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Agalmatophilia - (derived from Greek for "statue" and "love") is a form of object sexuality, specifically a paraphilia involving sexual attraction to statues, dolls, mannequins, or similar human-like figures.
tw: Voyeurism, Non-consensual observation (Lyla in the shower). Obsessive behavior. Possessive thoughts (“His Lyla”). Sexual tension. Masturbation (Lyla). Explicit sexual thoughts. Sexual frustration (Lyla). Sentient (conscious with feelings) mannequin. Doll/human intimacy (Lyla on Matthew). Explicit sexual content. Body/objectification themes (Matthew can only watch, Lyla uses him as an object unaware he is conscious). Unsettling romantic horror. Emotional dependency/attachment (One sided/Matthew).
If this makes you uncomfortable please just skip... X.
Lyla, used to being alone, stripped down and tossed her clothes in the ever-growing pile in the corner. She showered with the bathroom door open because she lived alone, but she was unaware that Matthew had a consciousness capable of perceiving the moments around him. He just wasn't capable of participating in the way he wanted to.
He watched.
He thought he couldn't take his eyes off of her at the boutique, or in the living room, but this room, whatever it was, was by far his favorite. If he had the capability to feel her, he would touch every inch of her and cherish every soft curve her body held. He burned. Everywhere for Lyla.
She was unaware that her simple routine of movements was causing him an unbearable need, one he couldn't even satisfy because he couldn't identify it.
Her hair dripped. The soapy suds slowly trailed between her breasts and down to a hole she had in her lower torso. He watched. Chest fluttering, body burning. This was the most alive he had ever felt. And he only wished he got to feel like this every single night with His Lyla. Her shower finished to Matthew's dismay. He watched her eyes slowly open and close. The clear liquid falling off her tan physique. She wrapped the towel on the hook and walked out to the bedroom to find some comfortable clothes for bed.
He watched.
She threw on the tiniest of shorts and a T-shirt. She left for the kitchen, leaving him in her room to ponder which view was truly better. He waited. She turned on the TV and her show, and he instantly felt something bubbling inside of himself. He liked her moving picture time. Her laugh, the way she'd talk to herself, the high-pitched breath she would breathe when something shocking happened. He loved all of those tiny moments with His Lyla. He wanted them back.
She found herself increasingly bored with her everyday life. She wanted something exciting but was unwilling to fully make it happen herself. Her show got boring enough that she turned it off and went to her bedroom. Matthew felt himself perk up at her sight. His boredom also happened without her. She slid into her bed and started aimlessly scrolling through her phone. She accidentally scrolled so far down her feed that the content was becoming suggestive. She didn't mind. She hadn't had sex in a while, so it was different content for her.
She started thinking about someone in her ear, moaning, whispering, just slightly breathing in need of her, and it made a jolt shoot through her down to her clit. She kept thinking about it, and slowly she moved her hand down to satisfy the tingling sensation her thoughts were building.
Matthew was watching her so fiercely that his whole face burned. His eyes were locked on her. Her back arching, her hand still hidden beneath her bottoms, he took in everything. He didn't understand why she looked like she was in pain in her face, but it wasn't a scary pain; it was something that drew him in, made him want to be a part of whatever this was.
"Fuck." Her frustration broke the air. The idea of someone else worked for a moment, but she needed that extra push to orgasm. That extra thing. It sounded desperate, but truthfully, she hadn't orgasmed since her boyfriend. That was her last time even really thinking about sexual encounters. She stared at the ceiling. Pent up and frustrated. She grabbed her phone and started scrolling for something to help her get to her desired results. She passed a video of a girl riding a man rhythmically. She realized she couldn't do it alone; she would always need another person. Her eyes lit up.
Matthew. He was a person's figure. She would have total control, and for whatever reason, his plastic physique came equipped with what she needed right now. She turned to look at his fake plastic everything. His painted blue eyes. His never-faltering smile. "Oh, Matthew." She sang. He knew it was time for some attention from His Lyla.
She picked him up and laid him on her bed. Her heart rate was already picking up. Because of her edging herself, she felt herself throbbing. Her face was flushing slightly, embarrassed by the idea. "It's no different than a sex doll." She whispered to herself. She was justifying.
Matthew felt his body burning everywhere again. He thought he'd never wanna feel her more than the last time, but somehow, she made him crave her more and more. She had her knees on the outside of his stiff legs. Slowly, she undressed his lower half to reveal his anatomically correct penis. It was plastic, so it was stuck in place firmly.
I'm getting new skins. Like old times.
Matthew was fluttering, burning, and wanting to jump all at once. He watched His Lyla slip out of her bottoms. He was now with questions. Why would she also be changing her skin when she just did? He watched her. Her hands slowly rested on his hard chest. Was this how he became alive? Is this what he had to wait for?
