#and how exactly they would be getting out out of trouble. That would have been more fun.

[wondersimp]

He Tries

Unless it's for patrol, Jason Todd rarely leaves Crime Alley.

Most of your relationship together consists of home dates. Going out means a walk around the neighborhood, maybe a trip to the local Batburger if you're feeling adventurous. Anything beyond that is like pulling teeth with him.

He's not exactly a recluse, but his time after the Lazarus pit has made his paranoia reach the same levels as Bruce's and so he's rather stay within his home turf.

Despite the name, Crime Alley was his safe zone. It's where he grew up. He knows the people, the streets, has every nook and cranny there is to find memorized. Outside of the area? It's a minefield. Too many variables for him to account for.

He's already uncomfortable with how others view him. The fact that he's built like a tank alone makes him self-conscious, (We're not even getting into his autopsy scars.) Dealing with his family is stressful enough, so trying to interact with people he doesn't know or trust, and on top of unfamiliar territory? Fuck that, it's not worth the hassle. He'll stick to what he's familiar with, thank you very much.

Eventually, people in your social circle start to notice, and they have questions. Why is it so rare to see you two together at social gatherings? How come you always have to run errands on your own? When will they actually get to meet the guy?

His absence will be interpreted as his not caring, and they'll start to speculate the seemingly low-effort he puts into your relationship. Shouldn't he make more of an effort, plan for more elaborate dates? Maybe he's not as invested in the relationship. They might even hint that he's not worth the time, and it's time to cut your losses. Maybe find someone more dedicated and serious about pursuing a future together.

You promptly tell those people to go and fuck off.

Look, this man has been through hell and back. He's died and come back to life with a serious case of trauma as a souvenir. Before you, he never intended to step foot into civilian life again.

But for you? Oh God does he try.

You can tell when you catch him one morning psyching himself up to pick you up from a group hangout. You can tell in the way he finally agrees to try that cafe by your work and never lets go of your hand. His knuckles will be white from how hard he’s gripping the counter, but the one around your hand could not be more gentle. You can tell when he works up the courage to introduce you to Alfred, despite still having trouble with anything connected to his life in the Wayne family.

You definitely know when one day you find yourself required to attend a Wayne Gala for your job. Surrounded by Gotham's highest elites has you feeling out of place and absolutely terrified of making the slightest misstep, so you call your boyfriend for a pep talk. The second he clocks in on your anxiety, the man's on his way and arriving in minutes, a suit and tie haphazardly thrown on (fitting him WAY too well) and his hair wild from the drive up on his bike as he’s scanning the room for you.

This was the man that would rather take a crowbar to the knee then spend a night among Gotham's socialites. Not even Mr. Pennyworth himself could get him to go. Yet here he is with an arm around your waist as you navigate around the crowded ballroom. He'll be stiff as a board the entire time and speak only a handful of words in total to the other guests, but he never stops the slow circles he makes on your side with his thumb.

You know Jason has his personal demons, and things that were no big deal for others was an incredible struggle for him. You also knew that there was nothing he wouldn't fight through if it was for you. Whether it be an army or himself, he'd always continue to try.

For a life with you, he'd learn to live again.

And that was more then you could ever ask for.

A/n: Was it good? Was it bad? Heck if I know, but gotta show my love for Mr. Jason Todd somehow :P

[bedheaded-league]

I really feel like any modern adaptation of Holmes that has him suffer from exactly the same type of drug addiction he has in canon is missing a really big point: Holmes had bipolar disorder and likely also ADHD in an era before any meaningful treatment for either of those disorders existed.

I have ADHD and depression and I can absolutely see myself getting addicted to hard drugs if I didn't have access to therapy and medication. Both of these conditions are unbearable to live with unmedicated (or at the very least, bearable until you inevitably burn yourself out and crash spectacularly) and it would have been even worse for someone living before anyone even had a basic understanding of how they worked. Even beyond medication, there are so many ways I've learned to cope with my mental illness that I only know about because these are things that people have been studying about for years and we can openly talk about them now. I've gone to support groups for depression/bipolar and I've found community with other ADHD people, and in both instances I've learned so many helpful things about how to manage my conditions and make my life easier. Holmes had none of that.

Cocaine is his main vice, which makes perfect sense - it's a stimulant. And I love this post by @thehmn, which puts it perfectly:

The way that Holmes' drug use is described makes it very clear that he's not doing cocaine for fun, he's self-medicating. He starts to go crazy if he's bored for too long, which is textbook ADHD. Being bored for any prolonged period with ADHD feels like actual fucking torture.

And the morphine makes sense for his bipolar disorder, since it provides a sense of euphoria - perfect for countering his infamous "black moods." It might also help to quiet his brain.

So with all of this in mind, I just can't imagine that a modern day Holmes, with access to Adderall and mood stabilizers/antidepressants, would have the same reliance on cocaine and morphine. It's possible that he might have had troubles with addiction in the past, but if he hadn't gotten a proper diagnosis/prescription by the time he met Watson, there's no way that any doctor worth their salt wouldn't immediately clock him as undiagnosed ADHD/bipolar and insist he get on proper meds.

That isn't to say he wouldn't still be some sort of an addict, though. I just think his modern day addictions would be different. He would definitely still be a smoker, and I think his main addiction would be caffeine. Instead of Watson despairing over him injecting morphine, it would be Watson watching in horror as Holmes slams back his third energy drink of the day (he has not eaten any real food since a single slice of toast at 6am). His go-to coffee order is a cappuccino with four shots of espresso. He pulls out a large flask at cases and the yarders are like "What the fuck, are you drinking on the job?" And Watson just sighs a very long-suffering sigh and tells them that it's actually Redbull.

[captainthisshipinmyhead]

A Helping Hand- S. Aizawa

Shota Aizawa x AFAB!Reader

Summary: It's a sex pollen fic, I think we're all familiar with the concept at this point.

CW: smut, coercion/dubcon (since it's sex pollen, but swear they want it), unprotected p in v sex (don't be dumb), missionary, oral (f rec), NSFW!!!! DNI if you’re a minor WC: 6,991

A/N: Yayyyy I worked on this one for so long!! I have the most trouble with ending fics so it took me a long time and idk if I'm totally satisfied with it but it's the best I've got. Picture found on Pinterest but unfortunately could not find the artist name... so sorry but please comment/tag the artist if you are able! **Y/H/N= your hero name, Y/N = your name but I'm sure you're aware ;)

You walked along the barren city street, with swinging arms and a tune in your brain as you patrolled the practically empty area. The section of the city you were in really only sees business and foot traffic midday, when the corporate buildings on the outer parts of the city are open and the people working in them come out to get refreshments from the small mom-and-pop cafes dotting the streets. By sunset, this area is usually clear- businesses locked up and lights off. This is the scene you were surveying now. You couldn’t wait until you had more than just a year’s experience under your belt as a pro hero, then maybe you would be recruited for patrol in more interesting parts of the city- maybe you’d stop a lot more villains! The thought snapped you back to the present, as you realized that in order to get where you want to be you had to be vigilant in the here and now, no matter how boring it may be. 

You thought of the faceless villain that was currently on everyone’s radar, and who everyone wanted to put behind bars at the moment. There had been reports for a few weeks now of a villain hitting some heroes in attacks with a very, very strange quirk. This villain is suspected to be working alone, and with the little that is known about him it is unclear if he has any intentions other than incapacitating the heroes he encounters. The quirk they possessed was……well, to be quite honest, still kind of a mystery to you.  Everyone who had previously been affected by it and lived seemed to be so…secretive? No, no that wasn’t the right word. Ashamed? Ashamed seemed more like what the poor pro heroes who had suffered the quirk felt when their experience was over. A few had died from the quirk when the villain had first gotten on the scene. The unfortunate martyrs had taught the doctors what was needed to eliminate the effects on the body and save the lives of those that came after them. You didn’t know exactly what it was the cure was for being struck by the quirk, but you knew that it was commonly known above more higher-ranking heroes as well as any healers that worked with heroes, so you weren’t too concerned. If you or someone you knew got hit with it, someone would be able to help you, you were sure. Ever since those first unlucky few, those that followed had all pulled through with this “cure”. Being as new as you were on the scene, you didn’t get told every little detail of everything that went on on the streets, not yet anyway. You knew that one day you’d work your way up the hero rankings and be a role model for kids around the world, but you’d start slow. Which was why, for the time being, you didn’t care if you were a newbie on some “need-to-know basis” status– one day, you’d be high in the rankings and save countless lives.

You began walking around the corner of a building onto the next city block. You had still had your head turned to the street you were leaving, however, so you bumped into someone seemingly walking in the opposite direction. Apologies were leaving your lips before you’d even brought your eyes up to meet theirs. You’d barely been able to get out two words before you began to choke, though. 

When your gaze focused on the person standing in front of you, still choking, you watched a too-wide grin spread devilishly across a sunken face. The reddish-pink cloud of– smoke? Dust?-- was still thick in front of your face, but it had dissipated just enough to see their large teeth glint in the late afternoon sun. You grabbed at your throat as if you were truly choking, trying to capture a breath that didn’t suck down another mouthful of that tainted air. You were utterly useless, pathetic, as your knees buckled and you took staggering steps toward the person you were SURE was the villain who had claimed so many victims as of late, fitting the description of his attacks to a tee. Normally, you were much more lithe and quick- having the speed and agility of a cheetah has its perks. But it appeared as if the substance he emitted had affected not just your respiration, but your body seemed weak as well. He slipped away easily, your brain barely registering your disappointment in yourself that you couldn’t do more. Your vision was going black around the edges, so you slumped to the cracked street, hoping that you could calm down enough to ask for an assist. 

After about a full minute of slowly pulling in clean air, your vision was beginning to clear and you were able to activate your earpiece to call for help of any nearby heroes on patrol who weren’t too occupied at the moment. Your voice was gravelly from the amount of coughing you’d done, and it began to take on a strange breathy, husky tone that you weren’t sure you were intending. You almost sounded sultry. But that’s ridiculous. You also couldn’t help but notice how hot your body was starting to feel. As if you had a bad sunburn, your skin was warm to the touch and felt like it was burning from the inside out. It was becoming painful, you realized. And your breathing… oh god, again your breathing was changing- speeding up to short breaths and gasps, feeling as though you couldn’t get quite enough oxygen in, but it was different than a few moments before. It wasn’t so much as if you were choking anymore but like you were exerting yourself. You figured you’d hold off to tell anyone that until they arrived in person…. You were sure the entire city’s hero network on patrol and on call didn’t care for you to drone on about details when they were probably all busy themselves. 

So you kept it short and sweet, and you let them know you suspected an attack from that villian who’d been going on a rampage lately and you just needed someone to help you get to medical to get fixed up.

With a truly impressive speed, you heard the comms activate in response. A man’s voice burst to life in your ear. “Y/H/N? Stay where you are, I’m close to you. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” That voice, it was familiar… It was broody and deep, it was….sexy. You shook your head and reprimanded yourself internally. That voice that was so familiar, sexy as it was, shouldn’t be distracting you at the time. You should focus on getting your breathing under control and taking a hold of your senses in case any other villains popped up in attack. You couldn’t stop replaying the timbre of the man’s voice though, thinking it sounded almost like Eraser- 

No, you cut your thoughts off forcefully, You’re thinking with your-rather feverish- body at the moment instead of your head. 

Surely the hero coming to help you out wasn’t the one man you had a disgustingly desperate crush on- that had to be wishful thinking, some fantasy conjured up by your love sick mind. He’s your coworker, and while he’d been nothing but nice to you each time you’d seen him you’d only had a few conversations that you severely overanalyzed in your head. When some of the pro heroes went out for drinks after shifts some evenings, it’s like he got awkward when you arrived and drifted to the sidelines, choosing to watch rather than engage. It made you wonder if he didn’t quite like you, and the thought of that being a possibility made you sad.

“Eraserhead? You sure? If you need backup I think I’m only a couple blocks behind you, just let me know,” a female hero’s voice in the comms responded to the one before it.

 Oh god. Oh god, oh shit, oh fuck. It was him. Exactly as you dreaded, the man who was currently on his way to your aid was Eraserhead of all people. If you didn’t keel over and die from the quirk’s effects themselves, you might just die of embarrassment from knowing that your personal hero, and man that you had a not-so-small crush on, was coming to help you in such a vulnerable and powerless state. You felt so puny and helpless, you could almost cry. You also felt…. turned on. God, were you sick in the head? Why were you getting turned on at a time like this? And… and had your cycle come early or was that increasingly damp spot between your legs coming from something else? Your mind was running circles, thinking desperately of ways to just calm the fuck down before Eraser showed up that you hadn’t been paying the most attention to your surroundings, and the dark figure who dropped onto the sidewalk merely 2 feet from your burning hips startled a squeak out of you. Taking in the person, you sighed in relief and also internally went into panic mode as you saw that it was him, peering down at you warily, as if he weren’t sure if the quirk you were under was contagious or something. You were able to get out a “thank you for coming” before he knelt down and softly placed a hand on your elbow. 

“Can you stand?” He asked, and you nodded shakily. As he helped you to your feet, a soft breeze blew from behind him, picking up his hair and scarf and wafting his scent right into your face. It was musky, and slightly sweet, a little bit spicy and so very manly. Your teeth ground against each other and your thighs clenched tightly as you just barely concealed a whine from your companion. God, you needed to get yourself TOGETHER. Your silly little crush on Eraser had never been this bad, you’d never been so unable to control your inappropriate thoughts in public like this before. You’d certainly never had such a visceral reaction. You could feel Eraser’s eyes on you, studying your features from closer than he’d ever been before. You saw in your periphery that his eyebrows were pinched together in the middle, concern shattering his usually cool expression. That was worrisome to you, so you began to babble out questions.

“Eraser? What is it? Do I look really bad or like– I, I mean like, as in the quirk attack! Does it look bad?”

He didn’t meet your eyes for a second, his own still making its rounds across every crease in your skin before coming to rest on your gaze. He took his time in answering, making your anxiety spike. 

“You don’t…. Look bad, Y/H/N, but I can tell you’ve been hit by the quirk hard. Here, let’s get you inside. Somewhere cool, huh? You’re probably burning up.” 

You nodded in agreement, lips coming together in a small pout as Eraserhead looped an arm around your waist and pulled your arm over his shoulder. You felt like a child, but at the same time, a sick little part of your brain whispered at the edge of reason that you liked it, that this felt good. Every inch of his body that pressed up against yours felt like a fire poker sticking you in the point of contact. You’d never felt such heat in your life. Your knees were wobbling, thighs trembling from the effort of trying to walk while keep them tightly together, for fear of anymore… untimely arousal leaking out. The last thing you’d want was for him to notice. Not only would that be embarrassing but he’d probably think you were a perv, too! You didn’t think you could handle that. Eraser was so mature and no-nonsense, he’d instantly lose respect for you if he knew your…predicament. 

But what if he likes it?  

The voice came from a dark corner of your mind, and you gave your head a tiny shake as if to make the thought dissolve. The effort was futile though, as the voice came back stronger. 

What if it turns him on to know how wet you are just thinking about him? What if he wants to fuck you too, you little perv? You act all coy and innocent but all you really want if his big fucking fat di- 

You shook your head again, a tiny whisper of the word “no” fell from your lips. You could see Eraser again in the corner of your eye, face still a mask of concern as he noted the sweat breaking out at your hairline. You still hadn’t  been able to control your breathing fully, and you’d been walking slowly with his assistance for a few minutes now. He gently tugged you toward a new apartment building that hadn’t quite opened to the public yet, though it appeared to have finished construction. He continued to guide you until he reached a completed room with a door that he closed behind the two of you. 

“Okay, Y/H/N, talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling currently.” He loosened his grip on your waist, helping you prop yourself against the wall. 

You couldn’t possibly tell him how your pulse picked up into overdrive because he smelled sexy. You gulped, thinking of something to say that would satisfy him that wasn’t lying. 

“It’s.. so hot… and I’m… it’s sticky. No, no! Not like, me… like, like the air… because it’s so fucking… fucking hot…” You panted, bending at the waist and bracing your hands on your knees. You couldn’t help how wanton you sounded. You also couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped you when Eraser rolled his sleeves up and you saw his forearms, corded with lean muscle from years of hero work. God, had he always had that vein there? Your mouth watered as the thought of biting down on it entered your head. His hand came up, snapping in front of your eyes to bring your focus back to him. To the conversation at hand, really. 

“Eraser….” you panted, trying to meet his eyes. “Do you know what’s happening to me? Please…. Please, I just… I don’t feel right. It’s starting to hurt.” 

“Y/H/N, this question might seen odd or out of line considering we’re coworkers, but are you also feeling… aroused? Sexually?”

Your pulse jumped and your eyes flew up to meet his as he gazed steadily at your face. Was he asking because it’s related to the quirk, or was he asking because he wanted to fu-

You gulped and nodded your head, not seeing any reason to lie. 

You noticed the subtle twitch of muscle near his eye. He had winced, but he gave a brief nod in return as he set his jaw. 

“The villain that attacked you has a lust quirk. It makes the victim be overcome with lust until it’s unbearable. If you don’t receive a cure in time, the quirk raises your body temperature and heart rate so much that your body can’t handle it and begins to shut down. It’s not fatal to anyone gets the cure after being infected as long as you’re taken care of within a few hours of being hit. You aren’t feeling great now, but if we delay getting you care then your chances of survival are lower.” 

You- what?  A lust quirk? Well that certainly did explain how your body was reacting to being in the presence of your hero crush. Normally, you weren’t this disgustingly horny outside of the sanctuary that was your bed. 

“Oh… okay, so… get me to the cure. P-please,” you croaked, barely slurping back the saliva that your mouth was producing as you stared at the handsome man in front of you. 

“It’s… the quirk requires that the person who is affected engage in- ehm- sexual relations with another. Until completion, sometimes from both parties. I can take you to Recovery Girl, but I stopped to give you a brief breather while I gathered the contact info of someone that you may be able to call to… help you… deactivate the quirk’s effects. A boyfriend or girlfriend?” Despite Eraser’s no-nonsense manner, he still stuttered a bit with explaining the “cure” for the quirk. It pleased you to know that he still had some shame regarding such a sensitive situation. And if you were fully within your right mind, you also would have noticed the faint pink coloring creeping up the sides of his face as he let you absorb what he had just said.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you hung your head as you uttered out a defeated, “no one,” to the floor. Even though your voice had been low, he nodded and reached back out to steady your wobbly form. 

“There are some who are aware of the effects at Recovery Girl’s place, maybe one of them can help with the situation. They’re very professional from what I’ve heard, and discreet. You have nothing to be–” 

Your voice, breathy and whiny even to your own ears, cut him off. “What about you?” 

He faltered in his speech, and shook his head. “No, I haven’t um.. Been someone who has relieved anyone of this specific quirk before. It’s probably best if we get-”

You interrupted him again, this time by keeling over and falling onto your knees with a groan. Your arms clutched tightly at your midsection, which was burning worse now, so much worse, and the reproductive organs you possessed…. God, why did they ache so badly? It felt like they were twisting around one another, so tightly it was cutting off the circulation inside. Your eyes still squeezed shut in pain, you whimpered and began to beg. 

“Please, please…. Eraser, I won’t tell anyone, just PLEASE I’m begging you… everything hurts so bad.., want it to stop, please stop it. I need it, I need you to… I need you, please…” You were babbling, and your distress had risen to a point where you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how you were coming off to him.  His eyes were wide as he listened, arms frozen in the air, outstretched toward your frame. 

“I… I don’t want to be taking advant–” 

“You’re NOT, Eraser, I swear I NEED you to fu–” 

“Okay! Okay, alright. I understand what’s at stake here. It seems your body is progressing rapidly and time is of the essence anyway. We are going to have a conversation about this when you’re fully recovered but… Okay, I’ll help you.” 

His hands softly cupped your elbows and guided you to sit on the bare floor. He quickly unwound his scarf from around his neck, extending it out to you. 

“To put under your head. Lay down and get comfortable.” 

Your thighs clenched once again at the suggestion of the command. You could tell he noticed, his eyes flicking down to the movement for just a millisecond. Another tiny whimper fell from your lips as you grabbed the scarf from him and bunched it up behind your head, lying down as he had instructed. He kneeled in front of you, noting the way your body squirmed uncontrollably. 

“I’m going to start slow, okay?” 

Your head nodded frantically as you hummed. You wanted to close your eyes and savor the feeling when his fingertips landed lightly on your ankles, but you couldn’t resist watching him touch you with such reverence. His fingers skated up the sides of your legs, so slowly your hips were wriggling with anticipation as they came to the waistband of your form fitting hero pants. 

His eyes had never once left yours while he’d done this, and now he raised his eyebrows at you in question– asking for consent. 

“Yes, yes, please. Please touch me, do… do anything you want,” you said breathlessly. It spilled out of you before you could worry that you sounded too desperate. If you had been more aware, you’d have noticed how his eyes darkened and his mouth went slack at your words. But you didn’t notice. No, all you could look at was the fingers that were now on either side of your hips, hooking into the fabric bunched up there and sliding the material down your legs. 

There was a brief moment of relief when the cool air inside the building touched your sweaty skin, now exposed. But it quickly vanished as the heat caught back up to you. You resumed your wriggling, and Eraser brought his hands back to your hips, tightening his grip and holding them in place. 

“Stop moving so much, Y/H/N. I know it’s hard, but let me help you.”

You nodded, trying to quell the movement. One of his hands made its way down to your core, now bare. Look, there’s no room in that tight hero suit for panties, okay? 

You shuddered as his fingertips ghosted down your slit and then up again. Your mouth began to form pleas again, but before you spoke, he did. 

“Shhhh. Let me help you. Let me take care of you, sweet girl, okay? Let me make you feel good.”

Holy shit. Holy shit, holy fuck. That was definitely doing something to you. Sweet girl ? If his fingers had lingered on your soaked slit a second longer you thought that might have sent you over the edge, even after barely having been touched. 

You shivered again, moaning a little. He took this as a sign of encouragement, and pressed his thumb on the underside of your clit. FUCK. That… that was heavenly. You moaned again, and again as he began to circle your clit, building up a slow rhythm. Your eyes fell shut, your hips began circling against his hand as he worked you up. 

“That’s it, such a good girl. So wet, you’re so soaked baby. Do you wanna feel something in that tight little cunt of yours? It just looks so fucking good, I just wanna…” 

You felt one of his fingers prodding at your entrance. You began chanting a series of yesyesyes’s when you felt him press inside and crook up right into the spongy spot that made you cry out. Fuck, it was like he knew exactly where to touch you; like he’d already mapped your body out without you knowing. The thought of his pure skill at working your pussy made you even more wet as he added another finger and started fucking them in and out of you. Your fingers weren’t long enough to reach all the spots he was hitting inside you with ease, so you whined like a bitch in heat, which you supposed you were in the moment.

Your eyes were still closed, so you were totally unprepared when you felt something slick and warm start to circle your clit. The second you realized it had to be his tongue, your mouth fell open in a gasp. You fluttered your eyes back open and looked down between your legs, where his face was now buried, eyes barely visible beneath messy hair- though you could see that he was looking directly at your shocked face. You felt his lips twist against you… into a smirk? Oh, you thought, he’s filthy.

Your hips were now gyrating wildly, and one of his hands came up from where he’d been cupping your ass to press you back down to the floor. Once he had you situated, he sucked hard on your clit, practically making you scream. 

“Eraser, yes yes, oh my god–”

“Shota,” he’d pulled back for a second, just to gruffly correct you on his proper name, and then dove right back in as if he were starving for it. His enthusiasm alone was making your thighs quake- it was so fucking hot. Your thighs began to tighten around his head and let out a breathless cry of his name. Your fingers snaked down to tangle in his hair, needing to ground yourself through the immense pleasure you felt.

