Our maid café is now open for business! Our collection includes standees, keychains, photocards, and stickers.
Check out our full collection here!
Oh, I am a lost soul. But who would have thought that plunging into the depths of my own madness would be so excruciatingly sweet, so delightful.
As long as there are people who create such things, I will live.
I decided to share a short text here. I didn’t originally write it for these images—I wrote it back when the Japanese maid-themed merch came out. But when I saw these, I couldn’t resist sharing it. I’ve been wanting to try translating my writing into English for a while, and starting with something small like this felt like a good idea. A sort of 'trial run,' if you will. This story was never part of my own canon; it’s just one of many 'what if' scenarios. In this case: what if Vassago lost a card game and had to take on the role of a waiter? I tweaked the text slightly, replacing a placeholder character with a 'reader' character.
Vassago sighed, adjusted the slipping bow tie, and picked up the tray with the look of a demon about to sign a death warrant. The visitor, sprawled in an armchair with a glass of wine, watched him with lazy triumph.
"Señor," the prince said, setting the tray on the table. "¿Quiere más vino?" (Would you like more wine?)
"I would," the guest replied, holding out the glass.
The aristocrat poured, but didn't step back. Instead, he leaned in, bracing one hand against the back of the chair, and looked down into the visitor's eyes from above.
"You know, señor," he said, and there was no servility in his voice, only a faint smirk. "I did lose at cards, after all. And I'm honoring the terms. But don't forget: this apron is just fabric. Y este lazo puedo desatarlo con una mano." (And this bow tie — I can untie it with one hand.)
The client raised an eyebrow.
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a reminder," Vassago traced a finger along his cheek, down to his neck, pausing at the collar. "¿Quién es realmente el dueño aquí?" (Who's really in charge here?)
"You're saying 'señor' right now," the visitor countered, but his voice wavered slightly.
"Sí, lo digo." (Yes, I am.) — the prince agreed. "But we both know who'll be giving the orders when the lights go out."
The guest blushed but didn't look away.
"You're too bold for a waiter."
"But you like it," the demon corrected, kissing the corner of his lips. "Now, perhaps you'd like to give me that order you've been waiting for?"
He gave in. Pulled this impossible parrot toward himself, and the other, offering no resistance, collapsed into the chair on top of him.
"Untie the bow," the guest whispered.
"Con gusto, señor." (With pleasure, my lord.)