"Totally normal." She whispered to herself. She moved her knees up a little more to be straddling his slim waist. Matthew lay there waiting to become alive. Lyla lowered herself down on his hard package and whimpered from the pressure pinching her clit. She was edged. She was horny. She was in too deep to stop.
She was already wet from her own foreplay, so gliding across Matthew was easy. "People have sex dolls all the time." She whispered as she hesitantly started moving toward Matthew. She slowly rode him rhythmically, applying pressure to her clit just right. Her fingertips tried to dig into Matthew's pale skin. "Oh fuck yes." Her mouth popped open.
Matthew couldn't take his eyes off her. He couldn't feel anything but himself igniting underneath her, for her. Whatever this was, he wanted it every single night, every day, and he never wanted it to stop. "Yes, yes, yes." She moaned. Her orgasm was at an all-time high, especially having edged herself for an hour before this unexpected scenario. "Fuck, Matthew!" She groaned one last time and collapsed on the hard doll, her hair falling all over her face. After catching her breath, her eyes widened, realizing the gravity of what she had just done. She had just fucked a mannequin. She scrambled to get off of him, redress both of them, and set him in the corner. She lay facing away from him, too embarrassed to look him in his never-blinking eyes.
Matthew was in bliss. He thought he had heard every possible noise from His Lyla. Or at least, every way she could say his name. He was speechless this time; even his mind was blank. He watched her sleeping just like normal. He wasn't sure what it meant, and he hoped one day he would get to ask her, but all he could keep thinking over and over was,
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You and Matt were together for four years. He was your first everything. first love, first real relationship, first person you gave your whole heart to.
For a long time, it felt easy. Like you just worked. But the last six months changed everything. It became toxic. Constant arguments over the smallest things, conversations turning into fights before you even realized what happened. You were always on edge, overthinking what you said, how you said it, just trying to keep the peace. Some days he felt distant, other days he was questioning everything, who you were with, why you didn’t reply fast enough. It was exhausting.
The love was still there, but it didn’t feel the same anymore. It felt heavy. And deep down, you both knew it wasn’t healthy, but neither of you could let go officially.
tw: Insomnia / disturbed sleep anxiety. Panic (waking in a cold sweat). Trauma aftermath implied past assault / violence (non-graphic reference) Isolation. Fear of being alone. Paranoia (feeling watched). Uncanny comfort (mannequin) Mild horror elements (same as previous chapters). Dissociation / Questioning sanity. Loneliness. Religious references ( occult, spiritual practices, prayer, ritual, manifestation).
Ironically I am posting this because I can't sleep.... oops! X.
Lyla's sleep at night was anything but good. She tossed and turned, waking up on occasion. This time, after waking up in a cold sweat, she got up to get a drink of water. She leaned against the counter and sipped the glass, trying to catch her breath. Her apartment never scared her, until she realized how alone she was in it. Just like the night at the boutique. After her traumatic event, she realized everything. She sipped again and looked at Matthew in the corner, staring at nothing. It was dark, so he was nothing more than a silhouette, but even then, she knew it was him and wasn't scared.
Something about his general presence in the house made her less afraid. As if the hand he had extended was indeed intended to protect her that night. She stared at him through the dark. His gaze was fixated on the TV, the couch still visible.
"Matthew?" If he could, he would have perked up at the sudden attention. He did, in his mind. Lyla's tone was hesitant, nervous. Addressing a mannequin by a name she chose, for the silliest of things, made her feel insane. She walked over to the couch and sat down. She felt it. Being watched. Not in a menacing way. She felt comforted, yet again. "This is crazy." She sighed to herself. She grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and lay down without a pillow.
He watched her. He, of course, gathered more questions. Like, why did she close her face? Or why did she choose to lie still, unmoving, while she had the capability to do so much? He wondered why she liked the dark room. All questions that ceased to obtain answers.
"So stupid." She whispered. She wasn't entirely sure how or why, but knowing Matthew was watching over her made her feel safer, calmer. She accepted that the stolen plastic dummy was giving her a weird, unnatural sense of comfort and that she was willing to test it to see if it would help her sleep.
He did.
She woke up. Sun shining in the window, blinding her burning eyes. She rubbed them and yawned. Matthew, although unmoving, smiled seeing her functioning. He felt the flutter in his chest pull his face into a tight burn, one that actually felt good.
"Good morning, Matthew." She chuckled, covering her face. It worked. She slept through the night with ease, all because a synthetic person watched her. She shook her head in disbelief at her childishness.
Her morning routine was set in stone. Something she learned at a very young age. Self-care consists of breakfast, beauty, and preparing for the day. Followed by meditation to align your inner self with goals, balance, and spiritual awareness. Her belief system was simple. She believed everything harbored an energy or spirit that would drive the path chosen for them at birth. These guides were meant to help, not harm. Meditating was an easy way to align yourself on that path. Find trust in the unforeseeable, and trust in yourself.
