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mv1simp · 5 months ago

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Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

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A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you will. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

#tw eating issues #tw ed disorder #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 x reader #chubby!reader #midsize!reader #plus size!reader

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gghostwriter · 3 months ago

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Have Your Cake

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer notices a change in you that he tries to address Trope: Comfort; Established relationship w.c: 1.8k Trigger warnings: tackles eating disorder and body dysmorphia a/n: this is a really hard topic I personally felt the need to write about (in a way to comfort myself.) Its very personal as I used my past eating disorder here so if its something you’re not comfortable with, please go skip ahead to another fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer wrapped the front ends of his coat tighter on his slender body. It did little to no good fending off the cool seasonal air of an October night. His scuffled loafers squeaking from his shuffling feet.

The line at your favorite bakery was unsurprisingly long on a Tuesday evening. Every night, the shop sells their remaining pastries at a discount To lure innocent commuters, tired from a long day of pushing papers. He usually wasn’t one to give in to the notion of ‘treating yourself’—unless counting out his big spendings on first editions written in its original language.

He gave the cashier a slight smile before listing off his purchase, one slice of their decadent strawberry shortcake and another of their vanilla bean sponge cake—both your favorites. And both an integral part of his perfectly thought of scheme to solve a riddle.

Your mystery.

In simple layman’s terms, they were bribery of some sort.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, side stepping his way out from the throng of customers holding their own trays of pastries and back into the cold October air.

He blamed himself for not noticing the change in patterns early on. His attention otherwise preoccupied by the trauma from his time in prison and the stares that vary from judgement to pity that come from officers outside of the BAU.

No longer was he the shining, new prodigy once hailed to be, now he was just damaged goods. His downfall from grace was an adjustment.

His mind was another matter, all together—could no longer detect subtle shifts in behavior as fast as he used to.

Yes, there was really no one else to blame but himself.

As his long strides covered the way home, the moon shining down on the empty streets, Spencer thought back to the moment when he finally noticed you eating less and less.

———

You pulled down the cuffs of Spencer’s Caltech sweater, leaving only the tips of your fingers peeking through. Everything about it made you self-conscious. How it drapes down your shoulders differently from before. How it wraps around your body, sending shivers down your spine. And how it leaves the lower half of your plush thighs exposed for anyone to see—anyone to judge.

You hated it.

You hated how hyper aware a single comment from a distant relative made you feel.

A voice from a distance called out your name causing you to look around the aisles of grocery and come face to face with an aunt, twice removed from your father’s side.

“It is you!” She leaned in to kiss your cheek. Her choice of perfume, a sickly sweet artificial scent of oranges, wafting on your nose.

It made you want to gag.

A fake smile donned your face. “Oh, hi Auntie. What a surprise to see you back in Virginia.”

“Oh, I just flew in for my husband’s sister’s birthday. You know how we are, always booked and busy with events,” she waved her hand, the ostentatious diamond ring on her finger catching the light. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated college. You look so different now—more and more like your mother.”

“Thanks, I always did look like her,” you awkwardly laughed.

Her eyes traveled down to your feet and back up again, a tight grin on her face. It made her look vicious, condescending, causing you to catch your breath as she uttered the words that would repeat in your head like a commercial slogan you can’t get away from.

“But you were much prettier when you were thinner—” her eyebrow raised, cataloguing the items in your cart. “Might want to cut down on the carbs a little bit, sweetie.”

She poked a wound inside of you that never seemed to fully heal.

You thought you were better, all those years of talking to your therapist and changing your relationship with food for the better made you believe those dark days were behind you. But those spitting phrases veiled as words of care from a family member amplified the doubts once buried in the recesses of your mind.

“I’ll keep that in mind. It was great seeing you, Auntie.”

The jiggling of keys brought you back to the present.

“Love, I’m home!”

You called back from the kitchen, finishing up plating tonight’s dinner—a fresh serving of Chicken Alfredo to share. “In here, Spence!”

With a saccharine smile on his tired but beautiful face, he wrapped his arms around your shoulder for a loving hug. His pillowy lips leaving trails of kisses from your temples, to your nose, to your cheeks, and finally landing on your awaiting lips.

You giggled at his antics. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too,” another peck on the lips. “Dinner looks amazing. Thank you for cooking.”

“It’s no problem at all, you know how much I like to cook for you.”

He brought up a mystery package to showcase, eyes tracking every minuscule change on your face. “And I brought us some dessert! Your favorites from the bakery.”

The smile on your face threatened to drop. “That’s—that’s great!”

———

You felt Spencer’s eyes on you all throughout dinner. One of the disadvantages of dating a man who earns his living by understanding human behavior and its changes—triggers, as he would like to call it, is never having the leisure of keeping a secret.

He means well, you‘d like to believe so, but that didn’t change the fact he knew something was bothering you.

It made you feel like a riddle he wanted to solve. It made you want to scream and cry.

The only reprieve you could get was within the little confines of your shared bathroom, water beating down your back muffling the sobs that escaped from your tightly pressed lips.

Everything felt too much.

The devil voices in your head listing off the calories each spoonful contains. The mathematical equation of how long you’d need to exercise to lose every unnecessary bite eaten over dinner. And the facade of keeping everything together—everything perfect.

You picked off the sides of your nails, already raw and starting to bleed.

Maybe you shouldn’t eat breakfast and lunch tomorrow. Maybe you should walk the 15 minute commute from here to the office. It would take 30 minutes but that’s additional exerc—

“Love, is everything alright?” Spencer asked behind the locked bathroom door.

You turned, turning off the shower, before hurriedly toweling off the droplets all over your hair and body. “Yes, I’m—I’m almost done!”

Swiveling around the dry area, you realized you forgot to bring in a change of clothes beyond a clean pair of underwear.

You sighed to yourself as you wrapped the towel around your chest. Still feeling uncomfortable and oddly naked even then.

“Spence, there’s still some hot water left—are you okay?” You ask, having found him sitting on the edge of the bed with a distinct frown on his face.

He stood up. Hands on your waist, shuffling both your bodies closer to one corner of bedroom.“It’s just—you know how much I deeply care for you, right?”

You slowly answered. “Yes, of course. I deeply care for you too.”

“So I have to ask, are you alright? Really alright?”

“Wha—what do you mean? Of course, I am—I’m completely fine,” you vehemently denied. The lump on your throat making you sound hysterical, even in your ears. If you couldn’t fool yourself, what chances were there that Spencer was fooled—none.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been eating smaller portions lately and you didn’t even take a bite of the cakes I brought home. You’ve also been going to the gym daily, instead of your usual five times a week. And you’ve started wearing my clothes more—not that it’s a problem. I love seeing you in my clothes but you’ve started to prefer baggy silhouettes rather than your usuals. It’s like you’re hiding your body. Are you sure you’re alright? You can tell me anything, I won’t judge.”

