#doll fic

[sassykattery]

Dollface, Pt 10

We are nearing the end... what will she choose?

CW: MC is afab, uses she/her pronouns. Smut: piv, multiple rounds and creampie, breeding kink (but no mention of offspring), size difference, f! receiving penetration. Passion/romance driven sex. Hair pulling. Explicit mentions of male and female genitalia.

The main character is afab, uses she/her pronouns. This story is meant to be somewhat curvy/plus-sized reader insert, but the main character is given a physical description, but it's not crucial to the story or mentioned often after Part 1.

Characters: Main Character. Diavolo. Mammon. Satan. Beel. Belphie. Levi. Asmo. Lucifer. Barbatos.

Themes: Romance. Magic. Adventure. Sex. Smut. Diavolo x fem! MC.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

Enjoy

Diavolo got up from the master's cabin on the plane. He remembered waking up briefly as his human lover came to bed late in the night, but his bed was empty when he woke. Curious, he looked around the rest of the cabin, still finding the rest of the brothers scattered around as they slept. It was only when he reached the far end of the plane that he found her sleeping on Lucifer's lap. He was surprised, to be sure, but he merely stood there for a moment, watching. There would be most certainly a conversation later about this, and he quietly snapped a picture on his D.D.D. to remember, and to refute any sense of denial.

"I have always wanted to go to Japan, I'm excited," she replied to Diavolo as he helped her down the steps off the plane. He nodded and smiled.

"Well, I'm happy to be the one to take you," he replied. He then leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I'd be happy to take you to all the places your heart desires. Anything you want is yours, my heart." She received a kiss on the temple as he stood straight and escorted her to the fleet of black cars waiting for them.

"Wait! Why don't we get to ride with her?" Mammon griped as he saw Diavolo helping the woman into the car. He noticed it was a much smaller one only meant for two. Diavolo merely smiled and Lucifer shot a glare towards his younger brother as he walked by to the next car in line.

"Stop whining," Lucifer snapped as he got in. Mammon groaned and stepped into the same one, with all the brothers getting into the other cars.

"Wow," the woman rasped as she craned her neck back, gazing upon the towering hotel across from her as Diavolo helped her out of their car.

"I love seeing your expressions..." Diavolo murmured. "You're truly an adorable being."

She turned her head to look up at Diavolo next. "You said this is yours?"

"Indeed. I own the Corvo Hotel franchise," he explained, walking her into the front lobby. The footman bowed to Diavolo and his partner as they walked in and proceeded to take their bags without a single word exchanged. Her brows raised, and she was quickly seeing the power Diavolo held at work. The Demon Lord continued to escort her into the hotel lobby, and she was stunned by the interior design and architecture. She tried to keep her mouth from being slack as she looked around. The ornate designs and modern touches definitely appealed to her, and Diavolo happily bathed in the awe and pleasure she radiated.

Once up in the penthouse, Diavolo showed her around. There were several bedrooms, bathrooms, a gorgeous gourmet kitchen, stunning dining and living areas, and an unbeatable view of the city below. She walked along the wall of windows in the living room, looking out into the beautiful scenery. However, she still listened carefully as the other guests moved throughout the space. She heard the various baritone and tenor voices talking or arguing about their spaces and occasionally looked over her shoulder as the demons moved about the area.

They really are like a family, she thought.

Looking back out the windows, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder followed by the familiar scent she'd become accustomed to as a sign of comfort. Diavolo leaned down and murmured in her ear, "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Slowly, she turned as Diavolo slid his arm around her shoulders. Before her stood a tall but slender man in traditional-looking robes. His skin was ivory with dull green hair that had a bright turquoise ombré to the ends. His eyes matched his hair, and they glittered with repose under the lights. He was the epitome of class and refinement.

"Hello, my name is Barbatos. It is lovely to meet you, my lady," the man stated, coming closer and placing his hand on his sternum as he bowed.

"Oh," she murmured, her brows raising. "It's... it's wonderful to meet you too. Diavolo told me a lot about you and... I felt like it was important to meet someone so prominent in his life," she replied.

"My master is too kind," Barbatos answered. "I was looking forward to meeting the young woman who charmed my lord into submission. After all these millennia, I obviously still cannot get him to stay in one place, as much as I would like and have asked him to. You'll have to tell me your secrets."

Her eyes widened further. "Oh um, no I–" she started to stammer, and Diavolo laughed heartily at her reaction.

"She is rather special, Barbatos," Diavolo stated in a cheeky tone. "I think you're right. No one quite has a hold of me like she does." He then turned to look at her more. "He means that I tend to get into some trouble even when attended to. He's impressed you've kept me in check for this long." The blush splashing her neck and chest was rather obvious to her thoughts. "Well, in the way you're thinking... he would be incorrect," he added with a suggestive edge to his voice.

"I think you're flustering the poor girl," Lucifer said as he walked by with a suitcase, disappearing again.

"Indeed. Might we sit and talk?" Barbatos suggested. "I've made tea and cookies."

Diavolo nodded and guided the human woman to sit as Barbatos brought over the snacks. The prince sat next to his lover, across from Barbatos.

It was the beginning of a very long explanation as to what happened to Diavolo. She was impressed by how little the butler's expression changed as they spoke. Occasionally, his brow or the corner of his mouth would twitch more than anything.

"My lord, while I appreciate that you've been able to relax and find peace within mortal living, I do have to urge you to return to your duties as soon as possible. It has been a task and a half to keep everything going in your absence. While it's not hard to run things, I can only keep dignitaries and the nobledemons at bay for so long before they start to spread rumor of an unoccupied throne," Barbatos explained, setting his cup down. He then looked to her. "And what of you, my lady? What are your plans?"

She sat there in silence and thought about it. "I haven't decided yet. I wanted to come meet you and visit with you all a little longer before I did," she answered softly.

The butler nodded and sighed. "I suppose that's fair. At the latest, we must all return to the Devildom within three days. That gives us time to finish our tasks in the human world, and hopefully enough time for you."

She slowly nodded in agreement wordlessly, feeling apprehensive about a three day deadline. Barbatos bowed his head and stood, collecting the dishes.

"Please feel free to ask anything of me, my lady," the butler added before walking away.

Diavolo looked down at his partner and felt his own smile fall. He didn't like the sullen look on her face, so he took her hand as he stood.

"I'd like to show you something," he murmured, gently pulling her to her feet. She followed him quietly, past all the doors in the penthouse until they reached the end of the hallway.

Once inside, he led her in and she looked around the master bedroom. It was as grand as the rest of the penthouse, if not more so. The windows on the walls went from floor to ceiling, the Alaskan king bed was on a platform with lowlights, and the floors were a brilliant marble with comfortable rugs scattered around. He then led her to another door in the room and simply gestured his hand toward it. She opened it and gasped when she entered the walk-in closet big enough to be a living room filled to the brim with clothes, shoes, handbags, suitcases, jewelry, and accessories. It wasn't just Diavolo's things, like the suits and loafers clearly suiting his tastes. There were gowns, power suits, heels, clothes with name brands she'd never dream of touching.

"Who's is this?" She asked a little skeptically, drawing closer to the women's clothing. She didn't want to assume, but then why else would he bring her?

"Mine. Yours. Ours," he murmured, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her hips.

She reached up and found everything still had tags on them, and upon closer inspection they were all her size.

"I told you I would repay you for your kindnesses. This is just the start. I had everything custom ordered just for you," he explained, looking up at his work and then back down at the top of her head. "You deserve so much more, and I plan to give it to you."

She was quiet as she took it all in. After a few minutes, she finally turned to face the prince.

"You didn't really have to go through all the trouble. I mean... we're together," she tried to explain.

"I did need to, and I will continue to do so. Darling, I want to take care of you. I see how you deny yourself the pleasure and comfort of luxury... yet you crave it," he purred to her. He sank to his knee to be eye-level with her. "It's a noble thing, to be sure, to be so modest, but... with me, you can indulge. You can have what your heart craves. You don't have to deny yourself when you're with me. You can have everything."

Her heart was pounding with his words, her mind racing with contradicting thoughts. She nearly felt sick from how excited her body had become. But then Diavolo pulled her closer and cupped her cheek.

"I know it's a lot. I know I am a lot. But I tell you all of this so you don't feel as conflicted in your decisions. When it comes to your desires, they are as much yours as they are mine. Whatever it is you choose, I'll make it work. Whatever you want... I'll make it happen," he further stated. Tears pooled in her eyes, and he clicked his tongue while smiling and wiping her tears as they fell. "I love you."

"I love you... and thank you," she replied.

He nodded and leaned in for a kiss. She instantly reciprocated by deepening the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. His lips curled into a smile, and he gripped her waist in his large hands, pulling her in closer. Carefully, he detached from the kiss and pulled her into an embrace as he reached behind her for something. She felt his shoulders moving around her head, and when he pulled back to look at her, he was pulling around the pendant of a necklace he clasped around her neck. She looked down and saw a beautiful Y-shaped diamond chain with a rather sizeable pear-shaped diamond pendent at the end.

"My dream is to bathe you in my riches and love..." he murmured, looking down at the necklace as he still knelt before her. "As I said, I know this is a lot, and please don't feel like this is a bribe to sway you in my favor. But know you'll lack nothing with me. Beyond the riches and clothes, you'll always own my heart, and there will never again be another like you for me."

She brought her hand up, much smaller than his, to gather the necklace into her palm and bring it up to look at it. It was clear this was no average necklace. The weight alone told her this was worth more than the house she lived in with her parents.

Diavolo saw the look on her face as she inspected the piece of jewelry. "It's not wrong to want these things, my love. You're allowed to want a certain lifestyle for yourself." He then bent his index finger and took the knuckle beneath her chin to raise her gaze to his. "I'm more than willing to give you that life or any life you want. You can be my princess or simply mine, no title necessary. If the royal life is too much, then you won't worry about it. But... if it's something you might be interested in, I'm happy to share it with you. Just know you have options as well. Loving me and choosing me won't mean you're stuck."

It was still several minutes before she reacted to everything he'd presented to her. He could tell she was thinking very deeply about everything, to which, he was glad. Diavolo wanted this to be her decision and her decision only. He was happy with whatever he could do for her. She looked around the closet and then back at her prince. He waited for her; he'd wait a thousand years for her because the truth was, he'd already waited this long for her... his entire life, that is.

Finally, she nodded and kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck again and beginning to sink downward. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he brought his second knee down to the floor, pulling her to straddle his lap.

The sound of fabric moving and soft moans and sighs filled the room as they started to undress each other. As much as they felt the need to make this a quick and needy fuck, simultaneously, they didn't. And for this time, they took it slower.

Using his suit jacket, he balled it up and placed it beneath her head. He was much more tender this time, placing gentle and slow kisses across the span of her chest and up her neck. She refused to spare any caresses for him and stroked his internal inferno in the way only she knew how. Their hands worked in tandem to bring each other greater pleasure and a little teasing, too. Her soft, small, delicate hands worked his inhuman sized cock, while his giant hands carefully worked to stretch her out on his fingers.

After a few looks of unspoken but clear approval and consent, he helped support her back by sliding his arm beneath her rear and lifting her hips up. He knelt in front of her with his legs tucked beneath himself as he pulled her thighs up and around his hips. Guiding his leaking cock into her entrance, they both groaned with little shame. He gave a few slow and deep thrusts followed by softened grinding to truly stretch her out, and she was squirming and writhing with pleasure in mere seconds.

"Are you comfortable?" His question came out in a murmur. She focused for a moment on his gaze and finally shook her head, no.

He snapped his fingers and swept her up into his arms. She was in awe of the grace and strength he had to pick her up from laying down all the way to his feet to carry her, all while keeping her sheathed on his dick, over to the black velvet settee that appeared. He laid her back with her head on the decorative matching pillow.

She sighed and smiled as her back and hips relaxed again, and Diavolo could feel it in the way she melted with him. Keeping one foot planted on the floor and the other tucked beneath him while sitting on the settee, he began rocking his hips back and forth with his hands back on her waist, smiling and groaning. "There's my girl. You feel so good every time for me," he murmured, nearly in a trance from being pussydrunk.

"Mm, Diavolo," she moaned his name, and he swore no one could be more worthy to say it than her.

His gaze fell back to hers, and he took in the whole scene before him before the corner of his lips curled up. "I believe this is the most beautiful I've ever seen you look: naked, on my cock, and dripping with diamonds," he stated breathlessly. He left the necklace on her and realized, indeed, he wanted to cover her body in gold, silver, platinum, rhodium, diamonds, rubies, whatever he could get his hands on and she would accept from him. There was a certain pride he felt in looking down at her like this. Never again would there be a soul and vessel quite like this.

And to her, she could see all of these thoughts and emotions as she gazed into his eyes. The deeply profound desire and love he held in his expression made her heart melt and core throb. He could say the same with how she looked at him, always so eager yet tender, downright debauched but always loving. Every fiber of his being wanted to explode with all the feelings and sensations, but all he could do instead was use that energy into making love to her. His thrusts became slower and deeper. His hips rolled with precision. He slung her leg over his elbow and leaned in to press deeper.

"D-Dia!" She whined as he started to reach that deep spot inside her. The head of his cock began tapping that spot and she saw stars burst in her vision as her orgasm came on so quickly. "Oh fuck!" She screamed out. A rush of her release flowed out, drenching his dick and flowing down her ass.

"That's it, that's my baby," she heard him grunt, his own brows pinched as he fought to stave off his own orgasm but continue to deliver hers. The pleasure was so immense he even moaned louder, his eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck..."

"Where'd the lovebirds go?" Mammon asked, looking around the living room where his brothers all sat. Levi, Beel, and Belphie all watched the giant flat-screen television mounted above the fireplace while Lucifer and Satan read quietly. Asmo was doing his nails at the coffee table.

"I saw Diavolo take her to the master suite a little bit ago. She looked a bit tired," Lucifer answered. Everyone paused and glanced over at the eldest, but he chose to ignore their questioning gazes.

"Ooo, I bet they're having sex now–" Asmo chirped, finishing the top coat.

"Asmo," Lucifer warned, rolling his eyes.

"I mean, they've been quiet. Maybe they did take a nap," Satan mused, turning a page in his book.

Belphie finally looked around as well. "Shouldn't we be preparing to go home? Why would Diavolo be napping?"

"I mean, what's the rush? It's nice here," Mammon quickly tried to steer that conversation in a different direction.

"No, Belphie is correct. We ought to be making arrangements for home," Lucifer answered with a sigh, folding his papers and setting them down. He stood and began walking toward the main hallway of the penthouse, and his brothers began to follow.

"Yes baby, cum inside me again!"

All seven came to a halt, stunned by what they heard coming from the end of the hall.

"... Maybe they did not, in fact, take a nap..." Satan deadpannned, walking away immediately.

"So they are having sex! I knew it. I bet they're so hot together. I just want to–" Asmo started to rejoice until Barbatos grabbed his outstretched hand that was heading toward the doorknob to the master suite.

"I highly suggest you not act so impulsively, Asmodeus. You would embarrass her and disturb both my lord and the young lady," Barbatos explained tersely.

"Oh, but Barbatos!" Asmo whined fruitlessly as the butler dragged him away, the rhythmic pounding of the headboard fading.

Diavolo huffed as he ground himself deeper into her. This was their third consecutive round, and he wasn't quite used to going this long with her. It was a happy surprise, to be sure. Sweat was building in his hair, a slight sheen forming across his muscular body and glimmering below the lights of the room. He moved them to the bedroom for more comfort after realizing that even she wasn't quite done after just two rounds on the settee.

"My sweet love," he groaned, feeling the ache and fire swirling in his abdomen. "You'll be the death of me." His head was next to hers as he laid on top of her, his body practically covering hers. Both her legs were laid over his inner elbows, only giving her the deepest thrusts. He barely pulled back before thrusting forward deeply and grinding the head of his cock against that sweet spot all the way back. His kisses were sloppy yet sweet against her face, neck, and shoulders.

But so long as she wanted to keep going, enjoying every pleasure he had to offer her, loving every orgasm she was brought to, he wouldn't stop. He felt the overwhelming desire to keep going even longer than that, but at the end of the day, her pleasure is all that mattered to him.

However, he didn't anticipate his thoughts starting to wander as he made love to her. He didn't expect to start doubting their moments together. It was eating at him until he finally chose to speak up.

"I can't be apart from you, my love. I... I can't give this up," he murmured in her ear. He lifted his head back and looked at her with a painfully serious expression. "I... I love you too much. To not have this... to not have you, I wouldn't be complete. I can't live without you. If I go back home without you... it won't be home to me." He looked up at her, his eyes all glassy with emotion. "You are my home, love."

"Oh honey..." she murmured, cupping his cheek. They stopped moving and held still as they gazed at one another.

"My love, I will respect your decision no matter what, but... please don't stay. Come with me. I want you at my side," he pleaded with her. He propped himself up on an elbow, caressing her face and neck.

She chewed on her lip and looked askance. "I... I'm just scared," she confessed. "I don't know what it's like and... I'm not naive, Diavolo. A place full of demons isn't exactly a place for someone like me, is it?"

"I'll make a place for you, at my side, my heart. You'll have the protection of me and the seven brothers. But, you're right; the Devildom is not the best place for a human right now, but I have dreams to make it hospitable to anyone who comes into my domain. This includes you. I want to share my home with you," he answered, all the fondness and love in his eyes for her.

"But... I won't live forever," she added as well. He shifted and nodded, knowing this was another valid concern.

"I know that, my love. That's what makes every moment so precious with you. I cherish every minute of our time because it's far more valuable than anything else I'll have possession of," he replied. "And... we can discuss that more when the time comes."

She sat there with what he had said for several minutes. At the end of it all, she knew he was sincere. She knew he'd take care of her, treat her well, and protect her. Everything he'd said so far, at her core, she was convinced he could do. She was just so afraid of the unknown, the uncertain, that it made her hesitate. But... when she looked up into his golden gaze, she couldn't deny herself, or him, in this moment. All she found was love and honesty in his expression.

It was enough for her.

"Dia..." she murmured. He froze a bit, looking down at her when he heard the serious tone she used. "I'll go. I'll come with you."

His eyes widened, and he looked almost taken aback. "Y-You will?" He stammered, his pitch high. "You will?" He asked again, this time regaining composure.

"Yes... I want to see your home. You got to see mine and experience it. If we're going to be together... I want to experience your life and your home too. And if it means I stay with you... then I'll stay for as long as I can," she replied.

Diavolo searched her eyes, nearly in disbelief of what he heard. He was astounded by it all. She could scarcely believe it herself, to take such a leap of faith to leave all that she's ever known for a man, a demon man, who started as just a doll but became so much more: a friend, a lover, a soulmate.

He kissed her passionately then, his lips hard and forceful on hers. His arms slid under her back to pull her upright as he rose to his knees on the mattress. She could feel how hard he was breathing and more of his unparalleled strength as he held her upright. When she was low on oxygen, he rasped and pulled back. "I can't thank you enough. I promise, you'll have everything," he finally answered back.

The prince sat back onto his rear and helped her to straddle him properly and more comfortably, all while still sheathed on his now throbbing cock. "Just one more," he muttered, taking her arms and looping them over his shoulders and around his neck. His own hands landed on her waist and he began guiding her up and down on his dick, making them both moan together. The obscene schlick sounds coming from her pussy running rivets of sticky arousal between their joined bodies came back that much louder.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his hot breath fanning her face. "I love you, my treasure. Thank you for being mine," he murmured, sounding strained with pleasure.

The woman merely nodded as she clung onto him, moaning louder with every bounce. His hands greedily ran all over her body as she took over the rhythm and movement, and he squeezed, groped, and gripped onto every inch available. From her the tops of her shoulders to the fat round globes of her ass, it was his to lay hands on.

"Fuck, I love you, sweetness," he grunted. "You're going to make me lose myself."

"Then lose it," she rasped. She rolled her head backwards and arched her back deeply as she rode his cock.

He growled and placed one hand back in her waist while the other went up into her hair, grabbing a generous amount of it in his fist. She moaned softly at first, and then much louder when he gave it a good tug. They increased the pace together as fast as she could go until he could see her energy finally starting to wane. Quickly, he shoved her onto her back on the mattress again and began pounding into her.

"I'm never letting you go," he rasped in her ear. "You're mine. For eternity."

She gasped, and a vibrant shudder ran down her spine in response to his sudden possessiveness. She turned her head up to look at him, seeing determination and deep-seated desire in his eyes. He was all she could see in this moment, her view entirely comprised of his face and upper body.

"Close, baby?" He asked, feeling her walls start to clamp down and more of her slick sliding over his cock. She nodded immediately and clutched him tighter. He grinned and cradled her in his arms while he continued to thrust deeply and gaining speed. "Let go for me. Give everything you have, and give it to me. Lose yourself in me and only me."

Her breathing started to quicken, and her claw-like nails were digging into his back. "Fuck, Diavolo–" she whined. She just needed a little more. And he knew just what to do.

Placing his head next to hers, he began murmuring into her ear. "I'm going to cum so deep inside you, letting everyone know that you're mine. When we're home, I'll breed you anytime you want. I'll make sure you're so full of me, my seed will be dripping for days. Everyone will know you belong to the Demon Lord. And I'll make you my sweet little wife to take care of for all our days," he whispered to her, grunting between words occasionally.

That's what did it for her. A cascade of raw pleasure burst throughout her body, causing her to give a short wail. She trembled beneath him as more of her cum gushed over and around his cock, dampening the sheets further. Her fluttering walls, the way she whined and moaned, and how she clung to him made him finally lose himself, too.

