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nyctophiliq · 2 years

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TOY WITH YOU. mdni +18

description. headcanon type of writing of the valorant agent's kinks and favorite toys to use (toys are reference to what they use most of the time)

pairings. viper, killjoy, reyna, sage, fade, jett, neon + f! reader

cw. lowercase writing intended, nsfw content, mentions of kinks, sex toys

moss' notes. it's all moss' headcanons of each character, you might not agree with them but enjoy anyway :D

—𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

( kinks )

sabine loves marking, leaving not just hickeys but bite marks all over your skin. she wouldn't nesseccary mark you up on very visible places since she too likes privacy. her favorite places have to be the inner of your thighs- it's soft, plushy, and pliable, the perfect home for teeth marks she wants to have a long-lasting life. another of her favorite is the skin under your breast- it's sensitive, thin skin that is a . if sabine feels mean or particularly jealous (which she would never admit out loud) she would leave marks high up your neck that it's impossible to perfectly cover up.

it's rare for sabine to get herself into roleplaying, but once in a while when she is really insecure about her knowledge or just feels like she is losing pieces of her old self she likes to play doctor-patient with you, that is only of course if you too are into trying new things out.

call her mommy and sabine will give you everything you want that night. you want it rough and animalistic? done. soft and gentle? done. mommy sabine takes care of her baby if she asks nicely, pinky swear.

sabine callas is a fierce woman and are very passionate in bed, her hand wanders and she loves to wrap her fingers around your inviting throat, choking you as she gives you a mind-blowing orgasm. she wouldn't want to just douse you in her toxins to see you struggle to breathe, that would be cruel, not as exciting.

( toys )

moss is not sure if aphrodisiac is considered a kink or a toy but- sabine, like it or not is very tempted to put some in your coffee, tea, or food, maybe grown some flowers for you. she had used it a few times on you, wonderful effects it has on you but you don't need to know that, she was keeping a close eye on you to make sure you were alright anyway.

although sabine prefers her fingers and tongue, she does sometimes use a strap-on to snake inside you. usually, it is paired up with the chocking and hairpulling just to give her better angles and more control of you.

—𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐉𝐎𝐘

( kinks )

anything to do with breasts really, she is such a horny teenager when it comes to titties but she goes feral when it is about nipples. she loves licking them, pinching them, biting down on them, and just gently caressing them. they look so nice, pink, and puffy if given the right attention.

auralism, focusing on moans and not other things that can be sorted into this kink. klara likes hearing your moans, your cries, gasps, the filthy sound of her knuckles hitting your wet cunt, and the sloppy sound of either of your tongues slurping up the other's juices.

klara loves recording having sex with you, you are aware that she records it, you just don't know how because you never see cameras displayed around the bed or on any of the shelves. taking pictures is her other favorite, showing you them is close behind.

( toys )

klara makes her own vibrator, no kidding, she does and even makes an app for her phone to control it whenever and wherever she wants.

nipple clamps can be anything in klara's eyes- paper clips, regular clips you use for hanging your clothes, the end of the pen that you use to hang it on a pocket, but she does have nipple clamps for pinching your cute little pink buds to hear you squeal and wince.

—𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐍

( kinks )

tala is very shy and very inexperienced and it is hard for her to come to terms with her love for electrostimulation. she wouldn't do it on purpose, the sometimes when she cannot control her powers and a spark leaves her fingers. it excites her when you let out a sharp, high-pitched moan, writhing against her hold.

dacryphilia or the sexual arousal to seeing tears or crying- she yet again doesn't realize that seeing a tear or two rolls down on your face or just hearing you cry makes her body tingle with arousal and not empathy most of the times.

( toys )

again, tala is very inexperienced and the only thing she can use or like to use so far is a small bullet vibrator. it's convenient, pretty easy to function, and clean, tala loves stuffing it inside you, have you sit on her lap, and make out with you.

—𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐍𝐀

( kinks )

zyanya loves the master/slave dynamic but it has to be special, has to be on her terms and not out of blue. she might sometimes whisper into your ears when outside of the bedroom a couple of naughty commands, to try and see how much of a slave you really are and she is very pleased every time.

the empress loves wax play, impact play, and basically anything that hurts just a little or more. zyanya is a sadist, no questions there, so she is harsh and goes overboard most if not all the time.

she loves every aspect of bdsm, of course, there is some no-no for her in the broad definition too. it is commonly mistaken being "all about pain" but again, reyna is a sadist and will use her control over you to see you cry because it hurts. she does practices safe sex and is constantly asking for your safe word. she loves the control, the power, humiliation, and pleasure the both of you experience while being a master and a slave.

if you call her mommy instead of master or mistress she won't get mad, and won't punish you but know it when to say it because mommy zyanya will be soft, caring, and put away all the toys she has out. if you say it at the wrong time, get ready for not being able to use your limbs properly.

( toys )

zyanya often dons a strap-on because she cannot get enough of the little belly bulge she sees whenever she bottoms out on you. it also lets her make you ride her like a good cowgirl should. plus it ramming a fake cock into your tight cunny makes your breasts jiggle way more than using her fingers.

ropes and handcuffs, always out on the ready to help you behave for your master. she ditched the ropes a long time ago, and uses silk instead of the usual twisted dry ropes one might think. the handcuffs are from another generation, the metal ones that used keys and could be popped open if tweaked the right way.

she does not overuse her whips, zyanya only takes them out of the cabinet if you are to be punished greatly. don't worry she will put some cream on the reddened skin, coo you praises of how good you were, how well you took everything she gave to you, and that this might have been her favorite orgasm just yet.

—𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄

( kinks )

ying wei loves loves pet play, loves to collar you, put a leash on you, and sometimes even a muzzle when she feels extra mean. she tugs you around in the room, and calls you her good puppy or kitten, depending on what you are into really.

voyeurism but not in the way you think- seeing herself eaten out by you in front of a mirror, or having you sit in front of a mirror while fingering you until your brain spills out of your pussy is like watching a movie for her, maybe even better than a movie.

exhibitionism but again, not in the way you think- ying wei only and only masturbates in front of you (and maybe her phone to send you something nice while you are away). she likes seeing you desperate, hearing you cry for her to let you help her, that you can make her feel her really good like a good pet should!

it might be more of a fetish than a kink, but sage loves stealing your panties. it's dirty, and it makes her feel like a pervert but she enjoys your confused looks and questions about where might your panties be? you just put them into the basket!

( toys )

ying wei is big on collaring, hence the pet play, she does not make you wear the collar outside of the bedroom and is slightly against the idea of it too. she specially made a collar with her name written in the inside of your collar with metal and a leather bracelet that also has her name impaled in with metal letters on the inside that she makes you wear all the time.

sage does have two nice dildos stashed away in her room, not too big, not too small. one is made for you that stretches you nicely and one is for her to accompany her fingers when she is making you watch her masturbating.

—𝐉𝐄𝐓𝐓

( kinks )

impact play with sunwoo is really just her spanking you, slapping your breasts or your wet little cunny to emphasize how wet you were. her spanks on your ass are always painful, she makes sure they are, and makes you speed up.

sunwoo loves overstimulation, it is very surprising that she had more energy than neon does. most of the time goes overboard on purpose but sometimes she gets into the rhythm so much that there is no way to stop herself and you 'suffer' the consciences.

not sure if these can be sorted into the kink category but sunwoo goes far and beyond for blowjobs and handjobs. she doesn't care if she can't feel it, it still excites her to see your head bob up and down on the plastic cock. the handjobs are another thing, she usually makes out with you while having you rub the strap-on. it makes her feel like a horny teenager and it just does wondersto her sex drive.

( toys )

if sunwoo feels extra energetic she puts a strap-on around her waist, fucking you as if she was a freaking animal in heat. she puts plenty of lube on the plastic toy to make sure it doesn't hurt too much. she buys different shapes and sizes in all the pretty colors she wants or you'd like to see fill your tight cunny.

she has a couple of vibrators, different sizes, shapes, and colors for all the same purpose to overstimulate you and ruin your pussy for the next few days.

—𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐄

( kinks )

hazel loves gagging you, either with a ball gag or her fingers, but prefers her fingers. it is really because the further she fills your mouth, the nicer it is to enjoy your muffled moans.

sensory deprivation kicks hazel's shoes off, and your scarred expression just takes her over the edge without anything really done to her. she often closes her eyes when you are treating her, adding to her pleasure a ton and if you are such a good pet you gonna help her tie it around her eyes too.

somnophilia is no question on the list, hazel can see nightmares, right? there is only a thin line between nightmares and dreams and she likes to get into your mind while she slips a finger or two inside your tight cunny while you are asleep.

( toys )

as mentioned before, hazel has a ball gag or two, they don't really have a color that is called pretty, they are really plain but she doesn't need a lot to hear you struggle against it with your moans.

the nice things she has are the blindfolds she put on your eyes, now those are really nice. the finest silk money can buy, nicely soaking up your tears and doesn't leave any marks that would itch later.

#📼 › moss tapes #valorant smut #valorant x reader smut #valorant x reader #valorant viper x reader smut #valorant killjoy x reader smut #valorant reyna x reader smut #valorant sage x reader smut #valorant neon x reader smut #valorant jett x reader smut #viper x reader smut #killjoy x reader smut #reyna x reader smut #sage x reader smut #neon x reader smut #jett x reader

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plushieanimals · 1 year

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so i visited a pokemon store near me and i finally got them all. look at them. plushies. im so happy and yes the flareon is incredibly soft and also vaporeon is for a friend of mine and also yes you can see yet another snake plush (the ikea puppet snake plush, i just like to snooze with him). thought itd be nice to share :)

OMGGGG THE FUWA FUWA FLAREON they’re so BIG i love them!! omg it makes it so tempting for me to buy the fluffy espeon….also i love the pokemon fit/sitting cuties plushies i didn’t know it was possible to buy gen 5 pokemon in the US yet!! (assuming you’re in the US….) they’re so cute thank you for sharing!!

