#you have to be vulnerable even if you are awkward about it because vulnerability and awkwardness are two sides of the same coin

[meadowfics]

the boy

father!namgyu x f!reader

synopsis: namgyu being a boy dad <3

warnings: a few details are ooc for namgyu.

when you first told namgyu about your pregnancy, his reaction was no reaction.

all you got was silence.

gyu's usual 'confidence' (his fake confidence) faltered, replaced by a furrowed brow and a rare moment of vulnerability.

he didn’t speak for a full minute, just stared at the floor, hands stuffed and twitching in his pockets.

you could practically hear the gears grinding in his head, calculating what this meant for his life.

for months, namgyu struggled.

he’d mutter about how he wasn’t cut out for this, how a kid and how a son would tie him down.

he’d joke, half-seriously, about being a “cool uncle” for someone like thanos or gyeong-su instead, but you saw the fear in his eyes.

fatherhood felt like a cage to someone who thrived on the chaos of club life and drugs.

when jae was born, namgyu didn’t hold him right away.

he stood in the hospital room, arms crossed, watching you cradle the tiny bundle.

namgyu's expression was unreadable, but you caught the way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t trust himself to.

it took a week before he finally picked jae up, and even then, it was with a hesitant, almost comical awkwardness.

he acted like he was handling a vip guest list he didn’t know how to manage.

the shift started small.

one night, when jae wouldn’t stop crying and you were exhausted, namgyu took over.

he didn’t say much, just paced the living room with jae against his shoulder, humming a beat from a club track that had been stuck in his head all week.

jae quieted, and namgyu’s smirk held a hint of pride.

that was the first time you saw him soften, the first time he realized he could be a father in some way.

namgyu’s love for jae isn’t traditional.

he’s not the dad who’s gushing over every milestone or snapping a million photos (though he does sneak a few candid shots on his phone, which he’ll never admit to).

gyu's affection comes in quiet, practical ways, wrapped in his signature mix of sarcasm and sincerity.

he calls jae “little man” or “mini menace” instead of cutesy nicknames.

when jae babbles incoherently, namgyu responds like they’re having a serious conversation.

“oh, yeah? tell me more about your grand plans to drool on all of my expensive clothes.”

you catch him grinning when jae giggles back, clearly thrilled by the interaction.

namgyu’s hands, usually flipping through texts on his phone or twitching amongst themselves, have learned to be gentle with jae.

he’s meticulous about changing diapers...not because he loves it, but because he’s determined to be competent.

“i’ve handled drunk idiots, a dirty diaper from my own son isn't crazy,” he’ll mutter, even as he fumbles with the tabs.

you tease him, and he shoots back,

“you’re lucky i’m even doing this, y/n.”

he’s surprisingly good at soothing jae during meltdowns.

namgyu's voice, low and smoothing, becomes jae’s favorite to listen to.

he’ll sit cross-legged on the floor, jae in his lap, and murmur stories about anything stupid until jae’s sobs turn to hiccups.

you’ve walked in on these moments and felt your heart swell.

namgyu doesn’t notice you watching, too focused on his son.

physical affection isn’t his default, but with jae, he’s learning.

he’ll ruffle jae’s tiny tuft of hair or let jae cling to his finger during naps.

once, when he thought you weren’t looking, he pressed a quick kiss to jae’s forehead, then immediately glanced around like he’d been caught doing something illegal.

namgyu’s not big on baby talk.

he speaks to jae like an equal, which is both hilarious and endearing.

when jae babbles, namgyu nods seriously.

“solid argument, crazy head, but i’m still not letting you chew on my airpods.”

namgyu’s love for you, as the mother of his child, is less overt but just as deep.

he’s not the type to shower you with flowery words, but his actions speak volumes.

when you’re exhausted, he’ll wordlessly take jae for the night, telling you to “go sleep, vip, I'll handle it.”

you wake up to find him passed out on the couch with jae sprawled on his chest, both snoring softly.

gyu teases you relentlessly about your parenting skills, but it’s his way of showing affection.

“y/n, you’re gonna turn jae into a wimp with all those cuddles,” he’ll say, but then he’s right there beside you, sneaking an arm around your waist while you both watch jae sleep.

namgyu’s protective streak has grown since jae’s birth.

he’s always been a bit of a lone wolf, but now he’s hyper-aware of keeping you and jae safe.

he’ll check the locks twice before bed or hover a little closer when you’re out with jae, his usual laid-back vibe replaced with a quiet intensity.

late at night, when jae’s finally asleep, namgyu will pull you close, resting his chin on your head.

“we’re doing alright, yeah?” he’ll ask, voice soft.

it’s his way of checking in, of saying he loves you without saying it outright.

you nod, and he’ll kiss your temple, quick and subtle, before changing the subject to something mundane like what to eat for breakfast.

he’s learning to balance his career with fatherhood, which isn’t easy for someone who lives for late-night club promotions and last-minute bookings for people like thanos.

luckily, namgyu's sleep schedule makes it easy for him to stay up with the baby at night while you get to sleep.

namgyu, shockingly, has turned down a few gigs to stay home with you and jae.

though he grumbles and bitches about it, you can tell he doesn’t regret it.

namgyu’s patience is still a work in progress.

when jae throws food or cries for no reason, you see his jaw clench, but he’s gotten better at taking a deep breath and trying again.

“you’re testing me, jae,”

he’ll say, but there’s no real heat in it.

he’s fiercely protective of his time with jae.

if some club staff tease him about being “domesticated,” he’ll cuss them out.

overall, namgyu had to grow with his son in a way.

he loves you, and he loves jae just as much <3

masterlist

[corviiids]

Within the main Phantom Thieves in persona 5, what would be the single worst pairing to get into a romantic relationship. It has to be awful and also compelling (I call Futaba x Ren a copout since that's immediately where my mind went and I want a more interesting answer).

this is a great question. i generally think most combinations of the thieves would be fine. ren in particular i think works fine with almost (almost) anyone. also i am not sure what you mean by "main" phantom thieves so for clarity i will include both sumi and akechi even though they don't REALLY count in the strictest terms because i want them there

ai wanna say all my answers below aren't like... criticisms so don't be upset if you like them... im not saying they're bad ships... i like any ship that's compelling even if the compelling bit is that i think they'd suck as a couple. these are the ships i simply think would be dysfunctional in some way and wouldn't work out in the long term and would crash out in a way that's mostly funny. most of the ships im about to name are actually quite popular and i don't dislike any of them!

