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flurrys-creativity · 2 years

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Knocking on Devil’s door

Pairing: Huta/Lee Minhyuk (BtoB) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Fantasy AU, SMUT, some fluff, some humour, a sprinkle of angst; Rating: MDNI, nsfw, 18+; Warnings: Devil!Huta, an extremely superstitious town, breaking several superstitions on purpose, half naked Huta, later naked Huta for obvious reasons, unprotected sex, face-f*cking/oral (m receiving/doing), slight bondage as in hands are chained, riding, penetrative sex, Huta calls the reader darling and good girl, biting too... that should be it; Wordcount: 2.468

Event: Fright Night: A K-Vanity Event; Chosen Door: Beauty Door

Summary: Wanting to fight all superstitions you crafted a meticulous plan. To your surprise though it teleported you to the devil himself.

A/N: This man got some noice pecs.... ngl... had to appreciate them.. enjoy this one shot!

One minute you sat peacefully in your living room and the next you found yourself surrounded by colourful flames and a half naked man in front of you, scolding you in a frustrated tone.

Your day started like any other day as well until you stepped outside of your apartment. The little town that usually appeared quiet and peaceful, now seemed to be void of any life. Windows had been sealed with wooden planks, religious prayers got scribbled above doorways and none of the shops were open.

You already had a feeling, which got only confirmed once you checked your calendar on your mobile phone. Friday the 13th. A deep sigh escaped your lips while you trotted further down the street. How could one little town be so superstitious?

As a child you hadn’t really noticed it before but now as an independent adult all your memories pieced together like a major puzzle. Old women that screamed whenever a black cat ran across their paths. Your mother, who nearly fainted when you knocked over the salt container. Your father, who got down on his knees and started praying after he broke a mirror. Your old maths teacher, who almost got a heart attack after you said you liked the number 13 the most. All these incidents played into the heavy superstition puzzle that was your hometown.

You sighed again when you saw an elderly couple peak outside their window. Their faces twisted from judging to fear once they realised you noticed them. You raised your hand and waved at them with a forced smile, only for them to rush away from the window, leaving you shaking your head in disbelief.

The whole town refused to do anything or even leave the safety of their homes on a day like this. It was possible after all since the next hospital and police station were a town over. Otherwise such behaviour could be troublesome.

It was still troublesome in your opinion since you weren’t able to get anything done unless you rode over to the next town.

You grabbed your phone and messaged your friend group, hoping they would ignore the date and were willing to meet up with you. To your dismay they declined almost immediately. When your phone started vibrating from your best friend calling you, a shimmer of hope blossomed within your chest.

“Are you crazy?” They shouted into the receiver the second you picked up. “Have you seen the date? Nothing good will happen today!”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, it’s a day like every other day too. One number won’t change what will happen.”

They quickly shushed you, scolding you again for saying something like that out loud.

“Do you really believe Friday the 13th will stop bringing misfortune to people when they stay at home? As if their four walls are some sort of protective barrier?”

“With the right preparations, of course!”

You huffed in frustration. “I really can’t with you people. I’m going home again.”

An ear-piercing scream sounded from your phone and you winced in pain, holding it away from your ear with a frown.

“YOU ARE OUTSIDE?! WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?”

“What should have gotten into me?” You asked with a provocative tone, your last strand of patience finally snapped. “I have enough with this shit! I’m going to prove to all of you that you’re just huge idiots for believing this!” With that you cut the call and stalked back home.

As soon as you arrived inside your apartment you rushed to your notebook, searching for a list of superstitions. You opened several websites, scanning over the content. Satisfied with what you read you grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, scribbling down any superstition you were able to pull off inside your living room.

Half an hour later you had pushed all your furniture towards the walls and sat in the middle of your living room with several things littering the floor around you. You checked your list once more before you nodded with a satisfied smirk on your lips.

