#final round entry

[into-the-mikuverse]

[most-fuck-able-ff14]

MOST FUCKABLE FF14 MAN ROUND 2

[cacturne]

that was FUN i liked this dlc

[musical-chick-13]

The thing is. We are starting to get to the point in this poll where I have to decide whether Voting For The Sapphic Couple I Like The Most is more important or Voting For The Sapphic Couple That Might Actually Stand Even The Slightest Chance Of Beating D/stiel is more important.

[girl-prototype]

Know that if you make a bracket on here and don't seed the entries I won't do anything to you but I'll be very disappointed

[incognit0slut]

Hypothetically

Chronically single, you suggest a pact with your best friend to start a family together when you turn forty.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x bau fem reader

Category: fluff/comfort

Warnings: marriage and baby talk, reader is insecure because she feels left out

A/n: This is my entry for the kid fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins! This was like a breath of fresh air from all the smut I’ve been writing

"Do you want to have a baby with me?"

The scalding coffee burned his tongue as your question lingered in the air. Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly and patted his chest, his eyes drifting towards you. "Uh... what?"

"Hypothetically," you replied, the tap of your pen echoing against the round table between you. "It's like a pact. If we're both still single in the future, we get married to one another and, well, start a family together."

Spencer felt the clamminess of his palms as he set his mug down, trying to steady himself. He considered you as one of the closest people in his life, if not his best friend, and he was accustomed to your random questions, but this sudden topic of conversation seemed to strike a nerve.

"Where..." he began, wiping his palm along his pants. "...where is this coming from?"

You shrugged casually, the tapping of your pen momentarily ceasing. "Just a thought. I mean, we're both at that age where these things start to cross our minds, right?"

Spencer swallowed, trying to push down the unease rising in his chest. "Yeah, I guess so," he muttered, but as he studied you, he noticed the tension in your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Your gaze flickered away for a moment before you sighed, slumping against your chair.

"I have a wedding coming up this weekend." Spencer frowned, not understanding what you were trying to say. You continued, "And another one next week, and guess what? Two of my cousins are getting married next month."

"What does that have to do with...?" His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see."

But you weren't finished. Somehow, the thoughts that had lingered in your mind for the past few days spilled out right then and there, in the middle of broad daylight when you were supposed to be focusing on the case you were working on.

"And a close friend I went to high school with just gave birth while another friend from college announced she's two months pregnant. And look at me," you exclaimed, your arms flying around. "No wedding. No pregnancy. Spencer, I don't even have a boyfriend, heck, I forgot what it's like to go out on a date!"

He watched as your brow furrowed into a frown, and although your demeanor was all over the place, he couldn't help but notice how you still managed to look pretty.

"Spence?" You asked, nudging his leg with your foot under the table. "Are you listening to me?"

He blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts by your voice. "Sorry," he replied. "I'm listening."

You gave him a skeptical look, but the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you leaned back in your chair.

"I just... I don't know, I feel like I'm left behind." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I'm happy for my friends and all, but sometimes it feels like everyone's moving forward but me. Like I'm stuck in this... this rut."

Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he knew how it felt to want something that seemed out of reach, but on the other hand, he felt like it wasn't his place to offer advice when he wasn't even sure what the future held for him.

"I get it," he finally said, trying to gather his thoughts. The least he could do was try to offer some comfort. "But just because you haven't reached those milestones yet doesn't mean you won't get there eventually."

"But what if it doesn't happen? What if I'm still all alone and nobody loves me when I'm gray and old?"

He frowned at you. "I'd still love you when you're gray and old."

"Platonically. You love me as much as you love JJ. Or Emily. Or Penny, or even Morgan." You leaned over the table. "I want to be loved passionately by someone who is head over heels for me, who can't imagine a life without me. I want to feel that kind of happiness."

His frown deepened. "I don't think you should find happiness in another person."

"You're missing the point," you groaned, crossing your arms. "I'm not saying I want to depend on someone else for my happiness. But is it too much to ask for someone to share it with? To feel like I'm someone's everything and not just another friend in the group?"

His expression softened as he listened, a sense of familiarity washing over him. He remembered feeling the same thing once, or maybe more than once; he wasn't sure. He had lost count of the times he felt his life was falling short.

But he realized the more he thought about the why—why was he so different? why couldn't he find love?—the more he felt worthless, and he hated that. So what was the best thing he did to ignore those thoughts?

Bury himself in work, because to him, pushing those feelings aside was easier than confronting them. But now, as he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing his own reflection and your words hit him harder than he expected.

"No," he quietly agreed. "It's not too much to ask for."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm tired of waiting for life to happen to me." Your gaze slowly met his. "So I came up with a plan."

His throat felt dry as he recalled how this conversation started in the first place. "The... baby plan?"

You nodded enthusiastically, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Think about it. If we're both still single when we're..." You paused, furrowing your brow as you did a quick calculation. "Forty? Yeah, let's say we're both still single when we're forty, with no partners, or like, no friends with benefits?"

You shook your head.

“Just... with no one in our lives—we get married. You and me."

He blinked, trying to process your proposal. It was unexpected, to say the least, but there was a strange logic to it that he couldn't quite shake. The idea of marrying his best friend as a backup plan was both absurd and oddly comforting.

"But what about... love?" he asked cautiously. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

You paused, considering his question before responding. "I mean, I don't think it's impossible," you said, leaning back in your seat. "Haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'Marry your best friend'?"

His gaze lingered on you, his heart beating hard against his chest. "You're saying that we can fall in love?"

Your eyes met his, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Who knows?" you replied softly. "Stranger things have happened."

Spencer shouldn't entertain the possibility. After all, who knew what could happen in the future? It seemed like an absurd thought, but as he stared at you, it was hard not to imagine a life with you as his wife.

He imagined you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him with a radiant smile on your face. He pictured you both in the house you had just bought, dancing joyfully around the empty rooms as you unpacked boxes together.

Then thoughts of you being pregnant with his child—or maybe even children—filled his mind, and he envisioned a future where your kids would run around in the backyard with a pet dog trailing behind.

And then he considered the prospect of growing old with you, watching as your children eventually started families of their own while you found comfort in each other's company. All of these possibilities didn't seem so bad, because if anyone could understand him on a deep level, it was definitely you.

Maybe this crazy plan of yours wasn't so crazy after all.

"I... I guess it's not impossible," he finally admitted. Then, not wanting to seem too eager, he added, "Hypothetically speaking."

"Of course," you replied with a smile. "Hypothetically speaking."

Suddenly feeling flustered by your gaze, Spencer looked away and focused on his coffee, bringing the mug to his lips. Then you heard laughter and footsteps drawing closer, and soon Derek and Emily entered the room. Their eyes immediately landed on the two of you, sitting closely together at the table.

"What are you children whispering about?" Derek's voice interrupted, his eyebrows raised curiously as he glanced between you.

You didn't miss a beat. “Spencer and I are having a baby together."

Spencer choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in shock as he coughed and sputtered. You quickly moved to pat his back.

"Well, we're gonna get married first, right, Spence?" you added with a grin, glancing at him expectantly.

Spencer finally managed to regain his composure, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shot you a sideways glance. "Um, yeah, of course," he stammered, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Hypothetically."

Derek and Emily exchanged bemused glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Emily's curiosity seemed to win out as she lifted a hand, turning her attention back to you. "Care to explain?"

"We were discussing our backup plan."

"Backup plan?" Derek echoed. 

"Yeah," you replied with a nod. "In case neither of us finds the right person by the time we're, oh, I don't know, forty or so, we figured we'd marry each other and start a family."

Derek placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "And you chose Pretty Boy over me?"

