#... well everyone in ds at least-

[matamisin]

Against my own will, I haven't seen the afternoon in a week

[widowshill]

UGH.

[xxsyluslittlecrowxx]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞.

[ 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ]

𝐚/𝐧: This one’s for everyone currently buried under textbooks, neck-deep in citations, or screaming silently into a thesis draft. Whether you’re cramming for finals, editing your 30th footnote, or trying to remember the difference between APA and MLA at 3 a.m. —I see you. I am you.

Consider this my love letter to academic burnout, spiced up with a chaos, a lot of buttons, and one very bored Sylus.

May this story bring you a smile, a distraction, and maybe… some motivation to get back to work. Or at least to fantasize about getting “tutored” by your favorite grumpy 3d boyfriend.

You’ve got this. And if not? Well, at least you’ve got this fic.

𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐰: This story contains adult content intended for mature audiences (18+). Includes: teasing, consensual power play, undressing kink, sexual tension, smut (obviously), suggestive language, and light dom/sub dynamics. Also: mentions of academic stress, mild frustration, and one very chaotic bird. (Also, I suck at the lore, so all the questions are just dribble drabble and have nothing to do with l&ds lore).

Please read responsibly.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7,382

𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐎𝐰𝐧: [ Press here! ]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 closing in.

Not as dungeons do—with iron and echo and the grating metallic gnash of keys against locks—but in a subtler, crueler fashion. Here, the entrapment was warm. Familiar. Domestic. It wore the mask of kindness: chipped ceramic mugs bearing lukewarm tea, a book left open spine-up, the low hum of city life filtered through the curtains. It was, he thought, bitterly, the kind of imprisonment one almost volunteered for.

Sylus shifted again on the couch, then rose—slowly, deliberately. He moved not like a man, but a creature half-contained: sinew strung too tight, instincts dulled by idle time. Prowling—yes, that was the word. The motions of a predator caged not by walls, but affection.

He had commanded battlefields in tighter quarters than this. Led insurgencies in the silent dark of fractured worlds. Stared down death without blinking. But this?

This was unbearable.

There was paper everywhere. The scent of ink, bitter and raw. The over-steeped tang of her tea wafting from the sill. And her—hunched over the dining table, surrounded by her own chaos. Books exploded across the wood like shrapnel from a war of knowledge—highlighted, dog-eared, wounded by overuse. Her hands moved furiously, annotating with the kind of intensity one usually reserved for confessions or last rites.

She hadn’t looked at him in forty-three minutes.

Not even when Mephisto—loyal, treacherous Mephisto—had “accidentally” toppled a precarious stack of her notes onto the floor. The crow had croaked, sharp and affronted. She, unmoved, had murmured simply, “Leave it,” and kept writing as though she were inscribing scripture.

Sylus crouched by the fallen pages and began gathering them, slow as time itself. Paper sliding over paper, the sound soft but persistent. A quiet insistence. The sound of patience weaponized.

Nothing.

“You know,” he said at last, voice almost conversational as he let the next sheet fall with theatrical weight, “Onychinus has tortured men with less effective methods than this.”

She didn’t look up. “Then maybe you finally understand how I feel.”

Her words cut with a blade honed in silence.

He straightened, brushing non-existent dust from his palms. Intrigued, not offended. That was the curious thing. As if her indifference had teeth. As if her quiet dismissal coiled something feral within him.

“I could be out there right now,” he said as he sauntered toward the kitchen. “Negotiating with diplomats. Sabotaging governments. Killing someone, possibly.”

“You still could,” she replied without looking. “The door’s right there.”

The kettle clicked off. He didn’t move to pour. He liked it bitter. Liked the way it matched his mood—steeped too long, forgotten until it scalded.

Instead, he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, gaze fixed on her. Watching. Hunting. She was composed chaos: pen tapping out some maddening rhythm, brows drawn, jaw clenching. Every movement spoke of war, though she waged hers with theory and thought.

And still—she had not looked at him.

He cleared his throat.

She sighed.

He straightened. A wolf catching scent.

“You’re not helping,” she muttered, chewing on the cap of her pen.

“I’m not trying to.”

“Then be useful. Take Mephisto out. He needs a flight. Or a target to harass.”

The mechanical crow preened, smug on her chair-back, as if understanding.

Sylus blinked. “I trained him to disarm men mid-air. You want me to reduce him to dog-walking?”

“I want silence,” she snapped. “Or help. But if I can’t have the first, I’ll settle for the second.”

That made him grin.

Slowly.

Oh.

Now she looked at him.

Tired. Wary. Resigned. That look of someone who knew too well what was coming. Who recognized the inevitability of chaos walking toward her in human shape. Sylus Qin did not sit idle for long. Stillness was not his nature. He was not built for peace. He was built for provocation.

He closed the distance in four lazy steps, and bracketed her in, hands on either side of her chair. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even stop reading. But her breath caught—just once.

Subtle. But enough.

He leaned in, voice a purr against her temple. “Help, Kitten?”

The word coiled like silk around barbed wire. Too soft to be safe.

“You?” she said flatly, eyes on her page. “The last time you helped, you almost burned the kitchen down.”

“It was one fire.”

She glared.

He lifted a brow. “One small fire. Mephisto flew through it just fine.”

She turned to face him fully now, and he saw it—the red-rimmed eyes, the ink-smudged hands, the kind of fatigue that crept into the marrow. She was burning herself alive in pursuit of something. And he? He would always be drawn to the flame.

“You’re driving me insane,” she whispered.

“And you,” he murmured, “are torturing yourself. What was it for, again?”

She threw the pen down. “Advanced sociopolitical theory of pre-expansion territories.”

He blinked. Slowly.

“You made that up.”

“I wish I made that up.” She rubbed her eyes. “I have to explain economic reformation using early-Earth anarcho-Marxist models—without referencing planetary war casualties.”

Another beat of silence.

“And people wonder why we recruit so well,” he muttered. “We offer better hours.”

“And fewer footnotes.”

Mephisto let out a metallic klik, like a laugh.

Her next exhale was quieter. Not defeat. Not quite. Just surrender. Her head tilted back, neck bared, vulnerable in a way that made his mouth go dry.

“I hate this,” she said.

He tilted his head, predator’s smile returning. “Then let me help you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“You haven’t heard my method.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s extremely effective.”

“It’ll be chaos.”

“All learning is chaos,” he said solemnly. “You just need the proper incentive.”

“You are not an incentive. You’re a hazard.”

He leaned in closer. Lowered his voice. “But you’re paying attention now.”

There it was.

The pause.

The breath between one kind of tension and another.

He smiled then, slow and unrepentant. The kind of smile that meant the trap had already closed, and she hadn’t noticed.

“What if,” he said, rounding the table, circling her like a thought that wouldn’t go away, “for every correct answer you give me… I unbutton a piece of clothing.”

She blinked. “What.”

He gestured vaguely between them. “Yours or mine. Dealer’s choice.”

“And if I get one wrong?”

He shrugged. “I button it back up. Accountability.”

She stared.

So did Mephisto—before flying out of the room with the exaggerated air of someone refusing to witness whatever unholy ritual this was becoming.

Sylus leaned close, whispering now, his voice a promise, or a sin.

“Come on, kitten. Let’s make studying… worth your while.”

She did not answer him.

Not with words. Not with refusal.

Her silence was not absence—it was decision. Deliberate. Weighted. The kind of stillness that bore within it the tension of a coiled spring, a loaded chamber, a whisper before the breaking glass.

Sylus moved behind her with a patience that belonged to no man, only beasts—those that waited at the edge of the forest, in shadows, where breath fogged and fangs gleamed. His chaos was measured now, honed into precision. He bent low, mouth grazing that place where her neck met her shoulder—the tender hinge of control and surrender. Her skin was warm. Braced. Awake.

He did not kiss her.

Not yet.

He let his breath trace along the line of her throat like a promise whispered in a confessional.

“You hate this part of studying,” he murmured, voice low enough to slip beneath her skin. “The memorization. The mechanical repetition. Regurgitating theories someone else named.”

Still, she did not move.

He kissed just below her ear, so softly it felt imagined. Not conquest—reverence.

“But your mind,” he continued, lips brushing against the shell of her ear, “was never meant to echo other men’s thoughts. It’s built for violence and vision. What you need is structure. A system. Consequence.”

He smiled against her—just a breath of amusement, curved and sharp.

“Positive reinforcement.”

The next kiss was lower, slower. And then—

A breath caught.

He felt it. Subtle. A tremor beneath her composure. As if some fragile thread had been plucked.

“As I said, for every correct answer,” he whispered, the tip of his nose trailing the slope of her collarbone, “I’ll unbutton something. Yours. Or mine. I’ll let you choose.”

Control, after all, was a language they both spoke fluently. One they rewrote every time they met.

She hummed.

A sound so soft, so unwillingly born, it knocked something loose in him. A single syllable without shape, yet it echoed like a secret.

She didn’t say yes.

She didn’t have to.

The stillness of her body, the tilt of her neck—she was unfolding. Silently. One breath at a time. And he was patient. He would take her apart gently, methodically, until her resistance was memory.

“And if you get it wrong,” he said, fingers grazing the narrow line of her waist, “I’ll button it back up. Slow. One. At. A. Time.”

That made her shift.

Slight, imperceptible to anyone who did not live inside her breath the way he did. Her head turned, a fraction—exposing more of her neck.

Invitation.

His mouth found the base of her throat. A kiss—open and present, not demanding. Not yet. It wasn’t claiming, it was a tether. A declaration: I am here. I see you. I want.

He inhaled.

Ink. Sleep-deprivation. That sharp, dry sting of caffeine clinging to the strands of her hair. But beneath it all—her. Whatever scent memory couldn’t place but the soul remembered.

She smelled like longing. Like ache. Like the reason he’d chosen to live.

His voice, when it returned, was rough. Frayed at the edges.

“You’ll start to want the wrong answers,” he murmured, lips brushing her pulse, “just to feel me undoing you again. And again.”

Her breath stuttred.

Another sound—barely more than a breath—but it gutted him. That sound, that wordless admission, echoed in his skull like the first crack of surrender.

Sylus smiled.

This—this was not domination. Not command. This was the sacred language of consent. The offering of power. The invitation to play.

He kissed her once more. Deeper now. Possessive. Just above the hollow of her collarbone, where blood surged and promises lived.

Then—

He pulled back.

Abrupt. Controlled.

“Question one,” he said, settling beside her, voice suddenly light, even amused—as if the last few minutes had not been a slow seduction of her will. “Define hegemonic decentralization in relation to resource-starved colonies pre-expansion.”

She blinked.

Disoriented. Thrown.

“What—?”

His smirk cut across his face like a blade. “Tick-tock, kitten.”

She stared at him.

Not in shock. Not in fear. No, those emotions were too simple for her. Her gaze was that of a woman observing a cliff’s edge—knowing full well she’d fall, and still, leaning closer. There was a long, slow blink of disbelief, the kind that implied she might—out of principle—launch her textbook at his head. But instead, she measured him, and something in her calculation said: I’ll play. Just long enough to see how far you’ll go.

“Hegemonic decentralization,” she said at last, her voice clipped, wound tightly around restraint, “is the process by which centralized imperial authorities delegate limited power to colonial administrations in an attempt to quell unrest—without, of course, surrendering real control.”

Sylus arched a brow.

Her tone was academic, yes—but her pulse betrayed her. He saw it leap at the base of her throat. Counted the rhythm, noted the way her breath cinched as if her body were bracing for the consequence of correctness.

“That’s correct,” he said, voice mild. Too mild. A weapon she didn’t yet know how to parry.

And then he moved.

Not toward her. But inward—stripping the first button from his own shirt with leisurely precision. His gaze never left hers. That unreadable half-smile hovered on his lips like smoke curling from a match not yet dropped.

“Start small,” he murmured. “Ease your way into winning.”

Her lips parted—just slightly. A protest unspoken. A grin suppressed. She said nothing.

Good girl. She knew how the game worked. She always did, in the end.

“Next question.” He leaned back, lounging like this was a corporate debrief rather than a study session layered with subtext and tension. “List three primary sociopolitical effects of the Altaris Collapse on fringe-planet diplomacy.”

She groaned. “You’re insane.”

“One point for each correct answer,” he said, examining his cuffs. “Three buttons on the line.”

Her eyes narrowed. Her mind was already spinning. He could see it in the angle of her shoulders, the way her pen tapped once—twice—against her thigh, the rhythm erratic but sharpening.

This was what he loved about her. Not submission. Not softness. But the focus. The unflinching, teeth-bared determination of a woman who had studied her enemies and refused to blink.

She inhaled.

“One,” she said. “Breakdown of interplanetary trade security. Two: refugee displacement leading to diplomatic strain among minor systems. Three: the elevation of pirate syndicates as recognized diplomatic actors.”

Sylus whistled, low and admiring. “Very, very good.”

This time, he reached for her.

She didn’t flinch when his fingers brushed the first button of her blouse. Didn’t pull away. Her breath held, suspended somewhere between resistance and anticipation. Her eyes fixed on his, unblinking.

The first button slid free.

Then the second.

The third—he took slower. His thumb traced the hollow of her sternum, where bone met breath. The fabric parted just enough to reveal the delicate strap of her bra. He saw the rise in her chest. The careful exhale through her nose.

“No objections, kitten?” he asked softly.

Her chin lifted. A quiet defiance. “I’m three for three,” she said. “I’m winning.”

His smile was a darker thing now. “For now.”

He leaned in again, brushing her hair off her shoulder like it was something sacred. His lips ghosted the shell of her ear.

“Define the Tenet Accord,” he whispered, “in a single sentence.”

She hesitated.

Not long. Just a heartbeat.

But it was enough.

He felt it: the delicate tilt in balance. The first falter.

“It was…” Her voice slowed. “The treaty between the TerraCore Senate and fringe-system delegates to standardize negotiation frameworks for interplanetary conflict.”

Sylus tilted his head, wolfish.

“It was,” he said—then, after a beat too long: “But it wasn’t signed. It was ratified by proxy. The original signatories were assassinated before they made it to the table.”

She stiffened. “That’s semantics.”

“That’s history,” he replied.

And with an infuriating patience, he reached forward—

—and rebuttoned one of the buttons he had just undone.

Slowly.

One hand guiding the shirt back into order, the other working the button through its loop with unbearable precision. His thumb brushed skin as he did. Not hurried. Not teasing. inevitable.

“Don’t cheat,” she said, voice rasping slightly at the edges.

“Don’t miss,” he answered.

Ah, there it was.

The pull in his gut. That hot, slow drag of anticipation. Tension braided between them like wire stretched to its limit. She was brilliant—sharp as a blade—and he intended to test every inch of her edge.

Not to see her break.

To see how long she’d hold.

“Next question,” he said, voice gone low again.

Her eyes sparked. “Bring it.”

He leaned closer.

“Name the three factions responsible for the Blockade,” he said, “and identify the primary tech used to enforce it.”

She swallowed.

Oh, yes. This one would cost her.

And Sylus could already taste the next button between his fingers.

Sylus watched her lips as she hesitated.

It was not ignorance that stalled her—no, she was brilliant, insufferably so. He knew she knew the answer. The hesitation wasn’t intellectual; it was strategic. She was thinking now—not of war or treaties, but of the game. Of the stakes. Of his gaze, heavy and deliberate, tracing the line of her collarbone. Of the way his shirt now hung open, two buttons loose, a sliver of skin visible like a secret offered on a dare.

Good.

He wanted her distracted.

“Orion Enclave,” she said at last. The words came slow, deliberate. “The Virid Coalition. And—”

She faltered.

He lifted an eyebrow, amused. “And?”

Her eyes flicked up, sharp. “And the Noxian Syndicate.”

A heartbeat passed.

He smiled—dangerously. “Mm. Almost.”

Her brow creased, suspicion blooming. “What?”

“It wasn’t the Noxians. It was the Virex Compact.” He leaned in, voice low, velvet over steel. “The Syndicate pulled out three days before the blockade was formalized. Political cowardice, masquerading as strategy.”

She exhaled sharply, jaw tight. “That’s a technicality.”

He tilted his head. “I don’t deal in technicalities. Or intentions. Only in outcomes.”

A pause. Then, darkly—

“Only in flesh.”

He reached for her—intending to reassert control, to remind her whose game this was—but she moved first.

Quick as a striking viper, her fingers shot up and caught the edge of his open shirt.

He froze.

Her hand was steady. Unbothered. She met his gaze with a calm so composed it felt like mockery dressed as elegance.

“Then you’re not the only one who gets to keep score,” she said, and with devastating grace, she slid one of his buttons back into place.

He blinked, as if something in the room had tilted.

“You’re penalizing me?” he asked, tone caught in the strange valley between disbelief and reluctant delight.

“You distracted me.”

“Kitten—”

“Your game,” she murmured, drawing closer, breath warm beneath his jaw. “Your rules. I just play smarter.”

And then she kissed him.

Not a plea. Not a reward. No, this was a tactical move. She kissed the curve of his neck with precision, then bit—not hard, not cruelly, just enough to fracture his breath mid-inhale.

His hand moved without thought, wrapping around her hip. The contact grounded him. Or maybe it unmoored him further. He couldn’t tell anymore.

He hated her.

No, that wasn’t it.

He loved her. Not the love of ballads or poets. Not the gentle, convenient kind. His love was ruinous. A reconfiguration of instinct. A madness that could be neither named nor cured. He would burn worlds for her, and worse—he would wait in silence while she studied, just to be near her gravity.

She knew. Of course she knew.

He caught her chin in his hand, tilting her face upward. Not quite a kiss. Not yet. It was a warning. Or a prayer.

“You’re cheating,” he murmured.

“I’m improvising.”

She pressed her lips just below his ear. Barely there. A ghost of touch. Then her teeth caught his earlobe with the kind of sinful slowness that could undo entire empires.

“I thought you liked clever girls,” she whispered.

A low sound rumbled in his throat—half laugh, half growl. “I do. But I like obedient ones more.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, head tilted in mock innocence, eyes sharp enough to bleed. “Then maybe you should study harder,” she said, tone laced with mockery and seduction both. “You’re falling behind.”

And then—God help him—she unfastened one of his buttons.

Not in haste. Not for show. It was surgical. Deliberate. Her fingers brushed his chest, and even that barest touch left a heat behind. Not fire. Something slower. Smoldering.

He stared at her.

She smiled.

Not sweetly. This was the smile of a woman who had just toppled the first stronghold of a war campaign. She knew exactly what she was doing. And worse—she knew he’d let her.

“Next question,” she said, voice silk and daggers. “Unless you’re afraid to lose.”

Oh, fuck.

She was turning him into prey.

And he loved it.

His mouth twitched.

