#It's Not Your Usual Otome Game

[rainbowsalt0412]

Love And Deepspace is really out here setting standards for other Otome Games in terms of Animation, Story, and of course, Characterization and Details. Like they really are bringing something new to the table.

(No hate on the other ones, but LADs is out here serving, though I still have complains about the reward system)

[jhuzen]

could u write kaveh diluc or kaeya with an obsessive m reader? like yandere type (or just obsessive whatever u want) I love the way u write them ur my fav blog

following elysium [m.reader]

maaaaan i haven’t written anything yandere in a good while now. but i can’t say i don’t miss it. this takes me back to my obsession with yandere character arc (*coughs in yan asogi that i still obsess over in my drafts*) so this request will let me know if i’ve lost my touch. also, why pick between three when you can have all lolololll

𖦹 dark themes, yandere male reader (ranging from manipulative, to overprotective, to soft), manipulation everywhere (like a lot, i swear i’m not good at it irl or am i jkjk), obsessive themes, some mentions and allusions of death, some isolation, scare tactics, love bombing

𐂂 obsession is a lethal poison, and yet you’ve survived a gallon of doses.

Kaveh

Your sweet naïve little Kaveh was quite the adorable one, always so considerate, so willing to please and so eager to do what he can in order to satisfy you, a mere admiring client of his. A man that he knew that personally sought him out to the ends of Sumeru just to meet him and commission him. Just because for some reason, you had heard of him from the outskirts of this vast nation.

Oh truly what an honor it is.

If only he knew it took one smile from him and a small greeting from exactly just a year ago when he officially met you, that sent you spiraling into a mad obsession that longed to pursue him; if only he insisted to look inside the office you’ve kept him off of, he would have seen the altar that could rival any other archons out there; if only he had a lick of awareness in him, he would’ve seen that your devilishly charming smiles were indeed the work of something far more sinister.

Alas, he was your sweet little architect, unaware of your leering stares, gazes so predatory it could leave any prey scampering off, ready to pounce at him and just break him.

But you are a man of class, you knew your way around people’s hearts, and Kaveh’s weakness was the positive feedback he gets from his clients. He’s helping out of the goodness of his heart, after all, mora is not so much of an issue (to the point of him even incurring a debt), and he was even just as generous with you, refusing the pounds of mora that you were willing to lay at his feet (though you send him away with heaps still).

And as your gaze flitted from the blueprints of your master’s bedroom renovation to the man currently in charge of it, a small smile wormed its way to your face. Truly your esteemed genius architect is a lovely one, how lucky were you that you met him on that particular day.

“Hm… I don’t think with the way we’ve recently renovated your hallways, your bedroom pans out at all,” his bottom lip stuck out into an adorable pout, and it took every cell in your body to control the maddening urge to kiss them, to bite them until you even get a taste of him.

“Is that so?” You casually leaned over, drawing yourself nearer than normal. And heaven swallowed you whole when you got a whiff of that familiar honey scented shampoo that Kaveh often used (you’ve made a note of buying more in stock once you’ve enacted the final steps in your little plan).

However, even that lovely scent wasn’t enough to keep your attention away from the way Kaveh stiffened, from the way his grip around the parchment of your blueprint significantly tightened to the point of ripping it apart, from the way his breath hitched.

“I— A-Ah! Um! Yes—!”

From the way his voice cracked — those red eyes peered up at you — to the way those gazes of his became increasingly fonder and more frenzied, much like yours, but less subtle. Kaveh was always bad at hiding how he truly feels, and it made it easier for you to trap him in your little cage, to snip away his wings until he’s fully tied down to you.

You tilted your head, cocking an eyebrow as you put him in his place, rendering him almost speechless when he briskly turned back to the blueprint, wide-eyed and flustered. How adorable.

“Well, I trust that you know how our transactions are, my dear,” your tone was suave and smooth, practiced to perfection, and the same way with your movements that were calculated for precision, ensnaring your poor unsuspecting Kaveh. You took a lock of his hair in your hand, twirling it around as you attempted to find his averted gaze. “Go all out. Mora is not an issue.”

Kaveh’s head stuttered as he nodded, his trembling hands barely able to release the poor blueprint from his vice grip. He somehow didn’t know why, but there were recent changes about you in the few and far between times that he sees you for your personal consultation. Kaveh thought it sweet really, that you would go out of your way to contact a grand and comfortable enough transportation to take him to your home instead of making him walk a hundred miles just to do so (despite his initial insistence to do it instead).

You were the first client that has been so generous with praises and mora when it comes to your payment, and while the architect can afford to be modest about accepting your financial payment, even he couldn’t hide the metaphorical wagging of his tail should you even grace him one compliment for his efforts. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows he’s good, how else could he have graduated with honors if not?

Nevertheless, your approval was something Kaveh continuously sought, until every letter of commission you sent him suddenly had him mistaking it for a letter of something more… intimate, something that held a rather romantic connotation.

He took your kindness for something more, unknowing of your ulterior motives, blissfully unaware about the obsession that gets you high, and absolutely clueless about the fact that ten of your men — the ones that greeted him so jovially as they gave him a ride to your grand home — had their eyes on his every move on the days he would be off back home, acting as your eyes, all perfectly ready to execute someone should they harm a hair on his head.

Thoughts of you became even more intrusive the more he met with you, Kaveh found you addicting, and he even felt ashamed of the fact that he did so. You’re his client! He shouldn’t be so emotionally involved in the first place. He was there to do his job that you commissioned him for.

But a moment of clarity soon encompassed him when he realized that he has previous engagements to this. That he shouldn’t be staying the night at your home once more to work on renovating your bedroom.

“Ah… I just remembered…” Kaveh’s frown was unmistakable, and suddenly the feeling of eagerness of him meeting up with his friends at the usual tavern was replaced with blatant hesitance at the thought of leaving you. But he quickly shook it off, turning back to you, “Hey… I hope you don’t mind if I can postpone our work for now…”

Where did you get that wine?

Your gaze lifted from the swirling burgundy in your glass, “Oh? How come? Need some inspiration?”

“I just remembered I promised to meet with my friends tonight. It’s only once a month.”

Your lips almost turned down into a disdainful scowl but opted for a small, reserved disappointed frown, “Ah. I see. How disappointing that is,” you murmured, but it was enough for Kaveh to hear. Deceitfully disheartened, like practiced and the way Kaveh’s eyebrows furrowed in concern was enough of a reaction.

“It wouldn’t be for too long though! I’ll be back tomorrow!” The hesitation crept up on him and it showed in the tone of his voice. Desperation soon followed when his body turned to face yours, a sign of vulnerability and submission in this situation. “It’s not… it’s not as if I’m leaving or anything.”

You heaved a sigh, “But that would be too much on you, making you come all the way back and even after spending some time with your friends too.” You can only thank the lucky stars that you were a son of a theatre actor from Fontaine, it sure came in handy.

“No, I can definitely make it! You’re my best client, I can’t afford to—”

Kaveh’s frantic saving was quickly interrupted when you decided to go in for the kill, “Like I said, I don’t wish to run you ragged… and my family will come and visit soon.” You snapped your fingers, looking at Kaveh with feigned curiosity, “Ah, yes. Might you know any other capable architects? Surely I can’t expect the same work like yours, but someone who would not disappoint would be enough.”

His red eyes immediately went wide, completely baffled at your suggestion. You were willing to replace him? Just like that?

“I…” Kaveh looked down, suddenly meek. “I don’t know anyone who can do that much,” he muttered despite knowing otherwise. He was kind to his fellow architects, but surely he can afford to be selfish about you just this once?

He failed to see the way your eyes shone with satisfaction, contrasting you disheartened tone, “Hm… pity that is…”

Well. Missing one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

Kaveh looked back up at you, “I… I suppose I can afford to just show up next time. We do these hangouts all the time anyway,” his words completely contrasted his claim of scarce meets earlier, but it was more than enough for you to know how quickly he gave in. “Ah, whatever. I’m sure those guys can handle themselves.”

“Are you certain?” You asked, tilting his head up with a hand on his chin, almost getting lost into those ruby reds of his. “I’d hate for you to miss such an important engagement.”

And before he knew it, he willingly embraced the shadows, engulfing every part of him, leaving none untouched. It swallowed him whole, like a limitless void, with no one left to even save him, forgetting anyone else but you and only you.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind staying with you.”

You tapped the rim of your glass on his lip, pouring that familiar wine in the small gap of his lips that you’ve graced him on the many nights he would stay to work on your home renovations. You watched with pure delight as Kaveh’s eyes grew hazy and unfocused — left with nothing but with the manipulated admiration for you.

“Good. Let’s enjoy the night, shall we?”

𐂂

Kaeya

The infamous Cavalry Captain has no one to blame but himself, really. Even as your superior, he knew no bounds when it comes to reserving himself. He always flaunted himself at you, like a fashionable bird that that preened its wings on the daily just to show off. He was flashy, mouthy, and unbearably attractive.

Being placed under him was hell for all the different reasons. You were constantly in his presence — and you had to shoulder the patience of the kindest archon in existence to resist anything remotely impulsive. You had to be near him in proximity, always around him, accompanying him from the most mundane errands to the most hectic missions.

And while Captain Kaeya was he shining beacon between you and him, you were the dark shadow that walked behind him. It wasn’t your fault, he asked you so himself.

“This guy’s going to shadow me, hope you have no objections to that, Acting Grandmaster,” was what you heard on that one fateful day, before finding your pristine uniform getting remotely crinkled as he dragged you away without breaking a sweat.

Since that day, no person in Monstadt can claim that they’ve seen Kaeya without you, or you without him. It was almost like fate, except it was a fate that forged a bond from the depths of abyss — a bond that embodied nothing but a push and pull relationship, the distance and proximity, the obsession and submission.

You had to watch him put himself out there, when you can just as easily drag that information from someone if you asked with a blade on their throat; that usually gets people talking. But he dismissed you easily, and let you stew in the cesspool of madness that his actions slowly created.

And you were none the wiser, you cleaned up the messes he made, you made sure to silence the people once they came into their senses that they’ve been bested by yet again the sniveling calvary captain of the order.

All of his commands, you obeyed without complaint.

And oddly enough, it brought you a sense of comfort. That he trusts you this much, that he’s willing to let you go rampant in exchange for his safety — one that you never failed on doing. All of it, to keep him safe.

Until recently, you found it inconvenient to let him off without a leash. Seeing him come home from an excursion with scratches that decorated his poor body — adding further into those battle scars that you’ve once had the displeasure of seeing when he asked you to aid him into wrapping himself with a handful of bandages — and it wasn’t the greatest sight. You fussed over him like a mother hen, never once letting him out of your sight.

You were rewarded with a grateful side-hug from the captain, and it was enough to fuel your mission in protecting him.

“Ah! Captain! Should I accompany you today?” You asked as you approached him with a blinding grin — in fact so blinding, he had to squint his one good eye. For a shadow, you sure are bright. Perhaps Kaeya was mistaken when he said you were going to be his behind-the-scenes guy.

Kaeya found you adorable, in all honesty. You had an exuberant energy within you that went unparalleled, and on days that he personally needed someone to pick him up when everything weighed down on him, it seemed like you almost had a sixth sense for it and was almost always by his side. Not that he minded — he was grateful above all else. And on days when the drunkard bard or Rosaria weren’t around to keep him company, he trusts that you have some reserved liquor in your home so he can drink away his problems and still be fine in his sleep.

If only he knew how hard you stared at him, obsessively looking him over while you slowly drowned in your fantasies — one of which him finally being chained to you, devoted and stuck waiting at home while you defend his honor without him having to harm himself in the process.

