#apparently you can not only make them public now but you can reblog to them so NOW we’re really kickin shit off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kwanisms · 24 days ago

Text

Kinktober 「10:21」 — l.seokmin

» seventeen menu | dokyeom menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ gargoyle!Seokmin × fem!Reader wc: 3.7k summary: Nights are the only time Seokmin can truly live as he spends his days frozen in the glow of the sun. Night was also the time when his human girlfriend would come to pay him a visit. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, slight religious themes, mentions of: physical abuse (by parents), attempted forced marriage, slut-shaming, place of religious worship; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: normally i have a very hard time writing for seokmin but this just came naturally and i’m really glad. Usually it’s so difficult for me to capture him but this time around things went well and I’m very pleased with what I’ve written. I hope you like it and thank you for reading! We have ten fics left for Kinktober after this starting week 4 with naga!Seonghwa which I’m quite excited about. as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), thigh riding (f receiving), orgasm control (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: angel, sweetheart, darling, etc.; his: Minnie, baby, etc.), unprotected sex (use protection pls), and i think i got them all but if i missed any, let me know! kinks: Thigh riding + orgasm control dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Come here. I’ll show you how to make yourself feel good. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Your footsteps rang out as you walked across the stone streets, heels clicking with each determined step. You glanced up as you rounded the corner, taking in the imposing structure of the cathedral. It wasn’t the largest by any means but it was still large enough and stood out among the other buildings with the wide sweeping steps that led up to the massive oak front doors.

The stone work was impressive, life sized statues carved into the facade that showed various important figures in the Catholic lexicon. You didn’t really know their names or faces as you weren’t exactly a churchgoing woman. You’d only started visiting this church when you were down on your luck, running out of places to sleep having been thrown out of the house after an argument with your parents.

Since then, you lived your life on the streets at the mercy of kind strangers like the archdeacon of this cathedral. He had known your parents and condemned them for throwing you away like you were nothing but common garbage. He gave you shelter and food and even helped you get back on your feet.

You now had a small apartment on the edge of town and a steady income having finished school. Truthfully, you had no reason to keep coming back to this church, at least not one that those who attended knew of. You were the godless daughter that had been casted out of the sanctuary of your home. As far as the congregation knew, you deserved it.

Why else would your parents, apparent upstanding members of the church, kick their only child out onto the streets just before the start of winter? The whispers started soon after and despite the archdeacon’s very public condemnation of your parents actions, the rumors continued to circulate.

“They must have had a good reason.”

“No parent just throws their child out without a good reason.”

“I heard she’s been spending a lot of time with that good for nothing butcher’s son.”

“Maybe she’s pregnant.” “What are harlot.”

“Whore.”

“Slut.”

All of the accusations whispered behind hands were the furthest from the truth. You didn’t even know the butcher’s son. The argument between you and your parents had been about school. Your father didn’t want you attending university, making it plain that he wanted you to marry as soon as possible and move out of the house. He had a handful of prospects for you, all of which were his co-workers and friends.

Men all nearly twice your age. You refused, telling him you would rather die than marry one of his old friends. He had struck you across the face and you retaliated by defending yourself with a knife taken from the kitchen knife block.

The damage, while not serious, had been done and you were cast out into the street to fend for yourself.

Your reason for continuing to visit the church, albeit when everyone else was gone, was a simple one. Well, simple to you. You were visiting a friend. Not the archdeacon, though you did visit him from time to time to update him on your progress. He had taken the role of father figure in your life and you were grateful for everything he’d done for you.

No, your friend was much more… hidden. Obscured.

You happened upon him while exploring the parts of the cathedral that were off limits to the rest of the congregation. The archdeacon allowed you to explore the cathedral as it was now your home and you took his invitation immediately, familiarizing yourself with the back hallways and rooms that no one else got to see.

The one area he asked that you not visit was the bell tower. You listened to his request for the most part until the curiosity became too much to bear and one day, you snuck up there to see why it was off limits. It was old, the wood creaked underfoot and everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.

The stone however was structurally sound and as you explored, you came across the most beautifully carved statue you’d ever laid eyes on. He had the most handsome face you’d ever seen, from his sharp jawline to his pointed nose and his eyes that seemed extremely lifelike.

He looked like he’d been carved by the gods, the lean body with rippling muscles. The clothes, also carved from the same stone, fit him loosely but clung to his torso, outlining the curve of his chest. You were in awe of the statue as you circled the pedestal it stood on. It wasn’t carved from the facade of the stone wall like the others. He looked like he’d been carved somewhere else and transported here.

As you moved around to the back of the statue, you noticed through slits cut into the shirt a pair of leathery bat-like wings protruding from the back of the statue. As you moved back around, the dying light of the setting sun cast a golden glow over the pale facade of the stone statue, deep shadows settling in the recess of the eyes.

You stepped even closer, noticing what looked like a speck of dirt on his cheek. You raised your hand, prepared to wipe it away when the sound of the door at the bottom of the tower opened and you heard a voice calling for you.

You shied away from the statue and hurried down the steps and back to the ground floor.

The archdeacon wasn’t entirely upset that you had disobeyed his words and when you asked about the statue, he told you the story. It was said to have been a man at one point but he was cursed for some crime and as punishment for his sins, he was cursed to turn into stone every day but at night, he came alive. You asked about the wings, asking if he was a demon.

The archdeacon was amused with your question and he understood the reasoning behind your question. It was then that explained what gargoyles were. You knew what a gargoyle was but you’d never seen one so beautiful before. The archdeacon raised a brow at your choice of words but he understood. Most of the gargoyles on the outside of the cathedral were grotesque and hideous.

Now that you’d snuck up to the top of the belltower, the archdeacon didn’t forbid you from entering and instead asked that you limit your time up there and just be careful as it was a long way down should something happen.

You had taken to going up to the top of the belltower during services to avoid the judgmental gazes and whispered words of the congregation as well as to avoid seeing your parents who for whatever reason had decided to continue attending mass despite the archdeacon’s position on their actions.

You would often bring your sketchbook and pencils up with you and sketch the gargoyle for hours, studying the way the light would hit the stone and cast shadows as well as how it seemed to glow, the bits of quartz in the stone sparkling in the sunlight.

You had pages upon pages of sketches of the statue. Your draw to it was obvious to anyone who happened on your sketchbook. You had been up there for hours as evening mass dragged on until finally, as the sun was setting, the doors to the cathedral opened and the congregation spilled out onto the streets while you slept.

Until you were woken abruptly by the bell ringing. You covered your ears, cursing yourself internally for falling asleep while still up at the top of the belltower. You crawled over to the edge of the tower, peering over the railing as the bells subsided. From up here, everyone looked so small, like tiny ants running around. You let out a sigh, sitting back on your heels.

“I’ve been up here long enough,” you murmured as the sun dipped below the buildings, only a small sliver shining upon the tower. You turned to look over your shoulder at the statue. “I think it’s time I get out of your hair,” you said with a smile, turning to collect your things, placing your pencils back in the case. As you were zipping the pouch, the sound of stone cracking caught your attention.

You looked up, eyes widening in horror as the stone facade of the statue had started to break, cracks appearing along the arms and across the chest. You gasped, looking around and wondering what the hell happened. Was there an earthquake? What could have caused such destruction in the short period you were looking away.

You turned your eyes back towards the statue as the last of the sunlight faded away, the sun disappearing entirely behind the buildings of the city. The cracks appeared quickly along the statue and you cried out as the stone fell apart in an almost explosive fashion, bringing your hands up to shield your face as bits of stone and dust coughed out from the statue, clattering over the stone walkway.

Silence fell over as the dust and small pieces of stone started to settle. Lowering your hands, you turned to look at the statue, expecting the pedestal to be empty but instead, before you, stood a man. He lifted his head, his stone colored eyes meeting yours and you gasped. It was him. The statue. The gargoyle. He was… a man? You stared up at him as he stretched his arms over his head, his wings splaying out behind him like fingers with webbing between them.

He let out a sigh before his eyes fell on you again. “Oh,” he said softly. “Hello.” He gave you a warm smile and you stared back in shock, slowly raising your hand to give him a small wave. “Uh… hi?” you replied, uncertain if you were awake or asleep at the moment. He noticed the sketchbook on the ground. “How long have you been up here?” he asked as he fixed you with a curious gaze.

“Uh… a few hours,” you answered. “I’ve been avoiding Mass,” you added in an undertone. “I see,” he said, nodding. “What’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head. You glanced up at him. “Y-Y/N,” you told him, still kneeling on the floor. His smile returned, reaching his eyes. “Well,” he said, stepping down from the pedestal. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he continued as he walked over, kneeling down to your level and holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m Seokmin.”

After that interaction, you learned that Seokmin was indeed a gargoyle and that the story the archdeacon had told you was only partly true. Seokmin had indeed been cursed to live the life of a gargoyle but he had been wrongly convicted and as you slowly got to know him, you could see that was definitely the case. No one, except for the archdeacon, had ever shown you such kindness before.

Seokmin had the face and personality of an angel. Had it not been for the leathery wings attached to his back, you might have mistaken him for an angel upon meeting him. He was kind, caring, passionate, and funny. You started to spend your nights after sundown with him, learning about his past, his likes, his dislikes, everything you could think to ask.

He asked about you a fair bit as well and slowly, a friendship formed. The nights you spent with him meant you barely got any sleep but you managed to still attend your classes and get good marks. Seokmin was your rock during that crucial time in your life. As your relationship grew, feelings beyond that of friends started to develop and after finally revealing your hidden feelings to him, he surprised you by accepting them and even reciprocating them.

It was an odd relationship, being with someone you could only kiss or touch when the sun went down but you made it work. Living in the cathedral made it easier because Seokmin was only a staircase away if you wanted to see him.

