PAPRIKA

at the moment, your room was the only thing to keep you company, as you drummed your fingers on your desk. usually, around this time, you'd be doing venomous's paperwork for him—all of the boring shit. but the weird thing was that you haven't had to do a single paper all week. you've just been… playing video games with fink. scrolling on your phone. texting your friends. keeping up to date with "action news 52."

you don't think you've seen your lovely, evil boss come out of his lab for hours; maybe even a few days. the last time you saw him was when you made breakfast, and saw his slender purple fingers creep from out of the lab door to steal a plate of your famous waffles (one of the things fink actually liked about you).

worry churned inside of you.

uncharacteristically, you got out of your room, passing by fink. truth be told, she hasn't been able to sleep at all. usually, professor tucks her in every night.

"hey! what're you—"

"get in bed, fink," you say, blinking slowly as you gesture to the clock. 2:14 a.m. you can still hear professor venomous mumbling to himself in his lab. "do you want me to come and read you a bedtime story? i'm sure boss wants to, i'm sure he does. he just gets… busy, you know?"

fink pouts up at you, arms crossed. but her eyes are heavy—and the way her tiny body sways back and forth shows that she is, in fact, ready for bed. setting your differences aside, she wordlessly allows you to pick her up by the armpits and carry her to her bed. a small smile crawls on your face when she's already knocked out cold just from laying on the warmth of your skin. you lay her down on her small bed, brushing the hair lightly out of her face, before shutting her lights off and closing the door gently.

you're next course of action? getting your boss to go to bed.

you shut off all of the house lights, taking light footsteps to his door. you could see the faint rainbow glow of whatever he was doing in there under the door crack. taking a deep breath and holding it, you knock on his door, a part of you hoping he doesn't respond because he's too busy being passed out.

"c'min."

well shit.

letting go of your held breath, you let yourself in, smiling anxiously as you take a few steps. his lab is bright—bright as the fucking sun. you figured that's a method he uses to keep himself awake. his lab was also surprisingly… messy. it's usually in pristine condition (because you clean it every day), but it's probably fell to the dogs because he's been so cooped up in here.

"hey, boss," you start, shutting the door behind you. he doesn't look at you—his back is all you can see. but, you notice his hair is more disheveled than usual. it's grown a bit longer in the back, too. your feet slap against the cold tile of his lab, dodging a few puddles of… something. plants and odd liquids. "i, uh, i got fink into bed for you. poor thing conks out nowadays even without a bedtime story."

your quiet laughs catch his attention. professor venomous takes a breath and finally looks away from his station. "thank you. i appreciate it."

now that you have a better view of him, guilt churns in your stomach. his eyes were half-lidded and drooping, looking as if they were weighed down by 50 pounds. his stubble started to spread slightly, and parts of his hair fell onto his face.

my boss is so fucking hot, you internally struggle with yourself. i can't make this about me. he looks like he's on the brink of death.

with a raised fist to your lips, you clear your throat. "you're welcome, boss. it's no problem. you know, uh—you should rest, too. charge your battery for the next experiment, yeah?"

"thanks for the worry, truly. but i must get this figured out by tomorrow. you know how cosma is," professor venomous answers, a lackluster smile in his words as he shakes his head. he yawns, nearly dropping a test tube he had just picked up. you can see the panic that flashes on his face when he catches it just in time.

you frown deeper, taking more steps towards him. he slumps in his chair multiple consecutive times, before jolting back to life. you've never seen him so… frazzled before. was this your fault? should you have checked up on him more?

"professor," you continue, voice soft when you finally reach him. when he's in a spot unable of dropping anything, you put a hand on his back. "please. take a nap at least for an hour. then you can get back to work."

your gentle touch makes him jump, shooting up straight immediately. after a few seconds, he relaxes into your palm, leaning on his hand as he sets down all of his stuff.

venomous laughs for a moment. "that's not gonna work on me, sweetheart. you'll snatch up my alarm and turn it off. i know you."

red flushes onto your face. "will not!"

"yeah you will. look," his features soften, a genuine smile reaching his lips as he looks up at you from his chair. "i appreciate it all, really, i do, but i have to get this figured out."

you're frozen in place from the caring way he looks at you—it only makes you want to help more. he's ruined. he looks two minutes away from passing out. if he's not going to let you take care of him, you'll just have to worm your way through the cracks one by one.

"okay," his expression lights up from your sigh of defeat, "you win this one, boss. just… just let me clean up around here, okay? can i at least do that for you?"

his smile falters, but he nods. professor venomous feels the warmth of your hand leave his back, as he continues to focus on his glorb study. a part of him really wanted to just go to bed like you wanted him to do. a part of him wanted to feel your warmth again—

maybe all of this exhaustion was getting to his head.

you brought in a trash can, picking up all of the stray soda cans and pizza crust (extremely out of character for him). you mopped up spills and stacked all of his dirty dishes, as well. genuinely, you didn't think he'd ever let himself fall apart this bad. but you knew that you were always going to be here to help him, whether he likes it or not.