"I'm not going to compete with all your lady friends," you shot back, rising from your seat. "Come on, Spence, let's grab some lunch and brainstorm baby names."

He stood up, giving you a pointed look.

"Or do you want to discuss how we'd make those babies in the future?"

"Well, I was thinking of Amelia if it's a girl..."

You grinned, linking your arm through his before guiding him towards the door. Derek and Emily observed the natural closeness between you two, how you were practically clinging to him and how he seemed to be comfortable with it.

Derek turned to Emily as you disappeared down the hallway. "Do you think they'd actually get married when they hit forty?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope," she replied confidently. "I give it a year until he's already down on one knee."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. With the way Spencer's gaze lingered on you with unmistakable affection, it seemed like it was only a matter of time.

[2kiran]

FRANCIS MOSSES 交易 ── `` DARK CONTENT﹕monsterfucking. top amab reader. doppelgänger francis. handjob. no protection + preparation. overstimulation. ✶ IN WHICH you unknowingly let the wrong francis inside.

the prospect of you being fired—or worse, being put in a cell—was incredibly likely. enthusiasm of the milkman’s arrival being your final entry request for the day lead to your upcoming demise.

it shouldn’t be on you, both the blame and responsibility. the given identity document had indistinguishable information, merely an artist’s mistake as you finally realize that his eyebrows were just a tad thicker. his eyes were a bit too lively for the real francis.

realization dawned on you a second too late as you feel cold, but strangely simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar hands grab you from behind. before you could reach the rotary phone to contact the D.D.D., he grabbed your wrist and spun your chair around to face him.

francis, or so you thought, had a gentle smile plastered on his face but you knew better to tell that his intentions were far from truly kind. “don’t tell me you were actually going to let them kill me,” your jaw tightened, gaze hardening into a glare. he chuckled, hands landing on the armrests, so dangerously close to yours that were balled in fists to prevent yourself from punching his face.

when you didn’t respond, he continued. leaning in as he shook his head with a scoff, “aw, c’mon. . .we both know that you’re too much of a good sweetheart, yeah? please don’t try that again.” his saccharine voice was improbable, a subtle take of a threat behind his tone.

“you’re gullible enough to think i’d do that for you.” the tension between you was palpable, a thin thread that threatened to break at the tip of his finger. his lips pouted, sadness in his untrue eyes. “me? but you’re the one who let me in here,” he laughed, tone rather arrogant, “and i should thank you for that.”

if he were the real francis, you probably would have been making out with him by now. this doppelgänger was awfully confident, you wish you could break him. see tears fall down to his round cheeks, lips trembling as pleas tumbled out of his pretty lips.

these thoughts were idiotic. but fuck, he was near enough to the milkman, the clueless neighbor who could care less about it all. “want me to spare you? or—” you cut him off, lips connecting with his. francis was surprised, but welcomed it nonetheless. his hand came up to your neck, sliding towards your hair. groaning as he gently, almost experimentally, tugged at it. tongue met tongue, a clash of saliva and mess. you bit onto his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan.

“mmph, and here i thought you hated me.” he grinned, panting, “what gave you that idea?” you place a kiss on his chin, “because you tried to get rid of me, and the fact that. . .i’m not him.” grabbing his hips, he let out a yelp. he scrambled to hold onto your shoulders for dear life, gasping when he felt your teeth graze against his neck. “seems like i’ve struck a nerve, hu—haah, fuck!”

a lewd moan had escaped him, your teeth sinking into his flesh. it was far from gentle, biting him like you wanted to see him bleed. he was simply a doppelgänger that you stupidly let in, after all.

the pink muscle settled in your mouth lapped at the bite, cueing francis to whimper at the sensation. he moved closer on your lap, grinding against your crotch. the action could’ve been mistaken for something relating to a dog; for he seemed like a bitch in heat. quite uncharacteristic for his kind. “you’re pathetic, mosses.”

francis, beyond belief, was affected by the use of the stolen surname more than you anticipated. his hips trembled, “that’s, haah, not my fault. you made me like this. fucking a– ah! doppelgänger, really? they’d surely co– come for you next.” his cock twitched, spilling pre-cum that formed a wet patch on his boxers. you were a lowly human, another one to get rid of, so why does he feel this way?

silence was met with his words. not until you pull down his pants, taking off what was left until his lower half was bare to you. “oh yeah? you’re letting me fuck you,” your fingers wrapped around the base of his dick, giving a single stroke, “you’re not even trying to fight back against me, honey.”

he whined, beginning to selfishly rut into your palm. “what were you going to say?” francis doesn’t respond and you twist your wrist, a cry slipping from him. you asked on a whim, wishing to hear what he planned besides allowing you to carry on with your life. “i-i don’t know!” your thumb presses down on his slit, causing him to wrack his brain to remember. “ah, ah, i meant to ask if you wa- want me to kill you right he— hmmng!” his voice wobbled as if he was fearful, tears in his eyes and he’s suddenly ethereal.

“do you still want to do that? to end my life?”

“no, no, please, i didn’t mean it.”

you tease the vein that ran on his shaft, never failing to witness the face he makes when he’s within the depths of pleasure; of that high he never dared to reach. oh, if only if it was francis mosses. the real one, the one you’re so curious about, the one who your eyes like to linger on a bit too long for comfort. your pace picks up, palm slick with his pre-cum and the room’s sinful with his sobs and arousal.

francis moans under his breath, “i’m cumming-!” he warns a second too late, hips bucking as the familiar fluid splatters across your fingers. the doppelgänger was your very own legendary mona lisa with how his face is painted with all shades of red.

when you swipe your thumb over his tip, he swore he had a glimpse of the deity he didn’t have the conscience to worship.

beliefs were foolish; it was his opinion. with that, he thought you were the one insane. doppelgängers aren’t flawed with such imperfections like humans are. he didn’t need to be prepared for situations similar to this, and you used his inhumanity for your pleasure.

“ughm, agh!” you had wordlessly given your cock a few pumps, no more than that before slipping inside of his tight hole. the tiniest beginning of guilt threatened to engulf you with shame, but why should you allow it? his mere purpose and intention was to murder.

his hole spasmed around you, freely welcoming the intrusion. maybe they were quite useful after all. he whined, his insides tingling with the stretch. the doppelgänger has never felt so full, or genuinely anything, for that matter. “please—fuck, move already, damnit.” he, himself, was breathless.

how could you deny him?

your hands grasped his hips tightly, like you wanted to indent a marking into his flesh. cold emanated from your palms, contrasting to the heat licking at his cheeks. he’s lighter than you’d expect, hole gripping you as if he was a fleshlight. lifting him up, your tip was held onto. heavenly; as the way he wrapped around you was undeniably heavenly.

sensing his apparent impatience, you let him crash down on you. a broken gasp-of-a-moan occupied the air, globs of pre-cum building on his slit. “yeah, fuck me like that,” he breathed, instructions hazily clear to your sex-deprived brain. his ass slapped, slapped, slapped against you. shit, the D.D.D. surely ought to give you a punishment worse than death for this.

he clung onto you, both with his arms and entrance. you don’t think you could really get enough—as vague as this memory could get. your tip brushes against his prostate with each harsh thrust, slick sounds adding onto the cotton pressed into his little head, forming static and nothing else to focus on besides your cock pounding into him. “you’re liking this- ahngm! right? like how good i feel? haa, needed your dick in me s’ bad. . .”

he pushed his hips forward, grinding on your cock as he purposely clenched. “thaaaat’s it, sweetheart. think ‘m gonna keep you.”

yeah, let’s hope your neighbors forgive you for indulging in him.

masterlist﹒divider﹒artist kaworinx

[chuluoyi]

✎ treasure

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

genre: taking care of your son with dad!gojo, fluff/comfort

note: AAAA i love this waaay too much!😭 this brilliant idea gave me baby fever so bad came from an anon who so energetically dropped by my askbox, thank you! and seeing this artwork by Yoon in twitter definitely gave me more ideas too!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"No!"

