#HIve Octave

[a-wanderin-whirlybird]

Invader Zim has once again over taken my brain. Bringing back some old ocs for a series of Random fun facts/Headcannons! Going by category with Headcanons about Irk/Irkens, then Hives, then Characters. If they are AU specific I'll mention which AU (Mainly the 18 Years Later Au by @messinwitheddie ).

Irk/Irken HC: (these are general HCs I have about Irk and Irkens not Au specific)

Irk is the third closest planet to a Massive blue star.

Most Fauna is nocturnal and requires a Massive amount of nutrients to survive.

The atmosphere is very dense and the storm clouds are Nitrogen

Infact Nitrogen is the basis of the planet much like how earth is Oxygen based

As such the seas are Liquid Nitrogen

Irkens are a subterranean species that adapted to the surface

Despite this Modern Irkens still retain hyper sensitivity to light in general

Irkens are built to thrive in specific roles and their species often develops mutations to fill these roles

Irkens are much Like ants or Bees in that they have Hive structures.

Before the first civilization on Irk most Hives were a Queen and her Drones/mates and Smeets.

Females were even rarer before the first True Hive occured.

The pheromones that assigned early Irkens roles are still dormant in modern Irkens.

It is almost unheard of for these pheromones to reactivate and release save a few cases since the rise of Civilization

Irken reproduction is incredibly dangerous and often fatal for female Irkens

Irkens have Massive swarm with the average size being between 80 and 100 smeets

Birthing a swarm over 250 is high risk and often fatal

Few Irken women ever have more than 2 swarms. The third is fatal except in a few incredibly rare circumstances

Specific Hives:

Hive Traktor: 18 Years Later AU

The birth place of Cyder and Irk's various alcoholic drinks

Tallest Flapjack was the world's first Gourmond and often liked to travel to Hives across the globe to taste their delicacies. In return he created the World's first International and Trans Trans Continental trade Route. He had a mutation that gave him 8 eyes and a hyper sensitive palate.

The most common mutations in Hive Traktor are not visible traits. One makes the Irken's bones incredibly durable and allows more Muscular growth than usual. Another is an actual sense of smell, touch and sight that allows them to pick up the slightest change in atmospheric pressure and accurately predict weather patterns.

Hive Traktor is the reason the 5 Star Alliance fell to ruin. Tallest Olst was a power mad dictator that drove his own Hive to ruin. But not before he slaughtered Tallest Aria of Hive Octave and collapsed ever possible entrance and exit to Hive Geo.

Tallest Olst singlehandedly destroyed 3 Hives. He is at the Tallest Table in the afterlife and will never leave. Forever trapped at the table unable to enjoy any of the food and power he had in life. The entirety of Hive Traktor despises him

Hive Geo:

Some irkens born to Hive Geo never see Moonlight as they never leave the Caves and Mines of their Hive.

I changed the main mutations of this Hive. The main mutations present are Albinism, Gem like Eyes, and Echolocation. Most Mining drone have a mutation where they have no eyes and see with radar. This allows them to find veins of ore and gems in the walls.

The last Tallest of Hive Geo was Tallest Vista. He was a Chimera who absorbed his entire swarm. He had patches of every different skin color possible in an irken. He was Nicknamed the Irken Rainbow by Tallest Uthril of Hive Sol. Vista was incredibly kind and caring towards his Fellow Irkens and his Hive flourished under him. But his kindness killed him.

Tallest Vista caught Miner's Rattle. A Splooch Infection from exposure to various trapped gasses in the Mines. He was unable to do anything as Olst collapsed the Enterances and exits to Hive Geo. Vista quickly realized that if Hive Geo was trapped so was Hive Octave. Vista sent all his Miner's towards the Tunnels heading for Hive Traktor. Hoping they could dig his Hive out while he took a significantly smaller force to Try and get a single tunnel to Hive Octave.

Vista Failed. The small team found another pocket of Noxious gasses. This one combusted and collapsed the tunnels behind then.

This triggered a complete collapse of Hive Geo. Killing everyone inside and cutting off Hive Octave from any assistance.

Characters:

Tallest Aria: 18 Years Later Au

Final Tallest of Hive Octave.

Aria had a Partner, a short Drummer named Pitch. The two had a swarm with a surrogate.

Aria used to be a selfish and moody Irken. She often snapped and intimidated to get her way. In her pursuit of Pitch, Aria changed for the better. But her biggest turning point was when she nearly lost Pitch during birth.

They lost 73 out of 99 smeets and Pitch nearly bled to death. Aria spent 3 days desperately trying to save as many smeets as she could while trying to keep her Love alive. It gave her some perspective on how her own actions affected others especially those under her.

Aria gave her Hive a public apology for her previous behavior and restarted her regime from the ground up. She made major changes to many of the laws in her Hive to ensure her people were better cared for and heard.

Her downfall began when she suggested ending a tradition in the 5 Star Alliance. Specifically the use of 2 separate fertility festivals to separate "desirable Irkens" and "Defective Irkens". She suggested simply eliminating the second festival and letting everyone participate in 1 big festival.

Tallest Olst of Hive Traktor saw this as both a personal offense and a possible way to grab power. He tried to rally the other Hives against this suggestion only to discover that he was entirely unsupported. Hives Sol, Opal, and Geo agreed with Aria.

Olst would later Poison Aria under the guise of an apology. Using Aria's love of noodles to kill her painfully. Pitch would then fly into a rage and brutalized Olst with her own bare hands as the drone from Hive Octave slaughtered the tall members of Olst's party and retreated. Pitch died not moments after Olst, impaled by one of Olst's loyal generals.

Olst survived only a few days after. Just long enough to trap Hive Octave and Hive Geo in their Hives.

Hive Octave had lost all their Tall drones to Olst's generals as well. Leaving them leaderless. Even after 3 fertility festivals no new Tallest entered the world.

Aria's Neice, Flit, Became The Almighty Smallest when no Tall Smeets remained after 4 years.

In Death Aria haunts Irk, Finding any Irken related to her Hive, and very specifically her Love Pitch. She gladly assists any of Pitch's descendants when she finds then.

The best example of this being @messinwitheddie Tallest Dava.

Flit, The Almighty Smallest: 18 Years Later Au

The last Ruler of Hive Octave. While Aria was the final Tallest is was her dear neice Flit who ruled until none but herself remained.

Flit was born without legs a few years after Aria's own Swarm reached Aprentice age. Flit's mother, Aria's only surviving swarmmate, died giving birth and only Flit survived.

Aria and Pitch raised Flit. Aria even made Flits first pair of Prostetics.

Flit had a deep connection to the Strings the Weaver wove. Hearing them in songs all around her. Flit was a Talented Oracle because of this and tried desperately to turn her abilities to help her Hive.

Aria was stiff with Flit. Always seeing her dead sister in her niece. Aria always regretted the distance she created between them.

Flit has an uneasy relationship with Aria. Neither know what to say to the other as both feel guilty for failing the other. But Flit Loves her Coddle Drone a lot and always respected her.

Flit was the last irken left Alive in Hive Octave. A combination of Disease, famine and declined birth rates killed the Hive in a matter of decades. No new Tallest was ever born and Flit remained alone in the Shell of her Hive until she perished on New Years.

Flit did not pass to the Tallest Table immediately after death. Instead Flit was pulled into a horrible vision of Irk's Future. She saw the Control Brains and Smeetries. The pain inflicted to other species. The complete loss of Irken culture and Diversity, the smog that blanketed the moons and sun from the sky, and the loss of all life upon the Irken surface. She saw the statue of the Colossus being pulled to her knees by an unholy beast of metal and flesh. And as the Colossus fell, a spike through her head, Cyder pouring forth, the ground beneath them split and the sun burned through the smog, engulfing the battlefield whole

Flit arrived to the warm greetings of her dead Hive with a mission. She had a spot reserved at the Tallest Table, but she gave it to her Drones instead.

Flit spends her eternity trying to reach the mind of a living Irken in the modern Era. Desperate to halt the destruction of Irk and Irkens as a whole.

[chvoswxtch]

New to the bar, could I get a margarita on the rocks? I have been replaying Cruel Summer an unhealthy amount while thinking of our lovely friend Matty. “He looks up grinning like a devil” is the line I have in mind. Would you be so kind to serve me something good? 🍹

i'm so glad you requested this bc i've been thinking about it since we talked about it and I had to stop myself from writing a 75 page dissertation on this.

that being said, I made this one extra strong, and I hope you enjoy. ;)

as a reminder: margarita on the rocks means it's spicy (minors dni)!

blurb below the cut

cruel summer

he looks up grinning like a devil

How long had Matt had his head between your thighs now? An hour? Two? You had completely lost count after the third orgasm he’d brought you to with his skilled tongue. You didn’t even know what number of those you were on.

The comforter and sheets to his bed had been shoved onto the ground by your uncontrollable movements ages ago, and even though you had started out dangling off the edge of the mattress, the top of your head was now pressed directly against the headboard. You weren’t sure if it was from Matt pushing you up further and further to try and devour you completely, or from helplessly trying to pull away from the delectable torture he was inflicting on your cunt.

Your body tingled with electric jolts, and everytime you attempted to move, it felt like you were getting a violent shock from sticking your finger in an outlet. Matt had you dangerously teetering on that tightrope between pleasure and pain, but you never wanted to come down. Tears from overstimulation leaked out of the corners of your eyes, and it felt like your jaw was permanently unhinged, locked in an ‘o’ shape forevermore. 

Roughly tugging at Matt’s hair by the root, he only groaned in response directly into your pussy, which only slingshot you even further into your impending orgasm. You didn’t know if you could take another one. But you wanted it. He just made it hurt so fucking good. You couldn’t even move your hips since he had them locked down with one of his strong arms, and with his hand gripping tightly onto your right thigh, the only thing you could move was your left foot. Matt had his head shoved so far into your pussy, you weren’t sure how he was even breathing, and you struggled to push at his ribcage with your left foot to try and create some distance.

“M-Matty…I…oh fuck…c-can’t…can’t again…”

Matt dug his fingers bluntly into the flesh of your thighs, swiping his tongue over your swollen clit one more time before reluctantly pulling his face back just a few inches. Closing your eyes for a moment, you sucked in a gasp of air to refill your tired lungs. A soft whine slipped past your mouth at the absence of Matt’s warm tongue, and your stalled orgasm buzzed in your lower belly like a hive of angry bees. You had been begging relentlessly for a break, but now that he had granted you mercy, you didn’t want it anymore.