"boss," you spoke up, interrupting the long moment of silence. he hums. "when was the last time you ate?"

no answer. sweat goes down his temple. "this morning."

"really?"

"…no."

you shake your head, setting the trash can down and leaving the lab to go to the kitchen.

your exhausted boss tries to get a glimpse of what you're doing, but in doing so, leans over the counter and almost breaks his test tubes. he sighs in relief, letting his shoulders relax as he continues to work tirelessly. this was all for a good cause—bettering himself and getting the funds necessary to buy out lord boxmans entire recent stock.

in the kitchen, you open the fridge door and rummage through it for… whatever leftovers you possibly could have had. you do the majority of the cooking in the mansion, as your boss prefers to eat out and spend thousands of technos on expensive, fancy dinners. but you would hope that at least him and fink like your food.

you deadpan when you find some leftover spaghetti in the back of the fridge, untouched and labeled professor v. upon further inspection, you thought that this was the leftover spaghetti from a restaurant that he, you, and fink went to last week. it was clearly labeled fancy spaghetti. opening the container, you realized, in fact, this was not the fancy spaghetti.

it was yours. taste, appearance, and all. you made spaghetti last night—fink and professor venomous love spaghetti; that's the only reason you made it even after you already had some for the week. you would like to think that your spaghetti is good.

a smile crawls onto your lips, unable to stop spreading. as you heat it up in the microwave, you can't help but feel your smile turn into a smirk. you can not wait to tease him about this.

when you return to the lab with a fork stabbed into the spaghetti, one of the new things you notice is the way your boss's head lulls back and forth, jolting in place sometimes from going to sleep and then immediately waking up. your frown deepens.

"hey boss, i got you some of your fancy spaghetti from last week. i know it might not be what you want, but—"

…where the fuck did the container go.

you glance down at your empty hands and back up at professor venomous multiple times, only to find that he has it, and is inhaling the entire thing. letting out a loud laugh, you lean your head on your palm with an arm crossed over the other.

"boss, i, uh, i might've given you the wrong container," you say in between chuckles. you just wanted to see how this would play out. "that's the fancy spaghetti from last week."

"no it's not," he says through multiple bites. you can barely hear what the fuck he's saying.

"how'd you know?"

"yours is infinitely better, (name). c'mon," venomous laughs, a smile coming to his face once more after a big slurp of spaghetti. "i put it in the fancy container to keep fink away from it. she hated that spaghetti we had at that italian place."

you blink once, and then twice. "she… she did?"

"sweetheart, let me tell you, you do not know fink like me," he pushes his finished plate of spaghetti to the side, "she loves your spaghetti. she'll eat all the leftovers before i can get to them."

professor venomous yawns when you falter in your place, trying to compute the idea of fink actually liking something you made. she's just too good at hiding how joyful it makes her, apparently. while you stand there like a dumbstruck fool, your boss continues to work on his research, not minding the dirty plate next to him. finally, after a solid minute, you snap back into reality, and take the plate to clean.

there was something still itching at you.

how has your hot, smug boss avoided every single one of your attempts to get him to rest?

he's too charming for his own good.

you grit your teeth, storming back to the lab door just to realize it's been locked. "boss?"

no answer.

"boss. you're still in there. i'm no idiot. i just saw you," you say, half of yourself finding this hilarious, and the other half finding this ridiculous. "you… you can't stay in there forever. i know you want to get this glorb research done, i do, but you have to rest."

you can hear him take a breath, one with an unidentified emotion, but he doesn't verbally respond.

"you can be mad or disappointed or… whatever at me all you want. i just want you to be okay. the evil board of villains need you in top shape, too, by the way. also," you let out a sigh and sink against the lab door, "even you know that this isn't good for yourself."

silence reverberates through the room, not to mention your skull. your ears are ringing. when you hear no answer, you get off of the cold plywood floor. its only when you walk away in defeat that you hear the door behind you open. callused fingers reach around your wrist, tugging you back.

professor venomous makes eye contact with you, an uncharacteristically soft smile on his features. "you're right, i—" his head snaps down to look at what he's doing, nearly about to pull away, before he tugs you a bit closer. "you know me too well. i need to rest sometimes. i just get—"

"caught up in your own head? obsessed over little things? panicked over deadlines?"

he sighs, frowning deeply before allowing himself to laugh. "that's… one way to say it. look. you were right. are you happy?"

you roll your eyes and chuckle lightly with him. "i should be asking you that. are you happy that you're finally going to let yourself rest?"

"…i don't know, am i?"

the time now read 3:20 a.m. you really should've been sleeping—you know you should've, even after giving that whole spiel to your boss. but you didn't mean to wake up. it just happened. mostly because you heard footsteps. for a mansion more expensive than twenty yachts, these walls must've been paper thin in order for you to hear footsteps against the bedroom's carpets.

maybe it was fink trying to sneak more video games. your first move was to get out of bed, messy hair and all, and peak into her room. however, she was just how you left her—only more contorted from stretching so much, and snoring silently.

that only meant one thing.

you storm over to professor venomous's room, which was right next to yours, and took a large inhale of air before knocking gently.

