#also kinda sleep deprived

[swupwise]

Sorry I cant hear you over the when I close my eyes I turn on detective mode in real life

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I CAN'T CLOSE MY EYES ALONE ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep. 

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there. 

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek. 

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue. 

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub. 

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow. 

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting. 

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes. 

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic. 

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him. 

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn. 

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it. 

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow. 

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid. 

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do. 

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help. 

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression. 

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two. 

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless. 

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly. 

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue. 

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress. 

and satoru stifles a coo. 

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu. 

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology. 

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him. 

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

[yet-another-haven-of-dollya]

Just Nyan and-

-Kariya

[silverview]

"I think we have got some sort of insight into it. Without just thinking, Oh, these people are mad. And they love something too much."

[secretly-a-trekkie]

lol i think it is kinda funny how often we take our favorite overworked little guy (gender neutral ) and just go oh yeah he (gender neutral) hasn't slept in a month and his blood is now coffee and redbull but said guy (gender neutral) is just functioning mostly normally but with no filter

[bolshoiromanova]

These hot toys pics make feel indescribable feelings . . .

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

ERIDAN: i lovve you…

FEFERI: Swordfis)( slas)( to the c)(est. And you’re on fire.

[overly-verbose]

Omw to a verrrry important exam rn, pls send thoughts prayers and good vibes my way 'cause I did nOt sleep well 💀

(also obviously if it goes well I'll have an easier time actually focusing on finishing Part 8 so uh there's the bribe lol

[monta-02]

TW: Noncon, AFAB Whumpee, AMAB Whumper, death threats, guns, failed escape, forced oral sex, grinding, creepy Whumper, humiliation, degradation, tied up

When Whumpee escaped, they tried to stay low. They got a cheap hotel room, and tried not to leave under any circumstances, unless it was absolutely necessary. They kept reminding themself that this wouldn't be forever, just for a few weeks, until the situation calmed down.

It had been barely a week since they escaped, and Whumpee was paranoid. They jumped at every little noise, they couldn't sleep well, and they've barely eaten anything.

They were exhausted, both physically and mentally.

They knew Whumper was searching for them, and Whumpee was terrified of what was going to happen to them if they were caught. Whumper's anger was terrifying, and Whumpee could vividly remember every punishment and torture they've done to them.

Whumper was ruthless and cruel.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Whumpee ran their hands through their hair, taking deep breaths. Their body was trembling, their nerves frayed, and their thoughts were running a mile a minute. They felt nauseous, and their body was sore from sleeping on a lumpy mattress. It was better than Whumper's though.

Whumpee sighed heavily and stood up, their knees buckling slightly. They stumbled their way into the room, flopping down onto the bed face first, groaning.

Their clothes were all dirty, just a thin towel wrapped around them. They knew they'd have to wash them soon, but going outside even for that terrified them.

They rolled over to their back and stared blankly at the ceiling. Whumpee desperately wanted to sleep, their eyes drooping, but the nightmares prevented them.

Every time they closed their eyes, they were haunted by Whumper.

That's when they heard a knock.

Whumpee froze, their heart hammering in their chest. They didn't move, their muscles tensing, waiting to see if it was their imagination.

After a minute of silence, Whumpee slowly relaxed, thinking it really was their mind playing tricks.

Then there was another knock, followed by a familiar voice.

"I know you're in there. Open the door or I'll break it down."

Sitting up, Whumpee's blood ran cold. They recognized that voice anywhere. Whumper found them, and they were knocking at their door.

Whumpee scrambled off their bed and hurried to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly. They pressed their back to the wall, sliding down until they were sitting on the floor.

They listened closely as they heard the door open, their breathing becoming uneven. Whumpee prayed Whumper would think they weren't here, that they'll leave, and they'll escape once more.

There wasn't a lock on the door, but even if there was, it would be hopeless.

Whumper wasn't dumb, however, and Whumpee cursed them when they heard their boots walk across the carpet floor, pausing in the bathroom.

Whumpee covered their mouth with their hand, their breathing becoming erratic, as they heard Whumper jiggle the doorknob.

The doorknob started to turn, and Whumpee flinched. They squeezed their eyes shut, waiting for Whumper to open the door and drag them back. The door opened, and Whumpee didn't dare open their eyes.

"So this is where you're hiding?" Whumper mused, and Whumpee shivered as they heard them crouch down. A gloved hand cupped their cheek, and Whumpee couldn't stop the whimper from escaping their lips. "Look at me, Whumpee."

Whumpee didn't move, their entire body tense, their heart threatening to burst. Whumper tsked and grabbed a fistful of their hair, making Whumpee gasp and open their eyes, tears already forming.

