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thankskenpenders · 5 months

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Help me out here: Why is there so much Ian Flynn hate going around lately? I thought everyone loved that he was contributing to the games. Now suddenly they aren't. I guess that's par for the course for this series but I don't get it. He isn't perfect but I like what he's done. Am I a weirdo?

Ian Flynn has always had a lot of fans, but any creator putting their work out there is going to have detractors as well. That's just the nature of being an artist. To some extent, it's no big deal. He's not a perfect writer. Nobody is! I consider myself a fan of his work, but I've criticized plenty of individual writing decisions from him on here.

But Ian doesn't just have critics. He has his own obsessive hatedom. And the specific nature of Ian's hatedom is... interesting.

A decade ago, Ian was only the guy writing for Archie Sonic, meaning any debates over his work were quarantined within that tiny niche of the larger Sonic fandom. Only people who kept up with the comics month to month had any real reason to have an opinion on the guy, which means we're talking about merely thousands of fans as opposed to millions.

Within that group, he had some haters. You had the people who were mad about story changes made during his run, particularly things like ancillary characters getting killed off (although over the years we've learned that most of those were editorial mandates from Mike Pellerito). You had the people mad that Ian didn't push their favorite ship, with feuding SonAmy and Sonally fans claiming that he was CLEARLY biased towards one or the other. You had the people who just really, really liked one of the previous writers way more - usually Penders, as hard as that may be to believe today. That sort of thing. Pretty normal comic fandom type stuff. Again, it comes with the territory.

Unfortunately, many of those haters only got worse over time, morphing into reactionaries who constantly try to incite Comicsgate type culture war bullshit.

There are people still mad at Ian for making Sally bi and pairing her with Nicole instead of Sonic in the later Archie comics. There have been elaborate MS Paint red string conspiracy boards explaining how people like Ian and Jon Gray have apparently been destroying the franchise from the inside for years by Making Sonic Woke. (Jon gets dragged into this because people are still mad about him drawing The Slap 20 years later. Yes, really!!) There was an unhinged change.org petition trying to get Ian fired, specifically from people who were mad that the Freedom Fighters aren't in the IDW comics. There was even a very sad little fan campaign from these people trying to get Sega to move the Sonic comic license away from IDW and over to Udon, because they thought Udon would bring Sally and Bunnie back and also make them sexy again. There's a lot of this.

(Unfortunately, Penders has also exacerbated this by gossiping about Ian on Twitter and giving these fans ammo, but that's a whole 'nother discussion.)

The thing is, for years, people who only played the games or watched the cartoons had no reason to pay attention to any of this. Now, though, Ian isn't just writing for some weird spinoff comics that only the super nerds read. Now he's writing comics that are canon to the games, and ALSO some of the games themselves, and ALSO consulting on other tie-in media like Sonic Prime, and ALSO writing the official Sonic encyclopedia, and ALSO serving as part of the new Sonic Lore Team at Sega. And on top of all this, he's got an increasingly popular podcast where he fields questions about his work on all of these things, which serves as one of the fandom's main windows into creative decisions being made behind the scenes.

As a fan of Ian's work, it's been really cool to see him rise in prominence. But the dark side of this is that his obsessive haters from the Archie days now have WAY more of a potential audience of their own. Now, every Sonic fan has to have an opinion on Ian. What this frequently means is that you'll have the Comicsgate types taking things Ian writes or says out of context, attempting to get more of the general fandom to yell at the guy.

Unfortunately, there are a wide variety of Sonic fans who take the bait:

You've got hardcore fans who disliked basically any recent piece of Sonic media and are looking for someone to blame.

You've got the people who are concerned about the sanctity of Sonic's canon, who shoot the messenger any time Ian mentions a new retcon from Sonic Team on the podcast - or any time he even mentions the THOUGHT of changing anything about the canon, as we saw recently with the Sol Dimension nonsense.

You've got people who romanticize some sort of mythical artistic vision that Sega of Japan supposedly has (or had) for the franchise. To many of these fans, American contributors like Ian just don't "get" the heart of the series and are trying to turn Sonic into something different. (This "heart of the series" tends to be some mix of Japanese instruction manual lore, the cinematics from Sonic CD, the OVA, and/or the games written by Shiro Maekawa, depending on what Sonic media the fan in question grew up with.)

You've got fans of specific characters or ships who pin the blame for how their faves are depicted entirely on Ian - most vocally fans of Shadow, even though the root problem is that Sonic Team hasn't known what to do with Shadow since 2006. At best this stops at regular old criticism, but at its worst this devolves into claims that Ian has an agenda against certain characters.

You've got fans annoyed by a perceived over-emphasis on comic-original characters in the IDW comics, ignoring the obvious facts that these characters exist because the game cast is so tightly controlled by Sega, and also, you know, that people just like the IDW characters and want more stories about them.

You've got a LOT of discourse over IDW's Sonic being a hero who tries to give his enemies second chances, as if half of Sonic's closest friends aren't already former villains and rivals. Honestly this is very transparently just reheated Steven Universe discourse lmao

You'll also see people who just think they could do Ian's job better. They can't believe that THIS GUY is the American fan working on all these Sonic projects, when clearly THEY understand the characters and lore and themes SO much better than this charlatan.

All it takes is for someone in one of these categories to be unhappy about some recent piece of Sonic media, and for them to come across an out of context quote or comic panel that rubs them the wrong way, and suddenly the leftist Zoomer Sonic fans will join the latest dogpile on Ian alongside the reactionary Comicsgate types who are mad at him for Making Sonic Woke.

In general, when fandoms get upset, they tend to want a scapegoat. A person or two to point a finger at and go "THAT's who ruined the thing I love!" This tends to be based less on reality and more on which contributors are the most visible online. You'll sometimes see teenage and adult fans of children's cartoons single out a storyboarder who's particularly vocal on Twitter, blame them for every story decision they don't like, and harass them off the platform out of a sense of retribution for their favorite ship or whatever. Failing that, fans might choose to blame every nitpick, down to individual lines of dialogue and frames of animation, on a showrunner, just because that's the name they associate with the show. And unfortunately, when it comes to Sonic, Ian is now arguably the most prolific and outspoken contributor on the English speaking internet, and therefore a common scapegoat.

Some of the things I've seen Ian blamed for are truly wild. A lot of people have claimed for YEARS that he's just lying about the existence of creative guidelines and restrictions from Sega - or, as fans call them, The Mandates - even though they're just an inherent aspect of working on a licensed property. Others claim that The Mandates are real, but somehow Ian's fault. A vocal minority of fans have convinced themselves that Ian is the sole reason the Freedom Fighters don't exist in the IDW comics, even though Ian says he's been pushing to bring them back since day one.

Sometimes you'll see people say he ruined shit he didn't even work on. A few weeks ago on Twitter I saw someone claim that Ian had written a rejected script for Sonic Forces in which Tails died. I could not find a source for this for the life of me. As far as I can tell, the rumor seems to have been born from an alleged leaked script for Forces with margin notes from Aaron Webber that criticized the way Tails was written, and also an old tweet where Aaron joked that Tails would die in an upcoming episode of Sonic Mania Adventures. These merged into "Aaron Webber criticized a draft of the Forces script in which Tails died." How'd Ian get dragged into this? Who fucking knows!

It's all just a big game of telephone. All it takes is some asshole to make something up about Ian on Twitter or YouTube or a DeviantArt journal or some forum, and at least a couple people will believe it, and then it gets repeated as fact. Again, this used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie Sonic fandom, but now there are WAY more people who are receptive to this shit.

It's just sad to me that Ian tries to be so open and honest about his work, to try to explain the rationale for certain things, to keep fans looped in on the direction the franchise is headed, and this just gives the Flynnspiracy types more quotes to take out of context and try to paint him as the devil. If it sounds like I'm being overly defensive and dismissing his critics, man... some of the things I've seen people say directly to him are just unbelievable. People will send paragraphs-long angry screeds in to his podcast that completely tear him apart, and he has to sit there and be like "Well, that's your opinion, and you're entitled to it." People literally pay for special guest interview episodes where they just rapid fire complaints about his writing at him directly to his face. I don't know how he does it. I would snap.

All of this over Sonic the fucking Hedgehog of all things.

I don't know how to wrap this up. Engaging with fandoms online is very tiring, which is why I tend not to do it. Things like this are too common. I guess, just... remember that making art collaboratively is a complicated thing. The people involved are generally trying their best given the circumstances, but they're only human. They make mistakes. But please treat them like humans. Criticism and dogpiling are not the same thing.

#anon #ask #tkp asks #tkp post

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mechaknight-98 · 15 days

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Na Matsuri Da, Na Matsuri Da (NSFW) FT Sakura Miyawaki

Authors note: if anyone gets the title reference they shall receive a cookie. Also my girl looks sexy as hell and continues to have me fall in love with her everyday. (I understand I am delusional, but it's fine for someone so fine.)

Getting to the airport was the easy part. Getting Le Sserafim out of LAX was a challenge. The fans were everywhere and I was barely able to get all the Fimmies in my car as I drove them to their hotel. Sakura rode in the front with me which was a large mistake as she spent the entire ride gripping my cock. She didn't do anything else to it, or try anything lewd just kept a possessive grip on me the whole ride, and it only served to fuel my fire for her right now. We would steal ravenous glances at the other. Each glance is a promise to devour the other at the first accessible chance.

She wore a bralette that emphasized her petite and perky breasts but also showed off plenty of skin made imagine a myriad of scenes consisting of of me glazing her. Her gaze also didn't help as when our eyes would meet the others the only visible emotion was lust and arousal which threatened to overwhelm us.

We could see it mirrored in each other's eyes. Before we could talk we needed to fuck, but we couldn't just pull over and fuck each other's brains out with her other members in the car. So we drove and continued our dangerous dance of just letting the tension and arousal build. I was able to focus on the road and drive them out of El Segundo where we stopped for food,

“What are you guys in the mood for,” I asked the Fimmies

“Burgers,” Eunchae responded before the rest of them quickly agreed. Lucky for me there was an In-n-Out nearby. So I pull in and let the Fimmies out giving them a chance to stretch their legs and somewhat accustom themselves to the Socal desert Chaparral heat. The girl group gasps as they exit the car as the hot air hits them.

“What the fuck,” Yunjin says as she breathes heavily,

“You live in this weather oppa,” Eunchae asks fatigued. I nod as

Sakura is eerily silent but I can feel her gaze bore into me. We get into the restaurant where The Fimmies take a deep breath of cold AC air.

“Woo that's better,” Chaewon said relieved as we ordered. After ordering I decided to go to the restroom. I enter to get a break from Sakura and clear my head a bit. As I splashed water on myself I felt an intense jolt travel up my spine as I felt something grab my cock. I turned back around to see Kkura her eyes contained an endless pool of lust. I go to slide my hands down her pants as I go in for a devouring kiss. Her lips taste like cherry. When Sakura feels my hands dip into her core she swats my hands away, before breaking the kiss.

“No not here. not yet,” she rasped trying to catch her breath. Our bodies try to resist the pull to breed fuck the other but we get tongue-tied into another kiss. As our tongues wrap around each other and naughty hands explore our bodies we get a text interrupting us. Our food is ready. We both groan before separating and going back to grab the food. As usual, In-n-Out delivers an enjoyable (and inexpensive) experience. While we eat Sakura cuddles next to me. Feeling better after eating and emboldened, I feel her free hand slip down my pants and she begins to stroke me. I look at her and she gives me her innocent confused doe eyes. “무어, “ she says while looking at me innocently as her strokes become more intense. I gathered my composure as we ate and texted Kura.

“If you make me cum here the damage I will do to you will be irreparable.”

“Is that a promise babe because I need my breeding Stud to fill my pussy until my stomach inflates,” Sakura whispered in my ear as she stopped stroking but kept a firm yet pleasant grip on my cock. The only thought in my mind is I need to fuck this Japanese vixen brainless, but we needed privacy. At least an hour or two.

A lifeline came in the form of a yawn from Yunjin after In-n-out.

“Woo, I'm tired. Hey Daigo can you drive us to the hotel,” Yunjin asks hopeful and I nod after everyone finishes eating. As we leave Sakura has me take some cute pictures of her but my mind is so cloudy by lust at this point the only thing I can think of is pinning her down and pummeling her pussy. This is only further exacerbated by how she goes back to gripping my cock the entire ride back.

When we reached the hotel I was surprised to hear that each Fimmie got their own rooms. Sakura invited me into hers and we lost control when the door shut.

We look at each other and the only thing I see in her eyes is a starved lust. My brain being bad decides the best course of action is to say this, “I think I'm going to have a good one but more than one.”

Sakura begins to laugh before ripping her bralette and sweatpants off. she's not wearing panties which only meant one thing. she moves closer to me fully naked. As she does she licks her lips her eyes heavily dilated with desire she begins to monologue like an evil witch, and honestly, I am so into it.

"I waited for 3 weeks: No touching myself, No watching porn, No relief because nothing satisfied me like my stud's cock." I gulped. I had never seen her this intense. she cornered me, then leaned into my ear. "it's okay babe relax it's still me your cherry blossom, your breeding bitch," she said before biting my ear. the flip switched and my timidness was gone. she left my ear and was brought into a fervent and lurid kiss initiated by me. As we kissed I began stripping. I needed my breeding bitch as much as she needed me. my cock was rock hard as I pulled my pants down and plunged into her. her tightness along with my sensitivity and both of our teasing of each other caused us to cum at the same time as soon as I bottomed out in her. Our first orgasms hit us like we had been mauled, but it wasn't enough. we needed more. I lifted Sakura and threw her onto the bed. She yelped in pleasure her big brown eyes only held lust and excitement. I took off my shirt leaving us now equally naked. I leaned above her and caressed her face.

"Please fill me I need it," Sakura whined. I smiled and said

"and why should I give it to you?"

"Please babe I…ooh," Sakura said as I plunged into her while she was distracted. As I thrust in and out of her I took her right nipple into my mouth. Sakura moaned in ecstasy as she drove me further into her breast.

"Yes suck on my sensitive tits," she yelled before I switched to the other one. Her perfect pussy fit me as if we always meant to fuck each other. her aroused scent filled my nostrils adding more fuel to the proverbial fire as I kept pumping in and out of her.

"Oh yes, this is my cock. the cock I have been missing," Sakura said.

"I'm glad you like it. your pussy is pleasant as always," I said to Sakura as she tightened around me. We looked at each other and smiled at each other. in addition to the euphoria we felt I could feel the mutual affection. It made me consider leaving everything behind and moving in with her.

"Hey. Hey. Hey earth to Daigo," Sakura said as my eyes focused on her.

"What's up babe," I ask

"you zoned out," Sakura said. "It's rude. I work so hard to look pretty for you and you have the nerve to have your mind wander. Hmph," Sakura said with a pout. I smiled at her and pulled out.

"Well, I was thinking about us, and this long-distance thing. I think I want to get rid of that distance," Sakura looked at me with surprise.

"Oh, that's big. Are you sure," She asked hesitantly. I nod

"Sakura I love you. I love your ambition. I love your drive to succeed. I love your eyes. I love your humor and willingness to be the butt of the joke. you're incredible, and being with you here now I feel at peace with you. I never want to leave you again," I replied. Sakura's eyes narrowed as she smiled with a combination of lust and joy. She hopped on top.

"I love you too Daigo, but I still need to feel your cum inside me," Sakura moaned as she began to ride me.

"Oh god, Kura. I'm close," I moaned as she ground her pussy into me. Kura smiles, and I cum inside her. she moans as she cums again as well. we fuck through another orgasm before our bodies come down. and we look at each other.

"Okay let's figure this out," Sakura says eyes and body still caught in the afterglow. I nod.

"Before we do this though there is something important I need to tell you. I am a ninja," Sakura said.

"Huh," Was my response.

#kpop fanfic #miyawaki sakura #lesserafim #le sserafim sakura #sakura smut #sakura miyawaki #izone sakura

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nilsavatar · 2 months

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DAY 31 - A/B/O

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, ANGST, SMUT in the end, love bites, rubbing, sexual tension, olfactophilia (they both turn on by smelling arousal/pheromones), P in V, manhandling, oral (f receiving), face fucking, fingering, praising, cursing, pet name (ma’uniltı`ranyu - my dreamwalker), rough, knotting, dirty talk, overstimulation, edging, strangers to lovers, first time (first heat, loss of avatar body virginity), begging, difference in power (alpha-omega dynamics), soft-dom Neteyam (mention of marking, possessive behavior but he’s kind and caring), Jamie Flatters cameo. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Living in the body of an avatar is not as simple as one might think.

