#my plush: Dot

[cheekydogs]

More ItemFriends!! Meet my 4 latest guys from OuiOui Series Y! The one on the right in the first pic is gonna be traded with my partner since he’s a double for me :)

I’ve also been doing some crafts for them! And also trying a lil more staging beyond my room. It’s been a lot of fun!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i wanted to make an alternate more canon-compliant butterfly Howdy... similar but Different! the wings were a pain in my ass!

[happymiffy]

[moomoootakudraws]

Sorry lance😓(this is probs literal torture for him💀)pls ignore how badly organized my shelf is😭

[m1dnitefloat]

da collection

[celebration-of-the-ordinary-life]

IVE BEEN GONE (FOR NO DISCERNIBLE REASON) (SIMPLY STUPID AS FUCK AND FORGETFUL) HAVE THESE EURI STICKERS (one of which is inspired from blade's peeking sticker, but Mischevious-er)

[yzafre]

Mmmm that changed timeline idea based off this post still floats in my brain from time to time, so messy work sketches be upon ye!

[pick-a-plush]

I'd love to see some pawlette plushies from build a bear, my favourite!! 🐰🩷

Yeah absolutely! There are tons of versions of Pawlette so I could definitely do multiple of these! I’m saving a few for certain times of your though ☺️

(The above pic is from the official Build a Bear Instagram)

[boatemboys]

hhehehe i havent shown u people my hoodie. i put ears on it

[ap0stle]

idk how it took me so long to rly deep dive on fnaf. theres a purple guy with a rabbit motif. hello. hello.

[sexualizing-that-old-man]

My boy is on his wayyyy

Also I have found this thing on my new(ish) phone and it is me in hopefully a few days

[chibifox2002]

Someone get the sewing kit!

(thinking about my girl's biology and stuff again)

[venuslut]

FANTASIZING ABOUT a needy Choso Kamo ♡︎.

He can’t help it. Ever since you first introduced him to sex, he just can’t get enough. It’s not his fault that your cunt is so addicting, so much so that he’s often begging you to let him fuck you on his cock. It’s not his fault that you moan so beautifully that he can’t help but thrust into you harder so you’ll make more of those pretty sounds for him. It’s not his fault that you taste so good and he has to have you on his tongue, drinking your juices until you’re shaking and crying. He doesn’t mean to be so needy, but you bring out this side of him he can’t control.

How is he supposed to control himself when you walk around in those skimpy clothes, showing off your plump ass and perfect tits? It’s impossible. He’ll try to resist, have some self-control. But it isn’t long before he’s hugging you from behind, dotting wet kisses along your neck and pushing his hard-on into your ass. All while he’s begging you let him feel your wet cunt. And of course you’ll let him, how could you say no to your cute desperate boyfriend.

The minute you agree he has you laid out under him as he fucks his big cock into your tight cunt. Moaning and whimpering about how good it feels to be inside you again, his face red as he pushes every last inch of himself into you. He uses his weight to thrust into you, which only made your head go dizzy. He has you in a lazy mating press and your plush thighs slap against his hips every time he comes down, the sound of Choso’s deep thrusts is so musical, his tip abusing your womb to the point your eyes roll back. His mouth is so filthy too, and the worst part is, is that he doesn’t even realize it. “Fuck, baby... you’re sucking me in... your pussy’s so tight.” He groans into your ear, sucking onto your skin and leaving purple marks behind, intent on marking you as his. Although there was no point since you still had the hickeys from your last encounter, but it was never enough for Choso.

The poor curse is so in love with your body that he’ll go on for hours and hours just playing with your body. If it was up to him, you both would never leave the bed. Who needs to eat when he can just eat your cunt and you can suck his cock? Who needs to sleep when there’s a new position he wants to try? This man will not stop because that’s how addicted he is to your cunt. You curse the curse’s stamina and sometimes wish you had a normal boyfriend, but he usually fucks those thoughts right out of your head before you can try and act on them. “Choso… ngh!— h-hold on, my body…” you mumbled, unable to fully say your sentence. He hits a particularly sensitive spot and you let out a strangled cry, bucking your hips wildly to try and get that same pleasure again. Choso eyed your reaction, angling his hips to continue hitting that spot over and over again til you’re seeing stars and screaming out his name. You had no thoughts about shame, or how you should lower your voice, not when your handsome boy was fucking you within an inch of your life.

