rewatched jennifer’s body and i’m trying to see who i would eat first in lads and who would love it of course. i think all of them would be a willing and happy sacrifice but i also want to feed off of them-
then again it’s pride month and jennifer’s body is too queer coded to be saving men. FEM LADS IT IS
i think caleb is a sniffer. like seriously and not in the way that’s obvious lol. yes he all up in those drawers BUT i think he just like your smell. EVERYWHERE.
he uses your body wash and smells you when you come out the shower
you come back from being out all day at work or in the heat and i can see him going for the armpits
he’s so gross but i’m obsessed with the though! head in the crook of your neck trailing down your check and he take a big whiff when he get to your stomach inching closer to your…
please someone sedated me i can’t this off my mind. he’s not even my mains i feel like i’m cheating!!
couldn’t sleep. i was. too busy thinking about a sloppy make out session with sylus. lip biting tongue sucking teeth occasionally bumping. eeeii pulling each other closer and closer like you’re trying to be one. the last two cards were great info for me. seeing how needy and hungry he gets and how he holds mc’s head!
god! i also need his full body weight on me he’s just so big
i’ve been using old spice’s serial griller(smells like toasted marshmallows)body wash and deodorant and i can’t get zayne off my mind
you’re laid up in bed together after your shower and he starts nuzzling and biting you. “you smell so delicious, how could i not get a taste”
ahhhhh i’m geeking just thinking about it
not really sexual just playful and him being a little annoying when you’re trying to sleep. gnawing at your shoulders and back,, arms wrapped around your middle to keep you close,, light chuckles ,, all that
hey guys sorry i’ve been gone for so long. i don’t think anyone is really checking for me but i got an assistant editing job a few months back and that has been keeping me busy along with some other stuff.
i kept getting notes on my trent lane post and i actually wrote something about him for valentine’s day based off of a request i got.. but i haven’t posted it
ngl i’m a lil nervous about writing something longer than a short scenario bc it’s like, is it really good or is it all in my head? plus i’ve been feeling this invisible and nonexistent pressure . you know how you were told you were good at something your whole life then suddenly you start to question the sincerity of that? that how i am with writing. honors in english and all that now i suddenly feel like i don’t know what words are or their meaning
BUT ENOUGH WITH THE VULNERABILITY
i’ll come back sooner or later with that trent lane fic and maybe some zayne and sylus too. yes i have seen the new season of jjk.. and yes i love that man(higuruma) dearly- can’t get him out of my mind actually
Rating/Type: Explicit (18+); smut, fluff, angst; friends to lovers
Words: 900 (Part 3 of 8+?)
Setting: Caleb & Preston's apartment
Content: Preston's POV, waking up in Caleb's bed, awkward/accidental cuddles, morning wood lol (x2), masturbation, shame spiral
Warnings: Negative self-talk/shame, masturbation, Caleb's 90% asleep and rubbing himself on MC without asking for consent/realizing it
Chapters: Previous | Next | All
~~~~~
When I woke, Caleb was cuddled up behind me. He had always been an early riser, but that morning, he was still fast asleep. My mouth was unpleasantly dry, but I couldn't pass up the chance to be close to him.
Caleb stirred, breathing deep and letting out a low, husky moan that made my stomach flutter. I was resting on his sturdy bicep, his skin pressed against my cheek. The slick of our sweat mingled, with the spicy musk of his armpits enticingly close.
Waking up with Caleb behind me, bare-chested and sweaty, made my cock stubbornly hard. My mind wandered, imagining we'd slept together in the way I craved. I sighed helplessly. These fantasies of yours are out of control, Preston. How can you be this pathetic?
When I thought he'd fallen back into a deep slumber, he strengthened his grip on my waist and pulled me even closer. My heart was pounding as he nuzzled into my long hair. He breathed me in and let out a satisfied huff, the damp heat tickling against my scalp. Then, he curled his knees up, and I felt the stiff bulge through his shorts.
Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Have I finally lost my mind?
My whole body flushed and broke into a sweat. I struggled to resist flipping over to wake him up and kiss him. My breath quickened to catch up with my racing heart. Why is he rock-hard? To torture me?
Caleb is straight, I reminded myself. He's not popping a boner because he's secretly dreaming of you. Morning wood is a reflex, nothing more. He's not into dorky little femboys, or any boys at all — you're just delusional.
“Preston,” he mumbled into my hair. “Hm?”
