#otome writers

[sylus-shivanika]

Let's talk about Sylus's recent secret time, "Heatwave."

Sylus—the man who lived his life all alone, who never received comfort or warmth when he was sick, and who is at constant risk of showing vulnerability because of his many enemies. He has always been a hyper-independent person, believing he can handle everything on his own. Imagine living a lonely and dangerous life, yet deep down, there’s an unhealed inner child secretly longing for comfort and warmth when sick. It’s heartbreakingly tragic.

When he says, "No one is allowed here," it’s because he doesn’t want to show his vulnerable state. He’s convinced he won’t receive any comfort, but then he sees MC. That’s when he realizes—she is the exception. She can give him the warmth and care he’s always needed.

And the way he asks, "Let me use your lap as a pillow," "Be gentle," and "Hold me"—it’s as if he transforms into a needy and clingy person, allowing his wounded inner child to seek healing. When he refuses to take medicine because it's bitter, it's like he's finally letting himself act stubborn, just like a child who wants to be taken care of. Gosh, I will never get over the fact that he acted like a baby! This is such a rare and beautiful side of our beloved Onychinus leader.

Then, we see his possessive side emerge:

He asks, "What's on your neck? You were putting on lipstick, and it accidentally got here." Then he kisses her neck and says, "I won’t believe that."

The way he questions the lipstick—almost as if he’s making an excuse for why her neck is marked—shows how much it bothers him to think of someone else being close to her. Even if she says it was an accident, he chooses not to believe her, because deep down, he wants to believe there’s something more—something his.

And the kiss? That’s both a possessive act and a desperate attempt to feel connected to her. It’s as if he’s silently saying, “You’re mine,” even though he refuses to acknowledge how much he truly cares.

This scene captures Sylus fighting so hard to maintain control while unknowingly revealing his feelings—his jealousy, his possessiveness, his desire for her. He’s caught between protecting himself and letting his emotions slip through the cracks. It’s raw, messy, and powerful.

And then, he calls her "Ice pack."

That’s such a soft Sylus moment! He’s still holding on to his tough persona, but his tenderness seeps through. Calling her "Ice pack" is his way of keeping things casual, but it also shows how much he craves her care. And when he asks her to hold him—that’s a huge step. He’s letting go of his usual control to let her in.

Finally, when he says, "We should have done this earlier," it feels like he’s realizing, maybe for the first time, that it’s okay to be vulnerable with her.

Our Sylus is finally allowing himself to be open, little by little.❤️

[sushiyuzu]

marked by desire

sylus x fem!reader

warning: soft smut. minors dni!

you barely have time to react before sylus pins you against the wall, his hands firm on your hips, holding you in place. his red eyes bore into yours, dark with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. the air between you is thick with tension, his body pressed close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him.

“you think you can walk around like that and not expect a reaction?” his voice is low, a dangerous edge to it that sends a shiver down your spine. his fingers dig into your skin, possessive, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i wasn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a growl, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s all hunger and need. it’s rough, demanding, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he pulls back just enough to speak.

“you’re mine,” sylus mutters against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy. “i’m not fond of dividing my attention.”

the words send a jolt of desire through you, his possessiveness stirring something deep within. you can feel his need for control in the way he holds you, the way his hands roam over your body, claiming every inch of you as his own.

his lips trail down your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin, marking you as his. you gasp, your hands clutching at his shirt as he moves lower, the sensation of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

sylus doesn’t stop there. his hands slide up your torso, slipping under your top to cup your breasts, his touch firm and possessive. “these are mine too,” he growls, his eyes dark with desire as he pushes the fabric up, exposing your bare skin to his hungry gaze.

before you can respond, sylus dips his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. the sensation is electric, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before he starts to suck, his lips and teeth working in tandem to draw out the most delicious sounds from you. you moan, your back arching into him as he lavishes attention on your breast, his free hand kneading the other, his touch rough and demanding.

“you taste so good, kitten.” sylus murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction. he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention, licking and sucking until you’re trembling in his arms, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps.

every kiss, every bite, every flick of his tongue feels like a brand, marking you as his in a way that goes beyond just words. the intensity of it all is overwhelming, your body reacting to his every touch as if you were made for him, your breasts aching for more of his attention.

sylus is relentless, his mouth moving between your breasts, leaving a trail of marks that bloom under his lips, a reminder of just how thoroughly he’s claimed you. “no one else gets to see you like this,” he growls, his voice rough with possessive desire. “no one else gets to touch you.”

you can only nod, your words lost to the pleasure coursing through your body. his dominance, his obsession with you, fuels your own desire, making you want to give him everything he demands and more.

you squirm, your hands clutching at his shirt as he moves lower, the sensation of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

“do you understand?” sylus demands, his voice rough as his hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher. “you’re mine.”

“y-yes,” you breathe, the word coming out as a whimper as his hand reaches the apex of your thighs, fingers brushing against you through your panties.

sylus smirks at your response, his eyes filled with a dark satisfaction as he presses his fingers against you, teasing. “good,” he murmurs, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that’s just as possessive as before. his touch grows firmer, more insistent, as he rubs you through the thin fabric, drawing out moans that he swallows with every kiss.

your mind is a haze of pleasure, the feeling of sylus’s hands on you, his lips against yours, overwhelming all your senses. the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, tangled in each other, lost in the intensity of the moment.

when he finally slips his hand beneath your panties, touching your bare skin, you can’t hold back the gasp that escapes you. sylus’s eyes darken further, and he presses closer, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “i want to hear you,” he commands, his fingers working you with a skill that leaves you trembling.

you obey, your moans filling the room as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. sylus’s mouth is everywhere, his hands relentless as he takes you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the pleasure he gives you.

finally, when you’re on the verge of begging for him, sylus pulls back, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you, your chest rising and falling with every ragged breath, your skin marked with his love bites. “perfect,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your body to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as he presses you harder against the wall.

you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the hard length of him pressing against you, and a fresh wave of desire floods through you. sylus grins at your reaction, his hands gripping your hips as he presses a teasing kiss to your lips, before trailing his mouth down your neck, sucking on the spot that makes you whimper.

“remember this,” sylus says, his voice dark and commanding. “you belong to me.”

and with that, he captures your lips again, pulling you into a kiss that’s both a promise and a claim, sealing the words he’s just spoken. his hands roam your body, gripping your hips as he starts to rock against you, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. every touch, every kiss is laced with his possessive need for you, a need that you’re more than willing to satisfy.

[mephist00o]

random sylus headcannons bc I can't sleep 😴

WORD COUNT: 0.3k?

•

tags: chubby!reader , fem presenting reader , black!reader in mind , pure fluff, some mentions of myth!Sylus (don't think it's TOO much of a spoiler) , a little bit sappy near the end

Sylus helps out A TONN on wash days. You don't even need to explain anything, he's automatically got your bag with all the essentials (combs, creams, shampoos, conditioner).