Your head fell back into his scarf again as your back arched, the motions of his tongue against you turning you into a pathetic mess. You weren’t sure if it were due to the squeezing of your thighs or the hair pulling, but you heard him grunt and felt his fingers dig in a little tighter where they rested on your stomach. You let out another moan in response, and felt more fluid gush from your pussy. You couldn’t help it- a sexy man being vocal between your thighs was like your own personal wet dream. 

His fingers inside of you sped up, hitting your spot with a wicked precision as his tongue alternated between suckling and licking around your sensitive bud. You began to tighten around his fingers, knowing you were nearing orgasm. You couldn’t form any words at this point, just panting pathetically and moaning as you approached the edge of your pleasure. 

“Sho- Sho-ta, I’m– I’m gon-” tried to garble out, to let him know, but he nodded before you could try to fully finish your sentence. You took that as permission, and came harder than you ever had before. Your eyes were tightly shut as your body trembled. His mouth had transitioned to lightly kissing the plump skin of your inner thigh, and his fingers continued to move slowly inside you, working through your ecstasy. You looked back down at him again as he pulled his fingers out completely and sat up on his heels, taking in the sight of his face that was soaked with the evidence of your orgasm. A shudder went through you as you watched him suck his fingers into his mouth to clean them of your release. The sight of him like this was almost enough to make you cry out again.

Your relief was short lived as a pang of the pain and heat from earlier returned, quickly making your loose body tense up again. Your whimper this time was one of pain, and Aizawa’s sharp gaze flicked back down to your face. 

“It’s not gone?” he questioned, shuffling forward and laying a comforting hand on your knee. You shook your head violently, groaning at the burning in your abdomen and curling in on yourself. 

“Fuck…” he muttered, barely audible. “We have to… we have to try something else, Y/N, is that okay?” 

Your hazy mind barely picked up on the fact that he had used your real name, not your hero name. You didn’t even think he knew your real name, not really. The surprise of this realization lasted barely a second as you groaned in pain again and quickly nodded your head in response to his inquiry. You felt him shift even closer to you, then he was leaning over you and filling your watery vision completely. His hand that wasn’t rubbing soft circles into your knee came up to your chin, which he tilted up in a silent command to meet his eyes. You complied, and waited for him to speak or touch you or do anything that might help. 

“Y/N,” his voice came out, soft and sure with a gravelly edge, “I think we have to have sex for it to stop. For some, just an orgasm can bring an end to the effects of the quirk but for others, if there aren’t two parties who orgasm from some type of penetrative sex, it continues. I don’t… I don’t know why, but I think we have to do this if you’re still feeling the quirk.” 

You felt like your ears were ringing– did you hear him right? He was going to have sex with you? You knew that the situation you were in was dire, but you almost could’ve laughed at the fact that you were about to be in your own personal heaven. As your mind wandered off, you felt him give your chin a tiny, gentle shake to capture your attention again.

“Hey, Y/N? I need you to focus okay sweetheart? Is that okay? Are you okay with doing this?” He asked you, concern pinching together the features of his handsome face. You nodded, and tried to voice your consent, but you could only mouth the word yes. He nodded back at you in confirmation, and released his grip on you to lean back and start unbuckling the belt around his waist. “I don’t have any protection, but I can pull out if I need to.”

You managed to find an ounce of strength remaining in your body and used it to push up on your shaking elbows, trying to look at his face so you could address any concerns. “N-no, I’m on the pill. It’s okay. And- and I get tested regularly, I’m g-good.” 

He nodded, the picture of seriousness, as he responded with a simple “me too,” and continued fumbling with his belt.

You reached one hand out, barely grasping the bottom hem of his shirt and making an upward motion with it before supporting yourself with your arms again. He glanced up, and you whispered into the quiet room.

“Take it off. Please,” you tacked onto the end, hoping you didn’t sound too demanding and also hoping that he was even half as into this as you were. He followed your request without hesitation, and you took in the sight of his pale torso, muscle rippling under his skin as he pulled the fabric up over his head. You bit your lip, not wanting any noises slipping out at the mere sight of him and revealing how much you secretly wanted all of this. With him mostly undressed, pants around his knees and shirt discarded, he leaned down toward you again. 

“Is it okay if I touch you here?” he asked while trailing one of his large hands up your ribcage, running below the swell of your breast. You released a small whimper and nodded quickly, reaching up to help him remove the tight fabric of your top. Once it was pushed up over your head and you were settled again, his fingers ghosted over your right nipple, already hard with your arousal. Once he’d run his fingers over your pebbled, sensitive skin a few times, he pinched, causing you to yelp in surprise. His face had a deliciously sexy smirk on it. 

“Please… Please, Shota….” you begged, not for anything in particular, but just more of him. 

“Please what, princess? You want me to touch you over here too?” He asked teasingly, trailing his other hand over your left breast and bringing that nipple between his fingers. As he rolled both nipples, he ground his clothed and already hard cock against your core. You tried to fight your eyes rolling back again at the relief you felt from that little bit of friction, and heard him stifle a breathy laugh. 

“Shota… Please, I want… I need you to fuck me,” You panted out, proud of being able to get out a full sentence, and simultaneously nervous that you were too forward. 

His eyes darkened, and any hint of teasing that was flitting across his expression lifted. Faster than you could process, his hands were on either side of your face, pulling you slightly up to him as he pressed his mouth over yours. You’d thought his hands were divine? They were nothing compared to his lips. You’d never been kissed as passionately as he was kissing you. No, devoured was a better word for it. 

Your lips parted underneath his, teeth clashing messily as you returned his fervor. His tongue slipped into your mouth and circled your own, and you both moaned at the sensation. One of his hands left your cheek, slipping down between your gyrating bodies to circle your clit with his fingers again, his mouth swallowing the moans this brought forth. Your hands dropped to the waistband of his underwear and pushed it down, just enough so that his cock-definitely above average, you noted mentally- bobbed out, fully at attention, the tip gleaming with precum. He sucked on your bottom lip as you felt him line up with your entrance. 

He pulled back slightly, pupils blown wide in what you were sure was a reflection of your own. He searched your face for any hints of hesitation he could find. 

“What will be most comfortable for you? Do you want to move-” you cut his sentence off with another deep kiss. You pulled back very slightly, lips still brushing his as you responded that you wanted it “just like this”.

He wasted no time. He entered you fully, and you felt the tip of his cock nudge your cervix. Fuck, how big is he?, you wondered, feeling like you were nearly being split in two despite the preparation you’d had prior and the arousal that continued to seep out of you. He rested his arms on his elbows, encircling your head. His hand tangled into your hair and formed a pillow in addition to his scarf that still lay beneath you. His hips were unforgiving, slamming to meet yours over and over again, making you moan out with each thrust. But your moans were muffled, since all the while his mouth hadn’t left your lips. His lips caressed yours, in a gentle way that didn’t match the pace of his thrusts at all. His tongue moved in slow, sweeping motions as if he were mapping out the interior of your mouth. Everything felt so good, so fucking good. 

You knew you were under the influence of a quirk that made you this stupid horny in the first place, but you were certain beyond a doubt that you’d never been fucked so well before. Every point where his skin touched yours was on fire, but in a completely different way than the heat that consumed you because of the quirk. This heat was good, it was delicious, and you wanted to feel as much of his skin as possible. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and tugged him down slightly, closing the small distance between your torsos. Your nipples pressed against his pecs. It was good, but you needed more, so you brought your legs up and wrapped them around his hips, digging your heels into the small of his back and forcing him deeper inside you with the new angle this created. 

He moaned into your mouth, and slowed his pace, grinding into your pussy, barely pulling out. Fuck, it was like his cock was made to fit you, the way the tip brushed over your g-spot when he did that. It was nothing short of euphoric. You pulled away from his mouth with a gasp, reluctant to release his lips, but needing to suck in some oxygen. He plunged his head down to your neck, suckling the soft skin there, moving down until he reached the junction of your neck and shoulder. He nipped at the spot, and you cried out and arched your back in response. You were close now, and you clenched around his cock uncontrollably. You felt his hips falter for a second as you clenched, but he picked up his bruising pace again quickly. 

“Shota, Shota I’m close,” you panted into the heavy air, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“I know princess, I know… feel you clenching around me… so fucking tight. You feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good for me. Let go baby, come on me,” he rasped into your ear. 

That did it. His filthy words had you coming hard, shaking almost violently and squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn’t help but cry out as you came, Shota’s thrusts not slowing through your climax. You weren’t sure if it lasted seconds or hours, but your breathing began to even out again and you felt Shota’s hips still pistoning inside you, losing the rhythm and pace he’d built up. 

He brought his head up so that he could meet your eyes again. 

“I’m close, where…?” he questioned. 

“Please, come inside me. Fill me up,” you whispered, and watched as his face screwed up with pleasure once you’d uttered the words. His hips pressed tightly to yours and you felt his release fill you, warming you from the inside. His load was huge and you felt it begin to leak out around his cock, still pressed in to the hilt, as the last of his load spurted into you and his body shuddered. 

When it was over, his eyes met yours in an almost sheepish manner. You tightened your legs, not ready to let him go yet. 

You both began to speak at the same time then. Both of you seemed to be apologizing though, so you clamped your mouth shut and furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he spoke first. “You couldn’t help that you were attacked by this quirk, and I was not going to let you suffer or die from it. I’m happy to help you, please don’t feel ashamed.” 

You let the kindness of his words soak in for a moment before you giggled. Now it was his turn to furrow his brows. 

“I could definitely tell you were happy to help me,” you responded, wiggling your hips slightly, his softening cock still inside you. What? You couldn’t be expected to be the most eloquent at the moment, you’d just had the best fuck of your entire life. 

He groaned in (what you were hoping was) feigned annoyance, and rolled off of you, pulling out slowly. He gathered the rumpled pieces of your hero suit, handing them delicately over to you. He began to dress also, the shuffling of fabric the only sounds for a moment before he cleared his throat. 

“I imagined the first time I kissed you to be different in my head.” 

You blinked, pulling your hair out of the neck of your suit. Had you heard him correctly? He’d imagined kissing you before? Maybe this entire exchange had been a drug induced illusion, and you were actually in a hospital bed right now. But the hard floor beneath your knees was real, and the brush of his fingers against your hip as he reached around you to grab his scarf was definitely real, sending a shiver down your spine still in spite of what had just transpired between you. 

You blinked again, feeling dumb from the silence on your part. You quickly rushed out the only thing still rushing through your brain which was, of course, “You’ve thought about kissing me before?” 

Color flooded his cheeks as looked intently at his scarf, taking his time in untwisting it. 

“Of course I have. You’re…. You’re wonderful. I… I really admire your hero work, Y/N. You’re good at what you do, and you’ve only been doing it for a year” His eyes raised to meet yours. “And I’m sure you know already, but you’re beautiful. Breathtaking, really. Of course I’ve thought about it.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You didn’t think you’d be able to form words, so you did the only thing you could think of doing in response and lunged toward him again, bringing your lips together in a sweet kiss. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his circled your waist. You kissed each other gently this time, no fire underneath, just a curious exploration of one another. When you broke apart, you smiled widely at him. 

“Thank you for helping me. I know you’ve said you’re happy to, but really, thank you. I’m just… really glad that it wasn’t something I forced on you. I don’t know if I could have forgiven myself for that.” 

His eyes softened, still holding yours, as he nodded. He released your waist with a sigh, opting to take one of your hands in his as he stood. You followed suit. 

You hadn’t put your comm unit back in yet, but Aizawa had, and you heard his blare to life. A tinny and very, very loud voice on the other end spoke up: “Yo, Eraser– where are you man?? I’m here with Recovery Girl at the school and we’re super worried! What’s got you guys caught up?” 

Shota winced at Present Mic’s volume but answered awkwardly, “We uhm- so Y/N’s okay right now, because we uhm- were able to deactivate the effects of the quirk. So she’s all good I think.”

After a moment of silence in which you both blushed bright red at the revelation, you heard a cackle break out from Mic. Shota ripped the unit out of his ear and turned back to you, muttering that he “can go without that for a second”.

“We should probably go get you checked out with Recovery Girl anyway, just to make sure your vitals and everything look good. It shouldn’t take long, and as far as I know in previous cases once the quirk is gone you don’t need to take any sort of precautionary measures or anything so…” You nodded your understanding as he scratched the back of his neck with the hand not loosely holding yours. 

“And then maybe, afterward…” He began speaking again as you both started walking toward the UA campus, “We can grab dinner together? I know we’re doing this all backwards here and normally people start dating each other before they get all intimate but uh-” He cleared his throat, as you felt your heart shoot up into your own and get lodged there. 

With a slightly bashful but elated smile, you agreed and squeezed Shota’s hand. He returned the gesture, silently promising himself to never let go of your hand from that moment forward.

[acourtofthought]

I'm so happy when I see people realizing that Elucien is a good match.

Because Lucien and Elain are like fire, sun, flowers and light to me and I love their aesthetic.

I think they're different… Except Lucien is sarcastic and bold in his own way, but he's calm and Elain is polite but has her humor, laughter and shyness.

He's not a quiet guy who keeps his mouth shut and hides from the world and you have to fight for him to show himself.

In your novel, Elain needs to be the one who has to open up, I think she's so used to hiding what she thinks and feels.

So with Az and Elain, it's an aesthetic that everyone likes when it all fits together.

But I feel like the book would be much more about Azriel than Elain, it would be Az struggling to open up and he's expressed himself even less throughout ACOTAR and seems to have a huge emotional burden to deal with.

When Lucien comes along, feel more settled or that he doesn't need to struggle to open up, he's more open about some of his pains, which involve finding himself, and he's homeless at the moment, he doesn't know where he fits in.

He knows what it's like to lose someone, he understands Elain's feelings about losing her fiancé and also about rejection.

But that's it, I can't explain in detail what I think about Elucien at the moment. But let's hope Sarah doesn't drag this out for 4 years to give us that.

"But I feel like the book would be much more about Azriel than Elain, it would be Az struggling to open up and he's expressed himself even less throughout ACOTAR and seems to have a huge emotional burden to deal with."

That is such a good point. I think the problem with Elain and Az is neither would push the other to come out of their shell. The Elain in book 1 was adored by everyone and the life of the party but Az is not comfortable with that. As a result, I can't see her forcing him to engage with others and she instead would hold back so that he wasn't alone. And if she did try to encourage him to be more outspoken, I think he would feel he wasn't good enough or somehow lacking. He definitely would not encourage her to be social, why would he when that's not who he is? Lucien would not need to encourage Elain to be social. She'd simply see him engaging with others and eventually find her way back to who she once was because that was what was natural to her before. But I do think because Lucien often got himself into trouble with his mouth, he wouldn't tip-toe around Elain. I think the only reason we see that now is because he's constantly being monitored by Feyre, Nesta, etc. and he realizes that they're kind of pulling the strings when it comes to his mating bond and whether he's invited back to the NC but get them alone? He's not the kind to forever hold back his words especially when he gets frustrated. And in SF we saw exactly how Elain responds when someone doesn't treat her with kid gloves, she snaps back and that's what you expect from a SJM pairing. Really, the Elucien setup would be effortless for Sarah to write and I think it's been intentional on her part. They took her by surprise while writing book 2 and though you could already see how she unintentionally wrote them as being well matched before that, she really went out of her way to build on that compatibility after mating them.

[monkebearness]

Just Give It To Me

Park Sieun (STAYC) x Male Reader

Tags: smut, (light) fluff, rough sex, oral sex, creampie, (some) degradation, daddy kink

Word count: 7.8k

a/n: my first non-tripleS fic, since I'm still sorting out my next plan there. for now, I wrote a fic about one of my fave 4th gen groups. it's also their comeback. it's a little quicker, but that's the intention. still, I hope you like this one!

“Hanjae-ssi, we’re having a meeting tonight. I’ll send the details to your number.”

“Ne, Miss Vice President. Should I notify the executives? Or a specific team?”

“No,” she tells him. “I’ll deal with them. Just—” The woman looks at him with a blank expression, from head to toe. “Dress up in something else.”

“Ne,” he bows to her, just before she dismisses him as the clock strikes lunch break.

Lim Hanjae has been Park Sieun’s assistant as soon as the latter rose to the ranks of the Nopeun Corporation’s upper management as its vice president, but they knew each other when Sieun was still a branch manager and Hanjae was a junior supervisor about four years ago.

He’s only a year younger, but respect and consistency are the most he has shown to this woman from the moment he was assigned to be her right hand through a vote between executives. Or so most would think.

At first glance, no one would expect the woman to be the older one. Not simply because of their height difference of fourteen centimeters, the difference between her soft yet empowering high pitched voice and his amiable baritone voice, or the difference between her ethereal and stunning neanimorphic visuals and his “above average” but mature appearance, at least with how some folks would compare them behind their backs, even though that’s an obsolete stereotype.

But with how they treat each other at work, most of employees�� preconceived notions and initial impressions slowly blur, where they begin to question some things about them Either the office drama becomes more stale and repetitive or a lot more interesting, allowing for more doors of far spicier and scandalous speculations.

Or from a more personal note, concerns also arise towards their workplace relations, especially from his own closest colleagues and friends.

“You’re not getting in trouble, are you?” Eunkyung asks him on the left seat beside him, gripping both his hands on their table.

“I don’t know…” he shrugs at her worry. “I hope not. I don't think anyone else is either.”

“You can just quit, you know?” his other friend, Mark, chimes in on his right after taking a sip of his matcha latte.

He scoffs at his overkill suggestion, letting go of Eunkyung’s hands. “Why would I quit? I'm not getting abused, and if I was, I would've reported her to H.R. a long time ago.”

“As if doing that will do anything to the chairman’s daughter!” the woman whines.

He shakes his head. “Whatever you guys are thinking, I’m doing better than y’all think.”

“You seem to be exhausted whenever you have a meeting with her.” Eunkyung sighs. “It’s just… Sad to see.”

“Oh… That?” He can’t spill away too much. “I just forgot to get myself a hot cup of tea. Plus, I was finalizing some team projects back then. It’s not as bad as things are now.”

“That’s exactly why we advise you to rethink your life choices,” Eunkyung shoots back. “You’ve been doing nothing but great things for this company, like the rest of us… We can only hope your pay is much, much better with you as her main underling.”

“It definitely has gotten better,” Hanjae chuckles. “I assure you guys, I'll even treat y—”

“I don’t think we can be assured, now she made you do the worst thing a boss can order to an assistant,” Mark interjects, now echoing Eunkyung’s sentiments with his cadence. Meanwhile, the latter takes a sip of her americano in silence, expressing her agreement with Mark through a nod.

“And that is—?” He raises his eyebrow.

“She’s making you set up a meeting on Friday, which is today!” he opens his palms out of bewilderment. “We’re usually free today, now that our biggest meetings have been sorted out, but out of the sudden, they pulled you in for another one.”

“Come on, I’ll be fine, guys!” he insists, hoping they calm down for the last time, despite being uncertain himself. “I promise, nothing’s going on… It’ll probably just be another brainstorming sesh with some other clients. Or some deets they wanna add up from last time.”

= = =

Eight eighteen in the evening. Hanjae looks out the window in front of their table. The city skyline stands out against the darkness with its assortment of lights from all the buildings in sight. He sees his boss’ reflection on his left, still looking at her menu.

They're at a fine dining restaurant, in a hotel two cities away from Seoul. They are both wearing their business jackets, wearing the fanciest suits they can get (at least for him), yet no other face from their company is in sight. Not even a new client. Confusion only runs through his brain, but he still doesn't dare to question his boss, considering she’s still occupied with telling her orders to the waiter. Until she's done, he raises his menu over his face, scanning the area and analyzing his superior through a few quick glances.

Her hair doesn’t look as formal as before, with how it’s tied up in a stylish bun. And of course, he knows that her dyed red hair is already a sign that she’s taking advantage of the loopholes of their company guidelines to the fullest. It's her third dye, after all. Thank goodness, their higher ups have gone lenient.

Not to mention her association with the chairman often intimidated him. It still does, but he does a better job at hiding it whenever she’s with him. The situation still bugs him, because of the absence of other clients or colleagues, and as soon as they are finished with ordering, he clears his throat and musters up the will to ask his boss, but not before taking a glug of his glass of water.

Her eyes move upwards, landing at him. “What is it, Hanjae? Spit it out.”

Under the table, he clenches his fist for a second, just as he opens his mouth. “Umm yes… Pardon me, ma’am, but… I thought there’d be other people with us tonight.”

She raises her eyebrow. “I said I’d deal with them. I didn’t say they’ll be here.”

Is this where he thinks this is? It can’t be. Is she messing with him?

“Oh… I understand. Joesonghamnida.”

Where this is heading. He still doesn’t want to fall for it. Getting the wrong impression.

Semantics and technicalities from his own superior always get to him. And he’s got the highest grades in both Korean and English in his classes. Since he got promoted as an assistant, Hanjae has flown to a few countries with their company, demonstrating his adeptness and expertise in both languages. He would often remember their time in the United Kingdom five months ago, where he listened to his boss speaking in her British accent. Most of the time, he would find her fluency in foreign languages awe-inspiring, whether it’s something like Spanish or Chinese. And sometimes, he can’t help but hold in his laughter because of how cute and ‘posh’ she sounds when conversing with clients.

Yet, whenever no one’s around, he’d feel something else. Hanjae hasn’t heard someone speak fluently in French like she does. Who knew that the simplest phrases like Si c'est moi in a certain passionate tone can make his hair stand up even under his sleeves?

Over an hour has passed. The weird thing was there was nothing to talk about. Nothing about work. No project updates. They just ate and drank, like an old couple, something that makes it much stranger since even in meetings only between the two of them, she would usually ask him about an update or suggestions about an ongoing project. Since there’s nothing to discuss about, they could only hear each other’s chewing and others’ chatter. Like usual, Sieun had a light meal, so her assistant also ordered a similar meal. Now, all that’s left are splatters of leftover truffle sauce and strands of pasta on Hanjae’s plate, while there’s no more trace of the chicken fricassée on Sieun’s, save for a splash of the brown stew. Each of them has a champagne glass, which both of them have emptied.

“You done with your dessert?” she asks him.

Without making his panic obvious, the man places the spoon on the now empty cup that used to contain the affogato. “Ne. I'm done, Ma’am.”

“You can wrap things up now.”

Hanjae calls the nearest waiter within their distance. “We'll take the bill, please.”

He feels something soft touch the hem of his pants, slowly sliding up to his crotch. It's her toes, tickling his member.

“Miss Park!” he almost hollers, his voice radiating with a hint of panic and caution, but not enough to stir any attention from anyone else around them.

Her face remains stoic. “Stand up,” she commands him, now that it has followed her. “Follow me after this… We're not done.”

With her card, Sieun pays for their orders, stealing gazes at her assistant throughout the process until they leave the restaurant to take a walk to the nearest elevator. Hanjae can only scratch his head behind her back, still bewildered on figuring out what their deal is, being in his hotel that’s miles away from home without anyone else to meet. As soon as they reach the highest floor of the hotel, he realizes they’re in the penthouse. She locks the door shut, allowing him to follow her to the living room.

She walks up to the coat rack stand, taking off her trench coat while he watches in silence, still clasping his hands together. “I don’t think you’re this dense, Hanjae.”

“What do you mean, Ma’am?”

“Was I not obvious enough at the restaurant?” She steals a glance at his nether regions. “Your thing down there seems to know already.”

He involuntarily gulps. “So… Tonight. This was never meant to be a meeting for clients.”

She’s right. How is he this dense?

“Now, do you know what to do?” Sieun hums. She tilts her head to the right, letting out a soft and teasing purr. He clears his throat, taking three quick steps to reach her. Without any signs of hesitation, the man cups her chin and leans down to devour her lips with his own. Their tongues collide, giving each other a taste of their drink and dinner the longer they dance. His lips proceed to trail down to her neck and collarbone, leaving traces of his saliva on every path he traverses, while she moans at the sensation he’s giving her.

Taking their time, they unbutton and strip each other’s clothes. Hanjae never wanted to rush this moment. The bliss, thrill, and excitement running through his veins. It’s like a drug, even, but he doesn’t want to find it out. This woman is enough to make him high. From her lips and tongue to the scent of her primrose perfume throughout her body.

