#personally my answer is no they are not dolls

[nkogneatho]

do u have any thoughts bout toji and casual groping….cus like….ive been thinking of him just casually groping one of your tits while watching some corny tv and it’s haunting my dreams pasi….

you aksed the wrong question. you should've asked "how many thoughts you have about toji and causal groping?" and the answer would be way too many.

toji's physical language is physical touch. when he told this to you, you thought it was very sweet. but his comprehension of "touch" is completely different.

it was happen way too many times for it to be just an occasional thing. you're out in dairy aisle to buy something and toji casually swoops in and grab a big chunk of your ass, not giving a fuck that people around are flabbergasted. you keep changing the aisle but his hands stay the same. it's not like you haven't tried to scold him. but all of that falls deaf on his ears so you give up. it's like arguing with a wall anyways.

at home, he's even more brave, and stubborn. it will be a random movie night, with you being so invested in the plot all while munching on some doritos. you notice toji shuffling in the backz but you don't pay anymore attention. he doesn't like scary movies, it's corny for him so he randomly scrolls on his phone. but phone isn't enough to keep him the company and he's cold. you're hogging the blanket. so he does the next best thing. yep. slides his arm under your sweatshirt and gropes your tits. and not just gropes? presses them, plays with them like they're slime and flicks your nipples. he really treats them like his personal heating bag. you side eye him so hard but he is busy on watching some cooking video. is this man for real?

"do you mind?" you cock a brow. not once does he look away from the screen.

"i do not. keep watching the movie, doll." a big sigh leaves your lips, and you go back to your nachos and tv, letting him get his way. halfway towards the movie, you feel his hand dipping further and further to the south.

fuck. feels like you'll reach your climax before the movie does.

[chuellas]

Fine Line | Chuuya is always overworking himself, always choosing work over you and you’re finally fed up with it.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, term “doll” used, a tiny itty bit suggestive if you squint, hardly edited, WC: 5k

A/N | I had no idea where I was going with this one when writing it but I had so much fun writing it

You’re sitting at the bar now. You moved from your reserved table after an hour of waiting, figuring it could go to a couple that actually planned on spending the evening together. You let out another sigh into your gin and tonic. You’ve been at this restaurant for about 2 hours now and haven’t eaten a single thing. It’s your date’s fault, really, they were the one that never showed up. You don’t know why you even try anymore. Dating was pointless in your line of work anyways. 

But sometimes going on dates warded off the loneliness and that incessant craving you get for normalcy.

You check your watch for the time only to find it’s now past midnight. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you finally make the decision to pull out your phone and call the person you actually wanted to spend the evening with. You're pleasantly surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“Thought you had a date.” You’re greeted with a tone that’s laced with exhaustion but something else jumps out too — annoyance, maybe? Or maybe you’re just imagining things after downing your third drink of the night on an empty stomach.  

You hum, pointedly not answering his question directly, as you signal for the bartender to close out your tab. “You still in your office working on that mountain of paperwork?”

The pause from the otherside of the phone is a long one, it’s a contemplative pause you conclude, you can tell he’s trying to decide whether to humor you or to push his own question. It would be a waste of his time to go with the latter, you had no intention of breaching the topic of you being stood up yet again. This time especially stung with it being a woman and all. You thought she would have known better, or at the very least have the common decency to warn you of her impending absence, knowing very well how long it takes to get ready for a first date. You shaved and took an “everything” shower for this occasion.

A soft sigh of defeat is heard from his side and you grin widely, Chuuya is much smarter than he’s given credit for. “So what if I am?”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” You don’t give the executive room to argue as you hang up on him. 

As if on cue the bartender brings you the receipt and your card, after signing you leave a generous amount of cash in the tip jar with a smile. You leave the restaurant the same way you came, without a word as the manager babbles on about how much of a pleasure it was to have your patronage. You wave him off with the same smile that’s feeling more forced by the minute as you step into the elevator.

When the doors slide shut after what seems like an eternity, you’re finally able to relax for a moment. The disappointment of another wasted night sinks into your shoulder, making them cave in. You deflate in defeat, having to resign to a fate that’s been set by some stupid carrot topped man that has to use his ability to reach the top shelf of overhang shelves. He’d never admit it but you’ve actually caught him doing it before. 

This was all somehow Chuuya’s fault. If he ever did anything other than work you wouldn’t seek solace in other people. You would be able to let yourself actually explore the feelings that stir in your chest when you’re around the ginger. But instead you’re stuck calling him after failed dates to see what he’s up to and if you can get away with bugging him. 

Headquarters is just a few blocks north of where you’re at, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to get to Chuuya. Well, maybe 20 since your favorite ramen place is on the way and you know they’re still open. So you have to stop there for two bowls because not only have you not eaten but you know Chuuya probably hasn’t either, being too engrossed in his paperwork to remember that basic bodily functions exist. 

Another 5 minutes after picking up the ramen and you’re making your way up yet another elevator to the floor that holds both your office on one side and his on the other. You take a moment when the doors open to decide whether you want to go straight to Chuuya’s office or if you want to stop at yours to change into something far more comfortable than the dress you’re currently wearing. Your stomach ultimately makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. The ginger’s office it is.

You don’t even bother with knocking, too tired, hungry, and impatient to wait on him to answer. The door creaks as you push and then groans out a complaint when you kick it shut behind you. Chuuya isn’t even fazed when you enter, his nose still buried in his paperwork. Thankfully the pile was no longer a mountain, more of a small hill now. It still looks like an hour or two’s worth of work. You’d offer your help if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure you’re drunk. 

Making yourself comfortable without a word you saunter over to his desk and choose to sit yourself on top of his scattered paperwork, plopping the ramen in front of him.  