“13, 4, 666, 9, 17, 39.” You repeated those numbers over and over again, while you knocked a container of salt over, opened a small ladder and crawled underneath it whenever possible, pinned a horseshoe upside down against a wooden plank, purposefully broke a mirror, placed your shoes on your couch table and opened an umbrella.

You sat down on your floor again, looking around and waiting for anything to happen. Feeling your impatience growing, you grabbed a pen and started drawing pentagrams on your bare skin while babbling some latin phrases you remembered from watching Supernatural.

“WHAT?”

You jumped in surprise and looked up from your arm. Somehow your living room had vanished. Instead it got replaced by a large, empty and dark room. Except for the colourful flames dancing along the walls.

“For fuck’s sake!”

Your eyes jumped to a man standing across from you with his hands stemmed into his side and a furious glare pointed at you. You gulped audibly as your eyes roamed his naked upper body.

“What do you want?”

You blinked several times and tilted your head to one side, a confused frown appearing on your face.

The man sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. He paced around in front of you before he walked to an altar behind him and grabbed a white jacket. He put it on and walked back to you, crouching down right in front of you with a piercing gaze. “Within the last ten minutes you did quite a lot to get my fucking attention. Now you have it. So what do you want?”

“Your attention?” You shook your head and tried to wrap your mind around whatever just happened. “Who even are you?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “I have many names. Some worship me as a god, others fear me as their devil. But you can call me Huta. So what would I be to you? God or devil? ” He looked down at your body, smirking when he saw your pentagram littered skin. “Devil it seems. It’s been a while since someone worshipped me as a devil. It’s been even longer to have someone so devoted to me.”

You quickly raised a hand to stop him from talking, shaking your head once more. “Hold up, are you implying that breaking every superstition from whichever country or religion that exists is a direct message to you?”

His head swayed from side to side, contemplating your question. “More like someone knocking - no - hammering at my front door, desperately crying for me to open it.”

“So superstitions are real?!” You blurt out with wide eyes, staring at the overly handsome man with disbelief.

“Depends on your definition, darling.”

“Bringer of bad luck and misfortune?” You asked, voice slightly breaking at the end. You quickly cleared your throat and looked somewhere else, feeling somewhat jittery with his intense gaze on you.

Huta laughed loudly, throwing his head back from the force. “No, superstitions are definitely not that. They are more like a friendly knock on my door. Except for your actions, darling. Like I said, you’ve been basically hammering desperately on my door, begging for me.”

You pursed your lips. “Sorry about that”, you mumbled in a hushed tone, still refusing to look back at Huta. “I just wanted to prove to my town that they’re falsely afraid of superstitions.”

“No bad luck or misfortune happened to you, did it now?” Huta grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him again, smirking in satisfaction when he saw your star-struck gaze. “This should be proof enough, don’t you think darling? Unless meeting me was bad luck.”

You quickly shook your head, licking over your lips when Huta’s smirk grew even wider. You noticed how his eyes dropped to your lips and back up again.

“Since we cleared all the misunderstandings, I have one more question for you, darling.” He paused, his thumb rubbing over your lower lip. “Do you want to get back home or do you want something else before that?”

Your eyes widened slightly and your breath hitched upon the thought that formed inside your mind.

“It’s alright. Don’t be shy”, Huta whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips once again. “What do you want?”

“You.” The word was barely above a whisper and filled with desire and want.

Within a second you were on your back and Huta hovered above you. His eyes darkened with lust as he lowered himself down on you. He nosed along your neck, taking a deep breath in, while he rolled his pelvis against your lower body. Huta didn’t need to do much to drive you crazy and needy for him. Your reactions amplified his desire to take you right then and there.

Your hands wandered underneath his jacket, following every curve of his chest and along his smooth and golden skin. You pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, almost salivating when he eagerly followed your silent request and threw the piece of clothing somewhere into the room before he immediately turned back to you.

Huta basically ripped your clothes off of your body, his lips instantly worshipping every spot of bare skin. He gently bit into the drawn pentagrams on your skin, eliciting even stronger moans from you than before. “That’s it darling”, he purred against your skin, “let me hear you.” His fingers wandered along your sides, leaving hot trails on your body.

