#this is Trish's other half SO.]

[godblooded]

random reminder that ily all.

[causenessus]

Love Languages. | Bungou Stray Dogs

inc: dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, tecchou, jouno

written in 2nd pov (female reader implied)

song recc: do you love by trish toledo & baby bash

word count: 2324 words

pretty sure everything is written in lowercase except for names if they didn't look ugly capitalized bc aesthetics !!! had tons of fun writing this I apologize, this is barely proofread and for literally every character I got too caught up in specific examples and scenarios and just kept building off of it but I think they're kind of sweet so I hope u enjoy <3

dazai osamu - acts of service

“she peels an orange for us in the morning / she woke me up to give me half” golden girl - frank ocean

he’s terrible at taking care of himself, so someone who takes the time to care for him just makes every wall crumble

he’s probably horrible at remembering to eat as well, so if you make something for him he’ll treasure it forever

bonus points if your job requires you to wake up earlier than him (which isn’t hard, he def comes in a little later than his coworkers) and you leave something for him to eat when he wakes up or to take with him to work (or both <3)

he’ll start to look forward to waking up in the mornings in hope that you’ve made him something

never asks you if you’ll make something in specific or if you’ll even make him something at all. he adores anything you make and doesn’t want to make you feel obliged to do something if you happen to be tired and don’t want to cook tomorrow

voices all his appreciation for you when you both have laid down to go to sleep

“bella, I can’t tell you how much it means to me, all that you do. you really don’t have to make me anything if it’s a hassle in the morning or when you get home. you already work so hard.”

you turned onto your other side to face him, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear as you smiled, “I do it because I want to, ‘Samu. and because I love you. if I can’t spend the day with you because we’re both at work, at least I can take care of you.”

his chest buzzed with so much happiness his eyes stung for a moment. he held himself back from saying that he didn’t deserve you. saying something like that wouldn’t solve anything. instead, he’d make himself worthy of you by helping out as well

he probably can’t cook very well but he finds other ways to help, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, getting groceries, and cleaning the place so that there’s less on your plate

ask him to do anything and he’ll get it done for you as soon as possible <3

I think that for him, receiving such sweet love without any words is foreign to him but is just what he needs. he’d rather show how much he loves you than say it (although he loves to tell you it as well). getting out of bed could be so difficult for him some days, yet having a goal for himself has motivated him to become a better person. he wakes up, excited for what you may have made him and ready to do whatever he can for you

nakahara chuuya - gift giving

“they asked, ‘do you love her to death?’ I said, ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’” - mahmoud darwish

it’s easier for him to express how much you mean to him by giving you everything you want and everything he thinks you would like

he still tells you that he loves you every chance he gets, but oftentimes it is accompanied by a gift, no matter how small it may be, from just a single rose to a whole garden

for him, it gives a new purpose in his work; he’s working in order to get you whatever your pretty heart desires

he’s proud to use his hard-earned money to buy you things (rather than spending it all on wine <3 ily chuuya)

the easiest thing he can always get you is a favorite snack or drink and he’s got a whole system for it

he knows every store it’s available at and many of the clerks are familiar with him from the sheer amount of times he’s visited them to buy something for you. it never grows old for him, his favorite thing to do is buy you something on his way home from work or during the day when he’s planning to surprise you with a visit

he keeps a mental list of what your favorite things are. you’ll tell him about something you like without thinking anything of it but he’s already planned out when and how to give the item to you. it’s always on his mind what he’ll buy you each day, and it’s always worth it seeing you enjoy whatever he’s bought you

sometimes it’s as simple as a coffee and he’ll drop by your work to give it to you in person

“hanging in there, Angel? need a little pick-me-up?” he has the biggest smile on his face every time he sees you, and bringing a gift for you with him only adds to his excitement

“you spoil me, Chuuya,” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning further into him as he holds you in his arms.

“what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” he responds, rubbing your back as you sigh.

receiving gifts from you is just as sweet. no one has ever given him as many gifts as he’s given others–which is fine with him–it’s not about what he’ll get in return and he knows that not everyone expresses their love the way he does

but he’s touched whenever you get him something. since giving gifts is so meaningful to him, it means even more that someone would go through the trouble to give something back to him

he’ll keep whatever you get him close to him at all times and smile every time he sees it or remembers it

once, you bought him a new chain for his hat and he hasn’t changed it since. it only made the hat more special to him now that it reflects two people that had changed his life

akutagawa ryunosuke - words of affirmation

“my love, you are worth it all.”

we all know how the boy responded to dazai’s praise or even simply just the words “dazai wants to talk to you”

to hear a person who has persisted through his stubborn, aggressive defense say they still love him causes him to start to soften for you

he’s been surrounded by harsh words and people who have exploited him and brushed him to the side whenever he wasn’t needed all his life, so it stirs his heart to hear someone notice things about him and who tells him that they want to stay with him

it’s something reserved for solitary moments just between the two of you for sure, but that makes the time all the more special because he can let down his guard and just be with you

his past has made it hard for him to believe he is worthy of anything other than the murderous skills he’s harnessed in order to get him to where he is in the Mafia, but you’ve shown him that there’s more to him than just how well he can use Rashomon

he never bothers to try and listen to what other people are saying but he always gives his full attention to anything you have to say

he doesn’t even like to hear compliments from anyone else, he doesn’t trust them at all but he trusts and believes anything you tell him, knowing you have the purest intentions of loving and supporting him

after a job, all he wants to do is go home. by the end of the day, he’s sick of everyone around him so on the rare occasion that you decide to visit him, he won’t even notice until you call out to him

he had just finished a job, it was successful, but it had gotten messy. Mori had already told him off and he didn’t want to hear anything from anyone else. he stormed past every piece of vermin that had decided to get in his way, their whispers just barely reaching his ears

“Ryu!” you called out from amongst them, waiting by a door.

“What?” he hadn’t meant to snap, especially when he realized it was you talking to him and his face immediately relaxed when he saw you.

“oh, [y/n].” he immediately started to make his way towards you, the pounding in his head slowly starting to disappear the closer

“I came to pick you up, I’m glad I had good timing,” you smiled, offering your hand.

he took it gently, giving it a soft squeeze, “I’m sorry I responded so rudely, I didn’t–”

“you’re okay, Ryu,” you placed your other hand on top of it, looking him straight in the eyes, keeping a loving smile on your face, “you don’t ever have to be sorry. you’re doing just fine. even better, actually. I’m so proud of all your work and I’m sure you’re tired after everything today. it looked busy.”

the words erased every memory of Mori’s scolding that his head had latched on to in order to beat himself down later on. he felt his cheeks warm a little as he looked away, “you’re too kind to me, [y/n].”

tries his best to also put into words his appreciation but it’s so hard for him to verbally say it; sometimes it comes out wrong

instead, he’s opted for notes most of the time, leaving them on your bedside or in your bag, telling you how thankful he is for you and that he loves you

suehiro tecchou - quality time

“on the train we swapped seats, you wanted the window and I wanted to look at you.” - mahmoud darwish

my boy is always so busy

as soon as he’s off work he just wants to be wherever you’re at

he’d doesn’t mind silence and doesn’t care where he is as long as he’s with you

sometimes gets off work and if you’re not home yet just sneaks into your workplace to be around you

adores following you around and doesn’t always know exactly what you’re doing but he’s just happy to tag along

grocery store dates are some of his favorite moments with you

he loves everything about convenience stores

he loves food and the endless aisles of colorful packages and choices

(it gives him ideas for new food combinations <3)

once bought a himalayan salt shaker simply because

“look [y/n]! they make pink salt :0”

later put said pink salt on top of strawberry ice cream bc they were both pink

he also loves getting to look around the store all the while following you. he admires your organized grocery lists and how you’ve already planned out what you’re going to buy

once you tried to send him out to grab something in an area you’d already passed so that you could continue going down the list

“can you go grab some carrots for me, love? sorry, I forgot to pick them up when we were in the produce section.”

“of course 🙂” his heart is shattering inside of him at the thought of being separated from you.

“do you want to stay with me and we’ll go back later?” you ask, looking up at him with a knowing smile.

“yes pls”

groceries stores are not the only place you guys go tho i promise

if you’re still in school, he’ll accompany you on study dates 

never bothers you under any circumstances and if he is and you tell him he’ll stop right away

he could spend all day looking at your pretty face even if you never once looked at him <3

jouno saigiku - physical touch

“you kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry / the sun has come this close, only the sun” “GPS” - Shauan Barbosa

although he can’t see you, he knows your body by heart <3

he’s spent so much time tracing it over and over with his hands

i think his favorite thing to do, especially after a long day at work is flop onto you and just listen to your heartbeat. probably also intertwines one of his hands with yours, often runs other across your skin

loves when you touch him just as much

if he’s lying on top of you and you decide to run a hand through his hair, all of his problems have just melted away

you both have definitely fallen asleep like that countless times no matter what time of day it is

he’s always finding ways to be in close contact with you, making sure that you’re safe and near him

again, he loves loves loves to hold your hand, he’ll reach for it any chance he gets

will also settle for an arm around your shoulder though as long as you’re close to him

definitely the type to also rest his head on top of yours or on your shoulder every chance he gets

if he needs to fidget he won’t even play with his own fingers he’ll just play with yours

i think that with the loss of one sense, the other senses hold so much meaning for him

it’s easier and more meaningful for him to show his love and how much he trusts you through touch rather than just saying it out loud

comes up from behind you to hug you a lot, especially in the kitchen or when you’ve just come home he’s there immediately, hugging you to recharge

“how was your day, my love?”

you always relax in his arms, turning your head slightly to kiss his face which he’s let rest on your shoulder, “it was missing you.”

he placed a chaste kiss on your lips, “i’ll make it all up to you now, darling.”

there was one time that he let you do his hair

he’s never told you how much he enjoyed it; he didn’t even know what you had done to it, but being near your warmth is all he needs and can ask for <3

[silly-l1ttle-guy]

How the bucci gang sleep hcs

This has been in my drafts since January wtf

BRUNO BUCCIARATI + LEONE ABBACCHIO

all over the place

there is not a single time where these two have woken up in the same position they fell asleep in

like they'll fall asleep spooning, then they'll wake up with half of Bruno's limbs zipped off and Abbacchio sprawled across the bed in a position that looks uncomfortable with her foot in Bruno's face

one of Bruno's legs is probably on the floor and Abbacchio is most likely cuddling one of his arms

they're just used to it at this point

"Leone can you pass me my leg?" "m'kay"

Narancia came in to wake them up one time and screamed because Bruno zipped his head off in his sleep

Mista and Trish teased him about it for weeks

anyway i bet on my life that Bruno and Abba bring out their stands in their sleep

just randomly while they're sleeping Sticky Fingers and Moody Blues pop out

they just look at each other, then down at their users, then back to each other

they end up cuddling too (SENTIENT STANDS SUPREMACY)

it's so cute when Bruno and Abba wake up and see that their stand are cuddling

also Bruno's hair may look perfect 24/7 but in the morning it's SO. FUCKING. MESSY.

