#only for them to realise they can share

[delulustateofmind]

The SatoSugu brain worms are munching extra hard while I'm waiting for these cupcakes to bake

Gojo Satoru, the highly esteemed high school science teacher, has a problem. A very pretty, very foreign, very English-speaking problem. The new international English teacher - you - has barely been here a month, and yet he's already completely obsessed.

It’s a little inconvenient, considering he doesn’t know much English beyond some scattered phrases and science terms, and your schedules couldn’t be more opposite. Your lunches don’t line up, and your day ends earlier than his. It’s utterly tragic. The only solace he has is scrolling through your Instagram when he should probably be grading papers.

That’s where the real trouble starts.

One innocent day (innocent in theory, sinful in practice), Gojo stumbles across a particular photo - a shot of you in a bikini. A cute one, a little too revealing by Japanese standards, and way too much for his poor heart to handle. His first reaction? To press a kiss to the screen like a desperate man before common sense kicks in.

His second reaction? To stop you in the hallway between classes to warn you about it.

Because, listen, Japan has perverts. And you? With your soft skin and clueless charm? You’re prime prey. Not that Gojo himself is one of those perverts - he has class. (He says, with the screenshot of that bikini photo now securely set as his phone wallpaper).

You blink up at him, clueless.

Right. You don’t know much Japanese. And his English? Abysmal.

Alright. Time for charades.

With all the confidence of a man who has never been told no, Gojo puts his hands on his head like dog ears, tilts his head, and lets out a “Woof.” Then jabs a finger at the picture, then at you, then shakes his head.

The message is clear in his mind: Men are dogs. You should delete this.

Your response?

A bright red blush, a resounding slap to his face, and a stormy exit before he can even think of fixing his mistake.

Stunned, Gojo watches you disappear down the hallway, hand on his cheek, thoroughly bewildered.

What makes it worse?

The school psychologist, Geto Suguru, breezing past him, smug as hell, flashing a “How to Learn English for Adults” textbook in one hand and giving Gojo a casual wave as he tails after you.

May the games begin

[pulchrasilva]

amanda-centric fic about her exploring polyamory with clarissa titled after the line about clarissa suzanne being blessed with two names but only one heart

[themalhambird]

so I made this post, @celebrimbor-apologist made these fantastic tags:

#Just#I could imagine Sauron as a khan-esque guy#He's angry at the federation#He hides in plain sight#Manipulates mansplains manslaughters his way through it#While he's on the ship#Adar sees right through him because#Hes been with the capitalist assholes who fucked up his uruks#But by that time Adar is still kinda new on the ship so he isn't as trusted#That's what makes it all the more tragic that sauron gets along well with Celebrimbor#Because Adar and him got along well#Please no Tyelpe dying here please#But dramatic “we were all fooled” scene in sickbay pls#ALSO#Navigations Officer Camnir#Vorohil at the weapons console

and, well. My hand slipped...

Without any discussion amongst themselves, the other senior officers have fallen into pattern, keeping vigil at Celebrimbor’s side in the medbay in shifts. It feels important that somebody is there when he wakes up, and well. The Lindon has spent the better part of a month in enemy control, dead in space, with engineering and the bridge both sealed off, life support functions cutting in and out and explosions buffeting the ship at random moments. The medical officers have their hands full. 

“Ga…lad..riel?”

It’s been three days. It’s early- or late, depending on perspective- and it’s Galadriel’s turn on Celebrimbor-Watch. She had been just about half way to sleep herself. Now, she snaps awake– a bright smile splitting her face at the sight of Celebrimbor’s sharp, bright eyes.  “Hello you.”

“Did…it work..? The transporter?” 

“It worked.” 

