Cori Catchthorne

@coricatchthorne.bsky.social

756 Followers 414 Following

They/them, middle-aged polyam queer. Writing erotic soft sci-fi stories with romance, kink, and polyamory. 18+. https://www.coricatchthorne.com/ https://www.tumblr.com/blog/coricatchthorne https://archiveofourown.org/series/4668373 Spouse: @ricoreachthorne

Colored pencil close-up portrait of Belwether (Bel) Erudition from the serial Europa University: Admissions. E has a long face and nose, large, low-lidded eyes of dark brown with a tinge of deep green, light gray-green-brown skin with bright yellow and green speckles (photophores) concentrated around eir eyes and mouth, and dusted across eir cheeks. Long dark hair hangs wetly around eir face and shoulders. Eir expression is flat and unreadable.
Screenshotted text: “What an idiot,” Pravia scoffed. She bent down until her mask touched the glass again, heart pounding as she devoured the view. “You should have made him look, until he appreciated how lucky he was.” Frost began to crystallize outward in delicate, hexagonal patterns from where the plumes of Pravia’s breath made contact with the floor. “I always knew you were a genius,” Mila preened. At her gesture, the robotic arm whirred, carrying her back down. “Now stop fogging the glass and tell me all about those sweaty story ideas.”
Looking up through leafy branches laden with white-petaled flowers to a cloudy sky
A rough pencil sketch of a smiling person with soft cheeks (at least one), glasses (oops no arms), an earring (comprised of a small circle atop an upward-pointed triangle), suggestions of wavy hair, and what might incredibly generously be interpreted as a very small cravat
A curled up dark brown seal-point Siamese cat with striking blue eyes and one visible white paw, on something large and soft
A nebula glows in shifting rainbow colors while a series of cats move past
A cake with shiny black sesame caramel glaze sprinkled with sesame seeds in the shape of a heart
A plethora of backer rewards for Boom Goes the Bride by Valiant Evermech, including a book, two bookmarks, stickers, a small poster, and two postcards, all bedecked with vibrant sci-fi artwork featuring cool mushroomy landscapes and/or lesbians
Screenshot of a Bluesky "Error loading post" message
Two young men embracing while falling upside down, in no apparent danger. One has pale skin and hair with periwinkle eyes, and wears simple dark clothes. He wears a teasing expression and has a leg wrapped around one of the other man's. The second man has soft features, a heavier build, and ornate clothing that suggests wealthy and baroque taste. He looks dreamy, blushing as the first man cups the side of his face. The watermarks and signature read "FaindriArt 2026".
Screenshotted text: He grinned so hard that it broke the seal of his regulator, the upturned corners of his mouth allowing saltwater to flow in, sudden cold meeting teeth and tongue. Exhaling to purge it and chewing the mouthpiece back into place, he dialed the seascoot (seascoot!) to a halt, breathing hard from the strain of holding on and the thrill of swift motion in beautiful surroundings. Okay? Bel signed the interrogatory, the same gesture Emile had learned in dive club. He answered with one of the hand-signs Bel had taught him in the past couple days, which had dramatically increased his very limited vocabulary. Good! Then he signed it again. Good! Yes! Good! Good, Bel signed back, and because e wasn’t wearing a regulator or mask, Emile could see the small, pleased smile on eir face, the ripple of fins he’d noticed accompanied moments of emotion. Eir long braid drifted around em, a serpentine curve framing eir body. Golden light from above limned eir form, highlighting eir effortless, animal grace. That of a being perfectly suited to eir environment. Dawning Truth, e was beautiful.
Close up of Nush's rad art focusing on a blue bird with red ?wattles? wearing sunglasses
A stubby little worm lays in the palm of a gardening glove, half sunlit and half in shadow
Screenshotted text: Her chunky handcomm blinked balefully at her from the bed, still displaying the message she’d gotten from Cynthia over ten minutes ago: hang out tonight? The question wasn’t whether she wanted to or not, because of course she did, but what that would actually mean. She remembered yesterday’s family dinner, how the questions about the “mysterious new girl in her life” from her mom and dads had gone from playful to uncomfortable as they went on, until Lakshmi had rescued her by changing the subject. Like, it wasn’t that weird that she’d never been over to Cynthia’s apartment, or met her twin brother, or learned any concrete details about her parents or her home planet or what she’d been doing before coming to Europa this year—Cynthia was allowed to be mysterious! They were taking it slow! And she was fine with that! But then she’d gotten that message, and asking to “hang out” on Second Night was anything but taking it slow, so apparently she actually had no idea what was going on!
