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piastappies · 9 months ago

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˗ˏ` EMOTIONS! 🍵 ´ˎ˗

pairing. theodore nott x reader

summary. theo never handled his emotions right, and when his girlfriend shows up in a wrong moment, things escalate and theodore doesn’t know how to fix it.

THEO HAS BEEN A TICKING BOMB LATELY and you knew that. it’s been bothering you, but every time you tried talking some senses into him, he brushed it all off, saying something too stupid and reckless for you to hear, so the topic was dropped sooner than it was brought up.

it was one of those times again, when a recurring thought was planted into your brain that you didn’t know your boyfriend like you thought you would. theodore hasn’t been himself lately, which made you worry tons. he’s been smoking much more and getting into fights more often as well as getting into trouble with the teachers, losing the points for your house, which… well, you didn’t care that much about it. what you cared for was theo’s wellbeing.

since it’s been a christmas break, you had gone home to spend time with your family, which meant your contant with theo was limited to a few letters that he was doing somewhat fine, yet you’ve been smart enough to know that spending christmas with his father and grandfather could never make him feel fine, not even a little bit. it was the breaking point in you that you’ve decided it’s the end of brushing you off.

“riddle, berkshire – out.” you barged into the dorm, glaring at your boyfriend’s dormmates, causing the first one to groan in annoyance.

“jesus, can’t be in your own room anymore.” mattheo rolled his eyes at you, yet he knew it was coming, so he dragged his ass up, patting theo’s back. “good luck with that one, nott.” he muttered before leaving the room with lorenzo, who just sent you a sympathetic smile.

theo, on the other hand, just glanced at you for a second, knitting his eyebrows together. “what do you want, l/n?” he asked, his nose still burried in between pages of a book you gave him for christmas.

“oh, last name basis, al–fucking–right.” you grumbled, grabbing the book away from his hands, your body trembling with fury. you hadn’t had a proper conversation in over two weeks, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be a decent man towards you. “what’s going on with you, nott?”

“get off my dick, y/n, really.” he rolled his eyes, expression matching the one his roommate had a few moments earlier. “i don’t have fucking time for this shit.” theo added, clearly agitated.

“well, you want it — you have it, i’m not getting on your dick anytime soon.” your voice was thick with emotion as the mention of celibacy earning you a look. “i know something’s going on. i know that, because i’m your girlfriend and i care about you. just trust–” you started, but the sentence wasn’t meant to be finished, because nott cut you off.

“then don’t. merlin, i don’t need a fucking babysitter, hoovering over my ass all the time. you’re not my bloody therapist, l/n. i don’t fucking need you to stick your nose into my business 24/7.” theodore stood up, his nose almost brushing yours before you took a step back, startled at the sudden outburst. “and sex? don’t amuse me, for merlin’s sake. i could leave the dorm right now and find someone to bone if i wanted to.” his tone was harsh, while his words were like knives thrown at you as a reward for being a caring girlfriend.

your boyfriend looked at his knuckles, his gaze focusing on the ring as he begun to take it off, making your pupils widen. “go. give it to someone who’s gonna be crazy enough to put up with your obsession about emotions. i’m not doing that anymore.” he muttered, pushing the ring into your palm.

“fine.” was the only thing that came to your mind after his words. your body continued to tremble and at this point, you couldn’t have been sure if it was your annoyance or broken heart that he just broke up with you. “just keep your promise and stay away from me. maybe join the death eaters too, for all i care, you’ll fit in perfectly.” with that, you left his dorm, slamming the door behind you as you fought with tears flowing down your cheeks.

“troubles in paradise?” mattheo grinned at you playfully, not noticing your tears-stained face as you were storming through the common room to the exit of the room.

“go fuck yourself, riddle.”

it wasn’t even five minutes later, when mattheo entered his shared dorm, his expression utterly confused as his mind was doing its best to connect the dots. “what’s with that gal of yours?” he asked theo, plopping down onto his bed, lightning up a cigarette right after.

“she’s not my gal anymore.” nott mumbled in response, almost untouched by the entire thing that just happened and that took his best friend by surprise.

“what do you mean she’s not your gal anymore?” he asked, his frown deepening. “lad, don’t tell me she broke up with you, you love this girl to death.” riddle added, scanning his friend’s face for any sign of uneasiness or a clue to understand all of it.

“i broke up with her.” theo replied with a shrug.

“merlin, man, why?” mattheo asked another question, this time being left without an answer as nott shut the curtains of his bed, putting on a silence spell.

IGNORING THEODORE ALL WEEK HAS BEEN EASY as you weren’t in the same year as him. you’ve been grovelling inside about the break-up, but from what your mother had always told you, when you were younger, you remembered that all the teenage boys were shitty and you couldn’t — by any means — let him know how much hurt you were. ignoring him was easy, all because, in your eyes, he didn’t even take any effort to show you remorse for what happened, from what you’ve known, he didn’t even look at you once.

the worst part of loving theodore nott was not being able to brush off all the concerns and worries that lived rent free in your mind, whenever you’ve noticed him walking through the hallways. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to care about him at all, so that was what you were planning on doing. kept your head high and your feet steady on the ground.

what you didn’t know, was that it wasn’t pride that made him keep his eyes away from you, but guilt. from the moment he woke up the day following your argument, his organism was flooded with guilt and shame to the point, where he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.

he fucked everything up just like his father always told him that he would. he broke the promise he’d made to himself that he wouldn’t drive you away, wouldn’t hurt you like his father hurt his mom, yet he did. you were the only person in his world that made him feel like a normal human being, one, who could love and be loved, but he had to ruin it all, because his pride wouldn’t let him to open up to you.

it’s been already a week since the biggest mistake of his life, as he called it, and theo’s entire body hurt. he was popping pills with blaise like candies, because sobriety and consciousness made everything worse. he couldn’t stop thinking about you — about your expression, when he broke things off with you, the hurt in your eyes and the way you were holding yourself after that.

people, not close enough to you, might’ve been fooled by the facade you’ve built around you, though not theo. he’d known you for years prior to your relationship, he’d seen you both happy and miserable and now? now, you were beyond miserable. you might’ve kept your head high with the biggest smile on your face, but he’s known. he always would — whether you wanted him to or not.

quidditch practices were the worst, all because you were always there, yet never watching him. it wasn’t even up to you to be there and theo was certain of it. you were there, so your best friend wouldn’t have to sit through an entire practice alone, while she watched lorenzo with starstruck expression all the fucking time.

