#fan makers are a *gift* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yridenergyridenergy · 5 months

Text

The wholesome-ish friendship between Shinya and Kyo

Their latest playful Q&A in Haiiro no Ginka vol. 100 has prompted me to compile examples of this weird but overall wholesome relationship that Kyo and Shinya have and which is not obvious at first.

Situation #1

In October 2017, Kyo gifted Shinya with a custom white version of a MadaraNingen one-piece. As far as I remember, that article of clothing was not available for purchase in white at all, to the public. And of course, we all know that Shinya prefers to wear white.

Situation #2

I think that in response to Shinya sharing a video of him briefly playing with the minicars that were sold as tour goods in This Way to Self-Destruction, Kyo posted a story on Instagram of him revving up a bunch of mini-cars and persistently making them hit his phone propped up on a counter and displaying a picture of Shinya. At age 43. To which Shinya made an Instagram post vaguely hinting that: "Good children should not play with the mini-cars to hit someone's picture!"

Kyo's Instagram Story "The proper way to use mini-cars" video

Shinya's translated response

Situation #3

In late 2022-early 2023, Shinya publicly celebrated his bandmates' birthdays via emojis on Twitter, and Kyo was the only one to respond, in kind.

Situation #4

Kyo posted a cryptic picture of Shinya's video meeting with Mana in an Instagram Story and he has mentioned on Twitter at least once that he was watching Shinya Channel (the making of the FaFa onigiri).

In the same vein, Shinya took his failed attempt at needle-felting a pink bunny in March 2022 and turned it into a miniature hammer-wielding bunny in October 2022, in response to sukekiyo unveiling their Mosaic Shoujo PV which featured Kyo in the killer bunny suit.

Situation #5

This very old video of Kyo teasing Shinya by pinching the side of his dress, Shinya reacting by pushing Kyo a bit and Kyo falling into a robot dance in response.

Situation #6

The coffee maker. In one of the live talks held during the COVID-19 pandemic at concert venues, Shinya mentioned having a coffee maker which was of no use to him, and Kyo expressed interest in taking it from him. Later, in the Galacaa livestream talk between the two, it was revealed that Shinya had promised to give Kyo his coffee maker, but he never pulled through on that offer. Kyo, sporting a doodled face to hide his own, insistently questioned Shinya on this unreliability when the topic was brought up by fans in the comments. Shinya kind of struggled but ended up explaning that the coffee maker was really useless because of a defect, that it would not have been an appropriate gift anymore. But he forgot to update Kyo about it after he tried to contact the manufacturer. Kyo replied like: "Oh, alright then."

At some point, Kyo took the matter to Twitter, confronting Shinya about it with their respective member photos to illustrate the dialogue, and Shinya replied the same way.

Situation #7

In that same livestream, Shinya is so used to Kyo's bullshit by now that he completely ignores Kyo's doodle face sheet and casually leans forward to look past him and at the interviewer, sat on Kyo's right. After a while of this, the interviewer points out to Shinya that Kyo is insistently staring at him with this disturbing face, which is when Shinya becomes startled and nervously laughs upon realizing that, also making Kyo chuckle.

Situation #8

More often than others, Shinya and Kyo are documented chatting on the chairs backstage while they wait for everyone to be ready to start the show. Maybe there's something to be said of how they are the two members of the band to leave the stage the quickest, while Kaoru, Toshiya and Die stay for a while to throw picks.

Situation #9

Miscellaneous pictures of the two:

Situation #10

Apparently it was Shinya's earbuds that Kyo used to play with the cat (also Shinya's?) in this famous old video.

youtube

Situation #11

Other interactions on Twitter include commentary regarding the song battles that fans were voting on via that same website, during live broadcasts from their manager Fujieda on Galacaa. Kyo and Shinya were the only two members reacting to the songs that were pulled out of the box, Kyo sometimes replying to Shinya's own tweets wondering what he meant or outright questioning his preference.

Another interaction consisted in Kyo copying Shinya's tweets regarding the release of their Phalaris album and twisting Shinya's cute comments into hellish versions.

Situation #12

Probably a bunch of elusive comments throughout the years, but here's an example of something that Shinya said about Kyo in a magazine interview.

Situation #13

In Haiiro no Ginka vol. 100, the members were asked to send each other member five questions. Some chose to personalize them based on what they actually wanted to ask of the others, while a couple decided to send the same questions to all, but members were not told who the questions came from. Kyo picked up on that anonymous part of the game and when answering Shinya's set of questions, he ended each of his short answers with a second sentence that can either just be the Kansai dialect for: "Aren't you Shinya!", or in other dialects, translates more to: "Shinya, you bastard!" hahah. From what I saw, nobody else hinted at who they thought the questions came from in their answers. In reverse, Kyo took up two of his five alloted questions for Shinya with the simple statement: "You don't know you're dead yet!", a quote from Fist of the North Star which is highly intimidating as it hints that someone has defeated the character so easily and lightning-fast that they are a dead man standing, their body having trouble catching up with the reality that they were slaughtered. Shinya, in response to that repeated tease, stubbornly replies in his polite and formal Japanese that: "No, I'm not dead." Their Q&A with the other members were not nearly that quirky.