"Spirits of Iwa, I ask for simple guidance. Simple truths. And in light of recent circumstances, simple protection. Please send me the strength to protect myself, as well as the strength to accept protection from those around me." Lyla's prayer wasn't anything out of the ordinary for her. She always asked for such things; that's what her lineage religion was for. This next part wasn't something she did often, though. Only in darker circumstances, when she felt the universe and spirits needed an extra boost. Something to compel them to listen closer and work harder in her favor.
She grabbed her family heirloom, passed down only from woman to woman, The Great Book of Hoodoo and Herbs. Her mother, her grandmother, even her great-grandmother and so on, all practiced pushing boundaries between a world of practical religions and one rooted in spells, magic, and creating your own path. Lyla broke the family lineage by not fully practicing, but, as tradition holds, she was to pass The Great Book along when the time came.
She had opened it a few times for small things here or there. Sometimes for nightly boredom reading. This morning, she decided she wanted to be heard a little louder about her need for protection. She was learning to subdue her fear of the two men coming back for her, as that was unlikely. But she couldn't shake the fear of death off her shoulder.
"Sage, lavender for smell, onyx, and a hair." She plucked her brunette strand and piled it into the fire in the small sacrifice bowl. "I commend thee spirits of Iwa and all to protect, to serve, and to guide me on this path of fear, helplessness, and... loneliness." She quickly whispered and added the last part, again only realizing it because of everything that happened to her that night, alone. She felt like the prayer was complete; there was nothing more to say. She was precise, and that was all she needed to be.
She finished up her morning meditation by writing her wishes in her manifestation journal and left the black candles burning all around while she got ready for work. She blew them out only when she was finally ready to leave her apartment. Her day finished quicker than she thought it would, and she found herself back at home. As silly as it was all day at work, she thought about either sleeping on the couch or moving Matthew into the single bedroom to help with her restlessness.
"Hello, Matthew." She tossed her bag and smiled at him, and he smiled back at her. "We are going on an adventure." She up-played the move. She ultimately decided she wanted her bed for the extra comfort it would provide for a good night's rest. He accepted the move, mostly because he didn't have the autonomy to decline it, but also because he never cared what Lyla did with him. She plucked his full-size body up and moved him into a corner in her bedroom. She felt the watching feeling shift and follow her. By now, she had gathered it was the idea of a plastic person with painted blue eyes that never blinked that made her feel watched. She accepted it, but only because it was Matthew. And he was harmless.
His gaze, though fixed very straight forward, took in everything new around him. The deep purple sheets, the candle ambiance, and the attached bathroom with a view straight to a see-through cube. He wasn't sure what everything was as he was still learning everything, but he felt a flutter being in a place His Lyla held sacred.
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@courta13 @catchingstrays101
More about Voodoo -
Core Beliefs: It centers on the concept that "everything is spirit". Followers (Vodouisants) believe in the supreme God (Bondye) and interact with lwa, which represent aspects of the natural world.
Symbols and Rituals: Key rituals involve drumming, dancing, and singing to encourage a lwa to possess a participant for communication. Offerings include fruits, liquors, and sometimes animal sacrifices.
Types/Branches: While originating in West Africa, Vodún (meaning "spirit" or "god" in the Fon language) has evolved into several traditions, including Haitian Vodou and New Orleans Voodoo, which often blend traditional African practices with Catholicism.
Function: It is a holistic system aimed at connecting with ancestors, maintaining daily life, providing healing, and fostering community.
Misconceptions
Not Satanism: Popular media often misrepresents it as "dark magic" or "witchcraft".
Misunderstood Elements: "Voodoo dolls" are primarily associated with New Orleans Voodoo (a variation) rather than traditional West African practices.
tw: Insomnia / disturbed sleep anxiety. Panic (waking in a cold sweat). Trauma aftermath implied past assault / violence (non-graphic reference) Isolation. Fear of being alone. Paranoia (feeling watched). Uncanny comfort (mannequin) Mild horror elements (same as previous chapters). Dissociation / Questioning sanity. Loneliness. Religious references ( occult, spiritual practices, prayer, ritual, manifestation).
Ironically I am posting this because I can't sleep.... oops! X.
Lyla's sleep at night was anything but good. She tossed and turned, waking up on occasion. This time, after waking up in a cold sweat, she got up to get a drink of water. She leaned against the counter and sipped the glass, trying to catch her breath. Her apartment never scared her, until she realized how alone she was in it. Just like the night at the boutique. After her traumatic event, she realized everything. She sipped again and looked at Matthew in the corner, staring at nothing. It was dark, so he was nothing more than a silhouette, but even then, she knew it was him and wasn't scared.
Something about his general presence in the house made her less afraid. As if the hand he had extended was indeed intended to protect her that night. She stared at him through the dark. His gaze was fixated on the TV, the couch still visible.