Chuuya freezes, staring at the bag of food in disbelief before turning his accusing glare at you. “What the f-”

His words die in his throat when his eyes finally land on you. Even in your slightly, maybe more, inebriated state it’s hard not to notice the way his eyelids droop as his dual colored eyes scan your figure. He must be really tired, he’s usually far more tactful when he checks you out. 

You swing your legs where they dangle from his desk, pleased with yourself and his reaction. “I brought you some dinner. I didn’t get a chance to eat so I figured neither have you. Looks like I was right!”

Chuuya has to practically tear his gaze from you to see what you’re talking about. You untie the bag to reveal two containers filled to the brim with ramen. You lean in to read the labels to make sure you were taking the right container but in the process it gives the executive a nice view right down our cleavage. You have to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch at your lips when you hear the way his breath stutters. Maybe now you’re the one not being tactful but you figure someone deserves to appreciate the way you look in this dress since the intended party will never get to. 

“You stop at that shop down the road?” Chuuya clears his throat as he waits for you to grab all of your things before reaching for his own container.

You kick off your shoes and jump off his desk to pull a chair up to the opposite side. “Yeah, thankfully they stay open late. Can you clear some of the papers up? Don’t wanna get them stained in ramen broth.”

“Really makin’ yourself at home, aren’t you, Doll?” He raises a brow at you in amusement but clears his desk off regardless.

You hum and nod your head, too busy taking a bite of your ramen. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head and you let out a pleased hum at the flavors dancing along your tongue. The savory taste of the broth alone almost completely washes away the lingering bitter aftertaste the last few hours left in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you had stepped foot into that shop. Now you are famished and even the most bland of foods would taste absolutely divine in this moment. You’re so absorbed in your meal that you don’t even take notice of the way the ginger sitting before you is watching you so intently that he hasn’t even touched his own food. 

It’s not until he clears his throat that you peer up at him. “You’re eating like you’ve been starved, didn’t you have a date tonight?”

There’s that question again, you suppose you gave him too much credit earlier. He wasn’t smart enough to just let it go. Or maybe he really was just letting his curiosity get the best of him. Either way there was no way in hell you were going to tell him that another date bailed on you. So instead you smile sweetly.

“You know how small the portions are at those types of restaurants, I took like two bites and it was all gone. Had some drinks after too. So, yeah, I’m famished. I know you are too. Eat.”

Your tone leaves no room for question. You’re both dancing around touchy subjects. Chuuya knows if he wants to get you to admit what really happened he would have to swallow his pride and admit he was overworking himself and he'd be damned if he ever let that happen. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

You watch him through your lashes as he opens the ramen and takes a bite, and then another, and then another. He hardly ever eats when there’s work to be finished. This is definitely a rare occasion and you have a sneaky feeling, somehow during the few seconds of your exchange in challenging glances, something shifts between the two of you. 

You stare at the other executive absolutely gobbed smacked at the fact that he’s actually listening to you. Your eyes are wide, your jaw is dropped open, and the chopsticks you were using to eat fall from your fingertips and splash into your soup. A few drops from the broth fly into your eye and you let out a hiss at the sting from the spices and temperature. 

The moment the two of you just had ends just as swiftly as you fan at your eyes frantically and then hold out your hand to Chuuya. “Eye drops- Oh my god your eye drops. Now, Chuuya.”

The ginger is jolted from his stupor when your voice becomes sharper. He reaches into the drawer to his left and produces a small bottle of eye drops, something you knew he keeps around due to his frequent late nights burning the midnight oil. It’s how he keeps his eyes from getting dry with exhaustion. 

You snatch the small bottle from his hands and throw your head back to all but squirt the soothing solution into your eye. It takes a moment to work, the sensation getting worse before it gets better. But after a moment you’re good as new, maybe even better than before. 

It’s a truly sobering experience and any left over buzz you were holding onto sadly fizzles out. You’re now stone cold sober and kicking yourself for coming here this late, know the only outcome is getting sent away so the ginger could finish his work in peace. You’re nothing but a distraction to him.

But if that were true, why even let you into his office, his space, in the first place?

“Thanks…” You hand the medicine back to Chuuya and pick your chopsticks back up to continue eating, pretending like nothing happened. “So, how many nights in a row have you slept here this week?”

You tilt your head to the couch that has a head pillow and blanket set up on it — inviting, almost, if you didn’t know how incredibly uncomfortable that couch was. It couldn’t be good for his back. You know he already deals with the residual chronic muscle pain he experiences after using his ability, especially after using corruption. You wish he would slow down, his body already pays for his ability, it doesn’t need to suffer because of his excessive working habits too. 

But then you would just sound like a broken record. 

Chuuya never really listens. He’s stubborn that way and it’s not just his body that pays for it, his social and love life pay the price for it too. It’s frustrating to care so deeply for someone who would rather think of others and their work than their own wellbeing. 

What’s worse, though, is that you’re selfish. You’ll take the heated stares and intimate touches in the dead of night on the rare occasions he’s not spending them at his desk over nothing at all. Maybe it isn’t selfish, maybe it’s self-deprecating but you can’t help yourself. You’ve tried to move on — that’s what you were trying to do tonight. But the universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor, so you once again find yourself in his office during the devil’s hour.

Suddenly you hear a muffled voice and you’re thrusted back to reality. Chuuya looks at you expectantly and you furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“I said: I figure you wouldn’t be eating with me right now if your date went well, you’d be over at his place, right?”

Your eye twitches in irritation and not from the soup broth that landed in it just moments ago. He’s trying to evade your question. Of course he was actively avoiding it, why would he ever admit to you something that you don’t think he’s admitted to himself. 