“lad, you have to apologise to her, sort it out.” enzo sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “aoife’s worried about her. ‘m not really surprised, though, she started smoking weed on daily-basis again. aoif’s saying she can’t remember, when she saw her sober for the last time, but it’s better than bawling her eyes out over some asshole, aoif’s words, not mine.” having a friend, who was also somehow close to you and your best friend was a blessing in disguise. lorenzo kept him updated, not leaving out all the insults aoife lynch threw at him for breaking her best friend’s heart.

a loud sigh left theo’s lips as he leaned over the table, his forehead falling onto the wooden surface as he let out a groan. “i don’t even know what to do, enzo.”

“my suggestion? get your shit together.” mattheo chimed in, a playful grin on his face. “i mean it, theo. the gal of yours keeps showing up to my spot and i can’t deal with her tears anymore. get your shit together and fix it.”

“the problem is, matt, i don’t know how.”

the opportunity, although being totally… stupid, occurred at the end of another week during a game with hufflepuffs. theo’s entered another stage of grief and has been going around the school angry at everything. so, when the game came, he was playing rougher than usually, because he needed an outlet to the built-up anger.

of course, you’ve noticed. how couldn’t you? you’ve been keeping an eye on him for the entire two weeks. despite your promise to aoife, you couldn’t let it go. no matter who he was, your boyfriend, a friend, a stranger or an enemy, you couldn’t stop worrying about him and doing your best to look out for him. so… when he was forcefully pushed off his broom by diggory, you were running down the stairs before he even hit the ground. you needed to be beside him or it would kill you.

he was unconcious for almost two more days, making it a sixteen days without hearing his voice and you were going crazy, spending every single second, occupying the tabletop placed next to his bed. his hands in between yours as you kept it close to you. did he deeply pained you with his words? yes. would you let him be alone in the hospital wing? of course not.

“y/n/n.” he whispered suddenly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.” nott let out and you weren’t sure if it was some kind of sleep talking or your delusions leading you on. “i’m so sorry, baby.” he repeated his words with a term of endearment, squeezing your hand weakly.

“theodore…” your words hitched in your throat as you moved the hair aside from his forehead. “don’t think about it now.” you whispered in a coy manner. “it doesn’t matter.”

“i can’t.” he coughed out. “i can’t stop thinking about it. about you. i’ve acted like a dick, but i didn’t mean it. you’re my world, baby, i’m so, so sorry. you were right all this time, i build up my emotions inside of me and let it get the best of me in the worst moment. i’m so sorry i hurt you, i swear i hate myself for—” he continued his rambling, slowly opening his eyes to have a look at you.

“hey, teddy, please, don’t think about it now.” you pleaded, still holding his hand. your thumb caressing his palm. “just rest, okay? please. we’ll talk about once you’re well-rested and out of here.” your voice was gentle.

he shifted in his hospital bed, hissing as his ribcage hurt immensely. “no, cara, please.” he muttered, bringing his lips to your palm. “listen, i can’t get over what i told you. i’m so fucking sorry, baby.” he whispered.

“teddy…” you started, but he cut you off.

“no. i’m sorry i said all those things to you, you didn’t deserve all the shit i gave you.” he let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “you need to hit me. for all the pain and suffering. oh god, and the tears. you should just kill me at this point.” theo muttered, and honestly? he did deserve the beating for what he’s done, but the three days of unconsciousness due being knocked off the broom, you could let it go. it could be his fate share of beating.

“just shut up, will you?” you sighed, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “we’re fine.”

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #niki’s works 🫂#theo nott smut #theo nott rec #theo nott fic #theodore nott x oc #theo nott headcanons #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fic #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader

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starlightxsvt · 2 months ago

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PSYCHO | j.ww (M)

synopsis ➳ a new threat has showed up, one wonwoo thought he got rid of. this time, you are entangled into the mess and it is bound to get bloody. good thing wonwoo is there to help you bury past demons that you didn't even know existed.

genre ➳ dark romance, smut, gore, halloween au.

pairing ➳ psycho!wonwoo x therapist!fem reader

word count ➳ 7.6k

warnings ➳ blood, PTSD, mentions of scars, mentions of not being able to eat, stalking, knife, choking, graphic description of murder, hiding a body, halloween costumes (Wonwoo is Ghost from COD), hand necklace, degradation, name calling, makeouts, unprotected sex, rough sex, pussy slapping, fingering, tit play.

Note: it is mandatory to read Bloodily Safe and Game on! before reading this. additionally, I heavily recommend reading the Patreon bonus scene after Game on! to get a better context of this story because this is a continuation from there and is a major plot point.

It is weird seeing your colleague who suddenly disappeared a year ago without a word, appear randomly at the clinic today.

Joshua is definitely not how you remember him.

He used to be a soft-spoken and friendly guy but the man you met today is someone completely different; rude and snappy. Not to mention that terrifying scar on his face. The long scar running down his left cheek looks quite new and not accidental.

How did he get that?

It is all so peculiar. The way he almost kept scowling at you, the weird aura that radiated off of him and the unsettling way he seemed to notice everything about you and stare too long.

You had been working with Joshua at the clinic for about three months when he disappeared suddenly last October, sending his resignation letter through the mail. No one at the clinic knew about his whereabouts but it was assumed he went back to the States since he had American citizenship.

Seeing him at the clinic today caught you completely off guard, especially because he felt so familiar yet unfamiliar. In a way you could not put your finger on but made you feel uneasy.

He was there to see Jeonghan, your clinic's new head, saying he needed to have an important meeting with his friend as he showed himself in.

Who knows what they were talking about in there for so long. You saw him enter when you were on a late lunch break and Joshua was still inside when you left, removing your option to speak to him as you had planned.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt unsafe on the way home, turning your head back now and then, looking for someone who was not there, as if your gut knew something was wrong.

