#I PREDICTED EVERY SINGLE THING OK | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vyzz-undercover · 3 months ago

Text

someone left my cage open quick

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(8,800ish words) (holy fucking kill me mate)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•not dubcon? [omg they've grown guys]

•hints of size kink

•vaginal fingering [on herself]

•(so i guess) masturbation

•oral [m receiving]

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions on contraception

•discussions on pregnancy

•mild possessive behaviour

•hint of slapping (he deserves it)

•mild horror themes [warp ptsd]

•tumblr's cancerous fucking formatting as always

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hi guys :3 guess what i got you all good im not dead,,, the gods have let me live another fateful fortnight (fortnite) also i love you all so so so much pls enjoy!!!! @moodymisty, @lemon-russ, @bispecsual, @the-raven-lady, @egrets-not-regrets, @pluvio-tea, @kit-williams, @thevoidscreams, @mothiir, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sinistermojo, @beckyninja, @passionofthesith, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond, @allergymoose, @scriberye, @yestheantichrist, @ma1dmer, @cucunot!!! if anyone wants off or on taglist lmk!!! im more than happy to adjust this in post OK BYE ILY ALL AGAINNNN!!!

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There should be higher security in this wing, Cato notes.

But compared to the rest of the vessel, it's safe—as in, there's senior Admech's leaving their doors open while they buff out the scratches in their mechadendrites sort of safe. He bets seeing a mouse around here would cause a stir. Honestly, he can fully render the pict in his mind of some haughty Seneschal turning their nose up to his Primarch because of that.

Cato can imagine the exact following happening, 'eugh, why doesn't Lord Guilliman virus bomb the pipes? That's what I had done on my pissy little rowboat of a void ship!' in that nasally, all too predictable tone that every single bloody one of them seems to have bar maybe a few.

Cato grits his teeth at the thought alone.

But it is safe. You're safe, here. He trusts his Primarch to ensure that for you. Being so cozy to Guilliman as a baseline certainly has its benefits. This place is good for you, unlike the bowels of the ship—where even Cato avoids going.

Not for any risk to his persons, of course. But simply because of the tightness of the hallways. And the stink of baseline sweat and oil that practically sticks to his senses for days afterward.

It's most certainly not because the low lumen count sends his mind wandering. And the flickering—damn those flickering lights—they make him uneasy. The impossible chance they'll flicker out and reveal a reality awash with fleshed decking is completely unrealistic. But still, down in those depths, he feels like he's stuck in a dying vessel, cracked at the bottom like a broken vase, leaking. Adrift, on a storm laden sea with the blackness pouring in—where within that black there is a barely perceptible colour in infinite abundance, like the phosphenes behind closed eyes—and there are eyes in that ocean—so, so many eyes, fixed with the glowing, molten hues of the warp itself; their shades a melted tapestry, a solvent thing, ever-changing.

Eyes and screaming. It sometimes returns to Cato like a bad case of tinnitus, ringing and shrill—but the mind crafts horror that pale reality in comparison, and in that wretched plane of existence those mental horrors bore real talons, and real hooves and real thought—and the caterwauling of its victims—his brothers—ever came from maws heaving and frothing in agony.

Cato hears himself stumble and slam a palm into the side wall to steady himself, but doesn't feel it. He feels like he's in free-fall, as if the ground has opened up and swallowed him hale and whole.

All time in that abominable realm was rendered simply nonexistent, without matter nor meaning to behold to any living creature. Naught but the notion of being practically alone and how chilling it was spiralling down the depthless lake of energy remained. No resistance of air lent to the sensation of plummeting, but he was sure he was for reason beyond any form of tongue. The distance was irrelevant and utterly unmeasurable. But the warp had no edge, no limit; and as it lacked a limit, the depth of him sinking was surely unbounded—just as it was eerily silent. A merciless wall of mute, dark unknown which swallowed all whole under it's cresting wave of solitude. Mute except the wailing, like song—song of sheer coincidence, where so many voices in unison chances harmony by mathematics beyond comprehension.

The sour taste on his tongue drags him loose of the claws about his mind.

He blinks, and sees and feels steel.

Cold, unforgiving steel walling like a soothing downpour on his nerves.

Cato groans as he rights himself, shaking his head, and then rolls his tongue around his mouth; gagging a little at the bitter, acrid aftertaste of his Betcher's gland acting on instinct.

He'd thought himself largely past this now. It had been so long since it happened, and Cato tries, he tries so painfully hard not to imagine the same thing happening here, because he's okay, you're okay—nothing would try to take this ship.

The vile taste on his tongue annoys him, because he'd scrubbed his teeth raw in an effort to seem as polished as he could; and now his tongue probably stinks like an empty las cartridge.

He spits on the floor and straightens up, it's fine—at least that's what he tells himself. You're close, and you're safe and that's all the encouragement he needs to fall back into step.

Cato takes a few strides down the corridor towards your quarters before realising something rather important.

He reaches into the folds of his rest attire and practically yanks out a sheathed knife.

It'd be closer to a dagger to you, and he doubts you know how to use it, but—but—

He wants to give it to you.

It's what he'd like to receive, at least. After all, it is what he was given, once.

The smith on Talassar is long dead, from age or sickness, but it matters little. All that matters is that Cato had received it ages ago when he'd yet to make anything of himself and he wants your hands to know its weight. You never carry weapons to diplomatic ventures in the past, and you've told him as much, but he gathers it's because there's never been place for you to put them on your persons in those stupid outfits of yours.

It's a little bit brutish of a gift, yes, he's well aware. But there's no possibility of bringing any sort of cliche boon to your door, like flowers, or something of the sort. Or whatever those waifs of yore would demand as a courting gift.

He doesn't even realise he's continued walking until he's stopped and standing outside your chamber like a kicked hound.

Cato stuffs the dagger back against his breast.

He's not sure if he should knock.

Maybe barging in is a more logical approach.

He knows the universal override to all the input pads, but there's something seemingly rooting him to the spot.

The nervousness hesitation he feels regarding seeing you is a lingering problem—the longer he stays beyond the confides of your room only adds to the chances of being caught. And he's not about to wait for hours outside for a hint you're actually in there. He has right to suspect you are, but the possibility of a serf being there instead of you is unrealistic but present. Actually no, he's sure that a cleaning serf would not lock the door.

So, finally, he raps a knuckle against the door and sets his footing to a martial stance.

The door clicks, then slides open a minute later.

There's a clear surprise that paints across your face as he stares down at you, before it dissolves into a small, flustered smile.

His hands twitch where they hang by his sides, itching to reach for the dagger he wants to give you. He had planned how he'd do this on the way here. Thought it through and prepared, rolling it over and over in his head. And yet, actually having you before him throws any precedent out the nearest air-lock.

You're not in any sort of prim and proper way—you're in bedding clothes, more than anything: pants and a top.

The trousers are a light shade of cyan, loose around your calves but more form fitting around your thighs. Your hips seeming to be the only thing holding the pants up from showing the warm, smooth skin beneath; that, and a small thread tied in a crude bow. Your tunic is more of a inched stola, low necked enough that he can sort of see the top of your breasts.

"I didn't.. uh," you mumble. "I didn't expect you so soon."

He knows he's earlier than he promised, but he grunts in answer and looks over your shoulder.

You blink, "What?"

"Am I to wait out here all cycle, then?"

A small 'oh, right—sorry' from you is all he receives before you take a step back to allow him entrance.

When the door slides shut and locks behind him, Cato notes the lack on downlight activated. Everything is hazed in a moody, misty (hi) sort of warm, amber glow from the candles you've left burning. He thankfully wrestles down the urge to stand there scenting the air with his lip curled up like a beast. Trying not to linger on the abundant stink of you, you, you on everything, pervading every sense he has. Promising himself he won't smother into your pillows and start humping them like a rabid dog.

He distracts himself by cataloguing his surroundings. Cato has consistently focused on utilitarianism over all else, and it shows in his room. His room is accessorised in the style befitting of his many years and achievements; with walls lined with trophies and weaponry made by the best of the Imperium. It contains just the basic necessities required: a work area, a seat, a couple of lights, an agreeably Astartes-sized cot at the middle, and close to it, a dependable incense holder.

Your room is much smaller—but the ensuite appears the same, though. Which Cato doesn't know how to feel about. He surmises it was likely a converted Captain's quarters. It's not standard issue, and neither are the copious amounts of, for lack of a better word, trinkets. But he supposes being the Primarch's favourite little diplomat-bookkeeper-pet-thing is a title full of unseemly rewards. His Father has a strange, uncouth way of interacting with baselines, and he doesn't dare linger on the hypocrisy behind that thought coming from him standing in your private quarters.

Be as that may, he still feels enormous standing there in the cramped space between you, the bed, and the desk behind you, unimpressed at the amount of clothing bundled near his feet.

You stand in your own mess without any hint of shame. A silent Ambassador is typically a welcomed novelty, but a silent you makes Cato jumpy.

You near and try to urge him to lean down, clearly trying to coax a kiss from him.

"Water," he says abruptly.

You don't seem to be listening, just looking at him with a distracted sort of fascination—then the request clicks, and you stumble into the bathroom and run the tap.

He hears the glass he's to be drinking from clink with the hardware before it fills, and them you step out and close to him to hand it over.

He takes a big gulp and swishes it around his mouth before swallowing, and gladly the wretched sourness of lingering acid is gone.

With the threat of burning your little nagging trap gone—and you none the wiser to the fact he's an Ultramarine who can, in-fact, spit acid—he rears down and gives you what you'd sought.

A slow kiss, nice and sweet and gentle; and he closes his eyes this time, in preparation.

You grin against his mouth and pull back after, and he smiles a tiny bit at the way your lips are a little redder.

Cato huffs in satisfaction and straightens back up, going in for another draught of water.

"I am surprised you live in squalor, despite all the benefits of your station," he murmurs offhandedly, looking aside the rim at the room once more between sculling down the rest of the cup.

You frown, and glance about the room, "It's not that bad."

"It looks like a drop zone," Cato grumbles, holding out the empty glass—and you take it, while he's fixed on staring disapprovingly at the messy stacks of data-slates stacked and leaning like two great spires. "Have you no discipline? No self-respect?"

"Clearly not," you mumble and glare at him, eyeing him up, then down, then up again with a judgmental leer. Suddenly, something about the situation is amusing to you—and you snort.

Cato scowls, crossing his dense arms over his chest, "And what's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing," you huff.

He glares back at you in silence as you turn and set the glass upon the desk—what little free space there is, in that shitstorm bundle of random work.

"I just think it's funny that you say that," you start again abruptly, rounding about to look at him. "Given the circumstances."

The scoff that leaves him is nigh a bark, "Exceptional circumstances."

You snort amusedly, "So where's your discipline and self-respect?"

"Somewhere between your thighs," he says, and prides in the begrudgingly fought-back smile he earns out of you with it.

He sits himself down on the side of the bed and continues priding to himself at the wit of the remark he made.

Cato relishes in the moment, simple as it is—you're oblivious to his own troubles and there's a sweet, lulling sense of comfort in that.

"You're a real class act," You pout, manoeuvring your rear up onto the desk inelegantly. Something tumbles to the floor to accommodate, but you're evidently unbothered. Your pants ride down at the change just enough that it put the part where your hip met leg on display. Just the temptation has him fiending off an insidious amount of lust.

He wonders if it'll hold up against an Astartes fucking you on it. But it's not bolted down, so he doubts that.

The bed will hold, though. And even if it doesn't, he'll still manage—he's sure he'll take every bit of you he can, on every surface he can manage. It's just a matter of time before he goes down the checklist, really.

Cato, understandably, groans long and low at the thought.

"Something the matter, Commander?" You intone with an annoyingly obvious faux-stupidity, crossing your legs and tilting your head a little.

"No," he rasps, and tears his gaze from your hip.

You eye him, "You look a little stiff."

He grumbles, and reaches into the breast of his robes.

The sheathed dagger looks flimsy in his muscle and callous laced palm, and when he holds it out to you, you look bemused.

Your brow arches up and you scowl a little, "What's that for?"

"You," he harrumphs, and turns away. Then Cato cannot, for the life of him, look back at your eyes—so he fixes his stare at your sandals set by one another at the door frame.

A little giddy huff leaves you as he watches you scoot off the desk top and reach for the weapon in his peripheral vision.

"You didn't have to," you coo, wrapping your small fingers around the hilt and freeing the blade from its casing. A little kiss hits his cheek and then he hears the gleam of it being loosed—he'd polished the time-dulled filigree to a mirror finish in preparation for gifting you, and even sharpened it back to a killing edge.

Your sweet hum of fascination as he sees the reflected candlelight dancing off the steel has him finally look back at you.

There's a big smile on your face, and your cheeks are a little red—and it's exactly the reaction he was after.

Cato tips his chin up, noble in his smugness, and smiles back.

"It's lovely, but—" you say, "I remember having told you before I can't wear weapons."

He pouts, and then he's sour again, "There's a belt loop on this one so that you can."

"I don't wear them for a reason," you digress.

"What reason?"

"Because it looks bad for a diplomat to do so."

Cato huffs petulantly, "That's not good enough."