It was the soft tone in his voice mixed with his doe, teary eyes that caused you to break under pressure. Your shoulders shook as sobs that you’ve kept bottled up rose to the surface. It was a wave of emotions that battered through your dam of facade.

“I hate how I look—I hate that I gained weight,” you cried out. “I hate how a relative pointed it out and how her words won’t leave my mind. I hate it, Spence. I loathe it all—the voices in my head whispering how I should keep track of every meal I eat in a notebook like I did before. Telling me to never go beyond a 800 calories per day, to workout two hours a day twice! It’s just—” you took a deep breath, vision blurring from tears. “—so exhausting and please, make it stop.”

Spencer hugged you tight to his chest, as if wanting to merge you two as one to take away all your pain and sorrow. Your hands creasing his white button down with a grip so tight.

For a second, it felt liberating to let it all out. But the fleeting emotion had passed, leaving you with only shame from your admittance.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way,” he detangled himself, enough to stare into your eyes. “Love, can I show you something?”

You nodded. He slowly turned you around, back against his chest, to face the full length mirror tucked in the corner. His eyes never leaving yours as his calloused fingers reached up to the tucked ends of the towel wrapped around your body. He tilted his head, asking for your permission to which you slowly nodded.

Your naked body was in full view. Your nails digging onto your palm as you catalogued every minuscule flaw there is—the additional flesh around your stomach and sides and your hips no longer as thin as they were before.

“Do you know what I see?” He softly asked.

You bit your lip before shutting your eyes close, unable to take what was right in front of you. “Me and how I gained weight?”

He placed a kiss on your temple. “No. I see a beautiful adult woman who has curves in all the right places—”

He laid a kiss on your cheek. “I see the love of my life in her full loving glory—”

He kissed the side of your neck. “I see my future wife who loves herself and all the changes that aging and our slowing metabolism entails—”

He placed one last kiss on your shoulder. “—I see you, and I love every piece of you. And I hope you love every part as much as I do.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid comfort #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine

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dunmeshistash · 9 months ago

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Idk if this has been asked before but anything you wanna say about Lycion? like I love how he's basically a trans allegory

I love it too! I love Lycion so much, all the canaries to be honest, they're my favorite gender.

Here's his extra from the adventurer's Bible for those who haven't seen it

I think people smarter than me have made great analysis of his character and how it relates to being trans/body dysmorphia. But I'm really happy he got a body where he feels more comfortable in, and I love the bit from the beastmen monster tidbit where Laios judges him for not being an accurate furry and Lycion calls him an wannabe lmao. Get his ass Lycion

I am also completely in love with his friendship with Fleki. Makes me really happy to see an intense friendship between opposite genders cause it's so rare. And they're both so precious.

Getting a little off topic but I can't with the canaries... Did you know Otta is Butch/Masc presenting? I couldn't tell because the Elves are all so androgynous I assumed the short hair was normal but apparently its an active choice for her to look more masculine I love it.

It's more obvious in the modern clothing drawings

Sorry I got side-tracked, it's cause these are the canaries to me

#dungeon meshi #ask #the canaries #Lycion #Dungeon Meshi Spoilers #Otta #Fleki #Cithis #Pattadol #Mithrun #Adventurers Bible #Daydream Hour #dunmeshi thoughts

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paradlselost · 1 month ago

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. ⋮ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ ֹ

doctor phosphorus x female reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ fun fact i’ve wanted to eat uranium for a long time so he is the worlds most perfect man to me . also sorry for not writing anything in so long , i’ve been busy and jumping from hyperfixation to hyperfixation for a while now as you can see by my unfinished mouthwashing fanfics . but i watched the show last night and he is my favorite and there’s almost nothing about him so i had to . enjoy !

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ monster ! reader , mentions of body dysmorphia and imposter syndrome / depersonalization , religious trauma + blasphemy ( cause i can’t help myself ) specifically in catholicism , catholic rituals , depictions of eating raw meat , depictions of wounds , hurt / comfort , depictions of cannibalism , described body horror . smut : fire / burning kink , dry humping , fingering , male moans ( yay ! ) .

3 . 1 k words ++ not beta read .

PART TWO OUT NOW : CINNAMON GIRL

Eyes flutter closed, allowing darkness to wash over you. Soft sounds of birds chirping fill the room around you, drowning out the constant humming of the chip in the back of your neck. You’re hyper aware of everything, the fabric of the blanket that covers you and the cold air that stings your nose as you breath in; chest rising and falling in rhythm.

You remember how reluctant the guards that watched over you were to allow you the sounds you so desperately needed to sleep, not believing your pleas to quiet your constantly racing mind. Nearly a week without rest made them understand rather quickly, when, despite the power dampener locked around your neck, talons began to grow out of your hands and your spine contorted with the growing of fleshy wings.

It seems you’ve been blessed, something has gone right for once in your life as you’re now able to change the sounds to whatever you wish instead of the constant rushing of waves. Secretly, you’re happy to have been put on this mission. Grateful, even, as much as you could be to a monster like Waller. Perhaps you could even forgive her for the electrocution you’d been put through.

Weasel kips at the foot of your bed, stuck to your side since the day you had snapped at him: barred your fangs and shoved him away from you. Something about the beast had been so pathetic that you ended up apologizing and giving a hesitant scratch to the back of his ears. He’s good company, loyal if not a bit of a flea concern, and he listens when you speak to him unlike many of the others in the special containment of Belle Reave.

Nina was kind, as well, perhaps a bit out of her element, though. You’d once tried to make small talk with GI but that ended as quickly as it had started with his sudden interrogation on if you were a Nazi. And god, you wouldn’t dare bring anything up to the others.

Crickets chirped through the headphones you had been allowed to wear, owls hooting and birds calling. A forest at night, a beautiful scene you were sure you wouldn’t be able to see freely again, but you do not indulge in those negative thoughts. You can already feel it looming over you, exhaustion and stress mingling to bring it out. The thing that stirrs inside you, monstrous and ugly. Its hungry, and you know better than to ignore that hunger lest the Weasel that kips at the foot of your bed be more than a scrap of fur.