#publishing this one cause look at the flareon! also gen 5 pokemon fit soon!!#hidden snakey boy…..#pokemon #flareon #vaporeon #tepig #totodile #pokemon fit #pokemon sitting cuties #creamsnekkle

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amazable01 · 8 months

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New mindscape hc dropped

Okay, but about thinking the incorrect quotes vid as well as rewatching the plushie ep gave me an idea: what if it's like an apartment building? It can be altered for people to live together if they so choose or it's called for, but everyone has a similar set up to Thomas' canon home with a room, a open-floor plan house, and a bathroom. I also imagine there's a communal area with a lounge, a gym, the entrance (which is also how to get to the imagination), and other party rooms and breakfast nooks and other mishmashes of hotels/apartment buildings.

More under the cut, cause this got longer that I was planning-

The twins obviously share an apartment, as much Roman hates it, and it's a messy blend of creative passion and hulking monstrosities. Depending on which of them Thomas is drawing from, the colored lighting and atmosphere will shift to reflect that. They have a habit of decorating into each other's spaces, which causes fights and snapping at one another. They have too many weapons, and they use them more frequently than you'd hope.

Patton and Logan moved in together awhile ago, and their space is fairly similar to Thomas' normal apartment, generally. The two keep to their own spaces, unless Thomas is choosing to indulge in either one of them, and then the main area becomes a mess for a while. They do have dogs, they're not supposed to have dogs, but Logan can't bring himself to make Patton depressed by removing the dogs. Very 'sitcom from the 90s' vibes w/ them and the others.

Janus and Virgil have their own places. Did they live together before? Maybe. Janus still has a key to Virgil's apartment, and Virgil has an empty room that collects dust and random memorabilia, but regardless, they don't live together anymore, and their spaces are very carefully personalized. Both have multiple pets (snakes and spiders respectively, but also many others depending on their moods), and they've made a pact to not tell Logan. (This pact has been broken so many times that Logan doesn't bother anymore.)

The Neighbors are those who have not been introduced, but do in fact exist. Janus, Remus, and Virgil know a lot about them, but the other three know significantly less.

There are all kinds of shenanigans happening. Pranks wars on holiday decor, an indoor pool which is the sight of every pool party, a fancy ballroom for more formal events, a continental breakfast that appears every day at the same time but is gone mysteriously by lunch, and plenty of other areas that can be found if you just know where to look. And then everything else you would need is just outside the front doors.

Lemme know what you think about this idea, cause I kind of love it? And I'm tempted to play around w/ it a bit. And feel free to add onto it, if you'd like! There's a lot of exploration with this concept.

#sanders sides #mindscape #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #orange side #I think it's fun and chaotic #and I love the idea that they're all in one place #but still given separate spaces

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candied-peach · 2 years

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ao3: “against the rocks” rating: T genre: angst, hurt/comfort (at the very end) warnings: loceit (at the very end), migraines, sensory overload description: Logan has a migraine. (prompt: angst with constantly overstimulated/migraine logan)

The others are so loud. Logan grits his teeth, resisting the urge to rub his temples for the third time in a minute. Have they always been so loud? It feels like his ears might break under the weight of their cacophony, like waves crashing on the jagged rocks of his hearing. His head throbs with sickening pain, making nausea surge. He closes his eyes.

Then promptly opens them when Roman accuses him of not paying attention, his voice loud and bright and too much.

"Of course I am paying attention," he says stiffly, and even the sound of his own voice makes him want to bow under the weight of it, because it's too much, much too much, and he has to struggle against the childish urge to stuff his hands over his ears. As if that would help. What would help is this pointless argument being over. They're only going in circles at this point. Should Thomas do this, should Thomas do that. Logan is tempted to say that he doesn't give a fuck what Thomas does, if he would just make a decision already, but the words remain trapped behind lips, teeth, and tongue, the drawbridge of his throat unwilling to open and unlock his vitriol.

Besides, Thomas looks almost as overwhelmed as he feels. It is not Thomas's fault the others can't agree. Or perhaps it is after all, since they are just metaphysical representations of his personality, but that gets into a philosophical argument that Logan doesn't have the patience for right now. Not when he has a burgeoning migraine, not when he feels like ripping off his own skin if the others would just shut up.

"Logan, what do you think?" Needles jabbing into his brain, stabbing his ears and slipping into the vulnerable pupils of his eyes.

"I think that Thomas should do what we decided on an hour ago," he manages to say. "And with that, I am out, as they say." And without waiting for an answer, he sinks down to blessed quiet. His room dims at a thought and he collapses on his bed, fumbling for his weighted blanket and drawing it over himself. The pressure helps and he sighs in relief. He fumbles for his noise canceling headphones and slips them on, just in case one of the others decides it is a good idea to bang on his door or demand to know why he left. As if it wasn't obvious that logic was no longer required at the table. Logic hadn't been required at the table for most of the argument!

He sighs, giving in and rubbing his throbbing temples with one hand. He summons an eye mask, one that will cool his face, and gently places it over his eyes. His head still throbs and his stomach still sloshes uneasily, but he feels....better. For now. Until the next so-called debate.

Logan slowly drifts off to a welcome sleep. When he wakes, he will discover that his blankets have been straightened, his pillows fluffed, and his migraine medication set out on his desk, with a little snake plushie keeping it company, courtesy of his boyfriend. He will smile and down his medication, just to ensure that the migraine fully leaves, and place the snake plush next to his pillow.

But for now, he sleeps, his forehead smoothed of its pained furrows and blanket up nearly to his chin.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #logan sanders #loceit #romantic loceit #background loceit #logan #janus #roman #c!thomas #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #📚#ok to rb #peach writes

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

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yandere ! BNHA headcannons

SLEEPING HABITS

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: dubcon, noncon, yandere, abuse, profanity, anxiety, arson, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mind control

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

Bakugo respects sleep to the point of obsession. Always in bed before eight thirty, and though the thought of railing his little darling into the mattress is always a tempting thought, a long day of hero-work almost always calls for cuddles and sleep and nothing more and nothing less. He’s just so tired once he comes home, all sweaty and coated in smog with only one petite little gorgeous thing on his mind. He scarcely takes a shower before heading to bed, coming in through the door, grabbing his little darling wherever she is, whatever she’s doing going to waste or having to wait until the morning again, because there’s no chance in either heaven or hell she’s escaping what lock she’s been secured in under Bakugo’s arms, making quick work of shedding all clothes and brushing his teeth harshly in bare-minimum war-like effort, before scooping her up in his arms and collapsing in the bed with a bounce and a much needed groan.

He’ll have her on her side, spooning her, squeezing the breath from out of her lungs, his heavy heartbeats crashing and wreaking havoc through her ribs, hand harshly gripping onto her hip, pushing her ass firmly against his crotch, hissing each time she makes a move. This is how it always goes, every night, no exceptions. She’ll always be locked and pushed to his chest, guarding her as though he’s a dragon protecting his treasure. His breaths wafting close to her ear, those heavy growling huffs making her heart catch in her throat. He’ll breath in the scent of her hair, loving how flowery and serene her scent is as opposed to the smell of smoke and caramel. Finding it a perfect aroma to fall asleep to, pleasant dreams conjured by the associations it provides.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi can’t go to sleep without some sugar. But he too can come home tired after having over-exerted himself with the use of his blue flames, therefor sex isn’t always in the deck of cards for his darling once he comes home. Though, if she thinks she’s off the hook, she’s mistaken, there will be no sleep until he’s satisfied. He’s a selfish asshole about it too, pulling her up and his chest, hands cradling her ass, pinching the soft plump flesh as he makes her grind on him, his tongue and teeth coming to mark-up that pretty soft neck of hers, her soft timid whimpers enough to make him groan, wild energy surging through his loins, perhaps enough to persuade him in ripping those little panties off her anyways.

Afterwards he’ll be lying on his back, having her lie halfway on his chest. One hand stroking with slender fingers up and down her sides, loving how her goosebumps never fail in greeting him. On those days he wants more contact, he’ll swing her leg up over his torso, hand holding onto her ass-cheek, pulling her some further onto his chest. His heart fluttering in gratification as her small hands come to trace his itching aching scars, those careful curious blossom-tipped fingertips dancing over his marred skin, goosebumps of his own flushing the surface in reverence. His spine shivering as he falls ever so softly into sweet-dream sleep.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

Tomura’s sleep habit is sporadic, but despite being tired, his boyish horniness always outweighs his need for sleep. Actually, he finds he sleeps even better after having pumped what frustration the day had given him into his poor little darling. Having her jump up and down the length of his cock, or humping her silly into the mattress. However, he always prepares her first, loving to feel her quivering little thighs locked and spread with his face buried in what sweetness found between them, gorging himself in exploring what places has his darling going cross-eyed. His hungry-hearted curiosity making quick work of finding out which way to curl and scissor his fingers when burying his digits knuckle-deep inside her, feeling her spongy walls clench and flutter about him until her juices drip shamefully down his hand, a cocky smile stretched upon his face as he kisses her stomach. Her prepared slicked-up wet and velvety walls so eager to suck in his cock, the fluttering feel of her walls kissing his girth enough to have his toes cramping and eyes going wild.

He’ll be exhausted afterwards, and clingy, cradling her chest like a toddler. His face using her chest like a pillow, hand squeezing and tweaking at her nipple as though it were some plushie for him to drool over. His foot coming to cuddle and snake with hers until he feels perfectly comfortable. Snores quickly following suit as well as a satiated blissful smile stretched upon his face.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Nothing can help Hitoshi’s darling from doing whatever he wants, however he wants it, whenever he wants it. No amount of groveling, begging, pleading, crying, screaming will stop him. And, although he comes home multiple times throughout the day, having subjugated his darling to his will again and again for several hours on end, sex is still mandatory before she’s allowed to sleep. He’ll laugh as he clutches her mind in a choke-hold, having her focus on every single little movement he makes, making her tremble upon every feather-light touch he bestows upon her, watching her eyes wrench shut upon every vein and bump and ridge as he pinches her clit between his callous fingers, watching as she loses count of how many times he’s made her cum in the span of the mere last hour.