A flicker, barely visible, but in it lived a tempest. His gaze darkened—not with rage, not even with hunger, but with something stranger. A tension that stretched tight within him, like a wire pulled over flame. Every breath he drew seemed to sear him from the inside, burning with restraint, with ache, with the quiet, seething madness of a man undone not by war, not by betrayal, but by her.

She was the weapon. She always had been.

He leaned in.

His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and this time, his teeth followed—grazing, then catching. Not hard. Not yet. Just enough to make her breath falter. He felt her pulse beneath his mouth, fluttering wildly. That fragile, defiant rhythm—it was the closest thing to poetry Sylus believed in.

“Name,” he murmured, tongue tracing just behind her ear, voice low and serrated, “the first planetary system to reject TerraCore’s energy sanction and survive the embargo intact.”

She breathed out sharply—but her voice, when it came, was steady. Brilliant. Beautiful.

“Vallin. They diverted siphon-tunnels from unmonitored moons and contracted mercenary fleets to deliver raw materials directly.”

Sylus chuckled.

Low. Dangerous. Delighted.

“Such a clever little kitten.”

He reached between them, finding the last button of her blouse and—slowly, reverently—slipped it free.

The fabric parted like a confession. Her skin glowed, lit soft by the dim lamps, framed in lace and tension. She didn’t move to cover herself.

Good.

Modesty was fine. But shame? He loathed it. She had nothing to hide—and too much power in her stillness.

Before either could speak, his hands were at her waist. He lifted her—effortless, unhurried—and pulled her into his lap like it was the most natural movement in the world. Because it was.

She landed with a soft exhale, knees bracketing his hips, hair spilling down one side like flame. Her blouse hung loose. Her eyes, steady as a sniper’s, met his with a spark that made his blood sing.

“Cheating again,” she said.

He smirked. “Strategic positioning.”

He leaned in, mouth at her neck, and kissed—slow, open, deliberate. His tongue followed, then teeth, marking her with just enough pressure to feel like a threat wrapped in velvet. Her fingers curled into his shoulders. His name ghosted her throat without form.

And when he bit her again—lower, near her collarbone—she gasped.

Quiet. Breathless. Real.

He licked the spot afterward, soothing what he’d just claimed.

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly.

She didn’t.

Instead, she rolled her hips once—slow, deliberate. The friction between them made his breath catch against her skin. Heat surged low and sharp. Control teetered.

“Another question,” she whispered.

He groaned into her throat. A curse. A surrender. Fine.

She wanted to play?

He’d make the game bleed.

“Identify,” he said, voice thick with the ache of her weight in his lap, “the five standard tactics of passive resistance under the Treaty of the Undermoon Accords. No paraphrasing.”

Her breath stuttered.

Not from uncertainty.

But from the way his hands had slid to her thighs, thumbs brushing up under the hem of her skirt. Not quite touching, but close. So close. His fingers toyed with the edge of her stockings like a question with no right answer.

Still—she answered.

“One,” she said, “economic abstention. Two: subversive information dissemination. Three—” she broke off, gasping, as he traced his tongue up her neck, slow and steady “—civil inertia.”

He didn’t stop.

Neither did she.

“Four,” she breathed, “symbolic disobedience.”

He waited.

Her voice shook. But she held.

“Five. Nonviolent obstruction.”

Sylus froze.

Perfect.

Fuck.

The sound that escaped him was primal—a growl buried under a groan. He kissed her jaw, softer this time. Almost reverent. As if her intellect, her will, her spine—all of it demanded worship.

And then he moved again.

He took her blouse by the shoulders and slid it down. Off. The fabric fell behind her like water pooling in shadows. She sat bare above the waist now, save for lace and the kind of anticipation that turned air into lightning.

And still—still—her eyes stayed on him. Steady. Ready.

“Again,” she said.

God help him.

Pride swelled in his chest, hot and vast. So did hunger. And something worse—something holy.

She was everything he shouldn’t have.

Everything he would kill for.

And she was sitting in his lap like she knew it—and didn’t care.

He kissed her shoulder. Her collarbone. Down the line of her sternum.

Then: “Describe the flaws in the Thales Doctrine’s principle of linear progress, as it relates to—”

She rolled her hips hard.

A grind. Deliberate.

Sylus bit her back.

She rolled her hips again—harder now—grinding against the rigid line of him through his slacks, and Sylus felt it: the tremor racing up his spine like a live wire snapped loose, like godfire arcing beneath the skin. His jaw tightened, and the breath he drew was shallow, as if her movements had hollowed his lungs.

She shifted once more, and he knew—by the tilt of her hips, the sharpness in her breath, the glint in her eyes—she knew.

She wasn’t playing to win anymore.

She was playing to ruin him.

“The Thales Doctrine,” he growled into her throat, his mouth slick with need, dragging against her skin like a secret. “Linear progress. Flaws. Say it.”

Her voice trembled, breathless, but sharp with that ruthless clarity he craved.

“It assumes constant advancement,” she panted, “without accounting for systemic collapse, or ethical regression. Ignores the nonlinear nature of historic—”

He cut her off.

His hand slid between them, cupping the soft swell of her breast through the thin lace. She gasped, body arching into him instinctively—and that sound should have been reward enough.

But Sylus was far from finished.

With a practiced flick, he found the clasp behind her back.

Snap.

The bra loosened, a breath unbound.

She didn’t stop him.

Didn’t pretend to.

He dragged the straps down her shoulders, inch by inch, baring her like scripture revealed line by line. Her breath hitched. Her chest rose. But there was no shame in her stillness—only readiness.

“Correct,” he murmured against her skin.

And then—then—he took her into his mouth.

She arched with a sharp, helpless cry, every muscle pulled taut by the shock of sensation. Sylus groaned low against her, tongue circling, teeth grazing her nipple, then sucking deep and slow, savoring her like the answer to a question he hadn’t dared ask.

Her hands were in his hair now—pulling, grounding, praying.

She writhed just enough to undo him.

But she never told him to stop.

And God help him—he didn’t want to.

He shifted to her other breast, lavishing it with the same unrelenting attention, mouth hot, pace slow. With each flick of his tongue, another piece of her unraveled. Each moan he stole was a kind of confession. Each tremor a truth.

Her voice came, shaken but still brilliant: “Ask another.”

He laughed softly—dark, broken, hungry.

“Name,” he murmured, “the three sociopolitical structures that collapsed the Orion-Terra alliance.”

He felt her trying to pull her mind from the edge, to claw her way back to theory from the heat of him, from the way his hands had slid under her skirt, thumbs skimming the top of her stockings like questions written in tongues.

Her body pressed closer, chasing relief.

Still, she answered.

“Economic divergence,” she gasped. “Militarized… policy drift. And—”

Her rhythm stuttered.

He felt it. The sharp jolt of pleasure severing the thread of thought.

“And—” she whimpered, mouth open, trying.

Sylus waited.

She shook her head. “I—I don’t know.”

A thrill coiled inside him.

Finally.

Wrong.

He moved before thought could catch up.

Fast.

Predatory.

He stood in one fluid motion, hands locked at her waist, lifting her effortlessly before laying her down along the length of the couch. Her back hit the cushions, hair spilling like dark fire.

And Sylus followed.

He hovered above her, shirt half-undone, chest rising with restraint. His hair was wild now, his eyes lit from within—dark gold burning at the edges like a man on the brink of holy collapse.

He reached for her wrists.

Not forceful.

Not cruel.

But absolute.

He pinned them above her head, both hands caught in one of his, locking her like a weapon disarmed.

Her mouth parted.

But she didn’t flinch.

She offered herself up.

“Sylus—”

“Wrong answer,” he said, voice raw and guttural. “You lose that round, Kitten.”

Then he descended.

His mouth was on her again—neck, collarbone, chest—biting, kissing, claiming. His tongue dragged between her breasts, his teeth tracing ribs like a map carved in devotion. Each movement was slow, almost reverent—like prayer laced with sin.

She moaned, hips lifting, seeking friction, but he didn’t release her wrists.

Her breath caught.

“What…” she gasped, voice shredded, “what happens when I get the next one wrong?”

He kissed her sternum. Licked a line up the center of her throat. His voice cracked against her ear.

“Then I stop playing.”

A pause.

Then, darker:

“And I start devouring.”

Her breath came in short, fractured bursts—sharp at the edges, shallow in the center—each exhale caught between need and defiance. Her wrists remained pinned above her head, captured by his single hand, bound not in rope but in resolve. Beneath his mouth, her chest flushed pink with heat, the soft rise and fall of her ribcage trembling against the air, against his breath, against the weight of his threat still echoing in the silence.

Then I stop playing.

And I start devouring.

And she—

Gods. She had the audacity to raise a single eyebrow.

That expression—wry, knowing, infuriating—was like a match dropped on oil. Her lips parted, twitching upward at the corners, glittering with mischief despite the wreckage of her composure, despite the delicate shudder still coursing through her body.

“Are you…” she panted, her voice wreathed in the sharp smoke of amusement, “trying to motivate me into answering wrong, Sylus?”

His name on her tongue—dragged out like a challenge, tasted like sin—unraveled something in him. It uncoiled hot along his spine, a sharp sting of hunger and something else, something too primal to be named.

He smiled.

Not the kind that comforted. No—this was the smile of a wolf who knew the cage was already open, the prey already cornered, the end already inevitable.

“Maybe,” he said, voice heavy and slow, soaked in indulgence. “But I’d never rig the game, Kitten.”

And then—

He released her wrists.

Not as mercy. As strategy.

His freed hand moved lower, deliberate in its descent, fingers returning to the curve of her chest. He rolled a nipple between his fingers—just enough pressure to make her inhale, not out of pain, but awareness. A single moment of sensation sharpened to a blade’s edge.

Her eyes fluttered shut. Brief. Reflexive. A betrayal of her own will.

That was all it took.

Sylus leaned in, dragging his tongue along the column of her throat, tasting salt and heat, feeling her pulse leap against his mouth like it was trying to confess.

“You want to lose,” he whispered into her skin. “Don’t you?”

She inhaled sharply.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t ease.

“You want what happens when you get it wrong.”

His fingers tightened—just slightly. And she arched into him, helpless in the way only honest desire makes a person.

Her pride was fighting. Her need was winning.

He watched her war with herself, teeth sinking into her lower lip to silence the whimper clawing its way up her throat. She was trying not to give him the satisfaction. But satisfaction had never been the goal.

Submission, when freely given, was far more exquisite.

Her voice came at last—fragile but resolute.

“Ask me again.”

He didn’t move his hand. Didn’t break contact.

He leaned close to her ear, his voice rough, rich, brutal in its intimacy. “Another question?”

She nodded. A small gesture. But her whole body answered.

Sylus chuckled, low and dark, the sound curling between them like smoke under a locked door. His tongue flicked against her earlobe before he bit—sharper this time. Possessive. Branding.

“Alright then,” he murmured. “Let’s see how long you can pretend to care about answers.”

He let the silence stretch.

Not passive—but purposeful. The kind of silence that thickened the air, curled around the lungs, made every breath feel too loud, too revealing.

Her wrists lay above her head, abandoned, free. She could have moved. Could have claimed her autonomy in that moment.

She didn’t.

She wouldn’t.

There was something tragic and beautiful in that stillness. Her fingers twitched slightly, not in fear, but in restraint. Her body trembled beneath him—not with hesitation, but with memory: of his mouth, his hands, the words he had laced between her ribs like a confession only her body could translate.

Her eyes were half-lidded. Dazed, yes, but alert in that singular way he adored—watchful even in surrender. Her breath stuttered through parted lips, soft and uneven. Her chest rose and fell in time with his touch, as if her very breathing belonged to him now.

​​“Next question,” he said.

But his voice had changed—quieter now, rasped low with reverence and hunger, as if even language had grown heavy in his mouth.

And while he spoke, his hand moved.

Slowly. Sinfully.

He dragged his palm from her breast, down her side—charting her like a man committing sacred text to memory. His fingers skimmed the curve of her ribs, the flat of her abdomen, until the muscles there tightened beneath his touch like drawn bowstrings.

She held her breath.

Still, he kept going.

Down, tracing over the soft curve of her hip, gliding along the outer edge of her thigh until his knuckles met the top seam of her stockings. He paused there—just for a breath—then reversed course, sliding back up.

But this time, his hand disappeared beneath the hem of her skirt.

Up, slow and unyielding, along the inside of her thigh.

She gasped.

Not out of shock.

Out of need.

Still, he did not touch her where she needed him. Not yet. That would be too merciful.

Instead, his hand settled at the edge of her underwear—resting, warm and immovable, pressing lightly into the vulnerable curve of her hip. The contact was maddening in its stillness.

A promise made but not kept.

The room pulsed with tension, thick as incense. Her arousal hung in the air, visceral and electric, the silence between them now stretched so tight it was on the verge of snapping.

Sylus leaned in.

He didn’t kiss her. He brushed his lips along the shell of her cheek, then moved toward her ear—his voice a breath, a blade, a benediction.

“Name the founding member of the pre-rebellion diplomatic corps,” he whispered, “who defected and sold state secrets to the Altaris resistance.”

Her breath caught.

Of course it did.

It was a near-impossible question. Obscure. Buried in classified intel, footnoted in forgotten reports. A name she might have memorized once, maybe. But not like this.

Not with his fingers resting just shy of her core.

Not with her thighs twitching beneath his palm. Not with her body arched toward his hand like prayer seeking a god that would not yet answer.

She blinked up at him.

Her hips shifted—barely, but deliberately. A subtle tilt forward. A parting of her thighs.

Not a protest. An invitation.

And then—

Her voice. His name.

Barely above a whisper. “Sylus…”

He closed his eyes.

That sound—it wasn’t a plea.

It was confession.

It unmade him.

Something deep inside fractured, cracked open in the silence beneath her breath. She had said his name like it mattered. Like it was hers to say.

He turned his head toward her.

His lips brushed hers—just barely. Just enough to feel the heat of her want. But he didn’t kiss her. Not yet. Not until she broke for it.

He needed her wanting. Needing.

Starved.

Then—finally—his fingers moved.

Down.

Between her thighs.

Over the damp heat of her panties.

Still outside.

Still cruel.

Still withholding.

But just enough.

Just enough to make her breath hitch. Just enough to tear another quiet sound from her throat. Just enough for her to understand that he could destroy her without rushing.

Then, voice low, sharp, and undeniable:

“Answer.”

She trembled beneath him.

Lashes lowered, lips parted, her thighs twitching with the instinct to close—but his hand kept them open, unrelenting. The muscles in her legs clenched subtly, as if even her restraint begged for mercy. And he—he felt the heat of her through the lace. Damp. Pulsing. Wanting.

He still hadn’t touched her directly.

And still, she was already so close. Closer than she admitted. Closer than she dared believe.

His thumb dragged along the edge of her underwear—not teasing. Not playful. It was a warning. A promise. A line drawn with the quiet precision of a blade unsheathed.

He waited.

Letting the question he’d asked seep into her skin. Letting it settle in her bones. Letting it dissolve into the ache blooming steadily between her thighs.

And then—

She answered.

“D-Davien…” she gasped, voice thin, unraveling, “Davien Sol. He… defected after the siege of Lyssara Prime.”

The last syllable broke against her breath like a wave collapsing. Her hips bucked once, a silent plea made flesh. She didn’t beg.

She offered.

Sylus went still.

A moment. Just one.

Then the smile.

It curved across his mouth slowly, dark and warm and terribly pleased. His lips brushed her temple, breath hot against her hairline.

“Good girl.”

Then he touched her.

No more pretense. No more denial.

His fingers hooked around the lace and dragged it aside, baring her to the cool air, to his gaze, to everything he intended to do. There was no need for teasing now. Not after that answer. Not after the way she’d shattered her own voice just to please him.

She had earned it.

And he was out of patience.

He slid one finger inside her.

Deep. Slow. Intentional.

Her cry caught in her throat—beautiful, strangled, perfect—as her head fell back, spine arching off the couch like her body could no longer contain the feeling. Her hips lifted to meet him, to chase more, to beg without words.

He groaned, quiet and raw, his mouth still near her skin. The way she clenched around him—the way her warmth welcomed him in—it nearly undid him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, reverent, almost broken. “You’re soaked for me already, Kitten.”

Her hands had fallen, gripping the couch like it was the last thing keeping her tethered to this world. Her hips rolled against his hand in slow, desperate rhythm, her inner walls fluttering with every curl of his finger.

And Sylus watched.

Every flicker of her lashes. Every gasp caught in the hollow of her throat. Every unspoken plea she didn’t know how to voice.

“You’re a brilliant…—” he murmured, kissing the line of her jaw. “...sharp little thing, aren’t you? Getting that right with my fingers this close to wrecking you.”

She moaned—soft now, shaky—shivering not from cold, but from the unbearable weight of his praise. As if those words, from him, stripped her even more than his hands ever could.

He dragged his mouth down her throat, lips soft, unhurried. He began to move his hand faster—just slightly—his finger curling, again and again, pressing against the spot that made her body jolt like live wire.

His thumb came to rest above.

Still. Waiting.

Just the barest pressure. Not enough. But a threat of pleasure. A question.

Earn this.

He kissed along her collarbone, voice breaking apart at the edges now—gravel-thick, velvet-rough.

“You want another question?” he asked. “Or do you want to fall apart right here… on my fingers… like a good girl who can’t take the pressure anymore?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead—

Her moan slipped into the silence like silk falling against marble—quiet, decadent, irreversible. It was not a sound meant for this world, and yet it made his pulse thrum with a hunger too profound to name.

Sylus did not speak.

Not at first.

Instead, his hand moved again—fingers curling deep inside her, drawing a rhythm that was not frantic, not indulgent. It was measured. Focused. The precision of a scholar and the devotion of a sinner. Each thrust was slow, deliberate, angled to feel like worship disguised as anatomy.

She writhed beneath him.

Not in rebellion. In surrender.

Her hands no longer reached for anything—no longer clutched for control. They had fallen limp beside her, fingers brushing the cushions like driftwood. Her thighs trembled with every stroke, breath catching in her chest with the kind of fragile staccato that marked the brink between thought and oblivion.

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips grazing the curve of her throat. “Just like that, Kitten.”

She was unraveling in real time.

And he was watching.

Not as a voyeur.

As a believer.

“You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, voice catching. “So fucking tight. So wet.”

And then, with care that bordered on reverence, he slid in a second finger.

He didn’t rush it. He let her body take it. Let her open around him like petals in moonlight, trembling but ready. She was made for this—for his hand, his rhythm, his control.

And she let him.

His fingers filled her fully now, and still, he moved as though time bent for her. As if there were no world outside this moment, no clock ticking. Only the rise and fall of her chest, the trembling in her thighs, the sweat glossing her collarbones like holy water.

His lips moved lower—slow, lazy, unhurried.

He kissed her between her breasts. The skin there was warm. Damp. Fragile in a way that made him ache. She arched into the touch like it was a question she’d waited a lifetime to answer.