He gave long, hard thrusts before locking his hips forward, unloading every spurt and drop of hot cum deep inside her. His own pitch raised an octave, hardly believing how this sort of pleasure could feel any better than before, but it was. Maybe it was knowing he was keeping the love of his life, but nonetheless, this was unlike anything he'd felt before. He felt so in-sync with her, experiencing her flow of pleasure mixing with his own. A small whimper managed to escape his lips, so he hushed himself by kissing her neck and hear her soft moans better. He continued to softly grind himself into her, still hard as a rock, to extend their pleasure a bit longer.

After several minutes, he felt her body slacken. Her hands slid off his back and down at her sides, and her legs fell open as she relaxed. It was almost a struggle for him as well as he propped himself up on one elbow.

"So perfect..." he murmured, smoothing her hair back out of her face. "Thank you," he added with a small smile.

"Why?" She mumbled, her eyes barely open.

Diavolo chuckled and shook his head. "I'm thanking you for being mine, for being so perfect for me, for being you," he answered. "You are everything to me, and I'm happy you're going to be with me."

She nodded and finally sighed. "I'm tired," she whispered weakly. He chuckled again.

"I was afraid you'd want more, and I'd have to be the one to tell you no."

She smirked and rolled her head to the side. "I mean, there's always later, right? I like it when you fill me up."

His eyes widened, and his dick throbbed again at those words. He groaned and gripped the sheets. "I mean it, you're going to kill me one day through words alone."

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @flemmingbamse @delphi-dreamin @l-d-8 @itsmeninerz @biteable-pink-pixie @themythicaldisaster @marvelous-maniac @attic-club-sandwich

[itsevanffs]

I wanna ask about so many but the one that really caught my eye is doll fic

doll fic is arguably my most wholesome fic, which it doesn't sound like from the title, but it really is. no incest, no underage, no abuse, nothing!! unthinkable >:( you really chose The Only One, huh <3 (amanda likes it tho)

the premise is harry finds a wooden doll under his bed (voldemort in all his snakey glory) and keeps it as clean and loved as he can manage - and slowly the doll morphs from a terrifying monster into the handsome visage of our beloved tom m riddle (though he keeps the name voldemort). one day the doll disappears, however, and harry is beyond himself with grief - until a very familiar man shows up at his door and offers him a home.

When Harry is seven years old, he finds a wooden doll below his bed of a snake-man. The man's positively frightening, with little slit pupils carved into his narrowed eyes, no nose- just slits, and a thin, lipless mouth curled in a sneer, dressed in a dark dress, like what monks wear. But Harry found it, and it was below his bed; so he keeps it, despite being scared of its visage, and he shoulders through the nightmares that plague his nights of evil red eyes and bright green lights and desperate screaming, because this doll is his, and he wants to have something for himself for once in his life, without the Dursleys or the school or the old ladies down the road or even God ruining it for him. And he curls up in his ratty blanket, and strokes the head of the doll with care, and whispers words of soothing to it without sound, and clutches it close to his chest, and keeps it safe despite his every instinct in him screaming at him to throw it away, to burn it, to never look back at the danger it poses. Because of his stunted growing up, he doesn't know how to listen to instinct, where every day is a danger and he's expected to love those who hurt and neglect him. And he does. The doll hurts him, it bites into his skin and its claws leave scratches on his cheek, but he keeps it close, tucking it under his shirt at school, hiding it under his bed with bated breath whenever he hears footsteps stomping down the stairs above his head. One day he wakes up after a nightmare, and he checks the doll in the faint morning light that creeps in through the bottom of his cupboard door. In the new light, he thinks its eyes are less narrowed, that its pupils are a little rounder, its sneer a little less intense. He thinks nothing much of it, but he notices after a few months of having the doll that it's definitely changing. Its claws have dulled, and its features softened, and its face rounded, and there's the vague outline of hair, the touch of thin lips instead of only the line that was there before, and the slits are beginning to look more and more like a human nose. And Harry... He doesn't think he minds. Weird things happen around him all the time, why should this be any different? So he keeps it close, and he cares for it, and he realises it's become something of another family member in his life. A father, maybe- a better one than the alcoholic that killed his mother and gave him his scar. more scary looking, certainly. Harry fantasises about the man taking him to school, standing tall above all the other parents, and then, whenever the bullies say that their fathers are policemen, Harry could say that his father is a snake man who would send their fathers running. It brings a smile to his face, and it warms his chest- so he only dares to think it at night, when the Dursleys can't see him.

ask me more about my wips!

[devilishcupid]

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Sim Jaeyun

doll!jake x fem!reader warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), creampie, slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging, anything else lmk! wc: 7.7k synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible masterlist | sunghoon a/n: hi! this is the first part of a 4-part series! again, i need to thank the requester for this because i am having so much fun writing it <3 the plot and everything will be gradually laced within each chapter so, while they can stand alone, it's best to read them all. thank you for everything and as always, likes, reblogs, feeback is all welcome!

p.s, please read the intro it sets up the whole story so you guys know how y/n got there and who soonyeol is.

You've been inside this home for exactly 42 hours and 51 minutes and surprisingly nothing significant has happened.

The silence surrounding the mansion is unexpectedly comforting, providing a much-needed respite from the hectic city life you've despised. The constant noise - whether it's the cries of babies, the grumbles of angry men, or the blasting car horns powered by thoughtless road rage - has progressively worn on your tolerance. No one talks about how exhausting it all is.

Maybe this is why people go on holiday, you wonder. Even though you're here for work, there's a sense of relaxation in the air that leaves you feeling peaceful. 

Before Soonyeol went on her ominous business trip, she left you a binder full of strict instructions on how to mind her house. It’s packed to the brim with dos and don'ts such as; cooking exactly 4 meals for the dolls at 5.30pm, placing them around the dining table, and never entering their rooms unless transporting them to their recreational activities. 

Each doll had their own rigorous routine, with some reading, some playing the guitar, and so on. Soonyeol made it clear that sticking to these routines is a must, which included the difficult chore of physically changing the towering dolls in the morning and before bed. They weren’t exactly hollow or porcelain, they were super realistic, their skin had some form of heat to it, and they had some weight to them but not as heavy as they first appeared. You had asked Soonyeol what they were made of but she brushed your question off, leaving you even more curious, the only conclusion you could come up with was sandbags or clay.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal that none of them will touch. Of course, you didn’t expect them to chow down on your homemade lasagna considering they couldn’t even move their mouths, but seeing everything laid out and untouched after you give them exactly 35 minutes to eat (a rule in that godforsaken binder), it fills you with a sense of unease.

Within the mansion's walls, time seems to grind to a halt unless you make it move, you as the sole animate presence amidst the silence. 

You bring the plated food into the dining room, placing a dish in front of each doll. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you play along dutifully, conscious of Mia's warning that the dolls may be rigged with hidden cameras. To be fair, their eyes do seem to follow you, or perhaps that was just your imagination.

“This is such a waste of food,” you scoff, placing the last plate down to the doll with freckles on his face who is labelled in the binder as Sunghoon. You can’t help but think about all the food that is being wasted when there are people still relying on food banks, it makes you bubble with anger, yet, you’re the one doing it. You could easily just not feed them and just pretend to Soonyeol you did, but again, the eyes that surround the castle could be the difference between you keeping this job and going back home with nothing.

Soonyeol could easily fire you if it got back to her you starved her precious babies while she was gone, and that £5,000 is enough money to get you by while you look for another job, so you’ll do as you’re told for now.

With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands on your apron and offer a forced smile to the lifeless dolls, "Enjoy," you mutter sarcastically, before turning on your heel and retreating from the room, leaving them to their silent feast.

“Thank you!” 

The words catch you off guard, freezing you mid-step. Did you actually just hear that? Slowly, you spin on your heel, astonishment written over your face. There they sit, precisely as you left them, their expressions the same as before. Yet, undoubtedly, the voice came from their direction.

Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you examine them closely, your fingers poking Sunghoon’s shoulder to try and elicit any response, but one never comes. 

You could have sworn you heard a voice, a soft accent drifting into your ears. It’s not like it could have been the TV or radio, Soonyeol was lacking in the entertainment department, opting for more classic ways to entertain herself like board games and books.

"This place is making me lose my mind," you scoff, disbelief mingling with a nervous laugh. You are officially losing the plot, thinking the dolls can suddenly speak. What’s next, they’ll suddenly get up and help you with the dishes?

Maybe you just need to go for a walk around the mansion, touch some grass or whatever. Your mind needs some nature to set itself straight. With a final incredulous glance at the dolls, you shake your head, dismissing your fanciful worries. 

Stepping into the garden, you're greeted by the warmth of the summer sun kissing your skin. The sprawling lawn stretches for acres, overgrown yet hinting at hidden beauty beneath the tangled vines and moss-covered statues.

The pathway is clear, giving you a chance to wander further into the field. With some TLC and a green thumb, you ponder whether you could turn this landscape into a true garden, it’s not like there is much else to do, but would Soonyeol be okay with that? Everything else in this house is seemingly stuck in a different century; the large gold-framed portraits, the scatter of porcelain dolls that look like something straight from a horror movie, and the furnishings scream Renaissance. Maybe she prefers it that way.

You are perplexed by the mystery surrounding Soonyeol and her isolated living. A lack of information about her and this home has you grasping at straws. The mansion has no internet or even a good phone service which raises your suspicions about her more. There is only a landline phone that is set to make local calls. All you've learned from this information is why she resorted to placing a job advertisement in the newspaper.

Questions swirl in your mind. Why choose such isolation? Living alone, devoid of company or modern comforts, seems unimaginable. Two months might be tolerable, but for someone to endure years in solitude, it's perplexing. But then again, who are you to judge? She might prefer her own company and God knows there must be a lot less drama.

Lost in thought, you reach out to touch a thorn from a withered rosebush, only to recoil in pain as it pricks your index finger, "Shit!" you shout, instinctively sucking on the wound as blood wells up. Why you felt driven to touch such an obviously dangerous plant escapes you completely.

Sulking back inside the house, you walk directly to the kitchen, the sight of familiar surroundings provides some consolation as you go towards the sink, your injured finger throbbing with each step. Who knew a thorn could cause so much damage?

You reach for the basin and turn on the cold tap, hoping for a little relief. As chilled water falls over your wound, you sigh with relief, the coolness relieving the pain immensely, with a sudden sensation of peace flowing over you. 

The clock's chime breaks through the quiet, jolting you back into reality. It's 6pm so it's time to tend to the dolls again. You reach to get a plaster from the first aid kit, only to find it empty except for a single bandage and some foil blankets. Panic sets in as you examine the seriousness of your bleeding finger; it’s a neverending flow of crimson which only makes you pout, sucking on it once again.

Desperately searching the kitchen cupboards, you find bits of kitchen roll and sellotape. It's not ideal, but you have no other choice. You gently wrap the kitchen roll around your wound, securing it with sticky tape. The improvised dressing will have to suffice; the thought of spilling your blood on Soonyeol's cherished dolls sends chills down your spine. You don't want to think about what she would do.

Stepping into the dining room, you're greeted by the familiar sight: cold food arranged neatly before the four unyielding dolls. Their impassive stares seem to pierce through you, sending a chill down your spine.

With a theatrical pout and arms crossed, you address the silent company, "Didn't quite hit the mark with my culinary masterpiece, huh?" you jest, met only with the silence of inanimate figures. Chuckling to yourself, you gather the untouched plates onto the cart, contemplating a pragmatic solution, "Well, I suppose I could just freeze these and give them to you tomorrow," you quip. Soonyeol said to feed them, she didn’t say it couldn't be the same meal over and over again.

After clearing up the dining hall and putting the meals in the freezer, you make your way to retrieve the rusty wheelchair you are convinced will give you tetanus from the hallway closet. It’s the easiest way to transport the boys from A to B, and you daren’t carry them anywhere in case you drop and smash them. 

As you unfold the chair, a creak reverberates from behind you, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a chill courses through your veins. While the old house has its usual symphony of creaks and groans, this sound feels different, more sinister, as if someone - or something - is lurking in the shadows.

“Hello?” you say whispering yet not daring to look behind you. If you have learned anything from the multitude of horror movies you’ve watched over the tears, it’s that as soon as you look back, all shit breaks loose.

You stand there with your heart pounding in your chest and you scold yourself inwardly for succumbing to irrational fear, "Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together," you mutter, attempting to rally your nerves. But the silence that follows your whispered reassurance only amplifies the unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

With a resigned sigh, you steel yourself for whatever may lie behind you, “Fuck, Y/N, just turn around. If you’re going to die, you might as well get it over with,” you chide yourself, voice tinged with frustration.

Thinking it’s best to just face whatever your demise is, you swiftly turn around, half-expecting to come face-to-face with some unseen terror. Yet, all that greets you is the empty hallway, bathed in the dim glow of the flickering lights. There's no sign of an intruder, no lurking threat—just the same mundane surroundings you've grown accustomed to.

You never thought you’d think this, but you’re happy to see the tiny collector dolls that line the hallway.

A mixture of relief and embarrassment floods over you as you realize the absurdity of your fears. "God, I'm losing it," you mutter, a manic laugh bubbling up from deep within. With a self-deprecating shake of your head, you lightly slap your forehead with the base of your palm, chastising yourself for letting your imagination run wild.

First, the talking dolls, now this unfounded paranoia—it's becoming increasingly clear that the isolation of this mansion is taking its toll on your sanity. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you shake off the lingering unease and embarrassment to focus on your duties. 

With a determined stride, you make your way back to the dining room, the memory of your brief bout of hysteria fading into the recesses of your mind. You push the wheelchair over to the table to retrieve one of the dolls, however, a glint of blue catches your eye.

A plaster - suddenly, inexplicably there, resting in front of the doll named Jongseong.

Your brow furrows in confusion, disbelief coursing through you. "How... was that there the whole time?" you mutter, disbelief colouring your tone as you glance between your injured finger and the God-sent plaster.

With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you reach out to pick up the plaster, examining it closely as if searching for any sign of trickery. But it appears to be nothing more than an ordinary adhesive plaster.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you mutter to yourself, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle. The rational part of your mind insists there must be a logical explanation for the plaster's sudden appearance, but logic seems to have taken a backseat in this peculiar mansion. 

Surely you would have noticed it on the table when you were serving the food…right?

Deciding to set aside your questions for the moment, you carefully retrieve the plaster and apply it to your injured finger, the soothing sensation providing a small measure of comfort.

As you finish tending to your wound, you cast a wary glance at the dolls, half-expecting them to spring to life and offer an explanation. But they remain as silent and motionless as ever, their enigmatic presence only adding to the mystery of this place.

With a resigned sigh, you focus once again on getting the dolls to their rooms. Maybe if they’re out of your sight, you’ll stop conjuring up these ridiculous notions that are swirling in your mind.

“C’mon Jaeyun, let’s get you to bed,” you say softly as you pick him up with a strong heave. The weight of him in your arms is a humbling realisation that you need to start going to the gym more because lifting a doll shouldn’t be this taxing.

Plonking him onto the wheelchair, you begin to make your way to his room. The corridors grow longer each time you make the journey to their respective bedrooms and with the house being the size that it is, transporting them is the equivalent of taking a quick nip to your big Tesco and back.

Finally reaching Jaeyun's room, you turn the ornate handle and push the wheelchair inside. The room is bathed in a soft, amber glow, casting a warm hue over the plush furnishings and intricate decor. With careful precision, you guide Jaeyun onto the bed, taking a moment to study his features up close.

The doll's face, once unsettling in its hyper-realistic detail, now holds a curious fascination. Despite the initial unease you felt in their presence, you can't help but admire the craftsmanship that went into their creation.

Jaeyun's eyes, a rich shade of brown, hold a mesmerising depth that seems to draw you in and they glimmer with an almost golden hue when touched by sunlight, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to his already captivating features. His lips, full and luscious and they evoke sense of envy into you, marvelling at their perfection. His nose, a graceful arc that sits harmoniously amidst his features, only adds to the beauty.

With gentle admiration, you touch his bottom lip with your thumb, amazed at its softness. If Jaeyun were a living, breathing being, you can't help but imagine how irresistible those lips would be, how you would find any excuse to steal a kiss. The feel of his lip beneath your thumb is uncannily real, its texture mirroring your own, and as you release it, it springs back into place as if alive.

Your eyes dart over his face, drinking him in as you fix his long, dark hair, “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, the words leave your lips almost unintentionally, spoken in peaceful tones as if frightened to disrupt the calm tranquillity of the moment. 

“Thank you.”

Your entire body goes rigid as you hear the same words from the dining table, mirroring the exact accent you had heard before. The hand that had been gently brushing aside the stray strand of hair now drops to your side, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun's mouth as it forms into a bright smile.

As if gasping for air, you stare at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger in his direction. "Y-you just spoke!" you manage to exclaim, your words choked with bated breaths. Panic threatens to engulf you as you try to understsnd what is happening.

Your mind races, grasping for something, anything to hold onto as the world spins around you but there's nothing, and your body betrays you, collapsing to the ground in a desperate attempt to escape the surreal nightmare unfolding before you.

With wide, terrified eyes, you watch as Jaeyun moves slightly, preparing yourself for the inevitable scream that threatens to tear from your throat. But before you can utter a sound, he rushes towards you with a look of panic etched on his features.

Jaeyun's eyes are filled with concern as he gazes down at you, his hand covering your mouth to stifle any outcry. With a gentle yet urgent expression, he leans in closer, his lips forming almost silent words as he implores you to remain quiet, “Please. Shhh, I’m sorry!” he says with urgency, trying to stop you from bellowing out and causing alarm.

Your chest rises and falls with the rapid beat of your heart, your head suddenly feels faint and conflicting emotions wash over you. Fear, confusion, disbelief - all vie for dominance as you struggle to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before you.

With wide, frightened eyes, you stare up at Jaeyun, searching his face for any sign of explanation or reassurance. But all you find is the same look of concern mirrored in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters, his body now relaxing as he feels your mouth close under his palm, “If I take my hand away, please don’t scream, okay?” 

His words are filled with panic, a frantic attempt to prevent more concern. When you look into his eyes, you can sense the sincerity in his plea, a glimpse of humanity you didn't think was possible.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the air thick with tension and uncertainty on both of your parts. But then, with a shaky breath, you nod in silent acquiescence, willing yourself to trust the doll before you. 

Jaeyun’s hand slowly withdraws from your mouth but is still armed in case you fall through on your promise to stay quiet. Once he's satisfied that you won't scream, Jaeyun rises to his feet, offering you a shaky hand. You accept, noting the slight tremor in his grip, evidence that he's just as affected by this inexplicable turn of events as you are.

Standing before him, you can't shake the feeling of disbelief that washes over you. None of this makes sense - talking dolls, moving on their own accord - it's all so implausible, so surreal. And yet, here you are, faced with the undeniable reality of Jaeyun's existence.

"What are you?" you ask tentatively, withdrawing your hand from his as you study him intently, searching for any clues to unravel the mystery.

Jaeyun tilts his head in confusion, his expression mirroring your own bewilderment. "I'm a doll, you know that," he replies matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but how are you moving? How are you speaking? Are you possessed? Alive? Am I dreaming this?" you barrage him with questions, your mind racing with a million possibilities, each more absurd than the last.

“I’m Sim Jaeyun, manufactured in 2002,” Jaeyun says as though it’s so obvious, which to his defence, it is - the stamp on his back that you’ve caught sight of while changing him is proof, "I'm the model made for Australia. G'day mate!" he adds, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation with an exaggerated Australian accent. But his efforts fall flat in the face of your mounting terror and confusion.

"I don't understand," you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty, "How is this possible?"

Jaeyun's expression softens, sympathy flickering in his eyes as he meets your gaze, "I wish I had all the answers," he admits, his voice gentle yet tinged with resignation, "But the truth is, even I don't fully understand what's happening to me. I ended up here one day. The others just tell me not to ask questions.”

As Jaeyun's words sink in, a surge of disbelief sweeps over you, threatening to overwhelm you in a sea of bewilderment and despair, "Others? You mean..."

"My brothers, the ones you've been looking after for Soonyeol," Jaeyun says, his voice calm.

The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks: all four dolls, like Jaeyun, are somehow alive. You've spent the last two days living under the same roof as these living dolls, entirely oblivious of their true selves. The idea of it sends shivers down your spine, and a dreadful feeling rises in the pit of your stomach.

Every creak in the floorboards, every echo in the halls - you had chalked them up to the ageing mansion itself. But now, you realise that they were caused by these living dolls moving about, silently watching and listening to your every move.

You contemplate the idea that you're going insane because the stress and isolation of the mansion have finally taken their toll on your sanity. But deep down, you know that this is far too real to be a figment of your imagination.

Sensing your distress, Jaeyun guides you to sit beside him on the bed, his touch gentle yet strangely disconcerting. A doll is offering you comfort while your mind is in a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. In what world is any of this normal?

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you sit in silence. A small smile creeps on his face and a blush somehow paints itself on the apples of his cheeks as he remembers your earlier comments.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he asks gently, drawing you back into reality from the maze of your mind.

“What?”

"You said I was beautiful," he repeats, his tone gentle yet earnest, his eyes filled with a quiet joy. Jaeyun's smile widens slightly, his body shifting to fully face you.

As you finally meet his gaze, the weight of his words settles upon you, and you see just how much your earlier compliment meant to him. The twinkle in his eye reflects a depth of emotion that mirrors that of a human, his happiness evident in the way his features soften and his eyes light up with warmth. If he was beautiful before, he is otherworldly now.

“Yeah…you are,” you confess, now reciprocating his blush.

Jaeyun's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine and you can't help but feel something blossom within you. His palm, slightly cool against your flushed skin, serves as a reminder of the surreal reality in which you find yourself.

Jaeyun's lips suddenly meet yours, enveloping you with his gentle kiss. Touching his lips earlier paled in comparison to the sensation of his soft, plump mouth moving against yours, and it sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through your veins; for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment.

But as reality crashes back down upon you, the weight of what you're doing comes crashing down.

This is a doll, not a real person.