He definitely did ALL the necessary research on your specific hair type as well.

I feel like Sylus is a sucker for any type of braids on reader. He just thinks they look majestic 😍.

Box braids, Bohemian, goddess, cornrows, it doesn't matterrrr

Doesn't mean Sylus doesn't love your natural hair though, in fact he ADORES it even more.

And you already know you'll never be low on supplies.

Sylus probably has a whole lot of land dedicated to the shipment of just your hair supplies (joking, but not really).

Sylus is the type to prefer slower mornings, especially when he actually gets the time to do them with you.

With how much he's away doing business deals and whatnot, it's something he values soso much.

I'm talking you both waking up together and you helping him shave his stubble, then proceeding to have a mini shaving cream battle (I'm fully projecting here but anyways 😶).

I know Sylus finds it so sweet how you get along with the twins. Seeing you interact with people in his life makes his heart beat out of his chest (he'll never admit this to you).

Sylus would definitely love showing you his favorite jazz vinyls to you! He would go into full detail on each album and the artists behind it.

Sylus would have a little shine in his eyes as he speaks and it makes you weak in the knees.

Luke and Kieran would 1000% "accidentally" nonchalantly mention something sweet Sylus said about you in passing

Then they'd immediately beg you NOT to say anything to Sylus.

If you had any body issues he'd shut that down real quick.

I know it's something mentioned before in headcannons about Sylus, but he just seems like the type to love a person with extra curves.

And he loves the way your body looks in dresses or just literally anything you wear.

He loves to see you in HIS clothes, or clothes that are similar to his color pallet.

It makes him feel special knowing that he's fashion sense is slowly rubbing off on you.

Sylus also loves seeing you in clothes he picks for you.

Mephisto will be sent out by Sylus to just check in on you whenever you are not around (I'm pretty sure that's cannon in game too? During one of his phone calls?)

You get really agitated by Mephisto's constant pecking at your window at night but Sylus simply says, "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I never checked up on you?"

He would of course shower you with lavish gifts, no matter how much you get flustered by the prices (Sylus gotta show off that black card somehow).

It's mainly just Sylus's way of showing he cares. It's a trait he carried on from his previous dragon life.

Sylus isn't the type to be extremely sappy, but with you he fully drops his savvy business man persona.

Cuddle sessions go CRAZYYYYYYYYYYY.

Y'all can fight me on this but his favorite cuddle position is having you face him WITHOUT A DOUBT.

I think just the intimacy of it makes him happy.

Sylus loves watching you fall asleep before him, he finds your sleeping face adorable.

I also think you wouldn't need to worry about your bonnet being 20 feet away from your bed 😭 (adding this bc this happens to me WAY to often).

Little sad below 👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

Even though Sylus remembered everything, nothing could've prepared him for meeting you again for the first time.

He knew after your first meeting It would take some time to get as close again, but he won't lie and say it didn't hurt in the beginning.

None the less Sylus NEVER once blamed you. In fact he appreciated you even more as time went on.

He already thought of you as drop dead gorgeous but besides that he fell in love with your character, your entire being, your soul.

All the good, and all the bad, Sylus welcomed it with open arms.

The more he learns about you, the more he's enamored by you.

To Sylus, you're his entire world, and he'll let you know until you breathe your last breath.

Lmk if you want anymore headcannons!!

[vnknownmc]

Sometimes I'll see headcanons that make demons super different from both angels and humans like different blood, teeth, venom,... Dicks, ect ect which apply to the brothers all the time and it really makes me wonder how much more painful the fall would've been.

That is an entire change of your whole biology. Like no wonder they stayed in the castle for awhile after falling, they must've just been like- sitting there in pain as their bones shift, flesh mutate and tear and change forever. A true punishment from God.

Do you also think there was a short time between changing from an angel to a demon where both sides violently rejected each other? A lot of headcanons I see say that angel blood is toxic to demons ( or vice versa ) so there was a period of time where their newly developed demon parts kept getting attacked by the angelic blood still pumping through their veins leaving the brothers with nothing to do but hope that whatever damned power was twisting their bodies would do it a little faster.

[lavendel081]

Men. Men . Men

[clumsydolly]

Can you do Obey me x deuce spade!reader + bonus is obey me meeting reader's mom?

Obey me x Deuce Spade!Reader

The 4 elder brothers!

Warnings!⚠️: mentions of gang violence

Thank you for the ask! Please send more I'm loving these! The others will be coming up in the next 2 posts since this is sooooooo long!

Lucifer

The first time Lucifer met Y/n, he assumed someone had mixed up the exchange student files again. Surely this wasn’t the actual candidate Diavolo had approved. Not the one currently bowing so hard they nearly headbutted a House of Lamentation pillar. Not the one tripping over their own shoelaces trying to salute him.

“Permission to be a model student, sir!!”

“…You may… stand normally.”

Y/n tried. And then promptly knocked over a very expensive vase.

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something about fate testing him on purpose.

Mammon immediately declared Y/n his new favorite chaos buddy. Levi fled. Satan watched like a scientist witnessing a lab rat chew through uranium. But Lucifer? Lucifer didn’t toss them out, despite every possible warning bell ringing in his brain. He just… sighed.

Because at least Y/n was polite.

Which made their explosive entrance into the Devildom the most baffling kind of paradox: they were courteous, earnest, rule-abiding until the moment someone insulted their cooking, questioned their work ethic, or heaven forbid said anything remotely shady about their mother.

Then it was punches first, diplomacy later.

“You have a... unique interpretation of decorum,” Lucifer said after dragging Y/n away from a bar brawl they’d instigated because a demon sneered at their hair.

Y/n, eyes wide with shame and adrenaline, bowed again. “Sorry, sir! I’m working on managing my temper. It’s just he said I looked like a rotting goblin fungus!”

Lucifer paused. “You don’t.”

“…Thank you?”

Somewhere between the formal salutes and the unintentional arson (long story, demon microwave), Lucifer began to tolerate Y/n. Then admire them. Then perhaps against his better judgment enjoy their presence.

They tried so hard. So embarrassingly, unreasonably hard. Studying obscure demon laws at 2 AM. Volunteering for dangerous assignments because “it’s character-building.” Refusing to swear even when possessed by a low-level poltergeist. All of it reeked of someone desperately trying to prove they belonged.

Lucifer saw the cracks in the performance before anyone else did. The way Y/n would downplay praise. How they’d snap upright when criticized, like bracing for a storm. How every failure, even minor ones, clearly haunted them for days.

“Perfection is not a requirement,” Lucifer told them once, after they spent seven hours trying to rewrite a single Devildom history essay.

“But what if it’s the only thing I’ve got going for me...the only thing I want right now?” Y/n mumbled, eyes low.

Lucifer looked at them for a long moment, then said quietly, “You have far more than that. But if you insist on proving it through unnecessary self-punishment, I will deduct house points.”