He’ll be a real cocky, manipulative, degrading asshole during their entire play-session, but when it comes to cuddles he’ll wipe the shit-eating grin off his face and kiss her temple softly, stroking and petting her hair as he whispers sweet little nothings into her ear. Still a smidge of cockiness evident in his otherwise awe-struck tone. Limbs flung over and under each other, thoroughly entangled in an intricate and comfortable knot, coated with sweat. He’ll release whatever hold he had on her mind once their done, happy to see her comfort herself in his chest, soft sighs sounding from her small frame, in contrast to watching her pathetically try and snake her way from out of his hold.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Poor darling. She’s lucky she can still stand on some days throughout the week. Praying, wishing and screaming at whomever might be listening, whomever might be in charge of her fate other than Keigo has become like ritual before going to bed. Her prayers are never answered though. It’s a cruel joke, a game, a satire, some form of heaven yet some form of hell. How he comes to her in the shape of an angel, similar to the ones she’s been praying to, only he answers her prayers in whichever way he wants. He’ll have her for hours on end in prayer stance, kneeling, clinging to him as though he were a life-line. He’ll have her slipping in and out of consciousness, with his almighty hands guiding her every movement where she’s grown too tired to do as much as lift a finger in protest, where all that leaves her mouth are cute incomprehensible sounds.

But even he gets exhausted after a while, after a long, long while of snapping his hips forward, jutting into his poor little baby-bird. Sometimes, if he still has the energy, he’ll lay them both in the bath, message whatever strain gathered in her shoulders away, have her melt against him, but on most days: he’ll simply wrap both his wings around her sweat-slicked glowing dewy body, inhale the sweet scent of their love and nuzzle into her neck, whisper small cooing praises and adorations, holding onto her as though she’s absolution, drifting off to sleep while feeling the spontaneous remnants of himself spasm and jolt through her.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Izuku uses everything with purpose, as a lesson, as a reminder, as a threat, as a weapon. Sex is no exception. Does his little darling not understand her place, he’ll gladly teach her. Does his little darling forget who she belongs to, he’ll gladly remind her. Does his little darling think she can leave, does she think she can survive on her own, does she really think she’ll breath better without him? She’ll soon be preaching otherwise while clamping down around the girth of his cock, with his swollen cockhead kissing her cervix each time he pushes into her. He’ll have her screaming, crying, begging for forgiveness, and being the forgiving hero that he is, he’ll allow her rest if she tells him one more time what she’s done wrong and make him believe that she’ll never do something like it ever again through promise upon promise upon tearful promise.

He’ll allow her rest when he’s convinced she’s learned her lesson, where after he’ll always draw a bath before sleeping, carrying her to the water and letting her soak while he changes the bedsheets. He’ll be sweet then, still stern and domineering and intimidating, but refraining from being harsh and brute and cruel. He’ll have her lying on his chest every night, legs secured between his, large hands propping her into position if she slides off or tries shifting, having her ask for permission to leave the bed to do simple things such as using the bathroom. His hand running through her hair, large enough to capture her entire skull in his palm, enough to make her fear sleeping yet enough to make her feel lonely when she wakes up without him.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

On days where Kai is content, or at least something akin to the feeling, all he wants is to cherish sweet moments with his darling. Soft-tinted cuddles in bed where silence is a type of peace that makes his soul feel light like dandelion-fluff. But, days where the hours has spared Kai of the worlds ugliness, sickness and depravity are few and far between. Meaning, it’s not often he comes home content. And when he’s aggravated, when everything feels sporadic and irate and static and like pure and utter chaos, there’s only one thing that can make him feel collected again, like he’s in charge, in control, and that’s having his little darling beneath him with his cock tearing through her, it’s seeing those gorgeous watery eyes look up at him through a thick veil of plead, it’s having her innocence wrapped around his fingers.

It’s soothing, though it looks like punishment, though it looks like torture, it’s the only way he can find peace. Afterwards, lying face to face, tangled together, limbs an artwork of intense and passionate knotwork, his shallow breaths turning to long-felt satisfied inhales and exhales. Feeling the cleanliness of her trembling flesh beneath his fingertips, having her small breakable defenseless body tight against his, the drums of her heartbeats dancing against the thunder-claps residing in his own chest, droplets of tears hanging off her eyelashes as her gem-like orbs look up at him, his hand on her waist. It’s reassuring knowing that perfection still exists in a world devoid of order.

TODORKI SHOTO

Shoto would play all day everyday if he could, but he can’t, which makes the pressure on those hours in which he can play that much more crucially vital. Yet, knowing what’s to come doesn’t mean his darling ever knows what to expect when the night conquers the sky. She’ll be counting the seconds until she hears the front-door unlock, the click sending gunshots to ricochet through her ribs. She’ll hear his booted footsteps on the stone-floors, notice her breathing turning grim and shallow, feeling the beating pitter pattering of her heart in her head, and then she’ll feel him outside the conjuring of her own fears, she’ll feel his slender petal-veined finger gliding up her leg or shoulder, tangling in her hair, his firm lips pressing softly against her forehead, her crippling fear and the rushing of blood boiling past her ears rendering all sounds incomprehensible.

Her mind knows what to expect, what to dread, what to prepare for, but her body never seems to learn. He’ll bite, he’ll claw, he’ll strangle, long digits curling and scissoring in places too deep for her to ever even dream of reaching. Cold then hot then cold and hot or hot and cold or frostbitten and boiling. She always falls asleep with a fever. Cradled and comforted in the same arms that caused her unraveling, her eyes opium-blown as she stares blankly up at him, falling deeper and drowning in chromatic galaxies. Her whole body cold and sweat-slicked and breathless and overwhelmed with Shoto’s inescapable embrace, whether she’s lying beneath him or on top of him or curled up against his chest, she’s not allowed to breath her own air when with him.

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

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to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 2/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: blood and injury, Remus being mildly unsettling

Chapter Word Count: 5,074

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 3)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They don’t talk about it.

Thomas would very much like to talk about it. But whenever he goes to bring it up, Janus glares at him in a way that promises a world of trouble if he so much as breathes a word, and Thomas really does not want to set back any of the progress he’s already made with him, so he shuts up about it. He’s not entirely sure why Janus is so opposed to addressing it; it can’t be that he doesn’t want the others to know, after all, because all the others are literally parts of Thomas and as such are privy to the knowledge of everything that Thomas experiences.

As best as Thomas can tell, it’s some sort of embarrassment that holds Janus back, some sort of shame, and Thomas doesn’t get it. Surely he knows that Thomas doesn’t mind at all, that Thomas enjoys the time they spend together, even if their conversations are far more one-sided than he would like. Janus seems to be under the impression that coming to him at all is in some way unseemly, while Thomas just wants him to be comfortable enough to approach him as a human.

But as more time passes, that seems less and less likely. Thomas spends far more time with snake-Janus than with human-Janus, and Janus begins to come with him even when the sun shines bright and his spot by the window is available. Thomas becomes quite familiar with carrying a weight looped around his neck, and wishes he could puzzle out why Janus is acting this way.

The worst part is that with every passing day, he feels like he understands Janus less, not more. Because the way he acts during meetings and discussions, when he pops in to offer opinions and advice masked as sarcasm and cutting quips, is entirely different to the way he acts as a snake, when he and Thomas are alone together, when he leans into all the contact Thomas has to offer, seeking warmth, and, Thomas suspects, company. It’s almost as if he’s dealing with two entirely different people, each one unwilling or unable to discuss the other, and frankly, Thomas has no idea what to do about it.

Because he’s worried that if he pushes too hard, demands one answer too many, Janus will stop approaching him at all, in any form. And that is the last thing he wants.

So, he leaves it be, and resigns himself to the idea that human-Janus may just remain incomprehensible to him, and that snake-Janus is the closest he will get to making a friend out of him. And if that turns out to be the case, then gosh darn it, he will be the best friend to snake-Janus that he possibly can be.

This has the side effect of leading him to a snake-centric fact-finding mission, which Logan appreciates, at least, because “even if the information may not be applicable to most aspects of your life, at least you’re learning something, Thomas.” Which he supposes is fair. He learns a great many things about snakes over the course of a few days, most of it interesting, if not particularly relevant. He doesn’t know how much of this actually applies to Janus, since he’s not a real snake.

Though he does find out that snakes don’t have eyelids. That would explain the whole no-blinking thing.

Other than his impromptu investigations, they fall into an equilibrium fairly easily. Janus will seek him out at all hours of the day and wrap himself around his arm or neck, sometimes staying awake and aware and sometimes drifting off into sleep. And when he’s fed up with the company, he leaves, disappearing with neither warning nor fanfare. Thomas settles into this new routine with little effort, and decides that if this is all he’s going to get from Janus, he’ll take it.

He gets used to it, so much so that he stops looking every time he feels Janus curl around him. This turns out to be a mistake.

He’s procrastinating, as per usual. His deadline is a full week away, and even Virgil has been unable to provide the urgency that Thomas needs to push through and finish his latest project. He knows that this will only end badly, that he’s going to end up staying up until the early hours of the morning in a few days if he doesn’t get started now, but he simply doesn’t feel like it. So, he’s scrolling through Amazon instead, clicking through pages of items that he neither needs nor particularly wants.

He’s been looking at a lot of frogs, lately. Cute, decorative frogs, the kinds that sit on mantles and don’t do much of anything. And plushies, too, and those are actually tempting. He’s pretty sure that it’s Patton’s influence.

“What do you think?” he asks, holding up his arm so that Janus can see the screen. Janus hisses quietly, and he laughs. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He doesn’t have the money to spend on a bunch of decorative frogs, even if he had a strong inclination toward doing so, but it’s fun to look. He’s seriously considering a stuffed animal, but he’s pretty sure that Logan intends to talk him down from that, so there’s no real need to be concerned about it. Even if he ends up buying one after all, he thinks it would be worth it.

He glances down at Janus, trying to figure out if he’s enjoying this at all, or if he’s just irritated. And that’s when he finally notices the blood.