Little note: OMG! You have no idea how happy I am to have finally finished this fic. It has been on hiatus for so many months that I thought I would never publish it. The more time passed, the more the pressure to write something worth the long wait increased. I rewrote it so many times, but it never seemed good enough, and the editing was exhausting. I hope with all my heart not to disappoint your expectations. Please be forgiving: this is my first Omegaverse. Thank you🥰

If you would like to be tagged in future fics, please write it in the comments. I will be happy to add you all💕

Word Count: 7,6k

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Aubree’s knowledge as a xenobiologist fell short in front of the challenges of living as a dreamwalker among the Na’vi.

The presence of a secondary sex was fascinating, fictional in the eyes of a human being, accustomed to a binary system. But on Pandora, things were way different. The natives displayed their primary sex (male or female) from birth, and their roles in the clan were influenced by signs that emerged during puberty. Alphas, predominantly men, possessed a massive physiognomy. Tall, muscular, strong-willed, controlled in character, yet predisposed to irascibility. Betas were the largest group, with an equal proportion of females and males, and the most human-like. Omegas, mostly women, were known for their petite and delicate build, along with a calming demeanor.

When she arrived on Pandora, she had no particular expectations of what her avatar’s designation would be. Still, no one would ever have considered a potential alpha looking at her features. Aubree was a spitfire who was unlikely to be pushed around and knew her stuff in professional terms. Someone who won’t let you get away with nothing. However, her dainty physique and conflict-avoiding tendency were clear indications she would be an omega (or beta at best). The moment she connected with the hybrid, clarity rained down on her like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Her own body erupted in a chorus of sensations, each one clamoring for attention. It was as if every nerve ending had awoken from a deep sleep, demanding to be felt. The omega within seemed to mold itself to her presence, wrapping around her with the natural warmth of a long-lost sibling's affection. Its voice, like a lullaby, soothed tenderly in her ears, caressed her senses, evoking a bittersweet nostalgia. It had waited for her for a lifetime, patiently biding, though she felt as if it had always been there; their destinies entwined for eternity. The connection felt familiar as if it had always been an integral part of her existence, hidden deep within her soul, longing to be seen. A joyous reunion with her inner essence, theirs, rather than a discovery of something new about herself. As her eyes fluttered open, the blinding white light of the hospital room assaulted her vision, her first instinct was to cry. Overwhelmed by the pent-up emotions that had been building within her.

Yet another factor played a role — a negative note. The recognition wasn’t exclusive to her; everyone around her, from the very moment she had awoken as an avatar, had sensed, smelled what she was. And this made it obvious why omegas often experienced such a designation as a condemnation.

Alphas’ attentions may be... excessive.

From a human perspective, Na’vi were naturally intrusive. The concept of personal space between the two species was totally at odds; they were prone to be close, to touch each other, to smell each other. A fundamental part of their socialization techniques. Aubree could have learned to tolerate it as a cultural trait if her alpha-designated colleagues didn’t engage in the same behaviors. They couldn’t help themselves.

“It’s the pheromones,” said matter-of-fact Max, not having any other scientific explanation. Studies on the subject were stalled. Without a vomeronasal organ connected to the brain, or terrestrial examples to refer to, they couldn’t describe the phenomenon. The only thing palpable to both of them, equally inexplicable, was that her wake was inviting. Alphas were almost reduced to a primal state around her. “You should talk to the Tsahìk about this,” Aubree mentally berated herself for not thinking of it sooner. Who better than the Tsahìk, the spiritual leader of the clan and the highest authority among healers, to provide her with the answers she sought? And maybe even help in dealing with the symptoms.

The healers’ tent wasn’t large. Quite the opposite, it was indeed small. The room appeared even tinier with the disorganized heap of things stacked on top of each other in a jumbled mess, creating the feeling it could burst at any time. An imminent threat to be fair. However, under scrutiny, one could discern an order in the distribution of the items. To her right, tools of various types and sizes covered the entire wall. To the left, on shelves arranged by color, were terracotta jars filled with powders and ointments. Some were large, others tiny; some had regular shapes, others were bizarre, tongued, or angular. Engraved on the bottom of each were symbols. An early form of writing, considering the People were still oral.

A little further down, the counter ran around the entire interior of the room to the nearest post of mattresses where sicks could rest. Behind the cupboard was the massiest shelf of all. Ampoules, mirrors, rolls of cloth, baskets of bandages, needles, and flowers stuffed somehow. That place was a unique contradiction, ranging from manic order to disturbing chaos. Despite the dimness and the oppressive atmosphere, the tent also emitted a serene, welcoming feeling, akin to the mystical aura of a shaman’s lair.

But one not was out of place. Post-its here and there written in… English? What were post-its doing in the Tsahìk tent? They were so out of context.

“I see the human touch doesn’t go unnoticed.” Aubree gasped, more at the dull sound of something heavy being moved across the counter than the surprise itself. A woman emerged from the myriad of baskets scattered across the floor, placed one on the wooden shelf, and emptied its contents. Her hair, just above her chin, was straight but messy. The tswin, displayed in front of her chest, obscured the huge needle that hung from her slender neck. At every movement, the beads of the intricate shawl that covered her shoulders and breasts jingled, as lively as a child’s laughter. A streaked cerulean complexion set off lemon-yellow irises fixed upon her like those of a cat.

How old was she? Her face appeared youthful, almost adolescent, yet her eyes betrayed wisdom and worldliness far beyond her years.

“You must be Aubree. I was waiting for you to show up.” It seemed as if the healer’s pupils flickered at the sound of her name. The avatar stepped forward. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Kiri te Suli Kireysi’ite, Tsahìk of the Omatikaya.” Acting on impulse, she extended her hand, but when the young woman didn’t shake it, she hastily corrected the gesture into the typical bow of greeting and reverence. She looked amused.

“No need for formality here. We are the same age and are both researchers. We have more in common than you might think.” A smirk curved her plump lips as she put her fists on her sides. “To what do I owe the glee of your visit? I suppose you need to ask me something.” Her sudden remark made her jolt. The Na’vi woman stopped arranging the shelves and turned to look at her with anticipation. “Well?” “I wouldn’t know where to even start. It’s something I don’t fully understand,” she confessed. “Is it related to your dreamwalker body?” She nodded. “But humans cannot help you.” It wasn’t a question, but the scientist nodded anyway. Kiri drew a smile and disappeared behind a curtain that separated the room from the next one — a laboratory. After several minutes, she reappeared with a small box full of tea filters. “Have one in the morning and another in the evening. It’s a suppressant; it will quell your pheromones.”

Aubree blushed furiously. How…?

“I might be just a beta, but your wake is so strong that it knocked me out for a sec. I dare not imagine the effect you have on alphas.” “Not pleasant.” “Much too pleasant, you mean,” she chuckled. “Be careful not to abuse the drug. You wouldn’t want to find out about the side effects. And remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during estrus.”

Estrus.

The idea hadn’t crossed her mind at all when she accepted her Ph.D. and joined the AVTR Program. She was so thrilled to pursue her dream she would have accepted any job proposal. And who was she to deny she had always felt a fascination about natives? Na’vi estrus cycle was highly articulated and varied by secondary sex designation. Beta females, like humans, had a menstrual cycle and were potentially always fertile, exhibiting no visual, behavioral, or olfactory signals announcing impending ovulation.

Quite a different story for omegas and alphas.

The former went into heat three times a year, about four months between cycles, and could last up to seven agonizing days in the absence of a partner to care for them. This was their peak fertility period. The latter rutted once a year, and the length of the inter-anestrus was unpredictable. In mated pairs wasn’t uncommon for one’s heat to trigger the other’s.

“What should I do when it happens?” “Well, the most natural advice would be to spend it with a playmate, preferably an alpha, as theirs are the only pheromones that have a calming effect on omegas. There is no risk of conception for those who are not mated, so as long as your kuru’s are not entwined, let go.” “Mm, alternatives?” “Lock yourself in a shelter until it ends, away from everyone. But that is the least desirable option. It’s terribly painful to face heat alone.” “I could stay disconnected as long as my avatar is in this state.” “Risking dying of dehydration and starvation in the meantime? Or worse, that some alpha will have fun at your expense?” Kiri hastened to say, noticing the scientist’s horrified expression. “Yes, it has happened, and I assure you that the physical memory of the trauma remains, even if consciousness was not present.” “But I’ll still have to log out myself. My human body needs care, too.” “All the more reason you should find someone to look after you, and quickly. Your first heat is approaching.”

As if that were a small thing.

“My intuition tells me you’ll be fine. Now go. And drink your infusion.” She was about to leave the tent when one last question left Aubree’s lips: “How will I know I’m in heat?” “Oh, trust me, you’ll know.”

She was so absorbed in Kiri’s words that she didn’t even notice the hungry glances she was catalyzing. Especially that of a distinguished man wearing a feathered cloak. The young Olo’eyktan followed her figure as she made her way back to the human outpost until she was swallowed up by the thick undergrowth.

“She doesn’t have a mate if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice to his left exclaimed. As he turned, he came face to face with the Tsahìk, whose penetrating stare revealed a cunning expression that hinted at a deeper understanding. “I don’t see why this indiscretion of yours should interest me.” “Mm, I don’t know. Seems like she caught your interest.” “Hard to ignore with the trail she carries.” A corner of Kiri’s mouth twitched: Neteyam had just been trapped in the net. “She’s not the first omega with such a scent passing under your nose, but you’ve barely noticed the others.” The young man’s back straightened. “What's your point?” “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”

Neteyam’s gaze was again lost in scanning the spot where the avatar had vanished, lost in a thousand thoughts. Unaware of the bright, wide smile that now graced his sister’s beautiful face. The satisfied smirk of one who sees three moves ahead.

Upon entering the research division’s canteen, some may have felt as if they stepped into Goldilocks’ fairy tale. Everything in there was big, big or small, small, except for the stove and tables, which were set at an intermediate height so that both avatars and pilots could use them.

Aubree stared at the teapot brewing the concoction Kiri had given her; her nose stung by the pungent yet fresh smell of nettle wafting from the spout. Carefully, she poured the liquid into a cup without straining — Ingest the leaves — and drank it. Immediately, her throat burned and a tremendous itch seemed to want to tear it open.

Shit, even worse than anticipated.

She took a seat on the plush sofa, its velvety fabric enveloping her frame. As she pressed play on the remote, the screen flickered to life, casting a soft glow on the dimply lit room. Her eyes followed the vivid images of a movie for distraction, but her mind was eaten up by the searing prickle that intensified with each passing moment. The discomfort became all-consuming, shielding her from the outside world, as if the itchy sensations had woven a barrier around her, isolating the woman in her own thoughts. She was oblivious to her colleague’s presence until he sank into the cushions beside her. His arm hung weakly on the backrest, almost brushing against her shoulder. But it was his sudden loud snort that jolted her back to reality. Aubree jumped as she turned to her right and found Jamie. His left knee wedged into his opposite ankle, his foot dangling in her direction. His head rested an inch from the wall, eyes half-closed in a drowsy state.

“You look tired.”

The guy let out a low, rumbling laugh in his typical mumble before replying that he felt like a bulldozer had run over him. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, evident in the strain it put on his distinct British accent. She surreptitiously watched him, taking in the details of his avatar that closely resembled the human it was created from. His gaze remained the same, although his blue irises had now turned a striking shade of yellow. His lips and teeth mirrored the original, except for the canines. When he smiled full-mouthed, two dimples appeared on his cheeks, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners, as if they were smiling, too. His slightly protruding incisors gave his face a boyish charm, contrasting with his strong, masculine features. He radiated a sense of gentleness.

That last remark had the same effect as lightning illuminating the night. They were conversing freely, as they would have if they were humans.

An alpha and an omega.

Aubree had gotten into the habit of avoiding alphas as much as possible when she was in this body; head down, shy look, walk fast. Never within nose reach. But Jamie did not lose his cool in her presence. He didn’t sniff the air greedily. His gaze didn’t become insistent as it passed over her face. He didn’t moisten his lips endlessly or clench his jaw and fists as if to keep himself from jumping on her. Nor did hold his breath and make excuses, running for his life as he was wont to do.

The suppressor was working!

The success of the next days was enough for the unknown estrus to recede into the background, in the darkest and most hidden place in her head. Who could blame her? Her life was finally back to normal. After all, her avatar's first heat couldn't have been so terrible, could it? Just stick to this simple recipe and everything will be fine, repeated as a mantra.

Remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during the heat.

Time passed, and days turned into weeks. The taste of the medicine became more tolerable as her throat grew accustomed to its piquant flavor. Even if it wasn’t, the end justified the means. Aubree took the doses with obsessive precision, but after a few months, she noticed the effects wearing off, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it began. The first warning came in the form of mild dizziness when she logged in, accompanied by a lingering feeling of fever. Then, her appetite waned, alternating with sudden bouts of hunger. Finally, twinges settled in her iliac fossae. She chalked it as harmless PMS, nothing she hadn’t already experienced. Most importantly, not a cause for alarm regarding her host’s performance or health; the hybrid was fully functional.

Wait a minute. Premenstrual syndrome?

As she walked down the hallway leading to the medical area, her mind wandered back to her last period. Her forefinger swiftly navigated the tablet, selecting the calendar app she used to track her menstrual cycle. She was still a long way from the start of the next one, a full two weeks, right in the middle of her fertility window. Maybe I’m ovulating. The symptoms she had been going through lately aligned with that assumption. Breast sensitivity, a slight increase in discharge, heightened lubrication, and libido.

This would have been enough to reassure her, if not for the steady, soft beeping coming from the hospital room, serving as a haunting reminder. Her stare roamed beyond the glass, taking in the circle of Link Units surrounding a pair of desks in the center, a total of eight. It settled on the last station on the far left. Number 3. Her lucky number. Well, not so lucky, given how things were going. The monitor next to it showed the status of the machine, the vitals of the subject inside, the neural activity of the two interconnected brains. The real-time image of the pilot's unconscious face.

Aubree’s face.

And so she realized the symptoms were none other than the avatar's. Ovulation, PMS, cravings were all alarm bells that the heat was near. But who gave her the coup de grâce was Jamie himself.

The guy was running towards her, calling out and weaving, eager for something he was about to share if he didn’t put the brakes on his run. With his palm up to cover his mouth and nose, he said, “Woah Bree... You stink.” His pupils showed a hint of dilation. “It’s time, isn’t it? The suppressant isn’t working anymore.” “Guess so.” “Um, I don’t wanna freak you out or anything, but...” He scratched nervously at the back of his head, no longer holding her gaze. “... if you ever need help dealing with… that. I mean, if I were in your shoes, I’d prefer a friend taking care of me over some random dude. So...” “Thanks, Jamie, for the offer. I know it’s from a genuine interest, and that you’re not trying to take advantage of the situation. I appreciate it, but maybe the Tsahìk can help me out while I’m in the shelter.” “It could last for days.” “I still haven’t come to terms that intercourses are the only way. She's possibly making it sound worse than it actually is.” “Possibly not. Thinking you’ll be locked up somewhere suffering...” "I'll log out for the night," Aubree giggled. “Besides, it would be kinda weird, don’t you think? We work together.” Now he couldn’t help but laugh. “I do science. Stuff like that won't faze me. You better hurry, based on the scent you're giving off, you could be in heat any minute. If you change your mind...” With a last playful wink, Jamie left.

Free to return to her concerns, Aubree’s smile turned into a taut line. She had to find Kiri. Quickly.

As she battled the relentless fever, the seemingly endless and overwhelming path to Hometree stretched out before her. Every step was a struggle, her trembling hands clutching onto the rough tree trunks for support. Fatigue weighed heavily upon her, her eyes squinting against the blinding rays of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. The intense heat made her perspire profusely, the dampness seeping through her clothes, clinging to her body like a second skin. She wished she could strip off her garments; the discomfort unbearable. The thought of dying of shame seemed trivial compared to the fire that consumed her from within, leaving her skin burning and blistering.

Sounds of prolemuris filled the air, their calls echoing through the dense canopy. The heavy, rich, damp bouquet of lush vegetation mingled with the freshness of rain and whiffs of her scent, alerting a hunter nearby to her presence. His senses heightened. With narrowed eyes, he tasted the air, as if savoring a fine wine. The particles rose into his nostrils, painting a vivid image of Aubree in his mind. Her sweet face, adorned with sparkling eyes, and sinuous curves stood out against the dry features of the People.

As he continued to track her trail, his pupils dilated, his senses enticed by the lingering aroma. Every step he took, he could feel the dampness of the forest floor beneath his feet, the rough texture of the leaves brushing against his fingertips. The air was alive with anticipation, as if holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable. But as quickly as the scent had captivated him, the hunter’s instincts kicked in. He realized that if he could smell her, others could too. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the rainforest. With a determined resolve, he pressed on, his senses alert, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

He left his prey to almost run the distance that separated him from the woman. His omega. The moments it took him to reach her seemed like hours when they were a handful of minutes at most. He found her at the foot of a plant, curled up in a ball, her cheeks stained with tears as she whispered incomprehensible words under her breath. The man staggered, his senses assaulted by the unmistakable pungent smell of her heat stench. A wake so overpowering that left him breathless and struck, unlike anything he had ever smelled before. Teeth gritted and jaw clenched to the breaking point, he bravely advanced towards her, finally falling to his knees. If only he had resisted his natural urges. He could not allow himself to give in. Not him.