Everything changed when you graduated and landed a job. You were no longer dependent on the archdeacon or the church and soon, you would have to move on. The thought terrified you. Joining the real world, becoming a full fledged adult, and leaving Seokmin behind. When you conveyed the worries and fear to him, he reassured you that everything would be fine.

The night that you told him you would have to leave was the first night you gave yourself to him. Seokmin proved to be a very generous and attentive lover and it was the first of many nights you would return, either to just lay with him until the sun started to break through the buildings or spend all night in the throes of passion.

Even after moving, you returned to the church, sneaking in at night using a side door you had the key for to go up to the belltower and see your lover. Seokmin welcomed you each time, letting you vent your frustrations about life, work, your neighbors and without complaint, he listened to it all. He then spent the rest of the night soothing your worries and frustrations with his words or with his hands and mouth.

As soon as he had his hands on you, it was all over and you became putty to him, easy to bend and shape the way he wanted until he could break your frustrations by driving you over the edge of ecstasy. Sometimes, you visited him just to have him spend the night making love to you. Either way, Seokmin didn’t mind. He loved having you under him, tangled in the sheets of an old bed left up in the belltower for storage. It was the very same bed where you gave yourself to him the first time.

Using the key, you unlocked the side door, opening and shutting it behind you softly before turning back to the short hallway and crossing to the doorway that led to the stairs up to the belltower. The climb up the steps was familiar as you pulled your hood down, hurrying up the rickety wooden staircase. As you reached the top, you glanced towards the pedestal. The sun had long since set and the stone pedestal was empty. You looked around the room, noticing the form in the bed.

You walked over slowly, removing your shoes and then pulling off your coat, letting it fall to the floor as you moved closer. You’d chosen to throw your coat on over your sleep clothes, a silky tank top and matching shorts with lace along the hems. The dark green color looked lovely against your skin and you knew if Seokmin had anything to do with it, you wouldn’t be wearing it for long.

You climbed onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight as you crawled towards Seokmin. As you reached him, he opened his eyes, smiling at you as you crawled over him, straddling his lap as his hands moved to rest against your thighs. “Hi,” he said softly as you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Hi,” you murmured.

His hands slid up your thighs to your waist, humming as his fingers skimmed over your shorts. “Did you wear this for me?” he asked softly, fingers toying with the silky material. You shook your head slowly, reaching down to grab the bottom of your tank top, pulling it off over your head and revealing a lace bra in the same shade of green that decorated your skin, barely covering anything.

Seokmin’s eyes widened as he took it in, hands moving up to cup your chest. “So you wore this for me, then?” he asked, smile widening as you giggled, nodding. He sat up, pulling you against his bare chest as he captured your lips in a slow, tantalizing kiss, his lips moving against yours lazily.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he whispered between kisses as his hands moved down, sliding over the curve of your ass. “Do I need a reason to visit my boyfriend?” you asked, taking his face in your hands as you pressed your lips against his again. He pulled your hips against him, grinding your cloth covered core over his hardening cock. “No,” he replied. “I guess not.”

You continued to drag your clothed pussy over his cock. “Sweetheart,” he groaned, hips bucking up to meet yours. “I’d like to try something.” You pulled back, hands moving to his shoulders as you slowed your movements. “Hmm?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

He reached up, cupping your cheek. “Have you ever thought about my thighs?” he asked, catching you off guard. “Seokmin,” you started leaning in to press your lips against his. “I always think about you. I think about every part of you.” He chuckled against your lips, pushing you back slightly. “Take your shorts off, darling. I want to try something different tonight.”

You gave him a curious look but obliged him, climbing off his lap to slide your shorts down, keeping your panties on as you discarded the silk bottoms. You started to climb over his lap but he stopped you. “No, no,” he said softly. You gave him a confused look as he started to move you. “Come here,” he said, guiding you over his thigh. “I’ll show you how to make yourself feel good.”

You let out a gasp as he pushed your hips down, your clothed cunt coming into contact with his bare thigh. “You want me to ride your thigh?” you asked softly as he kept one hand on the small of your back, the other moving up to take your chin gently. “Can you do that for me, angel? Can you make yourself feel good using just my thigh?”

You nodded slowly, leaning in to kiss him once more as you slowly started to move, dragging your wet panties over his thigh. The friction against your clit made you gasp softly. Seokmin followed your movements with his hand on your back, urging you to move a little faster.

The more you moved, the wetter your panties and his thigh got. “That’s it baby,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your lips parted and you sucked his thumb into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you continued to rut against him. You moaned, moving fast. “Woah, slow down there, angel,” Seokmin murmured, putting a halt to your movements and your orgasm slipping away.

“Minnie,” you whined, looking up at him. “Sorry angel,” he chuckled. “I can’t have you falling apart just yet. Here,” he said, grabbing your hips and starting to guide you again. “Keep going.” You kept your eyes on him, narrowed as you tried to work out what was going on in that beautiful head of his.

You let out a whimper as you felt him flex under you, forcing your hips down harder against his hard thigh. “Feel good?” he asked softly, watching your face as you started to move faster, taking over your own movements. You nodded wordlessly as you grinded against him harder.

“Look at me sweetheart,” he said softly, raising your chin and forcing you to look at him. “You gonna cum baby?” he asked, a gentle smile on his face as you nodded. He grabbed your hips, stopping you once more. “Minnie!” you hissed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Stop doing that!” you whined as your orgasm slipped from your grasp once more.

“Sorry, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I promise this is the last time,” he added. “Come on, love,” he added, grabbing your hips once more, guiding you over his thigh again, your arousal now smeared over his skin. Letting out a shaky breath, you ignored the burning in your thighs as you resumed rolling your hips, dragging your sensitive, lace clad clit over his skin.

“M-m’close,” you whimpered, walls clenching around nothing as you grinded harder, moving faster. “That’s it, baby,” Seokmin whispered in your ear. “Let go and cum for me. That’s a good girl.” Your thighs shook as you finally came with a whine in Seokmin’s neck as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you up as your orgasm shook your body. “That’s it baby,” he coaxed, letting you ride out your high until you couldn’t move anymore.

“M’sore,” you mumbled, raising your head. “Let me,” he whispered in your ear, gently lifting you off him and laying you back against the bed, his skillful fingers peeling your soaked panties from your body and tossing them aside. He kissed a path up your stomach as he pulled the sheets back, exposing his naked lower half, his hard cock ready for you to take.

“You did so well for me, angel,” he murmured, placing kisses over your lace covered chest and up the side of your neck. “Let me take care of you now,” he whispered in your ear as he kneeled between your spread thighs, guiding the head of his cock to your waiting cunt. You let out a whine as he rubbed the tip against you before pushing the head inside, your walls readily sucking him in as he slowly filled you.

“Minnie,” you gasped as he stilled, cock nestled deep inside you, the tip barely kissing your cervix. He pulled back slowly, cock dragging against your walls before he thrusted forward, filling you once more. “I know baby,” he cooed, leaning over you to place a kiss to each cheek, one to your forehead and finally one to your lips as he set a slow, steady pace, pumping into you with lazy yet calculated strokes.

Another whimper escaped you, sounding from your throat as he started to move a little faster, snapping his hips against you harshly. “I know,” he murmured again, lips ghosting over yours as he fucked into you harder, making small gasps and moans leave your lips. “Minnie, baby,” you gasped, back arching off the bed as he angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that always had your toes curling and stars invading your vision. “I know, angel,” he cooed again, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Just let me take care of you, baby.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

169 notes · View notes

imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago

Note

Hiya love! My request is for Steve Rogers. Reader and Steve a fairly new relationship. They are having a fight about something and Steve gets loud and gesticulates, Reader flinches (physical abuse in a past relationship, Steve doesnt know about it yet). He notices... How would He react to that?

hello, I decided to turn this into a headcanon, and I hope you enjoy what I wrote.

warning - slight mention of a past abusive relationship.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

HEADCANON OF STEVE REACTING TO YOU FLINCHING DURING A FIGHT

You and Steve had only been dating for a little while, about five months now. You had met during one of Tony Stark’s parties. Steve had seen you in the corner, staying away from everyone as your nerves caught up.

Everything had been okay for a while, you got along so well, and it felt like a fairytale. You two hadn’t fought yet, which made you think it was too good to be true.

Maybe you should’ve thought otherwise because now you were fighting big time over something so small.

You knew he had specific rules for certain things. Like how you weren’t supposed to come to the compound when he was working, the public wasn’t supposed to know of your relationship because he had enemies, and Steve didn’t want you to get hurt.

But he had forgotten his phone and wallet, and you thought he might need them. Being the kind girlfriend you were, you also decided to get him some lunch seeing as you had to go there anyway to drop his things off. What could be so harmful?

Apparently, you were wrong. Steve was furious when you showed up. His ears and face turned red from anger, and he walked around you, slamming the door shut, causing you to jump slightly.

“What did I tell you about coming here?! How can you be so stupid?!” He raised his voice, and you watched him raise his hand. You didn’t think Steve would actually hit you, but you flinched anyway. Your eyes immediately closed, and you began to close in on yourself.

You never told Steve about your previous relationship, one because he never asked, and two, it was too early in the relationship to disclose. You didn’t want to be seen as weak in front of THE Captain America.

Steve caught it straight away. His anger immediately disappears and is replaced with pains in his chest. He quickly steps back, making himself smaller than you because he can see you shivering from his height. “Doll, It’s okay…” It felt like he had been shot, watching you curl into yourself. “I’m here… I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay.” Steve whispers, keeping his hands to himself, waiting for you to come to him instead.

You shiver, slowly opening your eyes and noticing Steve staring at you worriedly. “I–I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Doll. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the jerk. It’s okay.” He reassures you, smiling softly when you slowly approach him and immediately sink into his arms. “Now, do you want to tell me why you reacted that way, Doll?”

