ladykelsi 2025. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission, including ai/c.ai/chatgpt/lore.fm and similar sites and softwares.
[navigation page inspired by the lovely @waves-against-a-cliff]
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Clone Wars AU where Anakin and Ahsoka think Obi-Wan and Satine have a secret relationship going on, and they’d never bring it up with him, but they’re the biggest fangirls ever. The first time Ahsoka meets Korkie she nearly has a heart attack, and then immediately calls Anakin like “Skyguy you’re not going to believe who I just met.” He’s a little hurt that Obi-Wan never told him he has a child, but he lets it go because, to be fair, he never told him he was married. (Obi-Wan has no idea Korkie exists, and although he and Satine are still very much in love with each other, they are not having an affair.) At some point, Obi-Wan decides to try and bring up Anakin’s relationship with Padmè (because there’s no way he didn’t know) and Anakin responds with “Oh you want to talk about secret relationship? Well I know about you and Satine,” and Obi-Wan is like “My relationship with Satine is (currently) strictly professional,” to which Anakin, thinking he’s about to play his trump card, says “Don’t try and deny it. I’ve met your son.” At first it doesn’t even register with Obi-Wan. He just says, “Anakin, I’m not denying anything— I’m sorry, did you just say you’ve met my son?!” And Anakin, still thinking he’s won, says “Yeah I did. He looks exactly like you by the way. I have no idea how you were planning on hiding him.” Obi-Wan, who is crashing out, grills Anakin for every detail, while Anakin slowly starts to realize that he might have miscalculated slightly. He then fucks off to Mandalore, for what is likely to be a very awkward conversation with Satine (who can’t believe that Anakin figured it out), and Anakin goes to find Ahsoka to tell her, “Snips? We might’ve fucked up.”
you know that thing where when you’re getting eaten out you get a little (a lottle) wiggly and they pin your hips down so they can keep eating? yeah thinking about that at this ungodly hour
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I have resisted asking for help, outright, for a long time, but I think it's about that time.
My partner and I are Black US Americans who have left the United States and live as immigrants in LATAM. I work in healthcare in the US, remotely, supporting marginalized communities, especially Black and LGBTQIA+ folks. My husband used to work supporting the Headstart Program in the US as a sub-contractor, but lost his job in Feb 2025 due to the DOGE cuts. He hasn't been able to find another job since, partly due to the fact that most remote jobs are not global remote, partly because the job market is so oversaturated, and partly because, as immigrants with temporary residency, getting a work visa where we are is a complicated process.
SO! If you are aware of a fully remote position (Full or part time, or even a temporary contract) for an experienced IT Support, Instructional Design, and/or Customer Satisfaction Project Manager, I would love if you could reach out and let me know. (Mr Dragon, over my shoulder, says: "Resume available on request!") We both appreciate any leads, wherever those might be.
We are extremely lucky that my job is enough to pay most of our bills where we live, and do not take that for granted. We still have outstanding medical and credit card bills in the US, and my business is growing, but it's not enough to support us fully. We are not in the most dire of straits, but we could use a boost to help us stay on track and get things to a sustainable level.
If you have the capacity, I would appreciate any donations to my Kofi, and I'm very proud of Augmentations over on Patreon if you'd like to hop over there to read it and consider subscribing. And even if that's not something you're in the position to do, I appreciate you taking the time to read this!
"When did you get a cat?" Zayne glances warily at the small animal resting on Sylus's chest. It perks up at his voice, meowing what seems to be a greeting.
"Oh, we've always had this one. Isn't that right, kitten?" He smirks as he pats the animals head, while it meows in an annoyed tone so similar to yours that Zayne absentmindedly thinks about how alike you two ar-
Oh shit.
"Are you alright?" Zayne hurries over, a frown on his face as he gently inspects your animal form. You purr under his touch, trying to show him you're doing fine.
"It's just an...unfortunate side effect. It should wear off soon." Sylus comforts him, while you do the same by butting your soft head against his hand. With his pounding heart starting to calm, Zayne allows himself to gently pet you.
"Most cats run away when they see me." Zayne muses as you climb into his lap, settling down. Sylus chuckles, leaning over to pet you.