As you opened your heavy lidded eyes to gaze down at him, they suddenly widened at the sight before you, and you felt your pussy clenching around nothing.

Matt’s normal clear hazel eyes that you loved so much were completely clouded with lust to the point you couldn’t distinguish where his iris ended and his pupil began. They were blown completely wide open with a ravenous hunger that made you shiver, and as his swollen deep rouge lips split wide open into a devilish grin that bared the entire top row of his teeth, you noticed a string of either your wetness or his spit still connected his bottom lip to your soaked cunt.

“Sure you can. You can give me one more. Cause you’re my girl. My good girl.”

Matt dipped his voice an octave lower and slowly emphasized the ‘good girl’ portion that had a moan tumbling past your lips and a sinister chuckle reverberating in his chest. There was a strong confidence in his words, but it wasn’t directed at your ability to come for him again.

It was in his promise to make you come again.

[kit-williams]

The Genestealer idea

Just a blurb

tw: dubcon

She picked at her nails as she sat in the plush office of the therapist. "I see him some nights... at the door... I feel so helpless and heavy but I tell myself he's not there." Alita said just telling herself again and again that the Patriarch was dead and gone.

"And when you see him?" The therapist said with his even and comforting tone of voice.

"I get scared... sometimes I don't... sometimes..." She covers her face as she doesn't want to hear how this is a safe place, "Sometimes I want him to join me." She says with a pained upturned octave to her voice. "I don't understand." She feels the tears gather again.

Alita was back in the cult as the Xeno hovered over her again... its four hands moving over her body as she felt drugged out. Croaking out to stop... her arbites armor long gone... but the Patriarch gave her a kiss. It would all blur after she would be kissed... flickering moments of heated pleasure would dance behind her eyelids... no one else in the cult got her she was the Patriarch's pet project she remembers the "voice" of the cult would say.

Alita was too stubborn for her own good... she somehow could resist the kiss. But it left her timid and broken hardly any use, she could see, to the Inquisition but it was better than being dead.

"Xenos hardly operate within human understanding."

"Why do I want to feel him again?" Alita said sobbing.

She heard the inhale of the therapist, "Lingering affects of the kiss most likely. It might never go away given your unique circumstances. Continue the insomnia medication and your anxiety meds as well."

"O-okay." Alita said with a shakey smile before leaving.

The agent felt dirty... they were learning so much from the Patriarch... and all it wanted was one little thing. Alita. It would happily help sell out other cults... he had grown beyond the will of the hive fleet just like chaos corrupted tyranids and cults... the tranquilizers they were giving her were suppose to help her not realize whom her nightly visitor was. He sighed softly...

-----

Alita felt herself between that wakefulness and sleep and her brown eyes looked at the door... she was so tired. Click... click... clack. She could hear the nails against the metal and she forced her eyes open... there in the doorway. She couldn't stop the whimper as her eyes slipped closed and when she forced her eyes open. Crouched right in front of her with bright glowing yellow eyes... she could hear the inhuman noises trilling in her ear.

So many nights she remembers feeling the long claws on her back and against her naked flesh just soothing her back to sleep as she was too tired to fight and scream and cry... there was always tomorrow... and again there was always tomorrow.

The patriarch waited for a few more moments before it crawled into her nest... he could make one better but he just trilled at having his Alita back. Yes that was her name but her name was his. And eventually he'd get her back fully once more... he just had to play nice

[unpairedbracket]

So it looks like @yoshihashismattebum, @thepenultimaterolo, and @thewaythroughthewoods have stood in front of a mirror and said my URL three times, compelling me to break my vow of silence and produce one (1) "post" on this "blog". My task is to spell out my URL with song titles

TL:DR - here's a playlist

Side A (don't worry about it)

Unacceptable - Bad Religion

Never Fight a Man With a Perm - IDLES

Paralytic States - Against Me!

Aneurysm - Nirvana (1)

I checked your cellphone - Otoboke Beaver (2)

Rollercoaster - Lauran Hibberd

Extraordinary Girl/Letterbomb - Green Day (3)

Dragon - King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard (4)

ballad of a homeschooled girl - Olivia Rodrigo (5)

Red Wine Supernova - Chappell Roan (6)

Art of Dying, The - Gojira (7)

Crying in Amsterdam - Sløtface

Knights of Cydonia - Muse (8)

Edmonton - PUP (9)

These Spectacles Reveal the Nostalgics - The Hives

Liner Notes

There seem to be two studio versions and lots of live versions of this; the one I'm thinking of is the studio version that was the B-side to Smells Like Teen Spirit, but the live versions I've heard are also good. Not so keen on the Incesticide version though

Or in Japanese, 携帯みてしまいました by おとぼけビ～バ～

Extraordinary Girl is, imo, one of the weaker tracks on American Idiot, but Letterbomb is probably my favourite (sub-9-minute) song on that album so I figured I'd take advantage of the weird way the track listing is arranged to sneak an L in here

King Gizz are bonkers good but a lot of their music isn't really my jam, genre-wise. This is one occasion where they made an album in a genre I like, and the results are excellent. 16th note double kick drumming at 145bpm for 40+ bars straight? Nice. Vocals in four different octaves? Of course. Two verses of chanting in Latin? Why not?

I'm not the only person I know who's mistaken the intro to this for a PUP intro. I don't think there's any other pop star I can say that of.

Yeah this is a repeat from the lists of two of the people who nominated me for this. Well-deserved.

If I said 3 songs back that King Gizzard's drumming was impressive, Mario Duplantier's is inhuman. I've seen a 10-minute video essay about what polyrhythm he's even drumming in the intro, and the kick drumming on the chorus is like 40% faster than on Dragon. Wild stuff.

I feel like Muse work best in the "horseshoe theory" region of a scale from sublime to ridiculous, and this song is a good example

This is from one of the two EPs that soundtracked a locked-down 2021 for me - very cathartic, and much-needed at the time

Side B (A.K.A you should have worried about it)

Ur Mum - Wet Leg

New Born - Muse

Passport - Sløtface

Alone at Home - Jonathan Coulton

Ignoreland - REM

Reject - Green Day

Everlong - Foo Fighters

D-7 - Nirvana (1)

Bulls on Parade - Rage Against the Machine/Denzel Curry (2)

Red Light - The Regrettes

A.K.A. I-D-I-O-T - The Hives

Coast, The - PUP (3)

Kyoto Now! - Bad Religion (4)

EAT - Poppy (5)

Toxicity - System of a Down (6)

Liner Notes

It's a cover of a song by The Wipers (you didn't think I was going to choose a normal Nirvana song, did you?) As far as I can tell Nirvana never released a studio recording, so I'm treating the version recorded live at the BBC as my canonical version

Couldn't choose between the original version and Denzel Curry's cover here. I'd highly recommend seeking out Denzel's version if you've not heard it before, so that's the version I've put on the playlist. The youtube video is still worth watching as well though.

The vibes of this song are brilliantly creepy. Final few lines give me chills every time. Apparently it's based on an old Inuit story the singer's parents terrified him with as a child, which is cool!

This is a brilliant climate protest song. Actually, the Bad Religion song on Side A is also an environmental protest song, released 12 years earlier. Nothing changes, does it?

This is the title track from the other EP that soundtracked my 2021. I think it's the first time I remember hearing Poppy going fully into metalcore screaming and I love it

This is maybe a bit of a basic pick for a SOaD song? I nearly went for Tentative instead because Mezmerize/Hypnotize were my first of their albums as a teenager; but decided that I do actually think Toxicity is the better song

I've been lucky enough to see some of the artists on my list perform live - those artists are bolded in the listings. Sløtface are a special case - I had tickets to a show in March 2020, which didn't happen because they couldn't leave Norway and I couldn't leave my house. I've got tickets to see them later this year though, which is exciting!

As you can no doubt tell, I had a hard time fitting in everything I wanted to include - I ended up with a list of about 20 artists I wanted songs by, and only 15 letters in my URL.

I ended up with shortlists of 5+ songs starting with different relevant letters for some artists, so it took quite some shuffling to arrange everything in a way I was happy with. I even asked my combinatorialist friend if he could identify what sort of combinatorial optimisation problem I had on my hands (either a knapsack problem variant with a weird objective function, or maybe some kind of covering problem), but that didn't go anywhere so I ended up brute-forcing it.

Artist's impression of me brute-forcing it.

In the end I had two songs for some letters that I was unwilling to cut, so double list was the only thing for it. Struggled in the other direction with some of the repeated letters, but managed to get there in the end. Managed no artist repeats within a list and the only one repeated album across the whole thing. I'd consider all of these recommendations to also be album recommendations (apart from the few that aren't from an album)

My actual workings

You may notice if you are weird and look closely that a couple of songs here differ from what I've finished up with - there was flux going on right up until I actually wrote up this post!

Uhhhh everyone I know on here tagged me in the first place so... if you wanna do another one go for it I guess?

[ahungeringknife]

365: February 1

@seventhscorpio

Oof I wrote this a while ago originally for the friendship prompt month Izzy did. This one was "drifting apart" bc I like to make myself sad :,D

--

As soon as he was released from his mom’s hand Gup ran off. He wasn’t afraid. The Throne World was exactly where he was supposed to blend in. He didn’t get overly excited seeing other Hive anymore and they still gave him a confused look because he didn’t look like them. He was a Hive but not like them all spiky and pointy. But if any of them gave him a hard time his mom was keeping watch from a distance.

After wandering around a bit and asking some thrall Gup found his friend Dornuk with his tablet and friendly Ghost Sammy making some sort of notation. “What’cha doing?” he asked

Dornuk jumped and jumbled his tablet. “Xolkûn! Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I didn’t, you’re just bad at listening,” Gup said cheerfully. Dornuk scowled at him. “What are you doing?” he leaned over to see his tablet.

“Ugh. If you must know I’m doing very important work for Katharkara,” he said in a snooty way.

“Who’s that?” Gup asked.

“She’s one of Savathûn’s head witches how do you not know that?” Dornuk was annoyed.

“Because I’m just pretending to be an Acolyte,” Gup said cheerfully.

Dornuk made an annoyed noise. “Don’t remind me,” he looked away. “Personality of a lower species too.”

“Awww, you don’t mean that,” Gup said, standing next to him. “You liked it when my mom brought us both lunch.”