That earned a choked laugh the kind that startled both of them.

From then on, things shifted. Lucifer still lectured. Y/n still caused chaos. But there was something else beneath the surface a kind of understanding. Trust, maybe. Or something softer. Something that settled into their silences like an unspoken agreement.

Y/n stopped bowing so much. Lucifer stopped sighing quite so dramatically.

And once, when a visiting noble mocked Y/n’s background at a diplomatic dinner, Lucifer simply raised a brow and said, “You’ll want to choose your words more wisely in my presence.” The air went cold. The noble shut up. And Y/n didn’t say a word, but their ears turned red.

The next day, they broke a chandelier trying to install magical LED lights. Lucifer screamed into a cushion.

Balance.

_____

Bonus

It was supposed to be a routine visitor’s day.

And then she arrived.

Five-foot-four. A trench coat. The energy of a retired boxer and a school principal rolled into one. Y/n’s mom stepped into the Devildom like she owned it.

Lucifer was ready for demons. His younger brothers. Monsters. Celestial horrors. Maybe even his father.

He was not ready for this woman.

“Lucifer, right?” she said with a firm handshake that nearly crushed bone. “Thanks for keeping my kid from dying. Mostly.”

“I… try,” Lucifer said.

“You’re doing great,” she said. “I brought muffins.”

The demons descended like a swarm of hungry puppies. Beel cried. Mammon tried to flirt and got handed a wallet budgeting spreadsheet. Satan was given a bookmark labeled “For Calming Down.” Asmodeus received unsolicited skincare advice. Levi tried to sneak away and got roped into a lecture about posture.

Lucifer stood there, utterly blindsided, while Y/n nervously hovered nearby.

“She, uh… can be a bit intense,” Y/n muttered.

Lucifer straightened his coat. “She is… formidable.”

“Yeah. She once grounded me for sneezing too suspiciously.”

Y/n’s mom leaned over to whisper in Lucifer’s ear.

“You’re the one my kid respects, huh?”

“…It appears so.”

“Well, don’t break their heart. Or their spirit. Or their GPA.”

Lucifer nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

And that was how the mightiest demon in the Devildom found himself cleaning the House of Lamentation top to bottom before her departure because you don’t disappoint Y/n’s mom.

Even Diavolo looked nervous.

Lucifer decided, privately, that he’d rather face an angelic rebellion again than be scolded by that woman.

Mammon

Mammon knew you were gonna be a handful from day one.

You marched into the House of Lamentation wearing your school uniform like a knight’s armor, chest puffed out, eyes determined, and immediately tripped over a carpet and knocked over a priceless antique lamp. Then you stood up, saluted, and shouted, “I’ll repay the damages with honor and integrity, sir!!”

Lucifer nearly popped a blood vessel. Mammon fell in love on the spot. (Not that he’d say that out loud.)

“You’re weird,” he said. “But like… the good kind.”

“Thanks! I practiced.”

“...Huh?”

It was over from there.

You and Mammon were chaos incarnate. Not because you meant to be (well, not always) but because your combined energy was what scientists would call “statistically improbable and legally concerning.”

Mammon loved your “good student” act. Loved how you saluted teachers, color-coded your schedule, and got genuinely emotional about doing your best. He also loved how it all unraveled the second someone insulted your shoes, looked at you funny, or made a crack about your background.

“Y/n! We’re supposed to be undercover! Why did ya punch that guy?!”

“He said my tie was crooked.”

“IT WAS CROOKED!”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Mammon!”

You made everything dramatic. Mammon lived for it.

But what really did it for him what really made you his favorite human (don’t tell the others) was the fact that you genuinely cared.

Like, really cared.

You tried to do the right thing, even when it blew up in your face. You apologized when you messed up (usually loudly, with several bows). You panicked over minor failures like you'd failed your ancestors. And you looked at Mammon, Mammon, the one everyone underestimated like he was capable of doing something right.

No one ever did that.

“Hey, Mammon? You were really cool in that mission today.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You distracted the guards like a total pro. I bet I could never pull that off!”

His cheeks turned red. “W-Well of course ya couldn’t! I’m the Great Mammon, after all!”

And sure, he said it cocky. But that grin stuck around the rest of the day.

You backed him up in every dumb scheme, and he covered for you every time your “upholding justice” turned into “accidentally lighting a demon's hair on fire with pure intent.”

You once both got stuck in a magic vending machine because Mammon told you it “probably had hidden treasure,” and you responded with, “Then it’s my duty to protect it!” Three hours later, Satan pulled you out with a crowbar and a threat.

The two of you had a rhythm. You’d panic, he’d lie. You’d overthink, he’d distract you with snacks. You’d yell “FOR HONOR” and Mammon would scream “FOR MONEY” right next to you as you both charged into deeply inadvisable situations.

Lucifer aged ten years.

But behind the comedy, Mammon saw the cracks.

How hard you were on yourself. How you tried to hide it by being extra loud, extra formal, extra everything. How when you messed up (even just a little), you’d get real quiet and say stuff like:

“I bet you think I’m just a screw-up.”

And Mammon the certified King of Regret would shake your shoulders and go, “Hey. Stop that. You’re awesome, okay? So what if you messed up? That just means we get to fix it together, duh.”

You’d blink. Then salute.

“Yes sir, Partner in Crime, sir!”

He liked the way you said “we.” Like you meant it.

_____

Bonus

Mammon didn’t know fear. Not really. Not even when Lucifer threatened to hang him upside down by his ankles.

But the second he met her?

Y/n’s Mom?

He squealed.

She showed up in a trench coat and a sharp bob haircut, holding a thermos labeled “Mom Fuel” and wearing the expression of someone who’d personally fought a god and won.

“Oh, you’re Mammon, right?” she said, voice chipper. “The one my kid won’t shut up about?”

Mammon beamed. “Heh… yeah, that’s me, the Great Mam—”

“Good. I brought photos.”

She proceeded to show the entire demon population of RAD baby pictures of you covered in glitter, crying next to a broken tricycle, and winning a third-place ribbon for an egg-and-spoon race. Levi printed one and put it in his locker.

Mammon tried to escape but tripped on a chair leg.

Y/n groaned and whispered, “She does this to assert dominance. Don’t resist.”

Satan, who had feared no mortal, bowed respectfully. “Ma’am. You terrify me, congratulations, not even Lucifer can do that.”

Lucifer handed her tea. Diavolo cleared his entire schedule to meet her. Barbatos took notes. Asmodeus asked for parenting advice.

And Mammon?

He hid behind a curtain.

Until she found him, looked him in the eye, and said, “Thanks for looking after my kid.”

Mammon turned redder than a cursed strawberry.

“I mean, yeah, of course, they’re my—uh—my best human! I always—uh—yeah. No problem. Ma’am.”

She smiled. “You ever hurt them?”