What’s worse is he’s pushing his question from earlier. Wording it differently to mask his nagging curiosity. His gaze is hypnotizing, something shifts again. You don’t think you care for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. The usually light and exciting flutter of their wings now feel like razors slicing their way up your throat. It burns and you might throw up.

It’s so unfair, the way he makes you feel is unfair.

You don’t know what possesses you but a single syllable flies past your lips in response before you can catch it. “Her.”

“Her?” And this man has the audacity to look semi-amused as he says the word back to you in a questioning tone. 

In that moment you know he knows and you watch in abject horror as his amused expression twists into a knowing one. Now you’re sure, he’s aware that you know he knows. 

Your eye almost twitches again at the way his brow raises in amusement at your answer and suddenly you feel defensive. You don’t give a shit if he knows what you’re trying to do by dating around. You don’t care if he knows that each attempt has ended in failure. You don’t care that he knows that each failure ends in you crawling back to him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

You steel your expression, eyes becoming sharp as they bore into Chuuya. “Yeah, it was supposed to be a woman I was meeting tonight.”

“Well she’s an idiot for not showing, especially when you look like that.” His tone sounds sincere and it makes you want to throw up.

You let out an incredulous scoff — you can’t believe that he just said that, of all people. “She’s not the only idiot.”

“She’s not?”

Now he’s really starting to piss you off, his smug expression tells you all you need to know. This must all be a game to him. He’s toying with you, he has to be, and he has been for a while now but you’re finally sick of it. You’re tired of the constant back and forth but not getting anywhere because he would rather stubbornly overwork himself half to death to have an excuse to avoid you than admit his obvious feelings for you. 

The revelation sends your whole body into a fit, you’re trembling and seething and it’s pouring out the seams. You’ve cracked. You should congratulate him, really, no one has elicited this much emotion from you before.

Chuuya’s demeanor changes when he notices how worked up you seem to be getting but he’s too late. You’re already past the point of being settled down because you’re shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. Your nostrils flare in irritation and ears flush in anger. 

“No, she’s not the only idiot that’s managed to fumble me. Look in a mirror and you’ll know who the other person is. Enjoy overworking yourself to death. I’m going home.” 

All at once the blazing rage that washed over you burns out when Chuuya makes no indication of moving to stop you and immediately you wish the ground would just crack open to swallow you whole. Suddenly you’re all too aware of your response to his play. It was more of an overreaction. How embarrassing? How is it that he’s able to elicit this strong of a reaction from you. 

How can he not follow after you like he has better things to do?

But he does have more important things to do than console you, doesn’t he?

For the second time tonight you’re mortified, but unlike earlier, this one was your own doing. You just threw a fit, had an actual tantrum, over someone who has made it clear he’s not ready for something that you think you are.

Maybe selfish is the right word.

You contemplate halting in your spot and apologizing but your pride keeps you from doing so. You should have never put all your cards on the table. You curse yourself for ever letting your true feeling for the ginger slip that one drunken night several months ago that when asked about the next day you had conveniently forgotten all about it. Something tells you that he remembered it clearly, so, if not stopping you was his final response to your confession then you have to accept that. 

Your hand reaches out for the door knob and you almost flinch when it comes in contact with the cold metal. He’s really just going to let you leave like this. Your head is a mess— no, your whole body is a mess. Your head is filled with fog, a mist of endless thoughts descending on you to make everything blurry. Your chest is like a tsunami of emotions washing over you in sharp waves. Then there are those damn razor sharp butterflies that are still threatening to claw up your throat. 

But just as you start to turn the knob, a gloved hand covers your own and halts your actions. Your breath hitches when the anxiety you’d been feeling just a moment ago completely dissipates. Chuuyas chest is pressed against your back and his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Chuuya wha-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish your question when he mumbles out, “I don’t need a mirror to know that…”

Oh. 

Is he really implying that he knows he’s been a fool? Is the world coming to an end? Chuuya? Admitting to being an idiot? You thought there was a higher chance of getting struck by lightning before hearing anything of the sort from the executive himself. 

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, you think your brain’s been fried, convinced that Chuuya can see the steam rolling out of your ears as you short circuit. “For what?”

You croak out the short question, words catching in your throat. It surprises even you when a sob follows. You hadn’t realized that the emotions you were feeling hadn’t dissipated but instead had been forced out in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“I…I’m sorry for…” Chuuya trails off and curses under his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry for not putting you first.” 

His voice trembles in something akin to fear. Something in your chest tears at his tone and it hurts. You look up at the ceiling to try to blink away the water that’s blurred your vision and take in a sharp breath after getting winded from the sudden blow. Your hand finally falls from the door knob and you both stand there in silence. The only noise is the grandfather clock that stands tall on the far end of his office, if it wasn’t for the loud ticking, everything would feel frozen. Something about the silence on your part is agonizing, you want to respond, but your voice is caught in your throat, swallowed dryly as you try to wet the dry patches stinging the lining of your esophagus.

Funny how your eyes feel too wet while your throat is too dry. 

You try to take a few breaths to calm yourself down enough to speak but you can feel the impatience radiating off of Chuuya and it just makes you even more anxious. It almost physically pains you but you take a step away from the ginger and stride across the room to an open window. Fresh air, something you always appreciated about Chuuya is that he prefers open windows and fresh air to fans or air conditioning if he can help it. The executive doesn’t follow, he hasn’t even moved from his spot. His head is still drooped down from where it was resting on your shoulder and suddenly your mouth and throat flood with saliva. That familiar feeling of nausea hitting you like a freight train once again.

You clear your throat to speak but realize -- how the hell do you respond to that? Are you really upset with Chuuya? Yes. Are you upset with yourself for letting things go this far? Also yes. So, as much as you want to blame all of this on the gravity manipulator, you can’t. 