So, you stirr. Sitting up in the bed you remove your headphones and push the blanket from your form quietly as to not disturb him. He’s almost cute when he sleeps, like a crusty old dog that resembles more of a tattered blanket than a pet. Regardless, you close the door quietly behind you and walk down the long winding hallways of the palace. Truthfully, you had never been anywhere quite as lavish, never had a king sized bed all to yourself or a private bathroom. Its almost too big, especially at night when the shadows dance up the walls and cast an ominous glare over just about everything.

You know better than to gaze at your shadow as you pass the large walls with royal family portraits. Unworthy, unrighteous, evil. The rosary marks still pierce your skin, forced to pray this thing away day and night till your palms and knees bled. You’ve grown resentful towards the being that shares your body. It makes demands of you, to feast, a single slip can give way and allow it to control you. Some kind of devil, the reason you’re here in the first place.

Your mouth had begun to hurt in your search for the kitchen, gums beginning to bleed and pool against the base of your tongue.. You’d have thought you’d be used to this by now, that your world wouldn’t continue to be turned upside down, that the Lord’s Prayer wouldn’t recite involuntarily in your mind as it all starts over again. You stumble over your own two feet, finding yourself silently wishing you had that power dampener around your neck once again. Your stomach rumbles more.

It feels like an eternity till you finally find the kitchen, thankful that all the servants had retired for the night so you can spit your mouthful of blood into the sink. Crimson stains the marble, dripping from your chin as you turn on the faucet to wash your mouth of the taste. Your fangs had grown in now, taking space in front of your canines and piercing uncomfortably against your bottom lip whenever you close your mouth. Hunger gnaws at your stomach as if beginning to consume the lining itself.

You throw open the fridge door with little care of the noise it makes as it slams into the counter beside it. Eyes scour for something, anything, till you land on a large, raw goose marinating for tomorrow nights feast. Shaky hands reach out to grab it, allowing the glass tray it sits in to fall to the ground and shatter. The shards prick at your bare feet, cutting and marring your skin with more blood, though you don’t seem to notice.

Fangs sink into the bird, soft flesh breaking at the intrusion. The taste is almost euphoric, never had you tasted a meat so rich and fatty; your body had gotten far too used to the awful prison food they served in containment. You rip out a large chunk; tendons harshly snapping from the body as you swallow nearly without chewing. Your eyes gloss over as you devour the bird, reaching in to grab at the sausage links that had also been waiting to be cooked the next day.

You hadn’t realized how much you had truly lost yourself till a harsh green glow halted your feast. Head whipping around to greet the skeletal face of Phosphorus, a hiss falling from your lips that still wrapped around a chunk of meat like a food insecure cat. He was your least favorite of all, acting as if he knew everything simply because he had been a doctor before his incident. Not like it mattered in Belle Reave, and certainly not in the monster sector they were kept in.

“Woah. Calm down, I’m not takin’ that from you.” A huff came from him, head tilted to the side as he watched you, almost intrigued with the way you acted. He simply stepped past you, walking over to the sink and simply staring down at the blood that had graced the basin. “This yours?”

The link fell from your mouth, rolling into the shards of glass and crimson as the fangs retracted back into your gums, eyes returning to normal. All you could do was stare at him, as if he had asked the most stupid question in the world. Smartest man in the room your ass.

“Who else’s would it be?”

“Don’t know, thats why I’m asking. Flag and I got into a fight earlier and I totally won, so I’m just wondering.”

“Oh.”

He leans back against the countertop, facing you now, the sleeves of his hoodie protecting him from burning through the granite. Part of him had always intrigued you, in a way, everyone but Weasel had a signature outfit; but him? A hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. It was almost comical how simple he was, though you supposed there wasnt much he could keep. A step towards him, wincing at the sudden realization of what you had done.

His gaze followed yours, looking down to the glass and blood that gushed from your feet and ankles. The light from the fridge and his green glow illuminated the space between you two, dancing off the shards on the floor. Your mouth was covered as well, sloppily wiped onto your cheeks as you had feasted. God, you looked a mess, but the pain distracted you from that fact. Biting your bottom lip to muffle a pathetic whimper of pain.

“Cmon don’t cry, what’s a little glass among friends?”

“I am not crying.”

If he had eyes to roll no doubt he would’ve. Stepping over to you and hooking an arm around your shoulder to help you stand without any warning. Your first instinct is to fight him off, to tell him no and shout at him, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the touch and allow him to help you hobble up the stairs to, what you originally assume to be your room, but soon discover he’s guiding you into his, and then, into his bathroom.

Theres something almost intimate about the way he grabs your hips to help you onto the counter so he can patch you up. You hadn’t asked this from him, but it didn’t seem to matter much now as he filled a bucket with warm soapy water, dunking a rag in a few times and using the help of tweezers to pick the glass out of your skin. You do your best not to flinch, using the time to preoccupy yourself with washing off the blood from your face.

John 13. You detest the thought, Belle Reave had ripped every ounce of belief from your body, but the ceremonies and rituals of your youth had not quite left your mind, and the intimacy of the moment didn’t help. Silence filled the room, the only noises being the soft sounds of the wash cloth being dunked into the water and squeezed out. You’d seen it before, a relatives wedding, the washing of the feet ceremony. It’s meant to be intimate, to be between spouses, to show commitment and love just as Jesus had to his disciples. You feel far more like Judas, however, with the monster that festers inside you.

“So. What was that?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts, eyes fluttering down to look at him, hesitating at his question. You don’t have a good answer, not one that wraps everything up into a neat bow at the least. Just what you know, which isn’t much.

“It’s the reason I’m classified as a monster. Theres… something that lives inside me, a devil of sorts I was always told. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, its why I had to wear the collar back in confinement. It starts to creep out whenever I slip, get too comfortable or let my guard down.” You’re quiet, not wanting to break the softness of this encounter. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re all freaks, its the whole point of this task force.”

“I guess. I’m still sorry.”

A huff comes from Phosphorus as he grabs a clean washcloth, dunking it in fresh water and reaching up to wipe off some of the blood that you had missed, that still marrs your mouth and flesh. He’s close, now, very much so. He smells of sulfur, though it does not cause you to recoil or scrunch your nose; its a scent you’ve grown accustomed to with the monster that shares your body. Can a skeleton be attractive? Is that possible?

You lean into the feeling of the warm washcloth against your cheek; having been so long since someone had touched you. Before you had been arrested you indulged in sin, lust, it had engulfed your body and it wasn’t a feeling you ever wanted to encounter again. How it could consume your entire being, give control over to someone other than yourself. It’s a fine line for you, but you feel the distantly familiar feeling of butterflies flutter in your stomach at the proximity of him.