"Yes, it is," you huff back.

"It's just one knife," He grunts, and gestures at you vaguely. "Why not put it on the inside of your thigh?"

And for some reason a few neurones misfire in his head at the thought of his dagger being so, so close to your—

"Do me a favour, Sicarius," you simper abruptly, as if there's a hidden punchline to the entire conversation he's yet to discover, "Look under the bed."

Cato scowls, but ultimately allows the request, putting one big palm on the duvet to leer down.

Oh, that's—that's a small fortune of ceremonial weaponry.

"Throne, woman," he starts, still looking and a bit stunned. "Why? Do you just collect all these? You don't hang them up, or anything?"

"I don't collect them willingly," you mumble, "They're just... handed to me, most of the time. Sometimes by dignitaries, a few by other Astartes. I don't understand it much, either."

Cato arches lower and reaches his free hand out to the gilded sheath of a curved sword, blue and gold and embossed with jewels. It's crusade-era levels of ancient—and Cato swears he'd seen it upon the lobby wall before the broad doors of Guilliman's chambers. That, and the hundreds of other favoured tools of war his Primarch so loved to display. Some hadn't been touched since the heresy, but still. Their nostalgic sentiments held strong. He supposes age does that to someone. Even for someone as noble and mindful as his Father.

Cato purses his lips as he lays a hand on the sword and tugs it free from the pile with ease.

He holds it up as he rights himself back on the bed and scowls, "This is—"

"I know," you sigh, and your hand braces against the side of your neck as you tut, "He insisted."

"He insisted?"

"He insisted," you grumble, and Cato tries hard not to find the embarrassed colour on your cheeks painfully endearing. "I said I wouldn't wear it, but he said it'd be a good thing to keep 'incase of emergencies', or something."

"Guilliman is right," Cato says sourly, placing the sword back on the ground and using his heel to shuck it backwards back under the bed. "You're easily assailable."

"You're the fifth Astartes to say that to me," Your face scrunches up, "I feel like it's an insult at this point."

"It's a valid observation," he shoots back. "You may as well be held together with silk and ribbons—like some spoilt little princess. You should expect the fanfare with that behaviour."

You leave his dagger on the desk behind you and take a few bold steps closer to him, crossing your arms over your chest; scowling as you say, "Oh, so you're the knight in shining armour here, then?"

Cato scoffs, "I always have been."

"And that is so terribly hard?"

He raises a brow and straightens up a bit, "Yes—yes, it is."

He likes the haughty attitude you get when you're subtly seething, he likes the little scowl you wear, and the tiny crease that forms on your nose. It gets his blood up, and warp damn him if he doesn't thrill at the slightest chance to have you gratifying his antics.

"Well, you got a pretty good reward for your troubles."

He frowns sourly, "What did I get?"

"Laid," you snark.

Cato huffs, "You were desperate for it."

Your brow quirks sourly, and you cross your arms over your chest.

"Groxshit," you grumble.

Ah, so it's time for lying now. You weren't desperate, no—you haven't ever raised your ass to let him mount you, you haven't groped his cock—you most certainly haven't ridden him like an unruly beast, taking your pleasure—letting him fuck your tight cunt full, time and time again.

He ought to remind you, he ought to get you flushed with the words—because he knows you'll squirm, dithering, bright red in the face and aching between the thighs.

Instead, he snorts loudly, "Shut up and come here."

"I don't think so," you laugh.

Cato growls and rolls his eyes, "Suit yourself."

Still sitting, he lifts the folds of his robes aside and works his arms out of the sleeves, baring himself aside from the underclothes hanging on his hips.

With another huff, Cato shuffles himself back up against the headboard, settling into the pillows. He locks his fingers together, raising them above his head, stretching tall and taut; huge chest bulging as a strained groan slips free from his throat, earning a chain of muted cracks from his back in reward of his efforts.

Your eyes trace his torso where you stand aside the bed. Studying the ports and ancient scars that draw up from his hips in mirrored pathways, linear and geometrically precise—utterly surgical. Their routes turned up the sides of his ribs, stopping high on his serratus anterior, dodging his pectorals and wrapping around to his deltoids; where your gaze stayed—eyeing the tattoo of an inverted omega he had gotten so very, very long ago. It's faded a little, but the upside down Ω is still well defined.

He's got your attention now.

You shuffle forward, half on the edge of the bed; and lean close, flickering your eyes up to his—as if seeking some sort of allowance.

"Disgustingly predictable," He scoffs, cocking his head and relaxing a bit.

Seeing an Astartes out of their armour always was something to behold for baselines. Ever eye-catching even to those who'd seen it a thousand times over. It garnered awe and fear; but that was the reason the Emperor made them so large in the first place. Aside from the practical benefits of throwing their weight around, their presence alone was intended to be physically intimidating as a means to dissuade the uncooperative from resisting and to scare off contest.

To you though, his bared form is a source of lust. The stink of it in the air has him toey and eager.

But it is, afterall, the first time you've had a good, close look at him in his entirety.

Cato preens at the flush he earns when he smirks at you.

"I won't stop you, you know."

"I hope not," You muse and lay a hand on his sternum, kneeling onto the bed and scooting close as your fingers graze over the dark spread of hair dusting across his chest.

You scan from the tops of his broad shoulders down the definition of muscle to the interfaces on his fused ribs; your eyes trailing for a brief second to his dense abdomen where the hair went even lower. Arrowing down his under-cloth. His entire body was marked with brutal scars of every kind. Some raised and old, others raw and sunken.

He'd indulge a question or two about their origins if asked—or well, if asked nicely.

Oh, that meagre cicatrix below his left pectoral? That was a Carnifex he had fought. It was five of them all at once single handedly, actually—and he only had his great Talassarian Tempest blade. It was a lucky mark from the beast. It died seconds later. He's just that good—he's Cato Sicarius, afterall. You made the right choice letting him have you, please tell him that he's the right choice.

Instead, you sink down against him and lie against his side, tracing the ports on his chest.

Arguably, this is just as satisfying to Cato as gloating waxing on and on about his many successes. Your warm little body tucked against his like a perfect fit, and the feel of your fingers around the thinner skin rimming his interfacing ports isn't bad, either. It feels strange, yes, but it's a different sort of sensation. It's acutely sensitive. He almost feels like he's about to shiver at it.

But then your attention shifts to raking against the grain of the hair on his chest.

"I usually have it burned away," he says abruptly, because he's somewhat bemused by your fascination. Still, he puffs his chest out a little. "To allow greater synergy with my body-glove."

"Really?" You laugh, and it's a prettier sound than carillon bells to Cato's ears—all the while pawing at a thick hunk of his pectoral, "They toast you?"

"Only a single passing," Cato admits, "It doesn't hurt—stinks though. And then it's all hosed off."

You hum in acknowledgement and let your hand wander down his middle, following the trail of fluffy, coarse hair.

"Interesting," you hum, fingers tracing the path, stopping only when you're grazing just shy of the top wrap of his undercloth. "You feel a bit like a fur rug here."

Cato breathes in slowly, "Don't test your luck."

"It's an entirely valid statement, how am I testing my luck?" You grumble, glowering at him as you pull away.

"You ought to be reprimanded for insubordination," He says with a steely, disciplinary intonation, but the threat's hollow and you're seemingly well aware of that. He leans in and pulls you close again as his touch sweeps down your legs. His nose buries into your hair, big hands appraising groping.

You set about kissing his cheek, smothering yourself against him.

The airy gasp that leaves you when he squeezes your ass makes you bold, apparently, because the next words you choose to say are; "Do you accept bribes?"

Cato's immediate theoretical response is a snarky 'No,' but then the heel of your palm is sliding up the side of his cock through the wrapped linen.

So, pointedly, he eagerly groans out, "Yes."

You simper up at him, before fussing with the fabric. Exposing the dense plain of his hip, tugging and un-pleating a little more until he's bared from the navel down.

His cock's so hard it nearly bats you across the cheek as it springs free. To which Cato snorts, not even trying to hide his amusement.

You flinch a little in surprise, a hint flustered, and eye the hard length of him as if it's personally affronted you.

He sits a little more upright, thighs spreading, presenting himself. Offering his big, sturdy quads as a cushion to lean on as you slowly pump him in a steady motion.

"Well?" Cato snarks, "Get on with the bribery then."

You pout at him, glancing back—and huff, "You smell like an apothecarium."

Cato grumbles to himself, slow to gather his words as he watches you ogle him, "If I had... known that you wanted to get that damn snout of yours so close, I wouldn't've used such harsh soaps."

You raise an eyebrow and pout, "Wonder if they're toxic to ingest."

"I doubt it," he starts, "But I guess there's only one way to find out."

Your fingers glide over his big thighs, dodging his ports and smoothing upwards to trace the old paths of his surgeries.

And even with all his stoic, anally neurotic merit, Cato can't stifle the small subvocal hum that escapes him as you flatten your tongue, licking a warm stripe up the side of his cock.

The feeling of it is staggeringly new, and he's absolutely elated at the view. It's half the appeal, even if there's no way you're getting anywhere near as much cock in you as your cunt allows.

You wrap your lips around the fat tip, keeping it in your mouth as you stroke the thick base of him with a grip that can't even meet around the width; balancing yourself better on your knees by putting the other hand on his thigh—the sleeve of your top slipping down your arm.

"This may be a better use for your mouth than diplomacy," He says as he lets out a low sigh, hips jerking forward with shallow movements in time to the bobbing of your mouth.

When you pull off to swipe away the glaze of spit and pre-cum accumulating on your chin, you lap your bottom lip and huff, "You are a prick, you know that?"

Despite being enamoured by the sight of you disheveled, he grumbles petulantly and says, "And you had to take your tongue off mine to say that."

You frown at him, then acquiesce with a petulant little grunt.

Then your mouth descends on him once more, rocking back and forth, letting gravity angle him in. All Cato can do is relish in the sensation, finding no room in his brain for anything else. Just the feeling of the wet heat of your mouth swallowing around him, and the swirling counterpoint of your tongue—eagerness in your gaze as it flicks up to find his again—Throne, that makes him groan straight away.

You hum around his length in response, the vibrations ricocheting through his nerves and up his spine blindingly. His other palm is suddenly against his forehead, a bit stunned from the bombardment of new pleasure.

Your little fingers dig fruitlessly into his thigh, making him hyperaware, sending him grinding forward a bit only to be rewarded with another lurching buzz of ecstasy. The hand pumping the base of him shifts away, and then small nails rake across his navel, then his hip, tracing a port; and he buries his face into the crook of his elbow to stifle a heavy moan. They're only meagre claws, yet the pressure is strangely comforting as you lap at the blood flushed underside of his glans.

Cato's aware his voice catches as he keens aloud, pulling his arm away from his face to rest his forearm on his hairline. He's simply just enjoying the soft, hot drag your mouth around his tip again.

But a reedy little whine snags his attention, catching him unaware that he had even closed his eyes in the first place.

When he finally opens them, he swoons. Hard. Your cheeks are a stunning maroon, and your previously focused gaze now looks hazy and desperate, utterly lost in the act. He hadn't been cognisant he'd put his hand on your head, either. But watching you sink down around him again and again is intoxicating. How your pink tongue peeks out to lathe over a raised vein when you pull off for air has him dizzy. Your other hand's drifted down your pants and between your thighs at some point when he'd been lost in his own pleasure, fingers curling inside yourself. A deep inhale makes it clear you're absolutely soaking. And he's well aware that it is a meagre substitute—still, the eagerness of you is adorable lurid.

Distantly, he wonders just how many times you've had that hand there in this bed. It's the scene of the crime, really. You'd already admitted to it—and he ought to make sure you're full of his fingers to keep yours where there should be. That is, if he could move. He can't find the will to even sit up higher, let alone move the hand he's been using to keep your head steady. But, he does have the mind to comb his fingers through your tresses, at least.

You seem to realise he's realised what you're doing and you whine again, forcing yourself to take his cock further.

Cato lets out an approving moan and hisses out a feckless string of curses, thighs tensing sharply as his senses stagger at the heat that suffuses his belly.

The sick temptation to spend himself in your sweet vile maw is nigh all consuming, but it's nothing compared to the fact he's far more convinced on dumping it in your womb. Anywhere else feels like an injustice to the fact he's able to fill you—because just like some fang-toothed warp-spawn abomination, you've opened the door and invited him in, so he can make as much of a wreck of you as he likes, or as much as you like.

He yanks you off him by the reigns he's made of your hair and you choke a little.

The small groan at the messy handling of the situation is a testament to how badly you're after his end, "Wh-why...?" you rasp, the efforts having made your voice a little rough; the mix of your drool and his precum giving your chin and lips a wet, glossy sheen.

"Because—" he starts, and he's surprised by how ragged he sounds to his own ears. "Because, there's better holes to empty it in."

The little disappointed sigh that escapes you as you lick your slick bottom lip makes him immediately change his mind.

"Have it your way then," he heaves, and shoves your head back down—instinctively chasing the rising tide and rocking forward into your quickly opening mouth.