Celebrimbor exhales with relief, eyes shutting for a moment. The grief and distress on his face eases briefly, and then his eyes fly wide open once more. He sits up, moving as though he intends to swing out of the bed and start running. “The warp drive. The core, it’s going- the system wasn’t made to handle- she’s going to blow-”

“No, no- Celebrimbor, you fixed it.” Galadriel grabs his arms and holds him steady, noting in the back of her mind how he flinches and whimpers at the contact but not wanting to let go until she’s sure he’s not going to do himself further injury by trying to get up. “Remember,” she says, fixing her steady eyes on his. “Remember? You rigged up a transporter beam and blasted Sauron off the ship. You got control back to the bridge and dropped the shields cutting engineering off. Adar came down– just him, in case the air was too toxic, the deck too unstable or dark for anybody else. Adar found you, and you told him about the transporter, and the threat to the warp drive. You fixed it together, and then you collapsed. Adar carried you from engineering to the medbay, and you’ve been here for three days.”

“Three days?” Celebrimbor repeats. Slowly, he lets Galadriel sink him back down against the pillows. The first officer nods. 

“Three days,” she confirms. “You’re doing well, and the Lindon-” she pauses. Frankly, the Lindon is a mess. Whatever Sauron was trying to achieve, the engine deck has been well and truly cannibalised. So bad is it that the engineers- having secured life support, and repaired any immediately threatening damage, are reluctant to touch anything else until Celebrimbor is able to take a look first. Gil-galad has sent distress signals not only on Star Fleet channels, but on Vulcan, Klingon- even Ferengi frequencies. In an uncharacteristic display of temper and bloodlust Elrond has declared that if they ever manage to figure out what random coordinates Celebrimbor sent Sauron to, he’s going to pull the Maia’s guts out and rearrange them and see how he likes it. “The Lindon is stable,” she says, “and in no immediate danger.”

“Oh. That is…that is good.” Celebrimbor’s eyes drift closed again. Federation medicine had vanquished whatever burns, cuts, and bruises naturally rapid Feonorian healing hadn’t already taken care of (and it worries everyone that Celebrimbor both had wounds old enough that they should have already healed themselves- and that the true extent of how badly hurt their friend has been injured in the last month is, as of yet, unclear). Nevertheless,  the Engineer’s captivity- and, Galadriel supposes, his ordeal in the run up to it, the period where there had been a growing concern that he was experiencing a psychological breakdown- has left him gaunt- visibly ashen and exhausted. He swallows, and seems to be steeling himself for something. When he speaks again, he doesn’t open his eyes, and though he seems to be doing his best to lie very, very still, there’s a faint tremor in his fingers. 

“Galadriel?”

“Yes?”

“Will you…will you please tell Captain Gil-galad that I…am ready to be escorted to the brig at…his pleasure? I will…co-operate fully. With a court martial. Whatever charges he wishes to bring, I’ll not contest them.” he turns his face toward her and when his eyes open again, they are brimming with tears. “If he will see me, I should like to apologize. I neither expect nor deserve forgiveness, but even so, I am sorry. For my foolishness. For not..being strong enough…” A tear spills down , dripping onto the bridge of his nose. Galadriel’s own eyes prickle. 

“Celebrimbor.” She moves her hand to just above his, and when he doesn’t draw away, gently takes it. His fingers are colder than they should be. “Of course Gil-galad will see you- but because you are his friend and he is concerned, not because he is angry. There is no question of a Court Martial- you saved the ship-”

“After I endangered it in the first place-”

“After your attempts at warning of the danger were ignored-”

“The danger that was all my fault-”

“Control of the ship was seized by a hostile alien force who manipulated and coerced you into doing its’ bidding,” Galadriel says. “Celebrimbor, we all thought Annatar was who he claimed to be. That you saw through it at all…well. You remember when he was with us as Halbrand. And I nearly punched Gil-galad in the face?”

Celebrimbor frowns. “...You did punch Gil-galad in the face. And then Gil-galad punched you back. You both ended up rolling around on the floor, pulling each other’s hair.”

“Not according to any of the official logs,” Galadriel says archly “According to the official logs, we only nearly came to blows.  Only you, Gil-galad, and I know different-”

“Elrond knows.”

“Elrond knows everything, Elrond doesn’t count.”