Mammon gulped. “Not… on purpose?”

“Good.” She patted his cheek. “Because I will find you.”

He believed her.

And he knew, in that moment, that if anyone hurt you — Mammon included — they’d have to answer to both your mom and him.

Which meant they wouldn’t survive the week.

Leviathan

Levi was fully prepared to ignore you.

You were loud. You were earnest. You saluted Lucifer like a JRPG side character. You declared your goal in life was to become “a model RAD honor student who brings pride to their family name” on your first day in homeroom. You even wore a shiny tie clip with a little lightning bolt on it, because, quote: “It’s motivational. Like, zap! Good grades!”

Levi immediately typed “NPC energy” into his D.D.D. notes app and avoided eye contact for the first two weeks.

But then. Then. You sat next to him during demon history class, leaned over in the middle of a pop quiz, and whispered:

“I totally bombed this. You got any anime recs to cry over my failure with?”

And Levi… froze.

Because what kind of normie fails a test and then asks for anime to mourn with?

And worse, worse, what kind of normie already watched all the ones he recommended and wanted to debate the lore??

You two spent an entire lunch arguing about whether the twist in Witch Princess x Hell Blade Academy was a metaphor for generational trauma or just bad writing. You had a spreadsheet. Levi had footnotes. It was… incredible.

From that day on, he stopped avoiding you. He started anticipating you.

Because you weren’t just some cheerful honor-student wannabe you were a disaster in a tie who went full anime shonen protagonist every time you failed a quiz. You didn’t study because you were “already a failure” you studied because you wanted to make your mom proud. You didn’t eat instant noodles because you were lazy you did it because “that’s what the heroes eat when they’re struggling!”

“You’re a walking redemption arc,” Levi muttered one day, as you poured energy drink into a mug shaped like your head.

“Thanks,” you said, completely sincere. “But I’m still in the filler episodes. Just wait until my next season. Character development arc incoming.”

Levi had never met anyone who treated real life like an anime and meant it.

He tried not to get too attached. Really. But then you called him “Master of the Game Caves,” gave his streaming setup a respectful bow, and offered him a limited-edition co-op controller you’d won in a quiz raffle.

“For our destined battles,” you said dramatically.

Levi short-circuited and had to lie face-down on his beanbag for fifteen minutes.

You two became inseparable in the dumbest way possible.

You cheered for him during tournaments like he was saving the Devildom. You forced him to drink water and stretch during long raids. You lent him your study notes meticulously color-coded with stickers that said things like “YOU’RE SMART!” and “YOUR MOM LOVES YOU!” (He didn’t cry. You cried.)

And when you were spiraling when you failed a test and whispered, “I can’t even get my grades up. I’m letting her down again,” Levi didn’t give you a pep talk.

He handed you a game controller.

“This one’s hard. You’re gonna die in the first five minutes,” he said. “But if you beat it, I’ll believe in your future. And so will you.”

You blinked. Then nodded. “Okay. But we’re taking turns. Co-op style.”

So you died in the first two minutes. Screamed. Respawned. Tried again. Yelled louder.

Levi didn’t say it, but he was proud. Of your determination. Of your glitter tie. Of how hard you were trying not to give up on yourself.

You were his favorite protagonist. Just… not one from any show. You were your own series.

_____

Bonus

One day, in the middle of a peaceful afternoon gaming session, a chime rang out from Levi’s portal mirror.

“Delivery for one Y/n!” came a voice. “Special message from: MOM.”

You screamed. Levi nearly fell out of his chair. A magical hologram popped up… and there she was. Your mom. Power stance. Smiling like she’d just beaten up Satan (the biblical one and the one in The House of House of Lamentation).

“Hi sweetie!” she chirped. “Just checking in! Don’t forget to drink water, and remember: bad grades don’t make you a bad person. Also, I will fight any demon who makes you cry. Including the Avatar of Envy!”

Levi screeched. Hid under his desk.

“Ma’am I-I didn’t—! I swear I only encourage healthy coping mechanisms and gaming-as-bonding—!”

She gave him a wink. “Relax, I like you. You’re the one who got my kid into that murder mermaid show, right?”

He blinked. “You watched—?”

“I binged it twice. That betrayal arc? Devastating. Anyway—carry on! I love you! BYE!”

Pop. The magic hologram vanished.

You and Levi sat in stunned silence. Then you looked at him, pale and wide-eyed.

“She’s always like this.”

Levi stared into the middle distance. “I think I saw my life flash before my eyes. But… it had good subtitles.”

You snorted. “She likes you, you know.”

“She threatened me with love.”

“And you deserved it.”

Levi turned pink. “I… guess I kinda did.”

He didn’t admit it. But the next time you rage-quit a study session, he whispered, “Honor student arc unlocked,” and handed you a juice box.

Because if anyone was gonna power-up into greatness with friendship and drama, it was gonna be you.

Satan

Satan’s first impression of you was… confusion.

You showed up to the Devildom with the kind of energy usually reserved for teen detective novels and delinquent-turned-valedictorian anime arcs. You introduced yourself in homeroom by accidentally knocking over your desk, then immediately saluted and said, “It’s okay! I’m turning over a new leaf!”

He assumed you were a lost cause.

Then you turned around, fixed your chair, and muttered under your breath: “I’m gonna be an honor student. I swear. For Mom.”

Satan blinked. Now that... was interesting.

You had rage. You had guilt. You had potential. And worst of all, you had no idea how to direct any of it.

Satan watched you bomb your first paper because you forgot the citation format, then beg Lucifer for extra credit like your life depended on it. He watched you march into the library with fire in your eyes and twelve color-coded highlighters. He watched you punch a vending machine because it ate your study snacks and yell, “This is just like failing calculus!!” at full volume.

He was obsessed!

Not that he’d admit it.

At first, he tried to help you the normal way lending you a study guide, asking simple questions, sending notes with little corrections. But your brain was like a cat in a laser pointer factory. You got flustered easily, tried way too hard, and had exactly two settings: Determined Anime Hero or Absolutely Panicking.

“You don’t have to act like this is a battle to the death,” Satan said one afternoon, watching you stare down a pile of demon law textbooks like it had personally insulted your ancestors.

You tightened your tie. “Every quiz is a step toward redemption. A test is never just a test. It’s a challenge… for my mom’s respect.”

Satan almost dropped his cup of tea.

Because here’s the thing: he got it. The anger. The drive. The feeling that if you could just fix this one thing this one part of yourself maybe everything else would finally feel okay.

He saw the cracks under your shiny honor student dream. The way you clenched your jaw every time someone called you “surprisingly competent.” The way you nearly cried after finally getting a B+ on your magic theory quiz and then laughed it off like it was nothing.

“You’ve got something to prove,” he said one night, catching you scribbling flashcards in the library at 2 a.m. “To yourself. To your mom. To everyone who ever looked at you like you’d never get it right.”