His hand is tight in your hair now, fist tangling the strands in his grip as you let him thrust freely. Your own hand grabs the side of his hip as his tempo stutters. By the Emperor, his father would kill him if he could see this. But, damn—the sight of you like this is sin. He's so much bigger than you it looks obscene with you servicing him like this. You're a mess, gagging and tearing up, but making no attempt to pull away. It's depraved, but if you're so desperate for a load down your throat, who's Cato to say no? He's more than happy to give you exactly that—and just on time, he feels his balls tighten up—static rising out up his spine as a groan tears from his throat. Caught daft not a millisecond later by a bodily shudder blinding him in a hot rush.

Cato pants as the shivers subside in heavy throbs, filling your mouth. He pets your head as you swallow, at first—and then the pockets of your cheeks puff out. And suddenly you're cringing and scrambling off of him and into the ensuite. The tap starts up, then you do, and all he hears spitting and sputtering.

You stumble out looking like you'd eaten something sour, swiping your hand across your lips before saying, "That tasted horrible."

"You wanted it," Cato growls.

A bright, wry smile plasters itself on your features, "And?"

"And, if you want more," he begins, eyeing you. "You'll have to lose the rags, woman."

You straighten, eager—and promptly start to wrestle your top over your head, just to throw it at his face.

Cato grumbles at the rudeness periodically, before he starts sniffing the article. Vomeronasal organ having a momentary frenzy. It smells of warm you, and a little bit of sleep. Like an embrace, and—fuck, his spent cock twitches back to life. He really shouldn't behave like this. It makes him assume he looks savage. Even he feels strange. So he wretches your top off himself and tosses it somewhere to the left.

Watching you suddenly appear on the bed, fighting your way out of your pants is much more entertaining.

He likes the way you shimmy onto your back and fuss yourself free; and the way you practically lunge back close to him when you're finally bare.

You lean over him and grin, and Cato appreciatively drags a hand down your back, palming your ass.

Promptly, he rolls himself and drags you along. He groans theatrically as if you're fifty times the effort to move than you are, simply because he can. And the shifting of his bulk makes the bed shake enough that the stack of slates on the table across the room falter, and tumble to the floor in a loud clatter of sound.

On your back under him, he preens at the flushed surprise on your face.

"That was too loud—you're too loud," you heave.

"I'm too loud?" He grumbles, pinning your far smaller shape down. "Says you."

That stirs a groan out of you, at least, squirming while Cato drags his tongue up the side of your neck.

"Someone can still pass by and hear," you whine, "We shouldn't make that much—"

"I doubt it," he grunts, cutting you off as he slides off the mattress and drags you to the lip of it. "We have a bed all to ourselves. Your bed—in your quarters, with six inches of steel in the way, might I add. They'd have to stand at the door to listen."

He flips you over, pressing you front down—slumping against you on his knees to grant a rough grind or two to make sure you're hyperaware of his thick erection plastered against your ass. Your legs kick out and you wriggle, a series of ragged gasps leaving you as you endure the onslaught. A small lick here, a small lick there—huffing and panting to stir an empathic response. Winding you up to writhe and flush as he groans next to your ear, only to start chuffing out mean spirited laughter when you moan back.

"See, you don't really care about anyone hearing, do you?" He rasps out against your throat before sucking the skin over a thudding little artery. "You're not sworn to chastity. They might just think, 'oh, the Ambassador's found another poor soul to suck the semen out of, shame,' or the likes."

"I don't know how you do it," You scoff, breathing hard into the covers as he pulls away and grabs you by the hips to hoist your rear up into that perfect taunting arch he remembers so well from the cabin. Aptly presenting yourself on your knees at mounting-height while he stands.

"Do what?"

You laugh, "Manage to find the worst possible thing to say every time."

Cato sneers haughtily, "Decades of practice."

Taking himself in hand, he angles the tip of his cock to kiss the soft rim of your entrance. And Throne, Cato's ecstatic. He finally gets to fill in the gaps of what he should've seen back in the cabin the first time. The theatrics you'd hidden under rags and your own embarrassment.

He hears the cartilage in your gullet click when you swallow dryly and grumble, "Fine then, but don't say I didn't—"

You're rudely interrupted by your own shuddering moan when he starts sliding into you, and Cato's never been happier to shut you up.

He bottoms out in you in one smooth thrust, and the sound you make next is a stellar thing. An eager, warbling 'Sicarius–' as his cockhead jars right up against your cervix. Warm, fluttering muscles around his length and the mewling of a whorish little Ambassador are ever a perfect combination.

But he wants to be closer—so, so much closer; he wants you pressed to his front, so he can absolutely smother himself against you. He wants to burn the feeling of you and him into his edict memory, so nothing can untangle it from him.

Cato has to bend himself at an awkward angle to manage it, but he's well aware of the fact he can manage a free hand to draw lethargic circles on your belly.

"And if they can hear, it's not like anyone will believe them," he pants, a little chuff of laughter chasing his words, looking down at your face buried in the sheets. "They'll think you're a busted piston, or maybe a whining pipe."

"You're such a—" you start as his hand slides slowly down your navel, and your voice tapers off, "You're a-ah..." he dips his fingers between your thighs, and you moan, "Thro—oh—ne..."

His pointer and ring finger spread the hooded peak of your folds, then the middle moves in and rolls over your clit again and again and again. Your smaller, folded body strains back from the new attention. Mewling at the stretch, and the hot, heavy press of trans-human dick inside you. It's just how he likes it. He's got you all to himself, his bulky hips flush to your ass, and his pleased rumbling beside your head. He's genuinely content, if not for the constant paranoia—but content is a feeling he never really appreciated before the warp everything went to shit. But that paranoia is inconsequential compared to the sheer amount of joy he feels with you near and receptive to his affections marauding.

"That's it," he rasps, and he has to swallow down how much he's raring to just blindly rut into you like a savage. "Now, be a good little whore—and say 'Cato, harder please,' for me."

The request falls on deaf... or rather, cock-drunk ears. You simply moan in answer and squeeze, over-eager for him to keep practically putting a dent your womb. It catches Cato by surprise when you climax all too suddenly, high-strung, and fuck, everything in that moment is absolutely perfect—Cato would gladly suffer for an eternity to stay, just like this, for as long as the accursed galaxy will allow. Your body reduced to a juddering wreck, arching forwards and suffering even more touch to your abused clit; your insides twitching in time around him with each passing graze of his finger over that sensitive nerve.

Rearing back isn't a safe choice either, because you end up getting even more of him in your cunt—unable to escape his efforts to hound you over the edge as soon as possible again.

"I c-can't, I-I—" you whine, and in response, like any reasonable Astartes, he keeps pounding until you're compliant.

"Say it," he pants.

"Ca—ah–Cato, h-harder, please—" you start crying as you shake underneath him.

His ears practically perk up at you finally using his first name; it was only quick and garbled, but he's so glad to hear it—he's already addicted to it, impropriety damned, because fuck does it sound good. It's always been Commander, and only recently had it been Sicarius—but now you're finally giving him the validation of crying out for Cato—for him, just him.

You can be louder, and clearer than smothered against the covers. So Cato acts on the brilliant idea to hoist you upright on your knees while he slams into you.

You're struggling erratically against the big hands holding you up, making the sound of a dying animal, now.

He fucks you right through your struggles, one hand keeping your head up under your jaw so he can arch down to tuck his chin on your shoulder. The mixed sound of your little rear making contact with his hips is a rushed, degenerate beat—Throne, the poor headboard of your cot against the wall too, it's almost like sabatons on steel, a rhythmic clank clank clank. And oh, then you make the sweetest little overstuffed sob, isn't that cute. Aren't you adorable.

He's only just started again and he's already liable to empty himself in you.

Suddenly, there's a scream of his name—and a quick, warm-wet splash from you that drips down his balls. Then you've apparently been struck daft and limp in his hold, sniffling out a wrecked little cry as you slacken. It's an entirely new phenomenon. It seems to be a good thing, seeing as you're squeezing on him like it's another orgasm—so he takes it at face value.

He keeps you upright and lets you cinch down around him, staying still—riding out the aftershocks of your finish and keeping his cock nice and warm and snug.

Cato is honestly surprised when you regain enough sense to weakly buck backwards and fuck yourself on him.

"Please... p-please," you slur, and it seems like all you needed was the incitement to be reduced to begging now; "Cato, in me, i-in me..."

Cato's completely enthralled, and he's never been more willing to follow an order faster. He'd walk right into an orbital barrage if you asked, right now.

He shifts his weight into the next thrust and meets your meagre attempts to get him to rut into you.

The loud, wet plap of him bucking forward is almost deafening.

His eyes roll back at the searing burr of pleasure that chases up his spine, panting through a clenched jaw, "So eager to be f-full of Astartes cum, huh?"

"Please, C-Cato—" You can barely even get the sentence around the pace of him practically rearranging your uterus into your stomach.

Fuck, he knows he's so beyond defective it's not even arguable, because he's practically feral for any hint of validation you'll give. And if you want to have your insides painted so badly, why should he deny you?

"I know," he pants, "I-I know."

You whine, well beyond words.

He's about as robbed of verbal sense as you are now, and he groans, your cries becoming hiccups.

He swears he almost blacks out for a moment when he actually finishes. His arrhythmic, choppy sighs chase each thrust. So suddenly seized by his end he slumps forward, pushing you with him, feeling half-dead and gritting his teeth as shudder after shudder wracks him. Persisting, his hips still keep pumping without a hint of respite, pinning you with his bulk while emptying himself inside you, just how you wanted. The subsequent leaking of his spend from you turns the pace of him still rutting into an even stickier cacophony of lewd wet sound. Hand splayed out beside your head supporting his weight, huffing and puffing to himself like a pissed-off bull as he works himself into overstimulation.

He stops at last with a long, trying sigh and pulls his slick and spent-wet fingers out from between your legs; dragging them across the sheets somewhere to the right before letting his palm splay on your hip, dry.

You're bent ass up under him, with your cunt still full of his cock, plus a thick load; moaning so lowly and continuously it's almost a purr.

Cato groans tiredly, rocking his hips a little for good measure despite the ache of it. "Does having me finish inside you feel that good to your little animal brain?"

Your voice is a fucked-out mumble as you say, "Well... 's not like... y'going to get me pregnant or anything."

Cato stays quiet, considering.

And that quiet seemingly sends you asking, "Are—are A-Astartes... sterile?"

"I'm actually not too sure," Cato huffs, and finally grows the spine to pull himself out.

Your gasp at his exit and subsequent little exhuasted 'hmm' is curiously without any hint of fear-smell.

He scowls, "And you're not at all concerned by that?"

A soft groan from you answers, "Got an i-implant... after the first t-time, just incase."

He doesn't have the balls energy to even begin to comment on the fact you'd correctly anticipated him trying after you again. Is he that predictable?

Cato rears back and makes an affirmative sound, groping at your ass, big thumb pulling one of your labia aside to ogle the fat pearls of cum dripping from you. You'd take another load, too. And if you ask him nicely enough, he might do just that right now—or have your mouth again. But he likes spending himself in your warm cunt far more. The way you squirm and squeeze on him when he's in you is intoxicating. Maybe later, given your exhaustion. You both have all cycle—or at least, whatever remains of his rest hours. Regardless, it's a genuine wonder the device hasn't succumbed to the stress of stonewalling an Astartes' draining his balls in you so many times these last few months.

He makes a soft tutting sound as his big palm smooths down your sides; his warm breath dancing across your inner thighs.

No better than some slavering beast, Cato gives into the urge sent by his hindbrain and licks a wide band from clit to taint in one smooth motion, and pulls away, seemingly briefly appeased.

Your squeal is priceless, but—eugh, his cum does taste foul. Nutrient gruel be damned, he needs to fix that somehow.

Sputtering as quietly as he can to avoid dignifying your similar reaction earlier, he grumbles to himself—still pawing and groping at your ass.

"You've ruined m-my sheets," you manage to say.

Cato grunts, "You're the one who decided to piss on them."

He says that, but knows it wasn't. It didn't smell like it—it smelt like satisfaction, and slick, and 'harder, please—please, Cato, harder.'

The sudden shiver that runs up his spine thinking about it surely isn't born of a vaguely possessive thrill.

Abruptly you roll onto your back and sit up, grimacing at him.

"That's n-not what that was," you hiss, flustered enough that you're stammering. "T-That was..."

Cato raises an eyebrow, "What was it, hm?"

Hook, line, sinker—

You dither, red in the face as you mumble, "It–it was nothing."

—and ta-da, he reels in an Ambassador.

"Oh, that's right," he grins and leans over you, "It was you finishing so hard you screamed my name."

Something bold rears it's head in you then, eyeing him petulantly; because you start swatting at him—and Cato's never had you actively physically retaliate for any jabs—so he just freezes, bemused.

They're barely even pats to his sturdy form, and it amuses him to no end that you're so small but still trying to annoy him.

So, he acquiesces; and starts using his own strength on you. He keeps it in check, of course; because you're still a twig of a baseline, even as grating as you are. He's practically tossing you around on the bed with minimal actual effort. Big hands stroking and kneading, rolling you around, pinning you beneath him and trying to annoy you back.

The efforts yield an entirely different result. You're laughing, hyperventilating, and every rough grope earns him a shrill little keen of excitement.