"Why? This helps—"

"That's ugly! I don't want to look ugly—like you!"

Satoru blinked in utter disbelief, and you broke into the most satisfying fits of laughter. In front of him, standing tall and sullen and very much like him was his own son, now barely five years old.

Your boy mentioned that he had been experiencing discomfort in his eyes lately, which also caused him to become dizzy. And Satoru attempted to persuade him to use a blindfold like he did because it was effective.

However, as we can see, his son didn't take his suggestion well at all. His bright blue eyes, ones your husband passed down, bore an intense glare aimed squarely at him.

"I..." Satoru sputtered, his eyes twitching. The sight was comical as no one had ever managed to elicit such a reaction from him. And no one ever considered him an unattractive person too! "I'm not—"

"You are!"

Once again, you let out a triumphant cackle, and this time your husband shot you a glare. But you didn't care. All those years of tolerating his antics had paid off. His son had finally put him in his place!

When he was a baby, you thought your son was Gojo Satoru incarnate. He was the spitting image of him—with all gaits and expressions too. And you had worried if he would turn out to be just as much of a menace as he was.

But apparently, life has other sweet plans because like you, he was a relatively calm boy, diligent, and didn't like to make a fuss. Satoru argued that it was definitely in his genes—claiming he had also been a sweetheart when he was a child, but you couldn't quite imagine him being remotely as reserved as your son.

That aside, the cause of this hilarious exchange did actually make you worry a bit.

"Look, I know it probably looks odd," Satoru gestured at the blindfold in his hand, but your little boy still didn't seem convinced by the pout he displayed. "But it will help you, I promise. If only you would—"

Oh, but it was almost like karma because besides his appearance, the other trait your son inherited from your husband was his strong sense of winning.

His face reddened from sheer indignation, and he once again screamed, "I don't want to! I'll just cover my eyes with—" he took a nearby napkin and pulled them over his eyes, "—this!"

Satoru sighed in annoyance, and you decided to jump in. Crouching down next to him, you gently pried the napkin from his hand.

"Papa just wants to help you, okay?" you reasoned, cupping his plump cheeks. Gods, he used to be this round thing in your and Satoru's arms and now he was already this big. "He uses it everyday and he has no problems, see?"

"But it doesn't look good..." Your son drooped his head in disappointment, and you could feel Satoru rolling his eyes beside you, evidently miffed at the thought of him being less than good-looking.

Parenting is challenging, especially when your husband still holds onto some of his childlike tendencies. So you decided to end the discussion here.

It was later at noon, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch when you heard your son's scream and something crashing. Your heart was in your throat as you rushed to the backyard, only to see something that made your heart lurch even more.

Your sweet boy was wailing on the ground, clutching his head, and Satoru—

His expression was as horrified as yours if not more, as he ran and caught your son in his arms, pressing him tightly against his chest as if shielding him from the sun altogether. "Shit. Hey, hey—buddy, you okay?”

Satoru lifted him up and carried him inside. You were right beside him as he settled on the sofa, gently hushing your son, who was still shaking and had his eyes covered against his chest.

"M-My head..." your son whimpered, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "...h-hurts..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." he murmured, caressing the child's hair in a soothing manner, and it reminded you so much of what he would do to you in the early mornings. "I've got you now, nothing’s going to happen to you. Hang on a little longer, yeah?"

You felt warm tears threatening to well up in your eyes at the sight. It was heart-wrenching to see your son in such torment, and the way your husband was consoling him deeply touched you. It served as a poignant reminder of just how many years had passed from when Gojo Satoru was still that brat who used to mess with you during high school.

Soon, your little boy's breathing became even, and he went to sleep in Satoru's comforting embrace.

You looked at him while biting your lip, undiluted worry in your voice. "What should we do? He's been experiencing pain often lately..."

Satoru really wanted to wipe that expression from your face, but with his precious child clinging onto him for dear life, even he didn't have the heart to.

"Don't worry, I'll be with him," he assured, a plan already forming in his mind. "If he hates blindfolds that much, then I'll get him some pairs of glasses just like the ones I have—for kids. We'll start with that."

Bearing the weight of his clan's revered eyes was a heavy burden, and honestly, he would prefer it if none of his children had to inherit them. After all, he went through it all too as a child—the manifestation of the six eyes' powers marks the beginning of life as a sorcerer. The perilous world he was still trying to keep away from his son.

Nonetheless, he would be there for him every step of the way. It was what he vowed to himself on the day he was born. He wouldn’t let anything befall him—or you.

You had calmed down after hearing his plan, and as you gazed at your precious boy’s innocent face in his protective grip and the gentle pats he gave him, you suddenly found yourself in a mischievous mood once again.

"Heh, quite the doting papa, aren't you, Satoru?" you winked, a teasing smile on your face. You could have sworn his cheeks slightly flushed as he retorted:

"Hmph. He is my personal little body warmer, after all."

[porcalinecunt]

heyy could i ask for a jason todd x reader where they’re fucking in his room and dick happens to walk by and he js peek inside and … ykwim 😩

02 𐙚 KINKTOBER — 𝐏𝐄𝐄��𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐌!

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 the wayne manor was supposed to be empty, leaving you and your boyfie jay alone to spend a night together. unfortunately, the door wasn’t closed . . .

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JASON TODD & DICK GRAYSON X GN! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — afab!reader, pervert!dick, peeping, masterbation, jealousy, anal sex, mentions of size kink, dickie being deplorable <3

・:。[ author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ omfg anon, you probably awoke smth in me with this AHHHH— i might make this a kinktober entry bc its just too good! <33

“you alright..?” jason asked as he finally bottomed out. you couldn’t reply until you caught your breath and brought your whines down a notch, yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at you’re boyfriend in the eye. nor could you get used to having sex in the wayne mansion.

with such a large house, loud noises are bound to echo all the way into the batcave, hence why it was rare for you and jason to fuck freely in the mansion. not helping the fact that the wayne’s are a rather large family. jay’s six psudo-siblings, the bat himself and alfred makes privacy a bit difficult to have.

tonight however, was different. with bruce and most of the batkids gone to a gala for the night, the vigilante saw the golden opportunity and dragged your ass right out of your apartment for some “quality” time. of course, spending it by fucking you raw on his king sized bed for round after round as loud as he wants. hell, he didn’t bother to close the bedroom door all the way.

a fatal mistake on his end. the smallest sounds leaked through the crack, every slap to the thigh to him muttering dirty talk could’ve been heard by anyone walking by, and it was. unknowingly to either of you, someone else was nosy enough to peek through and watch the free show in front of him.

dick “dickhead” greyson, as jason lovingly refers to him by. even before you confessed to jay, you knew dick was into you. always boring his eyes into your skin as he admired every inch of your being, only for his younger brother to swoop in and take you himself. the golden boy harbors at least some jealousy, and why blame him? he’s a lover at heart, too stubborn to let go of a crush that had him palming himself when the lights went out.

now here he is, staring through the cracked door at your face while jason ruts another one in you. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as another mewl for more slipped through your teeth. “another? someone missed me a ton huh..”

he chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips in a lazy attempt to swallow your moans as he pistons his soaked cock into your cunt, clawing another orgasm out of you. the sounds of skin to skin contact drowned out the external noise of dick’s panting just a couple feet away.

he knew it was wrong, downright disgusting. peeping his own brother boning his partner’s cunt over and over again, something only a degenerate would dream of. yet, he couldn’t help himself. not with the pretty noises you’d make when jay breeds your pussy full, or the faces you’d make that contorts with pleasure. he’d fucking kill to be in that room.

with his hard cock in his hand, the ex-boy wonder pumped away at the live porno playing out. question after question running through his head, wondering the things he could do to you if he was shameless enough to walk in. “hah..ahh..fuck y/n, driving me insane here..”

he sighed, stroking himself faster as jason flipped you onto your stomach and stuffing himself into your tight ass. ‘fuck, that’ll do it..’ dick thought to himself, he never knew you were into anal, especially with a man as rough as his brother.

meanwhile, you could practically feel your third orgasm turn your body into jelly. you’re arms were close to giving out yet your boyfriend kept you up by the nape. the difference in size made you a ragdoll compared to your tank of a man, something that went straight into dick’s twitching cock.