5. ren/makoto

ok listen. this is only because to me makoto is a lesbian and hasn't worked it out yet. my personal projection of shumako is that they date for one (1) comphet week before she figures her shit out and dumps him. this can happen in the canon timeline. she can be his first ever girlfriend. it makes everything mildly awkward in the thieves for a minute and then becomes a story they laugh about forever. he insists she's his greatest heartbreak and she valiantly pretends it never happened

4. ren/sumi

just knocking out the only two ren ships i don't think would work. i actually DO like this ship i just don't ship it as an actual relationship. i ship it as sumi having a huge big obvious puppy crush on ren and ren gently warding her off for months because she's very obviously leaning on him in a vulnerable time and being with him at this point in their lives, i think, wouldn't really be good for her because her feelings for him are based in infatuation. i already think in canon we should have had another scene when sumi has her second awakening that she should have gotten a new un-jokered outfit because her arc is very much about coming into her own as an individual. i actually think years later when they're much older and she's more stable in her personal identity he could be interested in her but she's like sorry im over you now!!!

3. ryuji/ann

ok i don't deny they would be incredibly funny because they're constantly bickering and i actually do think in some universe they COULd work?? but i sincerely think they'd try to date in college because of how well they get along and they're maybe living together anyway but every time they try to kiss neither of them can take it seriously. finally ann is like alright bro let's give this one up okay and they go get bbq

2. akechi/ryuji

i actually change my mind there are no problems with this

1. akechi/yusuke

SORRY HAHAH I KNOW A LOT OF PEOPLE LIKE THESE TWO and they ARE entertaining and quite cute but to me personally i just can't see this EVER working out long term. yusuke's too blunt and his approach to his traumatic past and shitty father figure are completely diametrically opposed to akechi's. ive made posts abt this before and possibly talked about it in fic? yusuke's too authentic and sincere and non-bitter a person for this to work without prickling akechi constantly. i genuinely just think, like, they'd start dating because yusuke's like akechi you are fairly good looking would you consider modelling for me and akechi's like hair flip Of course I--what do you mean "fairly"

and then for their whole relationship yusuke's just peacefully and mostly accidentally insulting everything about akechi's entire being until akechi is paranoid to the point of hysteria. yusuke cannot stand how much akechi lies or how selfish he is. they fight every day. i know a lot of folks love this ship i am so sorry there is a lot to enjoy about it and they obviously have a lot in common and their interactions are excellent, but every time i think about them trying to date i can't not find it funny because i just think the inevitable crashout would be SO dramatic

[lostlighter375]

Various Soundwave x Reader Smut Headcanons

Characters: G1 Soundwave, Shattered Glass Soundwave, Prime Soundwave, Earthspark Soundwave.

Authors Note: Just straight up gooner materiel. In some the reader can be either viewed as human or Cybertronian, I wasn’t really thinking of that as I was writing these lmao.

🔥🌶️SPICY CONTENT AHEAD. MINORS DNI🌶️🔥

——————————————————————————————————————————————

G1 Soundwave

He’s sweet and gentle during sex.

Not particularly kinky.

Prefers slow and long sessions over quickies.

Not that the idea of fucking you over his control panel isn’t appealing to him.

It’s just that his position rarely allows him the time for quick bouts of passion like that.

If he’d try, then he’d most likely get caught and that would mean a very awkward conversation with Lord Megatron. He’d rather not have to deal with that.

After a long, tiresome day, all he wants to do is just rest and cuddle with his partner.

And when it comes to sex, he doesn’t want to rush things. He will inevitably have to go back to his post, so he wants to enjoy this time with you to the fullest.

But when he is with you, inside you, all his burdens no longer exist.

There is no war, he isn’t the hardworking communications officer of the Decepticons, and there is no Starscream trying to make his job difficult.

He is just yours, one with you as he slowly rocks himself against you, like how the waves caress the sandy shores.

He also loves to eat you out. You are his favourite meal.

If he only had you and a cube of Energon to sustain him. Then he’s giving you that cube of Energon (unless his partner is a human, then it’s just getting tossed aside) and his glossa is delving straight to your valve/cunt until he offlines.

Shattered Glass Soundwave

Unlike G1, he is more open to trying out new things.

Generally very chill in regards to sexuality.

Though he refuses to do anything that may cause you harm. The idea of hurting you during your most intimate and vulnerable moments just does not bode well with him.

Loves to talk during sex.

He will casually chat with you while his rocking against you at an even pace. And he’ll maintain conversation even when he shifts positions.

Once he sees you coming undone, he’ll put a pause in the conversation just to focus on getting you over the edge and then himself.

Ask him to use his bandana as a blindfold. Whether it’s on himself or you. He’ll love it.

He goes feral for cockwarming, especially if his partner is a human.

He will be mass displaced of course. And he will have you on his lap, spike pushed inside you as deep as he can go. And he won’t move, and he’ll hold your hips to prevent you from moving as well.

He loves cockwarming because he likes to challenge himself. How long will it take for his resolve to break before he just starts pounding into you?

The longest he has gone was 10 minutes. He couldn’t take it anymore, not when you were begging him so sweetly and your fleshy walls were clamping down on him.

Prime Soundwave

Freak alert!

I mean it, if you think this mech isn’t into something, think again. He basically has unlimited internet access and he has seen some shit.

Literally anything is on the table.

Any sexual relationship with him will be a little awkward at the start. Given the fact that he’s not exactly the talkative type and has been out of the game for some time.