"Throne, you're a degenerate," Cato hums, giving you a wry look before reeling you back under him. "Getting off on being tossed around, are you?"

And with a yelp, you're made to watch him maraud his way up your body again.

You start grinning then, and it's not the typical sweet, coy smile of you luring him in; rather, it's one of a mad thing, feral and giddy.

You snigger sharply, a little breathless from struggling. "You say that like t-there's any downsides."

Cato scoffs, and rolls onto his back, pouting. "So anything that can rough you up will do, then?"

"I, unfortunately, have a very singular preference," you chuff, and snuggle up against him; tucking your chin against his neck, humming softly to yourself.

"Is that so?" He grunts, "And what would that be?"

The kiss to his jaw is heartachingly soft, and you snort a little when he turns to look down at you and your cheek is grated by his stubble.

Your big eyes are locked on his, half-lidded and lazy, and there's that familiar, honeyed look in them again. The soft, heady fixation of focused affection.

Cato feels like he's about to start weeping out of sheer joy. You're all his, your time, your gaze, your adoration—everything.

He's practically vibrating from elation.

"Despite your profession, you are terrible at hiding your emotions," he snarls, despite himself.

"Look at the time—aren't you expected somewhere, Commander Sicarius?" You ask sourly, but the warmth in your eyes stays the same.

Cato wonders if his expression betrays any of that sort of softness. If there's any residual capacity to show affection left in his face after all he's been through. He's sure there's something going on there that's got you looking at him with that sweet gaze. Or maybe you've gotten a good read on what's going on in his head now. He certainly feels as if he's been figured out. As if you've got him pried and nailed open like a xenos corpse in some creaking admech's lair. The prospect isn't anywhere near as daunting as it should be.

Still, he plays along.

"Probably, but you don't seem to really be complaining, Lady Ambassador," Cato quips low in his throat as he leans in close, only to pull away and sneer. Your lips part slightly as you swallow your words instead of speaking, clearly captivated. That said, he is also still a little breathless from teasing you so it was no surprise you seem dazed at his own attempt.

"No, I am—you've just more muscle than brain," you bite out with a flash of snark a second late, taunting him further by sticking your tongue out.

Retaliating immediately, he snares your mouth against his own; sliding his own tongue with yours and drinking in the soft moan that slips free. You nip his bottom lip vengefully, making him stifle a growl and lean away as he hisses, "Don't tempt me for a third."

It's no lie, because fuck, he probably could go for one more. Especially with the treatment he's receiving now.

"Why not?" you say in a tone that's so sweet one of his hearts aches.

"You want more already?" He drawls as he licks your jaw, your throat, everywhere and anywhere his mouth can reach. Tasting the salt of your sweat, and practically suffocating himself in the smell of you. Basking in his victory—Cato makes a sound like a great big feline, somewhere between a chuff and a growl against your neck; lazily entertaining himself by mouthing a bevy of bruises there. You almost immediately let him do as he pleases, your mouth hanging open, eyes half lidded and face flushed. Cato tries—and fails—to restrain the sudden amusement edging his tone at how easily you fall to your lusts. "You're going to overload that implant and end up gravid, woman."

"Throne, yes—" You slur, wriggling against him as he lathes his tongue across the top of one of your tits.

"What?" Cato barks.

Your face reddens, "What?"

Cato glares at you, and raises a brow. You're pretending you hadn't said anything and he's stunned you think he's stupid enough to miss it, "Baseline ducal protocol likely dictates... I would have to carry you off to be wed if that happened," he says, rushed. "Or... something of the likes, I suppose."

"R-Right," You fake a cough and avert your eyes, and you're breathing a little heavy.

"Within the context, of..." Cato backpedals, suddenly hyperaware of himself. "Of... that theoretical scenario."

You harrumph meekly, and then mumble, "Oh, of course... I agree, in that hypothetical situation."

He blinks, flabbergasted, "...really?"

You clear your throat and nod stuffily, only to tuck closer against him.

There's an entire subsector's worth of unpacking those statements need; you agree, but is that you saying it's a distant assurance? That you'd let him, one day, or is it merely conjecture? The primitive satisfaction of that base biological imperative is a heady one. Dangerous, too. If there is a chance of knocking you up, it would require significant subterfuge to keep hidden. Astartes can smell that sort of thing—and fuck, a Primarch could probably tell who's it was when given a source sample. He's got no litmus test for how easy you both would be caught. Maybe if you're suddenly on leave, for say, nine-months? That's one solution.

But where would you go—oh, Throne, he's thinking about Talassar again, and you in a pretty little slip, or in his rest robes, lying next to him notating; maybe resting against his chest in the crook of his arm—the fantasy is mundane, and domestic, and anathema to his status as High Suzerain of Ultramar, but still his cock throbs and his cheeks heat at the idea of calling you Lady Sicarius.

Your hands card through his hair abruptly, combing and petting him, and hm... that's nice, why are you looking at him like that—

"What do you think you've doing?" He growls, ever the hypocrite—his face doesn't feel hot at all, shut up.

You harrumph, "Stop pretending you don't like it."

"Whatever," Cato scoffs, and leans into your touch—not before mumbling; "Cunt."

Self-admittedly, he entirely deserves the feisty little smack he cops to the snout the very next second.

"Don't call me that," you pout.

The laugh it earns from him is just as genuine.

He's having you a third time just because of that, for sure.

206 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 5 months ago

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Top 10 Most Underrated BLs of the last 3 years

(mid year 2021 - end 2023)

This list will not include BLs that ended their run in 2024. I need some distance to know if something is actually underrated (We Are maybe?) or justifiably ignored.

1 I Cannot Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan 2023 Netflix?)

This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, increasingly unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen. Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life, which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way. This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt almost honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen. Full review.

2 My Ride (Thai 2022 Gaga)

Thai BL grew up with this pulp (the first ever pulp to make my end of year top 10). It’s a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine (AKA a cinnamon roll couple) plus mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest, and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi rider in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede, the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple. Full review.

3 Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku (Japan 2023 Gaga)

A lonely salaryman (+ talented cook) gets accidentally adopted by a college kid (and his little brother). I was always gonna love this show if they stuck to the original yaoi (which is very dear to my heart). And they did! Paralleling it almost exactly. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. Possibly too slow for some but definitely high up there for me as the best of what Japan can do with softness (like Restart After Come Back Home). It’s only flaw (if I dare say such a thing) is that it is not really “romantic.” Lovely & sweet but the romance beats are being used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy, but that's OK with me. This is a very safe show for anyone to watch.

4 About Youth (Taiwan 2022 Gaga)

A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and earnest depth. I didn’t even mind the singing, and that’s saying a lot. A weak seme/uke dynamic but tons of BL tropes (both rare in a high school setting but common for Taiwan) makes this one feel both sweet and colored by real world authenticity and grit. Full review.

5 Step By Step (Thai 2023 Gaga)

This was Thailand’s answer to The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This office romance between a stern boss and sweet subordinate felt more authentic to cubical work than previous Thai BLs of this ilk. That authenticity added tension to the narrative and its characters development (how novel). I also really enjoyed the charming side characters and the brothers' relationship to each other (although I could have done without that brother's side BL). Full review.

6 DNA Says Love You (Taiwan 2022 Gaga)

DNA deserves extra marks for an upbeat approach to a queer story arc that other shows have systemically mishandled with sadness (in the guise of realism). There is a twist, which I found predictable, but knowing what would happen didn't spoil this show. The leads are luminous and engaging, and it’s full of queer found family representation and an unexpected amount of domesticity, plus it’s Taiwan, so the kisses are great. The first few eps are rough going but have patience, it's worth it I promise! The second half is really special and life/love affirming - and the end is big-grin charming. Full review.

7 Unintentional Love Story (Korea 2023 iQIYI)

Of all the BLs on this list, this is probubly the MOST underrated. OMG the plot! Uke forced into a totally understandable betrayal, falling in love despite himself, put into a corner he can't get out of, the AGONY, the PAIN in those gorgeous eyes. Gah. Okay, so: A boy loses his job due to trumped-up corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back, if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). Full review.

8 Dear Doctor I'm Coming for Your Soul (Thai 2022 iQIYI)

This is a romance between a doctor trying to save his patients and a reaper who is both his enemy and (eventual) lover (basically the genius premise of a gay Doom at Your Service). High concept looks good on you, Thailand. It’s lovely to see KarnNat back on screen together and they are still great, and Karn is just as painfully beautiful as ever. I enjoyed this one more than its ending deserved, and the best I can say is that it’s not strictly HEA but if you’re okay with Life: Love on the Line, you’ll be okay with this BL. It’s set up well, there’s no surprise unpleasantness like HIStory 3: The BL that shall not be named. Full review.

9 Destiny Seeker (Thai 2023 WeTV)

A darn near perfect pulp featuring 3 likable grumpy/sunshine pairings with uncomplicated iterations of enemies to lovers. At least one half of each does a decent amount of pining and there’s good chemistry, classic tropes, and excellent communication rep. It’s fun and full of linguistic jokes. Sublimely cheesy but a good rainy day offering with tons of rewatch potential. (Also WAR PEANUTS!) Full review.

10 Make a Wish (Thai 2023 grey)

A doctor who can see the dead strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love (from Sammon: Manner of Death & Triage). Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not Ohm, but who cares because Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but still satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay AF - fag hag bestie and made of swagger. The cast is excellent but the comedic stylings are a bit overblown and tonally off. It has sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency.

10 others I rarely see anyone talk about:

Triage - Many would put this at the top of the list, but I don't find it very rewatchable and that weighs a lot in my assessments. Still it is GOOD and very underrated. BL does Groundhog Day featuring a doctor stuck in a time loop who must save a poor little rich boy from death by seducing the stuffing out of him, then PLOT TWIST, poor little rich boy must do the same for doctor! Unfortunately… stuffing keeps leaking. I thought the plot was engaging if a little redundant and occasionally exhausting. The pairs were all well done, low heat but with decent chemistry and the support characters were likable (or unlikeable, as required). My reason it's not in the top 10? If anything, the romance arc detracted and distracted from the main plot, but that doesn't stop this from being a genuinely good show it's just time loop is not a trope I personally enjoy. Review here.

See You After Quarantine? - This under appreciated gem is Taiwan’s answer to Gameboys and is just as charmg and adorable yet still as quintessentially Taiwanese as one might hope. It features a Japanese love interest and the cutest most confused disaster gay. Slow burn because the two have almost no actual screen time together and yet manage some truly amazing chemistry. Honestly how does Taiwan do it?

The Tasty Florida - I don't know, maybe it's Speed nostalgia, but I love this one, classic Korean BL with all those strengths and flaws... but The Prettiest.

You Make Me Dance - it's Korea but somehow they got this one, maybe by featuring mature characters and a real world crisis? Also they both ve hot.

Blueming - at the time it got a lot of attention but it seems to have faded into obscurity under the shod of The 8th Sense and Love of Love's Sack. This was a precurser to both and well worth a watch if you like it when Korea gets a little gritty.

Love Stage!! (Thai version) - I liked this IP alerady more than most. But this is the best of the 4 adaptations, and the first full Thai version of Japanese IP. It's both charming and notable in the industry. Hard to find and that's why it gets so little creddit but I think it's well worth the effort to track down.

Oh! Boarding House - I think most who watched this din't jive with it because it's an ensamble piece witha wicked love traingle. But I really enjoyed it. It felt like the move Kdrama BL that Korea has given us and I like me some Kdramas.

What Zabb Man! - one of the better BLs to come out of Star Hunter in the last few years. I like this pair a lot more than most, and the sides are wicked great. This is probably one of my favorite food themed BLs, actually.

2 Moons The Ambassador - possibly the lowest scoring BL to appear on this list but I just really like the leads. Nothing else is good, but they are kinda awkwardly fantastic. I also like how gay af the seme is.

Stay By My Side - This show was an interesting take on the "ghost boyfriend" trope. About a boy who is tormented by hearing the dead, except when he is around one other boy - desperation+proximity = love. Despite a strong initial premise it ended up mostly being enjoyable for sappy domesticity but nothing more. Still, I always give extra credit for the diabetes-inducing sugar content and rewatch capacity.

Requested by the lovely @l1xyz

FYI: I judge “underrated” on the strength of what I see people talk about (or more precisely not talk about) on social media, MDL reviews, and YouTube watch numbers (when available, as compared to comparable shows from the same country).

Because of this, statistically, there will always be quite a few BLs that are difficult to get hold of.

Here's my pulls of the Top Underrated BLs prior to 2021. Considering the amount of content generated over the last few years, the pool to draw from is likely about the same.

My Top 10 Most Underrated BLs prior to 2021

Seven Days

Restart after Come Back Home

Wish You

Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding

He’s Coming to Me

Oxygen

My Day

Most Peaceful Place

HIStory 2: Right or Wrong

HIStory: Obsessed

I'd throw Great Men Academy in there, but I always dither over whether it actually is a BL.