With a gentle touch, he cradled her jaw in his palm and soothed her with slow, reassuring strokes along her side, repeating, “It’s alright, it’s alright. You’re safe now. You're not alone; I'm here for you. You’re going to be okay.” Her cry-streaked face trembled as she whispered, “Please... I can’t take it any longer,” cheeks dampened by an endless stream of tears. “Just take care of it.” He cursed in frustration, powerless that he couldn’t even bring her to his sister. Kiri was assisting a primipara in childbirth. “Please!” Before taking her in his arms and laying her gently against his chest, the Na’vi sighed, his voice filled with resignation, “Yes, whatever you need.”

Walking backward towards the nearest shelter, he kept his gaze fixed on the path, his piercing eyes fully focused on his surroundings, scanning for any signs of danger. The very direction he had originally come from. Not that anyone could have stood up to him under those circumstances. Regardless of whether he had reached the woman first, no one would have been foolish enough to challenge the clan’s top warrior.

Groaning, Aubree nuzzled against him, finding solace in the familiar and calming scent that emanated from his skin. Like lowered into a light, peaceful bubble, his soothing alpha pheromones everywhere. An alpha she couldn’t recognize, her vision too blurry, but to whom the omega inside her was singing a serenade. In this foggy confusion, she could only hear the beating of his heart against her ear and the oh-so-big, firm hands holding her up. And though she could not see him, starry eyes appeared in her mind’s eye, looking tenderly at her.

Her fantasy drifted away, picturing him holding her close, his lips exploring every inch of her body, and their lovemaking leaving her in a state of euphoric surrender. A shiver ran down her spine and made her throbbing quicken at the mere thought of being touched where the tremendous burn concentrated the most. The brush of his lips on her forehead and the tip of her nose made her believe, if only for an instant, that reality had merged with her imagination. His voice lingered in the air, like a gentle gust against her mouth, hinting that they were just moments away from their destination.

Where, she would have inquired, but there wasn’t much room for consistency in her head right now, her perceptions too chaotic to form a coherent question. She would have gone to the ends of the Universe, as long as it meant she could be near him.

Next to her, on her, inside her. Her heart raced with anticipation.

As the hunter laid her down on the mattress and went to fetch water, it was no surprise that her expression crinkled, her eyelids opened slightly, and a low moan eluded her parched lips.

“You need to drink,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern, as he offered out a small bowl. The liquid inside shimmered, reflecting the soft glow of the room. However, she shook her head, causing the contents to spill onto the floor, the sound of the liquid splashing echoing through the silence. A flicker of frustration crossed his face, but it quickly melted away, replaced by a deep-seated worry as he watched her. Her arms opened towards him, inviting him into her embrace. He had never encountered such desperation and helplessness in an omega before.

Calmly, he laid down beside her, pulling her gently towards him. As he hugged her, she could feel the tension slowly leaving her body. But it wasn’t enough. Aubree craved more, she needed more. And so he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft and tender, like a delicate caress. When she bit into them, the taste exploded on her tongue, a blend of sweet honey and warm sunshine. The flavors danced and mingled, delighting her senses. Closing her eyes, she felt a rush of sparks and stars illuminating her mind. His tongue explored her mouth with a gentle touch, mirroring the soothing sensation of his hands as they massaged her tense shoulders.

She felt perfect, cocooned in the strength of his embrace. The soft glow of candlelight danced across their entwined bodies, casting a warm, intimate atmosphere. The warmth of his arms, his faint scent mingled with her own, enveloped her, creating a sweet, comforting haven from the outside world. Yet, an intoxicating sensation filled the air as she nestled against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. A soothing melody that resonated deep within her. Every touch, every caress, sent waves of bliss coursing through her body. In this moment, she found solace and contentment, knowing that she had found her rightful place - in his loving arms.

She was exactly where she belonged, complete and fulfilled.

When he let go, she was panting, her lungs desperate for oxygen, her heart pounding in her chest. All she could see were his eyes, lost in darkness. Delighting in her exquisite taste, surpassing his wildest dreams, he pressed his lips against her face and kissed her deeply. The overwhelming passion seemed to consume her, suffocating her with its intensity. He gently moved away, giving her a chance to catch her breath, and as he did, he positioned himself on top of her, taking off the thin t-shirt she had on.

As much as he longed to press his skin against the avatar's, the Na’vi couldn’t help but be drawn to her curvaceous physique, a stark contrast to the ruggedness of his own kind. He took his sweet time to admire her; the naked breasts, the rounder hips, he could not resist stroking them with his fingertips. Aubree’s scent brainwashed him, a slave to the instinct to take her where she was, but in the back of his mind, there was still enough clarity to realize that he was truly amazed by the wonder of the woman before him. He liked her. He really liked her. He had liked her from the first moment he had noticed her, her trail so enchanting that it could not be ignored.

Once again, he yearned to taste her, to hold her. He placed his lips upon every reachable inch, leaving his mark with his intoxicating scent. He lavished attention on her face, caressed her eyes, nibbled on her ears, traced her collarbones, and claimed her neck, burying his nose in her skin, his tongue tenderly exploring the hidden depths behind her shoulder. It was a remarkably sensitive spot, causing her to surrender to pleasure, her corneas tilting backward in ecstasy. The surge of pheromones transformed into a primal growl, resonating deep within her core; uncontrollable shivers coursed through her body. He pressed harder against her hips, releasing a second wave that intensified their connection.

Aubree wrapped her limbs around him, squeezing him in a fervent embrace. The sound of their mingling breaths filled the air as their lips met once more, a symphony of desire. Overwhelmed by the sensation of his body against hers, she reveled in the way he effortlessly fit into the curves of her form. Each kiss and caress he bestowed upon her skin brought a cascade of relief that engulfed her senses.

Through the graceful dance of their bodies, she felt the weight of his longing against her. Every movement spoke volumes of his desire to please her, to alleviate her anguish. As his lips explored her skin, a low, guttural moan escaped her throat, resonating with a mixture of gratification and pain. In the air, a spice of raw passion intertwined with a hint of vulnerability. In his touch, she could sense the depth of his caring, his soulful dominance.

She realized how similar they were: two people subjected to their nature.

Equally desperate, her lungs aching, she reached a trembling hand towards his tail, fingers brushing against the coarse texture of the loincloth. The tightly cinched knot resisted her efforts, causing each tug to reverberate with a faint sound of strained fabric. The hunter, his muscles trembling with anticipation, propped himself up slightly, his breaths mingling with hers in the dimly lit room.

Time slowed to a torturous crawl as he painstakingly unraveled the knot, his fingers working with meticulous precision. The sensation of the fiber slipping through his grasp sent shivers down his spine, a mix of alleviation and frustration intertwining in his chest. The weight of the tewng around his ankles became a physical reminder of the barriers they both longed to shed. Almost on the verge of tears, he yearned for liberation from this confining cloth, craving the proximity and warmth they shared. With a swift motion, he freed himself from the bindings, the garment rustling quietly as it fell to the ground. In an instant, he pulled her back into his embrace, his arms blanketing her with a renewed fervor.

As their bodies tangled, a rush of emotions flooded their senses — the scent of their shared desire hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musky aroma of sweat. The touch of their skin, now unencumbered, ignited a fire that burned with an intensity they could no longer deny.

The scientist loved every moment; his piercing, smoldering gaze fixated on her, lolling in every tender touch, every flattering word, but she reached her limit, and he could sense it. Suddenly, the biting cold dusk shrouded her exposed form. Her garments were violently ripped away, leaving her vulnerable. The icy sensation lasted only a fraction of a second, though, for that was all the time it took for the stranger to plunge into her doused core. His intricate braids tickled against the satin-like skin of her inner thigh. The balmy breeze of his breath danced upon her as she rolled up her sticky legs around his head. “No need for that,” she giggled, her voice trembling. The sharp edges of his canines teased her, causing a playful tingle to spread across her lips. His smile showing both desire and mischief.

With exasperating slowness, he inhaled in a long sniff, his expounded pupils pulsating as they reopened. He dove in to guzzle the juicy nectar at its source, emitting a hoarse moan with the initial sip. She gasped, feeling the vibration against her quivering lips, as a blissful wave rippled through her soul, intensifying her arousal. Gripping her silky hair, he nestled his face, exploring every crevice, nuzzling her thoroughly. His insatiable tongue and eager lips caressed the velvety walls of her intimate entrance, skillfully teasing the supple skin and delicate clitoris. His left hand, loving and firm, cupped her slender ankle, his touch sending shivers up her bone. Slowly, he trailed his hand up her smooth thigh, his fingertips tracing every contour, igniting a fiery anticipation within her. With a whispered whoop, he sank his index into her swollen, drenched core, the wetness coating his digit. There was no resistance, only an overwhelming urge for more. In sync with her ragged sighs, he added a second finger. The sound of their combined panting saturated the air as her grip tightened around his relentless, plunging fingers.

At this point, Aubree was trembling with need as every fiber within her begged to be fucked. The alpha’s dominant pheromones beguiled her, while his languid, deliberate movements captivated her gaze. His hungry eyes, dark and all-consuming held her spellbound by the way he devoured her. The crushed combination of his present and skill left her subdued, infatuated even. As her back arched in pleasure, a primordial scream tore through her open windpipe. Excitement was so intense, a fiery mixture of ecstasy and release so gratifying and flawless, that her omega felt a devastating love than just heat. In that instant, he hit her G-spot with caustic precision one final time, causing her to pour forth in a torrential climax. A violent, passionate eruption met by the man’s eager mouth, which drank her essence like a thirsty beast.

However, something unexpected happened as the orgasm subsided. Aubree burst into tears.

Copious tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks; wet, hot streaks that burned almost as scorching as the new, unbearable fire festering in her belly. Sobs rang through the shelter as he called her back, holding her tightly in his protective embrace, now curled against his chest seeking consolation. “Shushu... ‘Upe kemwiä? (What is it?).” He murmured, his lips resting on her temples as he futilely wiped away her tear-strained cheekbones. “It doesn’t go away, it doesn’t go away.” She cried, her nails scratching his chest, desperately trying to hold on to something. Her nose rubbed against his rib cage, then his jaw to impregnate him with her perfume, his heart pounding wildly.

In a frenzy of kisses and bites and touches, he let her vent, his digits grazing along her spine, confused by the speed with which the urge had reassembled in her. The Na’vi was confused by the speed with which the itch had reassembled within her. Normally it would take a few hours after such a powerful first orgasm. Time to rest, eat, drink. Aubree badly needed hydration to combat the incessant fever that plagued her and the fluids she was losing.

“Take a moment to rest. You need to drink.” “Screw the water, I want you,” she confessed, her misty eyes fixated on him. They shimmered with unstoppable tears and thirst. Her face flushed with a violent purple. It was the most powerful heat the man had ever witnessed, and he wondered what had triggered it. That it was her first heat? Had the suppressors made her high? It was because of him? The alpha in him reprimanded him with the natural mildness of primal appetites. Just take her, she’s pleading for it. But he shook his head. It wasn’t him. He was better than that. He had been raised to care for others, not to use them. Alphas protect, that was what gave them purpose; he would do anything to protect his mate, even from herself.

Even though she wasn’t technically his mate.

Despite not being bonded in the traditional sense, their connection was undeniable. Aubree, unbeknownst to her, held a special place in his heart from the very moment they met. It was clear from the start that this outcome was unavoidable. Calling upon anything that could keep him sane, he held some sort of energy drink under her nose. “Näk (drink).” The omega sounded at this command. It was as if by speaking in his native language, he was able to assert himself a thousand times more forcefully, even if she didn't get his words. The omega knew for both of them. “Can you do this for me? Drink this and I'll give you everything you want.” She had never heard anything more beautiful. She swelled the entire contents in one gulp, her head dizzy from the sudden amount of sugar. She fell back between the pillows with a quickening pulse, even if he was stroking her hair comfortably. The fall brought a fresh whiff of her needy wake, filling the entire hut as well as his nostrils. Instinctively, the hunter took a deep breath. A breath, that stopped halfway as his brain registered the source of the trail between the woman’s legs. A shimmering fountain that caused him to let out a guttural roar of defeat. He was so weak to her.

As he settled between her groin, the tip of his erection brushed against the warrior’s waistband, still clinging to his torso. The only garment Aubree had allowed him to keep. The sight of him, breathtakingly elegant and athletic, thanks to Eywa’s mercy, overshadowed the idea of how many other omegas had the privilege of having him inside them before her. But now he was all hers. That thought alone ignited a fresh wave of excitement to blossom. He pressed his full weight onto her, and she wasted no time running her hands over his taut, strong, muscular back. Every contour, every sinew, was exquisitely formed and enticing under her touch. The closeness they shared, their bodies pressed against each other, sent a thrill through her. He smelled so damn good, hard and bothered for her. The way he responded to her advances only heightened her desire, flaring up a foreign heat in her veins, surpassing even her own natural instincts.

His shaft, long and thick, glided inside her, stealing her a gasp as he filled her in one fluid motion. Pleasure trembled through her, evident in her labored breathing and tightened walls. The barriers of her depths easily acclimated to his divine cock, satisfying even her smallest wishes. It was almost embarrassing to realize how every aspect of him was designed to please her — the texture of his body, the touch of his skin, the taste of his lips, the sound of his voice, his tantalizing scent.

She couldn’t help it and was somehow ashamed of her weakness. Her intimacy clenched at some point, in response to the blows he gave her, the few but deep sounds he made. So securely he gasped at the faint pain before rushing to her mouth in a ferocious kiss. Demanding, needy. He bit and pulled at her lip, pushing his tongue to lick the arch of hers, to suck her teeth, making her vibrate around him. Had she mentioned that his lips were amazing? Yes, she had, but who cared? She would have repeated over and over again how unworldly they melded with hers in such a sublime way that they would have stunned her if she weren’t for the crazy pheromones already. Aubree didn’t even know who this man was. Her senses tangled, preventing her from recognizing his face or voice, despite a nagging suspicion of familiarity. Her mind sporadically focused before touch or smell overpowered it. Now taste. His lips felt like fresh fruit, sweet and full-bodied. She would have spent hours luxuriating in them, but the impression she was about to burst grew and grew, driving and unbearable.

She moaned uncontrollably as the Na’vi drew back his hips until only the tip rested against her core to thrust again before effortlessly thrusting again. Each new point of contact stung inside her. The avatar felt an insatiable desire to take all of him, to never let go. Her heart filled with euphoria — little bites, caresses, kisses ran through her body, which now smelled like his. She tugged at his hair as he made his way back to her mouth, her wet thighs encircling his waist, her heels nestled in the dimples of Venus. Clinging to him as if the contact of his epidermis, his chest, his arms weren’t enough. She craved more. Their hearts pounded in unison, like furious galloping horses, their passion untamed. “Tsahey, sı`ltsan’efu (oh hell, feels good),” he grunted, his timbre low and gravelly. Kind of a dirty move whispering praise in Na’vi into her ear. His words danced to the tips of her toes from the dull joy it gave her to feel appreciated, as the sound of their frames colliding echoed in the hut, a symphony of lust and devotion. Her cries grew shrill, a melodic chorus that fueled his every thrust. He was so hot, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, as he moved faster, the friction intensified, sending sparks shooting through all of her body. Aubree clasped her legs around his waist, hankering for everything he offered. His grip on her shoulders steadied, his fingers digging into her skin. The force of his thrusts increased, each one hitting her with a mix of pleasure and pain. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

The man rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingled; his lukewarm exhales covering her face and his ears full with her gasps. The smell of their passion hung heavy in the small space, a heady mixture of steam and need. He watched her in both ecstasy and disbelief. The sight of such intensity in his gaze overpowered her, but she clung to it, relishing every moment when his dick struck a sensitive bundle of nerves.

As she felt his knot dwell, alpha pheromones crept into her subconscious, drowning her omega in the musky aroma of dominance and submission, an exhilarating fog that pushed her further into surrender. The place seemed to darken as her soul naturally responded to him; her pulse hastening with trepidation. Each frantic gasps for oxygen a struggle against the sweeping emotions. She had no choice but to capitulate, to cry out for him. It felt as if her very DNA had been written to covet him, to lock him inside, but the native held her back, prolonging the exquisite torture.

“That’s not a good idea. It’s your first time.”