They lapse into silence for a while. It’s not uncomfortable. “The point is,” Galadriel says at last. “If he hadn’t left us when he did, the first time, I don’t know that he wouldn’t have persuaded me to mutiny. And it took us weeks of going back over everything when we found out he wasn’t who he had claimed, piercing it all together, that we even realised he had been manipulating us. And then, when we were explicitly watching for him…he did it all over again. We were all fooled. Alright, Adar was suspicious,” she acknowledges, a little begrudgingly. “But all that meant was that Annatar- Sauron- persuaded me to lock out his access to the bridge. To be fair, I’m still not sure how he had access in the first place-”

The tips of Celebrimbor’s ears turn pink. “That- ah. That may have been me. A flux coil blew in one of the helm’s navigation controls during the party for Disa and Durin’s anniversary. It was a downshift, no one was on the bridge, and everyone else was having such fun, I didn’t want to drag them away to spend half an hour standing about watching me in case I somehow managed to give myself a plasma–shock doing repairs so routine I could manage in the dark standing backward and with one hand tied behind my back. And, well, I got distracted by- that doesn’t matter- and I forgot to revoke it, and no one seemed to mind his coming and going as he pleased until…well. Until Annatar.”

“The point is- and maybe don’t tell anyone else you gave a non-Federation civilian you met when he abducted you the security clearance to get onto the bridge,” Galdriel interjects into her own sentence, the image of an external investigation into this whole mess suddenly flashing before her eyes. “The point is, we were all fooled, Celebrimbor. Twice over.” she squeezes his hand. “You have nothing to blame yourself for, no apologies you need to make.”

“Nevertheless,” Celebrimbor says. He gives her hand a hesitant squeeze in return. “I will make them. Will you tell the Captain I wish to see him, when it’s convenient?”

“I’ll tell him you’re awake, and he’ll come straight down.” Galadriel stands, leaning forward to drop a gentle kiss on his forehead on her way up. “I’d better fetch you a doctor, to, just to give you another look over now you’re awake.” She lets go of his hand, but lingers long enough to give him a last smile. “It’s good to see you, my friend. It is so very good to see you.”

[theflyingfeeling]

...💌

[help-me-find-a-name-please-lol]

CM HOTCH/REID HEADCANONS

My headcanon about Hotch leaving in Season 12, Reid's reaction, and trying to have it make some kind of sense.

Disclaimers:

This is the first rewatch of the later seasons I've done since it aired on TV, and I've only just finished Season 12 episode 4 (I do, however, know the early seasons ridiculously well).

From LDSK onwards, I only ever really watched it for Hotch, Reid, and the Hotch/Reid dynamic. I didn't really watch it after Hotch left, but caught bits and pieces because my roomates did.

Yes I know why Thomas Gibson left the show and why they had to suddenly wrap up his character. No, I don't condone violence in the workplace. I also never dove deeply into the behind-the-scenes lore of this show, cast and crew interviews, etc etc. This will purely be relating to the show as it was depicted on screen, and my love for the characters as their own entities.

I am not going back to fully source which eps all my observations come from, cos I'm supposed to be working on an assignment rn and CM transcripts are a ducking nightmare. I just wanted to put this idea out there cos I think we all need a bit of self-soothing after the crap they fed us to write Hotch out of the show.

Also fun story I just came back to finish writing this after being interrupted by what I though was someone trying to break into my house at 4am (heard a noise, gate wide open, can't see anyone but damn, scary. My town's big on crime, too). SO my thoughts may now be even more disorganised thanks to the adrenaline crash headache I'm currently experiencing.

So anyway like I said, just finished watching S12E04 Keeper, during which Reid gets a call we don't hear, is visibly upset by it, and takes a bit of prodding to discuss it with JJ and Rossi. He then reveals that he was just told his mother left her care facility on her own and was found wandering confused around a casino. He takes minimal convincing to head back to Quantico and lines himself up another couple of days off to visit his mum (yes I'm Australian, this is how we spell it lol).

MY HEADCANON: This is when Hotch called Reid to tell him that he was going into witness protection and wouldn't be coming back. (Exactly how much was discussed on the phone vs possibly being discussed/explained later in person is of course open to interpretation, but enough for Reid to know Hotch wanted to say goodbye and to not tell the rest of the team).