"Matthew?" If he could, he would have perked up at the sudden attention. He did, in his mind. Lyla's tone was hesitant, nervous. Addressing a mannequin by a name she chose, for the silliest of things, made her feel insane. She walked over to the couch and sat down. She felt it. Being watched. Not in a menacing way. She felt comforted, yet again. "This is crazy." She sighed to herself. She grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and lay down without a pillow.
He watched her. He, of course, gathered more questions. Like, why did she close her face? Or why did she choose to lie still, unmoving, while she had the capability to do so much? He wondered why she liked the dark room. All questions that ceased to obtain answers.
"So stupid." She whispered. She wasn't entirely sure how or why, but knowing Matthew was watching over her made her feel safer, calmer. She accepted that the stolen plastic dummy was giving her a weird, unnatural sense of comfort and that she was willing to test it to see if it would help her sleep.
He did.
She woke up. Sun shining in the window, blinding her burning eyes. She rubbed them and yawned. Matthew, although unmoving, smiled seeing her functioning. He felt the flutter in his chest pull his face into a tight burn, one that actually felt good.
"Good morning, Matthew." She chuckled, covering her face. It worked. She slept through the night with ease, all because a synthetic person watched her. She shook her head in disbelief at her childishness.
Her morning routine was set in stone. Something she learned at a very young age. Self-care consists of breakfast, beauty, and preparing for the day. Followed by meditation to align your inner self with goals, balance, and spiritual awareness. Her belief system was simple. She believed everything harbored an energy or spirit that would drive the path chosen for them at birth. These guides were meant to help, not harm. Meditating was an easy way to align yourself on that path. Find trust in the unforeseeable, and trust in yourself.
"Spirits of Iwa, I ask for simple guidance. Simple truths. And in light of recent circumstances, simple protection. Please send me the strength to protect myself, as well as the strength to accept protection from those around me." Lyla's prayer wasn't anything out of the ordinary for her. She always asked for such things; that's what her lineage religion was for. This next part wasn't something she did often, though. Only in darker circumstances, when she felt the universe and spirits needed an extra boost. Something to compel them to listen closer and work harder in her favor.
She grabbed her family heirloom, passed down only from woman to woman, The Great Book of Hoodoo and Herbs. Her mother, her grandmother, even her great-grandmother and so on, all practiced pushing boundaries between a world of practical religions and one rooted in spells, magic, and creating your own path. Lyla broke the family lineage by not fully practicing, but, as tradition holds, she was to pass The Great Book along when the time came.
She had opened it a few times for small things here or there. Sometimes for nightly boredom reading. This morning, she decided she wanted to be heard a little louder about her need for protection. She was learning to subdue her fear of the two men coming back for her, as that was unlikely. But she couldn't shake the fear of death off her shoulder.
"Sage, lavender for smell, onyx, and a hair." She plucked her brunette strand and piled it into the fire in the small sacrifice bowl. "I commend thee spirits of Iwa and all to protect, to serve, and to guide me on this path of fear, helplessness, and... loneliness." She quickly whispered and added the last part, again only realizing it because of everything that happened to her that night, alone. She felt like the prayer was complete; there was nothing more to say. She was precise, and that was all she needed to be.
She finished up her morning meditation by writing her wishes in her manifestation journal and left the black candles burning all around while she got ready for work. She blew them out only when she was finally ready to leave her apartment. Her day finished quicker than she thought it would, and she found herself back at home. As silly as it was all day at work, she thought about either sleeping on the couch or moving Matthew into the single bedroom to help with her restlessness.
"Hello, Matthew." She tossed her bag and smiled at him, and he smiled back at her. "We are going on an adventure." She up-played the move. She ultimately decided she wanted her bed for the extra comfort it would provide for a good night's rest. He accepted the move, mostly because he didn't have the autonomy to decline it, but also because he never cared what Lyla did with him. She plucked his full-size body up and moved him into a corner in her bedroom. She felt the watching feeling shift and follow her. By now, she had gathered it was the idea of a plastic person with painted blue eyes that never blinked that made her feel watched. She accepted it, but only because it was Matthew. And he was harmless.
His gaze, though fixed very straight forward, took in everything new around him. The deep purple sheets, the candle ambiance, and the attached bathroom with a view straight to a see-through cube. He wasn't sure what everything was as he was still learning everything, but he felt a flutter being in a place His Lyla held sacred.
X. list
@courta13 @catchingstrays101
More about Voodoo -
Core Beliefs: It centers on the concept that "everything is spirit". Followers (Vodouisants) believe in the supreme God (Bondye) and interact with lwa, which represent aspects of the natural world.
Symbols and Rituals: Key rituals involve drumming, dancing, and singing to encourage a lwa to possess a participant for communication. Offerings include fruits, liquors, and sometimes animal sacrifices.