he has to immediately brush his hair so no one sees it like that

except Abbacchio

SPEAKING OF ABBACCHIO

when she wakes up her hair is also a mess

just slightly less messy

she has breakfast before she does anything else, then she immediately does her make-up

also don't be surprised if Bruno has Abbacchio's lipstick stains all over his body in the morning

it just means he sucked some girl dick last night

usually on those days Abbacchio wakes up with smudged make-up that she forgot to take off

also Abbacchio has frequent nightmares and often times wakes up in the middle of the night

she doesn't like telling anyone and calms herself down before going back to sleep

Bruno knows about it though

GIORNO GIOVANNA + PANNACOTTA FUGO

these guys are like the opposite of Bruno and Abba

they'll fall asleep cuddling and wake up in the exact same position

usually Fugo's the big spoon because he doesn't like being the little spoon

brings back bad memories y'know?

but anyway they sometimes also bring out their stands in their sleep

GER most of the time

it just likes to pop out to see what's happening

sometimes in the morning when Fugo wakes up, he'll roll over and see GER staring him dead in the eyes

he screams loud enough to wake everyone up

nara, mista and trish all tease him about it

"Did someone get scared~?" "SHUT UP NARANCIA! IT WAS JUST STARING ME DEAD IN THE EYES!" "Pussy lmao" "MISTA" "Nah the boys are right, you are kind of a pussy" "TRISH!"

sometimes purple haze comes out while Fugo's asleep

GER just pops out and hangs out with ph for a bit

anyway Fugo's hair is always a pain in the ass when he wakes up

as for Giorno... uh...

picture Dio's hair but longer

he looks like a younger version of shadow Dio too in the morning lmao

also Giorno bites shit in his sleep

and he's got some sharp canine teeth

the pros of being half-vampire

don't be surprised if when they wake up there's bite marks on Fugo's arms

or if Giorno's biting a pillow

if Giorno's had a stressful day he might move around in his sleep too

not much usually, but one time he ended up sleepwalking

Fugo woke up in the middle of the night and noticed that Giorno wasn't there

panic

he eventually found Giorno wandering around the garden and muttering to himself

it was really funny when Fugo snapped him out of it

then they went back to bed and Giorno bit Fugo's hand so hard it drew blood

true love at it's finest

sometimes Fugo has nightmares and Giorno has to wake him up

on more rare occasions Giorno has a nightmare and wakes up Fugo because he's trembling and shaking so much

GUIDO MISTA

snores

that's about it

he'll sleep in any position there is possible and he'll be comfy in all of them

he's also the deepest sleeper in the team

this guy moves around a lot too

he'll fall asleep in fetal position against the wall, then he'll wake up halfway across the room with his blanket tangled in his legs

sleepovers with him are a nightmare because not only does he snore, but this man also sleeptalks

one time Narancia and Trish were sleeping in his room and they woke up to him mumbling about how far his ass is

they recorded it in case they ever needed to blackmail him

but yeah this guy is a mess

He sleeps naked too

Balls out and everything

Unless Trish and Narancia are sleeping over

In thy case he leaves his pants on

Also on hot nights he SWEATS

This guy naturally runs warm, he gets hot during the night

NARANCIA GHIRGA

Eeperton

Bro sleeps like a baby

Nara just kinda sleeps wherever

He hardly even uses his own room unless someone carries him there

Honk mmimimimi honk mimimimimi

Also they sleep with their blanket wrapped around them like a cocoon

My guy is snug as a bug in a rug fr

This mf does not make ANY noise in their sleep

Completely silent

The amount of times people have thought they were dead because of this is quite a hefty amount

Sleeby

The missile is very sleepy

If they sleep next to someone they cling on for dear life

Also they're a blanket hog

They do not move at all either

TRISH UNA

She sleeps in a princess bed

Also a quiet sleeper

But she does move, unlike Narancia

Goes to sleep like she's in a casket at her funeral and wakes up face down on the opposite side of the bed

If she forgets to take her makeup off before bed she screams and tells Giorno to buy her self-care products

Live laugh love Trish

Sometimes she sleeps with Sheila E (I wish lesbians were real💔💔)

[jpitha]

Wild Sky

“How long will it feel like?”

“Less than a second. Your time in the pod will feel so short that you’ll think something is broken.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay then, Sign me up.” Ellen didn’t particularly want to take a stasis pod instead of a hibernation cabinet, but the last time she went into hibernation, she had… complications upon awakening. She was severely injured from an error on warming, and lost her right arm, right lung and half of her liver. The organs were regrown, and the limb replaced, but her doctor warned her to not hibernate anymore. Ellen figured that was that, and she was stuck on this planet. 

Until she read the news on her pad a few years later.

“Volunteers needed for sapient level trials of a new technology! Free interstellar travel!”

Intrigued, Ellen checked it out. She would try nearly anything to get off this planet.  Especially since Trish left her. 

It had turned out that scientists at the university had developed a ‘stasis’ system. It created a field where time did not pass. Even better, power is only needed to create and break the field. Once set, the stasis field is stable. You could cook a holiday meal for one hundred people, put it in stasis, and take a serving from it until it was gone, safe in the knowledge that even if it took you weeks, each plate would taste as good and the first. From the perception of the meal, all the servings were taken at once. 

Figuring it was her only way off this rock, Ellen signed up for the trial. She was subjected to weeks of examinations by all kinds of doctors. She was the first candidate with regrown organs and artificial limbs as well, so the scientists were extra excited about putting her in stasis. 

After about half a year, she was approved for the program. The first trip was going to be just for a day, in the offices of the university. Should that one go without a problem she and the other candidates would be placed aboard a ship and sent wherever they wanted It would be one ship with dozens of pods.  It didn’t matter how many months they traveled to all the destinations of the passengers, no time would pass for them.

As Ellen settled into the stasis pod, she chuckled to herself. For something that she was going to only spend a few seconds inside, it was very comfortable. Cozy even. She settled into the seat and clipped a short cord from the pod to the sensor suite on her wrist. As she did, her name and vitals appeared in the clear window on the pod. 

“We have good telemetry Ellen, we’re going to set the field, all right?” The doctor peered over the lip of the pod. It was a good deal larger than a regular hibernation cabinet, and the doctor was standing on a little stool.

“How long will I be out?” Now that she was in the pod, she yawned.

“Like I said, just a day Ellen. We’ll see you Wednesday morning. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried, I was hoping I could get a nap, it’s so comfy in here”

The doctor chuckled. “It’s like that on purpose. The pods are designed to help put people at ease. That, combined with the mild sedative we gave you should make this no more scary than lying down in bed.”

Ellen blinked. A sedative? “No wonder I’m so tired. I’m high as hell!”

The doctor held up a hand. “Just a bit, and it’s fast acting. It’ll wear off by lunchtime, your time. All part of the waiver you signed.”

Mentally, Ellen shrugged. She did feel fine. Almost floaty. “All right Doc, whenever you’re ready.”

He looked down at his pad and made some notations. “Okay Ellen, we’re going to close the lid now.”

With a light hum, the lid game down. Ellen felt her ears pop as the pressure changed.

“Everything is green Ellen. As soon as the capacitors charge, we’re going to set the field. See you tomorrow!” The doctor’s voice sounded tinny over the connection. 

“All right Doc, see you tomorrow!”

“Field set in three… Two…”

There was a flash of silver, and it was dark in the pod. Ellen looked at the lights glowing inside. The window on the top was mirrored and she just saw a reflection of herself. Woman, late thirties, hair closely cropped to hide the grey and for ease of care; she never felt really ‘girly’ and didn’t keep her hair long or wear much makeup. She had just recently broken up with her long term girlfriend and thought this would be a source of an interesting story for future dates if nothing else. 

Funny, the doctor had said that her perception of time would be so short that she would wonder if it had worked at all. She was still lying here wondering what was going on. Maybe the doctor had misrepresented how long it would feel like for her to put anyone with claustrophobia at ease.  

They checked her for that though. The psych said she had none.

She wondered how long it had been. Surely, this was the right amount of time?

How long had it been?

She counted heartbeats.  She knew her heart rate was around 70 beats per minute, so she could get a rough idea how long she was in the pod from counting heartbeats.  In the silence of the pod, her heart was loud in her ears. She even thought she could hear her blood flow. 

After about ten minutes of counting by her reckoning she was bored and looked around more.

How much longer could it be?

Surely they’ll be here now?

All of the indicators on the side of the pod were dark. The telemetry information must reside outside of the stasis field. She was alone with her thoughts.

Isn’t it done yet?

There was a hum, rising in her ears and becoming louder and louder. Rising to a deafening crescendo it ended with a click like a relay. The top of her pod turned clear.

An unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe they moved the pod in between yesterday and today. It was beige with diffused lighting which didn’t seem to come from anywhere. Even though the field had disappeared, the lid still didn’t open.

A moment later, the lid opened with a pop of pressure and Ellen’s ears popped again. Unfamiliar smells flooded the pod. None were unpleasant as such, but she didn’t recognize any of them. Like, a new apartment or a friend’s house, it smelled unfamiliar. 

Ellen sat up. “Wow, that felt way longer than just a moment Doc, for the next group of people you should… tell… them…” 

Ellen looked around and her eyes focused.

The doctor wasn’t there. 

Three… beings dressed in long, emerald green robes stared back at her. They weren’t human.

They weren’t human! What the hell was going on?

“What’s going on? Who are you?”

The middle being stepped forward. They spoke. Ellen didn’t understand the language, it had a warbling, vibrating quality, almost like you would have to feel it as much as hear it. At their… waist was a box. It spoke in hundreds of languages, almost all at once. While it spoke a blue light shone on her face. With a warbling noise as it hunted and searched, it finally said something she understood. It said “There… has been… a sit-u-a-tion.” 

Wild eyed, Ellen looked up at the head of the one who had the box that spoke. They had large, compound eyes, like a fly and their faces were an iridescent green.

There must be some mistake. A trick, a prank. Panicking, Ellen jumped out of the pod and searched the room. She was nowhere near the laboratory at the university. She had no idea where she was. The room was the same uniform color of the ceiling with the invisible diffused light. Other than the three beings and her pod, the room was empty. There. A door behind them. She ran out the door, down a hall. She was beyond thought now, she just needed to get out. 

Things will make sense when she’s somewhere else.

She ran toward a door that looked like an exit and was outside. 

She looked up and gasped. She was so surprised that she lost her footing and fell down. Rolling on her back she looked up and saw the sky.

A wild sky. Turquoise with clouds in cotton candy pink. Looking further she could see a… structure in the sky. A large latticework, trailing off into the distance, made hazy by the atmosphere. The structure must be very high in the sky, and very very large.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, staring up at the strange sky. Eventually the being from the room with the box came up to her. He bent low - at least they have knees. Ellen actually stopped her panic to have that thought and the idea that at least they have knees brought her a small measure of comfort.

“We… are… sorry….” The box was getting better at translating. She wondered if she was able to help it when she shouted at them.

“How long has it been?” Her eyes flicked away from the sky to the compound eyes of the being.

“We do not… know…” They made a gesture with their hands. 4 fingers. “A long… time.”