“J–just an ex…” You swallow, not wanting to relive those memories, and Steve doesn’t expect you to. He squeezes you tightly against him, his face growing red with anger again, but not toward you.

For once, Steve was happy with the privileges that come with being an Avenger because once you fall asleep. He’ll have Tony find this man so he can pay him a little visit.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

936 notes · View notes

fortunelowtier · 4 months ago

Text

I was gonna reblog my original post but I didn't wanna spam people with a long ass post (this post is already long enough) so instead I'll just link the previous post here and if yall wanna go look at it you can, but the short version is that a few days ago I made a post talking about HBs incredibly high turnover rate, and apparently within a few days it got enough traction to where it started spreading to the higher-ups of Spindlehorse, including Viv herself. I decided to make this update post just as a way to debunk what I can and as clearly as I can.

First tweet:

So for starters, they say this as if IMDB's numbers aren't publically available, it's not like I pulled these numbers out of my ass without merit, these are numbers I got off of IMDB. And I know some people might pull the high school English teacher card of “Anyone can edit that!!” and to be honest I dont feel like going into the semantics of one of the most non-arguments you can possibly use so all I’ll say is that the process of editing a Wikipedia or IMDB page is not as easy as your English teachers taught you to think it is. Sure you can edit it but it's another story if the edit will be saved. There's moderation, it's not a free-for-all.

Also, I find it interesting how this tweet was made (and subsequently deleted) mere days after their promotion to Animation Director, and if there's anything I've learned from Spindlehorse controversies it is that if someone is in any real position at the top of the companies proverbial food chain they shouldn't be allowed to speak for the experiences of employees lower on the ladder than them, especially when a lot of them seem to have a habit of denying certain claims despite the public availability of numerous pieces of evidence pointing toward the contrary

It's like if you visited a bunch of former employees of a restaurant with a high turnover rate with proof that they had worked there and for exactly how long they worked there and then the manager comes along and tries to basically say “NUH UH” despite information proving the contrary being publicly available (maybe not the best analogy but you get what I mean)

—

Ok now onto the second one by Viv herself:

There’s a lot to dissect here so I’m gonna break it down bit by bit.

Firstly:

"They’re listing every single credited person in EVERY art department"

So the way I got my numbers was by going to the Series Animation Department section of HB's IMDB, highlighting every name from the beginning of the section to the end, and then pasting them into this website which gave me the line count of 444. Was that the most optimal way of doing so? No, especially after I learned after the fact that there's a way to just see the numbers straight up, but that hardly matters considering the fact that there are allegedly more people in the animation dept who were uncredited, however, I'm still waiting on some more info from my source as to the validity and the scale of these claims (How many people were uncredited, how little were they paid for their work, etc etc) to make a proper post about it, so until then ill just leave it at that as to not make accusations without merit.

So, humoring Viv, I added up the total IMDB credits for the Art Dept and Visual Effects Dept, as well as the Sound Dept since I qualify sound as a form of art and because I wanted to give Viv as fair a chance as possible and actually tally the total credits of “every art department” as Viv claims I did, and it still only equals 155 total credits, a little over a third of the credits in the Animation Dept

Secondly:

“That includes the TC and Chaos credits”

So these are in reference to Toon City and Chaos Emporium, 2 companies known as a source for outsourcing animation, and just to humor Viv I decided to go onto IMDB and tally up all of the Chaos and TC credits since according to her that's where I got most of my final number.

After doing so, Chaos Emporium had a total of 15 credits, and Toon City had a total of 45

So Viv is making it seem like the TC and CE credits make up a large majority of them, which is why I got the number I did, when in reality when combined they only equal 60 credits. 14% of the total (technically it’s 13.5% but I’m rounding to the nearest whole for the sake of convenience)

Thirdly:

“We dont even have 400 people. Simply Misinformation.”

You’re right Viv, you dont have 400 people, because I never said you did, nor did I imply you did. I said you've had 400. Of course you dont have 400 current employees, your company burns through them like paper because you underpay them while you go burning your Amazon and merch money on cruises and vacations and continuously post photos of you buying from zionist companies knowing full well that they're part of an active boycott.

—

So yeah, that's my 2 cents. Sorry if this sounded like some shit you'd see on a Twitlonger but after Viv was made aware of the posts I made about the turnover rate (and subsequently blocked me within the hour after seeing it) I knew that it wasn't gonna be long before I had people DMing me about how wrong I was because “Viv said it was wrong so it must be wrong”.

One more thing I wanna add because I've gotten a lot of angry messages/asks about this, a lot of Viv stans seem to think I have this bizarre hate boner for Viv when I really don’t. I don’t hate Viv, I hate what she’s become. I hate how ever since the HH pilot she’s become a bully who can’t take criticism. And not just on the surface level of “criticism makes her upset”, because yea no shit, criticism makes everyone upset at least a little, and it's why I hate it when people see someone being upset at criticism and going “ERMM, CANT TAKE CRITICISM?”

When I say “Viv can’t take criticism” I mean she actively tries to shut down any convo about it without trying to learn from it. She blocks anyone who talks poorly about her or her company and makes baseless claims knowing full well her fans will follow her to the ends of Hell regardless of whether or not what she’s saying is even correct.

That’s all I got for now

#spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical

130 notes · View notes

deepdisireslonging · 1 year ago

Text

No Cum November Part 7: Double Possession

The team found the last details needed to defeat the ghost. It requires another ritual with the reader in the middle, and their ability to keep their mind when the Winchesters lose theirs to possession.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Warnings/Promises: ritualistic SMUT

Word Count: 1100

Note: For those of you participating in the challenge, how are you holding up? This was a fun one to write, and the inspiration for the series. Let me know how you guys are enjoying it in the comments and reblogs. Happy reading!

Part 6: Dripping

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Dean held back from finishing a knot. “We can switch places, easy. The ghost doesn’t care who’s the receiver.”

Turns out for the campus ghost, there was a grave. A special one, reserved for the professors descended from the first dean of the college. It had taken three more study sessions to puzzle out the location. It was hidden behind the Classic’s library, the old school’s original library before the larger, modern one was built. Where, fifty years ago, the Greek rituals professor worked. The texts for the summoning the fertility god, Priapus, had been in the older library. And it was close to the student’s first orgy. Having found it, you were all going to try the ritual again. One of the first victims had been a student of the professor Dean talked to earlier. Apparently, the grad student was fishing for a PHD concept, summoning Priapus through the ghost of the long-retired professor, and they had taken down two other students with them. You all had disturbed the grave again, opening it fully for this ritual. This time with you tied to the deceased’s tombstone.

“I can do it.” You arched into Sam’s hand as he copped a feel. “I can do it. Start reading.”

This time, they both took position. Dean in front, with Sam behind you. The cold headstone bit into your stomach. The ropes, a soft cording that was helpfully slippery, crisscrossed over your joints, knotting at sensitive zones. Sam knelt, pushing your panties out of the way. Due to the semi-public nature of the location, the boys had opted for you to keep your bra and panties on. But as Sam dove into your sex, you wondered if your underclothes would survive the ritual.

Dean palmed himself as he began reading the text. His voice strained as his cock swelled in his jeans. It wasn’t long before he brought it into the open, tapping the head at your lips. You took him into your mouth. Sucking and hollowing your cheeks made his chanting falter. Behind you, Sam stood, satisfied with how much your sex was dripping. He joined Dean in the chanting, filling you an inch at a time between verses. You heard the flick of the lighter, soon followed by the dripping of hot wax onto your back. He let them fall methodically into the symbols. Dean kept your hair out of the way, careful not to disturb the circle as he had in the first attempt.

Something was different.

When you all had done this in the school, all you could feel were the boys. But now, the air was crisper. More frosty than autumnal. If Dean’s cock hadn’t been in your mouth, you’re sure your breath would have fogged.

The air shifted.

That was your cue.

You easily slipped out of the ropes, prepared to take it upon yourself to keep the professor’s ghost occupied while the guys salted and burned the grave. What you hadn’t taken into account was that while you’d be able to get easily out of the ropes, you wouldn’t necessarily be able to get out of the boy’s grip. They continued to fill you, tease you, take what they needed. Only then did you notice that their chanting was unnaturally even and in synch.

You managed to look up at Dean. His eyes were closed. You gently scraped your teeth along his underside to make his gaze flutter. Under his eyelids, a silver film had taken over. You were sure Sam’s eye looked the same.

A fifth hand ran along your spine. It drifted a finger around the wax circle, tracing the runes. Sam’s candle drips never stopped, and they fell through the hand as if it wasn’t there.

This was it. You would have to move quickly and delicately. Somehow the grave had to be destroyed. But the Winchesters couldn’t leave your holes, or the ghost would take their place and you’d cum yourself to death. Not the worst way to go, but you’d rather it be because of one or both of your lovers, not due to the ghost of some horny professor’s poltergeist.

Dean groaned as you reached up and tightened your hand around the base of his cock. It held him in place, but knocked him off balance. His foot fell back, keeping him aloft. But it knocked the bucket of salt over. Giving his a twist sent his steadying foot into the can of gasoline. You gave it a few moments to leak over the remains before turning your attention onto Sam.

It was hard to focus with how hard he was pounding into you. And the wax kept coming. What had started as a manageable circle had grown to an outward spiral of wax. Each drop made you shudder. Sam wasn’t going to last much longer either. He leaned forward, reaching around with his free hand to flick at your clit. It spotted your vision with stars. You clenched your walls frantically, flexing around Sam’s cock suddenly enough to loosen his grip on the candle. The drips drifted over your back until the candle fell into the grave.

The pit ignited. Beside you, the professor’s ghost went up in flames. The slightly sweet smell told the back of your brain that the Greek god had been dismissed as well.