"c'min."

figures.

you let yourself in, eyes heavy as they scan over your boss—more awake than he should be. he's pacing, arms holding each other so tightly they could break off at any second. "boss," your voice comes out raspy until you clear it. "go back to bed. i thought—"

"i know, sweetheart," venomous responds swiftly, voice also rougher from just waking up. he didn't even notice for the hundredth time today how your face burned from the nickname. "i don't know what's wrong with me. i think it's all that stupid pressure that the evil board of villains has been pushing on me." the man with the purple-hued skin rubs his eyes with his thumb and pointer individually, slumped over while standing up.

ideas run through your head. you hesitate, but give him a nervous, small smile. "do you need help?"

he pauses entirely and squints at you.

"i—i mean, like, doing corny shit. like… reading you a bedtime story or, uh, fuck, i don't know."

you lose your train of thought completely when he starts laughing at your suggestions. you couldn't help but mirror his actions. he's a grown ass man and you thought he'd want a bedtime story?

"i appreciate it, but i don't need a bedtime story or whatever else," professor venomous lets his laughs simmer down.

"sure. and your hair doesn't look like you just survived a tornado."

"what?"

you laugh so much that you end up putting your hands on your knees, leaning against yourself as your lovely boss crosses his arms and looks away in annoyance. "i'm only kidding, it looks fine."

"get my brush."

"i was only kidding—"

"get me the damn brush!"

you race to his bathroom and get his hairbrush, next to the slick-back brush you got him for his birthday. when you come back to him, he's looking at his reflection in his bedroom mirror, somehow making it tangle worse.

"boss, stop messing with it," you chide quietly, failing to hide your smile as you move his meddling hands. "here, sit down."

it was comparable to a slumber party how he sat on his bed, sitting up straight as you brushed through his hair mindlessly. you didn't even notice that you were brushing his hair. it just felt… right. surprisingly, he stayed quiet as can be while you raked the brush through his black locks, still greasy from leftover hair gel from the past few days. even with the leftover gel—his hair looked soft as it always did—

god fucking dammit. you are not going to inflate this guys ego.

you brush closer to his roots, brushing as lightly as you humanly can. "is this okay?" you inquire, finally breaking the silence. "i don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, boss."

what is it with this guy and ignoring you?

"boss…?"

you can feel him startle awake with a slight jump on the bed, sitting up straight again, even though you didn't even notice him beginning to slowly slouch in the first place. "y—yeah, (name)? i'm sorry. it, just, uh—forget i said anything."

your visage curls into one of smugness, as you lean closer to the back of his head. "no, please, what?"

"it just feels nice is all. that's it," he casually states, body slumping once more. his eyes were half-lidded and bored as ever. "you can also drop the whole "boss" thing."

a laugh huffs out of you as your expression melts. you melt. it was just a casual statement. all the smugness has left your body completely, simply taking in the moment and trying not to overthink it. he's not getting mad, he's not yelling (which, either way, he doesn't do); this is probably the calmest you've seen him in a while, when he isn't explaining the point of the death ray he recently built.

you feel like a bundle of nerves every time your hand accidentally brushes by his hair—you didn't even realize you've been holding your breath the majority of this time.

"you—" professor venomous cuts himself off with a loud yawn, "—you're tired too, sweetheart. you gotta rest the same amount as me, right?"

"it's my job to tend to you, boss—i mean, uh, professor," you answer, his yawn forcing you to yawn.

a smooth chuckle comes from the figure in front of you after your words. "stubborn as always. so, what's your plan, if you don't plan on staying up?"

wordlessly, you shift off of the bed and gesture for him to get in. venomous sighs and lets himself under the covers, making you laugh as you crawl next to him to sit criss-cross. in this moment, he understood what fink must feel like every time she gets tucked in.

"well, if it helps you sleep, i, uh…"

through the moonlight that kissed his facial features, professor venomous's head tilts to the side to slide you a cocky, expectant look.

"i'll brush your fucking hair. happy?"

"whatever rings your bell, sweetheart—OW!"

"whoops."

you left an oddly hairbrush-shaped red mark on his cheek, one that faded as your laughs simmered down, to which you leaned back on his headboard. "jokes aside, though, i'll leave when you fall asleep, and only when you fall asleep. sounds like a deal to me."

his droopy, dark purple eyelids came to a close, but his smirk remained. "yeah, i'll let you have this one."

the night soon becomes silent. your boss's expression falls into one of blissed relaxation, much faster than you would've expected. he was so peaceful it made you do a double-take just looking at him snoring so fucking loudly like a tractor. at least, that's what you thought would be funny—but unfortunately, he snores as quietly as a mouse, breath wavering every time the brush scrapes against his scalp.

he's asleep now. you're allowed to go back to your room, but something makes you want to stay. actually, you were allowed to leave five, wait, no, ten minutes ago. but the second you switched from using your hand to brush through his hair was the moment you were a goner.

in fact that's when you—

this bed is comfortable. too comfortable.

when you woke up, sunlight beamed on you with a gentle kiss, coating your body in light.