You stared at him.

Then nodded, slow. “Yeah. But… mostly to her.”

You didn’t say who. You didn’t have to.

After that, Satan became your unofficial mentor. He pretended it was because he “hated inefficiency” and “couldn’t stand bad study habits,” but you both knew better. He liked helping you. He liked watching you improve. He liked seeing someone want to change and actually fight for it.

He made you read three books a week and quizzed you on them out loud. You nearly died of embarrassment the first time you had to summarize Dante’s Seven Rings of Infernal Logic in front of Lucifer. But you did it. And Satan beamed like a proud tutor from the shadows.

The two of you developed a language of chaos.

When you were spiraling, he’d toss you a book and say “page 74.” You’d know it meant “breathe, refocus, you’re fine.” When he was fuming after an argument with Lucifer, you’d sneak him a cookie with “FIGHT THE SYSTEM” written in frosting.

He called you a gremlin. You called him “Professor Kitty Ears.”

You got kicked out of the library once for screaming “IT’S NOT JUST A POP QUIZ, IT’S MY FUTURE.”

Satan bought you a planner that day and wrote in the front: You are more than your worst day.

You cried. He pretended not to notice.

And the best part? He never mocked your goal.

He took your desire to be an honor student as seriously as you did. He didn’t laugh when you practiced your speeches. He corrected your posture when you bowed to professors. He even helped you rehearse your “model student monologue” for the academic awards and only made fun of you a little.

“You realize your dramatic flair borders on theatrical delusion, right?”

You grinned. “Thanks! I’m working on adding background music next.”

One day, when you finally got an A on a test you’d bombed before, you sprinted into the kitchen, waving it over your head.

Satan looked up from his tea. “You did it?”

“I did it,” you said, out of breath. “I did it, and I didn’t light anything on fire this time.”

He smiled. “That’s progress.”

You weren’t perfect. You weren’t even close. But you were trying. Fighting. Changing.

And Satan, the Avatar of Wrath, respected that more than anything.

So when you asked him if demons could write letters to human moms, just to say hey, your kid’s kind of amazing, he didn’t hesitate.

He handed you a pen.

And watched you write.

_____

Bonus

Y/n had warned Satan about their mom. Stern. Proud. "Carries a slipper and the wrath of generations before her." He thought they were exaggerating. Until he saw her.

She didn’t even flinch when Satan offered his name and title. In fact, she just raised an eyebrow.

"Demon or not, if you lead my child into another mess, I’ll have your tail on my mantle."

Satan blinked. A long silence passed.

Then he smiled.

"I see where Y/n gets their spine. It’s an honor."

Surprisingly, they got along great after that. He brought her old books. She grilled him on his intentions like a commander. She didn’t fear him. And he? He found that strangely comforting.

"So, you’re the one making my child believe they're not stupid. Good. Keep doing it."

"Yes, ma’am."

And that was the moment Satan officially feared one human on Earth.

Thank you for reading! As said the others will be out soon! As always Reblogs are encouraged and loved!

[widemushroom]

I realized one of my favorite artists had blocked me because I overwhelmed them with my enthusiasm and excitement every time they posted something and kept leaving long comments, lots of emoji hearts,...🤣😅

I was wondering why they had not posted anything in a while, then I checked their page and realized I was blocked

I only have the people who kept encouraging us to leave loads of comments with all details regarding our enthusiasm to blame for that 🤣🤣

[onyourowndaisymae]

strawberries

mammon hears you're missing something from the human world. so, he decides to fetch it for you.

content + warnings: just some cute (implied) x reader, can be read as platonic, normal mammon tsundere shenanigans, fluff

word count: 952

[longer oc version coming soon?]

mammon doesn't particularly think he's a nosy person. if you're having a conversation within earshot, then surely you're comfortable with someone nearby listening in. and when it comes to matters involving you-- well, surely your first man deserves to know more about you than anyone else, right?

while casually "passing by" (and definitely not stopping outside the door to the kitchen to listen in when he hears your voice get all soft and sentimental), mammon hears you talking to beel. you're talking about something you used to eat as a kid, laughing as you share how you used to make yourself sick on summer nights eating your fill. you paint a picture with your words of yourself several decades previous, with sweet red juice dripping down your chin, leafy tops discarded in the yard as you played long into the sunset. beel eventually has to ask you to stop-- he's actively eating his own meal, but your descriptions are so colorful that his stomach howls with want anyways.

mammon's lost in thought by the time he wanders off. what were these splendorous fruits you spoke so highly of? did they have a devildom equivalent? he didn't even catch its name...

part of him wants to grab these magical fruits and use them to turn a profit. since the exchange program had been initially proposed, a small but growing faction of demons had become obsessed with anything relating to the human realm. food, clothes, entertainment, etc-- all of it was heralded as exciting and mystifying. but the other part of him wants to see if you really liked them as much as you said. he wants to hear the stories directly from you, not overheard in the hallway, on how much you loved these little fruits.

a plan begins to form in his head. he'd be flying by the seat of his pants, but...

"they're a summer-y red human fruit. y'know, with the juice that gets all over ya?"

two teenage employees stare at mammon, trying to understand what the hell he's describing. he's speaking cryptically, like he doesn't even know what he's looking for.

"sir, can you be more specific?" the employee with flaming red hair asks.

"you said a summer fruit?" the other employee, an older blonde girl, asks. "like, maybe... watermelon chunks?"

"I don't know, maybe?" mammon's face is just as befuddled as before.

"here," the ginger proposes. "how about we go get some samples and have him taste everything? maybe he'll be able to figure it out then."

mammon is left standing alone as the young girls dart off towards another market stall, whispering and plotting as they scurry together. he feels like an idiot, truly. damn you. damn you and your pretty words, your smile, the way you make him feel so in love with you that he's willing to brave a human world market by himself on a busy sunday just to make you happy. his cheeks feel warm just thinking about it.

the girls return as quick at they left, a little basket of fruit donated by some nearby stalls to help the poor confused man nearby find fruit for his beloved (a bit dramatic of a marketing pitch-- but they're not exactly wrong). they eagerly beckon him to try all of what they brought. after all, helping someone is much more interesting than, say, doing the more boring tasks in their job description.

watermelon are nice, but the moment he see the actual size of the whole fruit, he knows he's got the wrong one. cherries are too tart. he can't imagine you gleefully popping them into mouth as a child without choking and dying on a pit (humans are so fragile). raspberries are close, but he isn't quite convinced...

then he sees them pull out a fruit with the leafy green top-- if only he'd remembered that earlier-- and he knows he's found what he needed.

"what are these called?" he asks.

"strawberries?"

there's a sense of awe in your voice as you look down at the little container. your favorite childhood snack is staring back at you, and they look just as wonderful as ever. mammon's face is red as he shrugs noncommittally.

