#unreleased plush

[rattfinkswife]

I finally got the unreleased prototype Etno Polino plush!

[obsceremediaarchive]

Did you know that somewhere in the late 80s (1987-1989,) there was supposed to be one more official Care Bear cousin?

The Care Bear artist at the time “Elena Kucharik” was tasked by the “American Greetings” company to make one more Care Bear cousin, she ended up making a koala character, which had no symbol and was most likely female.

This character must have been well received because a prototype plush was made for the character,

Despite this however, the character never got to see the light of day, and was never released, it’s still unknown what happened to this toy product of the character,

However, eventually after many years the character was uncovered along with other unreleased material for many to see, including fans of the franchise,

the Care Bear related fandom taking notice of this character having no name, decided to give the new name “Glow Heart,” which much of the fandom still calls this character by.

[usoppictures]

[plushhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

I think I did something.

[ahhhwomen]

How did R’s react when he ate sweets for the first time and how did Natasha and Wanda react?

a/n: I am very close to calling this its own chapter given the fact that it is 4.5k and I lost my mind trying to write it. Is it good? I don't know. Did I proff read it? Fuck no, I'm over this shit. Anyway, enjoy the girlie's first kiss ig.

Contains slight spoilers for unreleased chapters of Vampire Empire

Warning: Implied force-feeding, talk of vomit, food anxiety, gay simps

The goop inside your bowl is scarcely edible.

At least that’s what you think, not that it matters, you don’t have opinions.

Half of it clings to the sides of your bowl, strangely solid yet somehow entirely liquid, the other half of the sustenance is spilled and hanging off the bent metal´s side. The closer it gets to midnight, the worse it looks.

A whimper echoes against hollow walls and joins the wails of fellow prisoners as the shattering pain inside your jaw bares its ugly teeth at the thought of creaking itself open for the sludge that could be mistaken for concrete.

In the first few hours, it had a color close to desirable. Now, the color reminds you more of the ground stained with your bodily fluids, because much like your blood, dried grab slathers itself against the cold outside of your bowl.

Picture perfect representation of your life story: desired, if only for a moment.

The scarce portion left on the inside is like a heap of coagulated blood, it jiggles and splatters against the metal beside your cracked hands. You could almost swear it has a pulse of its own. Gasping for the same chilled air that burns your lungs, the traumatizing, grey, something, moves up and down- breathing.

Footsteps of a handler emit in the empty air, heavy like the raging rain, the clash of his boots forces you to move faster. Much like a hurt deer, you drag your body across the ground until you are close enough to grasp the cool metal and force its insides down your closing throat.

Your broken jaw shrieks and cracks as you use both your hands to split it open with a sickening crunch.

If only they cut away your sense of smell too, that way you might not gag as much while the thick liquid, with the stench of a dead body, gurgles itself down your throat. It's like swallowing a handful of sand mixed with the guts of a diseased fish.

At this point, starving yourself would be the better option, but there was no point. Unless you wanted a tube stuck down your throat tonight, you would have to stomach it yet another day.

Manicured nails wrap around the delicate throat of a wine glass. Red liquid, which will never quench her thirst, swirls gently as she rotates her wrist in a circular motion. The glass is chilled and smooth against her fingertips, a soothing distraction from her twisting thoughts.

It's almost humorous, most would be concerned if their pet didn’t eat, yet here she was, concerned that you did.

A frustrated sigh builds within her, crawling up her stomach until she has to fight the air she breathes, in an attempt to not startle you as you rest beside her outstretched feet. It's not that she wasn’t happy you ate her food, or that your lack of pickiness angered her, it was just weird.

No matter what she put in front of you, you would eat it but rarely look like you enjoyed it. Even the most lavish of meals would be regarded with horribly hidden cringing. With a sigh, Wanda leans forward slightly, being extra careful not to disturb you as she changes her position, she rests her elbow on the plush cushion to her left and mulls it over.

There had been multiple instances where you would end up serving the food right back up again after finally getting it down, a clear sign that you either didn’t like it or ate too much of it.

A frown settles over stern features at the memories.

Even after you would throw up, you would attempt to consume it again with a grim expression adoring your pale features. Luckily Wanda was always there to remove it before you could try a second time, but then you would look like a scolded child and hide yourself away for the rest of the day.

It's as if the very idea of leaving the damn food alone gave you a whole crisis.

So, that’s how she finds herself now, in dire need of a solution as your weight has been dropping rapidly due to the reverse your stomach so often does. She needs to find a way to make you understand that it's okay to dislike something and that it's also okay to express pleasure for certain foods.

With a huff, Wanda continues to swirl her wine gently, it swishes against the sides and glides into thick droplets before merging itself back into its voluminous state. The irony isn’t lost on the older redhead, she supposes it’s slightly amusing that the only drink she deems worthy of her time resembles her most addictive poison.

Drifting her gaze over to your sleeping form she can’t help but admire your neck for a moment, the smooth skin jumping up and down with the quirk of your sensitive pulse. Your vein is so close to her, ready at her disposal. Of course, she would never bite you, not until you were ready, yet she couldn’t help but fantasize every now and then…

Your heady taste coating her tongue and throat, Wanda inhales deeply as she watches you sleep, your scent burns like sweet bourbon. Much like your smell, she imagines your taste would be similar; rich, and sweet… Sweet.

Wanda almost has to refrain from an incredulous laugh as the thought strikes her like lightning, the most obvious choice of them all; sweets.

However, even with such a lethal weapon up her sleeve, there were still certain challenges that would follow.

Due to her preference for keeping your diet strict and healthy, she imagined you were quite unfamiliar with the concept of anything remotely sweet. She would have to do this carefully, not wanting food to become a point of stress for you, more than it already was, she needed to introduce the new taste with something you are familiar with.

Twirling the glass around Wanda stared down at the deep red in thought, her knitted sweater irked her slightly as it slid across her skin, following her motions. With a huff, she took a sip of her fruity wine, as it lathered itself against her tastebuds, a bolt struck her for the second time that night.

Fruits.

Wanda had seen Natasha attempt to introduce you to the foreign concept before. And though it ended with a rather grumpy you after Natasha tricked you into trying a lemon, you had seemed… happier with the simplicity of it rather than your dinners.

To be fair Natasha had only managed to convince you to try the simplest and most universal fruits, such as bananas and apples, and of course, that lemon- but that one also set Natasha’s progress back by a week as you refused to try anything else she offered you.

Wanda’s eyebrows knit as she thinks it over… so you do know how to deny food?

Then how come every time Wanda served you breakfast or dinner you would eat until you threw up?

Amid her deep loophole of theories, a cramp hit Wanda’s leg, unconsciously she moved it slightly to the left, toward you. It wasn’t until she watched your sleeping form arch away from her by instinct that she realized you truly don’t trust Wanda. At least not the way you do Natasha.

She really shouldn’t be surprised.. she had seen it endless times by now, but the idea that you would push your body to such lengths because of her was more devastating than she could ever imagine.

It pained her to think that you deemed force-feeding yourself the lesser evil of the situation.

Yet, that would have to be a problem to punish her mind with at a later date, the important thing now was to help bring stability to your life and diet. Even if you don’t trust her, you do seem to have some resemblance of trust toward Natasha, or well, at least after she swore never to trick you again, you do.

And though she can use that to her advantage, it doesn’t give an immediate resolution; Natasha was scarcely home before your bedtime and wouldn’t be able to serve you your breakfast or dinner, and it was important to Wanda that the routine they had built for you stayed solid as sudden change had caused quite a few mishaps in the past.

So, as the businesswoman Wanda is, she starts mentally preparing a game plan for tonight and sends a quick text to Natasha, asking her to pick up a little something before returning home.

If this worked in her favor, it could strengthen your trust in her, which would in return at least start the path to recover some of your weight.

A few hours later, you and Wanda had long since abandoned your napping spots on the couch in favor of slipping into your own corners of the house. The older woman in her office and you, most likely, under a piece of tucked away furniture where you knew you wouldn’t be disturbed.

The door opens with a silent twist of the expensive, vintage, handle. Natasha cringes as her boots drag across the carpet, she had warned Wanda against installing it right next to the main door, but her wife wasn’t easily persuaded. Sure enough, as soil splatters itself in distinctive Natasha-pressed footprints, Natasha knows she will be in trouble in about ten seconds.

1…

Nat discards her dirty work shoes on the little shelf to her left, leaving another muddy print on the metal.

2…

Fixing the grocery bag around her shoulder Natasha wonders what wicked plan Wanda has planned for the three of you tonight.

3…

The older redhead didn’t have to tell her wife that she was hashing out a plan, Natasha could figure it out just due to one of the items she was instructed to buy.

4…

It’s not as if her wife doesn’t like this item, it’s just that she never really requests it, and least of all so late and out of the blue.

5… 6… 7…

As the seconds tick by without a single sound from her wife, Natasha gets a little confused. Usually, Wanda would always be there to welcome her home and reprimand her for bringing in her dirty shoes.

8… 9…

Today, however, it seems her wife must be preoccupied with her little plan.

10.

“What have I told you about bringing your dirty shoes inside?”

Natasha almost jumps out of her skin when she feels the words breathe down her neck. Turning around in a millisecond, she sees Wanda smirk at her while she leans against the door.

“Jesus Wanda, you really have to stop doing that! One day I am going to have a heart attack!” Rich laughter travels through Natasha’s ears as Wanda sinks deeper against the door in her fit of indulgent giggles while she shakes her head at her wife’s spooked expression.  

Pushing herself away from the expensive oak, she slides her hands around her wife’s waist and nuzzles into Natasha’s neck, mouthing the words against her, “Darling, you don’t have a heart.” Natasha huffs but leans her head more to the left, giving Wanda space to kiss and bite as she sees fit.

“Not true…” The younger redhead mumbles it mostly to herself and Wanda simply hums against her as she drags the point of her canines slowly down from beneath Nat´s ear and down to her thoracic outlet.

Red, angry, lines form as she can’t help but add a little pressure behind the drag, feeling Nat’s pulse jump and hammer right beneath her tongue. Barley refraining from sinking her teeth in, Wanda releases Natasha with a sigh and one last kiss to the junction between her neck and shoulder.

Natasha attempts to lean back in hopes of gaining contact again, but there is no point. Before she can even blink, Wanda is halfway across the hallway, holding the bag Nat just had within her grasp.

“Not fair.” The younger woman whispers to herself and pretends not to see the smirk her wife sends her way.