for starters, your room only had one window. one in front of your desk, not your bed. second, the mattress underneath you gives crazily unfamiliar squeaks, and radiates warmth around you from the side you leaned on. your bed could never be this comfortable. although, really, the more you feel the material around you, the more familiar it feels. the feeling in your gut worsens when you feel a figure shift, moving off of the top of your waist.

anxiously, you slowly sit up, covering your mouth as to not scream when you see your boss, professor venomous, lying next to you. to add, he was snoring the fucking day away.

you grit your teeth, mostly embarrassed at yourself for falling asleep like that—your hand in his hair, his arm somehow magically ending up at your waist. you wanted to be extinguished.

hurrying off of his bed and putting yourself together, you try to neaten up his stuff to look as if you were never there.

and then, before you leave, you catch yourself looking down at venomous's sleeping form. he looks so… everything. he looks like the world. he looks like your world—

"take a picture, it'll last longer."

"FUCK YOU!"

when he became a vampire, nothing really changed at first.

dio loved how obedient you were in following him rather than that pathetic JoJo—you were his lover after all, and he was ecstatic to see you leave all your belongings behind to live with him in this gorgeous, tall mansion to provide him with all your love… until he saw your surplus amount of pure fluff and beady eyes on your shared king-size bed.

he's a vampire. it's not like he needed to sleep. what did he care if he couldn't hold you or feel your warm skin under his? dio doesn't care. why the fuck would he, the dio brando, care? even if you strangled him, there's no possible way in hell he's ever admitting that he wanted to replace the stuffed cat you coddled every night. although, he can never truly hide anything fully. you find out faster than he wanted.

you love teasing him about his envy when you would cling to a plushie tightly instead of his arm. that pissed him off to no end. you're out here cupping his cheeks and giving him warm kisses to make up for it, though. he has to forgive you.

wherever you're not looking, he's kicking the SHIT out of the inanimate creatures that just so happen to fall off the bed. into the fireplace you little bitch.

"Worthless. What exactly does my lover find more enticing about you rather then me?"

dio finds himself insulting and talking to the plushies more then he should be. go figure. he hates just how much he hates them—he shouldn't be envious over a bunch of cotton and fabric. it makes him want to step out into the sun when you catch him having a heated argument with your stuffed elephant after you gave it a kiss good morning rather than him.

if you happen to ask for more fluff-balls to add to your collection? he'll be irritated for weeks. still, he loves you too much to deny you the pleasure of giving you gold and riches to go out into town and buy yourself more.

insists that the more stuffed animals you get, the more attention you must provide to him.

"My dear, now is hardly the time to be coddling those things. Come now—if you need something to hold on to, let me be your safety. Sounds like a good deal, hmm?"

most certainly throws all of the plushies on his side of the bed off (when he does sleep), despite how upset it makes you. but who needs all of those childish toys when you could have this giant hunk of a man who is practically a huge (freaky, sexy) teddy bear?

KARS ;

he doesn't really see the need for such trivial little things. all they do is get in his way when he's walking into your shared chambers—why would you possibly want these things around? why so many?

(assuming you're a human, one that he tolerates more than anyone) humans have always been such confusing things to kars, but out of every single one he's laid eyes on, let alone met, you are by far the weirdest.

if you were to be a fellow pillarman, he would be more fed up then ever. you have so many other things to worry about—worshiping him—that you shouldn't even give these pieces of cotton and yarn the light of day.

he's in love with you regardless, plushies or not of course. he could care way less then he does.

kars doesn't get jealous easily, even when watching you give a million smooches to a simple stuffed dog. but he does think of it as foolish.

"Dearest, must you distract yourself from our time together? This is of utmost importance to our courtship. If you feel the overwhelming desire to hold something, I am right here. Now put down the stuffed creature, or I might have to rip it to shreds."

he gets annoyed when he trips over a pile of the loved plushies—but, contrary to both your and the other pillarmens beliefs, he's more tolerant to them then you thought. he might pick a few of them up and toss them onto the bed carelessly. if he misses, he misses. if they land perfectly, then he gives himself a little smirk and goes off to brag to you. esidisi, wamuu, and santana never thought that they would see such a side of him. it's definitely the softer one. don't let that fool you, though—he is still fully on guard to the point of slicing a dust bunny.

hates to say it, but he finds it terribly cute of you to lay down on one of your giant teddy bears, or simply a pile of fluffy goodness. something about seeing you so affectionate and willing to carelessly give your love to just objects makes his heart beat faster. you just look so… perfect, like you usually do.

that's too embarrassing. forget he said anything.

kars is the ultimate being—he is above hatred. but if you were to express disinterest in a certain plush, he absolutely will tear it to shreds for you. he might make a bit of a fuss out of it, but anything to have you cling onto him the way you do after he does something you want. (he's a simple god. all he's saying as that he enjoys your touch when you're feeling clingy. that's it). on the rare occasion that you come to dislike one of the many animals on your bed, he's more then happy to get rid of it.