“so small..so fuckin’ cute..” he trailed off as his orgasm made itself obvious as spurts of cum splattered against the wooden door. his eyes locked onto your trembling figure as his breathing turned into full on moans.

“jay..baby, m’ gonna cum..!” you whined as jason’s thrusts grew sloppier by the second. dick bit his bottom lip, he was already making a huge mess. a harmony of moans and skin slapping finally muted out the golden boy as he came all over himself and the door. at the same time as you and jay cumming together.

as he watched you and your boyfriend snuggle in the sweaty afterglow, dick stares down at his cum shot palm and the streaks of white on the door. he knew he had to clean up his act before jason finds out and tears him a new asshole for being a perv.

he simply couldn’t help it though, especially waiting the next time he sees your pretty ass bent over.

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[hanasnx]

" DOUBLE BUBBLE DISCO QUEEN " — katsuki bakugou.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem bratty pink!reader ノ pussy whipped bakugou ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ p in v ノ degradation: f receiving ノ reader has pink hair and pink style.

KATSUKI BAKUGOU didn’t know what to make of you at first. He’d never admit you were intimidating, but your commitment to one color made him nauseous. Pink was everything he saw you sport, as if you couldn’t have a style outside of it. Even your hair sprouted from your scalp in a soft pink shade. Regardless of his initial apprehension, somehow he was roped into a relationship with you. Now he carries your many bags, opens doors for you, holds your hand when you start yapping too much. You annoy him, and yet he sticks with you.

He’s come to respect you, and even like you a little bit. Not that you give him any choice. He can’t be fooled by your soft appearance, you’re just as domineering as he is. You’re spoiled rotten, and high maintenance as hell. It’s taken him loads of tries to get it right, to treat you exactly how you believe you deserve to. It’s difficult—next to impossible—but you make it worth it, don’t you?

When you spread those legs, all pretty and eager for him, things go quiet. For once, things go his way. Katsuki’s never considered himself to be a pussy-driven guy until he met you. Suddenly, he’s letting you bully him into all kinds of things just for a glimpse of that kitty. He’d feel shame if his mouth wasn’t watering right now staring down at those drippy lips, open and waiting for him.

“C’mon, Katsu. Wanna feel you.” you whine with a coy smile to your lips, impatient and brows upturned. Just as you wiggle your hips enticingly, mean and callused hands envelope them, pinning your ass to the mattress.

Gripping the base, he feeds himself into your hole, sniffing out the give until you moan just from the stretch, and he sighs with goddamn relief. As if he’s finally getting payback for everything you throw at him. You’re a damn bitch, and you know he thinks so, but getting this tight cunt gives you a blank slate. After he’s good and fucked his fill, he’ll be ready to take your attitude again. For now, he keeps a palm over that smart mouth of yours, just so you don’t ruin the moment.

“Mmf—“ he grunts, scooping an arm under your knee to pick your leg up, giving himself a little more room inside you. “Even this princess pussy’s a brat…Clenching down on me.” he speaks through his teeth, rutting in and out to hollow out a space for himself. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” A bold-faced lie, but you take it anyway, nodding to him. Anything to get him to keep going, anything to get him to make you loosen up so he can fuck you for real. His palm over your mouth remains, and you smell his sweet scent of sweat.

“Running me ‘round, dangling this cunt in front of me knowing I’ll do whatever for it. Tch, you’re so damn annoying.” His words in your ear sends a powerful shudder down your spine, fluttering your eyelashes. You slick, lubing up his entry as he keeps pushing in and in. Even without seeing his face, breathing hard through your nose over his third pinky knuckle, you can feel him grin next to you. You know it's wolfish just from the sound of his reply, “You like hearing that shit, huh?” His husky voice grates your ears and you whimper pitifully under his weight.

His hips increase their fervor, getting excited over the new room in your hole, setting an immediate bruising pace just to be a jerk.

“For someone so spoiled, struttin’ ‘round like you can buy anything you want with daddy’s money, you sure like gettin’ called out on it.” That's what he's here for.

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[v-albion]

Fifth round of @tmntfashioncompetition entry!

It’s free choice this week and finally I got a chance to draw an overly complicated steampunk outfit!

This time I'll be going against both @kathaynesart HERE and the @villainleoau crew, wish us luck!

Also bonus point to those who know where he is 👀

Prev Week | Next Week

Masterpost

[into-the-mikuverse]

[gilverrwrites]

A dire need

Bruce Wayne/Reader, 700 words Kinktober entry 10: Sex pollen Warnings: EXTREMELY dubious consent | breeding kink | size difference | over-stim Requested by: (Author prompted) Anonymous

Your weeping cunt twitches around his cock, painfully milking yet another round of thick, hot cum from him. Your body is too spent to react beyond your quiet whimpers and the ceaseless twitching of your weak legs. At this point, you’re not even sure your brain, body, and pussy are connected.

He’s been pressing you in the bed by your ankles mercilessly pounding his fat length into your gaping, leaking hole with strength and stamina that cannot be human for hours, having grabbed you from the hallway in the early hours of the morning and putting you over his shoulder.

“Bruce? What the hell?!” You’d hammered your first into his brawny back. “Where are you taking me?”

“Bed.” He’d replied sharply, seemingly annoyed by your futile struggles and incessant questions. Why he felt so strongly about you being out of bed was a mystery to you, but you went lax in his grip, allowing him to carry you through the maze-like walls of the manor right up until he passed your room and continued down the hall.

“Uh, Brucie, better recalibrate you’re GPS. My bedroom was two doors down.” You’d commented, beginning to struggle once more when he failed to respond. “Seriously, Bruce come on, you’re scaring me.”

“My bedroom.” He eventually answered, jerking his shoulder hard enough to make you jolt briefly into the air then back against his shoulder, but that didn’t stop your squirming. Sure, there’s always been an unspoken attraction between you and Bruce, but this seemed extreme.

“Woah there big guy, I don’t think so.” You’d return to punching his solid back, aimlessly kicking your feet until he repeats his previous motion with enough force to temporarily make you dizzy.

“Stop squirming.” It was an order, low and demanding, he’d begun using the Batman voice.

As he’d approached his door, he didn’t stop to bother with the handles, unceremoniously booting it open with his barefoot and rushing to the bed where he finally released you, hoisting you into the air and slamming you against his sheets in one fell swoop.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, I know you want it.” He’d all but growled, already unbuckling his pants and tearing away his shirt before climbing onto the bed. Despite your hesitance, you couldn’t deny how this whole bullish, no-nonsense demonstration stirred something feverish between your thighs, but from this angle, you can see he’s not himself; paler than usual, veins dark and prominent beneath his sweat-slickened skin. He grabbed your nightgown, and you’d allowed him to pull it above your head, as if you’d had much choice, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable to his unfeasibly dilated pupils.