Types/Branches: While originating in West Africa, Vodún (meaning "spirit" or "god" in the Fon language) has evolved into several traditions, including Haitian Vodou and New Orleans Voodoo, which often blend traditional African practices with Catholicism.
Function: It is a holistic system aimed at connecting with ancestors, maintaining daily life, providing healing, and fostering community.
Misconceptions
Not Satanism: Popular media often misrepresents it as "dark magic" or "witchcraft".
Misunderstood Elements: "Voodoo dolls" are primarily associated with New Orleans Voodoo (a variation) rather than traditional West African practices.
I'll start working on something that is more Chris dominated I have a few ideas just not sure which one has my motivation quite yet but in the mean time I am also going to be posting the next chapter of Mannequin later today!!!! Your guys votes really help me figure this all out so I appreciate it so much! Thank you lovies <3
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
tw: Anthropomorphism — Lyla treats Matthew like a person (greeting him, talking to him). Emotional dependence — she starts relying on him for comfort and routine. Parasocial attachment — one-sided relationship where she projects connection onto him. Delusion-like behavior — speaking to and confiding in an inanimate figure as if he responds Object sentience — narrative reveals Matthew is aware/thinking. Obsession — Matthew fixates intensely on Lyla. Possessive behavior — he refers to her as “His Lyla” and centers her as his. Jealousy — discomfort when she interacts with other mannequins. Psychological unease — growing tension from mismatched realities (her vs. his awareness). Body objectification — focus on Lyla in physical, almost tactile terms from Matthew’s POV. Unhealthy coping mechanisms — Lyla replaces human interaction with a mannequin. Mild horror elements — unsettling concept of a conscious but immobile figure. Blurred reality — unclear boundary between normal behavior and something more disturbing. Implied stalking vibes — Matthew constantly watches and fixates on her presence. Non-consensual awareness (one-sided) — Matthew perceives and emotionally engages with Lyla without her knowledge.
I'm going to start making the Trigger Warning section smaller by deleting anything that has already been covered in any chapter before after this one because it makes it look so scary and I really don't think it is! By now I think we know the main themes... X.
Lyla went to work, embarrassed, a few days in a row, but Caleb either knew nothing or just spared her feelings by not saying anything. She worked like normal. Folding clothes. Shopping online for the vintage pieces Caleb wanted for a new collection he was collecting. There was one major thing missing from her daily workday. The feeling of being watched. It was gone completely now. The new mannequins, Gerald, Bianca, and Hamish, didn't have the characteristics of the old ones. They lacked faces painted on. Bianca lacked hair to braid or comb, as Wanda had. They were sleek, white, and modern. She didn't mind the prickling feeling of being watched taken off her shoulders. The only thing she found missing from her day was Matthew.
After taking him home in that split-second decision, she realized she had an unnatural attachment to him. She told herself she wouldn't talk to him. At first, she didn't. Then, every time she came home, she was scared to see a person's figure in her home, so she started saying a simple "Hi Matthew" upon entering. He loved it. Then it turned into simple rhetorical questions, "What are we going to do tonight, Matthew?" And before Lyla knew it she was complaining to him like he was listening. Of course, she didn't know he was. Every word that dripped off her tongue was caught, maybe not fully understood, but always cherished.
Matthew was growing. His understanding of Lyla's day and routine was a pattern. He liked her moving picture show. Mostly because it made her laugh, and that noise made him flutter. He didn't know what his flutters meant, but he felt them whenever she would look at him and speak. He still continued to burn for her, doing everything he could to move or break the sound barrier he was stuck under. The burning, over time, became overpowering to every other sensation he had, so he would have to stop trying. He also made it a point to remind himself that Lyla was worth the pain. She was worth trying for. He would never give up, not on His Lyla, and especially for His Lyla.
He liked being here, but she was gone a lot more. He knew she was with the new ones, putting new skins on them or touching them, and it stirred something inside him. Something bad. He also didn't like that when she left, she turned off all the lights. He hated the dark room at the boutique. The lights being off here reminded him of that room. He hated it. But he waited. The minute the light shone bright, he knew he wasn't alone anymore. His Lyla was home. And that was worth waiting for every time.
"Hello, Matthew!" She sang. Her bag flew to the couch, and she went right to the kitchen. Having her weird comfort dummy reminded her of crazy people like Jeffrey Dahmer, or in The Umbrella Academy, Five, who fell in love with Dolores, a mannequin left behind in an apocalypse. She knew her growing conversations and comfort weren't normal, but for whatever reason, she couldn't stop. "Dinner tonight is..." She looked in the empty fridge. "Take out... again." She grabbed her phone and opened DoorDash, scanning the options. "Tacos?" She tilted her head back to see Matthew, unchanging. Maybe that was what brought her comfort; he was steady. Reliable. "Tacos." She nodded and placed her order. She turned on the TV but left it running to go shower.