... Did I miss any? And there will undoubtedly be more to come!

Thank you very much to shinyaburashka for your help!

259 notes · View notes

littlehouseontheaerie · 5 months

Text

My local buy nothing group had the holiday exchange bazaar today and I always try to go even though most of my stuff doesn't end up going.

I was loaning a neighbor my pasta maker, so I had a good reason to go anyway. I ended up coming home with two sweaters because I wanted to try cream colors, a new face mask, and three cookie stamps. The neighbor who is slowly getting rid of her glass tupperware that matches our set was also there.

It just made me think - I love this sort of community. There were a metric ton of kids toys (and kids who were playing with them before making choices). Someone brought their wedding dress to give away. Some brought purses and books, one guy brought two fishing rods, and another was renovating their house and brought fixtures and fans that they didn't need.

And I'd much rather live in this world. Where I know this community, and we gift from our own excess, and the stuff that's not needed finds new homes.

#community building #solarpunk #nontrad homemaker #buy nothing project

200 notes · View notes

simyla · 6 months

Text

the hendrickson’s cc wedding registry finds by simyla

bath tray / kitchen mixer / dyson fan coffee maker / kindle fire / gift cards picture decor / pot set / tennis set thank you to the cc creators: @aggressivekitty @imfromsixam @syboubou @littledica @hollowbride @keyskorner @harrie-cc @pierisim @xplatinumxluxexsimsx

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 maxis match #ts4cc #ts4 cc #ts4 custom content #the sims community #sims 4 cc #the sims cc #ts4 simblr #ccfinds #cc finds #hendrickson*

374 notes · View notes

daily-poke-headcanons · 7 months

Text

KIERAN HEADCANONS

-14 Y.O, panromantic acesexual, trans male (he/they)

-EXTREMELY AUTISTIC (guess what his special interest is lol)

-Picked on a lot by other kids- especially his sister- for his special interest in Ogerpon. This is what mainly caused his anxiety.

-^ Going along with the previous headcanon, he doesn't have ANY friends until he meets the player character in the DLC

-Regularly leaves out little food and flower gifts outside of Ogerpon's cave, has been doing so for years

-Memorized the Ogerpon/Loyal Three story by heart, has a special edition book telling the story with very nice illustrations

-A pretty good mask maker! He inherited the skill from his grandfather and has made countless Ogerpon masks

-His Dipplin and Furret have been his partners since forever- unfortunately, he rashly releases his Furret sometime during the DLC because he's frustrated they're not strong enough

-A big fan of strong trainers in general, thinks the Galar Leauge is really cool and watches most of the Gym Challenge battles when they're in season

-They once vandalized the Loyal Three dedication shrine (wrote some mean words on it) when they were younger

-His grandparents HATE new technology, so that's why they don't let him have a phone (Carmine's an adult so they let her do whatever)

-While the Player and Carmine find Ogerpon on the night of the festival, Kieran is drawn away from the crowd by a strange figure, who drops a magenta colored-chain... Kieran puts on said chain out of curiosity and it burns into his skin, staying there permanently and slowly releasing toxins.

#daily pokemon headcanons #headcanon #pokemon #pokemon headcanons #daily poke headcanons #pokemon kieran #kieran #kieran pokemon #teal mask dlc #the teal mask #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarvi #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet

225 notes · View notes

growingstories · 6 months

Text

Teamwork

Once upon a time in Frankfurt, there was a young and ambitious banker named Daniel. Fresh out of university, he landed a prestigious job at an investment bank, earning a good salary and living a comfortable life.

Daniel was introduced to his direct manager, Oliver, a handsome and beefy 40-year-old. Oliver was known as the deal-maker of the company and needed a partner to expand the business. The targets they aimed for were incredibly high, but Oliver assured Daniel that as long as they reached their goals, how they worked didn't matter.

Oliver shared his personal routine with Daniel, explaining how he worked out in the mornings to stay in shape. He used to play soccer but now enjoyed watching his son play, dedicating his weekends to family time. Oliver's physique had changed over the years, now sporting a muscular chest and strong arms with a slight layer of fat over his abs. He laughed it off, saying his wife Birgit didn't mind and didn't have to worry about other girls trying to steal a fit and handsome banker.

The duo delved into the workings of the job, with Oliver explaining the bonus system. Each week's target saved throughout the quarter would contribute to their bonus. If they had a bad week, it would be offset by a good week. However, if they received four warnings due to consistently failing to meet targets, they would be let go. They were tasked with convincing clients to invest, managing both existing and new clients. Their secretary would fill their agendas, and they received a weekly spending fee of €2000 for gifts, meals, and travel (with hotels being an additional cost).