Ellen wept. What else could she do

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

(That was fast holy shit)

Okay but how would each of the boys react to listener giving them kisses with lipstick leaving behind a bunch of lil kiss marks-

Kissing marks.

Lol yeah I sometimes post a ask really fast. If it's just like a idea one where I can just give my input. But asks like these take longer for me to do!

For this I'll be doing Auron, Lucien and Jack. (Weird combo) if you want more please request this again!

When getting ready in the morning you decided to wear a beautiful (color) lipstick. Happy about it you went on your day, seeing your partner looking g at your lips you giggled. Going to him, spoiling with kisses and then walking away.

What you didn't mentioned was the lipstick was very spreadable. So, when you kissed all over his face it left marks. Deciding to mess with him you left it alone.

Auron

The color on your lips made Auron want to kiss you more. But sadly he needed to do some paper work.

Since he was in his office the whole day he didn't notice the marks.

But when Trish came in his office, she giggled.

Confused he asked what was so funny. After being told to look in the window he turned and saw the marks in his reflection.

Getting a bit flustered he dismissed Trish and grabbed his phone.

Calling you cheeky and that he'd get back at you later. So once your done come to his office.

Auron liked it but, since no one knows about them (except Trish she knows all) he doesn't want people to ask about the marks. Please do them when it's just you two.

Lucien

This big guy was happy to just get kisses. (He loves them) the color on your lips made him want to have more.

But you had work so he was sulking on the couch. Deciding to make something he went into the kitchen.

Red didn't notice the marks till he went into the bathroom bc he spilled cake mixture on himself.

Looking for a towel he caught his reflection. Turning g his head confused seeing a hint of (color) on his red skin.

He started laughing when he saw them. He liked how pretty they looked on him. Gave him the feeling of having your 'mark' on him.

Texted you at work with a picture. Then texted how he was gonna get you back with black lipstick when you least expect it.

Lucien loves it do it more or he's asking if you still love him. Since no one knows he's in your apartment he's just walking in there with a thousand kiss marks on his face.

Jack

You woke up early an got ready, Jack om the other hand was half asleep when greeted by you.

Getting kisses and noticing your outfit he hyped you up. Then went to get ready for his classes, he hates how both of you don't have the same periods together.

As he left his dorm a few people smiled or giggled at him. Jack went most of his day not knowing what was wrong till a girl pointed it out.

Asking where you got the (color) lipstick since it stayed on Jack's face so strong. He blinked and said how'd you know that?

The girl showed him a hand mirror and he saw all the kisses you gave him. Getting ready flustered he tried to wipe it off but it didn't work.

When the class ended he texted you asking how to get the lipstick off. You, confused asked why since he didn't wear any. Jack then sent a picture of him smiling goofy at the camera with multiple kiss marks.

Jack likes it but since he doesn't want to get attention from other people. He asked if you can do it with lipstick that can be wiped off easily. If it's just you two? Go wild he's all for it.

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[SUMMARY: Negan becomes tempted with his younger sisters bestfriend.]

Smut

“You are one hell of a fucking tease, you know that?”

It had been five years since you had last seen your bestfriend Trish, growing apart then finding your way back, you both had a lot to catch up on. For a few days now the two of you had been hanging out, filling each other in on life and what not. She was still living with her older brother like she always did. He was almost twenty years older than her and when their parents died when she was fifteen he took her under his wing. You didn’t remember much of her brother besides the fact that he rode his motorcycle, always had different women and sometimes got into trouble. He had a temper that you heard of, but you never really saw much of it. Negan did his best to not get this way around his sister, but the town knew how he was.

That night she invited you back to her place for pizza. The two of you laughing on the couch when you heard the door unlock. Trish continued her story but you couldn’t help but get distracted as her brother appeared from the door. He was more much rugged looking than you last remembered but still handsome, hints of gray in his hair, he closed the door behind him before you realized Trish was calling for you.

“Earth to Carmella” she snapped her fingers making you look back at her.

“I’m asking if you want another slice before my brother takes over this pie” she chuckled as he walked towards the two of you. He figured she was home hanging out with one of her friends as usual, he didn’t notice who you were.

“Negan, you remember Carmella? Don’t you?” He took a double take at you, a bit of a surprised expression on his face.

“Shit. Look at you” you smiled in response.

“Could you believe it’s been five years since we’ve seen her?” Trish continued as she got up to find the remote. She didn’t notice how her brothers eyes never left you.

“Five whole years huh” Negan muttered as his eyes wandered down to your bare legs crossed beneath your skirt. He quickly caught himself somehow forgetting you were staring right at him.

“Hi, Negan,” his eyes shooting right back up to yours.

“She might stay over a few days if that’s ok, we have some plans early tomorrow” Trish sat back beside you flipping open a magazine as Negan took a step back rubbing his hand over his lips. Shit, you had changed so much.

The way he was looking at you causing you a tingly feeling in the pit of your stomach. Never had he looked at you this way before but you knew this look, you definitely saw him look at other women this way growing up.

His lips slightly curving into half a smile as he winked at you.

“Hello?” Trish looked up catching his attention.

Negan cleared his throat looking over at his sister.

“Can she stay or what?”

“Stay here?” Shit, he didn’t think it was the best idea for you to be staying in the same house with him. Negan knew he was attracted to you and he knew how he was when he wanted a woman. He knew he had to keep his distance from you. There was only so much he would be able to hold back.

“No the Empire State Building, yes obviously here, Negan where else?” He looked at her with a raised brow.

“Watch that smart mouth-“

“You’re not the only one with a sarcastic mouth in this family big brother. So can she stay or what?”

“Sure,” Negan cleared his throat before walking out the living room.

“What the hells up with him?” Trish mumbled to herself as you watched him leave the room. Her eyes back in the book as you hid a smile with the way Negan had been looking at you.

The two of you watched a movie as you heard Negan upstairs on his phone. He cursed a lot, you figured he was talking to some girlfriend he must’ve had. He closed his bedroom door before Trish caught your attention.

“Carmella” you looked over at Trisha who seemed annoyed.

“Are you even watching the movie?”

“Of course I am” you insisted as you crossed your arms and faced the television.

After a bit Trish decided to shower before bed while you offered to clean up the kitchen. Negan walked in expecting to find his sister but instead found you tip toeing putting away things in the cabinet. He stood for a moment watching you struggle to reach high up. Each time you tip toed your ass poked out a bit beneath your skirt, the sight beginning to turn him on.

“Fuck me-“ he whispered just as you turned around and gasped.

“Oh Negan, I didn’t know you were there” you spoke innocently not having heard him. The counter in front of him blocking the view of his arousal. Had you not been distracted with what you were doing you would’ve noticed the way his eyes were glued on you.

“Do you think you can help me real quick?” You turned back to the cabinets.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart” he pressed his lips together hoping you wouldn’t insist. He knew he wouldn’t be able to say no to you for long.

“What do you mean?” You laughed a bit confused.

“It’s fast I promise” he made his way behind you planning to quickly help you and leave, making sure he wasn’t too close behind.

“I just need help to put these back in that spot” you tip toed once again showing him where to place the bottles.

“Why the hell isn’t Trish helping you with this shit, she’s the one who made this mess” he mumbled to himself frustrated that he was some how in this position with you.

“Look, I’m sorry I won’t bother you again” you looked back at him confused by his attitude. Standing back down flat on your feet you accidentally stumbled a few steps back stopping with your ass against him.

“Oh-“ Your body froze feeling what felt like a boner against your ass. Your lips parted as you stood still.

“Shit” you heard him whisper, neither of you moving.

“Negan?” You whispered without turning back.

“I’m gonna need you to leave the room, sweetheart.” He knew if anyone was going to leave it would have to be you. If he moved an inch more it would only be towards you.

“Why don’t you?” You teased without looking back, apart of you wanting to see what he would do.

“Shit, just do as I fucking say.”

Of course, you didn’t.

“I saw the way you were looking at me before” you spoke softly.

“Carm-“ you purposely pushed yourself back against him making his dick press harder against you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He groaned as you felt him place one hand on your hip without realizing his reaction. He spoke in frustration but his body acted another way.

“It doesn’t feel like you have a problem with it” You bent over a little more looking back at him. A sneaky smirk on your face you watched as he looked down at your ass mesmerized. Negan looked like he didn’t know what the hell to do with himself. He was breathing heavy, you could tell he was fighting himself from lifting up your skirt.

“Go ahead, I know you’ve been wanting to see..”

“You are one hell of a fucking tease, you know that?”

“Is it teasing?” A hint of sarcasm in your voice.

“Shit, you know I can’t” he spoke without taking his eyes off your ass.

“What are you afraid of your sister?” Your question making him look up directly at you.

“Fuck no”

“So then?” you reached behind pulling up your skirt when he suddenly grabbed hold of your wrist.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish”

“And who said I couldn’t?” You pulled your arm back before slowly pulling up your skirt showing the black thong you wore.

“Oh shit…” he whispered as he slowly pulled your ass against him. He almost felt as if he was about to burst right in his pants. Turning to him you pulled him close, his eyes looking down at you as if he was hypnotized.

“What the fuck” he panted just before you placed your lips on his. Without questioning it he pulled you close, his hand brushing through your hair, his tongue swirling with yours you quickly reached down and unzipped his pants. His dick hard throbbing in your hand, his breath close against your lips.

“Do you have a condom” you whispered as you stroked him making his eyes close, each touch just making it harder for him to hold back.

“Damn you, Carmella” his hand sliding up the back of your thigh. He began kissing your neck making you feel weak in the knees.

“Well…do you?” You rolled your eyes back as he lifted up your leg pushing your underwear to the side.

“I’ll pull out…I promise” he kissed you as you balanced yourself on one foot, tip toeing enough to let him slip right in. A satisfying groan escaping his lips as he felt himself inside you.

“God damn you-fuck-“ he choked out, his hands holding you tight.

“Go ahead, fuck me” you whisperered. He grabbed you harder wrapping your leg around his waist.

“What’s this fucking mouth you suddenly got on you?” He thrusted hard making you stumble back against the counter. A whimper making him chuckle.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Is this too much for you?” You moaned as he rocked his hips against you. Looking over his shoulder towards the door, you made sure his sister hadn’t come down until he roughly grabbed your face turning it back to him.

“What are you afraid?” He teased distracting you from any concern as a shot of pleasure ran through you. Your eyes rolling back

“Carmella, where are you?” Trish suddenly called for you making you gasp.

“I’m-I’m coming!” You called out to her making Negan grin.

“You sure are” he groaned running his hand through your hair, tugging it enough to pull your head back.

“Shit Negan-“ you panted as he tugged harder.

“You know what, I’ll be down there in a sec, wait for me” Trish responded.

“We have to stop” you whispered in a panic as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fuck”

“Negan!” You whispered hitting him on the arm as he thrusted once more before holding himself still. You realized he came.

“Did you just-“ Trish making her way down the stairs cut you off. Negan quickly pulled out turning away to zip up his pants as you quickly fixed your skirt. Turning away you looked down at the sink in panic turning on the faucet pretending to wash something.

“Thanks for cleaning up I’ll finish, you can go shower if you want” Trish came in the kitchen stopping to look at her brother who looked a mess.