“Holy shit, Bruce!” His cheek felt hot and calmy in your palms when you’d reached up to cup his face. “What’s going on?”

Before you could move any further, he’d clamped a hand over yours, holding it tightly to him as he closed his eyes, turning his face into your wrist and sniffing aggressively at your scent.

“Need to fuck you.” He replied matter-of-factly before opening his eyes once more to stare into your wide ones, and you watched with trepidation as he reached down to take his thick cock from his boxers.

With unsurprising precision he’d slapped the tip against your slick folds, hitting your clitoris dead centre, unresponsive to how it made you shudder beneath him. All he’d been focused on is your face, watching you with frightening levels of intensity, as he parts your folds with his crown, painfully splitting your underprepared entrance around it.   

“Br- “ You’d started to object, but he silenced you with a harsh shush.

“Need to fuck you until you’re fat with my cum.” He’d said between gritted teeth, no longer looking at you, barely even addressing you as he watches his cock begin to agonizingly disappear between your tense walls. “You’re going to look beautiful, carrying my next heir.” 

Please remember: Bad days are a part of a good life!

Kinktober Masterlist

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 (𝕥𝕨𝕠)

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: lots of cute first date jitters, reader is clumsy, also a lot more cheese 🧀 — take your lactaid besties.

part one | part three

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: i’m honestly blown away by all the sweet comments on that first little blurb. shy reader is 1000% me, so this is very near and dear to my heart. i hope y’all like this one just as much! also big kisses to my lovely angel @undead-supernova for looking this over for me <3

“This looks stupid.”

You huff, glancing at your reflection before rushing back over to your closet for the 3rd time in a span of twenty minutes.

But Nancy grabs your wrist from before you can make it there, pulling you down onto the bed beside her.

“Everything you’ve tried on has been cute… I don’t see the problem here.”

You groan and flop back onto the mattress, covering your face with your hands.

“I wasn’t exactly trying to go for cute, Nance.”

Your words are muffled behind your palms, but she gets your message loud and clear.

“I know you want to impress him, but my best advice is to just be yourself… that’s why he asked you out in the first place, right?”

You sigh, uncovering your face to look up at her. She has a brow raised, and as much as you’d hate to admit it— you know she’s right.

“Do you always have to be right about everything?” you puff out a small laugh and she beams, nudging your knee with hers.

“Of course, I am the brains of this operation, remember?”

You roll your eyes fondly before returning to your feet, smoothing over the denim of your skirt when you meet your reflection once more.

“Oh god, what about make up?!”

You only managed to change your shirt one last time before Nancy had to practically barricade your closet door shut with her body. Reminding you that, once again, you looked great.

It doesn’t help much to soothe that little voice in the back of your head that disagrees— but the rumble of an engine and a blaring guitar riff distracts from those thoughts momentarily as the panic finally starts to set in.

“Shit, shit, shit! He’s here already?” you squeak, glancing over at your beside clock.

6:45 pm.

He was 15 minutes early.

“He’s early… color me impressed.” She grins before peeking out your curtains.

“I’m… I’m not ready, Nance.”

Your heart is about to pound out of your chest and your palms are beginning to sweat. She steps away from the window to put her hands on your shoulders, face full of determination.

“Just breathe, okay? I’ll go down and let him in, you just take a minute and come down when you’re ready.”

You nod dumbly, eyes widening further when the doorbell rings.

Eddie’s here… actually standing on your front porch. Bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in his own sweaty palms.

“Thanks, Nance.”

She just gives you a reassuring smile before starting down the stairs and opening the front door. To say Eddie is surprised when Nancy Wheeler appears at your front door instead of you is an understatement.

“Uh… please don’t tell me I’ve got the wrong address,” he steps back to take a look at the number on the house again.

“No, you’re at the right place. She’s just finishing getting ready, come on in.”

Nancy can see the way his shoulders sag in relief before he steps past the threshold. Dark eyes wandering around the interior of your entry way in utter curiosity. Pictures of you and your parents line the walls, but one in particular catches his attention.

You’re smiling up at the camera, eyes scrunched closed behind the round frame of your glasses— with your two front teeth missing.

The sight has him grinning despite himself, already catching more of a glimpse of the girl that’s been on his mind for the better part of that year.

“So… where are you taking her?” Nancy asks casually, leaning against the doorframe of your kitchen.

Eddie turns then, still clutching the flowers tightly in his fist.

“The Palace… and then Benny’s. But don’t worry, I’ll have her back before 11 pm. Scout’s honor.” He grins, raising his other hand in a mock salute.

You can hear their voices floating up the stairs, which only seems to worsen the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You take one last look in the mirror to straighten your top and make sure your eyeliner wasn’t smudged before you turn the knob and make your way down the hall.

The creak of the floorboards alerts them both to your presence when you slowly begin to descend the stairs. Your hand grips the railing tightly, eyes finally lifting once you reach the landing.

“Wow,” he whispers in dumbstruck awe.

You can feel your skin warm under the intensity of his gaze, tucking your lower lip between your teeth to hide a grin.

But the sweet moment is quickly squashed when your foot catches on the edge of the step, and you go tumbling forward. Eddie drops the flowers in his haste before closing that short distance between you to catch you in his arms. Your bodies collide, much like what happened earlier in the cafeteria.

Only this time he doesn’t let you go right away.

“Steady now,” he chuckles, and your eyes can’t help but drift lower to stare at his lips. “You okay?”

You nod, not fully trusting your voice when he’s so close like this, you swear he must be able to hear how fast your heart is fluttering beneath your ribs.

“Oh goddammit, the flowers.” Eddie groans, making sure you’ve got your footing before he bends down to pick up the crumpled bouquet.

“Uh, I promise they weren’t like this when I got here...”

He hands them out to you with a sheepish grin, the apples of his cheeks now flushed a soft shade of pink. And from this close proximity you can see the faint freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose.

Man, he sure is pretty…

“They’re beautiful,” you smile, finally finding your voice. “Thank you.”

“… well, you two should probably get going, right?”

You had almost forgotten Nancy was even there.

“Oh what about—” you gesture to the bouquet in your hands, but she quickly cuts you off.

“I’ll put those in some water and lock up for you, sound good?”

You don’t have much time for protest when she carefully takes the flowers from your grasp and nudges you right into Eddie’s chest. You apologize between small giggles when he steadies you again, and Nancy disappears into the kitchen.

His eyes are almost sparkling in childlike delight at the sound of your laughter, and it’s something he’d like to continue hearing for a long time. Eddie guides you both toward the front door. His rings clink against the knob when he swings it open, taking a slight bow before motioning you forward.

“Your chariot awaits, mi’ lady.”

The Palace is packed by the time you arrive, but for a Friday night in Hawkin’s— that’s no surprise.

Young teens dart between the different games with renewed excitement while Keith watches on with a bored expression. Eddie’s hand is held loosely in your own, fingers intertwined while you decide what to play first.

You both agree on air hockey, allowing him to tug you toward the table with a newfound pep in his step. He hands you the blue paddle, teasing telling you that red is always his color before he crouches down to slip two coins in the slot.

“Prepare to be demolished, sweetheart,” he grins cheekily.

Your stomach flips at those seemingly innocent words, and Eddie silently pats himself on the back for how flustered he’s already made you. That’s not something he’s used to, making a pretty girl fumble over her words. But it’s something he’s decided he wants to see a lot more of tonight.

Eddie ends up winning two rounds of air hockey, but his victories were entirely due to the fact that you were so distracted. Poised across from him, you spent more time admiring the way his tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration— or when he had to pull his wild hair back into a bun when it kept flying into his face.