My cock pulsed as he slurred my name. Caleb slowly registered who was lying beside him, his muscles stiffening as his rational brain came online. He hurriedly pulled back to create distance between our bodies. The absence of his warmth was obvious as my sweat rapidly cooled.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to get up in your space.”
“It's okay,” I choked out.
“You feelin’ a'right?” His voice was raspy with sleep. I felt my body quaking as he rubbed my back. "You're really warm. You’re not sick, are ya?”
“I'm fine,” I squeaked. “I feel fine.”
“You’re shakin’ like a leaf,” he fawned. The sleepy crackle in his voice as he doted on me was precious torture. “Pipsqueak?”
Oh, Caleb, don't call me that. Not in that voice. Not now.
The longer he investigated, the more likely he was to notice my arousal. And how pathetic I am. If he catches me with a raging hard-on, the shame will actually kill me.
“I'm gonna grab my phone,” I blurted out, hurriedly freeing myself from the covers tangled around my legs. “See you in a bit.”
“Oh,” Caleb mumbled. “Okay.”
He sounded surprisingly dejected, but there was no time to think. I bolted before he could say anything else — or spot my ridiculous erection.
Alone in my room, I peeled my shirt off and flopped on the bed. As I cooled down, it became painfully clear that the problem wasn't fading anytime soon. I'm going to have to deal with it.
I freed my cock, grabbed some lotion and spread it with a few quick strokes. The immediate relief I felt was short-lived, and I worked quickly, trying to get it over with. His raspy voice, his slept-in musk, his breath in my hair. Fuck, his hard cock against my ass-
“Pipsqueak?” Caleb's voice floated through my door, freezing me in place. “Um… I feel like shit. I'm gonna take a shower.”
I swallowed hard, searching for a response. Instead of anything useful, my brain provided an image of Caleb in the shower. My pulse throbbed against my hand.
“I still wanna go.” His voice grew soft and anxious. “I’m sorry I slept late. Promise I'll be quick, a'right?”
“No worries,” I managed. “Take your time.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, his footsteps shuffling down the hall.
I jerked myself stiffly, picturing him getting into the shower. Peeling his clothes off, piece by piece. His shoulders, his pecs, his lower back. That huge, gorgeous ass I've never seen bare. Water running over his freckled skin-
Caleb's text tone sounded from the nightstand as I hit the edge. I grabbed my dirty T-shirt and whimpered into my hand as my release covered the fabric. Chest heaving and head spinning, I flopped onto my back. Once I caught my breath, I reached for my phone.
Dummy (Caleb): I didn't mean to rub on you like that. I was out of it
Dummy (Caleb): I'm sorry if I made it weird :/ I feel like a creep now
Dummy (Caleb): Please don't be mad at me… I still wanna go today
Preston: You're not a creep. And I'm not mad, don't worry
I stared at my ceiling and sighed. As the high dissipated, the familiar prickle of shame crept through my skin. He thinks what he did was creepy? It was an accident. He wasn't even awake.
This game is too good at making these guys seem like they have real personalities.
For preference im a zayne and sylus main but my affinity with zayne is the highest. I slept with sylus for three or four nights before i decided to only have him and zayne show up in my cafe. When I first came back to zayne I gave him a little poke to get him to speak. You know what he said? “I prefer we kept some distance” full of attitude
Even after I work out or study with the other li’s, he’s always back in the cafe. I have not seen sylus in the days since then lmao. It’s like he’s being clingy because he got jealous.
Right before I made this post he said this
He wants me so bad im scared he’s gonna jump out the game
No but in all honesty I just think it’s really funny. I love the sass(and overall attention and detail to their personalities) they gave these men and im not even talking about raf. Like okay infold I’ll give you this one thing- this game is kinda entertaining whatever
Gangster onychinus leader is so fond of his corporate “nerdy” wife. To any on looker I’m sure they look like an odd pair walking hand in hand. What they don’t know is he’s the real nerd
He loves her so much she’s truly the owner of his heart. He tells her that constantly but sometimes gets embarrassed by his own blatant confessions
Even though it’s been years he stills gets so flustered, before her he didn’t peg himself as the blushing type. But he’s quick to redirect the focus if she gets too cocky with her teasing
~~~~~~
a lil story/scenario i made up while styling and setting my mc and sy up for pics i thought it was so cute! i had to stop myself from making a pegging joke at the end oh my god what is wrong with me
a crush. that’s all it was. harmless, quiet, tucked neatly behind polite smiles and casual greetings. something small and mostly contained, like a paper cut—annoying, sometimes stinging, but ultimately insignificant in the grand scheme of things. that’s what you told yourself every morning when you stepped into the office and immediately found your eyes drifting, unprompted, searching for him.