He freezes up, his muscles tensing, and blinks hard, hoping that it’s a trick of the light, or that spending so many hours doing practically nothing has fried his brain at last. But no; Janus’ scales are dotted with rusty red, and Thomas traces the blood back to a long gash trailing down his side, sluggishly oozing, slowly dripping onto his arm. He stares for a long moment, his mind stalling, and he wonders if the scent of iron flooding his nose is real or imaginary. Or rather, real by a certain standard, since everything to do with his sides is technically imaginary, but oh god, why is he bleeding so much? He thought that his sides could wave off injuries, that nothing could truly affect them unless they wanted it to? Or is that just Logan? And then there’s the question of what did this to him in the first place, and how exactly he’s supposed to treat someone who’s a figment of his imagination, and whether or not any of the real medical supplies he has would work at all—

Focus, Thomas.

It’s like a whisper in his ear, gentle and firm. Logan’s voice. The world snaps into sharp clarity, mind and adrenaline working in tandem.

“Oh my god,” he says, and Janus’ head swivels to face him. The movement is slow, almost lethargic, as if he’s operating on a time delay. “You’re hurt. Okay. Well, not okay. But you’ll be okay.”

He has a first aid kit in the bathroom. He has no idea whether that will help or not, but he won’t know until he tries, as his logic helpfully points out. So the first order of business is to get to the bathroom. He stands, setting his laptop to the side, trying to jostle Janus as little as possible. Now that he’s paying attention, more and more details filter in; Janus’ grip on his arm is looser than usual, his eyes dull and glazed. His hat, usually so perfectly placed, is just slightly askew.

He makes it to the bathroom in short order, yanking the kit out from under the sink and nearly spilling its contents across the floor. He’ll need both hands for this, and he looks to Janus with no small amount of trepidation, wondering how well he’ll take being moved. He doesn’t want to cause him more pain than necessary, and he doesn’t know how aware he currently is, doesn’t know if he’ll lash out if he feels threatened. He gives him an experimental nudge, prodding at him with one finger, and Janus hisses, shifting his coils to hold on tighter.

“C’mon,” Thomas says. “You gotta let me help you, buddy.”

There is is again: buddy. He still doesn’t think it fits quite right, but it seems to slip out anyway, and now is hardly the time to worry about it, not when Janus still shows no sign of budging.

“Please, Janus,” he says, dangerously close to begging. “I promise, I’m not gonna let anything else happen to you, but you need to let me see where you’re hurt.”

Janus’ tongue flickers out, tasting the air, and his eyes seem to focus just a bit. One minute passes, and then another, and Thomas is about to try to remove him by force when finally, he lets go, slithering onto the counter, his motions hesitant and pained, softly hissing all the while. Blood begins to drip onto the sink, the sickening red smearing across the countertop.

“Thank you,” Thomas says, not bothering to hide his relief. “Okay, um, I’ve got bandages. And painkillers, if you want them… can snakes take painkillers?” He sets things out as he names them, slowing as he hits a snag. Not only does he not know if snakes can take painkillers, but he also doesn’t know if there are any other substances in here that would do more harm than good, or if there are any special steps he should take due to his scales, or the fact that he’s cold-blooded. In fact, he has absolutely no idea how to treat a snake, and the idea that he might end up making things worse is enough to send his anxiety ratcheting up a few notches.

Is he overthinking this? He might be overthinking this. But what if he’s not?

Try to remain calm. If you don’t know enough to work within this situation, change the situation.

Logan again, though he’s not sure how that’s supposed to help. He would change the situation if he could— heck, that’s what he’s trying to do— but if it were so simple as wishing this whole scenario away, he would have done it by now. He’s not sure how to—

Oh, wait. Change the situation, or change Janus’ situation?

He has absolutely no idea how to treat a snake. But Janus doesn’t have to be a snake.

He crouches down so that he’s on eye level with Janus, who is limp and unmoving on the sink counter, tracking his motions with clouded eyes. It’s not just the large gash, he realizes; that’s the worst of it, but there are several shallower cuts, all still open and bleeding, and he swallows hard.

“Okay, so, I don’t want to make things any worse,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Do you think you could turn back into a human for me? Just so that I know what I’m doing?”

Not that he knows much about treating humans either, but at least he’d know where to start. Perhaps if Janus’ injuries were less severe, he could work with them in this state, but that prominent gash looks deep and angry, probably about six inches long, wide and painful, rending scales apart and leaking dark blood and god, he is so afraid of making this worse—

Janus stares at him, and doesn’t react.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says, because he is. He doesn’t know why Janus only initiates contact with him as a snake, doesn’t know why the very idea of deviating from that seems to disquiet him. Asking him to be human now, like this, almost seems wrong, like they’ll be breaking what understanding they do have between them, breaking the peace they’ve found with each other lately. But then, the peace is already broken, he thinks, has been broken since Janus showed up bleeding. “I know you probably don’t want to. But I want to make this better, and I don’t think I can if you’re uh, shaped like this. I… I guess I’m asking you to trust me.”

It’s a tall order, and he is well aware of that. Janus is Deceit, after all, and Deceit is practically the antithesis of trust. He’ll probably have to work with Janus as a snake after all, and he’s just resolving himself to do the best he can when Janus shifts in place, raising his head.

Thomas isn’t sure how to process what happens next. One part of his brain tells him that the change happens slowly, that Janus’ form stretches and morphs in impossible ways, scales fading away and features rearranging before his eyes. The other part of his brain insists that the shift is instantaneous, that it happens as quickly as blinking, that in one moment, there is a snake curled on the counter and in the next, there is a man, with no gradual transition between the two. But however it happens, Janus now sits in front of him, arms and legs all present, hunched in on himself and wheezing. One hand flies to his side, clutching at his shirt.

Thomas blinks. For a second, his mind fights with itself, trying to decide on what, exactly, he just watched. Then, he decides that it doesn’t matter, that he’ll have a crisis about it later, and that there are more important things to concentrate on.

He reaches out, placing a steadying hand on Janus’ shoulder. “Easy, easy,” he says, raising his voice to be audible over Janus’ gasps. “Are you okay?”

It takes a minute for Janus to get his breathing under control, and when he does, he looks up at Thomas, his expression pinched. “Just fine,” he rasps. “Absolutely perfect, can’t you tell?” His voice is strained, tension showing in the lines around his eyes and in the thin set of his mouth. “Really, Thomas, the fuss is hardly necessary. I—” He cuts off with a slight gasp, eyes squeezing shut, and Thomas feels his heart clench.

“Hm, yeah, no, I think I’ve got the right to fuss a little bit,” he says, hoping his voice stays level. He looks him up and down, searching for the injury, and finds nothing; his shirt appears immaculate, his whole outfit as perfectly assembled as usual, not a rip or tear in sight. If it weren’t for the pain on his face, the tremors wracking his frame, Thomas wouldn’t suspect that he was injured at all, and he frowns. “Can you, uh—” He gestures— “take off your shirt, maybe? So I can see where you’re hurt?”

Janus sighs heavily, as though the request has greatly burdened him. He waves one hand in the air, and his shirt and capelet vanish, revealing his bare torso. Under any other circumstance, Thomas might be fascinated by the scales that trail all along his chest and left arm, but right now, his attention centers on the gash bloodying his side, and the thinner scratches that cover him. They all look bigger than they were before, more serious, and he hopes that he didn’t make the wrong decision in requesting him to shift. If it had been a bad idea, he would have refused, right?

“God, Janus,” he says. “What happened?”

Janus sighs again, rolling his eyes. “A mishap in the Imagination,” he says. “Unfortunately, both Roman and Remus designed the place so that its effects stick around even after leaving.”

… Alright. That’s probably something to talk about later; he doesn’t particularly like the reminder that he has no idea how most of the mindscape works. “But I thought you could heal yourselves?” he can’t help but ask. He vividly remembers the day he met Remus, the way that none of his attacks seemed to affect Logan for more than a few seconds.

“We all can, to some degree,” Janus agrees. “It’s more difficult for some of us than it is for others.” He hesitates, and the next words come out slow and almost defensive. “I am capable of it, if I succeed in persuading myself that the problem doesn’t exist in the first place, but in order to do so, I need to sufficiently distance myself from any negative sensations that accompany the harm. I am… currently finding that difficult.” He glares. “I’ll mange perfectly well, given time. There is no need for any of this.” He waves an arm to punctuate the declaration, and it might have been somewhat convincing if it weren’t for the fact that he immediately curls in on himself, face paling, like he’s pulled something the wrong way.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Well, how about you let me help you anyway, just for my peace of mind?”

Janus stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Finally, he glances away. “Do what you wish,” he says. “If you want to waste time on this, be my guest.”

He hums noncommittally, already inspecting the wound. “I don’t think that taking care of you is a waste of time,” he says, fishing through the first aid kit. He comes up with a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol, looking up just in time to see what can only be an expression of shock fade from Janus’ face, and god, what must he be doing wrong if that is Janus’ reaction to being told that he cares about him? He can’t unpack that right now, or else he might cry, so he holds out the Tylenol instead. “Painkillers?”

Janus nods slightly, and takes two dry. From there, Thomas works in silence, cleaning the wounds as best he can and bandaging them. It takes longer than he expects, and he debates whether or not the long gash will need stitches. He decides not to make the attempt, trusting that what Janus says is true and that he will be able to heal before too long. So he wraps bandages around his torso, and Janus, for his part, remains perfectly still, staring straight ahead, an occasional soft hiss the only thing that betrays his discomfort.

“Okay,” he says quietly, inspecting his handiwork. “I think that’s the best I can do.”

Janus shoots him an unreadable look. “In that case,” he says, “I believe I’ll be going now.”

He hops down from the counter before Thomas can stop him, and his face crumples like a wet sheet of paper. Thomas catches him as his knees give out, hooking his hands under his arms. He is surprisingly light, his skin cool to the touch.

“How about we don’t do that, actually,” he says. “I’ll tell you what, let’s go to my room, and I can work and you can get some rest?”