Dark red heels click against the marble flooring as the rustle of plastic echoes within their space, “Find kitten and bring her to the living room, please.” The plea is more for show than anything, Wanda is more than aware that her wife can’t say no to her.

The grumbled, “Yes, ma’am”, is ignored as Wanda has already made her way out of sight before Natasha can get the words out.

With a huff and a quick check of her watch, Natasha makes her way upstairs to find the little culprit.

If anyone were to ask you, you would say Natasha Romanoff was a witch.

It’s the only palpable explanation as to how she always knows where you are, at least that’s what you think as you can hear her knock on the dresser you were napping under.

The bone knocks against the wood in a ticking manner, one knock, two knocks, and at last a rasp against the oak as she lets her hand drag across the dresser. It’s a heavy yet light sound that calls out to you as you are tempted to peek your head out and question her on her witch-like abilities.

You refrain from doing so and for a moment your body is unsure whether to be impressed or panicked at how easily she can predict you.

The cold floor beneath the dresser is tempting to melt into and never return from as you can hear her light steps drag across the floor beside you, any second now you know you will see her eyes look right through the darkness and find their resting place on you.  

Facing the world wasn’t something you wanted to do at this moment.

And yet, it never comes…

When you turn your head and expect to see cat-like eyes staring back at you from outside the dark corners surrounding you, you are surprised to instead see her sock-clad feet with strange plastic eyes plastered onto them.

The little black pupils rattle against her movements as she curls her feet in a manner that makes the strange sock creature look as if it’s been caught and feels guilty. It looks a little silly and you honestly don’t know how to react to the absurdity of it, so without realizing it a sweet giggle slips out before you can stop it.

Oh no…

When the realization of what you have just done settles within your storming thoughts you have half the mind to slap your hand across your mouth and pray that the older woman didn’t hear it, but as you hear a pleased huff of breath above you, you know you have been caught.

Natasha kneels down until she can peek under the dresser to where your scared eyes study her. She knew to keep her reactions to a minimum, but as soon as she heard your gleeful expression, Natasha had to use every ounce of willpower not to coo.

“Hey baby,” Nat smiles at you as you bite your lip, unsure of her reaction to your slip of judgment, you hold back the pleased grumble building within your chest at her smooth tone.

It ends up being one hell of a task to get you out of there, Natasha has to swear up and down that, your little slip-up didn’t anger her, and then she has to spend the next ten minutes waiting for you to peak your head out.

But, after a bit of coaxing, Natasha can hear your palms lightly slap against the flooring as you follow her a few steps behind. The dig of the wood beneath her feet lets her know that they should invest in some more carpets, or perhaps mats, as this could surely not be good for your weak joints.

The redhead walks in a leisurely stroll, letting you stay close yet still have the desired distance as you pitter-patter behind her.

When the plush carpet molds itself to her stance, Natasha’s movements come to a halt. She stops short of the couch, watching her wife sit in a rather relaxed pose. With her hands stretched out at the top of the cushions, she sits with her chin held high and her rump sunken low.

Natasha almost snickers at her wife’s overly dominant presence, but something about the look in Wanda’s eyes tells her to sit this one out and wait for further instructions.

Wanda observes the both of you as you present yourselves before her watchful eyes. You stay low, crawling forward just enough to satisfy the scary lady. The older redhead’s skin itches with the need to smirk as you crawl toward the both of them, something primal within her, pleased.

Humming, to soothe both her wife and you, Wanda directs her attention to Natasha as her wife waits for an explanation.

She wants to drag it out and make Nat guess as much as you will have to.

This will be a game of trust after all. The need to tease her wife is strong, so, Wanda does as she pleases.

Lifting her pointer, she waves it around in the air for a moment, building a little suspense as the whirlwind swirls around her aura, and then she points over to the living room table.

Atop the table is a plate of sliced apples covered in chocolate, placed deliberately outside of your view.

As Natasha directs her sight to whatever it is Wanda is showing off, you can’t help but try and sneak in a peak yourself. However, much to your disappointment, the item, or whatever it is, is sat just high enough on the table to where you can’t see from your kneeled-down position.

Someone may call you paranoid, but to you, it all seems awfully intentional on the clan leader’s end.

The waving pointer is redirected to you as Natasha smirks for whatever reason while she turns back toward her wife. With a pleasant, and a little scary, smile, Wanda eases your tension as she tilts her head to the side in adoration before ordering her wife to, “Give her a taste, darling.”

Your eyes travel up to the redhead beside you as she moves away for a moment only to return with a platter with some sort of brown rocks on top of it. They make a strange crackling noise as Natasha places it down on the small table in front of the both of you.

Then, a hand comes into view as Natasha heeds her wife’s commands.

Pale, cold, fingertips are wrapped around the strange item that you figure must be some sort of food given the clan leader’s figure of speech, but you aren’t entirely convinced as you view it with uncertainty.

However, the fight is futile as you look up to the tall redhead in questioning hesitance, she smiles gently and as much as it annoys you, you are what the two older women have previously referred to as a “goner”.

Taking a hesitant bite, the crunch of the apple is slightly muted by the strange crackling layer of chocolate. It takes a few bites before the flavor hits you. Chewing slowly, it lies bare for your raw tastebuds to reap, gliding and emerging with your senses.

As your jaw creaks in displeasure, you focus on the heaviness of the treat.

It’s rich at first, almost overwhelming you with its sweetness. It reminds you of wintertime when the bakery just a few streets down from the shelter would emit the most beautiful of smells. It brings you back to the cold nights when you would lay, naked and bruised, beneath your red lamp and envision yourself inside the bakery. Stuffing your face with whatever you might desire.

Weak bones fight themselves as you gorge on the sugary addiction, it sticks to your gums and sneaks its way into the most stubborn corners of your teeth, making a distinctive smacking noise as you bite down repeatedly.

Then the flavor settles, it’s a more muted and pleasantly balanced mix of delightful, creamy, sugar and slightly sour apple. Your jaw works deftly, moving up and down in an unsure manner.

It tastes… good.

It tastes wonderful.

Amazing even.

Perhaps the best thing you have ever eaten. Which all makes you feel like a fool…

It tastes like everything you were ever denied.

Therefore, you sit and wait.

While Natasha and Wanda sit before you with bated breaths, slightly confused by your lack of reaction, you just look at them with beady eyes filled with… betrayal?

It cuts deep, as if your emotions slice through any physical or emotional armor that may surround the two not-so-human creatures. Pain oozes inside their slowly beating hearts as the ice perishes and hot molten burns through their veins until horror takes place.

Wanda is on the ground in front of you before you can even blink.

��Oh, baby…” She leans forward, shifting her weight onto her palms as she rests them beside her bent knees, lowering her torso toward the wooden floor as she crawls toward you. Her shirt rolls up at the action, untucking itself and riding up her back until a sliver of pale flesh showcases itself, but she doesn’t care, instead, she keeps going, slowly.

You tense at the movement, unsure of yourself, you cower away from her, for every inch she advances, you slither back. Deep down you know Wanda would never hurt you, but you also know that if she ever were to desire your misery; she would be far worse than Master.

Calm eyes track your motions as you crawl away from her in a rather desperate fashion, the fact that it does not seem to deter her from getting any closer makes the panic, creeping up your throat, raw and painful as the taste of acid coats itself over sensitive tastebuds.

Sensing your oncoming panic, Wanda stops, for the time being, sitting back on her heels, she makes a show of resting her hands on top of her thighs. Her fingers glide over the material of her fancy-dress pants silently, the ruffles and stretching of the material calm you for a reason you cannot explain.

Little confused, wooden tiles burrow into you as you settle your rump down against them, letting the anxiety simmer and calm before seeking eye contact in an uncertain question. Your head tilting slightly to the left, you wait for her to illuminate her sudden display of surrender and levelheaded dominance.

Perhaps she just wanted first-row seats to your pathetic reaction.

Whatever they put in the dessert is sure to kick in soon.

“Ah…” Wanda hums as she views your saddened eyes up close.

“Natasha. Hand me that would you?” Natasha, who had been sitting rather shell-shocked for the past few moments as her wife hunted you down, shakes it off and tilts her head in confusion for a moment before realization settles in.

With a huff, something mixed with relief and disbelief, Natasha hands over the half-eaten chocolate-covered apple slice that had just been fed to you.

The half-melted chocolate covers the expanses of Wanda’s fingertips as she holds it out for you to see. Then, before you can get nervous about having to eat another piece, it disappears as Wanda puts it in her own mouth instead.

For a moment after you just stare.

Watching as her jaw works before your very eyes, you still can’t help but wait for a sudden change, a frown to deepen, or a foul sound as the flavor takes over the older woman’s senses.

Yet, it never comes.

Small crinkles form around Wanda’s eyes as she chews, they move up and down, changing together with her muscle’s expansion and retraction. They stay consistent with every motion, never faltering in its path.

Like tiny wrinkles on a sheet of paper, it smoothens once she finishes her piece. Letting out a pleased sigh as she does so, clearly delighted by the sweet treat.

And like the snapping apple piece.

You break.

It’s like raindrops against a windshield, almost a question of what tears will win as riveting streams trickle down your chin at an alarming rate. It’s nothing like the few traitorous tears that the redheads have been privy to, no it’s like a raging storm as you hiccup in sorrow at the prospect of respect.

At the sight, Natasha draws in a weary hiss, yet Wanda doesn’t seem to change much at all.

There is no pity in her eyes while she closes in, only determination as she slides another apple piece halfway inside her own mouth and lessens the distance. Too distracted by your own sudden outburst, you don’t even realize what is happening until chocolate grazes your lips as the redhead waits for permission while resting her lips only a few centimeters from your own.

The sudden action shocks you to such degree that you have nodded consent before you understand what that may mean.

Smooth, soft, lips press against your chapped ones, a sweet delight getting slid into your mouth and mixing with the rose that invades your nostrils. A slight string of spit is split between the two of you as Wanda uses her hot tongue to push the piece all the way into your mouth. You both stay like that for a moment, Wanda gazing into your eyes while you stare bashfully into hers.

Yet, just as quick as it happened, it’s gone again… And much to your own surprise, that may be the saddest part of the entire day.

But you can’t be sad for too long as gentle fingers wipe your tears away and a deeper voice asks if you want another piece.

So, this is why the two redheads like kissing so much. You think to yourself as Natasha kisses you with just as much worship as her wife had while the chocolaty goodness seems irrelevant.

They continue it like that back and forth. Wanda gives you one piece, then Natasha, then they share a piece, and so on. It still takes you a while for the tenseness inside your muscles to loosen, but toward the end, you are eager for each piece and wait with impatient eyes as the redheads share some.