But he is the furthest thing from incompetent, and he’s a fast learner too.

Not only the silent mech a fantastic communicator, but he is also very skilled in the berth.

Loves bondage. Loves to see you struggle and writhe under restrains.

He especially loves shibari, loves taking the time to tie you up in intricate artistic patterns.

And once he’s done and you are securely bound, he’ll shove a vibrator into your cunt and leave you there while he works at his terminal.

Oh yeah, he loves edging you too. Denying you release just as you’re about to be sent over the edge.

And don’t think he’ll go easy on you. This mech was a gladiator once, and he sure has the resolve of one. If you think he’ll crack if you beg him enough, think again.

When he is ramming himself into you, he’s recording every bit of it.

He’s always recording you, at every angle, capturing every expression and sound you make. Filing them away to his own personal data base for personal use later on.

If he is to ever offline, then he will have a plethora of videos in 4K to choose from as the last thing he would ever want to see.

Earthspark Soundwave

Good luck soldier, you’re in for it.

If hate sex isn’t your thing, then maybe give this guy a pass.

He’s still not over the fact that Megatron abandoned the Decepticons for the Autobot leader and his little human friend.

His anger manifests in many ways. And that unfortunately meant him lashing out at his cassettes.

He has never physically harmed them. But he does scare them when he gets angry, and nothing pains him more than to see the look of fear and concern in their optics when they look at him.

He wants to do better for them, it is him that should be worried for their well being, not the other way around.

That is when you come in.

He is not sure if he ever really hated you or not. You annoyed him once while he was working, and since then he tends to be short tempered with you.

You’re aware that he has never been the same since Megatron’s betrayal, that he’s not the same level headed mech he used to be.

And because you have come to care for his cassettes and simply don’t want him to lose his god damn mind, you do the next best thing to help him.

Become his personal cum bucket.

Ok, the exact details of how you got yourself into the weird hate-fueled situationship are lost on you.

But at some point you thought this might be a better outlet for him rather than yelling and throwing objects.

And he seemed to be open to the idea, given how fast he agreed. Only under the condition that no one is to find out about this arrangement.

Spoiler alert: Everyone finds out.

These rough fuck sessions almost always happen after some kind of argument between you two had transpired.

And if the circumstances are just right, you are both alone, have some time to spend, and the right mix of hateful and horny.

Then you’ll find yourself bend over the nearest surface or pushed against the wall. Soundwave already shoving his spike past your slick folds.

He’ll tell you he hates you, that you’re nothing to him.

You remind him that this may have been your idea, but he was under no obligation to accept it if he did want to.

And you call him desperate and pathetic that he always comes back for more.

He shuts you up by fucking you harder, because he knows you’re right but he isn’t ready to accept it yet.

Your sessions are usually fast, finished in a manner of minutes.

Sometimes, if he’s feeling forgiving, he’ll pressing a finger to your anterior node and rub at it until you come undone on his spike.

Maybe someday he’ll come to appreciate for the help you give him. And thank you in a way thats healthy.

But for now, this will have to do.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Authors Note: Can you tell I love Soundwave? Anyways please accept this really lazily written smut I wrote in about a day. I might do more later. I’m also thinking of making a headcanon list for Shockwave as well.

[hedwigoprah]

I'm sweating. Let's try this on for size.

Heads I win Tails you lose

Veryl didn't bother trying to stifle the noise she made as she left the flat. In fact she may have subconsciously closed the door a little harder so they would know she was gone. They could get up and move freely in their own home, no need to make things awkward in the stark light of day. It was one less evening she had to worry about where to go when the Tavern closed up. The girl had been nice enough, if a little talkative. A new face at the bar. Veryl had done more than enough to distract her and still ended up feigning sleep to avoid pillow talk. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't wandering the street until sunup or sleeping in the backroom of the bar when Bax was feeling nice. He wouldn't be happy to see her. Her tab was still open and he refused to let her get anything else until she paid it off. Work was just slow. Her skills in spirit negotiation didn't hold much weight outside of Nevarra. When she'd arrived in Minrathous, she was quick to find out that without the accreditation of magic or the Mortalitasi, people often wrote her off as grifter and kook. She resorted to beating people at chess in various bars in and kept her other, more indiscriminate skills to herself. The last thing she needed was being pegged for murder because someone refused to pay.

Yesterday's batch hadn't been lucrative, payday wasn't for a few more days and not many people were keen to lose what little they had trying to prove they were better than her to their buddies. She was only able to get in a few games, but not enough to foot the bill. It had been easy enough to convince a few unfamiliar faces to buy her a drink and some food when the hour got late. Plenty of people were eager to part with their money when a couple girls locked lips, and her bedfellow had been game. Thus, the night had been settled. It was really annoying to know that Detre would have approved of her resourcefulness, as though the asshat hadn't put her in this situation in the first place.

Heads I win Tails you lose

Speaking of asshat. Those stupid words, cleverly laced with speed and spoken low from a tricksters tongue, still did flips in her brain. It irritated and grated on her nerves the way he had raised a single dark eyebrow, just begging her to resist the bait. He'd sat down at the table as she was resetting. Confidence emanated out like an announcement of his existence. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her heart hollow out.

"Black or white?" She had folded her arms on her side of the table, casual, purposeful. "Perhaps, something a little more gray?" He responded. He didn't lay back in the chair the way the more cocky contenders did. Didn't throw his legs open as a display of supposed virility. He just sat, back straight, arms on their rests, and a stupid slow smile. Veryl gave a small smirk and gestured to the board, "If you don't mind, I prefer black." She spun the board on the table and made her move before the pieces settled. It was almost cute, the way he tried to unnerve her. He would take his time some making his move in some turns, almost always taking her by surprise. He didn't try to distract her with conversation or even a poorly constructed compliment. It did start to mildly irritate when he started talking to other patrons who passed by, or stopped to talk to him. Obviously, he was a known entity. That didn't bode well. The less people knew of her existence, the better. She didn't need the attention of a popular figure bringing light to the dark corner she'd made for herself. When she moved into the end game, he caught her dead to rights with only a few moves left. Almost a formality. Her queen was vulnerable because of some distraction with his rook. "You're very hard to read, you know?" Was the single sentence he'd given to her. She felt the venom in her blood but held her strike. "Am I?" Coy and sweet. "You seem bored." An observation. "I am bored." She verified. A breathy laugh, a clicking with his tongue, "No, to the untrained eye, you could be."