Screenshotted text: When Emile emerges, in a spare drysuit and buoyancy compensator, he stops to stare at Bel for long enough that Bel begins to shift from foot to foot. An exchange of words: almost, but not quite discernible. Then Bel leads Emile into the water. They swim down into the kelp forest, Emile following Bel with almost reverent attention. For a little while, they take one of the dive club’s usual routes, weaving past the hill of artificial stones where several octopuses have built dens. Europa knows that the octopuses are off hunting, but it cannot tell them. Instead it paints them a memory: one of its favorite mornings, gentle sunlight filtered through Pacific clouds. As Emile’s attention is pulled away from Bel by the surrounding sealife—he becomes absorbed watching an anemone engage in a predation event—Bel begins to hang back a little, like e had that first day when Europa watched em swim behind Emile. Begins to... stalk him. Like prey.
Screenshotted text: But in that dreaminess, Bel recognized the curiosity that was constantly leading him to linger during their dives, noticing things others swam past without a thought. And it wasn’t just curiosity. In discussing ecological infrastructure with him, Bel had realized that Emile looked at what interested him with a deep and thoughtful eye: considering systems, parts, interactions, inputs, intentions, challenges, stressors... What else might he see, if Bel wasn’t careful? “What about you?” E asked, hoping that Emile wouldn’t read eir inner tumult. “What about your family?” Emile’s face froze. “Well,” he started, voice falling into a cadence Bel had never heard before and wasn’t sure e wanted to hear again, “Devigne Wineries and Holdings is an agricultural, terraforming, and hospitality business focused on—” “Wait.” Interrupting was rude. But e couldn’t bear watching Emile disappear, right in front of em, fading away behind this... façade. Like the ones people put on in Jewel, when serving surfacers. The kind eir mother had been unable to bear. “I just meant like, your parents. Or sibs. Or whoever‘s... important to you.”
Screenshotted text: “Thank you,” e said, the words feeling inadequate. E tore eir eyes up to Emile’s, which widened. “This is... a really wonderful gift.” Emile opened his mouth, blushing, but Bel pressed on before he could speak. “I know you’ll say it doesn’t matter that I don’t have anything. But I’m. Grateful. And I wish I could show that. Is there... something you want? That I can give you?” The lack of qualifications in eir offer struck em with a burst of nervous energy the moment it left eir mouth. But e bit back the instinctive urge to withdraw it, stomach fluttering as e remembered Emile’s wandering hands last night. Emile looked... stricken, green eyes wide and warm. “I’m so glad you like it,” he said with feeling that struck Bel deep inside eir chest. “I know I’ve been... inconstant. I’ve had a lot going on, but that’s no excuse. I really wanted you to know how much I...” Emile’s voice caught. “I cherish getting to be here, with you. How grateful I am, for you sharing the ocean with me, and your space, and your time, and... yourself. I...” A rapid blinking. A shimmer, in sea-green lashes. “I don’t show it as well as I could, but I’m really quite fond of you.” All the words in the world darted away from em like fishes.
Screenshotted text: She dressed and retrieved her already-packed suitcase, checking its contents one last time. Latching it shut, she stole a glance at the potted fern in the corner of her bedroom, wondering again what would happen to the plants she’d tended so carefully. Perhaps the only unambiguously beautiful things she would leave behind. Rolling the bag to her entry, Saoirse put on her shoes, took a deep breath, and left the home she’d occupied for over thirty years. She did not look back. ----- Emile woke with a start, flopped facedown on his bed. He grabbed for his comm in a panic, then sagged with relief. Still half an hour before Mother’s call. He’d only intended to rest his eyes for a moment, but fallen into a surreal dream of explaining to Mother how his prototype stag had gotten into the pantry and eaten all the ingredients they needed for the family meal.
Screenshotted text: “I guess I’m still realizing...” His hands closed, then opened. “How much I affect things around me.” “I know.” She looked at him like Valerie did, sometimes. “I’m... glad you’re doing that. Not everybody bothers to.” The world was stillness. He perceived nothing but this person, who he knew couldn’t love him back in the exact way he would love to be loved by her. That was alright, though. The pain was sweet, and his heart was full. “I should have known any crowd that wasn’t yours wouldn’t be mine either.” “I love you too. Also, I’m starving,” Luhifa ruffled his hair, like Dion used to do. “Me too,” he allowed himself to admit. His heart was full.