"yeah, well, whatever. those lousy witches gave 'em to me while i was up in the human realm. i figured you'd know what to do with 'em."

he's lying. you could tell he would before he even opened his mouth, but you don't mind. the berries are vibrant and pretty under the kitchen lights.

"would you like to share them with me?"

"huh?"

his confusion only makes you laugh. you take your time washing them off, telling him the stories of how much you loved eating strawberries and running around your back yard at night. you have a feeling he knows these already. but he listens intently, arms crossed as he leans back against the counter and watches you, sprinkling in some commentary now and again about how human children are strange. there's a soft look on his face as he watches you work.

finally, you back to the counter and sprinkle a light dusting of sugar on the strawberry, then hold it up for him to try. his fingers brush against yours, but you make a noise and open your mouth-- you want him to do the same. he gets red again, eyes darting around for a good several moments, before hesitantly leaning in to take a bite.

a dribble of juice trails from the corner of his lips. you smile, chest warm, and thank him for caring so much about you. his sheepish smile only makes the strawberry taste that much sweeter as you take a bite yourself.

[equinox-86]

𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖗

"𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑝 𝑖𝑡 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑒? 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭..." 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑟.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛-𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑚. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒.

𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒, 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑢𝑥𝑢𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑚. 𝐴 𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐱 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠, ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎.

𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑦 "𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑛." 𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐳𝐞𝐢𝐭 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒. 𝐴 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑...

"𝐇𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫."

⋆┈┈⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅┈┈⋆

The Little Red Riding Hood AU in my version is a little inspired by Alice: Madness Returns, hence why not only is her design more black, but she is also a "Red-caped Grim Reaper" who delivers her victims their last supper before taking them to the afterlife. I wanted to draw her scythe, but that was too much detail for the picture. I left it at just that :> Noctis can't fight anything cute and fluffy, that's why she doesn't try to kill Shin here

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi there,

I have gotten into reading reincarnation otome game stories. So, I wanted to ask if you could write a yandere reincarnation otome story. Where MC is from the modern/real world dies and is put into a game that she recently plays.

The game is something like horror romance mystery genre. That she is a huge fan, and she was still in the process of clearing each of the routes and each route had something to do with the overall mystery.

the romance aspect of the game has like 4 guys and a secret character.

I’m going to try my best with this! All the pictures I use belong to whoever drew them! (These pictures are just ones I found on Pinterest)

-If you were to ask yourself a week ago ‘is this real’ or ‘am I in the most popular yandere otome game out there at the moment as a side character but all the capture targets are obsessed with me’ you probably would have checked yourself into the loony bin.

-You had been walking home, listening to music so you didn’t hear the screech of the tires as Truck-kun made you into a street pizza due to failed brakes, but you jolted awake in a body that wasn’t your own, despite it still looking a lot like you.

-You were inside Till Death, the most popular otome game on the market at the moment, popular for it’s intense storytelling, handsome and beautiful characters, and multiple routes to choose from with different endings for each capture target.

-You played all the routes, including the secret route and you loved it- the game was beautiful and amazing, but now being in the game, after you had come across every single capture target that seemed to be drawn to you- you were so freaked out! You just wanted to go home!

-The story of Till Death was MC, the player, is a first-year college student and wants to finally get a boyfriend and you must navigate through your college classes via various mini games with increasing difficulty as the story goes on, making friends, and meeting potential new boos.

-However, these capture targets love MC so much after you help them in small ways, helping pick up paperwork, giving them directions, little things- but to them you were like an angel on earth, their reason for living.

-This wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t so obnoxiously jealous- threatening you and others if they ever catch you with anyone else, and in bad endings they will kill your friends, kill you, or kill themselves, unable to live without you.

-You were just a background character- you were just filler to make the school look full! Why were all these gorgeous people so obsessed with you when you were just a background character?!

-You were hoping that in this role in this new world you would be able to survive, just go to college then leave and live out your new life in this world in peace!

-You were somehow stuck in the super-ultra-hard-to get harem route where all five capture targets wanted you, and they were willing to do anything to get you.

-You were nervous, walking on campus, eyes darting around before you heard, “Y/N!” you flinched and turned, seeing Mattie, the ‘childhood friend’, a blond man that reminded you of a Golden Retriever.

-You greeted him politely, trying to play off that you were nervous as he grabbed your hands in his own, his eyes large and filled with tears, “I was so worried when you didn’t answer my text this morning- I thought something terrible happened to you!”

-You struggled to free yourself, but without any luck as you just smiled, trying to play it off, “It was two am Mattie- I was asleep.” He seemed to sag in relief, beaming so brightly at you before you made a quick exit, “I gotta get to class- bye Mattie!” and you quickly rushed off, leaving him staring after you in surprise.

-You made it to your class and sat down, sighing softly before someone sat next to you, “Rough morning?” you flinched, looking over quickly to see Nikolas, the ‘rich boy’ who smiled at you, leaning his cheek on his hand, looking at you like a starved dog looking at a piece of meat as you tried to play off you were nervous, ��Just busy this morning- a lot to do.”

-Nikolas took your hand in his own, pecking the back of it, “You wouldn’t have to do anything if you moved in with me- my servants would take care of everything for you.” You tried to refuse politely, but his eyes seemed to shift, growing darker, wanting you all to himself, as you knew, at least in the game, he would make true on his promise and take you, locking you away in his massive estate, keeping you prisoner like a precious jewel for the rest of your days.

-Class was hard to focus, as you could feel Nikolas looking at you, but the moment it ended you flashed a smile at him, “Gotta run to the bathroom- see you!” not giving him a chance to say anything otherwise.

-You made it to the bathroom and hid away for a bit, sighing softly in relief to get away from them. You wished you could just leave, but this world seemed to have other ideas, as it wouldn’t let you leave school until all your lessons were done.

-You walked out and only made it two steps when a hand slammed into the wall next to you and you squeaked in fear, flinching back before you turned, seeing the muscular figure of Jett, the ‘scary dog bad boy’ glaring darkly down at you, “Oi Y/N- that blondie bothering you again? I saw him holding your hands earlier!”

-You stammered, panicking which he took as fear, but not from him- you could never be afraid of him as he would never hurt you, “That bastard! He must be threatening you! I’m gonna go take care of him!” you grabbed onto his hand, trying to keep him from hurting Mattie, as you didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

-Jett didn’t take it as you trying to protect Mattie- he took it as you were worried about him getting hurt as he turned, hugging you close, suffocating you against his large chest, “I knew you cared about me Y/N- don’t worry- he would never be able to hurt me!”

-He let you go to hunt down Mattie and you were too frazzled to focus otherwise as you sighed, holding your head softly and instantly you squealed as you were swept into the arms of Beau, the ‘strong silent beefcake’ who thought you were in distress, picking you up like a princess and carrying you off.

-Your face was bright red, hiding your face behind your hands, “Beau- please put me down, I’m fine!” Beau didn’t respond but took you outside and sat you down on a bench, thinking you needed fresh air before he sat next to you.