In Daniel's first week, he accompanied Oliver to all of his meetings and experienced the grueling schedule of a banker. Oliver would start at 7:30 am, have morning office meetings, go over the day's plans with the secretary, and have a coffee meeting at 11:30 am. Lunch was an elaborate affair at a fancy restaurant at 12:45 pm. The afternoons were filled with car and Zoom meetings, and Oliver would head home at 6 pm to change and put his son to bed before going out for dinner meetings at 8 pm.

The pace was exhausting for Daniel, but he believed he would eventually get the hang of it. Determined to maintain his fitness, he started his days with a run as he was naturally tall and lean, not a fan of the gym. He sought advice from Oliver and began planning his own meetings. Though it was normal for Daniel to not reach his target in his first week, he began to worry when he realized he wouldn't meet his second target by Wednesday.

Daniel confided in Oliver, and to his surprise, Oliver offered him a deal with an easier client. The condition was that Daniel would buy him a nice bottle of champagne for their Friday night drinks. Daniel agreed and signed a promising deal, reaching his first target and buying Oliver the promised champagne. The following morning was rough for both of them due to the excess drinking. Daniel skipped his morning run, opting to stay in bed all day watching Netflix.

Oliver, on the other hand, went to Starbucks to wash away the grogginess with a big caramel coffee and whipped cream before watching his son play football. Later, he took his son to a pancake restaurant, indulging in his usual Saturday routine.

The weeks went by and Daniel and Oliver made a bet. The person who failed to reach the monthly target would have to bring coffee to the other person every morning for the rest of the month. Daniel, getting the hang of things, won the bet, with Oliver bringing coffee and two donuts every morning for them to share before their meetings. This routine continued for another four days, and before they knew it, the month was over, and Friday night drinks were on the horizon. Daniel had been dealing with hangovers every Saturday during his first month of working with Oliver.

On a Monday, Oliver delivered some news to Daniel. There was a big client in town who could only meet early in the mornings, meaning Daniel couldn't go for his usual run, and Oliver would have to skip the gym for a few days. They met at a coffee place at 7 am to prepare and had a satisfying breakfast, ensuring they wouldn't get hungry until their 1 pm lunch meetings. However, as the days went by, those small bites turned into full lunches, sometimes even second lunches with other clients. Daniel noticed Oliver's belly starting to protrude more, jokingly poking at it. Oliver laughed it off, assuring him that he would lose the weight once the client was signed.

Three weeks went by, and they successfully signed the client, reaching their monthly targets. Daniel achieved a bigger win, so he declared that it was Oliver's turn to bring coffee for the rest of the month. Oliver complied, bringing a box of a dozen Dunkin' donuts for the entire week. During their meetings that afternoon, the box quickly emptied as they indulged in a donut during each session.

Daniel began to notice love handles appearing and grew worried. He had never had to be conscious of his eating habits before and was always naturally lean. Wanting to take action, Daniel decided to go for a run one morning. However, Oliver advised against it, as there was a new client who needed early morning meetings. With multiple clients coming in, that pattern persisted for another month. Oliver also started noticing Daniel's weight gain but kept quiet about it. Instead, he continued bringing donuts every morning.

After six months of morning meetings, double lunches, Friday night drinking binges, and hangover food the following morning, both Daniel and Oliver had become significantly larger. Their waistlines had increased, and they both went up at least a clothing size.

Their boss was thrilled with their results and rewarded them with a substantial bonus. As their success continued, the targets became even higher, and their boss entrusted them with his prestigious clients, which required their special attention and demanded more from them.

Daniel and Oliver embraced the challenge and prepared their days together in the early mornings, engaging in double lunch meetings. Daniel took charge of early dinners while also joining Oliver for late dinners with important clients. They had target after target to meet, and as a result, their weight continued to skyrocket.

Daniel attempted to go for a run after months of inactivity, but he quickly stopped after only 10 minutes. He was out of breath, and his knee joints ached. Frustrated, he complained to Oliver, who sympathized, recounting how he struggled to catch his breath while running after his son's soccer ball. Oliver proposed a gym session, and together they struggled to squeeze into their gym clothes, ultimately abandoning the idea for a sauna session instead.

Week after week, their office was filled with food, snacks, and lavish drinks, and their weight continued to climb. However, they didn't seem to mind as their hunger for money and success overpowered any concerns about their physical health. Both Daniel and Oliver became fiercely competitive, pushing themselves to secure as many targets as possible.

After two years of this exhausting and competitive routine, both men had become fat. Still, they didn't let that deter them from their goals. Their boss, approaching retirement, presented them with a plan to take over the business. They worked diligently, crafting a financial proposal, and their boss gave them six months to make it a reality.

During those six months, they traveled the world, moving from one big client to another. Their days weren't as long, but they were welcomed everywhere with the finest food and drinks, attending parties at each stop. They truly lived a lavish existence, indulging in more food and becoming even larger. Daniel had nearly caught up to Oliver's size.

At the end of the six months, they finalized their proposal and presented it to their boss, who was thrilled and agreed to hand over the business to them. With their new roles, they acquired more prestigious clients than ever before.