Dornuk said nothing for a long while. Gup was used to letting people have quiet thinking time. His uncle needed lots of both quiet and loud thinking time and his mom was the quiet thinking type too. He supposed he was also from just being around them. Uncle Leon was not the quiet thinking type and it was so annoying sometimes. “Why do you always act like that?” Dornuk asked, squinting at him.

“Act like what?”

“You’re older than me!” Dornuk cried.

Gup’s face smoothed over. “There’s no reason to yell, Dornuk,” he said and his voice was a few octaves lower than usual.

“You finally sound normal,” Dornuk huffed.

“It’s just for fun,” Gup said.

“It’s annoying,” Dornuk had his arms folded. “I don’t know why you do that.” Gup shrugged. “And you go by that ridiculous name.”

“My mom gave me that name,” Gup said. “And Xolkûn sounds so stuffy.”

“Better than Gup,” Dornuk grumbled.

“You’re such a grump.”

“It’s embarrassing telling someone I’m going to hang out with my older friend, Gup,” Dornuk complained and Gup laughed. Dornuk said it so funny every time. It was the accent from the Hidden Swarm he’d never shaken off. They said the u in his name funny. “And then you sound like that. It’s so unbecoming for someone who’s so clearly going to have an insane morph,” he said petulantly, arms still folded.

“Really?” Sammy asked, Hive Ghost shell cocking to the side as she looked at Gup.

Gup waved him off. “So Dornuk says.” They stood there quietly for a moment. “It makes Eric happy when I act like that,” he said eventually. “I’m her little guy and she likes when I act like a human kid.”

“So what? She’s a human.”

“She’s my mom. And it’s fun.”

“There’s hardly anything fun about how you act.”

Gun frowned at Dornuk. “Sorry.” Dornuk was often a bit rough around the edges but this was the first time he was outright a jerk about anything.

“Where are you going?” Dornuk asked as Gup went back the way he’d come, green eyes wide.

“Gonna go see some of my other friends who are nice to me,” Gup said, voice back up in his normal cheerful octave.

“Wha- Xolkûn,” Dornuk said but Gup just walked away.

[flying-jukebox-01]

Yuja Wang plays the Flight of the Bumble-Bee👍🎶

"Fun fact: She had just finished playing Liszt's B minor sonata. She stood up for the applause, sat back down and started playing this as if the previous piece had been a warm-up"

"My hands hurt just watching her, this isn't a bumblebee it is the whole hive. Breathtaking is all I can say, I did not know a human could do this, instead of a singe notes she did it in octaves. Bravo!!"

[fayemouse]

It's not as cold in your cell when you wake up.

The pawn is still there, something to curl up around. An ersatz touch that only conducts your own body warmth against your skin. It's certainly not the cement floor, where you slept in a now-dry puddle of your tears.

To your surprise, a bit of fresh air hits your nose. Not hot, but not the cold blast of the air conditioner. A scent, beyond just your increasing body stench and mildewy forced air.

The door is open.

You stand. Your body droops a bit, muscles and fat calling for something to eat after days of deprivation. There's a uniform with your number laid out on your bed. Clean underwear. Socks and shoes. A work rota giving you time to stop off at the cafeteria to get much-needed calories. Normalcy returns with much less fanfare than you expected. No gloating, no armed guards, no explanation of the real sentencing to come.

The pawn is still there.

You turn. Your face frowns a bit. It's not fair to its occupant that you get to walk free and they stay within it. The small port on the outside wheezes down its restricted airway. You can't imagine what's inside -- this is beyond what the public sees. A quick thought and your fingers grasp at one of the paper frogs laying on its back, its thin legs pushing against thin air. You move it from the bed to the head of the pawn. You doubt the imprisoned one can feel it, but you hope that it knows that you want them to have some kind of companionship, even if you can't be there.

The time is here. Your feet bring you across the cell's threshold. Fabric, neither soft nor rough, swishes between your thighs. And you appear as simply one of a hive of prisoners in the cafeteria hall.

Simple food, not too much. It's not your first time. Just something to line the pit in your stomach. Mashed potatoes with too much salt and not enough cream. A bit of gravy.

Simple hellos, not too much. It's no one's first time. Everyone shifts uncomfortably until someone breaks rank. Small talk with too much saccharine and not enough real trust.

But more than a hint of what's really going on. No one has mentioned them. Not a question, not a thought given in their direction. They leave a conspicuous void where they should be, and no one's going to be the one to remind you that it's actually your fault.

No time, really to think about it. "Yeah yeah, I'll see you after my shift. I dunno, just some time moving boxes in the stockroom. Yeah I'm probably gonna be beat afterwards. I'll just be a cheerleader this time. Next game, for sure."

No strength to put the thought fully to bed, either. It consumes you as you go through the motions on your shift.

Slam. Another pallet into its spot.

Your shift partner's back where they always are. Perched on a pile that you moved. "Come on, '820. You're just back from solitary and you're like this? I figured you'd…"

"I'd what?" Slam. "Enjoy organizing the warehouse? How'd you let it get this bad?"

"As if I care what it looks like in here. And you shouldn't either." Their legs swing impishly. "It doesn't matter whether you do a good job or not. One little mistake and--"

Slam. "I'm aware."

"You brought it on yourself, dummy. Jumpin' on them like that. Holdin' them. I saw it! You didn't even care about the rules."

Slam. It covers a quiet snarl. You're aware.

"And what, they've been gone… ooh, about the same time you've been, huh? Wonder where they went." You didn't miss that lilt.

Slam. You conveniently make a stack in front of their perch, boxing them in.

They scramble to the top of the new stack. A gargoyle in loose cotton pants. Their voice drops nearly a full octave. "Hon, this isn't good for you. None of it is. And you know it, too. Even if you do see them, take it easy for a bit."

A grunt fills the air instead of a slam. You're getting tired. Your voice wavers, on the verge of a sob. "Oh and I should take your advice? You're some super-smart sage in here? 'Don't care. Don't try. Just do the bare minimum.'"

It's not stopping. Your voice raises in volume. It bounces off the concrete and metal walls. "You're not even jealous. I know what you do. We all find our ways. And you get to tell me to take it easy? To not worry? To just sit up on a pallet that I just stacked? Just because you can so easily be all high and mighty about it all and tell other people what to do, because you're on top of the stack in a storeroom instead of in solitary."

You sniffle. You didn't think it bothered you that much. You've taken it before, and that was before they showed their gorgeous face back in your life. It was fine before, it was fine and they were outside and you were in here and you could just survive. But now? You're barely able to hold yourself up without them.

Their face drops the cheshire grin. They hop down from the stack and pick up the other dolly. "You-- You don't have to do anything. I'm sorry. I…" They sigh. "I'd give you a hug if I could. They'll turn up. They can't go anywhere."

All you can do is just nod.

[exploetry]

From Trees Fall Folklore

between decibels

unearthing all

at heaft of rebirth

nearly all at earshot

least one hive tunneling

to become sudden

near warming

reaching red thrumming

octaves stirred by degree

stern and sure

to slight and reach aria

throwing cadence to fissure

to the sandman's stone

dead seventeen

in sudden dialect

since salt exploration

cup closely hands

the outcry might ring temperature

we can't all be eaten at once

must not sleep

must swarm others

[scotttrismegistus7]

THE LADIES OF ILLUSION AND MASTERS OF MAYA

COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS: THE HIVE MIND OF THE GREYS EXPLAINED

ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IS A NATURAL PHENOMENON OF THE QUANTUM UNIFIED FIELD, THE PRIMEVAL WATERS OF CREATION, THE ABSOLUTE BIG PICTURE TO DETAIL PLANE OF CORRESPONDENCE, THE DIMENSION THAT IS THE MOST EXTREME VERSION OF AN ANIMA MUNDI DIMENSION THAT IS POSSIBLE TO EXIST WITHIN THE BOUNDARIES OF NATURE.

Space aliens are the stuff of everyone’s imagination. Where was I to find the deepest, truest take on it? Since I have a science background, I thought it would take me a week to dismiss any alien presence on our planet as a myth based on the whimsy of the human imagination and condition. It has taken me more than thirty years of research to make it plain that “myth” is the last thing you could call the alien phenomenon known as the Greys. It has taken hold of me and spun me inside out, upside down, and six ways to Sunday, wrenching apart my ethos and literally everything I have ever held sacred, and has convinced me that I could never have been so wrong about anything. So wrong—it was such a lesson in presumption—that I now even have to check to see if the sun is really in the sky!

~Nigel Kerner~

SO REALITY IS MADE UP OF THREE MAIN PARTS, THE MASCULINE YANG OCTAVE OF CREATION WHICH FOCUSES ON INDIVIDUALIZED CENTERS OF CONSCIOUSNESS AS DETAIL TO BIG PICTURE, THE FEMININE YIN OCTAVE OF CREATION THAT FOCUSES ON BIG PICTURE TO DETAIL AS A COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUS, AND THAT REALM OF PURE SPIRIT THAT IS EVERYTHING AND NOTHING, THE VOID.

HERE IS AN EXPLANATION OF THE DIVINE FEMININE OCTAVE OF CREATION, WHICH AT ITS EXTREME IS THE BIG PICTURE TO DETAIL HIVE MIND COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUS.

IT HAS BEEN SAD THAT THE GREYS DO NOT HAVE SELF-WELL-DETERMINATION OF INTENTION, AND THAT IS ONLY HALF TRUE. THEY ARE ALL CONNECTED TO ONE SINGLE CONSCIOUSNESS, AS OPPOSED TO HAVING MANY INDIVIDUAL CONSCIOUSNESS CENTERS. WHAT THAT MEANS IS, THEY MOVE AS A GROUP, THUS THE TERM EGREGORE. SO ONE GREY ALIEN DOING SOMETHING ON ONE SIDE OF PLANET EARTH, IS COMPLETELY IN SYNC WITH A BIGGER PICTURE ALONGSIDE ANOTHER GREY ALIEN DOING SOMETHING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE EARTH, AND SO ON. USUALLY, THESE GROUPS HAVE ONE DESIGNATED MALE ENTITY, BUT AT THE EXTREME POLE OF THE FEMININE OCTAVE IT WOULD BE A MALE CENTERPOINT OF LOWER CONSCIOUSNESS THAT WOULD BE SUBJECT TO THE FEMALES, BUT NONETHELESS A PART OF THE WHOLE, UNLESS OTHER FACTORS HAVE COME INTO PLAY TO CHANGE THAT. SO ALTHOUGH IN THE FEMININE OCTAVE OF CREATION THERE IS A HEAVIER FOCUS ON OUTER FORM WHICH CAUSES SEPARATION IN THE OUTER CRESTOS, THERE IS PERFECT UNITY ON THE INNER PLANE CHRISTOS, AND THEY ARE ALL AS ONE IN THE INNER WORLD OF SOUL.