"Well, we have that in common. However, I believe this one feels differently." Sylus can't hide his grin as you clamber all over Zayne, trying to show him your usual level of affection despite your current predicament.
"Hello." The doctor murmurs with a smile when you perch on his shoulder, nuzzling the side of his head.
Feeling overwhelmed at just how adorable this form of yours is, neither can help themselves from leaning in to press a soft kiss on your fur at the same time. In the blink of an eye, there's no longer a cat sitting in Zayne's lap.
"Well, that was great timing. I'm starving, and I am not eating that tin of tuna."
TW: suggestive noncon/dubcon, elitism, racism between viltrumites and humans, mentions of pregnancy
FEM reader
AN: Invincible season 4 spoilers!
On Viltrum they practice practicality over all else.
Suguru’s always found that to be the best approach to life. Effective and efficient, without delay or distraction. Straight to the point, then onto the next. That’s how you build an empire.
On Earth, you do the opposite.
Every small thing is a ritualistic celebration to you—making one huge waste of time out of everything. Waking up, eating food, taking a shower, having sex. Things that by all means shouldn’t be more than means to an end. You treat it like something to be savored, something to be remembered, something holy.
Geto absolutely detests that. But, while he brews in the many frustrations of having to live amongst you, Gojo’s eyes light up brighter than they have in a while.
Quick to succumb to that human way of life, he embraces it like an utter glutton. And despite Geto’s many warnings, the man, once one of Viltrum's very best, doesn't even try to suppress his own fall from greatness. No… instead he dives in face first.
He’s always been like that though… and so, even though it’s worrying, it isn't so surprising. Never one to hold patriotic love or loyalty to the grand ideas of the Viltrum empire. To Gojo, it seems there’s only ever been one creed, and it's as simple as he’s the strongest and can do whatever he wants—even if that means succumbing to the lesser ways of human inadequacy.
And feeling as though they should hold the utmost regard for their homeland and its principles, Geto finds this nothing short of offensive.
Which is how they end up here.
“Our energy should be spent upholding Viltrum’s dignity. Not frolicking with lower species. Where’s your sense of pride?” he says, fighting in mid-air with the white-haired man he’s taken to calling friend for the past millennia despite the many disagreements they’ve had and the many times they’ve brought each other to the brink of death.
Depending on how things play out, this might be another.
“What’s the point of being the strongest if we can’t enjoy ourselves?” He only grins without a flinch or sign of meaning to fight back—the idea of pride utterly lost on him. Lounging there horizontally in the air—lazy—just like the planet they’ve had to take as their new home.
“Humans have the right idea…” he continues, fondness in his eyes as he looks out across the little blue planet in view. “In the end, nothing but pleasure matters.”
Geto’s brows curl, and so does his lip, disgusted by his counter’s words and how he seems to be praising the weaklings below them.
“If you ask me…” he adds. “Viltrum’s destruction was the best thing to ever happen.”
Geto’s eyes widen, twitching. “How can you say that?”
“Earth’s richer in every way!” Gojo declares without delay, utterly shameless while singing further praises, “The food, the beliefs, even the work they do. Everything here is designed to let you be as free as you want. Don’t tell me you don’t find it all intriguing.”
He’s always been a charismatic preacher when it comes to self-indulgence, but Geto isn’t so easily convinced nor will he be romanced into letting go of his principles.
Standing by his beliefs, his tone is sharp as he directly reiterates their mission in case his friend forgot, “We’re here for one reason and one reason only. Find suitable females and restore our race.”
But Gojo only scoffs, “Yeah, yeah…” disregarding the other man, convinced he’ll break those false morals of his soon enough. “That doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to have any fun while at it.”
A smile spreads across his face despite the somber circumstance. He’s not even acknowledging that they’re fighting, saying “Loosen up, Suguru. Think of it like a vacation.”
Meanwhile, Geto can barely believe what he’s hearing. A vacation?
“Our planet is gone.”
Gojo doesn’t seem to grasp the reality of it. Or rather, he can’t bring himself to care, only returning it with a, “Better yet, permanent vacation,” as if it all were some big joke.
Geto turns to leave. If this is how Gojo chooses to grieve their losses, he wants no part of it. What’s worse, he’s not sure if this can even count as grieving. It’s more like he’s celebrating.