Your shoulders slump and your gaze stays glued to the twinkling city lights in the skyline as you finally speak. “You always chose work. Always.”

Chuuya looks up at that. Your words seemingly hit a nerve as irritation flashes across his face before he can contain it. You bristle at that, preparing for an argument. You’re exhausted and don’t want to argue but you will if you have to because although you know you’re at fault too, you’re not going to just let this asshole get away with his part in all of this.

Luckily, the ginger simmers down easily and slumps again, showing you how truly exhausted he is. “That’s not entirely true, I chose you…Sometimes….”

“You think I should be grateful for that? You only chose me instead of work ‘sometimes’ to make yourself feel better about stringing me along.” You’re not looking at him when you speak, too interested with the view, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.  “Or to get your mind off of work. I was just an escape to you. Nothing more.” 

This time you don’t have to look back at him to feel the frustration radiating off of him in a similar way gravity manipulation does when he activates it. It’s hot, his frustration, you imagine if you reached out there was a chance you’d get burned. It’s rare to witness Chuuya losing his cool like this, the only other person besides yourself that could get him riled up like this long gone from the organization. Thinking about him makes you even more bitter so you take another stab at Chuuya.

“You certainly put on a convincing act, though. So congrats for that I guess.”

Snap. 

You imagine that’s the sound that would’ve been made when Chuuya’s patience finally breaks. His steps are heavy and you almost think he’s activated his ability. You almost forget how fast he is because you barely have time to turn around before he’s got a firm grip on your face. His hold is unrelenting as he forces you to look at him. 

Chuuya looks like a wreck, so many emotions written all over his face but most of all he’s hurt by your words. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be lashing out at him like this but a part of you is pleased that he looks just as devastated as you feel. This is not your proudest moment by far and you’re sure you’ll feel ashamed over it later. Right now, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty in the slightest. You said what you said and you're going to say it with your whole chest.

A shaky breath is let out by the executive standing before you. “That’s unfair. You’re being unfair.”

There’s no way this man is accusing you of being the unfair one here.

“You were unfair to me first. I’m tired. Be straight with me or just leave me alone, Chuuya.” Any fight you had in you moments ago vanishes as you finally give up.

Chuuya’s reaction shows you that he sees it, the way you’re letting him hold all the cards in this, making this his decision, the final one when it comes to this situationship. You’re done, you’re tired and now you just want this shitty night to be over with. If you had a white piece of fabric on you, you’d wave it like a flag, surrendering completely. 

He’s not good with his words, Chuuya has never been as articulate as some of the others, but he is good with actions. His actions have always spoken volumes for him, so why wouldn’t that work for him now? The executive pulls you in and crashes his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to convey to you what he couldn’t speak.

You’re a little slow on the uptake as your brow furrows and you attempt to pull away. You look at him incredulously but the expression he’s making has you halting altogether. His eyes are screwed shut and his brows furrowed in concentration and maybe a little bit in fear by the way you can feel his lips and hands slightly trembling against your face. It clicks then.

Chuuya Nakahara is finally choosing you over his work. 

This was him telling you in his own way that he’s not letting you give up like you wanted to. And if you can claim to know anything about Chuuya, it’s that he always makes good on a promise. That’s what has you melting into his hold and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

You both stay like that for a long while and you feel like Chuuya is trying to devour you whole in this one single kiss. As if he’s scared that if he doesn’t, you’ll slip from his grasp forever, but that would be impossible with the way he’s holding onto you for dear life. Even if you wanted to, which in this moment you didn’t, you couldn’t escape him. But you do need to pull away for air though. You shift your face the best you can away from his and even though he tries to chase your lips, you manage to separate from him.

You instantly bring your hands up to his wrist and nuzzle your face into his hands, showing him you still have no plans of going anywhere. The tension in his body dissipates and he watches you closely, patiently waiting for your response. As if you kissing him back wasn’t enough. 

“You piss me off, y’know that?” Chuuya lets out a chuckle at your statement and leans in to rest his forehead on yours.

His eyes bore into yours and there’s something there that you’ve never seen before, a sort of adoration you think he’s been holding back for a long time now. “Yeah, I have a confession to make that might piss you off even more…”

You stiffen in anticipation for the worst, staring up at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. What was it now? You wrack your brain thinking about what he could possibly still be holding back. All you wanted was to know where you stood with him and now you do. So what else would he be hiding from you?

“It’s, uhh…Well it has to do with your date tonight, and maybe all of the other first dates that stood you up…” The look on your face must tell him that you’re picking up on where this is going and his grip on you tightens once again. “It was fucked up of me, I know. I’ll- I’ll make it up to you…I’ll take you out on two dates for each first date I ruined.”

Oh. 

You can’t even really find it in yourself to be that upset. It clears up a lot of inconsistencies for you. You have full confidence in your personality and looks, so it wasn’t adding up why you were being stood up so much. Even with you being a part of the upper echelon of the Port Mafia, that’s not public information. So, intimidation was ruled out too. You are becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of it all.

Maybe you should find it in yourself to be more upset about this…

Your expression displays just how unconvinced you are by his words, Chuuya can clearly see it and sense it so he tacks on some extra sweet talking to sooth your overthinking. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for anyways.”

Your previous statement of Chuuya not being very good with his words is a lie. You were lying. The simple statement is enough to have you melting into him again. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe you’re just that down bad for him. Or maybe it’s all of the above. Who knows (you do).

Either way you find yourself giving in again for hopefully the last time tonight, but not before you decide to add a condition for your own benefit. “...Fine. But any trip or out of town get away counts as only one date.”

“Don’tcha think you’re getting greedy now, Doll?” Chuuya lets out another chuckle, shaking his head a little.