You feel sick; like bile will creep up your throat any moment, but it doesn’t feel bad. Not with how he lets the cloth be a barrier between the two of you, between his hands that will burn your body at his touch. You’d welcome it, to let him cauterize your wounds and fix you. Your hands creep up to wrap around the back of his neck, protected by the hood of his sweater as you pull him closer. He’s warm, comfortable.

“I don’t like you apologizing, you look like a kicked puppy.”

“You’re smiling, though.”

“Can’t help it, I’m a skeleton, doll.”

His voice is a giveaway, though, possibly the most upbeat you had heard him despite the quiet and intimate nature of the room. You feel it, the radiating warmth from his other hand creeping down to your thigh, rubbing soft, soothing circles against the fabric that protects your skin from his touch. It would hurt, but a part of you almost welcomes it, wants to feel it.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes focused on the hand that slowly crept higher from your thigh. He’s close, his heat rivaling that at your core. You miss the way his head tilts to the side at your demeanor, hands grasping and releasing the fabric of his hoodie over and over.

Phosphorus said nothing as he continued to wipe some of the blood from your mouth, lingering over your bottom lip while his other hand becomes preoccupied with cupping you over your pajama pants, skeletal fingers pressing in to give you some friction.

That nausea you had felt earlier returns tenfold, punishing yourself for feeling anything remotely good. The situation reminds you far too much of the last time, dipping too far into bliss. It seemed you had only blinked when the body of the lover you had found for the night was strewn across the room, spitting half eaten entrails out of your maw. He guides you to lean back against the mirror, your hand clasping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he slips below the fabric of your nightwear.

You can feel it again, the hunger that rises to your chest. Your hands shake against your skin now, nailbeds aching with the growing of your talons. A whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. You are selfish, greedy. You’d rather relish in this than warn him, to have one moment that allows you to feel human, to feel wanted and loved.

A sudden burning feeling rips you from your thoughts, your hand had been removed from its post over your mouth and was held in his. Tears well in your eyes at the feeling, the searing pain that washed over your body and forces you to see white. It aches, branding you.

“Shit.” Is all that falls from his mouth, moving his hand away before you needily grasp it once more. Intertwining your fingers, keeping him there. The pain had forced the monster away, talons no longer threatening to protrude from your nailbeds and spine ceasing its contorting. You are lucky, graced with an opportunity to feel something beneath the endless pit in your stomach. To feel him.

“Don’t stop.” Your breathless words are more than enough to encourage his continuation, slotting himself between you legs and pressing the suddenly tight fabric of his sweatpants against you. A soft sigh falling from your lips, head tilted back, hair fluffing up on the mirror as he began to rock against you.

“I wont.” Slow, at first, as if testing the waters to gauge your reaction. Soft whines emitting from somewhere behind the skeletal teeth that were on display for you. Your hand scrunches up his hoodie, dragging his chest closer to you as he began to pick up the pace.

Needy and pathetic, his hips grinding rougher against your pajama pants, the tent in his pants catching on your covered clit; pulling a gasp from you as you arched your back. He focused his movements in that spot, up and then down to elicit soft whines and moans from you. Matching his neediness, having been touched starved for so long.

You’d grown up with depictions of heaven, imaginary white fluffy clouds somewhere high above the Earth. But here, right now, you’re more than convinced this is paradise. Rough fabrics rocking against each other, keeping you grounded on the countertop you sit on, the mirror behind you beginning to fog up with your heavy breathing. Your hands still intertwined, the harsh stinging drowned out at the near bliss you faced.

Hes sloppy now, nearing his finish far faster than you despite your state. Harsh whines fall from him as he grinds against you a few more times before panting and leaning against you. He’s winded for a moment, catching his breath, though the hand not holding yours travels back down to rub against your core.

Hes rough, guiding you to gush around nothing. You can feel your heartbeat below, drumming uncomfortably as you bury your face in the neck of his hoodie. His hand slips below your pajamas once more, continuing to tease your swollen clit and soaked folds as tears pricked at your eyes, squeezing his hand to single for him to stop.

Within a moment, he did. Ceasing the torment though not removing his hand from under your pants. Allowing your juices to pool against the cotton of your underwear before guiding his hand lower, placing his palm flat against your thigh and removing his other hand from yours. It stings, the cleansing fire emitting from him, your hand already burned as he brands your thigh with his handprint.

“Perhaps we should act like this didn’t happen… I’m sure it would make being on a team awkward.”

“I-... Yeah. Agreed. I should, um, head to bed.” Awkward you lift yourself from the counter and fix your pajama pants, slipping off the granite and setting against the cold tile floor. Your feet still hurt, though not nearly as bad as they had hurt before and surely nothing in comparison to the feeling of him against your skin.

He gives little more than a nod as you slink out the door, stumbling down the hall to find your own room and quickly running a hot bath. It would soothe you, make everything better, you deemed. Stripping to allow yourself to sink into the warmth as a sigh falls from your lips, eyes drawn to the handprint marked on your thigh.

You trace the outline with your finger, over and over almost obsessively and silently cursing him for his words. An asshole, you remembered, your least favorite in the little ragtag team. Though, with the way he had whimpered and moaned against you, you were halfway convinced you may be able to fuck the sarcasm and ill wit out of him.

#doctor phosphorus #dr phosphorus #creature commandos #creature commandos dc #smut #x reader #doctor phosphorus x reader #dr phosphorus x reader #i need that radioactive man so bad

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oliviaaoctavius · 2 years ago

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I feel like there's this weird specific subset of choice feminism in trans spaces especially transfem spaces wrt dysphoria and it weirdly ties into transmedicalist rhetoric imo but it's this whole thing. This post will be a mile long if I try to unpack all of that

#txt #you do not need plastic surgery to look like a woman. you really need to get it out of your head that you need plastic surgery to look like #a woman.#like for your own wellbeing #the trans community has such a massive issue with body dysmorphia but nobody wants to talk about that #because if its gendered and youre not cis it gets called dysphoria #and the solution is to ''fix'' it medically #when like. frankly. the lengths that some people go to are very clearly unhealthy #but you cant say that because its their own choice #and like. sure! obviously i have nothing against medical transition BUT. the level of like #trying to perfectly conform to an unrealistic ideal #an ideal that isnt even realistic for cis people #instead of accepting our own bodies. is concerning

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 4 months ago

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You all know what time it is ( and body dysmorphia is mentioned a few times just thought I would let you know!)