To celebrate their success, they embarked on an all-inclusive trip to the Maldives, with Oliver bringing his wife along. It was a time for bonding, relaxation, and pure indulgence—three weeks of carefree living. Their competitive streak remained, as they wagered on how many brownies they could eat in the morning, indulged in ice cream at lunch, and drank champagne at night. They were stuffed all day, and by the end of the first week, they had grown even fatter.

After returning to the office, everyone noticed that their new bosses had become even fatter but seemed happier than ever. Secretaries started ensuring that every meeting had snacks and treats readily available.

Their business flourished, leaving clients highly satisfied, and the demand for their services grew even more. Five years into Daniel's banking career, he had become enormous, causing worry his among family. They urged him to diet and exercise, but he brushed off their concerns, instead opting to consume yet another sausage.

Oliver's wife, on the other hand, had no complaints. Her husband's size made her feel secure in their relationship, and the steady flow of money allowed her to indulge in new handbags weekly. However, they both knew they had to pace themselves. Simple tasks like tying shoes became nearly impossible, and even a short walk was a burden.

Realizing they needed assistance to handle their growing business, they decided to hire two proteges. These fresh, fit individuals joined their bosses for a month, trying to keep up with their demanding schedule. The question remained: would these newcomers achieve the same level of success?

And so the saga continues, with Oliver and Daniel's empire expanding, their weight reaching new heights, and their hunger for prosperity persisting, as they strive to conquer the world of finance. The end.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction #exjock

329 notes · View notes

gayassbish · 6 months

Text

Genshin Girls and Love Languages!! Receiving and Giving!

Genre: FLUFFF, just real pure stuff out here

Reader: Gender Neutral

Characters: Keqing, Xinyan, Jean, Dehya, Ayaka

Keqing-

Receiving - Quality Time: Having you spend your time with her means the world. If anyone can fully understand how special a mortal life is, it’s her. The fact you want to spend your fleeting seconds getting to know her means the world. (and no you’re not dying lol) but she acknowledges how you’re both on borrowed time with the inevitable end. So, just the fact you are CHOOSING her over spending your time on anything else means everything.

Giving - Acts of Service: This girl will do ANYTHING and I mean anything for you. She is at your beck and call ready for you give her an order. You constantly have to tell her she doesn’t have to go to the extra mile like that but she can’t help it. She loves you too much >:).

P.S. She is such a home maker mwah.

Xinyan-

Receiving - Words of affirmation:

While Xinyan is the definition of optimism and hard work, it can be upsetting sometimes when no one appreciates her talent. So you being there as her biggest fan, her number one cheerleader, and just generally a supportive as a lover really pulls her out of those tough time!! You get her head out of the dump and she couldn’t be more greatful!

Giving - Physical Touch:

Xinyan is good with her words. She knows all the words to call your pretty and special, but she’s even better with hugs, kisses, and cuddles. She loves holding your hand. She does get a little insecure about her hands so loves it even when you trace over her chipped finger nails from her strumming the guitar. She likes to run her hands in your hair (or give you head pats) while y’all are cuddling too.

P.S. She’s definitely written multiple love songs about you. <3

Jean-

Receiving - Acts of Service: Running her a warm bath after a long day of work and making her dinner makes her heart go to the moon and back!! She’s so greatful for you in her life as her biggest supporter and energy recharger. Oh yeaa, after cramming in a bunch of work, she’s all cuddles and snuggles to recharge and make up for lost time ;) She also hates working overtime once you come into her life. She really starts to fix her schedule so she can spend more time with you!

Giving - Gifts: Jean shows her love for you through gifts. Even if she can’t always be there for you on special days, she wants to show that that doesn’t mean she has forgotten about you. And while you might tell her it’s okay, and that she doesn’t have to give you anything, she’ll still spoil you with the most expensive things. she knows your tastes down to the ‘T’ and constantly tries her best for you!

P.S. She always tries to out do herself when it comes to gifts.

Dehya-

Receiving - Physical Touch: She just needs you in her arms. She feels the safest when you’re nearby her, and while she might not want to admit it, she can get quite clingy when you’re not around. She’s been through a lot and witnessed a lot of violence first hand, so having you nearby means she never has to go far for her to protect you <33

Giving - Quality Time: She’s a lady kept busy with her mercenary work. But she will ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS make time for you. You’re her special someone, her most precious person, and she wants nothing more to spend the whole day with you. But when that isn’t possible, and she does get time with you, her full attention is on you. Eye contact, nodding along to whatever you blabber on, and always give you the “mhmmm,”and “yeah?” while listening

P.S. Her eyes light up when she looks at you, and is always smiling when you talk.