"Am I supposed to dispose of this one? I didn't like it in the first place. Good riddance," he'll scoff, the smooth of his muscular arm shifting into a sharp blade that immediately rips into the ugly stuffed animal. "Now that that is taken care of, I'm thoroughly bored. Let us embrace, yes? I'm much warmer then that thing."

physically changes his body heat to resemble one of a birds, making himself almost too hot. still, as much as you hate to admit it, your lips feel significantly warmer on his bare chest, neck, and face, as compared to one of your stuffed animals.

you couldn't possibly ask for more, kars believes, until you ask him for a large rabbit plushie the size AND cost of your house.

he doesn't even give you money. he just goes out and takes it from an expensive store at night. you don't have to know, even when you interrogate him—what is this, 20 questions??

regarding the plushies on his side of the bed (which only happens when you're angry), he won't lash out like he does with other people. he'll be mad as fuck, but he knows you'll probably shoot and kill him (somehow) if he throws all of them out the window. esidisi, wamuu, and santana have never in their lives seen kars neatly pick up the stack and put the stuffed animals on the loveseat with so much care. he's never doing that again out of pure embarrassment after he was caught.

ESIDISI ;

he's way more lenient then kars. if anything, he encourages your habit—he can't say no to you. even if it means it takes him a little more time to get to you in your room, stepping over every plushie cautiously, he's more then happy to acknowledge all of them.

esidisi is buying you (stealing) more when he has the chance. as rough as he seems, he can't resist the look on your face whenever he sees your eyes light up from the sight of a new creature for the collection.

often teases you about how you could possibly divide your love up for all of them. surely all of your love goes to him, but what are the measurements for the amount of love you give to each plush? unless you adore favoritism. he can't complain, after all—you get special treatment regardless of what species you are (human or pillarman).

if you're human, he absolutely sees this as another reason why humans are weak and need to be protected—you can't go a day without wanting to hold one of the animals. but, then again, that's what he supposes he likes about you. you aren't as vunerable as he first thought, and you certainly put him in his place when you beat his ass over calling you a weak little human. you have more of his respect then he's willing to admit.

if you're a pillarman, he honestly admires you. a true warrior like you isn't ashamed to show off the things they love. then again, how can you not be embarrassed with such… odd creatures?

esidisi compares how much you love your plushies to how much he loves you. he'll say that it's like your his own little stuffed animal, one he gets to squeeze and hug and kiss with ease—until kars or wamuu is around. he might be open with his affections, but there's no possible way he would do the shit he does when his lord is around.

he 100% gets more jealous then the others might. he is the type to love and care for your plushies just as much as you do, but the second he sees you holding a little giraffe at night instead of him? gone. you don't see that plushie until a few days later when you find it in the garden coated messily in soil.

"It had no purpose. You already have something to cherish, I am right here, am I not? The next time you are cold or seeking affection, I will always be around for you. Now, come here, my beloved, return to your lovers arms."

when you finally pick him over the plushies over time, it's like his world stopped. he doesn't even need to sleep, but the sensation of your cool skin against his warm makes him want to smother you with love.

esidisi's first instinct when it comes to kars threatening (or maybe even doing it) to throw out your worthless stuffed creatures, is to argue. of course, that never really turns out well. after one second, this man is on his knees begging and pleading his lord to keep your plushies. not only did he embarrass himself, he managed to embarrass both you and kars. kars partially hates you after that; he fully thinks you made esidisi too fucking weak for his own good.

you never forget the names of the plushies—but he does. he almost starts tearing up when he realizes he got Dave The Pig's name wrong.

"It wasn't intentional! His name is Dave, I knew that. I would—" Esidisi sniffles, pounding his fist against the bedside table in frustration, "—I would never forget!"

you're too in love with him. he's so much more of a sweetheart then you initially believed. the second you're upset with him regarding your stuffed animals, he's so quick to do a 180 and apologize. kars openly speaks about his disappointment in his fellow pillarman for this behavior, but that just means that he does it more in private.

if you want more? done. you don't even say what you want—he just pulls up after five minutes holding a batch of brand new plushies that just got restocked. good for you. good for you.

when his side of the bed, which he doesn't need in the first place, is covered in plush creatures, he finds your behavior more cute than ridiculous.

WAMUU ;

wamuu doesn't necessarily have a big opinion on it—he loves you until the heat death and worships you to the same degree as lord kars—but he understands your feelings and constantly validates them.

he understands the feeling of needing to care for something. it's nowhere near comparable to his dedication to obeying esidisi and kars, but it's a bit similar in the aspect that you both have things you care for excessively.

if you were human, kars and esidisi would absolutely disapprove of your relationship. of course, they have their own guilty pleasures too, so the least they could do was be lenient with allowing you to live, but that didn't stop their dislike from you. especially when you have a million plushies, almost as if you were a child. they look down upon wamuu for falling in love with such a feeble-acting human. only children had "stuffed animals."

if you were a pillarman, you're getting worshipped like you created the universe. but that's not the point. as a pillarman, wamuu would think that maintaining your strength and knowledge was the most important part. but you were nothing like him and the others, which he heavily admired you for. he considers your plushies to be your children, and everybody is sickly aware of when he embraces that.

wamuu doesn't get jealous easy, i would say. if he were to see you snuggling up to one of your stuffed animals, all he would do is stare in admiration, if anything. you're so gentle it makes him all warm inside. as kars would say; Ew.

he acknowledges and respects what time you want what. if you want to hold and kiss him? he's more then happy to oblige. if you would prefer in the moment to cuddle up to one of your million plushies, he'll nod and act as if nothing was happening.