Whumper smiled at them, their grip tight, making them hiss in pain.

"You've given me quite the chase, baby," they chuckled, pulling their hair harder, earning a pained whine. "But now the fun's over. Stand."

"N-no," Whumpee choked, their hands clutching Whumper's wrist. "Please, don't. I don't want- I can't-"

"I'm not asking," Whumper growled, pulling them closer, their noses nearly touching. Whumpee flinched at Whumper's tone, their breath hitching. "Stand, or I'll make sure you can never stand again."

Whumpee shuddered. They knew Whumper was serious, and they didn't want their legs broken, or worse. Slowly, Whumpee shakily stood, and Whumper followed.

Letting go of their hair, Whumper grabbed their bicep, leading them out of the bathroom. Whumpee stumbled after them, their knees weak, eyes darting around, looking for something, anything, to help them. Whumper lead Whumpee towards the bed and pushed them onto it.

Whumper grabbed Whumpee's towel, easily pulling it off, leaving them naked. Whumpee tried to cover themself but Whumper slapped their hands away.

Roughly turning Whumpee around, Whumper pushed them onto their stomach, grabbing their wrists and tying them together with a rope they had ready. They struggled, but Whumper tightened the rope, making them hiss. They then tied Whumpee's ankles.

"There, much better," Whumper purred after pulling away. "I missed seeing you like this, sweetheart."

"Fuck you," Whumpee hissed, glaring at Whumper over their shoulder. "Let me go!"

"Now why would I do that?" Whumper mused, placing a hand on Whumpee's ass, squeezing it. Their grin turned into a glare. "You really pissed me off, Whumpee. I went through so much trouble finding you, and you're going to pay for it."

Easily flipping Whumpee over, Whumper admired their naked body, eyes dark. They ran their hands up Whumpee's inner thighs, smirking at how their legs trembled. Whumper dug their nails in Whumpee's soft skin.

A trail of red lines followed Whumper's nails, and Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut. They tugged at their binds, wanting to get away from them, to escape.

They knew they were in deep shit, and they were scared of what Whumper was going to do.

Whumper looked up to their captive's face, then stood. Before Whumpee could even be relieved, Whumper shoved them to the floor and walked over to the chair in front of the bed. They sat down and pointed to the floor. "Over here. Now."

"I can't, I'm tied-"

"Crawl."

Cringing, Whumpee awkwardly crawled their way towards Whumper, stopping between their legs. They refused to look at them, but Whumper grabbed their hair and forced them to.

They were sure Whumper was going to force them to suck them off, like they had done many times before, but Whumper surprised them.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to grind yourself here." Whumper pointed to their expensive shoe. "You will only cum when I tell you to, and then you're going to lick it all off. Understand?" Whumpee hesitated, earning a tug to their hair, making them hiss. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Whumpee whispered, glancing at Whumper's shoe. "I-I understand."

Whumper hummed, releasing Whumpee's hair and leaned back in their chair. "Then start grinding."

Hesitantly, Whumpee lowered themself onto Whumper's shoe, their thighs pressing against it. Whumpee slowly started grinding against it, the rubber sole rubbing painfully against them. Whumpee tried to go slow, but Whumper wasn't having it, pushing their shoe deep into Whumpee, earning a yelp.

"I'm being merciful and you still manage to waste my time," Whumper growled, hand grabbing Whumpee's hair once more. "Grind faster."

"I-I'm trying," Whumpee hissed, glaring at them, their hips moving faster. "It hurts-"

"Good," Whumper interrupted, their eyes dark. "I want it to hurt."

A shudder ran down Whumpee's spine, their glare faltering. They continued grinding, gasping and hissing every time Whumper pushed their shoe deep into them, the sole rubbing against their most sensitive areas. Whumpee closed their eyes, tears pricking at the corners, their hips stuttering.

"Please," Whumpee whispered, their hips slowing, earning a tug to their hair. "I-I can't- it hurts-" Whumpee was caught off when they heard a click. Opening their eyes, Whumpee saw Whumper was holding a gun, pointing it at them. Whumpee's blood ran cold. "Wh-"

"Keep grinding."

Swallowing hard, Whumpee hesitantly did what Whumper said, their eyes trained on the gun. Whumper watched Whumpee grind against their shoe, their finger on the trigger. Whumpee shuddered, wondering if Whumper was really crazy enough to shoot them while they did this.

Whumper noticed the hesitation, so they pressed the barrel to Whumpee's temple. "Grind. Faster."

Whumpee sobbed again. Whumper smirked, their gun still pressed against their head, watching as they grind desperately against their shoe, their juices coating the rubber. Whumper enjoyed every expression Whumpee made, their lips parting, soft noises and gasps escaping them.