I know that his mum's issues are an ongoing valid storyline. But this is why it was also a plausible excuse for Reid to come up with on the spot as to why he was upset.

Another thing that makes it entirely plausible that the phone call was about Hotch is the long, significant staring Reid did at Prentiss as she walked away after they discuss what supposedly happened with his mum. To me that could scream that Reid was actually dealing with something team-related, and was already grieving how it would affect the other members of his team that he's keeping it from. He could have gazed down or elsewhere to communicate his worry for his mum to the audience, but he specifically turned and watched Prentiss leave, looking all angsty.

What's a heck of a lot less plausible:

His mum, who has been in care since Reid became a legal adult, suddenly escaping her care facility, despite having been in care for well over a decade and who now needs even more supervision due to Alzheimer's on top of her Schizophrenia. Yeah, escapes happen, but to make it all the way into a casino and being found in a confused state? When this didn't happen before Reid flew up and got her diagnosed her with Alzheimers? Even though she'd been getting some increased freedoms for doing well on her new meds prior to her sudden worsening with the Alzheimer's onset?

Hotch leaving without saying something directly to Reid first. Yeah, I'm a shipper, and I know Hotch has his son to think about, but I call BULLSHIT. Hotch knows all about Reid's abandonment issues and there is no way he'd want to end up on the same mental list Reid keeps alongside Reid's father and Gideon. When Gideon went AWOL, Hotch returned from suspension, despite the fight he knew it would cause with his wife, because "the team" needed him. Then Haley stressed "no, they need Gideon". Fully believe this was all just about Reid (I also kinda low-key believe Haley had an inkling about Hotch's thing for Reid but anyway). Hotch, Reid and Morgan functioned as a team while Gideon was on leave after the bomber case, Morgan didn't even really want Gideon to come back and would not have been that thrown by his absence. Reid however we all know was very emotionally-involved. And it's Reid that Hotch pulls aside to get his head back in the game (and who then gives them a breakthrough in the case shortly after, at Hotch's encouragement). When Gideon had officially left and Hotch addressed the team about it, he mostly directed what he was saying towards Reid, when he said that he couldn't explain why he'd left the way he did, etc. And when Hotch was trying to decide whether he'd take over as section chief after Strauss left, again he was addressing the team but pretty much turned and spoke directly to Reid when he said something along the lines of "if I decide to leave the BAU, you'll be the first to know". He also saw how much it killed Reid to be lied to about Prentiss (and you can see he felt like shit about it during Reid's assessment). This man. Would NOT. Have left Reid without saying goodbye. That's the hill I'm dying on. On top of that, Hotch is always the most emotionally-compromised whenever Reid is in danger, and he knows it (he let Gideon know he was currently a terrible example of "handling things emotionally" while Reid was being held by Hankel, resulting in Gideon's weak reassurance of "We'll get him"; when Reid got on that train with Elle he tried to stop it then immediately went to chat with the sniper; when Reid was in the cult compound he had to hand off negotiations to Rossi; when Reid was protecting Owen Savage; heck he practically yeeted Morgan out of the way when Reid was trying to talk down Maeve's stalker and they heard a gunshot. Etc etc.). And whenever Hotch gets emotionally affected by other things (eg that defence attorney for amnesia/coma guy, or regarding his brother), Reid is the one who can break through that and keep him steady. Reid is VERY IMPORTANT to Hotch and I don't see him hurting Reid in what to him is the worst way someone could do it.