He took her nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue once before sucking deep, slow, intent. She gasped—her hands gripping the couch again, her body bowing to meet him. Every inch of her chased him now.

“That’s it,” he murmured against her skin. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

And God, she was trying not to. She was clenching around his fingers, fighting the build, hips twitching with each careful curl of his touch. Her breath came ragged, broken at the seams.

And still—he didn’t rush.

He wanted her earned.

“Doing so well,” he said, lifting his head, kissing the center of her chest like a vow. “So damn good for me.”

Her thighs began to shake in earnest now. Tiny, tremulous aftershocks.

He pressed his thumb—finally—against the swollen heat of her clit.

Just pressure. No motion.

Her whole body jolted.

A sob of breath tore from her throat. Not pain. Release.

“Come for me,” he whispered, voice shredded with restraint. “Now. Let go. Let me feel it.”

And she did.

She shattered.

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t loud.

It was holy.

Her body convulsed around his fingers, her back arching off the couch as her mouth opened in a silent cry. Her muscles rippled with the force of it—wave after wave of climax cresting over her. Her hands clutched at the air, at fabric, at memory. Her moans dissolved into broken gasps and soft, helpless sounds that made Sylus feel like he’d been cut open and filled with fire.

He didn’t stop.

Not yet.

He moved her through it—fingers curling, drawing out the final tremors, thumb flicking just enough to keep her perched on the edge of ruin until the fall was complete.

Only then did he still.

Only then did he breathe.

She lay beneath him, wrecked in the most exquisite way—skin flushed, chest heaving, body slick with sweat and surrender. Her blouse hung open like a forgotten pretense, her skirt bunched inelegantly at her hips, her panties still askew but somehow sacred.

She was not disheveled.

She was divine.

And he—God help him—he belonged to her.

Sylus withdrew his hand slowly. Reverently. As though he were leaving the sanctuary of a temple.

His fingers gleamed with her.

He lifted his hand. And without ceremony—without show—he brought it to his mouth.

He licked them clean.

One finger at a time.

Slow. Precise.

Not to claim power.

To taste truth.

His eyes fluttered shut. Just briefly. As if he were savoring something holy.

And when he looked again—

She was watching him. Barely.

Her eyelids were heavy, her breath still uneven, but her lips curved upward. Subtle. Sly. Triumphant.

There was pride in the wreckage. Of course there was.

He leaned down. Kissed her sternum.

Then just below her collarbone.

His hand settled on her waist—not possessive. Not dominant.

Grounding.

She blinked slowly, pupils still wide, dazed and brilliant all at once.

And then she whispered:

“Another question?”

Sylus let out a hoarse laugh.

He didn’t mean to.

It was stunned. Broken. Uncontrolled.

God help him.

He was in love.

— © 2025 by Sylus Little Crow

[shysuccubusstuff]

l&ds nsfw links! pt. 2

Content: Zayne + Xavier + Rafayel in various NSFW imagines!

Note: It's so hard to find actual good content for these kind of imagine... How is everyone doing? I miss holidays so much... I did four instead of five cause I keep trying to find more accounts. Let me know if you liked it! Also, if anyone has any kind of request, my requests are always open tbh!!

Zayne:

Starved Zayne arriving after several days on a trip, he looks so exhausted but even if he has eyebags the only thing he can think of is grabbing you and letting you know just how much he actually missed you.

Zayne knows he should reject the idea, but how could he reject you when you keep begging him to fuck your throat, with your sweet eyes looking at him in such a way... He accepts, even if he still feels slightly guilty about it, but deep down, he may be enjoying the bulge that appears in your throat each time he shoves it deep inside you...

You sent him as a joke a supposedly true research about how sucking on your nipples could avoid you getting breast cancer... Despite Zayne looked almost ammused at first, you soon noticed how he had started to suck on them much more than often... Was this a mere coincidence?

Enforcer! Zayne taking all his anger out on you... He tried so hard do maintain his frenzy, biting his lips and leaving them all bruised just to stop himself from doing anything to you... But as soon as you use that damn enhancer on him, it's a matter of seconds before he has you lifted in the hair, your eyes rolling back as you keep pleading him to at least slow down for a second.

Xavier:

Jealous Xavier making sure to leave a lasting mark in your body. He knows it's dumb to feel that way because of some dumb barista clinging a bit too much on you, but he can't just help clenching his fist and forcing a kind smile towards you.

Just some warm-up between the two of you. You keep asking him to help you improve your stamina, what's better for that than riding him for some time? Don't worry! He will help you a bit, just make sure to get down all the way, ok?

Contrary to what many people believe, Xavier is one of the fittest LI, even if he doesn't look as strong. Just let him show you just how much he can last holding you up in the air, legs dangling as he keeps hitting your cervix with his tip.

Aftermath of that one card in which Xavier keeps getting teased while he wears his working out outfit... It is oly fair that he is able to tease you, right? He keeps taunting you, telling you to quiet down as he keeps rubbing his hardened cock against the crook of your ass. As soon as he releases, just now that this is far from over.

Rafayel:

After leaving due to work for a couple weeks, you end up receiving this video late at night... Who would imagine such a re-known artist would dare to do this kind of thing? The video has a small comment written by him: "I miss my cutie so much... the wait is becoming unbearable".

Just Rafayel giving a taste to that sweet nectar that is dripping down your legs. What do you mean that is unclean? Just relax and let him show just how much he adores you.

After acting as a butler for you, it is only fair for him to see you in those short and cute maid outfits! Just... don't blame him when his eyes begin to drift, ears starting to heat up as he keeps trying to stop his mind from imagining the many ways he would just take you right then and there. All he needs is you pulling him towards you to lose himself, one of his hands playing with your tits as the other circles around your clit.

You keep teasing him during the whole art exhibition, with you constantly wrapped around his arm, your chest pressing against his arm even as some of those supposedly art experts ask about the inspiration behind his latest paintings. Oh, you just knew he wouldn't let it slide the moment his eyes glistened with a dangerous look. As soon as you arrive to his studio... Well, let's just say that he made sure to give just as much as you had given to him...

[manias-wordcount]

um !! so ive totally been using ur page as my nightly routine teehee and like. sorry in advance if ur requests r clsoed , im new to tumblr so i seriously have no idea how to check😭😭

but i was thinking ;; could you please write a smut for totk link and fem reader ? in whichhh u both hide in a closet together in like the castle or smth.. and to calm u down he like lets u ride him HAJHAH

so embarrassed, but imagining the shakey breaths and sounds of his armour clanking against the wall as he thrusts upwar ds .....

i know im a slut but im only a girl !! i cant help it..!

- r 🍒

Hero's Duty (BOTW Link x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘀𝘀𝘆 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be giving in like this. He should be stronger than this. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He shouldn’t be  wanting  this. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.  He shouldn’t. 

  But fate is a cruel mistress. And he can’t stand it when you squeeze your thighs together and look at him like he’s the only thing you’ll ever need.  He can’t stand it.

  Still, He’s supposed to be a knight. He’s supposed to be a hero. Disciplined and proper. Courageous and strong. Polite. Gallant. Respect. Dignified.  Honorable.  He’s supposed to be  all those things.  And he is! He swears, deep down inside he is. He knows he is.  Everyone  knows he is. He’s been congratulated by the king directly before. Called upon by him to take up arms and join the fight. And He serves Princess. He serves the people. He serves the kingdom. Hell, he’s even wearing some of his royal armor right now. He’s supposed to be a knight. He’s supposed to be a hero. He’s supposed to be  protecting you  right now.

  Not lifting up your dress and gripping your hips as he bounces your needy little hole down onto his cock over and over and over and over again. 

  It’s not what he should be doing. He has a mission. He has orders. He has a task to complete. Duty to fulfill. People to  protect.  People who  need  him. But your pussy feels so tight and so warm and so  wet  around his cock it’s amazing how he managed to last this long. But now that he started, he knows he can’t stop. He  won’t  stop. Not until he’s finished. Not until you’re  both  finished. 

  “ Ah….um, Link- Ah~”

  However long it takes. 

  “You like that, princess?” He murmurs lowly, blue eyes narrowing in on your face as your eyes cross and your mouth falls open into a lewd expression. You don’t respond- at least, you don’t respond with words to his question. But at this point, he’s not even sure if you would have been able to hear him over the sounds of your cute little whimpers and moans as he thursts his hips into you. Or maybe it’s the dirty sounds of your  soaking  wet little cunt taking in every single inch of his dick that keeps you from hearing the sound of your lover’s voice. He doesn’t know for certain, but the selfish,  selfish  part of him likes to think it’s a combination of the two. And the rational part of him? “You’re taking me so well pretty girl.  So well. ”

  The rational part of him  knows  it’s a little bit of both. Plus the fact that you always manage to get a little dick drunk when someone fucks you good and proper. And luckily for you, Link’s happy to play knight in shining armor to his needy little princess and her  perfectly tight little holes -

  Fuck,  you bring out the worst in him. But you know that don’t you? He swears it. He swears you do. He swears you  have to .  Goddesses,  he doesn’t even remember what he’s supposed to be doing right now. He knows it was supposed to be something important. Something only he could do. But then you started getting anxious. After every battle, after every fight- you still manage to worry about him. You still manage to fear that your powers and your efforts as his support won’t be good enough. 

  It’s cute how you worry. It’s cute how you care. But he had a job to do. And he needed you in good shape to do it. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quell your nerves. Your silent shaking. Your quiet whimpers. And worst of all? Every promise that he’ll protect was starting to fall flat in your ears. Every comforting touch didn’t seem like it worked. Didn’t seem like it was  enough . But he had a job to do. A job that included your safekeeping and your safe return. So he did what any good knight would do. 

  He pulled you into the nearest closet he could find and got you nice and relaxed on his fingers before stuffing you nice and full with his cock. 

  Now your moans bounce off the walls like hymns in a church. Now his name falls off of your lips like deities in a prayer. Now you can be protected. Nurtured. Cared for. All by him. All for you. 

  And maybe there were better ways of taking care of you and your fears. Maybe an orgasm and a good dicking down isn’t exactly what you need in this moment. But your precious little pussy is taking his cock so effortlessly that he’s starting to feel less of a knight and more like a man. A man who can’t help but have wants. A man who can’t help but feel lust. A man who can’t help but need to  fuck  a pretty girl when he’s not supposed to and make excuses about it.

  And he’ll do it again the next chance he gets. He’ll do it all over again. 

  “ Mmm, Link I’m…I’m close…”

  Your whimper is quiet, but within the four walls of this closet, it could be the loudest thing in the world right now. Louder than the loud slap of his pelvis hitting against your skin. Louder than his armor groaning and creaking under all this movement. Louder than the sound of you get exactly what you asked for when you look at your hero to distract you- to  save you - from this moment of fear. 

  “ Oh, yeah baby? You’re getting close? ”

  But that’s the thing… he knows. He knows because you’ve been getting louder. He knows because you’ve been getting  tighter . He knows because every single time his gaze falls back to the spot where your bodies join, and his dick gets swallowed up by your  perfect little cunt  time after time, he feels his own core tightening up in a way he can only assume will leave you nice and full and  messy  until he gets the chance to clean you up later on. He  knows  you’re close. He  knows .

  “ Well, that’s too bad, princess.”  He grinds out, eyes narrowing into slits as his hands tighten his grip on your hips. And  goddesses,  how you whimper. Goddesses, how you  whine . But no matter how many times you beg him and you cry to him he doesn’t change up like he knows you want him to. He doesn’t shift his angle to hit deeper. He doesn’t speed up his thrusts to hit faster. He doesn’t cater to your every whim. He doesn’t listen to your heavenly cries when you beg him to let you reach euphoria with every single breath you take. At least, not this time. At least, not yet. 

  But fuck,  you bring out the worst in him. You bring out the absolute worst in him. You bring out the  man  in him. So it’s only fair. It’s only fair that he takes what’s his. It’s only fair that he calls the shots. That he makes the orders on this battlefield. That he fucks you how he wants to. That he fucks you how he needs to. 

  That he fucks you like he absolutely should.

  Because deep down in his mind, he’s still a knight. He’s still disciplined and proper. Courageous and strong. Polite. Gallant. Respect. Dignified.  Honorable.  He can learn to say no to you. He can learn not to give into your every want. To your every need. He can learn. He can do it. He’s your knight in shining armor. He’s your one and only hero. Your one and only  everything . So he can do it. He can do it. He can. 

  Can’t he?

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Can you do Cam boy Tengen with wives as they do a livestream session of them all having sex with a shy voluptuous female reader?

Cyber Sex (Tengen x Wives x F!Plus-Size!Reader 18+ One Shot) [REQUEST FILL]

Pairing: Camboy!Tengen Uzui x Camgirl!Wives x Plus-Size!GF!Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend Tengen and his wives, also your girlfriends, are big in the world of camming. They are a popular camming couple that have made you the newest addition to their little family. Intrigued by their profession and the idea of having sex on camera, you decide to partake in one of their livestreams despite your nerves and insecurities in your body threatening to ruin it for you. Lucky for you, your sexy partners are 100% addicted to you and how you look on camera.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Camboy!Tengen x Camgirl!Wives; Poly Relationship; Shy to Slutty!Reader; Sex On Camera; Exhibitionism; Voyeurism; Fivesome; Daddy Kink; Sex w/ Sex Toys; Anal Play/Mild Analingus; Oral (Giving & Receiving); 69ing/Facesitting; Doggystyle; Everyone Cums; Mutual Os; Facials; Cum Play; Aftercare 

Writer's Note: @rottmntrulesall Thank you so much for your patience & THIS CONCEPT!!! As soon as you sent it, I knew I had to write it. I'm sorry I couldn't get it out quicker. Work has been soooo busy + other writing projects. I hope you enjoy it regardless! 💗💗💗💗 -Jazz

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You sit as rigid as a board in your vanity chair as Suma stands behind you, teasing your hair for at least the fourth time. 

With every spritz of gloss in your hair, you become more and more nervous. You’re supposed to be excited to be all dressed up for the camera, but the knowledge of what will come next makes your stomach jump. 

“So you ready for your official debut, cutie?” Suma asks, her breasts pushed against the back of your chair. You can see why she makes so much money as a camgirl with her set of double Ds, hourglass body, and shapely ass. It is how your other two girlfriends, Hinatsuru and Makio, are shaped, their God-given bodies only accentuated by the babydolls they wear for the “occasion”. 

You are wearing one as well–much larger in size to fit your soft, shapely body with its love handles, stretchmarks, rolls, and pudginess that your partners somehow cannot get enough of. The girls decided on a powdery pink babydoll with lace trim, a matching thong to hug your round, shapely ass, and furry heels to make your red-painted toes even cuter. 

The “occasion” in question is your grand debut with your romantic partners, both who are sex workers and majorly popular in the camming world. That sounds better than having sex on camera in front of a bunch of strangers.

You take the bottle of sour apple-flavored vodka from the vanity and pour yourself a shot before downing it between your glossy, bubblegum-flavored lips. The girls watch you while you gulp down the strong liquid that already begins clouding your senses and some of your frazzled nerves. “Y-Yeah,” you stammer. Makio snorts from her spot on the stool next to yours. “That was a no.” 

The girls giggle together at your nervousness, making you flush with embarrassment. Suma coos, wrapping her arms around you from the back. “Awww, you’ve got nothing to worry about, cutie pie! It’s just us!” 

Hinatsuru nods, standing behind you with her long, raven-black hair in her usual high ponytail. “She’s right, darling. We’ve been dating for two years now. You have nothing to be scared of when we’re your loving partners.” Her soft, soothing voice would usually relax you, but nothing seems to be working to calm you. “It’s not that, girls,” you confess. “I just don’t wanna mess up. I mean, thousands will be watching and—“ 

Makio stops you by rising from her stool, nearly knocking it over. “Hey!” she barks, glaring at you in the LED-lit mirror. “None of that. Our followers will love us no matter what and they’ll love you too! Don’t get in that head.” She pokes at your temple but bloats your face with a tissue to ensure that your makeup isn’t ruined. Even as the hot-headed one between your girlfriends, Makio is the most loving and affectionate. 

“Awwww, aren’t you the sweetest!” Suma squeals while Hinatsuru gives you a knowing smile. Makio blushes as red as her babydoll (Hinatsuru’s is purple while Suma’s is blue). “And remember what Tengen-sama said,” Hinatsuru says, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can always say our safety word or tap one of us three times if you ever need to slow down or stop. Your safety and comfort come first.” 

Suma snorts in that way where she is struggling to hold back a joke. “Unless you cum first,” she giggles. You and the girls stare at her, totally done, even as she giggles and snorts hysterically at her own juvenile joke. But it manages to make you crack a smile even when the idea of having sex on camera with your camgirl girlfriends and camboy boyfriend in front of their adoring audience still makes you quiver. 

After Suma finishes with your hair, giving it soft yet teasing waves, and Hinatsuru applies another slick of lip gloss to your lips, you stare at yourself in the mirror. All you see staring back at you is a pretty girl who needs to be touched and fucked on all night until her hair is a wreck and her makeup is running. You want nothing more than for Tengen and your girls to do that to you. 

“Okay,” you sigh. You turn around in your hair to face your adoring girlfriends with a determined smile. “Let’s do it then. I don’t wanna keep your fans waiting.”

As if being walked down the red carpet, the three gorgeous girls walk you down the hallway from the bathroom with its pink, plush rugs to the bedroom you share with your partners. Your heart flips as you hear the soft music playing and your boyfriend’s seductive chuckles from behind the door. 

Hinatsuru gives you a reassuring smile and a wink before she knocks daintily on the door. “Come in!” Tengen hollers from behind the door.

She opens it, revealing a bedroom decorated for the occasion with plush rugs, a satin, black bedspread, and a neon light coating the walls in a soft, neon pink. The entire room smells of vanilla and bergamot, somehow easing your nerves in a way the vodka did not. But nothing catches your attention more than your man. 

Tengen, known simply as “Uzui” in the sex work world and among his fanbase, lounges against the many multi-colored pillows and Sanrio plushies that you and Makio are obsessed with, his satin pants so low on his narrow hips that you can see his well-defined V-line and the outline of his big, gorgeous cock that lies just underneath the satin fabric.

His body, as if cut with stone, is slick with oil from his broad shoulders to his big, squeezable forearms right down his washboard abs. His silvery locks cascade down in waves to his shoulder blades, curling up against his earlobes that drip with colorful earrings. 

He is busy staring at the glowing screen of his laptop, running a hand over one of his pierced, brown nipples that you can’t help but salivate over, when his maroon-crimson eye lifts from the screen to widen at the sight of you. His other lies behind an eyepatch though it is probably just as wide with shock.

“There are my pretty girls!” he exclaims, grinning his wide, white-toothed grin at you. “And what’s this little outfit you’ve got on, babe?” His grin only grows as the girls gently walk you farther into the room. You try not to flinch when Makio closes the door behind you. 

