#dentist open on Sunday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thepersonnamedsam · 1 year ago

Note

Could you do reader gets her wisdom teeth removed and the drivers take shift in watching her ?

anesthesia

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: the genz!driver wakes up one day with so much pain that she has to take out her wisdom teeth

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of depression and anxiety, reader on a high

note: sorry, it got a bit depressed here and there, but it’s still a very fun post to read, well at least i hope so

masterlist / taglist

Everything hurt, like everything. Not just a limb or a stomach, her whole body hurt, but mostly her mouth, her teeth actually. But she would never say that, afraid someone would accuse her of not brushing her teeth.

Oh and she was whining. Everybody she encountered had to listen to her whine. Show her body hurt and everything pulsated and how she just wanted to sleep and it was the worst. People war starting to worry about her. And Charles was the first one to suggested to pay a visit to the medics.

„Would you like me to bring you to the medics, y/n?“, he had asked her. But she just whined and shook her head. „Are you sure, you seem like you are in a lot of pain“, he checked with her, but she still refused. She didn’t want to know, if she had a bad tooth.

It was only Wednesday, so just media for the day, or that’s what y/n thought. When you’re in pain, even media is hard. She was thankfully paired with Max, Lando, Fernando and Kevin. At least she had some people she felt comfortable with. Max sat on her left, whilst Fernando sat on her right. Next to Max was Lando and Kevin sat on the other side of Nando - she was squished between the drivers. Her body leaned slightly into Nando and he just let her, he had heard about her pain and was just glad she was up and walking.

They asked some questions, y/n not really present and not actually listening, until Max poked her and pointed to an interviewer with his index finger.

„I am so sorry, what was your question again?“, she asked the nice looking lady. She smiled and repeated her question to the young driver: „There were some rumours going around that you are in pain, is that true and can you elaborate?“

y/n groaned internally, of course her pain made the talk. She was half expecting the question, if she could race this weekend with her pain and if she would’ve answered truthfully, she would’ve said I don’t know.

„Thank you for your question. Uhm, yes, I am experiencing some pain at the moment, but it’s not as bad as it seems. I can still race on Sunday“, she talked into the microphone. The interviewer seemed only kind of content with her answer, but it’ll have to do, because y/n was back on leaning against Fernando and had closed her eyes.

When she woke up on Thursday morning, she had to clutch her cheeks. Groans left her mouth and she was ready to die, or that’s what she thought. Something wasn’t right. She wanted to call Seb and ask for his opinion on things, but when she opened her mouth, she almost screamed. She opted for a text, explaining how much her mouth hurt and what she should do.

Seb immediately saw her message and had to ask Hanna. His wife told him to ask someone on the grid to take her to the dentist - immediately. So, that’s what he did.

„Hey Lewis, what’s up? Listen, I have a request for you“, he told Lewis over the phone. He explained how the young driver has felt pain in her mouth for the last two or three days and how she woke up that day with unbearable pain. „Aw man, that’s bad, she can’t race with that now, can she?“, the Brit asked back. Seb shook his head no, even though Lewis couldn’t see the action over the phone.

„Hanna said to take her to the dentist, and you know I would do it myself, but you guys are in Silverstone and I myself are in Switzerland.“

Lewis promised him to take the girl to the dentist as soon as possible. Seb exhaled, glad to have helped in some way. He texted y/n back, told her that Lewis was gonna take her to see someone for the pain.

You can’t imagine how glad y/n was, that Seb handled all of that for her. She texted him a thousand thank yous and she hugged Lewis so tight when he was standing in front of her hotel room.

„Ready to leave?“, he asked her. She nodded and the two left the hotel together. As always, paparazzi were waiting for the drivers and flashed them with their questions and pictures.

„Where are you going?“

„Is it related to your pain, y/n?“

„What do you think about the track, Lewis, will you bring it home?“

y/n‘s eyes hurt, well everything hurt, but the bright flashes didn’t do anything against the pain, it much rather made it worse. Lewis saw how y/n had to shut her eyes closed, so he took off his Mercedes hat and placed it on her head. The journalists would have a feast with that.

In Lewis‘ car, she took his hat off and placed it on the dashboard. The car ride wasn’t long, only about twenty minutes. And as the two walked into the dentists office, her heart started racing. The last thing she wanted to hear, was her having a bad tooth.

y/n struggled with depression and anxiety, so normal tasks as brushing teeth, was sometimes very hard to maintain. Her daily trains and meals were easy, because she had her personal trainer who tracked her and was always by her side. But as soon as she was all alone again, the easiest daily routines became the hardest. Brushing teeth and hair, showering and washing her hair. Cleaning the kitchen or the bathroom. Washing her clothes on the Monday after a race. It was all so hard, but she didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want people to know and pity her.

That’s why people noticing her unfinished tasks or her habits, it made her anxious. So, so very anxious. And she especially didn’t want Lewis to know. He would just tell Seb and Seb would probably order her to Switzerland and make an appointment with the best psychiatrist he knows and she could forget her racking career. No, that was not gonna happen.

„Lewis, can you please wait outside?“, she begged him. But he wasn’t budging. He knew of her fear of dentists and was not having it. He was going in with her. So, he took her by her hand and dragged her to the treatment room.

Her mind raced with anxious thoughts, but the dentist did not confirm her worst fear. Her wisdom teeth were growing and they had to be taken out eventually. But not at the moment, because she had Free Practice, Qualifying and a Race she had to attend in the next four days. They made an appointment on Monday, they would bestanden out under anesthesia, because of her fears.

The dentist sent her home with some pretty strong pain meds, which she was glad, because for the first time in a week, she didn’t feel any pain.

The days flew by, she placed P11 on the race. She was so happy for Lewis and Lando, a bit sad for Oscar. But so, so happy for the Brits. As she was standing from the sidelines, Lando offered her a the champagne bottle, but she couldn’t eat or drink 14 hours before her surgery and definitely no alcohol. So, she kindly declined and opted for a quick thumbs up and a air kiss for her favourite boys.

Fernando had heard from Lewis about her wisdom teeth and offered to come with Lewis, so he wouldn’t be all alone with the young and high driver. He may have also talked to Carlos about it, who told Charles, who told Daniel, who told Max. They were all coming with. Some to help the young driver and some to laugh at her. Their group chat was going to be full of videos and photos of her.

Monday morning, the girl was waiting anxiously for Lewis‘ car. And when he finally pulled up and she saw who were sitting in it, she groaned.

„Lewis, I told you not to tell anyone“, she whined. The addressed only laughed, so did the whole car. She squeezed herself between Charles and Carlos, who were sitting behind the drivers seat and the passenger seat. Lewis was driving, obviously, Fernando was sitting next to Lewis and Max and Daniel were seated in the backs seats. Even though it didn’t make much sense with Daniel, because of his long legs, he had to sit in a weird cramped position.

When the seven arrived, the assistants looked at them funny and the dentist had to hide a snort. The young girl with her seven bodyguards.

The procedure was short, all four teeth were removed and now they were waiting for her to wake up. The dentist warned them, that the anesthesia doesn’t wear off for about ten more minutes, so she’ll be sleeping until then. And after that, she’ll still have some after effects. Max was waiting for that to happen.

Her mouth was dry and it felt like she had sand in her mouth? Anyway, her body felt like she was hit by a truck, possibly a Haas or an Alfa Romeo. She blinked slowly, why was it so bright? And why were her hands not moving up to her face like she wanted them to? What was going on?

Something loud an obnoxious forced herself through her ears, it was almost painful. What the fuck was happening? She tried to wiggle her toes, but they didn’t move. She looked panicked and tried to find a familiar voice. That’s when she saw Daniel laughing, pointing his phone at her, probably filming this whole thing. Her eyes followed his movements and she found Lewis slightly smiling at her. She saw him move his mouth, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Lewis saw the watery eyes of her and wanted to reassure her that she was safe and all went well, but the more he spoke, the more tears spilt out of her eyes. She full on started crying. You could sense, that everyone in that room was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. Until Fernando went up to her and took the girl in his arms. Shushing and humming a light tune. Soon her tears turned into hiccups and she was calm again.

„My body isn’t moving they way I want it to“, she whined, but it was hard to understand her with all the gauze in her mouth. „And I’m thirsty.“

Carlos stood up and got a cup of water for her, which she was very grateful for and she met him know very much.

„Thank you so much, Carlito. I love you, I hope you know that.“

The boys laughed at her, but she looked at them mean and said: „Don’t be jealous because he receives my love. And stop laughing, it’s so loud.“ That made Daniel laugh even louder and she just glared at him. Max was snickering silently and hit Danny on his arm, to signal him to turn it down a nudge, but that he was enjoying that just as much as he was.

„Danny, I heard you’re gonna be back on the grid in Hungary?“, she smiled at the Australian. „Yeah, yeah, but different than you might think.“ He smiled back at her and she made grabby hands at the older driver. He laughed and went to hug her. She nuzzled her head into his crook between shoulder and head and sighed.

„You know, I don’t think Heidi would enjoy you snuggling like that with y/n“, Max made the remark, but Danny just showed him his middle finger and put his arms more around y/n. It was soon time to take the girl back to the hotel, but that was harder than it sounded. Her limbs were still not reacting at the same time and walking was a no go. Lewis and Fernando immediately backed out of carrying her to the car, reasoning with their age and their backs. So, Charles was the one volunteering to piggy back ride her to the car.

„It’s like she’s drunk. Has anyone ever seen her drunk, by the way?“, Carlos mentioned. „Oh, yes. Let’s get drunk, guys. Carlito, that’s a very good idea of yours, that’s why I love you so much“, y/n responded to Carlos question. Max started to laugh and got out his phone to record the conversation.

„Okay, let’s not address some stuff with her in the car, okay? Stuff that could make her cry, or bring stupid ideas to her head or any stuff like that“, Lewis said from the drivers seat, his head turning slightly to look at all his passengers. „Agreed“, said Fernando.

„Can we listen to some music?“, she whined. She was whining for everything, so you couldn’t really call it whining anymore. Fernando turned on the radio and Speak Now was playing. „Omg, Nando! It’s your girlfriend!“, she patted Fernando excitedly on his back. He just grinned and said: „Hasn’t she been linked with someone else now?“ - „Well yes, Matty Healy, that greasy singer from The 1975, but you were a much better candidate for mother.“

„Is it Taylor’s Version“, she asked. „What is Taylor’s Version“, Max asked. She gasped and turned around to face the Dutch driver. „You don’t know what Taylor’s Version means? Shame on you!“

The car ride was short and they were soon in the garage of the hotel. This time it was Daniel who was carrying y/n to her hotel room. Charles was still rubbing his shoulders, as she gripped him so hard, out of fear she could fall off. Until then, everyone on the grid knew about the girl getting her wisdom teeth removed. That’s why Lando, Oscar, Alex and Lily, George and Pierre were waiting in front of her room.