“You know how long I've waited for this?” he murmurs into the kiss. It’s been more than a couple of weeks since they last did it, but he has never brought it up to her—even when they’re alone at the office. It’s a simple unspoken rule that benefits both of them. No one wants a scandal—and no one wants to get fired from work due to their afterwork affairs, which is and should be no one else’s business.

“I know you liked to be teased,” she snickers, leaving a few loving kisses on his neck.

He pinches both her butt cheeks, triggering a moan of surprise and pleasure from her mouth. “You mean, you like teasing me?” he argues, trying to get a lick of her clavicle.

“Same same,” she shoots back, before pulling him back to her lips with a hum of hunger.

As soon as their hands begin exploring their curves and corners, it’s all hands on each other’s decks. Just as he has gotten through her blouse and slacks and her unbuttoning his sleeves, his eyes widen as his member erects at the sight of her look.

A revealing top, a tight and short skirt in fishnets. The effort she’s made to keep it in while she maintained her domineering front and formalities around him for hours. Hanjae’s lust-driven mind expected her in her bra and underwear to welcome his hungry gaze, but this… He also admits this is a better way of teasing. “You’ve been hiding that all this time?” he chuckles in disbelief.

“It’s meant to be a surprise,” she admits, rubbing her right and over her left. Throughout their sexcapades, they've witnessed each other in different get-ups and attires. Although nothing too kinky yet, this is a first for Sieun to conceal her clothes under another layer, instead of changing right before the show like they used to do.

“It must’ve been hot under there,” Hanjae comes closer with a hint of concern.

“That’s the idea,” she retorts, exhaling a smile.

Their eyes lock. Just by her look, she has taken his breath away. “You look stunning.”

Her cheeks slowly blush. Still, she brushes off such a ‘soft’ reaction to his compliment. There’s an urge from her to thank Hanjae, but she seeks to repay him through actions instead. She’s had enough of words all week. “You better make it worth it.”

Truth be told, she tends to “switch” from meetup to meetup, which doesn’t bother him. In fact, it drives him crazier the more he realizes he was able to have a sense of control over Sieun, like she often allows him on nights like these, because the next time they meet and cross eyes in broad daylight, he knows that she’ll just be back to being the same old imperious superior everyone fears, respects, or both—sometimes fantasize. However, none of those folks are or will be as lucky as Lim Hanjae.

He pins her to the wall, initiating another steamy and salivating makeout session neither of them would ever want to stop. A couple of minutes passed, Hanjae’s lust for her body skyrocketed. Her plump and luscious lips are always insatiable, but foreplays like these have usually only been the appetizer. One that he always brings to their main courses. Still, he has to move forward with her. Disappointing her is the last thing he wants to happen, especially tonight.

She licks the sweat off his neck, tasting the traces of his perfume like a mint-flavored popsicle, before tiptoeing to lean next to his ear and whisper “Do what you want. It’s your reward.”

Shivers trickle through his spine as he feels her warm breath and softer intonation. The go-signal has been given. He directs her straight to the bedroom, still clinging onto her lips and tongue. The man only leaves her inches away from the bed as he proceeds on the cloud-like mattress. She follows and crawls towards him with anticipation, but he clings on to her forearm, stopping her in the middle.

“Nuh-uh,” he gestures with his finger from his other hand, which mirrors his shaking head, holding in his smile with some effort. He remembers their routine crystal clear.

“What?” she asks, flabbergasted as her momentum slows down at his disapproval, though her carnal need for his touch remains the same.

They're both eager to get down and get it on, but he wants to try something else just before they proceed to the main event. “Suck it,” he orders Sieun with a straight face.

Sieun kneels in front of him. Leaning forward, she gives his member a few licks, starting with the head and slowly descending to his length, now much more like a popsicle, until she reaches to his balls. Such tickles can’t help but make him giggle, even though he has always tried his best to hold himself in front of her. Unbeknownst to him, the lady finds a fascinating motivation in his reaction.

She maintains eye contact with her partner, smirking in satisfaction while her face still can. After mesmerizing at its lubed and slimy appearance, she widens her small mouth as much as she can and takes in his member, humming as it enters her slowly. The man helps her out the only way he can. Hanjae tugs at her hair bun with his right hand, while his left fingers claws down on the mattress. He starts doing limited thrusts with a slower rhythm—clenching his buttocks on the bed with every outward push towards her mouth.

Moans can be heard from the woman, keeping her mouth as wide as she can around the length and girth of his shaft. Despite his small thrusts, she starts her own movement by bobbing her head up and down, even giving him a sultry wink the more she accelerates.

“Oh, Fuck!” he whimpers, feeling the electrifying sensation through his spine. Driven by his wild instincts, his grip on her bun tightens, compelled to continue his thrusts on her deceitful mouth in the next minutes, even if his own back will punish him for it later on. Her efforts are more than enough, but he would have never expected her new trick. The lady takes her other hand down to his testicles, giving Hanjae another tickle. “Shit—you little minx!” Her tickles slowly turn into a grip, squishing it like stress balls in her palm.

“I'm about to—” he can’t stop himself from roaring loudly. “I’m gonna cum!”

He bursts his first load for the night, right into her gaping mouth. Despite swallowing most of his seed, the woman coughs out what was left in the minute that follows. They catch their breath together, making Hanjae approach Sieun with his hand on her back, slowly patting it by instinct. His character breaks for a second, showing his care as her assistant. They lock eyes. She feels those beats inside her. Slow, but louder. She thinks maybe that’s just because she’s exhausted after sucking him off. Who wouldn't be?

“Do you wanna take a breather first?” she asks him with a chuckle.

“No,” he pants with a smile. “I’m supposed to be the one asking you that question.”

She answers him with a ravenous kiss, leaving smiles on both their faces as they both taste his salty and sticky juice amidst the silence. Such a daring act from her switches him back to his so-called alter ego. Her tongue gives him a tease right while their lips part, knowing he would want more of that later on. ��Glad we’re in agreement.”

“Bend over,” he commands almost immediately, deepening his tone with little effort.

She only nods with a submissive whimper, kneeling in the middle of the bed—with her elbows on support—in anticipation for his treatment. And as they’ve long been waiting for, the main show is finally going down with Sieun bending over and making an effort to peek at Hanjae and his erect cock between her legs. She bites her lip just seeing him upside down when he raises her tight skirt up to her waist and watches him strip down her underwear, which he tosses to the top of the bed, landing on the pillow next to her.

“Ah, ah…” he mocks, forcing her to look forward once more in a fit of both apprehension and anticipation. Nevertheless, her trick just hardens his shaft even more, solidifying his girth. “Who says you can look?”

That’s the thing. She likes, nay loves more that he is the dominant one in bed, ironically enough. And he’s been getting the hang of being a switch for a while now. Of course, no one does training for those at the office. Unless it’s with her during that one time.

In front of his eyes, Hanjae sees her entrance, and like a key to its hole, he plunges his knob into her cunt as if it’s the perfect shape. Thanks to her salivary lubrication, his penetration proves to be less jagged.

“Aaaaaah…” she moans, her walls welcoming the first half of his manhood. For a split second, she imagines his penis entering her asshole instead. Maybe for another time.

“Ngh… More…” she begs. “Put it more, babe. You’re already in… So deep… Ugh!”

He pulls himself and her, burying his cock even further while holding on to her hips. Deeper inside her womb. He didn’t stop until his tip could feel her cervix, a moment which signals him to start moving his hips in and out in larger and louder rhythms, undoubtedly stretching her insides with his stronger rams.

Her eyes widened at this ensuing sensation. She wasn’t too careful about her wish coming true in an instant, but she doesn’t regret it. Under his dominance, she couldn’t feel any luckier tonight. “Oh, fuck! Yes…”

While tightening his abs as if he’s planking and flexing his arms like he’s lifting, the man fastens his pace. With his eyes on the prize, he pulls her hair, finally taking advantage of the bun that’s been leveling with his eyes the moment they first met at the restaurant. “It’s begging to get pulled, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” she groans in agreement, with her nails on each finger clawing through the duvet cover in order to anchor herself while Hanjae keeps his right hand grip over her hair like the reins of a steed. “I fucking… Love this… Auuuugh!”

They go on for several more minutes, maintaining the rhythm of moving forward and backward as their layers of stimulation build up every second. Eventually, he lets go of Sieun's hair. The man has both hands held on to her hips, while he leans over her nape, kissing her from the back with sounds that mimic the slapping produced by their bodies.

The sight of her jiggling ass and the sound crashing through his ears now give him the idea, prompting him to widen and raise his right palm up in the air and smack!

“Oh, God!” she moans in ecstacy, slightly arching her back. “Yes!”

“I’m, uhh, getting… Close,” he grunts, quickly exhaling a blazing fume through his nose.

“I'm fucking safe!” she yells, feeling her own limit break while her body keeps trembling.

Hearing that is another green light for him to remember for the rest of these sessions. Hanjae groans as loud as a raging bull, fusing with Sieun’s squeals of satisfaction, as their ounces of fluids fire and collide within the bridge of their intermingled bodies.

Their first orgasm of the night. The first of many, the woman hopes within her mind. Neither of them expected to go straight to the point? For a month, they were deprived of each other's touch due to the surge of events that demanded their presence and service. Not to mention the fact that she hasn’t given him a call or hint until now. Hanjae’s far from feeling any anger, but he is not letting that slide.

Only two minutes have passed since their nethers have parted, but he taps her back a couple of times while she’s lying. Heeding his nonverbal command, she rises from her prone position to face him.

“We’re not done, Mistress.” His eyes grow at his own words, though he keeps his frown in front of the woman. Wrong word, his mind realizes. His subconscious must’ve taken over for a millisecond. A more submissive region. She won’t notice it, he follows up. She is too invested in this.

“Yes, daddy,” she nods without question, still looking at him with eyes that beg and give in. That word makes his head tilt with a low hum of perplexity, only to shake it off as the woman’s look and response alone is keeping him up and curious.

He takes another step, placing his hand underneath her chin. “You know what you did wrong, Sieun-ah?”

He hears a gulp from her throat. “No, daddy,” her tone dramatically shifts. “What is it?”

The term’s growing on him fast. He remembers her not wanting to be called babe or bebe, even though she’s called him the former a couple of times. Hanjae sighs, but he maintains his domineering act. “You've been too vulgar with me. You've been so bad.”

“Are you gonna punish me for that?” The trembling in her voice makes it convincing. How she responds almost freaks Hanjae out, but he knows what situation they're in. Plus, she leaves a trace of her coy smirk on the corner of her lips for him to notice.

“You’ll find out,” he answers, leaving Sieun with lust-driven wonder while he holds her.

He kisses her once again, although his hands make their way to her hair. Seeing her as a redhead has brought out the lust in him ever since she dyed into that color. Now that he has the chance, he yearns to see her in its undone beauty. He has fucked her in various hairstyles and colors in the past year and a half. Pig tails. Layered. Curls. Waves. Buns, like now. All of which made him excited when she made the first move or call in secret.

Black. Blond. Pink. He never had a preference with her looks, ‘cause that's her business. Light brown and orange were his two favorites, yet now’s giving him second thoughts. It seems that her color tonight gives him a new reaction. Him as the raging bull and her as the muleta or red cloth to his narrow vision. It's not just the color that gets to his nerves from head to toe. That's a common misconception, but even if it's only directed to bulls, he knows there’s more to Sieun that is driving his own lust to another level. It's also her bratty movement and juxtaposed behavior that’s provoking him, even outside the bed.

His tongue enters her mouth, recognizing the 4-million-won champagne they’ve drunk, encouraging him to dominate the woman even in this glossal duel. In-between kisses, he helps his partner take her top off and unlock her bra, while leaving several more hickeys on her neck down to her toned and perky breasts, now that she's completely bare as him.

Hanjae slowly takes the fishnets off Sieun’s legs, giving her a tingling sensation. Tossing them into the corner of the room, he leans forward to give the woman's knees and thighs pepper kisses. He opens his mouth, licking off the moisture that has accumulated on her legs in the past hour. Within seconds her groans slowly shift into giggles, that is until he moves deeper into her legs, opening them wide like he has split a mountain in half with his bare hands. He just discovered her core, dripping wet. Already a feast to his eyes.

But at the last second, he inches away from her entrance, bewildering Sieun as her excitement is interrupted. He stands up, leaving her lying on the bed in confusion.

“I think we're still forgetting something,” he rubs his chin with a soft smirk.

“Huh?” she wonders, and his movement is turning him on more than she anticipated.

“Sit,” he commands, even pointing down his finger on the surface of the mattress with eyes that taunt. The woman now realizes he is only messing with her, yet she complies without question. Hanjae’s in control tonight and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sieun herself has been deprived of his authority for a while now. Something that she has rarely gotten from anyone else at the company ever since she had truly proved herself as a valuable and integral member of the Nopeun Corporation. She always hated the unfair treatment given to her by most employees and executives, just because of who she is and not what she can do. These secret and intimate moments she has with Hanjae are what she always yearns for.

The man gently pulls down her skirt with ease, leaving it on the carpet below the bed. With nothing else in his mind, he kisses her neck as he inserts his middle finger inside her entrance. And combined with his lips sucking on her collarbone, Sieun only groans at both simultaneous arousals. He follows up his ring finger inside her, triggering a key that makes her let out the higher pitched squeal he’s been craving to hear. He’s not as gentle compared to last time, she observes.

“Hnhh…” she groans, her eyes half closed. “Fuck, babe. I’ve missed this soooooo much!”

But as soon as her squirting begins, he stops. “Daddy…” she pleads. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re ready…” he reassures her. He kneels down on her the levels of her nethers and kisses her cunt, not minding the fact that he just plowed her with his cock minutes ago.  It may be unhygienic, sure, but it’s his body and hers. Plus, It’s not the first time he has done this. Hearing more of Sieun’s moans above him, he continues by using his tongue to give her clit a long upward lick. “Ahhhh… You tease… So fucking… Good!”

Together with his fingers, his mouth works wonders, tasting the salty and sweet vulva of his superior while she sings her highest praise through her moans of stimulation—like a one-woman choir—in the next twenty minutes, keeping herself together—even from the temptations of closing in her thighs between his head. Even if there’s a chance he’ll like it, she knows that she’s not in full control tonight. And she’s loving this scenario so far.

Taking delight in every second of his tongue, Sieun’s climax is nearing its completion. “Hanjae-yah… Imma… Augghh…”

Hanjae only nods, allowing his movements to vibrate in a strange way that speeds up the peak of her pleasure. Little is he aware, he invented a new trick for her, considering the fact that he is now mimicking a certain toy she’s been using in her alone time. “Nggh!”

And with a final spurt of fluids, it’s his turn to receive her juices all over his face. Much like her, he savors every drop of it, getting it all over his chin and cheeks. Getting up to check on the panting woman, he shares his appetizer with her. Another kiss where they share each other’s fluids, intensifying their steaming session with hums and moans.

As their lips leave another trail of saliva, Hanjae carefully pulls Sieun closer to the bed until they both reach and sit on the upper middle. Without muttering a word, she goes along with his movement as he places her arms on his shoulders. They face each other during this one, still gasping for breath after his breathtaking performance.

“Hey… Just say the safe word, alright?” he advises her with a quick kiss on her lips.

As with her arms around his shoulders and holding on to his neck, Sieun wraps her legs around his waist with little effort, interrupting his instinct to have him be on top of her. However, he treasures this position too. It’s a classic. “I don’t need to,” she whispers.

Hanjae slides in his cock within her entrance for the second time. He enters Sieun with more ease, thanks to her leftover juices still coating his manhood. She’s due for a refill. Despite this improvement, her pussy still remains just as tight from before while he slowly pushes in his rod with more effort. The woman’s moans are less louder, maintaining her composure until his whole member is inside her.

“Just… Give it, Hanjae… Give your all… To me,” she reassured him for the final time. And so his movement of rocking back and forth recommences with a smoother pace.

“Harder!” she wails, exerting her power whenever her body demands it. Now, Hanjae increases his strength, while maintaining the rhythm of his thrusts with her grinds.

“All this... Time,” he breathes in. “How are you still so tight?” he exhales with laughter.

There's a lot of possible reasons. Yoga. Pilates. Modeling. Berating her lazy employees. Healthy diet and lifestyle. Just pretty damn good genes. But his imagination is already wild for him to guess. They're all of the above. He just wants to finish inside her soon, and more, if she allows him to do so.

“It's all… for you…” she whispers to him. “Babe…”

He nibbles on her breasts, alternating his feast with each thrust down his member.

As she gasps at his improvised trick, her breath starts to falter, preserving the remainder of her energy holding his shoulders. The shivers make her scream “I'm your toy, daddy!”

“Speak… up, brat,” he huffs, grunting while he pounds her cunt with double the power.

With every screech of arousal she yells out, her nail scratches and digs into his skin until it becomes red, almost like the woman's hair as it quakes along with her petite and curvy body during his stronger thrusts. Their ears begin to hear slight squeaking on the sturdy king-sized bed, but they're not too bothered. They've made it work on a couch, a swing, and a wooden bench. Hell, even on a monobloc chair.

“Only… You can play… with me… Daddy!” She sticks her tongue out to him.

“Such… a good girl,” he gives into her imagination, finding more arousal at her gimmick.

“I'm... close…” he murmurs while sucking on her neck.

Still with her tongue out, the woman's eyes slowly roll to the back of her head as her breathing sounds heavier while submitting to his continuous thrusts.

Hearing her whimpers, Hanjae’s thrusts slow down. “Me too…”

Fluids burst out her cunt; he releases his load a millisecond after. The last one from this set. Listening to each other’s breaths, as well as their advice from earlier, the pair finally take a breather in the next five minutes. He sprints straight to the kitchen to get two 500 milliliter bottles of water inside the fridge, handing out the second one to his partner as soon as he returns to the bedroom.

“Thanks,” Sieun takes hers, cranking it open. With closed eyes, she proceeds to glug down the bottle the same minute as him, but as she relishes the feeling of her thirst dwindling down, something clicks in her brain. Her eyes open. Her lips curve upwards, stopping her drink with the bottle now half empty.

“You thought I wouldn't have noticed, did you?” she teases with a lower pitch, although a part of Hanjae's mind and body perceives it as a threat for some reason, it even makes him let out a nervous chuckle.

“Noticed what?” he tries to play it cool, slowly wrapping his right hand around his left.

Placing the bottle on the nightstand, she takes two steps forward. With every step she takes, her smirk grows. A few speculations spring from his mind, but no guess can ease him after she's stopped a foot away from him. They both know that this is far from over.

“A while ago…” She tilts her head to the left, staring at him dead in his eyes. “You called me Mistress, not Princess. I thought that sounded strange.”

Caught.

Hanjae closes the empty bottle with its lid, carefully placing it on the floor. “Will I… Get punished for that?” he questions her. He remembers what she said. So did she.

Her fingers crawl to his balls, triggering the same tingles he felt, until it latches on to his shaft. “No,” she scoffs. “But you'll have to be tamed for being such an angry and hungry bull who just couldn't restrain himself.”

Sieun crashes her lips with Hanjae's with an excited moan, savoring each other for half a minute while she walks him back to the bed. Despite her petite arms, the woman pushes him onto the mattress, making him lie down on his back while she kneels closer beneath him. Soaked in each other’s sweat, his face can only glow in anticipation with her in the lead. That’s how this whole thing started, after all.

“It's about time I ride the beast,” she exhales with eyes of confidence and shamelessness. Hanjae can only nod at her fierce statement and seductive approach. His long dominant exterior begins to crumble at her gaze, feeling most of it transfer back to the woman. He couldn’t care less. He just wants her, here and now.

Sieun climbs and towers over Hanjae, placing her bottom on his thighs, near to his hips. Without hesitation, the determined woman aligns her entrance with his cock and inches herself until they touch. Slowly but surely, she begins grinding on him. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of this.”

“Same same,” Hanjae mutters, much to her amusement. Inching her legs a little closer, she increased her speed from low to a medium.

“C--can… I?” he exhales, unable to complete his sentence due to her still tightening cunt and his throbbing cock overwhelming his senses.

“Do it.” She leans down, knowing exactly what he means to ask. “Ugghh… Don’t—wait.”

Hanjae latches each of his hand on her breasts, inciting a holler of arousal from the woman, but he amplifies it by making semi-circular gestures on her tits, making her close her eyes. Seeking to please her even more, Hanjae surprises Sieun with a few slaps on her cheeks with his right hand, only now from the front.

Sieun’s eyes twitch, while also biting her lips in hopes of muffling her continuing groans. “Nnnnggggghhhh… You’re making me… closer, you naughty bull!”

Only letting out a chuckle, her squeals remind Hanjae of popular singers, Ariana Grande being the most memorable. At times, she might even sound like Bell—No, she's nothing like her, his mind grudges, converting his emotions into keeping up with the woman’s performance on top of his wang.

She leans down to him, puckering her lips to give him a kiss. Their tongues clash while their mouths keep them open wide, silencing his thoughts while she keeps on grinding. It's like she’s read his mind. From her waist, his hands travel to hers. She reciprocates, entangling their fingers. Both their hearts are beating in sync.

He looks at her eyes. God, she’s such a goddess, he breathes out with this thought. He may often believe that she’s too good for him, but at least he is doing her with his best serving her, making love with her. “I— Fuck, Sieun, I’m clo—”

“I am, too!” she moans into the kiss, grinding him with most of her might and stamina as they both hear their fluids starting to spurt once more.

With almost little to no effort, such a stimulation drives her to reach the highest ranges. In his mind, Sieun would’ve been a great, phenomenal artist. She did have experience in the past. She can still become one, if she wants to, but tonight, they’re each other’s great work of art. Arts in progress. They still have more time and more of their own respective essence to spare, and they would not stop grinding, savoring, and thrusting each other’s bodies until half, if not most, of the bedroom is coated, smeared with their warm seeds.

= = =

Through the casement window, the sunlight kisses Sieun’s skin, from her hands to her forehead. But, they don’t feel like his lips. She loves the feeling of the mattress, as if she was slowly and endlessly sinking on the foam, like relishing the comfort of heavens.

However, that only makes her groan in annoyance 'cause it's not as sturdy and tender as Hanjae's chest. It is the balance her body always remembers in their hours of snores and silence. She feels the warmth of the blanket covering her body, but it feels too narrow. She can only feel herself.

That's it! Her eyes open with a sense of annoyance and panic, realizing such an absence has been bothering her, now that her mind is up and running. Rising from her slumber in her undergarments, she sees Hanjae, specifically his bottom, on the other side of the bed. His skin appears a little dryer, and he's already wearing his boxer and undershirt.

He’s putting on his socks when he notices her. “Oh, you’re up. Good morning, ma’am,” he lowers his head slightly to bow. Relief washes over her.

She ignores his greeting, only feeling concerned about his actions. “What’s the rush?”

“Huh?” He stops putting on his pants, noticing the yearning from her eyes.

“It’s a Saturday,” she reminds him. Her lips slowly form a pout.

“Yeah… Well, that didn’t stop the company from having meetings from time to time.”

“There’s no work today, Hanjae-yah,” she reiterates. “I, uhh, even rescheduled the meeting meant for last night.”

“Oooooh…” His previous question is now answered. “So that’s what happened.”

“Yeah…” her eyes slowly roll to the side, pursing her lips, now that she's admitted that.

He can hear those rhythms in his chest. As she fixes her disheveled hair to the side of her ear, Sieun turns to him once again.

“Don’t you wanna stay for a bit?” she adds.

The rhythms would grow louder. “Sure…”

Staying with Park Sieun? He doesn’t want anything more, even if that's what he does every other day during weekdays. Right now, she feels more like Sieun, not VP Park. A situation like that rarely comes around in his life, so he may as well cherish it. But at the same time, another thought flashes a query he never dared to ask her, at least while they were still doing it.