“Right there? ‘s that the spot, dove?” He pants, voice hoarse from his overwhelming desire for you. You’ve lost track of time, to obsessed with the way Choso has you creaming around his cock for the nth time. Everything was too much, but you loved it, in an addictive way. The overstimulation was addicting. His words were addicting. The sound of the bed hitting the wall was addicting. His cock was addicting. He was addicting. You always tease Choso about his neediness when in reality, you’re just as needy and obsessed as he is. You can tell Choso is close by the way his cock twitched inside you and how he speeds up his movements, rutting into you with wild abandon and chasing his orgasm.

You throw your head back into a pillow, your vision almost going black as you were consumed with ecstasy. The air was knocked out of your lungs with every snap of his hips, your senses filled with just the pressure of Choso. It felt like you were gonna throw up, but not in a bad way. “Baby… babybabybabybaby! A-ah! Mgn…” you cried out in pleasure, clawing at the sheets below you. Choso’s hands tightened around your hips, his careful grip growing into a bruising hold as he was solely focused on reaching his climax. “Hah— you feel sososososo good, dove. I love you, I love you so much,” he whimpered. It was right there, he could feel it, just a couple more thrusts and he’ll finally have his release. He wants to cum so bad, he needs to cum.

“Hey dove? C-can I fill your pretty pussy with my cum? Wanna cum inside you,” he begged, his voice broken as he pleads with you. “Please, my love… I want to stuff your pussy with my cum, wanna fill you up…” he continues, kissing your ankle and calf to convince you further. You didn’t need much convincing though, you were already to dumb and out-of-it to deny the poor curse. Frantically, you nodded your head, just wanting to feel his hot semen inside you. And you finally got your wish after a few more sloppy thrusts, before Choso goes still and empties his balls into your awaiting cavern. He lets out a guttural moan as ropes of cum spurt out. Slowly, he pulls out, his cock coated in a translucent white, his thighs and pelvis sticky from a mix of sweat and cum.

You both lay there in silence, the sounds of your labored breathing being the only noise echoing through the room. While coming down from your high, you remember that the reason you even got dressed today was because you had work. Annoyed, you lightly smack the upside of Choso’s head, complaining about how he made you late while you go to get out of bed and put your clothes back on. Choso rubs the area where you hit him as he watched you struggle to move and get out of bed, he looks at you like a kicked puppy and he knows he should be sorry for making you late but he can’t find it in him to feel guilty. Instead, Choso reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back further onto the bed and flushed against his sweaty chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and he lines soft kisses to your nape.

“I’m sorry, dove… Why don’t you call out and let me eat your pussy as an apology?”

[moomoootakudraws]

ITS DONE!!!🫢🤭 i love you dot omg😔🫶💕

[tojisun]

so obsessed with the “my cock is big so it wont fit” / “try me” relationship dynamic ughhhh thinking about this with simon and reader, and how reader’s desperation made them spiral, makes me so giggly

thinking about the way you finger yourself everyday to stretch yourself out for simon; preparing yourself for him. practicing for him.

it becomes a routine; it was mundane, almost, but every time the thought that you’re doing this for simon slithers its way back to the forefront of your mind, you lose yourself—doused in the tendrils of your desire, so powerful it has you clenching on your own fingers.

they never hit deeper, never stretch you out wider, but they scratch the itch to be stuffed and manage to satiate you long enough for the next day to roll by.

it’s a lot worse when you meet up with simon because your core throbs with need, leaving you crossing your legs to give yourself that muted relief. but it’s never enough, is it?

simon’s right there, voice thick like molten lava, viscous as it washes over you. “are you alright, love?”

and you lie, gritting your teeth and clenching your fists tightly, telling him that of course you’re fine. because what else can you say? “i dream of your cock so much that i fuck myself everyday as prep”?

if you do say that, simon won’t ever let you live it down. so you stay quiet, crossing-and-uncrossing your legs at every of his deep laugh or gentle crooning, trying your best to ignore the way his palm squeezes the muscle of your thigh. you wonder if he’s doing this on purpose by now because there’s no way simon actually does naturally talk like this—

it’s all teases and taunts as a whirlpool of petnames dribble from his quirked-up lips. he calls you, baby and darling. he calls you sweetheart and lovie. but then he also calls you pup, doll, pet—anything that makes you gasp, and quiet puffs of breaths wheeze out of your trachea in your own stupor.