—

“Cherry,” Wonwoo suddenly calls you by your nickname, a solemn clarity in his tone that lets you know he means business. “Look at me.”

You sit at the dinner table, toying with the fork on your empty plate as your mind drifts off somewhere else, clouded by all sorts of thoughts.

You have been zoning out for a while now and your boyfriend’s unwavering gaze at you forces you to focus. You hesitate for a fraction of a second before meeting his eyes.

Suddenly, you feel nervous. Wonwoo can read you like an open book so you know there is no hiding from him.

“What is bothering you?”

“What do you mean?” You feign confusion, getting up from the chair and heading to the sink where you start washing the dishes, the heavy sound of the jet of water putting a pause in your conversation.

You can feel Wonwoo’s gaze sharpen. He leaves the dining table, stepping closer to you. With his hands crossed in front of his chest, he leans against a nearby countertop and patiently watches you do your work.

You know very well he is waiting for you to finish. Still, for a reason unknown to you, you attempt to evade him. “You should prepare for bed. I will join you soon.”

Wonwoo frowns, his eyes somehow appearing darker as he leans closer. “Don’t do that.” He admonishes. “I know you well enough to know something is up from the look on your face. You have been distracted. What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

A soft sigh falls from your lips as you shake off the water on your hands before wiping them in a dry towel resting by the sink. Then, you face him.

“I met Joshua today.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen. While you admit that the news is a bit surprising, you are perplexed by why your boyfriend, who barely knows him, appears so shocked.

“Joshua?” There’s a change in Wonwoo’s usual low, monotonous voice. “The guy who used to work at the clinic last year?”

“Yes.” You hum, before raising a brow. “Why are you so shocked?”

Wonwoo blinks, peering at your face for a while before subtly shaking his head. “Nothing. I just did not like the way he looked at you.”

“You say that about every guy.” You roll your eyes.

“But why have you been thinking about him?” Wonwoo snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer as he watches you carefully. “Did he try to hit on you?”

“What? No,” you scoff but then pause, recalling the unsettling aura he gave off. You don’t like how weirded out you have been since seeing him. “He…he had this strange, long scar on his face, you know… It looked, I don’t know…not like an accident.”

Wonwoo’s grip on your waist tightens and you look at him inquisitively to see a frown on his brows.

Why is he so tense? What is he thinking about so hard?

“What are you pondering so seriously?” You poke his nose, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Wonwoo shakes his head, sighing. “Nothing.” He hums, the look in his eyes suddenly changing. “You look ravishing right now, you know.” He murmurs. With a foxy grin, he pulls your body tight against his, trailing teasing kisses and bites on your neck while his hands explore your back.

Heat blooms all throughout your face as you shyly shift your gaze the closer his face comes to yours. You are only wearing a T-shirt and shorts right now so you have your doubts about how ravishing you look.

With a smirk of the devil, he presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet at first as you really soak in the feeling of his large, warm hands holding your back. They roam around freely underneath your t-shirt, one hand on your upper back while the other presses lower, right over your tailbone. Goosebumps break out on your skin under the caress of his soft, sensual fingers.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, shivering, not from the cold but from need and anticipation as every other thought about the world slips away from your mind. Right now, there is only him and you.

“Hmm?” He hums, pulling his lips just a fraction away from yours and placing you on the countertop.

“I need you,” you plead, using your hands to pull him even closer to you.

With a knowing, cocky smirk, Wonwoo removes your baggy t-shirt off your body, exposing your naked torso for his eyes to feast on. You see the desire spark in his eyes, his gaze not sparing an inch of your chest as he leans down to press kisses all over the soft, sensitive flesh. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking in it before gently nibbling the skin around it.

“Wonwoo,” You writhe. “Please.”

“Hmm?” He hums, busy with his task.

“Y-your fingers,” You whisper, trying to grind yourself against him.

“You want my fingers, baby?” His voice is deep as he removes his mouth from your tits and locks his eyes with you. Through the fabric of your shorts, he palms your core, making you whine and writhe more.

“Where do you want them, little girl?” He smirks, savouring your desperation. You groan, clutching his arms in a vice-like grip with one hand while struggling to remove your shorts with the other. Your boyfriend aids you in the process, tugging it off in one smooth motion and leaving you completely bare.

“Please, Wonwoo.” You beg, all other vocabulary vanishing from your head.

He hums, eyes trained between your legs and then, surprising you, he slaps your pussy, hard, as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Horny little slut.” He tsks and in one smooth motion, thrusts two of his fingers inside you. You squeal, hands fisting the material of his t-shirt tightly while his long digits easily slip inside you thanks to the arousal that even coats your thighs.

“Oh fuck, yes.” You moan, eyes rolling back as you feel his fingers move inside you back and forth. With each thrust, your legs fall open wider as your breathing becomes harsher, and your body starts to feel heavy. Paired with the movement of his fingers and the heated look he’s sending your way, you know you’re not very far from your release. You squeak, “Go-gonna cum.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “So quickly? My needy little cherry. Come then. Come on my fingers so I can put my cock in your wet sopping hole.” The utterly filthy words coming from him make you moan out loud as he brings his thumb over clit, rubbing it swiftly and sending you over the edge and face-first into your orgasm.

It shakes your body as you slump over Wonwoo, letting the ecstasy wash over you, your pussy spasming repeatedly as he keeps playing with you throughout your high. When you finally come down and your mind starts working again, Wonwoo pulls his fingers out of you, dripping in your essence and licks his digits clean, never wavering eye contact with you. The erotic sight has your core thrumming once more as your throat dries up. “Please. Fuck me, Wonwoo…” Your voice is soft and breathy and the man grins as if pleased with your begging. “Good girl.”

Pressing a quick kiss on the top of your head, he steps back, pulling your naked body with him as he heads for the bedroom. Once there, you sit on the bed and eagerly wait for him to take off his clothes and join you, your hungry eyes watching him remove his t-shirt. Anticipation builds in your veins as you lick your dry lips, avidly waiting to see his cock as if it is your first time.