Janus hisses, trying to jerk away. It’s not difficult to prevent him from doing so; he has all the strength of a floppy pool noodle. “Oh yes, because I’m in dire need of a babysitter,” he spits out, and perhaps Thomas should feel intimidated, but looking at him, at the way all the color has drained from his face, at the way his eyes have glazed over even as they dart around the bathroom, all Thomas can muster up is a deep worry.

“I’m not trying to babysit you,” he says. “Believe me, I know that you of all people don’t need babysitting. But if you try to sink out now, I’m just gonna be stressed out, so if you’d stick around for a little bit, I would really appreciate it.”

Janus stills. The silence stretches on.

“Fine,” Janus says. “Sure. Whatever.”

Thomas restrains himself from letting out a sigh of relief, instead adjusting his grip on Janus until he is only supporting part of his weight. From the look on his face, Janus wants very much to grumble about the indignity of the situation, but miraculously, he remains quiet all the way to Thomas’ room, though he begins to drag his feet when he sees what Thomas intends.

“If you want me to rest,” he says, “I am perfectly capable of doing so in my own room. There’s hardly a need for me to take up space in your bed.”

“Okay,” Thomas says, lowering him to sit on the bedsheets and doing his level best to ignore his glare, “but then I won’t know that you’re alright. Also, I don’t see what the big deal is? It’s not like we haven’t done this before. You were just, uh, snakier.”

He knows immediately that it is the wrong thing to say. Janus’ face sets into an impassive wall, and he looks away, refusing to make eye contact. Thomas can’t tell what he’s feeling, whether it’s anger or embarrassment or frustration or some stubborn combination of the three. But he settles himself against the headboard without further argument, seemingly determined not to carry on any further conversation, so Thomas resigns himself to the silent treatment and sets up with his laptop on the other side of the bed, several inches placed between them.

The atmosphere is awkward, heavy. They both know that Thomas wants to talk, and they both know that Janus will not reply, or if he does, it will be with sharp sarcasm or otherwise cutting words, an answer that will not answer anything at all. So Thomas doesn’t say anything, merely glances over every now and again to be sure that Janus is still there, is still fine, is still breathing. Every time, he is greeted with the same sight: Janus staring off into the empty space in front of him, face blank, a faint tightness around his eyes the only indication that he is still in pain. There is a wall between them, invisible yet insurmountable, and Thomas has no idea how to breach it.

Why does their relationship feel so off-kilter now? Why are things so natural between them when Janus is a snake, small and speechless and cuddly, and not when he is a human?

“I don’t mean to force you to stay,” he murmurs. “If you’re really that uncomfortable, it’s alright if you leave.”

He’s watching him out of the corner of his eye, and as such, he sees the wince, slight though it may be.

“It’s… not that,” Janus admits. “I am grateful for your concern, truly. I just… so love being in unfamiliar territory.” His voice is a quiet drawl, but laced with exhaustion, his words just shy of slurred together.

He takes a second to parse through the words, and then smiles. “Well, that makes two of us,” he says. “I’d be alright with muddling through together. And look, I know that most of the time, when we hang out, you’re a snake. And that’s fine! One hundred percent fine, if that’s what you’re most comfortable with! But uh, I really wouldn’t mind spending more time with you as, like, a person, too, if that makes sense. Not that you’re not a person when you’re a snake! Wait—” He furrows his brow, trying to untangle his words, and looks over, certain that Janus will at least be amused by his rambling.

He’s not. Because Janus is asleep, his chin resting against his chest and his hat about to fall into his lap. Thomas feels an inexorable sense of fondness sweep over him, and with a gentle movement, he reaches over to pluck the hat from Janus’ head, revealing brown hair that falls in springy waves. He places the hat on the nightstand, casting one last look at Janus before returning his attention to his laptop.

There is plenty of work to do, and he is content to do it here, sitting in bed with Janus napping by his side. So he does, his fingers clacking against the keys long into the night, and Janus sleeps on.

-----------

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But he must, because he wakes, and slowly processes the fact that all is not as he left it. For one, the light is off, the room dark, and his laptop is resting on the nightstand, next to the shadow of Janus’ hat. For another, there is a heavy weight on top of his chest, pinning one of his arms against his side, and in the seconds before his eyes adjust sufficiently to the darkness, he fears the worst, fears that someone has broken into his apartment and… crawled into bed with him, and the irrationality of that idea is enough to dampen his panic. He squints, trying to will his vision into focus, and begins to make out what features he can see of the face pressed against his chest, features that very closely resemble his own, and that is when he remembers: Janus on his arm, Janus injured and bleeding, Janus on his bed, Janus asleep. Janus… still here.

Janus, snuggled up against him, his head resting on his chest, his body curled into his side, latched onto him with both… no, there’s more than two arms. At least four, maybe more; it’s difficult to determine without the light on, because all that Thomas can tell is that he is being very thoroughly hugged, and that it feels very nice.

This fact is distracting enough that it’s a full three minutes or so before he realizes that there is another figure perched on the edge of his bed. Panic roars up in him once again, his heart pounding and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, but then he notices the details, notices the poof of the figure’s sleeves, the wildness of their hair silhouetted against the light that creeps around the edges of the doorframe, the unholy red gleam of their eyes. And he… well, he doesn’t relax, not exactly. But most of his fear sidesteps directly into annoyance.

“Remus,” he hisses, as quietly as he can manage. “What are you doing?”

Remus cocks his head, his eyes shining brighter. He’s crouched almost like a grotesque parody of a cat, ready to pounce. But the Duke himself is still and silent, and it’s very odd. Almost worrying. And when he finally speaks, it’s not at all what Thomas was expecting.

“DeeDee got hurt,” he says, voice a subdued whisper, and Thomas is taken aback, both by the seriousness of his tone and the evident consideration toward not waking Janus up.

“I— yeah,” Thomas replies, uncertain as to where this is going. “I, uh, patched him up as best I could. He said he’d heal soon.” A thought occurs to him, and if Janus weren’t keeping him flat on his back, he’d be sitting bolt upright, finger pointed in accusation. “Wait, he said he was hurt in the Imagination. Did you have something to do with that?”

“I can’t keep an eye on every part of La La Land at once, Thomas.” He shrugs. “It’s not my fault if Snake from Snake Farm wandered into something he shouldn’t have.” He giggles, high-pitched and a little manic, but Thomas wonders at his tone of voice. It’s as irreverent as always, but underneath that— can it be concern? He really didn’t think Remus did concern. “Snakes should know better than to let their guard down. Your mind is dark and full of terrors.” He smiles, several rows of pointed white teeth gleaming an unnatural white in the shadows.

“I don’t even watch—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, and then freezes as Janus makes a small sound. Seconds pass, and he waits with bated breath, but Janus doesn’t seem to wake. “Okay, then,” he continues, more quietly. “Is there a reason why you’re here?”

Remus blinks, and once again, Thomas is reminded of a cat. A terrible, eldritch horror of a cat, but a cat nonetheless. “DeeDee doesn’t like to be around people when he’s hurt,” he says, rocking back and forth in place. “He doesn’t like people knowing when he’s weak.” He sighs through his nose, his breath whistling more than is natural. “He holes up in his room and doesn’t come out for anything, usually. Not even when I bang on the door and put rats in his air vents.”

Thomas stares, trying to process that. “But he’s here with me,” he says dumbly. “He decided to stay here. He’s…” He trails off. He doesn’t need to describe what Janus is doing; surely, Remus can see it for himself, can see them engaging in what can only be labeled as cuddling. And it’s not as if this is the first time; it’s just the first time Janus has been human-shaped.

“Yes, he is,” Remus agrees, voice sharp, and he is definitely trying to convey something here, something that Thomas is missing. “Tommy-boy, Tommy-boy, Tommy-boy, you’re just not getting it, are you? Well, that’s fine. Just remember that the snakes on the plane die too, if the plane crashes.”

“Is the plane crashing?” Thomas asks, voice hoarse, hesitant, and once again, Remus smiles, wide and dangerous.

“Not now, maybe,” he says. “But it still could. It always can. That’s the fun thing about airplanes. I could help with that, if you wanted.”

“No thanks,” Thomas is quick to reply.

Remus shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says, and then pauses. “Janus doesn’t let just anyone this close, you know. So don’t fuck it up.”

It’s such an uncharacteristic statement that by the time Thomas has recovered enough to reply, Remus is gone, melting into the bedsheets in a grotesque puddle of goo, and then, even that disappears. Thomas is left in a dark, quiet room, and he has never felt more awake.

But Janus is still here, still asleep, is holding onto him for dear life and hiding his face against his chest. And it’s something precious, something intimate, something that Thomas feels privileged to see at all, and Remus’ voice rings loud in his head: Janus doesn’t let just anyone this close. Why, then, has he allowed him this? Why has he let Thomas see him at his most vulnerable, no matter how reluctant he was at the start? Why did he choose to stay, rather than leaving once Thomas nodded off?

Each question only leads to more questions, and it’s clear that he won’t receive any answers tonight. So he settles back in as best he can, though it is a long time before he manages to fall asleep again.

In the morning, Janus is gone. He wishes he could be more surprised.

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#sanders sides #ts sides #platonic thomceit #character!thomas #janus sanders #ts janus #remus sanders #ts remus #my fic #part two babyyy #long post

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thebibi · 3 years

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Behold! The Snake that tempted Adam in the garden! Fear him!!

(OH MY GOD WHY IS THIS PLUSHIE SO CUTE IM GONNA DIE)

#sk8 #kikuchi tadashi #sk8 merch #for the record they are all cute #but tadashi is the cutest?!?#thebibi on sk8boiz #thebibi post

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ran196242 · 6 months

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First look of the Paris outfit samples! Everything seems to be in order, I just need a little modification on the stockings.

And as I am posting this, the outfits are now currently in production. The earliest I will be able to ship out for orders with them included by the end of December this year.

So, your thoughts?

