"I took her home and stayed with her till I fell asleep my-self, aaaaall snuggled up against her! Theeee end!"

Deeply exhausted from that rollercoaster ride of emotions, Plasterbrain let loose a sigh and turned off the recording.

She'd share it with the outside world later, to gather at least some inkling of payoff from the ordeal, but satisfied she was not.

That was it. That was all she could find.

The internet's infinite, ever-expanding reserve of puberty-driven amateur erotica at her fingertips, and not a single instance of ShulkXReader smut that met her standards. Aside from how messed up it was to dig for self-inserts featuring her direct neighbour, you'd think someone would be her unknowing accomplice through time.

Plaster slumped back into her chair in resignation.

She scowled at her increasingly soggy cereal, frustrated by the lack of luscious, golden locks in her diet.

Her thirst could never be quenched by these flakes alone.

Someone knocked on her dorm room room door.

Since it was literally midnight, the odds of any well-adjusted human being standing in front were slim.

It didn't narrow down the suspect list too much. A solid share of the Smash Roster consisted of mandudes brought into existence as full adults, lacking any upbringing, manners, common sense or indoor voice (and sometimes voice in general).

Most of the rest were abominable flesh-beings, some vaguely resembling happily spray-painted animals.

Their big googly-eyes and mascot charm had saved them from being put to the torch, but Kirby was generally not allowed out.

Plasterbrain shambled over to the entrance and ducked down to peer through the door spyhole, two hands from the floor.

Her heart skipped a beat. SHE KNEW THOSE BOOTS.