Fernando was the first one to notice the bunch and laughed out loud. y/n covered her ears, as she was still thinking that laughter is too loud and was hurting her head. Lily was the first one she noticed, so she sprung from Danny’s back and sprinted towards Alex‘ girlfriend. „Lily, hi, what are you doing here?“, for Lily it was hard to understand her, not yet having learnt what her gibberish meant. For the others in the car, it became noticeably easier the more she talked.

„Hi y/n, I heard about your wisdom teeth and I just wanted to check if you were good and if you need anything. But I see that you already have a bunch with you.“

The young driver nodded and hugged Lily once again. She looked at Lewis so he would open her door. He smiled and made his way through all the drivers. And as soon as he opened the door, y/n was on her way to lie on her bed. The others went one by one into her room and either sat on the few chairs or opted to sit on the floor. She soon was snoring slightly, y/n was out cold.

„So, how do we do this? We can’t all be watching her or can we?“, Pierre asked the group. „We can take turns“, suggested George. „I would probably go, I mean, we, right babe?“, Alex turned towards his girlfriend who nodded her head. „I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t alone, s‘all“, she said.

„We can take the first round, right mate“, Lando looked towards Oscar, who nodded at his teammate. „Okay, thanks guys, I think me and Fernando will be back in, let’s say, three hours?“, Lewis asked. „We can look after you guys, me and Carlos“, Charles said and everyone nodded. „Max? You and me?“, Daniel wiggled his eyebrows at Max who laughed in response. That only left George and Pierre, who were content that they were last, which meant, they had a high chance of not looking after the driver.

Everyone left, expect the two McLaren drivers. Lando soon set up his phone and would start recording everything when she woke up. She did after a 20 minute nap and was very confused where all her favourite people went. She started to cry and Lando tried hard not to laug. „Hey there, what’s wrong?“, Oscer asked the girl. „Where did everyone go?“

They explained the situation to her, but she didn’t stop crying. She wanted to drink something, but the last time she couldn’t hold the water in her mouth. „I can ask for a straw, maybe that’s better?“ Lando frantically searched for the phone to the reception. Unfortunately they didn’t have any straws. „Oscar, go to McDonalds or so and get a straw!“

„Lando, I love you so much, the things you’re doing for me“, she whispered and Lando almost didn’t understand her. Nevertheless, he was still touched.

She mostly slept, took some pain meds and slept again. It wasn’t really necessary to watch her anymore, but all of them still stayed. Even on the next morning, where most of the grid flew home again. Lewis accompanied her home and they facetimed Seb together. He’s seen all of the videos already - she doesn’t remember a thing. He was just glad that she was okay.

y/n said her hellos to Hanna and his two girls and cooked for Lewis - vegan of course. She was so glad to have all of her friends working with her, she wouldn’t know what to do without them.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @whatthefuckerr

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crybabytoy59 · 1 month ago

Text

If you’re willing too open your little heart. Pt3.

Sitting in the bath crying at Mommy’s kind words …

Aunty Anna teased me ..

“That’s a clever baby we love to see you crying it’s just so cute you doing that just for us baby Stephanie…. X”

Mommy had put on a black rubber glove then pulled my chin gently..

“ Shall we show Aunty Anna what you were doing for the lovely Lady Dentist baby Stephanie?”

I opened my mouth wide to show mommy Obedience ….

Susan was just so beautiful her voice so hypnotic !

I just wanted to please her, to have her love the baby inside me no matter the depth my surrender to my inner submissive would go..

“Clever Baby girlie yes just like that .. are you going to moan for mommy the way the Dentist had you moaning Hhmmm ?

(I looked right at Mommy moaning loudly) Yes that’s the way you did it baby, you were quite the wee slut for her ! “

Aunty Anna giggled as I started sucking on Mommy’s rubber fingers moaning louder as Aunty was playing with my nipples ! !

“ Yes that’s the way baby princess Mommy loves to hear you moan for things in that cute fuck hole of yours ! Moan louder you wee Bitch ! ..

Much better your going to be sucking on lots of things some nice and some not so nice…

Even some downright Nasty !….

But baby girlie will moan for each and every one of them saying “Fankew !” Won’t you Baby Stephanie !”

I was completely lost in surrender now as I nodded to Mommy..

I nodded more vigorously as I bobbed my headie on her beautiful fingers !…

Mommy lookedme right in the eyes ….

“Open Wide baby girlie we have a wee surprise for you ! ..tilt your headie backwards Now !”

I nearly choked on Mommy’s fingers as when I looked backwards stood at the end of the Bath Was The Dentist lady !! ….

“ Hello baby Stephanie stay Open Wide ! For us !”

She had the gum shields..pushing the lower one into a pop ! Then she pushed the upper home to a second pop ! …

Mommy stood beside her as Aunty joined them all three smiling down at me as I was physically shaking now !

“ My my they are perfect Debbie I love the two wee white baby teeth would that be possible to have them re-modded to better suit her toddler status ?

The dentist ran her fingers into my mouth… well we would need to remove her “Big” teeth then put some posts in for baby teeth…how many would you want ?

Mommy smiled down at me …

“I think just the upper two will be fine baby’s don’t have any lower teeth…Eh baby darling do you hear that the lovely lady is going to pull All your teeth out and give you real baby teeth … isn’t Aunty Debbie so kind why don’t you thank her .. “

Fwankew Aunty Debbie !”

The Dentist spoke to me…

“Clever girlie baby princess you even got my full name right cuite… I have the surgery free on Sunday or is that too soon Mommy Susan ? “

“My my No that would be fantastic !

Hear that baby your going to have your teeth removed on Sunday you lucky girlie !…. Aawww are you going to cry for Aunty Debbie are you ?

Yes Darling you can have a nice Big crybaby session on Sunday as Aunty Debbie works on you !”

They all started laughing over my current state !

As I was now gagging on Aunty Debbie’s fingers as she thrusted them Deeply ! Aunty Anna tugged my nipples hard for me to keep my headie fully back for them ..

Mommy put her hands in the water !

“Baby Stephanie who said you could get excited darling ? Your such a wee Pain Slut aren’t you ! Say it tell us your a wee baby Pain Slut ! “

They all laughed louder as I lisped around AUNTYS FINGERS FUCKING ME as Aunty Anna dug her nails into my nipples !…

Mommy kissed my cheek ..X

“Let’s get you out if this bath as I think we have a wee cleaning job for you to do ..Aunty Anna can you get baby Stephanie’s baby dress please the pink pvc one !”

Mommy patted my headie ..

“ Keep sucking Aunty Debbie’s fingers as I get you out !”

Mommy pulled me out the bath by my nipples ! Her nails biting into me hard I squealed around Aunty Debbie’s fingers as Mommy made me kneel for them..

Aunty Anna had come back with the short pink PVC baby dress holding it up for my new Aunty too see !

“AwwwwwAswwww how cute is that baby Stephanie ..Mommy after you dress baby could I please dipee her ? ! Have always wanted to diaper a sissy baby girlie!”

Mommy lifted my arms up for Aunty Ana to pull the dress on I was still wet and covered in foam suds ..

“Why yes I think baby Stephanie would so love that would you baby ?”

Wess Mommy !

I was zipped up then Mommy put my changing mat on the bathroom Floor ..

“Lay down baby Stephanie Aunty Debbie is going to put your dipee on and put you into your spreader pants !”

Aunty Debbie took her time putting way too much nappy cream everywhere ! The dipee stuck to its wetness as I panted she pulled on my rubber pants pulling the belts tightly then put my white frilly bottom tights on me…

They lifted my hips as she slid the spreader pants under me clipping the sides shut she pulled the shoulder straps over crossing at my back !

Mommy had me do a wee sit up so Aunty Debbie could pull them tightly..

When I went on all fours they pulled into my crotch and rear tightly!

Mommy spoke to me…

“Now baby Stephanie crawl over to the door and back for Us !”

As I did they clapped !

“Clever Baby girlie..Now let’s put your cleaning hood on sit up and beg like a wee puppy for your hood !

Again they laughed as I begged in front of them !

Mommy had a pink hood with white eye ovals and two pigtails from its crown, it also had wee rubber balls that she had too push hard to pop into my nostrils!

Next it had rubber lips that had wee nubs all over them, it was so tight mommy had to pull it hard as Aunty Anna zippered it up !

Mommy patted it to a loud rubber drum sound !!

“Now seeing as Aunty Debbie put you in a nice big diaper you can clean her first ! Crawl over to the stool !

Put your headie into the cut out so Mommy can fix you in place !”

As I knelt to put my headie in Aunty Anna kicked my rear hard !

“Spread your leggies and feeties out as far as you can baby !

Handies behind you and clasp your handies !”

She fed an arm binder on me tightly !

As Mommy clicked the neck part behind my headie into the chair Aunty Debbie sat in the chair her thighs now each side of my headie ..

“Ok baby Stephanie clean me and you had best make a good job missy ! Or am going to beat you !”

She forced her wet sex into my waiting mouth ! As I started licking !!

It didn’t take long before Debbie started pulling the ponytails thrusting violently onto my face !

“Mommy can I make baby lick my ass !

I have always wanted to have a sissy rim

Me ! “

Mommy chuckled as she told Debbie

“Baby will do as she is told no matter what you ask of her ! Or she will be in big trouble !”

“Right baby Stephanie am going to lay right back and I want to feel you licking my beautiful shit hole girlie !…. O’fuck yes ! Now get that tongue in ! Deeper baby girlie ! That’s the way ! Open wide ! ..missy !”

I suddenly felt matter at my tongue !

O M G no !!!…

I pulled back but she quickly followed me pinning my head, as Mommy realised what was happening !

Mommy held my headie pushing hard onto Aunty Debbie !

“Do as your told Open Wide ! Wider baby Stephanie ! Take it in your mouth then swallow ! “

Aunty Anna was clapping as Debbie grunted hard followed by a huge scream as she climaxed !

“Clean Aunty Debbie up baby Stephanie Do it !”

I leaped up Debbie’s hole cleaning as best I could it was terrible !

“Now Open Wide and keep your headie backwards !”

Mommy barked at me as she fed wet pissie pants into my mouth !

“Bite down baby !”

