/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46793851
"Ow!", "Ah!" I heard two thumps and cries of pain and just like that, the torturous grips relented. My hands shot around my shoulders to hide my chest from the world, ashamed of what had happened, and I only opened my eyes a bit later to see the two vampires prostrating before me with Patchouli standing above them, tapping a heavy bible on his shoulder.
"We're sorry, we won't do it again!" The two vampires said in unison. "But it was brother's fault for staring at your chest before-" "It was Flandere's fault for groping you first-" they started in concert before Patchouli slammed his book into his hand, an open threat. At that, the two stopped and meekly made off, not wanting to get bludgeoned in the heads again.
Patchouli Sighed and extended a hand to me. "Can you stand?" He asked, and I made to, I really did, but like a new born fawn my legs wobbled and I fell again with a small cry. What was this? Was my body really this weak? Reluctantly, I reached out for his hand and let him, through some effort, pull me up and onto him. I had to lock my arms around him just to keep standing.
"Eh-hem." He coughed, looking away like I had something on my face. I looked down to see my chest, still propped up out of the robe, nipples visible through the fabric. I quickly pulled the robe over them and muttered an apology.
"It's not your fault, those two are just a handful. We'll hold off on more experiments today so you can rest, let me take you to your room." he said, grabbing my hand and guiding him along.
"Wait." I said, as a certain desire overcame me and I pressed myself against him "I don't want to be alone right now."


As we both sat together on the coach in the library and my head finally cleared, I wondered why the Hell I'd said that. As a man, the only time I ever felt that kind of impulsivity and lack of control was when I was royally pissed off, as a woman, it felt like every day my hormones where throwing me against this guy like the sea crashes against the shore! And even now, there was this stupid nagging thought.
"Master Patchouli do you hate me?" I asked.
He looked up at me from the small booklet he was reading. "Of course not, why would you think that?" he asked calmly.
My answer didn't even pass through conscious thought "Because you like Marisa and I'm not like her at all. She's not some boring assistant or some large-chested damsel who'd let herself get assaulted by two vampire children, crumbling like a leaf..." I said, feeling myself on the verge of tears.
He sighed, shutting his booklet and setting it on the table. "I never expected you to be exactly Marisa, so some deviation is fine. And you know well enough from experience that those two can be a supernatural hand full so I'm just happy your okay. As for your servitude..." He explained before putting his arm around me and pulling me close "...having a helpful assistant for once, I don't hate it."
His words, his assurances, made my femininity scream and shout from the high heavens. I summoned every objection I can: 'He's an unreliable, lazy oaf', 'He's a man', 'It's Marisa he loves not you', 'He did this to you', 'It's just the hormones', it's all useless, because another stupid, all-powerful voice deep within the well of my stomach tells me 'You love him.'
Gently I turn to my side and rest my face to his chest and place my other hand on his thigh. "I don't hate you either." I whisper, before letting sleep take me.