#boardwalk of beasts

[pankomako]

PARKER HILLTREK IN THE MODERN AGE. OGS GO CRAZY

[incorrectpowerrangersquotes]

Nate: I'm attaching myself to you. Do you know why?

Zoey: No?

Nate: Because I'm full of anxiety and socially inept.

[naturemustgetmehighwhy]

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”

[palossssssand]

Slug City fake movie poster for Smooks, featuring the bay's harbor boardwalk, foggy seas, and her beast made of paint.

[gymbunnycandiehart]

10 Don’ts for any Gym Bunny

1) Don’t be a sissy in the gym–I get it: Some gym bunnies want to be sissies and be humiliated or feminized by men or women.  If that’s your thing, more to you.  But don’t be a sissy in the gym.  Just because you’re a guy dressed like a girl doesn’t mean you have to be a powder puff.

2) Don’t let the gym rats steal your joy–Nobody should steal your joy.  They might assault your happiness, but nobody can take the joy that belongs to you.  Those intolerant beastly men (gym rats) are just upset because you’re hotter than their girlfriend.

3) Don’t overpad your sports bra–I can see why you would want to look stacked, but there’s no logical reason to give yourself extra padding.  Nobody wants to see your pads falling out all over the place. 

4) Don’t be a harry Mary in beast mode–On the flip side of being a sissy, neither do you want to be a clumpy beast of a guy.  It just doesn’t work.  Yes, work out hard and tough, but don’t try to compensate for the lack of manliness you are exhibiting in your cute workout clothes.

5) Don’t be a tease without intent–It’s a lot of fun to be a tease, to flirt, or pose seductively with weights in hand.  But if you’re not trying to garner the sexual attention of some guy or girl, don’t do it.  Save it for the shower (lol-just kidding).

6) Don’t wear tennis shoes twice in two days–Keep your outfits mixed up.  If you are a true gym bunny, you have at least six pairs of adorable sneakers.  Mix it up one day to the next and keep yourself looking fresh and beautiful from head to toe!

7) Don’t wear Keds to lift weights–Yeah, they’re cute with rompers and cutoff shorts, but they have no place in the squat rack…or even in the zumba class.  They’re not made for that.  Save them for the mall or for the boardwalk.

8) Don’t fret over your revealing clothing–If you’ve got a good tuck going on (see #10), then there is no reason why you can’t be as bare as permissible.  You don’t want to be a slouch and you need not worry over what others think.  If you’ve got it, flaunt it…not for others, but for your developing personality.

9) Don’t mismatch your tops and bottoms–If I have to explain this one, then you need to take up golf from the seniors’ tees.

10) Don’t forget to tuck yourself tightly–You’ll get used to it.  Nothing ruins a sleek womanly look than some unsightly bulge in tight-fitted hot shorts.  You’re better than that.

This was an OLD OLD post from way back when, but what a fun one! Have fun in the gym, girlies.

Love ya much

CandieHart

[ofstarsandflames]

Hello all! Thank you for joining me for my first ever RobStar week! And thank you even more so for giving my fic a chance!!!

I plan to participate every day this week, but if I am unable to for some reason I'll be sure to let you know!

Sorry for the rambling! I'll let you go ahead and jump right in!

[Heads up! A little of the dialogue in this story is courtesy of a prompt by @welcometothewoes!]

RobStar Week 2024, Day 1

Friends to Lovers 

“Well, what do you guys think?” 

The others looked ahead to the sign where Robin was pointing, displaying a variety of mixed reactions. 

Cyborg and Beast Boy had lit up at the reveal, no doubt eager to partake in a series of competitions that would supposedly prove who was superior between the two. Raven rolled her eyes, no doubt dreading the thought of being dragged into Cyborg and Beast Boy’s antics

Starfire’s reaction, strangely enough, was the most passive of the group. She looked up, reading the words displayed on the giant glowing sign.

“Jump City Beach Boardwalk?” Star tilted her head, confused more than anything else. “Please, what is the purpose of these “walking boards”? I was under the impression wood was not sentient.” 

“Boardwalk, Star.” Robin gently corrected. “It’s an amusement park near a beach where people can go to have fun.” 

“A park for amusement, you say.” Starfire noted. “Fascinating. Please, what is it you do in these kinds of parks?” 

“Lots of things Star!” Beast Boy chimed in. “There’s a bunch of themed junk food you can eat, games you can win cool prizes in, and a bunch of rides you can go on ‘til you get sick!” 

“How ‘bout a little game of friendly competition, Grass Stain?” Cyborg chimed in, a mischievous glint in his human eye. “Whoever wins the most prizes gets to plan next week’s dinner menu?”

“You're on, Gears for Brains!” Beast Boy exclaimed.

Cyborg ran through the gates first, eager for his 7-day barbecue dream to come true. Beast Boy followed suit, but not before grabbing Raven’s hand.

“C’mon, Rae! You can keep score!” 

“Joy.”

Raven’s sarcasm, whether unnoticed or ignored, did little to deter the green teen. Together, they passed through the boardwalk’s gates. 

And with that, only two remained. 

Robin gestured to the boardwalk’s entrance.

“Shall we?” 

Though Starfire was still unsure of the appeal of such a place, she decided to trust Robin’s judgment.

Standing side by side, the duo made their way through the gates. 

~~~

“Remember guys, only 5 prizes per person. We don’t want a repeat of last year…” 

Though Robin phrased it as a general statement, they all knew who it was meant for. Cyborg and Beast Boy laughed nervously, no doubt trying to hide their guilty expressions. Raven rolled her eyes and Starfire let out a small giggle. 

“Only 5, got it!” Cyborg reaffirmed. 

Now that he no longer felt guilty about last year’s prize incident, the cybernetic teen led his shapeshifting and dark-clad friends away. He shot a teasing look at their leader. 

“Let’s go leave Robby for his date~” He said this in a sing-songy tone. 

Robin glared, but he knew there was no ill intent. Cyborg laughed, all while Beast Boy grabbed Raven’s hand to excitedly show her how his favorite games and rides changed from last year. 

Soon, all three were out of sight. 

Robin let out a sigh of relief, happy to finally have some much needed alone time with his brand new girlfriend. 

Turning to check on her, Robin could tell by Starfire’s beaming grin that she was in good spirits. In fact, she’d been wearing this expression since they first left the tower. 

“Someone’s happy.” He playfully teased. 

"Oh! Sorry, it's just..." Starfire perked up, the shining, uncontrollable smile still not leaving her features. "It's been awhile since I've been this... giddy."

Robin returned the smile twice fold, though his eyebrows shot up in the air.

"Really? We come to the boardwalk every year."

"Yes, but..." Star shyly held Robin's hand, intertwining their fingers. "Never like this."

Ah, so that’s what it was.

Robin could feel his cheeks warming up. Hoping it wasn’t too noticeable, he gave their intertwined hands a gentle squeeze for reassurance. 

In a more than chivalrous mood, Robin gestured to the entrance with a little extra flair. 

“After you, m’lady.” 

Starfire giggled, returning the chivalry in kind.

“Thank you, kind sir.” 

Together, one’s hand fitting so naturally with the other’s, the couple made their way through the amusement park’s entrance. 

~~~

“Ready, you two?” Richard asked, a dramatic flair to his voice. 

“Yeah!” A little boy exclaimed loudly, hands thrown into the air with glee.

“You sure?” Kori questioned, savoring the moment.

“Super duper sure!” A little girl replied, unable to contain her excitement. 

Richard and Kori gave each other a knowing glance. At the same time, they removed the hands covering the eyes of the children they held. 

“Surprise!” They both yelled out. “Happy Birthday!” 

Jake and Mari, now an entire 7 years old, watched with wide eyes and slacked jaws at the birthday gift their parents presented them with. 

“Wow / Awesome!” Jake and Mari remarked at the same time.

Squirming out of their parent’s hold, the twins ran up to the gates of the place their parents had brought them to. Right there, in giant, bold letters, displayed the words: 

JUMP CITY BEACH BOARDWALK

Eager to begin exploring the beach and amusement park, the children ran back to their parents. Jake took hold of their father’s hand whilst Mari took hold of their mother’s. Together, all four walked hand-in-hand inside through the boardwalk’s gates.

[lostcryptids]

watched under the boardwalk (again) and the way that google shows mr beast as hot sauce crab before the lead actors

[pankomako]

was inspired to draw parker today, here's me messing around w design stuff and also generally messing around

[the-habbit-reviewer]

Life With Noah | Running in Circles

What's with Slenderverse fans only knowing how to do two things? It's either rip something off and do nothing new or interesting, or trying to reboot a pedophile's magnum opus... and do nothing new or interesting.

Life With Noah is yet another TribeTwelve reboot, among a sea of failed TribeTwelve reboots. Yawn.

The trailer doesn't give me any hope. I mean, it's a bunch of pedo-dickriders yearning for the return of an overhyped-fetish-filled-Slenderverse series which relies on its editing instead of putting any actual effort into its writing. Reminds me of a lot of new gen stuff... interesting...

The first video, Exposition, is nothing. It's what I expect every video to be. Some guy running around his backyard with a bunch of needless filters and loud noises. Oh no! a shitty Slender Man png! Run!!!

It's what every new gen series consists of, and what the boardwalk videos of TribeTwelve were like. Uninteresting(and irritating) filler pretending it's gonna be something great.

No one wants this. Adam's victims don't want this. It's actually pretty easy to not glorify a pedophile!