Aunty Anna put a face harness on me holding my mouth shut ..as I wheezed out my rubber nose holes loudly…. Aunty Debbie got out the chair …

“OMG Mommy Susan where did you find baby Stephanie ? “

Mommy chuckled again

“She came to me ! She wants to be a good baby girlie 24/7

So we have an appointment with Mistress Kay on Friday then the real fun will begin as I makes her into a proper Baby Girlie !”

Aunty Debbie smiled at me …

“My my what a lucky baby girl you are Stephanie…. Aunty Debbie will make some special things ready for Sunday seeing as your to be a 24/7 Babyslave I have something special in mind for you little one !”

Mommy patted my hood…

“What do we say baby Stephanie ?”

Fwankew Aunty Debbwie ….

“Clever Baby girlie see you on Sunday be a good girlie till then ok …”

She hugged them both then left …

Mommy came back over to me as new tears started…

Mommy smiled at me…

“Clever Baby girlie that was a lovely cleaning job, just got your Aunty Anna to clean now baby girlie Aunty Anna !”

Anna got into the chair her sex was Very powerful ! She was very obviously turned on by what I had just done…

Mommy removed the face harness…

“Now not a word little lady just do as Aunty Anna tells you or we will punish you again but much worse ok ? (I nodded)

I hope so baby Stephanie as Mommy wants a very Obedient baby!”

Aunty Anna spoke to me…

“Open Wide baby girl… that’s a clever

wee baby girl !

Aunty take these wet pissie pants out of your mouth but don’t fret you wil have them back after you clean Aunty Anna..

There we go !

Now baby girlie lick very soft and slowly around the sweaty area first then Big long licks up each side till Aunty Anna is nice and wet…

Mmmmm clever girlie that’s the way but look up at me as you clean … much better little one .. Now tongue in nice and Deep fill that sissy baby mouth up with Aunty Anna’s lovely fluids… Mmmmm my my your a wee natural baby Stephanie !

Now As wide as you can and listen only to My Voice !”

Mommy was putting head phones on me !

As I could now here crying in the distance..

Not normal crying it sounded hysterical…

“Clever Baby girlie just concentrate on My voice ! Lick Aunty’s bud ..mmmm flick it with that sissy baby tongue ! Mmmmm Now suck it !…. Here we go Swallow crybaby Swallow all of it !”

Aunty was peeing into my mouth it was dribbling down my pvc dress and I had to gulp to keep up …

As she Finished I was panting for air !

But she pulled her hips up to line up with my mouth !

Mommy pweese…hhummph !

Aunty pushed hard on to me as Mommy held my headie !

“Just swallow and it will be over soon make Mommy proud baby girl !”

I heard Aunty grunt hard as she started face fucking me ! ! …

Mommy kept up the pressure.. as Aunty Barked at me

“ Swallow you wee bitch your going to learn to do everything we tell you and so much more !”

Aunt Anna started thrusting as she climaxed hard squirting fluid into my mouth !

Mouthful after mouthful of it !

Mommy whispered into my ear Wee’wee baby Stephanie…

I wet my diaper as I swallowed down the sex gift from Aunty Anna…

Mommy patted my rear …

“Ok princess Big Deep breath for Mommy and push hard … clever girlie baby Fill your diaper…come on push hard past Mr Pluggie !…

That’s the way Mommy is going to put a much bigger pluggie in you for bedtime so she needs you nice and empty baby !”

I felt the first pass the plug as I took a further Deep breath to push a second load slid out then a third !

Panting hard I started crying again but this time bawling like a three year old…

What was happening to me I desperately wanted to cry and bawl like a Baby !

Mommy and Aunty Anna put me down in my cot for a sleep with the pissie pants gag and face harness on as I sobbed myself to sleep ! …

I awoke the next day but to my surprise I was fully dressed in a baby outfit and my wrists were cuffed to a pink leather corset and garter affair ! I had on white tights with a huge frilly rear and black Mary Janes !

Mommy appeared over the cot ..

“Hello little one it’s a Very special day today so Mommy has to get you up and into the car ok ?”

I nodded to her…

“Now it’s Very important today you do what your told when your told ok Baby Stephanie?”

Again I nodded …

As she took the cot side Down…

I had to crawl as the corset had a spreader flap under my rubber pants !

I was lead outside to her car then strapped into the back seat a short ride into town we stopped in a carpark behind a building as Mommy got me out I crawled in the back door up some stairs to an office…

Inside was a Lady with Red hair dressed in a business suit .. as we entered she got up and kissed Mommy Susan then spoke to me …

“Ok baby Stephanie come sit in this chair like a clever baby please !”

It was a chair with very short leges in black leather it had a high back and a strange half round at the top ?

I got into it as Mommy spoke to me …

“Give your handies to Mistress Elaine baby girl !”

As I put my handies behind me I felt strapping being fastened up as my shoulders were pulled unnaturally backwards !

Mommy was cuffing my ankles back tightly too the chair legs at the rear !

I was whimpering as they both worked on me !

The lady told me to hush down as she pulled a strap over my forehead pinning me to the seat !

“Ok let’s begin Your Mommy is going to tell you what’s about too happen ok! “

Mommy lent into talk to me …

“ Now baby this is Mistress Elaine she is Mommy’s lawyer and handle’s all her legal matters, but she is also one of Mommy’s best friends so I want you to be a very good girlie for her and talk up nice and loudly answering her questions ok ?”

Wess Mommy..

“Clever Baby girlie..So today you are going to have everything taken from you and given to Mommy so she can have you be her baby princess proper this Mistress Elaine is going to explain to you as she sees fit ! Ok let’s begin !”

They swapped places as Mommy went behind me teasing my nipples gently…

Mistress Elaine set up a camera on a try pod right infront of me !

“Ok baby Stephanie… Now is your name ***** **** ? (Wess Mistress Elaine !)

Do you live at ***** ****?

(Wess Mistress Elaine)

Is this your date of birth ?

(Wess Mistress Elaine)

Mommy Susan says you want to be a baby girl is that true ?

(Wess Mistress Elaine)

Do you want Mommy Susan to regress you both mentally and physically to be a baby girl of three ?

(Wess Mistress Elaine)

Mommy will have complete control over your life do you fully agree to this ?

(Wess Mistress Elaine)

Mommy was tugging on my nipples now as I whimpered out the last Wess Mistress Elaine !

They both giggled over my newly emerging behaviour from both the hypnotic tapes and Mommy’s mental torture of my mind..

“Ok so you want to be Baby Stephanie for Mommy Susan… clever girlie baby let’s just do one last thing then this will be complete ok baby ?”

Wess Mommy…

Open nice and wide !

Mommy put a leather ring gag behind my teeth strapping it tightly…

Mistress Elaine appeared in front of me it she was not alone !

She had a sissy maid with her with an open front maids dress on the sissy had on white frilly tights but her crotch was naked and her hard clittie was on display!

“This is my sissy maid baby girl she is going to face fuck you ! She has not been allowed to come for a month and I have been edging her constantly for this task, she is very full as you can see !

She was patting sissy’s huge balls !

Be a good baby and swallow All her sissy gift ! Off we go !…. Sissy Patty fuck baby Stephanie’s cunt face please ! “

Sissy patty kissed my cheek….

“Clever Baby girlie just relax and be a good wee clittie sucker !”

She put in my mouth guards top and bottom then straddling my face she had me tongue her clittie even harder as Mommy worked my nipples…

But what happened next made me bawl…

Sissy went right to the back of my throat holding my chair back firmly !

I had no Air !

“Like my clittie baby girlie ! Come on tongue right out !…. Mmmmmm good baby girlie more do it More ! Or I will rape your fuck face !… MMmmmm much better baby Stephanie !!… here we go !”

Sissy started pumping relentless !

As Mistress Elaine put a bib on me ! …

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solarcas · 1 year ago

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Suptober Day 6 - Full spread loosely inspired by the works of my beloved incredible mutual @chapeldean 💕👋 (though nowhere near as good as her stuff jhkdfkj)

Transscript of my terrible handwritting under the cut :D

[Open for better quality!]

October - Oktober - Październik 2023

Monday/Montag/Podniedziałek; 2: Dinner @ Jody's Tuesday/Dienstag/Wtorek; 3: Movie night -> BTTF? Wednesday/Mittwoch/środa; 4: - Thursday/Donnerstag/Czwartek; 5: Jack dentist 3pm (Baby's first doc appointment :'-) ) [Covered by sticker that reads "Beelieve in yourself"]: get packed -> make list! Saturday/Samstag/Sobota; 7: VACATION! Remember: -laptop + charger! + phone. Sunday/Sonntag/Niedziela; 8: -lock room so Sammy can't snoop NOTES: Shampoo, Snacks, sunglasses 4 Cas, !Call mom!

#does it make sense that dean would have a bought calender that had german+polish in it. no. do i care. also no.#also hiii ida im shamelessly copying you dsfhjk <333 jk ofc but truly your edits are off the charts and i thought of ur journaling au all #the time while making this!! hope u dont mind the tag but i felt proper credit was due dsfkjhk 💕👋#suptober #suptober23 #dean winchester #spn fanart #journaling #supernatural #destiel #deancas #traditional art #marker art #solar draws #emeraldcas #chapeldean #spxcekya #the bee sticker was put in there by cas ofc <3 🐝 and bttf is on for movie night bc i love it thatse it

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riskyalt · 5 months ago

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@anonymous-dentist's SPIDERBIT WEEK! Day 1 but a bit late cause I thought it started on a Monday not a Sunday, perdón😔 I used the prompt Coffee :]

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Cellbit's vision is undoubtedly, unfortunately, not holding up to the level of activity his brain seems to be promoting. It's in the haphazard scrambling with flung out thoughts and half-baked theories that only make sense if he squints where he realises this investigation is beginning it's downward arc. it's the restless yet consistent energy, like gears turning in time with each other in a way the mechanism isn't oiled for. He distantly recognises this as a symptom of his constant fatigue and insomnia, but did he really care?

He was on a roll though, and had been for the last however many hours. The surrounding world fades into something unimportant and small, an option appearing for him to render it into his conscious or not. His ear flicks, goggles long since strewn across the table's corner by the dried ink blot where his pens sit, and he thinks about how all he can fixate on is the computer screen and the keyboard his fingers dance across.

He would be remorseful, truly would be if the circumstances and stakes were different. He's sure he would regret that crick in his back, the pounding ache of his spinal chord, that knee-deep layer of quicksand his body is suddenly trapped under - he's positive complaints would flow out of his mouth just as willingly as he chooses to subject himself to this in the first place.

Though the stakes are far higher than merely a few pains and aches here and there blooming across his body - the weight of friend's lives rest on his mind, so might as well tough out however long this nightmare will last. After all, this is far from anything compared to where he grew up. He can handle this, easy.