With his eyes never straying from yours, he removes his pants and boxers, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips. Like every other time, his size and girth leave your mouth dry and your core clenching around nothing.

Your eyes never leave his cock as it bobs in the air, his tip leaking precum. Wonwoo watches you watch him with utter amusement. “Close your mouth, cherry. Otherwise, I might shove this down your throat.” He flashes you a haughty grin as he climbs on top of you and pecks your mouth.

“You can do that” You whisper, eyes trained on his cock as his large body engulfs yours, pressing you flat into the mattress. On top of you, Wonwoo grins like a cat that ate the canary, “Oh, I know you would love that, dirty girl. But I’m too impatient right now.” He grunts as his cock brushes against your belly. “Fuck.” Cursing under his breath, he lines himself up to your throbbing hole. “I’ll fuck you so hard you will not remember anything else. Especially not a guy.”

It’s a promise and you cannot wait for him to fulfill it.

His words only fuel your need and you think you will go crazy if he waits a second longer. “Hurry,” you whine, raising your hips to meet his.

“Fuck. Such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?” He tilts your chin and pulls your lips in a bruising kiss as you nod. “P-please, Wonwoo, give to me.”

Groaning softly, he taps your clit with his hard shaft, eyes trained on your swollen, dripping hole. “It might hurt.”

“And I will love it.”

His eyes darken as he suddenly lands a slap on your clit. “Such a whore. I love it.” You squeal from the impact, more wetness dripping out of you and just as you are recovering from the sting of his spank he thrusts inside you, all the way in one smooth motion. Your gasp morphs into a loud cry, your nails scratching Wonwoo’s back as you cling to him.

No matter how many times you have been with Wonwoo, you still struggle to adjust to his size, not to mention when he fucks you raw and animalistic like he’s doing right now.

He pants harshly on top of you, sweat shining on his forehead as he wastes no time thrusting his full length in and out of you. Your pussy is stretched to its limits and every time he brutally thrusts in, his cock hits the deepest, most sensitive part inside you, making you mindlessly grind on his cock, soft, breathy whines leaving your lips as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Stop doing that or I’m gonna come,” Wonwoo warns but you start moving your hips faster, matching his thrusts. “Little slut,” he groans, guttural and as if in pain, heated eyes watching you. “You are extra horny today.” He murmurs, smashing his lips to yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue as you breathe Wonwoo in like he is your oxygen. When your lips part a flimsy string of saliva hangs, connecting the two of you and Wonwoo watches you, his gaze feral as he continues to fuck you mercilessly.

“Are you ready to come for me?” He asks quietly, his hand creeping lower and lower down your body to play with your swollen clit. He rubs the sensitive bundle of flesh, making your entire body shudder as you feel your orgasm coming. As soon as he flicks your clit with his finger, your release comes crashing down on you and you feel it in every one of your nerves.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream as you feel him release inside you, making you clench around his throbbing length. You’re not surprised when he doesn’t stop but continues thrusting inside you, far from being done with you and you feel another orgasm impending. Your pussy hurts in the best ways possible and just thinking about coming once again have your toes curling.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath. “I can’t get enough of you, my little slut.” His fingers that were previously digging into your hipbone now make a home on your neck, gripping it firmly and applying just enough pressure to make your body curl up and see stars. Your breath catches in your throat, your hands coming to rest on Wonwoo’s wrists as he continues to apply a steady pressure that makes your core throb. Just as you feel your oxygen supply being cut off quite severely, your mind goes into a trance-like hazy state and your orgasm is triggered, multiplying it by hundreds.

Seeing the godlike man on top of you, his dark, piercing eyes trained on you so intensely as if he would devour you whole makes you go off like a rocket, bliss seeping into every inch of your bones. You swear you see God himself as your body completely lets go and you feel like you’re floating on a cloud, high above reality. The feeling of him releasing inside you makes you shudder before you vaguely register the emptiness as he slips out of you. Faintly, you feel him shuffling on the bed, murmuring something in your ears as he kisses your forehead and cleans you up.

You drift off peacefully, safe and snug against Wonwoo’s warmth.

—

31st OCT

You stepped out of the clinic a little earlier today, like everyone else, since it’s Halloween night. As you walk by, you observe the festive mood on the streets, with all sorts of creepy and gothic decorations littering every corner as children scurry around dressed in costumes.

You can’t wait to get home and put on yours.

Your home is just a ten-minute walk away, and like every other day, you stroll down the sidewalk, enjoying the beautiful dusk. Yet today feels different for some reason.

As soon as you stepped out of the clinic, an uneasy sensation prickled in your gut, sending subtle alarm bells blaring in your head. You try to dismiss it, telling yourself that it is the exhaustion from the day that is making you overthink. But with each step, your unease deepens, and as you glance over your shoulder, a chill runs down your spine.

As you expected, a man in a black outfit flashes by the moment you spot him, disappearing into the alley right beside where he stood.

Terrified, you continue walking, your pace faster than before. For some reason, your gut says it is Joshua. It is weird that his name was the one to immediately pop into your head. You suddenly remember his words the day he came back to the clinic. “You have been living well, no?” A deeper implication under the guise of an innocent question.

It may just be your mind making up scenarios after the issue with Jacob but you are not taking any chances because obviously, someone was following you.

As you march down the sidewalk, you find a bus a few meters ahead of you and without thinking, you rush towards it, stepping in right before it is about to leave.

You catch your breath, panting harshly as you grip the handrail and look out the window, searching for the man in black. Just when you accept that he is gone for good, you spot a man stepping out of an alleyway, fully dressed in black, his face covered with a black surgical mask and staring at you. You get only a glimpse of him as the bus takes a turn, going in a direction opposite to your home.

You don’t care.

You will get off at the next stop and take a cab home.

Truly an experience befitting the Halloween night.

—

You return home much later than usual, depleted mentally and physically. All your excitement and eagerness for the upcoming Halloween party in the evening is now gone with the chilly breeze of the night.

“You are late,” Wonwoo states, walking towards you as you toe off your shoes before stepping into the living room area. From the worn-out expression on your face, he can immediately sense something is wrong as he asks, “What is going on, cherry?”