“It’s for you, Daddy,” Hinatsuru replies. “We got her all dressed up for her grand debut tonight.” She gently caresses the lace of your babydoll covering your tummy to which Tengen’s eye is drawn to. “Isn’t she pretty, Daddy?!” Suma asks, practically teeming with excitement. “I told her that pink is her color!” 

Tengen seems to agree with the way his smile has turned into something more lustful. He moves the laptop off of his strong thighs and rises from the bed. “Why don’t you three entertain our guests while I greet our actress?” You can hear the little rapidfire bloop-bloop sounds of people liking the livestream and you briefly wonder how long Tengen was streaming before you arrived. 

At the mention of “entertaining”, Suma excitedly claps her hands and runs over to the bed, belly-flopping onto the bedspread. Makio rolls her eyes and crosses her arms as she struts over, her ass moving so enticingly in her lace panties. “You little attention whore,” she scoffs. Suma sticks her tongue out at her, smacking her ass when she gets on the bed. “Says the one who begged to cum on camera!” she shoots back. 

As the two begin to argue in front of their horny and eager audience behind the screen, Hinatsuru gives you and Tengen an adoring smile. “Don’t keep us waiting, you two.” She gives you both a peck on the cheek before she joins the two girls on the bed, playfully shoving a Pikachu plushie in Makio’s face. 

You can see the appeal as the three girls banter and be their adorable selves in front of the laptop for all the world to see. They are just too cute! It was what drew you to them the moment you started watching their streams alongside Tengen being his hot and flashy self. He and his wives became big in the camming world due to their relationship dynamics, roleplay sessions (with costumes included), and Tengen’s hot dirty talk that always seemed to turn you into a puddle. You had been a fan for some time, lurking in the comments with your camera turned off and dropping tips when your money was right. 

Soon, the foursome took notice of you and began shouting you out. “Thank you for the tip, Cute Little Listener!” Tengen said one night, all while pausing from a heavy make-out session with Hinatsuru.

Your username on his tongue nearly made you cream all over yourself…but nothing prepared you for the sultry look he shot at the camera. “Maybe one night you’ll turn on your camera and let us see just how cute and little you are.” 

Cute? Sure! But little? You didn’t define yourself as “little” at all. But when you finally turned on your camera for a private session with Tengen and his girls, they regarded you as if you were the prettiest, sexiest thing ever. And when you met them weeks later in person, Tengen’s sheer size made you feel as if you were as little as an ant! 

He towers over you now in the hallway, his big hands dripping in bracelets and rings cascading over your pudgy sides. “Look at you,” he coos. “You look fuckin’ delicious, babe.” Despite his lustful smile and gorgeous body on full display for you, you can’t even muster up enough courage to cop a feel. “I don’t feel very fuckin’ delicious,” you murmur, feeling your stomach churn again. Maybe you should’ve had more shots. 

Tengen’s smile drops and he encases your hands in his, secure and safe. “Are you second guessing this? It’s okay if you are. This is your first time having sex on camera, right?” He wraps his big, beefy arms around you, encasing you in them. You press yourself against him, feeling safe the instant your body is meshed with his. “Yeah, but it’s with you guys! I should be so excited!” 

You’re the one who came up with the idea in the first place! One, because you were curious and two, to spice up your sex life. While sex with the foursome is always a blast, it enticed you to have sex in front of their dozens of adoring, paying fans, especially once you learned that they were all interested in meeting you.

While it excited you before, now? All it does is fill you with dread. Tengen stares you down with that damn eye, seeming to know all of your thoughts. “Does this have anything to do with the audience or something more…personal?” 

He says the word very carefully, making you understand exactly what he means. You hide your face in his chest though you keep some space to avoid ruining your makeup. “It’s both,” you admit. “I’m sorry, Ten. I know you don’t like me talking about my body so poorly, but—“ 

“Stop,” he firmly says. His voice dips an octave, becoming steely and authoritative. It sends shivers up and down your spine. “Don’t say anything more. Your body is perfect, darlin’, just the way it is. Don’t feel any type of way about it just because the girls are smaller. It makes no difference.” You crack a smile, touched by his sweet words. “And if nobody likes it, they can log the fuck off. But that won’t happen.” 

He takes your chin between his big hand and multi-colored nails. “Not with a girl as hot as you cumming on camera.” Sparks as hot as burning rods shoot through you, your arousal growing now. “So no more doubting yourself, got it?” he asks. “Don’t make me punish you before we’ve even had a chance to get online.” 

SMACK!

He takes his other hand and gives you an open-palmed smack on the ass, emitting a soft gasp from you and a tingle in your clit. “Yes, Daddy,” you giggle, suddenly giddy and ready to start the cyber sex session. He grins down at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose. “Thaaat’s my good girl,” he draws. “Now let’s introduce your sexy ass to your new fans!” He then takes your hand in his and waltzes you back into the bedroom where you are met with a pleasant surprise. 

Your girls have already started their entertainment session for the audience: Hinatsuru and Suma teasing Makio in front of the screen, her creamy thighs spread open and her lace panties discarded, showing off her puffy, pink pussy drizzling with wetness and teased by Hinatsuru’s fingers. Suma has one of Makio’s pink nipples in her mouth while her hand fondles the other, Makio’s babydoll pried open to reveal both of her tits to the screen. 

When you walk in with Tengen, Hinatsuru and Suma turn their heads to each give you giddy smiles. Poor Makio is too busy facing the wickedness of the fingers on her pussy and the mouth on her nipple to notice, sweet moans and whimpers leaving her lips. “Oh, look!” Tengen laughs, wrapping an arm around your pudgy waist. “They already started. Little sluts couldn’t wait to start.” 

“We’re sorry, Daddy,” Hinatsuru apologizes, still rubbing away at Makio’s clit, earning dozens of likes on the stream. “We were just getting ourselves warmed up for you and Y/N. We still have plenty of time, don’t we, Makio?” She plunges a finger inside of Makio, emitting a long, high-pitched whine from her open lips. The very sound makes you wet, pushing the fabric to your panties up against your pussy lips. 

Tengen leads you over to the bed and smacks Hinatsuru, making her shoo the girls over to make room for you and him. The girls pause from teasing Makio to make you comfortable, placing you in the middle of the mattress before Tengen scoops you into his lap. From behind you, Hinatsuru sucks Makio’s juices off of her fingers as Suma playfully bites at Makio’s nipple, earning a pillow whack in the face.

 Tengen squeezes an arm securely around your waist as he places himself and you in frame. Suddenly, you are facing his entire world with the left side bar exploding with comments like rapidfire. “Attention, bitches, bros, and nonbinary hoes!” Tengen boasts. “This here is my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N.” He presses a kiss to your cheek before his juicy lips trail down your neck. “Introduce yourself to the audience, honey,” he coos in your ear. 

Despite his honeyed kisses and the scent of your girlfriends’ perfume clouding your senses, you manage to speak: “Hi, everyone,” you shyly say. “It’s so nice to finally meet all of you.” You stare at yourself–such a pretty girl–on the screen, smiling wider as the comments grow more positive, gushing over how pretty you are. “Awww, they like you!” Suma coos, crooning over your neck to get a look. “See? We told you they would!” 

“And they’re gonna love her even more after we get this off,” Tengen sultry remarks, playing with the tie holding together your babydoll. “Actually, I think it’s time we all get naked, hm?” He turns to the girls–his girls–one by one, giving them each a smirk filled with promises of what will follow later. The baby dolls fall off, revealing each of your naked bodies to Tengen and his joyful, aroused audience watching from behind their computers and phones. 

Though the bodies of his three wives are gorgeous, Tengen’s eye is planted firmly on yours, his beautiful girlfriend. He runs his hands down your sides blessed with extra curves that translate to love handles and roles hotter than the ones out of the oven. Your titties hang like overripe fruit on a tree and your thick thighs encase the sobbing, wet pussy that he so desperately wants to see, touch, taste, and feel. And your ass…the damn thing could stop traffic! “Fuckin’ perfect,” he groans. “How did I ever get this lucky to have four such sexy girls?” 

While his wives begin coating him in kisses–his neck, his broad shoulders, his back muscles–, he scoops you up into his lap again with your back pressed against his front. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you suddenly face yourself on the screen, totally naked and open-mouthed as Tengen’s lips caress your neck. His big hands cup your tits in his hands, massaging and rolling them around in a way that has your head swimming.

Despite how big they are, your soft pair of breasts fit so perfectly in his calloused palms, his thick fingers tweaking and pulling on your nipples. “Look at these,” he softly growls, giving the laptop a searing look. “These are mine.” 

Before you can even blink, he forces you to turn around to face him, your back to the camera.

SMACK!

His hand comes down across your ass, the sound of it connecting with one of your cheeks ricocheting across the bedroom. “See this?” he chuckles, seeing something you can’t. “These are mine!” Ping-ping-ping! The sound of many likes and loves fill the air, signaling more upvotes and views for your camboy and his camgirls. 

You turn around to face the screen, gawking at the hearts popping up all over the left side of the screen. “See all those hearts?” Tengen asks, his voice like smooth butter, breathless and lust-filled. “They’re all for you, baby. All because of this body.” He takes two handfuls of your ass and spreads it open for the camera, gripping each cheek and emitting a moan from your lips. He captures your open mouth in a passionate, possessive kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. 

“No fair,” Suma whines, pecking Tengen on the arm. “I want kisses too!” Hinatsuru crawls over to you, running her hands over your sides. “Me too,” she softly whispers, pecking your neck. “Don’t leave us out.” Tengen chuckles as he pulls away from your shared feverish kiss, grinning at the needy women surrounding him, his eye filled with adoration. “Now how could Daddy forget about his other baby girls?” he coos. 

He moves you off of his lap and shares kisses with each of his wives, all of them filled with the same passion, adoration, and feral kind of lust that he shared with you. You always get so wet seeing them together and now, you feel yourself becoming soaked, your body tingling with need for more. That need only grows when Tengen’s lips find yours again and he lays you down on the satin bed sheets. The girls join in, coating your body in kisses, from your neck to your stomach to your thighs. 

You are practically teeming with need and desperation, especially when they bring the toys out (with lube, of course). The girls are way too eager to toy with you while Tengen watches on, his big hand palming himself through his satin slacks. Makio and Hinatsuru clip nipple clamps on you, teasingly tweaking and pulling on your nipples to make them extra sensitive.

Tengen’s eyes grow big when finally Suma bends you over for him moments later, your body trembling from the pinching of the clamps around your nipples. “That’s our good girl,” he coos as Suma runs a butt plug around the rim of your asshole. “You should see how cute you look right now, darlin’.” 

“So cute,” Suma parrots, salivating as she watches herself swirl the lube-coated plug around your hole coated in lube. She then leans in and replaces the plug with her tongue, using the tip to wet the tight hole in her saliva.

“Oh!” you moan, fisting the sheets below you. Suddenly, you do not care about the audience anymore. They don’t matter. All that matters is the pleasure you are feeling as Suma tears her tongue away from you and finally slides the plug inside of your ass. 

“Oh, it vibrates too!” Tengen chuckles as Makio presents him with a remote. “We’re gonna have fun with her, aren’t we?” 

The “fun” presumes moments later when your big, beautiful, and flashy boyfriend lies back against the pillows and allows you to sit on his handsome face while his sinful tongue goes to work on your pussy. You once teased Tengen about being a much, but the man would change his middle name to such with the way he proudly tongue fucks your cunt as if it is about to go out of commission soon. The laptop is propped up on an ottoman at the foot of the bed, giving your audience the perfect view of their favorite camboy slurping down your honey and sucking on your pretty, puffy pussy lips while his tongue rolls around your clit. 

The camera also catches his wives each sharing his big, beautiful, throbbing cock and bulbous, pink head dripping in pre-cum and pierced with a silver hoop where a ruby dangles from it. Hinatsuru playfully sucks on this while Suma and Makio share his heavy balls holding loads of cum for all of you. With how big and long Tengen is, there is plenty of dick to go around. One would think that the girls are starved for his cum with the way they greedily suck, slurp, and lick at his cock, needy, breathy moans and sighs leaving their lips as they do. 

“Come on, Suma!” Makio groans, frustrated and impatient. “Stop hoggin’ him up! You’re not the only one here!” 

“I’m sorry!” Suma whines. “He just tastes so good!” 

“Now, now, ladies,” Hinatsuru giggles, stopping from sucking on Tengen’s head to speak. “Don’t bicker too much. We’re here to make our husband feel good…and our girl too, of course.” She laughs again, watching you sit on top of her husband’s face. “But I think Tengen-sama is doing a perfect job at that.” 

You concur, your sweet, loud moans filling the air scented with lube and sex. You toss your head back and shamelessly ride Tengen’s face, calling his name out for all who will hear. “Oh, fuck, Uzui!” you shout, tingles of pleasure zipping throughout your body. “Please, Daddy, go faster! I’m so close!” The butt plug still vibrating away in your ass makes your orgasm want to come faster than usual like a speeding train. 

Tengen moans out “Uh-huh” between your thighs, practically smothering himself as he grips your ass and plunges his tongue deeper, licking you from the inside out. With everything the girls do on their end, it translates to how fast Tengen eats your pussy as if the more his wives suck his cock, the deeper his tongue goes, pushing you closer to the edge. 

“Go ahead, pretty girl,” Hinatsuru coos, pulling herself away from Tengen’s cock, her mouth coated in spit and saliva. “You can have a taste of him too. We’ll be happy just sucking him right here.” She moves down to share his heavy balls with Makio and Suma, sucking on the foreskin and trailing her tongue along them just like he enjoys. 

You oblige and lean down to suck Tengen’s cock now, pressing your tits against his abs and continuing to grind your pussy against his mouth. His cock is already wet with the wives’ spit, making it easier to stroke and suck on him as much as you want and can possibly take. You decide you want to take it all and slowly sink your mouth down onto his throbbing cock, encasing him in your wet throat. Tengen’s body tenses and he groans into your pussy, sending vibrations up through your hole that make your core tighten with the incoming of an intense orgasm. Suddenly, you feel the vibrations in your ass increase, almost as if someone has turned up the setting. With a moan of surprise, you tear your mouth off of Tengen and search for the culprit. 

You find that they come in three: Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru sit by Tengen’s feet, toying with the remote to your plug, hyper fixated on your reaction to each tiny amp. “Don’t stop now, cutie,” Suma says with a playful pout. “You were doing so well!” 

“You wanna make him and the audience happy, don’t you?” Makio asks, smirking at the spit dripping from your lips and the flush in your face. “Then make our Daddy cum for you.” 

Tengen must hear her order to you despite your thick, soft thighs cushioning his ears like earmuffs. Suddenly, his body lurches underneath you and you instinctively get off of him, thinking he can’t breathe. You quickly scramble onto the bed as he rises from the sheets as if he was brought back from the head, his face glistening in your juices. Your body heats with embarrassment. “I’m all over your face,” you whimper. 

“And I’m fuckin’ keepin’ it there,” Tengen growls. You don’t argue due to the feral aura radiating off of him in waves, from the tension in his jaw right down to the bobbing of his throbbing, hard cock. “Now do me a favor and bend over so our lovely viewers can see you take this dick.” His dirty words hit you like tranquilizer darts, making it almost difficult to move because you’re so paralyzed with lust. 

You go to position yourself on all fours as he wants, but he stops you short. “Not yet.” He points at Suma, motioning for her to lie on her back on the bed. She giggles and obliges without protest or question, giddily lying down on the sheets. “Get on top of her,” Tengen orders you. “I want her to taste us while I fuck you.” The idea of little Suma licking you both while he plunges his cock in and out of you is enough to make you cum all over yourself before he’s even inside of you. 

“And you two cuties,” he says, pointing at Hinatsuru and Makio. “Bend over for me. I’ve got my hands free.” He wiggles his painted nails at them, giving them a lustful, wolfish grin. Giddily, the two wives bend over just as you do over Suma, your pussy hovering over her face as Tengen kneels behind you, one foot on the bed as his cock plap-plap-plaps against your soaked, sensitive lips. “Ready to take all of me, sugar?” he whispers. 

You slowly turn your head to the laptop, facing the dozens of faceless people watching you. “Yes, Daddy,” you answer, staring dead at the screen. “I’m ready. I need you to fuck me no–” 

Tengen evilly cuts off your sweet begging by gripping your hips and plunging himself inside of you. You react with a long, loud moan trapped inside of you as you feel him stretching you out in the best possible way, your clit reaching pleasures and stimulations that it so desires.

Tengen grins at you squirming around his cock as he begins slowly rocking hips inside of you, biting his lip at the feeling of Suma’s tongue tickling his balls. “Sorry, honey,” he chuckles, “but I couldn’t wait. You just looked too damn good…not to mention this fuckin’ ass.” 

SPANK!

He gives your ass a swat, the sound carrying throughout the room, and he damn near explodes when your asscheeks jiggle and recoil from his assault with the silver plug settled deep in your hole. “You should wear plugs more often,” he groans. “Maybe I should fuck you here too.” 

He begins to piston himself deeper inside of you, giving you long, slow, deep dicking while he uses his fingers to rub Hinatsuru and Makio’s pussies on either side of you. Their wanton moans and lewd whimpers fill your ears as Suma licks and sucks away at your pussy beneath you, sloppily drinking down whatever she can as Tengen strokes your insides with his cock. You can feel your body trembling and your fingers digging into the sheets as you start to drip, no doubt filling Suma’s mouth and soaking Tengen’s cock. “Ah, fuck, Daddy!” you moan. “Please! Faster!” 

Your boyfriend stares down at you in pleasant surprise, giving the camera a wink and a blinding grin. “Faster?” he parrots. “So my baby wants to be fucked fast and rough, huh?” With his hands still occupied, he begins to thrust his hips back and forth, back and forth, at a fast, rough pace that makes you see stars. Yes!” you sob. “Please, Daddy, fuck me faster!” 

Tengen does just that, as talented and skillful as he is, not even having to hold you still to fuck you into the bed. “Do my other babies want it fast and rough too?” he coos, staring at the pretty asses of his two wives on either side of you. He laughs at their whimpers of agreement, his fingers sinking into their sopping, wet pussies, causing him to hiss in arousal as they clench around him. “Suma, baby, I know you can work well with my thigh, can’t ya?” 

Suma obliges, lifting her hips to grind her pussy against Tengen’s thick, naked thigh. “Mmm-hmm!” she moans into your pussy…or is it against Tengen’s balls? You can’t tell anymore, but you can sure as hell feel everything. All of her moans create vibrations throughout your pussy, only stimulating you further along with Tengen’s cock setting every inch of you on fire. No longer are you the shy girl who was afraid of being on camera in her bra and panties. 