“Come on…” Gojo follows, resting a hand on Geto’s shoulder. “I know you’re angry. Don’t think I’m not. I am. But…”
His change of voice makes Geto turn around again. Having shed its mockery, now a little more… he doesn’t know the word. Compassionate maybe, though not as fickle.
“Let’s make the most out of it, yeah?” His eyes burn brighter than a comet's tail, and Geto’s reminded of the reason they’re even close in the first place. “Let’s reap Earth for all that it’s worth.”
And well… if he puts it that way, suppose it doesn’t sound so bad. And so, Geto decides to stick around after all—if only to keep the blue-eyed freak in check any time he feels as though he’s forgetting the real reason behind their permanent vacation, as he calls it.
Meanwhile, Geto’s uptightness remains utterly lost on Gojo. He can’t help but look at the whole thing as a funny turn of events. To think, to be his seasoned age of roughly a thousand years, and still, only now discover this fetish for the very thing he’s been taught to despise.
It barely makes sense, and the very little sense it makes, makes him want to laugh. Viltrumites have an aversion to the weak, and yet, here he is, utterly obsessed with you and all your odd little ways of life.
But maybe it can’t be helped, he wonders. Humans look no different from Viltrumites, after all. Sure, most are rounder and softer and smaller than they are, but that’s just a cultural difference. Apart from that, you’re practically the exact same, visually speaking.
The real difference lies, of course, in ability. You’re weak, your bodies fragile and grounded, sickly, and if you don’t succumb to your own shitty constitutions, you’re so short-lived, it hardly even matters.
Oh, but you sure know how to live.
Good food, good entertainment, but most of all it’s the variety that intrigues him. Utterly unlike Viltrum, on earth you practice this thing called individuality above solidarity. An idea that everyone's different and how that’s something to be embraced not weeded out. It excites him. Even if he did his very best to sample everything Earth has to offer, it would be impossible—after all, you can’t run out of a supply that renews itself.
Different from Viltrumites, humans are all about breaking the rules. And that has always been his true calling. And so, if you ask him, earth’s a dream come true.
Meanwhile, Geto’s come to accept that humans do have some good things about them after all. You’re smart, for starters. Smart enough to understand your own good—which is not always a given. And because you’re smart enough to understand who’s in charge, you’re also well-mannered.
While Gojo finds amusement with all your funny little ways of life, Geto’s more fascinated by that. Many planets and many species they’ve dominated, many of them much weaker and simpler than humans, fighting tooth and nail for their freedom, never giving in, even when it meant annihilation. Meanwhile, some humans act like they’re made to be ruled.
Gods. That’s how you treat them. Which is only right, of course. They are Gods. But still. It’s funny that humans are the very first to understand that and treat them accordingly with the devotion and reverence they’re entitled to.
You’re one. Soft-fleshed, unlike Viltrumite women. Surprisingly, Geto must admit he enjoys that more—all covered in cakey fat his rough hands sink into so well. And you make sounds, also utterly unlike Viltrumite women. Little noises like an animal.
Cute, he’s begrudgingly decided, is the best word to describe you.
You’re also terrified, of course. And you should be. They could and most likely will kill you if you ever decided you didn’t want to be cute for them anymore. Though, he doubts that’s possible. Anything you do is positively adorable, even when you pout and act bratty, it gives him this indescribable urge to just squish you until you’re unable to do anything but sound like a broken little squeaky toy.
Yeah… so maybe he’s been bitten by the same earth bug that Gojo has…
Because soon he’s indulging the same interests, the both of them finding more and more ways to appreciate humans and their funny customs by the day.
Marriage is one.
Geto, of course, wasn’t completely on board at first, but like always, was swayed by Gojo in the end. He’d made a solid argument, that, when on Earth, you might as well do as the humans do, given it can only last for a small fraction of their own lifetime anyway.
And Geto can admit, it’s kind of nice, having you, as their little wife, doing wifely things like cooking and pampering them—nothing like something they would have ever experienced on Viltrum.
Geto agrees with the compromise he and Gojo made. That, as long as it doesn’t obstruct their goal, which is still, of course, to get you pregnant, they might as well enjoy some of the benefits that come with the process of making that happen.
Obviously, it would, of course, be more productive to have many wives instead of just sharing the one, but they also figure it’s more manageable to start small.