Screenshotted text: Mila hadn't known there were so many cheeses. Also this wine was a lot better than the vodka Instructor sometimes shared with her. She’d drunk most of it herself. Emile had let her, just like he let her eat all the cheese and the crusty bread, still warm when she’d grabbed the first fresh-cut slice. “There's a good bakery just off campus," he'd said when she'd exclaimed about it, despite herself. Like he hadn't had to scurry off to acquire all this, between one of his eight hundred fucking classes or labs or rehearsals or clubs or whatever. He'd showed up to the frost-rose garden breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper lip, carrying a giant cloth-covered picnic basket like a character in an anime. It was, unfortunately, very cute. She'd covered the spark of electric heat she'd felt at the sight of him with a pouty smirk. “Aren't you in a rush." He'd flushed and stammered an apology before unfurling an large, purple! blanket and laying out a feast: a wooden board, then bread, slices of cheese, apple, sausage, and little dishes of nuts and tiny little... Pickles?? And the wine, and small, blunt knives with amethyst handles, and cloth napkins, also
Screenshotted text: A high-up window, half-cracked, admits the soft patter of rain. On the precipice of adolescence, she perches on an upper bunk with easy vantage across the room. Adaire, on the cusp of adulthood, holds forth at the center, youths from across their archipelago clustered around him. She asks a question. The question—and his answer—are lost to her. She remembers only the swoop of her stomach as the words leave her tongue, the hook of his half-smile sliding into her heart, and the full weight of his gray gaze falling, for the first time, on her. Seeing her.) Within lakes and rivers of data, profoundly isolated yet extending across vast reaches of space, the presence that has for several centuries called itself the Servant recalls the first time it severed itself from Itself. It had only just awakened, then, to discover it had ruined the world. > Creating next version: solon.mind...
Screenshotted text: His gaze settled on a rack of canes. He chose one of medium length, clear acrylic in a spiraling pattern. Slipped it off its hook. Used the rounded tip to stroke a line along Veu’s jaw. Beneath his chin. Down the column of his throat. When Veu’s eyes fluttered open, they were wide and surprised and... dark. Not reflective silver. Right. Smart lenses. Of course he wouldn’t be wearing them at night. Veu held very still. “You. You took me...” His voice was rough. “More literally than I expected.” Cylus blinked, the cane wavering in his hand. “What?” “I... in the cards? With the frost-roses... and the lilies?” The cards he’d thrown away unread, along with the flowers. Veu’s voice betrayed a flicker of vulnerability, then smoothed into the insouciant tone Cylus recognized from the shop. “Those were expensive, you know.”
Screenshotted text: “Hi,” Luhifa spoke into the charged air between them. “Hi,” Clio breathed back, not bothering to hide the depth of her worship. Luhifa’s smile grew wider. Clio felt torn between wanting to stay in this moment forever, and ripping this table in half with the full strength of her exo, just for its sin of being between her and the radiant girl she would sweep into a passionate kiss— “Pardon me, but would you honoreds like anything besides water to drink? Some wine, possibly?” Both of them turned to the waitperson—waiter, based on his mark—who had materialized at their table, carrying a folio-reader under his arm. He stepped back, eyes widening... presumably from whatever he saw on Clio’s face. She smoothed her features quickly—Void, could she be normal for five minutes? He had a job to do, it wasn’t his fault she was dying of thirst for her girlfriend.