#my top most underrated BLs #best BLs no one talks about #I Cannot Reach You #Kimi ni wa Todokanai #Japanese BL #My Ride the series #Thai BL #Our Dining Table #Bokura no Shokutaku #About Youth the series #Taiwanese BL #Step by Step the series #NA Says Love You #Unintentional Love Story #Korean BL #Dear Doctor I'm Coming for Your Soul #Destiny Seeker #Make a Wish the series #Triage the series

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moirindeclermont · 4 months ago

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@somedayillbepeterpan asked me to write about the first time Colin shampoos Pen hair for my "all the Polin first times we didn't see in BridgertonS3" serie, shall we begin? (This is sexy and sappy AF, and I'm splitting in two parts because it's loong)

It's been a week after Eloise and Francesca departure to Scotland that It happens. Pen has her own beauty rituals to which he is pretty well accustomed, growing up with four women his all life.

But now, with their issues resolved and being married, he feels such a hunger to just share everything with Pen and pamper her as much as he can.

Which is why, when Pen told him she was going to do a bath, he asked her to take it with him. She was looking at him of awe, desire, happiness and love he hope he would never get used to. It made his stomach drop and promise her the world if she would ask.

She took his hand and lead him to the room as an answer, dismissing the few servants and Rae as well.

He loved that she was feeling less shy about her nude body, because the moment the door closed, she slipped out of the nightgown she was wearing, and as always his breath started to become a bit more rapid. She was beautiful. A goddess. Or, in this case, a siren, as she step into the water, moaning loudly as she sat down in the tub. He was already half hard and, in that moment, Colin realized there might a few challenges he didn't predict.

"Are you coming, husband?"

Yeah. A lot of challenges.

But as he sat down himself in the tub, luckily his wife was such a petite woman that the fit perfectly together, all the challenges slipt away. Pen's back was ok his chest, as they lay there for quite some time. After a while, Pen passed him the shampoo she used. "Would you do me the honor of doing my hair?" As Colin gulped. He took the bottle and started to work.

There was something exquisitely intimate in doing this for another person. As he frictioned Pen's long, lushious red curls, she let out the most delicious sounds, making him shiver. He took care of raising her hair, making sure everything was perfect, even when her derriere touched his growing erection.

"Be a good girl and I'll make you release here soon", at that Pen shivered as well but let him work.

It didn't take much time after that. Soon, his hand found her breasts, touching her nipples, before one hand went down to find her core. He kissed behind her ear, her jaw and the soft skin of her neck, while she found her pleasure on his fingers.

"Yes. Col- more. Please," realizing she needed more, he says to her "go on your knees and brace yourself on the edge of the tub". He never saw her acting so fast to direction.

"impatient little thing, aren't we?" As he stroke himself and a moment after he was in her, deep. Long, deep, slow thrusts. Stretching the moment as to carry on with the intimacy of the act.

"Col- so deep. I feel so full," she moaned as he started to pick up speed. Water was splashing everywhere but he didn't care at the moment.

"Oh god, Colin. There," as he found out a particular angle that clearly worked for her, as she become wild under his hands, coming with a moan he was sure the Queen must have hear it, let alone the servants. The thought made him smile for a moment, before his release caught up with him, leaving him to spend himself in Pen, with a moan that was just as loud.

He accompanied her in their previous position, massaging lightly her stomach and kissing her all over. He stopped when he caught a single tear falling out.

"Why are you crying sweetie?"

Pen smiled at him. "I never thought married life would be like this. I always knew you were my destiny, even when I believed I wasn't yours. But this bliss. This connection. With you. I can't believe a person can be this happy. I can't believe I can be this happy. I'm overwhelmed by our love, Colin."

That is a feeling that he can understand quite well. He just hugged her tight, his own eyes letting out a tear or two.

"I'm overwhelmed too, darling. Every day."

They kiss, and after some minutes Pen looks at him, now all mischievous and cheeky. "You know that now is your turn, right?"

Part 2 here

Thank you @somedayillbepeterpan for the request and as always, if you have first times you want to be explored, feel free to write me!

#polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #polin positivity #bridgerton spoilers #polin bridgerton #polin brainrot #polin fic #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #answered ask #penelope x colin

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babyspacebatclone · 8 months ago

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One of the newer daycare teachers at my center was complaining about a specific child - who has a lot going on we’re still trying to map out, but definitely some type on developmentally divergent on top of attachment issues with their single mom.

Anyway, said kid, a little under 4 years old, was resisting doing art, which was really upsetting the one one teacher when the other (who’s worked with this kid for over 2 years) was basically like “Ok, not today, this isn’t a good day for you.”

One thing I do when I find kids at the center resisting my instructions is asking “Why” - on me.

Why am I asking this child to do something?

“What they are doing isn’t safe” and “What they are doing is harming another child” are obviously good reasons for me to pursue my point.

“Maintain structure” is, honestly, generally a good reason, where “structure” is the regular rules and expectations of the class and schedule.

Having a predictable structure helps most children feel safe, because they don’t have to be the adult and decide what is going to happen - their teachers are the ones that set boundaries for safety, have their physical needs met, and create expectations that allow them to develop patience and delayed gratification.

But forcing a child to participate in an activity? Not just “now it is art, because we do art every day” but “you must do art??”

Asking my “Why, what is the child getting out of this” devolves down after a few levels to:

The child has to learn to comply over their own mental health.

Even the more experienced teacher who let the one kid sit out and rest from art is irritated when children refuse to sit quietly during Circle Time, which pisses me off because all the trainings I’ve taken on Circle Time say “have a quiet activity optional for children who don’t want to sit and participate.”

Sadly, as I was discussing this with my other Autistic coworker at closing, we agreed that “Conformity despite mental health” is a primary rule in modern education, and both of us despite being aware of the obvious issues with this are powerless to even motivate major change within our own center without taking “Room Lead” roles.

Which we both agree would break either of us. 😓

#actually neurodivergent #tales from the daycare #compliance versus mental health #tw ableism #let kids fucking sit out #when they need to #art teaches valuable skills #being healthy is more important

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charlesf1leclerc · 1 year ago

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KEEPING UP WITH THE LECLERCS

Warnings: cuteness, babies, poorly edited

Summary: Just a quick post about some of Indy Jules first moments

First tooth

It has been a good 5 months since the birth of Indy Jules. It had been utter bliss she was the sweetest and calmest baby anyone has ever met. She was always smiley and babbling away at nothing. She was definitely the picture of Charles in every single way. She was just utterly perfect.

But recently she has been a lot more fussy, abnormally fussy for your Indy. You and Charles don’t know what to do at this point. You were currently home alone as Charles was away for another race weekend and Indy was fussing like crazy. You had FaceTimed Charles multiple times but you had no idea what to do and neither did Charles.

You were feeling so hopeless that you could think of a way to soothe your daughter. So you decided that calling Pascale would be your best bet at this point even though you felt ashamed you couldn’t help your daughter yourself.

“ how long as this been happening hun?” She asked over the phone

“ a few days, I just don’t know what to do anymore?” you replied hopelessly

“ well this may be Indy teething” Your mother In law stated

“ Isn’t it a-bit to early she’s only 5 months so you really think she’s getting teeth this early?” You were so scared of time slipping away from you and your baby girl growing up to fast

“ here why don’t you get the pad of your finger and run it along her guys and see if you can feel anything”

“ alright give me a minute” I picked up Indy from her rocker and did as Pascale said and just like she predicted you could feel the top of a tooth poking through the top of her gums.

“ your right there’s a tooth coming through, what do i do she must be in so much pain” “ well do you have any of those tethers?”

“ yea I got some from my baby shower”

“ give her one of them, and place some in the freezer they work better frozen, she may be fussy but she’s going to be ok hun you have nothing to worry about”

“ thank you so much for your help Pascale I really mean it” I thanked sympathetically

“ anytime you know that”

As we hung up the phone I did as Pascale instructed before texting Charles about the situation

Y/n

I just got off the phone with your mum turns out our daughter is teething. I’m giving her her teether she’s fussy but she will be ok. Xx

Charlie ❤️

She’s teething already and I’m missing it!

Y/n

Charles it’s only teething the tooth hasn’t come fully through yet anyway it’s not like your missing her first steps

Charles ❤️

Don’t remind me, she’s growing way to fast.

Y/n

I know. We miss you

Charles ❤️

I miss you too. Keep me posted on how my girls are doing all the time. Xx

Y/n

Of course you know we will. Xx

First word

Indy Jules was now 1 year old. 1 year she was getting so big it was hard to think that she has been apart of your life for one year.

Charles and you had been trying to get her to talk for months, she’s been a very babbley baby so you thought she would have said a word by now.

Charles and you had both been trying to get her to either day dads or mama. There was no real fight as neither of you truly cared which one she said first as long as she said something.

You and Charles were sat up in bed Charles had laid Indy on the bed after she had woken up and was currently blowing raspberries on her bare stomach. You sat next to him looking over to him occasionally while also reading your book.

“ you like that, you think daddy’s funny” Charles spoke to the baby in-front of him

“ daddy” Indy spoke

Both your heads shot up

“ what did she just say?” You inquired

“ I think…. I think she said daddy”

“Come on baby say it again daddy, daddy” Charles encouraged

“ daddy” Indy squeaked lifting her feet up and placing on of them in her mouth.

“Omg Charles she said daddy” you spoke with tears in your eyes.

“She’s growing up way to fast but that’s the cutest thing ever” Charles wrapped his arms around you before picking the baby up from the bed and planting kisses all over her chubby cheeks.

First steps

14 months that’s how old Indy was now. She was now speaking more words then ever and still a clam baby but now with a little crazy as she was crawling all around. You both believed that she would be walking any day now as she had tried standing up multiple times.

You and Charles were seated in the living room of your town home both siting on your knees across from one another. As Charles held Indy’s hands as she stood on her feet.

“ ok walk to mamma come on baby you can do it” Charles encouraged pushing her forward a little.

He slowly slept to of her hands and left her standing for a second before she slowly wobbled to fall to the floor

“ oh it’s ok baby” I said as I picked her up standing her back up again “ go on walk to daddy, you know you want to”

Charles held his hands out wiggling his fingers

Slowly just like Charles did before you let go of her hands but this time instead of wobbling she took a step forward and then on more before tumbling to the floor.

“ YES BABY aww you did it you took your first steps” Charles squeaked picking her up and spinning her around in the air as she giggled

You watched in admiration before standing up to be at the level of Charles.

“ I’m so proud of you baby” you spoke storming her head now full of hair

“ aww my brave girl, your getting too big” Charles laughed

———————————————————————

Tysm for reading I hope you enjoyed! Pls feel free to leave requests for this story in my inbox or any little messages you have you can leave in my request inbox as well xxx

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the-moon-files · 1 year ago

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Linked Universe / GN!Reader - Random Headcanons abt the Chain! :)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (ur here!)

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them), Guide Reader!

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Scenarios?

Stars: Wind, Wild, Sage, C*urage, K*ridai

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: i included the link from K*oridai (faces of evil), and the brunette Link from that old cartoon tv show,

& Trigger Warnings: none known.

☆

Wind (Wind Waker):

Misses being a big brother

LMAOOO I CAME FOR UR THROAT HAHAAA

ok chill chill he's doing okay

He's just not used to being the youngest in any given group, he used to be the oldest kid in charge of the younger ones and his little sister too

But dont get him wrong! He rlly does love the advantages that come with it,

and when he's feeling down abt not being older u usually cheer him up by reminding him he can be the biggest little shit he wants and every single Link will forgive him once he pulls out his baby seal eyes lmao

Ur the easiest to rope into horse playing/goofing off and he's very happy abt that

The others can be too serious for too long so he appreciates how u and him lighten them up by trying to give each other noogies (he loses most of the time)

As soon as Wind found out the others could play instruments, he immediately demanded they do campfire songs every night lol

(Most of the time one person caves, even just to idly play smth)

Likes inventing weird new games to play that'll convince as many other people to particpate, he used to do it back home too, like finding the prettiest rock on the island, that way his grandma and even adults could play too :)

Needs to sleep beside someone at night, bc he secretly likes it, back on his adventure going to sleep all by himself (unlike living with his grandma/sister) always was a little hard for him

Very hard to wake up in the morning, sleeps in the latest out of all the Links

("I'm a growing boy? Ofc i need my sleep, whats ur excuse??" @ the other Links who sleep in late lol)

Likes to sew! He's still learning, but his grandma used to teach him how so he could help her keep up with his growth spurts/recklessness tearing his clothes up

Idolizes u forever if you embroider, and will watch u like those videos of someone's cat who's fascinated by watching owner craft smth lol (like this ⚫️v⚫️)

Enjoys making stoic people crack their persona and laugh

Also has the wheeziest laugh youve ever heard, it makes u laugh every time, even when he started laughing over a dumb pun

Oh yeah, makes a foul amount of dad jokes for someone whos only like 14 💀

(He once managed to break Time and Legend, which then broke Wars and Twi, and it just continued down the Chain until everyone was crying or on the ground, he wears that shit like a badge and it literally made his confidence go 📈 puffed his chest out and everything lol)

Wild (Breath of the Wild):

U already know everything there is to know abt him??