Cramped fingers reach for a black coffee cup, painted to resemble the Ordo's eye on the front. He's pale, as reflected by his skin against the mug, but he doesn't bother to spend braincells trying to think about that, instead feeding off the jolt of consciousness at the cold of the ceramic against his palm. There's…a liquid sloshing about inside, strange looking and smelling, something he once claimed was 'coffee'.

To his defence, he thinks to himself as he scrunches his nose and lifts to take a sip, he's never been bad at making or rating coffee. In fact, he would dare to call himself an expert on the drink. It's his obsession, his hobby, to the point that Felps liked to joke that half his bloodstream is made up of the substance. He grimaces at the reminder.

Cellbit chugs the minimal amount left, robotically putting down the mug onto a worn coaster sitting on his right. He's just so over the effort it takes to make genuinely good coffee that's up to his critical standard - no doubt effort and energy that cannot be spent on something so meaningless right now. He has a job to do, and he better do it well.

His rosetted tail curls from where it's hanging off the wooden chair, he scratches at his leg with the heel of his shoe. Ah, but here he is, getting sidetracked and lost in the restraints of his own mind.

Again.

He needs to get himself together, urgently.

Fatigued and lifeless blue eyes, like shards of ice under moonlight haul themselves off the painted mug and back onto the piercing display of his monitor. The pixels must be seared into his gaze permanently, the light must haunt his visage after countless days spent down here with nothing but the device as his companion.

There's a document displayed, he knows because he opened it twenty minutes ago, yet his brain is uncooperative and doesn't allow him to read it properly. The effort of translating is sapping mental strength from reserves he doesn't have, and generally tonight was going great until his vision gave out right under his nose.

Well. Actually it had been going downhill for a long time now.

He squints at the paper-white colour of the backing, carefully tracing the black imprints of letters on the page. He thinks he can read what it's saying, but as soon as that thought forms it slips away from his hands like a fish flashing past in a fast moving stream.

His pen taps against the edge of his notebook, harsh ceiling light drilling a needle further into his aching cranium.

The islanders needs him. They do.

He'll allow himself to just wish, at the least, that he could get better coffee. Though Cellbit's wished a lot in his life, and he can confidently conclude it does jack all. Wishing on a lucky star won't bring His warm laugh back will it.

His entire body flinches and soul startles into the tangible when he hears the sound of an elevator working, hissing sound causing jarring spontaneous panic to slam against his chest.

His heart beats against his ribs as the first outline of said intruder appears, leaving Cellbit frozen down to his position from the chair.

Black hair, exercised, same height-

It's not…..it isn't…that thing. He hates how quickly his mind stills at the conclusion. He blinks.

Cellbit releases a large breath as the familiar almond light of Roier's eyes catch his. The ocelot's hand instinctively clutches his chest, shoulders loosening and tail relaxing as the Mexican steps out from the teletransporter and further into the light of his office. "Que susto porra!" He exclaims, feeding off panic that's no longer present simply to pester.

He marvels in how much lighter his body feels at the familiarity and normalness of Roier's presence. He's like a sun, and here Cellbit is soaking up the light.

"Perdón, perdón, no queria asustarte." Roier laughs, smiling, fondly. It's not the splitting ear to ear grin that the man usually easily sports, something more melancholic and weak present about it. There are bags under his eyes, something unusual about the way his subsidiary spider features are cracked open. The arachnid still has overalls on, the same ones that-

Cellbit smiles back, just as soft with no one but them in audience, all pretend fear forgotten. He leans back on his chair and takes his hands off the keyboard, waiting for Roier to gather himself and begin speaking. He's totally not admiring how pretty the man is under the light of his office. Nope. His ears perk up.

"I heard you were working yourself to death, and Forever is asleep, so I decided if I can't get you to stop I'll at least help. So, I brought this." Roier proudly presents- a…white mug? It's steaming, wonderful aroma of ground coffee beans emanating from the top as any questions he may have had slip right out of his grasp. Cellbit has already lost any remaining interest in even considering his computer screen. His vision goes crystal clear if only for the mug.

"Qué es?" He tries to put as much enthusiasm as he can cram into the words, watching the Mexican's features light up at Cellbit's curiosity as he places the steaming plain white mug on the coaster and removes the black one.

The Mexican's face scrunches in a manner the Brazilian can only describe as cute when he peers into the contents of the black mug. Naturally, the chanting in Cellbit's head is unanimously saying 'fofo' on loop. For the first time, he can't exactly disagree. He pointedly ignores the flutter in his stomach.

"Qué es esto wey? What are you drinking man! Parece cemento!?" Roier's half gloved hands wiggle the mug back and forth, brows furrowed as his gaze slides back to Cellbit's face. The Brazilian smothers a laugh and nods seriously. "Yeah, you know the machine ran out so…had to get some from outside. Quick snack." He shrugs innocently, watching Roier's mouth open and his extra eyes widen.

"QUÉ-" Cellbit begins to laugh at the comical reaction, cutting the Mexican off as he too snorts in return. "Pendejo." Roier mutters, before moving away from Cellbit's desk, taking the painted mug and placing it on the glass coffee table across. Cellbit wonders why he feels a pang of disappointment at the lost proximity.

Roier flops down on the couch opposite his desk, halfheartedly rubbing at his face. Cellbit's still smiling, he knows, because this position for his features to assume for this long is unnatural and foreign to him, yet he doesn't quite find it in him to care.

"Ok, culero, drink while it's hot, I'm tired." The comment is light hearted as Roier motions from his sprawled out position towards the mug sitting on the coaster, yet Cellbit feels there's more truth to that statement than the man is letting on. He can literally see the lines of fatigue traced on the once pure-spirited visage, but remorsefully he shuts out his detective brain. He doesn't want to overstep where he's not welcome, especially after what happened to the man's literal son. Later he'd have to check up on the guy, make sure there's at least something he can provide to ease that buried hurt.

Cellbit quickly shifts his attention down to the mug, and immediately gawks at it. He can hear Roier's satisfied smirk, but-

Not only does it smell angelic, there's marshmallows scattered on the top and what he can definitely tell is cinnamon powdered on. Oh what was he even doing before Roier came in again? He looks back at the arachnid, who's grinning proudly, and takes the mug into his hands.

"This…thank you guapito?" Cellbit stutters out. "You put cinnamon, great call, by the way." He compliments, feigning obliviousness at the way triumph shines in Roier's gaze.

"Obvio, it's the best way to do it. Anyone that doesn't agree is a pendejo." Cellbit chuckles in assent and goes in for a swing.

He's not directly looking at Roier, but he can tell the man is carefully observing his reaction. He tamps down a smile as a thought occurs to him. The mug is warm in his hands, and he's regretful to let go of it but places it back on the coaster anyway.

Clearly, it's some of the most heavily shit he's tasted in years, and the fact that he's schooled his expression into such neutrality is an achievement in of itself. The cinnamon sits just right on his tongue with the bitterness of no sugar and the mildest hint of milk in the background, making it all balance so perfectly and Cellbit might as well be dead on the spot with how much sticky, honey-like warmth drips in his chest.

"Like a six out of ten." Cellbit says casually, cracking his fingers with the most practiced look of neutrality plastered on his features.

"QUÉ? Nah culero, ya me voy en chinguiza. Si me odias tanto-"

"É uma brincadeira! Broma!" Cellbit cackles at the genuine ire drawn on Roier's face before it instantaneously fades as he observes the Brazilian's laughter.

"Desculpe, I had to do it." He laughs out, watching Roier roll his eyes and laugh into his hand. It's a welcome sound, something unfiltered and so casually Roier.

"Órale! If you don't hate me, rate it, Caffellbit."

"Caffellbit?" Cellbit quirks up an eyebrow, amused grin staying on his face. Roier only nods genuinely at him, arms laying crossed against his chest. Cellbit does not pause on the muscle there for more than one second. He doesn't.

"Well. The cinnamon works really well, and there's no sugar as far as I can tell which is usually something people hate but I really love," he begins, noting the open curiosity in that deep brown stare across him. "it's like, perfect. At least a nine. Genuinely caters to my tastes so well- wait."

He snaps his gaze back to Roier's eyes. "Did you talk to Pac..?"

"Si, I in fact did. Tengo que cuidarte como si fueras un bebé , no puedes hacer ni madres solo." Cellbit grumbles at the remark as Roier's eyes sparkle with mirth.

"Alright no I see how it is." Cellbit rolls his eyes pretending he doesn't feel heat rush to his cheeks at the simple way in which Roier says it.

All he can think of is warmth, warmth, warmth. And not just because of the mug sitting atop the coaster.

Warmth and a touch of cinnamon.

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A day late, once again sorry lmfaoo 😭. I really need more writing practice

#spiderbit week #spiderbit #elk rambles #qsmp #q!roier #q!cellbit #elk writes

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whimsimille · 5 months ago

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PSYCHOCHROMIA

Seo Moonjo (Patient) x Reader! (Doctor)

Chapter 2: Slaughter house

Tick tack

30 minutes now and you're going crazy. You look at Moonjo through your mascara-coated eyelashes, the clumps of black giving your gaze an almost predatory edge. He only smirks, a Cheshire curl of lips that deflates another question once again. It's grating. It's perverse. But you still take a sip of the cold coffee.

Your fingers moved almost subconsciously to cross over each other on top of the table—a nervous habit you had since childhood when Mom wasn't looking. She would have shot you a disapproving look if she were still alive, reminding you of Dad and how he used to beat you for being so much like him. But she wasn't here now; she couldn’t make you feel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She couldn't see you crossing your fingers in this room, hoping against hope that Moonjo would open up and reveal something about his past or his crimes.

"Can you tell me about your... work? How do you reconcile your actions with your own moral compass, Mr. Seo?"

Moonjo's smile widened, revealing perfect, gleaming teeth that seemed almost too pristine, too sharp. He reached for the crayon you usually leave out for Mina, a patient with regression disorder. The bright red crayon looked almost comically out of place in his large, bruised hand. Without breaking eye contact, he began to sketch on the paper in front of him, making slow and chirurgical strokes that gradually took form.

"You see, Dr. Song, extracting a tooth is an art form. It's delicate, precise. You must be gentle but also firm. One wrong move and you could shatter the tooth, ruin the whole endeavor. It's very similar to... my other work."

He paused, glancing down at his doodle. Hollow eyes, razor-thin smile lines carved out of the paper.