You push Jaeyun away and your mind suddenly clears, “What are you doing, Jaeyun?” you ask both perplexed by his actions and a little disgruntled by yours.

His wide eyes only serve to make you feel guilty, there’s a tinge of hurt in them along with confusion. His hand removes itself from your face, leaving your cheek cold and craving his touch again.

"Soonyeol says I should kiss when I want to show my appreciation," Jaeyun explains, his voice tinged with confusion and a defeated tone that tugs at your heartstrings. It's clear that he's not accustomed to being rejected like this, his owner obviously giving him what he wants.

Now that you think about it, Soonyeol must know they’re real, meaning she has relationships with these dolls. Granted, you figured that out when you were undressing them and saw they are anatomically correct, but now this is a whole new layer. She has formed connections with them that go beyond using the dolls for her pleasure. 

"Isn't it cheating?" you ask, locking eyes with Jaeyun, ignoring your swift realisation of the risk. Those beautiful brown eyes seem to draw you in, inviting you to forget all reason and succumb to the burning need between you.

He shakes his head slowly, a tinge of hesitation in his eyes as he chews his lip, "No. Soonyeol shares us, which means I can be shared. It's how it works," he says, his words laced with desperation as he tries to defend his actions. He knows Soonyeol won’t see it that way, but he needs you for his own selfish pleasure; he can’t wait two months until his minder comes back.

However, the rational half of your mind perks up one last time, refusing to be influenced by Jaeyun's words, forcing you to express the painfully evident reality that lies between you, "You're a doll, Jaeyun," you say, the words thick with reality.

However, as if feeling your wavering resolve, Jaeyun's demeanour changes, his puppy-like appearance giving way to one of mischief and longing. With a sudden boldness, he comes in closer, your noses touching as your breath hits his lips.

"I'm a doll with everything you need," he says seductively, sending shivers down your spine as his luscious lips brush against yours with each syllable. 

Your heart races as Jaeyun's proximity overwhelms your senses. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

As Jaeyun leans in for another kiss, his persistence and gentle touch send a rush of heat coursing through your body. You find yourself melting into his embrace once more, unable to resist his lips on yours. His smile against your mouth fills you with something beautiful.

His hand finds your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he deepens the kiss, sending your senses reeling. The surreal sensation of his tongue, colder than any other person's you’ve had the pleasure to kiss, intertwining with yours only adds to the intensity of the moment.

But as the kiss grows more passionate, you feel Jaeyun's hands begin to roam, his touch becoming more urgent and insistent. The way he impatiently tugs at the hem of your t-shirt and his hips practically humping the air through desperation, heightens your own arousal.

You draw back, taking your shirt off, giving him what he wants. Jaeyun's eyes light up in delight at the sight before him, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger. Without hesitation, his hand instinctively reaches out to touch you, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your bra as he seeks to explore every inch of your body.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as he stares up at you. You understand why he’s so used to getting his way, that face of his could start wars if he asked. 

With a soft smile, your fingers continuing to thread through his hair with a gentle touch, "Nothing in comparison to you," you confess, your words spoken with genuine admiration.

Jaeyun's response is a soft whimper, his body trembling slightly under your touch as he leans into your caress. It's clear that he thrives on the affection and validation you offer him, cherishing every compliment and sweet gesture. He isn’t going to take control of this situation, he wants you to lead him, to make him feel like he is yours.

And he looks so fuckable right now.

Feeling emboldened by the rush of desire coursing through your veins, you seize the opportunity to take control of the situation. With a newfound confidence, you gently push Jaeyun back onto the bed, straddling him as you hover above.

His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of anticipation and excitement flickering in their depths as he watches you with rapt attention. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands trailing down his chest and exploring every contour of his body.

Jaeyun responds eagerly, his hands roaming over your back as he returns your kiss with equal fervour. But as the heat between you intensifies, you can sense his longing for more, his desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.

You plaster on a mischievous smile and lean back slightly, teasingly tracing your fingers along the waistband of his pants. He hitches in anticipation, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently urges you to continue.

With deliberate slowness, you begin to unbutton his pants, savouring the feeling of power that courses through you with each movement. As the fabric falls away, you're met with the sight of his cock outline, his arousal evident in the way he strains against the confines of his underwear.

You lean down to press your lips against his neck, trailing soft kisses along his jawline as you whisper in his ear, "Do you want me to look after you, baby doll?"

He mewls out and nods quickly, knowing that is the only thing he needs right now. Your touch is different to Soonyeol’s, yours is filled with a new fire that you’re discovering, while Soonyeol’s is experienced and knows of Jaeyun’s wants and needs. He can’t deny that he feels even more alive than before right now.

Trailing one finger over his clothed cock, you apply pressure as you reach his tip, causing him to whine out. You aren’t typically in charge in the bedroom but you can’t deny how easy it is when Jaeyun is underneath you, silently begging for you to claim him.

You pull down his boxers, seeing his cock in a new light. Honestly, you tried not to stare at it too long when you changed him but you knew whatever Soonyeol had ordered, she ordered it with herself in mind. He was average-sized but curved to the right, meaning he could hit places some others couldn’t; even the thought made your mouth water.

There’s a desire to know how his cock is standing to attention considering there isn’t any blood in his body, but this whole situation defies logic so what’s one more question to add to the pile? All you can really think about is how good having him inside you will feel.

Grabbing his length, you begin to pump him gently, still trying to navigate how fragile he is and how far you can take this. He isn’t made of glass but you still need to be careful. 

His reaction is immediate, his jaw slackening as you pick up the pace, your movements becoming more assured. Jaeyun’s legs kick slightly as his body involuntarily moves under your touch, desperate for more than you’re offering him.

Sensing his need, you lean in and give his cock a teasing lick before spitting on it, slickening the surface to make your motions even smoother. His breath hitches at the sensation, a low groan escaping his lips as he arches into your touch, craving more of the pleasure you're giving him.

With a hunger that matches his own, you release him from your grip and lean down, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. His gasp fills the air as you envelop him, the wet heat of your mouth sending shivers down his spine.

"Y/N..." Jaeyun's voice is barely a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and pleasure.

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a smouldering intensity before returning your focus to the task at hand. With practiced skill, you move your lips and tongue in tandem, exploring every inch of him with a fervour that leaves him trembling. 

There is an urge to look after him, with each whine and whimper he screeches out in response to your tongue flicking over his tip, you want to cherish him as your own. You carefully watch his face to make sure he is enjoying himself which clearly he is, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving despite the lack of air.

Pushing his length further into your mouth, you feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat, piercing your tonsils as they involuntarily try to swallow around him. You switch between bobbing your mouth and enveloping his whole cock down your throat, staying there for a moment as you nuzzle your nose against his lower abdomen.

His fingers thread through your hair, a silent plea for more as you continue to lavish attention on him, each suck and swirl of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh god, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with need. "I-I can't... I'm gonna..."

Can he cum? Like physically, is your mouth about to be filled with doll cum? You’re going to find out eventually.

But who says he can get everything he wants just at the bat of an eyelid?

You pull back slightly, your lips glistening with saliva as you gaze up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you tease, your voice husky from the beating your throat has just taken, "I want to hear you beg for it.”

His eyes widen with anticipation, a need burning in their depths as he watches you, “But Soonyeol always lets me cum,” he pouts, the edges of his mouth drooping down.

“I’m not Soonyeol though, am I?” you retort, your hand stroking him again, “I can stop completely if you want?” 

Jaeyun doesn’t like that idea, shaking his head manically and chanting ‘no’ as he looks at you with pleading eyes. His minder is kind, always giving him the pleasure he needs when he wants it, so this is new to him, yet, he can’t help but find some pleasure in the prolonging of his orgasm.

“Come on, baby doll, beg for it,” you murmur against his tip, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you tease the tip of his cock.

His breath catches in his throat at your words, his mind a haze of desire as he struggles to find his voice, "Please, Y/N," he gasps, his voice thick with need, "Please let me cum. I need it, I need you so bad."

The desperation in his voice and his tiny weeps send a shiver down your spine, and with a satisfied smirk, you relent, taking him fully into your mouth again. 

You aren’t like this in bed but he just manages to bring out this side of you and you can’t complain about it. 

As Jaeyun's fingers tangle in your hair, a shiver of anticipation courses through you, heightened by the primal instinct driving his actions. You feel the tension building in his body, his movements becoming more urgent as he approaches the brink of release.

With a final tug at your roots, he tightens, his balls drawing up as he releases into your mouth with a guttural groan of pleasure. His hips buck uncontrollably, driving himself deeper into your throat as he rides the waves of ecstasy coursing through him.

You surrender to the moment, allowing him to take control as he thrusts into your mouth, his movements are rough yet achingly intimate. Each sensation sends sparks of pleasure racing through you, mingling with the taste of him on your tongue as he spurts his essence. It’s not exactly cum, it doesn’t taste like it, but it’s filling your mouth up, some of it dripping out onto the bed below you.

And as he finally reaches the peak of his pleasure, his body trembling with the force of his release, you swallow him down, accepting him completely. You lap up the last few drops before giving a gentle kiss on his bell, smiling slightly as you relish in your work.

Jaeyun’s face exhibits one of pure bliss, his grin wide and his eyes closed. He looks so ethereal right now, your only wish is to cater to him. Soonyeol must have her hands full if she does this with all of them, no wonder she would need two months off.

Sitting up, his hands pull at your jeans, unbuttoning them with determination but you stop him, “Jaeyun, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m going to fuck you, is that not okay?” Jaeyun’s eyes have that spark in them just like before but more intense, like he’s bursting to the brim with happiness.

You can see the determination in Jaeyun's eyes, the fire of desire burning bright despite the recent climax. His eagerness to please you matches your own desire to cater to him, but you can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.

"Are you not tired, Jaeyun?" you reply gently, placing a hand on his cheek to capture his attention, “I don't want to push you too far."

Jaeyun's expression softens at your words, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity, “I’m a doll, Y/N, I don’t get tired.”

Damn, maybe you should invest in one of these unalive-alive dolls with the £5,000 you’ll get from this job.

He sees your astonishment and laughs softly, his teeth on full display, “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re confused, Y/N,” his voice is back down to a whisper, his hand enclosing yours on his cheek as he nuzzles into it. Jaeyun knows how to use his charm to get what he wants but it’s significantly easier when the person he is trying to persuade wants it just as much as he does.

You find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to resist his enticement. With a shared understanding, you move in to capture his lips in yours, sealing the moment with a delicate kiss.

His hands go back to work, pulling at your jeans to take them off of your hot body. You help him out, pulling away from his mouth to undress yourself, leaving you both naked and wanting nothing more than to be entangled in one another.

“Wow,” he utters as his eyes trail your body from head to toe. His owner is beautiful but you have something about you that is sucking him in, the curve of your hips and the stretch marks on your thighs; you’re a vision he never wants to forget.

You turn scarlet as you see him staring at you, suddenly feeling less confident than before. But he quickly eases your mind as he licks his lips and pulls you into his lap, placing you to sit right on his cock, “I think you were wrong earlier,” he mutters into your shoulder as he places kisses along your chest.

“What do you mean?” Confusion lingers in your mind as you process his words, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as you look down at him with a mixture of surprise and affection.

“When you said you weren’t as beautiful compared to me. I think you’re so wrong,” he admits in a hushed tone, hands roaming along your waist and down to your thighs, feeling every inch of you.

Leaning down, you kiss him again except this time, you grind your hips, letting his cock slide between your folds and his tip brush against your clit teasingly. The action makes you both groan out in lust, wanting nothing more than to be tangled in one another. 

Jaeyun lightly slaps your ass to signal you to hover slightly, ready to dive into you. He hasn’t had sex with anyone other than Soonyeol so his eagerness is palpable, his mouth fighting a bright smile akin to a puppy.

Once you’re above him, he guides his cock to your hole and sharply pushes into you, causing you to fall forward onto his chest.

He enthusiastically bucks his hips up into you, ensuring that he is catering to every inch of your pleasure. Although he enjoys being looked after and cared for, he will always reciprocate; your enjoyment is as important to him as his own.

It's funny how different he is with you than with his owner; with you, he wants nothing more than to impress you, evident by the way he's focused on fucking into you, but with Soonyeol, he does whatever he wants to give her pleasure but there's no need to put in massive amounts of effort.

You feel his dick pressing deep into you, that curve that you noticed earlier is now doing wonders against your walls. Meeting his thrusts, you bounce on him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pick up your pace. 

The sound of your skin slapping against Jaeyun is like music to his ears, the smile he was trying to fight off now splitting his face, the joy of fucking you so obvious from his expression. He wants to do this forever.

Looking down, you see him lost in glee and lust as he continues to thrust up into you at a fast pace, his gaze down at where you’re pussy is sucking him in. Gently, you lift his face to look at you, his wide gleaming eyes now staring into yours.

“You’re doing so good, pup,” you assure him, kissing the tip of his nose. He feels his non-existant heart soar at your words, his face radiant with your praise. And you weren’t just saying it, he truly was sensational, probably the best you’ve had in a long time. 

Jaeyun takes your words of appraisal and uses them to fuck into you harder, his mouth now attached to your nipple and he sucks and licks at it like a man starved.

You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach that signifies you’re close to release. Snaking your hand down to your clit you begin to rub circles on it quickly, but as soon as Jaeyun notices, he nudges your hand away and takes care of it himself, rubbing and pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger.

Throwing your head back, your breathing stops momentarily as you push out your orgasm, your wetness coating your inner thighs and his cock as you cum harshly around him, “Jaeyun, fuck!” you cry, hands gripping any part of Jaeyun they can.

Jaeyun shudders as you clench around him, spilling himself into your heat along with you. He rubs his face desperately against your tits, relishing in the feeling of you against him. He has this aching need to be as close to you as possible.

Both of you are in complete and utter bliss as you hold one another, coming down from your highs.

As Jaeyun peppers open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he savours the sensation of your heartbeat, saddened slightly by his lack of. If he had one, he wished you could hear how loudly it was beating from pure satisfaction and tenderness.

"That was incredible, Y/N," he murmurs against the curve of your nape, his smile pressing warmly against your skin.

You tenderly kiss the top of his head and linger there for a moment, your fingers tracing light strokes along his back. But as the clock chimes once again, signalling the passage of time, reality intrudes upon your blissful moment.

"Fuck, I need to get the others to bed," you say regretfully, reluctantly withdrawing yourself from Jaeyun's embrace. The air feels colder now that night is settling in, and the absence of his touch leaves you longing for his warmth.

Jaeyun watches you with a mixture of understanding and longing as you get dressed, his gaze following your movements with a hint of reluctance, he wants you to stay beside him the way Soonyeol does, to look after him a little longer.

Before you part ways, Jaeyun reaches out to gently grasp your hand, "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft yet filled with urgency, "Please, don't tell the others. We aren’t supposed to tell you, and they already think I’m incapable of keeping a secret,” he says disheartened, the last sentence laced with vulnerability.

His plea catches you off guard, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. Kneeling beside the bed, you take his hand into yours and kiss it softly, “I promise, I will not tell anyone, okay?” you reassure him, punctuating your sentiment with a smile, “This stays between us.”

It’s a promise not only to him but also to yourself. At the end of the day, no matter how good it was, you fucked a doll - an alive one, but still a doll. 

With a grateful smile, Jaeyun leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, a silent gesture of gratitude for your understanding, “Thank you, Y/N. This won’t be the last time, will it?” he asks tentatively, trying to seek out how you might feel about the entirety of the situation.

You weigh up the question in your mind. On one hand, you would have someone to talk to and indulge in, but on the other, it’s risky and if Soonyeol found out, you know there would be hell to pay.

“Let’s just see how it goes, pup,” you say vaguely, kissing his forehead one more time.

This mansion is filled with secrets that you need to uncover, and you have two months to do it.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emikotakayami @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[pedzs]

Two panel Brahms and Greta F•A•N•A•R•T 🥹

I don’t have anything to add, please enjoy✨

[zephyrchama]

"What did Mammon do now?"

The greedy demon was in his underwear, hanging upside down from a rafter in the hallway. He tried to coerce you into letting him down as you walked by, but you knew better than to do so without consulting Lucifer.

"Gambling. The usual." Lucifer had a hand on his forehead, pushing his hair up while jotting something down at his desk.

"Mammon gambles every day," you pointed out. "What'd he really do?"

By the way Lucifer groaned, you knew it was something juicy. "I caught him pilfering one of my rarest records, a gift from Diavolo, to use as collateral in a bet. It's one-of-a-kind. I doubt he even knows what it is, but Mammon always has a knack for finding things of high value."

"His secret sixth sense," you agreed. "What'd you do with his clothes?"

"They make it harder to tie him up tightly. He has a slightly higher chance of wiggling free with clothes on, so I made him strip." Lucifer gestured, Mammon's clothes had been put on some kind of mannequin, tucked away in the space between two bookshelves.

You'd never seen it before. Your jaw dropped into the widest half-smile half-astonished expression possible. It had Mammon's hair and his goofy smile. Even a flashy golden earring. "What is that?"

You practically ran across the room to inspect it. It was dressed properly in Mammon's shirt and tie. There were a lot of seams, more than seemed necessary, perhaps from being repeatedly repaired over years of use. "Lucifer, this is adorable."

"It's a necessary tool for my sanity." He pushed the chair back, standing up to join you.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll give you a demonstration."

Lucifer comically wound up his closed fist. With ballistic force, he struck the figure right in its chest. It flopped back, then sprung back up wildly to receive a fistful of lighter blows from Lucifer.

"You made a Mammon punching bag? Really?" You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"I didn't make it, Mammon did."

Surprise of the day number two. "Mammon made this? Himself?"

To stop the wobbling, Lucifer grabbed the punching bag's tie, pulling it tight and then smoothing it out. "Cute, right? He thought it might make me go easy on future punishments. It's a very thoughtful gift from my little brother."

"Yeah, I didn't know he could sew. Huh." The two of you stood to admire it before Lucifer returned to his desk. You followed him. "Kind of reminds me of the doll Levi made of me."

Lucifer smiled. "Leviathan made you a doll, did he? How very kind."

"No, he made a doll of me."

Lucifer froze to process this information, frowning.

You continued, "I don't know where he usually keeps it, but I saw it under his desk one time. It's pretty big and detailed. I mentioned it once and offered to lend him a shirt for it, but he got really embarrassed and pushed me out. He's gotta take more pride in his work, it was really impressive."

"I see." Lucifer gritted his teeth. "You know, something I have to do just came up. Let's finish this conversation later." He was quietly seething as he escorted you to the door. Along the way he gave punching-bag Mammon a soft whack to the head.

You realized you forgot to ask if you could untie the real Mammon, but Lucifer had already marched down the hall in the direction of Leviathan's room. Rather than trying to catch up, you decided to go see how the Avatar of Greed was doing.

[stanfanfiction]

Masterlist

Hey all! For now I’ve only written Ken x reader fics (and they are ongoing) but wanted to go ahead and get my masterlist page started. I do accept requests so let me know if there’s any fun ideas you’d like me to consider!! I’ll be updating anytime a new fic is posted :) thank you all SO much for all the insane love, and so fast!

Ken (Barbie) (ongoing)

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader, 18+ only

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Two.Five

Chapter Three

Chapter Three.Five

Chapter Four

Chapter Four.Five

Chapter 4.5 (BONUS)

Chapter Five

Chapter Five.Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Six.Five

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight (coming soon)

Requests are currently open

[nackrosor]

~Your Wish~

(Part 3/3)

Part 1 - Part 2

Brahms Heelshire x nanny!Reader

warnings/tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con (with very dubious p in v), power dynamics, mommy issues, Brahms is a perv through and through

word count: 2,9k.

author's notes: this is the filthiest thing I've ever written, I swear. I tried to imbue this with all my naughtiness lmao I hope it was enough! Also, here's some art I made 'cause I'm that generoussss. I hope you enjoy the food! Bon appétit! 🤤🌹

"Did I scare you, Y/N? I didn't mean to..." 

He grimaced at the way his child voice came out broken and less convincing than usual, but in his state, even simply speaking was a feat.

You had been sluggishly fighting against his persistent grip on you, yet once you heard him speak, a loud gasp of shock escaped you, and your body stiffened under his. The way you tensed up made your back arch and your ass stick out even more. His focus shifted to your half-clad bottom, which was hovering only inches from his face. The drenched fabric of your panties had somehow stuck to the side, teasing him - torturing him - with that mouthwavering sight of you. 

Oh, what a struggle it was for him to refrain from seeking your heat again and then shoving himself inside you, once and for all. He was shivering with restraint while proceeding to keep you pinned to the mattress. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself back, though.

He wanted you to know who he was before he finally and thoroughly claimed you as his. His pride somehow exceeded his yearning.

"B-Brahms...?" You hesitantly whispered his name, hoping to catch a glimpse of him behind your shoulder. You could only make out a dark silhouette in your peripheral vision, for both the darkness of the room and his tight clasp prevented you from seeing anything else. "How-? W-what?"

Your voice was a little louder this time, and you sounded sharper. He also noticed with satisfaction that you were now remaining still under his hold. That was good. It would make things easier. He'd prefer not to fight you, not to force you... But if you were to refuse him... He would not hold back... He couldn't...

"You don't have to be alone anymore in this big, scary house." 

He made sure to stress out the last words, the same ones you used when you had confided your wish to the doll. He wanted you to understand… That wicked side of him wanted you to realise that he had always been there, watching you, listening in on you... That you have never truly been alone.

"Aren't you happy?"

He couldn't hide the impatience in his voice. His palm pressed harder onto your spine, imperceptibly rubbing up and down, seeking your touch. He found himself edging closer to you, his mask nearly touching your asscheek, his other hand ready to commit another despicable sin, the worst one yet.

“Let me see you? Please?"

He stopped in his tracks, momentarily stunned by your words.