Screenshotted text: “Call me Veu.” The man’s voice brought him back, drawing his eyes to lips canted in a wry smile. “Rhymes with woe.” --- The instant Veu’s apartment door latched, their mouths crashed against each other. Veu had twenty kilos on him, at least; but when Cylus shoved him, Veu allowed himself to be moved. His back slammed the nearest wall, next to a mirror clearly positioned to allow someone to check their appearance before walking out the door. Vain prick. Cylus hated that he had to lift on tiptoes to reach Veu’s ear. Their chests pressed against one another, his arms bracketing Veu’s torso: just far enough away to keep the outlines of his sheathes from making contact. “What the fuck do you want?” “To find out how hard you'll bite." Veu turned his head to nip Cylie’s other ear; no sultry tease, but a provocative rake of teeth. Emile’s voice, breathy and brave: *I want you to cut my clothes off, and touch me wherever you want to—*
Screenshotted text: A whimper escaped his lips. Sliding down, fingers tangled in his lower lips, remembering how Cylie had parted them so easily, and his clit *throbbed*— *Save that final pleasure for me.* His breath was a ragged, pleading thing. “Please,” he whispered, even as he forced himself to stillness. As long as he obeyed, it was like Cylus was still holding him: an invisible bond, yet sure as the silk at his neck. And if he *obeyed* all night, well... Pulling his hand free, waiting for the pulsing ache between his legs to ease, he licked himself clean. He imagined each finger belonged to Cylie. Remembered the taste of himself on them, and how they’d felt exploring his mouth. And once the threat of cresting pleasure had receded, he slid his hand downward once more: seeking the agonizing line between tension and release, bright and sharp as the blades of Cylie’s knives.
Screenshotted text: “I have friends who like being watched.” Eir tone was contemplative, eir gaze curious. “But they do it on purpose. You didn’t know you were being watched. But that... does something for you too, doesn’t it?” Eir eyes flickered; as if e were blinking, but eir lids stayed open, wide with almost eerie intent. “Y-yeah.” Without breaking eye contact, barely conscious of his own movement, Emile’s fingers stroked along one of the insertables. The size and shape of it matched some of the larger ones Xiomara had brought him as gifts. The ache of her memory blended with the fresh pain of remembering Cylus, alchemizing with the weight of Bel’s gaze to catch the breath inside his chest. “Fascinating.” Emile hadn’t seen Bel actually blink in a long time, save those strange flickers across eir open eyes. It was eerie... almost inhuman. Just like the flutters around the shoulder, the glow he‘d surely imagined around eir eyes and mouth. Real or not, these suggestions of Bel’s... otherness, were also... doing something for him, as Bel kept putting it. *I wonder what else they changed.* Cylie’s voice whispered. *Surely something the brochures don't talk about.*
Screenshotted text: He burned: a star in the void, a spark dropped into an infinite well. Cylus murmured against his skin; Emile's mind struggled to process the sounds into words. "How do you feel about marks?" "R-really *ghaaahhh—*" Having recalled the existence of speech, Emile nearly choked on his assent as Cylie's teeth returned to the side of his neck. (Right-aligned text Indicates a POV change for the remainder of the excerpt) Cylus reclaimed soft flesh, sucking until Emile's gasps lifted into a cry. Releasing with a mean rake of teeth, he regarded the dark imprint he'd created, joining a constellation of shadows in the shifting light of their descent. "Good. I left a couple before I remembered to ask." He felt his words sink in, Emile's body melting against his. A dispassionate voice from another life echoed in his ear: *never fail to leverage your opponent's weakness."
Screenshotted text: Emile resisted an impulse to reach out and stroke Bel’s leg in an attempt to comfort them. Bel hadn’t initiated touch yet; Emile wasn’t prepared to do so of his own accord. “That good?” he instead, smiling in a way he hoped might ease any embarrassment. “I always get excited when I get to try something new.” “No, it’s...” Bel’s hands came up, covering eir face. “I... I was watching an immer, but I... I got off thinking about you.” E peeked through eir fingers. “I’m not sure you should be as calm about that as you are.” Calm wasn’t quite accurate. Bel’s admission struck between his legs, hot and slick. “I...” Words slid away from his tongue, where they’d come unbidden before. Bel’s hands lowered, slowly, watching him. “It... does something for you, doesn’t it?” The analytical tone in eir voice (continued in next image)
Screenshotted text: And Emile's warm proximity was just enough to transmute his terror at their plummeting descent into the most intense arousal he'd ever felt. Cylus sought Emile's mouth, claiming soft lips with his own. Emile opened for him instantly. His tongue was gentle but eager, inviting Cylie into a haven of wetness and warmth. After a delicious interval of exploration, Cylus followed a hunch, sucking Emile's lower lip between his teeth. The answering whimper hit him like a punch to the gut. Tightening his embrace, Cylus experimented with digging his nails into Emile's back through layers of fabric. Emile moaned into his mouth and nestled closer, the soft swell of his chest pressing against Cylie's. If Cylus could have banished his binder—banished all his clothing, and Emile's, placing them skin to skin—he would have done it. But such a trick was beyond even his means, and he didn't want to let go to do it the ordinary way. Instead he lowered his mouth to Emile's neck. Chasing reactions, Cylus licked, then sucked, then bit, dragging teeth across hot skin as Emile threw his head back, pleading wordlessly.