"I had an unfortunate upbringing. My father was a strict man—a pastor who preached about sin and damnation every Sunday. I suppose it rubbed off on me." Moonjo pulls at one of his bottom lips with his teeth, revealing the sharp edge of his incisor. There's something feral about him now, almost primal. It's as if he's been waiting for this moment—not only to share his story but also to relish in it. "I remember one Sunday, after a particularly fiery sermon about the wages of sin, he took me to the basement. There was a row of dental tools laid out on a white cloth—forceps, scalers, probes. He said they were instruments of God's will, tools to cleanse the soul. That day, I learned how to extract a tooth. He made me practice on myself first, pulling out a molar with trembling hands. The pain was excruciating, but the lesson was clear: salvation through suffering.”

Your pen hovered over the page, barely able to keep up with the torrent of his revelations. "I’m sorry for you—"

“Don’t,” he shook his head slowly, almost pityingly. “People think of God as a comforting figure. Like a teddy bear a child clings to at night, or a security blanket. It's nice to think there's someone up there who's always watching, always caring. The promise of paradise, of eternal life—it’s a comforting thought, isn't it?"

You shifted in your seat again, uncrossing your legs and recrossing them the other way around, trying to find some sort of comfort in the movement. "But not everyone sees it that way. Some people find comfort in the rituals and the community. It's not just about fear or comfort; it's about belonging."

Seo paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he were trying to recall a distant memory. "For some people, yes. But I understood that it was always in the blood, in the agape mouths and in the crushed windpipes. It was in the steel of the dental tools, the ones I used to clean my victims' teeth before... well, you know."

It was like listening to a twisted version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; the transformation from healer to killer so seamless it was almost poetic. It was like being in a surreal version of a dentist's office—one where the patients were more likely to bite you than spit out what was stuck in their teeth.

“I might not understand everything, Mr. Seo. But I do know that everyone has their reasons and their justifications. Even if those reasons are twisted and dark, yes. I know.”

The man looks up from his drawing and raises an eyebrow at you—a challenge in his eyes. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, holding his gaze even if it feels like he's seeing straight into your soul.

"If the idea of eternal punishment is the only thing keeping you good, are you really a good person? Is it the fear of hell that makes you help an old lady cross the street, or is it genuine kindness? Maybe it was other things that caused me to lose my belief. Maybe my faith was only conditional to begin with. Perhaps it was rooted in the childlike wonder I felt when I first read the Bible, like believing in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny."

Moonjo stretches his arm out, displaying the paper with the half-finished drawing—a crude sketch of a man in a robe, arms spread wide and eyes closed—and an almost serene smile on his face. Above his head, a halo glows bright and golden. "Sometimes when we prayed at church or at home, I would close my eyes and try to summon that feeling of awe, of connection to something greater. But it always felt hollow, like I was reciting lines from a play I no longer believed in."

You took a deep breath before speaking again, not wanting to break the eerie silence that had fallen between you two. "I understand, Mr. Seo… But what do you want me to do with this? This man in your sketch, is he supposed to represent your father, or perhaps a version of yourself?"

You held up the drawing, trying not to let your shaking hands give away your fear. There was no answer from Moonjo; he simply sat there, staring at you with those empty eyes that seemed to hold an endless well of madness. Sweat began to bead on your forehead as the temperature in the room dropped precipitously. It felt as if the air itself were becoming chilled by his presence, as if he were sucking out all warmth and light like some kind of parasite.

"Mr. Seo?" You tried again, louder this time. "Are you alright?"

He didn't respond, but instead reached over to a small pot on the table and picked up a stick of sugar-free gum from it. Popping it into his mouth with a loud crack, he began chewing vigorously on it as he stared at you intently, studying your every move as if trying to decide whether or not you were worth keeping around any longer.

“This is how they saw him. Pure and holy, a beacon of light." His voice drawls with disgust, lips pulling back to show his teeth chewing the gum. "But I saw something else. I saw an old man who'd lost control of his son, who beat him when he misbehaved and demanded silent obedience. I saw the hypocrisy in their pews every Sunday. They sang hymns of love while their husbands beat their wives at home." He pauses, nodding slowly as if in agreement with himself. "So I started cleansing them—cleansing them with my own hands and tools. It was liberating."

As he speaks, he absently fiddles with the red crayon, twirling it between his fingers before dipping it into the black inkpot on the table. A smear of blood-red color mixes with the black ink, forming an ominous stain on the wet surface. The sound of scratching fills the air as he writes his next words: 'Sometimes I imagine they scream so loud for me'.

In general, when you start working with a patient, there is no urgency, no predetermined therapeutic timeline to meet specific goals. Usually, it begins with many months of conversation. In an ideal world, Moonjo would talk about himself, his life, and his childhood. You would listen, gradually building a picture until it was complete enough to venture into precise and useful interpretations. But in this case, nothing real would be said. Nothing non manipulative would be heard. The information you needed would have to be obtained from non-verbal cues, from whatever information you could extract from other sources, like the confidential notes from the police files or the whispered rumors among the nurses.

In other words, you had to set a plan in motion to help Moonjo without knowing exactly how to execute it.

A fly buzzes aimlessly around your head before landing on Moonjo's sleeve; he casually reaches out and crushes it between his fingers, never breaking eye contact with you. The crunch of the exoskeleton is barely audible, but you can see the minute satisfaction in his eyes as he slowly pulls at the insect, dismembering it piece by piece. His jaw tightens, and you can't help but notice the pure, unadulterated grayness in his gaze—no spark, no humanity. Were the men and women he killed made out of a pair of fully developed wings on the thorax and a knobby, vestigial second pair of wings too? Had they too committed the crime of being small enough to fit between his fingers?

"You know, Mr. Seo, everyone has a different perspective on faith and morality. It's not always about fear of punishment or the promise of reward. Sometimes, it's about the simple act of doing what's right because it feels right. It's about the connections we forge and the empathy we extend to others." You spoke with more confidence than you felt. And you thought your voice sounded inordinately high and squeaky, though you could barely hear it, blood pumping so hard in your ears. "When I help someone, whether it's through my work here or in my personal life, it's not because I'm afraid of some divine retribution. It's because I believe in the inherent value of each human life. I believe in the power of compassion and understanding to bring about change, no matter how small."

Moonjo's smile widened as he dropped the insect, now crushed like an ant beneath a boot heel. Its wings had been smudged into grayish-black smears and you tried not to fidget at the thought that you were now the insect he wanted to dissect, to see if your blood was just as shiny and if your teeth would be as easy to pull out, but the rustle of your skirt against the vinyl chair caused you to twitch involuntarily.

"Do you really believe in what you're saying?" he asked, wiggling his fingers as if casting a spell, emphasizing their length and dexterity. "Or is your faith rotting in your drawer alongside your paints and canvases?"

Breath catches in your throat like an invisible noose tightening around your neck and your hand moves instinctively towards your necklace at the base of your throat—a simple silver chain holding an old Saint Christopher medal your first patient had given you when you first started working here.

You had never mentioned your passion for painting to anyone. How could he possibly know?

Quickly, you find your hand reaching for the recorder, your fingers fumbling a little, but you manage to hit 'pause' just before the next words. You can't believe what you're hearing. Your stomach churns and you feel your face go pale, yet you know that there are only ten more minutes left and you're pulling the plug on this interview. You'll have to pick it up with another patient later or simply write it up yourself based on his words, but the last thing you will do is be here when night falls.

"How do you know about that?"

He pointed toward your nails. "It's all in the details, Dr. Song. The way you hold your pen, the slight smudges on your skin... It's clear that you paint. And it's also clear that you're trying to reconcile two parts of yourself—the healer and the artist."

You glanced down at your hands, now trembling slightly. The faint traces of ultramarine blue under your thumbnail, the barely noticeable streak of burnt sienna on your wrist—marks of your late-night sessions that never seemed to completely wash away, no matter how hard you scrubbed with the lavender-scented soap from the local market.

Still, who would look at tiny bits of color strokes that couldn’t be cleaned with a sponge and make poetry out of them?

You gulp down the rest of your cold coffee, feeling its harshness sit heavy in your stomach like a rock. Moonjo watches intently as you set the mug down gently on the table that separates you from him—its metallic clank echoing off the walls like a warning bell in an empty church steeple.

"What makes you think my faith is rotting?"

"Because, jagiya, people like us... we wear masks. We hide behind our roles and our titles. But deep down, we are all searching for something. And sometimes, the very things we believe in, the things we cling to, can decay and fester within us."

"And what about you, Mr. Seo? What are you searching for? What lies beneath your mask?"

Moonjo shrugs nonchalantly, his chained hands moving up to his leather restraints as if he could snap them off at any moment if he wanted to. "Perhaps I'm searching for someone who can understand the darkness within me. Someone who can see beyond the monster and find the humanity buried deep.”

Tick tack.

Suddenly, another fly buzzes around the room. It lands on the battered oak table, right next to the crushed remains of the last one Moonjo had dismembered. Its tiny legs twitch as it surveys the scene, perhaps sensing the latent malice in the room. It cautiously inches towards your coffee mug. You shiver involuntarily as its spindly legs dance closer to the rim of the mug, delicately navigating the remnants of your lipstick stain.

Still, you just roll a piece of paper—the appointment schedule for the day, printed on flimsy office stock—and swat it away. The fly buzzes off, leaving a faint smear on the page, the scent of ink and paper mingling with the stale smell of old coffee.

It's an innocent gesture, a reflex born out of years of dealing with minor nuisances. But the act makes Moonjo stifle a laugh, a sound that is both mocking and curious. He tilts his head as if you were an interesting specimen under his scrutinizing gaze, his eyes narrowing like a cat watching a cornered mouse.

“…Or maybe I'm just looking for my next challenge." His tone was perfectly neutral, without judgment.

Even so, you felt a swell in your chest—a familiar toxic squeeze—like your lungs were eroding under the sheer weight of your work. You exhaled, fighting to remain calm. Seo Moonjo stayed under control only so long as you were calm.

"And do you think you'll find what you're looking for here, in this room with me?"

Moonjo's eyes bore into yours. "Maybe. Or maybe you'll find something about yourself that you never wanted to confront."

After a failed snack at the cafeteria—where the only offerings were a sad-looking sandwich with wilted lettuce and a cup of what could only be described as dishwater masquerading as coffee—you wandered through the dimly lit corridors of Gonjiam, still stained with the rusty marks of dried blood from the day a patient named Ji-Hoon had torn out his IV and sprinted through the halls, desperate for an escape. The metallic tang of old blood seemed to cling to the air, mingling with the antiseptic scent that never quite masked the underlying odor of despair. You needed to sneak out for a cigarette to escape the suffocating weight of your thoughts after the unnerving session with Seo Moonjo. His doodle, now folded and tucked away in your pocket, felt like a lead weight pressing against your leg.