A new growl escaped her windpipe, vibrating hungry rage. A rumble that allowed no response, a warning that made him bend his ears back and sink to the point of no return. His stare fixed on her with a longing that knew no bounds. Now only orgasm could free him from her clutches. His expression seemed pained, a flicker of hesitation, but it lasted only a second before the most animalistic and savage sounds she had ever heard rose from the back of his throat. The researcher bit his neck to stifle a moan louder than the others, desperate to repress the burden that threatened to consume him. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop for concern of hurting her. He gasped, his grip on her hips toughening as he plunged more fervently, the rhythmic slapping of their bodies reverberating through the room.

“Don’t ever come out. Stay in forever,” she stammered in confused, fading whimpers. His reaction was harsh, his hips digging with such force that the knot scraped hard against her walls, inducing her to writhe in ecstasy. “Nga tsun ke pawm fula tsonta oe… Nga zir fìtxan tsìltsan (You can’t just ask me that… You feel so amazing).” His voice strained with lust. In response, the woman gyrated her hips even deeper against him, moaning with abandon until he filled her completely. His burning seed spread inside her, as he released a final wave of pheromones that triggered an orgasm so powerful it knocked her unconscious — her frame succumbing to the overwhelming fulfillment that exhausted her. “Are you okay?” He kissed her temple, but she could barely nod, still breathless. “Good.”

Amid that swirling sea of dizzying, carnal lechery, the Na’vi caught a whiff of her enticing trail, drawing him in like a magnetic force. He twisted her neck gently, planting kisses and licks behind her ear, where it released all sorts of fragrances that blended with the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Aubree shivered, her skin tingling as he grazed his teeth over her sensitive flesh. The aroma of her essence intensified here, so potent it could dance on his tongue, so tantalizing to explore further.

As he indulged in a small taste, her partner’s presence surged within her; his dick twitched, and automatically her inner walls throb around him. Just as her apprehension grew, fearing his bite, his lips found her ear where he murmured: “Don’t be afraid. I won’t mark you until you ask me to.”

Suddenly, a clarity washed over her, as if the dense intoxication of hormones had dissolved, leaving her lucid in its wake. The researcher pushed her lover away, panic coursing. Her narrowed eyes hinted at a revelation, now that she could finally name the alpha who had guided her in her very first heat, still mating with her with a satisfied and dangerous grin.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy. Aubree fought not to close them, but with each blink it became harder and harder to keep them open. She felt his fingertips brush the hair from her face, then caress one cheek as he lowered himself to place a light kiss on her forehead.“Hahaw, ma’uniltı`ranyu. Nga kin ne tsurokx. Tätxaw ngeyä tawtutetokx. Oe veaywng nga kay sìn. (Sleep, my dreamwalker. You need to rest. Return to your human body. I’ll take care of you from now on).”

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

@neteyamssyulang @layla2-49

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bellewintersroe · 10 months

Text

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader Smut

I had to write a part 2 to this, how could I not, especially with the news of Daniels return to F1 I am SO excited. She hears the news of Daniels return to the F1 grid, and decides to congratulate him in more way that one…

Smut 18+ below the cut, sexting, graphic details of masturbation and Daniels inner monologue !panicking!

“Congratulations, Daniel.” She giggled when the elated Australian went around the group, sharing several hugs and kisses on the cheek to celebrate his full return to the grid with AlphaTauri. Daniels lips stretched into an even wider smile when he saw the petite girl standing ahead of him. “Thank you.” He exhaled, moving in for a hug. The last time they touched was two days ago, in the changing room where the pair had sex.

The butterflies when they touched was a mutual feeling, and when she offered him a small smirk, Daniel was worried he’d get hard. His hand pressed to the small of her back, his warmth engulfing her as the two shared a quick hug.

“I’m so happy for you.” He gulped as her hand slid down his clothed back. Daniel felt weak under her touch, like he would implode, when she was around the guilt was non existent, however when the next person to congratulate him was her father- Daniel was red in the face from their dirty, little secret.

She watched him, glancing back to her every now and then, his cheeks pricking with a pink colour. Maybe that could be down to the whole excitement of the day, but deep down y/n knew exactly what the cause was. Later that evening, Daniel was alone in his apartment. The excitement from the day had tired him out, and it was nearing 1AM, and he was still awake. The glow from the TV was the only thing distracting him as he watched it absentmindedly. A blonde girl came on the TV, and somehow, that was the thing that caused y/n to pop into his mind. How beautiful she looked today, how her eyes glowed when she told him how happy she was for him. Danny let out a groan, rubbing his face. No, no, no. It was so wrong but it felt so right.

The thought of her hands wrapped around his hard cock, the way she moaned like some kinda fucking Angel. Daniel was hooked, the idea of her perfect tits and all the things he wanted to do with them- how he could stare at her beauty all day long. He sighed, feeling the guilt bubble up as he unlocked his phone, going onto her Instagram. She was so radiant, so youthful and full of life- such a happy girl, Daniel immediately locked his phone and tried to rid the sinful thoughts from his mind. Ten minutes passed and with no avail, Daniel was now in an even worse situation, his dick hard and poking against the waistband of his pants. “Fuck.” He cursed, glancing down to his throbbing member. Why now? Why couldn’t he just go to sleep? This obsession would only get the both of them into trouble. Daniel curled his toes as he adjusted himself in his pants, the slight movement grazing over his sensitive head.

Swiping back onto his phone, he clicked on her contact, staring longingly at their last texts. Nothing bad, just her wishing him a happy birthday, and he thanked her in return. His thumb grazed over to her picture, one of her smiling shyly as he playfully snapped a picture when he got her details. She looked a breath taking level of beautiful, so much so it hurt Daniel, his cock tensing as he let out an inward moan. Nobody would know… nobody would know if he just relieved himself… his hand wandered down to his cock, squeezing as a small sense of relief washed through him. The first feelings of guilt were clouded by the horny Australian as he rubbed himself through his tight underwear. A slight damp patch where he’d been leaking pre-cum dampened the black material and he inwardly moaned again remembering how she licked and sucked it off him. Her warm fucking mouth wrapped around him… pretty, glossy lips coated in spit and pre-cum, Daniel remembered it all too vividly and that was enough for him to start pumping himself through his boxers. He closed his eyes, remembering the pretty moans and gasps of his names. He wanted her below him more than anything. God, he was desperate.

An accidental click of the keyboard made Daniel give up and punch out a message.

Are you awake?

He was nervous when the message sent, the only comfort being that she was probably asleep and Daniel could play the message off in the morning as nothing. The other half of Daniel was mentally praying that she was awake, even one simple reply would leave him a happy man. The secrecy and dark of the night added an extra blanket of covertness to their love affair, Daniel felt semi-safe, and any guilt he had was long gone. Aroused from her lazy state, the harsh buzz and notification of y/n’s phone caused her to jump, startled. She took a deep breath, waking up from her half conscious state and grabbing her phone from the bed side cabinet. It was 2AM, and a text from Daniel lit up her phone. If she wasn’t fully awake before, she definitely was now.

Her fingers lingered over the key pad, typing back her response in confusion. Yeah, I am, why?

Are you ok?

Laying back down, she kept her phone in her hands, swiping off the chat when Daniel read the text almost instantly. His hand slipped off his bulge, lingering his thumbs over the keypad. “Alright, alright…” He whispered to himself, feeling his heart racing a million miles an hour. Should he be straight forwards? Or hint? Daniel didn’t want to creep her out. I’m okay

He sent back first of all, questioning what the hell to say next. I hope I didn’t wake you, I just wanted to talk to you

He was surprised to see her texting back immediately, questioning if she’d understand what he was about to infer.

It’s okay I was awake, what’s up? “Fuck it.” Daniel cursed, bucking his hips slightly, frustrated from the loss of contact as he punched out his message. I can’t stop thinking about you can’t stop thinking about the other day She felt her lips curl in an amused smile. He wanted to ‘talk’ did he? She saw right through him immediately. Why else would somebody be messaging at 2am? She would continue to tease him for the next few minutes, playing at a little game that drove Daniel crazy. Oh yeah? What about it exactly?

you know what

Tell me daniel, I wanna hear it

The way you got down on your knees for me, how fucking good you looked when I fucked you, I need it again She was momentarily stunned at his words, reading it over and over again as his words went straight down to her pussy. Her fingers rubbed over the clothed slit, teasing to delay the sexual gratification for as long as possible.

you can have me anytime you want, you know you can fuck I need you now though Daniel groaned at her words, hand sliding under his boxers now as his warm hand curled around his cock. It felt nothing like her hand, how big he felt when she held him. He started pumping a steady rhythm, hoping she was doing the same. Obviously, she was. Her hand moved back up to text him again.

Prove it It had been a long time since Daniel had sexted. Truthfully, he never did it that often, but the rush it gave him was unlike nothing else. It built a desire deep within him, burning a fire in his lower abdomen as he stared back to the text, halting his movements. He for some reason felt shy, the thought of sending her a video made him oddly nervous, even if she’d seen it all before.

She sat in bed, waiting patiently for his response, it seemed to take him a few moments, and for a couple seconds she wasn’t sure if he’d actually ‘prove it’. When a video did send through minutes later, her eyes widened in excitement.

The video was around 10 seconds long, he stroked his cock up and down, filming with the flash on, she could see absolutely everything she wanted, the way his legs jolted slightly, and when she turned the volume up she almost moaned hearing his heavy breaths whenever he tugged on his cock.

your turn - he’d sent a message with the video, she went back one more time, her fingers dancing over her nipple and down into her underwear with a slight hum. She began following his pace, not too slow but not too fast, leaning back against the bed with a sigh as she listened to Daniel pleasuring himself.

What followed was then a video angled to show her breasts, stopping just below where her fingers had dipped down into her underwear. She licked her fingers before trailing them over her sensitive nipples, pinching and letting out a sigh before her fingers disappeared out of camera view. Daniels hand worked harder, fist tightening around his phone as he typed back with one hand.

You can’t tease me like that not now

The two of them continued sending explicit videos and graphic texts back to one another, she’d never admit to it, but he made her cum wayyy too quickly. Daniels eyes were glued to his phone screen at the video of her spreading her legs, pussy on show as she teased the sensitive clit, her wetness apparent from the lewd noises. His fist automatically worked faster, harder, moaning her name as he grunted with each thrust. His hips were bouncing up to meet his hand and he was quick to press record to catch his orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum for ya’.” Daniel was breathless as he jerked at an overwhelmingly fast rate. She wanted him to fuck him with that kind of speed, or at least be there to watch him wanking himself off whilst she begged on her knees for him.

“Fuck!” The Australian borderline whined, the sound of his skin slapping as he pumped himself once, twice, three times before the coil in his belly exploded and Daniel was cumming all over his hand, thighs and toned stomach. “I’m cumming-“ he barely got to warn before a heavy groan left his mouth. “Fuck, baby…” he vocally whispered, pumping himself through his sensitivity slowly with the sexiest, drawn out moans she’d ever heard a man make.

She squeezed her tits together, holding them with her fingers sprawled, sending him a direct picture of that and her pussy, legs still wide. next time I want that cum all over me

Daniel was positive that he’d make her request come true. It took a few more moments of soft flirting before he cleaned himself up. Once he’d finished there was an odd sense of loneliness. In more way than one did Daniel wish she was there with him, he craved her body, not only sexually, but the urge to hold her small body close to his was rampant on his mind.

Fuck… the sex was wrong enough, now he was gaining real feelings?!

#daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut

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lostgirlmuseum · 4 months

Text

The Swan and the Soldier

^made w/ pinterest

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x f!dancer!reader

Summary: Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer.

Words: 5.6k (oops)

Warnings: Mention of an injury + brief description of pain, poor writing at times, lemme know if I missed anything

A/N: I really hope this isn't complete dog shit

(Dividers by me😎)

“You want me to what?”

Bucky dropped his sandwich back onto his plate.

“I was gonna do it but I’m too busy to make every rehearsal.”

Bucky had been staying in Louisiana for the past month, finally taking a break from going from fight to fight. Sam encouraged him to stay with him at Sarah’s place, which Bucky did for a while, but after a couple of weeks, he decided to rent his own place. He was still near to Sam, and was at his house nearly every day, seeing as he was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Bucky just felt like less of a burden this way.

“And I’m not busy?” Bucky countered, staring at Sam from across the kitchen table, where they were taking a quick lunch break before getting back to the boat.

“Well—”

“Shut up.”

“It would mean so much to AJ. It’s his first dance recital and I think he would be a lot less nervous if someone he knew was on stage with him.”

“I’m not a ballerina, Sam.”

“You don’t have to be!” He quickly uttered, putting down his own sandwich. “They just need a couple of parent volunteers to step in and play the adults at the beginning of the show.”

“I haven’t liked dancing since the 40’s. And I don’t know how I feel about being on stage. Would I have to wear a costume?”

“It’s the Nutcracker.” Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Bucky a judgmental once over. “I don’t think it fits the show to have you dressed like an angsty motorcyclist.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can—”

“Uncle Bucky!” A cheerful voice entered the room as AJ came bounding up to the table.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky smiled, giving the boy a quick fist bump.

“Uncle Sam told me you would be a part of my recital!”

“He said what now?”

“What?” AJ asked, oblivious.

“Nothing, I—AJ, could you give Uncle Sam and me a second?”

AJ nodded and skipped back outside into the sun. Bucky glared over at Sam.

“So maybe I jumped the gun a bit…”

“Samuel.”

“You can say no,”

“You know I can’t say no now!” Bucky flung his hands out, exasperated.

“You can! You’ll just disappoint him. But if that’s what you want to do—” Sam trailed off, taking a bite out of his turkey and provolone.

“This is manipulation.”

“Is it working?” Sam mumbled and swallowed.

Bucky shook his head and stared at his plate. “You owe me.”

“Big time! Promise.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Bucky mumbled, planting his face in his palms.

“Rehearsals are Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Sam got up from the table and grabbed his now empty plate, “you’re making the kid really happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. To be clear, I am doing this for him. Not you. I don’t give a shit about you.” He pointed.

“Love you too, Buddy.”

Bucky found himself that very Thursday at the ballet studio, in a small group of parents, as a petite young woman—well, she looked about 60, but compared to Bucky, she was young—introduced herself, a southern accent clear in her cheery tone.

“Welcome parents and volunteers! Most of you already know me, but I’m Ms. Cindy, the head of this program and this year’s Nutcracker! I’d like to start by thanking all of you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here and support us and your children. It’s you who keep this dance studio up and running, and I’m so grateful for that. Throughout today, you’ll each get called to get your measurements taken so we can be sure that the costumes are ready before the performance. And as for roles, we’ll figure that out at the end of class. I have to go teach the little ones, but feel free to take a seat and watch the choreography your students have been learning all season!”

Bucky followed the others, who seemed to already be acquainted with each other, into a small observing room attached to the studio where AJ was practicing. Bucky stuck himself in the back corner and watched AJ through the one-sided mirror for only a couple of minutes when his name was suddenly called.

“James Barnes?”

Bucky looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. He ignored the glances that turned his way as he followed the woman out the door.

Did they know who he was? Did they know what he had done? Or maybe they had no idea. Maybe they were judging him for not engaging with them in polite conversation, maybe they thought he was weird for hiding silently in the corner.

Bucky pushed the thoughts out of his head as the (attractive, he might add,) woman opened the door for him into a new room. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t a closet either, and Bucky immediately noted the lines of clothing racks stuffed with colorful dresses that lined the walls.

“I just need to get your measurements quickly for your costume. I can take them now, or if you’re more comfortable, I can send you a list of measurements I need and you can get those numbers to me on Thursday if you’d prefer.”

Bucky thought for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure how to take his own measurements, and he sure as hell did not want Sam of all people helping him. On the other hand, having a stranger so close to him sounds embarrassing and stressful. But he saw the kindness in her eyes, and oddly enough, he felt he could trust her.

“Now is fine."

“Sounds good.” She gave the sweetest smile he had ever seen and told him where to stand. He took off his jacket with ease, feeling somewhat comfortable knowing he had a long-sleeved shirt under to hide his metal arm. He kept his leather gloves on, and she said nothing.

She demonstrated to him how to hold his arm, and he obeyed, holding his right arm out and bent at the elbow. She chatted as she brought the tape measure along his arm. “Which kid is yours?”

“Oh, none of them.”

He noticed the subtle tilt of her head.

“I mean, I’m not a dad, but I’m AJ’s uncle. Well, a friend of his uncle but,”

Luckily, she stopped his ramble before he could truly embarrass himself.

“Oh, you’re Bucky?” She dropped the tape to her side and smiled. “I’ve met Sam a couple times, but I’ve heard all about you and him from Sarah.”

“Oh? All good things I hope?”

He asked in a lighthearted tone, but in reality, he was terrified of the things she’d heard about him.

“Only good things.” She grinned and grabbed the pencil behind her ear to scribble a number on a chart.

“That’s a relief.” His eyes scanned the room, trying to think up conversation to fill the silence. “So are you a parent volunteer?”