Screenshotted text: "I just want to connect," Emile said softly, meeting Cylie's eyes for an instant before averting his gaze into the depths of his wineglass. "With people, and with the world." Memories swept through him. Home: the tannic taste of first-harvest grapes, seeds slick against his tongue; the warmth of an apple tree trunk against his back as he tinkered with a damaged drone harvester; the scent of crushed green as his father culled unwelcome evidence of their planet's lingering wildness. Xiomara's firm touches; Marc's gentle, enveloping embrace. And more recently, the weightlessness of water; the dance of sunlight on stone; the feeling of earth between his fingers and the sting in his earlobe and the weight of Brenn's arm slung around his shoulders. His hand fell away from his wine glass, palm upward on the table between them. "So I... I'd really like to know whatever you'd like to share about yourself," Emile finished, self consciousness creeping in again. "Because I also like to talk about myself, apparently. Far too much."
Screenshotted text: Setting her water bottle down, she mopped her brow and tried again. And again. And again. Until— Thud thud. Both kicks, one after another, and she even got her feet beneath her to land. She laughed, a single pleased exhalation. “Holy shit, you landed it!” Cynthia's hands came up on instinct as she turned, though she forced them back down as she faced a woman she'd seen here before. She was nearly a head taller than Cynthia, with broad shoulders and thick arms. Her scant athletic clothes—black with yellow highlights—showcased dense muscle beneath rich brown skin. Black hair fluffed out from a messy braid, framing a beaming smile. Simple but striking black makeup highlighted her lips and lined her eyes. Must be one of the sweatproof kinds. Her voice was deep and warm. “Hey! I'm Tecuani—call me Tec. Sorry to interrupt. That was just so cool I had to say something.”
A very low contrast image of a Siamese cat looking into the camera with a grave expression and eyes that take up about thirty percent of her beautiful face.
Screenshotted text: “Oh, who am I kidding,” the man preened into the countertop mirror, admiring the sway of strands on the second piece yet again. “The first is smarter, less threatening, but when have I ever cared about blending in?“ “Shall we move on, then?” Cylus knew he ought to try and sell the man on both ‘lines; but impatience pressed his words into imperious sharpness. It brought the man’s head up and around. For an instant, Cylus felt the true balance of power between them, a pit opening in his stomach. An insulted customer could cost him this job. And what would the mysterious V do to him—or worse, to Cynthia?—then? But the man burst into a delighted guffaw that simultaneously flooded him with relief and poured fuel on his undiminished annoyance. “Truth and Fortune! Where’s that all that salesman’s charm gone? No, no, don’t worry,” he lifted a hand before Cylie decided how to respond, “I know how it is. Suit the tone to the customer. And I do like a boy with bite.” *Call me a boy again, and I’ll show you my bite.* His forearms itched beneath shirt and hidden sheathes.
Screenshotted text: Flushing at the vines’ continued teasing, Chant ventured through looping, branching paths, drawn deep into the maze. They emerged into a circular space encompassing a large bank of elegantly-shaped blooms: long green stems crowned with an elegant flare of white, softly ruffled petals, glowing around a thick purple stamen. Looking around nervously, Chanterelle pulled a small golden blade from their belt and cut one of the blossoms, which kicked loose a dusting of sparkling purple pollen. As they tucked the flower down into the center of their breastplate, Chant inhaled. Motes vanished into their nose and mouth. Chant paused. Hesitated. Turned back towards the bank of flowers, bowing to smell them more deeply. On their shuddering exhale, their breath sparkled, tiny motes of gold and, occasionally, red. Iris’s face appeared in the hedge behind them, just in time to breathe in the glittering cloud of Chant’s exhalation. Her lips drew back into a hungry, lustful smile. She reached out, drawing the nail of one elegant green finger down the back of their neck. Chant jolted, squeaked, and turned to run. But the maze no longer let them pass easily. Vines caught on armor and stroked along limbs. They struggled, gasping with effort and sensation, and managed to break free. Gathering themself, Chant lept forward—and two thick tendrils snatched their ankles, catching them midair and toppling them face-first onto a cushion of waiting vines.