You don’t reply, dashing into his arms straight.

In the back of your mind, you register that he is dressed in his Halloween costume but your wired brain fails to process his look properly. He is dressed as Ghost from Call of Duty, a look you anticipated heavily but now, you are too fraught to care. Instead, you bury yourself in his arms, breathing in and out deeply as he holds you, his hands patting your back and sides in search of any injury.

“What is wrong?” He asks again, the desperation rising in his tone. Breaking the hug, he holds your face and carefully observes it, his gaze jumping all around your visage. “Fuck, are you okay? Say something!”

“Someone tried to follow me home.” You whisper.

“What!” A sharp breath falls from his lips, his grip on you tightening as his eyes double in size. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you call me?”

“My battery died.” With a heavy sigh, you slump down on the sofa, Wonwoo following you closely as you start narrating everything to him. With each word you utter, his complexion pales and his expression darkens visibly. At the same time, you see the anger surge within him, evident from the way he scowls at the floor, his hands clenched in fists.

“Fuck.” He hisses.

“I just don’t understand why he has been so weird towards me. What did I do to him? Why is he after me?” You cry, dragging a hand through your hair. “Please, tell me I’m just overthinking. It really cannot be Joshua, right?”

Your boyfriend does not affirm you.

“I should have taken care of him last year,” Wonwoo mutters instead, almost as if he’s talking to himself but you hear it loud and clear and the hairs on your neck stand up straight, your brain suddenly working a mile a minute as the equation starts to add up.

“What do you mean?” You whisper, horrified by the reality that is about to dawn on you.

“You should know how I got this scar.” Joshua’s words from that day replay in your mind, how he uttered them when he caught you staring at the mark. The words that once made you clueless suddenly make perfect sense.

“Wonwoo, look at me,” you croak with pleading eyes, chasing his gaze which he hides. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It was you! You are the one who fucked up his face!”

For the first time in your life, you see Wonwoo look uncomfortable. He abruptly stands up and averts his gaze, avoiding your eyes as if it were a game while continuously shifting on his feet. He looks…guilty and worried.

“God, for fucks sake!” You burst out, unable to hold yourself together any longer. “Are you insane? Why would you do that?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” He finally meets your eyes but you do not see the faintest hint of remorse in him.

“No, I don’t!” You snap, irritated.

“He is a bad man, cherry,” Wonwoo replies, deadpan as he approaches you. “He was a fucking pervert. He did disgusting things behind your back.”

No wonder Joshua thinks you're in on this too. He probably believes that you made Wonwoo do that to him, hence the vendetta.

“Then you should have handed him over to the police!” You snap, rubbing your palm over your face.

“You know I don’t work like that.” “Clearly!” You roll your eyes, pacing around the room. “You instead thought it would be better to carve his face! As if that makes any sense!” You scoff.

Wonwoo’s demeanour shifts as a frown settles on his brows, his lips thinning. “I don’t like your attitude. He was a sneaky pervert and I was trying to protect you from him. I did not share it with you because I did not want to add to your traumas.”

You know he meant well. You understand he was looking out for you, in his own deranged way but right now, you cannot think with compassion. Right now, you do not care what perverted thing Joshua was doing behind your back because right now, he is out there trying to hunt you down.

“Well then, you should have done a better job of protecting me!” You spit, using air quotations for the last two words. “Now I have a deranged stalker up my ass who only god knows what will do to me. And don’t talk about my attitude.” You glare at him.

The subdued lighting in your living room creates a striking shadow across his face, highlighting his sharp, bony features in an almost unfair way. Combined with his combat attire and his dishevelled hair, it’s astonishing how captivating he appears, nearly stealing your attention from the argument.

God, this is so unfair. You hate him. You hate this man so much.

With your hands on your hips, you start pacing around. “You are the one who caused this mess, Wonwoo, so don’t talk about my attitude. Joshua is out to get us, do you understand? What if he goes to the police? Do you understand how badly this could end, you impulsive psycho?”

You should not have said that.

Wonwoo’s eyes, as always, remain dark and empty but you clearly see his jaw harden as he grits his teeth. Sending a scalding look your way— one you have never encountered before, he throws the Ghost mask on the floor.

“Fuck this.”

Then, he is out the door.

The two words are enough to make you realise that you have crossed a big line. You want to go after him but it is too late and you are still frozen at your place, the blood flowing through your veins still hot with anger and frustration.

Well, there goes your Halloween plans.

It is almost ironic how crazy people have always been after you. You are living with one and you have to admit over the years you have also become a lot like him. Still, what pains you is that he kept it from you. You would not have been mad if he had come to you and confessed. After all, given your shared history, you were supposed to be partners in crime, literally.

With diminished spirits and exhaustion from the day taking over your body, you trudge through the empty apartment, changing into your pajamas. The witch costume you had intended to wear for the evening seems to taunt you from the closet as you change, and with a heavy heart, you tuck the box away.

You should not have said those things to Wonwoo.

You never had a fight this big with him. Sure, there were small quarrels here and there but they were resolved within a few hours. This is the first time in your almost two years of relationship that he stormed out of the house.

How can you make up to him?

The clock on the wall reads seven in the evening and you know for a fact Wonwoo won’t be home until it’s very late.

He won’t stay outside all night, will he? Since this is the first time he has rushed out of the house, you don’t know what to do or expect.

Feeling overwhelmed and useless, you decide to busy yourself by making dinner. You get started on cooking his favourite meal, hoping it will lessen his anger once he returns.

With the food cooking on the stove, you sit on the living room floor, slicing apples for yourself and scrolling through your phone. Wonwoo isn't particularly a fan of this fruit, but when you cut it into slices shaped like little bunnies, he relishes them with the joy of a child.

So, you do that.

You slice through the apples, preparing them in the shape of bunnies and munching on a few yourself while in the back of your mind, praying that he returns quickly.

You cannot wait to apologize to him.

Suddenly, you hear the doorbell.

Wonwoo cannot be back so early, right?

Still, you rush to the door, hopeful and delighted that your prayers have been answered. Through the peephole, you see the person standing outside and realise quickly it is not Wonwoo but a man wearing a baseball cap.