Just as you were about to give up after minutes of wandering around and heading back to your office, Son Yoo Jeong appeared near the fire escape, her ever-present clipboard clutched to her chest and a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, suggesting she'd been rushing around the ward. Still, she was pretty with her new short bob cut, the kind of haircut that looked effortlessly chic but probably required meticulous maintenance.

“Are you lost, Y/N?" Jeong tilted her head slightly, her brown eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress.

You hesitated, the urge to confess weighing heavily on your chest. “No, not lost. Just... needing a break, noona.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Oh, there’s no need to lie, honey! It happens even with senior nurses! It took me months to find my way around here. It feels like a maze with no exit. Sometimes I still get lost, and I've been here for ten years." She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that contrasted sharply with the heavy atmosphere.

Before you could protest, she gently took you by the arm, her fingers surprisingly strong for someone so petite. She led you through a series of twists and turns, past the nurses' station, where a couple of RNs were chatting over their cups. You barely had time to register the framed prints of Van Gogh's "Starry Night" and Monet's "Water Lilies" hanging on the walls before she was guiding you upstairs, where nurses and aides moved in and out, their scrubs a blur of blues and greens, punctuated by the occasional flash of a brightly colored lanyard or a pin celebrating a recent vaccination.

"I'll put the water on to boil," Jeong said as soon as you two entered the place, her voice cutting through the noise. "What a miserable weather, huh? It would be better if it started raining to end this... Rainis a very strong symbol in the imagination, don't you think? It cleans everything. Have you noticed how patients like to talk about storms? Try to observe. It's interesting."

To your surprise, she reached into her oversized tote bag—a well-worn, brown leather piece that looked like it had seen better days—and pulled out a huge piece of cake wrapped in cling film, placing it in your hand. "Here. Walnut cake. I made it last night. For you. Don't think I didn't notice your pretty face getting smaller every day. I know you're not eating."

"Wow, thanks. I..."

"I know it's not conventional, but I always get better results with difficult patients when I offer a slice of cake during the session," she said with a wink.

You laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit. "I bet you do. Am I a difficult patient?

Jeong giggled with a deep, hearty sound. "No, although I also think it works well with difficult team members... which you are not, by the way. A little sugar helps a lot to improve the mood. I used to make cakes for the cafeteria, but Sangwoo made such a fuss about all that nonsense about health and safety with food brought from outside... It was like I was smuggling files to see through the bars. But I still make my cakes on the sly sometimes. My rebellion against the dictatorial state. Eat a piece.

It wasn't a suggestion but an order. You took a bite. It was delicious. The cake had a perfect consistency, full of walnut pieces, and just the right amount of sweetness. You were chewing, so you tried to cover your mouth while speaking. "I have no doubt that this will put your patients in a good mood."

Jeong clapped her hands, seeming pleased. You realized why you liked her: she radiated a kind of maternal calm. She reminded you of your former therapist, Go Eun. It was hard to imagine her angry or upset. She also had that pink shade on her, mostly on the tip of her nose. You suspected it was partly from the cold; the hospital's thermostat perpetually set a few degrees too low, partly from her habit of pinching her cheeks whenever she felt flustered—a nervous tick she picked up from her grandmother, who always said a little color in the cheeks made one look healthier and mostly because she was just pure goodness and kindness.

You glanced around the room while she made the tea. The nurse's station is always the center of a psychiatric unit, the heart of the place: staff coming and going, and it's from there that the ward is managed day-to-day, or at least where practical decisions are made. "Aquarium" was the nickname the nurses themselves gave the station because the walls were made of reinforced glass, meaning the staff could keep an eye on the patients in the recreation room, at least in theory. In practice, the patients roamed outside constantly, looking in at us, making us the ones under constant observation. Since the space was small, there weren't enough chairs, and the existing ones were usually occupied by nurses working on the computers. So, you generally stood in the middle of the room or leaned awkwardly against a desk, making the place feel crowded no matter how many people were inside.

"Here you go, my dear." Jeong handed you a cup of chamomile tea, the steam curling up in delicate tendrils.

"Thank you. That's exactly what I needed after Jungwoo dropped a big case on my lap out of nowhere. He didn't even give me a heads-up; he just waltzed into the garden and dumped a stack of files on my hands. I swear, he enjoys watching me scramble."

Jeong sighed like a teenage girl from one of those American movies, twirling a lock of her new short bob cut around her finger. "Oh, that cutie. Have you seen him this afternoon? I wanted to show him my new hair. I thought he might appreciate the change. You know, he has a good eye for detail.”

You took a sip of the tea, savoring the gentle floral notes. "He clocked out around three. Said he had scheduled a meeting with his previous seniors and his girl. Probably talking about his residency program and catching up on old times. He looked pretty excited about it.”

"Wished I was her," Jeong sighed wistfully, leaning against the counter. Her new bob swayed as she shook her head. "It must be nice to have a boyfriend so cute like that. Plus, he's a nurse. It makes his appeal get a boost. I mean, who wouldn't want someone who can take care of them and look like he walked out of a K-drama? Remember when he helped old Mrs. Kim during her panic attack last week? The way his hands moved so gently, so sure..."

"Please, stop," you groaned, feeling the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. You set down your cup with more force than necessary, the china clinking against the saucer. It was bad enough that Jungwoo was the topic of many daydreams among the staff; hearing it out loud made it all the more embarrassing. And it certainly didn't help that you'd caught yourself staring at those very hands more times than you cared to admit.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot I'm talking with Mrs. Cold here."

"Mrs. Cold, huh?"

"Well, you know how it is," Jeong leaned in conspiratorially, her breath smelling faintly of the walnut cake. "You've got that icy exterior, but we all know you're just a big softie underneath. Like a lollipop with a hard shell and a gooey center. Besides, it's kind of endearing. The way you pretend not to care when Jungwoo brings you coffee every morning, or how you always make sure he eats during long shifts..."

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, sure. Just call me the Ice Queen of Gonjiam.”

“Hey, it’s better than some of the other nicknames flying around,” Jeong winked, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening. “Remember when Nurse Kim accidentally dyed her hair green and everyone called her ‘The Hulk’ for months? At least your nickname has a certain... elegance to it.”

“You're impossible, Noona.”

Just then, the door to the nurse's station creaked open, and Go Sangman entered, his presence immediately commanding the room. The man was painfully thin, almost skeletal, his frame accentuated by the oversized white coat he wore. His thick glasses magnified his eyes to an almost comical degree, and his hair clung to his scalp in a desperate attempt to cover the bald spots. A dark blue one.

As always, though, he exuded a strong smell of mint gum that he was always chewing.

It was one of the few things you shared in common while you worked at a downtown asylum, and you recalled that he smoked a lot. However, he had given up smoking, got married, and had a young child since then. You pondered Sangman's potential as a father. Thought he was not a very caring guy, and yet here he was—the new employee of the month, with his picture emblazoned on the bulletin board outside the "aquarium," surrounded by an outrageous gold border.

He gave you a cold smile. "Funny running into you again, Y/N."

"Small world."

"The world of mental health certainly is," he said, as if to imply that he could also be found in other, broader worlds. You tried to imagine what those might be like, but all you could visualize was him hunched over a dimly lit desk, engrossed in the latest volume of "Attack on Titan" or scrolling through a forum dedicated to anime theories.

"How's Ji-Young and little Soo-Min?" You asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Ji-Young has become quite the entrepreneur," he finally said, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. "Her brownies are practically flying off the shelves. And Soo-Min... She's already the teacher's pet. Loves her new ‘Frozen’ backpack and can’t stop talking about Mrs. Kim, her homeroom teacher. Time flies, doesn't it?"

You nodded."It sure does."

Sangman stared at you for a few seconds. You had forgotten his habit of pausing, sometimes for a long time, forcing the other person to wait while he considered his response. It annoyed you now, just as it did back then.

"I’ve joined the team at a rather inopportune moment," he said finally. "The sword of Damocles is hanging over the Gonjiam."

"You think the situation is that bad?"

"It's only a matter of time. Sooner or later, the government will close our doors," he replied, his eyes narrowing as he leaned against the doorframe. "The question is, what are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" Jeong asked, pausing mid-bite of her walnut cake, the crumbs scattering onto her clipboard. A child’s laughter at a funeral.

"Well, when the ship starts sinking, the rats run away. They don't climb aboard."

You were perplexed by Sangman's direct aggression. You decided not to take the bait. "It's possible. But I'm not a rat. And in that case, you are the one who should leave since you’re new here."

Before he could respond, a violent bang on the reinforced glass interrupted the conversation. Hanna was on the other side of the window, pounding on it with such ferocity that the glass vibrated. Her face was pressed against the glass, nose squished flat, features distorted to the point of resembling something out of a Francis Bacon painting.

"I'm not taking this shit anymore. I hate these fucking pills, man..."

Sangman opened a small hatch in the glass, the kind you see in old bank teller windows, and spoke through it. "Now is not the time to discuss this, girl."

Hanna's eyes were wild; her pupils dilated. "Discuss? What's there to discuss? You people don't listen. You just shove pills down our throats and expect us to be grateful."

"I'm not talking about this now. Make an appointment to talk in a private setting. Please, step back.”

But Hanna was having none of it. "You mean the isolation room, right? Where you can pump me full of more drugs?" Her words were laced with bitterness, and you couldn't blame her. The isolation room—Room 317, a windowless cube—was a last resort, a place none of the patients wanted to end up. The walls were padded, and the only window was a small, barred one high up on the wall, allowing in just a sliver of daylight. Designed to break the spirit.

“Go. Away.”

Hanna furrowed her brow and thought for a while. After that, she turned and went away with a heavy step, leaving behind a small condensation circle where her nose had touched the glass. Her slow shuffling step, with one foot dragging slightly behind the other due to an old injury sustained during one of her episodes, was audible.

Jeong sighed while pouting, "Poor Hanna."

Sangman grumbled, " There’s nothing poor about her. Difficult. That 's all she is."

"Do you even know why she is here?" You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the chamomile tea in your hand, before eyeing his red face, the veins in his neck bulging slightly as if he were restraining himself from snapping back.

"Double homicide," Go replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "She killed her mother and sister. Smothered them while they slept."

You shook your head slowly, the corners of your mouth curling into a grim smile. "No. Wrong. She actually killed her abusive father. The one you’re talking about is Gunwoo-shi. Before calling me or other people rats, you should recognize you’re one yourself.”