He waited.
He wondered why she liked tacos so much and what the weird noise was that happened when she left his view. She always came back into view, light and dripping with a flowing substance. She reemerged and got cozy right in his view. Watching TV together was always worth the wait to him. He noticed she was sitting a little straighter than usual. Like she was antsy. He had plenty of time to think about what he would do if his parts swayed rather than burned. He knew his grabby parts wouldn't stop grabbing all over His Lyla. In this exact instance, he would reach out, grab the tops of her arms, and just hold her. Feel the rise and fall of her whole body beneath his grip.
"Matthew!" Her voice broke the silence along with his thoughts and dreams.
Yes?
In his spare time, while she was away, he would practice changing his tone of thinking to match her tone of speaking. This one was his favorite because it usually ended with special attention on him. Sure enough, Lyla was grabbing him and posing him on the couch. He was sitting stiff but crooked. Lyla was rummaging through her apartment for a certain box. He waited. She was quick to find what she needed. She used to paint a lot, but recently she lost that spark, the pulling feeling to be more creative, to want to make something beautiful. But for some reason, she felt the sudden burst of creativity that Matthew brought back into her home, even from just standing in the corner. She wanted to decorate him, more than just clothes. She wanted to bring out his personality. Nothing in her house was as plain as he still was.
"Come here." She shifted herself and positioned him so that his left arm was comfortable. She reached into the box, grabbed a black marker, and started doodling. He didn't understand the purpose of this, but nothing made him happier than getting all of her attention. He sat stiff and still; even if he had the choice, he still would sit still for her. "A shell for my grandmother," Her words carried breath, "and leaves for fall." She was focused. He could tell that this level of concentration on him was more intense than ever. He couldn't physically feel her, but her gaze was making the flutters stronger. He sat as still as a statue, even in his brain, for her. "Let's move you." She shifted everything around to find his upper arm. She wasn't moving as fast and was now grabbing a grey marker. "A little fence... and some... sunflowers... my boyfriend liked sunflowers." Her words were slow and sweet as she rambled a story. All Matthew could do was think over her words.
She is beautiful.
Her concentration never broke. She just kept doodling and shading areas of his left plastic limb. Time was passing by. Although neither of them noticed how fast. For Lyla, she was finally distracted; for Matthew, His Lyla stopped time, even though he had no grasp of what time even meant. The TV was blaring her show, but Matthew was getting her attention. It was the perfect night with His Lyla.
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@courta13 @catchingstrays101
Attentions tags: (Will remove if annoyed so sorry!)
a/n: hi all, welcome to my new au, Love Overdose! this will be a multi-part fic, involving darker themes related to substance use and abuse, so proceed with caution. "angel" is the nickname of fem!reader, there's no face/body claim for her and she will be written with ambiguous descriptions, so feel free to self insert (that's what i'm doing lmao). this idea is vaguely inspired by the movie "Jamesy Boy", and i really recommend giving it a watch, it's just so good. anyway, happy sturniolo saturday, big big flowers to @sturncoast for organizing the day, be safe, have fun, yadda yadda
- Despite having all the signs of being submissive, I can see Matt being quite dominant in bed
- Matt is a boobs guy. Big or small, he loves having them in his mouth
- Matthew Sturniolo loves eating out!!! #munchmatt
- I feel like he's more precise than fast, he likes slow sex and taking his time with you
- I just know Matt isn't a guy to take risks so sex will be in bed most of the time (he might take you in the car but I still have my doubts about that)
- He always makes sure you're satisfied and okay, and he's a sweetheart about it
- He understands the importance of aftercare so he always takes the lead on that
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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tw: Psychological unease / surreal perspective – The narrative shifts between normal reality and an unsettling internal viewpoint. Obsessive and possessive internal thoughts – The mannequin refers to Lyla in a possessive way (“His Lyla”), suggesting fixation. One-sided emotional attachment – Emotional connection exists only on one side, without the other character’s awareness. References to past trauma (home invasion / robbery) – Mentions of a prior robbery and lingering fear responses. Paranoia and fear of being watched or discovered – Lyla feels anxious about being caught and repeatedly checks her surroundings. Isolation and anxiety – She is alone and coping with fear, heightening tension and vulnerability. Implied lack of autonomy / inability to move or speak – The mannequin is conscious but cannot act or communicate. Entrapment / trapped consciousness – Suggests being mentally present but physically stuck, which can be distressing. Non-consensual undertones (powerlessness) – The mannequin is handled and dressed without agency or ability to consent. Fixation on touch / sensory deprivation – Strong focus on wanting to feel touch but being unable to. Body discomfort (anatomical detail) – Reference to an unusual or unexpected physical feature of the mannequin. Slow-building psychological horror – Tension builds gradually rather than through sudden scares, creating lingering unease.