He unravels his left sock. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Of course,” she chortles. “Don't need to be all formal with me.”

“About that kink last night…”

“Yeah?” she wonders. “Which one?”

He lets out a chuckle. Had to be more specific. “That, umm,” he pulls out his right sock. “Daddy kink.”

But instead of expecting a reciprocative chuckle to leave her mouth, it silently gapes with intrigue and a hint of confusion. “You didn’t like it?”

“No, I did…” his voice almost croaks. “ It’s just, is it not weird for you, or something?”

“No..?” With a slightly raised pitch, she’s not entirely sure where he’s going with this.

He can only sigh with relief… And of course, confusion. “Huh...”

Her eyes squint. She feels that he’s not too satisfied by her answer. “You don't like oppa. I had to come up with something else that I'm into.”

“That’s because you're older than me. That's just a matter of fact…” he counters, sounding defensive with his argument. “And it's not that I hate it, it's just we've already done that a lot before… You didn’t seem to like noona either.”

Silence enters their room in the following moment. Sieun reads his face a little more, tracing his question back to her own personal life.

“Is it because I’m close with my father?” That brings a ding sound to Hanjae’s ears.

Saying Park Sieun is a smart woman is one understatement. Of course, she'd guess that. “I’m sorry for… making it weird,” he looks down with a surge of embarrassment flowing through his mind.

“It’s okay.” Sieun places her hand above his own, giving it a slow and comforting stroke. “And no, it’s not because of that. I love my appa very much, but that’s different...”

He looks back at her, sensing his spirits elevating with hope. “That's… Good to know.”

“And it's not like I hated noona either,” she admits. “I just thought it was a little too… Romantic. And like what you said about my dad, I also have a younger brother.”

His spirits stop in thin air, awaiting its own descent with her words and his expectation. Of course, how could he forget about that? “Oh… Right, I remember it now.”

“But that was a while ago,” she immediately adds. “I wasn't in a good spot at the time… And just looking back, I guess I did like it.” Her right hand wraps its fingers around his own, with her words slowly forming a beam on her lips. “Especially since I heard it from you, Hanjae-yah… What we have is different.”

It's back up again, and more certain. He can't help but smile and chuckle with jubilance. His heart and mind can't help but profess their agreement as seconds would follow.

“And…” Another subject pops up in her mind. “I'm sorry if I didn't call you too often.”

“It's okay, Sieun-ssi.” Again, he tries to be smooth. “We were all busy with the new project. The partnerships were—”

“Not like that,” she interjects. “I mean, like outside work. That’s not an excuse for me.”

“It's fine.” His voice lowers, but her words are starting to soothe his spirits. “I'm just glad we're making time now, you know?”

Sieun moves her right thumb, rubbing his index finger. “I’m glad, too… If it'll make you feel any better, we'll switch things up next time.”

He cups the woman’s warm face and leans in to kiss her. In this sensation, they both feel more ease than tension before parting to see each other's smile. Captivated in pure bliss.

“I never get to do that whenever we’re outside…” Hanjae confesses; his expression and delivery emanate not only embarrassment but also sincerity. He knows he shouldn't feel embarrassed, but it's always been an inclusion whenever he tries to open up. He will just have to do some things that’ll put a little or a lot more hair on his chest. Unless she's not into that. “Or—now that I think about—at all.”

She pulls him in a much deeper kiss, craving for his sweeter and more tender taste not knowing he wants the same. Perhaps it's just their heart and hormones simply setting the mood, but their souls know. Whatever they're feeling is true. Neither of them say those words, but that’s fine. Labels are the least of their worries, for now... What matters most is how their actions speak louder than words. From mind and heart to body.

“Then do that more often,” she giggles, caressing his rough left cheek with her soft hand. For a second, he nuzzles into the warmth of her touch.

“As you wish, Princess.” He takes the woman's hand, indeed like a make-believe royalty, as they get off the bed and land their feet on the carpet.

“You wanna get some breakfast after?” she suggests.

“Oh, I’d love that. I believe breakfast downstairs is highly recommended,” he points out.

“I'll just take a shower first and then we'll grab a bite. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course, Vice President,” he nods. Sieun nudges his shoulder while shaking her head. Giving him a peck on his left cheek, she heads to the bathroom and closes it with a cackle.

After three minutes of texting Eunkyung and Mark on his phone about their concerns, he hears the door creak open. He looks ahead. From the bathroom, the shower begins to pour on a lower level. The curtain slides open; Sieun calls out to him with her same old kittenish voice. “Why don't you join me inside? Burn a few more calories. Hmm…?”

Leaving the door open, while keeping the curtain half closed, Hanjae places down his phone on the nightstand, stripping his undershirt down the floor before running straight to the bathroom, manifesting the raging bull he embodied last night, reinvigorated by his excitement to be with her—his red-headed princess—once more.

= = =

so yeah, although my main focus is on tripleS, I'll definitely write more fics from other groups that I like or follow. on that note, I'm really liking STAYC's comeback. in general, I think a lot of groups' comebacks this month are doing great so far. anyways, enough yappin'. thanks for the read and, like always, have a great day!

[thenextlordthorpe]

Too much was being had in sparring with his stepsister. It had been a long time since he had that kind of rapport, yet it was the first time done with true intent behind it that wasn’t playful. As harsh as he was to Juliet, he was kind to the serving staff. Possibly more than he should be. “I will have to see these joyful spirits, maybe even cause some myself,” flirtatiously said not to his sister but in the direction if the staff before his attention returned to her. The threat of Lord Massey had done exactly what he wanted even so, he couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at her quick retort. “From experience I can tell you men his age can be surprisingly fun in the bedchamber, and I assume his level of experience will guide you into your marriage bed. Shall I make an introduction? He has been looking at you all night! Maybe a dance to see how you two pair up!” It was crude and harsh but if he was forced to take part in society, he would make it, so his family wished that weren’t the case. Pointing out another old Lord with a nod of his head, although one of better looks, Tobias plays around with the ideas of suitors just to trouble her. “Lord Glenn will not disappoint you on your wedding night but be warned, I found some of his tastes quite adventurous. Perhaps him if Lord Massey is not suitable.” The playful demeaner turned slightly serious out of curiosity. “You don’t know why I’m back?” For some reason he had assumed everyone knew given that others high standing in the house like her mother knew of his reasons and the shame with it. “Interesting. I suppose your mother does not trust you enough with the truth of situations.” It was to his benefit that nobody knew but when an opportunity to poke at something came up, he wanted to act on it. “I don’t think you are spoken for,” he says getting closer to her in a hushed tone. “Nothing in the gossip papers say and your mother seemed eager to find you a match.” Then it clocked and the smirk grew insufferably bigger. “Unless…” Snickering, he stepped back and looked her up and down. “Not such a virtuous lady after all? Who is he? Not a man of good standing or your betrothal would be covering the front pages. Will my father have to increase your dowry for your indiscretions Miss Bennett?”

Juliet could not help but fix her pretty features into a soft glare at her stepbrother's worde - and a rather devious smirk played on her features then. "There is no need for that, brother. They are quite happy to do their work with me alongside them. In fact, it seems as if they have been joyfully received and in lively spirits since I've come to this manor - my home now. Perhaps it is all of that time you've been gone." She smirked, taking a bit of the scone she had in her hands and popping a piece of it in her mouth. Upon his words, his threatening words, Juliet looked at the old, lecherous man, known for his want for a younger, beautiful wife - and it made her flesh crawl. "There is a far better chance of you becoming his wife than I, dear brother, but I know you dearly love to jest. You jest your entire life, am I correct? That is what got you back here - in the foul graces of dear father." She smirked, putting the rest of the scone to her lips. "The next time I change my name it will be final and it will be to a name I am most proud to come by - and dearly so, your father's name is hardly the one I took the most pride in. You, after all, are attached to it." She sniped, eyes into his. "Perhaps you should go and find your new companion - a poor soul indeed, brother. For all you know, I am already spoken for."

[meatmensch]

*jenny slate voice* i had to stop reading the battle of the labyrinth cuz it made me too crazy!!

[swagging-back-to]

god the amount of hoops one of my coworkers jumps through for this violent autistic male is insaneeeee

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

candace flynn is THE most teenage girl character of all time. she is at level 100 anxiety 24/7. she shows her love for her brothers by trying to get them in trouble constantly. her neck is as long as her forearm. she features on a blues album after having an allergic reaction. she has a shrine to her boyfriend in her room. she can't live without her phone. she has a panic room in the basement. she plays 20 instruments that all start with the letter B. she read all of sherlock holmes in one night. she's seen their platypus running around as a secret agent more than once, assumed she was hallucinating each time, and moved on with her life while telling no one. she likes wrestling video games. she was rutabaga princess. she has a billion people to email memes to but when she's trying to think of friends she can only think of four people and one of them is her mom. most animals hate her except monkeys. she invented grilled cheese flavored ice cream. she pretended to be irish for a week. she's autistically obsessed with her universe's version of barney. she writes marvel fanfiction. she does parkour. there's an entire archive of her voice actress screaming just in case her voice ever gave out while recording. she sees her brothers build time machines and rollercoasters every day but doesn't believe in santa. when she starts scheming the wicked witch of the west theme starts playing in the background. she was elected queen of mars. she won a "mayor for the day" essay competition. there's a random person in town who's been avoiding her to the point she doesn't know he exists. she learned how to parallel park by driving a monster truck. she thinks the plural of moose is "meese." she tracks her mom with a GPS. she doesn't know her little brother's full name. she's scared of heights, spiders, and the number seven. when her boyfriend told her he'd call "soon" she started doing complex math to try and figure out when exactly that would be. her first thought upon seeing her royal doppelganger was to go to the laundromat and fill all the dryers with cheese. she earned 50 not-girl-scout patches in one day through sheer determination. she can run fast enough to catch up to moving cars. she can sense when ground is broken in the backyard and when people are judging her. one time she got her face caught in the sink. her brothers carved her into mount rushmore. every now and again a magical zebra appears, calls her kevin, and then disappears again. she killed 99% of an alien invasion with a t-shirt cannon. in an alternate universe she's leading a regime-destroying resistance at the age of 15. she's being accidentally gaslit every day of her life.

[cateyam]

Apparently its canon that:

Dick and Jason look alike.

Dick is basically Bruce's carbon copy.

Can you imagine how many times Dick have been mistaken as Jason and Bruce? Or Jason being mistaken as Dick?

Dick, wearing a black tank top and sweats— looking exactly like Bruce, walks into the kitchen:

Damian: Morning, Father.

Dick, turns around, expecting to see Bruce behind him: ?????

——————

20 year old Dick casually picking up his 13 year old brother Jason from school:

Random teacher: Ah, Mr. Wayne. Are you here to pick Jason up?

Dick: Mr— It's me, Dick??? Dick Grayson??????

——————

Dick walking into the Manor after Bruce and Jason having an argument about something:

Bruce: Jason? You're back?

Dick in a leather jacket: He's out killing people wdym??????

——————

Dick just wanting to get some coffee, gets stopped by paparazzi, thinking he was Bruce:

Random reporter: Mr. Wayne!

Dick: STOP CONFUSING ME AS MY DAD

——————

Dick hanging out with Tim:

Random passerby whispering to their friend: That's Bruce Wayne and his son Timothy Drake!

Dick, who could hear it: ...

Tim: Calm down. Calm your tits.

——————

Jason walking into the kitchen, Bruce and Tim are there, both have been awake for 72 hours now:

Bruce: Morning Dick.

Jason: Did you just call me a dick????

Tim: But— that's your name?

Jason: My name is Jason. I'm NOT DICK.

——————

Jason and Dick getting de-aged, both wearing their Robin costumes:

Cassandra: Sooooo... which one is Dick and which one is Jason?

Bruce: I— I never realised they look so similar.

Duke: The angry and feral one must be Jason. Dick's the smiley one.

Tim: Nope. Dick's the feral. Jason's the happy. Been stalking them for years, I would know.

——————

Dick crying hysterically: Do I look old enough to be mistaken as Bruce?!?!?!?!

Bruce: *glares*

Jason: Exactly! I don't look that old to look like Dick.

Dick: FUCK YOU

——————

But of course, sometimes it's an advantage. Dick could get away with things like being Batman, getting his brothers out of trouble, etc.

While Jason could get away with being Nightwing and stuff. (ehem that time when he dressed up as Nightwing and killed people in the suit.)

[tonycries]

Golden Boy - G.S.

Synopsis. Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends/lovers to enemies to lovers, oral (fem receiving), facesítting, creampíe, slight Gojo x Reader, running away from it, Suguru is so SOOO in love still, unprotected, spítting, kinda angsty, hurt/comfort, mentions of bIood and kníves, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. I was listening to fantasmas while writing this so take that how you will LMAO.

The difficult part, surprisingly, wasn’t infiltrating Geto Suguru’s Time Vessel Association. No, a few faux tears, a decoy curse, and you were in - stepping through his grandiose hideout. The difficult part was convincing yourself that you were here to kill him. 

Something that utterly foolish little part of yourself still had trouble believing - even when you had a knife to his throat. 

“Any last words?” you spit, muffled through your mask, thankful for the way it covers up just how much your voice shakes. Maybe because of the way his lips curl into a familiar smile, maybe from his cool dagger pressing against the back of your neck.

Seconds away from a bloodbath. 

You don’t know if you’re breathing - or if he is either. Eyes locked on the way Sugur- your target only raises his hand up, up, up - getting ready to strike. To kill. Only you’d get him first and-

Snip!

You’re not dead. But you might as well have been, because your mask falls onto the tatami mat with a deafening clatter. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

It’s hard not to remember. 

“You don’t have any right to say that.” your knees tighten around where you had him straddled to the ground. Your hand pinning one of his down, blade digging deeper into Suguru’s pale neck - eyeing the slow, steady drop of blood that beads down it. “Didn’t think you’d remember me, either.”

With your mask now no longer on your face, you could traitorously take in that relaxed grin - as if your life wasn’t in his hands right now. As if he didn’t care. 

Suguru’s hair was much longer now, splayed out across the floor inkily. Circling around his broad shoulders, around the eyes that were just a bit harder than they were ten years ago. And yet, you catch the way they flicker briefly with something so raw as he whispers gently, “How could I ever forget my first love?”

So quiet that you could’ve blamed it on your imagination - and you wish you did. 

It’s so unfair. 

Unfair how you let out a gasp, despite yourself. Unfair how you were the best sword wielder that Jujutsu had to offer, yet your fingers tremble on your knife. Heart stuttering at the mere sight of the way his eyes crinkle with the beginnings of a smile. Pleading, like all he could see was you from what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago. 

Those golden years. Back when rare Susanoomon cards were what you’d fight over, and the only stains he’d wipe off were from the grassy grounds of Jujutsu High, still faint underneath the encrusted blood on that uniform nestled away deep in his wardrobe.

You manage to grit out, “Shut up. You left me- us.”

“I did.”

Like it was all he wanted to see. 

“You never loved me.”

“I do.”

Your voice is shrill at this point, words stumbling over each other. “You’ve massacred more people than you’ve saved.”

Suguru wastes no time denying - or in any niceties. Looking right into your absolutely crazed eyes as he answers, “I have.” And his answer rings so hollow and emotionless in your ears, cold-blooded. Absolutely nothing like the boy you remembered. The one that would laugh and steal you away to take you around campus on his bicycle, all because the next class was “too far”.

“I- fuck.” You place both hands on the hilt of your blade, distantly registering the way that Suguru lets his own drop onto the floor. “I should kill you- I should kill you right now.”

Just one flick of your wrist. Fast and simple. 

In and out - exactly like you’d been ordered to. 

“And to die by your hand would be a death that someone like me doesn’t deserve.”

You both jolt when your knife hits the ground - as if neither of you were expecting it. And before you can stop yourself, you’re fisting his thick robes, pulling Suguru’s face up closer to yours. Mere inches away. 

“Then- then I’ll-” you choke, a hand coming up to dig into the sides of his milky neck, leaving neat, red indents on his skin. “I’ll kill you with my own hands, Suguru.”

And he’s known you for years - would never admit it, but was by your side for only half as long as he’d watched over you. 

Saw - only from a distance -  those big fat tears you cried at graduation, the curve of your lips as you pulled a very reluctant Nanami into a hug outside his new office building. The steely look in your eyes meeting Satoru’s much softer one, telling him first how you’re going into teaching. And the smile on your face when you thought of who else might have, too. If he’d gotten the chance.

Always hidden.

Never so close to this frenzied glint in your gaze, a tiny sob threatening to escape your lips. Never like this - and yet, he never thinks you’ve looked so beautiful. 

But what would someone like him know about beauty, anyway?

You flinch as Suguru reaches a hand up to thumb away the furrow between your brows, catching on the single, stray tear sitting at your cheekbone. Whispering - so low that you involuntarily crane your head closer to hear - “Still such a crybaby.”

“And you’re still going to be the death of me.”

Soft - Suguru’s lips are as soft as you imagined. And it’s not exactly the tender, picture-perfectly romantic first kiss his teenage self dreamt up with you, but fuck if he wasn’t going to remember this like it was. 

Perfect. 

Pretty lips smothering yours, all slow and sensual. Drinking in those deliciously breathless gasps of yours as he sucks on your candied lips. 

You gasp, “Suguru.” and it comes out teary. Making you finally register the wetness rolling down your cheeks, glistening against the dim lighting. You tighten your grip around his neck, “This won’t fix-”

“I know.” Fuck, does he know better than anyone else. 

A hand slides up your forearm, the other cupping your face to pull you closer. He’s running his hot tongue along your cheek, pooling your salty tears on his lips. “But let me make you forget - if just for tonight. Please.”

The only answer Suguru gets is your fingers leaving his neck, dancing feather-light across his sculpted shoulders to slide under his robe. Feeling the smooth plane of his pecs underneath your palm, that traitorously thundering heartbeat he wishes he could slow down. “Kiss me.”

“Fuck.” he pants into your open mouth. The sight of your glossy, slightly puffy lips having him surge forward to reattach his with yours with a pained grunt. “God- jus’ a bit more, my love.”

Again. And again and again- like he was addicted. 

He’d always been, with you, anyway.

You let out a sinful sound of his name when Suguru kisses down your neck, lips slotting over your racing pulse. Throbbing and so real under his lips, remembering how he used to feel this song under his arms long before. 

“Oh- shit.” you moan, when his now rougher - larger - hands sneak underneath your crumpled shirt, deftly unbuttoning. Unbuckling. Impatient. “Sugu-”

A hoarse groan leaves him, only spurring him to all but rip the rest of your uniform off your body faster. 

And at the first sight of you clad in nothing but your panties, Suguru’s kiss-bitten lips are falling slack. Brows shooting up into the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead now, “Been missing out, hm?” He’s dipping a hand down to run the back of his index along your clothed, puffy folds. Up and down. “Really been-” Heart clenching when he remembers the way Satoru now looks at you with a familiar glint. One he knew all too well. “-missing out, my love.”

You’re only trailing your fingers along his cheek - his neck, grazing over that little mark from your blade. He groans - maybe from your touch, probably from the way you’re dragging your cunt across that massive bulge underneath you. “Please, Suguru. Wan’ you.” 

And if Geto Suguru has spent ten years denying himself, surely he could sacrifice it for the way he lifts your stuttering, sloppy hips up so easily. All the way up until they were hovering over his mouth, hot breath hitting your clothed cunt. 

“Wanna taste you.” he groans, spying on the way your slick beads through your panties. “Wan’ see if you’re as hah- sweet as I imagined. Please.”

And he’s obsessed with the way you’re sinking yourself down so gently, cock jumping at the thought of you afraid you’d suffocate him - as if you didn’t have your blade at his throat just minutes ago.

“Fuuuck, don’t worry, pretty.” he groans, soft darting to lick at the juices smeared across your inner thighs. “Some more now. Put it all on me, I can take it- fuck-”

Your syrupy sweet cunt has Geto losing whatever’s left of his fucking restraint, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head because you were so sweet. So pretty looking down at him with your glassy eyes. So addictive. He moans, chest heaving as he breathes in your essence. “What happened to that feist from earlier? Gonna hafta do a lil’ more than that now.”

“B-but-”

It’s at this moment you realize that at any given moment Suguru could’ve easily taken the upper hand. A hand of his pulls down your hesitant hips, swollen lips against your covered ones in such a filthy kiss. 

He hums into your folds, bunching your panties between them. “Mmm. Shit- jus’ like I imagined.” Hot tongue dipping just underneath the flimsy fabric to feel out your sloppy entrance, “Better, even. Jus’ look how well you’re taking me, pretty.”

But you don’t - too scared to find out that you’d like the sight more than you should. How you wished you could go back to the golden days where it didn’t matter - wasn’t a matter of life and death. And something else entirely. 

And this dilemma has Suguru’s brows furrowing, sharp canines lightly nipping at one of your swollen folds. Wanting to see how it’s him - despite everything, it’s still him making you feel this way. “None of that now.”

RIP!

With this you have to look down, a desperate whine leaving your stupid mouth at the fucking sinful sight down below. Your panties now a tattered excuse in between Suguru’s teeth, baring them with such a devilish grin right up at you. 

“See?” he spits out the fabric onto the floor beside him, half-lidded eyes peering up at you so sultry. Looking right at you as his tongue lolls out, spreading your bare, needy folds shamefully. “Isn’t this much better?”

“Hngh- fuck, yes-” you slide your fingers through his now-messy hair, falling out of that half-bun. Jolting on top with each push of his tongue past that feeble ring of resistance, the lewd squelches leaving you with each graze of the wet muscle against your walls. “Shit- Suguru it feels too good. So deep ngh-”

He swats a hand against your ass, making you sit your slutty hips down deeper, all the way till Suguru’s jaw was grinding so greedily against your cunt. Tongue bullying past your folds in and out in and out in and-

“God- hah-” he’s pulling away to gasp deep lungfuls of air - secondary, to the way he was back immediately to making out so hotly with your tight pussy. “Mmm fuck. This cute lil cunt is so needy. S’like you’re trynna suck my tongue off.” Thumb reaching up to draw slow, languid circles that have you throwing your head back. “So perfect.”

Your delirious mouth is dropping open, body moving before your mind as you strain to reach your hand behind. Trembling. Shaky when you manage to cup Suguru’s aching erection. 

“G-guess m’not the only one ah- needy, hm?” you smirk, having him bucking and spitting out harsh little profanities with each rub of your palm down his drenched length. 

Suguru doesn’t give you a response - because his fingers are speaking on his behalf. Dipping into your sloppy hole, locating your g-spot, as if on instinct. He’s milking your pretty cunt while he roams for those sweet spots. Lips muffling around your throbbing clit, “You’re always right, my love. You always were.”

And his words are so gentle - mouth so sloppy. Squelches so obscene. 

Nose pressing up at the top of your abdomen, cheeks hollowing wetly around the sensitive nub. Letting your juices drip all the way down his chin, his jaw, dangerously close to that cut on his neck. 

The hand sliding back and forth across the swollen outline of his cock had Suguru get more frenzied. Faster. Like it was his personal mission to make you cum on his tongue before he fucking passed out. 

Penetrating your gummy hole with both his fingers and his tongue, spreading it open more. And it’s all you can do to keen, “Oh- oh my god.” Riding Suguru’s pretty face harder. “Shit- m’close, Suguru.”

“Always right.” he gasps, swiping his tongue faster across your clit. “Always perfect” Alternating between squeezing back into your hole, your sweet spots. Stretching out your gummy walls as far as they’d go. “Always made f’me.” Assaulting it with both his fingers and his tongue. Again. And again and again and- “Jus’ wish I got to have you sooner.”

His words make you snap your eyes up from his mean mouth to meet his gaze, devouring you as greedily and depraved as his tongue. They make your thighs burn with the effort to drag your sloppy pussy faster.

They make you cum - shaking, crying out little mewls of “Ngh- fuck. M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming.”