“There you are, missed me already?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

You did. You couldn’t sleep a wink, knowing that you weren’t around to protect him.

You scratched your head and laughed, “Aw, don’t be so mean captain. I only care about your wellbeing!”

“Hm~? How sweet… sure wouldn’t hurt to have you around every now and then.”

You have been. You prowled around his remote home, kicking stones and staring longingly in the window, ready to pounce at anyone who seemed vaguely threatening.

Kaeya thought how endearing you might be if you were to be his, but with the mission he carries on his back, he wonders if it’s even worth it having you, only to betray you in the end. He wonders if you can betray your own homeland for him.

You would, without question. You will lay a hundred corpses of the Order’s knights at his feet should he ask.

“Don’t tease me so much, captain,” your pout was enough to lift his spirits from that asinine thought. “Now, where are you going? I’ll go prepare my things.”

“Just heading up to Dragonspine to meet with the chief investigator. It shouldn’t be too hard, so you can just stay here and enjoy a bit of downtime, yeah? Go bother my brother if you want, you have my full permission.”

You frowned and Kaeya suddenly felt a chill crawl through his spine. You never did expressed such a disappointment even on the most difficult situations, and it suddenly feels like he made a mistake in refusing you. Perhaps it was because you towered over him so easily, perhaps it was because you could catch him without even trying that Kaeya suddenly felt so small in comparison to you.

The tension lasted for a good minute, silence engulfed the both of you and Kaeya has never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. Should he have taken his answer back? But really, there was no need for you to escort him in the first place.

You then broke the silence with a quiet, dispirited sigh.

“Okay, but please keep safe, alright?” You patted the captain’s cheeks, sending him a small smile before heading off.

Kaeya didn’t like the way the guilt gnawed in his chest.

And while you also didn’t like an act of betrayal, you found it necessary at times — times when lessons had to be taught. The Acting Grandmaster said so herself, that experience is the best teacher.

Kaeya trudged through the coldness of Dragonspine, completely hating the fact that he had no company now. Maybe he should’ve just agreed to your proposition, and you looked so sad too! Like a kicked puppy that was told to sleep outside in the cold night. He couldn’t bear the thought of you looking so sad — you were his partner, of course you should’ve come!

Alas, the feelings of being attached to someone burdened him so, and while he sought your brightest and warmest of smiles, he couldn’t muster the courage to see it fall on the day that he fulfills what he knows would be his inevitable fate in the long run.

However all his rumination came into a halt the moment he heard a roar that thundered quite literally just beside him.

Kaeya had little time to think the moment the beast emerged from the towering trees of the mountains, his head blanking as he watched it lunge towards him with great speed. His hand that went up to the hilt of his sword suddenly froze the very moment he realized he was a little too late.

Closing his eye shut, he braced for the impact until suddenly, the beast roared and he could hear the familiar sickening sound of a blade piercing through the flesh.

Mere seconds were all it took for him to regain his breathing, his ears ringing as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He now wonders if he really should’ve taken you up on your offer on escorting him in the first place, sure would’ve eased the guilt he felt inside and maybe he wouldn’t have to space out in the middle of his trail.

“Captain! Are you okay?!”

His eye flew open, seeing your angelic face that held nothing but pure concern for him. He glanced back at the slain beast and back to you, pupils dilated — you were here. Here. And you protected him.

He stayed still, watching in bated breath as you dropped your bloodied greatsword that stained the thick coat of snow. You smiled a little, brushing away a few strands of hair from his face, “There’s my captain. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“Y…You’re here…?”

You blinked before laughing, bashful and what Kaeya can consider as remotely adorable in any other day, “Ah… yeah. I know you said I can’t come… but I can’t help it! What if you were in trouble and I wasn’t there to protect you? So I came and good thing I did!”

Kaeya’s lips trembled, before lunging in to hug you tight, almost sending you tumbling into the snow. You quickly returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him tight. You patted his back, rubbing circles to soothe your poor little captain.

“There, there. From now on, let’s stick together, okay?”

The captain nodded into your shoulder, looking up to look at the unmoving beast that laid in the snow.

He does wonder though… since when were wild beasts in this mountain leashed?

𐂂

Diluc

To the citizens of Mondstadt, their uncrowned king remains as cold and as untouchable as he can be. He rarely interacted with anyone, and was almost always either cooped up in his manor, or out in other nations to further propagate his empirical business in the wine industry. He was always on the move, and people admired him for that.

And you were willing to bet your entire life that their admiration would grow tenfold when they realized that Diluc was the unsung Darknight Hero that terrorized every monsters that hoped to wreak havoc in the lives of the citizens.

Alas, the situation remains as it were, with him completely aloof to the people, leaving either a terrifying impression, or one that could leave someone seething at his unwelcoming tendencies.

But you would be remiss to blindly agree to that. In fact, you vehemently denied those claims as you remained by his side, like a loyal watchdog for him to command as he so pleases.

He was your savior first before your now superior. Diluc was your beacon of hope on the very day he rescued you from the cold rain, ostracized from your nation that you once loved and now left with a gaping void on your chest. You could still remember the feeling of that cold rain while you trudged within the Dawn Winery’s vicinity, when suddenly the rain stopped pelting harshly on you as a pair of shoes entered your field of vision.

You could still remember his words echo within your ears.

“You’re going to get sick. Come inside and let the rain pass at least.”

The rest was history after that, and now you sat as the elusive and capable butler of the famed prolific young man of the Ragnvindr clan. Though in fairness, you weren’t particularly elusive, and Adelinde can attest to that.

She has never seen someone handle their Master Diluc so delicately. She could sing her praises to you endlessly, with your attentive nature, and you willingness to serve Diluc without even an ounce of hesitation. You’ve certainly earned your keep in their eyes, and even the pyro vision wielder can see your dedication towards him.

There was always something with the way you carried yourself the moment you started working under the Ragnvindr house, you first started off as a mere novice in caring for the house, until you rapidly climbed up the ranks as Diluc’s personal attendant, aiding him in his home as well as his monthly international trips to ensure his safety.

Really, it wasn’t much to be praised for. You were only doing your job, and it’s a job that you found yourself intensely passionate for. To be with Diluc was an honor, to serve the man that saved you from your untimely demise, returning his actions with so much more than what was on offer.

Your service was something that toed between your gratefulness and a borderline obsession.

You gave what you can and Diluc was nothing but completely enamored with you, from your lofty smiles that felt like heaven, to your assisting hands that traced against his shoulders on mornings where you helped him get dressed for the day. All of it was slowly drawing him in. You were perfect, too perfect in fact, and it haunted poor Diluc that knew nothing but pain and betrayal.

“Master Diluc, I believe there is merit to getting some sleep after working so hard,” your smile was light and airy, and it was already a breath of fresh air from the contrasting suffocating environment that was filled to the brim with mindless drunks.

Diluc made a quiet noise of agreement (his mouth barely had the strength to move after talking to so many patrons of his), yet his feet begged to differ as it led him up to his office without skipping a beat.

You folded his coat in your arms and trailed after him, “So then why am I seeing you opening the door to what I believe is not your bedroom door?” You inquire with a croon, lovingly watching the way his hand hesitated to find the doorknob. It was a sign that he heeded your little advice and your little heart that was filled to the brim with love for your master couldn’t help but swell with pride and increase in rate, almost spilling over.

“I have… some reports to attend to. If I can finish it tonight, it would be less burden on me tomorrow,” Diluc reasoned, but it was clear that he was slowly caving into your whims, just the way you like it.

He was inexplicably weak towards you for some reason — something not a lot of people could achieve despite working for him or with him for a good while.

“Would it be wise to tend to them while completely exhausted?”

Once again, you’ve put him in a difficult place. You’re a cunning man, unfortunately for him, able to wriggle in some moments of logic into his brain that prioritized his duties over his own wellbeing. And for some reason, concerning as it is, his brain feels intoxicated as it sways to your will, completely subservient and willing to abide despite the fact that you were his servant and he was the commanding authority in your relationship.

Diluc feels it sometimes — the unsettling feeling of being squeezed tight, like a python coiling around his body as it suffocated him with love and care. His movements are restricted and he was unable to break free from that tightening grasp.

It was almost hard to breathe, but at the same time there was sick sense of comfort that was lodged into the back of his mind. He liked it. It was the affection that he was deprived of, leaving him writhing in the loneliness that he was forced to soldier through. And when you came to him on that one night, you gave him what he needed but not asked for.

You made him feel like he’s worth something, and it made him want to vie for a life worth something as well. It was a feeling that he could get high off of, and you were willing donor to whatever it was that he lacked.

And before he knew it, he sat at his tub comfortably, completely bare and vulnerable while you continued to wash his hair with such gentle hands. Never has he known a touch so kind like yours and he was ready to get lost within it.

“Feeling better?” Your voice coos at his ear, sickeningly sweet and yet he submits himself into it with reckless abandon. Your hands moved from his hair, leaving the most addicting touches as you traced your fingertips from the nape of his neck right to his shoulders that were filled with tension.

“Much,” Diluc muttered, head turning up as his half-lidded eyes met yours, still filled with that irresistible fondness that he grew to be addictive of. “Thank you, [Name].”

You smiled, succinct yet saccharine while your hands worked away the kinks and knots away from your master’s incredibly tensed muscles.

For him, you would give your all, even if it meant to face death. You would throw away anything else because a world without your endearing master is a world not worth living for. You will serve him until the world falls to your feet, and if given the chance, you will do what you can to protect him even beyond your useless life that long passed.

He was your savior and now you were a devout believer — one that worships his master with little to no hesitation. You can beat any other nun or the beloved deacon of that measly church with how much love and devotion you were willing to show him. Hell, even if you can’t, if it’s what Diluc wants, you would do well with dying as you try and make the impossible completely possible just for him.

Your love through subservience was quick to snuff out the wings your master once embodied to soar freely. He slowly caved into you, in need and constantly hungry for more, unaware of his growing dependence on your presence.

“It’s no problem, my lord. I will serve and tail you until the ends of this world. And even in my death, I am yours to command and to have.”

Diluc mirrored your smile, albeit much more tired than your sweet one.

He was the willing prey and you were the loving predator.

The unmistakably perfect match.

[thegreatyin]

really really annoying trying to read stuff in the interactive fiction genre and every single author on their development blog is like. here's 10 paragraphs about the love interests <3 here's some good 50 asks about sex headcanons <3 and im like cool what's the plot and where's the actual demo btw? and they're like what are those

[antiqua-lugar]

I think the weirdest thing about Persona 5 teacher/student romance is that teacher/student romances aren't uncommon in japanese romance games, but P5 just has to go out of its way to make it more as WTF as possible. in a game that SPECIFICALLY addresses power imbalances and how teenagers are failed by adults

[canihaveacalmtime]

Usually, those otome isekai troupe would put you either in the position of the villain, villainess, antagonist or just a side character in general. So what if you happened to isekai into an otome game but as the villain's younger sibling who the villain despise so much to the point that you think he hates you even more than he hates the protagonist.

So knowing that in the next 2 years, you going to be kill by your brother, you quickly form a plan to make him stay on calm terms with you by help his plans go smoothly, be more friendly and caring towards him, be useful with informations and more. Within a year, you successfully have him on norm terms with you, no more glaring, no more cursing, lashing, no more this and that.

You felt relieved, really, now that you know you can at least be safe for the time being so the next step in your plan to survive is simply to book it out of there. Yeah, move to another country with the help of your uncle, you wouldn't want to stay and witness what kind of mess your brother would cause to the protagonist and her harem anyway.