Sangman’s eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of uncertainty breaking through his usual facade. His fingers twitched, as if reaching for the pack of cigarettes he no longer carried. "I don't recall—"

“Of course, you don't," you interrupted. "You’ve always been quick to judge, slow to understand. Hanna was admitted last spring. Maybe you’re too busy with your ‘research’ on the effects of antipsychotic medications on her to notice the details. She killed her father in self-defense. He broke her soul before she broke his neck.”

“Ouch!” Jeong giggled. “You deserved that, oppa!”

“That’s not funny,” Sangman retorted, rubbing his arm where Jeong had playfully swatted him. His glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, and he pushed them back up.

Ignoring them, you watched what was happening on the other side of the glass.

Hanna had joined the other patients. She was much larger than the others. One of the patients, a man named Minho with a penchant for collecting bottle caps, handed her a crumpled five-thousand won note, which she pocketed with a practiced nonchalance. Minho's eyes darted around nervously, his fingers twitching as if he were itching to add another cap to his collection.

Just as you were about to resume your conversation with Jeong about the teenager’s relationship, you noticed a stillness settle over the room. Across from you, Jeong looks like she might be sick; her face is ashen and she keeps licking her lips, a nervous habit you remember from when she first started working here. Go Sangman stays rigid near the doorway, his arms crossed tightly across his chest and his mouth slightly agape as if unable to find words for once.

It was as if someone had pressed a mute button, silencing the usual ambient noise of whispers, shuffling feet, and the hum of fluorescent lights. Every head, every pair of eyes turned slowly to the left, towards the maximum security room.

You followed their gaze and felt a chill run down your spine. The double doors of the high-security wing creaked open, and there he was—Seo Moonjo. Flanked by five guards, he walked with an unsettling calmness, his eyes scanning the room like a predator surveying his territory. The guards looked tense, their grips tight on the batons at their sides, ready for any sudden movement. They had seen this before—patients attempting to attack their infamous new roommate in order to earn his favor and join his ranks.

As they led him towards the solitary dining area, the patients parted like the Red Sea, creating a wide berth for Moonjo and his entourage. Some of the more unstable patients reached out as he passed, their fingers barely grazing his skin. Their eyes were wide, filled with a mix of awe and fear, as if they were in the presence of some unholy deity.

"Moonjo-ssi," Yoo Gi-hyeok said, his voice trembling. He stretched out his hand, trying to touch Moonjo's face as if seeking a blessing. "Save us..."

The dentist’s lips curled into a smile, but it held no warmth. His eyes were dark, devoid of any human emotion. He allowed the patient to touch his cheek for the briefest moment before the guards shoved the man back, causing him to stumble and fall.

Gi-hyeok didn't seem to mind; he lay on the floor, gazing up at Moonjo with a look of reverence. His eyes were glazed over, his mouth slightly agape as if still tasting something—perhaps what little piece of human connection he got from touching the infamous killer or perhaps simply relishing in fear itself. Whatever it was, it made them all feel alive in some twisted way.

A savior? Or a butcher? Did the others sense the predator within him, the one that saw them not as individuals but as prey? As potential meals, are their flesh and bones nothing more than sustenance for his insatiable hunger? Did they sense, in some deep part of their psyche, that he would devour them, body and soul?

And what did Moonjo see when he looked at them? Did he see the delicate curve of their necks, the pulse of their blood just beneath the skin? Did he imagine the taste of their fear, the texture of their flesh as his teeth tore through it? Was every touch, every glance, a prelude to a feast, a silent promise of their inevitable consumption?

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion—horrifying yet impossible to look away from. Moonjo continued his march towards the solitary dining area, his presence casting a long shadow over the room.

Jeong took a quick sip of her tea but spilled some down her chin when her hand shook; she quickly wiped it away with a trembling hand.

She glanced at you with wide eyes before looking back at Moonjo's retreating form. ” It's his first day here and they act like this when he's around. They treat him as if he's some kind of messiah."

With that, Moonjo and his guards disappeared behind the heavy metal door of the solitary dining area, the clang of the door echoing ominously through the now silent room.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Kwang, Min-Jun's father, short leashes his dogs again. They were valuable, and he had no intention of losing them to a shot female doe howling and gibbering just down yonder. His son reloaded their guns and snapped them closed. That howling had chilled you and made the sweat under your arms run down your back feel like ice water. When situations become uncomfortable like this, people look for someone to guide them and in such cases, Kwang Jun steps up. He wasn’t feeling much of a hero right then—quite the contrary—but he did it nonetheless, leading the way toward an outcrop of alders jutting ambitiously from the woody fringe on your right side while you followed nervously at a short distance behind him, trying hard not to stumble over roots or fall behind too far.

Only once did he halt his stride—long enough to crush his spent cigarette underfoot—and then push ahead into the vast open area beyond trees filled with dense underbrush.

To the left, the riverbank sloped gently. Thunderstruck, you halted, wishing you could erase the sight that greeted you, a sight that would haunt your dreams—it was the sort of raw, sun-scorched nightmare that lurked beyond the ordinary—church suppers, walks along the vibrant Han River, honest labor in the factories, stolen kisses under the cherry blossoms. As you'd often told Ae-ra after her nightly story, there's a grimacing skull lurking behind every man's smile. That day, you saw it—you saw the grinning skull.

Sprawled on the riverbank was the most beautiful doe, a bullet lodged in her back. Flies had already begun to gather, buzzing around her wounds and settling in the congealing blood. Her head turned towards the gray sky, as if admiring the sparrows launching from the Lotte World Tower before retiring to the bushes. And then you notice it—a slight bulge in her abdomen. She was pregnant.

So often you read in the local paper that “the killer showed no remorse,” but that wasn’t the case here. Min Jun was torn open by what he had done, you saw it in the trembling of his lips, the quivering of his right point finger on the trigger, the way his eyes widened and darted around, almost as if seeking an escape from the reality he had created. . . But he would live. The doe would not. She had been torn open in a more fundamental way, a way that the blood seeping into the earth couldn't even begin to convey.

You have never been as quiet as you were at that moment, holding that live track. Your whole body just stopped working. Your legs felt like water, jelly, completely unreliable. Your mouth opened. You didn't open it; it opened by itself, a gaping maw trying to silently scream. You couldn't move, but you could hear, see and sense everything inside you and for miles around. It was like you were hyper aware of every rustling leaf, every distant bird call, every breath you took. You thought of church mornings at the confessional with that smelly priest, and you thought that Min Jun and you would soon be joining him in seeking absolution.

You think it was fear. You're always fearful. For what you've done, for what you haven't, for things that haven't even happened yet. The fear is a constant deadweight. A backpack full of wet cement is strapped to your shoulders, dragging you down. You were fearful of not spending enough time outside, of playing with your dolls—a Barbie with a missing shoe and tangled blonde hair that you found in the trash and the plush rabbit Dad won you at the county fair before getting drunk and hitting Mom in front of the Mayor. Fear accompanying your neighbors on their hunt.

You were fearful of not trying hard enough to be better.

"Come on, girl. Get closer. Don’t think too much about it. Her head will have a special place in our family’s house," Kwang chuckled as he finished lighting his tobacco stick, the one he always kept tucked behind his ear, before ruffling your hair and pushing you to stand in front of the bloodied carcass. "She turned out to be on our way; she turned out to be prey, kid.”

You think about the way he said it. Turned out. Not grew up to be a prey. She turned out to be prey. Like she was always supposed to be this way, and it was just hiding inside of her. And this was all inevitable. And her instincts of submission were hiding right underneath the surface when she birthed her fawn in the spring, teaching it to navigate the forest, to find the sweetest grass by the riverbank, to leap over the streams that crisscrossed the woods. Like a volcano that's seen as a mountain, the ones people live right on top of.

It doesn't look deadly until it is.

Your bones shift away from one another like nervous tectonic plates as you crack your head down to finally look at the animal’s eyes. Toes become bloated like little water balloons as you kneel in the grass, the damp earth soaking through your worn-out Converse sneakers. Your eyes crystallize and for a second, everything feels okay as you wrap the frayed, weathered cord around the doe’s neck, the rough fibers scratching against your palms.

Then you explode.

No.

You don't explode.

You slowly morph as you finish the third loop. The wick effect. Your own fat keeps you inflamed. Looking into the water of the river, you see yourself changing. Your reflection warps; your features distort and elongate. Your hair falls out in clumps, drifting away like dandelion seeds in the wind. Your eyes, once black and sharp, soften and take on the glassy, lifeless stare of the doe. You watch as your skin stretches and sags, transforming into a hide, your freckles merging into the spots of a fawn. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, but no sound comes out—only the soft, pitiful bleat of a wounded animal.

Just before you fully morph into the doe, before your mind succumbs to the instinctual fear and resignation of a hunted creature, you wake up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You reach for the hairbrush and start smoothing down your wild hair. It always stuck up all over the place in the morning, especially after a nightmare that involved placing the corpse of a doe in the back of a truck.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Still the same, old you: short, black hair that reached down to the chin, black eyes, and splatters of freckles over the ridge of your nose and the rest of your body. Your nightgown had slipped down during the night, revealing a pale shoulder. You stopped brushing out your hair and tugged it back up.

Your eyes caught the glint of the diamond ring on your finger, a small but noticeable sparkle even in the dim morning light. You looked outside. The sky was gray today, with a blanket of clouds promising a downpour. The kind of weather that made you want to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over your head, and forget the world existed.

It's funny, isn’t it?

Sighing, you reached for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter at the far end of the vanity, only to find nothing. Jesus. Min Jun and his fucking ramblings about lung cancer and how, as a doctor, you should stop going to the hospital smelling like nicotine or weed. The endless lectures about the carcinogens, the secondhand smoke, the image you presented to your patients—it was all part of his new routine.

“Looking for this?”

You cracked your head to the side, turning to see the man himself standing there in the doorway, wiggling your cigarettes and the lighter. He was already dressed in a new, crisp suit with trousers tailored to his frame, as well as a tie that matched his jacket and polished leather shoes from Ferragamo. God, he had been insufferable since he discovered aesthetics on his social media feed, always posting pictures of himself in meticulously coordinated outfits, each post tagged with #OOTD and #Style Goals.

But, yeah, today, his clothes matched the color you always associated with him.

Yellow.

Min Jun’s yellow wasn’t the vibrant hue of sunflowers or gold. It was the jaundiced yellow of sickness, the kind that creeps into your skin and festers. It was the color of deceit, of broken promises whispered in the dark. Every time he flashed that politician's yellow smile, the one inherited from his dad, it made you nauseous. Old man Kwang, who had escalated a non-violent protest into bloodshed. It was Min Jun, though, who took Ae-ra with him that day. He paraded your girl around like some political prop to gain momentum for his father’s campaign.