Still, Dean and Sam continued to fill you. You managed to give Dean’s waist a hard shove, sending him flailing into the grass. Kicking Sam’s ankles and shins also sent him flying. You rolled onto the ground behind the tombstone, shuddering with another stolen release. As you panted, you watched them continue to hump the air as they returned to consciousness.

“Y/N?”

“Heya, Dean. You alright?”

He ran a hand over his eyes. “Yeah.” With a growl, he tucked himself away so he could roll onto his stomach. The ground muffled his complaints.

“Sam?” you called back.

“I’m good. You?”

“Alive.”

“That’s good.”

They crawled over to you. Whispering apologies into your skin, they joined you in a heap on the ground. Dean recovered first. He managed to wrap you in the robe they’d brought. Sam helped you to your feet after he managed to get to his.

“You know,” you cupped the side of Dean’s face, “that Priapus guy isn’t very good. I’d rather have you two any day.”

Sam chuckled. “We appreciate that. Ready to go home?”

“One more thing.” The books sparked when they landed in the grave, going up in smoke in minutes. You watched them reduce to ashes before following the boys to the Impala.

***

Part 8: Exorcism Play (with Demon!Dean)

Series Masterlist

#dean winchester smut #sam winchester smut #reader insert #winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural

152 notes · View notes

faecaribou · 8 months ago

Text

Mission Impossible Dashboard Simulator

🎮 letmewearamask Follow

Why is it called the Impossible Mission Force if we've succeeded at almost every mission we've done? Impossible mission? More like possible mission

🪈 ihatemi6 Follow

she mission on my impossible til i task force

🎮 letmewearamask Follow

this was an unnecessary addition to my post. i have your IP address.

#im going to tell Bravo Echo 11 what you wrote

154 notes

📺 failed_da_field_exam Follow

I can't believe that they decided to tell the public that it was a gas leak. how many gas leaks per month will the public accept??? theyre so gullible smh

⚙️ tiredofthisshit Follow

dude... don't know how to tell you this. it was really a gas leak this time.

📺 failed_da_field_exam Follow

oh my god?! you're joking. well i guess one of them had to be real

⚙️ tiredofthisshit Follow

ha! got you. you're just as gulible as the general public it seems.

📺 failed_da_field_exam Follow

BLOCKED.

📺 failed_da_field_exam Follow

guys can we not reblog this. can we stop reblogging please

1,369 notes

🎯 mycircus-mymonkeys

i hate it here. let me resign.

#officelife #imissbeingafieldagent #workingforkittragefuckingsucks

3 notes

📼 BE11-deactivated10112023

Hey guys. I'm new to tumblr. My partner told me to make an account. He also said to tell you guys some stuff about me but that seems like a breach of information.

🎮 letmewearamask Follow

Dude. I promise no one's going to know it's you. You can share something, like, what's a hobby of yours?

📼 BE11-deactivated10112023

i climb things.

🎮 letmewearamask Follow

...no. That's what you do for work.

🎮 letmewearamask Follow

hello? did you just delete your account???

6 notes

🔪 i-fucking-lovefieldwork01 Follow

guys talking to some of my peers and im encountering some strange opinions. just want to clear things up.

🔪 i-fucking-lovefieldwork01 Follow

...

🔪 i-fucking-lovefieldwork01 Follow

jeez. reading the tags and some of you need a raise in morale. sure this was the only option that left you alive or free but after a certain amount of years most of you should be allowed to retire to a civilian life. couldn't be me though. i fucking love shooting people.

735 notes

🎯 mycircus-mymonkeys

sometimes a workplace rivalry is just as good as a workplace romance

🎞️ should_you_choose_to_accept Follow

guys OP let his team leader give real nuclear launch codes to a terrorist. dont follow him

🎯 mycircus-mymonkeys

I can neither confirm nor deny details of any operation without the Secretary's approval.

545 notes

💻 hackerrrman Follow

you guys will not believe how insane my team is guys. the mask machine broke again and my team leader decided we would just go without masks. does anyone else have this problem?

📡 tango-foxtrot32

omg yes!! we always keep TWO mask machines on hand for all of OUR missions because one of them is always breaking! ive complained to the tech team so much but apparently its 'our fault' and we need to 'be more gentle' with the machines

💻 hackerrrman Follow

what do they mean, "be more gentle"?? i mean my team once had a guy slam the mask machine against our targets face and it broke. but i cant imagine other teams doing that

📡 tango-foxtrot32

yeah no that's.... why did you use the mask machine as a weapon? i... our problem is that we've been 'making too many masks at once' according to the tech. what.... how have your other mask machines broken....

💻 hackerrrman Follow

well now i don't want to say.

📡 tango-foxtrot32

...

#goodlord #imscared

2,001 notes

🚐 vanguy Follow

so was anyone going to tell me that the prisoner ive been transporting to america was actually the most wanted terrorist of our times. or was i supposed to find out when i dropped him off and the CIA congratulated me for keeping him contained.

🎯 mycircus-mymonkeys

It wasn't your buisiness to know. especially if you're going to be talking about it on social media.

🚐 vanguy Follow

im so sorry please dont fire me

125 notes

⌛️ fuckthecia Follow

day 78 of saying FUCK THE CIA

🪈 ihatemi6 Follow

FUCK THE CIA

⌛️ fuckthecia Follow

HELL YEAH! day 1 of saying FUCK THE MI6

🪈 ihatemi6 Follow

HELL YEAH

903 notes

🎙️ good_evening

good evening everyone. you probably could figure out already by my manner of typing, but I am in fact the person who voices all your mission dossiers. I just want to say that I'm also responsible for gathering and summarizing all the information you need. and let me just say. you all have some serious shit going on. jesus christ.

🔪 i-fucking-lovefieldwork01 Follow

...and?

🎙️ good_evening

and what? I'm glad I'm not a field agent. LOL

#my average day is me reading papers out loud #your average day is 'if your team is caught or killed you will be disavowed' LOL

219 notes

♟️ its_treason_then Follow

guys why is Lane kinda.... 😳

🚐 vanguy Follow

??! no he's fucking not

♟️ its_treason_then Follow

politely i disagree with you.

🚐 vanguy Follow

YOU'RE looking at dossier photographs. *I* saw him IRL

♟️ its_treason_then Follow

omg you met him?! can you get his autograph for me please

🚐 vanguy Follow

what is wrong with you?!

58 notes

🪣 hr-sux Follow

do you guys ever just sit in a local coffee shop and try to profile random strangers for fun

🗝️ washington_locale Follow

no? wtf

🪣 hr-sux Follow

what? theyre civilians. its fun

🗑️ techboy33 Follow

girl.... in D.C.? ain't no one a civilian

📁 imf-heritage-post

Official IMF Heritage Post

986 notes

🗂️ days-without-disasters Follow

0 days without a disaster

📡 tango-foxtrot32

WHAT HAPPENED?!

🎮 letmewearamask Follow

dude... you don't even want to know....

413 notes

thats all for now ^w^ i have more ideas

#unreality #dashboard simulator #this is fun actually what #mission impossible #ethan hunt #benji dunn #ilsa faust #william brandt #they are all there if you can find them ^w^#poll #polls

64 notes · View notes

wsdanon · 3 months ago

Text

I wanted to do a little descriptive writing exercise, so with a lot of googling for references here’s a little scene of felps in australia before they steal the cargo ship \o/

reblogs appreciated \o/!!

Regardless of Australia’s reputation, it’s a cold morning at the harbour. The wind carries seasalt, along with the particular smell of ocean water that’s frequented by ships of all sizes—not entirely unpleasant, but definitely not pleasant either. Easy enough to ignore, as long as you don’t get your face too close to it.

Sitting up on the docks with his legs dangling over the side, Felps thinks he’s avoiding the worst of it. The wood he sits on isn’t exactly wet, but it is damp. Maybe even perpetually so. Or at least just in winter, where the sun lacks its usual power even on a good day.

It’s a good day now. A few clouds litter the sky, but nothing to suggest rain is on its way. On the occasions the wind drops off, the cold can even be beaten back by the rays of sunlight.

This isn’t where he needs to be. Nearby lies the iconic features of Australia that Felps never really imagined he’d see outside of tv and pictures—the Sydney Opera House, and the Sydney Habour Bridge. Being on the run with fugitives can take you to places beyond even your most distant plans, apparently. He always figured if he went out of country that he’d like to visit Japan.

But this isn’t where he needs to be; not that he’s particularly needed any time soon. He’s a good hour—at the very least—walk away, or about thirty minutes by car depending on the traffic. This is Sydney during peak morning hours. The traffic will be bad. May as well wait a bit.

He watches idly as a ferry carts people from one side of the harbour to the other. It’s an exciting ride for a tourist due to the view it gives of the Opera House and the bridge, but as boring as a bus after the first few times. Three of them don’t legally know how to drive, Cellbit doesn’t know how to drive at all, and they’d all figured keeping a low profile and only stealing what’s necessary would be best. Felps has ridden the ferry often.

The faded yellow and dark green of it makes it maybe not the most exciting vessel in the water, but it is recognisable. It trails further away from the stop closest to Felps and towards a flashy, small theme park. Luna Park, if Felps remembers correctly.

It was a fun, indulgent day. He won Cellbit a koala plushie, and then kept playing until he won one for Pac as well, and he only almost threw up after that green thrill ride he can’t remember the name of.

The ferry docks, and Felps’ phone buzzes in his pocket. A message from Cellbit telling him to start heading to their meeting spot.

It would probably be easier to steal a boat from the harbour here. It’s also much too public for their comfort. Between the tourists and the locals, Sydney Harbour is a bustling, unpredictable place. So, instead, they’re heading to Port Botany.

More planning needed to go into it, but it’s the overall safer option. Some forged documents, a month or so of working there, the acquisition of sums of money and information for bribes, and finally everything is ready to be put into action.