"My love, what would you prefer tonight—oh. Forgive me, I suppose that's already answered," Wamuu smiles lightly at the way you clung onto him like a koala. You expect, and earn, a few kisses to your hands. "Is there anything else I can do?"

wamuu memorizes every name openly. he knows exactly what each plushie is, when you got them, what their name is; all the works.

treats all of them with respect as if they were equal to him. he would probably pick them up from their scruff or behind, observing them for a fair minute before patting its head when no one's looking. addresses and mentions the stuffed animals in basic conversation that makes you and the pillarman do multiple double-takes.

he notices the little things that might be future issues, as well as fixing them before you notice. sometimes there are stains of melted chocolate or juice—wait, what spill? already gone. plushie is squeaky clean.

oh, what's that? you want another? yeah. it's already on your bed. there's nothing this man wouldn't do—he even stole (or made by himself) little clothes to put on him he bare plush. all he needs as a "thank you" is a kiss and mayhaps even the privilege of naming it himself.

"What name are we thinking of, my love? Anything you come up with will be great, as always. I'm glad to be of assistance if you need ideas."

he doesn't get mad at your plushies—that's just childish. besides, he treats them as he treats you, so why would he ever treat them poorly?

aside from that one time where a plushie fell off the shelf and landed in your tea. we don't talk about that. the violence was perfectly consensual.

for whenever he comes to your room for a night of cuddles he earned, seeing his side coated in plush little critters due to you being mad at him, wamuu has to admit he's disappointed. but, he respects your silent wishes, and tucks the blanket over your shoulder a bit more before staying up once more to keep watch of the mansion. in the case where he needs a break or a breather, he will instead rest on the couch or loveseat rather than wake you up.

DIO ;

he's a grown ass man. he really doesn't care about your plushie habit as much as he would've all those years ago when he first became a vampire. whatever makes you happy makes him happy, even if he has to kick those little shits to the side sometimes. aside from that, he might even say he finds them cute.

he wouldn't be with you in the first place if he didn't respect you in one way or another. sure, your actions are kind of childish to him, but we all have our weird hobbies, right? either way, i think that the fact that he's a vampire lessens his anger with having your plushies hang around. he can just float over them.

dio absolutely hates the ones with the hard eyes. fucking despises them. also the itty bitty ones that he could swallow in one gulp. they get in the way all the time, and somehow the ones with the annoying beady eyes end up shattering everywhere because he gets so fed up with them that he breaks them. sucks to suck.

if you're a human, which is very unlikely, he'd have to get use to the fact that you can leave whenever you want into the sun and steal all of his money (consensually) just to return to the mansion with 30 different plush toys.

"Hm, dear, you're back? Do tell me, how was the sun today?" DIO chuckles lightly, a hand running through your hair as you proudly show off your new snake plush. "Yes, yes, I see Mister Venomous. Vanilla Ice will find a place for him."

poor vanilla ice. the majority of his orders nowadays, not regarding the crusaders, are finding places for your varying stuffed animals. if you find one in a place you don't like it? you can hear him being bitch-slapped from 17 rooms away. poor thing.

if you're a vampire, he supposes he'll hire some of his stand users and force them to buy whatever plushies you desire. he'd never make you go out into the sun—that's barbaric. anything for you, his one and only true love, immortal together.

…your plushies are there too, he guesses.

he will get fed up fast if you decide to snuggle against one of your massive stuffed animals instead of him—sure, he's cold (he's a dead body), but is his chest not good enough for you? he's the most powerful person on the planet and you dare to not want him? at that point he'll literally order vanilla ice to transfer all of the plushies off the bed while he grabs you and "falls asleep" holding you in a suffocating grip.

that's not jealousy, btw, that's just pure anger. well, maybe part of it is jealousy, but is it really jealousy if all he wants is the love and respect he, lord dio, deserves?

he doesn't care much for the demeaning names of your plushies, but if a servant ever criticizes them? fucking dead. or just severely threatened in a few rare situations.

"Hol Horse… my partner took time and effort into nursing these stuffed creatures. Do you have anything more negative you would like to say about them? Please. Do not make me repeat myself. I'm sure the maggots would love your vile, disgusting flesh. Better yet, Vanilla Ice would."

dio finds himself oddly curious sometimes. you'll be sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around his beefy neck, yapping about the lore of the most recent plushies you got. some bullshit about divorces and love triangles… at this point, he's not ashamed to be nodding along. who needs books when he has you?

he's all for giving you his riches to buy more to your ever-growing collection—in the morning when you wake up, even one dream about an animal or creature is enough for him to send out a stand user to buy one for you. you don't even have to ask—and even when you do—it's always there, pristine, spotless, and always ready for cuddles.

if your bed is crowded with so many plushies he doesn't have any space? he moves you. this bitch scoops you up and moves you to another bedroom to cuddle with him there. you brought this upon yourself. you know he hates when you don't depend on him. he's not mad about you hogging the bed—it all ends the same way (you being trapped in a choking vice grip). that's something for younger him to get mad about.