🐍Snake empress Danny🐍

Ok let’s go, So you all know the drill Danny has to booket it out of amity ( GIW, Bad Fenton) and just for a bit more angst everyone who he loves ( Sam, Tucker, jazz) got caught up in the nasty burger explosion and the GIW hit Dani and as a last minute decision Danny has to grow her in himself and because he has the organs for baby incubation ( trans! Danny let��s go! ) so now we have a heavily traumatized teen who is going to be a teen mom and just loss his whole support system and everything he’s ever known yeah we going angsty today anyway so when Danny gets to the ghost zone he a immediately goes to clockwork to help him so after Danny gets healed up a bit and calm down the best he can right now and

now let’s move the pov for a sec so clockwork can’t really take care of Danny and he needs to fine someone who can that’s when he remembers the little pocket dimension that is a little bit hard to go to if your not looking for it so clockwork brings Danny there and on a cliff top there is a abandoned castle that is overgrown and has trees all around it and a healthy population of snakes that equally watch over the place and keeping outsiders OUT and do not tolerate people who are not a part of the …. Group, pack? Wtf do you call a group of snakes { ok so I just looked up what a group of snakes is called and apparently it’s called a den, pit or nest so I’ll be using that information} den and are very picky about who is in the nest and who isn’t but surprisingly the little danger noodles decide that Danny’s friend shaped and now his part of the nest ( also before I forget to mention there is a big ass snake that is the main protection for the others and the castle itself ) and he’s mostly doing things around with the snakes wrapped limply around his neck and shoulders or his arm and or legs they just like hanging around Danny for the most part

And for the JL side of this well you remember that this place is its own little pocket dimension well it is connected to the JL universe and it sorta feels like your in a Fea area not uncomfortable just different, it has a passage in Gotham City to a overgrown manhole cover so somehow Damien finds this manhole in the garden of Wayne manner and Bruce grounded ( aka benched ) him and Alfred is shopping and nobody’s home so it’s just him and he decides to go into the manhole cover it leeds down to a large tunnel so big it is a surprise nobody has found it yet so Damian walks down it for about 2 to 4 minutes before he sees another cover and has to use a lot of force to open it and as he climbs out he sees that it was overgrown to the point that the vines were wiring the thing shut and as Damien looks around he dust himself off he sees that he is in a large forest almost to large if this place was really Gotham than this would have been cut down years before it got like this so he walks around and than he gets to a lagoon it looks like no pollution got here as well that’s when he sees them a person the person has long white hair that looks to be in some kind of braid with silver chains and their wearing what seem like a bunch of white fabric at first glance but is you really look it seems to be a dress but that’s not what really brings his attention to this person it is the snake that are wrapped limply around them one black one that hangs off their shoulders and looks some what of a necklace and they are holding what seems to be a large black marble bowl ( the bowl is for some of the aquatic plants some birds ended up eating most of the aquatic plant and there are almost none left so he’s getting some from the lagoon)

And that’s all for the moment. Now on to the details of this bitch!

I’m thinking Danny looks a little bit like this

The reason he wears this is because it’s easier to walk around in ( not to mention the moment the rest of the den realized he was with fetus Dani ( or Eleanor I like that name better for her it gives her a bit of her own personality instead of just Danny clone) the big snake who were going to call Vesper ( you get it ) started to carry him around and while sleeping he would wrap around him to keep him warm ok got a bit off track

And for his hair I’m thinking he lets it grow out a bit and the little danger noodles like to bring him bits and pieces of things they think he might like so he ends up with this

But instead of gold I’m thinking silver

Also just some pics of what I think the castle will look like in some places

Anyway that’s all from me byeeee

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juustokaku · 4 months ago

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Confidentiality - Chapter 6. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Possessive and obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation. Dark themes are to be expected.

A/N: Hongjoong is mean in this chapter but at least he's finally here! Although I'm not quite happy with this chapter either, I hope this is still enjoyable. This chapter is focused on Jongho, Hongjoong and Yeosang. Next chapter will shift focus on someone else than Jongho, since he's played an important part of the story so far. Big thank you to everyone who showed me support last chapter and read the story <3

Word count: 4 781 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was just a bird. Just a poor animal stuck inside the bedroom, trying to find its way out. Anyone else would have been relieved as the mystery of the rustling noise was uncovered.

But for you it meant only more mysteries.

The bird wasn’t just any species. You would have probably been less scared if it had been a big eagle instead of the one species you wanted to see the least. A sparrow was flying around in the room, chirping in panic, as it had been locked inside.

You had opened the window to let the bird out, but it hadn’t been open before. Why would have it been? It was winter, and you weren’t that stupid to let the cold air mess up your financial situation even more. The window had been locked up tightly, like always, curtains over so nobody could watch you sleep.

So, it was a mystery how the sparrow had gotten inside. You didn’t have a fireplace that it could have flown in through.

“You’re worrying too much,” Jongho said as you two were sitting on the couch, “It had most likely flown in through the air vents.”

You felt incredibly lucky that Jongho had come to your rescue, even though you had kicked him out just an hour ago. It took only one phone call and thousand apologies for being so supposedly rude to him, until he finally agreed to return to your house and check what the rustling noise was. Oh, how low you could stoop in moments of fear; you should have felt ashamed for apologizing to him.

“But how is it a sparrow out of all the bird species in the world?”

Jongho sighed at your insistence to believe there was something evil behind the bird’s appearance.

“In many cultures sparrows symbolize protection and good luck, think of it that way. Besides, sparrows are very common. It’s not a miracle that the bird has come to look for shelter from the cold here.”

It was very likely that Jongho was right, but you did not want to shrug this off.

“You’re being paranoid like usual,” Jongho spoke, trying to assure you that you were safe, but it only came out as invalidating your feelings.

How could it be considered as paranoia after all the threats? After the dead sparrow, letter, and drawing, it wasn’t any joke like Charlotte had said or any coincidence that there was a sparrow in your room.

But just after apologizing to Jongho, you didn’t want to upset him again. No matter how much you wanted to talk back, and get it through his thick head that this was something more, you had to bite your tongue. It almost bled from how many thoughts and feelings you were holding back.

“After some thinking alone, I’d like to say something.”

Jongho’s careful words snatched your immediate attention, making you forget about the bird for a second.

“I’m listening.”

“I want to apologize for being part of the reason of you falling on the ice and hurting yourself.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. They must have been lying, trying to make you fall for Jongho and his tricks. But still, you were unable to deny the way your heart fluttered.

This time, you were actually able to forgive him, although his reasons earlier for pretending to attack you had been poor, “It’s okay. Thank you for apologizing.”

The reason why you thanked him for apologizing was unclear. You had all the rights to be mad, to shut him out, but you wanted his company and protection, so, you just had to be the doormat like you always had been and would be.