I know I trash on new gen, but at least they think they're trying something new. Even if it's bad, I'd prefer someone try to be original over beating a dead horse.

It's kind of like Transformers: Rise of the Beasts(2023). It doesn't want to do anything new, and would rather stay in its Bayverse bubble, where it can do nothing fun or interesting and live in the past.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 42

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC's POV

Words: 6,008

You knew instantly when your vessel breached the waters of Asshai. An ominous air hung heavy over the near pitch black waves. The sky had now been painted in a dark gray with even darker clouds rolling by. It made the bottom of your stomach feel heavy with lead. Legends of this land did not disappoint. Exactly as your mother had told you.

Ahead of you was the sharp outline of the Shadow City. A few ships already docked bobbed lazily on the harbor docks. Latilth seems to vibrate against your leg, the scales around her neck puffing out as she hissed. Brushing your hand over her head you could feel her wariness. Even Latilth didn’t know what to make of it and not knowing scared the mighty beast.

“This is it.” Melisandre’s face is numb as she stares out, her hands tucked inside of her long, scarlet sleeves. She didn’t appear to be too excited about the notion of returning home.

Even Inniros stood at a distance, one blue eye blankly gazing upon Asshai’s shores. What exactly had you gotten yourself into?

Unconsciously you start to worry chew on the inside of your cheek. You had been through a lot since leaving Westeros, yet nothing quite prepared you for something like the Shadowlands. Yet it was something like a vague dream to you.There was a certain familiarity that startled you. Like you had seen it all before, felt the same chill in the air long ago.

Was this from your past life? Remnants from Azor Ahai?

Ray was the only one to maintain his cheery smile. “My word, won’t this be fun!”

For a moment, Rhiannon glances at him with an incredulous expression before tightening her hood around her head. Mumbling something under her breath along the lines of “Crazy priest.”

Weapons already secured to his back, Weles joins you and heaves a sigh as if preparing himself for the trials to come.

From the upper deck of the ship, the captain announces to you that the ship would be pulling up to the docks in a matter of moments. A seasoned master of the seas, Captain Magahl wore the bright, warm colors of the Servants of R’hllor. He was the one who ferried the red priestesses across Essos to do missionary work for the temple. From their drop off destination, they would travel on foot to various cities.

Heavy waves stilled to a gentle roll coming into the harbor. The ships that came into view appeared abandoned had it not been for a few masked workers aboard. Unloading their wares from tough voyages to the wooden boardwalk where they were hauled away. Great spiked towers became more prominent, red glows from windows telling you that there was life present. There were littered among the towers round roofed buildings yet only one home out of ten seemed to be used as a home. The rest of the land was eerily quiet. You feared even to breathe for it might be too loud.

A relentless fog carried you in as the ship’s crew starts to throw ropes over the edges and climb down them. You watched them as they scurried to tie down the ropes until the anchor was fully released.

To the side you hear Weles and Magahl speak to one another. “We’ll stay within the Ash Sea, but I can’t stay in these harbors. It doesn’t feel right.” The captain had whispered with a scowl. “My men aren’t comfortable.”

Weles grimaces but knew there was nothing he could do to assuage him to stay in reach. It would make getting back to the ship would be difficult.

The matter would have to be dealt with when the time came. One obstacle at a time. At least the captain would be leaving a rowboat behind. That meant only a few would be able to go while the others would have to wait until the ship returned.

You went down to your quarters to hastily pack a bag that would have enough provisions for you until you reached the Shadow Hills of the darkin. Not possessing many belongings to begin with, you made sure that Latilth would have plenty of cured meats if she was unable to find any prey.

A small voice inside you worried that Latilth would become disoriented in a new environment and fly away.

Your fears were put to rest when your group finally disembarked and set foot onto the wooden planks of the harbor docks. Latilth didn’t seem too eager to leave your side as her side is constantly pressed into your leg. You thought at one point you heard her hiss her displeasure. She had grown accustomed to blue skies filled with clouds for her to dash through. Asshai’s sky were the color of soot and the air was heavy.

“Try not to look around too much.” Inniros instructs you as he passes by. “Keep your gaze forward.”

Weles covers your left side while Rhiannon keeps to your right. Behind you were Melisandre and Ray, there to protect your group’s blind spot as Inniros takes the lead. The pace was steady and while you tried to keep your eyes trained to the front, they wandered relentlessly. Hungry to look at this once land of the forbidden. The architecture was shiny, sharp and unforgiving. Looming over you in a dominant fashion. Every so often your heart would leap into your throat when you thought you saw a shadow wiggle and move.

Passing by an orange-hued window, you caught a glimpse of someone standing in their doorway. Their mask is what made you gape and hastily avert your gaze. A gold mask with pitch black eyes seemed to stare at you. You had forgotten that most people in Asshai wore masks when they were outside. Feeling vulnerable, you tug at your scarf and tried to pull it over at least the bottom half of your face.

Inniros kept your group continuing down the road, growing further away from the harbor and salty air of the ocean. In the middle of a street was an odd statue made from obsidian. Atop of a smooth stone podium was a cloaked figure; their face covered by a heavy hood. The tip of their nose peaked out, accompanied by lips that looked to be whispering a secret. Carved hands are clasped together. More unsettling was the fact that the figure appeared to be on their knees, begging for forgiveness.

For a moment, Inniros stops to look upon the statue before making a right turn. Buildings were thinning out, becoming a barren path that could only produce weeds. Empty shacks littered either side of the road. Ahead of you were the jagged mountains that were growing closer.

The city disappears behind you. Twisted trees littered the rolling gray dirt of the land. Bare of any leaves or fruit. Truly, Asshai was a wasteland. Inniros had warned them ahead of time that the walk from Asshai to the Shadowlands would not be an easy one. Especially when you had to hike into the valleys of the Shadow Hills. From the valley there would be a secret tunnel that only the darkin were able to access.

When you finally reached the mouth of the valley, your feet were burning from exhaustion. Your knees nearly buckling from the exertion you were demanding from them. Not letting on to how tired you were, you were using Latilth now basically as a support.

From the mist came a female’s voice. “You bring strangers to our land.”

The low spikes on Latilth’s spine tremble in aggravation. Latilth’s actions made everyone quickly position themselves for battle, including you who immediately had Lightbringer unsheathed although it wasn’t covered in flames. You still had yet to call them to you on command. The shine that came off the Valyrian steel sword was menacing enough. In the center of the road, a pool of black was forming from shadows that were making their way lazily to join the others. They crept from boulders and crevices alike. From the pool, a head covered in blue hair emerged slowly until she was physically standing before you. Your arms lowered an inch at this odd beauty. This darkin’s hair was painted in a hue of crushed sapphires and her kohl lined eyes bore into the naked soul. The straight line of her eyebrows endowed her with regalness the likes no one in Westeros has ever seen. Shadows trailed down the top of her head and to the ground like a morbid veil. You had never seen such a color of hair, not even from the many Tyroshi you had seen during your travels. She was a lovely creature with a golden diadem that encircled her brow.

Everyone holds their breath, waiting for an attack. Inniros doesn’t see her as a threat though. He has made no move whatsoever. “How long have you been back in Asshai, Loviisa?”

“A few months. The shadows kept urging me back to the Shadow Hills.” Her voice dripped like honey and the more you looked at her, the more you thought that she could give Cersei a run for her money in aspects of beauty. “You’re lucky I was the one to find you here and not Master Batur.”

“Batur is the very man we wanted to see.” Inniros casually replies, ignoring Loviisa’s scrutinizing blue eyes that roamed over your group. Distaste lit her eyes when they fell on Melisandre, Rhiannon and Ray. It was easy to pick out the clergy of R’hllor. The red articles of clothing gave them away.

“And who is ‘we’, Inniros?” Loviisa kept her face composed, not a wrinkle of her brows nor twitch of her eye gave her away. “You’ve forgotten your manners since we parted ways.”

By his voice, Inniros sounded bored by the whole interaction. “If you insist we do this here. Loviisa, this is Azor Ahai reborn. (y/n).” He shuffles to the side so you were in complete view of Loviisa.

You greeted her as Inniros had instructed. Closing your eyes and bowing your head until she could see the crown of it.

“A little girl with an even smaller dragon.” She murmurs.

Her barb slides off of your shoulders. Cersei had called you worse things. You maintained your smile although it lost it’s original shine. All darkin at first meeting were surly, it appeared. Inniros had the same demeanor as Loviisa did now.

“I never took you as stupid, Inniros.” Loviisa scolds him. “You really believe that this girl is the real Azor Ahai reborn? And let me guess, you plan on telling Batur this.”

Inniros nods. “Nice catching up with you, Loviisa. Now let us pass.”

Shadows writhe around her, having an almost tentacle-like appearance as they stretched down the path until it threatened to brush against Inniros’ feet. “You’re willing to risk endangering your own kind? Look at who you have brought. A fire priest, two priestesses, and what I can only assume is a guard for whatever temple she came from.”

Latilth lifts her wings in an aggressive posture when even she spots the shadows’ approach. Her mouth opens partially to reveal the tips of her sharp teeth. Between the gapes were sparks of orange. She was feeling threatened enough to actually use her fire.

You calm her with a hand atop her head, though she did retain her posturing. You wished you could do the same for the rest of your group. Rhiannon tenses up, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag while Weles was already preparing to attack. Then Inniros began to speak. The worlds that tumble out of his mouth were odd sounding. Melisandre moves out of the group formation to pace to the front. Her own red lips spoke a similar vocabulary as Inniros. The female darkin scowls at Melisandre’s intervention but waited as the red priestess spoke.