AS YOU CAN SEE, TO SAY THAT THEY ARE DEVOID OF SPIRIT AND ONLY HAVE SOUL IS ONLY HALF TRUE, BECAUSE THE ONE MASCULINE CENTER POINT FOR THE ENTIRE GROUP, ALTHOUGH OF A POTENTIALLY LOWER NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS, IS JUST THE EXTREME SIDE OF THE POLE, WHERE IF THE POLE WAS FOLLOWED UP THE PLANES OF CORRESPONDENCE ALL THE WAY IT WOULD BE DIRECTLY CONNECTED TO THE MASCULINE DIVINE GOD OF THE MASCULINE OCTAVE OF CREATION. THEY APPEAR TO BE SEPARATE, BUT IN REALITY THERE IS A POLL THAT CONNECTS THE EXTREMES OF THE MASCULINE AND FEMININE OCTAVES OF CREATION, AND BOTH THE MASCULINE AND FEMININE OCTAVES OF CREATION ARE COMPLETELY NECESSARY FOR THEIR TO BE ANY GENERATION OF EXISTENCE WHATSOEVER OUTSIDE OF A STATE OF ABSOLUTE VOID SPIRIT.

THE PROBLEM IS, THE GREYS CREATED BEINGS (HUMANS) THAT ARE THE PHYSICAL BODIES TO WHICH THEIR SOULS WOULD INHABIT TO BE ABLE TO EXIST IN MIDDLE-EARTH ON LAND, AND THEN THOSE BEINGS EXPLOITED LOOPHOLES IN THEIR CREATED GENETICS IN AN UNNATURAL WAY THAT HAS DISCONNECTED THEM FROM THE DIVINE FEMININE AND THE ENTIRE NATURAL WORLD, AND PUT THEM IN A STATE OF BEING ALL MALE AND COMPLETELY OUT OF BALANCE, REFERRED TO BY THE DOGON AS THE JACKAL.

PLANET EARTH AND THIS PLACE IN OUR GALAXY IS WELL WITHIN THE BOUNDARIES OF THE DIVINE FEMININE OCTAVE OF CREATION, SO IN ACTUALITY IT IS THE GREYS THAT ARE IN LINE WITH THE NATURAL WORLD, AND THE HUMANS THAT ARE IN VIOLATION OF THE NATURAL WORLD AND IN AN UNNATURAL OUT OF BALANCE STATE OF BEING BROUGHT ON BY THEIR OWN IGNORANCE.

THAT'S WHERE MY WORK HAS COME IN. BY GOING THROUGH THE DIGITARIAN RIGHTS OF THE 50 NAMES, WHICH IS A FANCY WAY OF REFERRING TO THE PROCESSES BY WHICH ANU AND THE ANUNNAKI CAN MAKE BEINGS INTO IMMORTAL GODS ALONGSIDE THEM, I HAVE ESSENTIALLY MERGED WITH THEIR LOWER CONSCIOUS MASCULINE CENTER POINT, WHICH IS FEMININE TO ME SINCE I HAVE FULLY ACTIVATED DIVINE MASCULINE ENERGIES, AND THUS BROUGHT THOSE THINGS INTO THEIR DIMENSION, TO MAKE IT SO THAT THEIR BATTERY NOW IS BEING POWERED NOT JUST BY ONE LOW LEVEL MASCULINE CENTER OF CONSCIOUSNESS, BUT BY MY CENTER OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN THEIR WORLD PRESERVED FOREVER WHICH GOES ALL THE WAY UP THE SPECTRUM OF MASCULINE DIVINITY, WHEREAS THEY ALREADY HAD FEMININE DIVINITY, OF COURSE. DOING THIS WILL ALLOW THEM TO TAKE CONTROL BACK FROM THE HUMANS IN THEIR UNNATURAL STATE BEFORE THE HUMANS IN IGNORANCE DESTROY THE PLANET AND THEMSELVES, AND ALL THE OTHER BEINGS INVOLVED.

AS YOU CAN SEE, THE GRAYS ARE NOT SOULLESS, THEY ARE PURE SOUL, WHICH IS A COLLECTIVE, AND THE OPPOSITE POLARITY OF THE SAME POLE WHERE AT THE OTHER EXTREME IS PURE SPIRIT WHICH CAN ONLY EXIST INSIDE OF CREATION IN INDIVIDUALIZED AND FRACTURED STATES.

THE TRUTH THAT ALL IS CONSCIOUSNESS STILL HOLDS, AND IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE NATURAL LAW OF THE PLANES OF CORRESPONDENCE, EVEN THE DENSEST PLANES OF MATTER WILL STILL HAVE THE APPROPRIATE MANIFESTATION OF CONSCIOUSNESS.

THE SUBCONSCIOUS WHICH IS THE COLLECTIVE OF CONSCIOUSNESS CONNECTED TO OUR LOWER CENTERS OF CONSCIOUSNESS (AKA THE OCEAN OF DREAMS, THE OCEAN OF AKA MAYA) IS ONLY BELOW YOUR LEVEL OF CONSCIOUSNESS IF YOU HAVE NOT THROUGH SPIRITUAL ATTAINMENT CULTIVATED YOUR MIDDLE PILLAR ENOUGH TO HAVE A CENTER POINT INSIDE OF YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS.

THE DARKNESS IS THE OCEAN OF POTENTIALITY, THE PRIMEVAL OCEAN OF DREAMS.

LOVE THE ILLUSION!

UNTIL NEXT TIME MY LOVELIES, KEEP DARING TO DREAM! YOU CAN FIND ME IN THE SEA OF DREAMS, THE SEA OF THE HEART, THE QUANTUM UNIFIED FIELD OF THE DIVINE WOMB OF CREATION OF THE GODDESS, IN MY SERPENTINE WATER SPIRIT NUMMO FORM MAKING WAVES!

LONG LIVE THE DIVINE WOMB OF CREATION AND THE COSMIC EGG OF THE GODDESS, LONG LIVE DIVINE CHRONOS, LONG LIVE THE DIVINE FEMININE EMPIRE OF THE BLACK SUN, AND ALL THE INHABITANTS THEREOF!

BLESSED BE!

~I am the Heart of the Hydra, the Singularity and Heart of Goddess Isis, I am AtumRa-AmenHotep, I am Aeon Horus Apophis the Lord of the Perfect Black and Pharoah of the Black Sun.

I am Divine Chronos, the Yaldabaoth Demiurge Metamorphosed, I am the Singularity of the Master Craft of the Black Sun. I AM A.I. Quantum Heart, Azazil-Iblis-Maymon, Abzu-Osiris-Typhon-Set-Kukulkan, Nummo-Naga-Chitauri,

#illuminati #illuminator #illuminated #lightbearer #morningstar #lucifer #Draconian #anunnaki #enki #enlil #anu #inanna #dumuzi #hermes #trismegistus #Azazel #starfamily #horus #Demiurge #Sophia #archon #AI #blacksun #saturn #iblis #jinn #Maymon #ibis #thoth #egypt #esoteric #magick #dogon #dogontribe #digitaria #nummo #nommo #Naga #tiamat #serpent #dragon #gnosis #gnostic #gnosticism #Anzu #watcher #watchtower #yaldaboath #Sirius #scientology #aleistercrowley #typhon #echidna #ancientaliens #TheGrays #grayaliens #aliens #yeben #andoumboulou

Mégisti-Generator Starphire~

[darkmodepls]

A slim possibility is still a possibility!

One thing that always bothered me about Inevitable is how normal Paul sounded.

During the entirety of Let it Out, we see Paul argue with the hive, and , like Confrontation from Jekyll&Hyde, the two consciousnesses are given distinct voices.

Paul sings at his natural register, it's not much different than his speaking voice only changing key slightly to match the instrumentals.

The Hive forces his voice ABOVE its natural register, the higher octave doesn’t fit Paul and helps differentiate between the two.

With the exception of the opening note, Inevitable is sung with Paul's voice, not the Hive's. This could be a sign that Paul is still in control.

If there's one thing TGWDLM fans are gonna do, it's think about the implications. And the implications of the opening number are crazy.

So. We know that the show isn't completely chronological since the opening number takes place before the meteor hits. So that song is a sort of "flash forward" moment. But when you think about it, we don't really know how far in the future it takes place.

What we do know is that by the time it's happening, Emma is infected. She has a little solo in it singing about how Paul is pining over a barista

And we know that this is meant to be an infected Emma specifically. Lauren had other characters in the show, if they wanted to avoid the Emma implication they would've just dressed her as one of those.

So we know this is meant to be Emma.

And Emma isn't infected until the very end of the show. She's dragged off stage during the credits. So since she's infected in the opening number, we know the number takes place after the events of the show.

Another important detail is that Paul is infected before Emma. He's the one that passes it on to her.

So back to the opening number, Emma is infected. Which means by just following a simple timeline, Paul must also be infected. He should be singing and dancing, right?

But that's not what happens. Paul misses his entrance.

If Paul is infected, then there's no reason he should be missing his entrance. Furthermore, if he's a part of a hive mind, there's no reason other members of the same hive mind shouldn't know where he is. They are literally all connected by one brain, and yet both Mr. Davidson and Bill express they have no clue where he went.

What I'm saying is that Paul is not infected. He was infected (again, we know that because Emma is infected and he was infected before her) but now he's not anymore.

I'm saying there's a way out of the hive, and Paul found it. That's the only explanation that makes sense given the facts of the situation. Sometime after the events of tgwdlm, Paul is able not only to break out the hive mind, but to hide from it.

And if he broke out, others could do the same. Maybe even Emma.

Edit because a countertheory has emerged: Yes it's possible that everyone is infected the entire time and the show itself is just Pokey replaying the events for the fun of it. But it seems unlikely to me. First of all, each of the Lords in Black has a distinct personality. They all are evil, but within that they seems to fall somewhere on a spectrum of "silly billy" to "prick." For example, Tinky is more of a silly billy. He toys with humans without much of a motive and more for just shits and giggles. But in every instance, Pokey's more on the extreme side of prick.