“Why are you so sweaty?” He rubbed his face trying to catch his breath.

“Why’d you leave such a fucking mess” he retorted as he quickly walked out the kitchen.

“Why is he so damn moody today?” Trish whispered.

“Who knows” you muttered still a bit lost with what had just happened discreetly trying to catch your breath.

“Why don’t you go shower, I’ll finish up here”

Without saying a word you quickly turned away and made your way up the stairs to see Negan standing in the hall as if he was waiting for you. He quickly grabbed your arm pulling you toward him as he checked behind you to make sure his sister stayed down stairs.

“I cannot believe you fucking did that”

“Shh” he hushed you still looking down the stairs.

“No, I won’t shh. I didn’t think you were gonna do that-“ he suddenly yanked you into the bathroom cornering you against the wall in the dark.

“Well I didn’t think we were gonna fuck” he snapped back at you in a whisper leaving you silent. The tension still running high between the two of you.

“You promised” The way he was staring down at you, you could’ve sworn he was distracted all over again. He knew he promised, he swore he didn’t mean to do it on purpose but he had no idea the damn hold you were gonna have on him. Just thinking about it was turning him on all over again.

“Negan!” You slammed your hand on his chest.

“Alright!” He whispered back taking a step closer.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that but you made it a little fucking hard for me to pull out, sweetheart-“

“Oh did I?” You crossed your arms with a raised brow.

“Oh fucking yes. That pussy of yours is-“

“Carmella-“ Trish suddenly called from downstairs cutting him off.

“You left your phone down here someone’s calling”

“Look I didn’t do it on purpose alright” he whispered quickly before hearing his sister come up the stairs.

“Just go!” You shoved him out quickly closing the door and turning on the shower.

Trish came in leaving your phone on the sink as you stood in the shower. Staring at the wall you still couldn’t believe what you had just let happen. Never in a million years did you ever think you would sleep with Negan. What stressed you out more was wondering how on earth you were suppose to stay in Trishs home now. There was no way you could let this happen again.

[peapodsinspace]

Hiiii :3

do you have any jojo headcanons?? It can be for any character :]

oooh absolutely!!! I’ve never made a post about my head cannons before!!!

These are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head!! And a lot of my head cannons are like, au specific anyway hehe

Also a lot of these will be post cannon :]

-Diamond is Unbreakable-

-jotaro taught josuke and okuyasu how to do eyeliner

-tomoko listens to Britney Spears when she cleans her house

-tonio sends okuyasu “left over” (freshly cooked, made expressly for this purpose) meals a few times a week

-koichi’s mom invites Rohan over for dinner fairly often (he accepts occasionally)

-Golden Wind-

-narancia’s favorite thing to do is listen to music with his friends and just chill

-he has playlist for all of them

-he likes to sit upside down in chairs (supposedly helps him focus ((he just does it because he can)))

-nara ikes to have other people read to him because he’s better at remembering it that way (usually fugo reads to him)

-giorno isn’t super good at video games, but he gets very serious and into them regardless

-fugo and trish used to not get along very well, but now they just bicker at each other for fun

-they read crappy YA novels together!!!!

-fugo has a copy of divergent he added commentary in the margins of, and long rants at the end of the book (he stuck extra paper in)

-he did this to try and get mista to read divergent (it worked ((mista hated it)))

-that copy was passed around the whole group so it has a bunch of notes from everyone

-fugo keeps all his books in stacks and low bookshelves because he dislikes the way ceiling-high bookshelves loom over him

-fugo genuinely had it out for abbachio when he first joined Bruno’s gang, to the point that he would try and get him in trouble with bruno for no reason

-abbachio lets Trish do his makeup sometimes

-abbachio will sleep in all day, and if he’s ever up early it’s because he never went to bed at all

-Stone ocean-

-weather and anasui will usually try and get extra breakfast (or save some of theirs) to give to emporio

-emporio likes FNAF

-he makes his friends play horror games with him (jolyne and anasui mostly, because jolyne is good at them, and anasui screams like a little girl)

-Steel Ball Run-

-diego is effected by cold and heat more since he developed his stand

-he occasionally gets the extreme urge to chew on something (or more specifically to eat a rock), however save the times he is fully in his dinosaur form or close to it, his teeth aren’t strong enough to eat them :[

-which is why his gloves have many pinprick holes in them from where he chews on the extra fabric around his fingers

-diego is a total nerd about anything animal related and will happily info dump at any opportunity, but somehow still be prissy about it

-gyro is consistently baffled by at least half of the phrases that Johnny says, because he doesn’t know what they mean

-gyro saws some serious logs in his sleep (he snores very loudly)

-he has a journal he’s really secretive about

-one time Johnny read the journal and it was just dumb joke ideas and a really weird bucket list

[chronically-ghosted]

the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour. 

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round. 

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known. 

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity. 

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it. 

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying. 

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.” 

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth. 

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.” 

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?” 

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.” 

Trish smacked him over the back of the head. 

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks. 

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious. 

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely. 

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled. 

“To Ned!” 

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?” 

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick. 

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?” 

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat. 

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo. 

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap. 

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour. 

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening. 

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you. 

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement. 

At least, the only person you can see. 

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing. 

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked. 

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all. 

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze. 

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here! 

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap. 

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.” 

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint. 

Caravaggio, eat your heart out. 

“Max, what the fuck was that?” 

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall. 

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple. 

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth. 

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.” 

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise. 

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder. 

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you. 

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier. 

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth. 

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt. 

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose. 

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?” 

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.” 

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,” 

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits. 

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around. 

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down. 

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat. 

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt. 

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .” 

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you. 

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation. 

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.” 

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear. 

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this. 

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily. 

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,” 

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you. 

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning. 

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.” 

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs. 

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.” 

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours. 

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office. 

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be. 

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable. 

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin. 

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that. 

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks. 

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.” 

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.” 

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.” 

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours. 

It is dangerous, your feelings for him. 

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes. 

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door. 

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water. 

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches. 

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords. 

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term. 

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world. 

[especiallyqhere]

🏹JJBA Golden Arrow AU🏹

Synopsis:

What if, in another timeline, Diavolo uses King Crimson Requiem to disappear from reality... But in doing so, something goes incredibly wrong. The energy from the arrow disperses stand energy throughout the world and Giorno Giovanna inherits vampirism from his father DIO! He is turned into a Dhampir as he is half human.

TW:MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH/BLOOD/BODY HORROR/HURT CHARACTERS/SEXUAL TRAUMA/UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS/PARENTAL TRAUMA

Already established:

Stands often act like a life leech on the user, with short range stands draining less subconscious energy than long range - of course it's dependent on the strength of the user but prolonged powers can cause body, mental, or internal issues to the user (these negatives are called Ailments).

Polnereff is unfortunately killed in this AU (Sorry Polnareff nation I've failed us) due to Diavolo gaining the power of the arrow.

Giorno has learnt how to heal at the start of the AU due to an accident he had as a child (getting into a knife fight with a mafioso child.)

Ages of all the main characters HERE

Bruno and Leone are not in a relationship at the start of the AU (it is a side-story within the AU)

AU (A03) Chapters:

Part 1 - READ IT HERE

Part 2 - READ IT HERE

Part 3 - COMING SOON... & MORE

AU Art:

Giorno Character Sheet

Abbacchio Character Sheet

Bruabba First Meet Art + Idea

Thank you ask art (Giorno/Narancia)

Character Ages + Ailments (Tw/blood)

Bruno and Trish Chapter 2 Art

AU Diavolo/Doppio Arts

Sketches & other bits:

First ideas and Bruno Character Sheet (OLD)

Giorno's Transformation mini-fic (OLD)

Team Bucciarati Sketches (NOT COMPLETE)

Bruno, Leone, Giorno and Trish Full Design

Shaded AU Sketch of Screenshot

Trish & Doppio Interactions + silly sketches [Spoilers]

Chapter 2 Sneak Peek w/ Polnareff

[icycoldninja]

Hello! I have an idea for a (fluff / angsty?) request with Vergil - might be a little long sorry abt that

Basically after dmc5 he returns from hell with Dante and he has some loose ends to tie, one of them being mending his relationship with his s/o (aka neros mother). I was thinking maybe she worked for Dante as a devil hunter and V gives subtle hints of his true self but she didn't catch on until the big reveal. I dunno if that'll be good enough so feel feel free to add on whatever!

Thanks for reading all this if you do and have a nice day :)

Nah, nah, it's fine. Have a MOTIVATED day yourself!

Lots of catching up to do (Vergil x Fem!Reader angst/fluff)

You knew something was odd about this "V" fellow the moment he set foot through Devil May Cry's door. You'd been visiting your employer and friend Dante at the time, and happened to be present when the mysterious man showed up, cane and book in hand. You recognized that book; it was an old copy of William Blake's poetry that Vergil used to tote around, occasionally reading excerpts from it during his downtime.

Ah, Vergil. It'd been a while since you heard that name, or even seen the man, for that matter. The last time you had an interaction with him was years ago on a moonlit eve as you said goodbye to him for what you thought was the last time, right before he departed in his quest for power, and just a month before you discovered you were pregnant with your son Nero.

You were lost in thought for a while, barely even noticing the fact that V was staring you straight in the eyes, a smug smirk on his face, as if he knew something you didn't. You wanted to question him, but knew it'd be better to keep your mouth shut. You, Dante, and the rest of Devil May Cry's staff had a mission to complete.

Imagine your surprise when V insisted on you accompanying him and Nero into the Qliphoth, only giving you a vague, meaningless reason you didn't care to remember. It seemed he just wanted you nearby, even though your skills would be better put to use on the front lines, with Dante, Trish, and Lady.

After the first assault failed and mostly everyone crawled back home, defeated, you found yourself being followed by a tall, skinny, emo-looking man whose name was one letter long. Why he was still following you around despite the separation of the devil hunting team made no sense, but since he was somewhat friendly and didn't seem to have ill intentions, you let him stick around.

Some time passed while you tended to your son, whose arm had been ripped off not too long ago, and over time, you two had to charge back into the fray to save the city from more demon attacks. V disappeared for a while, but you didn't mind, since your focus was on helping and protecting your son. Nero always came first in your mind, because he was the only piece of Vergil you had left.

V eventually returned, in terrible condition, bringing with him Dante, who had been found half buried and covered in blood in a hole near his shambling house. Though none of you but V knew it, the moment all four of you stood together was one of the rare moments when the whole Sparda family was all in one place.

Then V scampered off, trying to find Urizen before the others did, and while an inner instant compelled you to follow him, you decided to go with your son, because again, Nero always came first. You ended up running into V once again, except now he had all the structural integrity of a soggy marshmallow, and needed to be carried between the two of you to his final destination, where Dante was duking it out with Urizen.

After the beast had fallen, V broke free of yours and Nero's hold and scrambled on top of it, which was when he jammed his cane right through its chest and exploded, bringing forth an individual you never thought you'd see again: The father of your son and the love of your life, Vergil.