Kamisato Ayaka-

Receiving - Words of affirmation: Poor girl just wants to know she’s enough. You telling her that she’s more than enough and comforting her, makes you her safe space. She feels as if she can be the most of truest self around you. And if you whisper strings of praise in her ear or shout the words “I love you!” with a big smile, it would still gets her all red in the face to this day!! She never gets tired of hearing, well basically anything, from you. Could probably listen to you talk about quantum physics or something boring like that for hours and still look at you with hearts in her eyes <33

Giving - Gifts & Words of Affirmation: She wants nothing more than for you to known how much you mean to her. She secretly makes a goal to herself to make your day each day and see a toothy smile of yours. She mainly does so by hand made crafts, like origami or painting, with love poems written somewhere on them. She also writes you a lotttt of thank you letters with a whole thesis and conclusion (kidding, just she fills the whole card). When she’s not with you, her favorite past time is thinking of things to give or make for you.

P.S. She writes a lot of the ‘P.S.’ too.

A/N: Kicking my legs and giggling writing this

#genshin women x reader #genshin wlw #genshin fluff #keqing #keqing genshin impact #jean genshin impact #xinyan #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin dehya #dehya x reader #dehya #kamisato ayaka #ayaka #genshin ayaka

188 notes · View notes

bookgeekgrrl · 3 months

Text

so my company gave us $75 credit for the corporate brand store.

which, gross, i don't want to use company branded stuff in my non-work life, wtf. BUT the quality of the items is excellent.

dilemma.

luckily @deandraws is there to save me!

#fan makers are a *gift*#to be fair i don't like *any* sort of corporate brand stuff #or at least not where that's the focus #like i wouldn't wear a nike shirt or anything #my stuff #i do love shouting facts about myself into the void

13 notes · View notes

teriri-sayes · 6 months

Text

Reactions to Deal Maker's Chapter 201

TL;DR - Cale gives gifts to the kids. Learns about On and Lily's academy plans. Clopeh offers his sword to Cale. Cale is troubled on how to explain Ahn Roh Man's weeb and gaming terms.

Santa Cale It was the new year already when Cale returned from the Central Plains, so following Korean custom (of the author), everyone turned one year older. Thus, Cale congratulated the three children who were now average ten year olds. 🥰

For the gifts:

Hong - 5 of the 9 treasure poisons of the Tang Clan. It was originally supposed to be 3, but the Tang Clan increased it to 5 to thank their benefactor after Cale's miracle in Hainan Island

On - 30 items he got from the GED, like daggers, elixirs, and so on.

Cale gave something to Sheritt too, but it was not mentioned. As for Raon, he brought a basket of sweets and still-steaming hot dumplings for the kittens and his mom. The author is projecting her dumpling obsession on Raon... 🤣🤣🤣

Academy Arc Because On turned 13, Cale thought of sending her to the academy to gain more life experiences and meet more peers. He thought the wolf children were not enough. But he found out from On and Ron that On had already made plans to attend.

Cale also recalled his younger sister Lily. Ron said that Lily would be attending the academy too, but in a higher grade because she wanted to study military science. Of course, Cale was supportive of Lily's decision. 🥰

Knight Clopeh Half of the chapter was about Clopeh, so I'm really happy! Yes, I'm a huge Clopeh fan. I wanted to translate the entire part about Clopeh, but this is a reaction post, not a translation one, so I'm sorry... 😞

Anyway, Cale asked Clopeh what he wanted to do if he could use the sword again. Clopeh went through some introspection about his past with Cale, and ultimately made a decision. He knelt down on one knee and dedicated his sword to his Cale-nim! 🤩

I really liked this part because it showed how Cale's relationship with Clopeh had greatly changed. From enemies to close allies. Of course, Cale pretended to not care much, but Clopeh knew that Cale did care about him. 😂

Cale had CH give the murim martial arts book to Clopeh. He wanted Clopeh to take HD's role and become stronger too. Also something about how Clopeh would now use his sword to save lives.

After CH and Clopeh left the room, Cale suddenly had a bad feeling. It was not a surprise because at that time, Clopeh was thinking something like, "I can't become a legend. But I will help create that path for my Cale-nim!" 🤣🤣🤣 Oh, Clopeh, this is why I love you~ 🥰

Ahn Roh Man is a Weeb The last part was also funny. Alberu suddenly called Cale because of some "emergency." Turns out, he had talked to Ahn Roh Man and misunderstood several terms the latter used. It all started when Cale told Alberu to mention "The Blue One" to Ahn Roh Man and gauge the latter's reaction.

And Ahn Roh Man's reply confused Alberu.

Ahn Roh Man thought The Blue One was a guy 😂

The two agreed to a "hyunpi", but The Blue One did not show up.

Ahn Roh Man said The Blue One almost spilled his "dark past."

Also said The Blue One caused him quite a considerable crisis (because of the dark past).

Hyunpi is a Korean gaming term. Hyun came from "hyunsil" which means "reality", and Pi came from P of PK (Player Kill). It means when two gamers who are having an online fight/argument get so angry that they agree to meet in real life and settle it there personally (through physical violence). So instead of a meet-and-greet, it's like a "meet-and-fight."

I can't think of an English equivalent to that term. But from what I know, some hyunpi meetings become violent enough that it made headline news in Korea. Gamers in Korea are just on a different level...