“Are you still hurting?”

“Yeah. I think my back is bruising, and my head still hurts.”

“I’ll have a look,” Jongho murmured and reached for your shirt.

Your heart nearly stopped as he attempted to lift your shirt up, and you flinched away. He was truly shameless, not even asking for your permission.

“Uh, n-no need to do that. I’m sure it’s not that bad...”

Jongho frowned; he was definitely not stupid and knew that you were lying. But then, his expression softened, making him look irresistible once again.

“Will you let me? I just want to assess how bad it is,” he spoke tenderly.

You cursed him for being so talented at manipulating you. It wasn’t unclear at all, that he used those beautiful eyes of his to make you give in, but still, it was futile for you to fight back.

When you gave your permission, Jongho lifted your shirt up slowly so high, that your bra was almost revealed. Fortunately, he didn’t go any further, and he just asked you to hold the shirt up, so he could take a look at your bruises.

Your back had large spots, going to turn from red to a shade of dark purple in the near future. It was swollen, and ached so bad, that you almost cried out in pain, as Jongho let his fingers brush against it gently.

What happened next, made your body tense up, and a gasp fell past your lips.

Jongho had pressed a kiss on one of the bruised spots. It didn’t hurt you physically, but it hurt you mentally; what were you supposed to think of this? This was all supposed to be just a play for the stalker to give up on pursuing you, but even in the privacy of your apartment, he acted like he cared about you. It was cruel honestly.

“Jongho!.. What are you doing?” your question came out as more like a squeak.

“What do you think? I’m helping you heal faster with my kisses,” Jongho said like it was obvious.

“You don’t have to act romantic. The stalker isn’t going to see us here.”

“Are you sure? He could have set up cameras here.”

You felt anxiety bubble in your chest, as you thought about the possibility of being watched inside your own home. There were a lot of moments that weren’t meant for anyone’s eyes – actually, you didn’t want any of your moments being seen. You had always thought life would be easier if you were invisible, so no-one could watch you with gleaming judgement and mockery. Needing to be finally seen and heard, and wanting to be invisible, was an odd mix.

“That was just a joke. I’d know if there were cameras here.”

You were relieved, but you needed to know the reasons behind Jongho’s romantic gestures.

“Why are you being affectionate?”

“This is my way of showing you that I’m sorry.”

“I already forgave you,” you frowned.

“I want to apologize more.”

“There’s no need to do that.”

Jongho’s hand suddenly went up to your cheek, not to slap you, but hold it gently. You were astonished at everything at that moment; his touch and tenderness, but what touched your heart the most, was the vulnerability in his eyes. It was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, to see the deep sadness yet flickering hope, whose origins you couldn’t find.

He was always so closed off, like there were barriers not just between him and other people, but between him and his own heart as well. But in that moment, the most important thing to you was that he tried his best to show you something.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I don’t want you to see me. I want you to feel me.”

It was a leap in the dark, but your eyes slowly fluttered shut. You were scared, but still somehow excited.

The moment you felt his warm breath on your face, you had suspicions of what was going to happen. It felt too surreal to think that Jongho was going to kiss you. That anyone could really want to feel your lips and closeness.

You waited but the kiss never came. Your lips felt cold after preparing themselves to meet another pair of lips, but being left alone, disappointed.

“Did you really think I want to kiss you?” Jongho whispered.

After you heard his cruel words, you didn’t even dare to open your eyes. Feeling way too humiliated, your eyelids were tightly closed, so you wouldn’t have to meet his mocking gaze.

“I-I just... I thought that you’d...” you murmured, but finally sighed in defeat, “Yes. I thought you wanted to kiss me.”

Still, you could feel his face close to yours. A sound of him taking in a breath, ready to talk again, you had to prepare to hear more words that’d hurt your fragile self-esteem.

“Then you were absolutely correct.”

There was no time for your mind to register the things he said, but even if there had been, you would have never believed his words.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Actually, it was quite clumsy, like Jongho had never kissed anyone before. But his lips were so soft, and although they moved slowly, it felt tender instead of lazy.

It was the kind of closeness you hadn’t experienced since ever, so it felt odd to have him so close. Although you’d think about all the possible dangers that kiss could have caused – like getting bacteria causing deadly illnesses – at that moment, your head was empty for many reasons. Shock was one of them surely, but why didn’t you pull away? As if you could have anyways; Jongho was holding onto you tightly, a contrast to his gentle lips.

You didn’t know if your heartbeat should have stopped or accelerated; both of those options felt more reasonable than what your heart was doing right now. It beat steadily, thumping in your chest like it always did. Safety, familiarity and stability were things you felt, almost like your lips knew Jongho’s, like you had kissed him before.

It was a slow moment, but when Jongho pulled away, you felt like it had been over in just a blink of an eye.

“Let’s start dating again, okay?”

“Do you mean fake dating?” you asked, not knowing what to hope for.

“What else would I mean? Of course, I meant that.”

A surprising pang of sadness hit your chest. This was a dangerous game to play. Were you both playing or was he the one playing you?

In a few days, you arrived to the therapy session, surprisingly late. All eyes were on you.

It was natural for people to look at a person who was coming in, but their eyes were completely different compared to past weeks.

San had a sad pout on his lips and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. It was the look of a man who was betrayed and hurt deeply. Mingi’s expression was like San’s but even more devastated.

You let your gaze wander on everyone, but regretted it when you saw Wooyoung staring at you with anger. His lips were pressed in a tight line, as he tried his best not to snap.

But Yunho was the one who looked the most like he was going crazy – well, all of them were crazy, but he seemed like he’d lose the last crumbs of his sanity right at that moment. He wouldn’t even regret the things he would do in his rage, that was about to burst onto the surface.

Quickly, you averted your gaze and rushed to a seat between Yeosang and Jongho, the latter man having saved it for you.

You felt like you almost sank, the chair swallowing you inside it to save you from the watchful eyes. They were everywhere, all around you. Even Charlotte was looking at you, but instead of anger or sadness, with confusion.

“Let’s start this session by discussing the tense atmosphere here.”

Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Jongho and San turned to look at Charlotte as she spoke, but the rest couldn’t tear their eyes off of your shivering skin.

“Y/N and Jongho started dating,” Hongjoong said with a sickening smile.

You stopped breathing and glanced at Jongho next to you. His face told everything you needed to know; he had had no idea that everyone knew. Now you knew the reason why everyone was eyeing you.

“And why does that make you all uncomfortable?”

No-one answered to Charlotte, the room silent and still heavy.

“Y/N and Jongho can date who they want. You have no business interfering in their relationship.”