Besides, another difference from female Viltrumite, human women often have many kids. It’s another one of those odd human customs. Family values and such. It’s a foreign concept to them, but seeing you swaddle their offspring like it’s something so precious, Geto quickly forgets why Viltrumites practice such ruthlessness in the first place.
Love. That’s the biggest difference, they come to understand. You love, and you love with everything you have.
It’s not the same type of love they’ve been taught. Love for the empire, love for the Viltrum legacy—it doesn't even come close to the love you have in your heart.
It’s odd… but somehow… it very nearly frightens them.
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boyfriend gaz who sort of has a thing for making you cry.
not in a mean way- he’s the sweetest and most perfect man you could ask for. He gives you “just because” flowers, he insists you never touch a door, and hell would freeze over before he lets you leave home without a kiss.
but he loves to kiss you fat tears away as he bullies his cock inside of you, his chin and lips glistening with your sweet arousal.
“I know, baby, I know, I know. Poor thing must be so sensitive.”
to which you nod and let out the cutest sniffle that makes his cock just jerk with excitement.
oh! the Black lead is annoying and insufferable and u want him to die? but you like the other two (white) leads just fine? oh the Black woman who's made morally questionable or evil decisions is irredeemable and no matter what new information you learn there's just "something off about her"? but the white woman who's made morally questionable or evil decisions is understandable or even just yass evil girl boss moment slay? three page essay due on my desk monday explaining why. with citations. the rest of the class and i are dying to hear your analysis.
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you’re sitting on the floor, right next to his legs, ignoring him. instead, you have a pad of bright yellow sticky notes. you’re writing silly things on them and sticking them all over his pants.
this human belongs to me.
shiny things collector.
long leg man.
very expensive pants.
sylus dosen’t stop you. he just shifts his leg slightly so you have a flat space to write. he looks handsome– his silver hair a little messy, dark sleeves rolled up to his elbows and collar open. mephisto is perched on the arm of the sofa, watching you. the mechanical crow lets out a sharp caw and suddenly hops down, grabbing the sticky note pad with his beak.
“hey! give that back,” you yell, reaching for him.
mephisto drops the pad right into sylus’s lap, and flies up to the ceiling, clicking his beak at you in a very smug way.
“i see someone wants to start a fight,” sylus murmurs, a lazy rumble vibrating in his chest. he reaches down and peels one off his leg, reading it with a small smirk. “so, i belong to you, sweetie?”
“you know you do,” you say, leaving over his knees to reach for the pad. “now give it back, i have more notes to write.”
before you can scramble and grab it, his hand shoots out. his long fingers, wrap firmly around your waist. with one smooth, effortless lift, he pulls you straight up off the floor. then, you feel the red and black coils of his evol wrapping around you. you let out a gasp as you fly through the air, landing in his lap.
sylus’s rather massive arms wrap around your body, securing your back firmly against his broad chest. he’s so big and warm that you feel completely swallowed by him, your nose buried in the rich scent of his cologne.
“sylus!” you huff, face burning hot.
“quiet down, sweetie. you’ve had your fun, now it’s my turn.” sylus says smoothly, his ruby eyes gleaming with mischief.
sylus presses a kiss to your cheek, before grabbing a pen from his pocket. he casually strikes out the ‘me’ from the sticky note and writes his name.
then, he sticks it gently right onto your forehead.
“hey!” you laugh, trying to swat his hand.
sylus catches your wrist easily, his voice dropping to a find velvety whisper. he uses his thumb to turn and tilt your chin up, making you look at him.
“there,” he teases, his thumb rubbing a warm lazy circle into your jawline. “fair is fair. now it’s official. you belong to me too. any objections?”
“you’re ridiculous,” you mumble, giving up your fight and curling closer into his chest to hide your blushing cheeks.
sylua lets out that low, satisfied laugh, the one you love so much. he tightens his arms around you, locking you into his warmth so thoroughly you can’t move.
“good,” he whispers, leaning down to press a sweet, lingering kiss right over the sticky note on your forehead. “then you’re staying right here. don’t move.”
no mom i have to be online 14 hours a day my mutuals are writing the most fucked up esoteric erotic and beautiful posts about my guys. i have to be there to experience it in real time.