Reid being so chill about Hotch suddenly leaving without saying goodbye. Goes without saying, yeah? But I'll say it. I get that they've been trying to paint him as more emotionally-mature and that he was able to handle Morgan leaving, but it is SO not the same relationship or circumstance and Reid would not have taken Hotch's departure in stride like that. I get that they also wanted the show and its characters to move on as quickly and as apparently unaffected as possible, but it still clearly flies in the face of proper characterisation. Reid is brilliant and back when he was being held by Hankel, I'm sure he could have found any number of ways to communicate with a specific team member at that moment, but he chose Hotch. He knew Hotch would be the only one capable of putting his ego aside at being "picked to die" and to listen properly to the rest of Reid's message. Once he confirmed that his message was correct and that he was in a cemetery, Reid was so sure that Hotch understood his message and would be coming to save him that he let his guard down for the first time. I think he only picked up that gun and shot Hankel with it in the end to just superstitiously make sure that the bullet never did reach Hotch (and to "free" Tobias, or whatever. Either way Hankel wasn't going for the gun or to use Reid as a shield when he turned to face off with the FBI and any of them could have taken him down easily). They've only been getting closer and closer over the years, on-screen and off (Fist-bump anyone? Always standing close together? Plus Reid's been teaching Jack magic tricks and was the one to get him smiling and laughing after Hotch got arrested by SWAT, which you know would make Hotch even more gooey for him). They're 100% an army of 2/hyper-competent power couple (take for instance the way Hotch and Reid were mirrored against Garcia and Kevin when she referred to her own pairing as the President and Vice-President after the bank blew up?) who can probably achieve 90% of the team's success level on their own. That super-serial-killer chick may have talked about Reid losing a "protector" in Morgan, but Hotch has always been the one Reid has come to or looked to. He was pretty distraught about the idea of Hotch leaving to be Section Chief, not that long ago, too. Also, constant super-crush behaviour which I could list but this post is already very long. Reid would not just immediately go "Prentiss is our leader now, this'll be great!". FFS.

Anyway we all know the way they wrote Hotch off was bullshit, hence the suuuper-long monologue to explain everything that's apparently happened off-screen, and yeah he'd totally enter WITSEC without even telling the team (until he decided to resign) when Peter Lewis had already hacked it once and killed the person on it before the team figured out who he was after and got there 🙄. All of it is super implausible. But to me, nothing more so than Reid's poor imitation of shock/surprise and almost total lack of emotional reaction. Him knowing beforehand, because Hotch already said goodbye to him, is the only thing that will ever make me be at peace with this crap from an in-universe POV.

This could all be shot to pieces in the next ep lol, but for now I'm just glad my brain has a way to make sense of it.

[cuteniarose]

PART 5 of my incorrect quotes shenanigans featuring six of our newest OCs, which I am happy I kept forgetting to post because that means I now get to use them to hopefully brighten up @katkastrofa’s day a little ^–^

[critical-birb]

Sometimes I feel inspired to pick up my art supplies again and draw and paint and print beautiful things. I feel a burst of love and passion like I had in my youth to create things and share them with the world.

Then I log onto Instagram or twitter or any of the places I was aggressively told in university to post work to eight times a day if I even wanted a chance to break into the industry, and I see every small company that uses to be the entry points for young artists now using crummy AI art for everything they do and all of the larger companies and publishers advertising art that has been so aggressively forced into one very specific, lifeless style because that is what fits the market and is quick to produce.

I see every artist desperately posting the most beautifully crafted artwork that means the world to them and those posts being mindlessly ignored until they beleive their work is worthless because Internet culture has unfortunatly conditioned us all to be bottomless consumers and so hundreds of hours of blood and tears is nothing more than something to scroll past.

Then I log out and go back to bed, and my art supplies sit sadly on the shelf another year.

People love to say "create for yourself!" but that only takes you so far. Humans create as a way to share.

Imagine you baked a stunningly beautiful cake every week to bring to work - it took you practically the whole weekend to bake every teir and frost it and decorate it to perfection. And either no one eats it or a single piece gets taken, and nobody ever thanks you. There's a thousand cakes on the coffee table; most either store-bought ones or even fake ones.

Eventually you stop bothering to bring a cake in. You still bake, sure. You like baking. But you don't make beautiful cakes anymore. You only have you to bake for, after all. What's the point in making them beautiful or trying to create something new when you could just eat it out of the baking tray with a fork?

Its just all so....sad, isn't it?