"And I suppose you posses, what? A trained eye?" "I've seen a thing or two." "Oh, do enlighten."

"Why would I? You're more than aware of your own control." That had her flicking her eyes from the board where she was responding to his trouncing, to the dark depths of eyes that, indeed, saw too well. She knew there would be no surprise on her face, relaxed as it was, but it didn't matter. She hadn't made eye contact with him thus far, and he knew he had her interest now. Of course he didn't hold it over her, instead choosing to look at the board rather than hold her gaze. "Seems you've won this round." He declared, tipping his queen to the side with a single finger. That rang hollow when Veryl knew there were several moves he could have made to regain the upper hand. He also seemed to have gained exactly what he wanted from this interaction, if the arrogant tapping of his king piece was anything to go by. He fiddled it while he considered her in silence. She folded her fingers together. Leaning herself onto the table, she gave him the attention he so desperately sought, "What do you want?" Another breathy laugh and a wide grin as the manipulator caught the agitator. He shifted, digging his hand into his pocket and coming away with a gold coin that he spun on the chessboard between them. "How about another game?" He offered, the sound of the spinning piece deafening even in the rumble of the tavern. Veryl considered him, his distinct features, careful grooming, particular fashion. A part of her, a small inkling, begged for something of interest. A bigger, more even-keeled part, told her to keep her head down and her inclinations under wraps. "How about, heads I win and tails you lose?" It was lame and he knew it. They both knew it. Disappointment flooded Veryl, sending her back into her chair and crossing her arms. She frowned, deeply, at him. Still, he had the confidence to laugh. It wasn't boisterous, or loud enough to call attention to their stand-off. Just enough for him to communicate that he knew he would need to come at this from a different angle, but that she was, indeed, interested. "Fair enough." He tucked the coin back into his pocket, and rose. Before leaving the table, he righted his queen, and leaned forward just enough for her to hear him whisper, "I know when I'm beaten." Those words had stuck. The smile had stuck. The stupid arrogant aura had stuck. And Veryl was stuck trying to find a way to smother the interest he'd left her with.

There's a lot more I could write, but hoooooo boy.

@officialnostradamus, @soeasilyswayed, @notyourmamasdeerbat, @trashwithvariety, @aldisobey (this is apparently what I have going on, which wasn't a plan, it just, is?)

I suddenly have a burning desire to put Veryl in a pre-veilguard situationship with this man based on this screenshot alone.

[deadpoetsandlivinglegends]

Peter Weir: ok this is the big finale and probably the most important moment in Todd’s whole story, showing the audience his growth from the shy awkward kid who couldn’t speak in class or participate in anything into this changed person

Ethan Hawke: don’t worry, I got this

Ethan Hawke: 🧍

[yarrowleef-babbles]

been hearing rumors that the "i'm always straight" lines may have been cut from the GN and IF that is true, I expect everyone will be super mad about that--and ngl i'd mourn the loss of it too because it has become iconic to me

But. i can't believe i'm playing devils advocate for this, BUT it is not entirely unreasonable for an adaptation of this work to decide it does not want to reference Ronan's sexuality yet......coming to terms with his sexuality is (one) part of his arc in the 2nd book. Adam Parrish being ~the 2nd secret he doesn't want to admit to himself~ , Ronan's catholic guilt homoerotic nightmares and the like, all characterize his sexuality as something he might vaguely be aware of but seriously struggles to openly admit. I don't think he even uses the word gay or any other word to describe himself in the whole series? (unless I'm forgetting something?)

So, idk, it's not unreasonable to want the (hypothetical) audience to also not be aware of it until Ronan is forced to directly grapple with his identity next book.

i think this is one of those things that has become very dear to the fandom over time, but if i look at it objectively without my feelings, i just.....i do understand why someone could conceivably decide that this off-handed bitchy "he's gay btw" joke is not of dire importance for the sanctity of the story 😭 in the 'pros don't outweigh the cons' sort of way....

[zevranunderstander]

im all in the "sex scenes can further the plot in really interesting ways" crowd, and i think one thing sex scenes are amazing for is exploring how a specific character handles intimacy and vulnerability and stuff, but so often in video games they just suck so bad and not just for the reason that its awkward to watch 2 animated meshes have clunkily animated sex, but also because they do actually really do nothing for the story because they are usually either just one set of animations that is interchangeably used no matter what character you are romancing or the character you are romancing acts completely different than they usually do, as not to turn off players who are romancing a character for a spicy sex scene

[thelawfulchaotic]

When I am appointed to represent a child, my first action is to separate them from their parents and tell them the following things:

1. I am their attorney. I do not work for their parent or the judge or the cops. I don’t care what any of those people want.

2. My job is to listen to them and try and make what they want happen in court. (At this point I make a joke about how most people want me to get them out of trouble but if someone wanted to be in trouble I would do my best.)

3. What they tell me is confidential. It goes nowhere unless they agree to it. (If old enough, I talk to them about mandatory reporters, and how I’m a mandatory non reporter.)

4. I will give them lots of advice because I’ve been doing court for a while and I know a lot about it, and they don’t. It’s all really complicated, and if they don’t understand what’s happening it’s my job to help them figure it out.

5. They will make the decisions. (At this point I usually have to reassure them that I’ll help, I’ll speak for them in front of the judge, and I’ve got their back. It’s scary to have an adult say you’re in charge, most of the time.)

6. I tell them I know it’s absolutely wild to have some stranger come in here and say “hey, you can trust me!” and that I get if they don’t believe everything right away, because I plan to show them through my actions and my words that I’ll fight for them.