The hope and joy you felt as you watched him materialize was nothing short of incredible; now you saw why V was the way he was, why it was so soothing to be around him, and why he chose to stay with you. V was Vergil. In a way, he'd been with you all along.

You thought that this would be the end of everything, that now, after so many years, you all could go home and be a happy family. You couldn't have been more wrong, for not one minute after finally returning, Vergil went off to the top of the Qliphoth to fight with Dante, Nero following after them, with you being the last to catch up. You arrived just in time to watch them dive off the demonic tree into the underworld, and felt all the happiness drain out of you in an instant.

There he goes, again, this time taking Dante with him. Oh well, you decided. You'll have to devote all your attention to your darling son, who surely needs more comfort than he's letting on.

Several months passed with you and Nero dedicating all your attention to exterminating demons that lingered in the land, feeling sad over the departure of the Sparda twins, but unlike most, you two vented your stress and worry out on demons, by killing them. You two were doing somewhat fine; Nero was still struggling to cope with the fact that Vergil was his father and you never told him, and you were still heartbroken. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, Vergil knocked on the front door right as you were getting ready for bed.

"Vergil?" You gasped as you opened the door.

"Yes," Vergil replied, expression as grim and stoic as ever. "I...I'm home, Y/N."

"You came back from Hell...but how? And where's Dante?" You asked, not entirely sure if this was reality or you were dreaming again.

"He is at his shop," Vergi, replied, sternly. "Do not concern yourself with him. Where is our son?"

"He's upstairs, why?" You said slowly, wondering if he had ill intentions at heart.

"We have a lot of catching up to do," Vergil answered, a warm smile flitting across his face for just a second. "All three of us."

"That we do," You agreed, chuckling as you took the half devil by the arm and dragged him into your house. "Nero! Come down and meet your dad!"

[royalelo]

imma yap but I have this AU idea where its human hybrids and humans and human hybrids are looked at as outcasts and "other" because of their strange appearances and mannerism's even though biologically they have an advantage they are still watered down to only being half animal and have restricted job options and shit kind of like discrimination irl- so basically the bucciarati gang are all human hybrids (except from trish because shes diavolos daughter and he is human) and they look to eachother to find peace in their selves And find similarities and yah half wholesome half confronting racism

im probably gonna draw abbachios or fugos design next!!

[lunnats]

I present to you, a listener character!!

YouTube Audio Series: Gator Boys

Listener: Bug (in nearly all varieties except literally)

Name: Beatrice "Trish" Atknis

Never knew a biological family, grew up in an orphanage in Aakahn, where the environment was less than ideal for a small child. The kids in their care would quickly learn to fend for themselves, stealing food, coin purses, medical supplies, whatever they might need whenever they might get the chance to get it.

Beatrice learned quickly to play the tough girl act, to play at being confident and do everything on her own.

When she managed to get out of the orphanage, she tried to get a better life for herself with an honest job but it's not as easy as it seemed to be for everyone else. After a few years of bouncing from job to job, she decided to try to be a hunter, the work' i's dangerous but she could handle herself and not only was it well paid but hunting down monsters sounded like an honorable enough job. What could possibly go wrong?

She could get herself lost and then step right into a bear trap! That's what could go wrong! Because Divines forbid anything actually works her way even once! Her very long and varied list of curses did not seem like enough as images of dying alone in the middle of nowhere where bleeding out or starving were the better options when compared to being brutally murdered by some swamp moster made the rounds in her head... Maybe her next life would be better, because there was no way it could actually be worse! At least it wasn't like she was leaving anyone behind to remember her, let alone miss her...

As it happens, her whole life was about to take a turn she had never even dreamt possible.

Turns out, the “monsters�� of the swamp weren’t the big green and clawed alligator half bloods, but the humans who hunted them. Kinder than any human she had ever met, these gators take her in and show her something she had only ever dreamt of – a true home. They look after her when she's injured and when she's sick, never doing anything to make her feel like a burden. They care for each other and even for her, a human who they know basically nothing about "Do humans not help each other? The way I see it, it's only natural to help a person when they need it." an action that seemed so natural to them yet feels absolutely foreign to her even though she knew it shouldn't. For the first time ever she felt... Safe.

Confessing to being a hunter was the scariest thing she’d ever even considered doing, but Bodie admits to have known all along and so revealing himself SOMEHOW even kinder than she already thought him to be. But what about Marco? Or, Divines forbid, Timmy…?

As she's gathering her courage and picking just the right words and where to even START that conversation, the chance gets taken away from her... With the catfish out of the bag, she just hopes to be able to help and maybe, just maybe, Divines willing, they'd understand too.

***

OK! I've done it! @astralbulldragon13 I'm tagging you OBVIOUSLY for dragging me into making this and everyone else you said I should tag... So yeah...

@rozeliyawashereyall @asmrbrainrot @willowve01 @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @lunaritychuwolf @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @redcated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry

[silly-l1ttle-guy]

drop every headcanon of the bucci gang NOW!

ON IT BOSS!!!

--- pookie bear bruno hcs first <3

BRUNO BUCCIARATI IS 100% GAY FOR LEONE ABBACCHIO

they just kinda live together

bruabba holds a special place in my heart

bruno's probably stressed out 24/7

VERY FEMININE GUY

hes got soft features yk?

probably spends like 3 hours doing his hair in the morning

ISTG HE PROBABLY SMELLS SO GOOD

I like to think that he legally adopted Fugo after fugso bugso joined that gang

SHUT UP IT MAKES ME HAPPY

poor guy overworks himself WAY too often

he also has the most gorgeous eyelashes you'll ever see

and they're natural, too

THIS MAN HAS EYEBAGS

he's tired af half the time, idk what you expected

he tries to help fugo control his anger (bc he's a loving mother) (giorno does it better tho)

i reckon bruno's pansexual tbh, he just seems like he wouldn't give a shit about his partner's gender

he likes going fishing

brought Abbacchio along one time

abba got seasick and threw up

he likes to accessorize his hair (hence the mitochondria hair clips)

sometimes he'll let the others accessorize his hair, too

trish makes it look really cute

abba makes it look stunning (bc it's his boyfriend)

narancia just puts random shit in his hair

Mista sings loudly (and badly) to be a little shit while he does Bruno's hair (it turns out surprisingly ok)

giorno deadass just puts a shit ton of stars in his hair

fugo gets mad and almost rips a chunk of Bruno's hair out

Bruno's guilty pleasure is midnight snacks

abbacchio caught him eating a whole ass tub of ice cream while watching il postino: the postman at like 2 in the morning

they watched it together and cuddled afterwards

hot goth

gay for bruno

he probably watches those make up youtube channels

if he didn't join passione he could be a make up artist

lets trish practice on him

HE SEES NARANCIA AS HIS SON AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

he's full on protective of nara too

i like to give abbacchio sharper features when i draw him tbh

also a larger nose

and while we're at it, let's hook that bad boy (the nose)

he and bruno go on wine testing dates

he has very frequent and reoccurring nightmares

(its why he sleeps with bruno)

his parents cut contact when they found out he was a dirty cop :(

this man saw narancia on his first day in the gang and accepted his fate as a father LMAO

he's a gay man and you can't tell he's not. Never felt attraction towards women

he feels like time moves by too fast. Everything happens so quickly and he wishes he could go back and just relive certain parts of his life over and over again because he feels like everything happens so quickly now that he's older and it overwhelms him (this definitely isn't me projecting what're you talking about)

moody blues is sort of the representation of this

SENTIENT MOODY BLUES SUPREMACY BY THE WAY

Moody blues is curvy and i won't accept anything else

make moody look goddamn feminine

not too feminine obviously but like

moody looks like a woman compared to abbacchio

tells people he can't dance but he definitely can

just play the right music and give him enough wine and he'll be dancing like he's never danced before (only in private tho)

YOOUU CAN DANCE, YOOUU CAN JIIVVEEEEE~~

EVERYTIME I LISTEN TO HALF-DECADE HANGOVER BY WILL WOOD I JUST THINK OF ABBACCHIO

and maybe euthanasia by will wood too

not even kidding, abbacchio has the same body type as a greek god

also the strongest guy in the team

the guy that has a dream

GIORNO. WHERE DO I FUCKING START.

I love this weird ass fucking guy

gay for fugo. that's all I'm gonna say.

I KNOW HE ACTED FRUITY W/ MISTA BUT IT'S BC HE'S A LITTLE SHIT WHO LIKES TO FLIRT WITH HIS FRIENDS AS A JOKE

not abba or bruno tho (they're too old for his taste)

remember that one seen where he and mista are up against cioccolata (fuck him btw) and they do that gay ass pose?

prime example of giorno being a little shit

putting his hand down mista's pants was an accident by the way, he just said "fuck it" and went with it

he probably showed the gang the thing he could do with his ear

they had very mixed reactions

one day (before the gang) he woke up and saw his roots were blond and he just went like "sigh, guess I have to grow my hair out and become barbie

THIS MAN RIGHT HERE IS THE TWINK

also bc his dad is dio I like to think that he sunburns easily

he can also see really well and the dark

"It's so dark in here, I can't see shit!" "I can, there's a light switch over there."

everyone was confused as hell bc it was pitch black in that room

this man is gay. he likes BOYS and BOYS ONLY

i like to think Giorno's a mischievous lil guy

he does something silly then giggles and runs away

it's to make up for the fact that he didn't have a proper childhood

ALSO CURLY HAIR GIORNO SUPREMACY

his hair is gorgeous and luxurious AND SO FUCKING CURLY

he uses about 20 hair products every day (21 if he's going on a date)

he can calm fugo down so easily too

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU NARANCIA-" "Hi fugo!" "Oh, hey Giorno."

it's really scary (according to narancia and mista)

this man loves gardening

born to be a gardener, forced to be a gangstar

autistic (it runs in the family)

the stink

Mista is the type of guy who showers once or twice a week

he only washes his clothes when they get too dirty

I like to make this man a little wider honestly

GIVE THIS MAN SOME CHUB PLEASE

he's muscular, but he's gotta have a little meat on there too

I like to think that Mista outright REFUSES to shave

the only place that he can grow barely any hair is his face

never shaved his face. He doesn't have much facial hair and he'll be damned if he ever has to get rid of the little that he has

bffs with trish btw

they make fun of each other all the time

in a friendly way

he honestly looks the least gay out of everyone

probably bi with a heavy preference towards girls (he had a boyfriend one time tho)

STINKS SO BAD IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY

sometimes he shoves Narancia's face in his armpit for fun

I'm not even kidding Narancia probably threw up one time bc Mista stank so bad

older brother figure to EVERYONE

Giorno? that's his baby brother. Narancia? his favourite brother. Trish? his little sister. Fugo? that's his angry little brother.