It may not have been an immediate fix, but Wanda is more than happy with the result of her little test. For now, Wanda will lessen your portions until you seem happier, and she will have to look out for signs of your dislikes, but if all goes according to plan, with a little help from a secret sugary treat, and maybe a kiss here and there, your trust in her should build to be strong.

Even stronger than Natasha’s if Wanda gets her way.

Which she always does.

[lovelyiida]

KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER • A 500 FOLLOWERS SERIES!

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years passed, Bakugo came to the realization that he was the last among his class to tie the knot. As the days grew colder, and the nights became lonelier. Bakugo finds the desire to get married, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. At least he has his trustee secretary!

implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording and content

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 4.3K

PS: Please let me know if you have filled out the tag form since the last update so I can keep up to date!!

CHAPTER 8: VULNERABILITY

PHASE 2: CONSOLE

“Beady-eyed, dog-mannered, dimwad!”

Headline, headline, headline!

PRO-HERO DYNAMIGHT EXPLODES IN ANGER DURING INTERVIEW

[unreleased footage from Pop! Magazine spreads like wildfire!]

Over 3 million views, and 10 thousand shares.

Since the dawn of the moon, you have been repeatedly refreshing the page. Each and every comment was scanned with frantic-fast movements. Relishing in this whole interview fiasco from the comfort of your queen-sized bed, you moaned in anguish.

Your face became increasingly hot as you read the comments with your third glass of wine in hand. As much as you thought the comments would be demeaning to the pro-hero, the exact opposite happened!

[COMMENT] Did you see how he took up for his secretary? Omg, that was so hot.

• 45k likes • 216 shares

[COMMENT] The way he took her hand going off the set!!!!

• 78k likes • 12k shares

[COMMENT] Oh god, send me a man like Dynamight…

• 57k likes • 2k shares

[COMMENT] Bro there’s no way they aren’t fucking

• 180k likes • 3.8k shares

Of course, that’s the top comment.

Staring at your computer, you tried hard to fathom the situation you were now slapped into. The video of you and Dynamight has gone viral, and everyone now suspects that you two are in a relationship.

And they're not entirely wrong...

Despite your late-night attempts to contact the fiery hero, your calls went straight to voicemail and your texts went unanswered. Letting out a large sigh that was once trapped in your chest, you had no choice but to sit there and let the bomb explode. And await the absolute nuke that was urging to be dropped at the office.

Staring at the messages you sent Dynamight, you scowled. “Flashy piece of carbon fiber pants thinks he’s the shit and can just ignore my messages? Leaving me to the wolves once again!” you shouted in anger. You threw your phone to the end of your bed and buried yourself in your plush duvet. Your throat becomes tight as your eyes are welled with tears.

“I’m gonna teach you, Dynamight, to never fuck with me or any other secretary again.”

The pattern of clicking heels and bustling conversations filled the office today. Usually, the bleak energy of Dynamight's office could be caught with little to no attention. But the sight you’ve seen today was out of the ordinary.

“The printers are down; just send emails!”

“Has anyone been in contact with Pop Magazine? They’re completely blocking our calls!”

“God damn it, I need a raise!”

The chitter-chatter amongst your coworkers is at an all-time high. As you started to quicken the pace of your steps around the office, scowls and stares were slapped across your face. Stepping foot by foot, you reach the bathroom and hide in the nearest stall.

The door bursts open before you can even think about taking another breath. “Can you believe Dynamight fired Hitomi and Sakura for telling the truth? I mean, the whole floor has seen the video! Even Red was speechless.” A woman says her friend snickers at her remark before chiming in.

 “I’d like to see little miss Secretary say something now; she’s not beating the slut-cretary allegations at this point–”

You didn’t know what came over you at the moment, but your feet began to move before your mind could comprehend what the actual fuck was going on. Slamming the stall open, you watch the two women flinched at your action. Eyes going wide, they stare into your soulless eyes, filled with an incomprehensible anger that you didn’t know was held within you.

“First off, let’s get one thing straight right now.”

You said it flatly, closing the stall behind you. You walked up towards the duo and closed in on them. “Me and Dynamight are not a thing; have you ever taken into consideration that I’m the only person who’s in charge of this man's reputation and career, as we both fucking know it?”

"So, of course, I’ll be hip-and-hip with the brute. Do you think I want that man in that play-pen he calls a fucking office? Oh please, Dynamight needs my ass because he can barely keep his head on every second of the day. So just maybe, we should all realize how valuable I am to all of your lives!”

“Because I know that if I wasn’t here, this building would be in flames, man-made or not.”

You spoke sternly with each huff of your breath, and the two women in front of you were left speechless. Your frown soon curled into a small twitch of a smirk before you spoke once more. “So excuse me for needing to be spoken up for. You bitches, have a nice day.”

Without looking back, your feet trailed confidently out of the boss battle that was the ladies' room and straight toward Dynamight's office. With each harsh click of your heels, you stepped closer to the office, your frown stuck and growing deeper by the second. Your coworkers took into account the drastic shift in your demeanor. From shy and outspoken to confident and ten cans of bitchy.

Without thinking twice, you throw the door open with a small huff and walk into the domain of the pro-hero. Closing the door softly, you turn at your heel and scowl at Dynamight. His amber eyes burn back at you with an almost unamused look, unphased by the absolute chaos ensuing beyond the Acia wood door.

“So what? Are we just going to ignore what the press is saying about us?” You said flatly.

“I ignored your annoying ass text messages pretty much the same way,” he snapped back slyly.

This asshat.

As you stormed towards his desk, you slammed your hands against it with a loud slap that made your palms sting. “Is it possible for you to actually talk about the issue and not be a fucking brat?” You spat with anger.

Dynamight's laidback/unbothered exterior soon crumbles in slow motion. From sitting back in his seat, he approaches you with a smooth motion, his eyes glowing amber-red as his elbows land on said desk. Looking straight into your eyes, a devilish smirk etches across his face.

“Say that again for me, Y/N; go ahead.”

Faces close to one another, you could feel the heat radiating off of the hero. You frown at his attempt at intimidation, snapping your eyes away for a single millisecond before you feel a strong, warm grip on your face.

“No, don’t look away now, pretty. Say what you just said to me again. Since you have all the audacity in the world today,” he said with amusement oozing from his tone. You groaned at the sensation of his hand gripping your face, swallowing down your fear. You spoke once more.

“I said, Man up, brat.”

A long-standing pause settles over the room as his gaze burns into your eyes. Suddenly, Dynamight stands up with one swift move. The blonde removes his hand from your face, you moan in anguish at the fade of his unsettling grip and stare into the blonde's eyes once more.

You watch as the hero points his finger at himself with a mischievous smirk,

“You wanna see a brat? I’ll show you a fucking brat!”

He brushes past you and storms out of the room. Shouting your name for you to follow, you quickly turn to follow in blood-curdling anger. You knew he was a pro and all, but there’s a statistic that for every 1 out of 5 chances, a villain can take a perfect hit at a hero of his caliber.

So you might take a chance and strike him at his weak point…

Preferably somewhere in the lower region.

You watch as Dynamight calls for an emergency meeting, calling for all staff to be in attendance. All staff from each agency scurry behind his steps, and even Red Riot follows suit. He tries to calm the hero down, but his efforts fail.

As the workers sat swiftly to hear the beloved hero's comments, your heart began to beat a new rhythm as the truth dawned on you about what you dreaded would happen next.

"So, I believe we all understand why we're in here. So let's address some rumors and set them to fuckin��� rest."

A sudden pang of fear hits your chest and seeps into your body as you hear the words fall off Dynamight's tongue and through the audience of your coworkers. Eyes scan the room until your eyes fall upon a certain red-headed main in the back towards the exit.

Letting out a soft exhale of relief, you speed your way toward Red Riot.

“Red!” You spoke aloud as you gained the attention of the other pro hero. His eyes snap towards you and he points towards his beloved partner in utter confusion. “What the hell is happening now?” He exasperates in exhaustion.

“He’s having a hissy fit because he can’t handle when the public negatively views him–”

“Negative?” He interrupted. You roll your eyes and raise your hands, completely giving up on the situation playing in front of you. “Dude bumped up 10 ranks in public favor, what the hell could he be upset for?” Red Riot spoke in confusion.

Holding your briefcase towards your chest, you sigh at the current baby of the hero stabbing daggers into your form.

“I…I’m not sure.”

As the assembly room filled up, every person in their seat watched attentively as they awaited the hero's urgent message. The blonde clears his throat before groggily shoving them in his pants. Silently pacing back and forth the head of the room with slow steps, eyes still trained onto you.

“I know what everyone is thinking to themselves, why the fuck are we here? Well, I need to address some petty rumors that are going on in the concrete hellscape.”

“All Might save us…” Red Riot groaned quietly as he watched in secondhand embarrassment at the Blondes' stunts.

"If you think me and my secretary have a romantic relationship, I'm afraid you're damn wrong.”

“Don’t listen to what I might’ve said in the past, or what I’ve said in the present. It ain’t true.”

Blah blah blah, blop blop blop.

You swore you could’ve seen physical bullshit fly out of his mouth.

“To prove this…I’m happily engaged!” The hero boasts confidently to the crowd of his workers. Shoving his right hand out of his pocket and out towards the expecting crowd. A diamond-banded ring shone brightly in the bright haze of corporate lighting.

Then, in a moment both shocking and surreal, Dynamight seizes the attention of the room with a declaration that sends ripples of astonishment through the assembled crowd. With a brashness that borders on audacity, he confronts the swirling rumors head-on, his words cutting through the murmurs like a lightning bolt.

In the sudden hush that follows, the truth is laid bare, raw, and unfiltered. The bombshell revelation of your engagement sends shockwaves through the room, leaving jaws agape and minds reeling. Eyes widen in disbelief as whispers erupt, spreading like wildfire among the stunned onlookers.

Yet, amidst the chaos, Dynamight stands undaunted, his demeanor unwavering despite the tempest of reaction he has incited. His confidence radiates as he confronts the storm of speculation with a rare candor, unapologetic in the face of scrutiny.

Calm within the midst of the business casual storm.

As for you, on the other hand, you could only think of one thing to do in this situation. Your feet rush towards the blonde with a speed never before seen, and your hand flies back as far as possible before landing a seething slap on the hero’s cheek.

Dynamight lets out a gasp of shock (and so does everyone else in the room) at your hit. You stood in front of the hero for only a moment before rushing out of the room and straight out of the office.