As for "dark past", it's an East Asian slang. It refers to an adult recalling the shameful, cringe-worthy, and embarrassing things they did in their childhood and teenage years. Most weebs use it to refer to their past as a chuunibyou, but it can also mean the stupid stuff you did as a teen.

So when Ahn Roh Man said he was in a crisis, it was because he was afraid of The Blue One spilling his dark past. 🤣🤣🤣 But Alberu misunderstood that and thought The Blue One was some powerful person who caused the president of a country some serious trouble... 🤣🤣🤣

Even Raon thought the same as Alberu. Cale was shocked in learning that Ahn Roh Man was such a weeb and gamer, and then did a facepalm. Alberu and Raon asking Cale what "hyunpi" and "dark past" meant was so funny. 😂

Cale was troubled on how to explain those terms. And Ron wasn't helping because he suddenly asked Cale if he wanted some lemonade. 😂

Ending Remarks Next chapter will probably be Cale explaining those terms to the Roan residents. And hopefully, Cale's talk with Ron. Cale was actually troubled today on how to explain about the KRS-Cale stuff to Ron, but Alberu suddenly called, so it got postponed.

But seriously, where are CJS and LSH? They still haven't been mentioned! Mary and the half-blood dragon were mentioned to be training together, but what about the Soos? What happened to them? What about Toonka and Durst?

And because today is the 1000th chapter of TCF, our author wrote another Author's Note:

Author's Note Greetings. Today, this Yoo Ryeo Han is sending greetings to commemorate the 1000th chapter. Oh my goodness, one thousand! A thousand! Actually, I still can't quite believe it. I still clearly recall the emotions I felt when the prologue and first chapter were posted. However, I have mixed feelings when I hear that it has already reached chapter 1000. Above all, I am truly grateful. Thank you for joining us. I will continue to write diligently. Hmm… Hmm… Hmm… Chapter 2000… I probably won't give greetings again, right? Hehe Well, once again, thank you very much! -Yoo Ryeo Han

Please, NO. DON'T MAKE IT REACH CHAPTER 2OOO, YRH-NIM! I love TCF, but 1000 more chapters are too much! 😭

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family #tcf author's notes

156 notes · View notes

fizzyxcustard · 1 year

Text

One More White Hair.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (human)

Warnings: ANGST! Insecurity, mutual pining, fluff.

Summary: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you but won't let on as he believes he's an old man and is no good for you'.

Comments: Requested by two anons and @lemond57 Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll regarding when this fic should be set. The majority asked for post Quest. We also get a bit of match-maker Dis. So, enjoy!

As always, if you like the story, please consider a reblog. It really does help. If you would like to be added to any of my story tag lists, or my Follow Forever tag list (where you’re tagged in everything) then please let me know.

Thorin sighed as he stood in front of his full length dress mirror. He was sure that another grey hair had appeared overnight. It shone silver as it wove through his braid. Each hair was a reminder of all those years that he was ahead of you. But nothing could stop his heart wanting you as much as it did. By human years you were in your prime of life, at your peak. Thorin felt as though he was now deflated, crumbling away as he approached his second century. Surely if he had met you all those years ago when he was young, and his hair was black and his skin free of blemish, you would have fallen for him. The scars which littered his body acted as a map of all the wars he had participated in. Each blemish was a sign of his experience. Your skin was still unmarked, unbroken. So much innocence.

That evening would be your weekly dinner with Thorin, the rest of his court advisers and Dis. Since being part of the King's Company only a few months prior, Thorin had made sure you now had a home, security and position. You remembered your first day at council, all eyes were on you. No one of the race of Men had ever taken a seat on Dwarf council. However, as time passed, you had gradually found your place. Dwalin and Balin had welcomed you immediately, having been two of your traveling companions.

In your bedchamber and you began pushing through the clothing which hung in your wardrobe. Dresses, tunics, shawls, cloaks, robes. One dress sat at the end of the line of clothing: it was the dress that Thorin had gifted you upon moving into your bedchamber. It was deep, midnight blue. Dresses always made you feel insecure, as if unwanted attention would be drawn to you and mockery would be shown. And this one had been no exception, until now. You picked it up and draped it over your arm. Something hit you, a revelation... it was the same colour that Thorin always wore. Had this been a simple coincidence? Probably. You highly doubted that Thorin would have thought that deeply into such a thing as this.

With a sigh, you shifted away and began to dress for the occasion.

Thorin was first in the hall, sitting at the head of the table. And gradually everyone began to appear, filling up the seats around the long table. Wine and ale was on hand, plenty to keep everyone merry.

You sat at the far end of the table, next to Balin. First off, you placed a napkin into your lap, preparing for the meal. Then you looked up and noticed Thorin glancing at his own reflection in a goblet. Why did he do this so often? Was he becoming vain?

Thorin sighed and looked over toward you, noticing that you had your gaze in your lap. But his heart hammered in anxiety and delight at the sight of you wearing the dress. It looked just as he had imagined; it was a snug fit and showed off your curves beautifully.