You had asked so sweetly, your voice such a gentle caress to his ears, how could he have declined your request? After all, he had longed to have those gorgeous eyes of yours fall on him, finally seeing him, since the first day. And what would have been better than having you looking at him as he ravished you? Watching lust twist your features, the pleasure - he was igniting in you - flooding your lovely eyes. A shuddering breath escaped his lips as the vivid image arose in his mind, aggravating the torture.

Brahms loosened his grip, allowing you to turn around and lie on your back. As soon as your eyes met his, you let out another loud gasp. His gut flipped at the way your wide eyes flitted across his mask, chest, thighs, taking him all in.

You saw him. You were looking at him. Ah, what a dream... What a dream come true...

He wondered what was going through your pretty little head. How did it make you feel to know that the kid's voice you've occasionally heard reverberating through the mansion over the past few weeks hadn't come from a possessed doll or an imprisoned spirit... But from him. Your Brahms, in flesh and blood.

“B-Brahms…”

The way you tentatively called his name while looking up at him like a deer in the headlights was pure bliss.

He nodded enthusiastically in response and drew closer to you. His gaze flickered from your face to your hand, which he noticed slowly reaching up in his direction. He jerked back instantly out of reflex, frightened like a beaten dog meeting a loving hand for the first time, but as soon as he realized there was no threat in your intentions, he leaned back in and allowed you to touch his mask. Oh, how he yearned to feel your soft palm caressing his wounded cheek... to feel your gentle touch skin on skin… But that would have to be enough for the moment.

Now that he had your full attention. Now that you knew who he was and that no harm would come from him… with your eyes staring up at him with such awe and wonder… 

He couldn't wait any longer. 

His hand eagerly slipped between your thighs, fingers greedily seeking your heat. He caught with utmost satisfaction the way your eyes widened again, your lips parting to let out a shocked cry; you looked so adorable… so desirable… so vulnerable…

He kept his ever-attentive gaze fixed on you, desperate to catch your every reaction, as he stroked your wet folds and teased your entrance.

“W-what are you… Ah!~”

A tremor pierced him as he felt your body tremble so sharply when he easily entered you, triggering a loud whine from you as he drove his fingers deep into your walls.

His breathing was extremely shallow, and he could see your chest raise and fall as you began panting as well; the sight only served to add fuel to his burning desire, leaving him eager to make you cry and shiver just like that over and over again. 

His movement against you was firm but frantic, fueled by his long-repressed need, which was causing him to shudder and whimper as he fingered you. He had no idea what he was doing, but your moans and squeals were guiding and urging him to keep hitting that spongy spot deep inside you which seemed to make you scream the loudest.

“N-no… W-w-wait…”

Your hands shakily reached down to seize his and halt his actions, but he quickly grasped your wrists and pinned them both on your belly, holding them down with one palm while continuining on driving his fingers back and forth, unrelentingly, into you. He could tell you liked it, the lewd sounds you were making told him as much. He knew his actions were pleasing you. Your cunt was so wet, and your walls welcomed his long fingers with such hunger, swallowing them fully with each push.

How would it feel to sink inside you? To have your tight, spongy walls suck and squeeze his cock dry? Would his cum leak back out? It always did when he used his doll, the one he had turned to look just like you… He constantly had to push his fluids back inside the hole…

“Brahms... S-stop… Ah!”

Your broken whimpers sounded so cute. You were so cute. What were you asking of him? Certainly not to stop. Not that he would or could. The feeling of making you squirm under his touch was intoxicating, a feeling he had just discovered and yet couldn't get enough of. He had already grown addicted. The sight of you laying there completely vulnerable, completely his, was filling him with such a rush of euphoria. 

He released your wrists, disregarding the way you immediately but weakly started tugging at his hand again in protest. Instead, he reached down to his trousers, letting out a deep guttural grunt when he felt the dampness of the material, soaked with his seed. Leaked precum? Or did he burst into his pants without even realising? It didn't matter. His cock was hard and throbbing when he grabbed it, ready to slip out of the restraining cloth and finally sink inside you… He couldn’t wait, oh no, he couldn’t wait anymore-

“I said stop!” 

His entire body shuddered violently, and his senses suddenly sharpened as if he had just awoken from a trance. Both his hands abruptly came to a halt.

He wasn't sure if he was shaking more from the thrill your imposing tone caused in him or the excruciating hunger that was gnawing at him, demanding to be satiated. Possibly both combined given the intensity of the tension that had taken hold of his body.

Brahms stared at you with bated breath and childish fear, like a misbhehaving boy caught in the act of some deplorable deeds by his strict mother. He didn't dare to make a sound nor move an inch as he waited to be scolded.

A strange glint passed your eyes, one that he could barely catch, let alone decipher. However, your entire demeanour seemed to alter abruptly in response to his reaction.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He gasped. A flood of dread shook his entire being and made his stomach churn upon hearing your stern tone. Did he upset you? Were you angry at him? He couldn't bear it. Oh no… He only wished to please you... Only ever wished to please you...

"What were you doing, mh?" 

Brahms vehemently shook his head, his panicked gaze glued on your hard look. 

“Brahms.”

Your commanding tone made him shudder again. He cowered, crouching down and dropping his head on your lap. He didn't dare admit what he was about to do, what he had been doing long before you woke up.

"Brahms!"

He felt your hands pull on his arms, but he only pressed his head further against you, burying his face in your womb, his whimpers muffled by your skin. His hands reached to your sides, holding you vehemently but not threateningly. He wanted to show you how good he was. How good he could be for you. He was sorry. Yes. He was terribly sorry. He would never upset you again.  

"Please…" He pleaded in his childish voice, nuzzling his forehead into your belly.

"Please, what?"

He tightened his grip on your sides and cried again, "Pleaseee… I need you…" 

His meekness only increased as you delayed to answer. His hands cradled your body, fingers clutching desperately at your nightgown and creasing the material. His head anxiously swayed back and forth as he rubbed his mask against you.

"Use your real voice."

Another tremor shook his body and he quickly obeyed your command. 

"I need you."

His voice came out low and hoarse, such a stark contrast to his childish tone. It caused a vibration in your tummy. He could feel how your body shivered in reaction. 

Raising his head to meet your gaze, he noticed that your eyes had widened significantly. Was it because of his voice? The way he begged? Did you like it? He could beg you again and again in his real voice, if it pleased you so. If that meant you’d let him have you.

"I need you, please…" 

His fingers travelled slowly along your sides, gingerly getting closer to your panties again, quivering with impatience and constraint. He kept his imploring look on you as he stroked his fingertips on the damp fabric before slipping them inside to rub against your folds once more. 

He saw your eyelids flutter and your chest rise harshly as you took a deep breath.

He whimpered as he felt your fingers weave into his curls and then capture them abruptly in a tight clasp.

"Lay down, Brahms." 

He merely lingered for a moment to process what you had requested of him. Then he did it. He lay down on the mattress without question. Eager to please you. Desperate to be in your good graces. He would do anything for you. 

His entire body was trembling with anticipation, a deep-seated urge to be touched threatening to overtake him as you climbed on top of him, claiming his former position. His body craved your touch so badly, yet he had to wait until you decided to put him out of his misery.

“You’re such a naughty boy. You know that?”

When he felt your weight on him and your groin sitting directly on his bulge, he felt his breath catch in his throat and his hips buck up instinctively. Only his unbuttoned pants separated his arousal from your heat.

He was losing his mind…

"Nobody ever taught you that's not how good boys are supposed to behave, mh?"

More whimpers flowed from his parted lips as you began to grind against him, painfully slowly but with force. He struggled to keep his eyes open and locked in yours; his quivering hands went up to hold your hips, seeking to control your movements, but you intercepted them and forced them down on the pillow on either side of his face. He let you keep them still.

"Please…"

"I will teach you… Yes, yes... I will teach you. Bad boys never get their way, no matter how much or how long they beg."

Brahms had always obtained whatever he wanted since he was a little boy. If he couldn't have it, he'd take it himself. But he wasn't going to admit it to you. He merely groaned and twitched in response, every inch of his body ignited by your leisurely and frustrating movement against him.

He craved being inside you... To spill his load deep within your core... but he was so worked up… he had been holding back for so long, too long… and the way you moved was so rousing, provoking him just enough to…

His body abruptly convulsed underneath you, a deep sigh of relief escaping from his lips as a dark and large wet stain appeared on the material of his trousers. All of the desire coursing through him reached a fever pitch that consumed every inch of his body.

He had never experienced such an intense and violent orgasm before. He had jerked off numerous times, but cumming never felt so good... 

Brahms was still trembling and panting when his eyes opened again to meet yours. You had stopped moving when he started spasming. Even in the dark, he could see the blush on your cheeks, the way your eyes were wide and glazed as they stared down at him, your own breath coming in short. 

"F-Fuck-"

His eyes were fixed on you, watching you as you gulped and shivered, clearly shaken by what had just happened. Your gaze kept darting back and forth between his pants and mask. When he felt your hands release his wrists, he pulled yours back, drawing you forward and causing you to fall on top of him with a yelp.

Brahms buried his face into the crook of your neck. Your scent was stronger than before, his nostrils filled with your natural aroma. His fingers trailed over your skin, feeling how clammy it was and relishing the way you shivered at the touch. He moved on along the curve of your neck until he reached the edge of your nightgown and peeled it down without hesitation, this time dragging it low enough to prevent it from rolling back up. The sight of your breasts made his stomach flip, just like it had done the first time. His body started to become stiffer once more. 

“Again…” he whispered breathlessly as he lifted your torso so you could sit on his lap just like before, straddling his groin. He could feel himself getting harder all over again. He could not possibly resist you.

"B-Brahms?"

His hands greedily mapped your body, groping every curve and dip they found. His touch soon became frantic and urgent.

"Again, again, again!"

He hastily freed his growing erection from his pants and without giving you time to register what was happening, he seized your waist and pulled you down onto him. 

At last, you had become one. 

The quiet room filled with both his and your moans of pleasure, which only grew louder as Brahms started guiding your hips up and down, each time with greater force, allowing him to fully sink into you. You were so warm, and the way your tight walls clenched around his cock was more intoxicating than he could have anticipated. It was maddening. The sound of your cunt slapping against his groin was the the best sound he had ever heard. He mentally added it to the list of pleasures he had so quickly become addicted to and sought to experience again and again and again...

He was a mess of sweat and whimpers and tremors, and so were you. 

Ah, to finally have you! To finally take you as his! This was everything he had ever dreamed and yearned for. You would never be alone or feel lonely again, and neither would he! 

Please you night and day, whenever and wherever! That's what he intended to do.

Oh, yes. 

He will be such a good boy for you.

MORE STORIES 🥀

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[Should I make a nsfw version of my fanart? 🤔 I'd like to try my hand at nsfw art. Let me know if you'd be interested in seeing it.]

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[sugarcandydoll]

@princessbrunette hi hi angel i love u n ur work sm omgg ♡🐇 love the way u write rafey!! got into obx bcoz of u hehehe n rafe is so hot my gosh! 💗♡ here's outfit info for how i imagine me as bunny!reader hehe cause she so cute n girly!! ♡🐰💕

pics not mine!! ♡👼🏼💕 n bunny!reader belongs to @princessbrunette ♡🫶🏼🎀

[sassykattery]

Dollface Pt. 6

I think we all know where this is going.

CW: Main Character is afab, uses she/her pronouns. Profanity. Smut scene: fingering (f! receiving), piv, creampie. Use of gendered terms: reader called "lady". Size kink.

The main character is afab, uses she/her pronouns. This story is meant to be somewhat curvy/plus-sized reader insert, but the main character is given a physical description, but it's not crucial to the story or mentioned often after Part 1.

Themes: Romance. Magic. Adventure. Car sex. Smut. Diavolo x fem! MC. Fluff.

Characters: Main Character. Diavolo.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

Slowly, she turned and unbuckled her seatbelt, reaching toward the back and pulling on two pull tabs on the sides of the back seat, causing them to fold down.

Diavolo's hands began to wander her form, touching any and everywhere he could as she sat forward again. She suddenly giggled.

"You may have to crawl through the back. Go on, and I'll let you in," she said.

He got out and quickly walked around to the back where the hatch opened to reveal her on her hands and knees, the front two seats now also folded forward. Though he was still rather massive as he crawled in on top of her, this was more doable than just trying to fit in the backseat alone. The headroom was less than desirable, but it didn't matter too much as she closed the hatch and tugged him down to kiss his lips feverishly.

"This is what you wanted, yes?" She asked lustfully.

"More or less," he murmured playfully. "As long as I have you."

"You have me," she replied as her hands busied themselves into unbuttoning his shirt and pulling off his tie.

"Then that's all I'll ever need," he stated, kissing her neck. They scooted up as far as they could, allowing his long legs to stretch out, still much too tall. It was better when she laid up against the back of the passenger front seat.

"I want you, Dia," she whimpered into his ear as she kissed the lobe. He had her jeans down around just one of her ankles, spreading her legs out to plunge his fingers into her wet heat.

"Oh baby," he groaned, feeling her creamy wetness cover his digits, listening to the wet sounds they made.

"Mmmmmm, Dia," she let out a long moan.

"Is this what your friend thought you would be doing here?" He asked impishly in her ear.

She squirmed and smiled, her hips bucking into his hand. "No, but she'd be happy for me," she replied cutely.

"What a good friend," he murmured, fucking his fingers into her faster.

He slowed as she pulled her blouse off, unclasping her bra and laying it to the side. Working his way back up to a faster pace, he ducked his head down to kiss and lick her nipples, sucking on them as she arched her back from the sensation. Heat was already building in the small space, making it steamy and foggy on the windows.

Moving back up to her lips, he mumbled his praises to her. "You're amazing, my little darling. Treating me so well, letting me ravish you. You feel so good just in my hand." He cupped her pussy then, fingers still plunged deep within and curling them against her g-spot. She let out a much louder moan then, her core and inner knot tightening as her release approached faster and faster.

"Please, make me cum," she whimpered softly against his neck. He had lost his patience in that moment and quickly took his fingers away to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his slacks, and pull out his cock, already hard and so ready to plunge into her cunt. He stopped, remembering she couldn't see as her hands were blindly feeling what he was doing.

"I need you," he groaned. "I need to be inside you."

"Take me," she murmured hastily. He stopped and searched her face in the darkness. It wasn't often he was caught off-guard by his own emotions, but seeing her like this, so receptive of him, it was almost overwhelming.

"I love you," he stated more seriously. She couldn't see his expression, but the sincerity of his voice made the lustful haze dissipate for a moment.

"I... I love you, too," she said slowly. He could see the uneasiness at the revelation in her eyes, but the way she also relaxed made him realize she meant it, too.

He kissed her passionately then, taking hold of his cock again to angle it towards her entrance. The heat radiating off her cunt was so enticing, and the initial thrust in was an easy glide. She immediately clung onto him, her thighs clamped around his hips.

"Darling, relax for me," he murmured, using his free hand to slip under her head and cradle her while his fingers gently rubbed her scalp. "I'm here, I won't go anywhere."

Very slowly, she relaxed her body, still holding on but not quite as tightly. And, just as slowly, he began thrusting into her, her pussy opening up more and more to him. Even her moans sounded less strained, more open, and relaxed.

"Feels s'good," she mumbled, kissing his cheek. He was enthralled by the sweet gestures she did and made like that, or how her hands roamed his back and shoulders, curling her little fingers in his hair.

He hummed in reply, sliding his other arm underneath her back to hold her closer, as if they weren't close enough in this case.

"I promise to give you the world if you say you'll let me keep you," he murmured in her ear, nibbling on her lobe in return.

"I'm yours," she replied, one of her hands grabbing onto his shoulder blade, her nails digging into his flesh. He groaned and sped up, taking her right leg and hoisting it over his shoulder. She cried out then, feeling another rush of heat coming on to barrel another orgasm through her.

"I'm yours, my love, my sweet sweet girl," he replied, now pussydrunk and feeling his own orgasm approach.

"Cum with me," she mumbled into his ear. "I'm close."

"I will, baby, I promise," he grunted in reply, fucking her faster. The car had begun to rock the faster and harder he went. It was fairly evident to anyone who should pass by what was going on, like two teenagers at their first opportunity to be alone like this. Though, the pair were more fortunate that they were out in the country, somewhere private.

"I love you," she whimpered again, nuzzling her face into his. He melted at her unprompted words, feeling and hearing her sincerity course through his veins.

"I love you more," he murmured playfully again. She smiled in return, making his cock throb then as he got closer to the edge. For him, she didn't have to do much to turn him on or make him feel good. It was simply like she was made for him because every little thing she did and said just fueled his fire.

"Please, inside me," she commanded in a soft cry, tightening her hold again. He let her, knowing she felt her control slipping as they danced further and further away from the rational and closer to the euphoric side of life.

One of his hands quickly slid out from beneath her and back in between them to rub at her clit, giving her the extra stimulation.

"Yes! Yes, right there! Don't stop!" Her voice fell to a more quiet and strangled whimper.

"Come on, baby, give it to me," he growled, picking up the pace again and slamming into her. "So close."

"Diavolo!"

Her little wail was muffled into his shoulder, tears pricking her eyes as her vision went white. Feeling her walls begin to milk his cock, he finally let go and chased the pleasure burning his sanity. His grunts turned into moans, a slight whimper as his release finally sank in, driving his hips to surge forward and become still. A warmth filled her deeply, making her twitch more with each wave of bliss.

After taking a moment to come back to reality and gather in his senses, Diavolo felt her still trembling, clutching onto him like her life depended on it with her face buried in his shoulder.

He murmured her name a few times, trying to coax her into relaxing. It took several tries, but finally, she pulled back, letting him see her. She had a few tear stains on her cheeks, her makeup a bit ruined then.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He murmured quietly, caressing the side of her head.

"N-No..." she mumbled, somewhat in a daze and staring blankly.

"What happened?" He prodded further, anxious that he messed up.

"It's just... a lot. I'm emotional and... I'm sorry, I sound dumb," she tried to explain and then backpeddled.

"No, tell me. It was okay?"

"More than okay, it was amazing. I just experience it very intensely, on an emotional level," she answered, sounding more clear-headed.

"I see. I think that's endearing. I'm glad we have this connection," he answered. He then looked side to side, thinking of how to do the next part. "Is it okay if I remove myself?" He asked finally.

"Mhm," she affirmed, letting him go. He placed her leg back down slowly and pulled away, tucking himself back in and somewhat putting himself together. His attention was diverted when he saw her sit up on her elbows, wincing.

"I'm too old to do this in a car anymore," she grumbled. Her eyes popped open and she looked in the direction of the prince. "Well, not as old as you."

Diavolo growled playfully and snatched her into his arms, making her giggle and squeal as he sent his lithe fingers up and down her sides.

"And this old demon found a sweet, pretty little lady to steal away and keep all for himself for eternity," he stated in her ear using a flair of his demonic nature in his voice.

She instantly became still, staring into the darkness as her heartbeat quickened. He could feel the drastic change in her and started to backpeddle himself.

"I apologize for scaring you," he stated.

"I can't tell if that scared me or turned me on, to be quite honest," she replied a bit matter-of-factly.

"Both?"

"Both."

They then started laughing together, turning so they could hold each other on their sides, his arm under her head for support.

"I love your laugh, it's so authentic," he tried to compliment her. She raised a brow.

"That's a nice way of saying it's ugly," she bit back. His brows shot up and he panicked.

"No! That's not what I meant at all, it's just–" he saw her then smirk and he stopped.

"I'm teasing, big boy," she stated impishly. "I like yours too. It's contagious."

He sighed and used his free arm to pull her in closer.

"I can't believe this is real at times," he murmured to himself and her.

"Why?"

"I've lived a lonely life. It was only when my butler and the brothers came along that I felt like I had company, but still, they're at arm's length," he answered.

"Then you crave intimacy, romantic or platonic," she replied thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment.

"I suppose so." The prince sat with it for a little bit before adding, "I don't want just sex with you. I desire intimacy from you in all its forms."

Her hand came to rest on his upper chest, just below his neck. She looked up at where she thought his eyes would be. "I hope you understand that I have a lot of love to give. I'm very loyal and desire closeness too. But you'll have to forgive me because, at times, I'm distant from having been abused in the past."

"I hope you choose to let me in so that I can help you," he replied. She nodded and nuzzled her face into his neck, sighing with content as he fully wrapped himself around her– well, as best he could after all.

After a little while, she finally sat up on her elbow and sighed. "We should probably head back," she declared. He kissed her forehead and hummed in agreement.

---

Once back at her house, she led Diavolo to the spare bedroom on the opposite side of the house to her and opened the door. It was very late and her parents were well asleep then.

"You'll sleep here. I already put your clothes away, and if you need anything, just come get me," she explained. He walked in and turned.

"I don't get the pleasure of sleeping with you?" He asked, actually being serious.

She chuckled. "My parents are old-fashioned, so no," she replied. He nodded and looked at the bed.

"I understand, but I'll miss you," he stated sweetly. She approached and gave him a tight hug, to which he kissed the top of her head.

"Good night," she mumbled.

"Sweet dreams, my love."

After that, she closed the door and walked away, heading back to her room. She got settled and ready for bed, donning a sleep shirt and missing the prince as well.

It took only a few minutes of her laying in bed with her eyes closed that she felt the bed shift and a familiar and bulky presence next to her.

"This isn't your bed," she mumbled, turning to face the Demon Lord.

"Any bed that you're in is mine, too," he murmured playfully. "Plus, this one is bigger."

"I'm sorry that the other one is small. I can take that one and you can stay–"

"Darling, I just want to be next to you," he interrupted her.

"Fine, but don't think that my parents will believe you came in here because you were having nightmares or something," she mumbled sleepily, allowing him to pull her into his embrace. He scooted into the middle and pulled her mostly on top of him. His arms came to rest on her back, and he laid there feeling her breathing start to slow, little twitches of her body signaling she was falling asleep.