I have so many mista headcanons it's unreal

his hair is so fucking curly istg

and it's black too

very short tho. also super greasy

his love language is physical touch, but not in the usual physical touch way

he won't really hug people or hold hands or just do something normal, oh no

my guy likes to pick people up and throw them over his shoulder

it's definitely not to show off how strong he is

definitely

everything about him is so crusty

he literally gets along with anyone tho

you can't tell me this guy DOESN'T smoke weed

not very often but like

once every month or two he'll get high to relax

he stopped after Giorno took over as boss (bc yk, drugs are a no no)

he probably thinks France isn't real tbh (but as a joke to annoy fugo)

I HAVE MORE MISTA HEADCANONS BUT I HAVE TO CUT IT SHORT BECAUSE I NEED TO MOVE ON TO THE OTHERS

angry strawb (lots of angst in this one)

fugo is deeply in love with Giorno (FUGIO FOR LIFE)

a little bit of angst warning btw

bc of his past, fugo HATES physical touch

if someone touches him he will flinch

very uncomfortable in crowded places

Mista's love language is physical touch, but he refrains himself from touching Fugo

it's really sweet

"HEY FUGO! Lemme give you a high-five! Wait, no, you don't like that. Have this cool rock I found instead!"

he's trying

Fugo really appreciates it

after phf, he let Mista be one of the two people who can touch him (the other person is Giorno)

Fugo just randomly hugged him one day and that was that

he was really distraught when he found out Narancia, Bruno and abba died

especially Bruno

like I said before, Bruno adopted him after he joined the gang, so he genuinely saw Bruno as a father figure

definitely called Bruno "dad" in private

He genuinely cried when he realized he missed Bruno's funeral

MOVING ON TO THE NON ANGSTY STUFF BC IM GONNA CRY

when he's a bad mood, he listens to music with Abbacchio (his dad's cool boyfriend who he looks up to)

will correct any and all spelling or grammar mistakes

nerd supreme

i like to headcanon that Fugo's albino

(MANGA FUGO FOR LIFE)

he's really sensitive to sunlight because of it

his vision isn't that good, too

it's not bad enough to the point where he can't read and all that, but it definitely bothers him

since it wasn't too serious, he got some glasses that corrected his vision

he only really wears them when he's reading now, but he used to wear them all the time when he was younger

GOD I HAVE A LOT OF FUGO HEADCANONS

sometimes he wakes up and there's just a bouquet of flowers at the foot of his bed (I WONDER WHO THAT WAS HMMMM)

Narancia's like a little brother towards him

he doesn't care that nara's a year older than him, that's his brother

genuinely will forget to eat if he isn't reminded (me projecting)

i have more but i'm gonna have to end it here

BABY BOY <3

I LOVE NARANCIA I HAVE A NARANCIA PLUSHIE (and a giorno one but that's less important)

he originally had really good eyesight, but after his eye got infected his eyesight just kinda went bad

his eyes expired

but seriously though (woah no way, silly little guy can be serious?), he's almost blind in the eye that got infected

doesn't wanna wear glasses bc "they'll ruin his reputation"

he's also really short compared to everyone else in the team

he's really insecure about it

can and will fight anyone who says something even remotely teases him for his height

low iron for sure (me too bud, me too)

Abbacchio just took on the role as his father and makes sure he eats all his food

"But it tastes badddd" "Eat it or I'll shove it down your throat. Also, it has good iron."

he ate it, but was very pouty about it the whole time

mista will point at things made of iron and say shit like "that's what you need" or "you should eat that to get your iron levels up"

skinny but he's really strong

my guy has a six pack but looks scrawny as hell

Mista's jealous of him lmao

"Why do YOU get a six pack?!" "because you're fat"

Mista then forced Narancia to smell his armpits (they were rank)

he does a lot of shit with Mista lmao

partners in crime

he got high with mista one time and never did it again

oddly flexible

he's probably dyslexic

the girlboss

live laugh love Trish

lesbian fr

she practices makeup on Abbacchio

another one that sees abba as a father figure

they point each other's nails and go shopping together

Mista's bff fr

they do karaoke together

yk that one tiktok sound that was that like "OH SHIT IT'S IN KOREAN" and then starts singing it perfectly anyway

that's her and Mista

Mista's the one that sings it lmao

i don't have that many headcanons for trish tbh

she likes to try out new hairstyles a lot

they're always short tho

she doesn't like growing out her hair

says it's too much of hassle

we love trish in the household

she has freckles (from doppio)

yk those weird ass dots diavolo has in his hair? she has those but they're less noticeable

talks shit about people with abbacchio

she likes ranting about stuff to giorno bc he's a good listener

big fan of scented candles

gave mista soap for his birthday

she has frequent headaches (something she got from doppio, bc i hc that he has frequent headaches)

ANYWAY THAT'S IT FOR NOW

do you wanna hear about my la squadra headcanons? Doppio and Diavolo??? PLEASE I HAVE SO MANY GOOD HEADCANONS JUST LET ME RANT-

[bramble-mouse]

The Faery Doctor

Chapter 2

Tags: G/t, gentle giant, timid tiny, fantasy setting, adventure Content warnings will be tagged appropriately for subsequent chapters. These may include death, gore and vore. They will include no sexual themes. CW: Vore (non-fatal), gore, vomit, implied death (Trish is fine!) Minors, please do not interact!

A marriage of peace and fear saturated every inch of Trish’s body the moment she stepped foot in the northern woods. Places as old as these carried stories, the voices born of nature itself that whispered to any with an open ear. While kind things could dwell in wise old trees, hungry monsters lurked, cunning and smarter than any ordinary beast. In truth, Trish was unsurprised that poor tanner’s son had vanished here. She could taste the old magic in the air, the countless memories of blood. 

If there’d been a road through these parts at some point, it hadn’t been maintained in a very long time. The only evidence it ever saw foot travel was an area where weeds didn’t grow between the remains of cobblestone. Trish had heard once from her mother that a great empire walked the world a long time ago, gifting roads, aqueducts and all manner of marvels to the common folk before departing to parts unknown. Some said these strange folk died out while others told of spying cities in the sky for a split second, only for them to vanish behind the dense cloud cover. 

What would it have been like to know this mysterious folk, Trish wondered? Were they elves? Old fey that predated even the sidhe? Were they beyond mortal knowing? Perhaps there would never be a true answer to the question, but Trish satisfied herself with coming up with theories whilst she picked her way along the road. 

The fork came quicker than expected- or perhaps Trish’s head had been so deep in the clouds she’d barely noticed time passing. She chewed on her lower lip. Perhaps being distracted was a poor choice. 

At the centre of the fork was a ruined statue, only the legs and the bottom of a robe remaining, captured in cracked plaster. Trish lingered, reaching out to trace the weathered surface with curious fingertips. A twig snapped to her left.

Trish’s head whipped towards the source of the noise and found a wolf staring at her, stalk still and muzzle coated in gore. It’s eyes were intense, alien and focused entirely on Trish.  Trish lowered her hand slowly, never once taking her eyes off the canine.

The wolf bolted and left its meal behind. She tiptoed forward out of morbid curiosity and peered over the small gathering of sparse brush.

Half a man’s torso, bare of clothing, with most of the ribcage exposed lay in a pile of gore and ichor on the permafrost. Trish covered her mouth and gasped, stumbling backwards away from the gruesome find. Was that from the tanner’s boy? No, frost giants generally ate their prey whole. The thought of the lad kicking as screaming as he was shoved into a maw of sharp teeth overwhelmed Trish with nausea.

The faery doctor found her feet and sprinted up the right path at the fork. There was nothing chasing her, yet she felt like a child rushing back upstairs when all the light went out for the night to escape the danger of shadows. 

Trish knew what could be in these woods, and meeting man eating giants in their element would be a death sentence. She pushed on up the incline, remembering her duty as a doctor. She had a patient in need at the end of this path, and come what may, her journey would be worth it if she could treat what ailed him.

Blessedly, it was spring and the majority of the snow had cleared off from the mountainside. Occasionally Trish came across piles of dirt flecked ice that stubbornly refused to yield to the sun. The trees grew taller, scragglier here with little successful underbrush beneath their high boughs, and soon enough, there was no longer a road to follow. Trish kept her eyes forward nervously. Would she get lost?

The lake Filip mentioned came into view, sweet relief in the form of an open space peppered with wild flowers, grass still recovering from the weight of heavy winter snow now since mostly melted and the bullrushes that flanked a corner of the water. Ducks floated atop the still waters of the lake, disturbed only by their movements and the jumping of trout. The fish were large, no doubt lovely if baked with lemon and herbs and a good dollop of butter. 

Trish felt sweat stick to her skin beneath her many layers. Despite the sunshine, she still felt the sting of the cold on her nose, a welcome relief after the most laborious leg of her trek. She longed to pause for a nap but there was a job to be done. Rest could come afterwards.

The faery doctor skirted around the lake and came to where the mouth of the cave should have been. Instead, there was a solid wall, seamless, jagged and unlikely to admit her any time soon. And yet the Sight bestowed upon her family generations ago by the faery yielded a flaw in the wall, a shimmering in a huge arch up the side of the cliff. Trish pulled out the stone Filip had given her and sure enough, the runes glowed, humming with a soft, electric power. The faery doctor drew in a few deep, grounding breaths before she touched the stone to the wall and watched her hand go through. The rest of her followed on nervous feet.

Inside of the cave was surprisingly bright, a tall corridor from the mouth illuminated by magical fire blue as sapphires. Every inch of this place thrummed with arcane power, both the wilder sort and the cultivated. The hairs on the back of Trish’s neck stood on end. She swore she smelled blood and ichor in the air still, shivering from both the chill of the higher elevation and the fresh memory of a discarded human torso.

There was a certain majesty to this place, carved into the very mountain as ancient dwarves had done. Though the handiwork was nowhere near as neat as a dwarf’s, the alcoves fit for the lights had been carved out by hand, high above on the walls. Trish still wasn’t sure she would get over just how high the ceiling was in this place. Would the end of this tunnel be just as massive?

Her answer arrived soon as she found a great opening nearly a hundred feet high, blocked off by a heavy patterned curtain embroidered with golden birds. The entire thing was beautifully sewn in a way only loving hands could craft.

Trish froze when she heard a pained groan from beyond the curtain. The voice was…big. Larger than any she’d ever known, like a clap of distant thunder.

‘I heard you treat anyone.’

The hooded woman had said.

Something dawned on Trish that turned her blood bitter cold.

Trish sidled around the heavy fabric and into a space that managed to be cozy despite being a cave. A kitchen counter had been carved from the stone, shaped and smoothed meticulously. She could not hope to spy what was on the countertops but she smelled something like stew and baked bread. There was a variety of rugs on the ground, handwoven, woolen and fur pelt alike. They served to make the hard ground more friendly to bare feet. There was a cold hearth straight ahead with an enormous iron stew pot over it, a well used kettle kept on the unlit augur in front of it. A plush cushion rested before the carved stone hearth, beside which was a ball of yarn and a half-knitted woolen shirt. Curiously, the shirt was a tiny thing, something made for someone her size rather than a giant.

A quick glance at the ceiling as Trish crept mouselike across the floor yielded a sight that made her gasp in quiet awe. Thousands of glowing crystals sprouted, like stars overhead. It was as if she were looking up at the nightsky, the soft myriad pinpricks of light chasing awake the lonely darkness in the cavern.

Another groan caught Trish’s attention and she snapped frightened eyes towards a large figure laid out on what appeared to be a bedroll. The figure appeared almost human- save for the sheer size, clad in simple grey breeches and a loose cotton shirt. The fellow must have been a good eighty feet tall, give or take. She was little more than a mouthful in comparison, and the consideration made Trish’s skin crawl.