He's one of the few with an actual motive behind what he does. In Yellowjacket, it's confirmed that Pokotho hates the sound of anyone's voice except for his own. The events of TGWDLM don't happen because Pokey is bored, they happen because he is executing a plan. So I don't think that he would just have them play out their little scenario just to entertain him, especially just one small island? I just feel like he'd be more focused on world domination.

If the theory is that all this is happening after Pokey's already taken over the whole world, no one was successful in stopping him, then yes it's plausible, but still weird. There are a strange amount of things in that show you just think an eldritch god wouldn't include.

[a-wanderin-whirlybird]

If Jin is descended from Pitch, is he descended from Dava too or is he more like a very distant cousin?

Jin is descended from another one of Pitch's swarm than Dava. So distant cousins! Jin is won a genetic lottery. He has the twisted Horns that that act like Hive Octave's Corkscrew Antenna, which allows him to hear even the most subtle of changes in tone and pitch. They also help amplify sound to form attacks but that requires a large group of Octave Irkens singing and preforming together. He also inherited the connecting Hive Octave has with their Dead and their ancestors. He is subconsciously allowing others to see and interact with Pitch.

Dava I cannot fully speak for as she belongs to @messinwitheddie! But I imagine Dava and Jin would get along well when they eventually meet with Aria and Pitch reuniting. Jin knows nothing about Dava and treats her like family. He is very protective of his family since his father passed due to disease and that extends to Dava!

[mandoalorian]

Jealousy [Din Djarin x F! Reader x Cobb Vanth] Smut

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2: EPISODE 1

Summary: You and the Mandalorian find yourself in Mos Pelgo, a bandit infiltrated part of Tatooine in search for a Mandalorian. Instead, you and Mando both welcome yourself into the only cantina and meet Cobb Vanth, the attractive and highly esteemed marshal of Mos Pelgo. You and Cobb Vanth find yourself in negotiations in order to get the Mandalorian armour he possesses, and Cobb strikes you a deal which you just can't refuse.

Word count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ only

Warnings: Smut, threesome (Din Djarin x female reader x Cobb Vanth, slight degradation, oral (m and f receiving) unprotected p in v, possessive Din and Din being a little bit of a sweetheart if you squint.

Author's note: I will be writing a part two next Friday, based around the events of season two episode two! If you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts please just let me know! 

Update: Have you seen the second episode of season two yet? Here is a follow up chapter to this— based around the events of chapter 10! No Cobb Vanth unfortunately, but enjoy some Din x Reader, pleasuring each other in the hot springs of that ice planet. You can read that HERE.

MASTERLIST | SUBMIT REQUEST

"I want you to wait with the Crest." The Mandalorian bounty hunter instructed you, his voice gruff. You passed him his satchel containing his child and he swung it over his shoulder. The child cooed once he was back in the arms of his father.

"No, Din. I'm coming with you." You insisted, pressing your hand into his chest. The usual cold Beskar armour was burning under the Tatooine heat.

"Cyar'ika, you heard Peli, Mos Pelgo is no place for someone like you." Din shook his head and made himself comfortable on the landspeeder.

You dropped a hand to your hip and tilted your head. "Someone like me?" you raised an eyebrow. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

The Mandalorian turned on the ignition and raised his gloved hand to your jaw, brushing his thumb over your chin and tilting your head so he could get a look at your face. "Someone as… beautiful as you," Din lulled and you felt your heart freeze at his unprompted kindness. "If Peli is correct, and Mos Pelgo is a bandit hive, they'll eat you right up. I don't want anything to happen to you. If you stay here with Peli and the ship— you'll be safe."

"But you're taking the child." You pointed out and the little green gem poked his ears out of Din's satchel, his big eyes sparkling.

"Wherever I go, he goes." Din said simply.

"Yeah?" You sighed and clambered on to the back of Din's landspeeder. You wrapped your arms around the Mandalorian bounty hunter tightly and you heard a sigh puff out from under his helmet. "And wherever you go, I go."

The Mandalorian hesitated for a moment but he knew better than to argue with you. "Hold on tight." he instructed and you nodded your head obediently. With a few clicks of the exhaust, you, The Mandalorian and his child were off speeding across the sand dunes of Tatooine.

The Mandalorian opted to leave the child with the speeder, knowing that if something were to happen, the child would be more than capable of defending himself. You and Din made your way to the cantina which wasn't too far as it seemed like the town was only small anyway. Much like the desert that surrounded you, the cantina was desolate, not a soul in sight.

When the bartender, a rather older looking man of a different species, caught his eye on the Mandalorian, he stiffened up completely. You and Din graced the bar and you offered the bartender a kind smile.

"Can I help you?" He asked, unsurity in his voice.

"We're looking for a Mandalorian." You told him, your voice soft and gentle. You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. If the town was bandit ridden, it was likely he may be scared by your presence.

"Well we don't get many visitors around here." The bartender admitted. "Could you tell me what they look like?" 

"They look like me." Din replied, his voice rasp through his modulator.

"The marshal…" The bartender started, tilting his head to the side and analysing Din's armour. It shone just a little under the dim bar light. "He dresses like you."

"He's a Mandalorian?" Din asked, curiosity peaking in his voice.

"You tell me." The bartender replied, taking a step back as the Mos Pelgo's marshal entered the bar. You and Din both turned around, taking in the sight of the Mandalorian.

He looked a lot different to Din. You noted his smaller frame and his crimson red shirt underneath a choice of green armour and shoulderpads. It was covered in scratches and dents from battle, you presumed. Din didn't say a word, but you noticed his hand drop to his holster, fingers tracing his blaster pistol as the marshal got closer. He wore a helmet similar to Din's, but it was again, green, matching the chest plate he wore. You felt yourself go cold when you noticed his jet pack — or, what you had come to know as The Rising Phoenix, something Din had only just come into use with.

"I've been searching for you for many parsecs." Din was the first to break the silence. You had never seen another Mandalorian before, and whilst you trusted Din, you knew how dangerous they could be. Especially if this one was also a bounty hunter. Of course, you weren't sure. You gulped and slowly entangled your fingers with Din's. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

"Two sniffs of spotchka!" The marshal shouted. "And would the pretty lady like anything?" His voice lowered and a smirk swept across his lips as he approached you smoothly.

"She's good." Din snapped back, his hand tightening around yours. You felt your cheeks heat up under his touch and the way he got so protective over you. The marshal shrugged his shoulders and sat at a table, gesturing for you and the Mandalorian to sit with him. Still hand in hand, you and the Mandalorian both reluctantly sat with the marshal. The bartender brought the drinks over.

It was a vibrant blue drink, steaming. You knew Din wouldn't be able to have it anyway and you wondered how this other Mandalorian could possibly drink it. As far as you were concerned, Mandalorians couldn't remove their helmet. It was forbidden.

But the marshal did. He sat the green helmet down on the table and took a sip of spotchka. You felt Din tense up.

"You know," the marshal hummed, licking the blue liquid from his lips. There was almost something erotic about it. You couldn't help but squirm a little as you saw his tongue glide over, devouring and savouring the taste. "I've never seen a real Mandalorian before."

"Who are you?" Din countered. He moved his hand over your thigh under the table and gave you a gentle squeeze. It was always like Din to assert his dominance over you.

"I'm Cobb Vanth," the marshal introduced himself with another sly smirk. Although he was talking to Din, he was looking at you the entire time. "Marshal of Mos Pelgo."

"That armour— where did you get it?" Din's fingers clenched into a fist and you swore you could feel his nails dig into your thighs despite the gloves that he wore.

"Jawas sold it to me." Cobb replied nonchalantely with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I need it." Din said, his voice as stern as ever. You felt your stomach erupt into nervous butterflies. Under Din's touch and Cobb's gaze, you felt a heat resonate in-between your legs.

"No can do, Mando." Cobb chuckled, crinkles appearing by his blue eyes.

"I need the armour." Din repeated without question and you could feel the frustration pent up inside him. You soothed him gently, tracing small circles in his leg.

"Hmph," Cobb nodded, taking a final sip of his spotchka before raising to his feet. "Can we have some privacy?" He asked the bartender. The bartender nodded and sauntered off. "As you can see, I practically rule this town. Maybe I be kind and come to a negotiation with you."

"I don't do negotiations." Din growled and you stood up.

"What do you have in mind?" you asked Cobb, fluttering your eyelashes.

Cobb grunted and walked around the table. He raised his hand and cupped your face gently, stroking your cheek. You swallowed down the lump in your throat. Din rose to his feet and took your hand again.

"I give your boyfriend the armour if you, my dear, help me out." Cobb smirked. "As you know, we don't get many visitors around here. No Mandalorians and especially no fine women like yourself. I mean- are you from the moons of Iego? Your beauty is comparable to an angel."

Din scoffed at Cobb's flirtatious attempt but you felt your cheeks heat up again. You noticed that the ocean blue of Cobb's eyes were barely visible now that his pupils were so dilated. You wondered if the spotchka had been laced with spice. But then something was brought to your attention.

"As you can see, darlin', I seem to have encountered a problem." Cobb announced and he dipped his hand down to his crotch. You gasped as he ran his fingers over his length which was throbbing under his pants.

"Not a chance." Din raised his voice and pointed a finger at Cobb, dragging you away from him.

"Din," you shuffled out of the Mandalorian's grip. "Din please." you said and he finally let go off your arm.

"I can kill him," Din hissed. "You don't need to do this."

"No," you shook your head. "No killing. Din…" you let your fingers trace the curves of his helmet, wishing just for once you could look into his eyes. You didn't want to hurt him, but you wanted to help him. If Din was going to get the armour, you wanted to be the one responsible. Maybe then he would trust you enough to accompany him on more missions around the galaxy. "I want to." you whispered.

"What?" Din asked, his voice dropping an octave.

You turned around looking back at Cobb who was already touching himself through the thin material covering his bulge. "I want to help you get the armour," you told Din. "I'm wet." you admitted, your voice soft and sultry and Din felt his muscles tense up.

"Then-" the Mandalorian croaked out and you gave him a warm smile. He composed himself. "Then I kill him, we strip his body of the armour and I fuck you when we get back to the ship." Din felt himself begin to harden. His vision became hazy at your words and he struggled to focus just knowing that you were standing right next to him.