7. But nonetheless, I will treat them like a person who can make decisions, because they are living their life and I am not.

I do not:

Pretend to be cool.

Try to be their BFF.

Overwhelm them with detail.

Let their parents in the room until the kid asks for them. (I provide openings for this, and ask if the kid wants their parent to help them remember and understand.)

I want to emphasize I went into this job knowing nothing about how to interact with vulnerable populations, especially children. The training was minimal, and my role means that I can literally walk into a facility and get an unmonitored visit with a minor client one on one.

In my years of practice I have never felt threatened by a child, even one that was “violent” and “unstable.” It turns out just saying “hi, I think you’re a person with thoughts” is wildly successful? Now people treat me like I have special Child Whisperer powers. My powers are that I ask the child what’s up and I’m not scared to say things that are objectively awkward. I know nothing about anything.

[too-much-boobus]

ou... how do i make friends with peple ....

globs ☆

[luna-azzurra]

Body Language Cheat Sheet For Writers 

╰ Facial expressions

These are your micro-signals, like the blinking neon signs of the soul. But they’re small, quick, and often lie harder than words.

Raised eyebrows — This can mean surprise or disbelief, sure. But it can also be a full-on, silent “Are you serious right now?” when someone’s being ridiculous. Or even curiosity when someone’s too emotionally repressed to askthe damn question.

Furrowed brow — That face people make when they’re doing long division in their head or trying to emotionally process a compliment. It’s thinking, yes—but also confusion, deep frustration, or quiet simmering rage.

Smiling — Can be happiness… or total fake-it-till-you-make-it energy. Some smiles are stiff. Some don’t reach the eyes. Show that.

Frowning — Sure, sadness. But also: disappointment, judgment, or the universal “I’m about to say something blunt, brace yourself.”

Lip biting — It’s not just nervousness, it’s pressure. Self-control. Anticipation. It’s the thing people do when they want to say something and decide, at the last second, not to.

╰ Eye movement

The window to the soul? Yeah. But also the window to when someone’s lying, flirting, or deeply trying not to cry in public.

Eye contact — Confidence or challenge. Eye contact can be gentle, curious, sharp like a blade. Sometimes it’s desperate: “Please understand me.”

Avoiding eye contact — Not always guilt. Sometimes it’s protectiveness. Sometimes it’s “I’m afraid if I look at you, you’ll see everything I’m trying to hide.”

Narrowed eyes — Calculating. Suspicious. The look someone gives when their brain’s saying “hmmm...” and it’s not a good hmm.

Wide eyes — Surprise, yes. But also sudden fear. The oh-God-it’s-happening look. Or when someone just found out they’re not as in control as they thought.

Eye roll — Classic. But try using it with tension, like when someone’s annoyed and trying very hard not to lose it in public.

╰ Gestures

This is where characters’ emotions go when their mouths are lying.

Crossing arms — Not just defensive. Sometimes it’s comfort. A self-hug. A barrier when the conversation is getting too personal.

Fidgeting — This is nervous energy with nowhere to go. Watch fingers tapping, rings spinning, sleeves tugged. It says: I’m not okay, but I’m trying not to show it.

Pointing — It’s a stab in the air. Aggressive, usually. But sometimes a desperate plea: Look. Understand this.

Open palms — Vulnerability. Honesty. Or a gesture that says, “I have nothing left to hide.”

Hand on chin — Not just thinking. It’s stalling. It’s delaying. It’s “I’m about to say something that might get me in trouble.”

╰ Posture and movement

These are your vibes. How someone occupies space says everything.

Slumped shoulders — Exhaustion. Defeat. Or someone trying to take up less space because they feel small.

Upright posture — Not always confidence. Sometimes it’s forced. Sometimes it’s a character trying really, really hard to look like they’re fine.

Pacing — Inner chaos externalized. Thinking so loudly it needs movement. Waiting for something. Running from your own thoughts.

Tapping foot — Tension. Irritation. Sometimes a buildup to an explosion.

Leaning in — Intimacy. Interest. Or subtle manipulation. (You matter to me. I’m listening. Let’s get closer.)

╰ Touch

This is intimacy in all its forms, comforting, protective, romantic, or invasive.

Hugging — Doesn’t always mean closeness. Could be a goodbye. Could be an apology they can’t say out loud. Could be awkward as hell.

Handshake — Stiff or crushing or slippery. How someone shakes hands says more than their words do.

Back patting — Casual warmth. Bro culture. Awkward emotional support when someone doesn’t know how to comfort but wants to try.

Clenched fists — Holding something in. Rage, tears, restraint. Fists mean tension that needs somewhere to go.

Hair tuck — Sure, flirtation or nerves. But also a subtle shield. A way to hide. A habit from childhood when someone didn’t want to be seen.

╰ Mirroring:

If two characters start syncing their body language, something is happening. Empathy. Chemistry. Shared grief. If someone shifts their body when the other does? Take notice. Other human bits that say everything without words...

Nodding — Not just yes. Could be an “I hear you,” even if they don’t agree. Could be the “keep going” nod. Could be patronizing if done too slow.

Crossed legs — Chill. Casual. Or closed-off, depending on context. Especially if their arms are crossed too.

Finger tapping — Time is ticking. Brain is pacing. Something’s coming.

Hand to chest — Sincerity, yes. But also shock. Or grounding—a subconscious attempt to stay present when everything feels like too much.

Tilting the head — Curiosity. Playfulness. Or someone listening so hard they forget to hide it.

Temple rub — “I can’t deal.” Could be physical pain. Could be stress. Could be emotional overload in disguise.

Chin stroking — Your classic “I’m judging you politely.” Often used in arguments between characters pretending to be calm.

Hands behind the back — Authority. Control. Or rigid fear masked as control.

Leaning body — This is the body betraying the brain. A tilt toward someone means they care—even if their words are cold.

Nail biting — Classic anxiety. But also habit. Something learned. Sometimes people bite because that’s how they self-soothe.