But she was a faery doctor, Trish reminded herself, trying to bolster courage into limbs locked by terror.

She was a faery doctor and this creature was in pain. Trish had healed injured, grouchy dragons before, helped ogres with fevers and wargs with mange.

Would a giant be so different?

Trish decided not to dwell on that rhetorical question, lest what little bravery flee and send her running back the way she came.

“U…Um…Mister…Fr…Frio Frostfang?”

Trish’s small voice croaked out as she started forward towards the giant.

“E…Excuse me…Um..I…I’m s-s-sorry f…f..for b…barging in, I…”

Her throat closed up as the humongous  figure sat up with some difficulty. The giant’s eyes reminded her of the wolf’s she’d seen in the woods- pale, with slit pupils and fixed upon her with the intensity that could only belong to a predatory sizing up if she was a worthy meal. And yet the rest of his face sat at odds with such an assumption, a soft mouth, smooth angles, and an expression that while sick, showed concern.

“...You…”

The giant spoke breathlessly, his voice low and resonant in the closed space.

“Forgive me, I…”

“A woman sent me to heal you.”

Trish blurted out with the same intensity as one vomiting. She froze, wide eyed and shocked and her entire face went beet red.

The frost giant regarded her carefully, and Trish did the same to him in return. She noted soft, white waves of hair that fell in his eyes and down his neck. He sported short horns, like a young buck’s. Trish wondered idly if they were soft and velvety like deer horn too. She also noted, much to her own chagrin, that this giant was unfairly beautiful, utterly unlike any depiction of the burly, bearded and terrifying frost giants she’d heard about.

The giant’s lips perked up at the corners into a smile that softened his gaze, but the welcoming expression was fleeting. He winced and doubled over, clutching his middle.

“M…my apologies. I am not usually so terrible…”

He grit his teeth, hissed

“...A host.”

Trish swallowed thickly.

“...N..No, no, you’re… you’re unwell and…you weren’t expecting me, s…so…”

She trailed off, playing with the end of one of her braids. The ribbon fastening the end had loosened.

“I…I should like to give you an exam…if…if you’re comfortable with it.”

Frio hummed in assent.

“Gladly. Though I would like to know the name of my healer, I might thank her properly afterwards.”

Trish found she couldn’t meet his eye. Was he..was he charming? Yes, this giant was charming and polite- a gentleman, of all things. Not at all what she would expect from a frost giant. And yet here Frio was, well spoken and minding his manners even when he felt under the weather. She chewed on her lower lip. She continued to play with her hair ribbon, feeling the smoothness of the mossy green silk.

“T…Trish Mctavish, sir. I…I’m Doctor Trish Mctavish.”

She stammered.

“Sir?”

Frio chuckled softly.

“Please, my dear. Frio suits me well enough.”

Trish’s heart pounded. His laugh was gentle, too.

Trish made to approach the towering figure and the closer she drew, the more her fear returned. Her blood surged through her veins, a deafening pounding in her ear. She fought to keep her breathing even.

“I would never hurt my benefactor, doctor. Be as at ease as you are able.”

Frio said, his voice low as if he could read her thoughts. She tilted her head up and caught sight of his nose twitching in a manner more beast than man. Had Frio smelled her discomfort? He smiled down at her.

“Ah, but…I should lay down. I doubt you would like to try and…”

He paused, his jaw clenching as another wave of pain from his middle surged through.

“Y-Yes please.”

Trish cut in.

Frio nodded and laid down gingerly, pressing into his belly with one hand. His fingers were tipped with dark talons. They looked sharp.

She stared at the side of his head, noticing that he wore a blue tear drop earring.

“W…Would you turn to… to face me please?”

Frio hummed in response and tilted his head to the side. His lashes were long and pale, a veil over his monstrous, yet kind eyes.  She reached up to touch his forehead, painfully mindful of those immense gaze pinned to her form.

“You are quite pretty.”

He hummed, the statement decidedly too casual for the situation. Trish squeaked in response, her hand darting away. The giant laughed.

“My apologies. I am distracting you.”

Trish felt like she might explode from such velvety words- especially when they were close enough to rattle her very bones. 

Trish went through a mental checklist as she scanned over his body. A mild temperature (at least for an ice aspected being), sharp pain in his belly, and persistent nausea.

“Would you...o…open…your…”

Trish trailed off.

A giant’s mouth. Trish felt her courage falter and dug her nails into her palms to push on.

“Mouth. I …I need to…see inside your…”

Frio frowned. He appeared as if he wished to say something, to offer some word of comfort. Instead, the frost giant parted plush lips and revealed long fangs, a bluish tongue and the cavernous darkness in the back of his throat. The sight set off alarms within Trish- her instincts begging her to run, to flee, to hide, that she was in danger.

Frio’s breath gusted past her frame, tousling her tartan dress, coat and hair. It smelled of elderberries, and felt like a welcome, sunny breeze in early spring.

Trish could do this. She was a faery doctor and Frio was her patient.

The little woman set down her pack, shed her coat atop the mound of her belongings on the ground and poked her head inside the giant’s mouth despite the protests screaming loudly in her head. She sought any sign of poor health- discolouration of the tongue, a sore in the cheek, any inflammation in the throat.

Trish backed up, shaking from the ordeal and the moment she was far enough away, Frio snapped his jaws shut, causing her to squeak.

“Ah…My apologies.”

He said. Trish noted his features were flush and he seemed hesitant to meet her eye.

“Perhaps I should give a warning next time? If there is one. I would not presume…”

Trish chewed on her lower lip and fiddled with her skirts.

“N..No, I…It’s alright.”

A moment of awkward silence passed between them both before Frio cleared his throat and turned onto his side fully.

“Do you know what ails me, Doctor Mctavish?”

Trish rubbed her upper arm. There were several potential diagnoses but none that make sense for the sharp pains Frio described. A dull ache or a sour feeling would have made more sense- food poisoning, or a giant’s strain of stomach flu. And yet…

“Frio, what did you have to eat when you first noticed these pains?”

She inquired.

The frost giant’s face fell. He pressed his lips into a thin line. His brow creased and it was not anger that crossed his features but shame.

“...A giant hunter.”

He admitted, and his own voice wavered.

Trish knew logically what most frost giants ate. By rights, she could be on Frio’s menu once he was well again. Perhaps it would be the best choice to leave him here in pain and run before he could scarf her down too.

But that look in Frio’s eye- Why would a frost giant feel shame for admitting he’d eaten what was natural to him?

“You don’t like to eat humans.”

Trish mused aloud, words that had been meant to stay in her head tumbling free.

Frio laughed humorlessly.

“My nature would have me kill thinking, feeling beings for no reason other than greed and hunger. It is…disgusting to me, every time I falter.”

Trish frowned.

“And…and you said he was…was a giant hunter, didn’t you?”

Frio’s eyes flew back towards her, lidded and tormented.

“I could excuse myself for murdering him because he wanted to kill me first. Yet that would taste like a lie. I chose to consume him like a common beast. A man who most assuredly had a family. Who will now be a hole left in a child's life, a widow’s heartache.”

Fear was a strange thing in Trish’s line of work. It could manifest so easily when dealing with a stranger. She felt it even when she treated ordinary human men. It ebbed and flowed as easily as a tide while Trish treated every manner of creature both friendly to humankind and enemy to it.

So when every last mote of fear fled from Trish’s body, replaced by the adrenaline of compassion, Trish decided to follow that flow- that ever wobbling march of fear and bravery every faery doctor required.

“I have met very many different souls in my profession,”

Trish spoke.

“And…When a man regrets his actions this way, I…I find that such mental pain can make his illness all the worse.”

She glanced towards the giant’s midsection, so far away from where she stood. She’d noted the telltale sounds of indigestion when she’d made her observations there.

Trish lamented when she realized just how far she was about to go for a patient.

“What I…I mean to say is…is that I trust a man who desires to cause no harm, even if he falters. Because someone who makes a mistake so terrible is that much more steadfast in his conviction not to do so again.”

Frio’s eyes shimmered, reflecting the glowing crystals on the ceiling. He reached for her gently, slowly and when Trish flinched at first, he paused, extending the back of his index finger claw to her. It was an invitation. Trish hesitated once before reaching for the fingertip, placing her hand atop the pad.

“You think whatever I consumed with the hunter must be responsible for my pain, I take it.”

He said in a near whisper.

“Just as well.”

Trish fluttered her lips.

“Did you…”

How should she word this…

“Did you…eat him whole? With…with all of his affects?”

Frio cleared his throat.

“I…Yes.”

Trish nodded slowly, her hand still rested atop his finger. The cogs turned in her head. Resignation had her shoulders sagging, her hands reaching for the hem of her dress to pull it up and over her head. She kicked her boots off.

“What are you…”

Frio inquired and stopped.

“I…I need to perform an…extraction. And…”

Trish swallowed nervously, her voice cracking

“An internal examination.”

Frio appeared as if he’d been slapped. His eyes went wide.

“Absolutely not!”

He balked.

“I am sure the pain will pass with time. I will not subject someone I hardly know to…this!”

Frio gestured towards his middle with a claw.

“So you would swallow a friend, then?”

Trish mumbled before she could catch herself.

Frio’s mouth hung open a little. He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, no I would not.”

Trish, dressed in stays, bloomers and woolen stockings that only served to accentuate just how boney her tiny form was, padded closer to his mouth. Her hands shook. The cold and the fear crept ever nearer and Trish had to begin before she could back out.

“I-It’s the doctor’s orders, i…if you please!”

She countered.

“I…I will be alright. I…I…”

Trish knew the words the sought their place on her tongue. They calmed her. Somehow, some part of her, faery gift or her own innate instinct on people kicked in.

“...I trust you, Frio.”

The frost giant was clearly at a loss for words. He looked utterly horrified at the thought of consuming this frail little woman, terrified she would break at his slightest touch.

Gods, was she brave. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

“You have known me for mere moments and you would trust me.”

Frio said.

“You are either a kind or foolish doctor.”

He opened his eyes again, fixing them upon the little human in front of his face.

“Are you certain you are willing to do this?”

Trish chewed her lower lip and went to his mouth, placing a hand on his lip. He tensed at the touch, felt something inside of him twist wonderfully. The doctor had no idea the effect she had.

“Yes. I cannot leave a patient to suffer. No matter who he is.”

Trish felt the careful weight of the giant's fingers on her upper arm. She felt the gentle stroke, a reassurance.

“You have my word that I will keep you safe.”

He spoke with conviction that gave Trish no doubt he meant what he said.

The faery doctor nodded, grabbed a few things from her pack and returned to his mouth.

“C…Could you…?” She said.

“Of course.”

Frio replied and turned over, mouth open wide and chin on the ground. The giant’s posture brought to mind a prostrated man praying to his god for salvation in one of the great temples.

Trish steeled herself for what would come next- for the horror she would find within this (thus far) gentle being’s belly. She lifted her foot onto his lip and hoisted herself inside. Her first step sank into his tongue. Trish felt his shuddering breaths rush past her.