Soon, the session had been properly started, when no-one complained about Charlotte’s words, but the eyes never left you for longer than a couple seconds when it was mandatory to look at someone or something else.

You should have felt lucky to be paired with someone else than Yunho, Mingi, San or Wooyoung, but the way your partner, Hongjoong, stared at you made you feel nervous.

“Uh, yeah... What’s your job like?”

Your awkward question broke the silence between the two of you. In this section, you sat next to each other and were supposed to talk about your dream careers and how your current jobs affected you, but the man next to you didn’t seem too interested in that topic.

“Tell me how you and Jongho started dating.”

Stunned by Hongjoong’s sudden demand, you were speechless for a moment.

“Well, he asked for my phone number, and we started talking...”

It was like he could see you were lying, seeing your dishonest soul right through your clothes and skin with an x-ray view. An amused smirk played on his lips, as he continued interrogating.

“Uh-huh. Why does he like you?”

“Because of my personality.”

“What about your personality? I don’t see much to like about it.”

You almost gasped. It was not like you thought of yourself highly – in fact, sometimes you despised yourself – but no-one had been so direct to point out the lack of everything admirable in you.

Hongjoong didn’t seem fazed by your reactions, “So, what do you do for job?”

The change of topic was sudden, but you felt glad for it.

“I’m a cashier.”

He started laughing at your answer. First, it was just an amused giggle, until it grew so loud that everyone turned to look at you two. Before you could say anything, he continued.

“That’s what I meant. You’re really that unambitious? What does Jongho see in you?”

His words stung already, but it didn’t end yet.

“You’re so addicted and desperate for attention from all these men, that you forgot to have any dreams.”

You wanted to kill him with any object nearby, be it suffocating him with a pillow or stabbing him with Charlotte’s pen. But as always, you were so powerless, that you couldn’t defend yourself properly even with words.

“I-I do have dreams. Even if they’re not as grand as yours, it doesn’t make them any less worthy,” you hated yourself for stuttering.

“You really think that? Then what are your dreams?”

It was like you shrunk at every word Hongjoong said, getting smaller and smaller until you would be just a tiny ant he could crush under his expensive shoes.

“I dream of getting better and finding someone who loves me...”

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You still haven’t achieved neither of those things.”

“How would you know that? You’re too focused on your job to notice other people. I bet you have a lot of friends,” Jongho chimed in, mocking Hongjoong’s workaholism and loneliness.

But Hongjoong didn’t even notice Jongho saying anything. He was deaf to every noise other than your quiet sniffling and blind to every sight other than your tears. The way you bit your lips, trying to hold back from breaking down, mesmerized him. You were crying, and he loved it more than he thought was possible.

“I guess you have one good quality.”

You didn’t turn to look at Hongjoong. It was definite you’d lose it, if you saw his eyes mocking you till you took your last breath.

“You’re pretty when you cry.”

You knew that wasn’t meant to make you feel better about yourself. It was meant to humiliate you even more and to make you feel like you were dependent on his praise. And he succeeded.

Despite the few shocked gasps, the room fell silent. Hongjoong was so cruel with that small smile, taking pleasure in your despair.

No-one in that room cared about you, at least that’s what your mind was screaming, but what hurt you the most was that even Jongho stayed silent. How stupid you had been to even consider the chance, that his heart may have held caring, positive feelings for you. Not even the woman, who called herself a therapist, defended you.

Seonghwa got up from his chair, his expression panicked at the sight of your tears, as he rushed to your side, “Y/N, let me take you-”

“Don’t touch her.”

Hongjoong’s command turned heads from your face to his. But his brown eyes, that looked pitch black to you, were still directed on the tears on your cheeks. All movement stopped in the room for a few seconds. Seonghwa’s hand, which he wanted to take yours with, was left in the air. Soon, he walked back to his seat sadly.

The tension hung thick in the air, making it even harder to breathe through your stuffy nose.

Against all expectations, the one person, who no-one thought of being brave enough, suddenly stood up from his seat and for you. He didn’t start arguing with Hongjoong; he defied him without any direct contact.

Just the way he took hold of your chin in a gentle manner wiped the smile off of Hongjoong’s lips.

As he raised your gaze from the floor, you were blessed by the sight of Yeosang right in front of you.

No-one would have ever thought Yeosang would be the one to comfort you, especially when Hongjoong had just forbidden it. But Hongjoong’s words nor others’ reactions were of no interest to Yeosang despite the shyness that held him back from doing many things.

“Why are you crying?”

You were stunned by Yeosang’s question. Was it not obvious? Glancing around quickly, everyone else seemed confused as well.

“I guess I’m crying because Hongjoong practically called me and my dreams pathetic...”

A nod was what Yeosang gave you to let you know that he acknowledged your feelings.

“Do you think your worth is based on how much money or glory you have achieved?”

“What else would it be based on?”

Your answer made a sad, tiny smile form on his lips.

“It’s the harsh truth that people measure your worth on how well you suit their needs. So, in my eyes, your worth comes from how you’ve treated me and how you meet my criteria of a good human.”

Everyone else in the room was silent, listening to Yeosang speak. Still, the conversation between you and him felt intimate and personal, despite all the attentive ears around you.

“You might be worthless and pathetic in Hongjoong’s eyes, because you wouldn’t be able to work in his company or help him reach his shallow aspirations. But you have given me things I’ve never received or even thought that I needed. I can’t speak on behalf of other people and this probably means nothing to you, but to me, you’re far more worth than Hongjoong could ever be.”

“Y-Yeosang...” you stuttered, feeling the desire to respond to him but losing all your words in front of the beauty of his looks and, most of all, soul. Even though you couldn’t understand what important you could have possibly given him, a small part of your heart healed as you heard him assure you of your worth.

Suddenly, he had lost all his confidence, and went back to his old, timid self. It happened all so fast.

“So, uh, don’t cry. P-Please?” he tried to smile but it was nervous, nearly a grimace.

You closed your eyes as his warm hands cupped your face, and his fingers wiped your tears away, leaving your cheeks feeling warm and moist. It felt good to be cared for. Seonghwa had done it before and now Yeosang was the one comforting you; you weren’t used to that kind of affection.

“So romantic. Now, leave my girlfriend alone,” Jongho said, sounding serious.

“You dare to call her your girlfriend but you couldn’t even comfort her?” San suddenly murmured to himself; nonetheless, Jongho heard it.

He gave San an icy look, “Not everyone is comfortable with physical affection.”