[arsenicflame]

fanfic trope: only one bed and amnesia

thank u !!! ha somehow i managed to get two with these exact tropes '''':)

Only One Bed:

C: Neutral. A good author might be able to sell it, but a bad one will kill it deader than dead.

in izzy fic we jump to:

B: Like it. Not one of my bigger cravings, but it can scratch a certain itch if I’m in the right mood.

its a fine trope, i just, have feelings about the plausibility of it. i like it used tactically in a story, not just thrown in there for the hell of it, yknow? it gets a big boost in izzyfic mostly because of the setting. 1) options are limited on a ship. 2) options are limited in port because its 1717. cant book ahead at all, bedding is expensive, it just feels More viable to me (though then i get thinking abt historical view on homosexuality and it becomes a whole thing i take tooooo seriously)

its not exactly only one bed but im a HUGE fan of scooping an injured Izzy into the captains bed (to keep an eye on him/because its the softest/etc) and then Ed & stede curling around him anyway, because its their bed.

Amnesia:

A: Love it. Spend my time combing AO3 for it

i already said a little earlier how i love whump, & this especially is so good. ive read it with a lot of ships i like, but for izzy specifically, i like playing around with who he might have been in the past. its not just about the loss of memories, its about remembering who he used to be too. its about the crew seeing a new, less stressed side of izzy, its about reminders of how ed & izzy's relationship used to be, theres so many layers to it that work especially well for these guys in particular! im also fond of how it can affect the stizzy relationship too (with either of them losing memories) and thats not even touching on sam... its always so good i swear

Give me a fanfiction trope and I’ll grade it

[sisterdivinium]

Silence had always been her home — solitude.

Concentration shunned the noise of company and Jillian Salvius had long made secluded labs into sanctuaries.

Yet she found herself suddenly housing a nunnery — and suddenly she saw that presence was not all nuisance. Beatrice's step was light, Camila's voice low and Ava's laughter more song than hassle.

"If we can ever repay you..." Mother Superion said.

She was the greatest discovery, stern yet soothing: a partner whose every word was essential or unspoken instead.

Jillian smiled and shook her head.

She would not ask and risk ridicule — but they needed only stay.

[randomnameless]

Does that mean Mercie and Supreme Leader could be distant cousins potentially? Guess it might be an idea in that 10000 year lore.

You have no idea how many cans of worm this AU opens anon -

AU where Dimi marries Mercie, and the resulting Blaiddyd heir has... a crest of Seiros :(

No one understands why, maybe it's a Hresvelg curse for destroying Adrestia?

With time, the Crest of Seiros is known as the Crest of Hresvelg (to Rhea's chagrin) and is now seen, in the Kingdom's folk legends, as a curse that befell humanity when it became too greedy.

AU where it's Papa Martritz's line that is a branch line from the Hresvelg House -

Ionius not managing to roll for crested heirs with his different wives jumped on the occasion to destroy House Martritz (even if it has a heir! in the over, but it exists still!) and put an end to eventual pretenders to the Imperial throne, if his "lady friends" can't give him an adequate crested heir :(

And even if the baby survives, it has a chance of not getting a crest of Seiros, and by virtue of not being a noble born baby, people might believe it's just a random bastard and not a legitimate threat to his dynasty

(Imagine if Baron Bartels got his seiros crested bby with Mercie though - hopefully, Emile made sure that plan would never see fruition!)

Ultimate combination AU : Mercie and Emile can tolerate Zanado fruits

Just like Constance!

Somehow, before being turned in a pincushion, lizard!Lycaon befriended Lamine's 9th daughter, who returned North when he "suddenly died" and Hildegard I (who descends from Willy's human children, the ones he got when he had his crest but from human women!) took his succession.

The resulting kid had no pointy ears but was "human passing" enough (only 1/4th Nabatean!), then said kid got kids - sometimes with a crest of Seiros, sometimes with the crest of Lamine - and their kids got kids - and they ended up in Adrestia, becoming Mercie's mom family.

Mercie will notice something strange because her parents recipe (that was influenced by her mom's cooking) always featured putting slices of fruit in the shape of a star on his various cupcakes - but then, those disgusting fruits Flayn, Seteth and even Lady Rhea nibble on occasion, when sliced, look like stars ? Granted, she never tried to eat any since everyone knows they're inedible! She tried to put a slice on a cupcake and ate it, to Annette and Dedue's surprise, she didn't threw up like everyone else, nor collapsed, even if Annette scolded her "Mercie, what are you even doing?! Those things can't be eaten!"