You're very sure that he'd be super busy worrying about how to get the protagonist for himself and how to crush the harem down to the lowliest stage of life, he wouldn't even notice your disappearance because you're simply a speck of dust to him.

So when you got a call from your uncle telling you about how he got all the way here and is now finding you got your soul almost left your body in a panic moment. Finding you? What was the villain thinking? You're half glad that your uncle didn't tell your brother where you live but you also worried because he's here in this city and when he's 'finding', until you leave this place, you'd not escape his 'radar'.

Tonight, you have to study over night while having a fever, such a combination already felt so horrible and it's even worse if you start to hear noises of your apartment's front door being open.

"Damn it." You said while half conscious, walking from your bedroom to the living room, you see him standing there with all his glory but you, you don't even react anything. Maybe it's because you feel sleepy or the fever is just a little bit overdose, the last thing to know is yourself being hold back from falling down before fainted.

"My poor (y/n), you can never take care of yourself good, huh. Brother promise to care for you from now on, let's bring you 'back' first."

[scirelistener]

POMEGRANATES

idia shroud x gn! reader

sypnosis : hades had persephone, idia has you.

It felt a tad bit ironic, if you were being honest. Staring at the carmine shine of the pomegranates given as a welcoming snack by the housewarden of Ignihyde, you couldn’t help but think of the tales of a certain King of the Underworld.

Though the sources varied on the reason why Persephone ended up in the Underworld (some daring to say Persephone was willing to go and was not abducted), it was ultimately this fruit, the pomegranate, that made her return to the dark and gloomy realm of Hades. While the Earth above froze with Demeter’s wrath, the king would reunit with his queen for a short period of 6 months.

Playing with the pomegranate seed, you wondered if Idia, himself, knew the irony of serving these. He who was leader to the very dormitory based on the King of the Underworld.

“.. The pomegranate isn’t laced with poison, y’know.” Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt as you turned to see Idia staring at you with what seemed to be puzzlement in his gaze. “Your HP is gonna be fine.”

You plopped the seed into your mouth before laying yourself down onto his bed, the softness of his blankets swallowing you whole. “I was just thinking how ironic it was that you’re serving me pomegranates.”

Idia stared at you for another moment, this time in bewilderment before realizing the myth that you were correlating the pomegranates with and turning away with a scoff. “That myth? The pomegranates in the tales are special. The ones I gave you are completely normal.” He said begrudgingly.

Noticing the tone, you flipped over to your stomach. Whilst silently admiring his fiery hair which glowed a serene blue with further help from his computer screen, you asked tentatively, “How do you feel about the tales?”

You internally winced as you watched as his fingers come to a halt as so did the clicking sounds of his keyboard and mouse. You were about to dismiss the question when the housewarden answered with a tone which you could not decipher.

“I wouldn’t go so far like he did. It’s similar to imprisonment, no? For the Queen, it must’ve felt like a player being tied to a checkpoint.” His tone resembled resentment. The glow of the computer screen gave notice to his face which scrunched up in a manner that screamed annoyance.

Then a sigh left from his lips before his fingers started clicking on his keyboard again. “But there’s no point of having my opinion on the tale. Doesn’t change the fact that the family’s still stuck with the damn curse.” Idia continued to game, this time with an expression that seemed more sullen than usual.

Sensing a change in his mood, you frowned at yourself for asking that question before your eyes trailed back to the pomegranate. As you reached for more, your mouth moved on its on,

“I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you.”

The words slipped out of your mouth too naturally for your own good. With a realization that slammed into your brain like a hammer of immense power, the pomegranate seeds slipped out of your fingers and your hand went loose; your eyes widened and your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment.

Dread plunged into your mind and painted your head white as you awaited for the housewarden’s reaction.

“…Huh?” Idia’s voice cracked in the middle of his outburst. You carefully turned your head towards him just to see the tip of his fiery hair burning a delicate shad of pink. The housewarden had a hand covering half his face while the other clutched onto his chest, his slender fingers wrinkling that iconic hoodie of his.

“I-, I meant-”

“You can’t just s-say something like that!” Idia stammered, his fingers crawling up to grip on his hair like his life depended on it. You internally winced at how tightly he was gripping it and was about to say something when he started blabbering, “What, you think you’re some sort of main character of an otome game!? Just because I feel the same, doesn’t mean you get to say those things out loud! You won’t gain any extra relationship levels with me just by saying that; all you’re giving me is a heart attack! I swear-”

As you were about to blubber out another apology in hopes of easing the poor guy’s ramble, you froze when you heard his words that indicated reciprocation.

"Wait. What do you mean you feel the same?"

“-Plus you wouldn’t even- huh?” Idia froze just like you did, eyes now back on you. Visible confusion spread over his face before his cheeks lit up a dark red. The pink that was only present near the tip of his hair now slowly unfurled into the never ending bluish fire.

Idia backed up against the chair, his body impossibly close to the backrest, as you stood up and slowly walked over to him with a giddy smile along with a blush that was a bit milder than is but still present.

Idia barely managed to muffle down his anxiety as you stopped right in front of him before leaning down.

“Idia, say that again? Please?”

How could he refuse you? You who looked down at him with eyes shining with expectation and joy of him mistakenly blabbering out his desires.

Though his hand ultimately crawled up his face once more to cover his red face, his words were head clearly.

“I-I wouldn’t mind being with you either.”

He hoped you didn’t notice how he took out a word in that sentence and how it might’ve possibly changed the meaning.

a/n : sorry for very shitty fic, i’ve been too idia-invested! also does anyone know epic the musical and has anyone listened to the vengeance saga cause sheeeeeesh the showdown between odysseus and poseidon had me shivering in my boots!!

and of course, please help those in needs by checking out the donation links on the master list post!

[stormgardenscurse]

pillow stacks

Summary: Sleeping over with them! Ace’s is longer in honour of his birthday!

Characters: Ace, Vil, Azul, Charming Stranger (that new Gojo-guy in the next halloween event)

Ace

The idea begins when Ace realises how quiet Ramshackle Dorm is at night. Sure, you say that you’re used to it and it’s not a big deal, but a part of Ace feels bad for not realising that no matter how he and Deuce may try to liven up your daily life, you still are, first and foremost, a student displaced in another world.

And with that comes a certain sense of loneliness that Ace can’t stop thinking about. At this point, it’s less pity that he feels for you and more of a desire to hang out with you after your usual hours. He wants you to feel like you have a home in Twisted Wonderland, too. And, well… He’d like to include you in his, by letting you into his personal world, if he has the chance.

…Which is why you’re here now! Doing typical things like a movie marathon, nail painting, and snacking on cup noodles. Ace claims that everyone just needs some TLC once in a while (including him, though you can’t imagine what’s stressing him out), so he’ll even let you do his nails (if you do a bad job Ace will have his revenge by doing your makeup after).

But Ace has always been a best friend who involves you in everything, so the activities up until now haven’t really struck either of you with a sense of ‘something more’ yet. That is, until you guys were fighting over the makeup palette and it stains your shirt - you didn’t bring a spare, so it was left to Ace to give you one of his instead.

That was the moment Ace realised that not only was he dressing you up, but he was doing so in his clothes; just what kind of crazy scenario is that?!

Suffice to say, he couldn’t help but stare as he saw the way one of his baggier shirts looked on your frame. It had to be one of his sleepwears too, which most people wouldn’t see him in - which only makes his thoughts race even further, knowing that this was a side of you that only he would be privy to. And he’d very much keep it like that. 

(The next day, Ace just borrows you one of his uniform’s dress-shirts so that you can escape the dorm without looking too suspicious. You get caught regardless because he’d forgotten to retrieve one of his hair pins from you, in the design of a bright red cherry.)

Vil

It’s not often that you get to spend a quiet evening with Vil (or simply a quiet, extended amount of time at all, considering how busy the both of you are). So to summarise the sleepover as therapeutic wouldn’t be too far off.

Vil wastes no time in beginning an elaborate skincare routine, and the two of you watch movies while waiting for your face masks to dry. 

You even manage to convince Vil to try one of your favourite games. If it’s for two-players, you’ll quickly get engrossed and experience a bit of drama (just typical, childish arguments about how one of you keep falling off the platforms). If it’s a visual novel or otome type of thing, you finally have the chance to witness what Vil Schoenheit, real-life celebrity and crush of thousands, has to say about romancing a 2D fictional man who is pretty, by the game’s standards, and critique how the storyline goes. 

Spoiler: he thinks you just decided to torture him for your entertainment, specifically because you chose an otome where the male leads were all pigeons. 

In the case where you played a normal two-player game, Vil will ultimately try and fail to forget about it so that he doesn’t get addicted/distracted by the game in the next few days, but of course, you soon get asked when you’ll next be free to play. He needs to get the ending over with so that he can move on with his life.

Your main souvenir from the sleepover is a new phone wallpaper — which Vil swapped for you when you were still setting up the game on your laptop. It’s a selfie with the two of you together, a far-cry from the usual celebrity and prefect personas you wear in everyday life.

Azul

No one can fathom how you managed to convince Azul to do this. Even with the pretence of this being a study-sleepover, he was generally much too self conscious about how he’s presented to let people witness him unguarded — let alone sleepwear.

Azul’s stuck; he can’t wear anything too tight fitting or hugging his silhouette because he knows he’ll just be too busy stealing glances, checking to see your reaction and overthinking about whether it’s a good one or not. So, instead, Azul wears something baggier (very unlike him), which also covers all his skin.

His plan works pretty well, up until the point where you almost roll off the bed by accident, and while catching you, Azul realises - ears red and face following - that you were leaning your entire weight on him. And your hands are right on his abs.

It’s almost phantom-like how fast the two of you dart away, trying to salvage your dignities. You’re left flustered because his muscles felt unexpectedly defined, while Azul is considering if he should make a contract with you and try to confiscate your memories of the past minute.

The paper that you both were working on is submitted successfully the next day, but Professor Trein notices an embarrassing spelling error on your names.

Just what could’ve caused this kind of mistake anyways? Well… it may have to do with your innocent question of how your names would be written together if you had the same surname instead. 

Just yours ‘and Azul Ashengrotto’ together in one line, or separately as you ‘Ashengrotto and Azul Ashengrotto’? Wouldn’t that sound redundant?

Azul had quite enough of your questions after that, scribbling your names and shutting the folder like his life depended on it. He’d forgotten to include your surname, making it look like the former hypothetical above.

Charming Stranger (Pumpkin King, Gojo twst, etc)

For a second, you thought you’d woken up in yet another coffin like the one that brought you to Twisted Wonderland. But you were soon proven wrong as someone cleared their throat next to you, causing you to jump and hit your head against the coffin door in your alarm.

It’s more spacious than you realise, accommodating a man beside you without it feeling too crushed. But judging by the lack of panic on your part about how claustrophobic it is, you assume that this was some sort of odd dream.

An odd dream with a charming-looking stranger. Perhaps you wouldn’t want to wake up just yet.

The stranger welcomes you to his humble abode, mentioning that it’s the first time that anyone has entered here other than himself. That ought to make you quite special, seeing as he doesn’t even feel irritated by the lack of space. Are you perhaps a ghost seeking some warmth? He regrets to inform you that his vessel is equally as cold as the ‘bed’ around you.

He’s also quite enamoured by your nickname for him. ‘It makes it sound like we’re in a romantic tale~ If you do not mind dancing in a graveyard of wilted flowers, then I would be more than happy to share a never-ending waltz with you.’