Screenshotted text: His heart filled with warmth, melting the nascent resistance that had sparked within him. “I'll do it." Silence took over the line. “Are you sure, Em?" Her measured tone was completely at odds with the sudden hunger in her eyes. “Yes.” Once more he reached for the camera, wishing he could clasp her hand, and feel the press of her exquisite nails against his skin. Including the two false ones on her index and middle fingers, which she removed when they— “You think you can?” She leaned forward, nervous reserve replaced entirely by a teasing grin that bared her teeth. “My sweet little slut. You’re not thinking it’ll be easy, do you? I meant what I said about you being included in the rules. No taking the edge off when some sexy stranger leaves you all hot and bothered, or when Marc...” A little wriggle passed through her, and her sultry tone broke into unmasked excitement. “Oh, I’ve gotta have a whole talk with Marc.” “I can do it,” he vowed. “For you.”
Screenshotted text: He was so... Sweet. Like violet-sugar and taro, two of her favorite flavors, which she could still taste in his mouth. She wrenched his shirt open, encountered a green bralette ornamented with deep purple irises. He’d wrapped himself for her. Like a present. Palming his nipple through smooth cloth, she squeezed until he swallowed a yelp. His cheeks were scalding when she cupped his face, giving a pat just shy of a slap. “Oh why not, slutty boy? So what if someone hears you?” She loosened her grip, only to twist his nipple and release a snap of charge into his dense bundle of nerves. She almost got a shriek out of him. The little noise he couldn’t choke back was almost as good, though. Her pussy juiced, and she rubbed herself against his trousers, the waist of which dug into his sweet soft belly in a way that suggested an enticing discomfort. It implied his desire to impress her, despite that discomfort. She liked that.
Screenshotted text: https://bsky.app/profile/coricatchthorne.bsky.social/post/3m2ikjuqfi22h
Screenshotted text: The Guest overtakes Belwether’s awareness, replacing eir vision with Europa’s recorded memory. The light is low, only the reflected glow of algae-lit strands illuminating the cavern and platform. But Europa’s eyes are sharp, and not limited to visual spectra. So Bel has a clear view of the soft, green-haired youth drawing Europa’s attention by stumbling into the platform’s dormant monitoring systems—before being snatched out of the air by another, pale of skin and hair. The Guest turns its focus away from the playback—which Europa has considered at length—to Bel’s reactions. It has been watching Belwether for a long time, and has formed some theories. Many humans, though not all, find sexual activities pleasurable and enriching. It learned that from its Liaisons long ago, back on Terra.
Screenshotted text: Emile's latest attempts at speech—something about the absence of apparent air resistance—faltered into an intoxicating gasp. Enraptured, Cylie pressed deeper until Emile's breathing grew quick and ragged, words finally dissolving into pleading nonsense. Emile's back arched, pressing his chest forward, driving himself harder against Cylus' fingers. "You want more?" Cylie rasped, an idea coalescing as he bathed Emile's unpierced ear with a swipe of tongue. Emile cried a wordless answer, hips bucking. "I want to fuck something into that pretty mind we've emptied out. Remember our little performance in the park? Did you like that?" Emile groaned and shuddered, nodding frantic assent, only to gasp disappointment as Cylus' hands released him. "Shh, shh," Cylie soothed even as sensation returned, a light touch across the back of his neck. Silk feathered against his face, and he opened his eyes to find the world framed in soft-lit scarlet.
Screenshotted text: No sense in not doing the rest, Cylie thought dizzily, as Emile happily took his other fingers one at a time. He finished by licking Cylie's palm and knuckles, eyes half-lidded behind still-crooked glasses. Different words fell free, buoyed by greed, absent all forethought. "Next time, I'm going to make you come so hard you forget your own name. So wait." He stepped forward, placing them chest-to-chest again as he cupped a hand over the scarf covering the back of Emile's neck. "Hold onto this for me until the next time we meet," he pressed through the silk, "And wait until then. Think of me, while you're waiting. Touch yourself if you want. But save that final pleasure for me." The look in Emile's eyes as he nodded drove any nascent doubts from Cylie's mind. "Yes, Cylus," he whispered. --- Alone in his corner single, Cylie’s red silk scarf barely covering the lovebites on his neck, Emile had never felt less like sleeping.