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable plushies #soft angel plushie #tempting snake plushie #callus ran #ineffable husbands #artists on tumblr #paris outfits #ineffable spouses

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cultivatxr · 4 years

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@giftofthegodess whispered: silence.

nsfw prompt list || our muses having to keep down during sex.

Laughter lingered in the balmy evening air, the melody of young love flourishing in the wake of earlier frivolity. She could’ve just said goodnight and been on her way; but there had been so much promise in the sway of hips and the deviancy of a smile, it would be rude to just abandon him. And so the impulse had been born, a beckoning finger having lured him in and led him, like a piper from the bright lights of a dancefloor and out into the streets of Midgar. It wasn’t something she made a habit of, but there was a time for spontaneity and this was apparently it.

Fingers intertwined against the warm sanctuary of a palm, Aerith had led him home; barely checked carnality residing in the slew of open mouthed kisses upon her doorstep, hands knotting in strands of copper while she’d tried so hard to stifle the breathless amusement that had ensued. Gaia, she was happy. Intoxicated and high on his heady mix of love and distraction. “Shhhh.” She warned with a finger to her lips, hoping to avoid waking her mother and explaining this irritatingly handsome house guest as she led him inside and stumbled into her own umbrella stand in the process.

“You’re the one making the noise, love.” It’s a purr against her neck and she can’t even argue, teeth biting down into her lip to stop the giggle that wants to ripple forth. Her hand tugged his own, footsteps measured and well practiced to avoid creaking floorboards as she leads her beloved Freckle up the staircase, with an expression that is far more mischievous than it ought to be. She’s almost sorry he’s not getting the full house tour, although perhaps a little glad too that the blanketing shroud of darkness has masked a multitude of cluttered sins.

It isn’t a long journey and yet it feels like an age, seconds stretching into what feels like days until the door of her bedroom can safely click closed behind them and usher the redhead into her own little piece of the world. It’s all down hill from there; restraint forgotten in a flurry of hands and lips, clothes shirked off beneath wandering digits and scattering themselves across a darkened floor. As frantic as it is frenetic, her mouth claimed his throat, nipping at tender flesh, marking out all the promises she’d made earlier in the evening, until he returned the favour.

It’s carnality plain and simple; when Genesis snaked his arms beneath her thighs and hoisted her up, legs encircling his waist with a hitch of breath that was unexpectedly sinful. The feel of him was dizzyingly addictive; the warmth of his skin, the sturdiness of his chest, the insistent hardness pressing just shy of where she’d very much like him to be. It was maddening - and he knew it.

Their eyes locked briefly, even beneath the inky shroud of her unlit room; vibrant green drowning in storm flecked blue to affirm consent before everything becomes a sordid blur. There was never really any doubt, but there’s an understanding there, a mutual respect and consideration underpinning the more provocative of actions. The act warranted a kiss, something drawn out and sensual, tongue probing, exploring the intricate caverns of an overly dramatic mouth until her backside met with the cold grain of a paper strewn desk.

Aerith had barely realised they were moving until she was there; rolled her eyes too at the complete disregard for her bed some six feet away, but there was excitement in the spontaneity, something distinctly Freckle about it too, although she didn’t have much time to tell him. Groping sideways for her bedside lamp, soon the room was awash with a muted yellow, light casting streaks of shadow across his toned musculature and her own corresponding curves. Yet it was a magazine that had served to distract, smug amusement stretching far and wide across the First’s face at the image of himself daubed on the cover of Firaga, the resident gossip rag, just shy of their position.

“Think about me a lot in your bedroom, do you?” The tease was inevitable, the barest hint of a whisper against her skin accompanied by an intrepid hand sliding between her legs. “About these hands…” His mouth found her neck. “…and this mouth…” It earned him a smack. Or rather a stuffed panda to the head, as it’s all she can reach, but there’s no denial in it, just the subtle arch into his touch and half stifled laughter against his shoulder. It’s all it takes in the end, flirtation paving the way to action as hands had seized her hips, drawing her down onto his throbbing length in a single fluid motion.

Lips part in a satisfying ‘oh’, nails clamouring at his shoulders as the flower girl leant back, tugging him with her in a tangle of warm limbs and lust strewn debauchery. It takes more effort than she’d like to bite back the sounds he conjures, his body playing her own like a harp with every well timed thrust. Aerith’s breath falls in delicate pants, chest rising and falling, until the beginnings of a moan part her lips and she has to bite down to stop it, red blooming across her own flesh in a sanguine smear.

The salve to her own self inflicted injury came in the form of a kiss, a soft and tender thing amidst such lubricity; but it was also a mouth to muffle her moans as he continues to conjure them, the rhythmic rock of his hips remarkably soundless, all too well practiced in the art of covert affection. The thought made the ancient blush, pelvis rising to meet him, to deepen that connection and edge closer to a release. Knotting her fingers in strands of vivid copper absentmindedly, there’s no hiding the moment it hits, her tug suddenly involuntarily sharp as her back arched and she clenched around him, wordless prayers sung against his lips in a connection forged of tongue and teeth.

In the throes of an orgasmic haze, her arms slackened against him, fingers splayed across his back, holding him there, so intimately connected as Genesis sought his own release. Ever obliging, the brunette rolled her hips, rising to meet him as much as their position would allow, coaxing out a hard won degree of mutual satisfaction until at last she could feel the tension ebb and the warm glow of post coital contentment danced across freckle strewn cheeks. Aerith exhaled as he withdrew, trailing sticky life down her thigh as a lofty sigh ensued. She shouldn’t pout at his absence, but it was inevitable, an unconscious act, forged from the sudden loss of contact in a way that was so intimately vulnerable it held a meaning that transcended mere carnality.

The pout warranted another kiss; a blessing of lips far more sedate than all that had come before. Maybe it was a come down, but it was still enjoyable, still cherished and pivotal even in the wake of such an improvised high. Coiling his arms around the brunette’s form, the redhead stepped back, tugging her with him towards the softer promise of a mattress, plushies unceremoniously knocked to the floor to make room for them both beneath a patchwork shroud. There was only one thing left for it; fingertips dancing up and down a bare arm, heralding sleep in a sweat slicked tangle of limbs as he became a defacto pillow.

He’d definitely slept in worse places and with worse company; and while the occasional mouthful of curls nearly strangling him had proven to be a small health hazard, there was something sweet about the tranquility of falling asleep with someone in his arms. Particularly when that someone had stolen his heart from his chest the very first moment they’d met and was now a welcome dose of sunlight in a sea of clouds. For a good five hours he’d managed to stay like that, nose pressed to the slope of a creamy neck, his own eyes closed and content in this, the most innocuous of pastimes. Yet like any good thing, it couldn’t last forever.

As the sun began to creep across the horizon and birds began their incessant cheep, Genesis stirred, a quiet kiss blessing a sleepy temple, as he pried himself from their contortion worthy sleeping arrangement. “Blossom, where’s the bathroom?” Without cracking open an eye, Aerith gestured vaguely sideways, her face buried in the pillow as she mumbled her own response. “Second door on the left.”

Resisting the urge to chuckle, the auburn soldier rose to his feet, eyes scanning the room for something to lessen the likelihood of streaking through the unfamiliar house. While he certainly had no problem with displays of nudity; there was still an element of good manners to be had while occupying someone else’s space. Besides, there was an awfully tempting looking bath robe just begging to be modelled for his sleepy-headed paramour.

And so it went, the famed and revered Genesis Rhapsodos, clad in a fuzzy lilac robe that didn’t strictly cover all that much, had emerged from the recesses of a flower girl’s bedroom, after a night of being magnanimously and dare he say it, diligently discreet only to come face to face with the stern and unyielding face of her mother. A lesser man might’ve panicked. Might’ve dropped everything and simply run; but where was the sense in that? He may as well own it. Sheepishly the first grinned, hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he ignored the glaring daggers being burned into his soul.

“Good Morning; where’s your coffee maker?”

#giftofthegodess #This is far too long and rambly #It is likely riddled with errors #And it had a bit of an identity crisis meaning that tonally it is a mess™#But it was written with love.#And is now post 800.#So please accept the badly written silly smutty interlude with my compliments #While I go and die giggling in a corner.#; autumn leaves && apple blossom dreams || - {GENESIS} — s. giftofthegodess #;nsfw

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nympsycho-ao3 · 4 years

Note

DID YOU SEE THAT NEW 6TARO/4TARO FIC BY STARBOYPLATINUM ON AO3 YET? Fuckin’ good shit right there gd

you know, i havent. this one? might not be the right one but this one intrigued me so here we are.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973151

so i opened it up and read the tags and decided to liveblog my reaction to reading it here.

first reaction is “oh boy, piss” and then “Oh boy cockslut jotaro” and then...

curry udon sounds pretty good

i would pay so much money for daddy jotaro to do my laundry holy fucking shit

lemme google pocari sweat real quick. sweet it’s japanese gatorade

dr daddy kujo contact name i am WHEEZING

imagine whipping your cock out and pissing from your snake skin PANTS

oh my god he even shakes it to get the last drop off i love this so much. im not into piss sexually but this is absolutely hilarious to be and also hot what is going on

damn 6taro be hydrated

their dynamic is incredible. i like how it’s not acknowledged that they’re even the same person? so far? lol

dfw you see your daddy’s phat piss-dripping cock and you run to ur room and cuddle ur dolphin plushie that ur daddy bought u

he’s kissing it holy fucking christ he is KISSING the dolphin

....cetacean companion... is genius fucking writing....

he cummied on the cetacean companion

holy fuck kujo leaving the door open on purpose is so fucking funny and hot

hey jotaro i feel you i wouldnt want my stuffed animals watching me jerk it every time my daddy goes piss either

he owns a BAR is this gonna have... boozey sex.... omg... maybe... ill still be happy without it but thats big bonie and also lots of piss

DILFY SILVER FOX OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOO

you know i would totally go to this bar just to give this sexy man my money. he doesnt even need to make me a drink ill just slide him my debit and tell him to put whatever he wants on the tab.