I dont even have to say it, and it shows when ur around him lol

Like he'll go to do smth stupid like shield surf down death mountain in a unknown Hyrule, and before anyone can even realize thats what he's planning to do you've caught and stopped him and made a compromise to shield surf down some snow bluffs later instead

Or when u know he's gotten new ingredients in some other Link's Hyrule and is going to try and cook with them tonight, so u help him make a regular meal of smth else along with so the boys dont suffer stomaches

Like u can absolutely predict his bullshit all the time, just imagine the most adrenaline junkie thing he could do in that moment with the combination of things around him and you always know what tf he's up to, ur always right lol

Ur the only one who can get him to stop the chaos (besides maybe Time, weirdly enough Sky/Hyrule/Four bc they are the least likely to tell him to stop, so when they do, its usually a very, very bad idea)

Likes hair ornaments, he's got long hair for a reason after all

Likes u to style his hair, and esp if u teach him how to braid or do diff styles <333

He loves that u help cook/at least prep, and u make sure another Link helps too, bc thats a lot of ppl to make food for with little to no help 💀

(Makes u ur fav foods at even the slightest mention of them, like u wont even have to say ur craving Link's already whipped the pan out best housewife fr)

One of the few Links who's adventurous with his clothing, and trying new stuff

Wild was worried abt his Champion tunic getting messed up but was sad he couldn't wear it as much anymore

So u handmade him a new shirt that imitates the old one but with some new designs to represent the Chain! :)

He started crying.

He either hugs so lightly he seems like he's not enjoying it (no true, he's just trying to be polite)

Or he squeezes so hard be pops ur back and nearly breaks a rib

U got the latter for that shirt lol

Any new thing he doesnt remember how to deal with, like how to sew (he knows 1 stitch help), how to wash clothes (dont mix whites and blacks, and colors), how to soothe headaches/muscle aches etc.

He just wanders pitifully over to ur side and looks pitiful lol

Like he's a confused and saddened puppy

And just holds up whatever mess he's made like, "im so sorry, i dont know how to do this pls"

Bc he trusts u to know (the other Links may be hit or miss too tbh lmao)

And ur the least likely to clown him for it too, at least nothing he doesnt also find funny

Sage (Tears of the Kingdom):

So sue me, i enjoy this stupid-definitely-not-canon-unhinged-Link thats done with everyones bullshit and wants to be a hermit

SUEEE MEE ABT ITTTTT✨️

The first time u saw his hair nest and immediately clapped ur hand over u mouth in shock and tried to take a brush to it on sight

He fucking hissed at you.

Feral bitch.

Sage isnt like that all the time, but he was certainly the most distrustful and prickly out of all the Links

(U could smell it was like a defense mechanism from his adventure/past from a mile away, and knew with time that it'd fade away into his true self... like how u just knew Wild that well too)

U are the only person allowed to casually touch him, he shys away from the other Links, let alone strangers,and the first he allowed to help him with his hair

Tbh after u washed it out and got tangles and mats out and cut split ends off etc.

He almost teared up, and was extremely confused why

Def the type to not have realized he felt insecure lowkey abt it until it was fixed (he also was embarrassed to say he didnt rlly know how to take care of it)

Energy of a stray feral cat that leaves dead birds on ur doorstep without fail every morning and u leave a food bowl out in hopes he'll actually be your cat 💀

Extremely protective of you, and eventually the Chain, to the point where he might set someone's hair on fire or use runes on them

Like not enough to seriously injure but enough to scare tf out of ppl and have them running for their lives

(Did he literally growl at someone when they tried to flirt with you?? ... why is Twi encouraging him.)

Was unnerved by Wild at first but slowly got used to him and often butts into whatever private convo u two are having

Like just casually struts up and plops his head on ur shoulder and waits for attention, may complain loudly depending on how grumpy he is that day

(Wild's not getting jealous and constantly hogging u for cooking to get even more time with you what-)

Okay but unfortunately

Once those 2 got comfy with each other, they started tag teaming everyone

Like u can now bet that if an explosion happens in the distance, Sage definitely caused it, and if he's there, then Wild's there making him the explosives

(Same for if Wild's there, then Sage's there)

Def the Link that likes showing the most skin, he "gets overheated easily" - local half naked man justifies his nakedness

(coughtotallynototherreasonslikebeingshirtlessaroundyouallthetimecough)

Absolutely grievous clowning on the other Links, like its getting into bullyinggg 😭

His words are E rated for Everyone, no ones safe not even you

Sage: "wait, all those rings and nobody's ever put one on you? And you've never put on one someone else??🤔🤔"

Legend: ...😦

The rest of the Chain: 💀😭😶

Time, trying to hide he's choking on laughter so hard he's abt to fall into the firepit

Will occasionally team up with Wild to make a protective little border on either side of you while in towns/new Hyrules

U once offered to sing/hum for him after a nightmare while it was ur turn on watch (he sleeps up trees btw) and after u switched off w/other Link, u both went to edge of camp to sleep next to each other and he had the best sleep of his life like that

Now demands begs u to sing him to sleep every night, wont take "i dont sound that good tho" for an answer

Courage (The Legend of Zelda, 1989 Cartoon TV show):

Yeah... he's here too.

Just dont read this tbh

Enjoys being ✨️special✨️ by being the only hero twink out here with brunette hair

Was insecure abt it being curly/wavy until u slowly built his confidence

Bc he's got the most confidence in his strength, but not in much else tbh 😭

Actually will randomly have moments of responsibility or capability you didnt expect out of him bc he can be so silly and jokey all the time

Youll be lost as hell and he just "hey its ok the stars look like this so we go this way" and it works

Like the type of person u sort of avoid relying on bc he's like a playful jock type and then they randomly show theyre the captain of the team for a reason

Dont ask why, but hes good at knitting, shhhh no, no, no explanation he just secretly is he wont even tell u why or how or when he learned this he just "hehe, wouldnt u like to know princeyyy/princesssss/your majestyyyy"

Hyrule, and rest of Chain standing by, went to talk to one of the Great Fairies in a Hyrule once to try and get some info abt where to camp tonight or where nearest town was and before he could get close enough to ask,

Courage was already yelling like "YOOOO BIGGEST FAIRY WHATS UP?! u mind giving some poor lost fellas like us somewhere to go with ourselves tonight??"

They kept talking super casually and she laughed so hard that she let u guys stay near her that night to camp and be under fairy protection like no fairy boy Link needed 💀

Everyone was shocked, and thats how u all found out Courage is rlly good with fairies/their best friend no matter the Hyrule

Every time u guys learn smth new abt him it feels so unexpected, like out of left field or smth

It just never seems to fit his usual persona, or at least not what youd expect from him

So needless to say the first time u guys learned he could talk to magical objects that were powerful enough (like the fucking triforce)-

(this was apparently so normal he literally lived with a piece of it just in his room all the time????)

Has weird mixture of country boy vs. royal prince sensibilities?

It alarmed several Links. 💀

He can talk to Fi.

(Sky and you nearly cried)

Like he lived in the castle alongside Zelda so he inherited some spoiled/etiquette stuff, but he still would absolutely go splash in mud puddles in the rain

Would literally do fucking anything if it meant youd give him a kiss on the cheek

Likes to hug you a lot too, with his huge ass arms lifting u up (no he does not care how much u weigh ur going UP) and spinning u around

Its his favorite, almost as much as kisses

No but he's slay fucking Majora to get a kiss, like it's actually unbelievable and kinda endearing how excited he gets if u promise him one lmao

Koridai (Link: The Faces of Evil):

Omg not them putting Link's name in the title of the gameee i didnt know that 😭😭

Geezzz,, i dont know what im on

But ig heres that other silly ass Link if anyone feels like reading it

Will also fight any god, including Hylia, for a kiss

Actually astoundingly good at strategizing

Like after a few times in heat of battle him organizing Links, Time and Wars practically jumped him to include him in planning shit

He was similar to Courage to in that he just was cracking jokes all the time u didnt expect it, also he's significantly more sarcastic than Courage

U introduced him to dark humor and the laugh he laughed practically burst out of him, he looked shocked by his own laugh lmao

So he also now has a streak of dark humor he shows when u talk for while/sees someone also enjoys it

Its like his not-so-guilty-pleasure

Really good at baking? He apparently learned a lot of miscellaneous skills to better court someone and he now uses them fully to seduce you,

thru gift giving mostly, its is love language besides acts of service :)

(All Links do some amount of acts of service tho <3)

Rlly good at styling hair surprisingly, and at shield surfing??? What

Actually down to try Wild's experimental dishes...

And by that i mean he pranks the rest of you by sneaking the inedible bits into ur food

U may or may not have nearly choked him out for it and now he doesnt do it to you, and even was trying to act all pitiful abt it like "sorry lovely, but i just wanted to tease u bc ur so cute!! 🥺👉👈"

Like,, stfu u little shit 💀

He has the energy of a male orange cat, dont ask why he just is, and specifically the orange cat getting on top of the fridge or stuck between the the screen door and glasss door comically or smth 😭

Hes also loud as hell

One of the worst at stealth unless he just keeps his mouth shut completely, like his whispering is loud

He proclaims his affections very loudly too, like gettin u flowers and chatting ur ear off with what he likes abt u lol

No, like he can go for 20 minutes or more if u let him, u better stop him before he gets into the personality based compliments

Bc those sound wayyy too personal to be aired out in public ngl, like its so soft and domestic itll kill u lol

And he means every word too 👀

☆

I HATE THIS NEW FEATURE OR FUNCTION I SWEAR THIS DIDNT HAPPEN BEFOREEE!!!

😭😭 U ABSOLUTELY KNOW WHAT IT IS BY NOW, IT FUCKING POSTED MY DRAFT BEFORE IT WAS READY TO GO

God fuck this hellsite stop doing this meee

Thats it im just do what i do for the other blog and write it smwhere else and then copy paste onto the post this is ridiculoussss 😒😒

Well anyway, i hope if u read this before i updated and actually FINISHED THIS u come back and read it again!! :(

Sorry guys, but blame tumblr pls before u blame me 😔

(Yeah theres a lot of emojis leave me alone i feel strongly abt this)

Peace out,

🐤 Peep

I think ill start signing off my name ig, unless u guys wanna call me Moon that works too

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year ago

Note

ok here i go full hc prompt🥳🤩🤩

m6 in the ✨✋Future🤚✨ or at least to them, relatively, from their medievaissance-y mixed bag nonspecified time period to something resembling our times! i personally like to consider it still Their World, fictional, which just progressed to look like ours now (it literally makes zero difference to anybody except the inner machinations of my annoying ass but yeah ifykyk) basically yknow shooting a medieval peasant into 2023 & giving him mountain dew type beat

The Arcana HCs: M6 in the Future

~ @tetsuooooooooooo this was so much fun, thank you for sending it in and I hope you enjoy these!! ~

-- for headcanon purposes, MC is from the future and is tasked with taking care of M6 during their 24 hours there --

Julian

It takes him less than two minutes to figure out where (read: when) he is and his response is nothing short of enthusiastic

Please, he's been around the world, and he's got a delightful guide, and he really, really wants to know if his theories about leeches ended up being correct

He actually gets a little emotional when a quick google search shows him how wrong he was and you end up having to take him exploring to cheer him up and distract him from his failures

You have a really hard time explaining to him that clinics don't allow doctors without medical degrees to waltz in and observe random patients getting treatments

You take him to see a movie and he's transfixed

The screen is so big. The actor's faces are so clear. The drama is so much more than anything he could have imagined. And they come with music?? Hums the soundtrack for the rest of the day

If you show him that one version of Jurassic Park with Jeff Goldblum in it Julian will imitate him sporadically afterwards

Enjoys fast food way more than he should. Especially instant noodles. Will spend half an hour trying to pack some to take back

Fascinated by the concept of typing

You hit a button to make the next letter appear instead of writing it? But MC, this means that everything he wants to communicate through text could be easily readable. Imagine!

Freaks out a bit when you try to take him in a car. He's surprisingly comfortable in a metro, though, so you'll have to do with public transportation and bicycles

Oh yeah, he loves bicycles. He only crashed into three trees, a wall, and a stranger's parked car before getting the hang of it

He's convinced that earbuds don't actually play music, they just trick your brain into thinking that you can hear it

Almost exploded when you gave him coldbrew coffee

Asra

They know instantly that they're in a different version of reality. Sure, they've never traveled through time, but they've traveled through plenty of other dimensions

He's the least ruffled, and unfortunately, the least impressed. Don't get him wrong, this looks super cool, but this isn't any more otherworldly to him than the otherworldly places he's already been

Wants to go on a food tour immediately. Not the nice stuff though

No, they want the questionable food. The is-this-going-to-make-me-regret-existing food. The food that, if it was shown in an anime, would be pixelated and have threatening auras around it

So chill about what you tell him to do it's almost concerning

"Here Asra, climb into this four-wheeled hunk of metal that can travel over 100 miles an hour and hold yourself in with a single fabric strap while I pilot this through hundreds of other things just like it, driven by people we don't know and can't predict."

"Cool. Where do I put Faust?"