Not that you would ever mention that little fact to him.

“What’s next?” you ask, unable to hide your glee when he takes your hand without hesitation this time.

“Have you tried Dragon’s Lair?”

He nods his head over to the game that was just recently abandoned in a fit of rage by short boy with dark hair. If you were being honest, skee ball and air hockey were more your speed when it came to arcade games. But the look of absolute delight on his face has you willing to try regardless.

And just as you suspected, you’re terrible at it.

You’re barely able to get past that first level without dying repeatedly but Eddie continues to give you an encouraging smile while he leans against the machine. He adores the way your lips are pouted in a slight frown when the dragon engulfs the knight in flames again.

“Here,” he mumbles, sliding in behind you. “Let me help.”

His arms cage you in against the machine, and you can feel the heat from his chest seeping through the thin cotton of your blouse. Ringed fingers gently hover over where yours are stationed on the controls, and in your nervous state you don’t notice the way his fingers tremble slightly.

Eddie guides your hands with ease, all but playing the game for you at this point. But your focus is no longer on the dragons and knights. They instead settle on his hands, and how they completely engulf yours in size. And the way his chain bracelet rattles against your skin with each flick of his wrist on the joystick.

They continue to travel a little higher, noticing how the muscles in his forearms contract each time he pushes that red button in rapid succession. It has your mind wandering to places that it definitely shouldn’t be…

Like how his hands would feel gripping your hips…

Stop that.

When you take a shuddering breath, you get another whiff of his spicy cologne when he leans his head forward. The faint hint of tobacco and mint still lingers on his lips when he blows a breath out in frustration when he finally looses that round.

The words GAME OVER flash across the screen in brightly colored letters, and you feel a little disappointed when he begins to remove himself from you. But you’re suddenly feeling a little bold, gently turning to grab his hand before looking up at him.

“Show me again?” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lower lip.

Eddie grins down at you, eyes flicking down to your mouth for a fleeting moment. But his next move has your brain about to melt out of your ears.

He takes your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, carefully removing it from between your teeth. He allows the pad of his thumb to graze over your lip while the other slips around your waist. Eddie guides you back around by your hips, quickly resuming his position behind you.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore

[epicspheal]

Words Are Unnecessary! A Red Analysis

Picture this: You’re a 90s kid, you got a Gameboy and this new game called Pokemon (or as your parents likely called it, Pokeman). And you get one choice of protagonist, a boy from Pallet Town named Red. 

Game Red is a silent protagonist turned silent NPC, so one may think it might be hard to do a character analysis on him (compared to say his Origins, Pokespe or Anime counterparts). Yet like much of Kanto, Red is a character told through environmental storytelling.

Let’s start with his name, in all official translations his name is Red. The color Red is a primary color which low key represents his role as the protagonist and the top of the Kanto hierarchy. This is most apparent when you compare Blue’s Japanese name Green which is a secondary color (implying he’s the second best of the Kanto trainers). Symbolically the color red represents passion, love, strength, confidence and importance. As time has moved on and TPCi has made Red an important character just as much as a protagonist, we can see that he embodies so much of the symbolism of his namesake color.

He’s described as having a quiet passion and love for Pokemon. He exudes strength and confidence in any game related adaptation and he’s quite possibly the most important trainer in the series. When you consider the fact that originally, Pokemon Gold/Silver/Crystal were supposed to be the last games in the series you realize that Red’s naming was not just random but meant to be a story of his arc. From your entry into the wonderful world of Pokemon the formidable passionate flame on top of Mt Silver that would serve as your final obstacle. 

Alright so let’s take a look at Red’s team. Now canonically we know he completed the Kanto Pokedex of 151 unique little critters. That’s a huge accomplishment that affords him a vast rotation of Pokemon that most trainers in the world will not have. Yet in his NPC appearances we see that he tends to stick to a certain subset of Pokemon and this actually gives a lot of insight into his character

Like most Pokemon champions he opts for a more balanced team with varied typings. I’m going to focus on his HGSS team since that’s the one that is used the most over generations. We see he has a Pikachu, the three Kanto Starters, Lapras and Snorlax. The first thing that stands out is his use of a (very high leveled) Pikachu in a team of otherwise fully evolved Pokemon. This is of course a reference to Pokemon Yellow, but it also just shows his trust in his Pokemon. The fact that he would still keep one of his Pokemon unevolved due to the Pokemon’s own personal preference shows that Red respects the choices of his Pokemon. He even gives his Pikachu a Light Ball to hold in order to boost the powers of his moves, further showing how much he wants to work with his Pokemon to achieve their ultimate potential rather than deciding for them. 

The three Kanto Starters are a way to not formally canonize which starter he chooses, but they’re also a reference to Pokemon Yellow as all three can be obtained from gifts. The same goes for his Lapras and Espeon (in GSC) which are also obtained as gifts. Snorlax rounds out the team as the Pokemon he gets by waking up with the Pokeflute (the Pokeflute being a gift). So what does this all mean for Red? It shows that despite having caught the entire Kanto Pokedex (including legendaries and mythicals) he ends up prioritizing the Pokemon he got as gifts. This shows a very sentimental side of him. This makes sense when you consider the guide to Pokemon RBG where it shows he wishes to regain his friendship with Blue back after the latter starts being mean. The Kanto journey for Red is as much of a coming of age story as it is a sentimental one as he really wants his best friend back.

Now taking a look at the moves Red chooses for his team we can see he has a varied amount of attacks that helped to hit most types for super-effective damage. A couple of things to note here is that he does seem to have a preference for moves that give status conditions as a secondary effect showing that he tries to open multiple paths to victory in battle. This shows he is calculating and knowledgeable about the moves he uses. For his HGSS Mount Silver battle you’ll notice the Kanto starters all have the three ultimate moves: Frenzy Plant, Blast Burn, and Hydro Cannon. This once again symbolizes the high degree of love Red has in his Pokemon. 

However those moves are much like elemental Hyper Beams in that they require a recharge turn. And indeed Red has Giga Impact on his Snorlax which also requires a recharge turn. Not only that he uses moves like Focus Blast which has not the best accuracy. He also uses moves like Flare Blitz and Volt Tackle which give recoil damage. All this to say, Red has a bit of a reckless streak as well. Which checks when you think about how he single-handedly drove Team Rocket out of Kanto, and his actions during the Pokemas Kanto Villain arc. I do want to point out that he has the move Blizzard on three of his Pokemon which is normally a low accuracy move…except in the Hail. Which, what do you know, Mount Silver has Hail (er snow). This shows that while Red can be reckless he also is very smart in taking advantage of his surroundings. 

I’m actually going to jump to his Alola Team because you see aside from levels nothing has really changed except for the moves. Once again he still has some high risk-high reward moves but they’ve been toned down a bit. This actually provides a bit of subtle character growth as we see he’s toning down his reckless streak as he has become an adult. We also see in his moves and items in the battle tree that he varies the strategies he uses against opponents in terms of moves and items used. This is fitting given that this time he’s now known as a Battle Legend. He uses quite a few mega items in the Battle Tree which once again affirm the love and trust he has for his Pokemon.

Now let’s take a look at the few quotes we get from Red

"Hi! Do you like Pokémon? Uh no, I just asked you. Huh? You're strange!" 

"Hi! Thanks for earlier! Pardon? Is it that fun to mimic my every move?" - Talking to CopycatThis is one of the non-Pokemon Masters spoken words we get out of Red from RBGY/FRLG. Here he’s talking to Copy Cat who is…copying every word he says. It’s a funny bit of dialogue that shows despite being a living legend he was still definitely a kid with brutal honesty by calling CopyCat strange. But we get to see he is a polite child as he thanks CopyCat for the TM he get while also still curious as to why CopyCat seems to enjoy mimicking him.