Australia has been nice, but Felps misses Brazil. And it’s probably been long enough that the last scare of the police finding them is over—their trail having gone cold.

He picks himself up off of the wood and stretches out. Enjoys the warmth of the sun for a brief moment more, before heading back towards the shadows of the city’s tall buildings.

——

hope you enjoyed \o/!! sorry to anyone who knows Sydney if I got anything wrong—Google only takes me so far… and I only found out about port botany halfway through this pfft

#wsd/f.ics #wsd/w.ips

30 notes · View notes

typingcorgi · 2 years ago

Text

unexpected (part ii of a three-part series)

gif by @joelmjller

read part i here

rating: e (minors, please shoo. you will be blocked) word count: 4k pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: teacher!reader, pre-outbreak timeline, canon divergent timeline, hint of vague age difference (if he's 36 I'm thinking like the reader is 5-10 years younger but honestly insert whatever age you want), fingering, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), protected p in v sex (yay for responsible joel), praise kink makes brain go brrr, porn with plot, soft-ish!joel, no use of y/n story summary: a one-night stand with a handsome stranger doesn't go as planned. chapter summary: you invite joel to your place. you both know why he's there. author's notes: this is actually going to be a three-parter, not a two-parter, lol. sorry. thanks to my lovely friend @magpie-to-the-morning for your support in developing this chapter! no apocalypse, yay! this is part one of a multi-part series. excited to get this new ball rolling. this is just going to be a fun romp away from the mushroom zombies, okay? have fun getting yours ;) and as always, please feel free to reblog or leave a comment! your feedback is so very appreciated.

There is nothing quite like a Friday night attached to a three-day weekend. With Columbus Day right around the corner, you have the next seventy-two hours to do quite literally, whatever the fuck you want. For the first time in weeks, school is the last thing on your mind.

And apparently, you’re the last thing on Joel’s mind. You gave him your number a week ago, and even though you know three days is the average length of time before your date gets in touch with you again—can you even call your debauched bathroom rendez-vous a date?—not getting so much as a message on your voicemail has you a little freaked out.

Okay, a lot freaked out.

You’d written your number down on a napkin. He could have lost said napkin in the middle of Austin’s city streets, and now, a total stranger has your information. Just fucking great.

You kick off your shoes as you pull yourself out of your fabricated daydream—more like a nightmare. As you move through your apartment, you don’t waste a goddamn minute. You unclasp your bra beneath your shirt, pulling the straps from your shoulders and sliding them down your arms before tossing the garment into the hamper.

Maybe it’s better Joel hasn’t called. You can totally picture yourself just holing up in your apartment for the next three days and calling in delivery every night after running downtown to the nearest Blockbuster and renting a couple of cheesy romantic comedies. The guy behind the counter knows you’ve rented How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days at least three times since it’d been released on DVD, and that fact is only mildly embarrassing.

Still, your job forces you to be a creature of habit. Days like last Friday night, hooking up in public restrooms—that’s not your norm. Your feet are killing you. Sometimes you just need a weekend that demands very little of your attention or energy outside of the four walls of your bedroom.

By 9:30, you’re in your pajamas with a glass of red on your bedside table. The TV is playing a rerun of some new reality dating show—you think it’s called The Bachelor, but honestly, you tuned in during the middle of the episode, so you’re not sure. Your bed is your fucking safe haven. There are stacks of students’ essays in your tote bag abandoned on a kitchen chair, but you know damn well you took them home to only pretend to grade them.

You’re good and settled in your bed before the tune of your cellphone ringtone chimes from the living room. You nearly trip over your own feet scrambling out of bed to race to it (but no, you’re not even the slightest bit desperate, here), and the caller ID reflects a number not registered in your address book.

It sends a little shock of anxiousness through you, a flash of adrenaline as your stomach drops, but you hit the pick-up button, taking the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” a low voice rumbles from the other end of the phone, and immediately, you know who it is.

Holy shit. He actually called.

“Wow,” you breathe, your tone somewhere between vulnerability and flirtatiousness. “And here I thought you totally forgot about me.”

Joel chuckles on the other end of the line. “No, nothing like that. Just been workin’ like a dog all damn week. Either that or I’ve been taking care of my kid. Or she’s been taking care of me. Sometimes I don’t know the dif—”

He cuts himself off with a laugh, and you giggle softly into the receiver, because was Joel this charming when you met him last weekend?

“I just mean, I finally got a moment to myself is all,” Joel finishes. “Figured I’d get in touch.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess, sinking into the comfortable cushions of your loveseat. You kick your legs across the arm of it, suddenly feeling like a freshman girl talking to her senior crush before the big homecoming game. Even though you’ve barely started conversing, your heart is absolutely racing, anticipating the questions he might ask you, the plans you might make. It’s entirely too late for a dinner date, and you’re not sure Joel would even want a commitment as serious as sharing a meal with you, but there’s a small part of your naivete that remains hopeful. If Joel had been looking for a one-night stand, why had he asked you for your number?

“Yeah, well, I’ve bored you with enough details of my week,” he says, and it’s as though you can hear the smile in his voice. “How’d yours go?”

“Good,” you say, trying to think of more interesting ways to elaborate on your one-note response. “I mean, as good as teaching high school students on a Friday before a long weekend could possibly go. They either have too much energy or not enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “That’s right. Supermodel moonlighting as a teacher. I get it.”

“You’re cute,” you laugh.

“So’re you.”

You blush. You fucking blush. Joel might have admitted to being out of the dating scene for a while, and even if his comments are simple and somewhat predictable, he’s got some serious charm.

At some point in the conversation, Joel confesses he’s alone for the evening. His daughter is at a sleepover—she’s a good kid, so if she wants to stay at a friend’s house on a Friday night here and there, I’m not one to protest—and you’re alone with nothing but your mostly-empty wine glass and your Nokia 3310, beeping intermittently to signal that your battery is going to die.

There’s a pause in the conversation as you internally debate your next move: continue to engage in slightly awkward small talk, as though he hadn’t completely rocked your world seven days earlier, or the option you’re leaning towards: invite him over. Hadn’t Joel been angling for this exchange to end up that way, anyway? His daughter isn’t home tonight, so there’s no reason for him to be home himself.

“You should come over,” you offer, suddenly sounding a hell of a lot less cool than you had moments earlier when you’d flirted.

The fluster is contagious. Even if this is secretly what both of you had hoped for, what both of you sort of expected, Joel is just as nervous as you. “Y—yeah,” he stammers, and it sounds like he needs to fight to find the word in the back of his throat. “Definitely. Uh, what’s your address?”

Joel knows where you live. Well, he knows the area. He says he used to pass your street every morning when he’d drop off his daughter off at school, back when she was in third or fourth grade. The notion of him waving goodbye to an eight-year-old and telling her he loves her and hopes she has a great day at school makes your heart absolutely squeeze. A part of you wants to forgo your in-person booty call for a round of phone sex because you’re fucking wet from that vision alone, but instead, you tell him you’ll see him soon and end the call.

You take a deep breath and let it sink in. Joel is coming over to your apartment tonight. There’s a half-full glass of pinot noir on your bedside table, a mess of dishes in the sink, not to mention, you look like a total mess. Your pajamas are more functional than they are sexy, your hair is falling every which way, and your eyes are probably tired. It’s been a long week, and there are some things that even the promise of great sex can’t immediately resolve—like your current energy levels.

Fuck it. You plug your phone into its charger and hurry toward the bathroom, readying yourself for your visitor.

Within fifteen minutes, you’ve changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top (you don’t plan on wearing it long, anyway, but there’s something too comfortable about opening the door in fleece polka dot pants). Your hair is tamed and you’ve even applied a respectable amount of makeup; just enough to appear as though your job hasn’t completely zapped the life from you over the past week.

You’ve just finished tidying up when there’s a ring at your doorbell. You buzz Joel in, and you can hear his footsteps making their way up the flight of stairs from the ground floor to yours. Every step causes your heart to beat quicker, the anticipation to bubble beneath your skin, and you wonder if it’s the same for him, too.

He knocks at your door and you immediately smile when you see him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hello, darlin’.”

You stand there for a moment, catching sight of all the little traits that’d caused you to draw to him in the first place. The crinkles around his eyes, tired and friendly, the bit of gray found in an otherwise patchy brown beard, the broadness of his shoulders beneath a worn denim shirt.

And the fucking pet name, god. Joel is so fucking smooth and he doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe he does and you’re a damn fool. Either way, it works, and you welcome him inside without another hesitation, closing the door behind him.

You offer him the only alternative to wine you have in your place—beer—and he accepts both the bottle and its opener. You try not to be mesmerized by the sight of his hands maneuvering over the bottle cap or the sight of his lips as he takes a swig, and when he tells you you’ve got a nice place here, you have to ask him to repeat it because you haven’t entirely heard what he’s said.

“Your place,” he repeats, one side of his lips curving into a slight smirk. “It’s nice. You know how to decorate.”

“Yeah,” you say, and it sounds like something caught between a laugh and a gasp. Joel is approaching you, placing the beer on your countertop while he corners you in, his hands placed on the edge of the counter on either side of your hips.

“You know, not that I wouldn’t enjoy talkin’ over a drink with you, but if that was all we were in for, I’d take you out somewhere,” he rumbles. You swallow nothing but air, your face growing hot as Joel’s gaze falls to meet your eyes, then your lips.

“Yeah,” you repeat as you nod.

“Yeah,” he echos with a chuckle. “Is that all you’re gonna say to me tonight?”

“No,” you say, and you feel like a bona fide idiot. Joel’s index finger curves beneath your chin, tilting your face up toward his.

“I’m gonna make you sing tonight, baby girl,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on yours.