Now, you are a total cock slut desperate for more, tossing her ass back in an effort to receive more pleasure, your tits and stomach jiggle as you do so. You are unafraid of your love handles, rolls, tiger stripes, and cellulite. You don’t care, not when you’re with four of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life. “Fucking me back, huh?” Tengen comments. He breathlessly laughs, the sound making you wetter than a puddle. “How flashy of you, baby. You’re so desperate for my cum.” 

He gives it right back to you, thrusting harder, faster, rougher, causing his earrings to jingle and his fingers to plunge inside of Hinatsuru and Makio at a pace that makes them even louder than before. 

You can tell they’re both close from the way their bodies are shaking, asses in the air and faces down in the pillow. You’re sure than Suma is close too judging by how sloppy her licking has gotten below you. “Y-Yeah!” you stammer. “Fuck yes, Uzui, I’m gonna cum!” 

You can feel it rising inside of you, an intense orgasm cresting as the morning sun would the skyline. Now is your favorite part: when Tengen absolutely loses himself and becomes a total unrelenting fucking machine. “Yeah, you’re gonna cum?” he asks, raising his voice so it can carry to the laptop. You frantically nod, your moans reaching new heights in volume the more you peak. “Do it then. All of you fuckin’ cum for me now.” 

It’s impossible not to! With the way Tengen’s heavy, cum-filled balls are slapping against your clit and Suma’s tongue caresses your pussy in time with the vibrations from the butt plug, you are guaranteed to burst. And you do. With a loud swear that comes out in a moan that could break glass, you cum all down Tengen’s thick cock and soak him as you do Suma’s soft, wet mouth.

“Thaaat’s my good girl,” Tengen encourages. “Keep it goin’, baby. Keep cummin’ for me.” He doesn’t stop dicking you down as you cum, drawing your orgasm out in a way that is both euphoric and agonizing. 

Hinatsuru and Makio cum shortly after, soaking Tengen’s thick digits in their honey. Suma does the same thing with his thigh, cumming with a wanton, needy whimper and a shudder as her pussy leaks all over his leg. As you all come down from your orgasmic highs, Tengen slowly comes to a pause and pulls his still hard, soaked cock out of you. You hear the rhythmic, wet sounds of him stroking himself and you know what is coming next. “Now lemme give all of you a taste. On your knees for me.” 

You and his three wives come together on your knees in a line, your pretty faces tilted up to look up at your handsome, beautiful man stroking his beautiful, big cock for you to taste. His face is flushed pink and his body is tense with need, each vein in his muscles popping. With a loud moan of “fuck” and more strings of orgasmic, porn-worthy moans dripping like honey from his lips, Tengen finally shoots his load, much to the enjoyment of you, his wives, and his audience. 

You close your eyes as you feel the wet droplets of his spunk splash onto your tits, stomach, and face, making you feel sticky and wet. Judging from the way his wives giggle softly, you suspect that they caught the same thing. Tengen has always been a messy cummer. Luckily, he didn’t get any near your eyes, so you’re free to open them despite your ruined makeup. Tengen sticks a thumb up to wipe a drop of cum from your lips, his eye flaring with lust at the sight. “Guess we need to clean you up now.” 

The wives are way ahead of him. Together, they coax you to lay down on your back once more, all three of them surrounding you with their pretty faces coated in Tengen’s spunk. “Open wide for us, pretty girl,” Hinatsuru seductively orders. “Daddy said we need to clean you up.”

She then dips between your legs to slurp up your wet, sticky pussy, making you shudder and whimper, your hands grasping her hair as trendles and sparks of pleasure shoot through you. Makio and Suma do the same thing, each one licking you clean and kissing your thighs as they do. 

Once they finish, you are completely spent, lying on the bed in a breathless, wet, sticky mess. Tengen whistles, just as winded, his pretty body soaked in sweat that makes his skin glisten. “Damn, we made a mess!” He motions at the rumbled satin sheets soaked in your bodily fluids and lube, making for a much-needed laundry session. 

“A mess is right! I’ll get the wipes!” Makio announces, crawling to the nightstand to get the lavender-scented baby wipes you keep on standby. She also fetches some mini waters and packaged snacks that Tengen insisted on keeping up here for recording. Keeping you on your back, the four of them begin to gently dab at your face, stomach, and tits, cleaning up the mess Tengen made with his cock from your body as well as from themselves. 

Once they finish, Tengen tosses the soiled wipes away and finally lays down next to you on his side. His big frame nearly eclipses yours on your side while Hinatsuru lies on your left, her fingers stroking up and down your stomach. Makio lays beside Tengen, snuggling into his back, while Suma lays at your feet, purring like a cat. 

“Not bad, cutie pie,” Tengen chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You really outdid yourself. The audience agrees!” Despite your exhaustion, you lift your head to stare at the laptop screen. Sure enough, the hearts keep coming and the upvotes keep going up, up, up. “They love you!” Suma giggles. “That’s more views than we’ve ever gotten!” 

You feel a proud yet tired smile stretch across your lips as Tengen rises from your side. “We’ll have to celebrate later, but first…” He grabs the laptop and turns the screen onto you, giving everyone a view of your gorgeous, naked body and the afterglow you are lying in. “Until next time, ya hornies. Say bye to our lovely fans, gorgeous.” 

You squint into the blue light of the laptop and give everyone a finger waggle, the anticipation for next time burning inside of you. “Until next time,” you giggle. “I can’t wait to do this all again.” 

THE END

[veebeeboo109]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You get your job back and celebrate. And then you meet someone at the park.}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance

Chapter 17: Gravity

Your knee won’t stop bouncing with anxiety. The sights and smells of the Hunter’s Association are familiar but foreign. It’s been too long since you’ve been in this building, and you feel like everyone can tell. 

Xavier leans over to place a hand on your trembling knee and gives you a warm smile. “It’ll be alright. You can do this.”

You sit up and take a short breath, “I didn’t talk to any of the counselors she recommended. I technically haven’t done anything to prove I can come back to work. What should I say? Oh, I’m feeling much better! My four boyfriends helped me stop being all dark and twisty inside?”

Xavier chuckles and sits back in his seat. The two of you are waiting for an appointment with Captain Jenna, and you’re close to bursting. Thankfully, Xavier is more than calm. If anything, he’s bursting with excitement. He’s tagged along to personally request you as his permanent partner. 

Jenna’s assistant calls for you, and your heart jumps into your throat. Xavier takes your hand to stand and follows you all the way to the door— only letting go when you enter without him. You have to speak with Jenna alone first, and at least Xavier believes in you. 

Jenna is as stoic as always. A tall, thin figure of authority that rivals Zayne with her icy expressions. “It’s good to see you.” She says almost warmly and nods to the seat across from her desk. 

You take a steadying breath and sit, “Thank you for seeing me.”

”I heard you were hurt,” Jenna wastes no time, cutting to the quick. “How are you?”

You laugh sheepishly, “There was a small stalking incident. I suffered a mild rib fracture, but I’m fully recovered now! I’m ready to get back to work.”

Jeanna sits down at her high backed carbon-black chair. The screen on her desk is illuminated with the many open files she has up— open cases of protofield fluctuations, wanderer sightings and attacks, and an increase in flux stabilizer vandalism. 

“I’m willing to talk terms.” Jenna says like she’s opening up a hostage negotiation. “If you can tell me why I suspended you in the first place.”

Your hands clench in your lap, and the scarf around your neck feels suddenly too hot. “I…I wasn’t performing to standard. I was slacking, and missing work without reason.”

Jenna’s eyes narrow, and she leans back in her chair. All of a sudden, you’re eight years old again. Sitting in the principal’s office of your elementary school, wondering what the right thing to say is to get you out of trouble. 

You can tell that isn’t what she wanted to hear, and so you try again, “I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was depressed and not coping with what happened. You suspended me for my own good, because I wasn’t well.”

A beat passes, a quiet tick of the clock as Jenna lets you mull over your words. At the time, it’d felt like one cruelty after another, but you know now– with a clear head and a healing heart– that it was the right thing to to do. 

“I also  heard that you were evicted from your apartment.” Jenna’ voice is even, but her eyes are frigid. “When I inquired what had happened with the landlord, he told me you left no forwarding address. I apologize for that. If you had reached out, I would have made things clear with the landlord and fixed it.”

Sitting up a little bit straighter, you mind whirls at that. Spinning with the conjured alternate present that would have occurred had you thought for half a second. Why hadn’t you thought to just ask Jenna to talk to the landlord? The past three months would be so different. 

You look out the window at the skyline of Linkon city, and imagine a world where you hadn’t been on that park bench. Where you hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to be Zayne’s housekeeper. 

Spring is just around the corner, if you had been smarter, would you be greeting the cherry blossoms alone? It’s hard to fathom that. A reality where you aren’t intertwined in the four of them. 

You shake your head, “To be honest, it didn’t even occur to me. Everything happened so quickly and I was so…well, you know. I was out of it.”

“I regret placing you on leave without ensuring you had a support system. I fear I may have only made it worse.” Jenna’s face curdles with guilt. 

You’re quick to correct her, “Oh no! I reconnected with a friend, and I’m very happy where I am now. I have a new place, and they’ve helped me back on my feet. That’s why I’m here today. I want to come back, ma’am.”

Jenna’s features soften, and her warm eyes fall on you with a little bit of hope. “I see. I’m glad to hear it. Well, as I promised, your position here with the UNICORNS is waiting for you. But, protocol dictates that you be put on probation for ninety days before you’re fully reinstated.”

You nod emphatically, “Of course, that’s fine. I understand, and I’m ready to prove myself.”

Jenna taps away at her computer for a moment. “Tara, of course, will be ecstatic. The others missed you as well– I was certain there would be a mutiny.”

You can’t help but laugh, “I apologize for any grief I may have caused, captain.”

“I prefer fruit bouquets over flowers.” Jenna remarks, and then stands from her chair. A dry joke that she merely smirks at. “Now, I’ve sent a message down to HR to reinstate your ID. Head over to armament and they’ll set you up with a new watch– we’ve upgraded since you were last here.”

You rise to your feet, and follow her back towards the door, “When can I start?”

Jenna smiles in that matronly way she does when one of her subordinates amuse her, “Next Monday. There’s a cleanup effort on the south side of the city, and they need some Hunters to supervise in case of Wanderer interference. I’ll send you the details when you come back Monday morning.”

“Right! Thank you so much Captain Jenna. I…I really can’t thank you enough for letting me come back.” 

Jenna opens the door and you step out, feeling fifty pounds lighter. The Captain of the Unicorns shakes her head, “This was always the plan. Go ahead and check in with the others if you’d like. I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes I need to get to.”

Xavier is standing six feet away. Though his expression is even, you can see the eagerness sparkling in those cerulean eyes. The twinkling of wishing stars. 

“I won’t keep you any longer then. Thank you again, Captain. I’ll be here bright and early on Monday.” You try not to bounce too much with glee, and Jenna laughs at your barely tempered excitement. 

Captain Jenna retreats back to her office, and you approach Xavier. He takes your hand like he might lead you in a dance, but instead just draws you close. “How’d it go?”

“Perfectly, just like you said. I start again on Monday.” You practically squeal. 

Xavier’s eyes crinkle with his smile, and the air around you feels a little bit lighter. “That gives us enough time to get some more training in. We should run some simulations as partners to make sure we’re on top of our game.”

You elbow him with a bubbly giggle, “Are you ever not on the top of your game? C’mon I have to get a new watch from Armament. And then I want to stop by HR to make sure they got Jenna’s message.”

Your coworkers are happy to see you, and Tara nearly tackles you when she spots you in the office. Some confess their concern when you disappeared– how much they noticed you struggling, and how much they fought Jenna on suspending you. 

It’s startling, realizing how much your fellow Hunters cared. Even when you were lost in a fog– when their faces had turned into nothing but blurs and their words fell on deaf ears– they had cared. The anxiety you’d been feeling since deciding to come back eases even more. There wouldn’t be some great awkwardness to overcome, thank god. 

Xavier lingers near you while you’re fitted for a new watch, and the armament team goes over the changes. An updated GPS system. Improved vitals tracking, and increased sensitivity to protocurve fluctuations. 

HR is….hr. It’s a corporate nightmare of legal jargon and people-pleasing. You minimize your time there as much as possible, only making sure someone has it in the system to reinstate you as an active Hunter. 

Xavier treats you to oversized ridiculous boba on your way home. The kind that’s way too expensive but comes in a cute pink cup with a round bottom and three different color gradients. You sip happily at your treat in his car, simultaneously giddy from the familiar weight of the hunter’s watch on your wrist and the realization that the place where your boys are is home now. Forever. 

You hook arms with Xavier to take the elevator up from the garage to the main house and he’s looking at you with this funny kind of playfulness. Like he’s in on a joke that hasn’t been told yet. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, and you hear the hushed voices arguing.

“Don’t touch that. You’ll set it off prematurely.” Zayne’s voice hisses under his breath. 

“I just want to make sure it works! Geez…” Rafayel’s replies with signature sass. 

You turn towards the living room and see a large banner strung up across the windows, a multicolored ‘Congratulations!’ written on a confetti background. 

Rafayel and Zayne stand in the middle of the room. Zayne smiles when he sees you, and Rafayel nearly jumps in utter delight. A party popper in each hand, the minute you step into the room and out of the hall they pull the strings and pop! A sharp burst of confetti explodes towards you, not just from Rafayel and Zayne but from either side of you as well. 

You jump and squeak, turning to see the two bird masked hooligans of Sylus’ who snicker all too pleased. They pull out more party poppers and pop them, covering you with more strings of confetti. 

“Congrats boss girl!” Luke cheers from your right, and then Kieran pops another, “Good job on the— whatever it was! Hooray!”

“Boys,” Sylus calls from behind Luke, and they flinch a little. Caught being a little more than just helpful. The young masked man turns back to you and offers you a sheepish shrug. 

“We’re behaving!” Kieran adds as he throws his arm over his brother’s shoulder, “We can have cake yeah?”

“What’s going on?” You laugh as you pick some confetti out of your hair, “Why all the… confettiing?”

“It's for you, dumbie!” Rafayel scoots around the couch to get to you, “A congrats party!”

“What?” You mumble, looking at the banner, the streamers, and even a sheet cake sitting happily on the kitchen island, “For what?”

“For you, of course.” Sylus adds, walking his fingers up your back and plucking another errant piece of pink confetti from your hair. “For getting your job back. Or for choosing to stay with us. Regardless, the day felt worth celebrating.”

You feel like you're made of cotton candy. Tiny strings of heated sugar spun into cottony webs. So fine and airy that you melt upon the tips of tongues. Strawberry flavored and filled with the memory of sunshine and summer. 

What an utter, lovesick fool you are. And how lucky you are to be cradled in the arms of those who love you for it. 

“You didn’t know that I’d even get the job back,” You argue as Zayne cuts you a piece of cake with a picture of a Hero from Super Hunters punching a Wanderer on it. He places it onto a little pink paper plate and then shrugs as he hands it to you. 

“There was little doubt, love.” He says with certainty. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Luke and Kiera waiting patiently at the dining table, buzzing in place as they wait for their cake. Sylus had had to tell them to sit down with as much force as a father to toddlers, and so they sat– albeit impatiently. 

You wait till Zayne cuts another piece and then take both plates over to the poor kids. From what Sylus has told you they’re barely eighteen, if that. They’re kids. Kids that work for an international criminal syndicate and arguably more dangerous than even seasoned criminals, but kids. 

They thank you in unison for the cake and then you retreat back to the kitchen for your own piece. 

It seems that cake and confetti are not all you have to look forward to in this little celebration, because Sylus drops a large aluminum crate at your feet with an obnoxiously large red bow on top. 

“What’s this?” You ask.

“Your present, kitten.” Sylus says with a grin that’s too smug. “Open it.”

Setting aside your half-eaten cake, you hop off your barstool to open the large metal monstrosity. You pluck the bow off of it and use the adhesive still on there to plant it onto Sylus’ chest. He chuckles at you, and leaves it there. 

You unlatch the crate and you have an inkling of what awaits you inside. Black egg-crate foam meets your eyes first, and then– as you expected– a pair of shiny silver handguns. They’re chrome, with carbon hand grips and red detailing down the barrel. A pair of shiny chrome blades sit next to them, a thigh holster for each one. And lastly, a small pocket handgun that’s baby pink with a kitten on the grip– tiny enough to fit in a clutch handbag.

“There’s more below,” Sylus whispers at you, and you pick up the first layer to reveal more. 

A layer of combat gear. An elaborate set of body armor as pretty as it is functional. It’s similar to some of the armor worn by hunters, but this looks custom. 

“Wow, this is amazing, Sylus!” You breathe in awe. Looking at him, you can practically see him preening like a peacock at your excitement, “Thank you!”

“Me next!” Rafayel inserts himself in front of Sylus and offers you a small, blue box. 

You rise from your crouch and take the softly texture box. Opening it, you’re met with the most delicate, beautiful piece of jewelry you’ve ever seen. An elegant chain with little teardrop gemstones the faintest shade of blue. At the center is an oblong, opalescent centerpiece. It takes you a second to realize what it is. A scale. A large, paper thin scale like something from a massive fish. You can only fathom what kind of ethereal sea creature this must have come from. 

“It’s beautiful.” You say, turning to Rafayel with stars in your eyes.

“You have to wear it everyday, okay?” Rafayel insists, grabbing the box from your hand and taking out the necklace. He moves around you fluidly and places it around your neck without request or hesitation. 

“This is too nice for everyday!” You argue, “I couldn’t wear this while working!”

“You have to.” Rafayel chirps, “This is scale from Lemuria. It’ll keep you safe.”

You sigh and concede. You’re not entirely sure what Lemuria is, but it sounds fancy, and if it makes the second biggest worry-wort in the house chill, then so be it. 

Zayne’s gift is a little snow globe. Well, a glass globe with a sphere of ice inside it. Within the ice is a small pool of water and a shell you recognize from one of the many you found at the beach. It’s a beautiful memento, and he blushes when you gush over it. 

Xavier gives you a crystal replica of the solar system to hang up in your room. Each planet is a different precious stone, reflecting the light with sunbursts and rainbows. 

Once you’ve had cake and drank some bubbly concoction that Rafayel mixed, you hang up your gift from Xavier above your bed– with a little help of course. You place Rafayel’s necklace safely back in its box, Zayne’s snowglobe goes on your bedside table, and the arsenal from Sylus gets slid into your closet. 

Sylus comes to you to kiss you goodnight, mentioning some work over in the N109 zone he has to get done– that he won’t be back until late tomorrow.

Zayne, dressed in pajamas, catches him just before he leaves your doorway. And catches Sylus by the back of the neck to press a kiss to his temple. His signature parting farewell. Sylus chuckles into it, and you feel that familiar fizzy happiness at seeing the two of them so content. 

Sylus parts, and Zayne follows you into bed. 

Rafayel and Xavier drew the short straw of tidying up the little party, but you’re sure you’ll see them in bed soon enough. 