"…?""…?!" -if Red defeats the player in the Pokemon World Tournament In Pokemon Black 2/White 2 When most of us think of Red, we think of the fact that he typically speaks in ellipses. I really liked this set of ellipses from the Pokemon World Tournament as it’s possible for any character to beat the player without forcing a rematch to progress the story. So that means any of the champions can claim victory. In the case of Victory with Red, here he seems to express a bit of shock that he won against Nate/Rosa. This shows a great deal of humility for him because by the time of the second Unova story events, he’s well regarded as a living battle legend.

"...I accept your challenge!" - To Blue before the Pasio Tournament Finals

This was a very touching moment between Red and Blue. Blue was admittedly rashly challenging Red to a battle due to his own insecurities about being a good rival to Red especially given the Pasio format of three on three battles. Normally when Red accepts challenges he does so silently, but here we see him make a verbal acceptance. This is huge because it shows how important Blue is to him. He recognizes Blue still struggles with insecurity in regards to the rivalry and rather than just wordlessly accept a battle, he tells Blue he accepts to show that he acknowledges Blue not just as his best friend, but as his rival. Even when he’s challenged by champions like Leon and Cynthia he is wordless, but with Blue he speaks to affirm the challenge. It speaks volumes about how much Red cares about Blue. Again going back to the RBGY guide book that talks about how Red wants to get his friend back, you can see how Red doesn’t want to lose Blue as a friend again and is willing to verbally affirm Blue, because he recognizes that words of affirmation are a love language to Blue.

"(Blue, Leaf...Let's win this��together!)" - in his head Okay so he didn’t actually speak this out loud but this counts. As they’re preparing for the finals of the Pasio Tournament, you see once again how much Red values his two childhood friends. He doesn’t just want this to be “The Red Show” where he, the living legend, effortlessly takes down the opponents and with all of  the glory going to himself. He wants to win it with the help of his friends. This once again shows how sentimental Red is as a person

"Congratulations! You won!"

This is also major in one of the few times he speaks after losing, but also in front of a large audience. Him verbally congratulating Scottie/Bettie and their team for their win shows a high degree of respect that he has for the rookie trainer to be able to lead a team to victory against him and his closest friends. Considering that (despite what team you use against him) the cutscene shows Rosa, Misty and Brock this is also a way of him showing major respect to the first two gym leaders he ever took on when he began his journey in Kanto years ago. 

"... ... ... ... ... ... Words are unnecessary!"

I remember seeing this “A Day with Sygna Suit Red” the first time and absolutely dying of laughter when these words were uttered. Red was absolutely trolling Flint and Scottie/Bettie at the moment knowing very few would believe them if they said they heard Red speak. It’s nice to see a more playful side of him that also shows why he, Blue and Leaf all get along so well. They’re all little shits. 

Alright I’m going to add a few more quotes from some other characters to give a bit more context to Red’s character

"Red is never satisfied with how strong he is. He's always looking for new ways to grow as a Trainer and bring out the potential of his Pokémon." - Professor Oak

With this quote from Professor Oak, we can see once again how despite how strong Red is he never lets it get to his head. He’s always constantly seeking improvement."With Red, what really stood out to me wasn't that he was strong but that he seemed very gifted as a Trainer." - Brock

Even though it may seem like to some that Red is portrayed as having always been this ultra strong trainer, Brock’s words here show that he had to grow into his strength. Yes he may have had a bit of a knack of battling, but those early victories weren’t flawless. He’s still fallible

"Well, don't go overboard with the tough love, Red." - Blue

To be honest, it was hard to choose a quote from Blue, since he won’t shut up about Red. But I really liked this one from the Neo Champion event. It gives some more fallibility to Red as he doles out tough love to his mentees and Blue cautions him about not overdoing it.  "Winning makes you two happier than anyone, while losing makes you the most frustrated. You're both unbelievably straightforward and earnest when it comes to Pokemon" - Blue, again And more quotes from Blue! Here we see him talking to Leon and comparing the two showing how similar they are on a core level. This comparison highlights Red having a straightforward philosophy when it comes to how he interacts with Pokemon and how he deals with battling. It's simple but as we can see from his results it's been very effective in catapulting to the sheer ability and strength he has.

“He’s been battling nonstop, even cutting back on sleep” - Elio That tough love he dealt to his mentees during the Neo Champion event also extends to himself as he pushes himself extremely hard after his close win against Leon in the Arc-Suit story. This tracks with him disappearing for years on Mount Silver to train after becoming the Kanto Champion. This highlights his drive to improve but also his reckless streak. It also shows just how much he respects Leon’s strength as he’s pushed Red to a limit he’s not used to being pushed to. It's also telling that he picks the three trainers (Elio, Rosa and Ethan) who in the mainline games are shown to be able to defeat his team. Once again highlighting Red's continuous strides for improvement.

Red throughout the years has been a powerful icon of the franchise and is in many ways a symbol for how as the generations pass, GameFreak continues to find new ways to explore the potential of the world of Pokemon. He’s a quiet flame filled with endless passion and a bit of recklessness. But above all he’s filled with love, love for Pokemon, the human friends he’s close to and the thrill of battle.

[risuola]

ENTRY #5 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // There's sugar to your kisses, it tastes like dessert.

contents: arranged marriage!au, fluff — wc. 2093

a/n: you welcomed the series so warmly and lovely, that I made this part longer. it's sickly sweet, it's fluffy — enjoy!

series masterlist

“What the hell am I doing–“

You groaned. Again and again. Sighing and throwing your hands into the air, helpless and hopeless. Resignation crawling up your skin, threatening to fight and win with your stubbornness and determination. You felt the characteristics you proud yourself with falter and peel away along with your pride and dignity and you found it ironic — pathetic — that years of harsh trainings, of bloody torture you endured, years of fights and pain did nothing to break you and now you’re losing your mind over a goddamn mochi.

Mochi.

A dessert made of rice dough, sweet and objectively adorable with its round shape and sugary filling. If someone asked you how much time you spent in the kitchen already, heating up the glutinous rice flour, mixing and kneading the dough, you wouldn’t know. Hours, most likely. Fighting a battle that you weren’t ready for, mixing ingredients, adding water, whisking, and then kneading again, burning your fingers and pads of your palms more times than you’d ever admit. And you hated it. Hated the corn starch that dusted all around the place, the sticky mass of heated rice flour that you tried to get just right and above all, you hated how much time it took you before it finally started to look like something you can work with.

“There we go,” you mumbled, kneading and stretching the dough between your hands and the marble countertop. There was a reason you were a fighter, not a cook and the current state of your kitchen made enough of a proof. Mochi now, cleaning later.

The fillings were delicious, you had to pat yourself on the back. You were very lucky today to grab the sweetest strawberries you ever ate. They tasted like summer, like hot, tropical heaven and you fought with yourself before you ate them all. The cream you whipped turned out just perfectly thick and fluffy. Then the green edamame paste — your husband’s favorite — came out just as good. Decadent almost, smooth and sweet, with perfect, bright green color and texture of a cloud. Half of your cream you mixed up with melted chocolate and while happy with the insides, you were still a little concerned about the dough.

You’re not gonna be defeated by a rice dough.

You managed to roll out the mass very thinly, perfectly, and began forming mochi, which turned out to be much easier to do than you anticipated.

Take the dough.

Scoop on the filling.

Close the dough.

Roll.

Repeat.