Lyla brought him back inside the boutique. Closed up shop and scurried out to her car with him loosely under her arm. He sat in the front seat. She couldn't stop giggling. She felt like she was crazy. Insane, even to bring home a mannequin. She had a feeling she would probably end up throwing him away after a few days of him taking up space in her apartment.
He was thriving, getting to experience more of a world he wondered about. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he started seeing, but longing day in and day out for simple things made it feel like forever being trapped. His head was tilted toward the window so he saw everything passing by in blurs. If he could have told her to, he would have asked her to slow down so he could see every detail of where they were going.
"Well, Matthew. This is going to be interesting." She couldn't stop laughing. Some of it was the blatant humor, and another part was nerves escaping out in soft chuckles. She felt like she was going to get caught and asked a lot of questions at some point. Maybe Caleb realizes Matthew is missing from the dumpster, or Lucas comes over and spots him in the corner. She wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but the simple thrill of joy she was getting was the biggest high she had had in a while.
"Welcome Home." She set him up in the middle of the room. He could see the whole room and a few others in the open-concept space. There was a small two-seater couch. The kitchen behind that, full of small messes, proved it was used. The forest green was calming and earthy, but brought to life by the other vibrant accents of tapestries and crystals. He wasn't sure what he felt, but his chest was throbbing deep inside. Just him and His Lyla, here, alone. This was perfect for him. He stood tall in the middle of the room. "It's not much, but it works," Lyla explained. She went about her routine and ignored him. He was fine with just watching her. Nothing truly had to change; just the scenery did.
Lyla might have ignored his presence in the middle of the living room, but she couldn't figure out what to do with it. She owned a full-size anatomically correct mannequin. She was not about to treat it as a real human, but something possessed her to bring the plastic doll home. She shuddered at the memory of looking into his face and seeing something. A little sparkle on his pale painted face that was compelling her to do something so out of character for her. She made her dinner and felt the stares. She occasionally looked behind her to see him unmoved, posed, waiting.
He wondered what she was cooking, what she was thinking, what it could smell like in here; he also couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was the time he would get to know her touch, and in return feel her himself. She set her food down on the tiny table and picked him up to move him to a corner of the room. He could still see her, and now the box with moving pictures. He watched the pictures move with different noises filling the emptiness in the air. She ate and watched her TV show just like normal.
After the robbery, she was scared to be home alone. For nights in a row, she wouldn't sleep, or she would wake up in a cold sweat, terrified. Tonight, she felt some weird peace she hadn't felt. Her eyes popped open after a strange thought. She slowly turned her head and looked at him. His hand was in the position it was that night. She wasn't completely against the idea of a mannequin being her savior; it, at the very least, held a human shape.
Um.. Hi.
He wasn't sure what compelled her to turn around and stare at him. Her dotted face was lighter at home. He thought seeing glimpses of her every day at the skin store was unbearable before, but seeing her here was going to make him come alive. He could feel it. That barrier he had tried to break for days to get to her was going to crumble, and he was going to get to be there, truly be here, for His Lyla. "You need clothes." She realized he was still wearing a store towel clipped around his waist. She disappeared just like he was used to at the store. He waited. He never minded waiting for her because she always came back to him. Always.
"I don't have a lot of male clothes, but I found these." She held up clothes for him to hypothetically choose from, but she knew it would come down to which outfit would fit over his plastic physique - the winner by default.
That one.
He loved it when she put new skins on him. He was hoping that since they were here, maybe this was the time he could feel her grabbers on him. He felt a light flutter building. He waited, wanting to jump.
"This one?" She held the wrong one in front of him. "Good choice." She exaggerated her nod.
No. No. The other -
She lifted him and set him down on her couch. He felt nothing. The fluttering left immediately. Though the smile never faded. Lyla worked extra fast to cover his lower half with sweatpants, dodging the extra part he had that no other mannequin she had worked with had. He wasn't upset about the wrong skin choice. Or that she couldn't hear him. He was upset because nothing had changed. The scenery was different; he could see her every day, sure. But he was still denied the one thing he craved to know for months. What it felt like to be touched by her. What it felt like to be real.
X.
(I'm gonna keep doing attention tags again, cause I think they lowkey worked LMAO Ill remove you just comment to be taken off!)
tw: Psychological unease / surreal perspective – The narrative shifts between normal reality and an unsettling internal viewpoint. Obsessive and possessive internal thoughts – The mannequin refers to Lyla in a possessive way (“His Lyla”), suggesting fixation. One-sided emotional attachment – Emotional connection exists only on one side, without the other character’s awareness. References to past trauma (home invasion / robbery) – Mentions of a prior robbery and lingering fear responses. Paranoia and fear of being watched or discovered – Lyla feels anxious about being caught and repeatedly checks her surroundings. Isolation and anxiety – She is alone and coping with fear, heightening tension and vulnerability. Implied lack of autonomy / inability to move or speak – The mannequin is conscious but cannot act or communicate. Entrapment / trapped consciousness – Suggests being mentally present but physically stuck, which can be distressing. Non-consensual undertones (powerlessness) – The mannequin is handled and dressed without agency or ability to consent. Fixation on touch / sensory deprivation – Strong focus on wanting to feel touch but being unable to. Body discomfort (anatomical detail) – Reference to an unusual or unexpected physical feature of the mannequin. Slow-building psychological horror – Tension builds gradually rather than through sudden scares, creating lingering unease.