It’s been a long, rollercoaster of a day. And everything is almost back to the way it’s supposed to be. You have Zayne. Xavier. Rafayel. Sylus. You have your job as a Hunter. 

Love. Purpose. A future. It lingers on you like an expensive perfume. You stink of happiness. 

If only things could stay this way….

A week later, the weather is warming up. You still can’t leave the house without a jacket but gloves and scarves can be left at home. The smell of earth fills the air as the soil gradually thaws, and the energy of the city shifts from its sleepy, winter hibernation to its maiden-pink excitement of spring. 

You’re back at work. Fighting wanderers but this time Xavier is at your side. It’s distracting at first, watching him fight. He’s as graceful as a ballerina on the field. His precision with the blade is masterful, and you’re caught starry eyed a few times on that first day. 

He pushes you harder now in training. You attend simulations at the Association to get better fighting side by side without the danger, and you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the feeling of resonating with Xavier’s Light Evol. It explodes like a supernova beneath your skin– utter destructive power with the potential to create universes and decay time itself. 

The household chores are divided. A little schedule and a checklist that the five of you divvy up. Zayne doesn’t mind doing dishes, so that’s his preferred chore. Xavier likes to cook, but can’t so he does mostly dusting and tidying. You’re pretty sure Sylus has someone sneaky coming in at night to do his chores, and so long as he’s not making the twins do it– you’re fine with that. 

You should have known it was too good. Nothing gold can stay, and all that poetic nonsense. Something about the other shoe dropping or the calm before the storm. The glassy top of your pool of happiness ripples. 

A phone call. 

Your old phone has been off since your accident on the roof. Better to let it die, you thought. The stalker could just be an unfinished chapter– not knowing was better than chasing. 

It was one of the very rare early mornings that you were alone in your bed. The echoes of your lovers were there, indents in the bed and the sheets from where’d they’d been.

 Zayne had risen for work at nearly three– an early shift that the rest of you dreaded. Sylus had business that night and was likely not even home yet.  Xavier had been put on night patrols this week. His light evol and experience specifically requested by some stuffy higher-up he couldn’t say no too. And Rafayel was likely passed out in his studio, trying to finish his latest painting for an art exhibition coming up. 

Alone in your big bed, the last to rise and it's a nagging buzzing in your drawer that pulls you from sleep. 

Half-asleep, you yank the drawer open and pull out the phone. You’re struck with irritation more than confusion, but when your eyes finally adjust to the bright screen, your stomach drops. 

You’re suddenly sitting upright. Covers pushed away from you as your hand begins to shake. An unknown number. A plain white-blue screen, and the rhythmic humming of the ring over and over again. 

Answer it. You’re feeble, reckless mind cries. Answer it quick!

When you press the phone to your ear and answer the call, you’re met with silence. Barely even static meets your ears. Your hands tremble, but you force yourself to hold together. “Hello?”

Music meets your ears. Discordant and garbled like it's being played through a speaker, and then put through the phone. The sound of wind cuts through the melody before you can hear it again, and dread slinks down your spine, coaxing every hair on your body to stand on end. 

It’s more than creepy. It’s haunting. Is this some kind of threat? Or a message?

You keep listening, Holding your breath so you can hear the receiver over the sound of your own rattled breathing. 

The melody shifts, and you can hear rustling of something and then something that sounds like— children? Playing? 

It’s barely 60 seconds. A mess of sounds and then click. Nothing. 

You pull the phone away to check, making sure the call was disconnected. With quickened breathing, you go to the home screen of the phone. Checking for anything else– a text. A voicemail. An email? Nothing. 

You throw the phone back into the drawer and close it. Rising out of bed, you’re out of your room in record time. This time you won’t be foolish and end up with a punctured lung. You rush down the hall and into the spacious studio. The light of dawn casting everything in a grey-blue haze. 

“Rafayel!” You call, unable to find him for a moment. But a jolt of movement catches your eye, and you go to him. 

You’re not sure why it’s rattled you like this. Why this time it’s made the scar on your ribs ache or your gut tight, but Rafayel is barely sitting up from his place on the couch before you fall into him. 

Chests pressed together, you hold him close and he wraps his arms around you without question. He hums like a satisfied cat, pleased that you’ve come to him, and he seems keen to go right back to sleep. 

But you squeeze him tighter, and hide your face away in his neck. Only when  your inhale sharply does his mind rouse from sleep enough to realize something is wrong, and he holds you all the tighter. 

“What happened?”

“This has gone on long enough.” Sylus states with murder is his voice when you finish explaining the events of the morning to him. 

It’s midday when you’re able to gather everyone together. The living room feels cold, but you’re sure that’s your own anxiety making you break out in a cold sweat. You’ve had your hunter weapon on one side of your hip all day, and Rafayel at the other. 

“Believe me, I’m way ahead of you.” Scoffing, you continue your pace back and forth next to the windows.  Zayne and Xavier are sitting on the couch, but they're at the edges of their seats now. 

Sylus had dragged his tired feet through the door at five am, less than an hour after the phone call. And you grabbed him the second he was inside, and when you explained that had happened, you watched as his previous exhaustion melted away– replaced by a cold, deadly determination. 

Xavier had gotten home around six, and he’d run into Zayne on his way in– much to the blond’s surprise. But a quick call to Zayne had brought him rushing home, the tremor in your voice more than enough to reassign some surgeries and take the afternoon off. 

“I’m serious, kitten.” Sylus practically growls as he rests his hands on the back of the couch. The matching bracelet the five of you wear shines on his wrist. “It is one thing to have your life at risk from Wanderers. This stalker will not be tolerated.”

You let out a strangled breath and run your hand through your hair the umpteenth time today. “The call was nonsense. Some music and some sounds. No words. Not even heavy breathing.”

“There must be some reasoning behind it.” Zayne rises to his feet as he speaks, “Do we think the motivation is simply to terrorize? Or is harm the ultimate goal?”

“Terror has been achieved. Harm has been achieved– which was my fault, but still.” You bark out, and then laugh uncomfortably, “The crazy thing is I think I recognize the music.”

“You do?” Xavier asks.

Rafayel quietly comes up to your side, and with a hand at your waist, he halts your pacing. Being anchored in place you take a deep breath, surprised by Rafayel’s silent support. 

“Do you remember that park near where we lived as kids, Zayne?” You say a bit more evenly. 

“There were a few…”

“There was one. One that took longer to walk to.” Your voice goes a little quieter as you pull the memories from deep within your mind. “There was this carousel. Antique. It cost a coin to ride it and we would– we would go there during the summer a lot.”

“Ah, yes,” Zayne concurs, “Adams Park. You’re right. That one was farther out than the others, but I remember the carousel. Last I recall, it’s out of commission now.”

“The music…” You sigh, “I know it's crazy but– but it reminded me of that. There was wind, and the sound of kids playing. I think….I think it was telling me to go to this park.”

“Absolutely not.” Rafayel hisses, “Even if that were the case, why play into their plan? No. No.”

“I can send Luke or Kieran to scope it out.” Sylus says as he’s already tapping away at his phone. 

“No!” You shout, “No, don’t involve them. If this is dangerous, then I’m more than capable of handling it. I’m telling you guys because the last time I did something stupid I got a broken rib.”

“You’re not thinking of going?” Xavier’s dulcet voice is serrated. 

“I am.” You say, though you’ve only barely convinced yourself of the fact. “Either it’s a nonsense noise meant to scare me, or it's a way to find this guy once and for all. End this.”

“Kitten…” The pet name is purred, but it’s dripping with so much disappointment that it sounds like a threat. Sylus looms like a shadow, reckoning with the apocalypse. “I would highly suggest you don’t do that.”

You adjust the gun at your hip and do not cower under Sylus’ ire. “Then come with me. I’m not planning on doing this alone, not again. Come with me. If it’s a setup, then I have backup. And if it’s nothing, I’ll buy ice cream.”

The park is smaller than you remember it, and the trees are just starting to bud. The scent of fresh rain fills the windy air, brushing against you as you exit the car with the four of your lover’s right behind you. 

Sylus comes up to you once again, adjusting the strap of the body armor across your chest. As if touching it settles some anxious worm in his heart. He has to make sure its real– that it's secure. You’re armed like you’re going into battle, and so are they. The necklace at your throat feels cold, the scale shifting so lightly against your clavicle as if to remind you of it’s presence. 

Your group must look quite the sight, walking into the park and along the winding path that leads across it. The carousel sits as the centerpiece of it. Its once colorful brocade faded with age and wear, and it sits completely still and quiet. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen it last, and you’d all but forgotten those days of summer scouring couch cushions for coins to ride it. Over and over and over again, choosing a different horse each time to make sure the ride was the same. 

There’s a temporary fence surrounding the poor ride, and some tape warding off troublesome teenagers that might think it’s fun to climb on it. 

“There’s no protocurve fluctuations that I can detect,” Xavier remarks while examining his new Hunter’s Watch. 

“I doubt we’re dealing with Wanderers.” Sylus rumbles, hands at his hips and he slowly scans the surroundings. Casually like he isn’t slightly dewy with anxiety. “Unless you’ve got a creep detector on that thing, it’s not of any use.”

You huff in amusement at his comment and go over to Zayne, who is standing stiffly looking at the carousel. “Do you remember it?”

“Faintly,” Zayne replies. “I didn’t come here often.”

“I remember one time we did.” You say, looking towards a pair of horses side by side, one set higher than the other and frozen in time. “It was when we were a little old. Ten maybe? You didn’t want to ride it, and so I rode it alone. I think that– I think that was the last time I ever did.”

Zayne turns to look at you and there’s guilt in his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, “Why? You were a teenage boy at that time. You couldn’t be seen riding some childish carousel with some girl.”

“I should have,” Zayne says softly, “Even if I looked silly. I should have ridden with you. One more time.”

You open your mouth to reply– to ease that forlorn melancholy in his voice because it hurts you just as much to hear it as it does for him to feel it. However, Rafayel’s voice cuts like a blade, “There’s someone here.”

The five of you turn in unison, the path towards the other side of the park from the way you came is occupied by a figure. A person clad in a light grey hoodie, and walking with their hands in the pocket. Their hair rustles wildly with a sharp gust of wind, and it shifts with shades of ash mauve, taupe and russet. 

His pale skin is ghostly, and the dark circles under his eyes don’t disappear no matter how much you try to imagine them away. 

Gripping Zayne’s hand so tightly, you’re sure that it hurts, but your muscles have locked. Death itself has come to stand before you, clad in the face of one you once loved. Wrenching from you a horrid, desperate gasp that won’t leave you. Air is stuck in your lungs, and breath won’t come. 

Fifteen feet away. You measure the distance with your eyes, and dammit, why does your vision keep going blurry? What’s happening? The man is fifteen feet away, and you can cross that distance in less than ten seconds. Faster even. You’re fast. He always said so. 

A step is taken, but you’re not sure if it’s you. Not until you step again. The sound of your footsteps so loud in your tunneled mind that it might as well be thunder. 

Your hand slips from Zayne’s because you’re moving. Drawn from those who wish to hold you to that which you have lost. Back to that void in the cosmos where there lies only one singular star. 

“Caleb,” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, but it is. It’s you weeping the name like a keen wail. Like if you say it aloud it will keep the spectre of his spirit here in this mortal world, and that he won’t slip away the moment you reach for him. 

Through the grey of his pallor and the tired look on his face, Caleb smiles. And when you reach out to him, he’s solid beneath your fingers. The cotton of his sweatshirt meets your skin and it's real. It’s tactile. This horrid hallucination. 

The two of you collide harshly. Crashing into one another like colliding atoms in a supercollider, nothing but immeasurable quantum energy. You fit back in his arms like you’ve never left and underneath the scent of sterile soap and ash it’s him. 

Caleb’s arms are tight around you, hiding you into his chest like you’re the one that might slip away, and you sob brokenly. 

“Caleb…” You wail. Wail like begging for rest, “Caleb…”

You feel his lips against the crown of your head, and the heat of his breath as he exhales heavily through his nose. “Pipsqueak. Oh god…it’s me. It’s me. I’m here.”

<- Previous Next ->

[kbwrites]

JJK On The Road!

synopsis: how the jjk sorcerers are on a road trip—feat. Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, Utahime

⚝a/n: I had to include baby boy Haibara.

⚝tags: headcanon, Nanami is an emo boy, Gojo is a danger to society.

They all decided to take a roadtrip after graduation… it goes a little something like this

Gojo insisted that he be the one to drive. You assumed that his six eyes would give him some kind of advantage on the road.

You were SO wrong.

Mans is a DEMON on the street. Swerving in and out of traffic, the car is either at 0 or full speed no in-between.

“Huh? Where’d that guy come from?”

“Satoru you literally cut him off-”

“The speed limit is 45”

“Yeah… but that’s more of a suggestion right??”

Of course it isn’t long before you hear the sirens closing in behind you.

“Lisence and registration please.”

“Of course Officer!”

…

“This is your high school ID”

“Oh! Well about that..”

It takes at least 5 years off your life when Satoru is behind the wheel. You somehow manage to arrive to the destination in one piece. Everyone curses him out for endangering their lives (and driving with no license)

“Okay but did you die though?”

Geto is in charge of the AUX (because last time Nanami made everyone cry)

Is the type to put on some chill oldies, and one Abba song (Because Satoru loves Abba).

Loves looking out the window and pointing out cool stuff, bums a cigarette off of Shoko to deal with the stress of Satoru's driving.

“Hey. look at that huge tree.”

The car swerves.

“Wait I don’t see anything!”

“Not you Satoru…”

Is obviously shotgun so he tries his best to stay awake, probably ends up reading a book he brought or reminding Satoru to actually pay attention to the rules of the road.

Shoko is already bored when the car starts, plays “I Spy” with Suguru for all of 3 minutes before falling asleep. After her nap she wakes up and starts taking pictures. Can make even the most mundane thing like riding in car look like an aesthetic Pinterest board. Sneaks pictures of Nanami when he isn’t looking.

“Everyone smile.”

“Wait hold on I want to be in the picture too!”

“Satoru you’re DRIVING.”

Ends up vlogging the trip, texting Utahime to confirm Satoru hasn’t killed them yet.

Nanami did NOT want to go on this trip AT ALL. He was basically forced by Gojo (then coerced by Haibara). He sulks and looking out the window and sighing.

“Nanami stop being Emo”

“I am NOT Emo..”

“Will you stop sulking if I play My Chemical Romance?”

“....”

Brings his DS or something, shows Haibara his animal crossing world. Actually freaks out when Satoru takes a ‘scenic detour’ which adds 3 hours to the trip.

Haibara is in charge of the snacks. And thank god for snacks. 

Brings one cooler for everyone else and one cooler just for Satoru cause that boy can EAT.

Feeds Nanami trail mix

Talks Nanami’s ear off about how excited he is to be done with school </3. Tries to impress Suguru and Satoru by listing off fun facts about each area they drive through.

“Did you know that this is actually the longest stretch of road in the country?”

“Wow. That’s really Something.”

“Did you know that the native flower of this region is the hibiscus?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know that AHHH”

 Satoru swerves the car again, everyone gets thrown around the car.

Utahime  refuses to ride in a car with Gojo driving, so she meets up with you guys in her own car.

[temis-de-leon]

Dateables as Single Fathers

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon, gn!kid, Luke and gn!MC

Part 1

Main Masterlist

CW: nothing, I think? Correct me if you feel something should be warned, but I think we're good to go. Just like in the other one, these HCs explain the characters' relationships with their kids and a romantic interest in MC at the end.

.

Diavolo

This one has to be the most difficult situation out of all, considering his political position.

He either had a child outside of marriage, who I think would’ve been considered a bastard, or he had the next heir with his wife, who would’ve eventually become the queen of the Devildom beside him.

No matter the option, each one would have had significant consequences.

Fortunately for his country, he’s too respectful and responsible to fool around and risk the chance of leaving his offspring behind, so political marriage it is.

I already used the ‘mother died in childbirth’ reason for Lucifer’s HCs, but I can’t see any other explanation for Diavolo being a single father. Both of them would be loyal and committed to their partners and Diavolo has the additional duty of keeping a kingdom going.

Now, we could do some AUs that could explain the future queen’s absence, but that isn’t what this post is about, so let’s leave it at that.

In the end, Diavolo is left with a child that is deeply loved and well taken care of.

I think Beautiful Boy by John Lennon would describe their relationship perfectly.

Loving his kid is not his only priority; raising him is also as important. He’s a caring parent, very attentive, protective and stern when necessary.

Diavolo is too aware of their duties as royals and future monarchs but tries not to act on them. Since he is already preparing himself to become king, there’s no need for his kid to lose their freedom and their childhood.

However, as occupied as he is, he tries to put his work on hold each time the child calls for his attention. They drew themselves with him and Barbatos? Okay, let him set these documents aside so he can admire the drawing properly. They saw a cool bug outside? Say no more, he needs a break anyway. They had a nightmare? Maybe they should have a sleepover!

The kid just needs to be careful not to do many of those things in front of Barbatos. Otherwise, the butler would chastise both.

He’s highly proud of them when they dive into a friendship with you; seeing their eagerness and comfortability around your presence as a sign for keeping the student exchange program going.

Still, he finds the need to have a somewhat serious conversation with them about you, your purpose in the Devildom and your status as a human; the imbalance in power and biology that makes you both so different.

As time passes and his own friendship with you deepens, so do his feelings. He isn’t obvious about it, or at least he tries, but his kid inherited his observation skills and soon innocent suggestive comments are trailing behind him everywhere he goes.

The situation amuses him and makes his heart flutter with enthusiasm.

With encouragement like this, how could he not try to pursue you?

Barbatos

I like to think there’s some kind of errand boy roaming around the castle. Not necessarily a boy, but still a child doing a little bit of everything and helping whoever gives an order. They’re quick and cheeky, making the staff cheerier and less stressed about their chores, and Barbatos finds them surprisingly charming.

He doesn’t mind them running between his legs as long as they know when to stop and don’t hinder his work and, unlike the little Ds, that turns out to be what happens.

Barbatos tries not to get attached at first and a long time passes until he can’t deny the affection he feels for the little devil.

When I say long, I mean long.

Decades, even a couple of centuries, unable to ignore the lack of parental presence in the child’s life. They’re always in the castle, going from one point to another, talking to everyone and sticking to no one. The few moments they have to rest are spent with the prince’s butler, talking about their day with breathless excitement.

It’s a nice dynamic that Barbatos enjoys more and more with each passing day, but it isn’t until the rest of the staff informs him of every little thing the kid does that he finally realizes how deep he has fallen into the rabbit hole.

He is a father figure.

Again.

He isn’t complaining, not at all, but it still surprises him.

More time passes until he gathers the courage to ask Lord Diavolo for a room inside the castle for the child to sleep in. His cheeks are warm when he specifies he’d prefer if the room were close to his and the embarrassment only grows when the prince laughs out loud with excitement.