And now what was left of you was your body sulking under your covers once more. Leaving you to pick up the pieces of your self-worth once more.

You should consider just giving up, calling off the engagement, and leaving the industry for the rest of your life. A soulless desk job would be better than whatever the fuck this reality is right now.

So much for that speech in the ladies' room...

You tried hard to care for and take up for the hero you worked for, but at times like this, your vendetta only grew stronger. And the more your sister became right. But there's a voice in the back of your head that is somewhat empathetic for the hero.

Look at his family, for All Might’s sake!

An overprotective bitch for a mother, and an emotional father with no backbone.

(it’s okay for men to show their emotions!!!)

Of course, that would create a man with a lack of emotions and a soul-crushing ego to overcompensate for it.

Of fucking course!

Sighing into your pillow, you could only fantasize about the words you’d want to say to that man right now. 

“Tight pants, brazen-boned, bastard.” You grit your teeth together, as the words only make you angrier. “Beady-eyed, dog-mannered, dimwad!” You throw your blankets off your body and jump out of bed. Rushing towards the kitchen, you grab the fridge handle and swing the door open.

“Fuck!”

No beer.

Huffing out a defeated sigh, you eye the clock on the counter. It read 11:45.

Licking your lips, you ponder as you stare at the fridge and back at the clock. You might as well go out for a walk to cool some steam off. Shuffling over to your coat rack, you lazily threw on a hoodie and some slides. Grabbing your purse and your keys, you open the door to your apartment.

Rummaging in your purse for some convenience store coupons, you continued on your slew of words. “I bet he’s not even a real blonde, just a poser of a man-baby–”

“Hah?”

Eyes snapping wide from the voice, you jump back in shock as you see the man of the hour.

“What the hell are you doing here, Dynamight? Do you know what time it is?” You exclaimed in shock, mouth twisted down into a frown. You stared down at the blonde in anger and in utter embarrassment. Looking down further, you noticed he had a couple of bags in his hands.

Beer and chicken?

“Let me in, we need to talk.”

You scoff at the man's words as you throw your purse over your shoulder. “As if, do you know how you embarrassed me and you today?” You spoke with venom at the hero. Dynamight rolls his eyes before he speaks once more, “If it makes you feel any damn better, I made them all sign NDAs.”

You stare at the hero once more in confusion, and he stares back…unwavering in his actions.

“Okay, sure, do whatever you think will place a bandaid over this whole shit show for all I care.” Placing your hands on your hips, you watch the pro hero step towards you. “Yeah? Well, it's a pretty strong bandaid.”

You hum back in response before the both of you fall into silence. The both of you gazed at each other awkwardly, before tearing your gaze away. A light blush warms your face which makes you look down once more. Looking at the bags of fried chicken and beer, you look at Dynamights hand…

His engagement ring is still on!

“You idiot!”

Frantically looking around the outside of your apartment, you turn back and quickly open the door. You then hold the hero by the collar before shoving him inside. He follows suit with a grunt before shutting the door behind him.

“What the hell is your problem?” He cursed at you.

“My problem? My problem is that you come out to my doorstep late at night bearing a peace offering with your ring on, shining brighter than ever! Fuck-face!” You cursed back. This makes the blonde smirk at your complaint.

“If you think someone is watching us, then you’re pretty late to the party,” he chuckles.

“W-what?” you stuttered in anxiety, breaking from his gaze. You locked the doors and shut the blinds to your home. “Calm down; I paid them off a long time ago,” Dynamight rummages through the bags before setting the food and beer out on the dining table.

“Paid them off?” you asked.

“Yeah, they started watching you as soon as you pulled that stunt at the children's interview a while back. They were going to trample your door down just for a couple of gabs about me.” He spoke, cracking open a can of beer. The hero takes a couple of gulps before placing the can down.

Pulling out a chair, the hero sat down and began to speak. “You think you do all of the protecting when it's me.” He takes another swig of his beer as he stares into your eyes. You swallow a lump in your throat before you grab a seat as well.

“But you can’t say I haven’t.” You trailed off.

“Haven’t what?” He asked.

“Took care of you; everyone thinks you're this strong force to never be reckoned with, but you’re the complete opposite,” you rambled as you grabbed a can of beer and cracked it open. Taking a refreshing, much-needed swig.

Katsuki never responded.

“Y’know, it’s crazy how much this position has changed me. For the good or worse… I’m not so sure.” You spoke softly towards the hero.

“And why do you think that, Y/n?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek at the question. “Before I came to this agency, I never knew what it was like to take care of someone besides myself. And even then, I was doing a shit job at it. My life was teetering on by a thin string.”

The room was silent, the only noises being the taping of Katsuki’s foot, the ticking of the clock, and the hum of your refrigerator.

“So what? You’ve never helped someone out before? Beating someone’s ass with your quirk? Nothin’?” Katsuki spoke, trying to understand where you’re coming from. But you could only let out a big sigh.

"Well, technically, I’m kinda quirkless.”

Katsuki’s tapping stopped.

He gave you a look you’ve never seen before; his eyes were growing soft and his chest began to fall. Like he’s loosening up or something. The blonde stared intensely at you, waiting for you to speak once more. Biting your lip, you continued once more.

“It's like it comes in little spurts, no matter how hard I try to concentrate and force it out. It’ll only come out at the randomest of times. I’ve never seen myself at full power before.”

“One moment I was just like you, young and so excited about my quirk. I grew up thinking that I was going to save the world and that I’d work hard and conquer my way to the top. But the thing is, as yours grew stronger, I was only getting weaker. And the next thing I knew, I woke up, and it was gone.”

“So I went through life with the mentality that I needed to give myself a bit more attention; I couldn’t just wing through life knowing that my quirk could save me. But I knew that if I could have a position of power, that would make me feel like I was making a difference out there for you of all people…”

You suddenly laughed at yourself, taking another swig of your beer.

“Sorry, I don’t even know what I’m saying, I’m already buzzed.”

“No.”

You looked at Katsuki as he spoke, a frown on his lips as he shook his head. You couldn't help but laugh at his demeanor. “All I’m saying is that maybe I wasn’t as cut out for this as I thought I would be. Maybe I’m meant to be a walking target that villains can smell. I’m a walking damsel in distress, honestly. If we didn’t meet through the agency, we could’ve met that way most likely–”

“Shut up.”

Katsuki deadpanned at your words.

“I knew someone who was quirkless, and that loser is stronger than me for all might’s sake!” He exclaimed.

“All I’m saying is that you have a good life, so be proud of it. You work hard, harder than I’ve seen most of the chicken heads that I’ve hired. So bask in that glory.” He says softly, you roll your eyes before you start up again.

“I have a good life? Says the multi-acclaimed pro hero Dynamight! Ranked number two out of the whole country, he drives a red sports car, lives in a nice childhood home, goes to a great school, gets to roll around in money, and gets to tell people how they should dress for five days out of the week? Right, my life is really good.”

You snorted at yourself, reveling in the truth you spoke. But all Katsuki could do was shake his head.

“That same person who you were talking about has almost died countless times, kidnapped in their first year of high school, and has lost too many friends and mentors to count. So yeah, I consider you to have a good life.”

You let out a bittersweet chuckle at his words, “There’s one more thing too.” You added on, Katsuki raised his eyebrows in amusement, “like?”

“You’re also the last to get married.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes and lets out an amused smirk. “Right, that’s checkmate for me–”

“How come you’re the last? I would think that you’d be the first! You’re not a bad-looking guy; you might need to work in the emotional availability department but. You’re crystal clear.”

“I uh…  I tried to do the whole young love thing but it didn’t work out in my favor.” He responded softly towards the touchy subject, but you decided to persist.

“And why do you think that, Katsuki?”

Back when Bakugo was a younger, newly emerged pro, there was someone of his caliber that he found perfect. They had the spunk, the quirk, the personality, the looks, even the barons. He believed they were perfect for each other.

He had his sights set on them since he had been working in the force. At first, they were a nice distraction. Clever banter turned into hot makeout sessions. Training days turned into blanket-covered nights where the both of them would talk about their future.

And back then, he believed it. He believed that he had a future with them.

Sometimes he would envy Kirishima; he didn’t understand why he wasn’t chosen to bear the burden of love. A warmth beyond his comprehension, a family that he could selfishly call his own.

Sometimes his mind would trail back to that night. A night that he wished he could forget. A thought that he wished could be locked away forever. He remembers the sight as he looked into their eyes—the utter betrayal.

The smirk of mischief and evil as the one and only person he ever could love has turned against him. The moment when he got stabbed in the chest, too close to his heart. And in that moment, he had to choose selfishly in a way he never wanted to.

And that choice was his life over theirs.

You didn’t know what to say at the moment, Katuski just dropped the biggest bomb you had the burden of holding. Stammering with your thoughts, you say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Katsuki…”

“I would’ve never known–”

“It wasn’t for you to know; I don’t even know why I told you that,” he said to himself. You softly smile at his harsh words.

“Well, not to toot my own horn but I’m your fiance,” you chuckled. Katsuki gives you a smirk before he looks at your hand. "Then, where’s your ring?” He asked.

“In my room, placed somewhere safe and out of harm's way!” you smiled.

"Well, I’m gonna need you to start wearin’ it more,” he retorted.

“I figured that after your little speech, you gave us away like you weren’t even trying.” You spat out sarcastically. “I didn’t even mention your name!” He raised his voice in protest. “Yeah? Well, I’m sure everyone connected the dots to a perfect fuckin T.” You spoke with a smirk.

"Well then if they decide to connect those lines to the press, that NDA will be there waiting for them to get bit in the ass,” he snapped back.

You laugh at his words before taking a final sip of your beer.

“Why did you choose to give yourself a chance with me?”

Oh, you were buzzed.

“You are a hero that’s supposed to date other heroes, top models, and superstars of your caliber. Why date some small-town secretary that doesn’t even fully have a quirk?” you spoke, just above a whisper. Scared of his next response. Feeling that as if you got the wrong response, you just might hurl all over him.

Katsuki lets out a sigh before he silently panders to himself. He was eyeing you up and down before he finally spoke with a smirk.

“I’m not sure, wishful thinking?”

“asshole”

YAAAAAAAAASSSSUHU IM BACK IM BACK

I saw all your comments begging me to come back, next chapter when? next chapter when? NEXT CHAPTER NOW HOE

As you all might know now, I am a busy college student who finally has time to fantasize and write to my heart's content. SO YOU WILL BE GETTING MORE CHAPTERS OUT OF ME VERY SOON!!