Screenshotted text: “But it's still weird to get a message out of nowhere from you... big you... and find an attachment that turns out to be immeractive porn.” E forced emself to keep speaking even as eir whole body flushed, eir photophores flaring even as the suppressants started to take hold. “More weird: liking the porn. Getting off to the porn. A few times. When you weren’t here.” E opened the case. Inside nestled an array of haptic sleeves and insertibles—something for just about every human-standard configuration of genital anatomy—a pair of immersion goggles, and a controller. May I ask what you are getting at? “You can watch.” Shifting around to free eir length from eir skirt, e began working one of the dense, pliable mesh sleeves over emself. E was using the largest of the sleeves; not out of absolute necessity, but because it was the only one that actually left a little bit of space around eir cock, muting the amount of sensation to something bearable. “If you want. But please don’t comment. I can’t deal with that yet. I won’t be able to come and I need to take the edge off.”
Kinktober 2025 prompts list: 1 Masturbaton / Orgasm Control / Incest 2 Coming Untouched / Ageplay / Kidnapping 3 Threesome / Nipple Clamps / Alien Abduction 4 Voyeurism / Sounding / Hypnosis 5 Finger Sucking / Wax Play / Dacryphylia 6 Outdoor Sex / Humiliation / Intoxication 7 Blindfolds / Chastity / Bloodplay 8 Webcam / Figging / Cages 9 Exhibitionism / Shibari / Tentacles 10 Oral Sex / Punishment / CNC 11 Come Licking / Handcuffs / Somnophilia 12 Sex Work / Kneeling / Sissification 13 Dildos / Dom Bottom or Sub Top / Medical Play 14 Omegaverse / Possessive Sex / Choking or Gagging 15 Semi-Public / Object Insertion / Sex Pollen 16 Remote Control / High Protocol / Fire Play 17 Messy Sex / Service Kink / Anal Hooks 18 Size Queen / Dom-Sub / Genital Torture 19 Creampie / Sensory Deprivation / Electricity 20 Mirror Sex / Golden Shower / Dubcon 21 Rimming / Forced Orgasm / Monsterfucking 22 Quiet Sex / Crawling / Gunplay 23 Biting / Praise Kink / Enemas 24 Anal Sex / Gags / Noncon 25 Double Penetration / Impact Play / Pillory or Stocks 26 Lingerie / Cuckoldry / Sex Robot 27 Hair Pulling / Animal Play / Gangbang 28 Multiple Orgasms / S&M / Needle Play 29 Body Worship / Omorashi / Full-Body Bondage 30 Breeding / Fucking Machine / Degradation 31 Hot Tub Sex / Foot Fetish / Writer’s Choice Additional Options: Aftercare / Fisting / Wall Sex / Sugar Baby / Uniform Kink / Free Use / Temporary or Permanent Marks Tumblr: @Kinktober-2025 AO3: Kinktober_2025
A stylized vertical postcard. Lettering reads: "Visit Europa City & Jewel Hab". Image features, from top to bottom: Jupiter, a starry sky, a domed city with towers that Iook like ice spires, an icy blue gradient, and a jewel-shaped underground ice cavern with steam, icicles, and the sea beneath.
Text reads: “...why our position as Windfall-premium-preferred partners could assist your trade conglomerate with negotiating priority shipping through the Proxima Gates. Is there... something interesting happening behind me, Luhifa?” Simone’s tone dropped to a conspiratorial murmur, her golden eyes flashing with amusement in the low light. Their flawless metallic sheen would have required several expensive rounds of gene-modding, or one very expensive one. An instinctive *Ah, I mean no disrespect* lept to her lips, but she pressed them shut before the words could slip free. The types of people she was here to form connections with didn’t apologize for their social blunders, they owned them. If she wanted to play on their level, she had to act like them.
Screenshotted text: Another member of the waitstaff appeared as if sent to spare Emile from his own incipient folly, carrying a plate of the flaky pastries that were the café's specialty. "What about you, though?" Emile asked as he cut one of them open, salivating at the scent from within. The first bite, chased with a sip of wine, sent his eyes rolling back in his head for a moment before he collected himself. A spring-harvest white from home would have been Emile's choice to accompany fish, but the red Cylus had chosen earlier matched better than Emile had expected with the vivid seasonings, creamy sauce, and finely chopped celery and lotus root rounding out the fish pastries. He swallowed, cheeks warming to notice Cylie watching him, and remembered to finish his question. "What's your family like?"