You push your weight off the edge of the counter, winding your arms around Joel’s neck while his hands hold the flesh of your hips. The man is made out of electricity, suddenly shocking you to life and warming your blood. You part your lips while he kisses you, giving him permission to search your mouth as you lead him to your bedroom step for step.

The television is still on when you step into the room, only the faint golden light of your bedside lamp illuminating the space within the four walls. Joel pulls away to catch his breath and you rush to locate the remote.

“Should I be flattered you chose spendin’ time with me over watchin’ The Bachelor?” Joel teases as you turn off the TV.

“Shut up,” you laugh, and then you’re on him again. Your hands find the top button of his shirt, steadily unfastening each so that you’re free to push the garment down his shoulders and arms. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this, exposed to you, chest rising and falling with each breath. It nearly knocks the air from your lungs. It’s not like it’s a new realization, of course, but…Joel is sort of gorgeous. He’s staring right back at you and you can tell he’s searching for some sort of quip or teasing remark, but nothing comes. Instead, he’s leveling the field when he reaches for the hem of your tank top, and you raise your arms to facilitate him.

Both shirts and your bra are abandoned on the floor of your bedroom. Joel lays you onto your bed and fucking worships your tits, tonguing one pert nipple while his hand roams and kneads the other breast. He’s gentle, maybe a little clumsy, but eager. Eager to taste you, to explore you, to map out the path of your form and learn what makes you gasp and moan.

And you do. You fucking do. You whine as your fingers take hold of the back of his head while he lingers on your breast, teeth grazing against the flesh of one before turning his attention toward the other.

“Singin’ for me already, huh?” Joel asks, voice deep. Your hands fumble with the buckle of his belt, unfastening the leather from around his hips before you unbutton his jeans. He doesn’t appear to be in any rush, though. Joel’s focus remains on your chest; his hands have a gentle hold on the side of your ribs and you arch your back as you whimper his name, furthering his access to your body.

“I need to—I need to feel you more,” you confess. “I want to—”

“So do I,” he interrupts you, as though he’s read your mind. Whatever it is you want, Joel wants it, too, even if he’s more willing to take his time, more willing to drag it out—a welcome change from the circumstances of last weekend.

His lips trail from the underside of your breast down your abdomen, lingering at the skin just above the button of your jeans. Joel’s gaze meets yours and you nod, hoping you don’t appear too desperate or frantic, though you’d be completely unsurprised if that’s how you look.

Nimble fingers unfasten the button and pull your jeans down and off your legs, the black thong you’d chosen earlier that night going with them. Joel ascends your body once more, but catches you off guard when he takes one of your pillows and slides it beneath your tailbone.

“Been thinkin’ about this all week,” he murmurs as his index and middle fingers collect the wetness at your center. The half-smirk he’d given you earlier returns and you lick your lower lip in anticipation, breath catching in the back of your throat.

“From the looks of it,” Joel adds. “So have you.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Yeah, I have.”

Your eyes roll back when Joel slides one digit inside of you to the knuckle. He curls his finger, finding the spot that’d driven you wild the last time you were together. Joel’s deep eyes are half-lidded, his expression one that exists between complete satisfaction and needing more.

Needing more of you. To feel you writhe and wriggle beneath him, to taste you, to feel the hot clench of your cunt against his own body.

He kisses your mouth while slipping in a second finger, finding a rhythm with his hands to prime you, ready you for the rest of the evening. You groan, your eyes rolling back even further than before.

“F—fuck, you feel good,” you breathe while he tongues the salt from your neck.

“You do too,” Joel hums in response. “But I wanna know how you taste.”

If Joel had been taking his time before, he wastes none of it now. He immediately seeks your clit, lips securing around it while he suckles and tastes you. He stays just like that for a while before his mouth finds the slick between your folds, and Joel pushes deeper, groaning at your flavor.

Your hands claw into the bedsheets while he feasts on you. It feels as though Joel is the only damn thing that can bring you pleasure like this. Every tremble of your body beneath his mouth, every tense of the muscle in your thighs like you mean to crush his head between them—it’s entirely too much. You inhale sharply as Joel holds your thighs in his strong hands, pushing them apart to give himself unfettered access to your body. You can’t hide from him, and what’s more, Joel doesn’t want you to. He embraces you. He drinks you down.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he mutters against your skin, pulling back for only a moment to catch his breath. “Seein’ you like this. I wanna feel you, baby. I want you to come on my tongue.”

You can’t find any words to offer him in response. You just whine, one hand gripping his messy hair while you pull him toward your core, urging him to continue, to let you finish. And you do. Joel lets you with the last several strokes of his tongue, stroking your clit while his fingers curl and pulse inside of you.

You’re a mess. You’ve soaked you both, and when Joel rises from his spot between your legs, he catches your lips against his. They’re soft, glimmering with evidence of your desire, and you you taste your own flavor sitting on his tongue.

“Shit,” you pant against his mouth. You’re still catching your breath, letting the muted colors of the room before you fall into view as you come down from your peak. Joel chuckles to himself as he kisses the edge of your jaw.

“You liked that?” He asks, and you’d think he was being a wiseass if he hadn’t sound so genuine.

“Mhm,” you hum, kissing him again.

—

It’s sudden, the way the tables have turned.

You’ve got Joel on his back now. He’d only gotten up to fetch the condom from his jeans’ pocket, but once he rejoined you in bed, you’d pushed him down, thrilling in the tiny pleasure of getting him beneath you.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he repeats, staring up at you as you straddle his hips. “Fuck, I got lucky tonight. In more ways than one.”

You swat his arm playfully, leaning forward to nibble at his earlobe while one hand seeks out his cock. You’d thought the comedown from immensely satisfying oral sex might satisfy your need for him, but you’d been so fucking wrong.

“I’m going to make you sing,” you whisper in his ear, soft and knowing. Joel groans in response while you sink onto his cock, gradually allowing yourself to fully take him inside of you.

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

“You can take it, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers pressed into your hips. “I know you can. I’ve seen you do it.”

You whine as your hips begin to rock, and Joel matches your movements. You’d demand that you’d do all the work right now but fuck, the way he hits your body just like that is not something you have the ability nor the desire to protest.

He fills you and suddenly the whole world makes sense. He fills you and you’re not sure how you managed to endure the last week without him. Every thrust of his hips, every moan that falls from his perfect lips, every squeeze of his fingertips against your body is only further cause for you to become nearly addicted to it.

He watches you as your move in time with each other, as your breasts bounce to the rhythm you’ve set for each other. He grounds his weight into one broad palm, pushing himself up so that he’s sitting upright beneath your body. He lets you continue to ride him while he fucks you underneath your form, teeth grazing against the gentle curve of your chin.

It’s sudden, the way the tables have turned. And without much warning, they promptly turn back.

“So good,” he growls. “You gonna gimme another one? I know you have it in you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you nod, a desperate little wail escaping your mouth. Joel’s chuckle quickly turns into a moan as your walls clench and flutter around the hard line of his cock. He fucks you through it anyway, maintaining the pace you’ve built together.

“Good girl,” he rumbles in praise. “That’s my good fuckin” girl.”

Joel says that, and it’s all over. Joel says that, and you tumble over the crest he’s forged for you. You come and he continues to fuck you through the aftershocks. You shatter and he kisses your temple and tells you to go a little longer and you do. You fucking do. You might follow Joel to the ends of the goddamn earth if he asked that of you.

His forehead braces against yours while he meets his own edge. Your name is a groan in the back of his throat when he comes and it just might be the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

He hisses as you slide off of him, your bodies sweaty and sticky and warm, and a part of you thinks he’s immediately going to leave. A part of you thinks he’s going to grab his clothes and his keys and tell you he’ll call you again soon and you fear he never will.

It’s a fucking shame, how quickly you pull yourself from the supposed afterglow.

Joel’s breathing is labored but he kisses you despite it, his hand coming up to run through your messy head of hair.

He holds you in your own bed. Your back is flush against his chest while he asks you questions about your life: how long have you lived in Austin? How long have you been a teacher? What’s your favorite book to teach? The softness of it causes your heart to squeeze while you share the answers with him.

You’re just about to reciprocate his questions with some of your own before a ringtone sounds, but this one doesn’t belong to your phone.

“Sorry,” Joel apologizes as he releases his hold on you, sliding out of bed. He pulls on his jeans, grabbing his phone from his back pocket before he takes the call.

You sit up, listening to one end of the conversation, and surmise it’s Joel’s daughter. His tone is gentle, reassuring, and it only furthers the pleasant ache in your chest. Until this point, you’ve only heard anecdotes of Joel’s adventures in fatherhood but never witnessed him engage in it.

He ends the call with a brief see you soon, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Was that your daughter?” You ask, sitting up.

“Yeah,” he says, swiping his shirt off your bedroom floor. “She was supposed to be stayin’ over a friend’s house, but they got in a fight and she asked me to pick her up. I don’t ask questions, I don’t have the brains to figure out…girl drama, but I gotta go.”

“Of course,” you say, and you’re not at all taken aback at his sudden leave. No, if Joel needs to get his daughter, that’s obviously paramount to pillow talk. There are no questions as he pulls on his boots and you pull your top overhead and your jeans over your legs.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes at your door. You shake your head and dismiss it immediately.

“Don’t apologize,” you assure him. “Please. Go get her.”

He kisses your cheek and gives your hand a little squeeze, and you revel in how it completely eclipses the size of your own.

“I’ll call you soon,” he tells you before he leaves.

Your apartment is quiet without him. You know you’ll replay the night in your head before you fall asleep, but before you do, you decide to prepare your apartment for a productive Saturday morning.