Loviisa walks forward, speaking to Melisandre in the same foreign tongue. The deep crease that had been worrying her brow softens a small measure. She heaves a sigh before nodding. “Alright. Keep to your word, priestess.”

Melisandre gently nods her head, a brief movement before she goes back to Ray and whispers something in his ear. Ray merely crossed his arms, keeping his features leveled.

Waving for your group to follow her through the valley, Loviisa weaves your group up to the mountain. On the side, there. Is a large boulder blocking a possible entry tunnel.

Inniros explains “Past this Boulder is the way to the heart of the Shadow Hills. The only way to get past is to walk through the shadows to the other side.”

Weles bristles. “Only you two can walk through shadows.”

“Not necessarily.” Loviisa’s dark veil of shadows springs to life and runs down her back like water. When she raises her arms the shadows hang off her arms. Pitch black drapery. “Darkin who are strong enough can wrap the shadows around other people so that they may cross with us. But while under our blanket, you will be unable to see anything and it will cause you great nausea.”

You really weren’t looking forward to more nausea. You thought once you left the ship you would be through with it.

“But the more you do it, the less sick you will become each time.” Inniros added, wanting to reassure your group.

No one appeared to be in a rush to get to the Shadow Hills. Rhiannon and Ray were the first brave ones who stepped forward. The young red priestess murmurs “Lets get this over with.”

The darkin explain that they could each only carry one at a time. Inniros gathered Rhiannon close to his side before materializing a thick blanket of darkness. It crawls up his legs, spreading across his shoulders as he hunches over Rhiannon. They became a black blur as they disappeared. Loviisa did the same with Ray, leaving you, Weles, and Melisandre alone.

“Nyke year dark has bisa.(I don’t like this.)” Weles whispers, his fingers itching for his weapons. Being blind and disoriented wasn’t something member of the Fiery Hand were used to. They were all ways in control.

Melisandre takes Rhiannon’s place next to you. “Gaomagon said urneptre nakostobaves issue naejon hen ilva kosh.(Do not show weakness in front of our champion.)”

That was enough to shame Weles into silence as Inniros and Loviisa returned for two more. Weles insists that he go along with the strange darkin. He wouldn’t trust you to anyone he didn’t know. At least he had spent much time with Inniros on the ship, even if they didn’t really speak to one another.

You watch them leave the same way Rhiannon and Ray had. Very softly, you grab onto one of Latilth’s horns to draw her close to you. You vaguely hear Inniros telling Melisandre that he would be back for her over the loud drumming of your heart.

Inniros placing his fingers delicately on your shoulder makes you jump. “Are you ready?”

No. . . I need Jaime here with me. We’ve been facing dangerous obstacles together for so long. . . I don’t want to do this alone.

“Look down at Latilth.” He quietly instructs you.

When you do, you find her calm as she’s sandwiched between you and Inniros. She turns her long neck to look at you. She didn’t seem as bothered as before.

“See how she’s not afraid?”

Latilth bumps her horn against your palm that was resting on it. You smile and find a pillar of strength. “Okay.”

You close your eyes when Inniros has to draw you a little closer to him. The sudden contact made your chest flutter, not having been held like that in so long. A shameful thought that you were prompt to shake out of your head.

Inniros shuffles before you feel a sudden chill run through your body. That same odd sensation when Inniros had captured your shadow during your first encounter. You felt Latilth’s side bump into a few times as Inniros guides you into the shadows.

“Just keep walking like you normally do.”

You almost tripped when you suddenly felt weightless. It scared you, but he kept his grip firm on you and kept giving you encouraging praises. That’s when your stomach felt like it was being pulverized by a mallet. You definitely did stumble once your feet came into contact with solid ground, the chill passed yet it still left you feeling cold. If it hadn’t been for Inniros anticipating your stumble, you would have fallen painfully onto your hands and knees.

“Easy (y/n). Keep your eyes closed until the nausea passes.” You heard Rhiannon tell you.

Inniros hands you off to someone else so he could retrieve Melisandre. You did as Rhiannon suggested and kept your eyes shut tight, waves of nausea rolled over you. Eventually it passed and you were able to open your eyes. Rhiannon smiles at you, an orange glow cast over her from the torches on the either side of the tunnel walls. Your eyes widen and gape as you take notice of the stone floor and high vaulted ceiling of the tunnel. There were actual wooden support frames.

“This tunnel was built during Azor Ahai’s time.” Loviisa comments, eying you slightly. “There wasn’t always a boulder there.”

She left it at that when Inniros appears with Melisandre. She shudders before disentangling herself from the darkin. “That was as unpleasant as I thought it was going to be.” Melisandre leans on the rough wall of the tunnel, breathing heavily. Her face was as white as a sheet. But her scarlet eyes were alert and roved around her. "So this is the entrance to the Manor of Shades."

"Indeed." Loviisa nods and resumes her role as leader. On wobbling knees, you stand up and check on Latilth. Unphased by having just shadow danced, Latilth is already back on her feet, using the tips of her wings to assist in walking. Rhiannon playfully bumps your arm with hers.

"We lived." She comments with an easy smile.

Your eyes shine when you look at her. "We did! And if we can survive shadow dancing, then maybe we can even survive this mission." You wanted to get back to the temple as soon as possible so you could tell Tyrion and Jaime what had happened. They would never believe you but at least you had several other witnesses to this crazy feat. Like the stuff out of fairytales. That's the life you were living now. How crazy it was compared to your quiet, docile life as a lady of blue blood. Maybe in the Lannister case it would be gold blood.

"Don't let your guard down, nuha kosh." Weles warns as he urges you and Rhiannon to start following the others as the two of you had stayed behind. The tattoos on his face appeared to glow in the torchlight. "We haven't even made it to their fortress yet. Who knows what trouble we can meet on our way their."

Rhiannon rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "She knows that already, Weles. Let her have at least a moment of happiness."

The captain of the Fiery Hand frowns and trails behind you while reminding Rhiannon "You should be taking your duties more seriously, Rhiannon. You are a red priestess of the temple after all. Take notes from the Lady Melisandre."

His reprimand managed to make her quiet. Weles meant well, but he could be strict most of the time without even realizing it. Rhiannon told you once that many people at the temple always compared her against other people, especially Thalina. They would say she wasn't as talented as Thalina or as powerful as Melisandre. It especially hurt when they compared her to Thalina. She wasn't even scholarly. You liked Rhiannon the way she was though. Her attitude was bright and her snorting laugh always brought you joy to hear.

The tunnel eventually started branching out in different directions, Loviisa skillfully choosing the correct path each time for it didn't take long to come up to an iron framed door.

Loviisa turns to your group. "Behave yourselves, all of you. The Manor of Shades is not used to visitors. Especially those that follow the Lord of Light. Keep close and don't touch anything. When you meet Master Batur keep quiet until he addresses you. He has little patience."

"Sounds like he hasn't changed much." Inniros actually smirks when Loviisa glares at him.

Her back to you once more, Loviisa opens the door and steps aside to watch each one of you go in. Your group filed out to a large hall with black columns that supported an iron arch across the ceiling. Hanging metal lamps were tethered to the ceiling by strong chains. Tinted stained glass made multiple colors fill the room. You could make out the exquisite metalwork lattice produced designs for the light to form through. In awe, you unconsciously follow the group along as Loviisa's skirts swept across the cold black stones beneath her feet. In the distance was a faint humming. She starts to ascend a narrow stair case when you fully turned your attention back to where you were going. In a neat single file line, she leads up to the next floor where immediately you see two figures sparing in front of a massive fireplace.

They stop when they sense your presence. The taller, much older man merely stands and stares. His companion was a younger man with blonde hair and an equally pale complexion as that of Inniros'. His dark eyes look curious as he glances at his master. Who else could the older man be but Master Batur? The closer he got you noticed how his eyes were heavily lined with crow's feet accompanied by a sharp beard that had gone completely gray. He didn't look happy to be seeing his old student after so many years.

His voice was raspy and deep with an admonishing undertone. "You have brought strangers into our home, Loviisa."

Batur hadn't even acknowledged Inniros' presence. That wouldn't go by Inniros. He pushes past Loviisa to glare at the older man. "They have come here to escort Azor Ahai so that she may meet you."

"She?"

That's when all eyes turned to you and Latilth. You take a deep breath and approach Batur. His cold eyes remind you of Tywin's. Always disapproving. "An honor to meet you, Master Batur. I am (y/n) Targaryen, Azor Ahai reborn."

"Of course he will not listen to anyone." Inniros explained to you one night when you ask him for tips on how to convince Batur that you were Azor Ahai reborn. "Fighting him is unavoidable."

You groan and lean over your hammock. "I was worried you were going to say that. You really expect me to fight a darkin master?" Latilth was sleeping comfortably underneath your hammock. In a few more days she wouldn't be able to fit anymore. She was growing fast with the open sky and sea nourishing her.

Everyone else in the cabin was dozing so you and Inniros had to whisper. You knew Rhiannon was possibly pretended to be asleep to listen in.

"The fire of Lightbringer will at least make him consider our words and let us stay."

"I don't know how to do that either."

That's when you felt Inniros' single eye on you in the dark. "You will. When the time is right you will. Just trust in your instincts. If you are Azor Ahai reborn, then his instincts are your instincts now. Channel them."