Squinting — Focusing. Doubting. Suspicion without confrontation.

Shifting weight — Uncomfortable. Unsure. Someone who wants to leave but doesn’t.

Covering the mouth — Guilt. Hesitation. The “should I say this?” moment before something big drops.

Body language is more honest than dialogue. If you really want to show your character’s internal world, don’t just give them lines. Give them a hand that won’t stop shaking. Give them a foot that won’t stop bouncing. Give them a mouth that smiles when their eyes don’t. And if you’re not sure what your character would do in a moment of fear, or love, or heartbreak, try acting it out yourself. Seriously. Get weird. Feel what your body does. Then write that down.

[inkskinned]

i. there's this video of a guy dancing on his tiptoes. i will begrudgingly admit the song is kind of catchy actually. i don't think it's the worst song i've ever heard. he seems passionate about it. but it is embarrassing, how he's dancing.

ii. you know where this story is going, unfortunately, and so do i.

iii. three weeks ago i had to drag half a dead rabbit out of my dog's mouth. i was just recently discussing how cruel things feel lately. that the way the world is shifting feels mean. three days ago, a random woman rolled down her window to snap at me because she missed her turn. this is now routine.

iv. 11 years ago in october, i made a post about how we shouldn't make fun of people for doing brave, vulnerable things. it has over 400k notes. people - at the time - seemed to generally agree with me. we have all felt shy and insecure when we share an intimate part of ourselves. we have heard someone at a concert say "that's fucking embarrassing" and said to ourselves - oh, this person is unsafe to be vulnerable in front of. we have said i can't act like that in public. we have left our art and passion in the dark. i think there will never be enough graveyard space for the art we have killed because what if others shame me for it.

v. the thing i was bullied for in high school was because i was a "predatory lesbian." a popular girl i'd literally never spoken to just decided she didn't like me and announced i was "stalking" her. to this day i have no idea what motivated this - i think i was just shy and poor and awkward and ugly. the perfect target. what they don't really ever show in movies is how quickly it moves, how suddenly strange people in the hallways are attacking you about it. they also don't show you that the bullies get this strange ... glee out of it. like, it's fun for them. it's enrichment. everyone else is in on the joke. suck it up, kid.

vi. so far, from what i have seen, creators that stand up for the musician all seem to have the same story: when i asked why we're bullying a random guy, people actually got mad that i asked. i've had similar things happen to me when i ask for us to be less comfortable with our anonymous cruelty. when an internet stranger says "be kind, it saves lives" - people find it funny to say fuck you i hope everyone kills themselves. pages and pages of people saying the same bullshit. sitting in their little caves, eating their own humor. it's just genuinely exhausting. the natural endpoint of "cringe culture" is that even kindness is cringe-worthy.

vii. loneliness is an epidemic. but where are you going to make your community? call your representative. go back to bed about it.

viii. due to how i was raised, i am always confused by cruelty. i understand the american isolationist belief "i can do whatever i want" - sure. but why wouldn't you want to be kind? i have lived too many bad things. i cannot be the epicenter of someone else's bad dream.

ix. it's just that if we were going to bully someone relentlessly, why is it never the healthcare CEOs. why isn't it the fascists. why isn't it, like, someone who you could at least argue "deserves" it. why is it always just some guy in socks singing a pretty mid song? or a person that doesn't look like you, just, like existing.

x. it's just that i think people enjoy doing it. they want to do it because they get some kind of masturbatory release from it - like a shrug or a splinter, they all seem to say the same thing - come on, it's funny.

xi. the world is sometimes beautiful, and sometimes you make something. the world is sometimes terrible, and you are worried they won't accept what your hands can wring. you open the instagram comments and they're still saying all sorts of shit to just - like - a normal guy. and some part of you thinks: if that was me. good lord. if that was me i'd -

xii. somewhere there is a graveyard. someone is already burying their hopes and dreams.

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

Parts: [ x / 2 / 3 ]

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

[oh-dameron]

SecUnit armour should attach directly to anchor points on the construct. If you're building something designed to wear armour then including couplings for it just makes sense. A human should not physically be able to wear SecUnit armour not because it's too heavy (though it probably would be too heavy/cumbersome to move well in) but because it doesn't have straps and buckles or lock to itself like human armour does: it clips onto the underlying foundation (the SecUnit).

It's disposable plating meant to take hits and then be replaced, but it's also an extension of the construct's body.

I have a lot of Feelings about Murderbot and its armour, how terribly it misses its opaque faceplate and how naked and vulnerable it feels every time it goes into combat without it. How in System Collapse it feels weird about taking Three's armour, and whether that's an extension on how it feels about armour in general, taking Three's specifically, or its evolving feelings about being expected to charge into combat in the first place. It's a component Murderbot lost early on and has never been able to replace, an exoskeleton it's struggling to learn to live without even as the humans around it don't even register it as a loss.

I think it's pretty likely that given the choice, it would generally prefer to chill in the argument lounge in full armour with its faceplate opaqued. Without that option it's been forced out of its comfort zone and has connected with its humans in a way that Mensah correctly predicted it never would have otherwise, which. Yay. But now it's done all this hard work and uncomfortable growth I hope eventually it gets its comfortable shell back.

Not to wear all of the time, because ART's crew uniforms are very soft and don't have seams or logos that it doesn't like, and ART's argument lounge and Preservation Station are safe places where it can be around humans without needing it. But next time shit hits the fan I hope ART gets to do a dramatic reveal of the bleeding edge armour it contacted the PSUMNT AI that has a special interest in materials science to make. It upgraded its fabrication units to be able to build it. It hacked Company blueprints to get a design schematic to scoff at and then improve. It's got the stealth coating they lifted from the NE hostiles. It's got extra data storage and processors tucked in there big enough to carry an ART partition. It comes with a whole fleet of matching drones. It's Perihelion blue. You can't buy armour this good (who would ever spend this much to protect a construct?), but it would hypothetically cost more than a fully kitted-out brand-new top-of-the-line CombatUnit. ART paid for it out of its own accounts and will not be taking questions about PSUMNT mission budgets at this time.