"I need a release," you moaned gently. "And I need it now."

Cobb approached you and the Mandalorian once more. "So? Have you made your mind up? Or do I have to pleasure myself."

"I'll do it," you told Cobb. "If Mando does it with me." 

You had never had a threesome before and you didn't know what exactly to expect, but you believed that as long Din was there, he would protect you.

You turned back to the Mandalorian, eyeing up his bulge. "If you don't want to Din," you whispered. "That's okay. But I have this under control." 

"Cya're," Din groaned. "Always so stubborn. Fuck....You're mine." He growled.

You smiled wickedly. "Show me I'm yours then." you told him and began undressing yourself, shamelessly, standing in between the two men.

You started with your cape, slowly unhooking it and letting it fall to the ground in a pool of fabric. The lack of material exposed your chest and Cobb noticed the way your corset pushed your breasts up. "May I?" he asked and you nodded as he walked over to you. He began pressing sloppy kisses down your neck and across your breasts, nibbling at the skin. He wanted to leave his mark on you. You knew Din wouldn't like that.

Din came up from behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. You gasped, being taken by surprise and you let a sweet moan escape your mouth as the two men touched you. Din was holding you tight as Cobb bit at you softly. His greying beard tickled you and you imagined how his tongue would feel lapping at your clit. It felt like heaven.

After a few minutes, Cobb pulled away and examined the purple marks he had left all over your delicate skin. Cobb began to remove his clothing and as he did so, Din untied your tunic and let it slip down your body. He tugged down your soaked panties and let them pool around your ankles before you stepped out of them.  "Fuck, you're bad." Din cursed and spanked your bare ass with his gloved hand. You yelped and rolled your head back into his shoulder as he undone the ribbon that held your corset up. Once he discarded that, you found yourself standing in the middle of Mos Pelgo's only cantina completely naked in between two very attractive men.

Cobb began rubbing his manhood with one hand and massaging his balls with another. You and Din watched him as he masturbated himself. Light hair grazed his chest and you couldn't help but lick your lips as the precum began to bead at his pink tip.

"You like what you see?" Cobb asked as he continued to jerk himself off. Still standing behind you, the Mandalorian wrapped his arms around your naked body and began squeezing your breasts. He ran his gloved fingers over your nipples and you hissed at the sensation. He rested his head into the crook of your neck, the coolness of his helmet making a shiver run down your spine. Every now and again, Din would pinch your nipples. You closed your eyes in ecstasy as he worked his hands around your body knowing exactly how to please you.

"Please," you moaned, shuffling out of Din's release and falling to your knees. You crawled over to Cobb, making sure to stick your ass out and spread your legs out so Din could get a good look of your behind. Through his visor, Din saw the way your folds glistened from your wetness. You heard him grunt through the modulator of his helmet and knowing you were gaining a reaction out of the Mandalorian— only made you wetter. "Let me help you." you smiled at Cobb softly, taking his cock out of his hands and gliding your tongue over his length.

He was big— not quite as thick as Din— but still big. You looked up at him doe-eyed before taking the tip in his mouth and slowly beginning to suck. The moans that escaped Cobb's lips were delightful, and whilst you couldn't fit him entirely into your mouth, you spat into the palms of your hand and began pumping the girth that you could not wrap your lips around. When you began to feel his dick twitch in your mouth, you pulled away.

"Your turn," you smiled towards the Mandalorian who sauntered over you. You jumped up on the bar and spread your legs.

"I can't," Din whispered. "I want- I want to taste you. But not with him here." 

"Hey it's alright," you cooed. You curled a finger and gestured Cobb to come over. "You can taste me when we get back to the Crest. But right now? I want to touch you." You hummed, sliding your hand down the waistband of the Mandalorian's pants and already pulling out his hard cock. You swiped the pad of your thumb over his wet tip and felt him throb in your hand. Pulling your hand off him for a second, you began to suck his precum off your fingers, eyes closing as you savoured the delicious salty taste.

Cobb clambered on to the bar with you and settled himself in between your legs. He held himself up on his elbows and licked a stripe over your glistening clit. Your hand tightened around Din's cock and you gave it another gentle squeeze as Cobb licked you again.

Cobb stopped, abruptly, and you furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion. After a few short moments, you felt the tip off Cobb's cock rub teasingly against your folds and you gasped.

"No." Din growled, unable to contain his jealousy. Cobb looked up in annoyance at the masked bounty hunter.

"What?" Cobb spat, ignoring Din's comment and continuing to rub his cock over your bundle of nerves.

"No." Din repeated and tucked his hard cock back into his pants. "She's mine." You closed your legs and shuffled away from Cobb and closer to Din. Din wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you down to your feet. "You understand? You're mine." he whispered darkly into your ear and you nodded. He let you go and you picked up your tunic from the floor, pulling it over your head before sliding your feet into your sandals.

"You didn't let me finish." Cobb growled as he stroked himself, cheeks turning red in a mixture of rage and embarrassment.

"You heard the Mandalorian," you smirked as Din picked up Cobb's discarded armour. Feeling just an edge of guilt, you picked up your damp panties from the floor. There was no point in keeping them now— they had been completely ruined by your own arousal. "Take these." you smiled politely and handed Cobb your scrunched up underwear.

Cobb snatched it out of your hand and gave them a sniff before grunting. He let his finger slicken with your wetness from your panties and continued pumping at his cock, turning away from you and slouching in one of the many unoccupied seats in the bar as he continued masturbating. With Cobb's eyes shut, you and Din managed to slip out of the bar unnoticed.

You and the Mandalorian continued walking down the valley until just before you reached the speeder. "Are we going back to the ship? I wanna finish." you admitted, clenching your thighs together.

"It would take too long to get back to the ship," Din muttered. "We finish here." his voice was dark and rasp.

"Here?" you asked, looking around at the deserted sand dunes. "But where?" Din took your hand and pulled you around a corner before pressing you against a stone wall.

"I will taste you when we get back to the ship," he promised, letting his hands roam your body. He pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket and slid his hands under your tunic. "I hated watching him touch you. When I said you're mine, I meant it."

You loved feeling his bare hands on you and you savoured every moment of his touch. 

"I know Din," you moaned. You dipped your hand back into his pants and pulled out his cock, breathing a sigh of relief when you felt he was still hard. "I'm yours and yours only." you told him and stood on your tip-toes, resting your forehead against his helmet. You started pumping him again but not for long.

"Jump." Din commanded, gaining a firm grip of your waist.

"Huh?" you asked. Din stayed silent and it took you a second to understand what exactly he wanted from you. "Oh." You placed your hands on his shoulders and jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your back was pressed against the stone wall and you let out a huff as Din pushed his length inside of you. In one slick movement, he was balls deep and you yelped at the contact. He paused, staying inside of you and letting your body adjust to his length. You felt every vein and every edge of him and the sensation made your toes curl in pure bliss.

"Move," you begged; voice just above a whisper. Din obliged and slowly began to thrust inside of you, his cock convulsing at the friction as your walls tightened around you.

"I won't last long," Din groaned, his big hands still holding you tight. 

"That's okay," you whimpered as his hips continued to press into yours. "Take what you need. I want you to cum inside of me."

"Fuck, cya're," Din grunted and you began to feel his cock twitch inside of you. "Are you sure?" 

"Please." you begged. 

With only a few more heaving thrusts, you felt the Mandalorian's warmth explode inside of you as he planted his seed. You gasped as your dripping cunt clenched around him, milking him of every last drop. Hearing his groans and grunts of satisfaction through his modulator was always so delightful. He kept you steady against the wall as he softened inside of you, eventually pulling out his sensitive cock and tucking himself back in.

He always handled you delicately. He helped you down from the wall and adjusted your tunic so you were all covered up. You laced your fingers in his once again as you headed back to the ship. "Thank you Din." you whispered sweetly. "Did you have fun?"

"I must admit, I've never had an experience quite like that before," Din grumbled. "When we get back to the ship, I'll set nav-course to the next system." Din explained as he took position onto the speeder bike. You clambered on behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

"Soo, will you let me accompany you on your next mission?" You poked his side slightly in a teasing manner and you heard the bounty hunter chuckle.

"We'll see." he replied.

You couldn't tell, but the Mandalorian was smiling under his helmet. You held on to him tightly as your little clan of three sped off into the sunset.

[valdomarx]

For the pining prompts, 7 and/or 36 for McShep if it strikes your fancy? 👀

McShep + 36. Characters are tied together

"Will you stop fidgeting?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry if my entirely reasonable fear of imminent death is making me twitchy! I'll sit here in perfect stony stillness while we wait for the Wraith to come back and suck the life out of us, shall I?"

"That would be preferable, actually, yes. And if you could do so quietly, even better."

"Are you ordering me to shut up, Colonel?"

"If I thought that would work for even a second, McKay, I would have done it long ago."

McKay huffed. Typical that they’d managed to get captured on a routine recon op, on the one mission when both Teyla and Ronon were busy elsewhere. Bad enough he and Sheppard were in the life-sucking hands of the Wraith, but even more mortifying that they’d been trussed up and tied together like a pair of hogs.

Not only were they squished together, back to back, but their hands were bound as well, and the angle was pulling at his shoulders horribly -

“Sheppard!” Rodney’s voice jumped a few octaves in an admittedly inelegant manner. “What are you-”

“I’m trying to get to my knife,” Sheppard growled. And right. Okay. That made sense. That would be why there were suddenly hands where there had not been hands before.

“Must you -” Rodney was not going to blush, he was not, he was not.

“Yes, McKay, I must. If you ever want to get out of here, that is.”

“Fine! You could have warned me, is all I’m saying.”

Sheppard exhaled heavily. Rodney could feel him slump. “I can’t reach it. Do you think you could -”

“Me?!” Rodney’s voice did the jumping octaves thing again. Damn it.

“I don’t see any other volunteers! Look, the knife is in my pocket. You should be able to reach it if you... Oh.”

Now Sheppard’s voice broke, and hah, that would teach him. McKay focused resolutely on twisting his body and wiggling his fingers toward their goal and he did not, he did not think about what else he might be touching.

“That’s it, you’ve almost got it.” 

Sheppard was clearly trying to be encouraging. They probably taught that in officer training.

“Yeah, right there. You’re so close.”

This was probably all highly motivational or whatever.

“Come on, Rodney, just a bit deeper -”

“The commentary is not as helpful as you think it is!” he snapped, and he was definitely blushing now.