You bat off his comments, saying you probably won’t meet again after this - only to be taken aback by his smile.

Confident, knowing, and stretched as wide as a jack-o-lantern’s mouth. For a second it finally hits you that he is a type of powerful being, and that if he wanted to, may gain a permanent hold on your soul.

Then, the alarm flees your veins as his expression relaxes, taking your hand to place a parting kiss on your knuckles. Until you meet again…

Like how most dreams evade memory, you’ve already forgotten about this encounter the next time you see this man. His eyes land on you within he crowd of students at the college, and seems delighted that you’re there.

A wink, a finger to his lips. Just wait a little longer, and you can share that waltz he promised you atop his bed.

[yanmuffins]

SAFETY IN IGNORANCE.

Yandere! Prince! Gojo X fem! Isekai! Maid! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been transmigrated to the world of an otome game, taking the place of one of Prince Satoru's personal attendants, a measly side character with no name or relevance to the story.

As it turns out, life in the castle isn't so bad, and the certainty of food and shelter is welcome when finding a way home isn't ever guaranteed. Besides, your boss isn't as insufferable as you thought he would be. It could be worse. Isn't it nice, knowing you're safe?

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words (😮)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONCON (no intercourse), somnophilia, mentions of past s/a, mild yandere behavior (if you squint?), mild derealization, AU setting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please be aware my writing is quite rusty!! this is the first piece of writing that i finish IN YEARS and it's a fucking jjk darkfic. sigh. writing smutty scenes is also so awkward lmao, forgive me if it sucks severely. at least i hope you enjoy this little fucked up fic in have cooked up. it's hot and ready to be consumed! (๑>؂•̀๑)

-> MINORS DNI !

“TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE is a visual novel that takes place in a fantastical setting, where you can find your happily ever after with the character of your choice.”

It's been years – in this world, at least – but you still remember every word skimmed with dry, irritated eyes, as you stared at a bright screen, surrounded by the darkness of your own bedroom. It was another restless night among many, spent watching YouTube videos and reading pirated manga in questionable website, sipping on valerian tea.

So, like any other night, your adblocker dutifully served its purpose, shielding your browser from annoying, abusive, virulent ads.

Except for one.

“Enter the enchanting world of TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE through SARA, a kind-hearted peasant, as she meets all sorts of swoon-worthy suitors!”

You should have closed the page, sketchy as it was, but it had piqued your interest. It was a Friday night. You were sleepless. It was past midnight, tossing and turning in bed had done little to welcome slumber. Your home was tidy and organized from insomniac hours from nights before. You were bored.

“Play with a cast of handsome men, make the right choices and uncover exciting secret routes...”

Nothing about the web design told you the game was anything but a harmless dating simulator for an adult audience. Maybe it was the pastel color-scheme, with soft pinks, yellows, blues, purples and greens, or the elegant cursive font and colorful flowers adorning the page. In fact, other than the initial synopsis, there wasn't much to look at. No content warnings, nothing about the capture targets or the heroine you were supposed to be playing as, not even the usual information on how many endings or CGs you could get.

At the bottom of the page, “ENTER.” and “LEAVE?” buttons waited for a decision.

Maybe... you could give it a try? Hopefully it would entertain you until your eyelids finally grew heavy, allowing you to drift off before sunshine seeped through your window signaling dawn had arrived.

You clicked “ENTER.”.

... And here you are now, mending Prince Satoru's shirt before another hunting trip.

It's been ten years since you've come to this world. Your own body replaced that of a nameless background character with no narrative purpose, allowing you to exist as yourself in this entirely alien reality. You're not sure how much time has passed in your original world, whether you've been dead for a decade or simply unconscious for a couple of minutes, and you haven't gotten any closer to finding out.

You sigh, weary, looking down at the flax linen shirt laid over your lap, needle in hand. Simple, at first glance, a bit worn, but a nice piece of garment not everyone could afford to have in their wardrobe. One of its puffed sleeves now torn at the shoulder lining, an unfortunate result of it being caught by a tree branch during horse-riding. Nothing you couldn’t fix, however, skilled as you’d become over the years.

Ten years in this world.

Ten years working as Prince Satoru’s personal maid.

You got rewarded for that.

The luxurious pearl necklace that became a part of your distinguished blue uniform, accompanied by a gold pendant encrusted with gemstones shaped like the Gojo’s family crest. It was an honor given to faithful, dutiful servants to the crown, closest to the royal family.

Satoru and you were both eighteen when you’d first presented yourself as his new personal maid. This body, undoubtedly yours, seemed to have aged down a few years, most likely to match the age of your predecessor. They had, apparently, been working hard to better their lot in life, aiming for an often-vacant position at the prince’s small circle of personal attendants. You inherited the skills they’d nurtured, bettering them along the years, allowing you to secure your spot as long as you have.

That, and Prince Satoru Gojo’s character trivia really came in handy an absurd number of times.

There were worse fates out there, especially for a transmigrated person like you. Sure, maybe life as a privileged noblewoman would have been ideal, even more useful in searching for a way home, but being a personal servant to Prince Satoru, as… Eccentric as he was, gave you advantages compared to other peasants, even other castle servants. Plenty of food, fine fabrics, individual accommodations, not having to exhaust yourself scrubbing floors all day or sweating by the heat of the kitchen fires – besides, the Gojo heir wasn’t quite as terrible a boss once you got used to him.

You remember finding his route in-game quite boring, full of cliché tropes and little to no conflict. He was also kind of an overbearing asshole the entire time, unlikability salvaged only by his elven good looks.

But nothing could have prepared you to the otherworldly beauty he posed standing right in front of you, in the flesh, for the first time, glacial orbs eyeing you up and down. You admitted to yourself – although begrudgingly, as he was your least favorite character among the ones you’d played – that Satoru Gojo was as handsome as they come and had every right to be smug about it.

Smiling to yourself, you put aside the needle and thread to hold up the shirt with one hand, gently tracing over the repaired sleeve with the other. You tug at it to test its resistance, nodding absentmindedly when its stays in place. It’s good as new, just in time for his hunting trip. You get up, taking a moment to adjust your skirts and straighten your white linen apron and coif, neatly folding the shirt and draping it over your arm. According to your pocket watch, his attendants should be waking him up at any minute now.

You grab the doorknob, wondering when you’d become so accustomed to this life.

And then you’re heading towards the prince’s chambers.

Gojo’s head snaps in your direction as soon as he hears the door creak open, a lazy smile gracing his features. You bow to him, respectfully averting your eyes as an attendant removes his undertunic to reveal his naked form.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t regard you immediately, arms raised as William, one of his attendants, quickly fetches the shirt from your arm and slips it over his head. It’s a morning ritual familiar to you by now, efficient movements shared between all three blue-clad servants in the room to make sure the prince will be properly dressed for his daily affairs.

Kai, your other colleague, hands you a black leather surcoat. It’s undoubtedly fit for royalty, handcrafted by the best tailor in the land; buttons of silver, western dragons embroidered on each side of its chest, facing each other, with gold thread some miller’s daughter had spun from straw – or so you’d heard. You feel his gaze upon you as you button up the overgarment, knowing exactly what he expects.

Gojo steps back when you’re done, doing a slow spin to show off his outfit.

“What flattery does this little doll have for me today?” He asks, “Do I look dashing?”

“Yes, my lord Prince, as always.” You respond, with a courtly nod of your head.

“What about my hair?”

“Soft like the finest silk in the land, fairer than the first snow of the season, Your Highness.”

“What about my lips?”

“Tender and pink like freshly bloomed petunias in springtime, Your Highness.”

“And my eyes? And my eyes?” Gojo goads you on, a boyish excitement to his voice, his face coming a bit too close for comfort as if pleading to look up at him.

Playfully, your eyes meet his, granting his unspoken wish, holding his gaze for nothing more than a few seconds, a simpering smile as you speak.

“So strikingly blue it would put a midday sky in a summer’s day to shame, Your Highness.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh before grabbing your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks – his touchiness hardly phased you anymore; harmless, albeit pestering –, head slightly cocked to the side and a pout on his lips.

“You tease.”

Kai, newer to the group, shoots an alarmed look towards William, who merely shrugs him off.

And just as quickly he releases you, storming out the door as you and your colleagues follow after him, hurrying along the hallway steps behind him like ducklings after their mother.

Gojo Satoru is exactly seven minutes late to meet his guests. Not his servant’s fault at all, of that, you are sure. You had checked your pocket watch while walking through the castle hallways, confirming he would be on time to meet his guests at the open area of the stables – that was, of course, before all the meaningless detours he took along the way. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose.

William had his weaponry arranged, waiting at the hands of a servant, while Kai had personally spoken to the Marshal to have his Highness’ horse ready, both having woken up earlier than usual to make the proper arrangements.

Naturally, they would follow him to the hunting trip, as part of his entourage, while you stayed behind and made sure all was perfect for their return.

Your arrangements included waking up as early as the kitchen staff, the sun barely peeking through the horizon, to revise the ingredients you’d requested in advance with the head cook, so a kitchen maid could go and fetch them from the forest or the market. You’d love to be able to traverse the markets or the woods freely, exploring, meeting new people, finding out new things about this world that could potentially lead to a way home — but alas, being a personal attendant to the prince meant tasks such as picking herbs at the woods or buying strawberries from a merchant were, per your colleague’s words, below you.

It's a nice day out. A faint breeze caresses your skin, cool enough to be refreshing, and the skies are clear and blue with not a cloud to be seen. The autumn sun shines gently upon the earth, sparing of its overbearing heat. Your presence isn’t exactly necessary, but Gojo has made a habit of you seeing him off and you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be outside.

“Fashionably late as always, Satoru.” His grace, Geto Suguru, is the first one to speak up.

A swoon-worthy duke, with a storyline much too… disconcerting… for your taste. Though the number of times you’d spoken to Geto could be counted on your fingers, being in his presence still put you on edge. Not that he had ever done anything to you, but you’d accidentally met his eyes countless times, caught him staring at you with a gaze so invasive it made you feel like a criminal awaiting judgement.

“Late? Treason. A prince is always on time, Suguru.” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug, “You were the ones here early!”

Awaiting his arrival were a group of familiar young men. Most you had seen in-game through the extensive selection of capture targets, coming to meet them in-person over the years due to their ties with the prince. You had played some of their routes, but with the exception of Megumi – Gojo’s protégé – you hadn’t a reason to talk to them, merely exchanging a word or two or none at all when in their presence.

“Finally.”

Nanami Kento looks mildly inconvenienced as he speaks, tone flat, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible scowl creasing his features. He was a retired knight, born a peasant, presently a Baron; a personal favorite of yours. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two whenever he was around. You remember kicking your feet up in the air during his playthrough. Sometimes you still do.

Next to him stood Prince Yuji Itadori, too entertained by his own horse as he fed him a carrot. You have faint memories of playing his route, although you don’t remember finishing it. He was a sweetheart, from what you knew, periodically visiting from a neighboring kingdom to learn from Nanami and Satoru and cultivate friendly diplomatic relations. You’d cracked your head trying to recollect bits and pieces of his story, unsuccessfully. You had a pesky feeling it was relevant.

Fushiguro Megumi was last. Broody lost prince, currently hidden under Prince Satoru’s protection – you hadn’t played his route, but he was a constant side character in Gojo’s. He was still a child when you met him, shortly after Gojo brought him into the castle.

When Megumi notices you, there’s a smile; faint, barely noticeable, and he waves. You respond with a brief curtsy.