“Who is it?” You are not expecting any guests.

“Delivery for Jeon Wonwoo!” The man announces from the other side.

Ah, right. Wonwoo did order a new headset.

You open the door, your eyes searching for a package in the man’s hand only to realise, there is none.

The man is dressed in all black, making it hard to see his face, especially because of the baseball cap and mask on his face. Suddenly, a heavy sense of dread fills your system as you realize something is profoundly wrong, flashbacks of the earlier events in the day vividly going through your mind.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should not have opened the door.

The man seems suspicious, his vibes very ominous and just as you are about to close the door, he looks up, locking his eyes with yours. A small, sharp breath falls from your lips as you immediately realize who it is.

Joshua.

This is your worst nightmare coming true. Fuck, how did he even get your address? You thought you had successfully got him off your tail.

You are so fucked. There could be only one reason why he is here.

Revenge.

The man pulls down his mask and grins diabolically. “Hey there, ___.”

“Jo-Joshua,” you give him a nervous smile while trying to wrack through your brain to find a way out of this, fidgeting with your phone behind your back.

Maybe talking to him would work? You’re a therapist after all.

He places his palm flat on the door with a loud thud, forcing it to open wider as he steps into your home.

Fuck, fuck.

You reflexively step back, walking backwards into your living room while unlocking your phone behind your back with your thumbprint.

“I came to have a chat with you,” the man grins, kicking the front door closed behind him. “You know…just you and me since your boyfriend is out.”

Beads of perspiration gather on your forehead as you keep backing away in small steps. The look in Joshua’s eyes is one of paranoia and you know he is beyond reason right now. This was a very calculated move and he has you right where he wanted.

Trapped in your own home.

Tossing his cap and mask away on the floor, Joshua combs his fingers through his hair before showing his scarred cheek to you. “Let me ask you a question, therapist ___. Do you know who did this?”

Oh fuck.

You fiddle with your phone behind your back, attempting to call Wonwoo through speed dial. The glass on the showcase to your right aids you in the process as you can see a fairly clear image of your phone screen on the reflection from your peripheral vision.

“N-no, Joshua. But it looks painful. Maybe we can talk about it—”

“Lies!” The man seethes, his eyes ablaze before calmly whispering. “I know you are lying. I can see it in your eyes. You know your dear boyfriend did it.”

Whatever remaining strength in your leg disappears at his words as you stumble over nothing and fall on the ground, your heart thudding so loudly it is deafening to your ears. Your phone slips away from your hand, lying face up on the ground as your body freezes from the panic overriding your system.

This is like the situation with Jacob all over again but much more terrifying.

God, when does this end?

The moment the call connects and you hear Wonwoo’s voice float through ever so faintly, Joshua takes notice of it, immediately lurching for the device. “Fucking cunt!” He yells, smashing your phone down on the ground in one swift blow as the screen cracks under the force.

You cower, pressing your back to the coffee table as you raise your arms to cover yourself while trying to appear as small as possible. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

The man chuckles, positioning himself over your torso as he grabs you by the collars of your nightshirt, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Oh darling,” He grins, his teeth on display, and paired with the deranged look in his eyes it is so terrifying that your hands tremble when you try to free yourself.

“I will just draw a pretty scar on your cheek like he did to mine.” He whispers, leaning close to you. From his jeans pocket, he pulls out a switchblade, the tip razor sharp and glinting. “And then, I will stab a nice little hole in your stomach, like he did to mine. Seems fair, no? I promise it won’t hurt.”

“No- please—” you struggle harder but his hand moves to grip your throat, cutting your airflow as you writhe underneath him, trying to free yourself while also fighting to overcome the heavy weight of his body on top of you.

You need a weapon.

Suddenly, the fog in your brain clears up as you remember what you need is right behind you.

“Your boyfriend is a loose nut after all,” Joshua smiles, tracing the tip of the blade over your forehead and dragging it down to your cheek. “I have a feeling that if I do this to him, he won’t hurt but if I carve you up,” he laughs, shaking his head. “He will burn. That’s the best revenge I can get, you know.”

Holding your breath, you observe as his pupils dilate while his grip on the butt of the knife tightens. Half a second before the tip of the blade nicks your skin, your right hand reaches back on the coffee table to pick up the knife lying there.

You find it in one go and the very next moment, you lodge it in Joshua’s throat.

The knife pierces through the man’s skin, breaking through his artery as blood sprays out immediately while you hold it against the side of his throat, trying to push it in deeper. Joshua groans, the sound choked as he grips the knife, trying to pull it out but you use all your strength to shove it even deeper.

He falls back, his gaze wide and frantic as he sputters and chokes, holding on to the knife in an attempt to pull it out while blood seeps through his fingers.

However, all too soon the light in his eyes fades and he falls quiet as his body slumps down on the floor, the room enveloped in a thick blanket of silence, disrupted only by your harsh pants as you inhale lungfuls of air, managing to get yourself to a proper sitting position.

Suddenly, you realise there is blood everywhere.

On your hands, your face, your shirt, the carpet and the floor.

Your home is bathed in blood, an intimate space soiled with the evidence of your crime. Your favourite cream-coloured rug is now painted crimson, just like your pajamas and fingers.

Shaking like a leaf, you look at your right hand which is coated red, the blood slowly dripping down your wrist. It envelops your fingers, thick and heavy, the metallic smell of the liquid wafting in the air suddenly too strong for you to bear.

Despite not wanting to cast your eyes on the body of the lifeless man lying in front of you, your eyes shift to it and the unsettlingly blank look in the corpse’s eyes locks you in a trance as you sit on the floor, shuddering.

The events of the last few minutes start replaying in your head and with the passing of each second, the reality and the gravity of your actions begin to sink in.

You just killed a man.

In self-defence but you did just kill Joshua.

You feel like throwing up.

A faint beeping sound alerts you before you hear the front door open. A second later, Wonwoo dashes in only to stop a few steps into the room as he takes in the scene.