Lyla brought him back inside the boutique. Closed up shop and scurried out to her car with him loosely under her arm. He sat in the front seat. She couldn't stop giggling. She felt like she was crazy. Insane, even to bring home a mannequin. She had a feeling she would probably end up throwing him away after a few days of him taking up space in her apartment.
He was thriving, getting to experience more of a world he wondered about. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he started seeing, but longing day in and day out for simple things made it feel like forever being trapped. His head was tilted toward the window so he saw everything passing by in blurs. If he could have told her to, he would have asked her to slow down so he could see every detail of where they were going.
"Well, Matthew. This is going to be interesting." She couldn't stop laughing. Some of it was the blatant humor, and another part was nerves escaping out in soft chuckles. She felt like she was going to get caught and asked a lot of questions at some point. Maybe Caleb realizes Matthew is missing from the dumpster, or Lucas comes over and spots him in the corner. She wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but the simple thrill of joy she was getting was the biggest high she had had in a while.
"Welcome Home." She set him up in the middle of the room. He could see the whole room and a few others in the open-concept space. There was a small two-seater couch. The kitchen behind that, full of small messes, proved it was used. The forest green was calming and earthy, but brought to life by the other vibrant accents of tapestries and crystals. He wasn't sure what he felt, but his chest was throbbing deep inside. Just him and His Lyla, here, alone. This was perfect for him. He stood tall in the middle of the room. "It's not much, but it works," Lyla explained. She went about her routine and ignored him. He was fine with just watching her. Nothing truly had to change; just the scenery did.
Lyla might have ignored his presence in the middle of the living room, but she couldn't figure out what to do with it. She owned a full-size anatomically correct mannequin. She was not about to treat it as a real human, but something possessed her to bring the plastic doll home. She shuddered at the memory of looking into his face and seeing something. A little sparkle on his pale painted face that was compelling her to do something so out of character for her. She made her dinner and felt the stares. She occasionally looked behind her to see him unmoved, posed, waiting.
He wondered what she was cooking, what she was thinking, what it could smell like in here; he also couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was the time he would get to know her touch, and in return feel her himself. She set her food down on the tiny table and picked him up to move him to a corner of the room. He could still see her, and now the box with moving pictures. He watched the pictures move with different noises filling the emptiness in the air. She ate and watched her TV show just like normal.
After the robbery, she was scared to be home alone. For nights in a row, she wouldn't sleep, or she would wake up in a cold sweat, terrified. Tonight, she felt some weird peace she hadn't felt. Her eyes popped open after a strange thought. She slowly turned her head and looked at him. His hand was in the position it was that night. She wasn't completely against the idea of a mannequin being her savior; it, at the very least, held a human shape.
Um.. Hi.
He wasn't sure what compelled her to turn around and stare at him. Her dotted face was lighter at home. He thought seeing glimpses of her every day at the skin store was unbearable before, but seeing her here was going to make him come alive. He could feel it. That barrier he had tried to break for days to get to her was going to crumble, and he was going to get to be there, truly be here, for His Lyla. "You need clothes." She realized he was still wearing a store towel clipped around his waist. She disappeared just like he was used to at the store. He waited. He never minded waiting for her because she always came back to him. Always.
"I don't have a lot of male clothes, but I found these." She held up clothes for him to hypothetically choose from, but she knew it would come down to which outfit would fit over his plastic physique - the winner by default.
That one.
He loved it when she put new skins on him. He was hoping that since they were here, maybe this was the time he could feel her grabbers on him. He felt a light flutter building. He waited, wanting to jump.
"This one?" She held the wrong one in front of him. "Good choice." She exaggerated her nod.
No. No. The other -
She lifted him and set him down on her couch. He felt nothing. The fluttering left immediately. Though the smile never faded. Lyla worked extra fast to cover his lower half with sweatpants, dodging the extra part he had that no other mannequin she had worked with had. He wasn't upset about the wrong skin choice. Or that she couldn't hear him. He was upset because nothing had changed. The scenery was different; he could see her every day, sure. But he was still denied the one thing he craved to know for months. What it felt like to be touched by her. What it felt like to be real.
X.
(I'm gonna keep doing attention tags again, cause I think they lowkey worked LMAO Ill remove you just comment to be taken off!)
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