The way your voice is breaking at the end of each moan has Suguru’s cock straining so painfully against his trousers. One hand firmly on your waist, arching you deeper to tongue you through your high in ways he’s only ever dared to imagine. 

Ways he’s selfishly hoped only he could - even after all these years, the sight of any other man looking at you wrong having his irritation flaring. 

“S’right.” his voice is sending stars bursting behind your lids, tongue even worse. Having you pleading and so sensitive. “I got you, my love. Give it t’me.” Messy - not as forgiving as he’d like to be. “Give it alllll to me.”

And you do - all but smothering Suguru’s eager tongue with all your sweet juices. Ones he’s lapping up happily, tilting his head back as far as it’d go on the floor, letting your heady slick fill up his throat. His pussydrunk lips let out a hiss, both at the burn of that cut on his neck, and the way you’re desperately pulling your hips back. 

Too overstimulated. Too fucking sensitive. Too much - but it would never be enough for Suguru. 

“Please, Suguru.” you sob at the way your limp hips are being pulled back by a needy Suguru. “M’too sensitive. I- fuck-” He’s only lapping at your quivering cunt leisurely, smirk prominent against your swollen folds. 

And it’s all you can do to deliriously slip a hand underneath his robes, a desperate attempt to keep whatever shred of sanity you have left. Fingers feeling down his unfairly toned abs, the tufts of hair at his pelvis, reaching-

“Oh fuck!” Your heavy eyes admire the way Suguru arches into your touch in surprise - like he couldn’t help himself. Eyes flying open, glossy, plump lips curling into a disbelieving grin, “Ya really are made f’me, huh?” 

That’s all it takes for Suguru to head to your lewd whims, bruising fingers on your hips finally loosening to let you sit your sloppy cunt back down on his lap - except, this time, you were seated directly on his rock-hard cock. Pussy lips spreading around his length to just soak him. 

“Oh, my love.” He sits up, splaying you out so prettily on his lap. “How I’ve missed you.”

You don’t even register the way you’re raising your head up to meet Suguru’s - not until he spits. Once. Twice. Straight onto your awaiting tongue that you didn’t even realize you were sticking out, saccharine sweet saliva making such a mess when he’s crashing his lips into yours. 

“Yeahh, like that. Kiss me like that.” he slurs against your mouth, drunk off both sets of your sweet lips. Getting out through wet, sloppy pecks. “How I wish I had you sooner.”

You can feel your heart thumping so wildly against your ribcage, matching the needy, needy staccato of Suguru’s cock throbbing between your puffy folds. And, well, you really can’t be blamed for the way you break the kiss to look down and oh-

Oh Suguru notices that furrow between your brows, kissing away the nervous little wobble in your lower lips as he grunts, “God, you’re killin’ me.” 

Fuck. Killing him?

You were the one sent in for the kill, but it seems you won’t be making it out here alive. 

Because Suguru was so big, girth rubbing up against your thighs. So angry and heavy, smearing hot precum over his abs, your cunt, adding to add to the absolute mess. Long enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk out of here - which, honestly, Suguru would’ve preferred. To keep you with him forever. 

To have you always mewling so prettily when he’s dragging his fat head down your sensitive slit. To have his name - and only his name - leave your bruised lips when he’s asking, “Who’s got you this wet?” 

You’re so cockdrunk already that you’re groaning mindlessly, “You- Suguru-”

“No, that’s not what you call me.” 

And it takes you a few, long seconds to understand what he’s saying, all the while trying to focus with the leaky tip being pressed past your swollen folds. Slow. Torturous. Hitting you so violently at the same time he slips past that first, slutty ring of muscle. 

“Sugu!”

A blinding grin splits across Suguru’s absolutely fucked-out face, brows furrowing together in ecstasy. “That’s more hah- like it.” Not having heard that familiar little nickname - one of your many - fall from your lips since high school - one that makes a heart he forgot he had grow five sizes too large. “Now, just take me-” Hips bucking up, so strong and ruthless. “-like I know you can, okay?”

Over and over. 

You can’t let out anything but barely-lucid whines at this point, letting Suguru sink in inch by fucking inch. Your walls stretched out so perfectly to take his sheer size. But the stretch- oh, the stretch.

Fuck, it has you clawing at Suguru’s exposed shoulders, fingers leaving angry, red marks down the muscles. An obscene ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with each time he reels his hips back, only to bully his aching cock inside until he physically couldn’t.

“Hngh- Sugu, s’too big-” You buck your hips down in shallow, tentative grinds to meet his filthy method of fitting in. “Too- much. Didn’t expect you to be so mean-”

“The sorcerer that hah- held a knife to the infamous Geto Suguru’s neck-” he groans, hands groping your ass to move you further down his massive cock. To watch the way your sloppy entrance was stretching out so much to suck him up. “-can take this too, right? I know you can.” He reaches a deft thumb around to toy with your pretty clit, making your cunt relax like the good girl she is. Fucking up deeper, just a bit more mean. “You- can-”

Several things happen at the tail end of Suguru’s sentence - he’s finally fitting in all in one go. With a calculated, harsh thrust up into your poor cunt, your ass is kissing his heavy balls, pussy rubbing against the hair at his hilt. So full and so much.

And Suguru knows he just might not see heaven - but shit, does he feel like he’s there right now. The feeling so good that both of you letting out mingling gasps of pleasure. 

Your back falling onto the now soiled mats like such animals, the other not far behind.

“You alright, my love?” Suguru hums against your throat when you’re managing to adjust somewhat to the stretch, aware enough to kiss the palm resting protectively underneath your head - making sure you don’t hurt yourself.

You bat your teary lashes, “Never been better, Sugu.”

And something about that makes him remember. 

Remember the way you’d tell him the exact same thing when you fought with curses too strong for you - coming back to the dorms all battered and bruised, but alive. Flashing him that addictive grin, and a crooked thumbs up, “Never been better, Sugu. Gold, actually.”

His golden girl.

Shaking away the tightness at his throat, Suguru instead focuses on wrapping your trembling legs around his toned waist. Tight.

“Sh-shit- you’re milkin’ me so good, fuck-”

Abs burning as he just drags his cock along your plushy walls, keeping your legs held wide open for him. So tight - like you were sucking the fucking soul out of him. Making sure to angle his hips in just the way that’ll have your eyes tearing at the way he was massaging all your sweet spots. 

And sure enough - “O-oh my god-” you breathe, and shit, it was so hard to speak. Suguru’s cock too big, too depraved. Speeding up with every ram of his hips into a steady, mean pace. “Jus’ like that, fuck-”

“Mhm?”

You paw at his free hand settled by the side of your neck, trailing it down, down, down - rings and all - to the part of your stomach you could feel his thick tip hitting. A slight bulge, abusing your cervix over and over, “Here-”

“-s’where I belong.”

Your brows raise at his interjection, and you swipe away the long locks of hair partially covering Suguru’s face, legs tightening around his hips as you take a long, hard look. He repeats, “S’where I belong. Where ngh- you belong.”

Like some deep, dark part of him was trying to fuck out any and every doubt about this out of you - as if you’d have any - Suguru’s rolling his hips harder into yours. All the way until it almost hurt - until the sting of his twitching balls against your ass felt permanent, fingerpads pressing down so hard on your stomach. 

Lips searing against yours, punctuating each word with a jagged, rough thrust. “Because you sh-shouldn’t be ah- here. You shouldn’t be-” He drags you deeper onto his dick like some ragdoll, fingers frenzying on your clit. “-with me.”

Words slurring and as sloppy as his hips now. 

“Wh-why fuck- why wouldn’t I be?”

“Heh, you forgot?” Suguru spits out a chuckle, pushing you further and further up the mat with how bruising his hips were hitting yours. Alternating between marking your cervix - your g-spot - your gummy walls. “Forgot how I told ya to live a better life than this?” Everything and anything. Hips smacking so loud, echoing in symphony with those melancholy words he parted with so long ago. “How I told you to hngh- find a-another? Live a long life? To be happy?”

Now that Suguru was talking, it was like he couldn’t stop. Like a damn had been broken - both with his words and his movements. The curve of his dick drives you wild, veins molding your cunt into their shape. 

Gritting his teeth to hold back the way his drenched balls squeeze so painfully, biting down on your lower lip. “You’re s-supposed to kill me.” A drop of sweat splashing down on your cheek, “To kill me and maybe you’ll be hah- fuck mine in another universe. But not this one.” It’s like he’s out of control now, “Never this one. You can have anybody else.”

And suddenly you’re having a flashback to just a week prior, to an uncharacteristically solemn Satoru telling you words you should’ve been happy to hear. Quiet, and unassuming. Ones you knew that had you heard them before knowing Suguru, you’d have jumped into his arms - exactly how he hoped you would, the day of his departure. 

Chuckling at you being such a “crybaby” about him leaving. After all, this was just meant to be, right?

But no.

Instead, you’re here. Bunching Suguru’s beautiful, glossy hair curtaining the sides of your head, into a ponytail. Difficult - with how he was getting faster. Harder. Just ravaging your hole until you were gaping and breathless.

And yet, arms trembling and limp, you still manage to reveal the boy you fell in love with - the one you could never forget. From the flush on his pretty face, to the twisted, sad curve of his mouth. And the eyes that bore into yours like they were searching for the same thing. Smiling, for the first time since you entered this place, “How could I ever want anyone else, Sugu?”

The hand on your stomach is cupping your adorable face so softly - and it’s hard to believe those hands have killed. Betrayed.

Like they were capable of doing anything but as Suguru swipes the single tear glistening down your cheek, “Still a crybaby, huh, my love?”

And then you cum - and Suguru isn’t too far behind. 

It’s just a flash of hot white, tingles running down your spine - all the way to the thick, creamy base soon forming around his wildly twitching cock. 

And it’s so good. Too good that all you can do it scream out his name, letting him do anything - and you were glad all he did was fuck you so mercilessly through your high. So violent. Addictive. 

Vision blurry, mouth sagging open for Suguru to press intimate little kisses along the corners of your mouth. Whispering sweet praises as your cunt sucks him up so good. So sinfully milking him for everything he’s worth. 

Taking in rope after rope of thick cum that warms your gummy walls from the inside, overfilling just enough for it to dribble down into the mat below in an obscene little pool. Smearing down your thighs, his balls. Heavenly. 

His heaven.

And in the haze of it all, Suguru imagines that you’ll reach for your knife again, press it back against the curve of his exposed neck. He imagines you’ll laugh in his face, tell him what a great whim this was but you had to get back to your job, turning your back on him as he has done before. He imagines.

But what he gets is your strained, fucked-out little voice, “I missed you, my golden boy.”

A/N. Yes, That Line was inspired by HTTYD. If I had to be hurt, y’all do, too. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sheeezu]

Yes, this is a new account, I just made this. I don't care if people question the authenticity of my post, my experience as a shifter, or whatever I'm about to say.

I don't know how to use Tumblr, nor do I know how to make my post reach people who need it, nor would I be a narcissist and say "you're lucky if you found my post!" I don't mind if this reaches an audience or not, I'm glad to get everything off my chest.

Yes. I've shifted.

I have shifted realities, more times than I can count on my fingers, and that is for a very specific reason, which I'll explain later.

I'm writing this because I'm about to permashift, and no, I won't hear out any antishifters or people who don't like permashifting in general, I don't care about your opinion so don't waste my time.

Before I start, I'd like to say one thing:

I was irrational minded, I lacked belief in myself and shifting. Shifting often times felt like a chore more than a fun activity, and i have to admit, it became an unhealthy habit.

So? Why did I mention this?

Because I had been lurking around shifting communities and I realised everyone feels like this, a very (mentally) painful feeling where the lack of shifts starts acting as your biggest enemy, and the phrase:

"Shifting needs practice!"

Sounds like poison when it comes from an experienced shifter.

Though, is the phrase actually true?

No, not at all.

Shifting does not need practice!!

Here's why:

(BTW, I will explain my "method", no matter if I have time or not. Also, I don't call this reality "Current Reality", instead I call it Void reality, so don't get confused.)

The "practice" you're doing is only affecting your void reality (taking time out of your day, making you constantly think you're in your learning phase, so it doesn't exactly lead to your desired reality, does it?)

Of course, if you view it as a skill, it will in some way act like that, it'll become a skill for you, and you can never succeed on your first, second, third, hundredth try, because in your brain you have registered the fact that shifting is this grand, universal task, and that it is very difficult (because its common sense that you practice difficult things to get good at them)

Practice is a very humane and earthly act, if people have succeeded doing just practice, then good for then, they're right in their own way, but it didn't work for me, and in my opinion it's the worst way to view shifting, and often times it is demotivating, and you'll mess up you're entire journey.

Shifting is not a skill, shifting is a universal law.

I'll become more clear as I explain my journey:

My journey:

I found shifting from a random YouTube video 3 years ago. I might have only said cool and moved along.

A year later something traumatic happened in my life, which shook me so badly I needed an escape.

First of all, I chose astral projecting, but I realised I was too much of a coward to do so.

Then I came towards shifting, first DR was very typical, it was Hogwarts.

Having no knowledge whatsoever in the topics of spirituality, meditation, I went straight to methods, because they were like guides for me, I was very inexperienced, of course, and looked at other people and what they were doing for guidance.

Alice in wonderland method didn't do much, raven method was too uncomfortable (side note, all this raven method does is make you too focused on your void reality, cmon, in your DR are you laying down like a starfish?) And I was having terrible trouble with my intrusive thoughts (which made the floor disappear from under my feet, made the stairs for the stairs method too short to climb or straight up made them dissappear as well)

I didn't have any luck that year, no mini shifts, no lucid dreams, or sleep paralysis. And my DRs never remained constant. They always changed on a daily basis.

I was big on methods, I couldn't realize they never worked for me.

Although, this year of failure led me to finally figure out where I belonged.

A DR made out of scratch, which I spend much effort in putting the pieces of it together.

The DR, which was called "Home reality" really made me feel settled in my journey.

LOA, and the consciousness theory were the leading factors which made me shift.

And don't worry, it isn't what you're tired of being told, I didn't just apply any orthodox definition of LOA and succeeded.

Background to my first shift:

It was a particularly stressful day, I really missed my home.

I was studying at my college (I still am, but...) and I was dreading giving a chemistry test, I did not prepare. In my mind, one thing was constantly looping in my head.

The scenario of the chemistry teacher coming in, and taking the test, and the next day I get it handed back with a big fat zero.

But then I stopped and wondered, having already known about the consciousness theory, so according to it:

"I am constantly letting this thought run in my mind, and constantly letting this reality dictate what happens next."

Basically, I realized what was about to happen next was indirectly in my control, but with my line of thinking, I was letting this reality control it directly.

I stopped, like actually stopped thinking.

And with a blank mind I thought.

"I won't have to take any test today."

And went around telling my classmates this with a confident tone.

The teacher came in, said we'll instead do some practicals in lab.

So the test got cancelled.

Going home, I got excited, i felt powerful.

I decided to apply this to shifting.

Before shifting, I took a nap during the day, (if you're tired your body insists on sleeping, so your mind will get hazy and you will start acting lazy towards your goal)

And after living how I normally would, before bedtime, I listened to some songs, and look at a Pinterest board which reminded me of my home reality.

My method and what happened next:

First phase of shifting:

When I laid down on the bed to start shifting, I first got comfy (for me, if I feel sleepy for some reason, I laid on my back, I can't fall asleep in that position, but if I think ill stay awake until I reach a "detached state" then I sleep on my side, it's comfortable)

I obviously wasn't checking the time, but I spent about 10 minutes getting relaxed, all I do to relax is:

a) look at the blackness (closed eyes, looks like starry skies) and try to believe I'm looking at the milky way.

b) think about my home reality, just faces of my loved ones, and nostalgia inducing images.

c) Affirm, but don't focus entirely on affirming, usually in the back of my mind I'm repeating "I have shifted to my home reality" "I have shifted my senses to my home reality" "I have stopped sensing the void reality" "I am smelling, tasting, feeling, hearing and seeing my home reality" no other fancy affirmations required. (Now that I think about it, you need to affirm NOW because this method has two phases, one where you are shifting, and one where you have shifted, and you are in the 3D, where you are occupying your DR self, their thoughts, and memories, and popular method usually only have one phase, either you are shifting, or have shifted. So my point is if you affirm later and you'll be affirming when you're supposed to be in your DR, and obviously, your DR self won't be spouting out affirmations about shifting to a random reality for no reason.)

During this time, you'll feel tingly all over. It's a good sign.

And you'll feel a certain detachment, like you aren't exactly here, you have no idea what position you're lying in, and where your feet are. (Please, for the love of God do not start counting your feet or get freaked out that you can't feel your leg, you'll come back to the void reality.)

So you can start the next phase.

Middle phase (optional):

To prepare for the next and last phase, you can do this to get ready, or don't (First read the third phase)

This is all about connection to your DR.

Think about memories from your DR, focus on the faces of your loved ones, the way you act, talk, your mannerisms in your DR, or you can simply say affirmations like these one:

My name is ___.

I work as a ___.

My age is ___.

Don't try to imagine vividly or anything, lightly touch upon the basic details of your DR, the construction and foundation of any reality and the person, who has existed there for their entire life.

(That's you!)

Phase three:

Take a sudden, abrupt stop from your stream of thoughts. (Yes intrusive thoughts will still pop up but don't give any importance to them) when you're in a blank state of mind, not longer than 30 seconds, you need to build up to the last step of your shifting method, and journey.

a) start imagining hearing the voices of your loved ones or just any voice, calling your DR name, your nicknames, with different tones. (For example, i heard my name in an angry tone from my father when he was scolding me, I heard my name followed by a laughter when my S/O teased me.)

OK, for me, I started feeling intense, groundshaking symptoms at this moment. Sudden flashing of lights, extreme feeling of floating, and ofcourse, feeling tingliness so much that it felt like pins and needle on my entire body. (I did ignore the symptoms)

b) plan the rest of your day in your DR, which you will be spending.

AGAIN, PLEASE DON'T SAY IT LIKE THIS.

❌️When I reach my DR ❌️ I will have to go to that eye specialist for that appointment.

Instead: (and the more you personalize it, the better)

Ughhh, I have to go to that appointment- this day will suck.

(Don't mind my example, that was the only thing I could think of at the moment)

c) in this reality, you are constantly thinking of something, your thoughts are definitely what constructs this reality, and your current thoughts are affecting your subconscious. (By this point, your subconscious is grounded in your DR, so don't worry about that bastard.)

Now, you're going to start thinking, thoughts which are going on in your DR self's mind, start with one sentence, with which you'll be able to start consciously thinking like your DR self.

And think in the style, tone, and mood of your DR self, and keep the thoughts strictly related to your DR.

Thats it, but what happens afterwards? And what happened to me?

So for me, I started feeling weird while I was thinking.

And I remember I thought this:

"Ugh, I don't want eggs for breakfast."

(I'm not saying this is the key to shifting, at this point, I had covered various topics, including, weather, my upcoming work assignment, and praised my S/O for a good 5 minutes.)

And I started panting, like suddenly I was trying to catch my breath, the room felt bright, so I opened my eyes, and well, I was in my home reality :)

I was delirious for a few second, my S/O was looking at me worriedly, but surprisingly, it didn't even take me a minute to adjust, it felt all so natural and I wasn't scared.

I didn't even feel emotional, at all, and didn't hug my S/O with tears in my eyes, I straight up asked to be served breakfast, incase anyone was wondering.

So that's it.

Although i have much to say, I'm tired of writing, but I'm more than willing to answer each and every one of your questions, although I only have 7 hours left till I permashift, I'll remain mostly active till then.

And no, I'm not rereading this to fix my grammar, so just ask if anything confused you.

Ask away.

I'm still not sure if this'll reach anyone or not.

[xervn]

melatonin

two-shot | enemies to fuckers sevika x reader

pt. 2

ao3 link

summary: you're forced to go on a business trip with your least favorite coworker and share a room with her. now you can't sleep.

18+ MDNI | 4.1k words | tags; canon divergence, sevika is a little mean, sevika is nonchalant fr, reader is a brat, very light sub/dom, vaginal fingering, scissoring, begging kink, praise kink kinda, porn w/ plot-ish, no use of y/n

new record; took me 4 days to write. i don't know who possessed me. i love enemies to lovers so bad FUCKKKK!!!

“One room.” The motel owner, an old, short, and grotesque-looking woman with a thick accent, says. 

 “One room? Clear another one out then?” You insist, mildly threateningly. The woman’s eyes glaze over as she blinks. She’s not moved.

“There are two beds; who cares?” Sevika grumbles, clearly over your antics.

You shoot a glare in her direction, lip forming into a scowl. “I’m not sharing a room with you; you look like you snore.” 

She tells you something along the lines of go fuck or kill yourself (you weren’t really listening) before pushing past you and replacing the room keys on the counter with a stack of silver cogs. 

The owner collects the cogs with a grunt before adjusting her small reader glasses. Sevika strides off towards the rooms, and you quickly turn after her.

“Couldn’t you have tried to help?” You ask. Your eyes burn a hole through the side of her face.

She doesn’t spare you a glance. “You’re dramatic, and I don’t have the patience to deal with your bullshit right now.”

You hate her. You fucking hate her. You’ve been working alongside Sevika for two years now, yet you can’t shake the feeling. It started when you first met; Sevika was cold and critical, reprimanding you even though you were young and starting out. That’s not even what drove you to hate her, though; at least back then it felt like she was looking out for you, but you were painfully mistaken when you got promoted within the year. 

You don’t know what it was; jealousy, doubt, but her distaste for you only grew more apparent. There were fewer critiques and more insults about how you work or about your intelligence. Insufferable. She was insufferable.

There hasn’t been a day she’s been likable since then, so imagine your reaction when Silco tells you and her to go on a little business trip to Bilgewater. No matter how much the both of you wanted to protest, you didn’t. Instead you two argued amongst yourselves the whole trip there. 

Why would you want to spend even more unnecessary time around her?

The minute you guys enter your room, you don’t speak a single word to each other, let alone look each other’s way. You take turns using the restroom to get ready for bed, and then you find a place for your belongings, and Sevika ejects her bionic arm for the night. Although you two definitely don’t like each other, it doesn’t mean you don’t trust each other. You know she won’t rob you; she knows you won’t (can’t) take advantage and kill her. That’s the only semblance of peace you share.

— 

A faint amber light soaks through your eyelids, and you blink them open to the popcorned ceiling. You toss and turn in your bed, rustling around, unable to find a good position, and it doesn’t help that the cheap mattress is, well, cheap. You can’t sleep. You’ve always had trouble sleeping, but it’s never been a real problem before; you’d just stay up. Yes, you have permanent eye bags because of it, but it’s not like you can choose otherwise. You‘re from Zaun; any aid for it is not exactly accessible. 

However, the meeting you have tomorrow is important, so it’s important that you find a way. You can’t afford to slack off or doze off during it; you’re the negotiator, and tomorrow makes or breaks a trade deal that will be most beneficial for Zaun’s income. 

You rustle in your bed sheets again, and Sevika immediately groans. “Can you stop? And turn the lamp off.”

You look at her and you’re about to apologize, but you hold your tongue when you remember who you’re talking to. “I can’t sleep.”

“Turn the lamp off and fucking figure it out.” She snaps, turning her back towards you.

“Can’t you hear?” You squirm around, making as much noise as possible to get your point across. “I’m trying.”

“Find a different way. Count poros. Turn the lamp off.”

You scoff, eyes back on the ceiling, “I’m not five; counting poros doesn’t work, and I’m not turning off the lamp.”

You can hear Sevika shifting in her bed. “I knew you should’ve stayed back,” she sighs, “and you’re scared of the dark? Grow up.”

“Wow, fuck you. If you had asked nicely, I would’ve turned it off, and what do you mean I ‘should’ve stayed’? You’re not my boss. I’m more valuable than you are.” You angrily rant. 

“Alright, you are talking way too much right now. Cut it out.” 

“…No.” You reply. It sounds unconvincing with your lack of words, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Do you need calming tea or something? What will get you to shut up, because I’m about to hold a pillow over your head and call it a night.” She growls.