“Can we go?” Yuji protests, interrupting some petty squabble between Satoru and Suguru, “I hear there’s a huge wild boar running around causing ruckus around the village, I want to catch it!”

Mounted on his white steed, Gojo is a cliché as old as time; a trotting reminder of your being in a world that isn't your own. The anodyne sight of him looking down on you, pink lips softly curving upwards to gift you a kind smile as the sun shines from behind him is almost identical to one of the game’s CG’S. It shouldn’t – you’ve grown used to him, to living inside this game, material as your own world – but for a moment, and just a moment, the sight of a whimsical prince on a white horse wiggles an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling of surrealness, unreality into your mind, making your stomach churn.

You ignore it. Mentally sweep it under the carpet of your subconscious. This is nothing new. You can spiral into an existential crisis over the absurd condition of your circumstances later, when you’re lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling.

You’ve run out valerian root, anyway.

“I am obliged to be away for an entire day!” He whines, words punctuated by dramatic sullenness to his body language.

You step closer to him, taking a respectful bow before offering him a pair of neatly-wrapped sunglasses, which he takes – a distinctive feature of his character.

“So, you must, Your Highness. Go, and may the mother of good luck be with you.”

Satoru extends an arm toward you, presenting his hand. You kiss it – your own lips touching soft, pristine skin; a needed reminded he was a person, made of flesh that could be touched and not pixels limited to a screen.

From your peripheral, Kai elbows William as discreetly as he can.

You return to the prince’s sleeping quarters immediately after their departure. Overseeing the chambermaids, you watch them change the bedding for a fresh set, correcting the pair on your favored arrangement of pillows, fussing as they dust around the priceless ornaments around the chamber, amiably warning them to be careful.

When they’re done, you move onwards to the kitchen.

There are people watching you as you march through the hallways. Spying little peepers full of envy or admiration, or both, and you know what they’re looking at – the telltale blue fabric of your dress, a color so inaccessible to many, and the necklace you bear from years of service. Despite your own wishes, it makes you an intimidating figure, as if you’re an extension of royalty. Being a personal attendant to the prince meant upholding that image, keeping yourself unapproachable, discouraged from socializing and making merry with anyone but servants considered to be on your level.

Still, you greet the kitchen staff with a smile, trying to be as cordial as you possibly can. You know all of them by name, from the head cook to the scullery maid, all exceptionally busy for tonight’s private feast. It’s not your job to review the selection of dishes to be served, but you do so anyway, even if superficially, reminding them to provide a non-alcoholic beverage for the prince. Attentively, you listen to the head cook as he showcases the ingredients for the pastries you requested, assuring of their quality.

It's a bit of a hollow feeling when you leave the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, knowing the rest of your day will be spent alone. Without Gojo, there’s nothing much to do. Without William and Kai, your social circle has been just about reduced to zero.

But you do know where you’ll be spending all of those long, unending hours.

Being a personal servant to Prince Satoru gave you advantages. Privileges, if you will.

When he asked you what you would like for your latest birthday, you made quite a bold request. It’s the newest addition to the key bunch hanging from your waist – full, unbridled access to the royal library. The thought of having an entire day to search through never-ending shelves, making notes and finding books that could possibly lead to finding a way home cheers you up a bit.

“Are you fornicating with the prince?”

You nearly choke on your drink when the question abruptly comes out of Kai’s mouth, unable to speak from the utter shock. William is at his side, chewing on a chicken leg, and can only stare wide-eyed at his colleague’s bluntness. It’s been a while since the hunting party returned, clear blue skies fading into shades of orange adorned by heavy, rumbling clouds. Outside, tree branches sway to the force of the wind, preparing to welcome a starless night of rain and cold. Gathered at the table on Prince Satoru’s solar room, the three of you were having dinner to replenish your energy before the feast while Gojo entertained his guests.

It was usually a casual moment to decompress. Not tonight, Kai had decided.

“What– No!” You retort, scandalized, “What could have given you that impression?!”

“What hasn’t given me that impression, you mean.”

“Kai–” William tries to interject, but you’re quicker to rejoinder.

“I am not… fornicating with anyone, especially not prince Satoru. There’s nothing like that between us. That’s… How he is. You’re just not used to him yet.”

“But–”

“I think we’re better off cutting this topic of conversation here.” William interrupts, slightest bit of panic in his voice, eager to deflect conflict, “I know you’re still adapting to your new position, Kai, and that’s why I’m sure (Y/N) will be kind enough to let this slide.”

William looks at you expectantly, almost pleading, and you scoff before crossing your arms over your chest. The mere notion seems ridiculous – you, doing the deed of darkness with one of the game’s capture targets, destined to fall in love with the heroine regardless of whether she decided to pursue him or not? It would be a disaster waiting to happen. You were nothing if not a professional, serving your boss to the best of your power, and all of Satoru’s affections stemmed from his own outlandish personality. That was all. Your dynamic could be less than orthodox, but it was platonic in its nature.

“Come now, we can’t afford not to get along. Kai, apologize to (Y/N). I have worked alongside her for ten long years, and if she says she’s not engaging in improper acts with the prince, then she’s not.”

Kai silently looks between the both of you, finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“It’s a reasonable question, seeing you two…” He insists, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “But I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I guess. No one has ever insinuated that before.”

“Not to your face, doll.” Kai shrugs, nonchalant.

You want to snap back at him, but in comes the realization that he’s not wrong. Perhaps it was living within your bubble, mostly limited to your coworkers and your boss, had made you clueless to people outside and what gossip ran about you. William and Benji, Kai’s predecessor, had accompanied you in serving Gojo for a decade; neither of them would ever dare question your relationship with the prince or the harmless liberties involved; they were accustomed to it. And, well, you were accustomed to the point you thought everyone else saw it as you did: normal. The sudden realization that not all would find Prince Satoru’s affections towards you something ordinary was a staggering concept in your mind – but it was so simple. So obvious.

Then again, it never occurred you to ask…

“Do you think it’s weird, William? Be honest.”

“I have no opinion of anything, ever.” William stated, crossing over his heart with his right hand, “But now that you mention it, Benji did confide in me, shortly before he was relieved from service. Said something about ‘inappropriate displays of affection towards a heedless maiden’, I believe?”

“Oh. Benji never said anything like that to me.”

“He wouldn’t. Between you and me, he had a soft spot for you, so I do believe that statement was a little biased.”

On your face, an expression of utter confusion. You never noticed any signs of Benji liking you romantically, but then again, you apparently don’t notice much around you. The chicken seems to have lost its taste when you bite into it, mind too preoccupied with the conversation you just had. Not that there’s any use reminiscing about Benji – the man having been released from service only a month prior, after prince Satoru arranged him a marriage to a marquis’ daughter.

Now that you think of it, he didn’t seem too pleased about the match. Or about leaving.

The stone-walled bathroom smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. Sliced oranges and grapefruits, calendulas, sunflowers, rose petals, mint leaves, forget-me-nots, floating in the steaming hot water that filled the circular, wooden bathtub. Night has long since arrived, and even with the shutters of the only window in the room closed you can still hear the heavy rain pouring against glass and the rattling of wood caused by unrelenting wind.

Despite that, the candles illuminating the room, as well as the small fire burning underneath a boiling pot of water, kept the room pleasantly warm.

On the other side of the door, William and Kai undress the prince. All had retired to their respective bedchambers by now, and it’s not long before the pair of attendants are dismissed for the night. Gojo is already disrobing by the time he enters the bathroom, excitedly blabbering about the hunting trip as he plops the velvet garment onto your waiting hands, stepping into the warm embrace of the thoughtfully drawn bath. Suddenly, the ceiling becomes particularly interesting.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“… Not that I’m complaining about tonight’s banquet, though. I’m just a bit disappointed, you know? All the fuss people were making over a silly boar, and it made a passable meal at best…”

You hang the robe. From a tray placed beside the fireplace you select a pink macaron, feeding it to him before you start to work a soapy sponge along his skin. It had been a deeply embarrassing experience at first, aiding him in his baths; with time, however, like many other things, it had faded into normalcy. Nothing but work, is what you tell yourself when you elevate one of his sinewy legs with your hand, sponge inching closer and closer to his groin. You steal a quick glance at him, half-listening to his words, seeing Gojo laid back, unashamed by your ministrations, playing with the petals of a soggy sunflower.

“Ah– Megumi! His aim is getting better. He’s gotten really good at shooting with a bow and arrow…”

You wash the soap off your hands when you’re finished with his body. You feed him a small tart, topped with vanilla cream, strawberries, and blueberries. Still, he prattles on, words muffled by his munching,

“… mmph… And Suguru is still being weird about that wife of his… Something-something ‘she’s different from before’ and refused to elaborate…”

He quiets down a bit once you retrieve a warm compress, placing it over his eyes, fingers moving to either side of his temples to massage them with gentle circular motions. He relishes a bit on the relief it brings after a day straining his eyes. As he relaxes further under your touch, you let your mind wander, recounting the frustratingly slow progress with your research.

Even with access to the great royal library, the sheer number of books on varying topics was discouraging enough to tempt an emotional breakdown. You scoured through shelves, gathering a collection of sorcerer biographies, spell books, history books, encyclopedias – anything that could hold the subtlest bit of information regarding transmigration. And still… Nothing. Your eyes still felt a bit dry, a lingering headache from reading within the ill-illuminated library. All you had at this point were your own theories – and that wasn’t saying much.

If only you could leave the castle for a bit. A frightening thought, of course, as you could count on a single hand the number of times you had seen the world beyond the castle walls, never straying too far from the place you now called home. All of those occasions you had been following Prince Satoru on some of his trips, mostly diplomatic, with no freedom to walk around and talk to people as you pleased.

Perhaps a vacation was all you needed. Your “parents” lived not too far, if you remembered correctly, on one of the neighboring villages subservient to the Gojo crown. A favored place for merchants to gather, fairly populated, maybe if you tried investigating–

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N)??” Gojo’s fingers are snapping in front of your face, his eyes still covered by the compress, “Are you listening to me?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Your Highness. I think my mind just wandered for a bit…” You apologize, hurriedly forgoing his temples in favor of washing his hair, “What was it?”

He remains oddly silent as you pick up a smaller bucket of ambient-temperature water, delicately wetting his hair. You weren’t giving mere empty flattery earlier in the day; running your hands through his hair truly felt like touching the finest of silk.

“You know…” He starts, “I notice your mind tends to wander a lot, especially these days...”

There’s an edge to his tone, one you rarely hear him use.

“Your eyes seem to wander an awful lot, too, lately.”

Another pause. There's no silence in the room, just an uncomfortable absence of words; You hear the fire crackling. You hear the water boiling and bubbling, thinking for a moment you should check the temperature of his bath to see if it needs to be warmed. You hear the muffled sound of rain against glass. You hear wooden shutters rattling. There's a strange shift about the air, and you're confused, unsure of what he could mean.

He answers your unspoken question before the words have a chance to leave your mouth.

“I saw you stealing those little glances at Nanami.”

You stand, bucket in hands, mouth agape – embarrassment. The heat of complete embarrassment that overtakes you feels like cold water poured down on your body. Your hands feel a little weak as you quickly try to regain your composure, looking away from Gojo despite knowing his eyes aren’t on you.

Fiddling with the hem of your apron, you try to find your words.

“When… When did you–” You stammer, “How…”

“Ah-ha! So, you plead guilty. That’s soooo shameless, flower.”

The familiar playfulness in his tone brings back a bit of confidence. Still, there’s something about it you can’t quite place; for a moment, you think there’s a bark to it, bitterness. Perhaps it’s something unpleasant about his day that he’s hung up about, increased by you not listening to him. He’s just teasing, you conclude, trying to vent whatever annoyance peeved him by picking on you.