Your terrified eyes meet his wide, panicked ones as his eyes move from your face to your bloodied hands and then to the knife stuck in Joshua’s throat. Not wasting another second, Wonwoo rushes to you, kneeling on the floor and wrapping your body with his, his palms patting all over your body as he murmurs between harsh pants, “Are you hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head no, biting down on your wobbling lower lip hard to prevent yourself from bursting into tears while remaining careful not to touch him with your blood-soaked hand.

Wonwoo loosens his hold on you to observe your right hand as he grips your wrist and studies the smear of blood all over your hand.

What is he thinking? Is he mad? Will he abandon you now? The thought has you struggling to breathe. “Wo—wonwoo, I-I swear I didn’t m-mean to… he just—” You try to explain in between tears and choked breaths but Wonwoo shushes you with a hard kiss.

“Stop.” His dark eyes bore into yours, his fingers moving from your wrist to link with your bloodied hand as you watch with fascination how he holds it in a strong, unrelenting grip. You are suddenly reminded of the time you held his bloody hands after he killed Jacob.

And suddenly it is easier to breathe.

With him near you, holding you and reassuring you, you suddenly feel just a bit better.

“You did well, little cherry. You did so good,” Wonwoo whispers, snaking an arm around your waist to hold you tightly against his large, warm body, your hands still linked. “I should not have left you alone. I should have taken care of this fucker long ago. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

His words are your undoing as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as your entire body shudders, everything washing over you once again— the stalking, the fight, the attack.

“Everything is going to be okay,” the firmness in his tone is oddly reassuring. “Look at me,” he commands and gently holding your chin, he forces you to meet his gaze.

“You did not do this, okay? You were not here, you know nothing. I will take care of everything, do you understand me?”

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you give him a shaky nod.

“Words, little girl.” His eyes darken and his grip on your chin tightens.

“I u-understand.” You whisper between sniffles, unconsciously turning your head to look at the lifeless body once again but Wonwoo interrupts, cupping your head and forcing your gaze back on him.

The blood from his fingers transfers to your clean cheek when he wipes your tears.

“Now listen to me, cherry.” His tone is calm but authoritative. “You are going to go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. Then, I will give you an address and you are going to go there and have a good night’s rest. In the morning, when you wake up, all of this will feel like a very bad dream.”

What? Panic surges through you.

“But Wonwoo—”

“Hush. You will do as I say and I will take care of the rest. I promise you, little cherry, everything will be okay.” He pauses as a smirk spreads on his lips. “After all, you know very well that this isn’t my first rodeo.”

The way he says those words makes you believe that everything will truly be okay. You force yourself to nod, your eyes stinging with fresh tears as you softly speak. “I love you, Wonwoo.”

The man remains silent for a breath, his eyes piercing into the deepest parts of your soul while one of his hands gently caresses your neck and jawline, tracing the lines of the blood stain. Then, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours as he pokes his tongue into your mouth and kisses you languidly, eliciting soft, whiny moans from you.

“Oh, cherry,” he smirks, trailing little kisses all over your lips and chin. “I am holding back the urge to fuck you right here in his blood, you know.”

His words make knots form in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing at the thought of Wonwoo taking you right here, right now.

“And I know you love the idea, my depraved little slut.” His grin grows bigger. “But we should not waste time. Now go do as you are told.”

You gaze at him, still unsure as he helps you get on your feet. Pushing you toward the direction of the bathroom, Wonwoo orders. “Do as you are told, cherry. I mean it. You would not want to see the real psycho.”

—

The dreadful night passes by as you toss and turn restlessly in the sheets, lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar cottage in the middle of the woods.

With the rise of the sun in the eastern sky, you get some shut eye after your mind is finally overtaken by exhaustion. When you wake up, the morning light is flooding into your room in the cabin. Your groggy eyes shift to the clock on the wall that reads 10 am.

For a moment, your mind remains blank as you try to figure out where you are. And then, the events from last night flood in and you bolt up, kicking the sheets away.

Oh fuck! Wonwoo!

You leap out of bed, rushing to the dressing table where the burner phone lies, fully charged. Just as you are about to dial Wonwoo’s number, you hear a strange string of sounds coming from outside your door.

Did someone break in? With your heart in your throat, you open the door and carefully pad out to the hallway. The second floor is quiet, empty and tranquil as the sun pours in through the window, illuminating the wooden floors. After carefully listening to the sounds for a couple of seconds you assume it is the sound of someone using the chopping board and the juicer machine.

More confused than scared, you climb down the stairs, eyes eagerly searching for the person behind the noise.

As you place your feet on the floor after descending the flight of stairs, your eyes land on the man in the kitchen, his back facing you while he cooks as an array of ingredients and utensils lay on the counter.

From the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, you immediately know who it is.

“Wonwoo!” Your voice, almost choked, overpowers the sizzling noise on the stove.

The man whips his head back in surprise before breaking into a smile that has your heart soaring.

Oh, thank god.

Without another word, you dash to him, leaping into his arms as you press your face against his hard chest, your fingers holding onto a tight grip around his waist like he will disappear any second.

There is no exchange of words as he hugs you back, even tighter, his fingers stroking your hair in a repeated soothing pattern. You inhale and exhale deeply, savouring the breaths as you let his scent and embrace comfort you.

“Did you sleep okay?” He asks, carding his fingers through your locks.

It is almost as if last night did not happen. It is almost as if everything is okay.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes tight so that the threatening tears do not escape as you address the elephant in the room. “I was awake till almost dawn. Whenever I closed my eyes,” a shudder wracks through you, “I saw his face, blank and dead, staring back at me with so much hatred.”

“Hey,” your boyfriend loosens his hold on you, tilting his head back slightly to take a look at your face. Cupping your jaw, he assures, “It is all okay, I promise. He is gone for good.”

Your lower lip wobbles, “But— but what if someone looks for him? The CCTV cameras—”

“Hush, little cherry,” he presses his index fingers to your lips. “You do not need to worry about it in your pretty little head. I took care of everything.” His calm composure and the way he speaks each word start to break the bonds of worry in your mind.

Maybe everything will be okay.

