#explosivehead

"So you're the knight I've heard a buncha other Hunters talkin' 'bout? Ain't as big as I thought you'd be." Is taunting the Hive Knight he has so brazenly approached a bad idea? Yeah. Probably. But when has Scout ever backed down from something that'll probably end up getting him killed? | @explosivehead

he does not know from where all these risen appear.

outside the throne world, of course; they come here to find glory, glimmer, and guns. guardians are so predictable in that manner. his mother had said as such, and he is quickly realizing, once again, she was right. they are such curious little creatures. bold.

He keeps his hands by his side, as instructed, but it's obvious how desperately the urge to touch himself fills him from the way his Light sears, contrasting against the calm, collected cool of Ikora's own Void. The thought of how his gear is gonna need cleaned doesn't even cross his mind. "Please, 'kora, please," she hasn't even touched him yet and his voice is already laced with a haze of static overlay, "let me take my pants off at least?" The normally-protective armour is now a makeshift prison, ever obvious by the way his cock strains against the material. But his desperation for her isn't entirely dictated by his desire for pleasure, at least not wholly. Cayde had opened his heart to the world in the expectation that he would die on that day in the prison, the Guardian had found his stashes while he was cold 'n' out, and now everyone who has access to those logs knows. Sure, that group of people is real small, but Ikora is one of them. Things have been...awkward. At least for the past little while. Cayde likes to think he's good at reading others, but that's been proven wrong ten times over with all of those messages, and Ikora isn't a particularly open book to begin with. Despite that, she seems to want to clarify exactly how she feels about him. And that's why he's currently on his knees, hanging onto her every word, even more restless than he would normally be in this scenario. Cayde is desperate for her and her attention, her approval, her love.@explosivehead

she cannot speak of the emotions that rolled when cayde fell.

the ahamkara ensured that she would never feel as she once had. she has laughed far less since the day it crossed her path; she has forever remained a closed book. but ikora had believed if she could not express her emotions, then showing them was good enough. shared jokes between meetings, stolen moments after battle— they were how she bared her heart.

and yet it wasn't enough. that was perhaps the worst part of it all. as cayde healed, they all learned the truth. as he slept and recovered, ikora was forced to face the fact that her dearest friend believed she hated him. night after night, she replayed the message in her head. i never could tell if you liked me, time and time again, hoarse and filled with static. you probably killed me.

the void had nearly consumed her in that moment. she could not share outwardly the grief, the rage, the panic that consumed her, and so it turned inward. it gnawed at the meat of her ribs and bit into the wet flesh of her heart. it left her gasping and raw.

he had been her best friend, the only one capable of making her laugh— and he hadn't even known it.

so she stands over him now, clad in only her familiar purple robe, leather gloves, and a pair of knee-length boots. she holds her head high, chin lifted, so the only way to look at cayde is by cutting her eyes downwards. her lips press into a fine line. brows furrow, deepening the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes.

"i don't think you've earned it, cayde," murmurs his fellow vanguard. she steps forward, the click of her heels muffled by the office's carpet. "in fact, you haven't proven to me you deserve even the slightest reward for your behavior."

quick as an asp, her right leg kicks out, knee hooking over his shoulder. the sharp of her heel presses dangerously into his bare shoulder blades. her expression never falters.

[ LAP ] :     sender pulls receiver into their lap. + [ BENEATH ] :     sender moves a hand beneath an item of receiver’s clothing to touch their skin. + [ MARK ] :     via gentle biting or hickeys, sender leaves a mark on receiver. | ok so. mint, sitting on the couch, pulls bran into his lap facing him, prose n scout are on each side, hands slippin beneath whatever shes wearin and scout in particular is nipping softly at her neck | @explosivehead

bran isn't sure how, exactly, she got into this situation.

it started with a visit to a fellow hunter's den. (which, apparently, is a thing that exists!) being under jaxon, she had never heard of “hunter culture,” much less experienced it herself. dens and packs, hunts and running wild— they are as strange to her as splitting glimmer equally, or turning your back on a teammate and knowing you are safe.

safe. that's strange, too. stranger, still, to be seated in the lap of another risen, flanked by two more, and to still feel such. her thighs are spread, straddling mint's own. she is surrounded. she is vulnerable. and yet she feels no fear. even as warm hands slip beneath the cornflower blue of her blouse, even as her arc buzzes against the light surrounding her. she is safe. she feels safe.

she also feels overwhelmed. not in a bad way; not enough that she panics and flees. but in the way that causes her head to spin. she acts more on instinct than anything else. thin fingers grip mint's shoulders, desperate for stability. her hips lift. her head tilts. anything to give them more room to work with.

@explosivehead & @midnightfiireworks

[ HIPS ]:  sender  pulls  receiver  in  closer  by  the  hips. | Saint pulling him in from behind by his hips, Rohan is in front of him. Saint purrs in his ear, "I cannot wait to see you come undone, my love."

ambush.

he had known saint was coming to neomuna this week, and he had known saint was hinting at something, which rohan later hinted at himself. what he did not know was what both he and aarush had planned for him exactly. to say he is pleasantly surprised by this would perhaps be an understatement.

they must have talked about it while he busied himself with the logs. what he would give to have seen that conversation.

' get on your knees, now. ' | places this. for bran from cygnus | @explosivehead

she does not need to be told twice.

bran is not one who questions when others demand. she does not need to think. she does not need to gauge or feel. she simply obeys, and does so to the best of her ability.

and so when the exo gives his order, she is quick to do so. tucking her legs underneath her, crossing her ankles, resting her hands delicately in her lap— bran is careful to make sure that she is quick and orderly with the request. she even allows herself to go a little bit further.

❛   i wanna  bend  you  over  a  table.   ❜ | scout for either astrid or theo, up to u. also up to u whether theyre already gettin down or if he just says it as a passing comment -- @explosivehead

theo’s already half out of his shirt when the hunter makes that comment, and as he pulls it fully off and tosses it aside, he gives scout a crooked, fanged grin and an excited little laugh. the same white freckles that adorn the deep blue of his face rest on his shoulders and trail all the way down his arms and over his back, giving him the appearance of a star-lit sky – the effect enhanced by how dim the light in the room they share is. while he has some of that typical titan muscle, it’s compacted into his shorter frame, and without his armor, theo looks like he could be either titan or hunter – if you go by what body types are typical, that is.

“that so?” the awoken purrs. his eyes are like two moons set into two black orbs, and the way they glow makes it clear just how long they linger on the hunter’s body as they look him up and down. mischief sparks in them, and his grin turns into a smrik. “well… i wouldn’t be opposed to that idea.”

his thumbs hook into the waist of his pants. he begins to slide them off.