Drool pooled quickly beneath the giant’s tongue. Was Trish making Frio salivate? The thought was unsettling yet…not fully unpleasant, to be delicious. Something to unpack when she wasn’t about to journey to the literal belly of the beast shortly. Trish lowered herself down, keeping a tight hold on a little satchel of supplies that thrummed with magic. She could hear the squelching of his throat, the way it seemed all too eager for her arrival.

“...You can..”

Trish whimpered

“S…Swallow me..”

Frio’s tongue slid her towards the back of his throat and she gasped in surprise. The giant stopped instantly.

“K-Keep going!”

Trish insisted.

Frio sighed passed her little body and pushed her past the point of no return with a deep, meaty gulp.

Trish had never been swallowed before and frankly, the entire experience was terrifying. She shook and stifled sobs as the darkness of Frio’s squeezing throat forced her downwards. Claustrophobia, the imminent destination below her- the faery doctor’s eyes prickled with tears as her whole body shuddered in fear. A powerful heart hammered behind Trish. Was Frio afraid too? The erratic pulse nearly deafened her as she felt the final squeeze before a free fall into an active stomach. She let out a cry, muffled by walls of thick flesh as she dropped into a pile of liquid that made her skin tingle. Trish gasped and scrambled backwards in the dark until she felt a solid wall at her back. A loud gurgle vibrated the fleshy chamber.

The inside of Frio’s belly was pitch black, humid but blissfully not sweltering; Trish had his frost giant nature to thank for that small blessing. The stomach grumbled again, the distinct sound of imminent digestion. Regardless of Frio’s wishes, the giant’s stomach viewed Trish as food. She would need to work quickly.

As Trish dug about in her bag of holding, she heard a muffled, yet booming voice cut through the squishing, wet sounds of bodily organs working around her.

“...Are you alright?”

Frio. He was checking on her.

“Y..Yes! I’m..I’m just getting to work.”

She shouted back. Would the giant even hear her? Evidently so, because his heart rate calmed some at the evidence of her well-being.

“I will give you five minutes, doctor, before I bring you back up.”

Frio stated firmly.

The time limit was a bit of a comfort, but it also meant she had a tighter deadline to find the hunter’s remains and figure out how to deal with his armour. Trish groped about her bag of holding until she found her quarry- a little piece of expensive parchment. It glowed faintly, then brighter when Trish read its incantation aloud. A trio of glowing lights, yellow like sunflowers illuminated the rippling space.

Immediately, Trish noted that she was wading ankle deep in masticated stew- and floating human bones. She yelped at the gruesome sight and started to hyperventilate, the sour air making her nearly sick as it stung her eyes and throat.  Trish reigned herself back in, thinking of her mother’s calm voice, lessons that ingrained deep in her psyche.

‘Deep breath. Assess the patient, find the ailment and the cause, determine the treatment.’

Trish’s lip quivered, her whole body trembling, but she cast her gaze around the inside of Frio’s stomach. Wrinkled pale blue flesh pressed in against her, writhing and alive. There was a mark along the lining and instantly, Trish knew it was the culprit of Frio’s pain. It weeped dark blue blood and appeared raw and angry, unable to heal when constantly irritated by the chaos of a working stomach.

“An open wound…”

Trish mused quietly to herself as she dug about in her bag for a solution. The holding enchantment afforded the doctor the ability to bring all manner of potions along to unique locations- and the perfect one for the job sat in her hands now, a soft lavender coloured liquid that resembled a milky sweet tea. Normally, Trish would have had a patient simply drink it but she doubted it would do little other than get lost in the rest of his stomach contents.

Trish felt her ankles begin to itch as stomach juices soaked through her stockings. She quickly but carefully poured the potion over the wound- and thankfully got enough on it before Frio let out a grunt of pain and the entire fleshy chamber shifted. Trish screamed as she was thrown backward against the opposite wall, the wind blown out of her. A splash of stomach liquid on her front made her panic. It burned.

“Gods, I am so sorry.”

The giant fretted.

Trish shoved a stomach wall, a silent reassurance that she was still alive and well, and heard the way Frio’s lungs filled and emptied like a relieved hurricane.

“Forgive me.”

She felt something press in against her. His hand, perhaps.

Trish found her balance again and toddered back over towards the site of the injury. It steamed and already, it was closing. Good. That would be enough.

And now, the disgusting bit.

Trish turned around with a grimace and stared down at the pile of bones surrounded by horrifically blood red, murky liquid. While even the bones had begun to slowly erode, the chain mail and the leather armour the hunter had worn over it remained nearly untouched. If the faint shimmer of magic rising off the articles was any indication, they were enchanted to be incredibly durable.

 Frio’s stomach let out a bubbling groan around Trish, the wrinkled walls closing in on her. She wobbled but mercifully stayed upright; Trish never would have recovered from falling on the hunter’s corpse.

“Whatever you have done is working wonders.”

The giant’s voice spoke again with a deep sigh. 

Trish chewed her lower lip. His relief would mean nothing if the armour made another wound. With that, the faery doctor let out a whine, picked up a vomit covered chain shirt and stuffed it into her bag of holding.

“Oh…Good heavens above…”

She gagged, the bits of tougher leather going in next. The bones Trish would leave. A frost giant could digest that when given enough time. The bag of holding would be the best method of transporting the indigestible bits out without potentially tearing up Frio’s throat even if Trish feared she’d never get the smell out.

Trish cinched the bag shut and found her voice again.

“I’m…I’m done!”

She called up.

Trish’s expulsion occurred faster than expected. Frio’s stomach lurched around the live human and propelled her and a load of chyme rapidly upwards. Trish’s shriek cut off in his throat.

Frio remained doubled over and coughed the little doctor up in a pile of half digested lunch. He caught his breath, then rolled over onto his side, his collapse like an earthquake.

The faery doctor stared up at the ceiling, panting, gulping in lungfuls of clean air.

Trish had just been in a stomach. In a stomach. In a giant’s bloody stomach.

And she was still alive to hopefully never tell the tale to a living soul.

She shivered in the open air, her whole body soaked and slimy. Trish felt dizzy, overwhelmed.

Shock prevented her from registering when a pair of massive, gentle hands slid beneath her body and lifted her up. Trish’s last view before passing out consisted of two frantic, pale eyes fixed upon her, and a soft, rumbling voice apologizing repeatedly and thanking her in a jumbled mess of words Trish felt too exhausted to make out.

[witchie-writings]

Trying to find people who write requests for DMC is rough (open requests, I mean).

I was browsing my thoughts and I was thinking...

What if Dante, Vergil, Nero and V (hell, even throw in Lucia, Lady and Trish) fell in love with a S/O that, like with V, is only half of a whole?

The S/O had done something to split themselves into two, and somehow, the character meets the half of S/O that they split off and fell in love.

What would their reactions be to this? Would they continue to pursue a relationship with S/O when they're whole again, or would they let them go, knowing that the full S/O isn't the same one they fell in love with? What if they meet the other half of S/O?

Because can you imagine the half the characters meet is the inner "good" of S/O, while the other half is their intrusive thoughts or something akin to that, a manifestation of their inner viewings of themselves?

What if the inner "good" is the one that's dying due to the fact that when S/O was a full being, they were heavily shoved down, maybe due to trauma or something along those lines - exactly like how V was Vergil's human half. The other half survives because those feelings were so much more prevalent to the point that they were the dominant part of S/O, that's why they continue to thrive.

I don't know man- I really wanna find someone who can write this. 😔

[artsy-hobbitses]

Just finished watching X-Men 97 Ep 7 (I love having a series to look forward to on a weekly basis again! Excited to get a good dinner and sit down for half and hour of getting WHIPLASHED by all the new reveals and emotions. It's such a nice thing to look forward to inthe mid-week slog as well)!!!

Thoughts and spoilers below!

They REALLY went all out with Gambit's funeral, and it was nice seeing Nightcrawler carrying out priest rites for the brother-in-law he could have had. Jubilee's anguished anger at Rogue not being there HURT

Holy shit ROGUE. VERY Rogue-centric episode, and it's pain pain PAIN evbery other minute. Her absolute disdain for Captain America not wanting her to be on his team to check out Gyrich because of the tense situation/'optics' is 100% understandable, I stand by women's rights and Rogue's Wrongs in this case. Also her backhanding him with the "America's Top Cop" label, she taking no prisoners this week.

Beast gently but sternly calling out Trish the reporter about how 'tolerance' simply isn't enough anymore and it was a low bar to set for mutant-human relations to begin with, and how he's aghast at the idea of having to give a calming/professional sound byte or something to try and quell mutant protests and demonstrations worldwide after what happened, after MILLIONS OF THEM DIED is. Very relevant. To certain current events. He's been trying SO HARD to be the sweet, professional one, but he is tired and he is sad and he doesn't have it in him to ask for the bare minimum anymore or tell his people they don't have the right to feel the way they do.

We get Diamond Emma! No clue as to whether the massacre has changed her outlook on life since her appearance was during a brief rescue moment where Cyclop's hopes that Madelyne could have survived (Jean said she could feel a telepath under all the rubble) got crushed, but hopefully that'll be answered in the next ep!

Sunspot finally coming clean to his mum about him being a mutant! She seems like a very sweet lady who clearly loves him and takes it VERY WELL, but immediately she's like "Our family is established and in the spotlight, your father's business can't afford this sort of publicity. The world won't accept you, especially given what happened, so we have to find a way to hide this from the public, and that includes cultivating a list of people you can associate with". Which feels like it could be relevant to today's queer acceptance where it's like "On a personal basis I love you and accept you for who you are, BUT..." as an evolution from the X-Men movie's "Have you ever tried... not being a mutant?"

There is a LOT of talk about 'optics' in this episode, which feels VERY TIMELY. And VERY POINTED. How President Kelly apparently wants to send aid to Genosha, but doesn't do it to the fullest extent because he's worried about the political optics from 'normal humans' who are now afraid of an all out human-mutant war, and argues that he's doing his best here and that he needs suppport to stay in office to ensure a 'worse' person for mutant advocacy doesn't step in (I'm not going to lie. Very Democrat argument for why their man should stay in office---look at the boogieman who might be there if they aren't, instead of dealing with issues head-on) . And Cyclops's civil but seething rage at that because this is NOT a time for subtleties or politicking MILLIONS OF MY PEOPLE ARE DEAD.

Nightcrawler comforting Rogue and letting her just bawl openly in his arms during Day of the Dead ;; My heart.

Rogue kills a man. Or, helps him to his death, I'm not sure how you categorize this when Trask was already attempting to jump off a building out of guilt anyway, and she stepped in to stop him, only to let go when he said he had no other info for her (she had initially told him to help them to redeem himself). Again, 100% understandable, I support Rogue's Wrongs, and I LOVE how dark they're taking this, watching our girl step closer and closer to the abyss from her rage and grief and just plunging into it. Also her screaming that Trask deserved it for killing a great man, "MY MAN!!!!!". Whoof.

KNEW Mags wasn't dead. Going to be fun seeing WHAT Bastion plans to do with him now.

Again, STELLAR episode, a good 9/10 from me!