You never pegged Inniros to be an optimist but he made you feel like you could indeed rise to the occasion when the time came. Moving your eyes back up to Rhiannon's bunk, you imagine that if she is awake, she's agreeing with Inniros. "Okay. Anything specific I need to know when fighting him?"

"Take the advantage of knowing that he will underestimate you greatly. So, just show him what you're made of."

Batur stares at you for a long time, those chilling eyes of his drilling you to the ground. You sneeze such utter resentment readjusting off of him. Perhaps not personally toward you, but more so for the fact that you associate yourself with those of the Lord of Light.

You purse your lips together, knowing that you sounded crazy even saying that out loud. The time you spent at the temple had made you acknowledge. Certain things going on in your life. While you certainly didn’t feel like some champion, you knew that there were too many fantastical things going on as of late. You were able to stop a darkin dead in his tracks with a sword of fire. You walked into a pyre and came back out unharmed with a newborn dragon. Maybe you weren’t worthy of the title of ‘champion’ quite yet, but you were on your way.

His eyes gradually slide over to Latilth who does nothing to hide her immediate dislike of these strangers. She kept obediently close to you despite her trepidation. Batur moves on from Latilth to the red haired darkin Inniros. You worry about Inniros. This was the man who had purchased him at such a young age after the death of his mother. The way Inniros has spoken of Batur, you knew that he had abused him when he was a boy. His master had claimed it to be the Rite of Courage and Cowardice. He had been equally brutal with young Loviisa as well.

Batur spoke in that language which Melisandre, Inniros and Loviisa had spoken in earlier. Sharp and biting was the tone of his unknown words. You imagined them to be insults toward Inniros who passively stood his ground, his arms crossed as he listened before interjecting with his own even words.

Then Batur mockingly snaps at you “Well where is your flaming sword, Azor Ahai?” You barely prevent yourself from flinching at his tone. Weles nearly releases a loud snarl, begging to fight this disrespectful man. A vein in his arm twitches and you mentally praise him for his self control.

Your gait is stiff as you walk to Inniros’ side and slowly unsheathe Lightbringer. The Valyrian steel sword, while undoubtedly beautiful, shined with no flame around it. As much as you pray for it to go aflame, nothing happens and you blush in shame. Dread makes your chest heavy with lead and you can’t bare to meet the darkin master’s eyes. He scoffs at your display. “Just a fancy sword. What makes you think this girl is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai? Did those red maniacs manipulate you into thinking that?”

Melisandre mutters a curse in Valyrian underneath her breath. The malice that the darkin held toward servants of R’hllor may well ruin any attempt at speaking with this man. You were only comforted by Inniros’ passive expression as he stares at his former master. His voice is smooth and even. “She has been unable to summon the flames on her own but I’ve seen it. Felt it stab into my shadow.”

“You’ve always been a stubborn boy.” Batur shook his head, shame hissing out of him. “But you were never stupid. What did they do to you while you were made their prisoner?”

For the first time since arriving, Inniros turns his face away from Batur to look at you. His head motions you forward and you knew you couldn’t just remain in the background as a silent character.

You take a deep breath and look into his unwavering eyes. This man would definitely not believe in anything you had to say. He was a man of action. “Test my blade out for yourself, Master Batur.” The only times Lightbringer managed to catch flame was when you were truly put to the test. First with Inniros and then the pyre that hatched Latilth.

The young man who was next to him actually chuckles, earning a glare from his elder. His hands began to move oddly, gesturing toward you and back to Batur for more hand movement. He didn’t speak, but from what the young man was doing, Batur understood him.

“Ulian is right.” Inniros nods to the acolyte. “Let her show you.”

“Very well. Those in red though must be restrained.” That meant your friends behind you. Understandable, but they were not going to be happy one single minute being held still by the shadows. An unpleasant experience you remember all too well. Such a coldness coats your insides. “And if you fail to even produce a spark, I’ll have all of you executed.

Against the darkin, you didn’t know if your group would survive. Their powers were too great in their home. When you look at Rhiannon, she gives you a warm smile, mouthing ��You can do it”, but the others appear slightly unsettled by his threat.

Ears warm, your booming heartbeat deafens you. You were scared. Lightbringer somehow began to soak it away.

Weles and Jaime had taught you well. This wasn’t your first fight with a darkin, but Inniros was no master. Who knew what skill level Batur was at. You didn’t have to beat him, all you had to do was invoke Lightbringer’s flame. There was no strategy you had come up with. You would simply improvise.

Ulian, the young darkin in training, smiles at you and gestures for you to follow his master toward the sparring ring where he had been previously. Now that you were closer to him, you noticed a dash of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His large, dark eyes inquisitively examine you. He reminds you of when Latilth was first hatched and how curious she was of everything. Momentarily you cast a glance at Latilth who has her head tilted sideways, wanting to follow you her wings flap a little until Rhiannon pats her horned head which seems to soothe her. Latilth chirps out helplessly but trusts in Rhiannon’s gentle hand on her head.

Batur stood opposite of you, his own sword already gleaming out in the open. A short sword, you figured darkin mainly used their shadows instead of actual weapons. Inniros had only had his obsidian dagger when you fought him. You were easily able to shatter it. Batur’s sword wasn’t black like the forged volcanic glass. A steely blue color gave his short sword a bright sheen.

“Come on then, Azor Ahai. Show me that fire of your’s.”

Your fingers tightened around the hilt, not liking having to be the first one to make a move, You dash forward.

That cold sensation of darkin controlled shadows crept wooing your spine but you were faster and got out of reach. Batur was waiting for you to become distracted by his shades as he struck out at you in the blink of an eye. You brought up Lightbringer to bear the brunt of his attack, feet forced to dig into the ground from his harsh impact. Clenching your back teeth together, you throw him off of you and untangle yourself from his shadowy touch. You had to keep moving. If you stayed in one spot for too long, it was easy for Batur to grab onto your shadow. Fighting a darkin was a slightly annoying task.

Only mere seconds ticked in the process of Batur switching sword hands to wield another weapon; a black dagger much like Inniros’. You rock back on your heels, the jagged edge of the dagger snips at your knuckles on the hand that was holding Lightbringer. Reeling your arm back with a hiss, you didn’t let it stop you from advancing toward Batur. He could cut you up as much as he wants.

Each slash you bore from the dagger was little compared to what his sword might do to you if he caught you in his web.

There was no way to avoid close combat with him. Alright, that was fine by you. Inniros thankfully prepped you ahead of time for this occasion.

You managed to grab the sleeve of his robe to throw him off his balance. The surprise of your action gets Batur for a moment, that was all you needed. In that moment you grab his hand that was holding his dagger and flex it in a way that Weles had taught you. His fingers pop open making his blade fall to the ground. Batur grunts from the pain but proceeds to try and fend you off with his short sword. For an older man he was strong and initially resisted the pull of your other hand until you threw your body into him. He wraps his arms around you and suddenly you can’t see anything. Everything is dark , your insides freezing each second of blindness. Before you know it, you’re thrown against the ground of the arena. Your head spins uncontrollably but you stay steady on your feet to brace another shadow emergence.

Instead he attacks you with his short sword. You went to bring your Valyrian steel sword to shield you, anticipating his strike. The clash makes your bones ring inside of you. Sliding against the sharp edges, your blades slide away from one another. As he moves his shoulders for another offensive jab, you are already slicing a horizontal arc toward his torso. Hastily, he attempts to bob away from your assault but you catch his shoulder with Lightbringer, slicing clean through the material of his sleeve. Grimacing, he melts into his shadows. Anxiously you slow down your breathing so you could listen for his movement better. Out of nowhere pain radiates in your leg. You grit your teeth and twist around to slash at him, but he is out of your reach and promptly melting into shadows.

He was goading you on. Taunting you. From wherever he was hiding, Batur was still able to manipulate the shadows to try and freeze you.

Before anything else you hear the flapping of wings and then an unholy shriek. Then flames. A new kind of blindness strikes your eye from the sheer ferocity of the fire. White light makes your pupils shrink and you hear Batur yell, the shadows spitting him back out. Batur’s hand was covering his eyes before he angrily shakes his head and squints them open. His left hand tightens around the hilt of his short sword. The blinding light had come from Latilth who was flying above you. Her mouth was menacingly open. Latilth's name rings as your friends try to coax her back. Latilth would not obey them and instead hovered above Batur like a hungry vulture.

She gave you the perfect opening though and moral support that boost you hold Lightbringer close to your chest and close your eyes for a moment. Tightening your fingers around the hilt made the cuts on your knuckles burn. Pain was nothing new to you.

In fact you were beginning to find it very useful. Pain was fodder for your anger. And that anger flickers alive into a small spark.

That spark was enough to ignite an inferno inside of you. Rippling out into so much vibrating energy that it nearly tore you apart. Using Lightbringer as a conduit, you channel it through the steel. There's a 'whoosh' that accompanies the vortex of swirling reds and oranges around your sword.

Batur, recovering from the shock of being forced out of his shadows, thrashes towards you with dagger in hand until he saw your blade. Not a second after your sword lit aflame did Weles and Inniros jump into action to make sure the fight was over. You had won. Now Batur had to hold up his end and not kill you all.

Safe behind the figures of Weles and the red headed darkin, Latilth finally glides down to earn a scolding from Rhiannon.

"She has produced the flames you so desired." Inniros points out to his seething master. "Now you must listen to us."

