinding, every one of ‘em.”

You spent most lunch periods in his classroom after that. Conversation was fairly easy but uncommon. Usually you’d use the time to study and Shouta would sleep, and then the bell would ring and you’d be on your way.

If it had been any other student, he wouldn’t have allowed it, would have demanded they leave, maybe threaten expulsion.

But it wasn’t any other student; it was you. You, who turned your shit in on time and didn’t bombard him with stupid questions. You, who somehow managed to coax a laugh out of him every now and again. You, who he had cradled as he made his way to Recovery Girl, weak and toneless and hardly conscious as the blood from your mouth soaked into his shirt.

So, maybe you were a little special from then on. Maybe Shouta kept a slightly closer eye on you. And, maybe he started carrying a certain medication in his utility pouch, one that, in an emergency, he could stab into your arm and inject himself.

Reasonable precautions.

Hizashi had teased him for weeks— “Sho-sho has a soft spot! Sho-sho has a faaavorite~”

“I don’t have favorites,” Shouta had argued. “She’s just less irritating than the others.”

Which is fucking laughable now.

Now, you’re a pain in his ass.

Gone is the reserved student at the back of his class, hesitant to speak, to make eye contact, to draw any attention or make any connection.

What was once subtle, surprising wit has turned into a smart fucking mouth, the kind that makes Shouta rub his temples and grumble to himself.

You use it as a mask, he thinks—all the winking and innuendo and cutesy little smiles—to distract from the fact that you are a real threat.

Shouta wonders if you’re like this around close friends too. Always on. Always someone else.

Or maybe it’s the real you, Shouta doesn’t fucking know. Really, he has no right to assume. It’s just hard to believe that this is genuine.

‘This’ being the way you’re giggling while fixing his hair, fingers carding through the ends, picking which strands should hang in front of his shoulders and which should fall behind. Once finished, you show a pleased little smile, and Shouta waits for a couple beats before shaking his head, effectively undoing all your hard work.

“Why do I even bother,” you ask yourself, rolling your eyes at the sight of Shouta’s lopsided grin.

“I told you not to waste your time,” he reminds you.

“Yeah, but you made it seem like your hair was untamable, and I wanted to prove you wrong. Now, I see where the real issue lies.”

“You should never let the most obvious problem distract you from the true source of danger,” he recites from his own lesson plans, has to bite back a laugh when you cringe.

“Right, how could I forget?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs his shoulders, tacks on a little quieter, “you’re sharper than that, kid.”

He doesn’t know exactly what effect he had wanted to elicit, but the way you tense up and turn your face away from him as if embarrassed—bashful, even—is both unexpected and a little delightful.

Maybe he isn’t totally out of his depth here.

“Can we please just…” you gesture toward the establishment across the street.

Somewhere inside sits the first target, the first test, the first of many men you’ll have to convince with this little ruse.

Shouta comments, “a coffee shop seems odd.”

“It’s kind of brilliant, actually,” you tell him, looking both ways before crossing the street and sliding your hand into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Think about it. Half of our senses will be at least partially blocked while we’re in there. We’re at a complete disadvantage.”

Shouta frowns at you which is enough to encourage you to elaborate.

“Did you know that when testing perfumes, most stores leave out coffee beans as an olfactory cleanser?”

“I did not know that,” Shouta admits.

“So our sense of smell is already gonna be compromised—could mean nothing, could mean we’re unable to pick up on whatever’s being pumped through the vents, or maybe the stench of death from all the bodies decomposing in the basement! And, without smell we’re also down our sense of taste. Who knows how loud it might be in there, so—”

“So, we’ll just have to find out,” Shouta cuts you off before you can feed him any more horrific scenarios.

You snort, mumble a low, “sorry, just a little nervous.”

“It’ll be fine,” he assures. You’re good at this and the guy you’re both about to meet isn’t even one of Nakamura’s top men, just a worker who’s been tasked with making sure the two of you aren’t cops or heroes.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to look good in front of your old teacher.”

Shouta regards you with a raised eyebrow, and the way he cocks his head paired with his lilted, “oh?” probably comes off more teasing than curious.

You sputter, let go of his hand to tuck your own into the pockets of your thin jacket only for Shouta to throw his arm around your shoulders. Doting boyfriend, and all.

“Forget about that. You don’t have to impress me.” It’s only when you shiver that Shouta realizes how close he is.

“Yeah, that voice in my ear is not going to calm me down,” you grit out, and he has to admire your honesty. Though, it’s not like you could hide your reaction; Shouta can literally feel the heat that’s radiating from your cheeks.

There is suddenly a palm against his face, and then he’s being pushed away. Shouta chuckles at the action, decides it’s time to start the show as he moves to nip at your fingers just before opening the door to the shop.