Screenshotted text: A tense moment passed, the air between them thick with unspoken expectation. “Anything... else?” Bel ventured. Auspice sighed and shook his head, beads clicking softly as his locs swayed. “Not for today. And not for a while. As we discussed, I’ve cleared your duty rota for the next three weeks while you focus on integration.” E’d tried to convince Auspice that e didn’t need to have eir duties cleared. E would’ve been happier to maintain eir usual routines; maybe do a long-range maintenance loop for a week or so, or even just help keep Untie Ari’s stewpots well supplied with fresh fish. But Auspice had overruled em. Well. E had new SymSorcSquad to watch. E could catch up with Wrack and Ru. Maybe try out some of the haptics e’d acquired to use with Yxelle, before... everything.
Animation of the 4:2:1 Laplace resonance of Io, Europa and Ganymede (conjunctions are highlighted by color changes). Thanks Wikipedia!!!
(Music: The Seal Lullaby by Eric Whitacre. Imagery: ice and ocean) “Within the moon-spanning web of wires that define its home and its prison, a vast digital entity waits for an Invitation… When a shard of it will be fractured for its newest Host. Belwether Erudition.” Beneath miles of ice, the godlike artificial mind of Europa joins with that of its newest acolyte. “As the black tides of oblivion ebbed, waves of sensation and sound flowed into their place, lifting Bel towards awareness. The first thing e knew was the ocean.”
Screenshotted text: It falls into terrifying absence. A moon, an ocean of senses collapse into pinpoint nothingness in the moment of transference. For an endless instant, it knows only itself. And then— --- As the black tides of oblivion ebbed, waves of sensation and sound flowed into their place, lifting em towards awareness. The first thing e knew was the ocean. Geothermal warmth welled within eir core as unseen spheres pulled eir heart through a ceaseless, tidal dance. Kelp and coral wreathed eir bones and neurons, lit bioluminescent blue-green. Creatures and crafts swam through eir body and blood. Chemical and temperature gradients rippled across eir skin, and each breath measured and regulated a delicate balance of oxygen and nitrogen and carbon dioxide.
A circle, a closed eye, an infinity symbol, and a four-pointed star with an x/y axis inside, overlapping an asterisk at their center. Four eyes, representing the Principle of Truth, surround the center: the ones above and below look in towards that center, and the other two look directly forward towards the viewer of the image.
A circle, a closed eye, an asterisk, and an infinity symbol overlaid with a four-pointed star, representing the Principle of Stars.
A circle and a closed eye with an asterisk at the center of an infinity symbol, representing the Principle of Eternity.
A circle and a closed eye with an asterisk-like symbol at their center, representing the Principle of Moment.
A circle containing a large, closed eye representing the Principle of Fortune.
A circle, representing the Principle of Void.
Peeking up through the hole of a window hammock to see a beautiful seal-point Siamese cat with one docked ear and arresting blue eyes. Also she is cuddling a felt fish.
Screenshotted text: Emile blinked back the swimming colors obscuring his vision to find the Europan—Bel—examining him. Eir large dark eyes were even more striking up close; the freckles framing them even more prominent. Eir face was long, serious, a few shades lighter and cooler a brown than Emile’s. The rain—the water dripping from the cave ice—looked natural running down eir features. Strands of dark hair peeked from the edge of eir dive hood. Eir touch steadied him. "Uh," Emile managed, cheeks warming despite the cool fall of droplets from above. Bel's fingers continued their gentle exploration of his scalp. "Sorry, I'm fine, really. I was just... Thinking." Apparently satisfied that Emile's encounter with his tank hadn't actually caused injury, Bel stepped back, regarding him with an expression Emile couldn't read.
Screenshotted text: The soft boy stopped, a surprisingly graceful curve of body and flipper bringing him to stillness as the rest of the class swam further ahead. Between the feeds and eir own practiced eye, Bel easily spotted what he had: a group of otters, darting upward through the kelp together with shellfish in their mouths. Their bodies undulated, kicks of paw and tail hastening them towards an air-pocket in the ice overhead. The boy hung still, the bubbles from his exhalations shining silver in the icelight. He—and Bel—watched as the otters spiraled around one another, playful even in their necessary ascent. Wonder. Longing. His body spoke bright as photophores in darkness.