Diavolo enjoyed every minute of this. Her. Him. This. Them. Together. It was more wondrous than he could ever imagine, more intimate than he ever thought possible for someone like him. A soul so radiant and full of life that was somehow attached to his soulless being was able to show him love in ways he didn't know about.

He rubbed her back as he sat there thinking about her. Thoughts of home started to surface, but now he was starting to wonder about the possibilities before him. What if he never went back to the Devildom? Was he content to stay here, build a life with this human? He definitely couldn't part from her; that wasn't an option. But he wouldn't pressure her into going back home with him.

The Demon Lord imagined what it would be like to build such a life with her. Would they be like the movies? Would they have dinner with her parents once a week? Could he bond with them and come to see them as his family? As the years passed, they could buy a home and get some pets. He could get a job and spoil her rotten like he wanted to.

And before he knew it, he was asleep, too, imagining those things for himself.

---

When she awoke the next morning, she felt around to find her bed empty. Driven by a wave of anxiety, she quickly got up and found her lounge pants before leaving her room. She immediately heard voices coming from the living room, and peaking around in the kitchen over the bar, she saw her father and Diavolo watching TV and conversing about...

"What an intriguing sport! So you play this, yes?" Diavolo asked enthusiastically. Her father immediately lit up and began going on about it.

"Sure, I play, but it's just a hobby. I'll never be a pro like these guys," he answered, pointing the remote at the TV.

"Well, certainly you are very knowledgeable and work very hard to improve your skill. I am sure you could play competitively if you really wanted to," the prince responded.

"Nah, too old. These kids are around my daughter's age and up, but you don't see too many old guys out there," her father stated.

Immediately, Diavolo's head turned when he heard the floorboard shift, knowing she was nearby.

"Well, good morning," the demon called out to her. She sheepishly came around and sat next to Diavolo, his arm instantly encircling her shoulders. He was wearing a black T-shirt, black jeans, and no socks, looking rather comfortable already.

"Morning," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses.

"Your father was teaching me about golf. It's quite the sport! It requires a lot of concentration, planning, and forethought. It reminds me of chess in that way," Diavolo explained excitedly.

"Did he now..." she mumbled again, still not totally awake.

"Well, I'm gonna go run some errands. Good talkin' to you, son," her dad said, getting up and leaving the room.

Once he was gone, Diavolo excitedly turned to her, crossing a leg.

"I have some good news," he explained.

"That my dad called you son?" She asked sarcastically.

"No– well, yes, I enjoy that he sees me as familiar enough to call me that. Your father is a good man, I can tell," the prince replied happily. "But, no, my good news is my magic returned."

"Oh? It did? When?" She asked, looking surprised.

"This morning, I woke up in my demon form," he explained. She tilted her head in confusion.

"You couldn't before?"

"No. I tried to when I was in the dressing room yesterday, but I felt blocked from my magic," he replied.

"So... that means..." she trailed off.

Diavolo saw the look of uncertainty in her face and knelt down in front of her on the floor, taking her hands in his. "Yes, that means I can find my friends and go home, but I want to preface you with the fact I won't go without you. It's both of us or not at all."

She looked ahead into his eyes, seeing the truth in his golden gaze.

"Okay," she whispered.

He smiled and lurched forward to kiss her, his muscular arms encircling her frame.

"Do you want to see it? Me?" He asked, purring against her lips.

"Sure," she mumbled back, kissing his lips more.

He pulled away from her and completely sat back on his haunches. She sank back into the couch to watch. His hands rested on his thighs as he watched her intently. Like oil paint sliding of its canvas, his humanly form melted away, yielding an even taller and darker demon with bright red hair, black lines tracing over his abdomen, horns curling around his skull, and a set of draconic wings unfurling. His demon form outfit materialized in time with his disclosure.

"Oh," she whispered, barely audible.

"What do you think?" He asked, watching her reaction. Her eyes were wide, heart rate up, but her body started to lean in towards him. He watched as her eyes slowly trailed from the top of his head and down south, taking in every inch.

"You're... stunning..." she murmured in a low pitch. He became acutely aware of her body's reaction to his, clearly in a heightened state of arousal.

The human woman finally sat forward and reached out to him, to which he leaned forward in response to allow her access to him. She caressed his horn and trailed lower, her fingertips brushing over his burning skin. He was now also aware of his arousal for her, how she touched him.

"I, uh... I have a thing for monsters," she confessed suddenly, her eyes tracing the ink across his torso.

"No, really?" He teased. She finally met his gaze again with a burning flush on her cheeks. "You're dating a demon after all. I assumed you did."

She swallowed thickly and continued to let her eyeline fall, absorbing his muscular figure.

"What do you want?" He asked in a seductive tone, getting her attention.

"For you to make love to me," she mumbled bashfully.

He growled playfully then. "It would be my pleasure, and soon enough, it'll be yours, too," he murmured, sliding his hands beneath her to lift her off the couch into a bridal carry back to her room. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him.

She watched him as he walked, seeing the different lights bouncing off of his form. He collapsed his wings behind his back to walk, ducking his head underneath the doorways, as she realized he was definitely taller in this form.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @delphi-dreamin @itsmeninerz @flemmingbamse @themythicaldisaster @marvelous-maniac @biteable-pink-pixie @attic-club-sandwich

[nimpnawakproduction]

The ultimate reference sheets for all of Vash's outfits in Trigun maximum (with commentaries)

IT IS DONE. I'M FREE. Now I can forget all about Trimax and draw Trigun stampede designs only hahaha (just kidding I have things for Trimax on the stove).

Trigun bookclub was an awesome initiative, I loved the manga with my all heart and wanted to honor Nightow's designs ;w; I also wanted to help my fellow artists with references for Vash's clothes because DEAR GOD it's difficult to understand how the hell he dresses himself in the morning. I have a lot of fun dressing and undressing him like a barbie doll. My hyperfixation is completely healthy.

I put a "read more" section to avoid spoilers :) !

The July coat

The very first coat in Trigun chronology and the one he wores during the destruction of July ! There is not a lot of panels to take references but I tried to stay as close as possible to the manga. I don't know what number of prosthesis he had before but let name this one Prosthesis 1.

Scars map

Next, nakey Vash ! There's A LOT of changes between one panel to another. Scars changes places and forms panel to panel and the design evolved from the first chapters of Trigun, the time we see him naked as Eriks and his undressed state while he was a prisoner on the Ark. I drew the scars that appeared more than once or were in clean view in a panel (but really you can do like Nightow and draw as many scars as you want without thinking about consistency, this boy has been in a meat grinder)

After July underclothes

Or the jumpsuit that gave me grey hair. His suit does not make ANY sense, I don't know how the hell he dresses himself in the morning with this. My solution is that it's very long gloves and chaps strapped to a belt. The position and shapes of the belts changes IN EVERY PANEL. Same for his knee guards, sometimes they're here, sometime they cover his shins, sometimes they are tiny..... I gave up in the end and draw them as we see them in the very last panel he wears this suit. But damn he looks good in it.

Also in all of the 13 volumes, there is not a single panel with a clear view of his holster (I checked...) so here is my interpretation.

This is prosthesis n°2, the design is a little different from the first one so I guess Prosthesis 1 got destroyed (this happens a lot).

After July coat

The very first Trigun coat he wears in the manga ! Very simple, very basic, it gives him impossibly wide shoulders but Vash deserves it. The first one is worn Post July until Vash's confrontation against Brilliant Dynamite Neon. The second one is the state of his coat after the sandsteamer incident. He loses his prothesis after his fight against Monev the gale. He meets Wolfwood with only one arm and stays that way while he fights Knives for the first time.

Eriks

I took liberties with colors because there's no colored panels with Vash as Eriks. Yes I drew him without suspenders because he has them for like 5 panels and then Nightow drew him without them for the rest of Eriks arc so I made choices ;w;

I love the fact that Vash choose to wear tight jeans even in his casual outfits, this boy will not let his skin breath. This is now Prosthesis 3 ! It's way less advanced than the ones he wore in the rest of the manga, the other ones seem to replicate skin.

After his years as Eriks

And now the first Maximum coat, he wears it until the famous Yuri hospital arc! Finally an undersuit that makes sense, I love it, too bad Nightow-san decided that I had to suffer and changed it again to add BELTS EVERYWHERE. We only see his legs in this part of the manga so I gave him the same top because I can.

The tubes he has on his waist are filled with bullets, he can connect them to his prosthesis to have a mini machine gun.

We are now at Prosthesis 4 !

Hospitalization on the Home ship

The famous Yuri hospital phase! Vash definitely shared his wardrobe with Wolfwood, you can't tell me otherwise.

The first outfit still shows Prothesis 4 but he keeps it for like 5 minutes and lost it again against Nine-lives. I don't really know if the prothesis comes with the integrated glove or if there's synthetic skin under it but why would he keep the glove on if it's not intergrated?

The second pictures is the different outfits he wears during his convalescence. I took liberties with the colors, I drew this in like 10 minutes, everything seems easy when you don't have to draw BELTS. We are now on Prothesis 5 ! Nightow drew it as a regular arm so I guess Vash wears gloves on top of it??????

Back on the road in pursuit of Knives

He wears this one after his stay at Home, throughout the Dragon's nest ark and until his 2nd fight against Knives.

I liked the design of his jumpsuit until I looked closer at the panels and saw that the design change ON EVERY ONE OF THEM. Knee guard on only one knee? No kneeguards? Two??? WHO KNOWS ??? I tried to make it work but really go wild with this one, even the author does not know how his pant looks.

Still prosthesis 5, BUT UNTIL WHEN?

Prisoner on the Ark

THEY MASSACRED MY BOY. Did they even feed him at least in 7 months? Those pictures are the definition of the drenched kitty cat left under the rain. Give this man a blanket and a therapist.

Bye bye Prothesis 5 ! And see what I mean when I say that his outfit does not make sense????? It comes out in parts????

After his imprisonment on the Ark

The last suit in the manga! He keeps this coat until the end of the story. From this point, only his hair changes (or the color of his coat).

I adore the little angel wing symbol on his left arm, such a cute addition. Too bad it appears in one of the most traumatic event of his life.

Speaking of his jumpsuit...The return of belts.... But at least this outfit stays relatively coherent except for his kneeguards who appear and disappear panel from panel but most of the time he doesn't have any, so no kneeguard it is. Prosthesis 6 hello !

Final battle and end of the story

It hurted to drew those outfits ;w; And working on the design of his coat when he fights Legato made me realize where Orange studio took inspiration to chose the colors for Vash's coat in the final episode of Stampede ! Great job ! I tried to color the same effects as one of the illustrations showing dark Vash but I'm not really good with colors..... He actually radiates energy but with some purple undertones, I took some liberties because those are my drawings I do what I want.

I'm not sure at 100% that he has a tuft of blond hair left when his outfit turns black but his hair is all black at the end of the fight. His prosthesis is destroyed at the end of the fight. He got another one in the final chapter. So 7 prosthesis throughout the story!

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 4 - Runaway

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized reader, female reader, Poorly thought out action sequences, Guns, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though I might even tell y'all her name.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

You wake in the morning with your nose buried in a thick patch of chest hair, and strong arms around you. Your legs are hooked around one of his thick thighs, and something hard digs into your stomach. You start to inch away, but his arms tighten, and his hips cant against you, a thick, sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. It would be a nice way to wake up, if not for the circumstances. It’s been ages since you slept beside another person, let alone someone that feels as comfortable as John does.

“John,” you say softly. You don’t want to fully wake him up, just get him to let you go. “John, please let me go.”

He hums, one hand sliding to your waist, and then down to your hip, pulling you closer, grinding you against his thigh. You squeak in protest, becoming aware that you’re already wet, like you’ve been unconsciously humping his leg in your sleep for some time. You push your slightly freer top half away a little, so you can look at him. He’s still sleeping, a little frown on his face as he’s pulled unwillingly toward consciousness. He really is handsome, especially like this, all his defences down, grumbling like a hibernating bear.

“Don’t wake up,” you tell him, as if it’ll make any difference. “I just have to pee.”

One of his blue eyes cracks open, a little unfocused. “You comin’ back?” His voice is rough from sleep, rasping like sandpaper.

“Sure,” you say, even though you have no intention of doing so. Your body seems as eager as his is for something you’re sure is dangerous. Maybe he smells good, like tobacco, warm, boozy spices and something undeniably male, and maybe he feels warm and solid against you, but you don’t want to encourage this. You just want to enough space to clear your head. His admissions last night still have you spooked, John’s words not tempered by a night of surprisingly good sleep. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He loosens his hold on you enough that you can wiggle free, his eyes opening a little more so he can watch you slip out of bed. He rolls over onto his back, and starts snoring gently before you’ve even made it to the bedroom door. You take the opportunity to snag one of the bags stacked in front of the closet and your purse off the dresser and bring both to the bathroom with you. You’re not sure what’s in the bag, but you know the larger suitcase has things from your closet in it, so you’re hoping this one has more from your dresser.

You get dressed, glad that most of your underthings and a comfortable pair of jeans and a thick sweater are inside and pack your toothbrush and makeup bag into the larger one, and creep downstairs carefully. One of them is snoring gently on the couch, but otherwise, the house is silent. You carefully fish a set of keys off the hooks by the door and sneak outside. You don’t know where any of your shoes are except the red heels, so you just leave in your sock feet, and pile your things into the pick-up truck. You’ll drive it into town and leave it there, buy a ticket on a train or a bus, and get the hell back home.

It sucks to have to leave everything you own, beyond the clothes in the one bag and the contents of your purse, but maybe you can call the cops— Well. Probably not. Better to just start over anywhere else. You have digital copies of a few pictures of your parents, and that’s better than nothing, even if their wedding album is sitting on a shelf in John’s living room, along with all the family photos that your parents took of you and them while you were growing up. Your mother’s sketchbooks too, and her camera, and your dad’s guitar.

You bite your lip, holding back tears, and start the truck.

No sense mourning things. The memories are in your head and your heart, not trapped in the pages of books or twisted into the strings of the guitar. You don’t need them.

You haven’t driven in a long time, and the truck, unfortunately, is a manual, which you haven’t driven in even longer, but you manage to pull away from the house without revving the engine too hard, and pick up speed once you get to the road, only just remembering to hit the clutch with your left foot before you change gears. You’d feel pretty pathetic if you only made it to the road before stalling out the pickup.

You’re not sure which way town is, but you figure the road has to lead somewhere no matter which way you choose, so you navigate blindly, turning onto a bigger road a little ways down the gravel one that leads to John’s house. Bigger road means more people, although the hour is still so early that there’s no one around yet. The sun is barely up, and it’s still shadowy in the woods on either side of the road. The woods give way to fields suddenly, the sun making a too-bright debut, shining right into your eyes. You flip down the visor and adjust the rear-view mirror, wincing when you see a blue car a ways behind you, approaching fast.

You didn’t notice the car when you were leaving— It must have been parked behind the bigger van that they’d used to move all your things— but it looks sporty and fast, and judging by the way it closes the gap, there’s no question that it’s them. You push the truck harder, squinting against the light, heart hammering. The car’s engine roars, loud enough that you can hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, and pulls into the lane beside you. Gaz motions for you to pull over from the passenger seat.

You slow up enough that they pull ahead a little, and you yank your steering wheel to the side and stomp down on the gas and the clutch, shifting into third gear and nailing the side of the car, shattering a tail light and making it spin, stopping just shy of the ditch.

For a moment, you’re still close enough to see the shock on their faces, but you’re moving fast and leave them in the dust, at least momentarily. It won’t take them long to recover and catch up again, and if they hit you with the same maneuver, there’s no way you’ll be able to get the truck under control. There’s not enough weight in the bed of the truck to compensate, and you’ll wind up in the ditch for certain.

Funny, how it comes back to you. Learning to drive along mountain roads way outside Aberdeen, either in your dad’s little car or your mom’s old truck (usually the car, which was the easier one to drive. Your dad was the safer driver too, the better parent to learn from), and you can almost imagine your mother in the passenger seat, laughing her head off at the insane circumstances, encouraging you to throw caution to the wind, to get a feel for the road under the wheels and the way the old truck handled. She always laughed when she was under stress, but it’s comforting to think of. Your mum would never let a couple of thick-headed military assholes get the better of her.

The car is catching up again, so you floor it and smash through a fence gate into a muddy field, where the car won’t handle as well, and speed your way across the stubbly remains of wheat, already harvested. The car follows, and, predictably, struggles, the low frame too close to the muck, bumping unhappily over the soft, uneven ground.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest, relieving some of the built-up anxiety. You smash through a segment of the fence on the other side and yank the truck back onto the road, giggling when the truck fishtails a bit, mud slicking the tires on the pavement. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through your system that you feel like you might be sick the moment you let any of this catch up with you. So you keep driving, and pray that it doesn’t.

The car gets close again when you reach another wooded section of road. Through the rearview mirror you can see Gaz pop out of the window, gun drawn, but you don’t hear the crack when it fires, you only feel the impact when the bullet strikes one of the rear tires. You shriek, slamming on the breaks as the truck spins out of your control and off the road, slamming into a tree head on.

The lurch forward as the airbags deploy, your body hitting them hard, knocking all the air out of your lungs as you’re slapped back into he seat. The seat belt bites into your shoulder painfully. You unbuckle yourself quickly, ears ringing too loudly for you to hear the screeching tires of the pursuit car. You fall to the ground when you try to get out, head spinning.

You stumble into the trees, still blinking away double vision. If you can find a good spot to hide— Maybe you can double back and take the car while they chase you blindly through the trees. You cast about, feeling every rapidly forming bruise, wishing desperately that you had shoes, and dive into the underbrush, scooting forward on your belly, brambles catching in your hair as you curl up, out of sight.

“Please come out, doll,” you hear Gaz call out, boots crunching through the woods, closer than you would like. “It’s okay, we’re not mad. Just come out and we’ll take you home, yeah?”

Johnny is yelling further off, his voice incomprehensible but sing-song, mocking. Gaz moves further into the woods. You wait until his voice grows a little more distant before you drag yourself back out, sweater streaked with mud, leaves in your hair, and quickly sneak back to the road. The car is still running, the driver door left open. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“There you are, bird.”

You scream. A gloved hand drops over your mouth, cutting off the sound, and an arm loops around your waist, picking you right up off your feet.

Fuck.

"Look what you did, bird. Wrecked up Price's truck. 'E's not goin' to be 'appy about that." He turns so you can see the slightly smoking truck, the front half of it crumpled beyond repair.

You shake your head until he pulls his hand away from your mouth. "Its not my fault I crashed. Gaz shot the tire out. I wasn't even going to steal it, just leave it in town once I'd gotten to a bus stop."

He hums. You hear the slight crackle of a radio. "Got 'er, lads. Come back to the car."

"Rog."

"Aye."

Ghost shoves you into the back seat. "Stay put," he says sternly. "You're already banged up, don't want to 'ave to tackle you."

You sigh, all the fight leaving you. You feel awful, bruised and shaken up and trembling, and you do nothing but watch as Ghost gathers your things from the truck and puts them in the boot of the car. You slump back in the seat, inspecting the scratches on your hands idly. Your head hurts, and your shoulder aches, and you feel a bit like you've been stepped on, but nothing feels broken, just bruised and tender. You got lucky.

Well, not lucky. There's very little about any of this that counts as luck. Especially considering the look on Johnny's face when he jogs out of the trees. At first he looks stormy, but he grins when he sees you and opens the back door to crawl onto the seat and on top of you.

"Steamin Jesus, where'd ye learn ta drive like tha'?" He asks. "Didnae ken ye were a racer."

"Outside Aberdeen," you reply. Your ribs hurt. Soap’s weight makes every little ache more acute.

"Price isn't gonna be happy about his truck," Gaz says, tossing himself into the driver's seat. "What were you thinking, doll? You could've been hurt."

"You didn't have to shoot the tire." You try to push Soap off, but he wraps himself around you, a bit tight, but bearably so. You’re trembling, and he’s trying to help, in a thoroughly unhelpful way. "I was just trying to get home."

"That's the wrong way. Your home's with Price now." Ghost gets into the other front seat, and Gaz reverses back out onto the road.

You sigh, leaning your head against the window, watching the countryside flash by. It takes an embarrassingly short time to get back to John's house. You didn't get as far as you would have liked, hardly got anywhere at all. Your eyes prickle with tears, but you don't want to cry in front of them. You want to go back to bed, maybe back in time to the morning. You would have been wiser just to curl up next to John again.

Soap drags you from the car, hands a bit rough on your bruises, and pulls you back to the house. John rushes out, worry creasing his face, blue eyes sweeping over you and turning furious. "What happened?" he barks, not at you, but at his men.

"Bird was makin' a run for it," Ghost says.

"Wrecked your truck," Gaz adds.

"That's not my fault!" you protest. "You shot at me!" You glare at him, frustrated tears overflowing down your cheeks. It’s like they have no idea what kind of stress they’ve put you through.

"Woah, woah, c'mere, doll." John pulls you against his chest, wrapping strong arms around you, stilling some of the tremble in your limbs. "You broken?"

You shake your head, leaning into him, gripping his t-shirt tightly. You breathe in raggedly, trying to steady yourself.

"Lads. Why did you shoot at her?"

"Trying to stop the truck."

"She's a civilian you muppets. I take it that the truck's in no shape to drive, or you would've brought it back. You could have killed her." He pets a hand over your head, plucking out a few leaves. "You should’ve let her go."

"She stole your truck!" Soap protests.

"So what? It's wrecked now anyway, innit?" The silence behind you speaks volumes. "Alright, doll, why don't you go get cleaned up? " he murmurs against the top of your head. "I need to talk to the lads, and what I have to say is not fit for a lady's ears."