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bregarc

[freesia-writes]

CONGRATS FOR 500 FOLLOWERS!!!! <3 Lots of love bestie🥰🥰🥰🥰

I saw the prompts and thought, "i ought to request this rn!!!" Sooooo

Hunter with 1st would be amazing:D no pressure ofc 🫶🫶

Also, don't forget, we all love you!!! 💗💗

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE MY SWEET FRIEND! Goodness. <3

Hunter x Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.3k words - pic/gif by @barissoffee <3

You unsuccessfully stifled a giggle at the little wisecrack the unbelievably handsome clone in front of you had just made. You could hardly believe your luck tonight. You were sitting at a table with a dark-skinned, sexy beast of a man with sharp features and an even sharper mind, having a thoroughly enjoyable conversation when you hadn’t been able to land a decent date in years. A number of similarities had already made their existences known, amid a great many differences, but you couldn’t deny there was definitely a connection. The discussions deepened over dinner, heads bending closer together, eyes meeting more frequently and holding each other’s gaze more often. He seemed to be letting his guard down, and you were loving every minute of it. 

“So he just blew the whole thing up?” you asked incredulously, waving your ice cream cone to mimic an explosion. The two of you were enjoying dessert on a stroll down the beach boardwalk. It was a balmy summer evening that felt warm and heavy, with the occasional refreshing cool breeze. The ocean waves lapped at the shore, the gentle roar of the waters providing a soothing white noise that complemented the dark velvet sky. 

“Immediately,” Hunter responded, completely unphased. He casually licked some of the chocolate ice cream from the side of his own cone, then smirked when he caught you staring at it a little too long. 

“What?” you asked, your accusatory tone masking the sheepishness you felt at his noticing.

“Oh, nothing,” he said in an almost sing-song voice, but it was low and husky. The gleam in his eye gave him away, and you leaned in to elbow him in the side, but he swerved. Moving faster than you could expect, the next thing you knew, his arm was around your shoulders and you were leaning against his side. 

“Well that was smooth,” you teased, but you definitely weren’t complaining. The thick planks of the boardwalk, now stretching out across a long dock, were always uneven, so you appreciated the support, to avoid falling. It was purely logical. 

“You’re the smooth one,” came the reply, “This has gone incredibly well for a date you weren’t expecting to be on.”

“What?!” you gasped, feeling a hot flush explode across your body as you dropped your ice cream cone. How had he known?! You wracked your brain, searching for anything you might have said that gave it away, and almost didn’t hear his chuckle as he stopped, releasing his arm from your shoulder and leaning casually on the railing. He gazed out across the dark ocean, hair ruffling in the breeze, and gave a light, satisfied sigh as he finished his own cone. When he realized you were still gaping like a fish out of water, standing across from him as straight as an arrow, he decided to explain.

“You were incredibly tense at the start, different from the basic nervousness of a first date, which usually points to a few possibilities, one of which is some sort of deception. Asked a few simple questions around the things I wanted to know, and your responses pretty much gave you away.”

“That is insanely perceptive. And kind of sneaky on your part!” you answered. Mind reeling, you placed a hand on the railing to try to ground yourself, frantically searching for the right thing to say. 

“Nothing sneaky about paying attention to what your senses tell you,” he shrugged, rising to his full height and taking a step closer, one hand laying gently over yours. Your heart skipped a beat and it suddenly felt harder to breathe. Hunter tilted his head, observing you with a smug sort of interest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked suddenly, pulling back a tiny bit. 

“Oh! Sorry, uh… no…” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes. “But…” you took a deep breath before spitting out the rest, “...why did you stay?”

“Sometimes the evening’s plan for us is different than we expect it to be. I figured I’d roll with it, and the fact that it went so well, and the actual date never showed, makes me quite happy to be standing here with you,” he said, reaching his other hand out to toy with your waist. Your breath caught in your throat. He took a step closer. “But I have a question for you… Why did you sit down?”

“I don’t even… that’s insane,” you breathed, smiling like an idiot now. He knew, and he was still here, close, interested… “I heard you tell the waiter you were waiting, and I spent the entire time building up the courage, because something in me just couldn’t let a gorgeous thing like you be stood up. I didn’t expect it to actually work, nor for you to be so… ah… oh, kriff.” The words were flowing out like a mess, and you buried your face in your hands. 

“A gorgeous thing like me…” he echoed, except it sounded so unbelievably velvety in his smooth voice. “Not the worst thing I’ve been called,” he poked, hand still resting on your hip with one idle thumb brushing back and forth. It was sending fire throughout your body that made it even harder to think. “But don’t let me interrupt -- you were saying?” 

You laughed, refusing to pull your face away from its cave of shame, and yet also felt like a runaway train -- the words were already out, and you were already discovered. So you finished, “I didn’t expect you to be so interesting and smart and witty. I thought you’d be shallow and full of yourself.”

“Ah, little jab at the end there. We can discuss that later. But I appreciate the honesty,” Hunter assessed, and you felt his hand pull back, finally provoking you to look up at him. 

“That’s the problem,” you continued, more softly now. “I wasn’t honest… I pretended to be someone else… Not a great way to start… anything.” You cringed, feeling as though every word was digging you deeper into a hole, and lowered your eyes back to the railing immediately. Then you felt a gloved hand on your cheek, unfathomably soft as it grazed across and disappeared as quickly as it came. Your breath caught in your throat, heart racing, and you saw him lean toward you in your peripheral vision. 

“Hey,” he said gently, conjuring sensations of a richly wooded forest, tendrils of smoke, and smooth leather all at once with a single word. Damn, you had it bad for this guy, and you’d messed it all up. But his fingers were on your chin now, inviting you to meet his gaze, which you did, another thrill rushing through your body. “Why don’t we keep walking and we can discuss the ethics of your decision and the motivations behind it? I’m sure there are some strategic tactics in there that we can learn from.” He tilted his head, a glimmer in his eyes, and you felt a bashful smile creep across your own face as you rested a hand on his forearm. 

“I suppose if it’s for science…” you murmured, and his rumbling chuckle was music to your ears as he swooped his arm across your shoulders again and turned to continue down the boardwalk. 

* * * 

Hunter was methodical. Painstakingly so, at times. Somehow he’d agreed to meet you again, and again, and again… You couldn’t believe your luck but didn’t want to tempt fate by inquiring. You’d hiked through the canyon, marveling at the rushing river and the oddly-shaped branches of the trees. You’d played a variety of games at a local cafe, losing track of time with conversation and competition. And now you were climbing up what felt like the side of a mountain, but it was really just the longest series of switchback stairs you’d ever encountered. Your mind was full of questions (and complaints) but when you reached the top, your mouth dropped, already dry from breathing so heavily on the way up. 

It was a scenic vista, a natural shelf that provided a flat place to spread out, backed up against the smooth rock wall that continued upward. But there were pillows and blankets galore, piled up in a circle that looked almost like a nest. A few unlit candles sat in the middle, surrounded by an enticing variety of snacks. 

“Guess the wind took care of the candles,” Hunter observed as he joined you, a small smirk weaving its way across his lips at the look on your face. 

“Hunter,” you breathed, heart skipping a beat at the sheer excitement of all of it, “This is amazing.” 

“It really does look great,” he agreed, following your gaze to take it all in. “I wonder who it’s for.” 

“What!” you gasped, looking back at him as waves of shock and embarrassment and confusion all took turns cascading over you. “We need to get out of here then! What are you--” His laughter broke your stream of anxiety, rendering you speechless for a moment. When you recovered, you palmed your face once again. “You’re ridiculous,” you grumbled, shaking your head with a smile. 

“Hey, if you can steal someone’s date,” he said in mock sternness, “I can too. Don’t worry, I took care of the people who were expecting to use it.”

“Took care of…?” you repeated, eyes growing wide as a chill of fear took a stab at your stomach. But you caught the glint in his eyes this time, exhaling heavily and smacking his arm. “You have to stop,” you sighed, “I can’t keep up with all of this. No more deception!” Your face and tone were playful, and he leaned back toward you after recoiling from your swat. 

“Fair enough,” he said, quieting his mirth now, “No more deception.” He took your hand in his and led you to the pillows and blankets, gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable. He took off all of his armor, which was a delightful first that had you gawking unabashedly at his form-fitted black base layers, and crawled up next to you, stretching an arm across your shoulders as you placed a hand and a head on the side of his chest. 

The sun had been setting the entire time you were climbing, and now it was far enough below the horizon that the deep blue of twilight had thoroughly settled. But the sea breeze and crisp evening air was no match for the heat radiating between the two of you, and you sighed deeply as you listened to his steady heartbeat, punctuated by the waves crashing on the shore.

The conversation wandered, as it always did, and before long you found yourself talking about some abstract element of clone helmets. There was laughter and teasing, with increased pokes and tickles and touches by each of you, and you felt as though you could burst with joy. The two of you had worked your way down to be lying flat on your backs, his arm still around you, gazing up at the stars above. You sat up on an elbow, turning instead to look down at him, marveling at his sharp features bathed in the increasing moonlight. His brown eyes met yours, softening immediately and melting your heart at the same time. 

You lifted a hand to his cheek, tracing the outline of the skull tattoo, wanting so desperately to kiss him but finding yourself unable to move your head to his. The electricity sparked in the air between you, unspoken yearning across both faces, and you felt a firm hand cup the back of your hair, setting everything in motion. Hunter pulled you down gently, eyes searching yours as he closed the distance until they fluttered shut. His lips met your own with a feather-light touch, unfathomably soft and tender, and pulled away with a quiet sound. Your eyes flew open, looking at him with shock and delight, and he opened his mouth to speak. 