“Not a parent, no. I used to be a part of this program growing up. It’s done so much for me, and I wanted to stay connected, so I help out here and there when I can. I mostly fit the costumes.”

“That’s cool.”

Cool. Cool. Cool response Bucky. Ask her a question, dammit.

“Do you still dance?”

“Not anymore. Can you put both arms out to the side please?” She asked, and Bucky lifted his arms so she could measure his chest. She continued to make conversation as she wrapped the tape around him. “AJ is a great student. He has a lot of potential, he just needs to find his confidence. And he’s a great kid. You’re a lucky uncle.”

“I am,” Bucky responded, trying desperately to not freak out at how close she was to him, and how she was only going lower, as she moved to his waist.

She took a break to write down a couple more numbers and returned to him.

“Now I need a hip measurement, so I have to measure around your butt. Is that okay?”

Bucky gave a convincing nod. “Do what you gotta do.”

‘Do what you gotta do’? What the hell am I saying?

He avoided looking at her and held his breath as she brought the tape around his hips.

“Just a couple more measurements and you’ll be out of here,” she assured, dropping the tape from his hips. “You can put your arms down now.”

Bucky let his arms rest at his sides.

She quickly went about measuring his legs and finished a couple of minutes later.

“You’re all good to go, Mr. Barnes, thank you!”

“You can call me Bucky,” he tried to hide his bashful smile and started to exit out the door, but stopped and turned at the last moment. “What was your name again?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

He liked the way it felt on his tongue. With that, he said goodbye and returned to the observing room.

Thirty minutes later class was nearly over. All that was left on the agenda for the day was to form the groups.

“So it seems we have an odd number…Lois, is this everyone?” Ms. Cindy asked, looking over to her assistant.

“Everyone that signed up, yes.” Lois, a shorter girl with an auburn bob, tapped on a clipboard.

“Let’s just see how this goes. Mr. and Mrs. Tudor will be group one, Mr. and Mrs. Malone will be group two, Mrs. and Mrs. Cardoza will be group three, and that leaves Mr. Barnes…”

“We could have him be a single parent to his group?” Lois offered, looking up from her list.

“We could, but then who would he dance with at the party scene?”

Bucky swore he saw a literal lightbulb light up above Ms. Cindy’s head as her gaze fixated somewhere in the back of the room where you were simply passing by.

“Oh, Y/N? Dear?” She called in a uniquely falsetto voice.

“Yes, Ms. Cindy?” Y/N answered, pausing.

“I realize you’re already doing our costumes, but would you be interested in volunteering as one of the parents? We are short a person.”

“Oh, um…”

“You can think about it Dear. It’s no trouble if you feel that it’ll take up too much time, we appreciate you for your dedication to the costumes.” Ms. Cindy was careful to add.

Despite her initial hesitance, Y/N spoke up.

“I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Ms. Cindy blinked, surprised by the answer.

“Yeah,” she breathed, “yes. I’ve already got measurements, all I need to do is submit an order. And I can’t tailor anything anyways until the shipment comes in.”

“A round of applause for our beautiful and dedicated Y/N, everyone!” Ms. Cindy cheered and began clapping her hands in a circle. The parents all joined in, and Bucky gave a quiet few claps. “That means Mr. Barnes and Y/N will play the fourth couple. Splendid!”

Lois tapped Ms. Cindy on the shoulder and pointed to her watch. Time was almost up. Ms. Cindy was fast to get back to business.

“Now let’s quickly assign each group their children, and then we can end rehearsal.”

“Buck, I’ve got some good news.” Sam’s voice flowed through Bucky’s phone.

It was Tuesday morning, and Bucky had been up and dressed since seven in the morning, eager to pick AJ up, even though class wasn’t until 5 p.m. He was currently lying on the couch, watching the clock tick by.

“What, you finally learned to use the potty like a big boy?” Bucky mocked.

“It was one time. ONE. TIME. You know I don’t fuck with clowns!”

“I don’t like clowns either, but you don’t see me shitting myself at the Halloween Festival.” Bucky quietly chuckled.

“First of all, I didn’t ‘shit’ myself. I peed. A little. And second of all, I had a lot of hot chocolate beforehand, and my bladder was at max capacity, and—why the hell am I explaining this to you?”

“Because you know I’m never going to let you live it down.”

“Moving on,” Sam sighed, “I was calling to tell you that you don’t need to be in the performance with AJ anymore.”

Bucky shot up from his lying position. “What do you mean?”

“My schedule freed up a bunch so I can take AJ and be in the show now.”

“Oh.”

Bucky slumped back onto the cushions, dejection dripping from his voice. Sam clearly picked up on it.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’? I thought this was good news for you. I know I forced it onto you and all, and your thing isn’t really being on stage in front of a bunch of people.”

Bucky picked at the edges of his fingers, carefully considering his next words.

“I mean it’s not my thing, but—I don’t know, I feel like I’ve committed. And I get to spend some time with AJ, y’know? And, truth be told, it’s not all bad.”

There was a pause on the line before Sam’s voice rang through.

“That’s awfully sweet Buck. And very out of character for you.”

“Shut the fuck up, I can be nice.”

“Yes, of course. Bucky Barnes, the world’s famous sweetheart, how could I forget?”

“I’m hanging up now,” Bucky warned.

“Bye, metal man.”

“Fuck off bird brain.” Bucky was about to hang up, but quickly added in a serious tone, “I’ll be there this afternoon to pick AJ up.”

“You’re a good man.”

“Whatever.”

“Welcome back everybody!” Ms. Cindy’s high voice rang. “We are going to practice the beginning of the show where the families enter the party. We’ll take it group by group, so let’s start with group one, the Tudors. Your family is super excited for this party, so we’ll have you enter stage right and I need the children to be skipping and bubbly.”

Ms. Cindy instructed the groups one by one. Eventually, she got to Bucky’s group, which he shared with you and four kids, including AJ.

“And our final group, group four, is the family that does not want to attend. The parents should be trying to get the kids to smile, and at least act like they are happy to be there.”

Bucky let you take the lead and simply followed what you did. He walked beside you, stopped when you stopped, turned when you turned.

“Good, now make it look like you are trying to get the kids to smile.”

Bucky copied the way you pointed to your cheery smile and did his best to ignore the embarrassment bubbling in his chest.

The comically grumpy—and much better actors than him—kids sighed and plastered on cheery expressions.

“Good, and you can continue walking.” Ms. Cindy ordered.

Group four finished the short trek across the stage successfully. For such a simple task, Bucky had felt surprisingly nervous.

Ms. Cindy quickly gave her praise and ordered everyone to start over. As Bucky and his group were going back to the line, she offered some advice.

“Y/N and Mr. Barnes, could you try holding hands? You don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else.”

Bucky gulped. Of course you don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else, all the other couples are actually couples, and married for God’s sake!

You, on the other hand, simply said “Okay.”

“Group one, go,” Ms. Cindy called, and the Tudors began to cross the makeshift stage.

The line moved forward, and Bucky with it. He began to sweat a little.

Hold your hand? With my left hand? My metal hand?

She simply glanced at him and gave him a small smile.

“And group two,” Ms. Cindy called.

Everyone stepped forward.

The good news is that Bucky was wearing his gloves, but surely she’d notice his hand felt different and think he was weird. Although, did she already know about his arm situation? She did mention that she’d heard about him and Sam from Sarah. Maybe she already knew, and wouldn’t care?

“Group three!”

Bucky looked back at the kids trailing behind him and spotted AJ beaming right back at him. Suddenly, Bucky felt ridiculous.

Bucky, you’re being an idiot. Be a man and hold her hand. It’s not that deep. You’re doing this for AJ.

“And four,”

He grabbed her hand and started to walk with her. The first thing he noticed was how small her hand felt in his. It gave him an unfamiliar tingly feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but it was better than anxiety.

He tried his best to puff out his chest and mimic her confidence as they walked. Bucky stopped halfway through, like they were supposed to, and turned to face the kids like last time. He pretended to point to his smile and finished the walk across the stage.

“Excellent! Let’s move on.”

Bucky managed to make it through the entire class without sweating his clothes off from nerves.

“You ready to go, AJ?”

AJ yelped, “Wait! I want you to meet one of my friends!” He dramatically waved over to a little girl with a sunflower barrette in her hair who came skipping over. “This is Ava.”

“Hi, Ava.” Bucky gave an awkward smile.

The little girl looked up at him unphased.

“Hi, Mr. Bucky. So are you really a superhero?”

Straight to the point, huh? “Oh—um,”

“He is!” AJ butted in, “He’s friends with my Uncle Sam, they save the world all the time!”

Ava crossed her arms across her chest and jutted a leg out.

“So can you fly?” She squinted.

“Nope, I can’t fly.” Bucky began to rub the back of his neck.

“Can’t your Uncle Sam fly?” She asked, looking at AJ with skepticism.

“Yep!”

“So if you can’t fly, what can you do?”

Before Bucky could even begin to stutter, Y/N appeared.

“Hey, Ava! I think your mom is looking for you.” She said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

“Okay, I gotta go. Bye AJ,” Ava quickly spouted and ran off towards the doors.

“Bye!” AJ shouted.

Bucky noticed Y/N holding his blue cap out to him.

“I think you forgot your hat.” She spoke softly.

“Didn’t even realize, thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Bucky.”

Bucky was about to give a lopsided grin when AJ interjected,

“Only friends and family call him that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! James, then.” She brought her hand to her cheek.

“No, no, Bucky is fine,” Bucky quickly corrected, “you can call me Bucky.”

“You’re sure? I don’t mean to overstep,”

“You aren’t, I like it when you call me Bucky.”

He instantly felt his cheeks get warm at his confession. Before she could respond, he quickly changed the subject.

“Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know that I can’t be here at the next rehearsal. AJ will be here, but I completely forgot that I’ve got an appointment that day.” A monthly check-in with Dr. Raynor that he forgot to move. “I don’t know if you want me to meet somewhere instead, or I can just come early on Tuesday and you can catch me up to speed or…I mean whatever you think is best.”

“If you want, we can meet on Friday at my place. I can send you the address if you’d like?”

“Yeah, yes, sure, let me get my phone—” he fumbled while grabbing it out of his pocket, “what’s your number?”

“Hey, come on in!” Y/N appeared behind the crisp white door of a cute house, not unlike the Wilson’s, and gestured inside before grimacing. “Sorry, I should’ve asked before, are you cool with dogs?”

Bucky nodded.

She gave a sigh of relief and fully opened the door. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the graying corgi staring back at him.

“This is Frank,” Y/N said, bending down to bring the panting dog into her arms.

“Hi, Frank.” Bucky greeted, giving the dog gentle pets with his right hand. “Your house is lovely,” he added after catching a glance around.

“Oh, thanks!” She smiled, walking into the living room area to set the dog down on the couch. “This is actually my parent’s house, I’m just house and dog sitting for the week while they’re out of town. Usually, I live in my apartment.”

“Is this where you grew up?” Bucky asked, eyes searching the place. He noted the multitude of picture frames lining the wall and the slightly worn couch.

“The first eighteen years of my life. I told myself I’d be out of Louisiana by the time I went to college, but clearly that didn’t happen.”

“Where did you want to go?”

“New York, San Francisco, I don’t know, maybe even Australia or France.” she laughed at the absurdity and sighed. “C’est la vie,”

Bucky stuck his thumbs in his pockets and stared down at his feet, unsure of what to do next.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Iced Tea? I can make some coffee. Are you hungry?”

“Just water is fine,”

“Sure, one second.”

Bucky took the opportunity to explore the room. His curiosity was set on the shelf beside the fireplace, and the multitude of shiny awards it adorned.

Several faux gold figures of ballerinas and a plaque filled the space, as well as what looked to be a photo album. Bucky thought better than to touch it, however, he did notice the significant lack of dust on it compared to the trophies.

“I see the obnoxious shrine of my dancing days has caught your attention.”

Bucky spun around, cheeks a little pink at the notion of being caught wandering. He was looking for the right thing to say as you took a seat on the couch and placed the water on the coasters.

“Looks like you’re an amazing dancer.” He nodded, hoping that it was the appropriate thing to say.

She ducked her head at the compliment. “I was okay.” She pointed to just beyond his shoulder at the photo album. “You can look at it if you want,” she offered, clearly sensing his curiosity.

Bucky grabbed the binder from its spot on the shelf and took a seat next to her. He slowly opened the book to the first page.

There you were, 4 years old in a bright pink tutu, beaming at the camera. The page was covered in cute stickers and artistic swirls.

“My mom has a knack for crafty things,” she said, vaguely gesturing to the book.

Bucky hummed and began to gingerly flip through the pages. It was odd but endearing seeing you change through each photo and page, but one thing that stayed constant was your eyes. In every photo they had the same sparkle, the same light. It looked so right on you, but he didn’t recognize it in you now.

Bucky stopped on the page dedicated to age 17 and marveled at the costume you were wearing. He couldn’t look away from the intricate feathers and sequins.

“That was for our Spring production of Swan Lake.”

Bucky turned to see a subtle smile on her lips. She was looking at the book, but it seemed as if she was seeing right through it.

“You were the swan?”

“Odette, yeah.”

Bucky turned the page once more, except this time there was no photo—just the outline of where one would be on a mostly blank page, minus the glittering bold number “18”.

“Anyway, the choreography,” she quickly chimed, her attitude dramatically changing, “I’ve got the video right here, we can watch it first.”

She snatched the album up and placed it back on the shelf before handing him her phone. Bucky watched the thirty-second clip of two of the volunteers—possibly the Tudors if he remembered correctly—as they danced a shockingly simple routine.

“That’s it?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s it.” She assured. “Ready to try it?”

“I might be a little rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve danced.”

She turned on the music and started counting under her breath.

They started by facing each other, their right palms in front of them, and placed against each other. They both took a step in, a step out and circled around the other to which they were now in the opposite places. She curtsied, he bowed, and then they repeated the step in, step out, switch. Now they stood next to each other, and she held her arm out over his. They took three steps forward, and the music grew into a faster tempo.

“Easy enough?” Y/N asked, grabbing her phone to stop the music.

It was suspiciously simple, Bucky thought, but then again, the adults were just a small addition to the show. It’s really about the kids.

“We can make this more interesting.” He remarked.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s try it again.” Bucky gestured to her phone.

She obliged and restarted the music.

They went through the routine again, all the way to the end at which the music began to speed up. As Y/N went to pause the music again, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her in. She gave a surprised gasp, but Bucky wasn’t regretful once he saw the smile on her face. He pulled himself back and began to spin her around and basked in her soft laughs. After pulling her back in again, and dancing around each other, he dipped her. She wrapped her right leg around him in response and he hoped she didn’t notice his smirk transform into a blush.

“Alright Mr. ‘I might be a little rusty’, someone has moves!”

Bucky helped her up once she removed her leg.

“I used to be better,” he mumbled.

“None of that,” she softly chided, bringing his chin up, “where did that confidence just go?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll keep practicing, then you’ll see,” he simpered.

Time went on and not a day went by that Bucky didn’t think of you. After weeks of practice, it was finally dress rehearsal. Bucky was surprisingly calm even though they were no longer practicing in a studio, but in the local high school’s theater, in full costume. You held his hand through it—literally, for some parts—and Bucky was grateful for it.

It was Friday night, the final rehearsal before the show the next day, and Bucky was just about to drive off when he realized how cold his hand felt against the steering wheel. He cursed himself and ran back inside, luckily finding his leather gloves sitting on a chair in the wings of the stage. Right as he was about to scamper off, he noticed a figure at the very front of center stage. He recognized her immediately, and without a second thought, he approached from the darkness of the sides and into the light of the stage. She had already changed out of her ballgown and was back in black leggings.

“Hey.” He uttered, slowly taking a seat next to her at the end of the stage. He let his legs dangle over the edge.

“Hey,” she gasped, bringing a hand to her heart. “Sorry, I thought everyone had left.”

“I forgot my gloves.”

“Seems like you have a habit of forgetting things,” she teased.

“Only when it comes to clothing, apparently.”

“Is AJ not waiting for you?”

“No, he left with a friend. He’s got a sleepover with Marshall tonight.”

“Gotcha.”

A thoughtful quiet settled over them, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the somberness in her eyes, gazing over the expanse of empty velvet seats.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you stop dancing?”

She was quiet for a minute. Bucky started to think she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually, she whispered,

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

She began mindlessly rubbing her knee.

“I tore my ACL my senior year. It was our annual production of The Nutcracker and I was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy. There was a rumor that some influential talent scouts were going to be attending. So when my knee started hurting I ignored it. I didn’t tell anyone. I worked my ass off and pushed myself harder when I really should have been resting, but I was stupid.” She gave Bucky a short glance. “Opening night came, and so did my solo. Everything was going fine until I heard a pop. Next thing I know my leg is on fucking fire and I’m hitting the ground.