Thank you all so much for the support, I love you all and hope you guys have an amazing read! Please let me know how I did in the comments. Comments and reposts are very much appreciated!!

— lovelyiida 

❥: @xo-evangeline, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @gold24fish, @xasilex, @the-queen-of-sorrows , @itgetzweird08 , @yoyosocks165 , @pebblepoop , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @katsu-shi , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @alicen23 , @xasilex , @elegantvoids , @lowkeyremi , @plutounderbridges , @k0z3me , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @winterv-black , @chuugarettes , @kiarathace , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @hyu-hl , @katsukisxslut , @optimisticprime3 , @cosmicbreathe , @yessimo , @sanemishina , @snxwycloud , @cosmic-rainstorm , @vinivave , @venus-xxoo , @lavender99 , @iluv-ace , @artfulthoughtsblog , @thatcreepycat , @prettylittleshady , @lavalampfullofsoup, @melodykittya , @bakugoiidaswaifu, @queendynamite2001, @starxsage, @mikestuffffs, @queendynamite2001, @kazuumii, @Minori-taiga1, @Liveurlifetothefullest

[yandere-sins]

A yandere that, because you look awfully gloomy and lonely, decides to gift you a huge plush of themself.

You, who absolutely hates that plush (for obvious reasons) until you... don't.

Don't get me wrong, that plush is hideous. It's one of those human torso-sized, huge, huggable, soft plushes that come out for famous anime these days. It's so frustrating that when you poked it with your finger, it was really damn soft and would make a great cushion. However, the annoying, cutesy visage of your captor made in a toy style and the horrendous odor of their scent, which the plush seemed to have bathed in, are appalling enough not to care.

Although you turn it around towards a wall, so it's not staring at you, it's now a constant presence in your life even when you try to hide it upstairs when you get free access to all of the house. Your yan merely puts it back into your basement room, latest by the following day.

It's not a secret that you are really fucking lonely in your basement prison, waiting all day for your captor to come back home so you can play happy family upstairs. It's super depressing that you rarely catch enough sunlight to sustain yourself. Your whole life simply has no meaning other than being a captive, locked up, and forgotten in god-knows-where. But you warn yourself repeatedly that you haven't sunk this low as to need a cuddly plush of your captor to keep you company. Even when it's soft and huggable and at least doesn't annoy you (because it can't talk and can't threaten you), you don't. Need. It.

You know what it's good for, though? Punching. You thought you got rid of your anger a long time ago, but it turns out punching and wrestling with the thing like a rabid dog is pretty good for your mental health. There are a lot of unreleased feelings stuck inside you, so... it takes a good beating for sure.

At least until your knuckles hurt and you finally feel the tears dripping down your cheeks.

You really tried to hate this plush—at least as much or even more than your captor. And it's so fucking ugly, it still makes you want to puke. But when you finally give in and wrap your arms around it, it almost, really closely feels like a hug. It doesn't suffocate you, but it is soft and understanding in your arms even though you just beat it into the ground, and it doesn't blabber love confessions into your ear while it presses the air out of your lungs. When you hold it long enough, it almost has the faintest warmth to it, too, and damn. You did kind of need that, didn't you? After so long, this is exactly what you need.

Of course, after that brief display of unintended affection towards that damn toy, you throw it into a corner and go hide away for a while to compose yourself, hating that you sunk so low. It makes you feel really fucking pathetic, and yet... well, it doesn't have to lay face down on the cold ground. The plush can at least rest against a wall or something. It's ugly, but it's not the plush's fault that it was created that way.

The timid glances you give it throughout the day until your captor comes home, demanding attention from you that you provide reluctantly to avoid the drama, are nothing but curious looks... you think. Even when you are hugged by a real person—too tight, too needy, too hard—you look over to your plush which was so different from what you have to endure just for the sake of peace. And at night, you undoubtedly wish to have no one bother you like your captor does... but the plush would probably be more comfortable if you had to choose.

Gradually, and as insane as it sounds, you begin to hang out more with the plush. Maybe you are losing your mind, but it doesn't feel so weird anymore the more you do it. Let it sit next to you on a chair as you eat your snacks provided, or allow it to watch a movie with you (but only with an arm's length distance between you two). It's not the same as a real person, and it will hardly ever be able to replace that, but it grows on you in terms of companionship. It's even a little bit of relief to talk to it about your worries and complaints, despite the plush not being able to change anything about what plagues you.

Nonetheless, it's almost as if the plush makes living with the yandere a bit more endurable and easier. Perhaps your mood changed enough to soothe your captor; thus, they are much nicer and more attentive to what you want and need. It's far away from perfect, but it's not as hard as it has been before. Now, being alone, only with your plush companion, is much more of a relief rather than a punishment you have to sit out.

You even find some relaxation, cuddling, and using the plush as a pillow while doing anything really. With its softness, an afternoon nap now seems all the more enticing. Of course, you still refuse to admit all of this to your captor, but by the smug grin on their face, they already know that you've grown fond of the plush version of themself. The only time you get skeptical of the two is when the yandere decides to take the plush away for some time. "To check the stitches," they say, but for some reason, you don't believe them.

It makes sense that you wouldn't know about the... devices they put into them. A bit of a camera behind the cartoonish eyes and an audio device in the ears. You came close to destroying them when you had your rage fit, but not enough for the yandere not to see your first time hugging the plush. Or the first time you let it sit on the couch with you. Or when you let it—and thus the yandere—watch you eat. It's lovely to see you more relaxed and calm for once, with no arguing or complaining. No stiffness in your body and no forced agreeing like you do with the yan. Not even the yandere gets to see you eat without trying to hide or refusing in front of them, so this is a very special sight for them.

But what made them even happier was how openly you disclosed all those information about yourself. Suddenly you were talking about what you wanted and how to make you happy with the simplest things, like cooking dishes you craved or getting you new movies that you wanted to see. And what made it even more worth it was the smiles the yan now had on video and occasionally received in person after fulfilling your wishes, even though you were still shy about that. The plush helps feed their obsession, making it the best decision the yan ever made after kidnapping you.

Because fulfilling these wishes and pleasing you is almost as good as affection from you, a gentle moment worth a thousand words the yandere wants to hear from your precious lips, but you’ll never give them. Give them a smile, and you have them, once again, wrapped around your little finger, playing their heart like a fiddle. They don't even have to be jealous since fulfilling wishes is the one thing the plush will never be able to do—but the yan can. So they feast on the little achievements, the little less wariness whenever the yandere does anything and the bit more leniency with how far you let your captor go before bringing out your claws.

And then, after you became comfortable with their replacement, the yan simply took some time off work so they could sneak into the basement and throw the plush out of your bed before slipping into your sweet embrace themself, experiencing for the first time ever what it was like to truly be loved and cherished by you, gently held in your arms.

!! Sexual Content below !!

Gosh, all these premium videos of you getting off by grinding against the plush. Your moans and whimpers on repeat on your yandere's headphones on the way to work. Loads of fapping material and them sneaking into the basement just to masturbate while watching you, knowing you'd never allow them to join, but at least, they can cum with you.

The yan implementing genitals on the plush for you to use, and you find out, being so fucking ashamed, but eventually, curiosity wins. An overjoyed yandere licking and using them when they take the plush to inspect the seams, knowing you used them before the yan, so they feel much closer to you through them. Even better: You (accidentally or not) catch them in the act, and the yan finally lets go of all the restraints.

Them asking you to show them exactly how you use the toy, touching themself as they force you to give them a show. Your yan being unable to resist anymore, pushing themself on you and discarding the toy in favor of their real thing, growing increasingly desperate for you if you don't respond as they want you to.

"Aren't I so much better?" "Watch how good I am at this." "From now on, only let me make you cum, okay?" "Tell me it's good for you, too." "You may say you like them better than me, but can they do this?" "Do you want us both? Can you take us both, Darling?"

The yan making this a more common occurrence in your bedroom from then on, whether it be just watching or joining the fun. Setting up new cameras so they'll never run out of things to watch, even when they can't be with you. And thinking of how to upgrade your plush yandere to provide even more excellent services to you when the yan isn't there to do it, deciding it's a fun bonding activity to all try out the new things they come up with together.

[makethatelevenrings]

Day 3: Anal w/ Roy Kent

kinda wish today was choking bc I had a joke about no one chokes harder than the Republican party

Kinktober Masterlist

“Are you sure about this?”

The question startled a laugh out of you. You laid back on the plush bed beneath you and spread your arms out against the soft, cotton sheets. Despite dating a very rich man, the life of luxury still amazed you and if there was one thing Roy never skimped on, it was on his sleep.

“Yes, you muppet. You’ve asked me that three times now. I’m sure.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I just want to make sure I’m not fucking this up.” Roy meant it to be humorous but you could see that he was tense. You pushed yourself up and settled on your knees so you could lean up and grab his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you, Roy Kent. So get that pretty head out of your arse and get your other head into my arse.”

It was times like these that he regretted dating a younger woman.

“Fucking hell,” he choked out. “Have some compassion on my nerves.”

“Alright, Mrs Bennett,” you teased. You smoothed your hand down his shoulders and then traced your fingers down the soft hair that covered his chest. “If you’re not comfortable with it, then we don’t have to do it. It’s totally fine.”

“No, I just…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your big softy. You cupped his cheek and smiled softly at the conflicted look in his dark eyes. For such a menacing man, he really was the biggest softy when it came to you. Your thumb rubbed along the soft skin of his lips and he breathed out against your touch.

“Knowing you the way I do, you did your research, right?”

“Might’ve asked Tartt if he’s ever popped a cherry before,” he grunted. You giggled at the mental image of that conversation.

“See? And I’ve done my research and I know my safewords. If at any point either one of us needs to stop, we stop. Right?”

“Right.”

You pushed away from his chest and landed back on the soft mattress. “So pop my cherry, Kent.”

He growled and flipped you over in that deliciously strong way of his. You sighed as you laid out on your stomach, but then he was grabbing your hips and making sure your back was arched and ass prominent. Roy slid his hands over the soft cotton of your sleep shorts and then slowly eased the fabric down, revealing the puckered hole he had yet to breach.

Your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation and you burned with the unreleased desire that had been slowly building in your veins. This was some wild fantasy that had come to mind. You never thought he would actually-

Holy shit. Roy Kent was rimming you.

The rough burn of his beard against your sensitive flesh lit your nerves on fire. His strong hands pulled your ass cheeks apart so he could access your hole better. You moaned at the warm touch against your skin and it nearly covered up the sound of the lube bottle being opened. Fuck, this was really happening.