“Please”, you whimpered and arched your back, needing more than simple touches and kisses. You grabbed his lower arms, trying desperately to ground yourself with the building pleasure inside of you.

“What do you want, darling?” Huta pried your hands from his arms and pinned them above your head, leaning down to your lips and kissing you deeply.

Once he broke away and you gasped for air, you tried to form a coherent sentence. His free hand sliding down to your thighs and pushing them apart, didn’t help you though. “I - I want you-u!” Your voice broke at the end, feeling his hard cock pressing against your folds.

“You have me, darling.”

“Want you inside”, you whined and wriggled your hips, wishing Huta would slide inside of you. A soft gasp escaped your lips when the tip of his cock brushed along your clit, sending electric waves through your whole body.

“Be a good girl for me and you’ll get what you want, darling.” Huta snickered lightly against your neck, nibbling and biting your soft skin, while he rolled his hips against your core, driving you more and more crazy.

“I will! I promise I will! I’ll be a good girl”, you cried, begging him for more.

Huta snapped with his fingers, now sitting on a throne with you standing right before him, hands chained above your head. He leisurely stroked his shaft as his eyes roamed over your naked form, smirking at your disoriented look. “Kneel”, he murmured, grinning how quickly you followed his demand despite the low volume of his voice. “Open wide.”

You opened your mouth and pushed your tongue out, eager to please him. One string of saliva dripped from the tip of your tongue and landed on your chest. You saw Huta’s dick twitch from it and heard the low rumble inside of his chest.

Huta leaned on one hand, watching you intently, while his other hand cupped your face. His thumb ran soft circles across your cheek before his hand moved to your neck and pulled you forward down on his cock. He groaned in pleasure, his hips momentarily thrusting forward and making you gag. “Shit, that’s it darling. Just stay still.” Huta’s grip on your neck tightened to hold you in place as his hips started to thrust slowly into your wet cave.

You tried to breathe through your nose as best as you could. Still, tears welled up in your eyes and spilled over your cheeks. You gagged around his cock whenever he hit the back of your throat. More saliva dripped down your chin and ran down your chest, leaving wet and slowly cooling trails behind. You wished to touch yourself, feeling how your clit yearned for some friction but with your hands chained above your head you could do nothing but clench and unclench your thighs.

Huta pulled you off with a deep moan, his dark eyes appreciating your fucked out face. “Good girl”, he mumbled and pulled you up on your feet, beckoning to straddle his lap. He still leaned his head on one hand and watched your every movement like a predator. Huta aligned his dick with your entrance before he asked you to lower yourself down on him.

You immediately moaned and a quiver ran through your whole body when you felt his cock push inside of you, splitting your walls open.

Huta moved his hand from his shaft to your hips, giving you a moment to adjust before he guided your rhythm to ride him. Every now and then while you moved upwards he’d thrust into you, giving you another layer of pleasure. He watched your face - how your eyes closed and mouth hung open, how broken moans and whimpers escaped your throat, how your eyebrows furrowed whenever he hit the right spot inside of you. And for once he wanted to give someone his all. Huta halted your movements and sat straight, placing his second hand on your hips as well. “I want you to scream my name, darling”, he whispered with a smirk before he started a relentless pace thrusting into you.

Your fingers grabbed the chain that held you up, knuckles turning white from the force behind it. Your moans momentarily lost volume as the air got knocked out of your lungs but with the continued onslaught from Huta your moans soon enough turned into screams of pleasure. The coil inside of you tightened with every thrust and you felt yourself close to cumming. “Huta- oh please, shit, Huta!” Your whole body spasmed and your vision blacked out. The only thing you felt were Huta’s thrusts into you.