Your eyes widen for a split second before you fully compose yourself, and this time when Shouta leans in to speak into your ear, you let him.

“You know what you’re doing,” he murmurs, “just act like you would with Mindjack.”

“Believe me when I say you don’t want that,” you tell him, warn him.

“Believe me when I say I don’t care,” he mimics. “Whatever helps take the edge off.”

Your eyes flash with what can only be pure fucking mischief, and Shouta realizes that he should’ve taken you seriously a second ago. God knows what you and Hitoshi get up to during your missions.

“Okay,” you grin, that damn tongue sticking out between your canines as if to draw attention to them— “Whatever you say, babe.”

Any comeback Shouta has gets lodged in his throat when you grab his hand and guide it into your own back pocket.

“To help take the edge off,” you say as if in explanation. “Oh, I think that’s our guy.”

The rich scent of coffee permeates the air along with dull, muted chatter from the other patrons, but all Shouta can focus on is how the weight and curve of your ass feels a little too nice in his hand.

Well, fuck.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #melons.found my place

97 notes · View notes

marlynnofmany · 1 year ago

Text

A Mystery Easily Solved

I’ve got to say, one of the best things about working on a courier spaceship is the downtime. Sure, some deliveries need constant monitoring, and some days we all need to multitask on other moneymaking ventures to make ends meet. But other times we’re doing fine moneywise, and there’s a nice long span of time until we reach our destination.

Today I was spending that time reading in the crew lounge, lying sideways on the couch so I didn’t fall through the tail gap, with Telly the ship’s cat purring against me.

Originally she was The Human’s Animal, restricted to my quarters, but that didn’t last long. Her adorable nature and pestcatching abilities won over everybody, even those of the crew who had exoskeletons that couldn’t properly appreciate how soft her fur was.

I was stroking that mismatched fur with one hand and holding up my reading tablet with the other when Mur walked quietly through.

(I say walk, though really there should be a different word entirely for movement that involves that many tentacles slapping against the floor.)

Anyways, I didn’t really pay attention. I was busy reading, and the lounge was open to anyone. Apparently the rest of the crew had other things to do, which was really their loss.

I didn’t notice when he walked by the first time, but when he came back, he was moving weirdly slowly. I peered around the tablet.

Is he trying to sneak up on somebody out in the hall? I wondered. He wasn’t looking at me, and the expression on his blue-black squid face was one of frowning concentration. I didn’t interrupt.

He moved into the hall, and did indeed have a conversation with someone there, but it was a hushed one that made me even more curious. I lowered the tablet as Mur came back in the company of Paint.

She also looked serious — a mottled orange lizardy person who was colored like the Painted Sunset she was named for, and who was rarely quiet or still. She seemed to be looking for something.

“What’s up?” I whispered. Telly flicked an ear, but only settled in deeper, still purring in a way that said she wasn’t going to give up her comfy spot any time soon. I kept stroking her while I set the tablet on the end table.

“There’s a mystery sound,” Paint whispered back. “Mur said it sounded like an engine problem.”

“We shouldn’t be able to hear any engines in this room, at least not that loud,” Mur said. “Did somebody leave a bit of machinery under a table?”

He seemed honestly baffled, and I hid a smile as it dawned on me what they might be hearing. “Which direction is it coming from?” I asked. “Is it over here?”

They did some careful listening and moved closer.

Mur climbed up on a chair. “Are you doing it??”

I shook my head, grinning and still petting the cat. “No, but you’re close.”

Paint moved in with her head turned sideways for listening. “Oh!”

“Oh what?” Mur demanded.

I shifted position just enough to disturb Telly, who stopped purring and raised her head with a meow of objection.

Paint laughed. “It’s the cat!”

Mur pressed tentacles against his own face. “I can’t believe I forgot they make engine noises.”

“They do,” I said with immense satisfaction, petting Telly again. “And I believe that serves you right for the tentacle-pop noise I couldn’t figure out awhile ago.”

He sighed like a deflating balloon. “Yeah okay, that’s fair.”

“How does she do that?” Paint asked, joining me in running a hand across Telly’s fur. “Oh, she’s so warm!”

Paint’s people are called Heatseekers for a reason. I told her, “She might sit on your lap if you’re still.”

Paint was of course delighted by this idea. Mur threw several tentacles in the air and declared he was off to do something productive with his time.

“Have fun!” I said. “We’ll be here petting the engine noises.”

He grumbled as he left. Telly made more sleepy meows when she was moved from one spot to another, but with two pairs of hands giving her ear scritches and attention, she settled down again.

Her purrs were loud, and Paint’s grin was full of joy.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #cats #the sequel book is going well btw #just wrote a long conversation about food #and those are always fun in a multispecies setting

244 notes · View notes