“I embarrassed myself and our entire company. My knee took longer to heal than it should have because of more poor choices I made. What should have been nine months of healing turned into years. By the time it was safe enough to start dancing again, it was too late. I was too far behind my peers. Even still I sometimes have issues with it.”

Bucky simply nodded, taking in her words.

“I tell myself I’m over it because it was so long ago. But deep down I know I’m not. I’ve asked my parents to take down all of my stupid awards, at least store them away somewhere, because it’s just some sick reminder of what I lost. Actually, the whole reason I started volunteering in the first place is because my mom told me I should. Said it could be good for me. She never said so, but I really think she was hoping that by being surrounded by ballet again, I would feel motivated to begin training again. But it’s a pipe dream.”

She took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

“All I ever was was a dancer. And a good one. It was the only thing I was good at, besides sewing, but I only learned that after I injured myself. The whole town knew me as the dancer. I guess the problem with having my entire identity wrapped around one thing is that when that thing goes away…well, who are you? Who am I, if not the girl who’s going to be on the stage one day? My entire identity was ripped from me.

“I’ve just been wading through life. Time keeps moving and crashing around me, but I haven’t changed. I still don’t know who I am, besides the girl who could’ve been great. And now I’m just—stuck.”

Her eyes went wide for a second before squeezing them shut as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone.

“God, I’m so sorry, you didn’t need to know all of that—”

“No, I—” Bucky stopped her and hesitated to rest his hand on hers. “I can empathize. I hate that you had to go through that. That you’re still going through it. I can understand not knowing who you are anymore.

“A long time ago, I used to be someone else. I used to be charming, independent… happy. But after I was drafted my identity was no longer my own. I was a fighter. I belonged to the army. And then I belonged to Hydra. And even after, I belonged to the Avengers, the world, whoever needed me to fight, I was their soldier. But I’m tired.” At those words, Bucky slumped. “I don’t want to fight anymore. But I have no fucking clue who I am if not a soldier. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”

“I can’t tell you who you are,” she whispered after a moment, “but I can tell you that whoever you are, I like you.”

Bucky blushed.

“I like you too. It’s kind of embarrassing actually,”

“What is?”

“I didn’t really want to volunteer for this. Sam forced me. And while I love being here for AJ, I’d much rather hang out with him outside the theater where I’m not expected to be looked at on stage. But then I met this pretty costume designer…and suddenly it wasn’t so bad.”

“Pretty?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” He specified.

“What a coincidence. I also met the most handsome and charming man recently.”

“Charming?”

“He doesn’t realize how charming he is. I guess that’s part of his charm.”

“He sounds great.” He turned to face her more directly. “Just to be clear, you are talking about me, yes?”

“Yes, you oaf.” She laughed.

Bucky pursed his lips.

“Would you be willing to let this oaf take you out on a date sometime?”

“More than willing.”

“That’s a relief,” he sighed, falling back onto the stage. “I figured it was 50/50.”

She gave him a silly grin and shook her head in amusement.

“You underestimate yourself, Bucky Barnes.”

The final performance was perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be with a production of the Nutcracker with dancers ages ranging from 6 to 106. Most importantly, AJ had fun and did a fantastic job. After the show and final bows, Sarah, Sam, and Cass came rushing onto the stage to congratulate AJ (and Bucky of course. Sam made sure to tell him that he was very proud of how brave he was, and Bucky rolled his eyes. He secretly appreciated it, though.) Cass handed one bouquet to his little brother and the other to his uncle, who funny enough lit up in a similar way as his nephew at the gift. But Y/N lit up the most when Sarah handed a third bouquet to her.

“For keeping Bucky in line, and giving a beautiful performance,” Sarah clarified.

“You’re so sweet,” she beamed, pulling Sarah in for a quick hug. “I have the perfect vase for this.”

“Can we go get ice cream now?” AJ jumped.

“Let’s get you out of your costume first,” Sam said and gave a quick wink to Bucky before herding his sister and Nephews backstage. “We’ll see you by the car Buck.”

Bucky nodded and turned his full attention to Y/N. He felt weirdly high after the performance. “Wanna join us for ice cream?” He asked, placing his hands on her waist.

“Gladly.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

I like dancing with you.

A/N: If you've made it this far, tysm for reading!!! I really hope this doesn't suck complete ass, idk what happened 😰 Im going to go hide in a hole now and question everything

If you'd like to read more, here's my Masterlist

Happy holidays!

#bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #tfatws!Bucky #dancer!reader #costumer!reader #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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ay-heart-collection · 2 months

Text

Story writing: The Assassin Lesson

Greetings everyone. I am trying to get back some story ideas of heart back in my mind with AI support.

I understand that many people feel resistant to AI currently, but I think it could be a chance for some of my buried ideas digging back to light. I think it should be OK for make use of it for drafting and brainstorming. Wish you will accept it and like it.

-------------------------------------------------------

The Assassin Lesson

In a training site of an assassin group, the mentor lady of the group stood before her class of aspiring young assassins. The leather suit covered by hooded cloak outlined her beautiful body curves. Her piercing gaze surveyed the room, which cause the atmosphere become thick and heavy, but brought a hint of anticipation to the class.

As one of the master of assassin in the group, the lesson of the mentor lady was focusing on the fatal spots of the human body. Before she began her lesson, she brought a beautiful female with a slender figure to her students. She was a young thief captured in an incidental encounter during a mission. Her upper body had been stripped naked, with her wrists bound with tight restraints, stood at the front of the class. Her eyes wide with fear.

"Today, we shall delve into the skill of piercing the human heart."

The mentor lady began, her low and commanding tone sending shivers down the spines of her students. With a swift motion, she spread out a drawing of a human heart, its delicate form sketched meticulously on a piece of parchment.

Walking towards the captive, the mentor caressed the girl carefully, and made use of some simple drawing tool against her bare chest. Soon, a line art appeared between her petite but firm breasts, aligning it with the actual size and position of her ribcage and her heart beneath. The students leaned forward, their eyes fixated on the scene unfolding before them.

"Now, observe," the mentor said, her voice unwavering.

"The human heart was protected beneath the ribcage, nestled within the chest cavity. To truly strike a fatal blow, one must understand its position and structure."

She pointed to the various parts of the heart drawing on the captive, her finger tracing the major arteries and ventricles. The young thief’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath shallow and uneven. Which felt like the mentor’s finger directly touching her myocardium.

"The atria, the ventricles, the aorta," the mentor continued, her voice filled with an unsettling mix of knowledge and detached fascination. "Each component is vital to the heart's function, and each represents a potential fatal spot."

The young thief visibly trembled, her eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape that was not forthcoming.

"One wrong move, and the heart's delicate rhythm is disrupted," the mentor said, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "A swift and precise strike, however, can send the body into an irreversible state of shock."

At this point, the mentor paused, allowing her words to hang in the air, the weight of her lesson sinking in. The students exchanged glances, fully aware of the power they were being entrusted with.

"Now, my dear students," the mentor said, her voice rising with an unsettling intensity, "let me introduce the tools we mainly use for piercing the heart.”

The mentor's eyes gleamed with an aggressive pleasure as she revealed an array of common weapons used on the table with a quick motion. As she began explaining each weapon in meticulous detail, the captured girl's terror was palpable, her eyes widening in fear as she gazed upon the deadly tools before her. Feeling as if these sharp edges had already torn her horrified heart.

"First, we have the thin, needle-like stiletto blade," the mentor said, her voice dripping with a chilling enthusiasm. "Its slender form allows for precise entry, slipping between the ribs without causing unnecessary damage."

As she spoke, the mentor demonstrated the correct posture for piercing, gently pressing the stiletto against the girl's exposed skin, mirroring the intended action. The girl's heart beat erratically, a visible thumping against her left breast. She shivered, her body tensing involuntarily at the sensation, a cold sweat forming on her forehead.

"Next, we have the wickedly serrated dagger," the mentor continued, her voice filled with a sinister delight. "Its jagged edges can tear through flesh and bone, ensuring a quick and devastating stab."

With a swift motion, the mentor mimicked the piercing action on the girl's skin, her hand moving in a delicate manner. The young thief let out a stifled gasp, her heart pounding even harder in her chest, as if resisting the impending violence. Beads of crimson blood welled up where the blade had made contact, as a testament to the sharpness of the weapon and the fragility of human flesh.

The mentor's eyes narrowed, relishing in the power that played out before her. She continued her lesson, each weapon explained and demonstrated with excellent precision.

"Now, behold the slender yet deadly rapier," the mentor said, her voice taking on a haunting resonance. "Its long, piercing blade can navigate the narrowest of spaces, reaching the heart with deadly accuracy."

The mentor positioned the rapier against the girl's skin, her hand poised to demonstrate the thrusting motion. The captive's breathing grew shallow, her body trembling uncontrollably under the weight of her fear. As the mentor made a swift but soft thrust, the young heart skipped a beat, as if mirroring the terror coursing through her veins.

As the mentor moved through the remaining weapons, the captured girl's terror only intensified. The mentor's explanations were accompanied by demonstrations on the girl's soft skin, each movement were calculated and precise. The pain and fear etched on the captive's face mirrored the darkness hidden within the mentor's own soul.

"In the next section," the mentor lady paused a second, staring at the captive. "We are to demonstrate the precise locations where the weapons should enter the body, piercing the heart." The terrified thief stood frozen, her eyes wide with fear, as the mentor approached her with a gaze of dominance.

"Pay close attention, my dear students," the mentor commanded, her voice laced with an eerie calmness. "As we delved before, the human heart was well protected within the chest cavity. To penetrate the heart efficiently, we must aim for specific entry points. Allow me to explain."

The mentor positioned herself behind the captive, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders, as if guiding her through the macabre lesson. The captive's body trembled beneath the mentor's touch, her breath was quick and shallow.

"First," the mentor began, her voice resonating with authority, "We have the area between the 3rd and 4th rib, near the sternum. This position allows for a quick and efficient stab, aiming directly at the center of the heart's chambers."

With precise movements, the mentor's hand mimicked the action of a weapon, her fingers hovering just above the inner side of the captive's left breast, indicating the location. The captive flinched, a shiver coursing through her body, as if she could feel the cold steel of an imaginary blade piercing her flesh.

"Next," the mentor continued, her voice low and steady, "we have the space between the 4th and 5th rib, commonly known as the apex of the heart. Representing the tip of the left and right ventricles. Striking here can disrupt the heart's rhythm and lead to swift incapacitation," the mentor paused a bit, "And this is actually my favorite piercing spot."

The mentor's hand shifted slightly lower, held tightly under the left breast of the young thief. Her heart raced in response, the rumbling apex hammering against the palm of the mentor. She bit her trembling lip, her eyes darting nervously between the assassin students and the weapons displayed on the table.

"Moving on," the mentor said, her tone filled with a chilling precision, "we have the area below the xiphoid, right below the heart. Here is the blind spot of the ribcage coverage. A well-placed strike here can cause severe damage from the bottom of right ventricle."

The mentor's hand descended further, hovering just above the captive's abdomen, her fingers poised as if preparing to strike. The captive's breath hitched, her body tensing as if bracing for impact. The room seemed to grow colder as she saw the focused eyes of the assassin students.

"And finally," the mentor concluded, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper, "We have the area over the clavicle. This position allows us to bypass most of the chest armor and ribcage, to penetrate the atria and aorta directly, provided the weapon is long enough."

The mentor's hand moved to the captive's collarbone area, caressed the pulsating veins underneath. The captive's eyes widened, a mix of terror and realization reflecting in their depths. The mentor's teachings had painted a dark path ahead, one that demanded a cold and calculated approach for her fellows students.

"And NEXT..." the mentor scanned the room, her eyes flickering with amusement.

"Is the time for PRACTICE."

Hearing this, the captured girl’s heart sank to the bottom of abyss. She knew that her doom was imminent. Her heart raced uncontrollably, pounding against her chest as if desperately trying to escape its impending fate.

The mentor asked her students if any of them would like to recommend themselves for the upcoming practice session. Excitement filled the air as most of the girls eagerly raised their hands, their faces lit up with anticipation.

With a sinister smile, the mentor selected a student from the eager faces. The chosen student stepped forward, took down her hood, her eyes shined with expectations and determination. The mentor allowed the student to have her pick of weapon and piercing spot, relishing in the power dynamics that played out before her.

The student's gaze lingered over the arsenal of deadly tools, selecting a weapon with a menacing aura. She ran her fingers along the blade, savoring the anticipation that filled the room. With a wicked grin, she turned to face the captive girl, her voice dripping with delight.

"I choose the serrated dagger," the student declared, her voice tinged with a chilling excitement. "And I want to strike at the apex of her heart, just like the mentor I admire."

The captive girl's eyes widened in terror, her breath catching in her throat. The mentor's own smile widened, seeing the fear etched across the captive's face. She nodded approvingly, allowing the student to proceed with her choice.

The student approached the captive girl, her movements deliberate and calculated. The air grew heavy with tension as the serrated dagger glinted ominously in her hand. The captive girl's heart was beating in an insane rhythm, facing the incoming intent to kill with full of fear and despair.

As the student positioned herself, the mentor watched intently. Her eyes glimmering with a twisted joyous. The student's hand trembled with anticipation, staring at the throbbing point below the left breast of the shivering young thief. Her blade poised to strike. The captive girl's body tensed, her eyes locked on the weapon that would soon pierce her vulnerable flesh.

"Don’t blame me." whispered by the young assassin.

In one swift and merciless motion, the student thrust the serrated dagger right between the 4th and 5th rib, torn the captive girl's heart from the apex. The room seemed to freeze in that moment, the sound of the blade piercing flesh echoing through the air.

The captive girl let out a choked gasp, her eyes widened with agony. Her body kneeled down, convulsing with the searing pain that seeped through her being.

"Come, my dear," the mentor held up the young thief, and let the outstanding student to listen to her last heaving chest. "Remember this faltering heart sound, representing our power, and the fragile of life." Her desperate heartbeat, staggered with the spurting sound of blood, echoed in the mind of the student.

Her heart, the very core of her existence, reacted with a final surge of desperation. It beat wildly, as if fighting against the intrusion, a futile attempt to cling to life. But the cruel reality of the situation prevailed, and with each weakening beat, the girl's life force slipped away.

The mentor watched with a twisted satisfaction as the young thief's body slumped, lifeless and still. The room fell into an eerie silence. The mentor's eyes gleamed with a sense of accomplishment, reveling in the darkness that had unraveled within her students.

"Observe, my dear fellow students," wiped the stains on her student’s cheek, she declare to everyone with determination. "This is what we have, the power deciding life and death. But remember, the fleeting nature of life binds us all. We have to be skilled to avoid becoming the next fallen heart."

The End

#female heart #dark cardiophilia #Gif included #Story writing #AI Support #Heart stab

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reasonsforhope · 6 months

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Do you have any advice for dealing with election anxiety?

I think/hope so!

First, a couple caveats:

I'm from the US, so US perspective, and about US 2024 elections

I know more about politics/follow them more than like, at least 85% of US Americans? But I am not an expert.

Environment/climate news and climate hope are science-based and can be measured/predicted empirically wayyyyy more than politics can, because People

I'm not getting into the trenches around Democrats vs. the Left vs. Liberals vs. Progressives. In this post, we're all in one big venn diagram of mostly interchangeable terms

So, first off, maybe my biggest piece of advice is this: The antidote to anxiety is action.

Find something you can do to help - anything. Anxiety is like fear - it's part of your brain's alarm system. It's part of your brain's mechanism for telling you that you need to do something

So if you listen to that alarm and do something, your brain won't feel the same need to desperately escalate the alarm system

You can look up and sign up for actions, protests, petitions, letter-writing campaigns, phone banking, canvassing, and more for candidates near you at Mobilize.us (no Repubs on here I promise). They also work with Swing Left a lot - a group that helps voters look up and focus on helping the nearest race that is actually competitive (because most of them aren't!)

Again, that's Mobilize.us and Swing Left as two of the best places to find out how and where to help, and sign up to do so

Other than that, I don't have advice specifically so much as I have "some useful and more hopeful ways to think about the coming US election" and to a lesser extent democracy in general

1. The media is going to underreport how well the Left and/or Democrats are doing, basically no matter what.

So, although we can't get cocky about it, this is something absolutely worth remembering when you see just about any polling or predictions about the 2024 elections.

Here's why:

Poling is weird and often inaccurate and skews in a lot of ways and is inherently biased, and it's less accurate the further you are from an election. Also, the electoral college is a huge complication here

This skewing is built into both the interpretation of the poll and the design of the poll itself - how many people do they sample? Demographic spread? Polls try to go for "likely voters," but how well can you predict that, especially as voting rates for young people and marginalized groups are rising, often dramatically?

Right now, those biases are all skewing most to all polls and predictions to the right. Including from basically all pollsters, as well as left-wing media and news outlets.