One of his lube-covered fingers replaced his tongue as he probed at your hole. You instinctively clenched and then relaxed as he eased the tip of one finger in and then let it rest until you gathered your bearings. This was so much tighter than your pussy. A startled gasp escaped you as he pushed in further and Roy paused.

“Alright?” His other hand stroked down the inside of your thigh and you nodded.

“Yes. Yeah. Fuck. Keep going.”

He worked you open, slow and gentle and completely unlike the man he was portrayed to be, until he could work in two fingers. Then three. It was at that point that you were practically whimpering into the pillow underneath you.

“If you don’t put that cock in me in the next five seconds, I won’t let you near me for a month.”

“Yeah right,” he snorted. The sheets rustled beside you and the snick of the lube bottle being opened once more caught your attention. Roy adjusted himself on the bed and then he was there. The blunt head of his cock pressed against the mess he had made of you and you scrambled to grab the sheets as he started to slowly fuck his way into your tight channel.

“Fuck, Roy. Fuck,” you moaned. “Just like that.”

He leaned down to kiss the small of your back before he slid fully into your ass and then settled, giving you time to adjust. You flashed him a thumbs up and he slowly slid out before thrusting back into you. Your body jolted with the thrust and you moaned in appreciation at the feeling. It was foreign and strange, but so fucking hot.

You could tell he liked it too based on the way his breathing became ragged and rough at the edges. This had to be a totally new sensation for him too. Tight and controlled. His hips snapped against yours and your eyes rolled back into your head. Shit, that felt good.

Roy reached down and rubbed at your clit, pushing you towards the edge and forcing you to tumble over until you were whining and sobbing into the pillow below you. His hips stuttered as he came, spilling into the condom, and then he was carefully pulling out of you and lying you down on your side.

Silence, except for your labored breathing, filled the room. Your brain was mush. Gentle hands caressed your side, your hair, your thighs.

“He’s here. He’s there. He’s every fucking where,” you mumbled out. Roy barked out a surprised laugh and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

“Came everywhere in you now, haven’t I?” he hummed.

“Roy Kent,” you sang. “Roy Kent fucked my ass.”

“God, I love you.”

[rayas-ryoiki-tenkai]

hate sex pt.1

tags: gojo/reader, 18+ minors dni, smut, grinding, gojo being a little shit, marked flashbacks, lampole is angry

parts: 1, 2 (unreleased)

•°. *࿐ - flashback

Also on AO3

"Oh please, like you know anything about pleasure besides your own..."

----

Gojo grips the flesh under your thighs to push you higher and wider, his long, deft fingers shaping your plush skin into whatever he willed so. Fingertips curling around to your hip, his palms sinking in your skin like thumbing into kneaded dough, he squeezes like he could pull off a spongy chunk of you. Satoru exhales particularly at how your flesh gives way to his, letting him in, and how his eyes gravitate to it, so simply easy to give in yet so hard to pull away.

A handprint, like he's marking you, albeit a fleeting sight for as long as he grips you. Your soft curves to the bony back of his knuckles, worlds apart, forged into one.

God, you just had to look this good. He strokes his thumb near your inner thigh and relishes in the shiver that it prompts. Why did you have to look this good? He digs that thumb into muscle.

He's not quite sure why it frustrates him - how supple you are, how your body accommodates for the way he bends you. There's a twitch between your brows, a flickering narrow at the corner of your eyes as if you're frustrated too, but it smoothes into the shape of pleasure. He's glad you lay oblivious to his staring, dumb and drunk off the alcholol and that sweet, sweet way his hip rubs against yours.

He grinds, oh how he grinds, a stiff pressure to translate the strain in his trousers. He's slow, so achingly slow, but catches the bud of nerve endings in every glorious rut. It leaves you gasping, mouth hanging as if to chase the next shot of contact. All your reserve, the feet you dig deep into the ground with a scowl, all of it melts before him, and Gojo drinks up how weak you fall.

Weak. Even beyond comparison for the strongest sorcerer. He could pluck you apart in a breath. You surely wanted to inflict as such on him over the past few years as academic rivals. Tokyo vs Kyoto. A tale as old as time. But now you're spilling 'hmm's in the shape of 'keep going's.

It's quite amusing to spot the damp swatch collecting on your panties, how it clings to your folds in a desperate plea for attention. The fabric settles in the ridges of your pussy, an aimless veil for decency, but one of the straining barriers that kept the frosted-haired freak from digging his cock into you.

Again, your expression reads, but you don't dare give it voice. All that slips are sweet gasps when his bulge presses against your clit, and you can feel just how heavy he's gotten. How big he must be. You'd give him that at least; his ego may have some reasonable substance to it, especially if he's packing a horse for a slender frame.

Fuck, it's not enough. Your eyes shoot open, and by some unfathomable force (the alcohol), you fail to latch onto the tail end of your pride and do best to plead him with your eyes. You know well he understands, that blindfold isn't fooling you. He's towering over in that midnight uniform, almost blending into the dark corners of your kitchen floor if not for the spring of blue slits from the moonlight. The blinds cut light by his jaw and down his neck, painting a pretty pale sheen in the chiseled parts of him. Like a taunt and by God does he look hauntingly beautiful.

Your brows curl to beg again. I need more. Do something.

Gojo grunts low in his chest and immediately wishes to steal back the sound. Why should he give you the honor of hearing his moments of pleasure? If you were so hell-bent on belittling him and his notoriously selfish character to the staff, then why allow erotic, tasteful sounds fall on your ears?

Look at you, he thinks, reveling in how you hopelessly bend to his will, how your eyes glaze over in desperation, anything for him to grind a little faster. Your head falls back again with a thud and your hand frantically searches for the one pushing your thighs higher. Satoru could laugh at how your fingers shake, how pitiful you look, but he doesn't. His jaw angles sharply, hissing between clamping teeth. Where's your bite now?

Your sharp tongue, that utter look of disdain and impossible insignificance. Like he were some bratty kid who'd been screaming between the isles of a grocery store and hauling candies off their shelves in a petty feat. You, you looked at him like he wore muck and slime like an overcoat. Sitting at the bar, sipping away on a stool like it were a pedestal. How was he not supposed to be angry?

•°. *࿐

It had been a sure day, that was until Principal Gakunganji had popped a blood vessel and decided to make it everyone's problem. Of course, the culprit to the fumes steaming out of his ears was none other than Satoru Gojo, much to no one's surprise. The staff had intially planned for a night of celebratory drinks following The Goodwill Event, though the mood had cut short by the devastating hijacking of cursed spirits who were, no doubt, enemies of Gojo lined up in his shadow.

The kids were in danger. Your own second graders, thrown into the impossible task to stay alive amidst the madness. For 'the strongest sorcerer of the present day', Gojo sure took his time to shake the barrier on campus, even had the nerve to goof around when it was all over.

You were having none of it.

"Come on, lighten up," you say, the drink in your hand dangerously edging to the rim in your exclaim. Kusakabe bears you no mind beside you, aimlessly spinning his glass and its melting ice to drown out the hubble. You huff, rolling your eyes.

The bar litters with many of your collective staff, though most of their faces are pulled down in exhaustion. You feel it deeply, the sympathy, the anger, for the overworked sorcerers and staff that looked upon on a friendly night out, now fall on the face of the bar counter with a thud. Just one nice thing. You grit your teeth with replenished rage.

"Gojo this, Gojo that," he mutters. You nudge Kusakabe encouragingly.

"Exactly!" you spring back, "you'll let that lampole dampen your mood?"

Atsuya flinches slightly at how you spur it on, feed into the trash talk, and inevitably sighs as if you were voicing his relentless contempt. You'd already tried poking at Utahime a few times to spill how she felt, but much to the disappointment of your gossiping, and your worry for the welfare of your coworker, she turned it down.

"He's a hotshot with no personality. He doesn't care about the people around him. I don't know why he's allowed to teach the kids in the first place. That 'feather duster' needs his ego shot down a few notches."

You continue, despite the widening look in Atsuya's eyes, "Sure, I get it. Being born into power has its inevitable struggles, but clearly he makes up for his lack of humanity for narcissism. He's got more priviledge in one thumb than we've all seen in our entire lives, yet people bow to his holyness like he's some god. Bless her heart; Miwa admires him. She looks up to him. For what?"

"His height?" Atsuya offers, laughing at his own joke.

You shoot him a look. "Our kids need role models. Not action figures," you take a sip of your drink, "he sure looks like one too."

You've heard it from Utahime herself; Satoru cared little for the average person, maybe a tad more if they were relevant in sorcery, but still, flies on the wall. If something didn't immediately serve him, it didn't exist in his radar. Kusakabe chuckles in agreement but refrains from saying anything; it seems the many near-death incidents and handfuls of casualties racked up on his concious still. You sigh:

"Gojo exists for his own pleasure."

You knock back your drink.

"Curious about my pleasure, are you?"

The voice almost knocks the wind out of you in surprise; you have no idea how you manage to swallow down without choking. Though, what immediately follows courses your blood in cold, wet disdain - because that man could just never stop finding ways to make you hate him more.

Lo and behold, the lampole has arrived.

Sat beside you with an arm propped up to his chin, he wears that impish grin in an effortless attempt to rile you up. You huff at Gojo as if he is the cause of all things uncomfortable and turn to the bartender again, "I need another one of these." A little liquid courage is a necessity when confronting God.

"The hell are you doing here?" you spit at the feather duster, harsher than you intend it to, "you don't drink."

He has the nerve to mockingly place a hand on his chest, mouth dropped in a gasp, "am I not welcome? Ouch." The peaks of his white hair sharpen to emphasize on his need to be dramatic. You roll your eyes.

"Do you not want me here, hmm?" he teases, pulling at the corner of his lips, "aren't you happy? What's with the face?"

God, even his voice is annoying. You can't help but throw, "oh, great. 'What's with the face', huh? So, you do have the ability to see things beyond yourself?"

The twitch of skin beneath his blindfold doesn't go unnoticed. You latch onto the opening.

"Nice to know you choose to be selfish."

•°. *࿐

Selfish.

He leans over, slotting his head between your ankles, pressing your knees into your chest in hopes to snap you in two. Maybe he could squeeze you into something smaller, something that'd fit inside his palm, and maybe that would tone down the weightless whining you did about how much of a terrible person he was. There'll be more where that came from.

If he was so selfish, would he meet the demands of those wet pupils and grind into you in delicious shapes? Would he drag the length of his tented crotch up and down your slit as a trial for what he could gift you?