-Of all the routes, you liked Beau the best, as he was never threatening towards you, he was one of the ones that would kill others and make it look like an accident, to keep them away from you.

-You just wanted to leave, you didn’t want to deal with this anymore and you just wanted to go home- your real home back in your old world!

-You then heard a shout, and you looked up, seeing Jett pointing at you and Beau, “Oi you bastard! Get away from Y/N!” Beau instantly stood, punching his fists together and you stammered, standing between them, begging them not to fight.

-Mattie rushed at you from behind, hugging you, “Y/N! Don’t do dangerous things! I’ll protect you!” Nikolas then appeared, his phone in his hand as he snapped his fingers and several bodyguards leapt out from trees and bushes as he glared, “And what makes you think you’re qualified to keep Y/N safe?”

-Your eyes were spinning as four of the five capture targets were all glaring, ready to fight over you but you wrenched yourself free from Mattie’s arms and ran, hearing them all shouting out your name in worry.

-You ran back into the school, looking for a place to hide- this wasn’t fair- you hated this! Why couldn’t you have been taken to a world like Pokemon or something nice like that- not this!

-You heard the men shouting behind you, giving chase and that only drove you harder to run and hide, ducking around corners, trying to give them the slip as the school now seemed empty other than those chasing you.

-You ran into an empty room, ducking down and they kept running by, shouting out your name.

-When you knew they were gone you exhaled deeply in relief before you her a soft giggle, “Boy trouble?” you paled, looking around to see the fifth capture target, the secret one, Mona, the ‘succubus’ stalking towards you, holding something in her hands as she blushed deeply, seeing how frantic you looked, “Oh my little Y/N- you don’t need to worry about them any longer~~ I’ll take care of you~~”

-That is when you noticed what she held in her hand, her panties as her chest heaved, looking so flushed, wanting you right then and there. The door slammed open and you two turned, seeing the men, all looking just as flushed and desperate.

-If anyone else had been in the school, they would have heard you screaming. Don’t worry Y/N- they were all willing to share you, whether you wanted it or not.

[babylon-wails]

⍫⍫⍫ BABYLON WAILS -- Prologue ⍫⍫⍫

Rats In A Cage Part 1: Crucifixion & Rebirth

The air was pregnant with the stench of blood and rot. Somewhere, far off in a city drowned by its own sins, a bell tolled for the dying. But here, in the heart of Babylon’s splintered shadow, there was only the hammer and the nails.

Each crash of iron against flesh screamed louder than any of the jeering crowd. Blood burst from the split skin of her hands, running rivulets down the grain of the wood. The Queen had demanded her silence, but my mother, Magdalene the Witch, had no use for silence. She wielded her suffering like a blade, weaponizing every second she remained unbroken.

I wasn’t there that day. How could I have been? I was only hours old, an infant cradled in the arms of flight and fear. But the memory burns so bright, so jagged, it has carved itself into me. Lucida, my adoptive mother, always said memory was a kind of infection—some toxin that burrowed deep, reshaping you from the inside out. Maybe she was right. Maybe my mind is a fevered wound that never healed.

Still, I see it. The hammer, heavy and cold as justice, splitting the air like a gunshot. The Queen—Asha, First of Her Blood, Monarch of Babylon—loomed over her, bathed in sunlight like some false god. “The sins of the mother,” she’d declared, her voice sharp and cruel as glass, “will be crucified for all to see. Her treason, her heresy—her existence—dies today.”

Magdalene’s head jerked back as the first nail plunged into her flesh, the agony spasming through her body. But she didn’t scream. She wouldn’t scream. Her teeth gnashed, her jaw locked tight enough to crack. The veins in her neck stood out like war banners, trembling with effort. Her defiance was a hymn, each drop of her blood a verse sung for the damned.

And Asha stood there, drinking it in. The Queen didn’t flinch as blood spattered her boots, didn’t blink as Magdalene’s arms sagged, crucified before the unholy cross. Babylon cheered, a symphony of baying wolves. But Magdalene—my mother—stared at her executioner with eyes hollowed by rage and despair. I could almost hear her thoughts, see the words twisting on her blood-slick tongue: You will die choking on the ruin you’ve built.

The memories come unbidden, like shadows writhing in the periphery. I wasn’t there, and yet I was. I hear the second hammer strike, feel the splintering wood bite against her skin, taste the metallic tang of blood in the air. I wasn’t there, but it doesn’t matter. The memory lives in me, carved into the sinew of my soul like a scar I never earned.

Magdalene’s gaze fell skyward as her breath rattled, her body trembling with the weight of the inevitable. Even as her arms went limp, her chest heaving in shallow gasps, she never surrendered to the screams clawing at her throat. Not one goddamned word. She died like a star imploding—a cataclysm in the heavens that takes the light with it.

Queen Asha stood triumphant, her scepter glittering with false promise. The crowd roared its approval. But I know the truth. I know my mother wasn’t beaten. She may have fallen that day, but she didn’t break.

Because she never screamed.

⍫⍫⍫⍫⍫⍫

The room reeked of burnt flesh and bleach, a cruel cocktail that clung to Mystery’s nose even as her senses began to flicker. Pain came in waves, a cruel tide pulling her under, dragging her to the edge of oblivion and back again. The whip struck again, carving fiery lines into her back, each crack ricocheting through her nerves until all she could do was scream.

She hated herself for it. Her mother never screamed. Not once. Magdalene had faced the hammer and the nails, the jeering crowd, the Queen’s cruelty, and still, she had defied them with her silence. But Mystery? She wasn’t her mother. Not yet.

The fire roared to her left, its blistering heat licking at her exposed skin. The water to her right cascaded over her body in relentless torrents, sharp as glass and cold as death. They called it "purification," but Mystery knew better. There was no cleansing here—only breaking. Only shaping.

Her body spasmed again, muscles seizing in a futile attempt to resist the endless cycle of torment. Her vision narrowed, blackened, tunneled. The edges of the room dissolved into formless shadows, and the faces of her tormentors blurred into specters. She was losing her grip on reality, her mind retreating to some dark recess where the pain might not find her.

Then he appeared.

A man loomed in her fading vision, crouching close, his pale face framed by the sterile white of a lab coat. His gloved hands hovered over her wounds, precise and impersonal, like a butcher inspecting meat. His mouth moved, forming words she couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in her ears and the crackling of fire.

Her vision tunneled, the edges of the room blurring into nothingness. The faces of her tormentors dissolved into formless shadows, their voices a cacophony of jeers and orders she could no longer decipher. Pain consumed everything, swallowing her whole. Then a new figure emerged from the dark—a man.

He moved with purpose, his steps deliberate and unhurried. The sterile white of his lab coat seemed out of place against the grime of the room, but the way he carried himself—aloof, detached, and maddeningly calm—made it clear he belonged here.