“perfect fourty-two” lmao ok i totally fall victim to this too but 42 isnt like, silver fox territory. its so tempting to do with jotaro tho. maybe he goes grey early lmao. god he’s hot teasing like this all loud and shit god damn.

DADDY’S SPECIAL BABY BOOOOOY

phallic drink mixing is excelelnt and my boner is here for it i LOVE

yes please get jotaro on his knees some more... damn...

this is intensely arousing and incredibly well written. jesus christ the absolute smackdown that jotaro gets, trying to get an ounce of power, only for it to be taken back by the smug and sexy kujo is exhilarating.

oh my god is this the beginning of a piss fetish? is this is? is this who i am? im big bonie rock hard i want daddy kujo to piss in my mouth wtf

kujo literally pisses the ocean

love love love how the author acknowledges that a guy stopping mid stream is “herculean” but fuckiin writes him doing it ANYWAY the fucking balls... who cares its porn god bless kujo’s piss stopping abilities. taint of steel.

the dialogue in this is like, palpable

do any of you have any fucking idea how much money i would pay to have daddy kujo’s piss soaked precum-oozing cock slapped across my cheek??? like??? thank you starboyplatinum sm...

“you only call me that when you want something” what a hot and visceral line. this dialogue cannot be matched.

thank you for reminding me that he’s wearing snants

ARE YOU CRYING? I CANT TELL WITH MY PISS ALL OVER YOUR FACE????? OH MY GOD??? LINGUSITIC..... GENIUS this should be a lyric in a song

i cannot even handle this right now. jotaro steals his underwear im legit gonna nut to this

THERE IS A CAMERA. IN THE DOLPHIN. RED ALERT RED ALERT SOUND THE FUCKING SIRENS god thats so god. that crosses into yandere territory for me. imagine crazy-ass dilftaro giving you a stuffed dolphin so he can watch you jerk it oh my fgodd

oh it was a joke ahahhaa well, im not deleting that still good

HUMP HIS LEG HUMP HIS LEG YOU SILLY LITTLE BITCH COCKSLUT yes

step on my bladder and wring my piss out like a gogurt, daddy kujo

aw i like that he knows he wont hurt him. too much.

oh my god he’s making him go out like this holy fucking shit

hnnng the way he grabs his hand when he tries to wipe his face hnnng such an amazing detail/choice

that fucking authors not at the end is fucking real and really relarable. like holy shit this fic converted me im gonna make my man piss on my face fucking shit jesus christ

Easily one of my favorite reads in a very long time. Wow, this was just fucking filthy and amazing. i really loved everything about it and im surprised at that, I thought i would have to overlook the piss but now i embrace the piss. piss embracers unite. god bless you starboyplatinum holy fucking shit you magnificent word wizard, you.

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lady-dimitrescus-loving-wife · 5 years

Text

Yandere Orochimaru x Chubby Reader || 🌸 Come With Me 🌸

📖

The pale man sighed softly at the child who's head laid silently on his thigh, soft snores came from the child as he turned softly. Blond messy hair getting messier.

Orochimaru glanced down in his lap to the boy who was currently messing with the blonds plushy face. A calm face present on him as the dark haired child played with the blond locks tempted to yank so the blond could wake up and they could play.

The snake like man chuckled to scared to move and wake up Sasuke's sleepy friend. He meant no harm when he said it was peaceful when Naruto was sleeping. The man could only take so much of the flamboyant child.

In the end, he adored all the children though. Some called him a creep for quitting his old high paying job just to watch over small children. Most of the time he tried to let it not get to him but others, he couldn't help it.

His old job caused pain to not just others but himself too. There were so many times he wished he could just die like a normal human, but it wasn't easy. It never was. However, now he was happy even if sometimes he felt like he was missing something. Something to make him complete.

He blinked back into realization when the blond stirred in his sleep as Sasuke repeatedly smacked his face with his small chubby hand. The Uchiha was getting bored by the second but clearly he was sleepy. The man sighed and lightly grabbed the boys hand who looked up at him with a small pout and teary eyes. He yawned which only made it worst.

Orochimaru smiled softly before putting his hand in the small boy's hair petting the soft dark locks.

"Hey hey, let him sleep little one. You need to nap too. If you wake him now he'll be upset."

He hummed. The small boy opened his mouth before the man manuvered his large hands under the small children and stood up. The blond laid curled in his arm as the man carried them over to the others who were napping in the blankets under the window were they could feel the warm sun on their soft skin.

The Uchiha laid his head on the man's strong chest nuzzling softly making the man hum. He looked at the others thinking where to lay down the sleeping Uzumaki and sleepy Uchiha. He shouldn't separate them, they hated to be separated from each other and he knew Sasuke hated to be trapped by Sakura so he hummed.

He glanced down at the small children. Shikimaru laid with the round Choji next to him, snoring cutely. Ino hand her small arms under Sakura's shirt liking the warmth. At first Orochimaru thought it was quite weird that the small blond hair girl did it knowing the small pink haired one whined about it but eventually Sakura stopped fighting her friend.

The man chuckled a little at the memory.

He glanced at the blankets seeing squirming. He stood up from his spot putting the book down letting Gaara read it to the other's with cute difficulty. Till he eventually let Lee help him who read was happy to help. The man maid his way silently over to the blankets and stopped by them. He tilted his head curious as to what the small girls were doing.

'Hopefully nothing grown.'

He thought to himself with a soft laugh. He guessed that the small girls heard him because the small fight stopped before Sakura jumped from the blankets on to his clutching the beautiful komodo that hung on his firm body. He laughed and held her as Ino pouted sitting up.

"Oro-chan! Tell her to stop putting her hands in my shirt!"

"It's cold!"

The small blond shouted back at the small pinkette who glared. Orochimaru listened to them bicker waiting for the moment.

"Just warm yourself up!"

"But you're chubby and it feels nice!"

Sakura sniffled at the word 'chubby'. She never really liked it. All of them were chubby to the man but they all were cute. Chubby wasn't a bad thing. He didn't mind having a heavier girlfriend because chubby wasn't being fat. He sighed at the two petting their heads making a mess out of their hair making them look up at him.

"Ah girls girls.."