KIRA YOSHIKAGE ;

when he first took his place as your husband, he thought your collecting habit was a bit odd. but really, he isn't one to be judging. what does bug him is the way you just lay your plushies all over the place. his question is; why the hell are the duckling plushies separated from one another?

he could care less about what you do in your free time, honestly. kira is only focused on himself, of course, but he gets all itchy when he sees your stuffed animals in different positions every day. it makes him want to kill you already.

too bad. he's stuck with you until he gets lucky and finds a new, saner partner.

aside from your little (massive) habit, life with him isn't all too strange. he's not very open to your affections, not that you need him in the first place. honestly, the stuffed animals were a win for him—you allowed yourself to be more distracted, and he didn't have to give up more than a quarter of effort into giving you love.

and then… oh! yikes. your hands come into the equation. it's the night he comes home from overtime at work, ready to conk out on your bed together. the thing that caught his attention wasn't the fact that you cleaned off his side for him kindly, but the way your hand traced circles unconsciously on the fur of one of your duck plushies. even in rest, your affection seemed to work in tandem with your unconscious body.

it's the way your fingers brushed through the cheap fur, slow and unwavering. when you stopped, it's like his heart ceased its rhythm. so, regarding envy? yeah… he's already past that stage. poor him. otherwise, he couldn't care less. surely.

kira finds himself being unnecessarily affectionate. he always gets the urge to gravitate towards hands, of course, but he can't keep himself off of you. every time you're not caressing one of your many stuffed animals, he's stealing your hands away (figuratively) from you and pressing tender kisses to them.

aside from your flawless hands, he starts thinking of you and your plushies to be endearing in your/their own little way. the way you kiss all of them good night. the way you give them all names, all 100+ of them, and somehow still remember. there's something so simple and natural about it, like a routine of sorts.

secretly memorizes all of their names with you. the serial killer isn't even aware of the fact that he addresses all of them so casually when something happens—let alone how he helps as if it's the most important thing in the world.

"Honey, Rupert Jr. fell off again, I fear. Shall you get him, or do you want me to?"

and he'll pick up the fallen soldiers, then the next thing you know, all of them are organized. although, he has a hard time picking how they should be sorted. start with the top of the food chain? no, no—that would mean the pink lion would go next to your orange shark. fuck no. color coordination? maybe… but he hated the way the polar bear was right next to the rabbit. alphabetization? too much time.

the amount of times he's been late to work because of stopping by toy stores for you is disgusting. he wants to scrunch his face up every time he steps foot in the stuffed animal isle, passing by snotty kids and picking up the plushie that looked the most spotless. of course, he took into account what your favorite brand was and what animals were your favorite. of course he did. that's what husbands did, right? he was just blending in.

kira despises himself for getting so attached to you—of course, you didn't suspect him of anything, but he would have to leave eventually. he hates the way his heart speeds up every time you smile, especially how you hold his face gently as if it's glass and press your lips to his as a thank you. it's so overwhelmingly intimate that he finds himself wanting to get you even more plushies then you ask for in the first place.

"It's no problem, hon. I couldn't say no to you if I tried," Kira would lowly chuckle, pressing your hands closer to his skin. "Say the word and I'll have more by tomorrow. How does that sound?"

on an off day, if you just so happened to be mad at him and crowd his side of the bed with plushies (mixed and out of order), he wouldn't be too terribly upset, but it would get on his nerves every time you ruined his perfect organization. you might wake up in the middle of the night after he returns home, spotting in your peripheral your husband. your loving, terribly quiet husband, who slowly organized and put every plushie back in its respective spot in the large bedroom.

DIAVOLO ;

THIS ANNOYS THE FUCK OUT OF HIM.

not only do you get so mad at him all the time for not properly transporting and moving your plushies when you're traveling, they get in his way all the time. he's comfortable with tight spaces. tiny spaces. but not when they're shoveled with your stupid fucking creatures.

yeah, yeah, he loves you—so what? they piss him off and it doesn't help that you're constantly distracting him for more. diavolo doesnt approve of your habit of course, but doppio does, and that worries him sometimes.

sometimes he gets so mad that he splits the room into two halves—your side, which you can barely move in, and his side, clear and absolutely positively walkable. he is ignoring your whines on purpose.