His height serves to crowd you where his head is higher than yours, and in the unforgiving pace and position he sets you in, you're left craning your neck to meet masked eyes. The sheer size of him shrinks you into submission. Caged to all but feel the bulk of him, all but taste the scent of him and only him.

Ankles on his shoulders, his fingers form a vice grip on your wrists, bound to fall limp at the mercy of whatever the fuck he decides to give you. Selfish, huh? So fucking selfish. Gojo's jaw clenches visibly, nose scrunching in newfound anger. He was going to be selfish alright.

Gojo slows to a pace barely passable for movement. Your eyes widen, bold and wet, your face is priceless.

What's the point of being the strongest sorcerer when you had this?!

Power, to see how you're subject to feel pleasure only if he decides so. Your hands are immobile. Your legs are locked between your bodies. All you can see is the clouded essence of him that leaks off his every breath, the aroma that fans across your face and itches your nerves for more.

Something akin to the devil's henious satisfaction spreads across Gojo's lips, a manic little number you'd never seen on him before. He was still Satoru, stupidly handsome with a wolfish smirk to match, but this tickles your skin in alarm. His blindfold wraps tight around his eyes, but for some reason you feel as if you can see dual beams of blue peering into your every move.

And the way he drags himself, honing the heaviness where you need it most, imprinting the finer veins and ridges of his cock against your clothed sex. You hear it loud and clear; feel this? You'll do good to remember it.

This bastard.

You just want him to fuck you and get over with it, but he's insistent on reminding you how much of an arsehole he is. A groan reverbrates in the back of your throat, your hips all but attempting to buck into him in the little space, and Gojo chuckles like hot honey on your skin, a burn that soothes, posioned pleasure. Of course, you'd trade up your firstborn to actually bash the prick's head in, but you bite your tongue in this losing battle. He knows what you want, and he's well aware he has the means to give it to you.

You groan louder, parts whining, parts breathy, "fuck...Gojo, you self-serving prick."

Surely there are better uses for that tongue, no?

What a sight you are, squirming for a taste more fricition all whilst spitting degradations to mask up your crumbling pride. Look at where you are, baby. Under me. You can't move unless you're moving into me. Is that not what you want, baby? You don't want me to stretch you into my shape, hmm?

"Come on, baby," Gojo painfully strains in the constraints of his uniform, "use that mouth besides calling me a prick. What is it you want?"

His teeth catch his lower lip, a playful tilt of his head lit up from the moonlight. Fuck, the way he smiles is curled in fervor and carnal want, boyishly mischievious.

Say it.

Like he could chew up the skin of your jaw and you'll grate a moan to chase the feeling of his canines in your blood.

Like he could paint your skin in patchy purples whilst you drew your scratches down his back screaming his name. Fuck, fuck, his head dips near your neck, his breath hot in your ear.

"Or I can just get myself off now and call it a night. Never stopped me before."

"God, fuck, Satoru, just-" it trembles when you push it out your throat, your voice losing its timbre, "-just fuck- fuck me already, please."

•°. *࿐

Ever since shaking hands with the administration team, everybody pounced at the opportunity to fill your ears with Gojo's impulsive catastrophes and the ripples all else felt. Typical reckless abandon, to have inherited techniques that few actually understood, you assumed he was burdened by the fated responsibilites that followed. He proved you wrong.

And with some back and forth, and a belly full of alcholol, Gojo has the audacity to step out of the bar in the middle of your pointed rants.

Your feet follow him before suddenly, it clicks; he's offended, "Oh. Oh, ho! I hit a nerve!"

Gojo, decidedly ignoring your existence, continues walking away lazily, hands deep in pockets.

"Good!" You jab at his back, in his shadow, "you should get what you deserve."

To that, he stills. The night drags beyond what the tick of alcholol gave you, and despite feeling the world sways, Gojo stands so still that it recalibrates the sky and ground. You've never known him to be quiet for longer than a handful of seconds, but now the minute drags on, and the nodule in your throat grows and wheezes.

"You hate me." He says, so low that you almost miss it.

Huffing, you scoff, "you think?"

"You hate me."

Okay. Clearly he's so in his own head that he didn't hear you the first time, or literally anytime before that.

"You don't make it easy." You shrug knowingly, "you lack basic morale, Gojo. You step over people. We're pawns of some grand scheme in your twisted little head."

"You don't know me," he turns, and you flinch realising you weren't actually talking to a wall. Usually so animated, it makes you uneasy seeing him so pulled from emotion, a prop at best.

"Do I need to?"

A pause.

"What do you want?"

The streetlamp flickers and solidifies, much like your mind registering the question to the depth Gojo intends. For what purpose did you waddle at his heels to continually jab daggers despite him being the first to walk away? What did this do for you?

Warm tones of golden night lights bathe the space between you two, catching on the tip of his nose and atop his hair, everything else sunken in the shadow. The air feels cool. He takes a step. The air is colder.

"Do you want me prove that I can care?"

Gojo takes another step, gold hazes behind him, "or..."

Why is he getting closer?

"Do you want me to tend to you?"

You struggle to suppress a sharp inhale. His intentions read clear.

It takes you a moment to recover from a stirring something in your lower abdomen, either by the compulsive drinking or the overwhelming closeness of him. Eventually, you chuckle mockingly, leaning in with half a challenge and the other half jaw tensed with the remnants of your anger, ticking off the last jab of the night:

"Oh, please. Like you know anything about pleasure besides your own..."

•°. *࿐

[dailysonicplush]

Daily Plush - 22.1.2024

(Source: PatMac)

This plush is an unreleased prototype, by Jazwares. The plush was going to be based off of Sonic's design from Sonic and the Black Knight.

Here is a render from Black Knight, for reference:

(Source: Official render by SEGA)

The plush was going to be based off of this previously released plush, also made by Jazwares:

(Source: Official product image by Jazwares)

[internet-cheesecake]

the poll had a 3 way tie ヘ⁠（⁠。⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠ヘ

it was meant to decide the order in which id make the comics ! this isnt helping (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

anywayyyyysssss, here's a short partially colored narilamb comic lololol

bubbles with the red are Lambert, and the ones with the black are Narinder

ehehehe (⁠*⁠´▽｀⁠*⁠)

...do cameras even exist in the game ? i don't care if they do or not. had this idea after chugging an ungodly amount of coffee and was like

IDEA‼️ART‼️

ooooo also found a lamb plush while i was out shopping the other day !!!!

from FYE, so it's official, but i can't find any record of this one's existence, so maybe it's unreleased ? will probably see an official drop within the next few months

[pianokantzart]

The One To Blame

A one shot based off this discussion, so I hold @a-la-orilla-del-rio and @istadris responsible.

UPDATE: It has expanded past being a one shot and is now available on A03, (or you can continue reading it here on Tumblr): Part 2 Part 3

______ Luigi hid amongst the jagged stone and brutish architecture of Bowser's castle, thankful for the large collection of self-aggrandizing statues that provided the perfect cover, creating long dark shadows and small cramped corners he could hide in. At the same time, the decor pricked at old memories that he struggled to push aside: bound and frightened, disoriented and confused, dragged by aching wrists to where he and Bowser first met face to face. Luigi would’ve been happy to stay a thousand miles away from The Darklands for the rest of his life, but he couldn't allow his brother to embark on this rescue mission all by himself. Even if Luigi knew for certain that Mario didn't need his help, he wished to do everything in his power to see to Princess Peach's safe return. She had put her life on the line to save him once before, it was only right to do the same for her.

Luigi's head began to ache from unreleased adrenaline as he crept along the edges of the throne room, slowly venturing near enough to hear the group of voices gathered around Bowser. The small plumber tentatively peeked out from obsidian pedestal of one of the statues, and observed the unfolding scene. The King of The Koopas stood at the base of his towering throne of masonry and wrought iron, Kamek at one side, and on his other side Princess Peach, locked in an enormous gilded cage of rose gold, filled with plush pink furniture. She was safe. Unhappy, of course, but unharmed. Luigi allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.

Bowser was commiserating with a squadron of paratroopers, the most highly decorated of them fluttering at the forefront, eye-to-eye with the king.

"The Prison Ship was forced to make an emergency landing near The Valley Fortress,” the soldier explained with a salute. “Word got back that Mario has disappeared, but he couldn’t have gone far! We'll recapture him soon enough."

Hearing this, Luigi couldn't help but smile. The Prison Ship was where he and Mario were forced to split up. It was where Luigi had no choice but to run for the sake of his own survival and leave his big brother behind. Mario did his best to ease Luigi's fears, swearing his own safety and promising that he'd figure out a plan. It appeared Mario was true to his word, and now Bowser's forces were running themselves ragged trying to track him down. It was as good a spur-of-the-moment plan as any: Mario would hold the attention of The Dark Lands while he– Luigi – freed Princess Peach. They’d escape the castle, regroup with Mario, and find their way back to The Mushroom Kingdom. Simple. Easy. No problem.

The paratrooper proved himself worthy of his position as he remained firm in his saluting position, not even flinching as Bowser began to shout.

"Don't recapture him! Sparing him at all was a mistake! Give the order to kill on sight!" "No!" The harsh voice of Princess Peach, normally so calm and gentle, was startling to hear as she slammed her fists against the cage door. The sincerity in her upset appeared to flip a switch in Bowser's manner, evoking something resembling sympathy. He dismissed his troops, and as they fluttered out of the room Bowser turned to his beloved, hands held out plaintively.

"Peaches! I know it's hard to accept, but this is what is best for us, I promise you!" "Us?!" Peach huffed, struggling to maintain her royal composure. "There is no us! Ever since we've met you have done nothing but try to destroy everything I care about!" "Exactly! we've been fighting each other for so long when we should have been fighting for each other! You didn't even have time to recognize my good qualities, just like it took me so long to finally recognize yours..." He looked almost pitiable, big-eyed and pleading as he kneeled down and held his hands over his heart. "But you'll see! I'll prove to you how much of a match we are. You'll forget those silly, fleeting feelings you had for Mario-" "No! I… There are no feelings, Bowser!" Luigi couldn't help but feel Peach's voice lacked conviction, but he hoped that the draconic tyrant would take her for her word as she continued... "We're friends. Just friends, don't you understand? And Mario doesn't love me either. The only reason he ever accompanied me was because he was worried about his brother."

A strange silence hung in the air. Luigi felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and Peach placed her hands to her mouth in slow realization of the dangers of what she'd just said. Before she could make an effort to undo her mistake, Bowser broke the silence.