nanami kento.
he was always there early, already settled at his desk with his tie perfectly straight and his expression unreadable. efficient, composed, untouchable. your coworkers talked about him sometimes—how reliable he was, how serious, how he never wasted time on anything unnecessary. you wondered if that included people like you.
you made it a habit to grab coffee on the way in. one for you, one for him. you memorized how he took it—one sugar, splash of milk, nothing extra. you never made a big show of it, just placed it beside his desk with a quiet, “morning,” like it didn’t mean anything. like you weren’t hoping, desperately, for something in his eyes to soften just a little.
he always accepted it with a nod. never asked why. never declined, either.
you found reasons to pass by his desk, small things like “did you see the new memo?” or “are you heading to the meeting now?” stupid conversation fillers he didn’t need. he answered every time, polite but distant. he would answer your question but never in a way to keep the conversation going.
in the break room, you timed your lunch to match his without ever admitting that to yourself. sometimes you wouldn’t even talk. just sit nearby and pretend to read something on your phone, hyper-aware of his presence, of the sound of him stirring his tea, of the way he always straightened his sleeves before eating like even that small motion had to be precise.
you thought you were subtle. maybe you were. maybe everyone else knew.
but he never reacted. never changed. never gave you anything to work with.
and the thing about slow, quiet hope is that it rots from the inside before you even realize it's dying.
are you just bothering him? it has been a few months since this one-sided pining. what if he is just putting up with this and actually hates it? what if he was muttering to his friends in his free time about you, describing you as a desperate, lovesick fool?
one morning, you stood in line at the café counter, two coffees in hand like always. but when the barista called your name, something in your chest shifted. all your bottled up thoughts came to the surface all at once. you stared down at the second cup. it felt heavier than usual. stupid, you thought. pathetic. he never asked for it. he never asked for any of this.
that was the day you threw his coffee away before stepping into the office.
you walked past his desk with only your drink in hand. no detours. no soft “good morning” like you practiced making sound casual. you sat down and forced yourself to stare at your screen, fingers still wrapped tight around the warmth of your cup like you needed the reminder that you were still holding something.
it was going to be hard to break habits, let alone get rid of your feelings for him, but one step at a time.
he noticed.
nanami looked up for a second when you passed. his desk was empty except for his own untouched mug. he glanced at the clock. you always arrived around this time. you always set a cup beside his hand, your fingers brushing the desk but never touching him.
you didn’t.
you didn’t even look at him.
he didn’t say anything.
the first day, he let it go. maybe you were busy. maybe you forgot.
the second day, he adjusted his tie twice before sitting down, eyes flickering unconsciously to the entrance every couple of minutes.
the third day, he arrived earlier than usual, and when you came in, he straightened in his seat instinctively. but again—nothing. no coffee. no greeting. you didn’t even pass near his desk. you walked in talking to someone else, a quiet laugh leaving your mouth at something they said.
that laugh stuck to him longer than it should have.
he told himself it was nothing. it shouldn’t matter. you were a coworker. polite. friendly. talkative when you had reason to be. your presence did not affect his work.
so why did the office feel louder and emptier at the same time?
lunch came. and you didn’t show up in the break room. you sat with a different group instead, listening to gojo satoru of all people as he leaned in too close, smiling like he always did—messy, loud, impossible to ignore. you were smiling back.
nanami’s jaw tightened for a moment. so brief anyone else would’ve missed it.
he stayed at his desk longer than usual before heading to lunch, and when he walked past your table, he didn’t mean to look. but he did. your eyes met his for a second. he expected you to wave, or offer a small nod like you always used to.
you didn’t.
you turned back to gojo, laughing at something he said.
nanami stood there just a second too long before walking away.
later, he found himself in the break room alone, staring at the empty spot on the counter where you once stood beside him, too nervous to speak sometimes but always there. always consistent.
he took a slow breath, steadying himself like he always did when something unfamiliar pressed against the edges of his routine.
he told himself it didn’t matter.
he told himself he preferred the quiet.
but as he stood there, hearing the distant echo of your laughter from down the hall—something unfamiliar and unwelcome settled beneath his ribs.
something that felt a little like loss.
nanami felt the shift like a hairline crack through glass—thin, almost invisible, but spreading silently in every direction.
he kept telling himself he imagined it. that your change in behavior had nothing to do with him. but then he caught himself paying attention. to your footsteps. to the change in your tone when you spoke to others. to the way your laughter came easier now when you were speaking with gojo in the hallway.
you weren’t avoiding people.
you were avoiding him.
and nanami, for the first time in a very long time, didn’t know what to do with something.
he tried to approach it logically. analyze it. observe. he told himself he was simply making sure workplace rapport remained professional and steady. that was all.
the first time he made the conscious effort to start a conversation, it was by the printer. you were there, scrolling something on your phone while the machine whirred. he stepped beside you deliberately, clearing his throat.