Balin smirked to himself as he noticed Thorin watching you. It had become known within the main circle of advisers that Thorin had his eye on you. However, you remained oblivious to the fact.

The evening went as it normally did: eating, drinking and plenty of chatter.

You noticed that Dis kept whispering to Thorin, nudging him. But his face would then contort and grow angry, until finally he hissed something at her and she crossed her arms in frustration. "I think you take the stubbornness of Dwarves to a whole new level!" Dis exclaimed.

"Enough!" Thorin bellowed.

Everyone stared for a second at the King and his sister, then shifted their nervous gazes elsewhere.

"Umm, we'll begin taking our plates to the kitchens," you proposed, feeling awkward. The rest of the table, apart from Thorin and Dis, muttered in agreement and grabbed their plates and cutlery, hurrying to the kitchen, which was just out of the hall.

Thorin and Dis remained sat down, almost side by side.

"Thorin, I'm being serious, you need to tell her," Dis said, her voice soft but firm. "You've given everything for this kingdom, for our people. You deserve some happiness. I see the way you look at each other."

"Dis!" Thorin warned.

"You think the fact you're older than her makes a difference. It doesn't."

"Look at me!" Thorin exclaimed. "I'm an old man. What kind of woman would want..."

"She would," Dis replied. "Trust me. You've got nothing to lose here, Thorin, and everything to gain. Just talk to her."

Thorin sighed and smiled weakly at Dis. "I shall."

As the guests of Thorin's dinner began to disperse, he called you back. "Can I talk with you privately?" he asked.

Dis smiled to herself and winked at Thorin as she disappeared out of the main double doors.

"Of course," you said. You sat down at the table where Dis had been sat. "You look worried. What's bothering you?" The set of his face seemed to be that of anguish. Did this relate to his outburst earlier?

Thorin blinked hard and looked down at the table.

You reached across and took his hand. "You've put your faith and trust in me this far, please do not stop now."

"I..." Thorin began, his silver blue eyes locked with your gaze. "I love you."

You gasped, unable to hold back your shock at this. "You...you..."

"I love you," he said again. "But I'm old, and while I know my sister means well, she doesn't see the years on my face that I do. Every time I look in the mirror, I see one more white hair. My body is littered with scars. I should not be yearning for you the way I do...."

You gripped his hand tighter, your thumb caressing his. "You're not old. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"What?"

You smiled as you saw his eyes widen in shock. "I mean it. You are. You might be older than me, Thorin, but I never see your age. I just see a beautiful man who I would never have any chance with."

Thorin chuckled. "You're very wrong in your estimation of chances."

You brushed your hand through his long locks, still smiling as you did so. "These white hairs just add to how handsome you are, you know?"

"You are trying to flatter me now..."

"No, I'm speaking the truth. I'd never speak anything but truth to you. I've seen you look at your own reflection so many times, and I kept wondering if you were growing vain."

Both of you couldn't help but laugh.

Thorin cupped your cheek with his hand. "It felt like with each new white hair you were growing further and further away from me."

"Never," you whispered, and leaned in for a kiss.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @xxbyimm @linasofia @guardianofrivendell @middleearthpixie @knittastically @meganlpie @luna-xial @asgardianhobbit98 @lemond57 @rachel1959 @msjava1972 @missihart23 @eunoiaastralwings @evenstaredits @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @mrsdurin @quiall321 @glassgulls @catthefearless @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @heilith @albionscastle @court-jobi @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @braidedheart

The Hobbit tag list: @flowerniche

Middle-earth tag list: @mismaeve @sotwk

(Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from any tag lists)

#Thorin Oakenshield #Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Fanfiction #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x You #Thorin x Fem!Reader

1K notes · View notes

chronically-ghosted · 9 months

Text

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.

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips smut #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters

277 notes · View notes

1800-page-not-found · 1 year

Note

hello author (＾▽＾)

can I ask you to write vampire reader x human Yjh and Kdj relationship hc i thing it's would be interesting

HI!! THIS IS SUCH A CUTE RELATIONSHIP!

btw this is going to be a healthy relationship, im not a huge fan of writing toxic/abusive relationships ykyk

HELP I DIDN'T REALIZE YOU SAID HC AND IM ALREADY 3/4 IN WRITING EVERYTHING...ITS OK ILL JUST DO BOTH LMFAO

human yoo joonghyuk, kim dokja (separate) x vampire reader

summary: the awful sun...it burns! thus, your lover decides to (somehow) give you a coat that has sun resistance so you can finally step out.

Yoo Joonghyuk is a ruthless man. However, during his regressions, he came to find you, a vampire. And what was so interesting about you is that, you were a vampire before the apocalypse. At first he brought you along only because he found you useful. But then, when he was able to clear more and more scenarios with you, he started to develop these 'strange feelings' he calls them.

Being a vampire was a struggle for you. After all, there were so many people around you, it was hard to resist. you usually drank animal blood from the nearby butcher, but when the apocalypse hit, you lost your supply. But when you met him, Yoo Joonghyuk, everything changed.