“Nothing. I can only sleep if I get a concussion or if I drink my pants off.”

She says your name like a warning, “If you ruin this deal, I’ll make sure to see you off myself.”

You bite back, “Sevika, if I could sleep, I would be sleeping. I don’t want to ruin it either, but your scolding isn’t helping.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then Sevika grunts stubbornly. It’s followed by sheets moving and a dull stomp on the floor. You turn to look, and you see Sevika sitting at the side of her bed. 

You glance at her muscular thighs in those gray shorts—you couldn’t help it—before staring back at the ceiling. “Are you going to make me tea?”

She pushes off the bed with her one arm. “No.”

“Switching rooms then?” You ask as your eyes follow her shadow’s movement on the walls. 

“No.”

“Then... What is it?“ You turn, flinching a bit when you find Sevika peering down at you. 

She looks hesitant, timid; the first time you’ve ever seen it. “I’ll help you.”

Your defenses go off, and you quickly sit up. “Wait. You’re not going to kill me, right?”

“Over sleep? Are you stupid?” She pushes you back down, and not with much force, obviously.

You lay there, defeated. “So?”

“I said, ‘I’ll help you.'” She restates.

You stare up at her with slight annoyance, “Well, you have to tell me how?”

She has an indecisive frown before exhaling, “If you come, you’ll shut up.” 

Your head shakes in confusion. “Come? Where are we going?” 

“You’re an actual idiot.” She groans.

You gasp in offense. “You’re the one being fucking cryptic—“

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.” 

“What?”

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.”

“I heard you; I’m just,” you laugh nervously, “are you serious?” Your ears must be playing tricks on you. 

“We’re not close enough to joke around with each other.” She says plainly.

Baffled, you reply, “We’re not close enough to fuck either?” 

“Do you really care about shit like that? Sex is sex.”

You think about it for a second. You’ve never been in a proper relationship, and you’ve only had a handful of hookups, but you’ve never slept with someone you dislike, and you definitely don’t like Sevika. Even if she is hot. “Well, I guess not—“

“—Then what’s the issue?” Her eyes bore into you.

You gulp at the sudden weight of her stare, but you don’t crumble. “The issue is that I don’t like you. At all.”

Sevika scoffs, “I’ve seen the way you stare at me. You’re not subtle. At all. I saw you do it a few minutes ago.”

How embarrassing. It’s true, between all your hate are moments of admiration. Sevika is “cool,” she’s respected, she’s feared. She’s also full of herself, naggy, and blunt. Both things can be true. But on top of that, she’s hot to the point it’s frustrating. 

One time, while she was sitting in her designated booth at The Last Drop playing poker, she locked eyes with you after a big win. There was that sexy, satisfied grin she always gets after every win, and she had the audacity to lock eyes with you. 

Your thighs pressed together. You beat yourself up over it for the rest of the night and the following day; you couldn’t even look her in the eye without getting unreasonably angry.

Your face is turning warm, but there’s no point in turning away—you have to fake it until you make it. “Okay? What’s your point?” You ask, even though her point was very clear. You’re running yourself into walls.

Sevika already deciphered that; her face reads, ‘Where the fuck are you right now?’ “Listen, I don’t like you either, but if you want to sleep, I’ll help you, and if you don’t, I’ll get another room.” She explains.

You can tell it’s her final offer. You chew your bottom lip until you remember Sevika is still looking at you. Hiding your face behind your hand, you can’t believe you’re considering it. Sex with Sevika. Sounds mad when you repeat it in your head. It’s just sex, though, right? You knew she loved Zaun, but you didn’t know she loved it this much. Sleeping with you, practically her arch nemesis, for the betterment of society. That sounds insane. This is insane.

Sevika kisses her teeth, “Forget it—“ 

“—Okay,” you interrupt, “help me.” You’re unable to look her in the eyes. 

She looks at you dubiously, and her lack of doing anything unnerves you, so you continue. “Please?” You slowly look up at her, and you swear her eyes darkened. 

“Please?” She mimics. “Didn’t take you for the submissive type.” 

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You reply, although it comes out like a whisper.

“Mhm,” she hums apathetically, pulling up the covers draped over you. Her knee makes a dip in the bed. “Make some space,” she asks. You sit up, and you have no idea what to do. Looking left and right, you'd think you were trying to cross the road. She stares blankly. “Just spread your legs.” She commands.

You immediately do as she says, and she chuckles to herself at how you continue to prove her right. You’re clearly not a fan of that, your frown prominent. “What’s funny?” 

Sevika kneels herself between your legs, using her arm to help balance her in place. “Man, you love to argue.” 

You shrug. “I’ll stop when you fuck me to sleep. If you can... Don’t you think you’re a little overconfident?” 

Sevika slowly blinks at you, unsure of whether she should be turned on or irritated. You take it as the latter, and now it’s your turn to chuckle to yourself. But your self-satisfied giggling stops when she leans over you, inches away from your face, “You’re about to find out.” 

You never took the time to process Sevika kneeling between your legs, and now you can feel each exhale from her on your face. Your body starts to process it too: your breathing gets heavier and your heartbeat gets faster. You don’t have a crush on her or anything, but this is an unusual, unsurprisingly hot experience. Your eyes flicker to her full, uneven lips before they squeeze shut.

Sevika flicks your forehead. “Wh—ow?!” You whine, rubbing your head with your hand to soothe it. 

“I’m not kissing you.” She clarifies.

Your face warms with embarrassment, fingers gripping at the fabric beneath you. “How was I supposed to know you wanted a staring contest?” You grumble.

Sevika rolls her eyes, barely shaking her head in disappointment. Her face moves on from yours, and her lips attack the exposed curvature of your neck, licking, biting, and rendering you speechless. She gives you no time to regulate your emotions, and you let out a soft groan you would’ve otherwise swallowed down. Just what she wanted: less talking, more moaning.

Letting her guide the tilt of your head, you awkwardly rest your hands on her shoulders. You’re unsure of whether you can or should touch her. She pauses. “Sor— I… uh…” You stammer and put your hands up. You decide to just stop speaking to save yourself.

“Relax.” She tells you, gazing at you through her loose, dark hair. It stirs something below you. 

You place your hands back on her shoulders, albeit reluctantly, and try to maintain eye contact so you look composed. 

Sevika doesn’t buy it. She glances at your hands, very tellingly. “…Relax.” She repeats, softer than she did before, and your heart skips a beat like you’re in a cliché. 

Hesitantly, you slide your arms around her shoulders, linking your hands together. It feels intimate, too intimate, and looking at her is getting harder by the second. Sevika chuckles in a way that borders on a scoff. “You wanted to do that; don’t be shy about it.”

You huff, “I didn’t know I was being teased to sleep…”

“Is it working? It’d save me time.”

“Fuck off...” 

“You’d hate that.” She replies, as if it’s undeniable. It is, but she’s way too cocky about it. You look like you’re about to curse her out, but you’re holding it back. 

Sevika grins smugly, and for a moment, she considers kissing you. Your arms are wrapped around her shoulders, your eyes are yelling, ‘Fuck me already,’ lips practically begging to meet hers.

This is intimate, too intimate. It’s fucking with her logical reasoning—not that this is logical to begin with. It sounds stupid, but it’s worked for her so far; she casually fucks on the regular, and she doesn’t kiss them ever. Never really felt like it. Yet, here you are, making her feel new things. She knows there’s no going back if she makes an exception with you, and quite frankly, you still piss her off. It’s conflicting.

You impatiently perk a brow at her. You had to stop yourself from flat-out asking her to continue; your ego can’t afford you coming off as begging.

For a millisecond she looks like she got caught, then a millisecond later, she’s on you again. 

She attentively kisses the skin below the curve of your jawline, her tongue making frequent warm appearances. It’s much more fervent, but rough in a way that makes you tremble. She always makes sure you feel her teeth gliding over when she moves to the next spot. Your legs move on their own, one leg curling up against her side. You’re already pooling where you’re seated, but now it’s getting uncomfortable to sit this damp. 

Experienced is how you can describe her right now. You heard rumors of her activity, but you never believed it. There was no way her ol’ grumpy ass was getting laid, no matter how incredibly sexy she was. Then again, you never got along, which makes this situation, this fucking feeling, even crazier. 

She was being extra careful not to bruise you at first, but she seems not to care anymore, only driven further when she hears your little gasps or feels your arms tightening around her. She’s getting carried away, but she’ll figure out how to play it off some other time.

 Sevika pulls back. She throbs at your dazed and confused expression.  “Come closer.” She ushers as she transitions to sitting rather than kneeling on the bed. 

With no hesitation, you don’t let go of Sevika as you push yourself forward on your hips, sitting your ass comfortably on the edge of Sevika’s lap. Her hand lands on your waist. She says, “Lay down for me.” 

You nod shyly, removing your arms from Sevika’s shoulders and descending onto the mattress. Sevika tries to ignore how the loss of your arms around her made her feel. Her hand travels to the waistband of your joggers. “You’re going to have to move these for me too.” She asks, shrugging her shoulder that’s missing an arm as a reminder. 

She doesn’t move; she waits. Your insides do a flip. She’s waiting for you to remove them how you are now: legs diverged around her, hips pointed towards her. You think about how vulnerable you’ll look and feel when you slide them off, showing her the sopping mess she unknowingly made between your legs. You know she’s going to see it eventually, but from you doing the honors? That’s tearing you apart. She notices a shift in your demeanor, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Hurry up.” 

“Can’t you move back…?”

Sevika rolls her eyes. “No.”

You whine in embarrassment, briefly shielding your face in your hands before hastily pulling at your waistband. You wish you had turned the lamp off.

Sevika’s hand clasps over yours. “Slowly.” She scolds. Scolds. You’re fucking flabbergasted. She’s doing this on purpose, you can tell. She’s barely holding back another signature, smug smile. 

“You’re such a dick.” You curse. A direct juxtaposition in your actions that don’t defy Sevika at all. Hell, it juxtaposes your body because of how you’re aching for her.

“Yeah, yeah. Off.” She pulls at the band of your pants, letting it slap down when she releases it. 

You mutter out a few more curses that she fully grins at before you silently begin to remove your joggers and underwear simultaneously. You lift your hips for mobility, and Sevika’s eyes are glued to the fabric making its way down your thighs, and you’re forced to watch how intently she’s watching you. You can try to insist this is humiliating and cruel, but you can’t stop throbbing just from this; her eyes anticipating your reveal, like you’re a self-opening present.

The clothing starts to bunch at the middle of your thighs, and your arousal is halfway there to being exposed to Sevika. The scent is what hits her first; it makes her want to yank your pants down and give you what you want, but watching you do it so much better.

Once it reaches above your knees, she partially moves out of the way so she can help you remove them properly. While she tosses it elsewhere, you debate pinning your legs shut. 

Sevika looks back at you—your legs, actually—and you do flinch them closed. She tsks. “Don’t be stubborn. Not now.” She didn’t sound like she was insulting you, even though a small part of you wanted to be offended. 

You let out a shaky sigh and avoid her gaze, slowly parting your legs. Thighs slicked with arousal, folds glistened with the same, you’re undeniably soaked. You prepare yourself to look at Sevika’s shit-eating grin, but when you do, it’s nothing of the sort. Her eyes are low, shaded, and memorializing, and her bottom lip fully disappeared between her teeth. 

Then she grins; she even laughs, just as you expected. You groan, not at her, but at how wet you got from it. “I didn’t even do anything yet.” She teases, her eyes still locked on the ego-stroking mess she made of you. 

“Such a di—“ You cut yourself off to moan sharply. 

Sevika’s thumb came in contact with your swollen clit, the rough pad of her thumb making perfect circles; the rest of her fingers positioned in the patch of hair crowning above it.

“How fast do you think you’ll come? I’m thinking,” she pretends to, only to press her thumb over your clit. Filthy words flutter from your lips, and you instinctively grind into her touch. “Three minutes?” 

You look pissed between your bouts of pleasure; it molds together attractively. Sevika can’t wait to make it break, make you cry, and fuck the attitude out of you. “What? You should see how wet you are; you’d think I already fucked you.” 

She feels the way you twitch at her words, and it makes the pressure between her legs unbearable. She should just strip and grind her cunt into you, but she knows she won’t be able to stop there. Fuck her stupid life; she’s losing the plot. 

Her thick forefinger collects your slick as she paths towards your entrance. You twitch as she slides it in, making you gasp. She chuckles as your walls clench around her finger, and she starts pushing it in and out, painstakingly slow. 

It’s not enough, yet you can’t bring yourself to beg her for more. It’s at the tip of your tongue, but Sevika was right; you are stubborn. She reads you like a book, and she can read you now. She angles her finger in a way that brushes against your g-spot, but at the same mind-numbingly slow pace. 

Your body doesn’t know what to do; you can’t find friction anywhere; you can squeeze against her finger, but it doesn’t change her speed; all you can do is writhe in place. “You look like you need something,” she says, almost like it’s a thought in her head, so condescending, so fucking hot. Your pussy tenses around her finger for the millionth time, and you almost, almost, cry. “You’re gonna cut my finger off at this rate.” You tense again. She chuckles. 

“Sev—Sevika,” you bite your lip to hold down a sharp inhale, but it fails miserably. “Sevika, you’re not helping.”

 “Should I stop?” She asks with the tilt of her head. Her finger does stop regardless of the answer. 

Your hands reach out for her wrist, weakly clawing at it. “No! No, pl...” You mildly cringe at yourself, turning away. 

Sevika’s brows lifted. “What was that? Pl...?” She begins her pace again, and you realize you didn’t appreciate it enough before. “You said it once already; come on.” 

Your lips tremble, “Plea—se—?” She barely lets you finish the word before slipping another finger into your drooling cunt. Her pace increases, and you let go of her wrist as you succumb to pleasure. 

 Your arousal coating her fingers makes the most obscene noises; she wonders if the entire motel can hear it. You try to suppress your moans with your hand, but you can never do it right, not with the way she’s fucking you. Sevika’s glad you can’t; having one arm would’ve been even more inconvenient otherwise. She needs to hear you sob out her name at least once. “Please what?” She leans over you as she slams her fingers into you, pressing them against your wet, ridged, gummy walls.

“You’re— fuck, you’re pushing it,” you groan, and just like that, she slows down. But you’re weak, and you crumble. “Wait, wait, wait—please. Please, fuck me... Fuck me to sleep.” You ramble loosely, back to scratching at her wrists again. There’s that smile you were thinking about earlier, the one she gets after a big win. She broke you, and she lost the plot ages ago. 

—

It’s been an hour, and you’re already on the brink of your third orgasm. Sevika folded and ended up, verbatim, stripping and grinding her cunt into yours. You should be asleep right now, but Sevika said you have enough time to catch up on it before the meeting. You hope that’s true, but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of her or her abs flexing with every desperate hump. 

So intent on getting her rocks off, practically using you for her own pleasure at this point—you already came twice now; any more is a bonus, just like the one building up right now. Your eyes are pressed shut, trying to envision your release so it comes quicker. “Just like that. Keep fucking me, please, Sev.” You beg through your teeth and quiet sniffles. Sevika’s fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh.

She murmurs, “You,” her movements get sloppier; you can tell she’s close, “feel so fucking good.” Now you’re close—no, you come at her praise. 

You’re shaking, grabbing at the sheets that have since slid off the mattress. You forgot how to breathe; all you can feel is your orgasm coursing through you. Your mind is turning fuzzy, and even fuzzier with Sevika still grinding into you. Your moans are pitchy and pornographic; you’re making sounds you didn’t even think happened in real life. “Sevika...” You sob out from overstimulation, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

She loves it. “Shit…” Sevika moans, followed by several more curses as she shudders out her orgasm. Her vision goes blurry for a second from how hard she came. She tries to control her labored breathing as she comes to, breathlessly calling your name. 

When she focuses in on you, you’re passed out, fucked out, and peaceful. Sevika’s pupils dilate at the markings she left on your neck, then to your lips, which she’s yet to have the chance to kiss. She lets the sleep weighing on her win and carefully collapses beside you. 

>

[endursent]

My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (2)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】

【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】

【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; made the genshin version... no reason for this to be like 19 pages 😭 】

【 word count; 8.723 | read on ao3 | hsr ver | hsr reader ver | gi reader ver 】

Alhaitham ;

Kaveh gaped at you when you brought a cat into the house, one that… looked eerily similar to a certain blockhead. “I can explain,” you say as you set the cat down on the floor, he doesn’t enter the house further than you do, instead sitting down by your feet and observing the interaction with… interest? Amusement…? 

  Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.

  For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson. 

  He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination. 

  He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all. 

  You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense. 

  He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.     Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.

  But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.

Arataki Itto ;

It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.

  You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!

  You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.

  Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”

  He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically. 

  A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.

  Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully. 

  He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night. 

  So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.

Baizhu ;

You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.

  You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.

  Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price. 

  Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.

 The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed. 

  Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do. 

  But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.

Cyno ;

You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city! 

  You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.

  You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…

  But very well, he wins this round. 

  Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either! 

  After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.

  You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range. 

  The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.

  He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!

  This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.

  And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.

Dainsleif ;

He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.

  Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.

  It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.

  You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.

  He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort. 

  Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.

  Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.

  But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.

Diluc ;

Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!

  Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—

  Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…

  He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out. 

  You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you  walk over and open the door for him to slip out of. 

  Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do  while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses. 

  It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.

  One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.

  You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.

  Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.

Kaedehara Kazuha ;

Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.

  (Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).

  There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.

  You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour. 

  Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…

  But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.

  He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.

  He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not. 

On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?

  He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.

  Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.

  You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.

Kaeya ;

Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing. 

  Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing. 

  You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human. 

  He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray. 

  His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions. 

  He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek. 

  After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.

  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 

  He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.

  But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?

Kamisato Ayato ;

Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens. 

  Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.

  Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place. 

  You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.

  His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind. 

  Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.

  You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!

  He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.

  Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does. 

  He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed. 

  You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you. 

  He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

Kaveh ;

Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.

  A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?

  Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.

  You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.

  “... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.

  Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”

  You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat? 

  Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.

  Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”

  Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible. 

  While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.

  But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.

  He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.

Neuvillette ;

You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?

  You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?

  Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.

  You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.

  He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.

  You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.

  Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.

  Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.

  He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.

  It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable. 

  Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.

Tartaglia ;

You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.

  You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.

  Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over. 

  Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.

  You set your haps on your hips. “What?”

  “Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat. 

  … fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”

  What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!

  He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.

  He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.

  Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other. 

  He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches. 

  In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds. 

Thoma ;

He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.

  But he also has a problem…

  He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself. 

  Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around. 

  Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him. 

  Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week. 

  But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work. 

  The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it. 

  He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it. 

  Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.

  His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work. 

Venti  ;

You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.

  Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes. 

  He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat. 

  Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.

  He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself. 

  Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.

  And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing. 

  You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”

  Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares. 

Wanderer ;

He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.

  And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.

  He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.

  At least, that was the plan. 

  Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.

  As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat. 

  He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it! 

  And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes. 

  He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days. 

  You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away. 

  It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!

Wriothesley ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*. 

  You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”

  He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard. 

  You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!

  It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.

  On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!

  He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.

  Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…

  You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.

  He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks. 

Xiao ;

He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach. 

  You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat. 

  He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn. 

  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.

  … after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…

  But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy. 

  He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.

  Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.

  But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill. 

  But he does. Not. Meow. 

  Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…

  Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.

  Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.

Zhongli ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.

  You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.

  After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.

  You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom. 

  Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before. 

  He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping. 

  He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do. 

  Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission??? 

  You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this. 

* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.

* wriothesley is supposed to be a maine coon type of cat, just huge and heavy. but not wild cat huge.

[purinfelix]

you're no good for me, but baby i want you - n. riki ✶⋆.˚

summary: after growing tired of his constant teasing you made up your mind not to give Niki anymore of your attention, but you should've known that he wouldn't let you go that easily - and is willing to go to desperate measures to get you just to look at him ──── delinquent Niki x class president reader || sfw but a little suggestive, kissing/making out, so much tension like so much, enemies to lovers sorta? || w/c: 2.7k

a/n: okay i'm trying to get better at writing longer fics/ones that actually have closure bc looking back i realise i kinda always leave u guys on cliffhangers LOLL - also i rlly tried to avoid making this too cliche given the trope i hope it worked !!! actually really like this one so i hope it doesn't flop rip

‘Bad boy’ felt too cliche - at least for your liking. You preferred to refer to Niki as what he was, a delinquent, a troublemaker, someone who skipped most of his classes and spent the rest dosing off or arguing with the teacher. But no matter what you called him you were sure of one thing, he pissed you off.

To be honest, you had absolutely no interest in the sorts of things a student like him got up to in his own time, but it was the fact that he insisted on dragging you into his business that irritated you the most. You weren’t sure why exactly he kept targeting you, maybe it was because he just wanted to mess with the class president or because you seemed like an easy target to him - whatever reason he had didn’t make it any less tiring though.

Skipping classes was one thing, but his constant breaches of uniform code meant that you were running out of warning slips - and patience. It didn’t help that whenever you did, he would only look you up and down with an amused smirk, brows raised as if daring you to continue telling him off - which only worked to make you stumble over your words.

That’s why you had made the decision to stop giving him anymore of your attention, and the most recent time you had seen him sporting his signature look - no blazer, dress shirt half unbuttoned and several silver earrings, you chose to ignore him. You simply walked past him in the hallway without so much as a passing glance, hoping it would tell him to stop wasting your time and causing trouble.

Little did you know, he would misinterpret your signs to mean the exact opposite.

The next morning when you were waiting at your desk you heard a wave of hushed murmurs coming from down the hall, and couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. A loud thud sent the classroom door flying open and a couple of his friends filed in with amused grins - and it was only when Niki followed them in did you see why. Not only had he gone and messily bleached parts of his jet black hair, but he now donned a piercing straight through his right eyebrow which, judging from the pink tinge surrounding it, was both brand new and self-made.

You were unable to stop your neck from craning as your eyes followed his figure, watching as he sauntered over to his desk in the back corner of the classroom, threw his books onto it and sat down. The expression on his face showed that he couldn’t care less about being there, but his eyes trained on you as if waiting for you to make a move.

You hated that he knew you so well, because before you knew it you were out of your seat and at the head of his desk, arms folded with a stern expression on your face. You can’t remember exactly what you said but it must’ve been harsh, and loud enough to summon the attention of almost the entire class, and your teacher who stormed into the classroom shortly after to tell the two of you off. It must’ve also been harsh enough to earn the two of you an after-school detention, which was your very first - though it clearly wasn’t Niki’s.

So that’s how the two of you had ended up alone, in an empty, hot classroom - waiting as the minutes of your detention ticked by agonisingly slowly. Irritated was an understatement. It was taking every ounce of self-control you had not to turn around and punch Niki right there and then. You kept your fuming to yourself, at least for now though, while you worked silently on an assignment, determined to at least make good use of being stuck here for the next hour or so - even if it meant spending it in a tense silence.

Niki didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, having sat himself in the chair right beside yours and kicked his feet up on the desk, twirling a pen in one hand as he hummed softly to himself. You were trying your best to ignore him, and he was trying his best to make that very difficult.

“What are you working on?” he asked curiously as he leaned in over your shoulder.

“Just an assignment,” you shot back curtly.

“Ah of course, what a goody-two shoes,” he scoffed as he sat back.

“Rather a goody-two shoes than a good-for-nothing delinquent,” you mumbled under your breath, though not quiet enough to escape his ears.

“A delinquent? Is that really what you think of me?” he asked in faux-offence, “I’m hurt.” You turned slightly, just enough to see the dramatic pout he had formed across his lips, his brows curving upwards and his piercing going with it.

“Whatever,” you huff, feeling both irritation and exhaustion rise in you, “it’s your fault we’re here in the first place anyways.”

“Oh yeah, my fault that you started a petty argument.”