Overhearing Mercie's recipe history, Seteth frowns like never before - Lycaon used to hold hands with a scion of Lamine who joined their side (he told Seiros the Warrior to watch out because he was too young to hold hands, she ignored him, again!).

This will make Billy start to question themselves, if Rhea considered Mother like her daughter, and Mercedes is the child of the child of the child of the child (etc) of Rhea's son, is Mercedes their sort of nephew?

[wherela]

one of those crying in the shower kind of days

[running-in-the-dark]

every time I'm like 'I'll stay away from tumblr for a while' (for my mental health and all that), I end up being on here more than ever before. 🙃

[hobisexually]

x

[bonelesshorror]

when you say you're healing but all the retrogrades hit you at once and then you realise you're still deeply flawed

[mayspicer]

Ok, the boss is no more! There were some super stressful moments but surprisingly we all survived o:

My animal companion got hit with disintegrate, but we had hero points to make him avoid it. I would cry actually, because disintegrate means no resurrection x_x

The war is prevented! At least this one, because Cayden's party is right at the center of a much bigger one just starting. Today we saved the country. Cayden is trying to not even save the whole world, just maybe slow the whole thing down and save as much people as possible...

[yameoto]

butch pussy + femme cock = using you

tw; free-use, somno, cnc, morning sex, butchpussy (vi) femmecock (cait), implied bratty!reader. wc; 1.2k

vi and caitlyn linger at the doorway, to your shared bedroom. patrols are a bitch—and it is not always that they can get home, early. it's never been a problem exactly. except—

“ah..” vi’s mouth waters.

dawn crawls on the horizon. its heralding light seeps in through gossamer curtains, spilling out to bask your sleeping form in an unmitigated glow. your very nude, sleeping form. as if teasing them—you let out the most adorable yawn, in the midst of sleep. your leg curls upwards, covers slipping off.

caitlyn swallows, hard.

the two of them are immediately seized with an irrational jealousy for being so robbed from witnessing you, like this. “since when does she sleep naked?” “suppose it’s hot nowadays.” caitlyn answers airly, as if her nails aren't digging into the heel of her palm and the tent in her trousers' isn't stiffening. urgently. since when did she have the libido of a teenage boy? vi elbows her, voice teasing—if not equally as hoarse. “cupcake. you’re packing.”

"like you're not thinking the same." caitlyn scoffs, and vi can't argue with that. she is thinking the same. if the same, is the idea of hovering over your blissfully relaxed figure, splayed out on the bedspread. tearing off her pants and—

“..perhaps, we could.. indulge.”

“oh, baby. you read my mind.”

you wake, to a burning in your lungs, and your cunt. there's a stuffy headiness enveloping your head, something hot and wet and slippery pressing up against your chin. you open your mouth, only half-consciously, when your tongue meets salt and your eyelids flicker open in sleepy befuddlement. heat, and muscular thighs clamp down on either side of your head. a rough hand twists in your hair.

vi jerks you tongue-first into her cunt. your, whatthefuckisgoingon??? comes out more like; "mmrmgh?”

"poor baby. can't breathe, huh?" vi only shoves you deeper up the wedge of her thighs, your nose burrowed into the curls of her hot-pink bush and mouth at her sopping pussy. "oh, right there, princess."

she hisses, wresting you by the hair and rubbing her slickened folds against your face. your hands are scrambling at the mattress, each and every attempt at speech muffled by the squeezing of vi's legs. she pants in pleasure, as you pant in need, into her pussy—choked out by the sheer force of which vi's thighs are coiled around your head. she eases up, just enough for you to wriggle your mouth to gasp for air, and release a breathy, plaintive whine—eyes sleep-glazed and blinking hard, trying to get your bearings. c'mon, now—get with it; you're being suffocated by your girlfriend's pussy. not four AM on a workday and your chin is coated with slick. vi lets out a petulantly dissatisfied noise when you're gulping air for too long—shoving your head back down with a low growl. "don't—hah—you fuckin' stop."

you're so preoccupied with trying to breathe, head spinning, cogs whirring at a slow, slow pace as it attempts to process the fact you're gasping into your girlfriend's pussy; you almost don't realise the burning in your belly has rescinded to a low simmer. mistake.