You prepare a pot of coffee, programming the machine to start brewing promptly at eight o’clock the next day. You toss the remaining wine from your glass and drain Joel’s beer down the sink, dumping the empty bottle into your recycling bin. You take your stack of essays from your tote, leaving them neatly on your kitchen table alongside a case full of newly-purchased gel pens. You know the version of you who wakes up tomorrow will be grateful for the care and preparation you’ve taken right now, to ready yourself for a productive morning.

The first essay in your stack belongs to Sarah Miller.

#joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction

313 notes · View notes

unhappytimeleaper · 1 year ago

Text

Hii can I request yandere Mika hcs please?

requested by anonymous

Word Count; 4,200

Okay, so requests for just general headcanons are hard for me because usually there is just so much I could go off of. I tried my best to whittle down this to where it wasn’t overwhelming but still enough to capture the main points of what I wanted. I ended up cutting out some ideas because I couldn’t keep writing; I wanted to edit and finish this. I’m sorry.

Also p.s. I’m a very small account with less than 150 followers. I only get notes occasionally, and I say this because I still regularly have minors interact, and I will instantly be able to see that and block you. I’m 100% aware the bigger accounts grow, the harder it can be for one person to check, but none of you are being sneaky, and I don’t care about likes/reblogs enough to let it slide. Go away. I don’t like you if you are actively a minor trying to save my work. If you can read all 4,000 words of this, you can read where it says don’t interact if under Seventeen. Even while getting ready to post this I had an ageless blog like my last post like no.

Kagehira Mika; Unedited. Gender Neutral Reader.

CW; this is a clusterfuck. Yandere everything. Stalking, jealousy, unsolicited photography, stealing, manipulation, violence [against Mika, not reader], isolation, potential kidnapping, power imbalances, paranoia, other characters enabling yandere’s actions, and dismissal of feelings. Some moments can be read with lewd intentions, though never explicitly stated. Seriously it just has it all.

This blog is 17+ please have your age in your bio or tagged; any ageless blog and below the age asked for will be blocked at the end of the week.

For a general setup, Mika is. Well, a contradiction in many ways. The best way to put it is just as how others describe him, cat-like. It’s never to say Mika thinks he’s above you, consistently battling himself with the idea of being human over something like a doll, but for someone so ‘below’ you metaphorically, he pulls the strings. In the case of you, his extent of creepy actions, his stalking tendencies, and overall jealousy trap you in the strings of the marionette this time. For someone so below you as he claims, why does he have the power? Why does he not listen to you if he claims you have control over him? Cat-like— pets who rely on humans to bend to their needs and take care of them but still are more of a type to “run a household” rather than wait for the owner to come to them.

A good example is, say, isolation; you explain to him keeping you alone with little interaction outside of him (and maybe minimal time with Shu or Ritsu) isn’t good; it isn’t healthy. Just a little time together in public, you don’t even need to go alone, just need to stretch and feel the bare sun on your skin even for a few moments; he loves you, right? He cares for you, so this would be better for both of you. He’s so weak-willed and eager to please you for a moment you think he’d easily comply, but it doesn’t work. It sends him more into a panicked frenzy, clinging and cuddling, making all sorts of claims that move too fast to rebuttal. It’s dizzying, and in the end, he remains the one truly in power despite his remarks about being only for your needs.

Of course, the main this is despite his contradictions in power, overall, he does genuinely often seek to please you. Make no mistake that despite being the one with the upper hand in terms of your future, you still can easily live a life of semi-normalcy if you play your cards right. And even if things get to the extreme, like fully isolated, Mika will bend fate to bring you nearly anything you would ask for. And if he can’t get it, he’ll try anything he can to make it.

Now to argue, the reasoning behind Mika’s tendencies is pretty apparent. The rooted abandonment issues are a crucial factor, it drives most of his fears and creates logic as to why he feels the need to lock onto people so intensely. He’s a rooted stalker, a mix between being extremely open with it and completely hidden, taking photos constantly without your knowledge, willing to collect all sorts of trash or items he can get his hands on, break-in, and more. There basically isn’t a stone unturned where Mika hasn’t been. Even more part of this comes in despite a fear of talking to strangers; he will threaten them for being ‘too friendly’ and say you two are together even if you aren’t, almost always driving people away from you. This can be found in Mika’s delusional nature of having conversations which he thinks are you giving advice or others telling him, much like how he fantasizes about conversations with Shu when looking for answers to projects. Some of this is attributed to Mika being well aware his emotions are almost always in control.

Regarding you and others interacting, Mika primarily runs on autopilot. He might not even recall what he says to them; it’s a mix of emotion and adrenaline running the show. The final reason for his tendencies is trying to break out of being a doll. He does have feelings, wants, and desires that he should work to fulfill rather than always being just a doll told everything. It’s a lot of weight and pressure, and one of the things that comes with that is the human desire for love. For attention and validation on a deeper scale, something that the human side eventually craves from you. No longer does he just want to be a doll that falls into the corner waiting to be molded; he knows that as a human, these are things that come with it— even if profoundly misplaced. And as away the human side doesn’t take away from his more meek, submissive attitude that came with a doll mentality, at least not entirely, but it is what makes him realize more the nature of his desires.

And as mentioned, Mika is… well, gross. Not in a literal sense, okay, maybe slightly literally in the thoughts and extreme hoarding of items he might be willing to take, but it’s more than that. Mika pushes the acceptable bounties; he has little and runs purely on emotions and whims— they control him. His actions are horrendously creepy at times, and his delusions push him to do things that just come off as disturbing. The tragic downside is ES isn’t an ordinary place with ordinary people. The majority of those around him come off more as enablers or too busy to care in the hustle of idol life. Examples being are Shu, Ritsu, and Arashi, all being helpless enablers to Mika and doing little to genuinely help you if it means Mika’s happiness. Cosmic Productions doesn’t care; as long as Valkyrie brings in revenue, then you’re just collateral damage and other companies at ES have little awareness of the reality going in the department. Not to mention I don’t think Crazy:B or Eden has the best members to speak on the subject, with 2wink being the most reasonable you could go to, but often they have enough going on it’s hard to seek solace in them.

And the last main general note is that while things would never be easy and life would always have some level of undertones of there being something wrong seeping from under the surface, Mika is one where you could get away with not being kidnapped and isolated. This doesn’t remove any general problems or underlying creepiness, it might even make it worse, but the idea of available yet moderated freedom might be better than nothing. Nearly all of your attention still needs to go to Mika, and if you would be to play the role of a partner to him, having the chance to still semi-function outside of being locked in some rooms might be a better alternative. This does stems from the fact Mika is willing to bend for you, as long as you comply with parts of his affection even for show. It also doesn’t dilute any aspects like stalking or stealing. But unless there is only full-out rejection of everything, would Mika likely turn to Shu or Ritsu for advice which would supply kidnapping as an alternative route (those little shits). It’s not easy for Mika to transport you to the dorm or Shu’s apartment to keep you locked up, and as mentioned, once isolated, getting Mika to let up and let you leave is nearly nonexistent even if you begin to return his advances (both for show or genuine). Overall, this is to say kidnapping is never a guaranteed ending with Mika, unlike with many others but not ever out of the question either. It can come very suddenly and always a looming presence if you aren’t willing to give into Mika’s fantasies.

Okay, so that is the central portion. Now some more miscellaneous items.

For one, Mika genuinely doesn’t mind if you use violence against him. Not saying he wants it necessarily; it’s not some masochistic desire to be hit, kicked, and generally beaten by you. But it doesn’t serve as a functional way to get him to stop or go away. He is essentially any attention is still attention. You’re mistaken if you think that while he is crying, clawing at your legs and hips for attention, a quick slap or kick to get him to let go will work. It might somehow many him latch on harder, claiming that it’s okay, you can do it again, it helps you calm down, just let him stay. Keep giving him the attention, the validation. And even worse this behavior is something Mika is willing to do in public if pushed or called out enough. Any terms of thinking you’re abandoning or leaving him creates an overdrive in him, quickly transforming into someone willing to beg to keep you around. In public, it’s made worse because not only does he look like the one being hurt by you— he’s an idol. Well-known one too, and if something terrible happens to him, it will only come back and hurt you. Either through die-hard fans or the company scolding you. Violence not only spurs Mika more but damages your livelihood in the bigger picture, making it null any tactic to help with the burden of Mika’s tendencies.

However, this extends to one important thing. Your actions don’t really hurt Mika? Even on a physical level. It’s well noted Mika has an extremely high pain tolerance and that it would take a lot for him to acknowledge something hurting him in a way that would temporarily take him out. He doesn’t mind being physically hurt not only because it has some power dynamics and he’s doing anything to please you, but even in the case there is that contraction of him still having the upper hand. He gives you the permission to hit or kick him, likely because he has an awareness of being able to take it without it limiting his hold on you and still giving that outlet to you. Even if these are subconscious choices, it’s unsettling how much control he still has between his physicality benefits, idol career, and connections. Mika truly is a powerhouse in this way, and violence to him practically cannot solve anything as a means of escape, even if he offers it as stress relief or punishment to himself.

Another big thing for Mika is forgetting the past and focusing on the future. There was before you, and then there is now. Anything before does not matter, and in a sense, he sort of expects this from you as well. Ex-partners, ex-crushes, ex-situation-ships; none of those matter now that he is here, and you better feel the same of these things being ‘dead.’ Photos or any other sentimental item need to be wiped away, and your mind shouldn’t need to wander back to them because you have something more now and forever. This idea of focusing on the future/now also relates to how many delusions and ideas for how things will work out between you in the long term. Marriage, starting a family, domestic life as a whole— Mika spends much of his time picturing and creating pieces that inspire him of this future as well as daydreaming of what life could become no longer attached to his past.