"Close?" Whumper chuckled.

"Yes," Whumpee whimpered, their grinding becoming sloppy. "Can I please-"

"No."

Whumpee shuddered, their walls fluttering. They slowed their hips, their breathing uneven. Whumper pushed the gun against their temple harder, making Whumpee hiss.

"I didn't tell you to stop."

They trembled, their hips picking up the pace once more, their juices practically dripping onto Whumper's shoe. Whumpee gasped and whined, tears falling, their thighs burning. Whumper watched them, their finger twitching on the trigger, their free hand unbuttoning their pants. Pulling out their cock, Whumper lazily stroked it.

"Look at me," Whumper purred, Whumpee hesitantly opening their teary eyes, looking up at them. "You're so pathetic. Look at you, grinding against my shoe like a bitch in heat."

"Please," Whumpee whined, their hips moving faster. "Please-"

"Cum."

Whimpering, Whumpee immediately came, their hips stuttering, their juices coating onto Whumper's shoe. Whumper hummed, continuing to stroke themself as Whumpee rode their orgasm, their breathing labored.

Whumper looked at their shoes, chuckling. "Look at the mess you made."

Whumpee glanced down, their face heating up, embarrassment washing over them. Whumper suddenly grabbed Whumpee's hair, earning a hiss, and shoved their face onto their shoe. Whumpee flinched, their nose pressing against it, their cum smearing across their face.

"Start cleaning."

"But-"

"If you don't, I'll blow your brains out," Whumper reminded, their gun pressing against Whumpee's temple once more. Tears still rolling down their eyes, Whumpee hesitantly started licking their shoe clean, shuddering at their own taste. "That's it. Get it all clean."

Whumpee wanted to throw up, their tongue dragging over the rubber, their cum mixed with their saliva. Whumper watched them, their free hand still stroking themself, their grip on Whumpee's hair tight. Whumpee closed their eyes, focusing on licking their shoe clean, their cheeks burning.

"Open your eyes and look at me," Whumper growled, Whumpee flinching and obeying. They shuddered, seeing Whumper's eyes dark, their grin wide. "You look so humiliated. How cute."

Sobbing, Whumpee continued licking. Whumper chuckled and leaned their head back, their hand speeding up. Whumpee didn't stop licking until every inch was clean, their stomach churning.

Whumper kicked them in the face once their shoes were both clean, earning a pained cry. Whumpee fell onto their side, their nose throbbing, their hands pulling at their binds. Whumper moaned as they continued stroking themself, their gaze trailing Whumpee's naked body.

"On your knees. Hurry."

They really, really didn't want to, fully knowing why, but they couldn't bring themself to rebel further.

Whumpee awkwardly pushed themself up, kneeling between Whumper's legs. They didn't even notice the blood trickling down their nose until Whumper wiped at it, licking at it and moaning again. They then used the same hand and grabbed Whumpee's hair, tugging them closer.

Whumper guided their cock into their mouth, pushing all the way in, earning a gag. Whumpee wanted to vomit as they felt the disgustingly familiar taste of Whumper's cum, their throat protesting. Whumper groaned, their grip tightening.

"You better swallow it all," Whumper growled, thrusting their hips, Whumpee gagging once more. "You're not allowed to miss a single drop."

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut, Whumper's thrusts harsh. They choked and gagged, their lungs burning, their face bright red.

Tears rolled down their cheeks as Whumper's cum filled their mouth, their thrusts stuttering. Whumper moaned loudly, their cock twitching in Whumpee's mouth, their grip painful.

Pulling out, Whumper grinned wildly, seeing Whumpee's face flushed and tear stained.

Whumper's cum dripped out their mouth, Whumpee's chest heaving. Whumper grabbed Whumpee's chin, making them look at them.

"Show me."

Whumpee parted their lips, showing them that they did as they were told. Whumper hummed, their thumb wiping at some cum that was dripping down Whumpee's chin.

They rubbed it against Whumpee's tongue, earning a whine. They watched as Whumpee swallowed down the last bit of cum, then shoved them back on the floor.

Whumper stood up, tucking themself back into their pants, fixing their shirt. Whumpee watched them, their tears falling, their entire body aching. They flinched when Whumper crouched down, their grin unsettling.

"Good job, sweetie," Whumper praised, wiping away a stray tear. "Now, let's go home. I'm not done with your punishment."

[flowerakatsuka]

i took this screenshot while watching sakura yesterday bc i liked the lighting and pose, but it's been on my mind all freaking day. the reason why kara's the only one still fucking around & drinking with his biker buddies is because that phone call he ran to get was a rejection. he tried to find something to do to help out, but failed. he struggled to find work back in s1, too, so it makes me wonder if he seemed to give up bc he doubted if he could actually land a job like his brothers...