“Your fault for dyeing your hair that stupid colour and getting that piece of metal jammed in your face!” You cry out, fully facing him now as you felt your face burning hot, “I mean seriously, all I did was ignore you once, and you go ahead and did something ridiculous like that?” Gesturing to his piercing and new hair, you can’t help but feel even more infuriated at the sight of his smirk which only grew as he watched you from half-lidded eyes.

“What makes you think I did it for you?” He asks teasingly, and you suddenly feel your bravado begin to crumble - he’s right, who are you to assume that?

“Well, I-” you stutter, but he interrupts you.

“Well maybe I did,” he laughs softly, “that depends on whether you like it or not.”

“That is so besides the point, Niki,” you whine, “it’s against uniform policy.”

“Oh c’mon, you think it’s a little cool,” he taunts, and you turn back around in your seat, chewing your bottom lip as you’re determined not to give him a response which you’re sure will only fuel his ego.

You sit in silence for a bit, and you can tell he’s watching you carefully in the way he leans in, keen eyes trained on your expression - almost as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking. But that’s a challenge even you’re struggling with right now.

He’s the one to break the silence again. “I am sorry about getting you a detention though, that wasn’t what I meant to do.” You blink in disbelief because for the very first time, he sounds almost as if he really means what he’s saying.

“Is that an apology?” you say, gasping to show your surprise, though this quickly dissolved into a soft laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t sit here and watch you sulk for the next hour.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the tension between the two of you melt away at his apology, just enough for you to want to keep talking to him - even if it means neglecting your homework, for now. Your eyes move over his face, his sharp jaw, his eyebrow piercing glinting under the warm classroom light.

“Did it hurt?”

It’s a stupid question, you know, but it’s the only thing you can think to ask as you fiddle nervously in your seat. If you’re being completely honest, you do think it’s cool, you’ve always thought his piercing were cool - and right now you want nothing more than to reach out and feel them for yourself. But your common sense stops you.

“Well, duh,” he scoffs, sitting back in his seat as his eyes fix on yours, “figured a smart-ass like you would’ve been able to guess that.”

“Just asking,” you grumble defensively, though your curiosity urges you to keep talking. “If it hurt, why’d you do it?”

“Well, you like it, don’t you?” He asks, “that’s all the reason I need.”

You’re tempted to tell him off again, but something about his tone catches you off guard - it’s oddly earnest, and he says it with such a simplicity that makes you really believe that maybe he’s telling the truth and you’re unable to find the resolve to spoil this moment

“Can I feel it?”

He’s almost as shocked by your request as you are, and even as it leaves your mouth you’re unsure entirely why you’re asking it. His eyes widen in a way that you can’t help but find a little cute, even as you’re struggling to process your own thoughts.

“Sure,” he replies, a little too quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask him that, but can’t believe you actually did. You turn in your chair to face him, your arms coming up awkwardly to bridge the distance between you both but it’s clear you’re still too far.

You’re about to lean forward more in your seat to reach him, until you notice his hand coming down to grip the leg of your chair and it isn’t until you feel yourself moving and hear the faint screech of the legs against the floor that you realise that he’s pulling it - pulling you closer to him.

Once you’re close enough he stops, though his hand doesn’t leave the back of your chair, instead resting there as if trapping you in with him as he leans down as that his face is level with yours. You try not to overthink the way your knees are touching, or how this is your first time seeing him this close and how he’s even better looking up close. Carefully, you bring your hand and pray that he doesn’t notice the way it trembles, as your thumb grazes his thick brow gently. Even though you wish he didn’t, he keeps his eyes open and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as your fingers close around the small metal ball.

“It’s cold,” you mumble, not sure what else to say to fill the air between you two.

“It’s metal,” he says matter-of-factly, letting out a small laugh at your fascination with it.

“You didn’t need to to do this just to get my attention, you know,” your eyes focus on the piercing as you speak, unable to look him in the eyes when admitting something that feels like a confession.

“I had to get you to look at me somehow.” You’re again amazed at how he can say such earnest things with such a serious face, and even as you look away you know his eyes are on you.

“Most people would’ve just said hi or something, not put a brand new hole in their face,” you sigh, fingers moving to tuck a stray strand of bleached hair behind his ear.

“Well most people wouldn’t be here now with you touching their face, so by my standards my plan worked better.”

“Did that plan have to include getting me my first-ever detention?” You ask in annoyance, though you can’t help but laugh softly at his simplicity.

“Well, not at first,” he admits, “but at least we’re alone, hm?”

“Because you need me alone to talk to me?”

“No, because I need you alone to do this.”

You’re pretty sure if you weren’t already leaning towards him you would’ve fallen backwards from the forceful way his lips crash into yours - and if not from that then the sheer shock of just that. Luckily for you though, he already has an arm snaked around your waist, keeping a hold of you and pulling you closer.

It shocks you though that, despite the initial force, Niki’s kiss is gentle, almost as if he’s easing you into something he knows you’re struggling to accept. He’s experienced, that’s for sure, but you can tell in his movements that he’s holding back from pushing you any further.

You don’t even realise it but your hands are cupping his face, caressing his strong jawline and pulling him closer to you. You open your mouth to talk but the only noise that comes out is a breathy gasp and if you weren’t so caught up in the feeling of his hands in your hair you might’ve stopped to feel embarrassed about how desperate you sound for him right now.

“Niki,” you mumble against his lips, unsure of what to do as you feel your mind struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

“Want me to stop?” he says in between heavy breaths, and even though it sounds like a taunt you know him well enough to know he’s being serious.

You shake your head in response, but decide to have a little fun of your own while you can. “When have you ever cared what I want?”

“Oh, you have no clue,” he hums in a low whisper as he leans back in.

“And when have you ever listened to what I’ve told you to do?”

“You’re right about that,” he smirks, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with the reckless abandon you’ve come to expect from him - almost as if he was waiting for your permission to let go. You thought you would’ve felt a little predictable, pathetic even, for having fallen so easily into his trap and giving him much more than just your attention at this point. But from the way his hands roam your body, grasping for more of you as he whines against your lips you smile to yourself at the realisation that really, he’s the one who’s fallen into your trap.

This sense of control is what finally calms your mind, even if it still struggles with just how ‘wrong’ all of this sounds against how right his lips on yours feel. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway however forces you to tear yourself away from him, though his hands don’t leave your body as you strain to figure out who it might be.

“Shit, it’s the teacher,” you say under your breath, pulling away from him to smooth down your skirt. Niki clearly doesn’t care, but still lets out a soft sigh as he hangs his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Tomorrow,” you continue suddenly, “I want the eyebrow piercing and the bleached hair gone.” You know you’re being harsh, but you also know that, given what just happened, you can’t afford to be nice.

“Wh-” he says suddenly, looking at you in disbelief, “I thought you liked them though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say firmly, “they’re still breaking like ten different uniform rules.”

“Just when I thought I’d finally broken your guard down,” he groans.

“Well, they’ve served their purpose already, haven’t they?” you taunt lightly, bringing a hand up to swipe at your bottom lip which you can feel is a little plump from him biting it. His eyes watch attentively as you do, and he lets out a soft laugh followed by a nod in agreement.

“You’re right,” he exhales, “but now I’m thinking if I keep them in I might keep getting lucky.”

“Niki,” you sigh.

“I mean, maybe if I had a reward for following rules I might feel more motivated,” he hums, looking away as he feigns innocence.

You pause, thinking to yourself for just long enough. “I’ll be studying in the library after school, maybe if you do as I say I’ll let you join me.”

“Studying? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll be there,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile - one that you can’t help but share even as the same teacher who gave you both this detention comes in to tell you you’re free to go.

You watch as he swings his bag over one shoulder coolly, tossing you his signature smirk - only this time, it doesn’t just annoy you, it lingers, sticking to your thoughts in a way you don’t want to admit. Because you know you should be mad, you should roll your eyes and remind yourself that he’s still the same infuriating troublemaker. But as he walks away the only thing you find yourself wondering is if he’ll actually show up tomorrow, and worse, if a part of you wants him to.

[thankskenpenders]

The Lara-Su Chronicles: Beginnings review

The day has finally come. Many, understandably, thought we'd never get here. Maybe we shouldn't have gotten here. We've been through so much. Lawsuits, reboots, redesigns, unreleased NFTs, empty legal threats over the fact that movie Knuckles has a dad, an attempt to license out Scourge the Hedgehog to fans that immediately got canceled (in both meanings of the term), and many, MANY idiotic Twitter controversies. But now, here we are.

Thirteen years after first announcing it in the middle of his legal battles with Archie and Sega that changed the American Sonic comics forever, former writer Ken Penders has released the first part of his new series: The Lara-Su Chronicles.

Yes. I had to buy the book. I had to take one for the team. Look at the fucking URL of this blog, a blog I've been using to talk about the American Sonic comics for nearly a decade while the specter of this book loomed in the distance. The one time I've actually been paid to write an article about anything in any professional capacity, it was an article about the Penders lawsuits. I'm cited on his Wikipedia page. There was no way I was going to skip reviewing this, and there was no guarantee that scans would ever turn up online given the incredibly small audience for this trash. (Only 166 people preordered this, and even that number feels way higher than it should be.) No, I had to preorder it to ensure I could get a copy and cover it for the blog... even if that meant my name would be forever immortalized in the list of "supporters" in the back of the book. These are the sacrifices I must make as a woman who stumbled ass backwards into being an amateur Archie Sonic historian.

So, what exactly is in this book? How much of it is new? How bad is it? How did we even get here in the first place? How can this exist without Sega pursuing legal action? What happens next? And, most importantly... why are there multiple depictions of an Archie Sonic character breastfeeding in this book?

I'm here to answer those questions as best I can, and in agonizing detail.

First, for those just tuning in to this decades-long saga or those who maybe don't know the full story, here's a refresher on the background info.

"What the hell is this?"

The Lara-Su Chronicles is Ken Penders' long-dreaded long-awaited continuation of his 1994-2006 run on Archie Sonic, ignoring everything written after he left by other writers like Ian Flynn. In particular, it picks up from the cliffhanger ending of the 2003-2004 arc "Mobius: 25 Years Later," which was set in what Ken considers the definitive canonical future of the series. It stars Knuckles' daughter from that future era, Lara-Su, among other new and returning characters. The project was first announced near the start of Ken's legal battle with Archie in 2011, and he's been posting WIP previews online for about a decade. Now, after all this time, a Lara-Su Chronicles book finally exists.

We'll get to the actual contents of that book in a bit.

"He can do that without getting in trouble with Sega?"

Believe it or not, yes, he can.

Thanks to the outcome of Archie Comics' woefully mismanaged lawsuits against Ken (yes, they sued him after he started filing for copyrights, not the other way around), he now has full legal ownership of every story he wrote for Archie Sonic and every character he created for the series. This was explicitly granted to him in the terms of the settlement between him and Archie (acting on behalf of Sega). He can even reprint his old Sonic material as-is to his heart's content. The main catch is just that he can't write new stories featuring Sega characters or trademarks, and his new stories also have to be distinct from Sonic at a glance to avoid confusing readers. As such, reprints can't use Sonic iconography on the cover, a few Sega characters (mainly Knuckles) have been renamed and slightly redesigned in the new stories, and the art style has been changed to less closely resemble Sonic. But otherwise, he can do whatever he wants with his own characters.

All of this is because Archie lost the original copy of Ken's work-for-hire contract that signed over the rights to his work. Without that (or any alternative that was considered permissible in court), his comics and characters are the property of their creator by default. Yes, those old comics are full of Sega stuff, but Sega doesn't automatically own the copyright for every drawing of Sonic in existence. And Sega put their stamp of approval all over those comics and let them get sold at retail for decades, even though (in the eyes of the court) there was no legal paperwork granting them ownership of any of it. It's almost like they were unwittingly distributing a fan comic for years and declaring it a fair use of their property, and now there's no takesies backsies. It's a strange and unique copyright situation. Again, they worked all this out in the settlement. And, yes, fans have long speculated that Ken stole and destroyed his own contract to regain the rights to his work, but frankly Archie was so incompetent throughout the lawsuit (it went so bad that they had to fire and replace their lawyers midway through) that I completely buy the idea of them just losing important legal documents.

Also, in case it needs to be spelled out: while Ken's a weirdo, it's ultimately a good thing for creatives everywhere that Archie lost their lawsuit against Ken. We do not want to live in a world where corporations can claim ownership of peoples' work without the contracts to back it up. That would be an incredibly dangerous legal precedent to set. And more comic creators, and artists in general, should own their own work! Corporations are not your friend! They'll delete your work for a tax write-off in a heartbeat! It's just bewildering that this guy, of all people, was the creator who ended up successfully getting his shit back, and that this is what he's doing with it.

"What about his old collaborators? Are they involved? Is he paying them?"

Ken is mostly doing The Lara-Su Chronicles solo, though he has, in fact, talked about compensating the artists involved in any material he's reprinting. The ones who give enough of a shit to get paid for a small scale reprint of something they did 20 years ago, anyway.

On the subject of his collaborators, it's also worth pointing out that Ken's wasn't the only contract that was lost. Most of the early Archie Sonic writers from before Ian Flynn's time seem to be in the same boat as Ken, with the ownership of their stories and characters defaulting back to them. Again, Archie fucked up big time. But like I said, most of them don't really seem to give a shit. For most of them, Sonic was just a random temporary gig they took to pay the bills while Marvel was busy going bankrupt in the '90s, not the thing that defined their entire careers.

The only other Archie Sonic contributor who's tried to do anything on the level of what Ken is doing was writer and editor Scott Fulop. In 2016 he attempted to sue Archie for the unauthorized use of what are now retroactively considered his copyrighted characters and stories, and he even announced a standalone comic about his most famous Sonic character, the recurring villain Mammoth Mogul (sort of a pastiche of DC's Vandal Savage and Marvel's Kingpin, with wizard powers added for spice). However, Fulop lost his lawsuit because he didn't put together a particularly compelling case. Since then he seems to have wiped all traces of his ill-advised Mammoth Mogul comic and his company, Narrative Ark Entertainment, from the internet. For now, this leaves The Lara-Su Chronicles the only project of its kind.

"What about those other Archie Sonic reprints he just announced?"

At the time of writing, Ken is once again claiming that he's trying to get the band back together to reprint all of Archie Sonic, now under the bad new banner "Floating Island Productions: MOBIAN LINE" that I can't imagine he consulted literally anyone else on.

So, like, look. As we've established, Ken can reprint his own stories. And if he can work something out with the other contributors whose contracts were lost, he can print their work, too. But there is no fucking way he's getting his hands on Ian Flynn's run, which Sega undoubtedly holds the copyright for. Even if they don't, Ian needs to maintain a good working relationship with both Sega and IDW if he's to keep his job, so he'd never go for this. Not to mention that Ian and Ken just... don't get along! Ken's whole plan here seems to be predicated on IDW going out of business (a thing he REALLY wants to happen) and freeing up the Sonic comic license, after which he knocks on Sega's door and goes "hey I've still got dirt on you guys," blackmailing them into giving him the Sonic license back so that he can reprint the later comics. Every step of this plan is ludicrous. It's never gonna happen.

He's been saying he wants to reprint the whole series for a few years now, though. This isn't really anything new. And despite his lofty plans that set Sonic Twitter ablaze, he quickly backpedaled. The only specific things in the works right now are a "two-volume omnibus" of all of his Knuckles stories and a collection of artist Scott Shaw's work on the very early Archie Sonic issues, since they're on good terms with each other. I have no idea how Ken plans on packaging these when he can't put any Sega characters or the Freedom Fighters on the covers, but these projects are small enough in scale that there's a decent chance they'll see the light of day. Scott Shaw only did like five issues. But anything beyond that? I'll believe it when I see it.

Or, y'know, this could've all just been a publicity stunt for his new book. I wouldn't put it past him. Let's just focus on the book that actually exists.

"So he finally did it? He made a whole Lara-Su book? It's out? He finished it??"

Yes and no.

The book that's out now is The Lara-Su Chronicles: Beginnings, a prologue for the series of seven graphic novels Ken somehow plans on making, even though it's taken him 13 years to put out literally anything new. I don't know whether or not this counts as book one of seven, because it only features 30 pages of new comics. 30.5 if I'm being generous.

Most of the book is actually just a reprint of his infamous Archie Sonic storyline "Mobius: 25 Years Later", which ran from issue #131 to #144 in 2003-2004. (Again, yes, he can reprint this, he just can't put Sonic on the cover.) Why's it infamous? Well, Ken had been building anticipation for this future era of the series for basically his entire run. We kept seeing King Sonic and Queen Sally from the future. Knuckles' entire backstory hinges on his dad having a vision of this future. Several years before Silver the Hedgehog was created, it was Lara-Su who was Sonic's equivalent to Future Trunks, the cool-looking child of one of the main characters who traveled back in time to try and prevent a dark future. Believe it or not, yes, there was hype for Lara-Su. And then we finally got M25YL, and none of that cool stuff happened. Instead it really ended up being about how unbearably boring the middle aged Sonic, Knuckles, Sally, and co. are in this peaceful future where Robotnik is dead and they're all married with kids, forced into traditional nuclear family gender roles. Lara-Su is present, but she mostly just does generic teen girl stuff and complains about how Knuckles won't let her do anything even though she REALLY wants to be the new Guardian of Angel Island, like, super bad! Come on, dad!!!

In its original printing, this meandering arc ended on an abrupt time travel cliffhanger that Ken was never able to follow up on before he left Archie in 2006. This new printing slightly changes that ending, using the unresolved timey-wimey shenanigans as a convenient excuse to alter the entire timeline. This creates the slightly different world of The Lara-Su Chronicles, where the few relevant Sega-owned characters have been replaced and everyone is ten times uglier.

After this, we finally get two short new stories picking up where M25YL left off: "The Storm," starring Acorn Kingdom super-spy and known creep Geoffrey St. John, and an early release of the first chapter of The Lara-Su Chronicles: Shattered Tomorrows, the first full TLSC graphic novel.

And now that we're all on the same page about what we're looking at, let's actually talk about the book!

The cover

Let's start by beating a dead horse. The cover art: it's still bad! But why is it bad?

The cover is, of course, based on Patrick Spaziante's cover from Archie Sonic #131, the start of the "Mobius: 25 Years Later" arc. (Ken did the layout for that cover, though, so in the eyes of the law he's the original creator who owns that cover.) That cover was, itself, a tribute to the iconic cover of Giant-Size X-Men #1 by Gil Kane and Dave Cockrum, the issue that introduced the version of the team with Wolverine, Storm, Nightcrawler, etc.

Ken seems to have forgotten that the point of both these covers was to hype up the arrival of a new cast of characters. The new guys are supposed to make a dramatic entrance front and center. That's the focal point. Meanwhile, the cover for Beginnings has the old timeline versions of the cast from Archie Sonic dramatically bursting out of a shattered crystal ball, while their new counterparts look on in mild bemusement - if they're even bothering to look at all, since most of the characters here are just copied and pasted from their profile pages. That's just not how you do this particular homage! The point is supposed to be "out with the old, in with the new." And why are they using a crystal ball to view the past? Hell, why are they even using a crystal ball at all? The original arc was presented as a magical vision of the future courtesy of Tails' uncle Merlin (don't ask), but the new story leans all the way into being futuristic sci-fi.

Of course, there is no real artistic intent at play here. The old versions of the characters are placed front and center in the crystal ball simply because Ken traced over Spaziante's original art of Lara-Su and Julie-Su (the only two characters on the Sonic cover he owns) and threw out the rest, ruining the composition in the process. Look at the awkward empty space where Sonic, Sally, and Rotor once were, and the new drawing of The Character Formerly Known As Knuckles who's no longer properly centered between his wife and daughter. Even if Ken can claim ownership of the cover because he did the original layout, this all just feels scummy and lame.

And, yeah, if it needs to be said, the new characters and Ken's new rendering style look like absolute fucking dogshit. Putting new Lara-Su directly next to old Lara-Su does her no favors. The shattered glass effect looks absolutely atrocious. I could go on, but we'll have plenty of time to talk about the art style when we see how bad the stories inside look.

Changes to "Mobius: 25 Years Later"

Overall, 99% of M25YL is presented identically to its original printing. Sonic, Sally, Knuckles, et al. are still present with no changes to their names and no tweaks to the art. Even the original cover for issue #131 is included only a few pages into this book with its Archie, Sonic, and Sega logos still intact and everything. Again, because of the weird copyright situation described above, these preexisting comics can be released without any changes.

There is exactly one bizarre change to the art, though, where a hand drawn shot of Angel Island is replaced with an unfitting photo background and the ugly Floating Island photobash that Ken has been using as his personal logo for decades. I think he only did this as part of a test for his motion comic app that nobody asked for. I don't know why this had to make it into the print version. It's like the book is firing a warning shot for what's to come if you keep reading.

The new content begins on the final page of M25YL. In the original wet fart of a cliffhanger ending, Sonic and co. accidentally alter the timeline with an old time machine of Robotnik's and Lara-Su begins to fade away. Then, after everything goes white, we just cut to the present day heroes going "gee, you ever think about the future?" In this new printing, that last bit has been cut, and the rest of the page has been awkwardly shrunk down so that Ken can fit in a new panel. We now see the hands of an off-screen villain, seemingly named "Override," proclaiming that "the Praetorian" (Knuckles) has messed up the timeline again and that they'll finally get their revenge.

Who is this Override? I have no fucking clue. The new stories in this book make no mention of them. You have to buy the next book to find out.

My confusion over the identity of this villain overlaps with another big problem: name changes. So many names and nouns have been arbitrarily changed in The Lara-Su Chronicles, even ones Ken didn't have to change for copyright reasons, and I only know what half of them are replacing because Ken's been tweeting about this shit for years.

The echidnas are now a totally original alien race called "the Echyd'nya." Even in flashbacks to events from M25YL attempting to mimic the old art style, if it's on a new comic page, they're gonna call themselves "Echyd'nya." Evil echidna faction the Dark Legion is now the "Cyberdark Dominion," hailing from the "Cyberdark Colony." The Brotherhood of Guardians is still the Brotherhood of Guardians, but now the main guardian is called "The Praetorian." Angel Island is still called "The Floating Island," like it was in the older Archie comics, but it's ALSO sometimes called "Avion"? When I read this I wasn't sure if he had randomly renamed Albion, the other echidna city from the Archie comics. But no. Now we have an Albion AND an Avion. Sally is mentioned simply as "Princess Acorn," while Sonic is referenced once as an unnamed "blue-spined Erinaceinae," using the scientific name for hedgehog to make it sound more sci-fi. In an incredibly ballsy move, Ken even mentions Robotnik as "the Insurrectionist Kintobor," retaining his original surname from the Archie comics that's just "Robotnik" backwards. Guess Sega never trademarked that one.

Aside from every name change being a downgrade, this leads to confusion when you're not sure if something is supposed to be new, or if it's just an Archie thing you're supposed to recognize despite having a new name and design. Is "Override" someone I'm supposed to know already? Am I just supposed to have read a fucking tweet from Ken where he said he changed the name of some existing villain to "Override"? The answer is no, but I had to term search his Twitter just to verify this.

Moving on!

New story #1: "The Storm"

If you've been following the WIPs, this is that story about Geoffrey St. John that Ken's been posting previews of for almost a decade. The title page copyright dates it to 2015, and that absurdly long gestation is probably why the art is so inconsistent here. Even the style of speech bubbles and the font change between pages two and three.

This is a problem when there's supposed to be a deliberate and noticeable change in art style here signaling the moment where the time travel stuff alters the timeline, replacing the Archie Sonic world with the Lara-Su Chronicles world. If you don't already know that's what's going on, the idea isn't conveyed clearly at all. It just goes from one hideous art style to a slightly different one with no explanation.

The main problem here is that Ken has hitched his wagon to a franchise about anthropomorphic animals when he can't draw furries to save his life. (Though a bit later in the book we'll also begin to wonder if he can even still draw humans.) He's shifted away from the cartooniness of the original designs and given them more human proportions and facial features, but this just ends up making them look incredibly uncanny and lumpy and gross. With some designs he's trying to lean into more of a Star Trek alien vibe, but then he still insists upon retaining the giant Sonic eyes on most characters even though he has no idea how to make them emote.