"His brother... Luigi," he muttered in a voice thick with revulsion. "So, he's the one Mario told you he was after? And if the gossip that floats between your palace guards is worth believing, Luigi is also the one who first discovered the warp pipe that led to our world."

"Bowser, please don't." Peach begged, "he's my friend too." "Why!?" Luigi couldn't help but cover his ears as Bowser's voice shook the throne room. Smoke poured from his nostrils, his chest heaving with rage. "He didn't train with you! He didn't travel alongside you! He didn't go to the ends of the earth to win you over! All he ever did was jump in at the last second to save Mario!" That final sentence triggered a fresh wave of anger. His eyes flashed red, clawed hands curling in front of him like he was trying to wring an invisible throat. "Mario. I'd have already killed him if it wasn't for his stinkin' brother! I knew he was trouble since he first snuck into my territory... speaking to me like I was an idiot! Telling lies!... Telling me that I... I wasn't good enough for you!" And just like that, his fearsome roars tapered off into the whimpering tone of a spurned teenager. Luigi– backing a little further into the shadows cast by the stone– never felt so confused in his life. Hearing a creature of such fearful, unrestrained power act so hurt over a mere insult was bewildering in and of itself, but Luigi was certain he hadn’t said anything like that. He still couldn't quite remember how that conversation went... the memory was too terrifying to recall between the moment he admitted his brother's name and the moment he was thrown to the floor, but surely he didn’t say that!

Then, beyond the haze of confusion, a new realization dawned on him… Kamek had been awfully silent. Luigi glanced about the throne room, slowly realizing that he had been so focused on Peach and Bowser’s conversation that he didn’t see where Kamek had disappeared to. That was when an innate sense of danger pricked at his heart, and a familiar voice spoke from behind him: “Well well well! Speak of the devil…” On instinct Luigi ducked to the side, dodging a blast of magic that would have rendered him immobile. With equal swiftness, he followed it up with a kick to Kamek’s hand that sent his wand flying across the room. Luigi would’ve congratulated himself for his quick reflexes, had the heavy thud of fast-approaching footsteps not robbed him of all sense of victory.

The struggle was brief. A clawed hand came down, narrowly dodged. Luigi flinched and stumbled as bits of rubble from the damaged statue pelted his face, and that moment of half-blindness was all that Bowser needed. Next thing Luigi knew, a familiar, scaly palm clamped down around his torso and lifted him into the air, squeezing so tight he couldn’t even take a breath.

 “Kamek!” Bowser’s voice called. “Yes, sire?” The wizard asked meekly, fixing his glasses and rubbing his sore hand while crossing the room to recollect his wand. “Keep an eye on my bride to be. I have a score to settle” Luigi felt his body jolted about like a ragdoll with every step Bowser took toward the doors leading out of the room. The plumber struggled, kicking his feet and twisting his body, trying to wrench himself free until Bowser’s grip tightened further, and Luigi’s inability to breathe turned into a sharp pain that made him fear being snapped in half. He went passive then, falling limp in hopes of buying himself some time. Head bowed, he stared hopelessly at Princess Peach as the distance between them grew wider. He mouthed an attempt at an apology. The Princess stretched a hand through the bars, as though if she strained against her cage hard enough she could break through and come to his aid. “Don’t hurt him! Please!” she begged. “We’re both royals, aren’t we? Let’s negotiate! Bowser!”

Her words went unheeded. She only had time to call Bowser’s name once more before her voice was cut off by the heavy doors slamming shut, leaving Bowser alone with his new scapegoat clasped tightly in the palm of his hand.

[thisismeracing]

bono-schumi kiddo thots - godparents edition

once mick and bon’s f1 family find out they are expecting these people are pulling out their credit cards and buying every possible baby item they can set their hands on

kids mini mercedes car? delivered to their house

cute plush they saw at the store? in hand on the way to the register and holding onto it until they see one of them at the next race

the mercedes amg branded stroller and carseat? toto has shown up to their house in the middle of the night to hand deliver it (babe these are real products i just want you to know)

a shit ton of baby tommy hilfiger clothes that are unreleased? lew is folding them and putting it in the new wardrobe he bought for the nursery, before they even woke up (how did he get in?????? [he has a key])

a handmade crib that seb put hours of love into making? he’s setting it up while lew is folding the clothes

a collection of gina’s cowboy hats from her childhood? making space for them in the closet while lew and seb are doing their thing

and it isnt all monetary (even though they get enough items to fully furnish the nursery and have enough toys and clothes for at least another kid and didnt even have to worry about any of the other baby things because their village got it for them already) [seriously they didnt have to buy a damn thing]

like how susie has come over to either cook for them or drop off a dish she’s made

or how the kimi, nando, jensen, seb, lew, etc. come over one day to paint the nursery the color bon and mick have picked out but just haven’t gotten around to painting because of their busy schedules

or how while most of the guys who came over to help paint (how many of these fuckers actually need to be here in order to paint a single room one color?) val has made bon a cup of tea, and a cup of coffee for him to keep her company while mick supervises the painting session

or how lance and esteban will bring over fresh pastry around brunch time, to help in feeding the growing family

and it’s all a bit too much, but they don’t have the heart to tell them to stop so mick and bon just let their family shower their love on them

and bon is a little bit stressed about the whole “who do we put on paper so if anything happens to us they will be taken care of?” situation, but mick reassures her while they are cuddling in bed that there is no wrong answer and he will support whoever she wants to be godparents to their children, while kissing her gently and while sun fills the room they’re occupying

and they eventually land on a consensus

ellie’s godparents are susie and lew

because for one, little miss eloise is named after susie and lew is just so close to bon and she wants him in her daughter's life as much as he has been for her growing up

toto can be an unofficial godparent and i don't feel bad about that because he absolutely just slots himself into the role of grandpa right next to bono. [adding onto this nando absolutely gets called grandpa/abuelo because bon gets a good laugh each time nando reacts to hearing him being referred to as a grandpa.]

mikey’s godparents are gina a seb

seb because again this kid is named after him, but also because we cant leave seb out of being godparent. mick and bon would not let that slide. and then gina cause they also wont let gina not be godparent, and the fact she is mick's sister and bon's sister in law.

yeah people like lance and esteban are close to them, but these four they hold just a smidge closer. but not all is lost because they are very enthusiastically filling the roles of uncles for eloise and mikey. alongside people like val, kimi, jense, etc.

[okay i think im done, hope this made sense and you liked it <3]

☕️

I literally googled "mercedes amg branded stroller" bc I've never seen it before lol kinda cute, toto would def get them one of those

seb building a crib for baby bon is something I can totally see happening and it's such a dear thought to me*teary eyes emoji*

one hundred percent agree and love the godparents choice

[kings-paintbrush]

my Final Family Au!

(but it’s mostly me just explaining my design choices)

I’LL THINK OF A CREATIVE NAME, TRUST!! but it’s set during/slighty after episode 8 of season 3. I haven’t really thought of much plot wise, it’s mostly been silly little sceneries from my headcanons but, first things first, I’m redesigning the dolls they’re in! I think there could be a lot more nuance in what vessels they’re in! These are just my interpretations! Jake Wheeler is GOING to be in a good guy doll, but- seeing as good guy was such a large brand, it would be a good guy that already has a skin tone and hair color similar to his. Still in the Chucky mold. I don’t think I have to say much as to why this is really deep, but for so long Jake’s been trying to kill Chucky, and to be in something that looks so much like him… inside of the monster he’s being trying so desperately to destroy. the other idea is that it’s a unreleased/rare prototype for a slightly darker skinned doll or a rip off good guy all together! A lot of baby dolls have/had plush bodies. With plastic head, feet, and hands. which would make mobility difficult at first— but not impossible.

Devon is literally a Teddy Bear because “Fuck you Devon.” technically stuffed animals aren’t dolls. But I just like the idea of having different vessels, and seeing how you can become more human in them. Because truthfully it’s a scary thought, bonding with this empty husk. Your organs are in there, your soul. You start to feel pain and other human feelings more in more, while your skin sort of… morphs onto this form like a coat of paint. the drawing of Jake shown is him pretty far into his assimilation to the doll! His hair starts to curl up first probably. This is probably halfway assimilated And, I haven’t drawn Lexy but I think she could really work well staying as a marionette doll. All her life she’s felt controlled and tied down. Literally putting on a show for the press because of her mother. And being a slave (or puppet) to her addiction for so long! I didn’t have many ideas for Lexy, other than a fashion doll. But— seems too unoriginal, she’d look too close to Tiffany (BUT IF SOMEONE DOES WANNA MAKE IT WORK THEN GO AHEAD)

Basically I want my plot to be about Nica saving them all and taking them in, and maybe Nica or Andy— or hell even the couple from Bride researching Voodoo and trying to find the Trio’s bodies. the fic will have drawings btw!!! @high-functioning-fang1rl @barclaysangel @nicascurls @fairchilds-glasses

:3 SORRY FOR TAGGING I JUSYDFBSFZBS *dies*

[love-takes-work]

do you have any images of the unreleased wave 2 of the Steven Universe plush clip-ons? Like the mock-ups from Toy Fair and stuff. Im trying to find them but I came up empty handed even though I knew I saw them somewhere before

Not sure which ones specifically you're talking about here but I have these (I never saw the actual items from Series 2--just the boxes with cartoon images of them):

And later there were the Funko clip-on items that didn't get released for Rose, Lapis, and Peridot (also never saw the items, just images of them on a box):

So that's what I got. :)

Edit: I regularly complain about what kind of weirdo makes a toy-related decision that involves making a toy of Ruby and no Sapphire. As much as I would have loved to have these, that would have made my head splodey. It was bad enough that the first series had two Stevens and a Cookie Cat but no Amethyst.

[delightfulweepingwillows]

gender coining for @lesbian-aurora related to a specific picture

Mothfagecryptthing [Moth-fage (like page)-crypt-thing]

Moth from moth, mothman, and mothfae / Fa and ge from fairygrunge / crypt from cryptidcore / thing from thing

A mothfae cryptidcore fairygrunge adult creature thing gender related to: soft cropped sweater with moths and skull patterns over a light blue cropped mimic-corset top, mothman, very soft baby mothman plush, white wine, (handmade) moth wing earrings, elements of fairygrunge and cryptidcore, being a moth type fae creature thing, the pins on my sweater (skull and cat on a flying broom), wearing multiple necklaces as a trait of my lesbianism, snakes and crystals (also to do with the necklaces), listening to aurora/her music or being a fan of her, esp Aurora's unreleased music and latest album, androgyny, and a cozy evening to myself.