He gently ushers you into the house and closes the door firmly behind you. You trudge upstairs, feeling utterly pathetic, and lock yourself into the bathroom. Still sniffling, you comb sticks and leaves out of your hair with your fingers and put yourself into a hot shower, where you give yourself the freedom to cry your eyes out, hoping that the sound of water drowns your stifled sobs.

The house is quiet when you shut off the shower and dry yourself off. You wrap the shirt you'd slept in around you and poke your head out into the hallway. John is right there, holding out a bundle of clothes. "Here, sweetheart," he says softly, like he's worried a sharp word will set you off again. He must have heard everything. "I sent the boys to deal with the truck and that tail light, so it's just us. Just come on downstairs when you're ready."

You open the door wide enough to accept the clothes, and he turns to leave again, content to leave anything else to be said when you make it downstairs.

He'd obviously taken his cue from what you'd been wearing already, because he gives you a sweater and jeans again, comfortable worn in things. You go downstairs carefully, every joint and muscle in your body aching, even after the shower.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asks. "Or do you prefer tea?"

"Coffee, please. I can make it. I'd feel better if I did, honestly." You skirt around him to the cupboard where you'd seen Gaz take mugs out, recognizing your own nestled among John's mismatched ones. You put milk and sugar in your favourite mug, and pour in coffee, stirring it throroughly. The clink of the spoon is loud, and so is the pan he sets on the stove top.

"Eggs and toast okay?" He asks.

"Um, yeah. That would be nice. Over easy?"

"Yes ma'am." He looks at you over his shoulder while butter melts in the pan, blue eyes all worry. "Did I say something to you last night? Maybe the sort of thing that made you feel like you needed to steal a truck and run as fast as you could away from here?"

"Um. Yes." You hold onto the mug with both hands. "Some stuff about wanting to start a family. With me."

His ears turn pink. "I see."

"I suppose this is where you tell me it was just the whiskey talking, right?" you ask hopefully. You like him, even if it’s ill-advised, maybe even dangerous to do so.

"Wish I could."

Your stomach twists. “Oh.”

John turns around fully, guilt and sadness written all over his handsome face. He steps closer and touches your arm gently. “I’m so sorry about what my boys have put you through, sweetheart. None of this has been right.” He sighs, brushing a few tendrils of still-wet hair away from your face, studying you, those intense blue eyes focused on you intently. “But there’s something special about you, doll. I really do want to keep you forever. Not if you’re scared, and not if you feel forced— It’s just, the thought of you leavin' and never wanting to speak to me again is— I don’t want that.”

You swallow nervously. “This is just really overwhelming.”

“I know. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let this happen. Soap really could have just given you my number.” The smile he gives you is hopeful, and you can’t help but return it, just a little. “Now go sit down, doll. Let me take care of breakfast, hm?”

You nod and move to the table, sitting where you can watch him, and peek out the window too. The car is gone, but the van is still there for the moment, sitting idly to the side. You consider making another run for it, but your aching limbs protest even the thought. There’s not enough fight in you, and you’re not even sure you want to fight John, not the way you do the other three. His only crime has been wanting you to stay, and being a bit overzealous about it. You can’t be mad at him for that, can you? It isn’t really his fault.

Well, it might be his fault, in a roundabout way. He trained them, taught them how to ruthlessly pursue an objective. It’s just not his fault they can’t keep it from coming home with them. That’s a clear failure of whoever does their mental health assessments.

You sip your coffee and watch John crack eggs into a pan. He keeps glancing at you, and his smile flickers on a little longer each time that he catches you looking back, until he doesn’t stop smiling, and just looks happy, glad to have you there, even if you’re just keeping a silent vigil on the other side of the room.

It's not like you have anywhere to go. It'll take days at least to feel like you haven't just been in a car crash, and days more to locate everything to pack it back up. So long as you don't have to share a bed with John again, you think you could live with this, for at least a week. It can't be that terrible, so long as the others leave you alone. You rather hope they just leave. If you asked, would John send them away?

"John," you say as he sets a plate with buttered toast and a couple of eggs on it in front of you, and sets a couple tablets of paracetamol beside your plate. "If I stay… Will they be staying too?"

"I'm going to have them leave this afternoon. That alright with you? We can go for a walk to the neighbours while they pack up, if you're up for it. Maybe dr-- Well, not drive." He sets his own plate down and sits next to you, handing you a knife and a fork. “Have to get that sorted out. But the neighbours-- Rob and Melissa-- Their dog just had puppies a few weeks ago. Do you like dogs?”

You nod, breaking the yolks of one of the eggs with a corner of toast. "My parents had a dog when I was growing up. Some kind of German shepherd cross. Best boy. His name was Rob Roy, because he was a wee outlaw. Mam found him digging in the trash and--" you stop and give John a baleful look. "Sorry. That was more than you were asking."

"No, that's the most you've said at once this whole time. I'd listen to you talk all day, doll. Don't ever apologize."

"Sorry I-- Oh, shit, sorry--" you press your fingers to your mouth, cutting yourself off. "Force of habit."

"I'd like to see you lose that one. You have nothin' to apologize for. Not one damn thing, and especially not talking. I think you have the prettiest voice I've ever heard."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help smiling. "You're just saying that."

He touches your arm lightly. "You don't know me too well yet, doll, but I never just say anything."

Yet hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate. He wants you to know him, wants you to stay with him, wants you to like him. Even if it makes no sense, the offer is tempting. It's been a long time since you've let someone get close— You've had the occasional fling, and the odd reunion with an ex that you’d stayed friends with, but grief is like a canyon you can't bear to cross. What if you love someone and you lose them, the way you lost your parents? How could you live with that all over again?

Still, there's something that feels like warm sunlight in his smile, and you can't help but incline toward him, slowly but surely reaching for the light. No one can live in the shade forever. There’s no nobility in suffering.

So you let yourself talk, at least a little. And he listens, hanging on to your words like they're precious, gazing at you with something unfurling in his expression that you can't name. You're almost afraid to try.

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Park Jongseong

doll!jay x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m.rec), punishment, pussy slapping, begging, slight choking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, princess), mentions of fire and other supernatural elements, anything else lmk! wc: 10.3k synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion after a month but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house and how they came to be. sunghoon | masterlist | heeseung a/n: hi! with this being the third instalment for this series, it's finally answering some questions while also posing some more! i truly enjoyed writing this chapter and i hope the little word plays and everything get your gears turning with theories! i enjoy hearing your theories so much like i can't even describe it <3 thank you so so so much for the love, i am forever grateful. likes, reblogs, feedback etc are all appreciated!

The doorbell chimes through the air, pulling your attention away from putting away the dishes in the kitchen, and a grin effortlessly spreads across your face. Mia's visit today after a month apart fills you with an immediate sense of joy. Though Jaeyun and Sunghoon are great company to keep, nothing quite compares to the presence of your best friend.

Her absence has been so obvious; her infectious energy seems to breathe life into everywhere she goes, which is a much-missed aura in this mansion; her presence has the power to dispel the shadows and chill that cling to the brick walls.

"Who could that be?" Sunghoon's voice interrupts your thoughts as he strolls around the kitchen island.

"It's Mia, remember? The friend I came here with. I told you she would be coming," you remind him gently, accepting the cup he just dried.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun both offer their assistance with the chores, but their motivations are drastically different. Jaeyun's assistance comes from a place of actually wanting to help and spend quality time with you, whereas Sunghoon is helping because the faster you finish, the sooner he can fuck you in whatever room you wind up in.

Despite your initial concerns, their dynamic surprises you as they seamlessly work in tandem. Rather than competing for your attention, they've embraced the idea of sharing you - an unexpected but pleasant development.

Jaeyun's bright smile at the island warms the room, his anticipation evident, "Will Mia be staying for the last month?" he inquires eagerly.

“Why? Is Y/N not enough?” Sunghoon jabs playfully, his eyebrow arching at his brother's question. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you close so your back is pressed against his chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, "If you'd rather be with Mia, I’m more than happy to have my baby girl all to myself," he murmurs against your neck, planting a gentle kiss on the nape.

Your skin tingles with a mix of excitement and affection as Sunghoon leaves a faint mark, a delighted expression dancing across your face.

“No, no! I was just curious," Jaeyun protests with a pout, his posture relaxing into a slight slouch.  He’s so cute when Sunghoon teases him like that, you’re almost reluctant to stop it. 

But before you can say anything, Sunghoon gently turns you to face him, his expression softening as he meets your gaze, "Remember," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of seriousness, "you can’t tell Mia about us, yeah?”

Of course, you knew that telling her would be disastrous no matter the outcome. She would either think you were crazy and lost your mind, or she would tell the world. Your best friend was never the best at keeping secrets.

“I know, don’t worry,” you offer the simple words as reassurance to him, which paired with the sincerity in your eyes, he gladly accepts.

Leaning in, Sunghoon lands a soft kiss on your lips, his kind gesture relieving any remaining anxieties, "Good. Now, once she's finally fucking gone, come find me in my room," he says with a sly leer, his fingers slithering teasingly over your sides - a familiar trick he uses to make you weak. You should reprimand him for speaking so dismissively about your best friend's arrival, but he just has the power to make you forget.

Sunghoon's demeanour takes a brief shift as he addresses Jaeyun, a hint of authority creeping into his tone, "And you," he gestures towards Jaeyun behind you, his expression momentarily serious, "if you're staying here, you stay absolutely still, got it?"

"Okay, Dad, jeez," Jaeyun retorts, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance at the implication that he needs to be reminded.

You grasp Sunghoon's concern, especially given that you're currently aware of the doll's secret due to Jaeyun's loose lips. However, Sunghoon's tone feels unnecessarily harsh. Jaeyun holds a special place in your heart, and you find yourself fiercely protective of him. It irks you to see Sunghoon address him in such a condescending manner, as if he's incapable of handling himself.

Feeling defensive of Jaeyun, you push against Sunghoon's arm, shooting him a stern look, a firm reminder that he should catch his tongue because both of you know how it affects Jaeyun.

The bell rings again, drawing all three of your attention back to Mia's imminent arrival. Sunghoon excuses himself to his room, and Jaeyun settles comfortably into a chair, leaving you to answer the door with the unspoken reassurance that Mia won’t uncover their secret. But then again, what if you slip up?

It's a nagging worry in the back of your mind as you approach the door. Mia knows everything about you - every hook-up, every situationship, even mundane details like what you had for breakfast each morning. She's your confidante for everything, even the embarrassing stuff like bursting spots on your backside. With her, nothing is off-limits.

You remind yourself to keep your wits about you, to guard your words carefully in Mia's presence. The last thing you need is to accidentally let slip the truth about the dolls and your illicit affairs with them. 

You need to keep your wits about you.

As you swing open the door, greeted by the radiant presence of the angel you call your best friend, every worry and concern fades into the background. Her infectious smile and warm embrace envelop you, dispelling any lingering doubts or anxieties.

"Baby!" you exclaim, unable to contain your excitement as you wrap Mia in a tight embrace, swinging her from side to side. Though it's only been a month since you last saw her, it feels like an eternity.

Mia reciprocates your enthusiasm, squeezing you just as tightly, the warmth of her embrace filling you with a sense of homecoming. Both of you laugh and struggle to breathe amidst the suffocating love you shower upon each other, relishing in the joy of being reunited.

"God, I've missed you. It's so boring back in the city without you," Mia confesses, her words honest as she finally draws back to assess you. Suddenly, she pushes you to arm's length, her hands gripping your shoulders as she scrutinises you with a sceptical expression. With a flick of her finger, she motions for you to turn around, and you oblige, doing a quick twirl to indulge her curiosity.

You give her a quizzical look, tilting your head in silent inquiry as to what she's up to. "You're glowing, like literally, you look fucking amazing," she observes, her eyes scanning you from head to toe.

"Don't I always?" you jest in response.

"Obviously, but you've got that honeymoon glow," Mia insists, walking into the house but not before nudging you with her shoulder. "Is there a hot gardener here that I don't know about, hmm?"

Laughing, you shake your head, dismissing her playful insinuations. You make a conscious effort to maintain the facade, concealing your unconventional relationships with the dolls from Mia, despite her keen observations. 

They must be fucking you good for her to notice a change within a minute of seeing you. 

Mia follows you to the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the various porcelain dolls scattered throughout the hallway, just as she had when you both met Soonyeol for the first time. You sense her unease, evident in the hurried pace of her steps as she tries desperately to evade the watchful eyes of the dolls. 

What she finds unsettling, you've grown to find some comfort in. Each time you clean them, you develop a newfound admiration for their intricate beauty and craftsmanship. Sometimes, Sunghoon will even tell you stories about certain dolls and their origins, adding to the mystique surrounding them.

Entering the kitchen, you find Jaeyun still perched on his seat, his usual joyful smile replaced by a stoic expression as he takes on his doll persona. 

It’s weird to see him like this now, especially because you’ve seen him convey every emotion possible on that beautiful face of his; the solemn look he wears now just feels wrong.

"I brought non-alcoholic wine," Mia announces, reaching into her bag and producing two bottles of white wine. Since she’s driving, she’s bringing you along in her sobriety for the day. If it was easy to get an Uber in these parts, she certainly wouldn’t be settling for 0.05%.

You chuckle at the sight, "Seriously? Gary Barlow wine?" you tease, unable to resist poking fun at her choice.

Mia feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over her heart, "I'll have you know this is my idea of a very nice day out," she retorts, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone as she quotes his TikTok video, struggling to suppress a giggle. "That, and it was £2 off with my clubcard."

You both burst into laughter, her tension from earlier dissipating as you share a lighthearted moment. Grabbing two large glasses, you place them on the table, inviting Mia to pour some for you both.

"How was the drive?" you inquire, taking a small sip of wine.

"It was fine, although longer than I remember," Mia replies with a huff, sinking into a seat opposite Jaeyun. You notice her discomfort as she eyes him, face contorting in a form of disgust, "How has it been here?" she asks, wishing to know how on earth you’re coping in a mansion with such watchful eyes.

"It's a big house, lots to clean. All in all, it's been good.” You sip your wine, struggling to maintain the facade of normalcy. 

The urge to confide in Mia, to unburden yourself of the secrets weighing heavily on your shoulders, is almost overwhelming. You want to tell her about the dolls, the ominous door that almost blinded you, and the sense of anxiety you feel sometimes when you roam the hallways. But you swallow the truth down, burying it beneath layers of false smiles and empty reassurances. It's a lonely feeling, knowing that you can't share your fears and anxieties with your closest friend. But for now, it's a burden you'll have to bear alone.

Mia accepts your answer with a sceptical expression, her eyes never wavering from Jaeyun's impassive face, "It's so fucking creepy," she murmurs into her glass, her discomfort evident in her tone, "Do you actually have to place them around the house? Can't you keep them locked up or something?"

You glance at Jaeyun, hoping for a flicker of reassurance in his eyes, but they remain devoid of emotion, sending a shiver down your spine. It's unsettling to see him so detached, his usual warmth replaced by an eerie emptiness.

Gathering your resolve, you pick up your glass and move to stand beside Jaeyun, offering him a supportive smile before responding to Mia. "It's part of the job, Mia. Soonyeol entrusted me with the responsibility of caring for them," you explain, your voice tinged with a mixture of obligation and fondness.

Mia scoffs at your explanation, "Girl, you're in a mansion on your own, just clean up on the last day. It's not like she would notice," she suggests, her nose upturned in disdain. You can tell that this whole situation is deeply unsettling for her, a puzzle she can't quite solve without knowing the full truth. She will never understand until she’s in your shoes.

"It's... nice, to look after them like this," you say wistfully, casting a fond glance down at Jaeyun as you speak.

Unable to resist the urge to offer him a comforting touch, you reach out to tuck a loose strand of Jaeyun's hair behind his ear, a small gesture of affection. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to nuzzle himself into your touch but Sunghoon’s words are still ringing in his mind.

Mia observes your interaction with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her eyes flitting between you and Jaeyun as if trying to decipher the unspoken language passing between you. You’ve only ever looked at one other man the way you look at him and it was your high school sweetheart.

The connection you share with Sunghoon and Jaeyun is utterly unlike anything you've ever known. They resonate with your soul in a way that defies rational explanation, leaving you convinced that they must be otherworldly beings. There has to be more to them than just kindred spirits trapped in the shell of these dolls; no mere human soul could evoke such a profound hold over you.

She scoffs and laughs in disbelief at your act of affection, “You’ve lost it, completely lost it. Being in this house alone has driven you to insanity,” she shakes her head, crossing her arms.

You retract your hand from Jaeyun and look at her in wonder, “What do you mean?”

It’s completely lost on you how this could look to her because for you this is normal. Soonyeol was strange in your eyes when you first arrived, Mia also accused the owner of being crazy, but now you understand Soonyeol and her attachment to her dolls.

Mia's incredulous gaze flickers between you and Jaeyun, her words dripping with disdain. "Look at you fixing that stupid doll's hair!" she exclaims, her voice laced with exasperation as if your actions are the epitome of absurdity, "You're going to turn into that creepy bitch who lives here."

Her words cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. You can’t feel it but you know Jaeyun would be tensing under her words if he had the ability to. Jaeyun doesn’t like it when people talk bad about his owner, especially since the reason Mia finds her so creepy is because of him and his brothers. 

He does understand to an extent that Soonyeol being so young and cooped up with four dolls in a mansion that can only rival the one in Saltburn might be seen as weird, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear about it, considering the passing comment is from someone who knows nothing about her.

You place a calming hand on Jaeyun's shoulder, your protective instincts kicking into high gear. "Listen, if you're going to run your mouth, just fucking go," you retort harshly, your voice fueled by your need to shield Jaeyun from Mia's unnecessary commentary.

Mia's eyes widen in disbelief, her expression a mixture of shock and frustration. "Y/N, listen to yourself," she chides, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment, “You've gone stark crazy... maybe you should come home-"

"No!" The word bursts from your lips in a panic, cutting off Mia's well-meaning suggestion before she can finish. The thought of leaving sends a wave of fear coursing through you.

Mia recoils at your outburst, taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. "Y/N, I don't think it's good for you here," she pleads, her tone softening as she reaches out to touch your arm.

But you pull away, shaking your head vehemently. "You literally said I was glowing all but 10 minutes ago," you snap back, narrowing your eyes at her, "Just fucking go."

There's a moment of tense silence as Mia processes your words, her expression shifting from concern to anger. She knows there's no reasoning with you when you're in this state, and she can sense the wall you've built around yourself.

"Fine. I'll see you when you screw your head back on," she spits out at you, her voice dripping with ire and disappointment. With one final, venomous glare at Jaeyun, she grabs her bag and storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the halls.

You're left standing there, the echoes of her departure ringing in your ears. Despite the sting of her words, you can't bring yourself to regret your decision to kick her out. At the end of the day, this is the dolls’ house and you wouldn’t like it if someone came into your flat and disrespected you or your belongings.

But you can’t help but process her words as you calm down. You know she is just looking out for you, showing her genuine concern because she knows what isolation can do to someone and their mental state, and maybe she is right. You are attached to the dolls way beyond your own comprehension and it’s taken you just now to truly realise it. 

You cussed out your best friend to protect the feelings of a doll. It's a sobering thought, one that fills you with a sense of unease and self-doubt. 

Maybe you should have gone with her, go back to your normal life, and forget about this place.

In the silence of the room, you turn to Jaeyun, and suddenly any wish to leave vanishes. Just like that. His face now upturned to look at you with sorrow. He looks so beautiful in this light that his being is almost angelic.

You cup his face with your hands, using your thumbs to stroke any semblance of comfort into him before speaking, "She doesn't mean it, Jaeyun," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper in the hushed atmosphere of the room, "She just doesn't understand."

Jaeyun nods slowly, knowing that you’re trying to appease his mind but what’s said has already bruised him. 

Kissing Jaeyun's nose, you offer him a tender smile before gently patting his cheeks. With a sigh, you reluctantly release your hold on him, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air, "I'll go check on the others," you murmur softly,  "I'll be back in a bit."

_____

You shake off whatever you’re feeling and head through the mansion to help the other dolls. Admittedly, your task for moving them around has become much easier now that Jaeyun and Sunghoon move freely except for dinner time, which has freed up a good chunk of your time.

Each step you take echoes softly off the aged floorboards, their worn surfaces groaning beneath your weight. Sunlight filters sparingly through the windows, casting long shadows that dance across the dimly lit passages, adding to the eerie yet enchanting atmosphere of the mansion.

Sometimes you wonder about its history and its owner. How did a 20-something obtain such a grand house and why does she live alone? Of course, she has the boys but even then you can’t exactly take them on a night in the town. It’s so strange to see someone your age devoid of the usual life a young person would lead; no mobile, no wi-fi, not even a computer in sight. 

The more you stay here though, you understand her a little bit better. There’s a comfort in the way this mansion takes your superficial worries away, like how many likes you have on your Instagram post or how people perceive you in general. The eyes that follow you here can’t pass judgment on you, which at the beginning was terrifying but now brings you a strange sort of solace.

As you navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, you can't help but feel a sense of companionship with the dolls scattered throughout. With each step, you offer a soft greeting to your porcelain companions, their frozen expressions seeming to acknowledge your presence in return. If Mia stayed that day, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so threatened by them. 

"Hello there, lovely," you murmur as you pass a doll perched on a velvet chaise longue, her delicate features bathed in the subdued sunlight streaming through the window. You straighten her white-laced dress and smile politely.

Even though the porcelain girl remains silent, you know she’s thankful.

You asked Sunghoon if it was just the four of them who could talk, curious about the dolls that decorate the shelves of the house. He informed you that they aren't sentient beings but each one has a complex past and represents an identity in their own way. Ever since then, you’ve started to view them differently, a new appreciation for them blooming.

