pleeeeease, write one smut about chucky doll
unnnnnfortunately i am the wrong person to ask for doll chucky. i mostly write for chucky the guy. that being said i’ll write ghost!charles if that’s ok. sorry if this isn’t what you wanted!!
𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
“Dollface”. or: “foolish reader, i laced yo shit!”
tags: drug/marijuana use, author has only been high once, ghost smut, sex under the influence, fem!reader, ambiguous ending, tiffany isn’t mentioned, chucky’s a dick, i pictured his bride look for this one, no y/n used, smoking a blunt with CHUCKY (GONE WRONG) (gone sexual) (3am CHALLENGE).
You never thought you’d be brought so low. Smoking weed in a trailer you still didn’t fully recognize, on a mattress next to a doll that talked to you. A pretty foul-mouthed little doll, but he was pretty good company. And he knew how to roll a damn good blunt.
“Haven’t been this high since… God, when was the last time I did this?” the redheaded doll — you didn’t remember his name in the moment — turned his head slightly up to look at you, the whites of his eyes discolored and red. Hazy smoke filled the room. You were numb — a sensation of floating filled your system. You giggled at the feeling, and looked back down at the doll next to you. You’d never been this high.
He chuckled, and you thought you saw him fall over, his face blank. Did he green out? With all the smoke in the air, you could barely see anything. Except the shape of something forming in it. No, not something. Someone. And he just so happened to be cute.
Darker tendrils of smoke coiled around his head in a wreath of long and curly hair, while lighter wisps made up his face — sharp but gentle features, like a statue of a saint draped in the fumes of frankincense. He was wearing what appeared to be a suit. You were high off your ass.
Until he touched your arm, feather-light, just testing the waters. A soft chuckle reverberated through your mind. It was then you finally remembered his name — Charles, wasn’t it?
“Good we finally see eye to eye,” the voice joked as the foggy face smiled with a deceptive sweetness. You had no idea why — it was definitely the pot — but you thought he was a little cuter than most guys. A hand of yours went to his shoulder. Semi-solid, palpable, like putting your hand into a cold shower. He glanced at your hand and tried something else. He tried pushing you onto your back, something he had almost no difficulty with.
“Remember, I told ya… first thing I did when I got outta that piece of plastic was.. was fuck some pretty broad’s brains out,” you don’t actually remember him telling you that. “I.. intend on doin’ that tonight. Might not have a chance later,” The smoke crept over you, hands tracing over the camisole you’d opted to wear. Feeling at you. You giggled, trying to gently push him away to tease him. Instead of moving the apparition, like you thought it would, the smoke dissipated and reshaped itself.
“Mmm… Doesn’t work on me, doll,” he taunted, hooking a finger under your camisole’s strap and snapping it rudely. Now, the fumes from your little binge had started to settle, but the apparition remained. He seemed to take note.
“Jus… be gentle ‘f you’re gonna fuck me,” you slurred. It was difficult to tell, but the smokey shape in front of you definitely rolled his eyes.
He wasted no time in stripping you, paying extra attention to your top half, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts like dough. Shit, he was a tits guy. And he was good with his hands. The rustling of clothes as your shorts seemed to fall off magically, the dark-haired apparition staring at your body with nothing short of hunger as he pulled them down.
You heard it before you felt it — a soft groan and something warmer than the chilly smoke against your bare skin, nudging against your entrance. Then, in one motion, the ghost’s dick was fully sheathed in you, that voice in the back of your mind letting loose a moan. At least he wasn’t huge, or that would’ve made things difficult.
You wanted to wrap your legs around his waist, letting him nail you in proper missionary, but your legs went right through him. He made a shockingly vulnerable sound at the realization you couldn’t touch him back. The figure finally started to dissipate, but you could still feel him moving inside you, still hear him breathing heavily. Normally, that wouldn’t have been enough, but you were just still so high. All of the stimulation mixed with that buzzing in your body made you gasp and clench around him, every muscle in your body tensing and relaxing. He pulled out, and everything seemed to stop.
You opened your eyes almost a full five minutes later, to the sound of a soft sigh next to you. Charles… the doll… was smoking the last of the weed. Of course he was.
“Gotta figure out how ta’ do that again,” the doll said bluntly, letting smoke out of his nose.