The wall retracts to reveal a secret armoury like in a spy movie, complete with theme music and coloured lighting, both because ART is Extra and because it knows that Murderbot has some mixed feelings about armour and having nice things. Giving it cheesy melodramatic presentation to nitpick and protest over will be comforting, even as they both unironically enjoy the homage to the episode of Timestream Defenders Orion with the chrono-displaced space knights.

This got away from me, but tl;dr: let the awkward turtle have its shell back!

[bluukive]

- ᡣ𐭩 Home is Where the Heart is

summary - What's more endearing than your affectionate husband? Your drunk, affectionate husband.

warnings - none, minus Satoru being a little snotty whilst crying. First proper attempt at a short fluff fic !! Kinda proofread (n idk how being drunk works lolol)

wc - 1044

It’s been exactly 23 minutes since your bumbling oaf of a husband came back home from a night out. After all, even the strongest needed some time to unwind. 

The front door slammed shut and a loud crash followed. It was most likely his gangling body colliding with the coat rack. Again. 

A groan. “W-who put thaaaat there?” he whined, long legs dragging all the way up the stairs. Too many of them, Satoru thought. He should probably hollow purple them all later. But only later, because right now? His lower lip was wobbling and there was a dull pain in his arm from crashing into the bedroom door. It swung open once he had a good grip on the handle, and alas, the tears started to fall. 

Satoru trudged over to the king-sized bed, not bothering to kick his shoes off. 

“I miss my b-bitchass wife,” Satoru sniffled, drunken words muffled by the increasingly sodden pillow that he had buried his face into. His heart ached terribly. How did anyone expect him to live without the love of his life beside him?

Satoru honestly thought he’d die without hearing your voice, so he fumbled about for his phone in one of the pockets of his tweed jacket once he was able to prop himself up on an elbow (trust your boyfriend to make the most questionable fashion choices). The intoxicated look in his eyes and the rosy cheeks would have been adorable if not for the fact that his nose was running from all of the dramatics, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to care. With a quick wipe of his sleeve, his long, sluggish fingers went to work. 

Ring. Ring.

“Heeeeey gorgeous-”

“This isn’t your wife, Satoru. Wrong number.”

Click. 

Somewhere in the city, a tired sorcerer was exhaling out of his nose and clenching his jaw. How awkward.

Again, Satoru scrolled through his contact list with bleary eyes. Fuck, where were you?

Suguru? Not it. 

Shoko? Nah.

Mei Mei? Fuck no. He’d rather deepthroat a cactus than be associated with her, as he so loved to remind you frequently. 

But finally! ‘Wifey’, the contact name read. Satoru sniffed and tried pulling himself together before pressing ‘ring’, a giddy look in his twinkling blue eyes. The eager pants that left his lungs fell in sync with the rapid thuds of his heart.

Oh, he got to hear his beloved again! Joy to the world!

And what was even better was the fact that you answered on the first ring. “Yoohoo? What is my awfully drunk husband doing calling me at this hour?” you tittered, eyes crinkling further shut the wider your smile grew. 

Satoru swooned. God, what a dreamboat you were. His eyes fluttered shut as he rolled over onto his back, lower lip caught between his teeth. “Hmm? ‘M all fiiiiine and sober, I promise! I just m-miss you, that’s all…”

“No more lying, Mr. Cottonmouth. You are sooo drunk.”

A sniffle left Satoru. Your playful demeanour was getting to him good and proper. How did he get so blessed with a wife like you?

“...Toru? Don’t cry on me now, baby. Talk to me,” your voice called out, softening once the first telltale sign of your husband’s vulnerability came out. But whilst you were growing tender with Satoru, that same smile was still on your lips. 

“Well-” he tried to say, but his voice cracked. Satoru cleared his throat and began speaking once more. “I love you so goddamn much.”

And honestly, it warmed your heart to hear how he didn’t stammer through his declaration of adoration for you, even if no other words came as naturally to him.

“L-like, I think I’d die without you.” One pause.

“I just wanna crawl under your skin ‘n live there.” Another pause and a slight shudder.

“I want you to hold my heart in your hand ‘n feel it b-beat for you,” Satoru croaked out, shoving his face into his pillow once more. He felt so miserable that you weren’t there with him. 

But you should have been. You should have been laying there, head on his chest and one leg thrown over his hip as you both dreamt of each other. The fact that you weren’t doing that made Satoru’s heart clench so painfully.

And then he began wailing. Long, dramatic wails accompanied by hiccuping sobs that had you pulling away your phone from your ear with a wince. On and on the sobs went, and a deadpan expression slowly began appearing on your face. The game had gone on for long enough, and you missed your husband snoring like a baby beside you.

“Satoru. I’m quite literally beside you.”

Yes. Your husband, in his drunken haze, hadn’t noticed you in your shared bed. You were sitting up against the headboard, staring down at your pitifully hammered spouse. 

Click!

You both hung up your phones in silence, your shoulders bobbing as you concealed a fit of laughter. Satoru sat up slowly, clearly not amused.

His face was flushed nicely now, and not just because of the alcohol. His eyes remained blurry and unfocused, but indeed! You were sitting there with the biggest grin on your stupidly gorgeous face. 

“So y-you were just watchin’ me whilst I was pouring my heart out like a widow?”

You shrugged, shuffling over with a hand reaching out to tug your sulking husband closer. “It was cute. I like this side of you. Minus the wailing.”

“T-traitor. You’re such a traitor,” he groaned, the prank you had pulled sobering him up slightly. The embarrassment coursed through him as he lay down next to you, glassy eyes burning a hole through the ceiling. But hey! At least you were with him, right?

“...I feel stupid. Can you kiss me?”

“Wipe your nose first, you man-child,” your nose scrunched as you tossed a wad of tissues his way. 