Now, THAT'S NOT INHERENTLY A BAD THING. It's not because they don't want the Left to win. It's because in 2016, basically all mainstream media, including left-leaning media, said that there was a very low chance Trump was going to win. They said that Hillary Clinton had it in the bag. So they're all correcting for the huge inaccuracy in the 2016 (and 2020 and 2022 tbh) elections

Not only were they catastrophically and humiliatingly wrong about that, they then had to deal with the fact that that very reporting was part of why Clinton lost in 2016 - voters heard she was probably going to win, so they felt safe staying home instead of voting

And then the 2020 election polls were also super wrong, mostly in the other direction

Polling as a field is undergoing a massive shakeup around this, trying to figure out how to not fuck up that badly again, but they haven't figured it out yet, so right now they're skewing things to compensate

That's for the sake of both their own credibility and, you know, the part where just about no one in either left-wing or mainstream media or mainstream polling orgs wants Trump to win

So they're going to underreport Democratic chances on purpose to a) compensate for the bias skewing things toward Democrats in their models, and b) to make sure that they don't accidentally help Trump win again

Sources: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x

Reasons the Republicans are in more trouble than a lot of people think

Democrats are largely closing ranks hard around Biden, because no matter what they think of Biden, they know a Repub victory would be a thousand times worse

Republicans, however, are absolutely NOT unifying around a candidate. And they're also the ones who go around saying a ton of awful and offensive and wildly untrue things about their opponents. Meaning that the Republican primary is about to get fucking messy, and probably all of their candidates will be tarred in the process

So, basically, the Republican candidates are all going to be busy smearing the fuck out of each other - while Biden mostly doesn't have to deal with that level of negative campaigning against him for months and months

As studies show, in politics, "a negative frame is much more persistent, or “stickier,” than a positive one. If you come at an issue negatively, but are later reminded of the policy's positive aspects, you will still think it's a bust."

Also, Biden is gonna get basically all presidential-race left-wing big-name donor money, while the Right will have that money split a bunch of ways and blow through it hard on infighting, creating a probable funding gap

Trump's campaign contributions are all going to pay his legal fees. Like, to the extent that last month, his main PAC had just $4 million in cash on hand - because they siphoned over $101 million to pay his legal fees (muahahaha)

Sources: x, x, x, x, x, x, x

Other hopeful things to consider

Yes, Trump's indictments and trials are, unfortunately, boosting his numbers among his supporters. However, that's only with the hard right wing - and you can't win a general election with just the far right. He needs to appeal to independent voters and moderate Repubs - and every indictment and trial hurts his chances with them. x, x

In 2022, literally everyone was predicting a "red tsunami." And they were wrong: it never happened. Instead, Democrats picked up a seat in the senate, lost a third or less of the seats in the House that they were expected to, and won a number of statewide races. x, x, x, x, x

DeSantis's decision to go to war with Disney stands to do him a lot of fucking hard. Disney isn't just powerful in general - it's an unbelievably powerful force and employer in DeSantis's home state of Florida. Disney has already pulled a $1 billion project from Florida due to the feud, is responsible for "half" of FL's tourism industry, and and is branding DeSantis as "anti-corporation" and "anti-business" - dangerous charges in the right wing. x, x, x, x, x, x

Abortion is an issue that gets voters to the polls. This is an issue on which politicians are wildly out of step with voters: Numbers change depending on how you break it down, but generally 60% to 70% of Americans think abortion should be legal - which is, in election terms, is a landslide. For years, that momentum has been with Republicans. Well, now it's with us, and so far pro-choice candidates and ballot propositions have done way better than expected. To quote Vox, in 2022, "abortion rights won in all six states with abortion ballot measures, including in red states like Kentucky and Montana that otherwise elected Republican lawmakers." x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x

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tkdrawz · 9 months

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Some of the TMNT fandom (and, frankly, society) really ain't shit.🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️

[From left to right: Princess Fiona (Ogress Form) (Shrek) Eep (The Croods) Gloria (Madagascar) Dijonay Jones (The Proud Family) Luisa Madrigal (Encanto) April O'Neil (TMNT Mutant Mayhem)]

These ladies are female protagonists in their respective franchises. All of them have different body types that contrast from the default thin, petite body type that we're used to seeing. And all of them are BEAUTIFUL! 💖

Three of these ladies became love interests that ended up in healthy relationships with partners who love them for who they are. Also, four of them are women of color. (idk if Fiona counts. While she is green, she started off white so... 50/50? 🤷🏾‍♀️) That part is especially relevant to this post because Twitter got me EFFED UP. I'M ON ONE, ON TWO, ON THREE TODAY!

So the concept art of Mutant Mayhem's April O'Neil was revealed by James A. Castillo, an artist who worked on the movie.

And people are DRAGGING HIM LEFT AND RIGHT! Being disrespectful to both him and April's design. I can tell you right now not even a third of those quotes aren't positive! There is a vast difference between criticism and insults:

💛"I do not like this design. Besides the color yellow and her red/ginger hair, she simply doesn't read as April O'Neil." That's criticism. This expresses disproval of the design without any vulgarities.

💔"Rethink your entire career. "Artist" my ass! This shit is garbage! She looks like she sleeps in a van and smokes so much weed she reeks of it. You failed." That's disrespect. And I don't think I need to tell you why.

Normally, I tend not to discuss such sensitive topics on my blog (religion, politics, discrimination of ANY kind, etc.) for my sanity and out of respect for others with opposing views. But today, I will make an exception.

I would love to include Luisa, who alongside April was mocked and disrespected heavily for her appearance, but I wanted to speak on this matter from the perspective of a plus-sized African American woman. Luisa comes from an completely different background whose culture and standards I am not entirely familiar with. I can't speak on what I don't know. Respectfully.💜

In the black community, women are faced with colorism, texturism, constant comparison, and body image negativity on a daily basis. And a good amount of it comes from our own community! Our shade, our 4C hair, our weight, our attractiveness, our lifestyle! It's brutal out here!😭😭😭

However, in terms of media a plus-sized black girl is seen as ghetto, loud, and undesirable with a side of attitude. The best example I can think of is Dijonay from The Proud Family.

This is the show I grew up on! The theme song, the characters, the Suga Mama, ICONIC! I love Dijonay to pieces, but as I grew up I realize that she was, in some aspects, a negative portrayal. She was always chasing instead of being "the chase". She was a horrible friend to Penny. And she sucumbed to a lot of negative stereotypes with barely any redeeming qualities. And this was very disheartening considering that she was the darkest one in the group. And the heaviest. And as a little chubby wubby in the 2000s with THIS as my representation? I have to give the writers a bit of the side eye. Was she any better in The Proud Family: Louder and Prouder? To that I would say.... meh. I love her in the reboot, but they could do so much more with her in my opinion. I still haven't seen them address the issue of colorism. 👀

While she is not a human, Gloria is voiced by a black woman (Jada Pinkett Smith) and imitates the sass of a black woman so... yeah. She's included. Gloria was persued by two men. One was the suave, flexing hippo Motto Motto. And the other was her friend/neighbor from her childhood Melman. She chose the latter for good reason of course. Now in Madagascar, Gloria wasn't mocked or criticized for her weight. In fact, hippos are known for their weight. However, she was seemingly fetishized for it. By Motto Motto to be exact. And being fetishized is NOT better than being ridiculed.

Unlike Dijonay, April was the chase, a love interest for Leonardo. I admit, I was SHOCKED that she was gonna be persued. Let alone that the writers wanted to try another Turtle/April pairing considering how April and Donnie went...😬. Now her backlash was on a completely different level. One that I wasn't even prepared for....

While Gloria and Dijonay are original characters, Mutant Mayhem's April O'Neil is a different interpretation of the character that has existed since the 80's. The same can be said for the Turtles, Splinter, literally everybody else! Every show and movie for that matter! And with every story, she changes. Design, motivation, relationships/dynamics, even race as of lately. All of it changes. And change isn't bad. In my opinion, it keeps things fresh and interesting instead of spoon feeding us the same story and concepts over and over again. Change challenges us. Change motivates us. However, some people don't like change nor want to accept it and adjust. And that's life. That's just the way it is. But change is necessary in order to progress.

She wasn't bad in the movie AT ALL. I absolutely adored her! And the dynamic between her and Leo wasn't akward or uncomfortable at all. It was handled really well. Ayo Ediberi did an incredible job bringing her to life! (GOD, I loved her in The Bear! Shameless plug lol)

That being said, I understand some of the sensitivity that fans have when a character changes so drastically you can barely recongnize them anymore beyond the bare minimun. (See also Sonic Boom's Knuckles) But the blatant discrimination, rude comments, and the boldness, THE AUDACITY, that some of these nasty Twitter fingers with their dirty fingernails have to type such disrespect to the artist that I can't repeat up here was wild af. Like, I can't believe we have to share a planet with some of them! Uggh!😷(But that's Twitter 24/7 so what's new?) Her and Rise April don't deserve the hate they get. You don't have to like them. Art is subjective. But to insult and harrass the artists and the people who look like the characters, then mask it under the umbrella of "tHaTs mY oPiNiOn" is 🐱. I said what I said. And I will say that shit again.

Also, just because she's black doesn't mean we can't have another white April O'Neil ever again. We know goodness well they could make another iteration of TMNT and make her white if they wanted to. Heck, I encourage them to explore other races and cultures too! New York is full of them! And it's not like all the other versions of April up and vanished. You can watch them anytime on Hulu, Netflix, Paramount Plus, etc.

One more point I'd like to make is that I am an African American woman who is currently on a weight loss journey. As a plus-sized girl, I had incredibly low self-esteem and picked up toxic, unhealthy eating habits from starving myself to overeating BECAUSE I starved myself. Also, I have experienced both sides from being disrespected and made fun of to being complimented and persued. I was at my biggest weight 2 years ago and I have made incredible progress to lose weight since then. People can lose weight. It is achievable! I went to school with some people who were way bigger than me that lost the weight by senior year! Just because she's big in this movie doesn't mean she can't lose weight by the sequel. Like I've said before, it's not wrong to encourage health and fitness!💪🏾 In life, they call this a glow up. A "remember how you treated them in high school" type of comeback. People can, and are allowed to, change. And it's not wrong to embrace your body and the skin you're in. It's all relative!💖

This post isn't to convince you to change your mind. And it won't make the bullies go away. I can't change the world overnight, nor am I trying to. At the end of the day, you're the consumer. It's your choice. Your prefrence. I can't tell you how to think.

I just wanted to spread a bit of awareness that plus sized people exist. And they will always exist. Everyone is deserving of representation in media in all facets. No matter their shape, size, shade, or sexuality. There are so many people from different walks of life who deserve to be seen and on screen. And the amount of visibility for black girls this year alone is amazing! And I want the same for other women of color, too!

Don't let this trash ass society and the people in it who prefer AI/robots over human beings, fake over real, and bad over good tell you otherwise. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. YES I AM TALKING TO YOU. YOU ARE AMAZING! YOU DESERVE ALL THE GOOD THINGS IN LIFE AND MORE. YOUR STORY CAN CHANGE LIVES. BEING A GOOD, HARD WORKING PERSON DOES PAY OFF IN THE LONG RUN! YOU ABSOLUTELY MATTER IN THIS LIFE AND THE NEXT. WE SEE YOU. I SEE YOU. AND I ADORE YOU. RAISE YOUR SELF ESTEEM, ADJUST YOUR CROWN, WEAR IT PROUD, AND DO YOUR BEST!

Be good to one another. Take care.

💙 -TK

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gracev0609 · 2 months

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Free Love

Josh X Multiple Partners

WC: 2k+

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Explicit Sex, Orgy, Pure Porn, This won't be for everyone.

Disclaimer: This is fiction. I am not at all insinuating that Josh participates in group sex with his fans. This is a fake, fictional story.

Josh POV

You lived and breathed free love. It radiated throughout every part of your life, the way you loved your family, your friends. The way you loved your precious time at home, watering your plants watching them grow to loving your body and the mindful practice of yoga every morning. You loved taking time to cook yourself intricate meals, full of care. You also loved being outside, one with nature, observing the grass and trees, birds and bees as you elevated your mind while smoking the devils lettuce. You loved the road, and the travel, and the fans. Oh, you loved the fans.

Admittedly you loved the ego boost, the way they reached out for you, mouths hung open practically drooling. Knowing that your whorish antics were making their cocks strain and their cunts drip, you loved it. You couldn't deny that the praise of thousands of beautiful people didn't affect you. Your fans knew it, your bandmates knew it, there was no hiding the way you strained in your jumpsuits. It was all for them.

Each city had willing participants, you asked your security to rally up each guest you had handpicked and gather them in your green room. Once you had a group waiting for you, you always heard excited chatters through the door. They were theorizing why they were there. Why did I want them? The answer was a simple one for you, you loved them. You were thankful and grateful for your fans and their unwavering love, you just wanted to love them back. Offering them a spot in your bed was the ultimate show of thanks.

Opening the door handle, the voices stopped and all eyes were on you,”Hello beautiful! I hope you had a great time this evening.”

You made sure to look around, giving eye contact to each person in the room. Smiling when they nodded.

“I have a proposition for all of you. You're very welcome to say no, although I hope you say yes. I think you all are so beautiful, so full of love, I could feel each of your energies out there. Calling for me. So, well, my question is, do you want me? You're invited to my hotel room, I want to love on you all.” You paused letting them make up their minds. Two of your guests decided that they didn't want to, and you respected that, giving them a hug goodbye before letting them leave with security. The remaining five were given an address and a hotel room number as you left to go get prepared for your evening.

✨✨✨

Keeping the lights off you lit a few candles and incense, before settling in on the large bed. Wiping your hands on your soft linen pants you gathered paraphernalia in front of you and began to roll a few joints for the evening. Not long after finishing up for the evening, a knock came from the hotel door. Climbing off the bed you hurried to the door, checking your hair in the mirror before opening it.

“Welcome! Welcome! Come in, take your shoes off, get comfortable!”, you said, extending your arm to show your guests into the room.

Walking back over to the bed after closing the door, you unbuttoned your matching linen shirt letting it fall from your shoulders to the floor. Climbing back into bed your eyes met five other pairs, in various states of hesitation.

“Come on over, get comfortable! Get as undressed as you feel comfortable. There's water bottles in the mini fridge. I want you all to feel comfortable, it's just sex, it's not a big deal.”

A man with medium length wavy hair, pulls his shirt off and makes his way to the bed.

“If at any point any of you decide this isn't what you want to do anymore, please let me know. You're welcome to leave whenever.”

You smile when the most petite woman in the group climbs onto your bed, sitting next to the other participant. Not a second later the rest follow, removing various items of clothing and completing the circle on your bed.

You giggle lightly, grabbing your lighter, flicking the flame on,” Usually we light up at these kinds of things,” You stick the joint in your mouth, puffing on it, getting it lit. Wrapping your lips around the paper you take a deep inhale. Tilting your head up you blow the pale grey smoke above your head, showing off the expanse of your neck. Passing it to the man to your right, he takes it in his fingers.

“Be careful if you don't smoke often, this shits strong.”

By the time it's made it's way around the circle your brain is starting to feel fuzzy, the brush of the woman's fingertips against yours makes you feel warm, euphoric. Remembering why they're here through your haze makes your cock start to stiffen. Once the joint has dwindled and has been ashed out, you set your sights on the gorgeous woman sitting across from you. The way her heavy tits sway with each breath she takes captivates your attention. She smiles at you, eyes lidded, and you crawl your way across the mattress.

“Hi sweet girl. You look so pretty.”

You watch her hazy eyes try to focus on yours,”Hi Josh. You look prettier.”

“Never,” you whisper leaning in a bit closer,”Can I kiss you?”

She leans in, connecting your mouths together. Eagerly she moans into your mouth, grabbing your hand and placing it on her bare breast. Your cock twitches, fully hardening in your pants as you feel her nipple pebble and harden into your palm. She disconnects your mouths, pushing your head to her chest.

“Need to feel you Josh, oh my God I've thought about this so many times.”

You flick your tongue in quick succession over her nipple, surely making her core clench. You lick and suck for a few minutes, before pulling off of her, eager to lavish on someone else. When you sit back up, some of your participants are interacting with each other, making one another comfortable and warmed up.

Your lip curls when you lock eyes with the first man who joined your bed, his green eyes piercing. He boldly crawls into your lap, kissing and licking your neck, rolling his covered cock into yours.

You're panting when he finally removes his lips from your skin and he asks,” Can I suck on your cock? I bet you taste so fuckin good.”

You shimmy back onto the pillows, and giggle when you realize that you have an audience. They all are eager to see what has been hiding behind your jumpsuits.

Hooking your thumbs into your waistband,you pull down, unveiling yourself to the group. Grasping yourself in your hand you give yourself a few tugs, staring into each person's eyes, all of them reading the same expression. They're turned on, and they like what they see.