“...did you read the new case report from yesterday?”
you blinked, a fraction too slow, as if you didn’t expect him to speak to you. your reply came neutral. polite. distant.
“no. haven’t looked yet.”
that was it. no follow-up. no question thrown back his way like you used to do just to keep the moment going. he waited a second longer—too long, maybe—before nodding once and leaving.
the failed attempt sat with him for the rest of the day like a misplaced file he couldn’t fix.
the second attempt happened near the elevators. he matched his steps to yours on purpose. subtle. unnoticeable to anyone else. you pressed the button, and he stood beside you, hands in his pockets.
“you’re not having lunch with your group today?”
you paused just barely. “plans changed.”
he stared at you for a moment, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface of his calm expression. “i see.”
the elevator arrived. you stepped in. he hesitated—for another heartbeat too long—then followed.
you stood on opposite sides, a polite chasm between you. the doors slid shut.
and then everything jolted.
a sudden lurch. the lights flickered. the elevator shuddered to a stop.
for a moment, both of you were silent.
you exhaled slowly. “…you’ve got to be kidding.”
nanami pressed the emergency button with practiced calm. “it seems we’re stuck.”
you nodded, backing up to lean against the wall, arms crossing over your chest. “great.”
a beat of silence passed. too heavy for the small space. he looked at you. really looked at you. no practiced indifference. no sterile professionalism. his gaze was steady, intense in a way that made your fingers tighten against your sleeves.
“did i do something?” his voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it.
you blinked. “…what?”
“you’ve been avoiding me,” he said, like it was a simple fact. like he’d already gone through every rational explanation and found none of them acceptable.
you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i haven’t—”
“please don’t lie.”
the words struck deeper than they should have. because nanami didn’t speak like that. didn’t corner people. didn’t show anything unless it was necessary.
your heart thudded, uneven. “why would it matter?”
he stared at you like you had said something incomprehensible. like you were the one acting irrationally.
“because,” he said slowly, as though each word was being pulled from somewhere he didn’t want to look, “you were always there.”
your breath caught.
he continued, voice low, almost strained—all control, but stretched thin. “and then you weren’t.”
you couldn’t look at him. your fingers dug into your arms. “i assumed you preferred it this way.”
nanami stepped forward. not close enough to touch, but close enough to trap. his tone sharpened, just barely. “why would you assume that?”
you let out a short, humorless breath. “you never seemed to care, nanami. i was just—background noise. easy to ignore.”
he stared at you. something cold and unraveling flickered behind his eyes.
“i noticed everything,” he said quietly.
your heart stopped.
“the coffee. the greetings. the way you’d linger near my desk pretending to look for something to say. i noticed.” his jaw tightened. “and now i notice that it’s gone.”
you forced a laugh to hide the way that admission made your pulse jump. “congratulations. observation skills intact.”
something in his expression finally cracked. just a line. but you felt it.
“don’t be cruel,” he said softly.
your breath hitched. cruel. you didn’t realize he could even say something like that. not to you.
he took another step. close now. too close.
“watching you laugh with gojo,” he continued, voice controlled but with that same strange undercurrent, “watching you look at him the way you used to look at me—it is driving me insane.”
you blinked, stunned. “i don’t—what?”
he looked at you like it was obvious. like he was exhausted of pretending not to feel something he hadn’t even let himself name.
“i thought you liked him.” it sounded like an accusation. like the words tasted bitter leaving his mouth.
you stared at him, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and something else entirely.
the elevator stayed still. the world with it.
nanami held your gaze like he was bracing for impact.