By the time you are introduced as the second human exchange student, everyone treats the kid as Barbatos’s and they even call him ‘father’ when they’re alone. Neither are ashamed of their mutual affection, but they’d rather keep it private.

The child likes to tease you harmlessly, joking around, asking pertinent questions under the disguise of childish innocence and appearing out of nowhere when you least expect it.

They won’t mind if you lightly reprimand them for their constant playful behaviour, that’s what their father does after all, but they’ll quickly love you if you joke back.

Either way, he likes to follow you around and Barbatos instantly notices. It piques his curiosity and warms his heart, but with how highly the child talks about you and how much you captivate him on your own, he starts to wonder if he should’ve pulled the kid away from you since the beginning.

His strong feelings for you are foreign, but not unwelcomed. He’s just too vigilant of all the possible outcomes.

Fortunately for you, for every doubt Barbatos has about these feelings, the child has a dozen reasons to make them stronger.

Solomon

How many wives did King Solomon have again? How many concubines? How many children out of all of those partners?

I’m not saying that any of those children succeeded in achieving immortality like him, I doubt that could’ve happened so early in his life, but outliving human partners doesn’t mean that Solomon chose to refuse to have any more partners at all.

I can see him entering a relationship with someone who has a longer lifespan and, regardless of that arrangement being casual or committed, having a child with them.

Maybe the other parent passed away, maybe they didn’t want to be in a relationship, maybe they tried and failed to stay together… who knows, you can choose your favourite. The conclusion here is that Solomon kept the child and raised them alone.

Feral child vibes, I fear.

As devious as their father and completely oblivious to it, they are too curious for their own good. Exploration and experimentation through trial and error are fairly common practices in the family and the only reason Solomon isn’t worried is because he’s sure nothing wrong will happen as long as he is there.

The kid may appear at the front door of their house with an eldritch horror-looking creature and Solomon would be like: ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie’.

He knows introducing his child to a human infant is not the best of ideas. They would have to move places constantly due to their slow ageing to not raise suspicion and that would be completely unfair to the kid. They’re allowed to have permanent friends their age, after all, not a playmate turned into a babysitter or faceless companions that would disappear in their memories over time.

So they mostly engage with other immortal beings, like witches, demons and fellow sorcerers.

That saddens Solomon in a way; the human part he passed to his child is slowly dying due to lack of interaction.

This is why the human exchange program Diavolo proposes is so interesting to him.

Not only is he going to meet one of his kind in a world he easily moves around, but his child is also going to get the opportunity to be with another human in an environment they feel comfortable in.

It goes as well as you could expect.

Both of them are curious and eager to meet you, but at the beginning of your friendship it feels more like academic research. You stick to the brothers and their antics and they stick to the angels and their kindness.

If Luke is a Chihuahua, then Solomon’s kid is a thirteen-year-old delirious Yorkie.

As time passes and your friendship develops into something more genuine, Solomon can’t help but feel like he’s finally breathing fresh air after being locked in a cave for years.

His child still explores their surroundings, but there’s a new hope in their actions that he knows doesn’t come from him. It’s true childlike wonder and care towards their subject of study. An appreciation of life only a mortal would express.

You don’t understand how much you changed his child’s life.

And you don’t understand how much he loves you for it.

Simeon

I mean.

Luke.

He already is a single father in canon.

I don’t know how angels are born in the game, but they do grow up. Maybe Luke just spawned and was put under Simeon’s direct care, but there isn’t any mention of other parental figures in Luke’s life back in the Celestial Realm (although that may be due to the game being lazy with lore).

We know Michael is Luke’s hero, but not a father figure, so Simeon as a single father makes total sense.

A single mom who works two jobs and loves her kids and never stops.

Jk, jk…

But for real, though.

Simeon is thoughtful, affectionate, careful with Luke’s emotions and conscious about his need to mature and grow up. He treats him like a child, because that’s what he is, but tries not to infantilize him to not hurt his dignity.

While proud of Luke’s morals and golden heart, Simeon wants to make him see not everything is black and white and he’s allowed to have opinions that can differ from what they’ve been taught.

Some demons are good, some humans are consciously devious and some angels need to reevaluate their priorities.

It is a difficult task since Luke is certainly stubborn, but spending time in the Devildom is the perfect opportunity to prove that point.

Thankfully, your presence only helps Simeon change Luke’s judgemental thoughts. You are patient, easy-going and lighthearted and don’t get too stressed when the young angel refuses to reject his views on demons.

They both enjoy spending time with you because your soul is still kind and free of punishment, but for Simeon is much more than that.

He enjoys being with you because it feels natural and because knowing you feels like the greatest gift he has received in a very long time.

Believe him, Luke’s praises about you have nothing to do with the love he has for you. Those are just an additional bonus.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: The Headless Snowman

Debut: Super Mario 64

Hello everyone! Today I will be talking about the Headless Snowman and HEY what's the big idea here? Don't think you can pull a fast one on me like this. This is no Headless Snowman. This guy is Bodyless! Trust me, I'm aware of parts. I know Head, I know Body, I even know Greater Trochanter, and this is no headless snowman. There had better be a good explanation for this, or I oughta...!

Yeah, that's a good enough explanation. I'll allow it. A severed head does imply the existence of a headless body, after all. Decapitation does not poof a head out of existence! Just puts it somewhere else. But something you might not have realized about the Headless Snowman is that "he" is actually a THEY! No, not in a non-binary way, sadly. Well, maybe, I don't know. But I mean in the sense of being two people!

When Mario talks to the head, it laments that its body has melted away. And when he talks to the body, it asks if he knows anybody who needs a body. This is not a matter of reuniting the snowman's head. These are two different snowmen, becoming one entity! It's strange. It's... beautiful.

Mere moments ago, this was two guys. They did not even know each other. And now, they are one. Fate Mario has intervened to change the course of their lives forever, and they are closer than any two humans could ever dream of being. The head immediately calls the body great and perfect, and the body says nothing, clearly speechless. I wouldn't know how to respond right away, either! But they have the rest of their lives to figure it out, and, their very beings intertwined, explore each others' hearts, minds, and bodies. Give them privacy, now.

Let's look at the image that adorns the stages both of these snowballs reside on! It's a weird image. It's obviously the snow head's face, but it does not feel very snowman at all! To me, at least. I'm so used to the "smile made of a series of rocks" style of snowman, but that's just how Western snowmen look! Asian snowmen tend to utilize a single piece for the mouth, among other differences. As Mario fans we are familiar with the "bucket for a hat" design trope, but I didn't realize that Asian snowmen actually tend to be made of just two big snowballs, rather than three! Like a spider to the Western snowman's insect!

So remember: no matter where you are, a snowman's lowest body segment is the abdomen, where it keeps its most vital organs. In case of emergency, you will know where to strike!

Hm... strike? Like bowling?

Yeah! Strike like bowling! This is the Snowball Slalom minigame from Super Mario 64 DS, which features the snow head as the star and playable character! Yeah, I consider this to be a playable appearance by Headless Snowman. Why not? It isn't actually bowling, but it's similar enough as a linear ball-rolling game. It's nifty that here, it's the head who's rolling, but in the main game, it's the body who rolls down the slopes to meet the head! The head was probably chosen here just because it's more recognizable and fun to look at, but you can interpret it as the head wanting to go for a roll and have some fun! The body probably told the head what fun it was. They're so lucky they have each other!

[scary-lasagna]

I LOVED THE VAMPIRE POST SMM. So like would Liu, EJ, BEN and Jeff let their vampire s/o bite them and drink their blood?

Homicidal Liu

Liu is squeamish when it comes to blood due to his past trauma of obvious reasons.

And even with a high pain tolerance, he wouldn't voluntarily allow himself to be bitten.

Many risks come with the first bite; An artery could be sliced, blood infection, too much blood loss, you hate the way his blood tastes so therefore you will hate him forever.

That last one was just Liu's imgaination running wild, but all together it's pretty risky.

He might offer a test bite, not a full chomp, but a little nibble on his arm to see how it feels. A pinprick was all he could describe it as.

But he quickly backed out once he caught wind of the blood trickling down his arm.

He might allow a second attempt, but not anytime soon. 

Sully, however, is a different story. He would let you drink this body dry, and force Liu forward in the middle of it just to be a sadistic asshole. 

Either way, they're both willing to try at least once.

Eyeless Jack

Jack doesn't think that you would enjoy his blood very much.

Much like the liquid that seeps from his eye sockets, his blood has a tar-like consistency. 

It wouldn't go down easy, and if your body rejects it since it's not truly 'blood', it won't come back up easy either.

Ultimately, Jack says no due to your safety. It just too big of a risk for Jack to feel comfortable letting you take a bite out of him.

Jelly donuts are better, anyway. Especially at 3am while everyone else is asleep.

BEN

BEN will act tough and dominant up until it's actually time for you to bite him.

He'll get squirmy and find excuses to delay the inevitable now that he's talked the big talk and agreed to do it.

You'll of course call him out on it, and will nervously sit down and away from his stack of DS games that he wanted to organize alphabetically. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You ask him, with a comforting hand on his knee.

"Yeah.." Ben sighs and rubs the back of his neck with a nervous tic. " I'm just afraid it'll hurt or I make a weird noise or something." He chuckles lightly.

"We can start, and if you want to stop we can and I won't judge you for it." You reassure. "Or we can do blood lettings which doesn't involve biting."

"It's that like plague doctor shit, though?"

"Well yeah but it doesn't invol-"

"Just take a bite, babe."

He trusts you with all of his heart. And he lets you take a bite.

And yes, he does make a weird sound.

Jeff

Oh hell yeah, fucking go for it.

No questions asked.

Jeff thinks it's hardcore, and frankly, he's not experienced enough to know the dangers of blood letting or blood biting. He just thinks your hot and that you wanna bite him.

And honestly? Go for it. He's probably got a few diseases lurking in there but you're immortal so it doesn't affect you.

He would urge you to keep going even after he feels light headed, just ot see how long he can stay awake.

Jeff can be an extremely convincing individual, but do not trust him.

He can and will pass out and then you will have to call Eyeless Jack and explain everything to him.

He will not be happy.

Jeff will try to kiss him thinking that he's you.

And then Jeff will get swatted away and start crying out of rejection 

[wario-land]

Been playing a lot of Kirby Super Star Ultra lately. It's a game very dear to me in a way I haven't really considered before until now.

I'm always on about how Mario and Zelda and Pokemon have really defined gaming on my childhood and made lots of memories, but replaying KSSU this last few weeks made me realize how much this game has made an impact on my memories

Kirby Super Star Ultra for the Nintendo DS is a remake of the original Kirby Super Star for the SNES. It came out in 2008, over 10 years after the original, and it's basically a perfect remake, in the way that it's better in every single possible way, improving in every aspect, AND adding multiple new stuff

There's about 11 game modes in total, including the first one being a full re-remake of the very first Kirby game ever made. So, if you so desire, could start with this as your first Kirby game experience. Beyond that there's many interesting and fun other stories to be told with many beloved characters of the Kirby series, such as King Dedede, Meta Knight, Marx, and even Bandana Dee

There's also unfortunately some bad stuff as well. Namely a little thing called The Great Cave Offensive, and basically all of the Mid Bosses. But ironically the Cave Offensive is what made me want to replay the game. So yeah, it will leave some impressions in my opinion and experience. Also there's the Helpers system, in which you can turn enemies into powers by absorbing them and then into your Allies that help you in battle and around the map

You unlock game modes by beating the previous ones, as you can see in the picture. They go up in difficulty as you progress. My personal favorite is Milky Way Wishes, for its cool story characters and gameplay. The music and visual graphics are honestly peak and some of the best on the Nintendo DS. The songs by Jun Ishikawa range from calm and ambient to upbeat and actiony. All of them memorable

It may not be the perfect videogame, but in my opinion it is the perfect Kirby game. And one that everyone should try out some time at least once

[nightwonder7]

Do you think the DaCapo squad taunts Orpheus/Nightmare for being the only one without a Deduction Star?

fhghdsjkghdsk I just picture him looking at everyone else in the group with their Deduction Star awards like:

Norton would definitely rub it in; Especially with the fact that he technically has two DS awards AND the Nymph award. He has too much to gloat about. "How does it feel to lose again, huh, Orpheus?"

Alice, probably not. I can see her sharing some reassuring words with him. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get it soon. But it's just a silly award, it doesn't mean anything."

Melly might drop an offhanded comment; like a pay-back to Orpheus' offhanded comment at the breakfast table in AoM. Much more graceful compared to Norton, that's for sure. "Well, Mr Orpheus, at least your books are popular."

Frederick would be indifferent, I feel. Though mayyybe he'd feel a little triumphant about getting an award before Orpheus, but would keep it to himself.

[callixpene]

L&DS Future Lifetime Series - PART 4: TIME TO REGROUP I

Note: Please read Parts 1-3 before reading this!Unfortunately, this fic cannot be read as a standalone, as it needs context from the previous Parts to be fully understood.

READ HERE: MASTERLIST FOR PART 1-4

ALL LIs POV - PART 4: TIME TO REGROUP I

Xavier X OC. Sylus X OC. Rafayel X OC. Caleb X OC. Zayne X OC.

Set in Future Timeline. All Love Interests have no memories of their past lives. All of the MCs(5 Sisters) all have memories of their past lives. Very persistent LIs. Avoidant MCs. Love at first sight. Soulmates.

Genre: Fluff, Some Angst

"You don't look well today Prince. Let me guess, your lady turned you down, didn't she?" Sylus mused as he smirked. He was sat comfortably on the chaise lounge across Xavier.

Xavier's blood simmered at the sarcastic jab. Onychinus' boss really had a knack at getting into his nerves. "One more word and this time I really will cut your tongue off," he seethed. "And speak for yourself. I have intel that you got outplayed by your lady. Heard she got up and left you high and dry after your 'VIP time' was done. Must be humiliating." This time, it was Xavier's turn to smirk at Sylus.

The veins on Sylus' forehead visibly pulsed in irritation.

"Now you listen here Prince-"

"Both of you, that's enough." Caleb calmly interjected.

Xavier, Sylus, Caleb and Rafayel were all currently within Xavier's posh residence in Linkon City. Xavier had invited them all to come over(well, everyone except Sylus, who showed up unannounced to Xavier's surprise and irritation) to discuss what had happened on each of their ends at the business party a few days back.

They figured that since they were all going through the same challenge, and since time was very limited - they all agreed that they would at least meet up once a week to regroup, to discuss and strategize and help one another to complete Mr. Kingsley's challenge. Every bit of information they can get from each other at this point might help them, and it was evident that if they helped one another - like how their alliances got them into the business party despite none of them originally being invited, it would substantially raise their chances in succeeding.

After all, the ones who will successfully complete this challenge would end up being family - they were courting sisters after all.

But right now, Xavier vehemently detested the idea of being 'family', or even being generally associated with Sylus. His cocky and arrogant demeanor was unbearable, and every interaction they've had so far nearly ended in a brawl.

"Prince Xavier...and Sylus, don't waste your energy on another fight. We're all here to help each other, alright? We each have twenty-two days left. We need all the help we can get." Caleb reiterated again to calm them down, the heavy dark bags under his purple eyes indicated that he hadn't had much sleep lately. Clearly, things didn't go well for him and his lady at the party either.

Xavier crossed his arms. "This is why I didn't invite this bastard. He still has no manners." He glared at Sylus, who only smirked arrogantly in response. "How did you find out about us meeting here, anyway?"

"Mephisto." Sylus replied, matter-of-factly. "You know, for royalty, your security is incredibly laughable."

Xavier rolled his eyes. "That darn mechanical bird. Of course." He sighed and pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. Just ignore Sylus, he thought. After all, he has proven to be useful to them before. "Where is Zayne, Caleb?"

"He said he needed to take care of something important this morning, and that he'll be here after he's got that sorted." Caleb replied.

From across the room, Rafayel scoffed. He was eagerly drawing something in his sketchbook. "Something more important than this challenge? Seems Dr. Workaholic doesn't care much about his lady after all...."

The three men all collectively looked at Rafayel's direction. They were all envious.

Things actually went well for him. When he came in, he almost immediately started yapping about how 'his' Nerissa gave him a chance, and that he was going to plan the grandest, greatest date the world has ever seen so there would be zero chance of rejection.

"I'll be planning a wedding by next week you guys, you'll see..." He told them all earlier, with full confidence.

Rafayel felt their heavy gazes on him, and turned to face them. He smiled smugly. "Now, don't give me those bitter looks, guys. Just because you all failed to woo your ladies doesn't give you all right to shoot your hideous scowls at me. Just tell me if I can do anything to help. I do kind of owe you guys for getting me into that party in the first place, after all."

Then, he started sketching again. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna go back to designing the dress I'm making for Nerissa for our date. She's going to love it."

Rafayel had an annoying lovesick expression on too as he got back to his sketching. Sylus internally scoffed and pondered: How did the brattiest one of them that yaps the most actually score a date with the lady of his choice?

"I'm jealous..." Caleb sighed, but he wasn't looking at Rafayel, he was looking at Xavier. "After what happened at the party...I don't think Lilian wants to see my face anymore. I knew I should've told her that it was me when I had the chance, but she really seemed to like my fake identity. Must be nice being royalty, huh, Prince?".

"Where's this coming from, all of a sudden?" Xavier raised a brow at Caleb.

"When I met her for the first time, when I picked her up from that island....she didn't seem to like me that much. It felt like she was forming an invisible wall between us, so I couldn't reach her. But when I was disguised as your relative Prince Xavier, there was no wall between us. She was herself, and she actually seemed happy and comfortable around me," Caleb continued.

Xavier looked at him curiously. "What do you think that means?"

Caleb's expression turned somber. "I'm worried, that maybe...maybe what I am isn't enough for her. I mean, she's the daughter of the wealthiest man in the country. She probably was raised thinking that she would marry a prince..." he looked at Xavier, "or a wealthy man like her dad..." he looked at Sylus and Rafayel, "when she grew up."

Caleb chuckled sardonically.

"Sorry you guys. I know this is a really pathetic way to think, but I just couldn't think of any other reason why Lilian liked me better as 'Victor Sterling' than just plain old 'Caleb', the family pilot."

Xavier was about to say something, but Sylus spoke first. "Thinking like that will get you nowhere." He said, sternly. This caused everyone in the room, even Rafayel, to face him.

Sylus continued: "So what if she wants to marry a prince, or a millionaire, or the wealthiest man on the planet? Frankly, it is up to you, and you alone, to change her perspective." Sylus smirked. "If that is what she wants now, then show her why she should want you instead. Just give it your all. Mr. Kingsley gave us this challenge to see if we are worthy of his daughters. So prove to him that you are worthy, by winning Lilian's heart."

Xavier was flabbergasted, as these encouraging words did come from Sylus of all people.