Mystery’s head lolled to the side as her vision flickered. His face came into view, blurred but unmistakably sharp. He crouched beside her, gloved hands hovering over her wounds, and spoke in a low, measured tone.

“You’re holding up better than most,” he said, his voice clinical yet threaded with an almost lazy curiosity. He tilted his head, as if studying her like a specimen under glass. “Though I suppose that’s not saying much, is it?”

His words were muffled, her blood-filled ears drowning out most of the sound, but she caught enough. Better than most. Not saying much. 

Her lips parted, the words scraping against her raw throat. “Who…”

He didn’t answer, at least not directly. Instead, he leaned closer, his sharp eyes scanning her wounds with detached precision. “I’ve seen worse,” he muttered, half to himself. “Much worse. And yet…” He paused, as if considering something that only made sense in his own head, before adding with a faint, sardonic smile, “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

His gloved fingers pressed lightly against a burn on her arm, sending a jolt of agony through her already broken nerves. Mystery jerked, a strangled cry escaping her lips. He didn’t flinch. 

“Pain’s a good sign,” he continued, his tone almost conversational, as though they weren’t in a room of fire and torment. “It means you’re still alive. And if you’re alive, you’re useful.”

Useful. Not human. Not a person. Just a tool. Her teeth ground together as anger flared somewhere deep within her, burning hotter than the fire around her.

“No…” 

The word escaped her lips in a broken whisper, her head lolling against the cold surface. Her vision swam, the edges of the man’s face darkening. Still, something in her fought through every burning ache running through the sinews of her muscle, like venom to the heart. Her trembling hand reached out, catching his wrist, nails digging deep. A golden gleam burned beneath her melted flesh, giving the man pause. For but a moment, her gaze met his, eyes full of defiance.

 “You won’t…”

The man's expression remained frozen, unreadable, though the way her torturers' eyes snapped wide, paired with a single instinctive, flinching step back, painted a picture worth more than a thousand words. The doctor let out a hum and then, as though amused by her defiance, he chuckled—a low, humorless sound that felt more like a knife against her skin.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “But don’t worry. I’m not here to break you. Not entirely, at least.”

The last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her was his hand reaching for a syringe, the needle glinting under the flickering fluorescent light. 

“You’ll understand,” he murmured, his voice the last tether to reality. 

“Trust me.”

-⍫⍫⍫-NEXT-⍫⍫⍫-

[oracularvernacular]

zayne is mitski pilled and i made him a playlist and it's tearing my soul from my ribs with the flesh still clinging onto it so I'm gonna do a poll

[hawnks]

Xavier's resting heart rate being 40bpm..... he's so tired all the time becuase he is literally in hibernation 😧

[clumsydolly]

I agree, Belphie was forgiven too quickly and had like no repercussions for his actions and I do find it very annoying myself just as a whole. I mean he literally killed us and we did in fact die and their consciousness was put into the other Mc. I remember it was stated that Barbatos removed the other dimension whatever that means, though I'll have to go back and check cause I'm not sure if that means he completely irradiated that dimension or it disappeared or what. I think someone wrote about the past realm of characters going through Barbatos portals and it was chaos. And I also remember some people saying that they don't believe first realm Belphie would have killed MC because he saw MC got along with his brother's and that they liked MC granted Lucifer was throwing a tantrum but Belphie got to see how his other brothers protected Mc from the eldest brother. Also Belphie never got the chance to kill Mc in the first timeline because his other brothers were always there. As for jokes I'll have to say I don't even remember there ever being jokes lol so I'll have to look at that.

If anyone can find the fic/headcanon I talked about please give it to me!!!

[aestheteasteria]

How gratifying must it be for writers to see real people thirst over figments of their imagination

[astr0star5]

“𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒. ”

taiga hoshibsmi x yumeko jabami!mc

warning!: swearing, gambling, mc is werid as fuck.

I feel like overall so far before the sinstora chapter you didn't even know that you could gamble here. So you were pretty stotic and NPC-ish. But boy the minute you learn that you could gamble here your interested is piqued. You either ask Kaito to bring you down there yourself or after the first day of working with Ritsu, and he's leaving because "the business day is over". You instantly make a 360 and go straight to the casino.

You know how people were surrounding Taiga thinking he cheated because he kept on winning every game, same thing but this time it's you. You're undefeated and honestly it's getting quite boring.

Untill Taiga one day strolls in, he's bored looking for a good gamble but currently everyone was surrounding a table. As he aproches the crowd he hears angry yelling, "This shit is rigged no fucking way man!" "You've gotta be cheating, there's no way your still undefeated!" Honestly you were about tired of this, your 10th loser opponent just got up from the seat. They weren't worthy of your time, you were about ready to go home when Taiga shoved through the crowd and sat in the empty chair across from you. Smirk on his face.

Your demenar automatically changes as he lowers himself into the seat. You know Taiga's reputation you knows he's a good gambler. You bite your bottom lip (now this some real kakeguri shit), your practically itching for this. The opponent you've been waiting for! The exciment floods your body, you can't help but crack a smile and blush a bit. Honestly that shit freaked Taiga out a bit, under his breathe you could hear him calling you a werid bitch.

You manage to contain your inner 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂. As the dealer tells the rules to both of you. The match was a simple game you suggested from your old school, vote rock-paper scissors. Taiga has never heard of it but was open to try.

The game is simple first, there is a voting phase, where everyone will draw rock, paper or scissors on cards and place them in a closed box so that the players cannot see it; then, the two players take three cards from that box and choose which one to play against the other.

Just like regular rock paper scissors if you draw the same card 3 times it's a draw, the rules still apply, rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper. and paper beats rock.

Once you guys were handed the chips Taiga only bet a mere half of his chips but you, you bet your whole stack. The whole casino fell quiet trying to comprehend what you just did? Everyone was thinking the same thing which was "This girl is insane!?" You heard mutters in the crowd.

Once you both took your three cards you both drew on the count of three. Rock to Scissors. Taigas face was unreadable as a grin grew on your face. Then you guys drew once more Paper to Scissors. The atmosphere felt thick, you felt like you were about to burst you were practically squirming in your seat.

You know if you lose this round you lose what you bet, which was practically 10 million yen. This one round settles everything. One more draw to see who wins just one more.

Scissors to Rock. You had lost. A blush took over your face as you sighed out. You opened up your bag at threw out 10 million yet right at him. Taiga not liking the disrespect but liking the money in his hands grinned. "Dealer, give me more chips let's play another round." You said, as you stared right into taigas eyes you e/c eyes had turned red as you stared at him grinning. His golden eyes stared right back into yours.

It was as if there was this aura surrounding you both, It was honestly scary. As both of those powerful auras were about to clash.

a/n: thanks for reading, i feel corny for writing this, but this could be a good dynamic if someone with more brain wrote it!