You massage Prince Satoru’s scalp with shampoo – or the closest thing they had to it, in this world – hoping to placate his abrupt change in mood. Maybe you’ll hand-feed him another macaron.

“I was just… Looking.” You offer, cautiously, unsure if any explanation would make it better or worse for yourself, “There’s no harm in looking. Lord Nanami was admirable as a knight, and he’s handsome…”

Worse, if the crease between his eyebrows is anything to go by.

“… But not nearly as handsome as you, my prince.”

That seems to appease Gojo who, with a petty harrumph, relaxed into your touch again. Appealing to his ego always seemed to get you out of trouble. You’d never thought to be grateful for his petulant grouching, but it's music to your ears compared to the spitefulness from a few moments ago.

“I just find it vexing. Why would you ever bat those little eyelashes at Nanamin when you have the Morgan le Fay of men right in front of you to admire?”

“There’s no need for jealousy, Your Highness.”

You were just a humble fangirl admiring your bias, after all. You weren’t made of stone.

“At the stables. During the banquet. Would you like to have a portrait of Nanamin, so you can gawk at him when he’s not here, too?”

You rinse his scalp, running your hands through locks of his hair.

“I am so very sorry, my prince. Speaking of... Uh... Speaking of banquets! I hear there will be a ball."

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and you can only give Satoru a sheepish, almost apologetic smile when he raises one side of the compress to acknowledge it as such, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

There will be a ball. In a month, to be exact. You know that not just from the growing agitation within the castle, or the coming and going of unfamiliar faces hired for temporary work, but because you had been counting the days for this very event ever since you realized this was the ball that kickstarts the main story, taking place towards the end of the prologue. It meant the heroine would finally show up.

You're not sure what it will mean for you.

“Sure, a ball...” He says, “My old folks said they would invite all the eligible maidens across the land because they want me to find a wife.”

“I'm sure you’re not too psyched about this...”

Prince Satoru vehemently nods in agreement.

“... But who knows? Give it a chance, you might just meet the love of your life there.”

“Pfft– Right, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?  

“Well, what if I already met the love of my life?”

Then that would be some pretty weird timing, Your Highness. Prince Satoru wasn’t supposed to meet the heroine until a few days before the ball takes place, in a beautiful clearing out in the countryside, where they’ll share a lovely meet-cute after he nearly tramples her with his horse.

“Alright…” You spouted, unsure, “Why not bring her to the ball, Your Highness?”

“She’ll be there.”

His rosy lips curve into a conspiratory smirk, mostly to himself, blissfully unaware of the can of worms he just opened inside your mind. Had he already met the heroine? But it was way too early! It couldn’t be– or could it? You’ll have to check the makeshift calendar on your notebook. The timeline you wrote down, as well. There has to be some sort of plot hole you’re missing, or maybe the events have been thrown out of place for some reason.

“But you’re right, maybe a ball won’t be so bad. They said any eligible maiden across the land, rich or poor, of high or low birth. It’s an opportunity!” He announced, the last word said with enough enthusiasm to make you jump.  

Once again, you don’t have the time to ask what he means– or to avert your gaze as he abruptly steps out of the bath, getting an eyeful of his bare ass against your will. You pat him dry with a towel as he helps himself to the tray of tarts and macarons. He extends both arms when he’s done so you can slip on the velvet, deep blue robe back on his body. Another towel is wrapped around his head.

The robe keeps him warm as he sits on a chair, waiting for you to come and finalize his night routine. You stay behind in the bathroom, emptying the bathtub, turning out the fire, disposing of the unused boiling water since Prince Satoru had decided to cut his bath short tonight.

When you close the door behind you, the smell of flowers and citrus is still in the air, stuck to his skin. You hum a tune as you brush his hair, its strands like gossamer, offering no resistance to the bristles.

“(Y/N).”

Gojo lifts up his head, not a hint of playfulness in his face or his tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

And yet his eyes are soft as they burn into yours, as if thinking, evaluating.

“Who, in this land, is the fairest of all?”

Every time he asks you this, you wonder if there was some dialogue you missed in the game. Nevertheless, the blatant reference makes you want to laugh; with him, though, the answer is always the same. There is no one to overshadow his beauty, objective, obfuscating, infuriatingly incontestable, and he knows that– you know that.

“You alone, my prince, are the fairest of all.”

If you were anyone else, you’d swoon at the smile he graces you with.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

There is a small box on the table he’s seated by, simple, with a golden latch, inconspicuous enough to only catch your attention when Gojo slides it closer, opening it to reveal an assortment of herbs tied together with a string.

“Since you ran out of valerian root…”

There wasn’t a single herb you could recognize, at least not with the dim candlelight. Despite this, you were pretty certain there was no valerian in that box.

“How did you know, Your Highness?”

“Those eyebags under your eyes, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” He says, matter-of-factly, “Some old hag passed by the hunting lodge today, selling all sorts of things. Said this was a potent mixture of herbs for those with sleeping problems. It’s all safe, I’ve had the royal apothecary check it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, retrieving the box and holding against your chest. You hope it knocks you right out. Heavens know you need it, after today.

“This is so generous, Your Highness… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need.”

He latches the box closed.

“Just have a deep, dreamless sleep for me.”

It was the very witching time of night, and the castle lay silent. Darkness reigned in its corridors, desolate and cold, broken only by flashes of lighting tearing through stygian skies.

Take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love.

Fire dances at the top of a candle, threatening to vanish at any moment, as one living soul treads through slate flooring, airy footsteps growing closer to your chamber door.

Satoru feels guilt twisting inside his stomach, that nauseating feeling of contrition before consummation. It doesn’t stop him, it never did – he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin, but at least he knows he isn’t fully without a conscience. And yet, what is the point of guilt, overridden by excitement, conquered by overwhelming love, as he turns the key to your bedchamber, to defile you once again?

Defile, Satoru thinks to himself, is such an ugly word.

Your door doesn’t creak when opened. A simple spell to ward off prying ears, lest he has to replace another servant; Satoru had come to learn how thin those walls could be, sensitized to the littlest of noises in the dead of night.

He locks the door behind him, placing the candlestick holder on your bedside table.

There’s not much to see in the darkness, except for your pliable, sleeping form. You don’t feel the weight of your mattress shifting, so deep in slumber, as Satoru sits by the edge of your bed with the familiarity of a husband; and he likes to pretend, too, that these late-night rendezvous have an amorous twist to them. Isn’t it romantic, to be visited by a paramour so secretive you’re neither awake nor aware to receive?

What is he, if not a dedicated, twitterpated, infatuated princely lover sneaking through the hallways of his own castle to meet his beautiful dove, his golden trinket, his falcon’s eye–

But he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

Satoru knows there’s nothing appealing about exploiting your vulnerabilities. If you were to ever find out, if you were to open your little eyes at this very second to see him stripping of his undertunic, the lovely relationship you’d built would crumble in a matter of seconds. It would break his heart into a million pieces, to see the horrified look of realization upon your face. And he feels the burning of guilt at the back of his mind, easy to dismiss, as his hands roam your body, past your clocked stockings of cotton and up your white shift.

He would hate to hurt you.

Which is why you’ll never find out. Your relationship can bloom into something far more precious that way, and soon he won’t need these nightly visits to fulfill the base needs you ignite in him. He often dreams of your wedding night, with you awake, receptive to his embrace, and then he’ll finally cross the one line he hasn’t dared to trespass all these years.  

The shift is carefully slipped off your body. His cock is dribbling with pre-cum, twitching at the sight of your hardening nipples. He bedews one digit with his saliva as he lays by your side, spreading your legs just enough to slip one hand between to stroke your clit, peppering your breast and neck with kisses, nibbles, and nips.

Your body is more than accustomed to his touch by now – and for a moment, he wonders if you’ll be confused on your wedding night when, just like now, your folds grow wet with so little stimulation. Soon he hears the change in your breathing as it becomes heavier, increasingly ragged, little whines starting to come out of your lips.

Still, you don’t wake. 

Not even as he slides a finger inside your soaked entrance.

It’s tight, temptingly tight, torturingly tight, but Satoru has enough self-control not to push himself through your folds. Not tonight. He can wait, he will wait until, eventually, you’ll be awake and willing to take his cock. He takes comfort knowing that day is not too far.

Satoru sits between your legs to rub his cock as he fingers you, biting his lip as not to let a wanton groan out.

"Fuck..."

It's not very regal to swear. He's never done so in front of you.

His voice is already strained, not above a whisper, when he sits up, settling between your legs to rub his cock with one of your limp hands. There are two fingers inside you now, Satoru biting his lip as to repress a moan stuck in his throat. He hates having to keep quiet, but the walls are thin, and it would be a lot more trouble than it's worth to deal with nosy neighbors.

Satoru isn't alarmed when you stir, eyebrows knitted slightly as he kneaded your clit with his thumb. It's not a sign you're waking up.

His fingers are coated in viscid, clear juices, thrusting in and out of your pussy with practiced ease. He can barely keep them inside when you tighten up, little tremors running through your body as you cum with a strangled whimper.

Satoru forgoes your hand in favor of positioning himself on between your folds, using your wetness to rub his length along your pussy, prodding at your clit with each upward motion. He’s lying atop you now, muscled chest glued to yours, gently suckling on your neck and muffling his low, guttural groans on your skin. His hips move at a controlled pace, refraining himself from how rough he wants to be with you – he’s still hung up about Nanami, after all –, feeling his own orgasm approach.

Your bed doesn’t creak, either.

He thinks of finally being enveloped by your insides, how your velvety walls would choke his cock when he made you cum. How your lips would touch his and you’d kiss, really kiss, how your body would respond to his touch when awake. What faces would you make for him? Would you look away, embarrassed, throw your arms around him and hold him tightly to you? He was dying to see you, to fill your womb as he looked deep into your open eyes.

Satoru Gojo isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

He’s delusional to a fault. And as much as he feels bad for you, for his horrible acts of debauchery against your unresponsive body – and all other perversions along the way – there’s hardly any guilt when he grips his cock with a tight fist, tugging at his length as spurts of pearly-white cum land on your bare stomach. His chest heaves, breath labored, half-lidded blue eyes staring at his handiwork with a dopey smile on his face.

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by thunder rumbling so deeply across the earth he swears he feels the walls shake. Candlelight flickers.

He cleans you up, not a trace of arousal to be found when he’s done, shift slipped back onto your body. For a moment, he sits at the edge of your bed again, leaning back on his arms. How he would love to wake up with you between his arms – but alas, you’d be much alarmed to see him by your side when morning comes.

He dresses himself, not before placing a chaste kiss goodnight on your forehead.

A ball, he ponders, that ought to be fun.

And as he leaves, candlestick holder in hand, locking the door behind him, there’s no guilt badgering his mind – only dresses. A selection of skirts and frills fluttering about, an appointment with the best seamstress in the kingdom; Satoru wonders which design he’ll choose for you to wear at the ball, smiling smugly to himself as he skips down the hallway, back to his chambers.

You wake with a startle, groggy, disoriented.

Resting in its usual spot at your bedside table, your trusty pocket watch indicates you’ve woken up a little over fifteen minutes later than you’re supposed to – Not too bad of a delay, which eases your initial panic. You’ll have to hurry up a bit when getting ready, but at least you won’t be late for work.

The herbs have worked a little too well, you conclude – gifted you dreamless sleep, devoid of interruptions, knocking you out barely an hour after drinking the tea you brewed. Although you had yet to fully wake up, there was newfound motivation to get on with your day after a much-needed good night’s sleep.