Then, he shared his thoughts as well: "Caleb, didn't Mr. Kingsley appoint you as an Aerospace Engineer last time? Frankly, that's an incredible feat. I heard that even the sons of Nexus' own board members with engineering degrees from prestigious academies couldn't meet Mr. Kingsley's excessive standards. Him giving you that position already proves that he thinks you are worthy enough of being around his daughter."

Caleb stilled, and went silent for a bit. Then, he got up from the settee to walk towards Xavier.

He tapped Xavier's shoulder and grinned at him. "Coming from a talented Prince, and this self-made tough guy right here," he turned to face Sylus, "that means a lot. Thanks you guys..." Caleb's voice was lively now, like how it was when they all met. "Alright! Enough with the brooding. Let's start planning our next move to get our ladies!"

"That's what I've been saying! Quit sulking and come up with a decent game plan already. I still need to start sewing this dress when I get home!" Rafayel called out from across the room.

Sylus scoffed, and Caleb and Xavier chuckled.

"Say, what happened on your ends by the way?" Caleb asked.

Sylus perched his chin on his palm, his brows furrowed. "Well, like His Royal Highness over here said earlier, I got outplayed." he said. "I planned to tell Nyx everything that night. My offer to her father, and about my proposal. But she didn't let me get a word in before she left. Even Mephisto couldn't find where she went afterwards." Then, surprisingly, his face shifted to an amused expression. "Seems my girl's quite crafty. I quite like chasing her down like this. Makes catching her at the end all the more rewarding."

Xavier, on the other hand, sighed dejectedly as he rubbed his temples. "I thought things were going well with Celeste that night. After all, she didn't turn me away when I-" Xavier paused and lightly coughed as if to purposefully cut off his words. Rafayel and Caleb each raised a brow.

"Ah, clearly multiple bases were skipped that night. I'm impressed, Your Highness. I didn't expect that from you amongst all of us. Don't tell me they teach that sort of thing back in Finishing School at Philos?" Sylus retorted, amusedly.

Xavier glowered at Sylus. Then, he cleared his throat and his face was flushed as he continued: "The morning after, she left me a note. Said it was a mistake. That I should avoid her from now on..." His tone turned sullen.

"Wow....you and I really are on the same boat, Prince." Caleb said, as he bashfully scratched the back of his head. "That's practically how the night and the morning after went for me too."

In a swift motion, everyone collectively turned their heads to Caleb. He raised his arms. "What?"

"Don't tell me....you slept with her, and she actually thought you were Xavier's relative the entire time?!" Rafayel practically yelled. "That is so messed up! Let me guess, she panicked when she figured out in the morning that it wasn't who she thought it was she slept with, but her pilot instead? God, Caleb what were you thinking?"

Sylus chuckled, quite loudly this time. "I didn't expect this from you either. I guess it's true what they say, it's always the ones who seem decent..."

"I just told you guys....she was more comfortable around my false persona than my actual self! I really tried to tell her multiple times that night, but then she told me she was trying to forget some other guy, then I lost it..."

"Some other guy...?" Rafayel asked.

"I swear when I find out whoever that is...I'm going to make him pay for causing Lilian pain..." Caleb said to himself, furiously.

Xavier could understand that. The mere thought of Celeste having feelings for someone else would make him anxious and envious to no end. He didn't want to think of the things he'd do if someone else vied for her affections.

In the midst of Rafayel and Caleb's clamorous exchanges, Sylus' sarcastic jabs and Xavier's silent plans of ridding a nonexistent rival, one of Xavier's attendants opened the door.

"Your Highness, your guest, Dr. Zayne has finally arrived." the attendant called out.

"Took him long enough..." Caleb said.

"Let him in." Xavier replied.

"Of course, Your Highness. I shall go get him and his companion then." the attendant replied, before leaving promptly.

"Companion? Wait, who did he bring along with him?" Rafayel asked no one in particular.

However, before anyone of them could guess, the doors opened again, revealing Zayne and the so-called 'companion'.

"Hello everyone, I'm sorry for being late."

But Dr. Zayne didn't look apologetic at all. In fact, he looked full of life, a stark contrast from the rigid, nonchalant person he was when they all first met.

There was a bright, joyful smile plastered on his face as the lady wrapped around his arm gracefully bowed to greet everyone in the room. "I had to pick up someone immensely important..."

"Good afternoon. My name is Jasmine. I'm sorry for the intrusion. I'm here, to help all of you..."

Thank you for reading💜🩵🩷🧡❤️

Keep an eye out for updates👀

Please let me know in the comments what you think of this series so far🥹

[abandonwaregames]

A War of Attrition

(L&DS Royalty AU)

Ch. 1 - Live by The Feather, Die by The Sword

‘If Caleb could see me now, would he even recognize me?’ Wren thought bitterly. The weight of all the jewelry and fine fabrics felt alien against her skin as she tried to maneuver around the room, making futile attempts to act like this whole situation wasn’t completely unhinged. Urgent whispers filled the space around her. A few people shot her looks of pity, others of apprehension. Only one thought was plaguing her mind. She didn’t need any confirmation, for the expressions on everyone’s faces told her all that she needed to know. The Queen was dead.

Wren was the backup plan. Only a few people were allowed to know that she even existed. However, despite exhaustive measures of secrecy, rumors persisted like insects on the scent of blood. Grandma Josephine was assigned as her caretaker. While educating Wren on court matters and battle strategy, Josephine tried her best to give her a normal childhood. Caleb had been beside her through it all, taking on the role of her protector. When her sister, Eden, ascended the throne upon their father’s untimely death, Wren felt that she could finally have a normal life. She could be free and forgotten away from the constant power struggle of royal life. She followed her passion for keeping the streets of her hometown safe by joining the Hunter’s Association. But just when Wren thought she had found her place in the world, an explosion ripped Josephine and Caleb away from her. Then upon Eden’s death, the life they had supported her in building had all been swept away. Now, standing in the coronation chamber filled with sycophants and envious nobles, it was as if she had died alongside them and become a different person. Wren refused to believe the explosion was just a coincidence, and she knew everyone in this room knew more than they were letting on. A voice from behind broke Wren out of her ruminating trance. Her black lace veil swished around as she turned to face the stranger.

“My condolences, Your Grace,” He was tall, slim, and almost ethereally pretty. His silver hair and white uniform made him stand out among all the courtiers bustling around the room. How had she not noticed him before?

“Please, there’s no need for formalities,” Wren fretted. “I haven’t even been crowned yet, so you can just call me Wren.” She held out her hand to the stranger. He hesitated before taking it gently in his hand. His smile contained all the mild softness of a lamb. It was so different from all the bravado and false charm that Wren had seen at court. “Very well,” He said. For the first time in months, Wren smiled. “You know, you’re the only one who’s actually spoken to me,” She muttered. The stranger frowned. “Have I overstepped?” He asked. Wren shook her head. “No, of course not!” She explained, her hands gesticulating as if she were trying to wave away his concern. ‘Though your concern is quite cute’, She wanted to add, but thought better of it. He smiled again. “Good,” He breathed. “I thought it might be impolite to not at least say hello. I visit your lands often, though not in such highborn company, so I am unfamiliar with your customs.” As Wren gazed at his awkward, boyish smile, she felt an electric buzz in the air. The stranger’s face fell once again. He must have felt it too. The air in the room distorted with refracted light, an omen that Wren knew all too well. Sure enough, the hunter’s watch on her wrist began to buzz. She turned away to read the alert, and the stranger did the same on his own watch. ‘He’s a hunter like me!’ She realized. They glanced at each other, a look of understanding passed between them.

“Wanderers.”

Wren hiked up her dress and was reaching down for the gun strapped to her leg, when a hand touched her shoulder.

“My Lady,” Captain Jenna whispered. “It’s not wise for you to get involved.” It sounded like a foreign language to be referred to in such a glorified manor by her former captain when, just a few months prior, Wren had been a mere rookie hunter under her guidance.

“I know, Captain,” Wren reasoned, still desperate for her mentor’s understanding and approval. “But if I’m not willing to put myself on the line as a Queen—as a hunter—then what good am I?”

Captain Jenna sighed. “Very well, but we will discuss this later.”

A deafening roar interrupted their conversion. Wren looked up only to find that the stranger was already gone. The crowd screamed as a gaggle of low level wanderers materialized into the room. Guards shouted instructions, but they could barely be heard over the panicked stampede. Wren was pushed to-and-fro by terrified courtiers as she readied her weapon of choice. As soon as a clearing opened in the chaos, she unleashed a hail of bullets on the intruders. She counted 1…2…3 total on her left. On her right—

A flash of light from her peripheral vision blinded her for a moment. When it cleared, she could see the remnants of a wanderer’s energy floating around her. The stranger was standing before her once again. He sheathed his sword, breathing a sigh of relief.

“That was close. Please be more careful next time,” He said. Wren felt her face heat up in embarrassment. She had allowed the chaos to get the better of her and failed to clock the wanderer closing in on her from the right. Wren sighed, wiping sweat from her brow. The moment her arm left her vision, the stranger had disappeared once again. Wren’s head was spinning trying to make sense of this strange individual.

After assessing the damage caused by the wanderers, it was decided that the coronation would be postponed. Not that Wren was complaining. She had enough on her plate as is, and she wasn’t yet prepared to take on her sister’s position. From the little contact they had, Wren could sense that the crown weighed heavy on her. Captain Jenna walked briskly around the destroyed coronation chamber.

“What if we had it somewhere else?” She asked.

“Out of the question!” The High Priestess balked. “This coronation chamber was specially designed to invoke the power of the almighty universe. It has been the site of every Royal Coronation since…”

The High Priestess’s rant faded into the background as Wren surveyed the scene. Her trained hunter’s eyes scanned over every crack and scorch mark.

“I feel like we’re not addressing the root of the problem,” Captain Jenna interjected. “How did wanderers get into this chamber, or even the Palace for that matter?”

“That’s what we’re investing Captain,” A security guard spoke up. “These flux stabilizers are state-of-the-art. Wanderers should not have been able to emerge in here.”

“Well, until that matter is resolved,” Wren spoke up. “I forbid any public events at the Palace. We should also keep only essential staff here to reduce the risk of casualties.”

“But Your Grace-“ The Chamberlain began.

“This is not up for debate,” Wren snapped.

“Your reasoning for not wanting to use the Palace is sound,” Captain Jenna said. “But we still need a secure location for you to perform your duties.”

As Wren searched for an answer, a servant rushed in.

“My Lady,” She gave a polite bow. “The Royal Physician is here. Should I tell him to wait?”

“No, I’ll be there shortly.” Wren said. She couldn’t keep Dr. Zayne waiting when he had other patients to be attending to. It’s not surprising that he wanted to check in after the incident during the coronation. She turned toward Captain Jenna and the High Priestess one last time.

“We’ll figure something out,” She stated resolutely before hurrying out the door.

[rivalsforlife]

pardon me if you’re tired of discussing this but. we know aa7 is on capcom’s radar on some level. and now they’ve rereleased every game right?? they’ve finally run out of backlog material after almost yearly releases since 2019…. Not to put the clown wig and nose back on too early but do you think we’ll actually get news about, or get to see, aa7 next year?

Never tired of discussing this!! This is right around the time of year where I'd be preparing to make my yearly AA7 Speculation Post anyway so this is great timing. (TGS, my enemy, is approaching.)

So just to make sure everyone's on the same page, here's a quick recap of where we're currently at:

In November 2020 we got internal Capcom leaks which included a calendar from 2019 with the roadmap for the AA series the next couple of years. This included:

DGS1&2 collection, which I did not think was going to happen ever, releasing April-June 2021

AA7, releasing around October-December 2021, right around the 20th anniversary.

Through late 2019-mid 2022, reconsider porting 456

We got DGS1&2 (a bit later than in the plan, but by like a month), we got the 456 ports, we got bonus AAI ports, we have nothing for AA7 nearly three years after it was supposed to come out. The pandemic is an obvious feature that could contribute to its delay, but at this point with 456 ports out I think we can safely say that this was not the only cause.

Some other things that may or may not be contributing to AA7's delay include:

Yamazaki, the previous main writer for 5&6 and the AAIs, left Capcom in 2020. If he was involved in AA7 at all, that could throw a wrench into things, but I recall hearing he intended AA6 to be his last AA game (I AM STRUGGLING TO FIND THE SOURCE THOUGH SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME), so I don't think this contributed very much. It does, however, mean that we're unsure about who the next main writer is - depending on what Takumi's up to or if they had to bring someone new on, there could be complications related to that.

I think TGAA did way better than anyone expected, which I covered in this post. It's possible that this could have shifted Capcom's priorities to porting more old games / porting to all modern consoles. It may have made people at Capcom think "damn everyone loves Takumi" so they tried to lure him back to AA7, and I have no idea how well that would have gone or if Takumi is even interested in continuing mainline AA right now. (I do think this at least contributed to the Ghost Trick ports.)

In my first ever AA7 speculation post I talked about how the ending of AA6 kind of wrote them into a corner re: how to continue with the series and which protagonist to use. I still stand by that argument even if a lot of that post aged badly.

Console ports! Previously new AA games were for whichever Nintendo handheld is out now (GBA, Nintendo DS, Nintendo 3DS). But now that the series is doing really well on all consoles, they may have decided to try to make their next mainline entry on all consoles, which would take more development time. Adding to this is that the Switch is near the end of its lifecycle with the Switch 2 (or whatever the successor will be) being announced soon - meaning that, if AA7 is coming out soon, Capcom is in the position of "do we try to squeeze this into the end of the Switch's lifecycle" (which, I'll need to find sources for this, is speculated to be some of the reasons behind why AAI2 and DGS2 sold badly when they were first released, and they can't make the same mistake thrice... right...?) or "do we try to time it with the release of the Switch 2"?

Also, a lot of this depends on how far AA7 was into development whenever it was derailed. If it was derailed from the pandemic, then according to the calendar, it would likely have still been in the prototype stage. It may be early enough that they would have had to start from scratch whenever they picked it up again. I don't work in the gaming industry so I have no idea how long it takes them to make a game or how easy it would be from what stage they're in.

One thing we can compare to is some of the comments about the recent AAI ports: in this interview, Shunsuke Nishida, the producer of the AAI collection, says that development on the collection began in 2022. He also mentions that this began once development on 456 was concluded. This leads me to believe that (contrary to my previous assumptions) 456 and AAIC were not developed concurrently (or if so, had very minimal overlap), and that the process of upscaling graphics, porting, and localization took them... about a year, maybe? So that takes time, even without taking into consideration how long it would take to come up with a new idea + write the script + the bulk of the programming that would have to be done that isn't considered with porting + probably way more than I can think of because again I do not work in the gaming industry.

There's also the question of why 456 and AAIC weren't developed concurrently. The calendar from 2020 shows that TGAA and AA7 were meant to be developed at least somewhat concurrently, and the staff from TGAA would eventually merge into working on AA7. Once again, we don't know what happened to the staff that were supposed to be working on AA7. It's possible pandemic complications meant they got shuffled onto other projects. It's possible the AA-related team is smaller now than it was in 2020, so they only have enough people to work on one project at a time. It's also possible that there's a team that was working on ports, and a team that was working on a new game, and now the "port team" is freed up to work on the "new game team".

Either way though, pretty much every interview with the staff for the 456 or AAI ports are all saying "look forward to the future of the series", which is definitely Corporate Speak, but unless they're bringing the ports of the Layton crossover (fingers crossed) that can only mean one thing. (AAI anime?) Plus, like I've discussed in this post, AA is having fantastic sales in general. They've seemingly either hired a new social media manager or changed the strategy so there is much more engagement on twitter. And AA is getting on bigger and bigger announcements - though AA trilogy ports were announced at TGS (at an AA-specific panel), TGAA duology ports were announced unceremoniously on twitter. Afterwards, 456 ports got announced at the Capcom Showcase during Summer Game Fest. And now AAI collection got announced at a Nintendo Direct, which I imagine is even more expensive, so the series must be going in a good direction for them to think that's worth it!

That's a lot of rambling for me to say I definitely think it's coming.

When are we going to see it though!!

Coming up in September is my eternal enemy Tokyo Game Show. Since AAI collection is being released at the beginning of September... it might be a bit too soon to announce a new game, but who knows. They might think it's profitable to ride the hype they're building now for AAI collection to announce a new game. Or they might let it sit for a while.

With AAIC getting announced at a Direct, I'm thinking they'll want to make AA7's announcement a) big and b) global. AA6 was announced in Famitsu, but the problem with that is that it's a mostly Japanese audience, and some interviews have been talking about how AA's global audience is particularly contributing to how big it is right now. So I'm expecting AA's next announcement to be at something major and something that will get attention from overseas audiences.

If they have been working on AA7 concurrently -- and honestly I do think there has at least been some progress on it since 2019 -- we could definitely see an announcement within the next year. I was also saying this in 2020, though, so don't take my word for it. There's been two year gaps between ports up until the AAI collection, and they seemed pretty proud about releasing 456 and AAI in the same year, so... maybe they'll want to keep it going and announce AA7 within the next year, especially if they'll have a longer announcement -> release period than they normally would for ports.

Potential candidates include:

Tokyo Game Show: As previously stated, it's very close to the AAIC release, so I don't think it's the best timing for it. I would not want my favorite AA game overshadowed by whatever the hell they're going to do with AA7. Likelihood: depends on how fast they want to follow up on the hype.

The Game Awards: is the next major gaming event, but that's already massive in terms of the type of games that get announced there, and it's expensive! Nintendo Direct is one thing since AA has always been a Nintendo-first series, but I don't think it's big enough to justify putting in a Game Awards ad. and I already have my clown wig on for persona 6 there. Likelihood: pretty low tbh

Next Year's Summer Game Fest-related Shows: I think this is the most likely, considering both the 456 collection and the AAI collection were announced around this time. For AA7 I'd say a Nintendo Direct to get lots of eyes on it, especially if AAIC sales pay off. Likelihood: pretty high!

Which leads me into my wildcard answer:

Switch 2 Announcement Stream: If Capcom decides to go in and make AA7 one of the first games for whatever the switch successor would be, it could be announced here. I regret to admit that I am a very bad gamer and only like two things, and therefore have not ever been present for one of these things to know how many games get announced as launch games for a new console, but, like, it's possible.

In the above scenario, I'm not necessarily saying that AA7 would be a Switch 2 exclusive - because I think that would be stupid after so much of the support they've gotten from the ports has been from playstation and steam - but I am definitely the kind of person who would buy a console for one video game. Shoutout to me buying a switch in part anticipating that aa7 would come out on it and that is not looking likely

Anyways, that's my speculation!! Reminder that this is mostly uninformed and that I have no knowledge of anything related to sales or marketing or video game development, and as a result of that, I have been wrong (aside from the one time I accurately predicted AAI ports as a joke) for four consecutive years.