But he never got the words out. This time you brought your mouth to his, kissing him urgently, one hand on the side of his cheek and the other pressing into his chest. Your entire body was vibrating with euphoria, and you shifted closer to bring yourself close against his entire side. His other hand found your waist as he tilted his head, parting his lips to take yours again with more passion, and his quiet rumble of contentment was something you would do anything to hear again. When you finally pulled apart, foreheads still pressed together in blissful intimacy, you were both grinning like idiots. 

“I’d say this worked out quite well, all things considered,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into your neck as you laughed.

[checkitoutmikey]

TLB challenge: messed up kinks edition

tlb fandom! i have a challenge for you! let’s giggle together like a bunch of schoolgirls and tell each other about what kinks the boys have

and by that I mean the most disgusting barely-sex-related stuff your our dirty little minds can come up with.. the stuff not even the lost boys would think about practising in real life, or confessing to other boys

dont be shy. im gonna go first kay?

Warning: NSFW

David

Medical play: 

We all know David loves control. Physically restraining, bondage, dom/sub good time and all that stuff. But sometimes he thinks about taking that to whole another level. David really likes the idea of actually controlling someone‘s body. A person strapped to gyno chair, their legs spread wide with no chance of getting out of the binds, now that’s a scene he could get into. Giving the person pleasure and pain.

Literally controlling their body’s fuctions. Putting them to sleep with drugs. Using urethral sounds and catheter to stop them from emptying their bladder or making them pee when he decides.

And when a person really misbehaves? Nothing like severing some tendons to teach them a lesson.

==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡== ==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡== ==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡==

Dwayne

Maiesiophilia (yes, it has a name):

We all know Dwayne has breeding kink. But really deep deep inside his mind this kink turns into something much darker.

He enjoyes when a person is close to the end of pregnancy. The discomfort that comes with it. The joint pain, muscle pain, difficulty with sleeping, false contractions.

He gets off on the idea that the person who wishes to have a child needs to go through all that hell. Including the birth itself. Seeing a person going through a worst pain imaginable because they wanted their little baby more than they feared the whole process is doing something to him.

==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡== ==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡== ==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡==

Marko

Cannibalism:

Yep. Just straight up cannibalism.

He’s a beast in man’s body. It’s normal for all lost boys to take a sip when they are fucking some rando but with Marko it can be so much more horrifying. Because let’s be honest, he’s the most sadistic out of the entire pack and if the rest of them didn’t hold him back, there would be many more corpses killed in much more gruesome manner.

But sometimes he thinks about it. With someone who is really hot and they have amazing sex, but it doesn’t seem to scratch the itch. He doesn’t want to just fuck them, or taste them. He wants to posses them. Take them apart and keep them with him forever. Devouring parts of their bodies is a nice compromise.

==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡== ==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡== ==≡≡≡Ω≡≡≡==

Paul

Dollification:

He just wants a doll, that’s it.

Just a pretty little thing to keep in his nest. Cute and quite. Something that doesn’t talk much. No need for it to move either. In fact, if it behaves like a proper doll, he might even take care of it. Keep it alive for a while.

He would use drugs and his mind powers to achieve this. Just scoop some poor soul from the boardwalk, put it in a nice dress and keep it. Sometimes to just look at it’s pretty face. Or cuddle it. Feed it.

He would get rid off it before it died. Suprisingly he doesn’t like the stench of rotting flesh.

and i’m tagging these brave souls, let’s see how messed up we can get here: @luv4fandoms, @misslavenderlady, @ghoulgeousimmaculate, @maskofmirrors, @prettywhenibleed, @6lostgirl6, @auntvamp, @sadlostgirl

[happyandticklish]

You Make It Hard to Breathe

Notes: The fandom has collectively decided that Izaya can't swim, and I've decided to run with it~

Summary: Izaya can't swim and Shizuo takes it upon himself to teach him how.

The sun beat down on him, a never-ending heat that was slowly but surely chipping away at Izaya’s psyche. He drew an arm over his face to try to block out the harshness of its rays, but light flickered in regardless making him squint. He was sweating. Sweating. Izaya Orihara did many things, but he did not sweat.

He flinched as a splash of water landed on his feet, drawing them back on his chair with disdain. “Do you mind?”

“That’s a lame move, you know,” the other man informed him at the edge of the lake. He had his arms propped up on the deck, kicking idly to keep himself afloat as he fixed Izaya with a grumbling stare. “You were the one who wanted to come here in the first place.”

“I enjoy the scenic view,” Izaya said idly. He had given up on fully blocking out the sun and chose to sit up instead, adjusting his towel underneath him. He should have brought sunglasses but it had been dark out when they left for the trip and he hadn’t thought to plan accordingly. It was unlike him, but the comfortability of packing in the morning with a sleepy Shizuo at his side had distracted him. The thought stirred a sense of prickling unease in him. It was only sunglasses, but it felt far too much like being off his guard. “Why would I want to splash around in disgusting mud water? It figures a beast such as yourself would enjoy these grotesque pleasures, of course.”

He flashed Shizuo a simpering smile, delighting in the glare it was received with. He turned back to his book, a collection of Russian poetry he had nabbed off of one of his rarer clients while they had been visiting the city. The page he had marked detailed out a short piece about the futility of life and the dread that came along with it. Cliché. Basic. Overdone. But the language was beautiful and there was nothing to say that Izaya couldn’t enjoy a more rudimentary read.

He was on vacation after all. The point was to relax.

Izaya wasn’t sure what had prompted the idea. Maybe it had been Shizuo’s insistence on clinging to him like a leech while he was trying to work, clearly bored out of his mind. Maybe it had been the overcast skies that sent a sense of gloom reigning over the massive apartment. Maybe he had simply wanted a change.

Shizuo hadn’t protested when he suggested the idea of a holiday vacation, merely raised a brow and scoffed in typical Shizuo fashion—that was his version of enthusiastic support. He hadn’t missed the glimmer in Shizuo’s eyes when they’d arrived at their outrageously small cabin, though. Izaya had to bite back a smile himself at how easily entertained he was. He didn’t allow himself to think that it was because the childlike fascination was cute, but Shizuo had figured it out if the sudden flush and averted gaze then had been any indication.

Now, he was finding that fascination annoying as several droplets of water landed on the top margins of his page. He sighed, tilting his chin down to meet Shizuo’s stare.

“Can I help you?”

“Get in with me.”

“And obtain the hundreds of diseases contained within that filth? I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

Shizuo frowned. For a moment, it seemed as though Izaya had dissuaded him, but in the next, Shizuo was gripping the edges of the boardwalk and pulling himself up in one fluid, wet motion. The water lurched at the displacement and Izaya drew back in his chair as it ran up against the wooden platform.

He yelped when Shizuo approached him, scrambling out of his chair to escape the dripping mess before him. “No, absolutely not, you are soaking wet. At least dry off first.” He snatched up the towel on the chair and shoved it into Shizuo’s chest, but the other ignored it, instead reaching out to wrestle his book away. Izaya put up a valiant defense but Shizuo was stronger than him and far less concerned about potentially ripping the pages than the former.

Finally, Shizuo emerged victor, clutching the book victoriously over Izaya’s head. “Who comes to a lake house to read, anyway? You can do that back home anytime.”

He tossed the book over on the remaining towels in the grass and Izaya winced. It did look mostly unharmed. Maybe a little wet, which he held every intention of complaining about later. Now, however, he was focused on survival as Shizuo—with zero warning he might add—scooped an arm under his legs, catching him off guard as he swept him into his arms.

He convinced himself that the racing of his heart was due to panic and nothing else.

“Shizuo,” Izaya said firmly as the other led him towards the lake. He tried to keep the edging panic out of his voice but the ebbing waves below them was making it hard to focus. “Shizuo, if you don’t put me down right now—”

“Than you might risk actually having fun for once?”

Shizuo was smirking, clearly not understanding the dire stakes they were facing. They were at the edge of the boardwalk now and Izaya yelped when Shizuo started to drop him, desperately clinging onto his neck.

Shizuo paused at that. “Everything alright, flea? You seem…” he struggled for the right word. “Unusually uncomposed.”

“If you had bothered to ask that earlier you might have realized that sooner,” Izaya hissed, hating how the combination of sweat and water on Shizuo’s back was making it difficult to get a firm grip. “I’m fine, I just don’t like the water, so if you could just—don’t!”

Shizuo’s hold had slackened once more experimentally. They both waited in the aftermath of the noise that could only be described as a shriek of terror.

“Izaya…” Shizuo started slowly. “Do you not know how to swim?”

Heat flashed across Izaya’s face. “Of course I know how to swim.”

“So, if I dropped you in right now—”

“Shizuo—”

“I will if you don’t tell me the truth.”

Izaya was silent for a long while. He wasn’t used to being on the other side of blackmail and he was not finding it to his liking. Shizuo’s stare was relentless, however, and the water rose in his vision in terrifying swells as it rode waves along the lake. He averted his gaze in what he hoped was nonchalance. “I just didn’t find it to be a necessary skill, is all. The whole concept of swimming is a ridiculous death wish anyway. Wading around in something that can kill you isn’t high up on my bucket list.”

Shizuo scoffed, rolling his eyes at the dramatics. Of course he wouldn’t be worried about something like this. Izaya had never met someone so unconcerned with their own safety. It would have been worrying if he hadn’t seen him survive all that he had—most of it inflicted by Izaya himself.