While you’re fixing a doll standing regally on the shelf by a towering grandfather clock, her elegant gown billowing around her like a ghostly mist, a faint melody drifts into your ears. It's a common occurrence, though typically happens in the dead of night. Sometimes, in the quiet hours, the strains of a piano tune or the gentle plucking of guitar strings would echo through the halls, adding to the mansion's eerie ambience. 

On your first few nights here, it made you quiver under your bed quilt but now you’ve come to find it a beautiful lullaby.

Following the source of the music, you're drawn to the open doors of the music room, their inviting stance beckoning you inside. Peering around the wall, you catch sight of one of the dolls seated with a guitar, fingers moving across the strings with practised ease.

His head hangs low, a curtain of dark brown hair obscuring half of his face, yet you recognize him instantly. It's Jongseong, his broad shoulders and golden complexion a telltale sign, along with his sharp jawline drawing attention to the almost heart-shaped mark on his neck. 

You can't help but admire the striking beauty that emanates from him, even in this quiet moment of solitude. Sunghoon and Jaeyun's stories about his kindness flood you and memories of his selfless gestures are etched vividly in your brain. 

You recall the time when Jongseong risked getting caught just to offer you a simple plaster for your pricked finger, his compassion shining through despite the potential consequences. And then there are the small, subtle acts of care that he continues to bestow upon you, like the glass of water that mysteriously appears by your bedside table each morning, a silent gesture of his thoughtfulness. 

Then there's the delicate daisy that sometimes rests on your pillow before you go to bed for the night, a token from the front garden that Jongseong must have plucked with care, knowing how much you adore its simple beauty. Every day you go outside and admire the flower as it basks in the summer sun, its life a brightness to contrast the otherwise dreary house.

Jaeyun and Sunghoon both deny any involvement in the sweet actions, leaving Jongseong as the only possible culprit.

“You can come in you know,” his voice suddenly speaks over the gently strum.

Your breath catches at the unexpected sound of his voice, and you freeze in place, startled by his acknowledgement of your presence. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if you imagined it, but the gentle strumming of the guitar persists, a soothing backdrop to his quiet words.

With cautious steps, you inch further into the room, the rhythmic thud of your heart echoing in your ears and adding percussion to his song. Jongseong's gaze remains fixed on the strings of the guitar, his hair casting shadows across his face that do little to mask his smirk.

Now how does he know that you know about him?

Jongseong suddenly screeches the guitar to a halt, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an air of knowingness, "You seem in shock for some reason," he observes, his voice soft yet perceptible in the stillness of the room. With careful precision, he returns the guitar to its glass cabinet.

Your heart skips a beat, torn between maintaining the facade of ignorance and embracing the truth about Jongseong's secret. As his gaze holds yours, uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving your voice hesitant and faltering. "I... I am?" you manage to utter, the words tinged with a hint of doubt.

Wow, so convincing, Y/N, you internally chastise yourself for the lacklustre response, feeling the weight of your indecision bearing down on you. But before you can gather your thoughts and make a quick save for your fumble.

"Jaeyun and Sunghoon are terrible liars," he remarks, his voice calm and composed. "And I saw you just there, comforting Jaeyun because of what your friend said."

His candid admission catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Just like Sunghoon, Jongseong quickly discerned the truth, his thoughts solidified by Mia's careless words and your instinctive need to shield Jaeyun.

Exhaling slowly, you release the tension that had knotted your muscles, allowing yourself to relax a fraction. "She really doesn’t mean it," you clarify to Jongseong, hoping to ease his mind as you had done with his brother.

"It’s okay, you look fucking crazy, to be fair, fussing over some dolls," he replies, his tone surprisingly nonchalant, much to your relief. Considering Jongseong’s caring nature, you wouldn’t want her words to bruise his kind spirit.

You bristle at his casual reference to them as 'dolls,' unable to bear the thought of diminishing their significance, "You aren’t just 'some dolls,' Jongseong," you protest, your voice laced with compassion.

Rising from his seat, Jongseong offers a faint smile as he approaches you with unthreatening steps. "We know that, but she doesn’t. Don’t be too hard on her," he reassures calmingly, his words like a balm to the part of your brain that had been feuding with Mia, now quieting and subsiding under his simple wisdom.

As his hand gently strokes your hair, you feel a sense of comfort wash over you, his touch soothing the lingering unease in your mind. His fingers then trace down to your chin, his touch tender, "You’re good with him, you know, with Jaeyun," he observes softly, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that draws you in.

"He brings out a protective side of me, I don’t really know why," you admit quietly, your eyes locked with Jongseong's as you speak. His half-smirk in response only deepens the adoration reflected in your widened pupils. He closes his eyes like he knows something you don't.

Jongseong playfully pinches your chin before withdrawing his hand,  "Yeah, Soonyeol has been the same ever since she got him," he remarks.

"Have you been here longer than him?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued as you gesture towards the kitchen where you left Jaeyun.

"I’ve been here for…a long time," Jongseong reveals, his voice tinged with a hint of reminiscence, "Heeseung for 8, Sunghoon for 4, and Jaeyun just over a year.."

The weight of his words swirls in your mind, each year marking a chapter in their shared history within the mansion's walls. You find yourself marvelling at the depth of their experiences, each doll carrying different memories and stories within their hollow frames. It now makes sense why Jaeyun knows so little.

That nugget of information must also mean that Jongseong knows everything there is to know about this place, about each of his brothers, if he has been here for so long. Maybe asking him will unlock the mysteries of this place.

"I'm not trying to pry," you begin tentatively, causing Jongseong to lift his brow in curiosity, "But how can you guys...how are you able to talk?" Your voice trails off slightly as you pose the question, a hint of apprehension colouring your words.

To your surprise, Jongseong chuckles softly and smiles wider in response, "Sunghoon mentioned you were snooping around when you arrived," he remarks, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he lets out a long breath, contemplating his next actions before continuing, "You won't give up until we tell you, will you?"

His words catch you off guard, a mixture of relief and curiosity flooding through you. Despite your initial hesitation, Jongseong's casual response reassures you, hopefully paving the way for an open and honest conversation that can curb your nosiness.

“Come on and I’ll show you.”

_____

With intertwined fingers, Jongseong leads you into the library, your mind buzzing with anticipation at the possibilities of what he could be showing you. You grip his hand tighter, excitement coursing through your veins as he pulls you towards the far end of the room.

But as you near that god-awful painting of the sheep, a sense of dread washes over you, sending a chill down your spine. Suddenly, you release Jongseong's hand, the realisation of what he's doing hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, no, no, no," you protest vehemently, shaking your head in refusal, "I am NOT going near that room."

Your mind flashes back to the burning sensation in your eyes, the eerie red light searing into your retinas. Over the past few weeks, you've actively avoided that creepy room, refusing to even glance in its direction. Your curiosity may be insatiable, but you draw the line at risking letting out whatever is in there just in the name of discovering a secret.

Your irises mirror the turmoil within you, reflecting the fear and trepidation that grips your heart. You've made a vow to steer clear of that door and any other painting in this place, focusing your investigations on less ominous artefacts like locked cupboards and hidden pages within books.

Jongseong looks at you with concern, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes your words, “You know about this door?" he asks incredulously, wondering how on earth you ever managed to find it.

"Yes, and I am not going near it," you retort defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest like a stubborn child, "It almost blinded me!"

As you stand your ground, refusing to budge an inch, Jongseong's expression softens, his concern evident in the gentle gaze he fixes upon you, "I promise you, Sweetheart, there is nothing in there that can hurt you, not when I'm with you, okay?" he reassures, his hand finding yours once more as he brings it to his lips, kissing away the surge of fear that threatens to engulf you.

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, knowing that he will protect you from whatever dangers may lie beyond that wooden door.

With a hesitant nod, you allow Jongseong to lead you forward, you trust him but you’re still cautious enough to keep your wits about you, trailing two steps behind him.

Reaching the top of the wooden panel that frames the door, he takes the spare key and unlocks the door. It was really in front of you the entire time and you had no clue; you’re no Sherlock Holmes, that’s for sure.

You let out a breath and scrunch your face, being ready for anything as he swings the door open. Yet, you’re met with darkness - no red light, no flickering flames, nothing like what you saw through the keyhole.

But why does that scare you more?

Jongseong pulls you in, his grip on your hand loosening as he flicks on some lanterns. The room, once plunged with darkness now has a soft glow from the lanterns as they gradually illuminate the space, revealing its secrets in flickering shadows.

It's a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion, with its black stone walls absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. The air feels heavy with the weight of something you can’t put your finger on, every corner whispering tales of those you’ll never understand or know.

In the centre of the room stands an altar, its surface weathered with age and a stone bowl resting atop it like an ancient relic. Symbols etched into the stone tell stories that you can’t translate, the old language lost on you.

As you take in the sight before you, a shiver runs down your spine, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursing through your veins. Where did the red light come from if everything in here looks like it belongs in the Addams Family house?

"What is all this?" you ask, your curiosity overcoming any sense of apprehension as you creep closer to the altar. It's reminiscent of ones you've seen in movies depicting satanic rituals, yet even with its eerie aura, you can't resist the urge to touch it, your fingers tracing the lines of its rim.

"The office," Jongseong replies casually, as if this were a mundane space for everyday tasks like taxes and emails. He flicks on the last lantern and shuts the door firmly, ensuring privacy and avoiding suspicion from any passersby.

As you stand mesmerised by the ceremonial bowl, Jongseong notices your admiration and smiles, "This is the ceremonial bowl," he begins to explain, his body now behind yours, his presence both comforting and electrifying as he presses slightly against you. His fingers intertwine with yours, guiding your touch along the edge of the bowl, "This is how we were summoned"

"Summoned?" you echo, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn to face Jongseong, your eyes wide with disbelief and intrigue.

“Oh, Sweetheart, to bring a doll to life, you need to give it an entity.”

“An entity as in…”

“Any form of life; angel, demon, human, that sort of thing. Someone calls and we answer”

The revelation sends a chill down your spine, the idea of imbuing a doll with the essence of a supernatural being is both fascinating and terrifying.

As you process this new information, you can't help but wonder about the origins of the dolls in this mansion, and the entities that dwell within them. They all possess such different charms and energies that you can only imagine each of them comes from different channels of spirits.

“So what are you then?” you ask Jongseong, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation.

“I’ll leave you to guess that one,” he replies cryptically, pressing himself up against you until your back meets the edge of the altar. The cool stone digs into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But you aren’t scared of me, are you, Sweetheart?" he continues, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. You shake your head, unable to deny the truth, "Then that will give you some clue," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air between you like a tantalizing riddle waiting to be solved.

You stand locked in this intimate embrace, his presence gentle despite the surroundings. 

“What about your bodies?” you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you even though you're not entirely sure what you're asking. Obviously, they didn’t come from the pits of hell or wherever they're from, but you're curious about how Soonyeol managed to choose four dolls, each so perfectly suited to their personalities.

Jongseong tilts his head slightly, considering your question before responding, "Our bodies are vessels," he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery, “We were crafted by the hands of Soonyeol, infused with the ashes of her loved ones.”

Jongseong's response sends shivers down your arms and legs, his words so compelling that they leave you speechless for a minute, "Infused with the ashes of her loved ones?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, your head whirling, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow your nerves.

But before you can fully process what he said, Jongseong breaks out laughing, the sound reverberating off the walls of the poorly lighted room, "She just ordered them online," he says between laughter, his tone lighthearted. "That part isn't as evil unless you count the CO2 emissions from the planes."

Relief floods through you as you realise he’s just joking. You can't help but join in his laughter, the tension melting away as you shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh, you had me going there for a moment," you admit with a chuckle, feeling foolish for having been momentarily taken in by his playful deception.

Jongseong grins mischievously, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "I can give you the link to the site if you want? I know how much fun you’ve been having with the younger ones," he remarks, his laughter fading into a sly grin.

Your cheeks burn crimson at Jongseong's implication, and you shy away slightly, feeling a familiar wave of embarrassment wash over you. It's the same feeling you experienced when Sunghoon called you out for your rendezvous with Jaeyun, a reminder of the unconventional nature of your relationships with the dolls.

You can't shake the nagging feeling that at the end of the day, you're still fucking dolls, no matter how much Sunghoon and Jaeyun reassure you to embrace it. To be fair, the embarrassment hasn’t stopped you yet.

Seeing your flushed face even in the dim light, Jongseong's expression softens with understanding. He cradles your cheeks in his palms, his touch gentle as he strokes your flushed skin, "I'm not judging you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice tender. "I'm just feeling a little left out." He says playfully, making it hard to tell if he is serious or not.

But still his words catch you off guard and you meet his stare with a mixture of surprise and confusion. At that moment, you realise that Jongseong embodies the best of both worlds - the kindness and empathy of Jaeyun, coupled with the confidence and assurance of Sunghoon, coupled with his charm. It's a combination that draws you to him even more, creating a sense of longing.

Throwing caution to the wind, you act on impulse, letting go of any lingering doubts or hesitations. With a surge of boldness, you lean up and press your lips against Jongseong's, catching him off guard with the suddenness of your actions.

His eyes widen in shock at your sudden boldness, but they quickly darken with unmistakable hunger as he responds eagerly to your advance, smothering your mouth with his.

The kiss is electric, igniting a firestorm of sensations that consume you both, leaving you breathless and craving more. His lips are soft yet demanding against yours, his hands finding purchase on your waist as he pulls you closer, his touch somehow searing hot through your skin.

Jongseong groans as he dances his tongue with yours, the artificial buds on his muscle soaking in your taste. You suck on his tongue softly, eliciting a low snarl from him, his hand coming up to grip your hair roughly, while yours slide up his t-shirt, feeling the bumps of his toned tummy.

Drawing back from his lips, you see his entity burning with desire, his grip on you tightening, “Have you ever been fucked on an altar?” he asks, a smirk obvious on his face even in the dull lighting.

“No,” you breathe out, your chest heaving from the kiss.

“I’ll change that for you…if you’re a good girl,” he teases, the hand wrapped in the strands of your hair pushing your head down until you’re slowly following his guidance, sinking to your knees. From this angle, he looks like a god, a being worth worshipping as his aura glows white.

You know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give it to him without question.

He undoes his belt with one hand, whipping it off hastily and placing it on the altar. You start to undo his trousers but as you move to assist him, your actions are abruptly halted by a sharp tug on your hair, forcing you back with a gasp.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes as the roots of your hair protest the forceful grip, but Jongseong's touch softens as quickly as it had hurt you, his hand now tenderly soothing the discomfort he caused.

"I need you to be good for me. It’s important to be good," he asserts, his voice commanding yet soft, "Only act when I say so, understood? I don't want to have to punish you, Princess. You don’t want that either, do you?"

His choice of words and gentle warning only add to the dampness in your pants, the material fully sticking to your wet cunt. You swallow hard as every word, every touch from Jongseong ignites your sense of being.

Both his hands are now on your cheeks, trapping you to look at him, “Words, Princess, use them,” he orders.

Shaking your head, you wonder if you want to obey him and avoid punishment as part of you wonders how far he could go with it.

Jongseong’s a gentle soul with kindness pouring out of him, you question whether it’s a facade to hide something more demanding underneath. Either way, you trust him, so even if you wanted to get a little bratty, you know he would cause you no real harm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, licking your lips as you anticipate his cock laying firm on your tongue. 

“Sweetheart, I’ll let you off this once, yeah? Just make sure you listen from now on,” Jongseong offers you a smile, patting your cheeks lightly before continuing, “If you ever want to stop, or I go too far, you tell me immediately. No amount of my pleasure is worth your discomfort.”

Smiling, you nod and quickly remember his instructions, “I will, Jongseong.”

Jongseong's gaze relaxes further with an accepting nod, and his touch is delicate against your skin, "Good girl," he says, his words a quiet affirmation of your submission.

He gives you the go-ahead to continue undoing his trousers which you eagerly do, your fingers quick to release the silver button and pull down his zip, leaving his trousers pooled at his ankles. You can see his member in the protruding silhouette of his boxers. Out of all the dolls, you’ve been most impressed by Jongseong, his cock is everything a person could dream of; girthy, long, like something off of Love Honey in the best seller’s section. 

You discard his boxers next, leaving his member to spring into action. He is so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, admiring every part of the craftsmanship that went into making such a wonder. Raising your hand, you go to wrap your hand around him gently but you pause, realising you probably need to be told that you can indulge yourself.

Jongseong notices your hesitation and lets out a chuckle, his smile morphing into a knowing smirk as you meet his gaze with eager anticipation, "You're free to go, Princess" he announces, much to your delight, and you need no further encouragement.

Grabbing the base of his shaft you pump him a few times, the soft feeling of his skin welcomed along your fingertips. You open your mouth, staring at him as you lick the tip of his shaft a few times, each time pulsing in your hand. The mechanics of these cocks is a wonder, how realistic they all are.

He gathers your hair in his hands, brushing the wispy strands from your face adoringly, careful not to be too rough with you just yet. You look beautiful to him right now, your tongue swirling around his head, the saliva trail you’re leaving behind every time you remove your plump lips to gather your breath. Soonyeol is beautiful, but you’re like his dream come true. There’s a pang of guilt as he thinks about it but when you start sucking his cock lightly, every thought goes out the window.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pump his cock and use your tongue to massage his bell in your warm mouth, the sensation of his cold cock in contrast to your warmth adds a new layer to your pleasure, already excited to feel him deep in your heat. 

His size makes it difficult to fully take him in, so you use a combination of hand and mouth technique. You see the small subtleties in Jongseong's expression - the wrinkle of his brow, the tightening hold of his fist that inadvertently tugs at your hair again - and realise he doesn't mind how you are approaching it, he maybe even loves it.

It gives you a flutter in your tummy as you see his jaw slacking and his hips subconsciously twitching with pleasure. You’re an overachiever, have been your whole life, and while this is doing him wonders right now, you know you can do better.

Popping off his cock, you tap him on your outstretched tongue, grinning widely when his eyes meet yours. With his attention on you, you force him back in your throat, gagging slightly but relishing in the burn, your hands gripping his muscular thighs.

He hisses as with each bob, he hits your throat, “Fuck,” he grits out, pushing slightly to test the boundaries, and when you gag loudly, saliva dripping down your chin with a spurt, he instantly retreats, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he soothes, his hand lifting your chin.

But you liked it, weirdly, the feeling of choking on his cock stirred something inside you, and your thighs become sticky with your arousal that is dripping down - and Jongseong noticed.

“Wait did you like it?” he asks, tightening his hold on your jaw, “You want me to fuck that beautiful throat of yours wide open?” 

God, yes.

With a nod and eyes full of want, you silently express your desire for him to completely ruin you. However, as you resume, a swift smack to your cheek jolts you, rendering a grimace as you look up at him, perplexed.

"Words, Sweetheart, be a good girl," Jongseong prompts, his voice carrying both authority and care. A flicker of understanding crosses his expression as he reaches out to stroke your cheek where his hand had landed moments before. "I'm here to give you what you need," he reassures, his touch tender against your skin, "But you have to tell me."

With a deep breath, you muster the courage to voice your desire, "I want you to fuck my throat," you whisper.

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he murmurs, his tone gentle as he encourages your honesty. ain some ways, submitting to a man like this is embarrassing, yet you can’t help but feel completely in control at the same time. He’s giving you the option to have whatever you want, something the other two don’t let you do. Jaeyun lets you take control but it’s all for his pleasure, not for your own, and Sunghoon doesn’t let you do anything on your own at all.

As Jongseong begins to push into your mouth, an upsurge of sensations overwhelms you: the hardness of him filling your mouth, the taste of him combining with your saliva, and the sting of tears welling up in your eyes. Despite this, a pleasure runs through your veins, sparking a burning yearning within you, you want more of him, desperately.

Jongseong's voice cut through the veil of your shared satisfaction, "You're doing so well, Sweetheart," he says, his words a calming symphony contrasting to the burning in your throat.

You respond with a muffled moan, your mouth full as you eagerly take him in, your body responding instinctively to his every touch. 

"I love how you take me," Jongseong whispers, his voice laced with reverence and desire, "You're so good for me. You were born to suck on my cock.”

His words alone are making your clit throb and you can’t take the emptiness, so, you reach down and dip your hand into your panties, circling your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. He continues chanting your praises, so lost in the feeling of your mouth that he hasn’t noticed you seek your own pleasure.

As Jongseong continues to revel in the pleasure of your mouth, a sudden interruption jolts him from his trance-like state. Feeling the subtle shift in your movements, he realises what you’re up to.

With a swift motion, he withdraws from your mouth, his grip firm on your head as he pulls you up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, a mix of desire and admonition as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and needy, beneath him.

"Sweetheart, what do you think you're doing?" he chides, his voice low but commanding, “I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself, did it?"

“N-no…I just need you so bad, Jongseong.”

Your quivering voice of desperation makes Jongseong’s knees weak, that playful yet needy glint in your eye begging him to take you on the altar. He knows he has to punish you but you look so fucking sweet with your lips plump and drool on either side of your mouth that he’s almost forgiving you. You speak about the power the dolls have, but you have no idea the power you hold over them.  

But he knows he can't let your transgression go unpunished. With a sigh, he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. "I understand, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice tinged with feigned regret, "But rules are rules, and I can't make exceptions."

You accidentally let out a groan of frustration, rubbing your thighs together, hoping the friction can tide you over until he touches you.

sighing, Jongseong reaches out to caress your trembling thighs, his touch gentle yet possessive, "I know you're desperate," he murmurs into your neck, teasingly hovering over your nape with his lips, “So get on the fucking altar.”

With a whimper of surrender, you comply without hesitation, the anticipation of what's to come heightening your senses as you hoist up on the alter, positioning yourself on the edge. Every nerve in your body hums with anticipation, the need for his touch driving you to the brink of madness.