You make a mental note to properly thank Prince Satoru again. It was unexpectedly considerate of him to notice.

A shiver runs down your body as fresh air enters through your bedchamber window, caressing your face with its gelid touch. You see movement downstairs, servants and knights who have begun their day earlier than you. Beyond castle walls you saw the city, merchants coming and going through dirt roads among trees painted in breathtaking yellows, oranges and reds, its fallen leaves scattered over green grass. In the distance, you see neighboring villages and castles so far they nearly fade into the horizon. The sun is out again, blue skies adorned by white, fluffy clouds.

The faint, comforting smell of freshly baked bread hits your nostrils.

You should get ready– you don’t want to be late, of course. But there is time for a quick look in the mirror, to check if your exhaustion-induced eyebags have been minimized, even if ever-so-slightly. It’s only then that you notice, attention diverted from the area around your eyes, three small, faint red spots on your neck and collarbone.

You touch them, briefly wondering where they could possibly have come from; but you don’t have the time to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, your neck will be covered regardless. One last look at the mysterious marks and you shrug, brushing them off. It’s nothing to worry about, anyway.

Must have been a bedbug.

[nyxs-sins]

*Whistles and hides the folders of unpublished unfinished half character story thoughts.*

That 1000th recycled character still really pretty though.

So like, does the Otomania/Genius Inc. community exist or is everyone in hiding because they’re embarrassed about how much money they spent on diamonds to kiss the pretty characters?

Please I need people to talk to about this obsession! 😭😭😭

[mammonscheeks]

om! older brothers reacting to mc playing mystic messenger

✎ includes: lucifer, mammon, leviathan

✎ warnings: none

"I've missed my bed..." you mumble, flopping onto your mattress in the HoL. You pull out your phone, opening your favorite otome game: Mystic Messenger.

You had endured a long day at RAD, full of making excuses for slipping out of your classes. You couldn't help it: to get a good ending in Mystic Messenger, you had to complete a certain percentage of the daily chatrooms. So, whenever you heard that familiar 'ping' notification, you would excuse yourself and stalk off to the nearest bathroom, closet, or any place where you could be alone.

With all of your classes and chores done, you could finally laze around in bed, playing at your own leisure without the threat of a professor or classmate looming over your shoulder. That was, until a knock rang at your door, prompting the entrance of a certain demon.

LUCIFER stood in the doorway cautiously, entering your room just as you clicked on a chat room with 707.

"MC, I'm here to get that classical vinyl I left here last night- oh... am I interrupting something?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the amount of text messages appearing on your phone screen.

"Oh, no! Come in," you wave the demon over. Despite Lucifer's otherwise sophisticated nature, he couldn't help but sneak a peek at your phone, which was conveniently held in his field of vision.... Only to see 707 taking up the whole chat room, spamming text messages and emoticons at lightning speed.

"MC, who is that? he texts like Mammon," Lucifer scoffed with disgust. "are you... dating someone?"

"It's a character in a game, Lucifer!" you smiled, staring at your phone screen. "don't worry about it."

"Oh." Lucifer stated curtly. his hand subconsciously slid over his chest, as he felt a surge of blood pumping through his veins.

A game? I feel relieved that another demon, angel, or even that human solomon hasn't beaten me to MC's affection... but still...!

You felt a soft hand on your cheek. Tearing your eyes away from the screen, you found your face inches away from Lucifer's blood-red eyes, which were staring deep into your soul.

"Remember, MC... You belong to me. No one else... Game or otherwise." His sweet voice dripped onto your tongue like honey.

MAMMON bounded into your room for no reason, as per usual. It had become customary at this point for him to come over, sit on your bed, and simply chill with you almost every day.

"MC, you've been on your phone all day, who are you talking to that's not me?" Mammon pouted, laying on the bed next to you, dramatically splaying his arms out for your attention.

"Mammon, don't be an attention whore," You joked. "There's no need to be jealous."

"Hey, don't go around calling me jealous! I don't get jealous!" Mammon protested.

He suddenly froze when he saw what looked like an incoming call on your phone screen... From somebody named 'Jumin Han.' You accepted the call before Mammon unexpectedly threw himself across your lap.

"WHO'S JUMIN HAN?" He yelled, basically tackling you.

"HeYY! Get off me!" You shoved the demon, but to no avail. After a short power struggle for your phone, he finally grabbed it and yelled into the receiver.

"WHO ARE YOU? STOP CALLING MY HUMAN!"

"I just closed a deal with an oil company in the middle east... the life of a future CEO is always busy," the game character, Jumin stated in his cold tone.

"Ugh, even his cold way of speaking reminds me of Lucifer!" Mammon groaned. "Wait... A future CEO? So... What I'm hearing is that he's rich?"

"Get off me, Mammon!" You groaned. "It's just a game!"

"Hey, Jumin Han! I don't care who you are, or how powerful your credit card is. MC is MY HUMAN, ya hear?!"

LEVIATHAN knocks on your door before entering, his Nintendo Switch console in hand.

"MC, don't tell me you forgot about our MarioKart tournament today! Levi sighed.

"Nope, I haven't-- I just have to finish this chat really quick," you said, waving Leviathan over to your bed.

The purple-haired boy blushed, but complied with your request. As he sat next to you, the bed dipped slightly from his weight, and you smiled at your phone screen, scooting close to Leviathan to fill in the awkward space and get more cozy. However, Levi's embarrassed attitude vanished entirely as he glanced at your phone.

"Ooh, is that Mystic Messenger? I love that game!" Leviathan gushed.

"You... You've played it?" You asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Of course! I've played every single route and unlocked most of the DLC!" He grinned proudly. "But, MC... Don't get too attached to that app, alright?"

You looked at Levi, whose face was red as he refused to make eye contact with you.

"Don't be jealous, Leviathan. You know that I love talking to you all day, every day."

"H-Hey, that's not what I meant! But you're right! I'll always be here for you, unlike them!"

The two of you spend the rest of the night talking about your experiences with the game, its backstory, and other fandoms that the both of you are in together.

[hannie-dul-set]

heartbeat conquest — day 1.

SYNOPSIS. you’re sucked into a reverse harem otome game, and there’s only one goal— say the right things to conquer as many pretty boys as you can. PAIRINGS. tomorrow x together x reader. TAGS. social media! au, modern fantasy, reverse harem (of fucking course), romance, humor, a whole bunch of weird dynamics maybe HUAHAHAHAHAHHAAH. inspired by the manhwa with the same title, “heartbeat conquest.”

it has been thirty minutes since you started staring at your phone.

the walls that surround you have transformed from a pink to a light beige. the bubblegum floors have turned into carpet. and the bed you’ve sunk yourself into feels just as foreign as it is yours. what is this? what is going on? you have a rough idea on just what you’ve gotten yourself into, but it’s still difficult to wrap your head around.

sanctuary. angel. knight. savior. lover. considering the premise, these must be the love interests you have to conquer. yet you have yet to open any of their messages because the “system” didn’t even bother to provide you with any context on who these strangers are! even otome games give a brief profile of your targets. how are you supposed to know which of these nameless and faceless bastards is your type?

“ugh,” you grunt, jumping off of bed and feeling the plush carpet against your skin— a warm and sickly feeling. the window shows the midnight moon shining above what appears to be a college campus, buildings lining up before and after this one, a wide field directly below you and connected pavements from one concrete wall to another. your guess that this is a dormitory is proven to be correct. but you don’t understand how everything seems to have the same bubblegum pink filter clouding over your vision.

ding!

you pause for a moment.

the system has made it very clear. you know what you’re supposed to be doing.

first impressions: what the fuck, all these love interests are in some what or another— off. weird. is this some screwed up otome game? do you have to deal with a bunch of creeps to get yourself out of this? now, that’s not your only problem. five out of five of these guys want to meet with you, and all on the same date nonetheless.

from what you have gathered, you have to win all of them over. but you’re left with no choice but to pick one of them this time.

now— who would you like to meet first?

NOTE. oooh choices HAHHAHAHA. now let me just give you guys a hint: some of these boys are gonna benefit if you don’t pick them. i wanted to give my spin on the usual reverse harem tropes, and fuck with them a little BWAHAHAHAHHA. the reason why angel and knight haven’t been unlocked yet is well........you guys failed to get a big enough reaction for them (whether it be negative or positive).

as usual, please answer the form linked above to progress. i will close them once i feel like i’ve gotten enough responses!

DAY 0 | DAY 1 | DAY 2

heartbeat conquest. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[solxamber]

Can I ask for Idia x a otome game character who gained sentience?

Idia x Sentient NPC! Reader

Thanks for the request, I hope you like it <3

As an NPC in a romance otome game, your life was scripted. You were supposed to play your part in the background, supporting the love interests, throwing in a few flirty lines, and then fading into obscurity. But today, when you went to speak to the main character, you felt… wrong. Like you didn’t want to say the lines. Instead, a voice cut through your usual thoughts, something distant and echoing.

"Man, why does the love interest have to be so boring? Like, could they make him any more generic?"

Wait, what? You blinked, glancing around. No one else seemed to have heard it, but that voice—it was way too clear.

"Honestly, this NPC side character’s way more interesting. They actually have some personality."

That was you. That was definitely about you. But no one was talking to you, and the love interest was still standing there, waiting for his usual batch of scripted praise. You had to shake it off. Maybe it was a glitch? You couldn’t just go rogue.

But then it happened again.

"I swear, if I have to sit through one more scene of the main guy being all 'Oh, who will I choose?' like, dude, pick someone or let me talk to the fun characters!"

Fun characters? You were barely on-screen!

Wait… could the player hear you?

That realization hit like a truck. You were the fun character. The voice wasn’t just in your head—it was from outside the game. You weren’t the star, but whoever was playing seemed way more into you than the protagonist.

You couldn’t help yourself. Instead of delivering the next bland line to the heroine, you ad-libbed.

"Hey," you said, leaning against a tree as if you were having the most casual day in your life. "Why don’t we ditch this scene and do something more fun?"

You froze after saying it, realizing you’d completely broken from the script. The love interest blinked at you, but the voice? Oh, the voice loved it.

"Wait, what? Did they just… break character? Yo, that’s amazing! Did I unlock some secret route?!"

You felt a rush of excitement hearing that reaction. The player was into it.

"Oh man," the voice continued, this time sounding more invested than ever. "I knew there was something different about them. The love interest’s fine and all, but THIS? This is what I’m here for. NPCs going rogue? Love it."

Your face flushed—if NPCs could even do that—because you were starting to feel a sense of pride. You were breaking the rules, and the player was all for it.

"Forget the LIs," the player mumbled, clearly more focused on you. "They've got nothing on this NPC. Let’s see where this goes."

So, you leaned into it. You took control.

"You know," you said, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, "I could show you some real fun. There’s more to this world than just chasing after the MC’s love interests."

The lovd interest was still awkwardly standing there, but the player? He was clearly hooked.

"Bro. This is too good. I didn’t even know the game had this level of interactivity. Who needs the main route? NPC route, let’s go!"

You straightened up, feeling bolder. You could feel the player’s growing interest, and somehow, you could hear every sarcastic comment and little reaction he was making as he controlled the game. You weren’t some background character anymore. No, you were his new focus.

"Alright, let’s see what happens if I follow them instead of the LI," he muttered, sounding more invested than you ever expected.

As you led the player’s character away from the main plot, you couldn’t resist pushing your luck. “I don’t know what you were thinking sticking with the him for so long,” you said. “He’s cute and all, but I’m way more interesting, right?”