He groaned deeply and pressed your body against his, spilling his cum into you. Sweat glistened on his golden skin and his chest moved rapidly up and down from his erratic breathing. Huta snapped his fingers and the chains around your hands vanished, letting you drop down against his body. He gently stroked your back, smiling in delight when you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled yourself against him. “Next time, darling”, he mumbled into your ear, kissing your temple in the process, “just call my name three times when you want something from me. No need to break any superstitions.”

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland

#kfrights #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #wkcnet #lee minhyuk #huta #btob #btob minhyuk #one shot #knocking on devil's door #kpop #idol

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starleska · 4 months

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so those of us who've been writing for and discussing the Toymaker have found it a little tricky at times to discern the Toymaker's characteristics, given how often he changes up his accent, appearance, and temperament!! so, we developed a very silly solution 🙈💖 what's more fun that arbitrary categorisation? these are the different 'facets' of the Toymaker we've noticed - or rather, the characters he plays - and the shorthand names we use for him!! each name corresponds to a particular presentation of the Toymaker, largely tied to changes in voice, appearance and personality. there are moments where these distinct characters bleed into one another! we have:

1920s German Toymaker: the playful, teasing, pseudo-German speaking Toymaker who sells Charles Bannerjee Stooky Bill, and who menacingly juggles at the Doctor and Donna. this is the Toymaker at his personal best: fully invested in his character and thriving in a toy-themed performance. 🧸

French Cabaret Toymaker: the charming, lipsticked, French-accented dancer who accosts the Doctor on the street and sways amid the mayhem of The Giggle. this is a Toymaker who revels in chaos and destruction, and who is equal parts stunning and disquieting 🕺

Marionettist Toymaker: the frightening and severe puppeteer who grows to an impossible size, pulls marionette-Charles' strings and speaks in rhyme. this Toymaker feels the most similar to the original Celestial Toymaker played by Michael Gough! although superficially similar to other Toymakers, his hair is noticeably different and his demeanour is far more sinister 🧵

Showman Toymaker: the volatile ringmaster whose emotions shift on a dime, and who seems equally torn between performance, play, and injustice. this Toymaker is marked in contrast to Marionettist and 1920s German due to the occasional appearance of his American accent, and the apparent sincerity with which he delivers his show for Donna. 🎪

British Card Dealer Toymaker: the cool, calculating cardician whose respect for the game overshadows any desire for drama. much like with Showman, little glimpses of the Toymaker's other characters peek out here, but this Toymaker has a marked seriousness about him that's only knocked by his excitement upon gaining an advantage or winning. 👑

Band Leader Toymaker: the impossible menace with a distinctly feral energy. this Toymaker is a sadist: causing wanton pain, destruction and murder and loving every moment of it. Spice Up Your Life indeed 🌹

WWI Pilot Toymaker: the furious child who refuses to lose. this Toymaker is one who has grown frustrated with those around him who won't play his games, and these frustrations make him unable to maintain his previous playful persona: instead, we see lashings of anger coupled with violence, and the notable sadism of Band Leader 👨‍✈️

(Bonus) Flat Toymaker: the loser, and the lost little boy. i will admit, this was originally because i wanted an even set 😂💖 however, there's an intriguing moment of vulnerability from the Toymaker here, when he begs the Doctor for mercy. for a moment, we get a look into that 'vastness that will never cease' beneath all of the Toymaker's pomp and frills, and we see how truly frightened he is 🎁

#i'm very interested to know how other people mentally categorise these different character performances by the Toymaker #it's fascinating that we can never truly tell what his 'authentic' presentation is - or if he even has one as he's defined by gameplay #someone ought to design a tarot set or something similar based on the different types...👀#also yes i'm aware i'm knocking on the devil's door by drawing lines between “”versions“” of the same character...i remember the Once-ler 😂#if the Toymaker can canonically read selfcest fanfic for the Doctor(s) then i can comment on the Toymaker(s)#the toymaker #doctor who #the giggle #charles bannerjee #the doctor #donna noble #stooky bill #dw #neil patrick harris #starleskatalks #long post

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