You filled up a tray, all of the balls prettily displayed on top of a parchment paper and you took it upon yourself to have a taste of each one. Delicious. Absolutely mind-blowing.

To the fridge they go.

Now clean.

* * *

Satoru got home around 7 pm — typical, if nothing comes up or hold him at work. His job as a teacher, you learned it quickly, was repetitive, predictable. He’s out the door just shy of 10 am and back near the evening, before the soft pinks and oranges of the summer turn into nightly blues and greys and you grew to appreciate the routine that settled into your lives. Spending most of the days separately made the first weeks of marriage much more bearable. It gave you and him enough time to get used to the new situation and cool off after many fights you had. But that was about to change and you were meaning to tell him today, sweetening the deal with mochi.

Oh right, mochi!

It got you a little too excited for Satoru to ignore, you looked a little brighter than usually, nervous even and he found it concerningly amusing. You’re rarely happy to see him back, he’s more used to see you ignore him than to greet him, and even if so – you’d usually pass him with a hi or an attempt of a small talk that he hated. Gojo couldn’t tell what was it that made you so much more vibrant that evening, you looked thrilled, your eyes glimmered in the dim lights of the house. You almost looked… happy? To see him? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Did something happen today? You look oddly excited,” he spoke, following his usual routine of taking off his uniform jacket and putting it neatly on a hanger in the hallway, folding his blindfold in half to have it ready in the morning and washing his hands and face. The soft, dry towel soaked up the excess wetness from his skin as he patted it away, pointing his ocean-blue eyes toward you expectantly.

“Well, yes, kind of,” you replied and dropped onto the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room. You twisted your body slightly and looked at him, and he got the hint because few seconds later, he sat down next to you. “Two things. First, I got an offer to work as a teacher in your school. Yaga contacted me–“

“You are the new teacher for the second years?” Satoru cut you and you couldn’t read him. A slight surprise was all you could decipher from the expression of his features.

“Yes. Well, not yet,” you sighed, “before I agree I wanted to ask you what you think.”

“And you’ll do as I say? Since when you’re doing as you’re told?” He teased and for a moment you considered eating all the mochi yourself. Maybe tying him to the chair and devouring it right in front of his eyes? You opened your mouth to say something rather unpleasant before he spoke again. “If you’re asking me for permission, we both know you don’t need it. I’m sure kids will benefit from having you to lead them.”

“Are you willing to be civil with me if we spend more time along each other during the day? Last thing I need is to argue with you more than we already do.”

“We don’t argue that much lately,” he protested and you huffed out a chuckle, nodding in agreement. You didn’t fight at all, if you think about it. It seemed as if slowly you were getting used to… everything.

“So, you’re fine with the idea?”

“I’m fine with the idea, yes,” he said, running a hand through his white, slightly damp hair and brushing it back. You took in his features, allowing yourself to just stare at the man you married, because even if wedded, you see him no more than his students are. He still sleeps on the couch; he still spends most of his time outside. “You’re staring.”

“I am,” you confirmed, shamelessly and it made him chuckle. “Talking about staring, close your eyes.”

“Why would I–“

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” you ordered, getting up from the comfortable seat you were sunken into. “Please?”

“I’m honestly concerned,” he said but reluctantly lowered his eyelids. As if it made him any less aware of his surroundings. “What are you planning?”

“Don’t peek.”

Quickly, you padded into the kitchen and uncovered the mochi you kept out of the fridge for about ten minutes now. You took the tray and a glass of water and got back to where Satoru was situated. With his eyes closed, comfortable against the cushions. He felt your weight sinking onto the pillows next to him and a hint of something sweet in the air.

“Open up,” your voice made him hum, still uncertain but curious nonetheless. ‘Open up’ was such a foreign command for him to follow and the small amount of trust that was secure between you and him had to suffice for him to comply. “There we go,” you almost whispered and Satoru slightly flinched at the first contact of his mouth with, what felt like, a blob of cold unknown substance. For a reason he couldn’t really rationalize, he grabbed onto your waist to balance himself, even if there was nothing to throw him off.

Slowly, with caution, Gojo closed his mouth, allowing his teeth to meet the dough, go through it. Mochi. He recognized the sweet taste of his very favorite treat immediately but something about what was just melting against his tongue felt different to what he’s used to. The rice envelope was softer but chewy, sweetened just perfectly and the paste inside — green bean — had a texture of silk and butter, a luscious heaven itself. He felt it spreading along his taste buds, warming against the insides of his cheeks. A perfect mixture of fluffy inside and glutinous outside. So sweet, so delicious.

“Oh my god,” he whimpered. A sound so foreign, that it almost surprised you if not for the very vibrant wash of pleasure that relaxed his features. Just as the mochi melted in his mouth, he melted against the couch.

“Was it good?” You asked, while the answer was relatively clear from what you had a chance to witness. “I made them for you and they are not perfect yet but–“

“You made this mochi for me?”

Satoru’s bright blue eyes snapped open and his grip on your waist tightened. A shock pushed to the front of his expression, he blinked — once, twice — before you nodded slowly. Then he followed the direction of your gaze; his own landing on the tray full neat rows of plump rice balls, so perfectly imperfect against the dark wood below them. He could tell some had a green undertone, the edamame filling, and some were looking white and plain. Next row seemed to have chocolate inside and he could catch the hint of it in the air.

“You made all of this? With your hands?”

“From scratch, yeah,” you nodded, reaching for another one. “Chocolate.”

Being fed by you — his wife — felt odd, unfamiliar, and yet the subtle brush of your fingers against his lips whenever you gently pushed the doughy ball into his open mouth felt just right. Satoru thought he could get used to it, and the mochi.

“So you’re not only a good cook,” you’re not, but you hummed. “But also you can make mochi? If we weren’t already married, I would have asked you to marry me now.”

“That easy, huh?”

“That easy.”

You shook your head, visibly suppressing a giggle and Gojo hoped you wouldn’t hold it. It’s only now that he’s learning how pretty is your smile, how your eyes crinkle every time you allow your face to relax and take on a pattern of joy. He likes the shape your lips form, how they stretch whenever you’re happy and how your brows lift up just slightly above your half-closed lids. He wished you’d let yourself burst out laughing, but instead you shook your head yet again and let out a sigh of content. Good enough.

You reached onto the tray again. This time it was the white blob of doughy goodness hanging heavy between your dainty fingers. “This one is my favorite.”

There was no need to tell him twice. Satoru opened his mouth, eager for the sweetness you called your favorite although from your words he had a suspicion what was inside. Strawberries. You love strawberries. He learned that during the wedding celebration, when you eyed the fruit on his piece of the cake with the most adorable envy he’s ever seen – and then, those very same eyes glittered with pleasure when he exchanged his plate with yours. He remembers how you left the red, plump strawberry for the last bite, how you sighed with content as you bit into the juicy flesh of the fruit, how you nearly purred despite the stressful predicament you were placed into.

“Divine,” Gojo purred himself, as the flavors mixed in his mouth. The crisp, fresh strawberry, along the velvety cream and chewy dough made for an experience he could only compare to orgasm.

He wanted more.

Craved more and he blames it on you that the moment you sunk your teeth into the sweet treat, he leaned closer. His mind went blank when he wrapped his own mouth around the half mochi that sticked out, his lips brushed against yours. A drop of red juice run down his chin, wet and sticky against his skin. He didn’t care. Greedy for more, for you, he leaned in even more, tempted by the sweet taste of your sugar-powdered lips flush to his own.

You gasped. Purred. In surprise, in pleasure, or both.

The feeling unfamiliar, addicting, syrupy.

You should stop it.

You wanted more.

He should stop it.

He wanted more.

It was slow, sloppy and nothing but strawberry and cream.

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