You shrug with a soft grin on your lips. “No, you owe me. Plus, it’s like you said, got a lot of time to make up for.”

[t3ddyd0ll]

How about a short story from the second person about doll darling being insecure that Thomas is gonna replace them? They over hear some people talking about how since doll isn’t new any he should start looking for a replacement. They also over hear Thomas himself talking about replacing something (he’s talking about something completely different) and doll just spirals from there. This ends with doll clinging to his leg the next time he tries to go out(boo hoo crying ofcourse) begging him not replace them meanwhile Thomas is just flabbergasted at the idea. A healthy dose of miscommunication never hurt anyone 🥰.-🦇

You haven't stopped shaking since last night.

The anxiety is all consuming. You overheard Thomas and his friends talking about a replacement doll, talking about getting something new and pretty, something else. You felt so discarded, so betrayed; did you do something wrong? Did you disobey and he let it slide because it doesn't matter anymore? Or worse, did you bore Thomas?

You were resistant to his dollification of you at first. Almost anyone would be. But you've worked so hard to be good now, to please him, to be the perfect doll- and now you're just getting thrown away??

Oh, God. The thought makes you want to throw up. You can't leave, you can't.

You try to keep your anxieties hidden as he gets you ready for the day. It doesn't last long, however, as Thomas notices the sadness in your eyes almost immediately after waking you up.

He helps you to the vanity, brushing your hair and looking at your downturned mouth in the reflection of the mirror. You haven't looked so sad since you first got here, and it breaks his heart.

"What's wrong, my dear?" he asks gently. He's always so gentle.

You shake your head in response. You're not ready for him to tell you to your face that he wants to throw you away, but he doesn't take that as answer.

"No. Tell me why you frown."

The brush goes across your hair one last time, and is then set on the vanity.

"I don't feel good," you lie, and Thomas knows it. His brows furrow, and he moves to stand in front of you instead of behind. He takes your chin in his hand, tilting your head up to look him in the eye.

He speaks a bit more firm to you now. He's never liked it when you lie.

"Try again."

"I- I just-" you stutter, eyes threatening to prick with tears. The thought of you being thrown away hits your mind again, and you nearly start shaking.

You can't help it. You swallow the lump in your throat, and shrug pathetically. You don't have the strength to hear him say the words, hear him tell you that you're not good enough anymore. You'd rather pretend, just a little longer, that Thomas still loves you.

Thomas breathes a sigh of frustration, and his landline begins to ring downstairs. You know he's been waiting on an important call. Perhaps news on the new doll.

You can tell he doesn't want to leave by his hesitation to let you go, but the phone doesn't stop. He kisses your hair, and tells you before he leaves, "You'll tell me the truth when I come back. Understand?"

You nod, and watch him go.

A few moments later, you hear him speaking on the phone. Something about needed to leave soon, something about it being "ready."

Oh, God. Oh, God oh God oh God oh God!!!!! It's happening too fast!!!! It's happening too soon!!!!

You begin to hyperventilate, clutching at your shirt and watching your vision blur as the tears spill over like a flooding bath. Thomas comes back shortly after they start, rushing to your side when he sees your distress.

"Doll-" he starts, but you interrupt him in a panic.

"Please don't get rid of me!" you cry, throwing yourself on the ground and clutching onto his pant leg. Your forehead hits his thigh, as if to worship.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I don't know what I did but I'll do better, I'll be better, I'll be good, I'm so sorry! Please!"

Thomas is quiet, quiet, quiet. You keep crying, and pleading, and shaking.

He pries your hands off of his leg, and holds them in his own. Then, he kneels down, and cradles your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"Shhh," he hushes, and out of instinct from months of training, you obey immediately. Your wailing turns to hiccuping cries, your voice shut off entirely.

"What made you think I'd be so cruel?"

You look at him, still frowning. "Y- you-- you and your friends, at the p- party... You talked about- about a replacement doll..."

Thomas coos at you, his face softening in pity.

"Nothing could replace you. My poor, sweet, doll.."

He pulls you closer to him, encasing your body in his. Your head lays at the crook of his neck, tears soaking into the collar of his sweater.

"I'd never get rid of you. I don't know what you heard, but it wasn't right. You're mine, you're always mine, do you understand?"

The relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. You cling to him a little more, so thankful to hear he still wants to keep you. That he'll always want to keep you.

You nod in response. "I'm sorry.."

"Ohhh," he croons, petting your hair. "You just got confused, that's all. It's okay, dolly."

He holds you there for a little longer while you collect your composure. Then, Thomas helps you back up into the chair, and makes you promise to talk to him if you hear anything that makes you upset like this again. He helps you stop crying, giving you a smile as the tears finally end.

"There's my pretty doll," he praises. He looks at you with a fondness you'll never grow tired of. "Now. Let's get you ready for the day, hm?"

[gingeragenda]

kicking my feet and giggling at how bitter angbang shippers are. yall never seeing your ship on the big screen :) n if haladriel makes u so mad, maybe u should take a couple of deep breaths and understand that none of this is real? we're all smushing our barbie dolls together here. u r 40, get it together.

are you the same person who in a very humorous manner asked for a fight?

If yes, this is a very silly answer and you don’t understand how to fight

if you’re anyone else…

haladriel does not make me mad. It is even referenced in one of my fics. In which Galadriel and Sauron have sex. I am sorry that you have been offended by this tongue in cheek post. I imagine you don’t follow me and therefore are unfamiliar with my sense of humour

Either way, I notice you have not engaged meaningfully with any of the points raised in my previous response.

[paci-papa]

Sorry, little ones, but Papa is going to go into lecture mode for a moment.