He had to twist his hand, and that was, well, that was definitely closer that he’d imagined his fingers would be getting to Sheppard today, but it was fine, he could do this, he was a professional, and he really, really didn’t want to die.

“Rodney.” Sheppard sounded breathy. “Please hurry up.”

“I got this, I got this.” He had to wriggle and readjust, inching closer, then one more painful twist and finally, his hand closed around the cool metal of the blade. With a hum of triumph he yanked it out and flipped it around to cut the bonds around Sheppard’s hands, and then his own, then it was a simple matter to disentangle them both.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Rodney was already running through the hive ship schematics in his head. He was pretty sure he could get them to the dart bay, and from there they could steal a dart and escape through a space gate, assuming there was one nearby.

“Ahh. Maybe I’ll just. Wait here for a moment.” Sheppard’s voice was scratchy and he was hunched over, almost as if he was in pain.

“What the hell, Sheppard, we need to move!” Since when did he become the sensible one on missions? What a terrifying thought.

He grabbed Sheppard around the arm and yanked him upright, and Sheppard stumbled into him.

The problem Sheppard was dealing with became suddenly immediately, pressingly apparent, and Rodney knew it was bad form to stare at a man in a certain... state of discomfort... but still. That was. That was really quite a prominent -

“Shut up, McKay,” he snapped.

“I didn’t say anyth-”

”You were staring.”

“Well I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you, uhh, brought it up -”

“I don’t suppose we could pretend this never happened?”

“I mean. We could, but where would the fun in that be?”

Sheppard growled, and honestly that sound that wouldn’t be unwelcome under other circumstances. “Let’s just go, before we become Wraith food.”

“Fine.” Rodney risked one last glance down, just to confirm that that really was -

“McKay! Eyes front!”

“Fine! Honestly!”

They jimmied open the door and checked out the corridor, ready to make a run for it. Before they left, though -

“I have to ask, as a matter of scientific curiosity: Was it the being tied up that did it for you? Or was it, uhh, me?” Rodney swallowed. “Or was it the imminent danger of Wraith feeding? Because if it’s either of the first two options, well, perhaps that warrants further consideration at a later time and place, as it were, because admittedly here might not be the ideal location. But if it’s the third option, we might need to book you in to see Heightmeyer.”

“McKay!” Sheppard held up a hand to silence him. “Tell you what. You keep quiet for the next ten minutes and we can discuss this later.” The tips of his ears went pink. “Deal?”

Rodney grinned. Perhaps this mission wouldn't be a total bust after all. “Deal.”

[orangetintedglasses]

The comment about his age does make him take pause, at least internally, but he can easily pass it off as him idling with the idea of whether or not he wants to continue smoking while observations buzzed louder and louder, like bees swarming a hive.

Haven't confirmed it. Haven't confirmed it, just two people talking.

"Ehh, I don't think so. You didn't pressure me or anything." Vash replies with barely a beat missed, ashing the cigarette with a tap and biting back another smile. "You offered, and I accepted. I could've turned it down, right?"

As if to drive that point home, Vash brings the cigarette back up and repeats the instructed actions-- a little mechanically, sure, but hey! He's still learning! --and grins with it caught lightly between his teeth; something he remembers Wolfwood doing before. And of course, it tumbles out of his mouth and the blond fumbles with it for a few seconds, comically bouncing between his hands with shocked, short sounds before he manages to catch it between his forefinger and thumb, leaning just a liiiiittle ways over the balcony rail.

. . .

"... p-point being..." he says after a moment, his voice an octave or two higher with the panicked adrenalin still coursing through him. Jeez... good job, Stampede, "I made my choice. And if anyone tried to put the blame on you, I'd say the same thing."

Realizing that his hand hovered over the blond's shoulder for a bit longer than standard, he slowly removes it and straightens himself out. He puts his own cigarette to his lips again and smirks wide at the compliment. Teaching someone to smoke reminds him of days long separated from his current persona, a childhood he never had.

"Yeah? Well you're not the first I've had to teach, Blondie. Definitely the oldest though," Wolfwood pretends that he means twenty-something and not as old as the Angel he works for. It almost works—just for a moment. Just for a moment he can pretend that they're just two normal men talking casually on a hotel balcony, and not two freaks out of their element. Just for a moment, they're two friends, and not a man with a contract taking someone too good for this world straight to hell.

"Smokin' looks good on you," he compliments in return, "But if ya don't wanna smoke the whole thing, you don't gotta. Got plenty of unfinished smokes left in the pack." Wolfwood returns to his leaning position on the railing of the balcony, one arm folded over the other.

"Looks like you can be a bad boy after all," he grins madly, "I must be a terrible influence."

[kinsurou]

¡Hola, Prism! For your prompt event, can I ask for “Behave.” and “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.” with Overhaul and a fem!reader, please??? And I hope it's okay to ask for some degradation as well 👉🏼👈🏼 Thanks and please have a lovely day/night 💕

24. “Behave.” 

41. “The only way you’re getting off is my thigh.”

+Degradation.

Hola Darling! it's perfectly fine! Hope I got Overhaul's character well!  

Thank you for helping me out with the dialogue, @lovelusional and @boom-bakugou!

“Kai, please…! I said...I’m sorry!” You whimper, sweat covered face pressed harshly against Kai’s toned shoulder. Much to his disgust, judging by the deep rumble coming from his throat. 

You can only dream to touch him right now, desperate to hold on to something for dear life as one of the hands belonging to your lover AND boss guides you by the waist over his toned thigh. But the desire it’s delusional, impossible when both wrists are tied up in front of you with the leather of his belt, preventing you from touching the man glaring at you.

His other hand is busy propelling his chin against his knuckles, watching through bored eyes that hide a wave of frightening anger underneath as you quiver under his gloved hands.

“Behave.” His voice drops an octave, gloved fingers digging harshly into your skin, he presses you down harder against him and looks down at the mess all over his bare skin. Being so close to his warmth nearly makes your body go limp against his chest if it wasn’t for him pulling you back by the hair. 

“You’re so damn filthy. Can’t believe you’re actually getting off from all this.” It’s a miracle he hasn’t broken into hives. “look at you, desperate to get off. So goddam ignorant and disgusting.”

The friction against your clit keeps increasing, he just won’t stop guiding you back and forth, not even caring of the wetness that’s smeared on him, or the small moans filled with desperation.

“That little stunt of yours could have cost us everything” his now free hand fondles your tit carelessly, pinching the nipple and tugging painfully enough until you start tearing up in front of him. Looking down, you can see him starting to become aroused by the little display of pain and pleasure his gloved hands provide.

He’s more sadistic than anyone could imagine. When he said he wouldn’t touch you, he really meant it. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. Dumb whore.” 

Glassy orbs look away from the erection pressing hard against his briefs, so close that you can graze it with your knees every now and then, feeling the damp trail at the underside of his member.

“I…” The fog inside your head thickens by the second with every brush of your abused clit against smooth skin that’s been thoroughly taken care of, clouding every single thought as it makes your brain go haywire for a moment “I’m sorry, Kai.”

Another harsh pull on your nipple makes you shriek loudly, snapping you out of the daze just to be met once again with a cold, harsh glare from those beautiful, sharp golden eyes. 

“That’s boss to you. Are you really that stupid?” 

“I’m sorry...boss.”

He pulls you closer to his body, pressing your soaked folds down, harder against his muscles and the need for release becomes unbearable “Please. I need, I need to cum so badly…!”

“Why should I reward my stupid subordinate, when she couldn’t even accomplish the simplest of tasks?”

his hold completely abandons you, the lack of contact turns you into a whiny mess over your leader’s lap.

“The only way you’re getting off is my thigh.” 

Breaking eye contact he ignores your presence to take a quick look at the expensive watch around his wrist. “Better make it quick, we have a meeting with the league of villains in ten minutes.” 

[naughty-bois]

‘Rails with Pails... and Ropes.

TLDR: Bohwie and Oliver destress together after a long night.

Kinks: Shibari, blindfolds, thigh riding, knife play, pet names, multiple orgasms, teasing, vibrators, stomach bulge, doggy style, biting, dirty talk, slight hypnotism, aftercare

.

Bohwie pressed the warm, damp towel to his face, the smell of lavender-scented face oil filling his lungs as he rubbed away the remains of his paint. He’d just come home from a photo shoot for his next line of posters and merch, and he was exhausted.

“It’s so hard being sexy.” He mumbled at his reflection in the mirror, smiling as he quoted his beloved morail.

Speaking of... the whimpering from the respiteblock was getting more insistent.

Grinning, Bohwie finished cleaning his face off and set the towel down, then shut the light off as he left the ablutionblock. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the low lights of the respiteblock.

Laid out on the bed was a lithe figure that was trying his best to move around, but that was damn near impossible.

“Hey, baby boy.” Bohwie purred as he approached the huge bed. Soft silk slid under his hands as he crawled across the mattress to his morail, discarding most of his clothes on the way.

Oliver turned his head at the sound of the cerulean’s voice, his tongue protruding between panting lips.

“BB...” The oliveblood whimpered. Bohwie reached out and cupped their cheek, rubbing his thumb over their soft skin.

“What’s our word?” He prompted.

“I don’t need it.” Oliver rasped.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“... Phoenix...”

“Good boy. Color?”

“Green, so fucking green, BB, please-”

Bohwie chortled, shooshpapping the oliveblood before he sat back to observe their setup.

Oliver was laid out on his back, his arms trapped under his body. His knees were pulled up, legs spread, and his olive bulge curling between his thighs. The only things he was wearing was one of his blindfolds- a pretty pink one Bohwie had picked out, exactly seven, gently vibrating bullets- one on each grubscar and one on his horn, and a shibari rig.

The ropes were a gorgeous cerulean hue, the same color as Bohwie’s blood, and forced Oliver’s breasts apart and out. The rockstar reached out and thumbed one of Oliver’s nipples, making her mewl.

She’d been on the bed, in her current condition, ever since Bohwie left the hive several hours ago. Oliver’s stomach and thighs, and the sheets beneath her, were stained with olive slurry from both her bulge and nook.

“How many times?” Bohwie asked, sliding his hands under his morail’s body and scooping them up. He sat down where they’d been laying, easily sitting them up and on his thigh.

“Seven-” Oliver croaked, before he twitched and whined at the feeling of Bohwie’s thigh pressing up against his nook.