Don't tell them about edibles unless you want them to spend their day hunting some down and absolutely going to town on them

You swear you saw his hair stand on end the first time he tried popping candy

When you took them to get their radioactive meal (a.k.a. the closest fast food chain with the fewest ethical violations) they insisted on picking up one of every sauce packet to try them all

... and when he saw a nine-year-old mixing two different fountain drinks, he of course grabbed the largest cup available and went down the line so he could taste all of them at once too

You've never seen them this jittery and sugar high, so of course the next place to go is a trampoline park, with the bright lights and loud music and bodies hurtling through the air

He should not be getting the amount of air time that he does

Has a meltdown over modern fluffy blankets. They're so soft

Nadia

Gobsmacked. As in, she's a highly intelligent woman, and therefore able to really wrap her head around what she's seeing

The future!! She's in the future, Arcana help her

But she's got you and she adores you and she knows she can trust you so she's going to be okay. That said, start explaining. Now.

First things first: how's the infrastructure? She can't see any canals or aqueducts. Or fireplaces or lanterns, for that matter, what do you do for light? And cooking? (Cooking uses fire, right?)

Literally cannot walk past anything new without stopping to try to figure out how it works and if there's a way to recreate it herself

Bicycles on a rack? She's spinning the pedal and trying to figure out the balancing dynamics of two-wheeled movement

Almost lost it when she found out that it was possible to lift the hood of a car and look at the engine inside that makes it go. You decided to take her on public transportation instead

Which turned into all kinds of excited brainstorming about public carriages, and gondolas built for 20 people ferrying people along the aqueducts, and new and terrifying uses for the catacombs

Wasn't very impressed with the fashion she saw

She knows what good quality cloth looks like. This is a women who grew up in silks and fine linens, polyester does not impress her

Except for the stretchiness. She does like that

The perfume counter, on the other hand, takes up a good hour and a half of her time. She's smelled plenty of fine scents before, but she's never been in a shop where she could sniff so many at a time

This one smells like Prakra. This one smells like Vesuvia. This one smells like the beach. This one smells like the woods. This one ...

Yeah, it was an excellent opportunity to take a nap, if you're the napping sort. You wake up to her testing perfumes on you because she ran out of space on herself

Gets so frustrated when you explain your government setup to her

Muriel

Oh no, please be very gentle with him

He likes to live in the woods because it is peaceful and quiet and it's one place he doesn't stand out in

He stands out in this place very, very much and he doesn't like it

Refuses to leave the room he appeared in until his appearance is as unremarkable as possible (which is not easy to do, by the way, the man is a mountain. modern clothes in his size are hard to find)

Does not want to go in the car. It's way too fast and it makes him seasick when he closes his eyes to shut it out

Buses are somehow easiest - they feel the least claustrophobic when they're not crowded and it's rude to stare on them

You two end up going to a natural history museum in the middle of a weekday when hardly anybody is there, and he lights up

There are so many animals, and there are enough other people in the world who find those animals interesting that they gathered so much knowledge people had to make a building to hold it all

Has never heard evolutionary theory before and is fascinated by it

Once he starts talking, it's hard for him to stop

He's not being loud at all - you can only hear him so clearly because you two are holding hands so he can't lose you - but he's being quietly submerged in his own special interest and he loves it

He just wishes there weren't so many skeletons. But he's glad the species they belonged to aren't forgotten this way

Long story short, Muriel's inner Nerd is unleashed and he goes hoarse from the amount of murmuring he does all day

Does not like getting food in public. Does not like eating food in public. Does not like being publicly perceived. As soon as it gets into afternoon and it gets busy, he wants to go home

Which is where you show him what the internet is and he's in awe

People can work from home? People can make friends without leaving their house?? People can talk without being seen???

Portia

Spends five minutes hopping in place and squealing into her clothes to let out her nerves and excitement before you can decide what to do

Then insists on taking half an hour to hear you describe every single fun or interesting thing to do so she can make a list

Yes, she's determined to hit every single one in one day

First things first: food. Take her to a cafe and watch her sigh over all the baked goods and sugar-loaded caffeine beverages

Then (if there is one nearby) a mall, so she can see all the stuff that people buy so they can have the lifestyle they do. You have to drag her out of both Bath & Body Words and Bed, Bath, & Beyond

Please, it's full of fluffy fuzzy things and good smelling mystery goo, she wants to live in it also what do you mean "no stopping at the pet store", what even is a "pet store" -

Oh. OH -

You will have to physically pull her away before she adopts all the kittens. She does cry about it later, just a for a bit, they're so cute

Next is a library and cafe, of course, because she lives for books

This place is way bigger than the Palace library! The one in the Palace is just a large room, this is a whole building!! And people get to come here, whenever they want, just to read, for free?! What?!

You had to remind her about the "no loud noises in the library" rule several times. She's doing her best, she's just passionate

Completely demolishes her first chocolate croissant

Goes feral at the amusement park she has you take her to afterwards. This woman is an adrenaline fiend. You're cursing the pop up add for it by the fourth consecutive free fall ride

The only way to get her to leave is to tell her that one of her favorite stories was turned into a movie and that you'd have to go home to watch it. Don't take her to Target to get snacks. She'll disappear

Flicks the lightswitch 30 times in a row because she can

Lucio

He's immediately panicking. Not because he's in the future, no, but because of what it's done to his arm

It's changed. It's not running on magic any more. The only way to resolve his design is for it to be some kind of high-tech electrical prosthetic that even modern scientists would have difficulty with

Once he's adjusted to using it, you're good to go

Lights up like a firework the first time he rides in a car

MC. MC how fast does it go. MC that's a very high number. MC, he wants to drive. Please. Please! Pleeeaaaassssseeee

DO NOT LET HIM DRIVE.

Makes you pull over after seeing ads for Sephora because he's convinced that he could pull off that eye makeup even better

Tries every single makeup sampler and then gets offended when one of the poor employees suggests an anti-aging cream

Him? Aged?? How dare they - oh wait that really does brighten his eyes. He'll take ten, please, they're so small, they can't cost much -

You'll have to pull him out before he sees you use a credit card, because once he does he's going to keep asking to use it and you're not sure he understands why maxing it out is a bad thing

His arm does run out of battery at one point, which does cause some panic. All of a sudden he's stuck with a limp hunk of metal swinging from his shoulder, it's not ideal

You're able to find the retractable charging cable on the side and plug him in, but then he's stuck sitting in the same spot for two hours and a bored Lucio is a dangerous Lucio

There is a solution to this, of course. You can give him an iPad with games on it. He won't move a muscle after that

The caveat is that he will turn into an iPad kid and get glued to every single screen he sees afterwards. You don't know how to fix it

Falls in love with vending machines and tries Cheetos because the leopard on them looks cool. Develops an artificial cheese addiction

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana shitpost #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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smallplaceinthecosmos · 1 month ago

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With wild life completely finished now I feel like I can say definitively that, while all the different wild cards were VERY technically impressive and I absolutely appreciate all the work that went into them, for something like the life series they did take over too much and got in the way of people having fun I think. Impulse said he'd enjoy doing a series that went back to basics with just the three lives again and I agree that likely would have been more engaging to me personally. I caught myself dropping off watching some folks for some of the later episodes - and granted some of that was also a combination of Skizz being my main pov and finals coming up so I'm busier right now! But a lot of it was just that the wild cards kind of took over and it just wasn't as engaging as the earlier seasons were to me.

The only exception to this I think is the superpowers one, and I think that could've been a gimmick for a whole series all on its own and it would have been more entertaining to me. Getting to see people get used to their powers and learning how to use them creatively, maybe with a lot more time and effort put into developing and adding features to the powers to make them more interesting - especially adding more weaknesses and such, maybe making ways for specific people to counter each other or something similar - would have still left room for a lot more character interactions, rivalries and alliances to become more solidified, and still been a very fun new twist on the series to watch. (Maybe that's too similar to the origins mod, but I digress.)

I'm VERY sad to say the snails were the wild card that makes this issue the most obvious. Lots of people died to their snails, in ways that were inevitable (BigB) or unsatisfying or excessive - and a lot of people died to them during the finale (BigB AGAIN poor guy, but also Scar and Impulse for his yellow life I think?); a lot of the wild cards, but especially this one, would have been VERY entertaining for one off videos, but were ill suited to a life series.

Honestly if this life series had been a series of single unconnected videos without the life series stakes attached i think that would've made it a lot better. There was nothing added to these videos being interconnected, and in fact I think having them be, say, single unconnected hardcore challenges would've added to the entertainment value because there wouldn't have been the frustration of getting killed by your snail or dying of starvation multiple times in a row putting you at a disadvantage for the whole rest of the series. I'm thinking of Skizz and Pearl specifically when I say this, but I think unsatisfying deaths like that - ones that were inevitable given the nature of the wild cards and not just bad luck - happened to every player except maybe Gem and Joel.

Less catastrophic wild cards might have worked too. Like the shrinking/growing one was of appropriate magnitude I think, or if the one where you could eat anything had only been randomized once or twice, that might have been good. The time dilation one and all the mobs getting randomized were also ok but I'm pretty ambivalent about them personally. The food randomization as it was, the trivia, and the snails monopolized things too much to let anyone get anything done i think. And as aforementioned the superpowers should have been a longer series on its own imo.

Although honestly I don't know if these issues were forseeable? Or at least if someone presented the concept for wild life to me - even with all the wild cards coded and playtested, with everything ready to go - that I would have been able to predict how much they would take away from that player interaction aspect. This may be one of those things that could only be learned in hindsight. I'm still very much looking forward to any future life series and I still enjoyed this one despite my nitpicking! At the end of the day I just hope Grian remembers that bigger isn't always better and this series was good evidence of that, at least in my personal opinion.

#mcyt #wild life smp #third life #life series #i was talking about this on the imp and skizz discord and it got Long so tumblr gets to see it too #read my essay boy

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yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy · 2 months ago

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What scratches my brain wrong the most, THE MOST, is the all-but-confirmation that Mythal was Andraste and Solas was the Maker. It’s giving “the Force is actually midochlorians”. It’s an explanation that immediately renders itself stupid and lame because the power was in the unknown ambiguity of “maybe, maybe not? Could just be fans being silly.” Stemming from that, most of the revelations of how much shit in Thedas is because of the ancient elves is also far too much for me to swallow in satisfaction because again, the explanation is not satisfying. It renders everything stupid, banal, unambiguous, and then doesn’t even allow you to properly engage with these revelations in any meaningful way because there’s no time, you gotta stop the Evanuris and Solas. Might as well not have revealed anything if that’s how you were gonna go about it. It’s all dropped on you with the brevity of an @everyone discord message in a locked channel with rescinded chat privileges.

But yeah, “Solas as the Maker” just doesn’t jive with me. I prefer the monotheistic god of my Christian adjacent fantasy faiths to in fact be mass hallucinated by people whose primitive brains attribute forces of nature, morality, and fortune as the works of an omnipotent omniscient deity when there is actually being no higher power that governs anything, we’re alone and the universe does not listen or answer. Solas being the Maker is like… ok, yet another thing that’s because of the ancient elves. Can’t attribute anything to human chauvinism forming a faith of their own monkey minds desiring idols and creation myths to worship, no sir.

It would’ve been far more satisfying to hold off on fulfilling every single damn theory fans have been crafting for the past 10 years. In this rare case I would’ve preferred if this had been an idea that they had in the wind-up but ultimately scrapped because people guessed right.

Why do I dislike it? I dislike it because it’s too neat. I dislike it because Solas doesn’t need yet another title or name attached to him. I dislike it because this piling on of “everything is because of the ancient elves” is so much explanation and leaves absolutely no room for wonder or theorycrafting because everything is now conveniently answered. I dislike it because the idea of an elf inspiring a human-majority faith that went on to persecute elves feels gross. I dislike it because, again, it removes independent cultural development from other races. I understand that ancient history goes on to make waves in cultures throughout subsequent millennia and centuries, but couldn’t they have let humans be dumb and dogmatic purely of their own accord and the similarities of Solas and Mythal, Maker and Andraste be thematic rather than indicative? Because that’s how myths actually function in real life. Again, you can argue certain myths exist in some form across many cultures that indicate perhaps a primordial or Ur culture that branched off, but that is because we’re humans. Elves and humans are different races, born and coming into existence in different ways, so you could easily just make it so that the similarities are just similarities, not actually directly descendent from the other.

Is there literally anything anyone has done that isn’t because of them, or is this the ‘easy way out’ answer that was clearly recycled from Mass Effect 3 with the Protheans? I see you, Bioware. Don’t think I can’t catch on to your increasingly predictable storytelling patterns.

This is me purelyyyyy bitching and my personal preference.