[fear-no-mort]

pov it’s the night of December 2nd 2013 and you’ve just burst into your grandsons room to pick him up so he’s not down there when you blow up the world the guy who ruined your life is from because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let him stay down there with everyone else which is Really fucking weird because you thought even coming back here in the first place meant giving up forever on anything for the rest of your life but this goddamn kid stops you from blowing up the planet and now you’re basically permanently fucked because now you’re just gonna have to keep on living and it’s because you love him. and tomorrow morning you will be running from alien police with him

[strayrainbow]

For the DTIYS by @ladylunora !!!

It was really fun, Thank you for the challenge!

[mayrine]

bro i miss one bbh stream and now you’re telling me that he made q!skeppy cannon!?!?!?!? and then he sang a song about him and skeppy being in a long distance relationship?????

i always knew that bad was the biggest skephalo shipper but my man is fighting for his LIFE trying to get skeppy on the qsmp

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

..

[summertimemusician]

Unenlighted: Sky and Wild don't have that good of a relationship due to Sky's guilt and Wild not feeling he's good enough when compared to any of his predecessors because he failed the kingdom once and it gets exacerbated by the events of TOTK, similar case with Flora and Sun.

Enlightened: Sky and Wild have a pretty good relationship, but it's still strained because of both their problems and the strain grows bigger after TOTK when Fi breaks, Sun likes Flora just fine as a descendant while Flora is incessantly tormented by the fact she always believed her entire life she'd never measure up to the other Zelda's because she couldn't fulfill her duty anymore than Wild could, and it causes communication.

Ascended: Sky and Twilight having a full blow custody war in the back because they both see Wild as a better successor than he believes himself to be due to the parallels to BOTW, TOTK and Skyward Sword even though it's technically Twilight Princess' spiritual sucessor (since it was originally made to be a sequel to that game) and Sky and Wild both get along well with one another, and instead of getting angry at Wild for breaking Fi he's more so worried for him and her equally (and then has to be held back by the rest of the Chain along with Twi to not eviscerate whatever's left of Ganondorf's body) meanwhile Sun all but surprise adopted Flora as a sister and is super supportive of all her pursuits and number one hype woman because she was as unhinged as her at her age and Flora is flabbergasted but really really happy and relieved she doesn't see her as a disappointment or anything and they get along like the sister she never had growing up. Specially since they can both bond over not being quite regular humans anymore and can help one another deal and learn more about it.

I will not elaborate.

[capricioussun]

I was really thinking about if I would ever be comfortable merging my art accounts and I don't think I will. At least not unless I did a full rebrand which I'd really rather not since I'm very happy with how things are situated now.

But I think it boils down to acceptance seeking. I've been socially isolated for a very long time and it's difficult. Even back when I first started drawing au stuff years ago, I contemplated making a separate blog for it because I knew how many ut fans didn't really like the aus. I didn't want to alienate any of the "audience" I'd already built but I also knew there would be a turning point I would just wind up barely posting on one account or the other and it would feel like trying to limp half the time on one leg and then limp the rest on the other, which would be pointless.

But with mirrorshipping (selfcest) being a much more universally contentious topic, I got worried it would only deter people even more. I certainly didn't want to lie about it, especially bc I don't associate it with prshipping the way some others do, so it's not really that im "ashamed" of it, or want to hide it, just that I know it's the kind of thing that's very likely to make some who just walked in turn right back around.

To some degree, as someone who hopes to one day make a career out of being an independent artist, it makes sense to prioritize "growth" over personal satisfaction, but on the other, I've always struggled to care about that sort of thing. Any time I've cared about "alienating" a potential "audience", it's always been more about personal acceptance. I don't want people to see one little aspect of myself or interests and judge me entirely based off of that, even though that's all anyone really can do on the internet. I don't take blocking personally, despite how the prior sentiment seems to contradict that, I get it, I block all the time too, for a variety of reasons. But if there's a chance there're others who don't really mind that I mirrorship, they just don't want to see it or have to block the tag, I don't want them to feel turned away or annoyed, and so I kept it all to a separate account.

There are a few other reasons I won't really get into, too, like how people often do associate it with prship, and how I don't really want to draw that type of a crowd to my main blog, either, but I know in my heart it's the acceptance/approval seeking that was the biggest motivator.

I really honestly wish I knew how to connect with others beyond just trying to "do things right" and hoping that earns me positive attention. I really wish I didn't always feel like my only chance at affection is to improve what I can offer in return.