“you seem distracted,” he murmurs, his voice a worried croon.

“uh-huh,” you say, not really listening, because simon’s hand is climbing up higher and higher on your thigh.

simon notices your stare, because of course he does, then does…

nothing.

he drops you off to your place that night, and leaves a kiss on your forehead before driving off. you watch from your living room window as he disappears from your line of sight before clambering towards your room, tearing your pants off your body and chucking your little slip of underwear behind you as you do so.

you sink into your plush mattress, knees braced by your softer pillows, before reaching behind you to plunge yourself with your fingers. two of them slide in easily, and you crook them just right until you’re mewling. moaning. crying.

simonsimonsimon—

your orgasm is a sharp rip of euphoric release. but the tidal wave of your ecstasy wafts off into its remnants just as quick because this, fucking yourself, isn’t the fix you want. it isn’t the fix you need.

(that said, making simon buckle was a lot easier said than done.)

you parted your legs yourself, planting your hands on the underside of your thighs to pull them open for simon. simon laughs when he saw this, his pale cheeks so flushed with his own desire.

“hurry,” you whine, all choked-up with your desperation, and simon only croons a warning.

“we need ta’prepare you, pup. i’m too big f’r you.”

his acknowledgment makes you leak, your wanton thoughts turning into slick that gushes out of you. simon laughs, so utterly endeared.

“i prepared myself, si! please put it in!”

simon sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “i thought you wanted my cock?”

he waits for you to nod. you do so, careful, as your wet eyes look up at him.

“hmm. so listen to daddy, yeah?”

“okay,” you mumble, too overwhelmed to fight back.

simon smiles, murmurs his praises, and then he’s bringing his head between your legs. you squeak, surprise dotting your vision. you expected simon to prepare you, yes, but you expected his fingers—long, rough, thick—and not his tongue—

“siii-monnnn,” you keen, legs buckling from your hold until they tumble to his back, your strength getting zapped out of you at every lap of simon’s tongue.

it’s so good! so, so good!

simon takes over, hooking your legs over his shoulders himself as he burrowed deeper, nose grinding against the sensitive underside of your sex. his tongue pushes against your walls, sliding between them, and then simon sucks.

fuck! fuck—

sorta pt 02

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ request(s): sick fics (1/2) and mama's body image

He pulls you under the covers in the marigold shadow of your bedroom as soon as Orion goes down.

You’re not as bold as you have been over the phone, reverting back to his shy, sweet kitten, bashful in his arms as he sucks marks into your neck, hands drifting down your spine and over your hips to fill his palms with plush curve of your ass.

“Missed you, mama.” You smile softly, hiding your face in his chest.

“Missed you too.” He tries to map you with his fingers, stroking them over your thighs, your shoulders, pulling your fingers to his mouth and dotting his lips across each knuckle. Maybe, if he does it enough, he'll never forget what you feel like.

You're wearing another one of your sleep shirts, oversized, stretched, frayed, a thin veil shielding you from him, and when he slips underneath the hem tracing up towards your navel, you stiffen in his arms, muscles tense like a deer in headlights. "What is it?" You don't answer, gaze holding steadfast and forward, directly at his chest. Fear bristles, worming its way into his gut instincts. He sits up. "What's wrong? Are you dizzy?"

"N-no, I'm fine. I feel... fine." Your body tells a different story, curled forward, still tense, like you're trying to protect your ribs.

"What's going on?" You shake your head, wet track of a tear shining in your cheek in the dark. His anxiety, his fear, won't let him tread carefully any longer, steel backed demand slipping free like he's speaking to one of the sergeants. "Talk to me."

"I don't look the same!" You blurt, and then try to roll out of the bed, away from him. "I don't feel the same, either. I'm kind of... squishy, stretched out because your kid is a giant. And I gave birth to him, you know... he wasn't easy." His grip loosens momentarily, and you seize the opportunity, feet landing on the carpet and trying to stand.

He snatches you around the waist so fast and yanks, tugs you back to the bed and shifts your weight so you're pinned underneath him. "Simon!"

"Look at me." He rubs his nose against yours, keeping your wrists pinned above your head, his thighs bracketing yours. "You did give birth to our baby, honey. You, and this body, grew him, took care of him, kept him safe. I love this body, mama. I loved your body the first night I met you, and-"

"Exactly." You snap, nose tipped up. "You loved the way I used to look and I definitely don't-" His brows lower, and he cuts you off with his mouth, stealing a long kiss before pulling away.