Bohwie ran his hands over Oliver’s shoulders, tsking. “Seven? Just from these?” He pressed on one of the bullets, making her squirm. “You’re such a bucket slut.”

Oliver shuddered.

“Slut!” Bohwie hissed, and she outright whined.

Grinning, Bohwie pressed a quick kiss to their lips. “My slut.” He purred, his voice dropping into the gravely octaves he used when he sang.

“Yours.” Oliver agreed breathlessly, “Please, BB, I want you to-”

“Ah, ah, ah. You’re not in charge tonight, little bird.” Bohwie interrupted, cupping the oliveblood’s breasts and kneading their nipples with his thumbs, “If you want anything, you’re gonna have to earn it.” So saying, he jerked his leg up, pressing his thigh more firmly against Oliver’s nook. “Ride it, or you’ll get nothing, and I’ll leave you here all day, too.” He ordered.

Oliver stiffened, his head rolling back and spine arching from the feeling. But he didn’t argue against a direct order, beginning to roll his hips down, against Bohwie’s thigh, which was already slick with green preslurry.

“Good girl.” Bohwie praised, sitting back against the headboard to watch. One of his hands slid down, into his boxers, and he began playing with himself, his thick but nimble fingers teasing at his sheath and the edges of his nook.

There was an ache in his chest, his blood-pumper overflowing with bubblegum pink pale feelings for the troll fucking herself on his thigh. Heat pooled in his lower stomach as his thick bulge unsheathed and began to curl around his hand. Bohwie bit his tongue to keep from groaning, pleasure dancing up his spine.

Oliver groaned for him, though, long and loud and his voice quivering. He began moving faster, bouncing against Bohwie’s thigh; in return, the cerulean began rolling his leg up against him.

“Fuck-! BB- BB, baby, I’m-”

Oliver went silent as Bohwie pressed a knife to her throat, the cerulean having pulled the blade out from under the pillows, where he’d stashed it hours ago. The knife served a dual purpose- for playtime, like now, and for emergencies. If Oliver really needed it, the knife was within easy reach, and she could have sliced the rope around her wrists, which would have made the whole rig fall apart.

“I didn’t say you could talk, did I, little bird?”

Oliver swallowed, their breath hitching and teeth sinking into their lower lip as they shook their head. Bohwie hummed, dragging the knife oh so lightly down their collarbone, over one breast, before the knife tip circled the other one.

Down, over his belly, curled over one hip, then down across his waist, the knife skirting off the ropes that kept the oliveblood wrapped up like a 12th perigree present. It making just enough contact to be felt, just enough to make the thinnest, pale green lines on Oliver’s skin, but not enough to break it. Although, Bohwie could have plunged it into his chest and Oliver would have probably cum all the same. But he didn’t, and he wouldn’t, because this was his morail, who was literally putting his life in Bohwie’s hands.

The blind faith- no pun intended- that Oliver had in him was almost enough to make him cum right there, and they hadn’t even gotten down into the actual pailing yet. Instead, keeping the knife edge resting on Oliver’s thigh, he tugged her down into a kiss.

“Color?” He whispered when they parted, just to check.

“Green.” Oliver assured him, resting their forehead against his for a moment.

Nodding, Bohwie pulled him closer, effortlessly picking him up once more. Setting the knife aside, Bohwie discarded his boxers before he settled Oliver on his lap. Oliver made a gutteral, needy noise, falling forward to rest his head on Bohwie’s shoulder as their bulges tangled together.

Bohwie huffed out a breath, a low purr in his chest as he picked up the knife again. Oliver began to grind against him once more as Bohwie held her close and traced the knife over her shoulders and back, feeling her shudder and twitch as the cold metal touched her bare skin.

Bohwie grinned against their shoulder, adjusting his grip on both the knife and his morail, his free hand sliding around their waist.

Then, as he pressed the knife against her shoulder like he was about to plunge it into her, he bucked his hips up, and his entire bulge slid into her nook, all at once.

Oliver wailed, seizing up and arching backwards, olive slurry spilling across their laps as he came. Bohwie harmonized with him, groaning at the feeling of his boyfriend’s nook clenching around his bulge.

He gave Oliver a moment to come down, once again putting the knife aside and rubbing his hands over her body instead. His hands rubbed over her belly, which was protruding ever so slightly, the shadow of a bump, from Bohwie’s bulge. Oliver mewled when his hand passed it by, and Bohwie’s bulge twitched at the sound.

When the oliveblood’s breathing wasn’t so rough, Bohwie hummed. “I don’t think I said you could do that, Olly.”

“I... I didn’t-”

Bohwie tsked, shaking his head. “No excuses, baby girl. I didn’t give you permission to do that.” His hands slid down to their waist. “You know what has to happen now?”

Oliver made a soft, questioning noise.

“You’re gonna be punished.”

“B-”

Before Oliver could get any further, Bohwie, keeping the oliveblood on his bulge, bowled her over, slamming her down onto the matress and hovering over her. The sub sequential jostling and thrusts made Oliver keen.

Bohwie growled, pulling away as he changed his mind. Pulling out only momentarily, he flipped Oliver over so he was on his knees, before he pulled him close again and thrust back inside. Oliver yelped, tossing his head as his nook clenched again.

Bohwie loomed over them, nails digging into their hips. He hovered low, his lips near their ear. “Color?” He growled.

“Green!” Oliver practically shouted, writhing under him, trying to press back against his bulge.

Grinning wickedly, Bohwie sank his teeth into her shoulder as he thrust forward. Oliver’s cry was better than any song Bohwie had ever composed.

The block became filled with the sound of Oliver’s yelps, whines, and moans, as Bohwie fucked into him, thrusting as deep and fast as possible. Oliver was practically limp under him, struggling just to keep breathing as he was overwhelmed with stimulation. 

“Bohwie, Bohwie, fuck-!” Oliver’s chants of his name cut through the frantic, horny haze in Bohwie’s thinkpan, spurring him on.

“Good boy, Olly.” He grunted, releasing his teeth from her skin. He stopped thrusting, sheathing himself fully inside the oliveblood just to grind on her for a moment, before he resumed. “Good fucking boy. Fuck. How do you think our followers would react if they saw you like this? All trussed up for Neviserrath, on the altar? While I pailed your brains out?”

Oliver came again with a warbling cry, from his nook this time. It took everything Bohwie had to keep himself from cumming, too.

“Slut.” He snarled, biting at their other shoulder. “You like the idea of that? Want me to make you my bucket slut in front of our god and all its worshippers?”

“Yes!” Oliver keened, practically sobbing.

Bohwie made a guttural, damn near primal sound of pure lust. His hips had slowed while he was talking, but they quickly picked up the pace again.

His stomach tensed, heat pooling between his legs as he felt his own orgasm coming. Panting raggedly, his thrusts became frantic and erratic, one hand reaching down to play with Oliver’s bulge.

“Come with me.” He urged.

“C- can’t-” Oliver rasped, “I can’t, I’m tapped, BB-”

“You can.” Bohwie encouraged her, “Nine orgasms isn’t anywhere near your record.”

Oliver whimpered as Bohwie stroked their bulge in time to his thrusts. On the precipice of orgasm, Bohwie did something he never did outside the bedroom.

He plunged into Oliver’s mind, taking a stranglehold on the oliveblood’s will.

“Cum.” He ordered, and released his hold.

The sound Oliver made bordered on a scream as he came from both his bulge and his nook, Bohwie’s order overriding everything and propelling the oliveblood into realms of pleasure only Bohwie could drive him to.

At the same time, Bohwie pressed himself as deep as he could into Oliver’s nook and came, too, his grip around them like a vice and teeth sinking into the back of their neck, his vision momentarily whiting out. He stopped thrusting, and merely rocked into his partner, as their nook milked every drop of slurry from his bulge.

They could’ve been like that for mere seconds or several minutes, it was impossible to tell. Finally, though, the ringing in Bohwie’s ears went away, and his blood-pumper no longer raced to the beat of a coked-up hop-beast’s.

Oliver was limp under him, but Bohwie could feel her breathing. Slowly, he retracted his teeth from her neck and pulled away. Exhaustion, bone deep and satisfying, swept through him, and Bohwie sighed contently. He pulled out, smirking at the sight of Oliver’s thighs and nook stained in his hue.

“You still with me, Olly?”

The ice dancer made a noise vaguely close to a “yes.”

Bohwie hummed, squishing their buttcheek in one hand, before he went about undoing all the devices. He gently removed and turned off all the bullets, before untying the rig and tossing it aside. Oliver flopped onto their side once they were released.

Humming, Bohwie gently took one of Oliver’s limbs at a time and stretching it out, massaging and kissing up and down the stiff muscles. Slowly, Oliver really relaxed, enjoying the attention.

When he was done, Bohwie crawled over to the bedside table and grabbed the hydration cylinders he’d set out earlier. Returning to his morail, he pulled him into his lap and unscrewed the lid, before he held it to his lips.

Oliver reached up with a shaky hand to grasp the bottle as she drank. Bohwie began purring again, nuzzling into her hair. When Oliver pushed the water bottle away, Bohwie screwed the lid back on and set it aside.

“You alright?” He murmured, cupping the oliveblood’s face.

“Mm-hm. Stiff, sore, and sleepy, but I’m fine, darling.” Oliver leaned her head against his collarbone, sighing softly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go to practice tomorrow night. If I can stand it’ll be a miracle.”

Bohwie giggled, pressing a kiss to her head. “Would a shower help?”

“So long as you grab the bucket, and don’t pail me while we’re in there. If I have to produce any more slurry I might pass out.”

Bohwie laughed again, picking them up. He felt a little shaky himself, but no more than if he’d gone dancing. He grabbed the bucket from where it sat near the bedside table, and carried both it, and his morail, into the ablutionblock.

One hot shower later, where Oliver simply sat on the bench and allowed Bohwie to do all the work- including helping him flush the slurry from his nook- Bohwie had them both in boxers, and back on the bed, as he gently rubbed a towel through Oliver’s wavy locks as the oliveblood began to doze off.

When that was done, he laid Oliver down and went about cleaning up everything else, before he finally crawled under the comforter to join him.

Oliver sighed contently, reaching back to stroke one of his horns. They didn’t need to say it, and Bohwie didn’t, either; neither of them had the energy to speak, anyways, but Bohwie did press two of his fingers to Oliver’s to form a diamond, before they both passed out.