Papa got this ask recently:

"Mr paci I gotta say all your stories make me very blushy and squirmy how do you feel about little boys who are still male but are femboys like boys who are male but want to be more feminine and soft instead of being big and strong all the time anyway yeah bye 🫣🫣"

This short little message requires an answer with a lot of nuance.

Papa believes strongly that gender is a spectrum and all people on that spectrum are valid, little or big.

Papa also believes that categorizing things into stereotypical gender binaries ignores that reality and is inherently harmful to everyone on that spectrum by either ignoring their identities or creating problematic stereotypes.

So, the short answer to this question is that, of course, Papa supports little boys who may be more stereotypically 'feminine.'

In Papa's mind, it's completely acceptable for any little to want to wear dresses or overalls or play with trucks or dolls. All that matters to Papa is that you are engaging in behavior that makes you happy!

However, Papa also received this ask today:

"I am a new diaper sissy. What would you recommend to help me get used to wearing my diapers and girly’s clothes in public? Any outfit/accessory/activity suggestions?"

Papa finds this sort of 'play,' specifically sissy play, potentially problematic.

If the reason a person is interested in engaging in a particular 'feminine' activity is because the taboo created by engaging in gender non-conforming behavior turns you on, that activity is serving to reinforce the gender binaries and stereotypes that Papa hates.

Because of that, Papa doesn't support those sorts (most notably sissy) of gender play.

I understand that this may be confusing, and that is why Papa wanted to take the opportunity to explain this.

Since I know you babies have short extension spans, here is the tldr:

All genders are valid. Gender dichotomies and stereotypes are wrong. Papa supports littles of all genders and with all interests. That said, if you fetishize gender dichotomies and stereotypes, you are part of the problem, and Papa doesn't engage in that type of play.

[communicationthroughlyrics]

You're A Doll, You Are Flawless

“I promise, after this time, I won’t try again.”

No triggers- just some fluff for the new year. And BTW- for this our girl is not married :]

2.1k Word Count

The first snowfall of the year had painted the quaint mountain town in a fresh, clean white. The quiet streets of Aspen were a stark contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of the big city where you spent your summers. From the warmth of your home office, you peered out at the peaceful scene, lost in thought. Your eyes followed the path of a solitary figure in the distance, their red coat standing out like a drop of blood on the pristine snow.

Lizzie Olsen. The woman who had haunted your dreams and consumed your thoughts for the past two years. She was the one that got away, the one that always seemed just out of reach. Each summer, you tried, but she remained as elusive as the shifting shadows cast by the setting sun. Now, as the calendar turned to a new year, you made the same silent promise: this time, you wouldn’t let her slip away again. But this year would also be the last year you tried.

You watched her from the window, the figure growing larger as she approached. She walked with purpose, her breath forming clouds in the cold mountain air. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, a few rebellious strands escaping to frame her face. Her cheeks were rosy from the chill, and her eyes sparkled with the reflection of the snow. The sight of her stirred a warmth in your chest that the fireplace couldn’t match.

The doorbell rang, pulling you out of your reverie. You took a deep breath, steeled your nerves, and answered the door. Lizzie stood before you, her smile as radiant as the snow around her. “Hi, I hope I’m not bothering you,” she said, her voice as sweet and warm as the cider she held in her hands. "I wanted to come say hi before I flew back to LA."

You stepped aside, allowing her in. The scent of cinnamon and cloves filled the room as she handed you the cider. "It’s no bother at all," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the racing of your heart. "How was your trip?"

Her eyes searched yours for a moment before she spoke, "It was… interesting." There was a pause that hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. You led her to the couch, setting aside the work you had been pretending to do. The crackling fire provided the only sound as you both took a sip of the warm drink.

"How so?" you questioned, your curiosity piqued. Lizzie took a seat, her gaze flickering to the fire before meeting yours again, a distant look held within them.

"Well, I had some time to think," she began, her voice low and contemplative. "I've realized that maybe I've been too focused on my career. I've missed out on a lot of things, you know?"

You nodded, unsure of where she was heading with this conversation. "But you got things out of your career that you wouldn't have gotten otherwise, Liz." The fire cast a warm glow on her skin, highlighting the apprehension in her eyes. It was a side of her you hadn't seen before—vulnerable and reflective.

"I can't help but feel like I have been focusing on the wrong people and the wrong things." she continued, taking another sip of the cider. "I've had relationships that were more about status than substance."

You felt a twinge of hope, but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself. You had been here before, thinking she might finally see you for who you truly were. You remained silent, giving her the space to continue.

"And then there's you," she said, eyes locking onto yours. "Someone who's been here, someone who's always been real with me. I don't know why when I've taken you for granted for so long."

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit here, Liz." You said, trying to keep the excitement from your voice. "You're an amazing person, and your career is part of what makes you that way. But I get it, balance is important."

Lizzie nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "It is, and that's what I want to work on." She paused, looking down at the cider in her hands. "I can't keep putting myself and my feelings to the side. I'm almost 36 and feel like I have nothing to show for it."

You leaned in, your hand brushing against hers, the warmth of the mug a reminder of the connection between you. "Liz, you have so much. You're successful and beautiful, not to mention you have people all over who love and care about you."

Her eyes searched yours, a hint of doubt lingering. "But is that enough?" she whispered. "I feel like I'm missing something, someone to share all of this with."

"What about the guy you've been seeing?" you asked, trying to keep the jealousy from your tone. Lizzie's eyes clouded over for a moment, a shadow flitting across her features.

"I left him," she replied, her voice barely above a murmur. "He was great on paper, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't right for me. I feel like I've been the problem in all my past relationships."