The rendering of these godawful designs doesn't do them any favors, either. Ken's going for more of a painterly look now, but it almost seems as though he's shading everything with Photoshop's burn and dodge tools that are designed to darken and lighten select areas of a photo. The result is a muddy, smudgy look that makes it feel like the color layer has been smeared in vaseline. And it only looks worse after coming off of 14 chapters of M25YL that have way more palatable art.

The backgrounds, too, are a complete mess, a jumble of low res jpeg photo elements (sometimes with extremely noticeable pixelation), stock textures, and smooth digital gradients. There's no real sense of place here, and it gives everything a surreal, dreamlike quality when you can't really tell where anything is supposed to take place. This first story is seemingly set in a high-tech stronghold below Castle Acorn called "the Bunker," but it could just as easily be confused for the bridge of a spaceship. This whole story features characters speaking to each other over floating video displays and hologram projectors from three different locations, but without a hologram effect and without a clear sense of where the characters are it often feels like they're just in the same room as each other. Characters will be in one location on one photo background, and then the camera angle changes and they're in a completely different place, because Ken just uses mismatched photos off of the internet. It's been like 25 years since he first tried using photo backgrounds in the Archie comics and he hasn't gotten any better at it.

When I had my boyfriend read the book to see if it made literally any sense to him (it didn't), Anthony said this: "This is the kind of shit I'd see linked on a Second Life world that hasn't been touched since 2004." I think he really hit the nail on the head. Now, there's actually a contrarian part of me that thinks that might theoretically almost be kind of cool, in sort of a messy counterculture way. I love weird indie shit. I was a Homestuck reader! But this isn't a scrappy mixed media zine, or experimental outsider art from someone just messing around with Photoshop, or a loving throwback to weird old internet art, or even something intentionally bizarre and offputting like Xavier: Renegade Angel or a PilotRedSun video or whatever where the fact that it's weird and ugly is part of the humor. This is supposed to be a sincere sci-fi epic drawing on Star Trek and Jack Kirby comics, made by a guy who's been drawing comics professionally since the '80s. This is supposed to look good. This is supposed to compete with mainstream comics that are on sale right now. He thinks any day now IDW's gonna go out of business and Sega will come crawling back to him so that he can stamp the Sonic logo on shit like this. It just doesn't work.

But, okay. It's ugly. We knew it would be ugly. But that ugliness would be much easier to accept if it was in service of an otherwise genuinely good story. So what about the writing? After all this time, how does Ken choose to kick off this new saga? Well, credit where credit's due. "The Storm" feels like a proper continuation of Ken's writing style from M25YL.

Because it's eleven pages of characters standing around and talking while nothing fucking happens.

Here's the synopsis: A dog woman named Brownie, an ensign in the Royal Secret Service fresh out of training and the only character who's almost cute, walks up to Geoffrey to deliver a report. He's immediately suspicious of her, asking who let her in and if she's a spy for Elias (Sally's brother, if you're new here) or Alicia (Sally's mom). The art style suddenly shifts when the timeline is altered, but the scene continues uninterrupted. Geoffrey points a gun at Brownie when she won't say whose spy she is. Geoffrey is distracted by a call and proceeds to have a conversation via a mix of holograms and video screens with Remington (head of Echidnaopolis security), Spectre (Knuckles' great great great great great grandpa, the one with the helmet who always looks evil), and a new scientist character named Dr. Zephyr/Zephur. (The spelling of this character's name changes multiple times throughout the 11-page story, because I guess nine years wasn't enough time to spellcheck this shit.) They say a bunch of made up technobabble nonsense about how it looks like the timeline was just altered and Knuckles and co. seem to be involved. It's complete drivel that I'm not even going to try to make sense of. Everyone decides to investigate further, and the conversation ends. Brownie tells Geoffrey she's his spy, then walks out and implies she's actually Alicia's spy in her inner monologue.

To be continued!!!

Yes, that's it. It's really just a bunch of technobabble where some characters talk about how it seems like the timeline has been fucked with. That's it. The whole time Geoffrey doesn't even get up out of his damn chair, which he's of course sitting in backwards to show how cool he is. It's just 11 pages of Geoffrey sitting in a chair and talking to people and looking uglier than he's ever looked. Nothing happens. Nine years for this.

I'm also struck by how meaningless all of this is to anyone who hasn't read Archie Sonic. The added context from M25YL may help a little, but "The Storm" focuses on characters who weren't in that arc, and the story does very little to introduce who any of them are. Brownie could've been super useful as an inexperienced point of view character who's only meeting the others for the first time here, but instead she's really just a passive observer who's here as part of some kind of 4D chess game between Geoffrey and Alicia, an off-screen character whose motivations in this era of the story are completely unknown to even returning readers. Who are the good guys and bad guys here? What are the conflicts and the stakes of the story moving forward? What do these characters want? Basic questions like this aren't really answered. I can't imagine a new reader being able to make heads or tails of this. Hell, I can't really imagine a returning reader who hasn't been following the last decade's worth of Ken's tweets about this story making heads or tails of it, either.

...Maybe more will happen in the next story?

New story #2: Shattered Tomorrows preview chapter

After another message from Ken, the story of The Lara-Su Chronicles proper begins with the redesigned Lara-Su walking along a jpeg photograph beach at sunset and crying while thinking about how Knuckles - sorry, his name is K'Nox now - is dead.

Yep! Straight into the dad stuff!

Look, I'm the last person to complain about writers getting super personal and drawing from their own baggage in their writing, but Ken's just no fucking good at it. There's no nuance, nothing interesting to say. He just keeps writing mediocre-to-horrible dads whose misdeeds are always justified by their "good intentions," and then sometimes they die and their kids are like "we may have fought but actually you were the bestest dad ever and I'll miss you forever, I'll never be able to fill your shoes!"

This is the only part of the new material here that feels like it has any heart behind it, because I know how much his complex relationship with his late deadbeat father means to Ken (there's an author's note in this outright saying as much). But the guy died 42 years ago, and it doesn't feel like Ken has had any new thoughts about this part of his life in those four decades. He's just not an introspective or self-aware enough artist to actually mine his personal baggage for anything beyond "father knows best."

Anyway, so then it jumps forward in time(?) and now we're following this human guy who looks like this.

Previously, Ken got a lot of shit for literally just using the likeness of Anthony Mackie for this guy, based on his IMDB profile photo. Ken has thus redesigned the character... and by that I mean I think he looks more like Ernie Hudson now? Ken's clearly just working off of photo references (if not straight up tracing), given his face is the most detailed and realistic-looking thing on any page where he's present.

But you may be wondering: who is this, and why is he here? Well, for one, he's here to run around in front of some low res space photos while making trite references to things like Planet of the Apes and Star Trek. Haha, he makes a joke about red shirts! Original!! But beyond that, Commander Mykhal Taelor (yes, that's really how he chose to spell it) is a human... from Earth! Archie Sonic readers are probably confused, because in those comics Mobius is Earth in the distant post-apocalyptic future. Well, despite being a Planet of the Apes fan, Ken always hated that particular worldbuilding decision from Karl Bollers, always preferring to think of Mobius as a separate alien planet. And now he gets to make that canon in his own stories and throw out Karl's ideas. So Mobius is basically just, like, a Star Trek planet now, with its own alien creatures that sometimes just so happen to look like anthropomorphic Earth animals.

Also, at one point Taelor wonders if the inhabitants of the dead Mobius might have been human, and the alien ally he's talking to over the radio says it's unlikely. "I don't understand why your kind has a problem understanding you're a minority within a minority." Perhaps poor wording for a line said to the only Black character in the story.

Anyway, Commander Taelor here seems to have discovered the uninhabited husk of Mobius after the vague time-space cataclysm everyone was worried about in M25YL has come to pass, and he finds an audio log from Lara-Su that I presume will explain what happened. I guess those are the titular Lara-Su Chronicles. In theory this flash forward establishes some sense of pressing danger, but when the threat to the planet is so unclear and technobabble-y it just kind of lands with a thud.

It doesn't take long before we get back to Lara-Su being sad about her dad. A good little chunk of the chapter is spent with this new timeline's Lara-Su recalling moments in her life, including echoes of the original Lara-Su's memories from M25YL, which feels redundant coming hot off the heels of a straight reprint of that entire arc. And boy, for anyone who read the later Archie Sonic comics, the protagonist having vague memories of the old version of the series from before a lawsuit-related timeline reboot sure does sound familiar, huh?

The art inconsistency somehow becomes even worse in this story, with Ken flip-flopping on whether or not he wants to use outlines, with the no-outline art managing to look even worse by relying entirely on Ken's awful rendering. By this point in the book, readers are also likely to start noticing how often Ken reuses art from previous panels. This is a shortcut that tons of comic artists use, of course. Invincible famously did a joke about this. It's often understandable. But, again... it sure does stand out in a book that took 13 years to make with only 30 pages of new art. Amusingly, Ken even manages to combine his inconsistency and recycling problems by reusing the same art with and without outlines. And, of course, any time Ken tries to draw the Archie era designs it's just... the worst.

And, yes, it's in this dreamlike montage sequence of Lara-Su's life that we get...

The uncomfortable family nudity scene, followed by the dual timeline Julie-Su breastfeeding scene.

Yeah, you might have heard about this one already. If this incredibly eerie presentation of Lara-Su's hazy memories of the two different timelines make it hard to tell what's going on, don't worry. There's another, clearer version later in the book as part of Julie-Su's character profile, because I guess Ken was just so proud of it.

(I censored these myself because I'm not playing Russian roulette with Tumblr's inconsistent nudity rules and risking getting banned lmao)

Like, okay. Is a mother breastfeeding her child really that shocking of a thing to see in a story? No, not at all. But, like... when it's two characters who you previously created for an officially licensed Sonic the Hedgehog comic for 7-year-olds... and some of those officially licensed Sonic the Hedgehog comics for 7-year-olds are reprinted in the same book... and when it's drawn like this... yeah, it's kind of a shocker.

It just looks so unnatural. Julie-Su is posed very deliberately so that you'll see both of her breasts, and in the new timeline version she's barely even holding Lara-Su so you can really get a good look at her supermodel body, showing zero physical signs that she just gave birth. Most people will immediately jump to this being Ken putting his fetishes in his work (a type of criticism that I'm incredibly tired of - it's 2024, all the cool artists are blatantly putting their fetishes in their work now). And my immediate response is that, no, this is probably just Ken trying to come off as really mature on a surface level, a thing he's been obsessed with since the Archie days. Free from the shackles of writing a licensed children's comic, of course he's going to jump immediately into depicting some nonsexual, artistic nudity to try and prove he's A Real Mature Artist For Grown-Ups who just thinks the human body is beautiful and breastfeeding shouldn't be a taboo etc. etc.

But then, like. You look at some of the other character designs. Like Espio's daughter Salma, who's now this horrifying alien lizard person who's always nude, and her scale pattern puts scales exactly where her nipples should be. Or you look at his comments about the Echyd'nya age of consent. Or you look at how he keeps drawing Lara-Su in this. Like, does the shuttle really need this, like... reverse chaise lounge thing in the cockpit? So that we can keep getting these shots of the 16-year-old Lara-Su lying on her stomach and posing with one of her legs kicked up, her naked ass in plain view?

The vibe isn't great, is what I'm saying!

I'm not going to try to ascribe authorial intent here. I don't know. I'm not a psychic. Given his very blatant reliance on photo references elsewhere in the book, it's entirely possible he just referenced some figure drawing photos that were maybe just a little too sexy. And also, he's an American comic book artist, and a boomer one at that. Those guys tend to draw women a certain way, even when it's not supposed to be sexual. I don't fucking know. It just sucks. I'm not gonna make some hyperbolic statement about how this makes him a literal pedophile who should be in jail, but it is deeply offputting and objectifying.

But if you already knew about the nursing scenes and were hoping there was some other really shocking stuff in there for me to talk about in this review, sorry to disappoint, but nope. That's the only shockingly weird new thing in here. Once again, not a lot happens in this story, and what does happen is pretty boring.

Once we get past the recap stuff and the human guy, the plot developments boil down to this: The timeline was altered at the end of M25YL... but not as much as you might think. In the new timeline, Knuckles ("K'Nox"), Cobar (now looking significantly younger), and Rotor (now a rhino just called "The Emissary") still traveled via shuttle to go find a time machine in the Badlands and fix the time-space continuum, like in the climax of the original arc. This time, though, Sonic wasn't there, and Lara-Su came along without having to stow away. Lara-Su watches the ship while the grown ups go deal with the time machine, and then after a couple panels Not Rotor comes back with Cobar and is like "Hey, Cobar got hurt, we gotta leave. Dunno what happened to your dad." And then they just, like. Presume that Knuckles must have died. Even though we have no idea what happened to him. And then they just fly away. And then Lara-Su is sad that her dad died.

And that's pretty much it!

This is supposed to be a really emotional sequence - it's literally the scene where Lara-Su learns that Knuckles is dead - but instead it comes off as unintentionally funny because of how poorly it's portrayed. Not showing Knuckles' actual disappearance is a huge misstep, for one, making his uncertain fate more confusing and anticlimactic than dramatic. But also, Ken keeps just using the same two drawings of Rotor for two pages, so he doesn't really seem to be emoting at all, and he's in this spacey hazmat suit that honestly just makes him look like fucking Moltar from Space Ghost. So the whole time I'm just reading his dialogue in Moltar's deadpan voice as he's like "I dunno. We did what we could. Anyway, let's leave."

After this, we get a two-page spread previewing the rest of the story from Shattered Tomorrows. It's basically like a trailer in comic form. It has one of the most mystifying layouts I've ever seen in a comic book. I have no idea what order I'm supposed to read this in.

Yeah, I kinda have a feeling this is the full extent of what Ken has drawn for the rest of that book. I'd love to be wrong, but I fear that I'm right.

Bonus material: Data files

These are mostly very dull, recapping a lot of events shared between Ken's Archie run and the new Lara-Su Chronicles timeline. It seems like almost his entire run is still considered canon to the backstory of the new timeline, just with some names changed, and things only really diverge at the climax of M25YL. But I'll share the interesting stuff here.

Lara-Su

The main thing you'll notice in Lara-Su's profile is the massive, unreadable wall of text where Ken felt the need to list the entire Knuckles family tree, split across both pages.

This is literally so long that Lara-Su's personal history has to awkwardly cut off mid-sentence and be continued on the final page of the book, after the rest of the data files.

Also, please note that this list gives Julie-Su's mom's full name as Mari-Su of the House of Atrades. Incredible on all levels.

There's also a reference to the dark timeline Lara-Su was originally supposed to come from. You know, the one where Julie-Su is the leader of a rebel movement fighting against a Knuckles who had gone mad with power? The timeline that would have been way more interesting than the one in M25YL? Here it seems to have been written off as the result of another "timeline disruption." Lara-Su allegedly has vague memories of this timeline, in the same way that she has vague memories of the M25YL timeline.

Geoffrey

Geoffrey's bio mostly recaps events from the Archie comics, which means the Sonic/Sally/Geoffrey love triangle has to be alluded to. His rivalry with Sonic is described like this:

"He would later resurface when Kintobor was transporting his latest hi-tech weapon, the Dynamac-3000. It was during that mission he discovered a rival for the Princess' affections. Whereas the Princess would be one of a line of conquests where St. John was concerned, the blue-spined Erinaceinae who protested doth a bit too much regarding his affections for the Princess for St. John's taste would prove to be a source of great sport and amusement."

Yes. It's gross. Saying that Geoffrey saw Sally as "one of a line of conquests" is gross. Ken writing this and then still treating Geoffrey as the coolest badass ever is gross. The "Princess Acorn" is also first on the list of Geoffrey's "female relationships" elsewhere in his bio, though I suppose how much of a "relationship" they had is left vague. Honestly, at this point the fact that Ken didn't explicitly confirm that Geoffrey took the underage Sally's virginity in the book comes off as a display of restraint. The bar couldn't be any lower, I know.

Remington

His bio is, frankly, shockingly long for such a minor character, though I guess he does get a large portion of the word salad dialogue in "The Storm." There's a lot of stuff here about how the identities of his biological parents are shrouded in mystery, a plot point that fans have long speculated Ken just straight up forgot about in his time at Archie. (Ian confirmed that Kragok from the Dark Legion was Remington's dad, though, so this isn't really much of a mystery.)

Lien-Da

She gets a bio even though she's not present in the two new stories, just so we get to look at her awful new design and compare it to how Steven Butler drew her earlier in the book:

Commander Taelor

We get to see two drawings of him with the same exact Ernie Hudson face side by side! That's fun.

Julie-Su

She gets a list of "known friends," but the only character listed is Knuckles' mom. Poor Julie-Su.

Also, Ken feels the need to reiterate that Knuckles and Julie-Su are still distant cousins. He made a whole new timeline where he can change whatever details he wants, but THAT had to remain canon. Thanks, Ken.

And then after the data files we get the special thanks page, listing everyone who preordered the book and/or bought TLSC merch from Ken.

With my name on the list. Because I had to buy a copy to cover it for the blog.

My name is on the very next page right after the breastfeeding panel in Julie-Su's data file.

Yep. He got me.

Is it at least a well put together book? Like, in terms of manufacturing quality?

Its physical quality is... fine. It's a nice, sturdy hardcover. The print quality seems fine, though mine does have a bit of smudging from some sort of printing error on one page. The pages don't seem like they'll fall out on me. The image quality is crisp. The colors are vibrant. This is a low bar, but this is one of the few places where I'm able to give this book anything resembling praise.

The formatting and graphic design work, on the other hand...

(I didn't crumple those page corners, it came like that.)

For one, the placement and sizes of the M25YL pages is inconsistent, largely due to the fact that the book doesn't actually match the proportions of a comic. A lot of pages aren't properly centered vertically. Some pages go all the way up to the top edge of the paper, while others leave a visible gap of about half a centimeter. Every page has a 1cm gap to its left and right, which is sometimes filled in with a solid color or gradient that doesn't quite match the page it's surrounding. I have to assume Ken didn't have any sort of source files or original artwork to work off of, as those ideally would've had more generous bleed to account for slight shifts in printing. It kind of seems like he just got the highest resolution versions he could find of the digital releases online and printed those. The colors are a dead ringer for the digital versions, which have always looked slightly more saturated and pastel than they did in print.

I can't say this bodes well for his further plans for Archie Sonic reprints - sorry, Mobian Line reprints. If they ever come out, please, for the love of god, do not buy those. I don't care how much you love Archie Sonic, they aren't going to be good reprints. For comparison, IDW's similarly priced hardcover Sonic collections have none of these formatting problems, because they're made by people who know what they're doing with access to the actual source files.

The book also has its fair share of text-focused pages, split between the data files and messages directly from Ken about the history of his career and this project, and these are formatted in the most amateurish way possible. Just massive walls of Arial text over either plain white backgrounds, simple gradients, or faded photos. I've seen school yearbooks with better graphic design. Even ignoring my subjective feelings about the art and stories within, this book does not feel like it's worth $36 USD.

It's frankly shocking how shabby he let this thing look considering it's supposed to be his baby. And doesn't that really sum it all up?

Closing thoughts

Obviously, I did not expect this to be any good. But I'm still left kind of dumbfounded by it.

I think what really strikes me about it is that Ken had a blank check to do whatever he wanted here. He got an opportunity many writers would kill for when he gained complete ownership of his most famous work. He's free from the limitations of a monthly licensed comic book for children, free to make whatever creative decisions he wants without editors or other writers or Sega to worry about, free to completely reinvent the series to his heart's content and finally tell the story of his dreams. And with that opportunity and 13 years of his time, he made... this. A direct continuation of "Mobius: 25 Years Later" that barely changes anything about the characters or world beyond their awful new designs, even though much of the word count is spent rambling about how the timeline has changed. A story that makes zero concessions for new readers, or even returning readers who don't already have the last decade's worth of Ken's tweets explaining his creative decisions burned into their memory. 30 pages where nothing really happens and the story barely moves forward an inch despite the decades-long wait - but maybe something will happen if you buy the next book!

Who is this for? Maybe this really is a project for no one but Ken. Maybe he just really, really wants to finish the story he started, a story that's personal to him due to the family history it evokes, and the number of people who enjoy it or buy it beyond that is irrelevant. I think that many of the best artists are incredibly self-indulgent ones working with that exact mindset, artists whose enthusiasm for their own work jumps off the page or screen. So, if that's the case, then why the fuck isn't he telling the damn story? What's stopping him? Why is he still spinning his wheels? Where is that passion for his own work? Because it sure as hell isn't there on the page. There's a huge part of me that really wishes I could say "Man, what a weirdo, but you do you, Ken. You tell your weird little story." But there's barely any story here. It's like he loves styling himself as a storyteller, but he's terrified of finally having to actually tell a story after all this time. He's still stuck in the exact same mode of writing he was in almost 30 years ago when he was doing 6-page backup stories about Knuckles, just killing time and stringing readers along until he's eventually able to truly realize his vision. If not now, then when, Ken?

Even the back cover blurb is mostly just a dry recap of the history of this thing. It was a Sonic comic, the original arc was published in these issues, it went unfinished, Ken left Archie, the lawsuits happened, now he's continuing the story. There's nothing about why anyone should give a shit about this as its own story, even though Ken has spent years trying in vain to convince people TLSC is its own beast that shouldn't be judged as a Sonic story. I think deep down he knows that there's no pitch for this beyond the novelty of it originating from Sonic. And that's why, despite declaring that he'd leave the site, he's still on Twitter riling up Sonic fans. It's the only attention he gets at this point.

Maybe this is too harsh when those 30 pages of new comics are just intended as a preview for the "real" book. But the elephant in the room is that we have no idea if that "real" book will ever actually come out, let alone the entire series of seven graphic novels that will supposedly complete this saga.

Ken is undeniably a complete jackass and all around unpleasant, vindictive person who's rightly become an industry pariah. He's a self-proclaimed paragon of progressive values who'll send Comicsgaters after his successors for the crime of not worshiping the ground he walks on, and then turn around and announce he's going to reprint their work without even consulting them. He's a sore winner who already won his copyright battle on a level most comic writers would never dare to dream of, and yet still won't truly be satisfied until he sees an entire major comic publisher go out of business, putting god knows how many people out of work, because he thinks this would get him back the license to a video game franchise he doesn't even like.

But I still have to pity him.

As an artist, the trajectory of his life is my nightmare. I think all of us fear dying before we can tell all the stories we want to tell. There's simply never enough time to do everything. And here's Ken in his 60s, talking about how he's still planning on making his magnum opus all by himself out of stubbornness and pride, despite demonstrably proving he can't handle the workload, and also talking about how if he dies before the project can be finished he'll have to pass the torch on to his kids and get them to finish it for him. It's so grim. Even just typing that sends a shiver down my spine. It took nine years of his limited time on Earth to finish and release an 11-page comic about Geoffrey St. John sitting backwards in a chair.

This is a purgatory of his own creation. And yet... I'm not sure he's ever been prouder. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

I guess if I want people to take anything away from this review, it's this:

Lesson one: If you're an artist or writer of some kind, or an aspiring creator, don't wait around. No one else is going to tell your story for you. Start writing that novel. Start drawing that webcomic. Start making that game. If Penders can put out this damn book that no one asked for after 13 years of work, then proudly proclaim that he's still going to make six or seven more books and also reprint hundreds of comics he doesn't have all of the rights to, then show up to cons with that foul Lara-Su Chronicles: Shattered Tomorrows banner and sit in front of it beaming with pride, fully aware of his critics but saying "fuck 'em, I know I'm hot shit," then you can do fucking anything. Tell the weird, sincere, cringe story of your dreams. If Ken Penders doesn't have imposter syndrome, then nobody should.

And lesson two: Don't buy Ken's books.