The green eyed man settles between your legs, as the petite woman snuggles into your side. Her long nails tickling and teasing the skin of your stomach,“Are we being good for you Josh? Want to please you.”

You look down between your legs at the man with his face inches away from your penis. You smile when you notice he seems transfixed on the way you're leaking from your slit.

Looking back to the girl with her chin on your chest,” You're all doing a fantastic job. I like to call my participants my rhinestones. Each of you are so special, each of you are so unique and sparkle differently. It's why I find you all so beautiful.”

Your praises were cut off by a hot mouth enveloping your length, tongue swirling around your tip, savoring the taste of your arousal.

“Fuck, he tastes so good.”

That sentence affects you more than you would admit, he's talking to them about you like you're not even there.

Your breath stutters when another tongue joins the man's, licking and mouthing your cock. Soon enough all five of your rhinestones mouths and hands were on your body. Licking, sucking, scratching and caressing.

The woman from earlier comes into your view again, a soft smile on her face.

You bring your hand to cup her cheek,” Hi my precious rhinestone. How are you, feeling good?”

“I'm feeling really good Josh. But, I feel empty. Can I have you inside me?”

“Of course, honey.”

You caress the heads in your lap, gently pushing them off of you,” Gotta take turns.”

She swings her thigh over your hip, immediately grinding her soaked folds over your length. You smile at her when she sighs content in the feeling of your flesh against her.

She tilts her hips up, sinking down on your length. She can't help but moan when she sits fully in your lap.

“Holy shit Josh. You feel… oh you feel incredible.”

Panting, your eyes roll back when you register that you're buried inside her tight wet cunt. You can help it when your cock twitches as she clenches around you, soaking your lap.

Her hands squeeze your pecs and she smiles sweetly,” You know I can feel that. You're just making me clench harder.”

You swallow the moan threatening to escape,” You're soaked, so turned on. Pretty little rhinestone so wet and glistening… come on love, move your hips. Fuck me.”

Sighing as she starts bouncing in your lap, your mind spiraled as you could feel every ridge inside her as her cunt sucked your throbbing length deeper within her.

After a few minutes you feel her start to flutter around you, and you snake your fingers down to rub her clit.

“Gonna cum on me? Go ahead sweetheart, I wanna feel it.”

You look around at the rest of your rhinestones, some entangled with one another, some pleasuring themselves.

Another beautiful man slid in next to you, placing wet kisses to your neck, “Can I ride your thigh Josh? Please, I want it so bad!”

“Go ahead, love on me.”

You groan when you feel the weight of him settle in on your thigh, shifting his weight, humping his slick cock against your skin.

Your mouth falls agape when the two people riding you start making out whining as they fall apart. First you feel a gush of slick release around your cock as her high slams into her, then you feel his hot sticky release splatter on your skin.

They both slump forward coming down from their highs and you praise,” Such a good job, so so beautiful.”

As most of your group met their ends you eyed the woman who had mostly kept to herself. Hooking your finger in a come hither motion, you beckon her,” Come here honey.”

She crawled over to you, eyes locked on your slick twitchy cock. You cupped her cheek in your palm,” Are you having fun?”

She nodded, still somewhat shy.

“Do ya want to touch me?”

She giggles, trailing her hand up and down your chest, traveling lower and lower. Her dainty fingers wrap around your thick cock, and you pulse.

“Josh?”

You hmm in response as she pumps your length, that familiar burn in your stomach returning once again this evening.

“Can you fuck me?”

“Climb on honey.”

She halts her hand and you silence a groan,” No Josh, I want you to fuck me.”

You chuckle, telling her to lay down. Instantly she parts her legs for you, and you smirk at the wetness glistening within her folds. You grasp your cock in your hand, swiping it through her slit. You shudder, you're so hard and ready to cum. Lining up with her entrance you shudder when you sink into her. Eagerly you pump your hips, aching to finally reach your orgasm for the night. She clenches tight around you like a vice making your eyes roll back. Leaning back onto your knees you pull her hips into your lap, thrusting into her harder and faster, the knot in your stomach tightening. Finally your gaze finds her face and she's looking up at you with adoration, eyes blown out with pleasure.

She sighs, and you realize that she's gently climaxing around you.

“What a good girl… I'm getting close.”

Her eyes flutter open,” I want it in my mouth Josh.”

Lust courses through your veins at the sound of her voice, pushing you even closer.

Quickly you pull out for her, holding your pulsating cock steady in your hand for her to latch on to. Her hot waiting mouth attaches to your length, swallowing you down, when finally the band in your stomach snaps and you're cumming hard into her mouth. When she feels that you've stopped spurting she pulls away from you, opening her mouth and showing you your mess before dutifully swallowing.

Petting her hair you praise her for being so good for you. You both flop down on the mattress, melding with the other spent bodies on the bed. As you caught your breath, your body still buzzing from your high, the woman curled into your side caught your attention,asking a question.

“We're not the only ones you've done this with are we.”

“No, my pretty rhinestone, you're not.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Why? Why not? I want to show my love to people as freely as I love the earth and the air I breathe. I want to love fiercely and passionately, in every aspect of my life.”

She relaxed into your side, pleased with your answer,” You're a beautiful person Josh.”

Fin.

#gvf #josh gvf #josh kiszka #gvf smut #gvf fanfiction #greta van smut #josh kiszka smut

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gravedigginbbydoll · 1 year

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pencil shavings and shared smiles {pt.1}

Fem! Teacher Reader x Teacher! Eddie

Masterlist Next

AN: Heyo! So I was watching Abbott Elementary and got sad, so there’s that. Hopefully, this will be a multiple-part thing but do not expect regular updates. I am a busy gal, lol. Also not heavily edited!

WARNINGS AND CONTENT: Minors DNI!!!, Noncanon, Hawkins AU, Normal Hawkins, Rumors about Eddie, Eventual Smut, Very fluffy, Outcasts and Bullying, Mentions of Loneliness, Flirting, Fem!Reader, use of Y/N, older! Eddie, short-haired Eddie, 1995/1996 Hawkins, F! Reader has a dark past, angst.

Summary: The last thing anyone expected Eddie Munson to do once he graduated was to go off to get an Education degree. Now he’s approaching 30 and the coolest music and drama teacher in Hawkins. Enter you, a new teacher at Hawkins Middle School. You moved to the little sleepy town of Hawkins from the city, hoping to give kids joy in learning while also settling into a calmer town. You meet Eddie while moving your stuff into your classroom, and he piques your interest. But people talk, and you can’t help but wonder…Is he the monster they claim he is?

You walk through the doors, arms heavy with the large box full of posters and decor for your classroom. You walk briskly through empty hallways, cursing yourself for not asking the nice older woman working the front desk for some assistance. Finally, you turn one of the labyrinth hallways into what should be your hall. English. You sigh out of relief. For such a small town and school, you felt as though the hallways went on forever. You’re about to turn into your room when you hear rambunctious laughter and shouting from a nearby hallway. Your curiosity is peaked. It’s late in the summer. Most teachers are here to set up, but some are home, enjoying the days before the school year starts.

You scurry to put your box haphazardly in your classroom, the only one devoid of posters and books. You then walk as quietly as you can in your heels, the soft clicking against the tile almost silent with all the excitement in the classroom. Finally, finally, you reach a point where you can peek into the door, seeing the back of a man dressed in a dark flannel, the sleeves rolled up so you can see the tattoos littering his skin and rings on his hands, his nails painted a chipped black. His hair is wild and wavy, cut shorter on the sides and longer on top. He speaks animatedly to a group of young kids, all of them seemingly 13 or 14. They look at him with stars in their eyes, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“So upon the last blow by Lady Eda,” He gestures to the petite girl to his left, her hair in colorfully beaded twists, her shy grin with a mouthful of rainbow braces. The rest of the kids sit on the edge of their seats, awaiting the following words. “The mighty and powerful dark wizard is laid to rest!” The kids erupt in joy, shouting and jumping out of their chairs, a few members hugging the petite girl you assumed was ‘Lady Eda.’ The mysterious man clears his throat again, and the kids rush to their chairs and sit intently. “You are cheered on by the crowd of townspeople, all leading you to the tavern, where you sing and dance the night away. The town is now free of his evil. Congrats, heroes.” He speaks warmly in his raspy tone, the kids in front of him beaming and seeming to burst with joy. “And with that-” He puts down a folder and folds up some journals, “We finish the campaign.” He gets up, showing you the distressed and torn jeans and combat boots on his lower half. “Now get out of here, twerps. I’ll see you with the new fish soon. You can show them the ropes.” The excited chatter continues; the kids grab their bags and stuff their things in them. They all hurriedly leave the classroom, finally noticing you and seeming to tone their excitement, nodding a ‘hello ma’am’ to you, except for ‘Lady Eda.’ She sticks behind, enveloping the man in a tight hug as he chuckles and hugs her back, leaning down and gently telling her to enjoy the rest of her summer. She nods excitedly, running out the doors after her friends, barely noticing you.

You peer out of the shadows, knocking on the door frame, seeing the man gather up his stuff and mutter at a volume so low you almost miss it, “Fucking Doyle.”

You furrow your brows and smile a bit, amused by the mystery of this man and his evident hatred for a teacher you knew was in your hallway. “I’m no Doyle, but it’s nice to get a feel for who I should avoid,” you joke, your tone light.

The mystery man attempts to stand up quickly from his bent position of picking up things, hitting his head on the edge of a desk, “Oh- I- Shit!”

You fight a smile, biting your lip at this man who’s quite a character. You expected mostly bored housewives and businessmen in Hawkins, but it was shaping up to shock you quite a bit.

He carefully got up this time, holding a hand against his head and spinning on his heel. His big brown doe eyes and a slight smattering of freckles make your heart jump a bit. He had smile lines and a shy smile, his facial hair short and scruffy. You feel your cheeks heat. Fuck. You didn’t expect a young man around your age who was so damn attractive at Hawkins Middle School, of all places.

His face broke out into a shy crooked grin as he walked towards you, a hand held out towards you. “Hi. I’m Eddie Munson. You can just call me Eddie. I teach music and drama. I also run the DnD club here- that’s what the kiddos were doing here.”

You shake his hand gently, feeling the calloused fingertips against your palms. “Hi. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. You can call me Y/N. I’m teaching English. I’m down that way,” you point back towards your hallway.

He nods, smiling, removing his hand from yours gently. “Well, nice to see someone younger than the dinosaurs in that hallway.”

You snort, feeling heat creep across your skin immediately and covering your mouth. “Sorry- Is it really that bad?”

He nods, and his face molds into a false sorrow and pity expression. “I heard that Mrs. Winnow was around at the birth of Christ.”

You snort again, another laugh bursting as you smile at Eddie. “You’d think with that kind of life, she’d be teaching history, wouldn’t you?”

Eddie grins devilishly, shaking his head. “Nah, she’d immediately make all the other teachers obsolete. They need their jobs.”

You grin, your heart pattering with joy at the young coworker. You were glad to find someone in a similar age range. So far, you only met your neighbors in your rundown apartment, who were around 40, and a few coworkers, who were above 50.

Eddie cocks his head at you, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossing his chest, covering his distressed Metallica concert shirt. “So, you’re new to Hawkins, huh?”

You laugh humorlessly, sighing, looking up at him. “That obvious, huh?”

He smiles softly, an expression reading I’m sorry. “Eh, most of us grew up here. It’s not a town that people are really flocking to. So what brings you here?”

You fiddle with a loose thread on your blouse, biting your lip. You don’t want to say too much, so you shrug and smile. “I wanted some change from the big city. So I closed my eyes, spun around, and pointed at a map. Lo and behold, fate decided Hawkins.”

He nods and still has a crooked smile as he turns, grabbing up his messenger bag full of items you assumed he used for the campaign. “Well, let me know if you want to meet some living humans, not fossils. I have a few friends here, and none are quite at retirement age yet.” He grabs a piece of paper he had about, jotting on it quickly, then handing you the parchment, smiling. “My number. In case you want to take me up on the offer.”

You pocket the number, looking up to thank him. You look up, and his back is turned toward you as he exits the school, lifting his hand and waving while calling over his shoulder, “Bye, city girl! Good luck with the fossils.”

You fight a smile as you walk back to your classroom, your fingers brushing the parchment in your pants pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once you set up your classroom, sweat dripping down your forehead, you realize you have no books for your bookshelf. You frown, biting your lip. The classroom looked terrific, with posters for books you felt were classics and a few inspirational ones. With soft lamps and lights along with the desks arranged, you should be satisfied. You curse yourself, knowing a teacher’s salary is not enough to splurge on books, but you can’t help but hate how only the textbooks are on the shelf. You head out of the school, determined to get more leisure reading books for your future students.

You head to a local bookstore, fondly named ‘Hit the Books.’ An older man with small glasses is behind the counter explaining to a very disinterested edgy teen how to use the register. You look at the expansive store, surprised how it could stay open in such a small town with so few customers. Next, you head over to the Young Adult and Children’s section. You grab a few books, holding them in your arms as you walk from aisle to aisle. Eventually, your stacked up to your chin with books, struggling to hold them. You hear a chuckle behind you and cautiously turn, waddling like a penguin to avoid spilling novels everywhere.

There stands Eddie, his grin clear as day. He’s missing his flannel, now just in a short sleeve, his tattoos in full view and adding to his grungy look. “You need help? It seems like you’re carrying a library there.”

You feel heat travel across your skin and shake your head, backing up a little, “I got it-” You almost trip, Eddie catching you by your shoulder, and his eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I think I’ll help anyway,” He grabs half of the stack of books, his own at the bottom. You spot ‘Merlin’s Woods,’ a book you recognized as one that had been among the fantasy books for teens and children. You fight a bit of a smile at this, Eddie helping you to the register. The young teen girl lights up at his appearance, her thick black eyeliner exaggerated by her wide blue eyes. The older man, however, looks on in a bit of disdain, making you frown slightly.

“Mr. Munson! How’s it going?” The young girl asks, clearly more alert than before, ringing up your books along with Eddie’s. You’re about to interrupt her and let her know you’ll pay for your own when Eddie squeezes your hand without looking at you, smiling and catching up with the girl. Eddie then looks at you after paying, a smile on his lips.

“Do you need help lugging out this library to the car-”

The older man, still gruffly bothered by Eddie’s presence, shoves a box in the young girl’s arms and hands Eddie his book. “Don’t worry, Mr. Munson; Julia can handle it.”

The young teen Julia looks at the older man in protest, her brows furrowed. “Mr. Munn, I’m supposed to work the -”

He cuts her off, holding up a hand. “Shush. Go help the missus with her books.”

She groans, mumbling as she stacks the books in the box. You look to Eddie, his smile faltering as he looks at you, holding his book. Something tells you the bookstore worker does not like Eddie. Something else tells you that Eddie knows. You open your mouth to say something before Eddie clears his throat, glancing at Mr. Munn.

“I guess I better head out. I’ll see you around,” He says softly, smiling at you gently before turning and quickly jogging to a motorbike outside. You watch him sling a leg over the bike and drive away, feeling a twinge of hurt and sadness. It may not have been your fault, but you couldn’t help but feel for Eddie.

“Careful with who you surround yourself, Miss. That Munson boy is trouble. He may have straightened out a bit since heading to college, but he is still a bit delinquent. Be careful,” The old man gruffly tells you, pointed looking at you over his glasses. “You look like a nice girl.” You feel your skin prickle with disdain and heat travel from the back of your neck across your chest. Nice girl. You hate that phrase. It meant docile. Obedient. You ignored the older man’s stare, turning towards Julia.

“C’mon, my car is out here.” You lead the young disgruntled teen toward your modest, rundown car, opening the trunk. She huffs as she places the box in the back, clearly heavy for her small frame. You close the trunk and turn towards her, about to utter a thank you, when she stares hard at the floor and kicks a small pebble before sighing.

“Mr. Munson isn’t a bad guy. Just so you know,” she softly says, looking up at you, her big eyes full of sincerity.

You nod and smile softly, “I figured. But do you mind me asking why Mr. Munn is so set against him?” You tilt your head at her, and she huffs out a breath, annoyance at the older man clear across her face.

“Some dumb old rumors the geezer still believes from the ’80s. Mr. Munson was the town’s troublemaker and outcast. There are a lot of crazy rumors about him. I don’t think they’re true, but he never tries to disprove them. He came back to help outcasts feel safe at school. Give them a teacher to trust,” The young girl’s voice is thick with emotion, and you can picture she was one of the outcasts Eddie helped. It pulls at your heartstrings.

“Well, thank you, Julia. I appreciate your help. And don’t worry, I won’t listen to the rumors,” You playfully wink at the girl as she weakly smiles and waves goodbye before retreating into the small shop.

You climb into your car, starting up the engine as you bite your lip and wonder…

Who really is Eddie Munson?

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