#datv critical #bioware critical

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popodoki · 6 months ago

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Catwin NSFW sex shop thingie, part 2 of 3 because '1 of 2'?? Who am I kidding amiright x

first part here: https://popodoki.tumblr.com/post/756082294294544384/new-day-new-nsfw-catwin-x-content-description

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“My name’s Thomas, by the way,” the other man offers, still smiling, as he takes the box from Edwin’s hands, “follow me.” He adds, walking away to another side door, box under his arm, gesturing Edwin inside with a theatrical sweep of his free arm. Edwin walks into what he assumes is the staff break room. Not that he takes much note of it, crossing straight to the three-person couch against the far wall, eyes flicking to the coffee table, two single chairs across from it, back to the table, as he sits at the other’s prompting. The box gets placed on the low table, and Edwin nods politely when the man, Thomas, excuses himself for a moment, leaving the room to close the front door. Before Edwin can spiral too far into doubts of what exactly is happening here, what is he doing, the other returns, sits on the other end of the couch. Edwin notes the sufficiently respectable distance, and that, along with the way the other reaches for the box that started it all, with a reassuring neutral expression, actually helps ease Edwin somewhat. By the time the box sits innocently on Thomas’s lap, and hands start to lift the lid, Edwin is far less nervous as he predicted he’d be. Still quite embarrassed, though.

He can only stand to peek from the side, as the vibrator is taken out of the box, colour almost violently pink in the gentle lamplight. He blushes, worse than he did when he unwrapped it himself for the first time, seeing it held in someone else’s hands, Thomas’s hands. Putting the empty box back on the coffee table, Thomas holds the vibrator at the base with one hand, while he turns sideways on the couch, knee bending and angling his body towards Edwin.

“First things first, this right here,” Thomas starts, waving the vibrator in his hand, “is a rabbit vibrator, meant for women. That’s your problem, ok.” Before Edwin can reply, verbally, the blood rushing to his cheeks undoubtedly visible enough already, an answer in itself, Thomas continues. “Second, hey, it is a much more common mistake than you think, so don’t sweat it. I get it, I do. Internet sex toy purchase, your first, I presume? You’re embarrassed, so you’re rushing it before your courage runs out, you’re clicking and adding to cart and paying before you can chicken out.” Edwin just nods, in tandem with Thomas, as he explains exactly what happened to land Edwin on this particular couch. Thomas keeps his tone professional, neutral, and Edwin finds himself clinging to the sense of normalcy that the other creates. This is normal. He’s a customer, he’s getting customer service. He can get through this.

“And then you end up with a women’s vibrator, and you can’t get it to work properly, cause this bit right here,” Thomas holds up the vibrator as he speaks, pointing, running his finger along the smaller extension that protrudes from the base alongside the main, bigger silicone shaft, “is there to stimulate a clit, which I’m guessing you don’t have. And now you’re here, and you must be so pent up, you poor thing.” Edwin’s knee jerks, when Thomas gently places his hand just above it, palm squeezing, equally gently if no less shocking. “You’ve come to the right place sweetheart, I can definitely help you.” Thomas’s hand stays on Edwin’s thigh, burning hot through his pants at every single point of contact, as Thomas’s upper body leans away, vibrator placed back into the box on the table, as he continues to talk. “So, that’s either a refund, or you can exchange it right here for whichever you prefer once we’re done. Let me know, later, okay? Right now, I just need a few things for the demonstration.”

Edwin’s not sure if that is a part of regular customer service. Edwin is sure, however, that he must’ve said that out loud, because Thomas chuckles and his head is suddenly really close as he whispers back “Wouldn’t call it regular customer service sweetheart, but I pride myself on going above and beyond, and this is a service I most certainly won’t mind providing.” Edwin doesn’t know quite what kind of face he pulls at the other’s flirting words and tone, but he does notice the immediate shift in Thomas, as he leans back and puts a respectful distance back between them again, leaving Edwin blinking dazed from one moment to the next.

“Okay, maybe actually first first things first. Your name?”

“Edwin.”

“You okay?”

“I. Yes?”

Thomas gazes at him in silence, eye sweeping him from top to bottom. By the time he finally talks again, he’s bitten down and swiped his tongue over his lip no less than three times, and Edwin’s own bottom lip is no better off. But his breathing, that Edwin himself hadn’t noticed picking up in nerves, has noticeably slowed down to a normal level, and that seems to be the thing Thomas was waiting for.

“Are you okay?” He asks again.

“Yes.” Is Edwin’s answer.

“You're cute, Edwin. I like em cute. A demonstration,” Thomas emphasizes the word, drawing it out while his upper body draws nearer to Edwin again, “is decidedly not a part of customer service. But I’m offering, cause well, I’m selfish, and I am definitely not lying when I say it’s a service I want to provide. If you say no, we walk right out and to the counter and you get good old regular customer service. I’ll refund or exchange the vibe for something better, and you can go right on home. But say yes, say yes and I’ll show you all the possible ‘something betters’, let you try them out, try them out on you, show you exactly how they’re supposed to work, on men. Are you pent up enough to let me, Edwin?”

Edwin had ordered the toy about eleven days ago. He got it in the mail, in a nondescript plain brown box, not two days later. He left it sitting on his bedside table for twice that many days, before he opened it and took out the vibrator. He left the vibrator itself lying on his bedside table for another day, before he made himself put in the required batteries. Reminding, remembering, how he finally, actually managed to gather up enough courage to turn it on, try it out, only to end up frustrated and confused, leaves the same embarrassing taste of inexperience on his lips, as relaying all of that out loud to Thomas. It’s a small blessing, that the other man is content to listen quietly, attentively, nodding along at appropriate intervals, only offering a mildly amused smile as Edwin admits it also took him multiple tries to enter the shop. If Edwin hadn’t left the shoulderbag on the counter...

“We wouldn’t be in for a nice afternoon,” Thomas quips, brushing his hand along Edwin’s arm, patting his hand when he’s travelled all the way down, and using the handhold to push himself up off the couch, “I reckon, after all of that frustration, you’ve more than earned this. Or should I say, these...” Thomas’s voice trails off into the distance, as he walks out of the room and into the main storefront, and Edwin guesses even beyond, as he can hear more than one door opening somewhere in the distance.

Edwin spares a thought to possible sex shop employee training, as Thomas manages to enter the room, arms laden with various packages crinkling in his grip, at exactly the right moment to break Edwin’s thoughts before they spiral, again. As impossibly embarrassed as he still very much is, Edwin can think of far worse things to do with his time, than watching an attractive man show and explain a range of sex toys to him.

“Take of your shoes. To start with.” Thomas winks at him, smiling reassuringly. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Edwin had almost completely managed to not think about the actual implications of what Thomas offered him. ‘Try them out, try them out on you.’ Yes. That would require Edwin to take off his shoes. To start with.

Edwin takes off his shoes.

In his peripheral vision, he registers Thomas doing the same, maybe more, but his own head stays pointed at the coffee table, nearer now that he’s bent forward over his knees. Thomas has big, long arms, he muses, blinking rapidly while taking in the many different boxes and bottles on the table. Perhaps sensing Edwin’s hesitance, or just seeing his shoulders rise minutely, Thomas offers a comforting touch, as he pulls Edwin back, to lean against the back of the couch, with one warm hand, broadcasting his intent with slow obvious movement of his other hand towards the top button of Edwin’s shirt. He murmurs a reassuring “we don’t have to use all of these, Edwin, I just figured I show you the options out there, okay?” and smiles wide again, almost endearingly so, when Edwin lets him undress him, open button after button, offers nothing save a few nods in return, along with an encouraging shrug of his shoulders when Thomas begins to slide his shirt off, after he’s finished unbuttoning it. Edwin silently watches Thomas neatly fold it, place it on the small bit of free space on the coffee table, then pull his own faded band shirt off in a single tug, flinging it carelessly to the floor. There’s no time for Edwin to start feeling self-conscious, no time to compare his own creamy skin, slender chest, to Thomas’s wider, tanned upper body. Before Edwin has made more than a passing glance at the other man’s body on display, the entire length of it is pressed to his own.

Edwin tries to kiss back, the moment his shock clears enough, but he’s not sure if he’s doing it right, seeing as how making out with a near total stranger on a couch is decidedly not something he normally does, but no complaints pass Thomas’s lips. Not that there’s any space between them for even air to escape, save for the occasional wet gasp that gets smothered, swallowed again by the insistent press of lips on his. It’s not Edwin’s first kiss. But it’s the first that feels like this. Thomas’s head keeps shifting, tilting, changing the angle, with his nose tickling Edwin’s face, cause the other barely leaves the space to properly manoeuvre, and Edwin doesn’t have any to give, seeing how he’s fairly plastered to the couch. It’s an overwhelming wave of warmth, wet and nearly rough in all the right ways, as a tongue licks over the back of his teeth, flicks over his own. All Edwin can do is follow, seemingly always a second behind, stuck reacting to a passionate kiss that is being given to him, generously, eyes fluttering as the room begins to blur and all he can focus on is Thomas’s lips, his tongue. Edwin’s head ends up tilted backwards, pressed firmly to the back of the couch, with Thomas’s lips on his keeping him there as his mouth is almost lazily yet no less intensely explored. He’s vaguely aware of Thomas’s hands running over his shoulders, arms, down and back up, down. Warm palms slide from his lower arms to his hips, fingers teasing over the stretch of skin just above the waistband of his pants. A knee presses, kneads into his crotch, pulling a jerk from his hips and making Edwin turn his face away and out of their lip-lock to shudder in a breath. Though Thomas leans back and shoots him an inquiring look, the knee stays. It starts to grind, in little circles, nudges, of increasing pressure. Pressure met by Edwin’s cock, straining against the other side of the zipper.

Edwin would flush bright red, if all the blood hadn’t already travelled down. Thomas seems to relish the reaction, and Edwin supposes this is how the current situation should be going, but he still has to fight the urge to cover his lap with his hands. He’s given a little reprieve, though the urge to squirm increases tenfold right after, as he watches Thomas lean backwards and sift through the bottles and tubes on the coffee table. The tube in the other’s hand is simultaneously familiar and unknown to Edwin, so he’s glad that Thomas starts explaining as soon as he’s back in position. It means that the knee in between Edwin’s thighs starts right back up on the kneading circles, but Edwin still manages to catch the gist of it. By the time Thomas finishes describing the kind of lube he’s holding, his fingers have unbuttoned the top of Edwin’s pants, and the zipper is pinched between fingertips, slowly dragged down. It’s almost like an out-of-body experience for Edwin, who finds himself raising his hips when prompted, lifting his legs, shaking off the fabric of both his pants and underwear as soon as they’ve dropped down enough by gravity, and sitting back, all in silence. Until he feels a finger under his chin, tilting his face up, to peer into Thomas’s eyes holding a mix of amusement and concern.

“Still okay?”

Edwin nods.

“You know what I’m holding?” Another nod. “And you’re okay with me using it on you? You’re going to tell me the moment you stop being okay with any of this?” Edwin’s head keeps bobbing along with every question.

“Quiet one, aren’t you?” Thomas’s finger slips, turns into a grip on Edwin’s chin that he can’t shake or nod himself out of. “That’s alright,” he assures Edwin, as he smoothly rids himself of his own pants with one hand, leaving him in black boxers, “I’m quite well versed in body language.” He winks. And then Edwin watches as Thomas spreads a generous helping of lube on his hand, which lowers and wraps itself around Edwin’s erection, and Edwin doesn’t think he could speak a single word in any language if his life depended on it. The noise that escapes him sounds like the porn actress in the first clip on pornhub, that he opened in the name of research on how to use his ‘rabbit vibrator’ (and really, it should have tipped him off right then and there that the vibrator he ordered was for women, and women only) but he has no time to get embarrassed cause the sensation on his cock just doesn’t stop. Edwin gasps and just keeps on gasping, making little ‘ah, aah’ noises on every exhale that he just can’t hold back, as Thomas pumps his hand up and down his twitching cock, spreading the warming, cooling, tingling lube all over his shaft. The sensation of having a hand that’s not his own pumping his cock is a whole new kind of pleasure on its own, the alien feeling of the lube added to that, make Edwin feel like he’s about to come hard, and fast, way too fast. He still can’t quite manage to get his throat to clear, form words instead of moans, desperate bitten off noises, small little “nnh, nh”s collecting behind his clenched teeth, but his hand shooting down his body and clamping around Thomas’s wrist does the trick just as well.

Only Thomas doesn’t stop.

By the time Edwin’s blinked the white spots out of his vision, Thomas is sucking a second hickey into his neck. “What’s the rush?” Thomas mumbles against his skin. At Edwin’s questioning noise, he continues, “You got somewhere to be?” Edwin shakes his head minutely, hips twitching when he realizes that Thomas still has his slick hand wrapped around Edwin’s soft cock. “Enjoy the ride, then. Point of foreplay is to get you relaxed. Penetration’s only part of the show, y’know.” Thomas’s head leans into view, and he chuckles at Edwin’s confused expression. “Did you think I was just going to shove a few bits of silicone up your ass, pump it about a bit, send you home with whichever fills your cheeks the best? Or, ooh, I see.” he drawls, as if he’s figured it all out just from Edwin’s expression. Edwin himself doesn’t even know what face he’s pulling. He gets a slight sense of pity coming off of the other though, and his heart starts to beat just a bit faster in his chest when Thomas continues. “You think it’s a one-and-go thing, think just because you’ve came, play time’s over? Oh, Edwin,” the hand on his cock squeezes, gentle but firm, and Edwin feels the clench travel and spread warmth all the way up his spine as his cock throbs despite having come just minutes ago, “sweetheart, we’re just getting started.”

#dead boy detectives #dbda #catwin #cat king #edwin payne #dbda fanfic #sex shop au

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