Blood is like wine. The more it ages, the better it tastes. So, as a regressor, Yoo Joonghyuk's blood was amazing. Of course, he killed you the first few times he met you, but started warming up.

Now, as the relationship developed, and when you two started dating after, what, 7 regressions? Well, he realized it was hard for you to join him completing scenarios with your weakness of the sun.

He scoffed, "weak." he muttered under his breath as he turned away from you.

His actions were very different though. A week later, he brought a coat that looked almost identical to his, except in a beige color, and with different attributes. Yours made you gain sun resistance.

You cried when you stepped out in the sun, feeling warmth from the fiery ball for the first time. You hugged him dearly, thanking him over and over again.

Yoo Joonghyuk was shocked to say the least. As a man who's unfamiliar with such emotions, he awkwardly patted your back. He never realized how much this meant to you. After all, vampires have feelings to.

headcannons here

he definitely gets the coat first thing when he regresses

since the scent of blood is so strong to you, he will use his coat to wrap you up and calm you down

Where SP exists, YJH definitely gets jealous whenever SP gifts something to you at the exact time you need it.

ur blood bag, he volunteers

every time he regresses, its really weird

like just imagine some super over powered hot guy comes to you and says like-

"Let me be your blood bag i love you" or something LMAOOOO

Nah he wouldn't do that (he probably might)

It would be really awkward though because he'd try to like move the relationship really fast cuz he just wants to date you and hold hands and other lovey-dovey stuff

he's awkward in general

definitely has killed before to give you blood

brought back a bucket of blood once

you didn't drink it because like STDs yk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kim Dokja was like a child asking Santa Claus questions about Christmas when he first met you (pre apocalypse btw). I mean, you're just like the characters in his favorite novel!

It was an accident when he found out. I mean its not normal seeing your co-worker drink animal blood and eat raw animal meat is it? And i mean... it was pretty odd everyday when you came to work all bundled up.

When the apocalypse hit, the two of you were both on the train/subway. You were breathing heavily, trying to control yourself. He gave his coat to you and put it on top of your head, blocking your vision. Few minuets later, he gave you a grasshopper to kill.

Later on, after he became 'Demon King of Salvation,' he met 'Mass Production Maker' at the Gourmet Association when they were viewing the scenario and talking.

(I cant remember all they way how Mass Production Maker acts fyi)

"Mass Production Maker sir, I'd like to ask for a favor." It was rare for someone like the Demon King of Salvation to ask for a favor, well unless it was you. "Oh? And what may someone like you ask for from an old man like me?" Mass Production Maker did not take his eyes off the scenario, but you could tell he was listening to the rather newly born constellation.

"There's someone very dear to me who needs a rather special coat...I know you don't really do commissions but-" The Mass Production Maker laughed an old hearty laugh. "My, my, what young love folks like you have! How enjoyable! I like you young man, make sure to stay loyal, I'll do it for free as you helped me earn so many coins from the bet!" (I think that's what happened if I remember correctly?)

-----

when you two finally met again, Kim Dokja wrapped you in a lovely beige coat, just like his. "What is this?" you asked curiously. "A coat for you to step out in the sun!" You gasped. "R-really?! I can finally go outside?.."

He nodded and dragged you right next to where the shadows met the sun. You stopped, nervous to if this would work or not. Kim Dokja turned around and held your face. "Hey..It's going to work, I promise." He assured you.

[The constellation, "Demonic Judge of Fire" squeals in happiness.]

[500 coins have been sponsored]

"Alright then..." You slowly stepped out in the sun, eyes shut as you waited to burn but-you didn't? You slowly opened your eyes, your senses feeling the warmth on your face. "I'm-I'm in the SUN!" You jumped and hugged Kim Dokja. "Thank you Thank you!" You cried, tears running down your face. You could finally feel the warmth you longed for with him under the sun.

Headcannons!!!!!

Likes to give you blood

wants you to just drink all of his blood, i mean its not like he can't revive

Flabbergasted when you cried when he was dead for 3 days

He likes to hug you because you're always cold (cuz ur a vampire...ykyk)

Had a HUGEEEEEEE cultural (or vampire) shock when you didn't bite his neck but his hand instead

and the silver thing

and garlic

becomes a huge vampire nerd

will correct people when they say something wrong about vampires

outsiders will think HE'S the vampire because of how much he talks about them

likes to be carried bridal style by you with your super strength vampire abilities

first time you two ate together at a restaurant when he knew you were a vampire, he asked for a raw slab of meat with lots of blood

the waiter looked at him weirdly

everyone in the restaurant stared at the two of you

you guys got banned from it

THE ENDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

#kim dokja x reader #kim dokja #x vampire reader #orv x reader #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader's viewpoint x reader #kdj #kdj x reader #yoo joonghyuk #yoo joonghyuk x reader #yjh x reader #yjh #manhwa x reader

587 notes · View notes