You could never forgive him—not after what happened to her.

Because, in the end, it was their ambition that had taken your daughter away. A lamb led to slaughter.

Colorful flyers and bold banners invaded the city streets while chants and marches echoed in every corner—all for endorsing Kwang’s political charade. Slogans rang through speakers: "For a Brighter Tomorrow," "Unity and Progress," "Kwang Jun for the People." And Min Jun, playacting as the perfect son, had pulled Ae-ra into that cyclone of chaos. Your sweet little girl was swallowed by a turbulent crowd, lost within its confusion—her wide eyes were framed on the hospital TV screen as she clutched her new Hello Kitty backpack from Lotte Mart nervously—a maze of pink braids bouncing behind her with every step she took.

Everything around you in the psychiatric ward was fast and stressful that day, but you were stuck in tar while everyone else was on land. Sinking slowly while other people were using their legs to run in circles to help the Gonjiam Hospital with all the hurt people. Your legs didn’t work for days. Neither has your brain.

And now? Now you haven't cried since three weeks ago on the third anniversary of her death; your eyes feel dry and cold. You've tried, but there's just nothing. Even when you sit away from Min Jun and ignore his extended hand, watching things that aren't lungs move his chest up and down, praying to feel something for him, there's just silence in response.

You did love Min Jun once. At times when he was cornered, you would dive into the deep end, plunge so suddenly it would cause waves to ripple out, drawing the public’s attention away from him. You would swim to abandoned shores where you would carry buckets, helping him scoop up the murky water of regrets as he cried out till the ocean itself seemed to tremble and the sky collapsed into the horizon.

But what has he done for you? All these years of sacrifice have caused this world to erode everything that was once pure and you can no longer breathe with a rib missing. There was all of this water settling deep within the walls of your lungs, drowning you slowly.

So, after her death, he grabbed another bucket and took you to the abandoned shores, where you used to scoop up his regrets to free him from all his mistakes. And you didn’t even cry out till the ocean itself seemed to tremble and the sky collapsed because, after all these years of carrying his mistakes, how could you believe that you had become one?

“Do you mind knocking before entering my bedroom?”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so grumpy at this hour!” Min Ju retorted, his voice carrying an almost cheerful lilt that grated on your nerves.

Sleeping in his office wasn’t doing the best things for his princess back; of course, you saw it as he walked in a hunched way. His loafers made no sound on the thick, cream-colored carpet, but the rustle of his suit filled the silence. He placed the lighter and the pack on your side on the vanity, making sure not to knock over the scattered makeup compacts and the crystal perfume bottle.

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed how he kicked the clothes you left on the floor after getting home exhausted from another grueling 12-hour shift. You noticed how he scoffed as he saw the patches on your faded covers, once a deep navy but now a murky gray from too many washes and your sweat.

“Did you wet the bed?” His laugh was a little louder this time, but still hollow. That was his old joke. It was stupid.

Long ago, you pretended to laugh, pretended to play along, as if to apologize in front of former friends. In front of your own eyes, for admitting such a yoke. Nothing, however, was funny to you anymore.

“No, I had another nightmare.”

The cigarette finally lit, and you took a slow drag, feeling the familiar burn of nicotine as it filled your lungs. You discarded the lighter in the jewelry holder plate, where it landed with a small clank, nudging a pair of earrings slightly askew.

He scrunched his nose the exact same way Ae-ra used to before deciding to grab all the covers, making a bundle in his arms. “Nightmares again, huh? You know, Y/N, maybe if you didn’t bring your work home with you, you’d sleep better. All that stress isn't good for you. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, letting out a plume of smoke, coughing. “I’ll get right on that.”

He received the phrase with displeasure, as always, when your "animal intensity shocked him." He fixed his eyes on you, and progressively his features transformed. You almost blushed. The constant preoccupation with reaching his thoughts had not granted you the power to penetrate the most important ones, but it had honed your intuition regarding the smaller ones. You knew that for him to pity you, you had to be ridiculous. Neither hunger nor someone's misery moved him more than the lack of aesthetics. Loose hair, damp with sweat, fell over your flushed face, and the pain, to which your long-calm features had not yet adapted, must have twisted your mouth, lending them some grotesque note. At the most grave moment of your life, you were ridiculous, his pitiful gaze told you.

Finally, after seconds that felt like centuries, his eyes briefly flitted to the divorce papers on your nightstand but he ignored them. Instead, he focused on the small details of the room—the way your books were scattered everywhere, mostly medical journals and a few dog-eared novels, a framed photo of you and Ae-ra by the Han River, and, in the darkest corner of your room, your unfinished canvas.

“You know,” Min Jun began, walking towards your creation as if he were a little boy eager to discover his mom’s secrets. “I remember when you used to teach Ae-ra how to paint every night. So sweet….”

People said that a lot. Even your own mind did, sometimes. Be sweet like before; be better for the people around you. They knew there was a gaping hole inside of you, and they poked and prodded in there, looking for bits of Ae-Ra floating around in the void. As if somehow you could reach inside yourself and pull parts of her out—parts that you lacked. But she wasn't there. She was nowhere. When a part of you disappears, you change, and sometimes it's impossible to go back to who you used to be. That's what people didn't understand. That’s what this cosplay of SpongeBob didn’t understand.

You coughed again, then took one last inhale and stubbed the end of it on the vanity’s smooth and sanded surface, ash and embers falling to the carpet like crumbs off a pastry. “Yeah, well, those days are gone.”

Min Jun touched the dried paint, lingering over the signature line that remained blank. “You know, maybe if you spent half as much time on this marriage as you do at Westlake, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

You bristled at his words, but he continued, undeterred. “You’re always so busy, Y/N. Always with your patients, your research. Think about Ae-ra. She wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want her parents to fall apart like this.” He leaned closer, his cologne—something expensive and heavy—filling your senses and making you want to recoil.

“Don’t you dare bring her into this,” you snapped, your voice breaking. “You think you can manipulate me with memories of her? You think that’s going to work?”

His eyes softened. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. I just want us to be a family again. I miss her too, you know. Every single day.” He reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away, the gesture feeling like a trap.

You pushed past him to the dresser made of dark, deep oak with elegant twisted legs and gilded golden trims. You picked out your attire for the day, folding it into a bundle: a red silk blouse, black high-waisted trousers with a tailored fit, a leather belt that cinched snugly over your waist, and your usual black heeled boots, still at the foot of the bed. There was still some mud caked on the bottoms, no matter how much you had scrubbed them the night before from running after a patient. You’d have to ask Jungwoo for his shoe shining spray.

With your clothes in hand, you made your way to the bathroom. Min Jun followed you like a shadow, still grumbling something about you and your work, but you tuned him out, focusing instead on the sound of your bare feet padding against the cold, hardwood floor. Still, after twenty seconds, you had enough.

You stopped at the bathroom door and turned to face him. “Why aren’t you at work already? Taking care of Daddy’s laundry?”

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening in a way that reminded you of the time he had to tell his father that he didn’t want to go into politics. “I was actually trying to be good for you. I know your car is still at the workshop and your driver is on vacation.”

You turned on the faucet, letting the warm water fill the tub. “I’ll take a cab,” you muttered, the words rolling off your tongue with a deliberate calmness, pronounced in a way that revolutionized and exposed what was most hidden within you.

While waiting for the water, you grabbed a towel from the shelves in the back as well as a bar of soap.

Min Jun’s eyes narrowed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sure. Just like you always do. Ignore the problem, run away.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you laid out the towel on the heated rack. “You’re so dramatic, Min Jun. It’s almost entertaining.”

“What’s so funny?”

You turned off the faucet and threw your head back, your hair falling behind your back like a cascade of dark silk, the ends brushing against the lace trim of your nightgown. You laughed then, a sound that felt foreign, almost unnatural, before walking towards him, cornering him against the sink. He almost dropped the bundle of sheets in his hands, his eyes going wide with a mix of surprise and something else—fear, maybe?

For the first time in a long while, you saw the old Min Jun, the rebellious teenager who once stole his father’s suits to impress you, the same boy who would sneak flowers into your school locker when no one was watching. He used to bring you daisies, your favorite, wrapped in newspaper because he couldn’t afford anything else. Now, he stood before you, a stranger in an expensive suit, holding onto wet sheets and a past that no longer existed.

After feeling helpless, unsure of what to do with yourself, not wanting to continue the same past of calm and death, and unable to dominate a different future due to the habit of comfort, you now realized how free Min was and how unhappy he had been. His past—obscure, riddled with frustrated dreams—had left him unable to settle into the conformist, half-happy world of mediocrity.

You leaned in, your breath warm against his cheek, and whispered, "Min Jun."

The sound of his name seemed to snap him out of his daze, and he blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure.

He tried to take a step back, but the sink behind him left no room for escape. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his, and he flinched, almost losing his grip on the sheets.

“You think I don’t know you, huh?”

“W-what?”

He raised his eyes, meeting your anguished face, and narrowed them, analyzing and understanding you. There was a long minute of silence. You waited silently. You knew this moment was the first truly alive between you, the first that connected you directly. That moment suddenly separated you from all your past, and in a singular premonition, you foresaw that it would stand out as a red dot over the entire course of your life.

“Are you fucking out of your-” he began, but you cut him off, your words spilling out in a rapid-fire burst.

“Elections are coming up, aren’t they, honey? Elections are coming up, and your damn wife isn’t going to any of those shitty interviews or rallies anymore. Your wife doesn’t appear on the cameras, and it is making the public’s attention go to us instead of your father, and that is driving him mad. And now? Now I’m taking over Seo Moonjo’s case! What a perfect way to steal his lollipop, huh? So I’m guessing you’re being all sweet like that because something’s going to happen this weekend, isn’t it? A meeting or a family dinner? Or do you want to take me to bed, soften me up like a piece of meat and tell you all of the things that serial killer told me?”

Min Jun’s face flushed a deep red, his hands trembling slightly. “Are you really trying to use your psychiatric skills on me?”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Oh, darling, I don’t need to use any skills on you. You’re an open book and I know you're scared, aren’t you?” You whispered, your lips barely an inch from his ear.

“Scared that I’ll mess up your perfect little plans? Scared that I’ll drag your name through the mud along with mine.”

#lee dongwook x fem! reader #lee dongwook x reader #a shop for killers #seo moonjo x reader #jeong jian #imagine #lee dong wook #lee dong wook x reader #jeong jin man #seo moonjo

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