“Are you uncomfortable with kindness in general? The least you could have done is assure her with words,” San frowned, getting irritated.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, finding it beyond belief that Jongho tried to defend his lack of care for you, “Is she even your girlfriend if you can’t take care of her when she needs you?”

Seeing everyone starting to doubt the believability of your relationship with Jongho stressed you out. If you told them the reason you and Jongho were supposedly dating, all of that would have been futile, because the stalker would know what was really going on.

“Everyone, let’s calm down. Jongho cares about Y/N although he doesn’t show it in the same way as others would,” Charlotte chimed in, trying her best to sound soothing.

No-one cared to listen to her, just continuing to pressure Jongho, belittle him and his capability of treating you right.

“Beware or I might steal her away from you.”

“Of course, you treat her like shit since your heart is on ice.”

“Jongho, you’re pathetic.”

They just kept throwing insults at him, talking over each other, each one wanting to rip a piece of his supposedly big ego.

Your head was starting to ache from all the noise, but it wasn’t any match to the ache in your heart. Despite Jongho’s cold behavior towards you, you had grown fond of him; the kiss hadn’t helped the situation at all. Desire to defend Jongho’s actions and preference to stay quiet without drawing any more attention to yourself were battling, and you were having a hard time deciding what to do.

Only ones who hadn’t said anything were Hongjoong, Yeosang and Yunho. A smile on the shortest man’s lips served a reminder of how cruel he was, not just to you but to Jongho as well; he was clearly loving all this chaos.

At least Hongjoong was honest with his emotions, but Yunho was smiling at you with no care in the world despite all the anger he had felt earlier. Seemed like he wasn’t even listening to the argument, just enjoying staring at you now that no-one was focused on you. Feeling uneasy under his eyes, you turned to look at Jongho again.

He had been cornered like a mouse, but that mouse bit, “She chose me over all of you. No matter what you think about me, she likes me. Right, Y/N?”

Stupid Jongho just had to drag you into the uncivilized conversation. Surely, he had to know it caused you distress to have all eyes on you now, waiting for you to say something.

“Y-Yeah... He’s nice.”

Wooyoung cackled triumphantly, “See? She’s so unenthusiastic, I wouldn’t be surprised, if you had scared her into being with you!”

You felt a lump form in your throat, as Jongho gave you a disapproving glare, clearly disappointed in your response.

“That’s enough! None of you have the right to judge Jongho and Y/N’s relationship.”

Everyone finally shut up at Charlotte’s frustrated demand. Finally, she had done something to stop the escalating situation. Her philosophy as a therapist had been always to let adults solve their own arguments; clearly that wasn’t very effective. Her borderline shout didn’t ease your headache, but you were grateful nonetheless.

Still, for the rest of the session, you could feel eyes on you, holding all kinds of different emotions. Anger, longing, devastation and mockery. It felt suffocating.

You had considered ending the peer support group for many times, but it would cause many complications. If you stopped, so would stop the social assistance provided by the government. The conditions to receiving monetary assistance, which you could buy your medication and doctor visits with, were to go regularly to some form of a group therapy.

It was impossible for you to leave. You would be stuck with all the madmen there. And the therapist, that used to care about your well-being, seemed to only belittle your fears.

You couldn’t concentrate on the session at all, on the things the other group members talked about. Their words were useless to you. But Yeosang’s earlier words had stuck with you.

To be honest, despite his sweet words, his actions were what got you hooked. From a timid, anxious person, he had morphed into a man who wanted to comfort, protect and reassure you. The feeling of his soft fingers on your cheeks lingered on your skin, making it tingle.

The day had been awful enough, but after the session ended, you had to wait for Jongho out in the cold, as he stayed behind. You tried to warm up by rubbing your arms up and down, but it was futile, as the air was cold especially at that time of the day, when the sun had set hours ago.

But apparently, Jongho had something important to discuss with Yunho. There was no other choice for you than to wait for your fake boyfriend, just because he wanted to protect you by walking you to the bus stop. To the bus stop that was under 50 meters away. It was more likely you’d freeze to death waiting for him rather than get killed on your way to the stop.

“Y/N, what are you still doing here?”

You shrieked as Yeosang had appeared like out of thin air behind you. Although you wanted to get angry and scold him for scaring you, his shy smile melted your heart, despite the low temperature. Your heart was still thumping loudly from being startled like that, but you couldn’t deny that Yeosang’s presence had a part in it as well.

“I’m waiting for Jongho. How about you?”

Yeosang looked nervous, “Uh, j-just waiting for my car to warm up.”

“I wish I had a car as well. I’m freezing my ass off out here, not to speak of how uncomfortable it is to ride the bus with all the drunkards at this hour.”

“I can drive you home.”

His offer almost startled you again. What was Yeosang planning? Surely, he was up to no good. No man suggested driving an acquaintance home with good intentions; you had heard too many real-life tragedies to have any faith in humanity anymore.

Yeosang would drive you to the beach and throw you into the icy sea, hold you underwater until your lungs would be burning and full of filthy, salty water.

“I-I’m not planning anything bad...” he looked defeated, noticing how skeptical you were.

It was painful to see his reaction, but you wouldn’t let yourself get most likely murdered just because someone looked like a kicked puppy. Still, you couldn’t shut him completely out.

“I suggest we hang out someday. We could learn more about each other first,” you said, biting your lip in nervousness.

Yeosang’s face would have lit up if Jongho hadn’t appeared suddenly, a reproving look on his face.

It made you shiver, wondering what you did wrong again. It was like he couldn’t decide whether he hated your guts or wanted to protect you.

He walked up to you and took his hand out of his pocket to hold yours, which was freezing despite wearing your new mittens, “Let’s go. You’re going to be late from the bus.”

Poor Yeosang was left behind as Jongho led you quickly away from him, his steps slowing down only when you got further away. The snow crunched under your shoes, which was the only noise in the quietude you had with Jongho. It didn’t feel that awkward anymore; you had gotten used to his reserved nature.

Still, you were curious and couldn’t help but break the silence.

“So, what did you and Yunho talk about?” you inquired.

“None of it concerns you. Stop meddling in my business.”

He didn’t even spare you a glance, but the way his grip tightened spoke more than his rude words. It was always hard to tell when Jongho was lying and playing a part, and when he was being truthful, but this time you couldn’t be mistaken; him and Yunho had been talking something about you. Something that he felt the need to keep hidden in a maze, you would never find your way out of, if you did the grave mistake of trying to uncover his secrets. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <- Chapter 5. Chapter 7. -> Masterlist ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Taglist: @devilzliaison @lover-with-dolar-sign-is-a-loser @passerbyforfun

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