He ignored that particular twinge of guilt in favor of panic as Shizuo took a few steps back and then jumped into the shimmering water, Izaya still clutched in his arms.

The first thing he noticed was how cold it was. A freezing cold too, that shocked Izaya’s system as it tried to process the sudden temperature change. The second thing he noticed was how he was not able to breathe. He quickly slammed his mouth shut, trying to ignore the burning feeling at the back of his throat from all the water he had accidentally inhaled while shrieking. He kept his arms latched in a death grip around Shizuo’s throat as the latter’s worked to push their collective way to surface.

When they finally breached air all of five seconds later, Izaya gasped for much-needed breath, spluttering over the water clogging his throat. He was vaguely aware of Shizuo laughing in the background and he made a mental note to be offended by that once he was out of this freezing, over glorified bath.

“What was that for?” Izaya demanded indignantly once he could safely speak without coughing up saltwater.

“To show you that a simple thing like swimming isn’t going to kill you.” Shizuo raised a brow. “We’re not drowning, are we?”

They weren’t drowning, oddly enough. Through the reflections in the water, Izaya could see Shizuo’s legs idly kicking and keeping them afloat. One of his arms was preforming the same, lazy strokes as well, while the other curved protectively around Izaya’s waist. In theory, they were safe. This did not stop Izaya’s nails digging into Shizuo’s back from how tightly he was holding on, however. Shizuo barely seemed to notice.

“Shizuo,” Izaya said, forcing a casual, but firm tone of voice. “Put me back on the docks.”

“Not yet.”

“Not—?!”

“I want to show you that it’s fine. You’re going to have to learn to swim eventually, now is as good a time as any.”

Even as he said it, he kicked them a little closer to the shore, allowing Izaya to quickly reach out and grab onto one of the dock’s legs for safety. Evidently, he still had some humanity left in him.

“There, now you see—Izaya!”

It was a risky move and ultimately not worth it as Shizuo’s hand squeezed where it held on his waist, forcing an uncharacteristically panicked squawk out of Izaya.

The two froze for a moment, wading literally and figuratively in the aftermath of the unexpected sound. Then, Shizuo squeezed again. To his credit, Izaya merely let out a grunt this time, but it was too late—the damage had already been done.

“Swimming is an important skill,” Shizuo said, his voice coming out in a slow drawl that set Izaya’s nerves on edge. “You have enemies everywhere, flea, you really want them finding out that all it takes to take you down is a swimming pool and a lack of floaties?”

“I’ve survived this long.” Izaya hadn’t let go of the dock yet, torn between two insistent voices of instinct, one telling him to hold on for dear life and the other screaming at him that Shizuo’s hand was still wrapped around his waist—his stupidly sensitive waist.

“Luck. Luck that could fade.” Shizuo pressed his face into the crook of Izaya’s neck and the informant tensed, trying not to think about hot breath and teeth grazing his skin. “Let me teach you to swim or I’m going to tickle you until you’re suffocating from much worse methods than drowning.”

Izaya’s throat was dry. It was an impossible scenario. Being a pupil to someone like Shizuo in a scenario where failing could mean his imminent death was not his idea of a good time. On the other hand, the softness of Shizuo’s lips on his neck combined with the drumming fingers at his waist was frazzling his nerves with a giddy anticipation. The water seemed to make everything more sensitive too, his body already shivery and tense from the cold. Plus, tickling meant squirming, squirming meant Shizuo losing his grip, which meant Izaya sinking to the bottom of the lake and having his corpse nibbled on by some long-lost beast looking for a nice dinner.

He should never have suggested a lake house.

“Shizuo—”

Fingers, wiggling, scratching, spidering over his waist. His hand snapped back like a slingshot from the deck, moving to wrap around Shizuo’s neck instead. Fluttery giggles were escaping, and shit, he was breaking too fast, he normally had more resistance than this, the helplessness of this situation was not helping matters—

“Have you made a decision? You seem a bit antsy there, ‘Zaya.”

Izaya merely shook his head, burying his own face in Shizuo’s neck. He wanted to rip his hand away, but he didn’t want to disrupt Shizuo’s concentration on keeping them afloat.

On the other hand, it really, really tickled.

A kiss, then a bite into the crook of his neck, soft little grazes of teeth that made Izaya practically whimper as he attempted to scrunch up his shoulders. Shizuo’s fingers squeezed once more before crawling up and circling around his ribs, so close to the undersides of his arms that Izaya was going more than a little mad. He cursed himself for not wearing a shirt today even though he had held no ideations towards swimming when they had arrived. Still, the shirt he had brought had been stifling in the heat, and he had figured it couldn’t hurt. Now, he would have much preferred the heat.

Shizuo’s thumb dug into the divot of skin right above his top rib. Izaya yelped, unable to help the sudden burst of frantic thrashing the action caused. “We’re going to d-drown you ohoaf! Shit!”

“We’re fine, I’ve got you. Of course, if you knew how to swim, I would never be able to pull this move on you again.”

Izaya whacked a hand into his back at the comment, hard enough that anyone else might have released him. Shizuo barely seemed to notice, responding only with quick, scrambling fingers under his arms. Izaya’s face was a bright shade of red that spread quickly and obviously down his neck and onto his shoulders. He needed to stop the stream of breathless giggles that he couldn’t seem to get control over, but it was hard when each twitch of Shizuo’s fingers sent prickles of goosebumps sprawling over his skin (something he would later blame on the cold of the water when Shizuo pointed it out).

For a while, they stayed like that. Shizuo’s fingers, mouth, teeth, and tongue all working to send Izaya into a flustered, gasping, whining mess of laughter as he struggled to stay afloat. And yes, perhaps there was some part of Izaya that was enjoying how securely Shizuo was holding him, his strong arm tensed and confident around Izaya’s back, or how the thrill of laughter almost made him forget about swimming and water and all the diseases he had most likely accidentally swallowed when they first jumped into the water. Maybe. Maybe he could admit that, privately, to himself, later on when he was safe in bed and thinking back on the day. But for right now, his only goal was survival, which meant Shizuo stopping as soon as possible.

Eventually, it was Izaya’s own sensitivity that saved him. Shizuo’s arm had shifted so that his arm served as a seat (a much safer position with how much Izaya was moving around), and his fingers had experimentally found their way to his lower thigh where, fastening on in a tight grip, they squeezed and Izaya nearly jumped out of his skin with a screech of laughter. Instinct kicked in faster than strategy did, and Izaya’s knee jerked up into Shizuo’s chin, temporarily forcing him to let go.

Izaya had only a second to rejoice that Shizuo’s hands were no longer tickling him before realizing that this meant that Shizuo’s hands were no longer holding him either. Luckily, he was only underwater for a couple seconds. In a desperate flail, he managed to slam his foot into Shizuo’s chest, propelling him towards the docks—a move that only worked as Shizuo had mercifully remained within reach. He quickly grabbed onto the dock, pulling himself back to safety as he spluttered and coughed, trying to hack up the water he had accidentally inhaled in his momentary plunge.

Shizuo was laughing. Izaya had almost died and Shizuo was laughing. He rubbed the spot Izaya’s foot had landed with a hum of approval. “Nice reflexes.”

Izaya had thankfully managed to pull himself back on shore, where he retreated back to the safety of his chair, fumbling for his towel. “You almost killed me,” he hissed. There wasn’t any real venom in his voice though. It was more embarrassment than anything else.

Shizuo raised a brow at the claim. He remained in the water, perfectly content to tread the watery death trap. “I’ve done far worse without you so much as flinching. Besides, it’s not like you mind the tickling. Or have you forgotten that I know about that?”

Izaya pointedly did not look at him as he retrieved his towel, wrapping it around his shoulders. “I did not enjoy almost drowning because of it.” Not a confirmation or a denial, if the court played the sentence back.

He did not so much see as felt the eye roll from behind him. “Dramatic.”

“Brute.”

“Princess.”

Izaya sent him a withering stare. That particular insult (perhaps compliment, but Izaya refused to take it as such) was a new one, and one that Izaya was quickly finding not to his liking. He snatched his book up, settling back into his chair. Still in an okay condition, and the cool air had dried any bits of the pages that had gotten wet. He held the book up like a shield for his face as he noticeably did not respond.

Shizuo held up his arms in an expression of surrender, though the grin of amusement was still present on his face before he dove back under the water. As Izaya flipped a page in the novel, he hid his own smile, though his had a more affectionate value to it, despite the irritation.

Next summer, he decided, he would teach himself how to swim.

Shizuo would not be invited.

[thestalwartheart]

sinew and spots

Q appreciates a different view of Bond. Written for the 'body worship' Kinktober prompt.

[Read below on AO3]

James Bond in bed is something to behold.

There are the obvious reasons, of course. His body, with its musculature naturally bronzed and perfect, and his bedroom eyes glinting with a tease that is as unrelenting, as unceasing as the man himself. Then, there are the less obvious reasons; less obvious because they are so rarely seen by anyone.

Q, however, has a higher security clearance than most.

Bond is belly-down in bed. He’s sleepy-eyed and relaxed, the way he is wont to be on a Sunday morning, as if nothing the world over could move him to get up and dressed. Q’s bedsheets are pooled around his hips, ruched and creased under Q’s thighs. He is a veritable feast, not to mention—for now—a tamed beast. Q intends to take his time.