"Darling," Diavolo starts, his voice an aggravated growl as his eyebrows furrow. "Get your stuffed bat off of my side. I get that you're running out of room, but I set this tape down for a reason. Now let me work."

he doesn't care if it's "cute". he can't afford to have the two of you slow down at all because you left a plush or two behind. if you're lucky he'll let you take 10 with you at the end of the day.

if you ever end up settling with him—ever, which I doubt—he'd be fine with the plushies. just kind of weirded out. i don't think he would like it very much if he woke up in the middle of the night to see 50 stuffed animals glaring down at him from the top of shelves and windows. fuck that.

this bitch does not get jealous. he's too busy locking in on his glowing white computer screen. you could be kissing a plush right in front of his face and he'd just look at you so worriedly. you're just blocking his vision, he doesn't actually care that you're not giving him kisses.

he's not all kissy and cuddly anyways. you're better off with the plushies.

he hates to admit it, but when you're all tuckered out and exhausted from how much work he gives you, watching you snuggle up to those dumbass plushies you love so much is more worth it than he originally thought. diavolo finds them annoying—not you. in a way, secretly, he finds it cute. but heaven forbid he ever say that.

this man is NOT above throwing out or destroying your stuffed animals. if they get onto his side of the room more than once, they're gone. you'll probably never see them again.

he's one of the richest people on the planet. he could buy you anything you ever wanted if you asked—just… not more plushies. they piss him off too much. the only occasion he'd ever invest in those stupid little things would be your birthday or christmas/hanukkah. otherwise you're on your own sneaking some past him.

"Happy Birthday. I know I'm not usually fond of celebrating or whatever… it's not usually worth my time. But I guess you deserve a new one of your, uhm, toys? If it makes you happy… then I guess we can let it stick around a while. But don't get used to this. Alright—let's transfer locations."

one time you tried to clip a plush keychain onto his belt loop. he's always so tired he didn't even notice until you heard him get frustrated at you in the middle of the night. he still loves you—he loves you after decades of knowing each other. he'd be mad, but he recognizes you're just trying to mess with him and have fun. he guesses he'll let you have this moment.

you two don't usually share a bed; it's just not his thing. he's not really physical, either. so, what you'll do when your mad at him, his sleep in his bed and take up his space with your plushies. it aggravates him to no end—and he'll 100% try and sleep in your empty bed to no avail. it doesn't feel right whatsoever. at that point he won't even go to bed, he'll just stay up and pull an all-nighter doing mafia bullshit.

DOPPIO ;

he finds it cute, and then he finds it weird, and then it circles back to cute again. your collecting habit is adorable to him, but he has to admit it's kind of crazy that you spend hundreds of thousands of your his money just to buy more of these fluffy things. but they are cute!

with all the traveling he does, he worries with how diavolo might process the amount of plushies you have. but not to worry, he hoards a bunch of them in diavolos duffel bag for you. he blames you for being too stinkin' cute for your own good!!! and then diavolo wants to shoot him.

he loves all of your plushies equally. this bitch is having tea parties with them even when you're not around. to him, they're an extension of you.

"More tea for you, Lady Bubbles? Oh, what about you, Mister Electric?"

"My darling Doppio... Get back on track, please. Do not sacrifice the mission for a… tea party."

he gets jealous. yeah. you will see him sitting in the corner and pouting at you if you're bothering to cuddle and kiss one of them and not him. he has perfectly good lips for kissing.

doppio has lost count of the amount of times boss has gotten mad at him for even associating with your little hobby. he can't help it—it's almost become his hobby too! you've influenced him for better or for worse. the max he's allowed to do without getting yelled at is carrying his "phone" with him (one of your stuffed watermelon plushies).

he comes up with half of the names of your newer stuffed animals—it's a team effort. plus, his names are too good to just shake off.

he loves seeing you all cuddled up to the pile of plush toys you're allowed to have. you're adorable even when he can't indulge you at all—after all, he has to put work before anything. but then comes you, and then your plushies. if he had it his way, he'd buy you all of the plush creatures in the universe. maybe another day.

the tape that diavolo sets down? doppio tries to subtly move it sometimes, only to get yelled at. that doesn't stop him from trying sometimes, though.

sure, it gets a little crowded sometimes in whatever tight room boss transports the two of you to. but that's okay, he doesn't mind sleeping like a fucking egyptian to mold himself to fit into your bed.

he treats all of them equally, doesn't play favorites at all. they're all too cute to pick!

you love him to death and know that he's your ticket to buying more plushies. he gets yelled at, but it's for the good of the people (you)! he loves you unbearably so that he denies boss's orders sometimes just to go out of his way to buy you whatever you want. the missions aren't compromised in any possible way, so what's the harm?

"Babe, I got you this! You… uhm—I thought it'd be a great gift! Boss got a little heated at me, sure, but it was worth it, right? And there's more where that came from!"

you have a few choices. cuddle with a plushie individually and make him sad, or cuddle with him and a plushie. honestly, even when you're not cuddling with either, he's cuddling your plushies for you. he has no shame. sometimes he'll even accidentally kick you off the bed when he's trying to snuggle up to your collection (the small one, due to diavolos frustration).

you two share a bed, and you rarely ever get mad at him. so, imagine your surprise when you wake up to see this man laying where the plushies were, once covering his spot, but now on layered on top of him as he presses closer to you. he does NOT let them get in the way—he simply becomes one with them.