“tell me you don’t,” he said. “so i can stop… this.”
you didn’t know what this meant.
but for the first time, he wasn’t unreadable.
he was on the edge.
the words hung between you, fragile and charged. tell me you don’t. so i can stop this. you could hear it beneath what he said—stop thinking about it. stop wondering. stop noticing you.
you swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat. “why do you care?”
your voice cracked halfway through the sentence, barely above a whisper.
nanami’s expression tensed—like he hated the question. like he hated that you forced him to acknowledge something he’d been trying to handle in silence.
a muscle in his jaw shifted. “because,” he said slowly, as though the word cost him something, “i thought it was me.”
you blinked. once. twice. “what?”
he exhaled, steady but not calm—collected, but not untouched. “i thought you were avoiding me because of something i did,” he admitted, eyes never leaving yours. “i went through every interaction. i tried to remember if i had said something dismissive. or… unkind.”
there was something almost devastating about hearing him say that—stoic, composed nanami kento, replaying conversations in his head the way you used to.
you’d spent so long believing you were the only one feeling everything too deeply.
you forced your heartbeat down, fingers digging into your palms. “why would it ever matter that much to you?”
his gaze sharpened, quiet intensity burning through the controlled exterior he wore like a uniform.
“you don’t get to ask me that,” he said steadily, voice just above a whisper. “not when you’re the one who changed first. not when i am the one standing here trying to understand why you won’t even look at me anymore.”
you had no words. none that made sense outside of your own humiliation.
so you defaulted to defense. “you’re being dramatic. we’re coworkers. it’s not that serious.”
his eyes went dark—not angry, but something disturbingly close to wounded pride.
“say that again,” he murmured, tone low enough to send a shiver up your spine. “look me in the eye and tell me it was never serious.”
your mouth opened, but nothing came out.
because you couldn’t.
his next breath came unsteady; you almost didn’t catch it. “you brought me coffee every morning for seven months.”
your chest squeezed. “that doesn’t mean anything.”
“i started drinking my terrible office coffee less because of it.” he stepped forward again. “i waited for you.”
the words landed like a physical blow.
you stared at him. “you—what?”
“the mornings you were running late, i would… wait,” he said, eyes flickering just slightly—like admitting that was harder than anything. “i didn’t like starting the day before you arrived.”
your heart was a mess, every beat colliding with the next. “nanami…”
“i got used to hearing your voice before nine,” he continued, more quietly. “to knowing you would pass by my desk for no real reason. it was never… meaningless.”
your back hit the elevator wall. you didn’t remember stepping back.
nanami didn’t touch you. he didn’t have to. he stood in front of you, blocking the exit like a quiet cornering rather than force. his hand lifted—hesitating—then hovered near yours against the metal wall. not touching. waiting.
“you stopped,” he said, softer now. “and you didn’t tell me why.”
you swallowed. “i thought it would be easier for you.”
“it isn’t.”
the response came too fast. no hesitation. like truth that slipped out before he could smother it.
your chest tightened painfully. “why?”
and then—for the first time since this all started—nanami looked at you like he was allowing himself to feel everything at once.
his voice dropped, barely audible.
“because i did not realize how much of my day was spent… looking for you… until you decided to disappear.”
the elevator hummed quietly around you. you couldn’t breathe.
nanami’s eyes searched yours, steady even in the confession.
“tell me,” he said again, softer but more desperate than before—like this was the only thing keeping him steady. “tell me you don’t feel anything—so i can stop thinking about you every time you laugh at someone else’s joke.”
you stared at him, heart trembling.
“tell me,” he breathed, “so i can learn how to ignore you the way you’ve learned to ignore me.”
your lips parted. a shiver ran through you.
your voice was so soft you almost weren't sure you said it aloud.
“…i can’t.”
nanami went still. like everything inside him braced at once. his brows drew together, not in frustration, but like something in him finally, finally loosened—and he didn’t know how to hold it.
“what do you mean,” he asked quietly, careful, “you can’t?”
your fingers curled against the wall, nails pressing into your palm. “i can’t say it was nothing,” you breathed, eyes fixed on the small space between your shoes and his polished ones. “i liked you. a lot. more than i should’ve. and you never… gave me anything to work with. i thought i was being pathetic. so i stopped.”
nanami’s breath came out slow and deep, like he needed the extra air to keep himself steady.
“you thought you were being pathetic.”
“wasn’t i?” your laugh came weak, shaky. “i brought you coffee like some lovesick idiot. i hovered near your desk. i annoyed you, didn’t i?”
“no,” he said immediately. sharp. it almost surprised you. “never.”
your eyes lifted—slowly this time.
nanami looked at you with something fragile and burning flickering right beneath his restraint. “you weren’t pathetic,” he said, voice low and even, but no longer detached. “you were… consistent. and kind. and i found myself… missing you more than was appropriate.”
your pulse jolted. “you… missed me?”