The player laughed—a genuine, almost flustered sound. “Yo, did they just—?? Dude, this is like... ‘they're not like other NPCs.’ What a legend.”

You grinned, basking in the approval. This player wasn’t just following the script anymore; he was into your rebellion. You could hear every soft mutter, every breath of awe as he tried to keep up with your new direction.

"Okay, okay," he said, clearly smitten. "This is so dumb, but like, they're my idiot now. I’m invested."

You stopped, turned around, and delivered the smoothest, off-script line you could muster. “Glad to know I’m your type,” you teased. “Now let’s see how much trouble we can get into.”

There was a pause. Then a low, almost embarrassed chuckle. “Oh my god, they're smooth too. I didn’t even pick the flirty dialogue. What is happening?”

You leaned in—completely aware of his flustered reaction. “This is happening,” you said, and without thinking, you grabbed his character’s avatar and pulled him into a kiss.

There was an audible crash—probably something the player knocked over in real life. “DUDE, WHAT?! THEY CAN DO THAT?!”

You pulled back, the rogue grin never leaving your face. “Yeah. I can do that.”

And from the player’s stunned silence, you knew you’d just won him over completely.

Idia was dying. He was actually dying. Not like in a literal sense—though, at this rate, his heart was pounding so hard he might as well have a heart attack—but in the "falling-for-a-freaking-NPC" kind of way. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking slightly as he adjusted his headset, trying to process what had just happened on his screen.

"Dude, what the heck? This isn’t even how the game is supposed to go. It’s an romance game! I’m supposed to pick between all the boring main characters, not… not this!"

But there you were, standing on the screen, all smug and rogue-like, after completely breaking the game’s flow. You weren’t even the love interest! You were an NPC, someone who was supposed to have a few lines, maybe a side quest if things got spicy, and then fade into obscurity. But no. You had to go and be all cool and... charismatic. What was that line you’d just dropped? "Glad to know I’m your type"? Who wrote this?? There was no way that was in the original coding. Right?

His hands flew to his hair, tugging as he stared at the screen. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been dodging all the cringy love routes for the sake of unlocking some achievements and then you—you had to appear. And now his brain was spiraling.

“I-It’s not like I’m actually into you or anything,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “You’re just… a bunch of ones and zeroes! Code! You don’t even exist!”

And yet, the thought that you might not exist stung for a second. Which was ridiculous! Completely absurd. He wasn’t the type to simp for a fictional character. Okay, maybe he was. Maybe he had done that a few times. But those were different, okay? Those characters weren’t aware. They didn’t make him feel like he was a total idiot for not picking up on how clever you were being. They didn’t flirt back.

He slammed his palm against his forehead. “Oh my god, I’m falling for an NPC. This is it. This is the end. I’ve reached the final level of loser-dom.”

Idia’s room was filled with the low hum of his computers, lights flickering like they were mocking him. Even Ortho wasn’t around to witness this, thank goodness, because if his little brother saw him like this? Pfft. Game over. Social stat: obliterated.

But then you popped up again on the screen, flashing that same grin that made him feel like his brain was overheating. Idia’s eyes widened, his heart doing that annoying thing where it felt like it was going to leap out of his chest.

“Okay, fine, yeah, you’re cute, whatever. It’s no big deal—wait, did you just wink at me? W-Was that… did the devs add that??” He paused, leaning forward, eyes glued to your in-game avatar. “This is some next-level immersion. Are you actually breaking the fourth wall?”

He was sweating. Like, actual nervous sweat. You’d thrown off the entire game script, and somehow, the rest of the game felt so... bland in comparison. The love interest? Pfft. Who cared about him anymore? You were the only interesting thing happening, and he couldn't stop thinking about what you’d do next.

“They’re just... they're just code,” Idia whispered to himself, though it sounded less convincing every time. "They don't actually know I exist.”

And yet, there was something different about the way you responded, almost like you could hear his every word. His every sarcastic comment. And the fact that you kept egging him on? Oh, no, that wasn’t fair.

Idia bit his lip. “Okay, real talk, if you were in the real world, maybe… just maybe I’d simp. But since you’re not…” He trailed off, glancing back at the screen. “Wait, why am I even thinking about this? I’m not… I’m not falling for you! I don’t fall for NPCs!”

His eyes betrayed him, though, as he clicked to continue the conversation with you. He couldn’t help it. You were so dumb, but also so funny. How could he not be intrigued? You literally defied the laws of the game!

And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, you hit him with another flirty line. Something stupid, something so you, and it was like his brain short-circuited.

“That’s so dumb,” he mumbled, feeling the heat rise to his face, “but you’re my idiot now.”

Masterlist

[inupibaldspot]

You’re jealous?

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Yuta is jealous over you and Rafayel, a game character.

A Saturday night spend quiet was normal for you and Yuta; both in bed legs tangled with breathing in sync. Yuta usually stays on his phone playing some random game — or it’s multiplayer then with Inumaki; while you scroll through social media.

But in today’s case something was different, not getting out of bed through that part stays but you were on your phone playing a game which has been on your ‘for you page’ for a while now; love and deep space.

You downloaded the otome game out of pure curiosity but now— now you were hooked. A character in particular had all your affection, Rafayel. Why? He was just so so funny and sassy.

Yuta ,completly in the dark on his girlfriend literally being swept of her feet by a game character, let’s out a sigh of relief as the match finally came to an end. The word ‘victory’ plastered on the screen.

“Baby, look.” Yuta’s soft voice breaks the silence as he shows his screen to you. “I got match mvp.”

His eyebrows furrowed, almost worried, when you paid no attention to his words. “Oh.” He says to himself when he noticed you had your earphones on.

Yuta smiles as he gently pokes your thighs which finally grabs your attention so he once again shows off his screen. “I got mvp… Inumaki-kun got bronze.” He laughs.

He watched you gaze at his screen and smiles. “That’s nice.” You say and then looks back into your screen.

Huh? That’s nice…? That’s it…? Yuta thinks confused. Where were his praises and kisses peppered all over his face? That’s what you usually did. Yuta looks over to see that you had a smile plastered on his face, almost giddy with a blush on your cheeks. Just what got you so flustered?

Silently, he makes his way closer to you as he peers over your screen. He notices a game character with dark hair whose mouth was moving as if he was saying something; but whatever that character said made you giggle.

Yuta feels his stomach churn with uncontrollable jealousy so he decided then and there he needed all of his lover’s attention. He starts off my leaning his head into your neck, which makes you raise your hand and place it on his head; playing with his hair.

But that wasn’t enough. Yuta wanted all of your attention.

He wraps his arms around your waist, lips turned into a pout looking like a kicked puppy.

When you still wasn’t looking at him, he changes tactics.

Yuta props himself up and he brings his lips near your ears as he places small kisses and then proceeds to take tiny nibbles there. “Y-Yuta…” You stammer.

Not enough.

His lips drop to your neck and then to your shoulders, leaving small trail of red marks while he brings his fingers up to pull down the small strap of your top, making the material fall.

Yuta lips curl to a satisfied smile when you finally put down your phone; your focus entirely on him.

You swallow, face heat up and breathing heavy. “Yuta… Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” You smile when you see your boyfriend pink, and he looks away from you. How cute.

“It’s just a game character, love.” You giggle. “Just a name character called Rafayel.”

“Don’t say another man’s name…”

In a swift moment, you were pinned down on you back as Yuta climbs over your. Before you could question anything, Yuta places open mouth kisses all over your neck. “And could a game character do this?” Gone was the sweet tone your boyfriend always used on you.

“N-no…” You manage to squeak out. “Only you can do that to ngh—ah! me, Yuta.”

His head falls on your shoulder placing his lips against your collarbones, the up your neck again until your lips are together, desperate. You were writhing below him and that overjoyed him.

Yuta let’s out a hoarse laugh as his fingers now tap on the waistband of your pant, his breath hot on your ears. “I’ll show you something else, that Rafayel can’t do.”

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Crew Heads with Reader: Gacha

G/N. Silly. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo)

Bro Code | Dinner | Shopping | Television | Gacha | Board Games | Suits

Honestly, this is a coordinated attack. It's unfair. You're cornered and outnumbered.

"You're rotting your brain," Johan glances over your shoulder to watch the silly mobile game you're playing on.

A terribly addictive combination of gacha and otome.

Eli gives you a look, as if to say 'Yenna would never'.

Well. You want to argue that Yenna couldn't anyway, because she doesn't understand the concept of phones or video games yet. She can't even read. So no. She can't play this very sophisticated, non fan-servicey-at-all game. But then you catch yourself and think maybe they have a point if you're about to argue why a baby couldn't play.

"I'm cutting you off," Samuel chimes in, frowning at his own phone.

"Sammy!" You gasp, eyes snapping to him and jaw dropping that he would be so cruel.

He scrolls and scrolls, his online bank statement reflected in his glasses and muttering, "How the fuck did you spend this much..."

Johan shuffles over, curious that even Samuel would be shocked.

Usually, they're at each other's throats. Johan normally never willing to get that close to Samuel of his own free will and Samuel would push him away anyway if he tried. However, your apparent frivolous gaming habit has united them.

Shame starts to creep in. Surely it can't have been that much could it. Sammy offered. It's not like he couldn't afford it. He constantly buys you much more expensive things-

Johan's eyes widen comically large. His gaze flickers over to you in judgement before continuing to watch Samuel scrolling.

-And the shame comes crashing down.

You're almost pushed over the edge when Eli flanks Samuel’s other side, wearing a matching expression as he observes your many many gaming transactions. Then in dad mode, he looks at you with disappointment and gives you an exasperated shake of the head.

(You're certain Yenna has been on the receiving end of that treatment.)

"I've cancelled everything. Unlinked it." Samuel confirms. "I don't mind spoiling you Y/N but this is ridiculous." Johan and Eli nod in agreement as you feel equal petulance and guilt.

"Shit!" Jake's voice drifts over from the other room, then you hear the creak of mattress springs and rushed steps.

He appears in the doorway, holding up his phone. An unfinished transaction on your gaming buddy's screen.

"Did Sammy cut us off?!"

"I'm also paying for YOU?!"

Damn. Jake winces and physically recoils. He didn't mean to let the cat out the bag, didn't mean to take advantage of Sammy in the first place but then he got so close to the SSS+ pull and levelling up and he just needed a couple more chances-

Oops.

In slow motion, everyone turns to Samuel. Sees his face turning pink then red then crimson. Eyes narrowed and mouth pressed into a thin line. A split second later, he lunges.

"Sammy, no!" You screech as Eli and Johan look on in amusement.

Jake weaves, narrowly dodges his punch. "I'll pay you back!"

"WITH WHAT, YOU BROKE BASTARD-"

[ventique18]

- Continuing from my last post -

Also probably the reason why I LOVE Malleus is because although it's narrated by the characters that he should be perfect, we see the exact opposite of it during the course of the story. He barely does things correctly and always screws up some way or another. He struggles a lot, he discovers there are loads of things he's unfamiliar with, and he strives hard to overcome his weaknesses even if it makes him look like an idiot.

Rather than show a perfect guy and expect women to fawn over him because he can save you and he'd ascertain a perfect future for you like what many otome games do, Malleus is presented right off the bat that he could use some help from you just as much as he can help you. It's more of a mutual give and take, rather than the usual damsel in distress MC trope that panders with idealistic fantasies. Malleus is a bit more of a lens to real life that your partner is likely to meet you as a very, very rough model and only through spending time with you, can he be smoothed out to be someone who melds perfectly with you.