"don't tell me you forgot about me, darling." like caitlyn can sense your distraction, there is a blinding jolt of lightning that crackles through your body as she gives you an idle jerk. something twitches, and you realise, belatedly, there is a cock inside of you. you tense up, and your walls clench. caitlyn's moan is dizzying.

"ah—ah.. fuck, sweetheart. you feel almost as good as you did, before."

vi presses up flush against your face, groaning as she rocks, grinding picking up the pace. of course, the tighter she holds, the less you can breathe, and your limbs jerk, fingers fisting into the sheets.

"stop squirming. you're only going to make it worse." caitlyn's pace is leisurely, manicured nails pinching either side of your hips. she rolls her hips forward, teeth biting down at her bottom lip. "it's a shame. you made such a good cocksleeve. all relaxed. pliant." 

it feels wrong to hear words so vulgar rolling off her silken tongue, so casually, so early-in-the-fucking-morning, as if you haven't heard filthier come out of her mouth. the shock of it is wearing, giving way to the blazing warmth that so throbs in your pussy that you can't believe you hadn't noticed. though perhaps, that was the whole point.

"you didn't expect me to wait my turn, did you?" oh, caitlyn is definitely smirking. you can hear the smug undercurrent in her voice; even if you can't see a thing, other than the swollen nub of vi's clit and the hastily-cut bristles of her bush as she gets off, chest rising and falling in shallowing breaths. caitlyn, however, is still only working in idle, languid pumps. like she's savouring your sleep-ridden compliancy; how you are, for once, thoroughly silenced by the clench of vi's pussy and vice of her thighs.

"you—mm—do look pretty when you shut up." vi gasps out, and you can feel her cunt pulsing around you, you want to whine, grumble, protest—anything—but the press of your lips only spurs her on, the hand in your hair yanking you deeper. vi's breaths stutter, tensing. "..shit." vi cums, her weight on your chest shifting, smushing you against the mattress as she squirts, right down your throat. caitlyn barely moves, content to, apparently, continue using you as her personal cocksleeve as vi humps out her orgasm against your face, milky fluid and your own saliva—from having nowhere to go—completely immersed in heat. caitlyn's thrusts are lazy, and vi's grinding vigorous. your chest is tight, thoughts almost nothing in your light-headedness, mindlessly gaping open and simply taking it.

the second vi collapses, thighs finally, finally lifting off your shoulders—caitlyn rams her cock into you. no longer muffled by vi's cunt (though, her cum still dribbling out from your lips), you cry out. you really can't catch a break, can you?

"shh." caitlyn commands, and now, you can see her eyes flicker up at you in annoyance, though beneath the gaze—gleams amusement. she slides herself in, deep, and your own hips rise in instinctive reaction, whimpering, lungs all used up.

you manage to do as caitlyn says, and shut up, chests heaving as you needily gulp in the mercy of fresh air. vi's large hands skim your bare chest, circling your nipples, thumb swiping underneath your breasts. "easy," she husks, voice gravelly, as if you have the energy to go anything but. or perhaps, she's talking to caitlyn. you can't tell, because caitlyn is certainly not going easy—and you are paying the price. in fact, she's begun to jam her hips with vicious force, pace vigorous—pulling out, ever-so-slow, before plunging back in again. there is no longer any restraint; as if she has held herself back, enough, and deserves this. to plow your pussy and drink in each and every broken gasp it elicits.

she thrusts, particularly brutal. you gasp—throat raw—and you unspool all over her cock, body betraying you. caitlyn's pupils dilate, just like that, at the sight of your cum oozing out in thick, creamy bursts around her base, with each slam of her body—has her head falling back, throat baring. her hips falter, before she drives inside you, harsh and hard—one last time—and paints your insides sticky.