Your heart skipped a beat. This was your moment, the opening you've been waiting for. But you didn't want to rush in, not again. You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the fireplace against your skin. "Liz, you deserve someone who appreciates you for who you are. Someone who sees beyond the surface and truly cares about your happiness."

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. "Do you know anyone like that?" she asked, a playful smile playing on her lips. You couldn't help but return her smile, feeling the tension in the room begin to melt away. A chuckle escaped your lips, as you leaned back against the sofa.

"I don't, but I can keep my eyes peeled," you said, trying to keep the conversation light. But the weight of the moment wasn't lost on either of you. The fireplace popped and crackled, echoing the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Lizzie took another sip of her cider, her eyes never leaving yours. "Can I tell you something, Y/N?"

You nodded, your heart racing. "Of course."

"I think I've been looking for someone like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Someone who makes me feel seen, who challenges me, but also accepts me for who I am. And every time I come back here, I can't help but wonder if that person is right in front of me. And every time I leave, I wonder why I keep sweeping it under the rug."

Her words hung in the air, the crackle of the fireplace a stark contrast to the sudden quiet in the room. You felt your heart swell with hope and fear in equal measure. Was she talking about you? You searched her eyes, looking for a clue, but all you found was sincerity and a hint of sadness.

"Liz," you began, your voice steady despite the tumult in your chest, "I've always been here for you. And I've always seen the amazing person you are." You reached for her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. She withdrew her hand, setting the warm cider on the table in front of you.

"That's not what I mean," she began, a deep sigh leaving her lips. "You've been more than just a friend to me, and I know I haven't made it easy for you." Her eyes searched yours, looking for understanding. "But maybe it's time for me to stop running from what could be right."

The room felt as if it was holding its breath, waiting for your response. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the warmth of the fireplace playing tricks with your judgment. "Liz," you whispered. "What are you saying?"

Her gaze was unwavering as she leaned closer. "I'm saying that maybe I'm ready to take a chance on us. To see if there's more than just friendship here." Your heart raced, but you remained still, not wanting to scare her away with your sudden excitement. "I've just been so scared… terrified, really, to explore this. I can't lose you."

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the fireplace on your face. "You won't lose me," you assured her, your voice firm and gentle. "I've been waiting for this, for you, for so long. You mean the world to me, Liz." Her eyes searched yours, looking for the truth in your words. You leaned in closer, feeling the warmth of her breath on your cheek.

"I've been waiting too," she murmured. "But I need to be sure this isn't just because I'm feeling lonely or lost. I don't want you making a promise you can't keep."

You took a moment to process her words, the gravity of the situation setting in. "I've made a promise to myself, Lizzie," you said, your voice steady. "I can't say that I haven't suffered my own heartbreak, watching from the sidelines."

Her eyes searched yours, looking for reassurance. "But I'm not promising you forever, not yet," you continued. "As much as I want that, I'm just promising to try. To see if there's something real here that's worth fighting for. I can't keep fighting for someone who doesn't see what I do, or want what I do."

Lizzie nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I understand," she said softly. "But I'm ready to fight for us too." She reached out, placing her hand on top of yours, the warmth of her touch sending a jolt through your body.

You took a moment to absorb the weight of her words. The promise of something real and tangible was within your grasp, but the fear of losing it was still palpable. "Okay," you managed to say, your voice hoarse with emotion.

"Okay," she echoed, her smile growing. "Let's see where this goes." The tension in the room began to dissipate, replaced by an excitement that made your pulse race. You took a sip of the now-lukewarm cider, the sweetness of the moment making it taste all the better.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow through the windows, Lizzie leaned closer. The warmth of her body was intoxicating, and you found yourself drawn to her, unable to resist the pull. Your hearts thudded in sync as you tentatively moved your hand to her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin.

"I know this is sudden," she whispered, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. But all she saw was the same yearning that had been in her own. "But I think I've known for a while, and I just couldn't admit it to myself." She leaned into you, her eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes.

Your heart was racing, but your hand remained steady as it cradled her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Liz," you said, your voice low and earnest. "We've been dancing around this for too long. It's time we stop being afraid and just see where this takes us."

Her breath hitched as she nodded, and then she was closing the gap between you, her lips pressing against yours with a softness that sent a shiver down your spine. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if she was still unsure, but as your arms wrapped around her, she deepened it, her hands tangling in your hair. The taste of cider and the faint scent of snow mingled with the warmth of her mouth, and you felt the years of longing coil into a tight knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you both.

You pulled her closer, feeling the heat of her body meld with yours. The room spun around you, and for a brief moment, the only thing that existed was the two of you. The fireplace crackled in the background, a silent cheerleader to the burgeoning romance that had been simmering just beneath the surface for so long.

When you finally broke the kiss, you couldn't help but smile at the disbelief and joy reflected in Lizzie's eyes. She leaned her forehead against yours, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. "This is really happening," she murmured, a tremor in her voice.

"Yes," you whispered back, feeling the warmth of her breath on your skin. "It's really happening." You brushed a strand of hair from her face, and she leaned into your touch with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her fears. "But we should take it slow," you added, not wanting to rush what you had both been waiting for.

[skzkiof]

writing an ivantill zombie apocalypse au and having the time of my life so here's a little teaser for u guys :D will this trope ever stop hitting? the answer is no!

As the seconds ticked by, his vision adjusted more to the dark and he realized the man was not at all what he’d been expecting. His face was expressionless - he looked more like a doll than a person - and he was surprisingly clean, dark hair falling softly over his forehead and skin clear of any dirt. Till dropped his needle with a quiet clang on the hardwood floor. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed before he even realized he was talking. Immediately he flushed, feeling like an idiot. The man pressed the blade closer to his skin with narrowed eyes. He felt something wet on his neck and realized it was blood. He was so dead.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

I mean this in the most respectful way; what the fuck is a whump?