Some more quick round-head canons; Mika will fill up notebooks and writing your name and his name. Pretty much any cross-over you can think of. Just your name with hearts, your name and his name with hearts, your first name and his last name, his first name and your last name, a teased ship name given from Arashi— the list can go on. It’s scribbled messily, and other times written with such extreme care. It’s only loose papers and trash, on his sketch designs and doodled with his finger on tables. Not only does he do it as a practice of his handwriting and the love of seeing your name written with that, but the combinations he can make feel like a validation of the closeness he has. Much like any early crush, it’s some comfort level of daydreaming— regardless of the actual proximity you have with one another. Also yes, he will lose loose pages and if you don’t know what he’s doing it’s very creepy the first few times. Or hundred. The amount of times he writes your names together is beyond comfort; very heavily boarding on obsessive.

Mika is also not great at conversations, with mostly everyone but the awkwardness is pushed even more with you. There is too much pressure, and his feelings run in such high control that it often comes out as a mix of self-deprecating, worshipping you, and trying to act like a normal mess. It’s almost always awkward even if you try to ease him and are kind, and it does kinda become worse the longer it goes on because this is when his stalking, photography, and niche personal things become apparent in conversations. If you didn’t think he was stalking you beforehand or at least didn’t catch him, you’d be given many hints the more he talks to you. This extends from the fact he does everything possible to get materials and content he knows interests you. Even if you think it’s something knows one would know you like, Mika does somehow and will in passing bring it up in the weirdest form of trying to have a casual conversation. Books, CDs, and TV shows and stuff are all a part of his hoarding connection about you simply because you like it. Even if it never would be something he’d look up on his own, he’d do anything to connect and relate even more to you. There never is any proof you can’t call him out other than having suspicions which, once again, little to anyone would take seriously, but you can’t help but feel Mika knows more than he is truly letting on.

Will do any and everything for you if he can; carrying items, buying you things, cleaning stuff— of course, be careful asking him for this because he might take advantage of you letting him get this close to such personal tasks— but there never is anything he doesn’t offer to do. Idol work might get in the way, though, he can’t neglect his job, but any other time he is on your heels, waiting to do anything he can for you. And sure, at first, it’s nice. It lifts some burdens or comes off as Mika being Mika offering to give more than needed to anyone. But buying you things often comes off with a strange energy radiating off of them, even if there is seemingly nothing wrong. Him cleaning or doing simple domestic tasks, such as laundry, ends up with some things being missing or damaged. You notice so many other weird things in your apartment if he offers to clean. And carrying items, while seemly harmless, still just makes your stomach churn. He fully just shows up out of nowhere on the most random shopping tasks offering his help and pushing closer and closer to you. What once was Mika feeling like his strange but overall kind, sweet nature stepping up to help an overworked staff member turns exhausting, skin-crawling offer. Even if he usually looks all sweet and innocent offering. Damn, the fact he does have some cuteness charm regardless of his actions.

Arashi coming in clutch again being an enabler to Mika!! Upon teaching Mika about selfies and the momentum of photos… Mika gets a little too on board with this. He takes photos whenever he can, both blurry and crisp, highly focused or landscape of you, anywhere and everywhere. There are so many pictures he has and collects, often finding it hard to delete any one of them because there is something special attached to each one. Selfies and other photos he can get with you, either to your knowledge or without it are probably the most important to his collections. The second ones are those that either are from dates or situations that Mika dates. He is willing to print them off and keep them all over, even having dedicated spaces and boxes of printed photos or simply made posters. There would probably be some specific photo he becomes horrendously attached to as well, much like having one of Shu he constantly uses to talk to or seek advice from.

The reason to account for the photos is because, as I’ve touched on, Mika is a filthy hoarder. He will legitimately take whatever he can get his hands on if he thinks it has some value to you. While I think depending on the item, particular trash isn’t seen as valuable or limited value others have much more. For example, plastic utensils aren’t valued at much; you used it once and then got rid of them, which has very little value to you. But say a silverware from your kitchen, chopsticks/spoon/whatever you use daily, has that value level and is worth wanting to keep for his own use. If you wear makeup, an empty lipstick/chapstick tube will be more sentimental or valued than a used tissue. This can also be found in the fact he’s mainly sharing spaces. While he still is a hoarder and does his best to keep his collection out of the main sight or in a place that isn’t easily accessed, there is always a chance someone could come to clean out those spaces. Something like a tissue is more likely to get loaded and thrown away, while Mika could better justify a chapstick holder as being able to be kept. This doesn’t change the fact that he is able and willing to collect a lot of gross things, such as well willing to have a container of bath water of yours if he could easily get it or an old notebook you might forget about. Even if it’s just work notes, he’d take it. And Mika might sometimes try to get rid of parts of his collection until he can secure a long-term and connected relationship with you, such as living together; it’s hard for him to part with anything of yours. These items are fucking everywhere too. His dorm, Shu’s apartment, the sewing station, and his area at CosPro. You might even see things you thought you lost just lying around and be able to “steal” them back with how prolific his hoarding is scattered.

Clothing is the one thing; sadly, you will probably never get back, or at least if you could not in its original form. Mika loves, even obsessively, uses scraps and parts of your clothing in his. Even in the costumes for Valkyrie if he can, so there is a piece of you on stage with him. His use for upcycling extends back to his past, needing to take clothes and items from the trash to even have things of his own to wear, but now it feels much more special. This is rewriting all of the stigma and pain he carried of having nothing more than trash clothes— discarded by people just as he was. Sure, this clothes was stolen and didn’t have your permission to use, but it has the comfort woven into its threads. It smells like you and has the texture from how you cared for it when you washed it. It has the stains and memories of you, the feeling of someone being so loved by you it’s clearly ready to be thrown out finally, so it’s perfect if he repurposes it. He never takes too much, and if you have a clear favorite item Mika knows not to take it; maybe steal it from the wash pile and use it as a pillow cover for a bit, but always have it returned as well. At that time he’d fantasy the domestic life of being together, where he could openly wear his upcycled material of your clothes patched together [and you can wear them too!]. Or where he can take your clothes and wear them without shame or worry of getting them back on time, and the comments you’d make seeing him in your stuff. All of the fantasies turn him bright red, and even the next day, when you greet him, he looks a little more flushed than usual around you.

However yes, many things go missing, but they are often just as much replaced. Simple things are replaced with Mika spending his own money and then finding ways to either customize or make it so the item is uniquely tied to the two of you. Certain things also have trackers in them, but most are just decorative in some way. You remember how you lost your favorite pair of chopsticks when you brought your own lunch that one day. Weirdly enough the next day a new pair ended up in your bag but one bejeweled on the handle to match a particular sewer’s aesthetic while the other matched yours. Or hair clips that you once got as decorative jokes for a photo you and your friends had been planning; you figured you just misplaced them but these new ones you found are nothing like the previous ones aesthetic… If you look too long in a shop at clothing or accessories Mika might not always be able to buy them due to expenses buts he’s well quick to make them, even with the added benefit of it being tailored now specifically to how you prefer. They always end up at your desk so neatly packaged, many coworkers assume it’s perhaps brands trying to get cozy with you for future deals with idol groups but these aren’t the same as what you saw in the window. No, these are too perfect for you to be just any run-of-the-mill store item. The even more unsettling part is how this person managed to get your measurements so spot on if not for measuring you in your sleep.

There is also one specific way Mika would get caught for the more,, creepy actions. You’d know he could be a bit of a stalker. He has his moments where it’s oblivious he’s following you or others but those always come off more like a kicked puppy trying to follow someone home rather than malicious. Like he wants to interact, but internal conflict holds him back so much he forgets where he is until he is slightly too far behind and stumbles to keep up. If he really wants to stalk, Mika can keep himself hidden. There are other times all his other more ‘bizarre’ actions are qualified as Mika being Mika, like being fatigued after bouts of practice and finding his way to your desk out of habit in hopes to see you rather than going and getting medical attention/rest, or coming to hover around your desk for inspiration like a cat. If you aren’t there, usually you see cheap candies on your desk as a reminder he was there and is probably off looking for you or went back to the workstation much more disappointed than before. For the most part conversation with Mika, you might not lead to believe anything is deeply wrong with his infatuation levels. He’s always spoken weirdly with his doll-like commentary and the idea of letting others “control” him such as Shu and you. Or that his comments tend to come from a lack of understanding rather than outright trying to harm, so you do your best to guide him in topics. You’ve always known his emotional state can be complex, and his childhood likely made it hard to process feelings, resulting him them dominating his sense of self and backfiring into making them more unsettling than maybe he intended [of course while Mika’s perception of the events being vastly different]. All of these would change when you awake in the middle of the night hearing stumbling in your apartment. The first few times you hear a thump or grunt, you believe it’s just your sleepy brain making up stuff. It’s unsettling, and you always can feel your heart rate spike, but you don’t have anything to assume there is something wrong. But it often continues and you’re getting worried. Everything comes rushing into a close of an era when you manage to shake yourself awake one night, hearing a whine from the floor by your bed only to see a mass of dark hair and clothes. None other than Mika, watching you in your sleep— or well trying.

See while Mika would love to use the nighttime to stalk around your apartment and get things done… his case of night blindness makes it much harder. Walking into walls or furniture, tripping over a bag that wasn’t always there, or simply leaning in too close that he bonked his head into your trying to look at your face before diving under your bed as to tousle around. It never really hurts, but he does let out a startled noise, or the falling is enough to cause a loud sound. But now, you’ve caught him in the act. And many questions are bound to follow in the morning, ones neither of you can escape from. Finding out Mika’s habits won’t change the outcome for him too much; what will is how you choose to follow but it doesn’t matter. He’ll find a way to be around in your life more no matter how you respond.

#enstars.leaps #yandere #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere ensemble stars #yandere enstars #Yandere mika #Yandere Mika Kagehira #mika kagehira #Yandere Valkyrie #tw: yandere #tw: stalking #tw: isolation #cw: violence #tw: manipulation #tw: paranoia

104 notes · View notes