He said softly with a soft chuckle.

~~~

He saw Gaara roll over a bit softly bumping Neji who frowned a bit but other than that he stayed asleep. He smiled laying the blond and Raven haired boys in the empty spot watching how the blond almost immediately cuddled up to his friend. Sasuke didn't last long against the cuddle monster he called his friend.

Orochimaru smiled triumphantly before standing back up and stretching. He then looked at the children doing roll call in his head.

Hinata. Check.

Neji. Check.

Gaara. Check.

Naruto and Sasuke. Check

Ino. Check.

Sakura. Check.

Kankuro. Check.

Kiba. Check.

Lee. Check.

Shikimaru. Check.

And Choji. Check.

He hummed before silently making his way to the door and slipping out the room silently. They'd be sleep for a while so he should get lunch ready. Hopefully Kabuto would be back soon considering the silver haired male helped with the chores. He trailed to the kitchen walking down the large hallway.

He hummed to himself before entering the large kitchen. He prepared lunch not even looking back when the door to the large house unlocked from the outside and opened. Just from the smell he knew it was the silverette. He smiled watching the stove full of pancakes, sausages and eggs. Sniffing softly to make sure the toast didn't burn inside the oven.

The teen huffed hauling in the many bags of food and clothes he brought. Orochimaru chuckled at the teen and with a smug smile and turned to him crossing his arms.

"So, what did you bring home maid boy"

He joked smiling innocently at the glared the teen shot at him as he pulled in the last bag closing the large door behind him and locking it with the key he usually kept around his neck just so he wouldn't leave it anywhere or have one of the kids steal it from him.

"Peachy. I had to steal a buggy and ride it here to get all this stuff here in one piece. How are the kids?"

He asked pulling bags into the kitchen and with the man's help they put everything away. He laid the bags of clothes next to the couch for them to grab in a bit. Kabuto placed the three gallons of milk in the fridge. They only needed so much only cause a special blond liked to stoop in the kitchen at night.

Orochimaru glanced at a shirt in on of the bags and pulled it out with his gentle fingers reading the front.

Destiny Baby!

He laughed loudly covering his mouth and holding on to the counter as a smile came to the teens face as he turned off the stove and oven. The shirt had a small deer on it with a crown on it's head. How could he not laugh, it was cute. Kabuto pulled out plates for the children and started placing the food on the clean dishes.

He hummed at the laughing man.

"Found that for Neji. I think he'll love it."

Orochimaru got the last of his giggles out before wiping his teary eyes. He nodded. No doubt. That's was if Lee didn't steal it from him. The man sighed before looking at the teen again.

"So how was school?"

He asked. The boy smiled a bit more as a soft blush came to his face. The action made the man curious obviously seeing as the male tilted his head. Kabuto never really blushed so why today.

"Was there a pretty girl?"

He teased making smoochy kisses. He chuckled. Kabuto flushed even more before throwing a sausage at the man who caught it in his mouth and ate it with puffy cheeks. Kabuto huffed finishing the plates.

"Yes. Really pretty."

"Oh?~ You know her name yet lover boy?"

The teen looked at him with a soft smile. He spoke softly after it playing with his hands nervously.

"Her name, as I heard when she introduced herself was (F/n) (L/n)."

Chapter one yay! Hope you guys enjoy it so far, I'll try to make it better. Sorry for any errors or if I spelled Shikimaru's name wrong. I'll fix it at a later point.

Your also Kabuto's classmate and crush how ya feeling lololo. I will work harder for the next chapters. I really hope people will read this story and enjoy it for what it is.

2019 EDIT: Sorry for any grammar fr though...

#lord orochi #orochimaru #naruto shippuden #naruto #x reader #chubby reader #fanfic #fanfiction #old story idea #yandere #on going

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britishassistant · 5 years

Text

Bothering to Look 1

A piece inspired by @camellianswer ‘s submission, which fails to actually answer it in this first part. I’m sorry ;-;

Nana was a weirdo.

Not just in the normal way, of being a cowardly bowl-cut crybaby with eye bags instead of a spine, though it was funny to see him stagger and sink to the floor in despair when Upa called him that.

No, Nana was all those things, but he had to go and be weird in another way as well.

His presence was like a particularly annoying itch, one that grated incessantly at the edges of his senses, dulled as they were by the talisman.

He hadn’t noticed it as much when they first met, given that they’d only spent a limited amount of time together before Nana’s little “incident” that Samon-san kept annoying silent about. However, with each subsequent visit to the game room and each time Cell 6 came to Building 5 for exercise, the prickling sensation gradually grew and grew in intensity until Upa felt he might snap and punch the child clear through a building if only for the mild relief distance would bring.

But he didn’t, because Samon-san had taught him that would be bad and it would make Nico whine. See? He knew how to interact with people outside the underworld.

Take that, pig bastard.

Still, there was something wrong with that inmate. It was all the qigong master could do to maintain his caustically civil veneer in order to keep Nico happy. That guy was weirdly taken with the newbie ever since he’d shown an interest in the plots of his japanese games and comic books.

He really was too easily pleased at times. A disciple of his should have more self-discipline than that.

Well, whatever.

The one thing Upa had noticed about this irritation, though, was that it got stronger whenever Nana’s identity was brought up. He didn’t seem to get that the point of the numbers, and the names based off of them, was to protect the inmates’ identities, given the high likelihood of encountering someone dangerous with a grudge and few scruples in this place.

Sure, Upa himself knew the real names of Liang and the trash, but he wasn’t about to go out blabbing this valuable information willy-nilly, and vice-versa. The not-so-beautiful member of Cell 6 went off shouting about how he was Johnny Powers at every introduction, and most other opportunities besides.

The vehemence he displayed in dispensing his name was oddly contrasted with the child’s timidity in all other situations.

It was tempting to punch him in the shins to get him to shut up at times.

But again. Samon-san’s teachings and the infectee’s whining outweighed the satisfaction which might come from the action.

So he refrained, like a model citizen.

Upa thought he recognized the name a little, despite himself. Before the pig bastard got busted, he’d begun complaining about some upstart British brat who was trying to muscle in on his territory. Of all the guys who’d been sent out to deal with him, only one had come back, and he’d died immediately after arriving.

Of course, he was probably misremembering. If Johnny Powers was Nana, there was no way he could be the gang leader who was giving the chinese mafia such trouble. An notable underling of that guy, perhaps, but not the ruthless leader.

The last straw came about, like most things, because of Nico.

The pair of them were discussing the music for one of Nico’s japanese cartoons while Upa himself attempted to reassert his mastery of the dreaded claw machine. The pretty-boy pushover guard had said something about a new figure that was placed inside which Upa was determined to win.

For some reason, the conversation had drifted to robot singers, (Japan was weird as well, but that was a gripe for another day), which Nana was weirdly knowledgable about.

“So do you know any of the Evillious Chronicles? Y’know, the one with the seven deadly sins and everything?” He asked eagerly.

“That word sounds made up.” Upa contributed.

The claw grasped the foot of the figure, only to slip off harmlessly for the nth time when it raised back into the air.

“Is that the one with the Princess and Servant of Evil? With the blond twins?” Nico replied, absent-mindedly patting Upa’s shoulder to calm his temper and keep him from blowing this stupid, pointless machine to bits.

Nana, for his part, was quiet for a moment, before he shakily answered, “Ye-Yes, that’s—that’s the one. Um.”

Upa was able to grasp a leg, when Nana spoke again. “Umm, Nico? You—you know how Servant of Evil ends, right?”

The prickling feeling intensified as the crane’s claws lost their grip on the felt and the figure dropped back into the pile of plushies halfway to the exit.

“Ah, yeah. With the servant pretending to be the princess and getting executed instead of her, right? That bit seriously made me cry, especially when he smiles at her in the crowd! Uno had to hug me for a really long time after.”

“How could anyone mistake a boy for a girl?” Upa gritted out, somewhat irate at the dual sources of irritation. “Even if they look alike, there are too many differences for it to be feasible in real life.”

“But those two were twins, y’know? And they were only kids, like 14 or something, so they hadn’t had puberty yet.” Nico argued.

“I’m certain that puberty has already started at that stage.” Upa countered. “Besides, even children have differences that would make their genders obvious in the long term. The only way it would work is if everyone else was a moron and couldn’t see what was right in front of their faces.”

There was a moment of blessed silence wherein Upa could finally concentrate before Nana opened his mouth again. “What. What if he was forced? The servant, I mean?”

The claws completely missed the toy this time as Nico tilted his head. “Forced?”

“Like, if he didn’t want to die for the princess’s crimes, but the prince—“ Nana turned his head and coughed into the palm of his hand. “Excuse me—the princess had a way to make it so he had to take her place, and couldn’t tell anyone the truth. What if that was the case?”

The grating sensation was raging like a wildfire, and Upa had to grit his teeth to keep from lashing out.

The claw closed over the toy’s arm.

“I don’t think that’s what happened, Nana-chan.” Nico said slowly. “I mean, it’s pretty clear he’s willing, in the song’s lyrics and PV.”

Nana laughed, but it was weak and strained. “I guess so, huh? Don’t mind me, then. Just wondering about hypotheticals. My version wouldn’t make as good a song, would it?”

The toy fell to its doom again, a mere second before it would have dropped to freedom through the exit.

That. Was. It.

Upa had had enough of this damn irritation distracting him when he was trying to do even the most menial of tasks.

He glared at Nana from the corner of his eye, willing him to knock off whatever the hell he was doing before Upa knocked his lights out.

And froze.

He’d never thought to take notice of Nana’s aura before. It didn’t seem like anything special when they first met, so he hadn’t given it much attention beyond that.

Now though...

Red energy was encircling his throat, almost ribbon-like in its delicacy, criss-crossing over itself until it resembled some demented version of a hangman’s noose.

His hands were swaddled in the stuff as well, each finger ensnared in a complex knot that made it seem almost impossible to move them. Some strands drifted upwards from his throat, almost innocently, to embed themselves in his lips and twist around his tongue to the point where it seemed amazing that he didn’t choke with every word.

The worst part, however, was the pulsing red mass of the stuff on the left side of the boy’s chest. It was tangled and twisted, knotted and snarled, until it was impossible to tell where one strand ended and another began.

And it was twined into and around the openings of Nana’s heart like a snake around a hapless mouse, just waiting for the chance to squeeze the life out of its struggling victim.

“Shishou?”

Upa startled back to reality to see his wannabe-apprentice and the child staring at him in concern. “Do you want me to take over for you on the claw machine?”

“No. I’m fine.” He responded in a clipped tone, mind racing a mile a minute as he restarted the game.

It wasn’t doing Nana any harm this very second, but the tangled appearance of that energy was likely more intentional than haphazard— it was wound so tightly and so confusingly around Nana’s aura and itself that merely attempting to cut it out could prove ineffectual at best and fatal at worst.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Upa-san?” And oh god, he could still see the strands moving with Nana’s mouth as he talked.

“I told you, I’m. Fine.” But you aren’t, he thought to himself as his hands moved the controller on autopilot. How long had he been living with this? Did he even know?

There was no way he didn’t. Upa reasoned. As extensive as this was, it was still new enough that it hadn’t incorporated itself into his aura entirely, as evidenced by the bright red coloration. If Upa had to guess, he’d say it had been implemented perhaps four weeks ago, maybe more.

“Yay, Shishou! You did it!”

Upa blinked at his enthusiastic cheerleader, then down at the clear plastic cover of the game’s opening. Slowly, he reached down and pulled the soft prize out from the machine’s interior.

He stared at it, for a moment.

Nana clapped his shoulder. “Well, I completely understand if you’re disappointed. I could give it to Kiji-san or somebody if you don’t want it? Though I’m not entirely sure who would.”

“Eeeh, but the mini-Nana-chan is so cute!” Nico protested, poking the soft blue felt of the toy’s stomach. “Plus it’s a super-ultra-rare item right now, so you should have more confidence in it and yourself!”

He reached out and patted Nana’s head, and then his hair turned a very familiar shade of teal while Nana’s went bright green.

“Ah.”

“NOT AGAIN!!” Came the braided scaredy-cat’s cry as the disease ripped through the game room, causing chaos in its wake.

Later that evening, Upa carefully placed his latest prize next to the others, making it sit beside the mini-Nico he had already acquired.

“Oi, trash.”

“Eh?” Qi poked his head up from where he was trying to stash Inori’s latest batch of dirty magazines. “What’s up?”

“What happened to that British gang leader who was giving the pig bastard a hard time?”

Liang stopped doing muscle training to stare at the question. Upa studiously ignored him.

Qi swallowed and adjusted his glasses. “Why do you ask?”

Upa shrugged. “Just curious. Do you know or don’t you?”

Qi scratched his ear. “Not really, no. I just remember doing an autopsy on the guy who came back from that assassination attempt.”

“Oh?” Upa said, trying hard to sound uniterested. “How did he die?”

“Well, that’s the thing.” Qi took off his glasses and rubbed them on his jumpsuit. “Hachiman killed the poor bastard after he tried to kill the pig. Some of the others said that the English had gotten into his head, made him an offer he couldn’t refuse if he turned traitor. There were some really weird rumors though.”

“I remember those.” Liang added. “Didn’t they say that the British guy could control bodies or something? Like through a doll or a puppet, or an attack charm.”

Maybe not through those mediums, Upa thought. But if the puppet strings were tied to someone’s aura? Then that gang leader might have a wind-up toy that only needed the right trigger to set it off.

“Ah~ That’s too creepy.” Qi whined, shuddering. “I’m no good with European horror, not at all.”

“We’ll use that to wake you every morning too then, you late-rising scumbag.” Upa replied dismissively, turning back to his task.

“I’m begging you, don’t!”

He considered for a moment, then placed the mini-Upa on the mini-Nana’s other side, bracketing them in with the mini-Liang and Trash, then with the mini guards.

That weirdo needed all the protection he could get, he decided.

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