Have you ever played with dolls or action figures as a little kid, or watched kids do so? If you have, you know kids are out here acting out the darkest, most messed up little stories their undercooked brains can think of. Children are facinated with danger, and those dolls have seen some shit because of it.

Imagine that, but you're writing it on Tumblr, and everyone is trying to find new ways to torture the dolls. That's whump.

[softpine]

Have you seen movie trailers for Imaginary? Everytime I see one it makes me think of your story and how some of the ghosts that Asa can see are angry too its a good thing not everyone has the same capabilities as Finn

ooh i hadn't heard of this movie until now, but i'll definitely be watching it when it comes out!! horror movies that are a little silly are the perfect kind to watch with friends, we're always looking for more like that. i will never get tired of the concept of imaginary friends / haunted toys lmao as soon as i see that the main character of a horror movie is a child i'm on board because the endless imagination and trusting nature of children is soooo inherently freaky

sometimes i wish i had fully committed to the horror aspects of frozen pines early on. there are a lotttt of missed opportunities from when asa was younger, but i don't think sims would be the right format for that. whenever i get around to writing this in novel format i'm gonna full send the horror and just see what happens!

[rottika]

i love how each of your character who is an abuser either has ASPD and NPD!

Eugh, well, prepare for an essay because I have a lot to say here.

Well, first of all, you are misinformed on that. While Arthur, Blair, and Vince (who I am assuming you are referring to????) all have ASPD (Arthur having comorbid NPD and Vince having comorbid BPD), a LOT of other characters on the morally questionable/reprehensible list like Freddie, Victoria, Elliot, Angel (currently a character in development), and Arthur’s (unnamed) bio dad don’t have ASPD or NPD at all. In fact, Freddie, Elliot, Arthur’s bio dad, and Angel don’t have any personality disorders or any mental health issues period, despite many of them being on the morally shitty scale.

This is also kind of besides the point, but I also want to point out that, time and time again, I have made clear that my characters and their shittiness is bolstered and exaggerated on purpose and is not supposed to be at all 100% realistic. It’s a black comedy mostly built on absurdist, out of pocket humour. It’s an outlet for me to cope with my past trauma and pain. Some of that pain, yes, originating from people with mental health disorders that influenced the way they treated me.

Just because a couple of my bad characters have cluster B personality disorders (I literally have a cluster B personality disorder myself, that being BPD) does not mean that I think everyone with such a disorder is an abuser??? Like, sometimes mentally ill people do things that are bad. Shocker, mental illnesses warp peoples’ perceptions of the world, themselves, and other people. Sometimes mental illness is painful, for both the sufferer and those in their life. Sometimes mental illness is scary. Sometimes those perceptions can inspire people to make mistakes or to hurt others. From experience, I’ve hurt people deeply without meaning to because of how my mental illnesses causes me to view the world (which is my responsibility, of course, but did stem from my disability nonetheless). Disorders are “disorders” for a reason. Again, I must stress, just because a couple of my characters with disorders are bad doesn’t mean I think the average mentally ill person is an evil sadistic murder rapist abuser or something.

I think it would be a fair criticism to suggest I include more positive representation for people with NPD and ASPD, because I would agree! Maybe I should include more positive rep, I think that’s a great idea. But heavily implying I’m ableist because a couple of my abusive or bad characters—out of a VERY long list of them, by the way—have mental illnesses is just… not at all representative of my feelings on the matter.

Plus, just want to point out that being passive aggressive is more likely to get my borderline ass to lash out and refuse to hear any valid critique as a whole—I was very tempted to just block and ignore this rather than taking a second to actually consider what you were saying. Maybe approach me with a bit more tact next time, gorge. I’m open to criticism when it’s constructive.

[copiawife]

some dude just followed me down the street for several blocks yikes yikes yikes

[the-blind-geisha]

Hey there! Hope your well! First of all I love your KB fic and I saw the comic recently and was wondering how old Gwen is? The lines on the eyes make me think she's middle-aged or somethin!

Maww, glad you like them. ♥ They're both pretty self-indulgent, so I appreciate the support on either one.

As for Gwen's age, I never thought about it much. I'd say she's in her late 30s or very early 40s. There's a reason you're not seeing gray in her hair because of this. klamslasa It'll be explained later in the comic.

The main reason she has lines under her eyes though can be a multitude of things--from either her age, or health, or the fact this is during a time period where people in the Boo Woods were adjusting to little to no light, so insomnia was kinda all over the place in the townsfolk.

Also so is common sense if Roterick's plan is any indicator. lol

[scarah-screeeaaammss]

made a little purchase yesterday bc friday was..... well let's not talk about Friday lol and I had some coupons applied plus this ghoulies were already cheaper than usual so I got these and the Howliday Clawdeen for only $57 lmao Clawdeen will be here Thursday!!!

[quinloki]

QUIIIIIINNNNNNNNN!!! I know I ready commented the exact same thing, but I am so freaking excited about "Hey Doll", I love Thatch and since it's you are writing it, I know it's going to be amazing. I am so so excited I need to tell you twice or ill explode with joy.

XD Please do not explode \o/ even with joy 🤩

I should have the second chapter up for the 24th, and I’ve got a loose, very loose outline, but the idea is definitely to give Thatch room to shine, so as long as I manage that I’ll be happy with it ^_^

[quiveringdeer]

Mikasa and Annie were both part of the "Girls who enact incredibly disturbing and elaborate narratives with their Barbie dolls" club

Possibly and probably. But I think we know who had the most epic tales playing out with their toys.

This dramatic hoe

Like I know the twists, turns, trials and tribulations he put them through were intricate and probably had some sick and something to behold