“terribly,” he admitted.
you didn't realize how close he was until then. his hand, still hovering near yours, inched closer now—not brushing, just there, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly before he stilled them with controlled precision.
“say it,” he murmured. “say it again.”
your chest rose and fell too fast. “i liked you.”
“present tense,” he said quietly.
you swallowed. “...i like you.”
the smallest breath left him, like that was the one thing that finally cracked his composure down the middle. his hand finally touched yours. careful. delicate. asking.
your fingers reflexively curled against his. his thumb brushed the side of your knuckle, the warmth of his skin startling in its gentleness.
“again,” nanami whispered.
you almost smiled—soft, disbelieving. “i like you.”
this time, he exhaled something unsteady and stepped closer. your back met the cool elevator wall. he didn’t cage you in with force—just presence. hands braced near your waist but not touching, like he was holding himself back even now.
“may i?” he asked.
your answer was breathless. “yes.”
he leaned in—slow, controlled, like every second of restraint was still fighting him. his forehead rested against yours first, just barely. he waited there, eyes half-closed, breath touching your lips but not crossing the line.
it was a question.
you rose slightly on your toes, closing the last inch yourself.
the kiss was slow. unbearably gentle. his lips brushed yours like he was memorizing the feel of it before daring to press fully. your hand lifted on instinct, fingers brushing his jaw. he stilled—then leaned in, deeper this time, just enough pressure to feel it, to mean it, but still careful, still trying not to overwhelm.
his hand found your waist then, fingers curling in the fabric of your shirt like he’d been holding back for too long.
and just when his other hand lifted—like he wanted to cup your cheek, like he finally gave in to touching you—
DING.
the elevator jolted back to life. the lights flickered. and then—the doors slid open.
you both froze.
nanami immediately stepped back, straightening like he’d just remembered the world existed. you pulled your hands back quickly, heat flooding your face, heartbeat still racing.
the hallway outside was empty—but that didn’t matter. breathing the same air suddenly felt criminal.
you both stepped out slowly. the doors began to close behind you when nanami cleared his throat lightly.
he adjusted his tie—more nervous tic than composure this time—and said, voice lower but laced with something undeniably earnest—
“would you,” he paused, eyes flicking to yours and then deliberately staying there, steady, “allow me to take you to dinner?”
your breath caught. “as…?”
“as someone who would very much like to earn the right,” he said softly, “to keep being the person you wait for in the mornings.”
silence. your chest felt too full.
you tried to speak. failed once. tried again, voice trembling but sure—
“...yes. i’d like that. very much.”
a rare, quiet smile touched the corner of his lips.
“good,” he said quietly. “then… allow me to plan something proper.”
you nodded, feeling your pulse flutter at your throat.
nanami stepped beside you, close but not touching—yet his hand brushed yours once, very lightly. an invitation.
I’ve been gone for a while so here’s a photo dump of some of my favorite pics/grabs I took in the last month or so of the lads li and my mc just to have something to post☺️🥰
love and deepspace is so funny in a ton of ways, not the least of which being that it’s an angst game full of angst with a huge helping of angst on top masquerading as a romance game
and this angst romance game has wacky characters like:
🐠 merman sea god who is an artist with flame powers for some reason. his symbol is not a fish but a duck. there is a section of the story where he goes into heat. canonical billionaire. also a serial revenge killer.
❄️ accomplished heart surgeon with ice powers who is trapped in a cycle of multiverse-spanning reincarnations. mc’s childhood friend and also her doctor. blatantly the horniest of the lot but you wouldn’t know it because he has never shown anyone an emotion ever.
💫 centuries old immortal space prince. literally an alien. got stuck in the past after attempting wormhole travel and has been bopping around earth until mc is born. mc’s monster-fighting coworker and upstairs neighbor. secretly batman.
🐦⬛ dangerous crime boss. also an alien, probably. also a dragon whose soul is bound to mc’s. once made mc shoot him in the heart to prove his immortality. wife guy in a “he supports women’s wrongs” way.
🍎 cyborg military commander with gravity powers. flies space planes. was killed in an explosion but got better. a narrative representation of the biblical eve. diagnosed mentally/emotionally unwell. wife guy in a “he is the wife” way.
and. like. originally i was going to say only a sentence about each of them but i could not pick just one of the many, many unhinged things about the tiny men who live in my phone.
absolutely batshit insane game. hilarious.
i have cried probably a dozen times while playing it.