In record time, Satoru had scrubbed his entire face dry and raw, then flopped onto you. He didn’t care that your fists were thumping at his chest. He didn’t care that he was slobbering all over your face and pecking you like an eager puppy. What mattered now was the fact that he was finally where his heart was.

With you.

divider by @cafekitsune

[bejeweledinterludes]

dean winchester dating n nsfw headcanons i dare you

love ur page n writing xx

MINORS NO LOOKIE !!! I MEAN IT !!!

you have one ( 1 ) new message from the author ! ↓

OHHHHHH FUCK YES! CHALLENGE ACCEPTED !!! YEAH I’M LOCKIN’ IN FOR THIS ONE. QUICK EVERYONE SAY ‘THANK YOU ANON’ ‼️‼️‼️

── .✦ ⌈ dating + nsfw edition: dean x reader headcanons that are way too specific. ⌋

『 part 3 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanon series. 』

𖤐 ────────────────────────

dating dean winchester headcanons.

> i am a firm believer that if dean winchester ever were to seriously, hardcore, actually date someone, they would have been his friend first.

maybe you were a fellow hunter, or someone he crossed paths with frequently time and time again— so much so that it almost seemed like fate herself kept bringing the two of you together.

you’d been dean’s friend for years before you finally realized that ‘hey, maybe this guy i’d definitely and gladly die for should be more than just my friend’. little did you know that dean felt the same exact way.

> both you and dean’s feelings all spilled out to each other in the wee hours of the morning on a particularly vulnerable hunt, just you two.

knowing dean long enough to know he didn’t do ‘love’, you’d stated outright that you didn’t have to be too serious about the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing— but he surprised you with the notion that he did want a serious relationship with you.

and after another little while— and a lot more talking, you and dean started dating. you didn’t go on too many actual dates— you all were too busy saving the world all the freakin’ time, but it didn’t bother you one bit. because you were with dean. and that’s what mattered to you.

> dean holds the door for you. this started long before you both had even thought about dating each other— it started on one of the first cases you had ever worked with him.

dean and sam, with their stupid freakishly long legs, had made it to the door of the coroner’s office much quicker than you ever could— and while sam went in, dean stayed and propped the door open for you. it should have been much more awkward than it was, but somehow, it wasn’t. and that summed up a lot of experiences with dean over the years.

> dean sleeps closest to the door when he sleeps with you in the same bed as him. always. doesn’t matter if you’re in a motel room, or even in the bunker, he picks the side of the bed closest to the door. he says he just likes it more— but you know the real reason. it’s so no threats could get to you first if something were to get past the door.

> you both love music. you had a vinyl collection long before you even met dean, but its one of the very first things you bonded over— and still do, to this day. and each christmas starting years ago, you exchanged mixtapes as your gift to each other. you still do now, though— and it has much more meaning than it did before, too.

> dean is always touching you. i believe that man is touch starved beyond belief— and he’s so incredibly insecure about it.

he’d talked about it with you long before you started dating— a whispered confession as you were saying goodbye because you both had to part ways again.

“i think i have a touch problem,” dean’s voice had been barely audible against you as he hugged you tighter than he’d ever had, but you still heard it. and you told him that wanting physical touch wasn’t a bad thing— and that he could seek it out with you, if he’d like. and he appreciated that.

because he actually did seek it out one night after a solo hunt he’d gone on, when you’d started living in the bunker. dean trudged down the steps like the weight of the world was on his shoulders—let’s be honest here, when didn’t he feel like that— and without saying a word, he just dropped his bag on the map table, walked over to you in the library, and just hugged you. and… wouldn’t let go. like at all. not that you minded, though. you just hugged him back.

you didn’t know how long you both stayed like that until you convinced him to come to bed with you— but you held him the entire night in the sheets, reassuring him over and over that you were fine with it.

> speaking of, dean is completely comfortable around you. he’s free to be purely just… himself. because while sam just rolls his eyes at every joke and half-smiles, dean’ll catch you with a real smile on your face— and usually trying to stifle a laugh. or better yet, you’ll make a joke of your own with him sometimes.

same with talking. dean talks a lot with you— and you just listen. he’ll yap your ear off about the movie he’d rewatched in the dean cave, or retell the story of how he killed hitler, but you don’t mind. you never did. you listened and offered the right words back to him.

he’ll talk about his feelings once in a while, too. and you know it’s because dean feels safe enough to do it around you— because you don’t judge him or view him differently. never once have you denied a conversation with him. and you never will.

now for some . . .

dean winchester nsfw headcanons.

(and if you’d like actual dean smut, i have my own right here for ya)

> no matter who initiates sex first, dean always makes you cum before he does. you already knew going in that he was already ultra-considerate— and the same thing goes when it comes to sex.

and believe me, you’ve tried countless times to get him off first for once— but you’re met with a forceful ‘no’ before you’re pushed back against the sheets, and dean takes care of you with his mouth and fingers first.

or if he’s already inside you, dean purposefully makes sure you come apart on him before he even thinks about cumming himself. not only does he like to guide you through your orgasm, but he loves to watch the way your face scrunches up when you’re fluttering on his dick, all because of him.

> after a while of dating, though, dean realized that he also likes cumming with you— at the exact same time. it doesn’t happen as often, and its usually after a few initial rounds. but he loves the feeling of groaning into your mouth and skin as he spills into you while you spill all over him.

> dean also holds your hand a lot when he fucks you, or you fuck him— whether its your fingers interlocked with his when he rails you into the mattress, or you grasping onto his hand when you ride him, holding on for dear life.

and you like it just as much as he does, if not more. it amplifies the intimacy— the bond between both of you.

> one thing about mr. dean winchester… he is not a quiet man in bed. he’ll groan right into your ear while he pounds into you, or choke out praises and swears against your skin as you ride him— he’s not silent at any point (but honestly, neither are you).

> speaking of positions… dean has a lot of favorite positions for you both to be in, but most, if not all of his favorites are the ones where he can see your face. because he loves the way your face and eyebrows scrunch together from pleasure when he’s making you feel good, knowing it’s all because of him.

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