"Don't interrupt me. I did love your body then, but I love how you look now, even more," to drive his point home, he presses the length of his hard cock against where it's nestled between your legs, and your eyes go wide, "this body had my baby, mama," He dips low, closing his mouth over your t shirt and nipple, teasing with his teeth before releasing, "this body feeds my baby," he releases your hands, trailing his down your ribs and over your belly, where he holds you still, "this body is proof you belong to me, that you're mine, and I'd worship every inch of it, if you'd let me. It's okay if you don't love yourself or how you look right now, because I'll do it for you until that changes." Your eyes are half lidded, smart mouth parted on words stolen.

"I-" Orions cries, echoing from his room, and Simon kisses your shoulder.

"I'll get him."

"What if it's RSV?" He keeps his voice low, hand still covering the back of Orion's head, pacing a small pattern across the kitchen. He's been holding him all morning, too unnerved to be separated from him or put him down for even a second, and now he's sleeping on Simon's chest, tiny fingers and fist curled up in the neck of his shirt.

"I don't think it's RSV. We haven't really gone out much, and he doesn't have a high fever."

"But his snot is green." There's a monster curled up in the farthest reaches of Simon's heart. A cold, black thing that's pulling the strings in his head and making his blood pressure skyrocket. His baby is sick. What if it's serious? What if he doesn't get help in time?

You tuck your fingers inside the corner of his arm, and lay your head on his bicep. "Green snot is also a symptom of a common cold, which babies get a lot." You rub Ry's back and press the back of your hand to his cheek. "His fever isn't very high, and he doesn't have much of a cough. I think we're okay for now."

"Maybe we should take him in, or call the pediatrician again and-"

"Simon, hey." Your hand drifts to his back now, rubbing up and down his spine, like he needs soothing. Well, that's not right. He should be comforting you. You and the baby, he should be taking care of you, making sure you're both- "Dr. Marsh said as long as his fever doesn't spike, he's not sleeping too much, and he doesn't start wheezing, then we're okay to keep him here at home. He's okay, okay? Babies get sick. But we're here with him, and we're going to make sure he's okay. Right?" He closes his eyes, rolling your words around in his mind, your reasoning gaining ground and hooking into him, holding him steady. You're levelheaded right now, steadfast, and he loves you for it, allows himself to lean on it, just a little bit.

"Right."

"Why don't you let me take him? You've been holding him for six hours. Go... take a shower, or something. Or eat. I want you to clear your head, relax a little bit." He lifts Orion into your arms, but shakes his head at your suggestions.

"I don't need-"

"Please. For me?" Refusals die on his lips just like that, and he nods.

The shower does Simon a world of good. His head does feel clear, and he's more focused, more rational, as he dries off and pulls a pair of sweats out of his bag.

Everything is fine. Babies get sick. You're right. His fever isn't even that high.

The lights are dim in your room, where you're on your side, half propped up, Orion on his back in front of you. You smile at Simon as he crosses the distance, leaning over to press a kiss to your head. "Feel better?"

"Yeah, thank you. Sorry I uh, lost it a bit."

"You were worried." You pat the opposite side, next to the baby, and he lays down, big hand on Ry's stomach. "It's the first you've seen him get sick, of course you're going to lose it a little bit." Your choice of words make him wonder, and he cocks his head.

"Has he been sick before?"

"He had a cold around four, five weeks. I was a mess." Your lips split into a shaky smile. "He was miserable, wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. Couldn't breathe through his nose. I took him in right away, cried the entire time, but he didn't even have a fever. Just a cold." You shrug. "They told me if he does develop a fever, then it could be bad, and to bring him back in immediately. I spent the next two days watching him every single second, even when he was asleep in his crib, making sure he was still breathing. Checking his temperature every hour." You sigh. "Here, let's do this." You encourage him to roll onto his back, pulling the sheet up over his chest to his shoulders. "You run too hot." You tease, before carefully scooping Orion up and placing him on Simon's chest, still asleep. "This way, you can keep an eye on his breathing and his temperature and I," the words are cut off by a yawn, "can get some sleep right here. Okay?" He stares at you for a long minute, love and obsession and appreciation twisting him up until he's reaching over and cupping your cheek.

"Thank you mama."