He runs a thumb over a freckle on Bond’s shoulder, then chases the touch with a slow kiss. Again and again, he maps the surprising trail of freckles and moles on Bond’s back. They speak of a lifetime in the sun, lounging on beaches and boardwalks and swimming through turquoise waters. Q could never carry the sun this well on his own body. For a ridiculous moment, he is envious that he will never be quite so golden.

Bond turns his head from where it’s pillowed on his hands.

“Do I need to remind you to put your back into it?”

“Hush,” says Q. “It’s a Sunday. I’m taking my time.”

“What’s so fascinating back there, anyway?”

“You have the loveliest freckles,” says Q, tracing between them. His blunt nail leaves a brief, pale scrape on the nape of Bond’s neck that soon turns pink.

“Most people hardly notice with the scars.”

Most people are terrible, Q thinks. There have been too many idiots in Bond’s bed.

“Well, I’ve noticed, and I never get you on your front long enough to appreciate them.”

That draws a shocked laugh from Bond. When he tries to turn over, Q stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

They both know, of course, that Bond only remains where he is because he wants to give in. If he really wanted to dominate, Bond could have Q on his back with a hand around his pale throat in less than a second.

The thought makes Q’s blood run hot.

“I think I’ll have you like this,” decides Q. It’s suddenly exactly what he wants: to see Bond grunting swear words into his pillow, biting and grabbing at it, muscles bunching and tightening before turning soft and pliant, the way they do right after a good orgasm. Bugger church and all the rest. In Q's good opinion, there’s no better way to spend a Sunday morning.

Q grinds his cock into the swell of Bond’s arse. “We’ve got all morning, don’t we? I can fuck you nice and slowly while I count them—your freckles.”

He pulls the sheet down until Bond is entirely exposed. He has one leg hitched up and bent, and Q has a lovely view of the parts usually hidden. His cock is half-hard and pink, trapped between Bond’s body and the bedsheets, and Q spots another freckle where his arse cheek meets his thigh and balls.

“Oh,” sighs Q, moving down to kiss it. “There’s another.”

“Christ. You’re going to be the death of me.”

Q kisses his way up Bond’s spine and reaches for the half-empty bottle of lube on the bedside table. “I’d think it was a nice way to go,” he whispers into Bond’s ear. “In fact, I’d keel over happily just looking at you like this.”

Bond makes a low sound in his throat and flexes up until he can kiss Q properly. It’s a lovely, slow-burning kiss, warm and wet and perfect for a long weekend. Bond’s tongue is lush and thick in Q’s mouth, and Q loses an endless stretch of time devouring it.

“I’d rather you showed me your appreciation in other ways,” whispers Bond when he breaks away.

“Gladly.”

Q sits up and runs his hand over Bond’s broad back as Bond settles back onto his arms again. His biceps move beautifully under him, and there are freckles there, too, ones that Q hasn’t got to yet, but which he will lavish attention on very soon.

He’ll worship every inch of Bond, given the chance. It’s what they both deserve.

[kachikirby]

Amusing Excursion

I forgot Metaccine Week started on Mother's Day, so you all are getting a bonus Metaccine thing.

-

It was the night before Mother’s Day and Fettuccine already seemed excited as they were eating dinner that night.

“So, what are you planning for tomorrow?” She asked, causing the rest of the family to look up. The twins looked at each other nervously, but then their father spoke up, clearly knowing that there would be no point in hiding whatever was planned, especially since Kirby had just delivered a gift for the occasion earlier.

“We’re going to take you to an amusement park. I’m sure you rarely got to go to one during your time with Task Force Zetta.”

The woman hesitated for a moment to smile. "It's not Magolor's, right?"

"No. Not after last time."

Those words seemed to change her attitude instantly. There was no way either of them would trust that egg around their children after last time.

“So, what kind of amusement park are we going to?” She then asked.

“It’s one on the other side of the planet. Admission and parking are free, you just have to buy food if you want it and tickets to go on rides.” He then looked up at her. “No, this is unrelated to that tacky resort of Dedede’s.”

“But I didn’t say anything.”

“I knew you were about to ask that.”

His wife giggled. “Well, I’ll look forward to it then!”

The trip getting there was short and simple. The park was called Sorprendente Park, and this seemed to be Fettuccine’s first time hearing about it, since she already seemed to be excited.

“Well, what do you want to do first, Fetty?” Meta asked.

“Oh, I dunno! There seems to be a lot of things to do…” She uttered looking at the map. “Oh, Sieg, Freya, why don’t you two pick?”

“We’re fine with whatever you want mom.”

“This is your gift, you should enjoy it.”

Admittedly, she was blown away by such a mature response, but she didn’t say it. She only looked harder at the map.

“How about a roller coaster? I haven’t been on that in a while!” She asked.

“If that’s what you want, then let’s go.”

“Oh, but Sieg, Freya, maybe you want to wait with your father?”

Both children shook their heads.

“We wanna try it! Right, Freya?” The quiet sister nodded to her brother. Seeing how the twins were fine with it, Fettuccine relaxed.

“Ok, since there’s a height limit to ride without a parent, Sieg, you’ll ride with me, and Freya, you can ride with your father!”

Both children seemed to be excited at the prospect of riding with their parents and quickly agreed to it.

“Okay! Let’s go then!”

The moment she said that was when they finally noticed the roller coaster she was talking about. It was a monstrous wooden beast of a roller coaster.

-

The roller coaster ride was amusing to say the least. The mother-son pair had practically screamed their lungs out while the father-daughter pair were completely silent. Not only that, but it took Fettuccine a moment to catch her balance as she walked off, being slightly shaken by the ride.

“You doing alright, Fetty?” Her husband asked.

“Y-yes, Metty, I’m fine…” She uttered, pulling herself up.

“Maybe we should do something not as extreme…” He then said, getting a nod in response.

“Oh, how about we play one of the games?” Sieg asked, pointing over to a target shooting game.

“Sounds like a good idea, come on, Metty!” Fettuccine grabbed Meta and began to drag him along. Admittedly, it wasn’t until they got to the stand that they noticed something… odd. Specifically, who was behind the stand. Meta Knight himself seemed to groan, realizing who the egg-like person in a standard boardwalk host outfit and moustache was.

“…I already know it’s you, Magolor.” He said, causing the man to sweat.

“Who is this Magolor you speak of? I am Rolo!”

“You think you’d know not to say things like that in front of a living lie detector.” Fettuccine then added, making him sweat even more.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know who this Magolor guy is! But he sounds like a really smart and handsome guy!”

“You better not be doing anything suspicious.”

“I’M NOT!! Now are you going to play or what!?”

“Yeah! I wanna play!” Sieg excitedly proclaimed, seemingly making his father groan internally.

Magolor, or rather “Rolo”, seemed to grin at this. “It’ll be four tickets for one try!”

Not willing to argue, Meta Knight handed them over and three balls were placed in front of the child.

“Ok, so the rules are simple. You have three chances to hit a target. The higher the target, the bigger the prize.”

The parents examined the plates. There were three rows of plates with four plates each. There was no doubt that Magolor had planned something as a way to cheat. With a hard throw, Sieg missed one of the top plates.

“I’m just warming up!” He said and then he threw another one, only to miss once more.

“Ooohhh, gotta try harder!!” Magolor said.

The child pouted. “Freya, throw me now!”

“What?”

“Throw me now!!”

Quickly thinking, Fettuccine picked him up and motioned for Freya to follow her, being quickly obeyed.

“MOM WHERE ARE WE GOING?!”

Before Magolor could say anything, Meta stepped up.

“Would you allow me to try?”

The egg scoffed. “Sure, go ahead. Don’t see why you would-”

Before he could finish that sentence, he felt something zip by and then noticed that there was a familiar golden sword embedded in the stand, causing all the plates standing to break immediately.

“Will this suffice?” was all Meta said.

“J-just take your prize and get out of here!!” Magolor shouted.

Satisfied, the warrior pulled out Galaxia from the stand and took one of the giant prizes, a massive star plush, and went to go catch up with his wife and children. Meanwhile, Magolor stared at the damage that was caused by the impact of the sword.

“…this is so coming out of my paycheck…”

-

While that had been going on, Fettuccine had gone to pick up some ice cream with the kids to distract from the apparent failure of the carnival game. Somewhat worried about Meta not catching up to them, they made their way back in his direction. To their surprise, they saw him sitting on a bench, holding a massive star plush, but at the same time having an expression that looked like he was being lectured.

Seemingly knowing what was going on, Fettuccine walked over and sat next to him, handing him a chocolate ice cream cone.

“Galaxia?”

Meta didn’t respond verbally, but he did with his eyes. Immediately, Sieg and Freya ran over to him, excited.

“WOW! DAD, DID YOU WIN THAT!?”

“Yes, I did.”

“COOOLLLL!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!”

Both children hugged the plush in excitement, making their father chuckle. Fettuccine smiled at this.

-

They had gone on one more ride before leaving, and that was a boat ride about Kirby’s exploits through the years. Sieg and Freya were amazed by it, but Meta Knight admittedly felt somewhat embarrassed by it due to the idea of seeing himself at some points. It was after that that they decided to head home, feeling that it was a long day and exhaustion was starting to hit.

The family sat, relaxing in the master bedroom.

“So did you have fun today, Fetty?” Meta asked.

She smiled. “Of course, I did! I always have fun with you, Metty!” She then gave him a quick kiss, which he returned. It was then that she felt herself being hugged by their two children.

“Happy Mother’s Day, mom!!” Both of them exclaimed.

The woman gave a laugh and hugged them tightly.

Today was a wonderful day.