You’re glad that you wore a sundress today, planning to have a fun girls' day with Mia had its benefits even if it went horribly wrong.

In an instant, he rips off your panties, tossing them in the alter bowl haphazardly and hikes the skirt of your dress to your waist. Your pussy looks so delectable that he thinks prolonging stuffing you with his cock might be a punishment to himself rather than you.

But Jongseong is a man of his word, and if he doesn’t let Soonyeol away with anything, he certainly can’t let you. 

He slaps your thigh sharply, a red mark appearing instantly against your skin, “Move back,” he demands, slapping your thigh once again. His tone is authoritive so you do as you’re told, not wanting to disappoint him anymore.

You spread your legs without direction, hoping your compliance will warrant an early yield in your punishment, whatever it may be. Jongseong licks his lips and smiles triumphantly, falling into your trap.

Yet, just as you begin to feel a glimmer of relief, Jongseong's hand comes down with brutal force, striking your pussy with a harsh slap that echoes through the room. The pain is searing, making you cry out in shock and agony, the sound reverberating off the walls as your body recoils from the impact. Each consecutive smack creates a new wave of pain, coupled with a surge of stimulation that makes you dizzy with sensations.

With each hit, Jongseong's expression regret, yet his actions are a contradiction of brutality, "I'm sorry, Princess," he says between strikes, his voice heavy with sorrow, even as his hand strikes you again, "I know it hurts but every act of defiance deserves punishment," Jongseong whispers, his voice an odd soothing balm, "We’re almost done, just two more, you can handle that right?”

His question, paired with the gentle caress of his fingers against your throbbing pussy, relaxes you, knowing that he meant it when he said he would stop if you wanted him to. Even now, as he looks at you, he's silently permitting you to end this.

But you don't want to. Not yet. The ache between your legs, the desperate need for him, drives you to endure just a little longer, "I can take it, Jongseong," you utter, your voice steady despite the trembling of your body. With a slow exhale, you brace yourself for the final two strikes, determined to prove your endurance and earn the reward awaiting you.

Jongseong's gaze softens with admiration, his hand hovering momentarily before delivering the next blow, "You're so strong, Princess," he murmurs, his voice laced with genuine admiration, "I'm proud of you."

The words, spoken amid your ordeal, fill you with a sense of validation, a reassurance that despite the pain, you're still cherished and valued in his eyes. Even though he warned you this would happen and you disobeyed him, he still gives you praise.

He delivers the last smack with force, putting punctuation on the end of your punishment, hoping that you’ve learned your lesson. And by fuck you have.

Bringing you forward, he sits you up straight, "You've done so well," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead, "Now, let me take care of you."

Without hesitation, he takes his cock and slides himself inside your throbbing pussy, the sensation being both a culmination of need and a reminder of the pain you've endured. 

But as he begins to move within you, the rhythm of his thrusts slow and deliberate, you find yourself surrendering to the pleasure that washes over you. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming as you finally get what you've been craving for.

You moan softly, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch.

But just as you feel yourself on the brink of ecstasy, Jongseong pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for more. "Please," you whimper, your voice thick with need.

Jongseong's fingers find their way to your throbbing clit, flicking it with expert precision, "Not yet, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, "I want to make this last."

The sensation is electrifying, sending you reeling with desire as Jongseong teases you mercilessly. "Jongseong," you plead, your voice a desperate cry for more but he only chuckles, his touch driving you to the edge of sanity as he pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

And then, just when you think you can't take it any longer, he plunges back inside you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the edge of oblivion once more, "Yes!" you cry out, your body arching against his as pleasure consumes you.

Just as you're about to tip over the edge, Jongseong grips your throat gently, his touch both commanding and reassuring, posing no real threat, "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he grabs your attention, "Yet, you've been so bad. Snooping around, looking at things you shouldn't, fucking things that aren't yours." There’s a sly grin on his face as he pulls out again, leaving your hole clenching around nothing, tears threatening to fall as your impending orgasm is ripped away from you again.

Jongseong continues to torment you, his words cutting through the haze of desire, you can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you, "Was the last punishment enough for everything you've been up to?" he asks, his tone laced with both curiosity and a hint of warning.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his stare, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. You know that you've pushed the boundaries, looking around the mansion even when you promised Sunghoon you wouldn’t, and indulged in pleasures that were not yours to claim.

With a shaky breath, you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Jongseong," you murmur, your heart pounding in your chest, "I've learned my lesson."

“Oh, yeah?” he smirks, looking at the ceremonial bowl prettily decorated with your frilly underwear, “You sure?”

Your desperation mounts as you chant a series of "Yes's," your pleas echoing in the cold air of the room. Every fibre of your being screams for him, the ache between your legs driving you to the brink of madness.

And just when you think you can't bear the anticipation any longer, Jongseong plunges back into you, his gaze still fixated on your underwear. The intensity of his thrusts sends shivers of pleasure running through your hot veins, yet beneath it all, a nagging curiosity tugs at the edges of your consciousness.

If you were in your right mind, you would question his fascination with the garments adorning the ceremonial bowl. As he picks up the frilly underwear with his middle finger, a spike of anticipation plagues you, mingling with the pulsating waves of pleasure emanating from his touch. And then, his voice cuts through the air, commanding and authoritative.

"Spit on them, Sweetheart," he instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without hesitation, you comply, summoning every ounce of saliva you can muster before releasing it onto the delicate fabric. The sight of your saliva coating the underwear sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of arousal and confusion swirling within you.

But before you can question his motives, Jongseong's touch intensifies, driving you to the brink of ecstasy once more and rips it away as he tosses the underwear into the bowl once more. 

“No! Please, please, don’t stop fucking me, Jongseong. I promise I won’t snoop around or do anything without you telling me to.”

Your voice is desperate but you don’t care, if he denies you of your orgasm even just once more, you might die on this altar you’re perched on.

Jongseong's eyes light up with expectation, his hand tightening around your throat in a possessive hold while his other lingers over the ceremonial bowl, his muttering casting a dark spell in a foreign language.

Then suddenly, the crimson light floods the room, the same flash of red that almost blinded you. Terror holds you like a vice, pulling at your senses while flames lick hungrily in the air. Instinct urges you to go, to escape the flame that threatens to engulf you, but Jongseong's grip holds you tied to the altar.

There is no escape.

"Shhh, Princess it's okay, it won't hut you. I just need you to beg me," he says, his stare penetrating through the chaos with uncompromising focus, his left hand now sliding to tap on your clit with planned precision, sending waves of thrill surging through your body as he continues, lips hovering yours in a whisper, “Let Hell hear how much you need my cock.”

Hell.

The fire that is burning your skin beside you, that’s what you saw that day through the keyhole, you came face to face with the underworld. And now Jongseong’s opened it up beside you.

Summoning every ounce of courage you possess, you meet his gaze, your voice a trembling whisper as you utter the words he demands. "Please, Jongseong," you beg, the desperation in your tone echoing through the dimly lit chamber, "Fuck me, I need your cock so fucking bad."

His grasp on your throat tightens somewhat, a subtle acceptance of your surrender. With a hungry grin, he moves in closer, his breath hot on your ear, whispering pretty promises, and as his hand continues to work its magic on your clit,  you totally yield to him despite the fear rising inside you.

Kissing you, he fucks back into you, letting go of your throat and focusing all his attention on making you feel good, his hands finding home on your hips. 

The more you moan, the more intense the fire becomes, some of the flicker burning your arm. Jongseong notices your unease and focuses your eyes to look only at him, “It can’t hurt you, I wouldn’t let them,” he whispers, his words causing more confusion but you’re already so far gone, lost in the feeling of his cock punching into your cervix that you can’t question him.

"You're doing fucking amazing, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I want you to scream my name, let all those fucks know what a good girl you are, that you’ll never be like them.” His jab at those below you in the underworld makes your skin tingle.

With each thrust, pleasure courses through you like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending and leaving you breathless with ecstasy. And as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, you heed Jongseong's command, your screams echoing through the chamber as you give yourself over to him.

The flames in the bowl seem to dance to the rhythm of you and Jongseong’s passionate encounter, with each blow of his cock piercing your open, the more you cry out, and that excited the crimson glow.

As the intensity of your pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel yourself teetering on the edge, every fibre of your being yearning for release. And with one final, desperate cry, you let go, surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that wash over you.

Jongseong feels you coming undone and follows suit, his cock twitching inside you and hips pushing him as far as he can reach inside you. 

Once the fires begin to fade, leaving just embers blazing gently in the darkness, you feel yourself returning to reality, your senses gradually returning to you. You notice the air is thick with the odour of burnt cloth and the remains of the fire that previously raged around you.

With a shock, you look down and notice the charred remains of your underwear smouldering in the ceremonial bowl, the flames having eaten them in their fervour. Panic grabs you for a minute, but suddenly Jongseong's voice breaks through the quiet, his words a calming salve.

"I get why the others are obsessed with you, Y/N," he says, his tone filled with admiration and longing, "You belong here, I know you do."

Despite his assuring words and gentle touch as he slips out of you, his hands soothing where he has left marks, lingering questions gnaw at the edges of your mind. "Jongseong," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "what was that fire? And what did you mean by 'those fucks' down there? Was it hell?"

Jongseong’s expression softens, his fingers gently caressing your thighs, his actions were stupid and selfish in the name of his brothers and Soonyeol. He knows he shouldn’t have done that, but he just had to show you off, let everyone know that you were his at least once, “Y/N," he says softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and concern, "there are some things you're better off not knowing. Trust me."

His words give you pause but you’re sick of the secrecy now, “Tell me, Jongseong. I will find out one way or another,” you press him, hoping your tone is half as commanding as he was, “Just tell me, what the fuck was that?”

“Go to Heeseung. He can explain it far better than I can and to be honest, I don’t want to see your face when you find out,” he says suddenly, his tone firm but gentle. Confusion flickers in your eyes, but before you can question him further, Jongseong presses a tender kiss to your forehead, “I will warn you though, Sweetheart, he won’t take kindly to being last.”

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[pedzs]

“To a different ending” FANART

All yours. Good night.

[theminecraftbee]

Impulse stares at the shivering doll in the hole. He grimaces. He looks up at Iskall.

“So like. Have you considered doing this in a less morbid way than making me kill a small copy of myself that is clearly trying to run away?” he asks. He can’t quite keep the combination of mild horror and sarcasm out of his voice.

Iskall peers into the hole. Iskall looks back up at Impulse. Iskall shrugs. “I mean, it’s not that bad, really. You do plenty of morbid things.”

“It’s begging me not to kill it, and it looks like me.”

“Yeah but it’s like. You know. Wooo. Piñata,” Iskall says, making an explosion motion with his hands. “And the candy—in this case experience and items—goes everywhere! It’s like a birthday party, yes?”

Impulse stares at the doll, which has covered its face as it realizes it can’t quite escape the hole it’s been put in. It’s kind of sad. If it didn’t also look exactly like Impulse, maybe it would be less sad, but now Impulse is imagining an alternate version of himself getting buried in a hole for the purpose of getting stabbed, and he’s gonna be honest, it’s freaking him out slightly.

“A birthday party?” he repeats.

“Yep, a birthday party where you kill yourself,” Iskall says, nodding.

Impulse scans his face. “You see nothing wrong with that sentence.”

“Why would I?”

“You know I’m beginning to realize why the vault gods are like that,” Impulse says idly, and then he stabs himself. There’s a single dying scream then, as promised, the doll explodes with so many items the very world itself hitches for a moment to figure out what’s happening. He stares again for a moment before shrugging himself.

“Honestly still less weird than having to take my armor off my corpse,” he says.

“That’s the spirit!” Iskall says. “Feel free to keep making them, yes? It is good of you to catch up so you can also fight Harold.”

Impulse considers asking what, exactly, the herald is. No one has explained yet. Then again, at this rate, the herald will know the exact time and date of his final, permanent death, so he decides discretion is the better part of valor and just starts picking up carbon instead.

That will be a later Impulse problem. Assuming this game doesn’t make him stab him. Not off the table, apparently. Especially if he can name dolls. He should check.

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 2

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

There's commotion from the house, loud enough for Eddie and Robin to hear it outside. Both turn towards the house, Robin halfway to standing up already, and the door is pushed open, El falling through it to get outside.

Someone calls El's name from inside, but she doesn't even turn around. She marches across the lawn to Eddie and Robin. "They are too loud and angry in there. Take me somewhere else."

Joyce makes it out the door next and with a raise of her hand behind her, one finger up, she stops everyone in the doorway. She descends the steps of the porch and Eddie is in awe about how much power she wields because no one follows after. Not even Dustin, who is the absolute worst at following orders.

"Whatever you need," Eddie answers El. He doesn't think she's blinked since exiting the house.

"We can go to Steve's," Robin offers. She's standing now and roots in a pocket of her jeans before pulling out a keychain with three keys on it. "Maybe it'll help being around all his stuff?"

"We can take my van," Eddie offers.

"That would be great," Joyce says, reaching out and grabbing one of El's hands in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, let's get some shoes on."

"Thank you," El says, shooting Eddie a smile before her eyes drop down to look at Steve. A frown returns to her face before she turns and heads back into the house with Joyce.

Robin turns to Eddie, offering a hand to him. She's probably offering to pull him up, but he holds Steve out to her instead. He doesn't understand why she looks surprised at that, but she takes Steve, cradles him close to herself like he had done earlier.

Eddie climbs into his van, starting it and reaching over to turn the dial on the radio down so it's not blasting at the loud volume he keeps it on. Robin hovers with the passenger door open. "You getting in, Buckley?"

"Yeah, eventually. Just thinking if I should crawl in the back. Let Joyce and El have the seats?"

"Oh. Yeah. Probably."

She's absently petting Steve's hair, eyes slightly misty. He watches as she blinks away the tears before letting out a big sigh. "I just want to pass Steve off to whoever will be wearing a seatbelt. I've seen how you drive, Munson."

Eddie catches the teasing tone in her voice and laughs. "Fair. I'll take corners about 3 miles per hour slower than I normally do."

Robin laughs. "That's probably still ten above the speed limit."

"You should not speed," El's voice makes both Robin and Eddie jump. She's standing just behind Robin, and a quick look around shows Joyce on the porch, a worried look on her face but she makes no move to step off the porch.

"Is your mom coming?" Eddie asks. A complicated set of expressions crosses El's face and he's worried he might have asked the wrong thing somehow but then El answers.

"No. Just me. I will sit in the center," She slides past Robin and crawls up onto the bench seat of Eddie's van, scoots across the seat until she butts up against Eddie, and searches for the seatbelt before securing it.

"Here," Robin holds Steve out to El, who takes him, before Robin pulls herself into the van, shutting the door and buckling herself in.

Eddie doesn't go immediately because he's a bit busy watching El look at Steve. She's holding him like she's not sure how. She wraps one hand around an arm and his waist and uses the other to poke a porcelain cheek, right over the two moles just below his cheek bone. He can see the creases of a frown on her face.

"Are you okay, El?" Robin asks, which is good because he was about to, and he thinks his voice will come out more watery.

"I...," El looks up to Robin, then back down to Steve, "I do not know."

It hits Eddie like a freight truck just how young El is. He has to put the van in gear and drive to give his mind something to focus on or he's going to do something stupid, like bear hug El and ugly cry into her grown out buzzcut.

"Hey, that's okay," Robin says, "it's okay to not know how you're doing. This is a complicated situation."

"I barely know Steve," El says, which surprises Eddie. They all seem close, so much so that Eddie still feels like an intruder at times. Still, there is a tone to her voice that seems off to Eddie. "We do not have a reason to hang out. Not like everyone else. Lucas plays basketball with him. Dustin and Max claim him as their brother. Even Erica-"

El stops talking abruptly. Eddie glances towards her but she's staring down at Steve, so Eddie flicks his eyes to Robin, who is already looking at him and making an 'I don't' know' gesture with her hands before Eddie returns his eyes to the road.

"Mike does not care for Steve much," El continues suddenly, the tone still there and Eddie feels like he knows it, "I spent so much time with Mike that I think I did not care for Steve, either. Not on purpose. But- but in a way that you do not care about a thing because it is not important in your life?"

No one says anything else, because what can they say? Shortly after, Eddie pulls into the driveway of the Harrington residence behind Steve's Bimmer. "Alright ladies. Once more unto the breach!"

They crawl from the van and Robin unlocks the door. El and Eddie step through first. El moves into the house, clutching at Steve like he's her favorite stuffed toy. Robin freezes in the doorway, looks like she's not even breathing.

"Buckley?" Eddie is whispering and he doesn't know why.

"Sorry, sorry," Robin exhales a shaking breath. "It's just- Nancy and I- sorry. Uh, El, do you need us to do anything?"

She glides past Eddie to catch up to El and he is left to close the door. He wonders if, maybe, Robin should have also stayed at the Byers-Hopper home. It had been her and Nancy that had come to check in on Steve just this morning. It wasn't unusual to not hear from Steve sometimes (everyone needed their time to just be alone) but today must have marked Too Many Days for Robin because she'd called Nancy for a ride, and they'd found this. A locked house, Steve's car still here, and resting against the pillows of Steve's bed had been the porcelain replica. Nothing out of place, no ransom notes, nothing to make it seem like nefarious going ons had been taking place. Just the Harrington house, devoid of a flesh and blood Steve Harrington.

Coming back must be surreal.

"Eddie, you okay?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Eddie startles a little. He'd been lost in his own head for a moment there.

"Can El have your bandana? She needs something to use as a blindfold."

"Yeah," Eddie moves through the house, to the living room where El has sat herself on the floor in front of the TV. Steve is lain in her lap, a mirror of the image Eddie must have made on the front lawn. He pulls the bandana from his pocket, folding it diagonally before offering it out to El.

She takes it, eyes flicking up to Eddie's. She looks sad. "Can you make the TV staticky?"

"On it."

Robin closes all the blinds and curtains, making the house a bit darker and Eddie gets the TV on, white noise filling the room.

They sit in that white noise for what feels like an eternity but when Eddie checks his watch, is actually about 22 minutes, before El suddenly yanks the makeshift blind fold off with a frustrated huff.

"It is not working!" She shouts.

Eddie looks to Robin, but she looks just as lost about all this as Eddie feels. Well. Eddie's always been good with kids. He'll make the attempt. "El, you said earlier you didn't know if you were okay. Maybe figuring that out will help? It can't be easy to get into the right headspace with other thoughts floating around. "

She looks down at Steve, then back to Eddie. Her eyes are wet. "I am scared."

Eddie nods, "me too. This is scary."

"I am scared I will not find him," she says, then drops her voice to a whisper to continue, "but I am more scared that I will."

He really wishes Joyce would have come with. Or Hopper, Jonathan, Will, anyone who actually knows El. He thinks she need a kind of comfort he and Robin cannot provide. "Well, El, what's the part that's really scary?"

She's quiet for a long time. "Steve has never needed saving before. Not by me. What if I can't?"

"Oh El, it's not on you to save him," Robin says, sliding off the couch to be on the floor with them. She must have more information than Eddie about why El would say that, which makes since, because Robin was part of the conversation when they'd decided to have El try and reach out to Steve. "It's not fair that it's only you that can do this, but we didn't ask expecting you to fix it. That's not the pressure we meant to put on you. All we want is a confirmation. And if you can't, that's okay, too. That'll be okay."

El frowns, bottom lip quivering before she reaches down and picks up Steve, shoving him into Eddie's arms before she launches herself at Robin, arms around her neck and burying her face into Robin's neck. Robin looks startled, eyes wide going to Eddie. He pulls Steve to his neck, in an imitation of the position El is in, then hugs him with one arm and uses his other hand to pet at Steve's hair, trying to make meaningful eyes contact with Robin. She gets with the program, hugging El and petting the back of her head.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You want us to call Joyce or Hopper over?" Robin soothes, her body now gently rocking with El in her lap.

There's a muffled, quiet 'no' from El but that's it. She doesn't say anything else, or move, for a couple minutes.

El pulls back finally, away from Robin to sit up straight. "Okay. I am ready again. Please hand me Steve."

He does, belatedly realizing he was still cuddling and petting Steve. Oh. He really hopes that if Steve is the doll, that he doesn't have any sort of touch receptors going on. That'll be embarrassing.

Steve settled in her lap again, blindfold back on, El tries again.

It takes about two minutes before Eddie watches a bit of blood trickle out of her nose. He shoots a worried look to Robin before lifting a hand, intent on reaching out to El, but before he fully extends his arm, Robin stops him with a shake of her head.

Another eternity passes before El gasps and pulls the blindfold off.

"What happened? Did you find him?" Robin asks.

El looks from Robin to Eddie, then down to Steve, then back up to Eddie, a small smile on her face. "Yeah. He wants me to tell you 'thank you, for taking the time to explain because Dustin never does.' He said you would know what he was talking about?"

"Holy shit." He and Robin say it at the same time. Robin scrabbles over the couch, rather than around it, and dashes out of sight. Eddie doesn't think he could make his legs work if he wanted to. Steve can hear them. (Ha Dustin!)

El deposits Steve into Eddie's arms. "It is him. He does not know what happened, either. He can hear and see. He appreciates that you did not let the sun blind him."

"El, you are the most amazing person I've ever met," Eddie says and watches the grin grow on El's face. "Alright. Well, the first step to a solution is knowing and now we know."

Robin pops back into view behind the couch, "everyone is on their way here now. I tried to tell Will we'd go back to them, 'cause y'know, less people and cars to worry about but I guess they want the base of operations to be here. How mad do you think Steve would be if I got copies of my key made for everyone?"

"I can ask him," El offers.

"Nah," Eddie grins, "it's always better to ask forgiveness than permission. And you'll forgive us, won't you, Stevie?"

Steve, of course, does not answer, but it does settle something inside Eddie knowing that he hears the question.

Steve's a doll. They know that for sure. Now, they can find a solution.