“What about you?” You ask, swallowing a lump in your throat. You let your eyes wander all over him, searching for a sign of injury. “Are you okay? Will you be okay? They can’t track you down right?” The possibility of losing Wonwoo scares you more than losing yourself.

“Oh, sweet cherry.” He smiles, relaxed and cocky. “I will be just fine. We both will be, I promise. Just trust me. You need to forget everything and just trust me.”

You nod, once again wrapping your arms around him. Resting your head on his chest, you listen to his heartbeat and repeat his reassurance in your mind.

It is not that you are not curious about what your boyfriend did to cover everything up. But more than your curiosity, you feel like it will be better for you if you know less. Your mind and sanity will spiral if you do. So for now, you will let it go. You will trust him and let it go. Maybe someday down the line, after years have passed and you are both safe and sound, you will ask him about it. Maybe.

But not now.

“Let’s have breakfast. I’m sure you are famished.” Wonwoo softly offers, guiding you towards the dining table and helping you sit down comfortably. The arrangement is quite grand for breakfast— almost brunch, an array of dishes placed on the table with mouth-watering aromas.

You thought you would not be able to eat a bite— especially since drinking plain water proved to be a hard job for you after last night but you eagerly dig in, savouring the delicious meal, the flavours bursting on your tongue, almost healing your broken soul.

You never knew egg rolls could be so delicious.

Wonwoo, sitting in front of you, watches you fondly, every now and then pushing the dishes closer to you. For a long time, silence prevails as you gobble down the food, the only sound prevailing is the clinking of your cutlery.

When you are almost finished with the meal and sipping on the orange juice that Wonwoo freshly squeezed, your boyfriend shifts on his chair as he pulls something out of his pocket.

His arm extends over the table as he places a box in front of you, small and made out of plush velvet. Frowning, you take a peek at his face to find him impassively looking at you, waiting for you to open it.

It looks like a jewellery box but if you remember correctly, today is not a special occasion. For a split second, as you hold the box in your hand, you panic, half expecting Joshua’s finger or something. Knowing Wonwoo, it would not be surprising because he would consider it romantic.

A gasp falls from your lips when you open the box.

It is a ring.

Right away you can tell it is expensive, an oval diamond sitting on a golden band, dainty but absolutely beautiful. You know this is too fancy to be a couple’s ring, not to mention the fact that you already have one.

So this could mean one thing and one thing only.

“Marry me.” He states, almost as if he’s commanding you.

You look at Wonwoo, his sharp eyes piercing into you and from the way you can see his jaw clenching, he almost looks…nervous.

Beads of tears gather in your eyes as you look back at the jewel, your heart beating deafeningly loud in your ears.

You committed murder with this man. The intensity of your bond is so raw and brutal that nothing will ever hold a candle to your relationship with him.

So, there can only be one correct answer.

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you push the box towards him. Wonwoo’s eyes widen, regarding you with alarm.

You hold out your hand and smile. “Put it on me.”

Click here for a bonus scene taking place a few years after the events of this story!

A/N: Okay, so this is officially the end of our journey with psycho Wonwoo. I hope it was enjoyable for y'all because I poured my blood, sweat and tears into this. So please like, reblog and leave a comment! I would love to here your thoughts so my ask is always open.

Also, I would like to take a moment to announce that I will not be able to update frequently for the next two months due to my extremely hectic schedule so bear with me. I will try to be as regular as possible with the sibilance series so if I can manage time, it should be out in the second week of November. For now, toodles and happy Halloween to those who celebrate! May you find your own psycho Wonwoo ;)

#seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen angst #svt imagines #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #kpop imagines #svt

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permanentlyfemale · 3 months ago

Text

⚠️ Feminization, Misgendering, Forced detrans kink ahead! ⚠️

Today is a scary day for you. As a trans man, finding the right therapist is far more difficult than it is for most people, especially as you weren’t looking for just a new therapist today. You also need someone to write you a top surgery letter. Although you’ve only been on T for 2 months, barely enough to notice anything besides an increased libido and clit growth, your breasts are by far your biggest source of dysphoria. You often wear two binders when you’re going anywhere, and even then, a sizable bump is visible on your chest. You’re hoping they may become easier to bind with hormones, but you already know that you’ll need surgery regardless.

“Milo Brown?” A masculine voice calls your name from across the room. Glancing up, you see a very attractive man, much taller than you, looking to be in good shape under his professional attire, but not overly muscular. His dark shoulder-length wavy hair and stubble complement his gentle, masculine face and warm brown eyes.

Surprised by the man’s beauty, you stumble on your words as you rise from your seat. “I- uh- I’m here.”

“Great! Let’s get back to my office.” He smiles warmly and gestures for you to follow him out of the waiting room and down a hallway, passing mostly empty offices on the way. This doesn’t seem too odd, as there was construction on the lower floor. Maybe some patients didn’t like the noise and cancelled? Or maybe you’re trying to distract yourself from thinking of the exceedingly attractive man that may soon be your therapist. You’ve considered yourself gay since coming out, but starting hormones has certainly made that attraction all the more apparent.

As he opens his office door, you’re surprised by how casual it is. There’s a long couch next to an armchair, with a clipboard set neatly on top. His desk is to the side, seemingly ignored while clients were present in favor of a more personal layout. Thinking of something to say as you sat on the couch, you spit out “I like your office.”

“Thank you Milo, I spent a lot of time thinking of the anatomy of the room and how to make my clients most at ease. I find this works best.” He smiles at you, his eyes gentle and enticing. “I’m Dr. Sterling, I specialize in support for LGBT and FTM clients. Nice to meet you! Tell me a but about yourself and what brings you here.”

“My name is Milo Brown, I’m 19 years old, and I just started testosterone. I’ve been out as trans for a while but finally got access to hormones and I’m hoping to get top surgery as well, but I need a letter for it. I also just need support with my dysphoria and depression.” You cross your arms over your large chest self-consciously.

“Well, that’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can you tell me more about your dysphoria regarding your chest?”

Shifting uncomfortably in your chair, you hesitantly proceed. “Every day is awful! They’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I go to sleep trying not to feel or think about them. They’re so big and heavy that I feel them whenever I move and it makes me so dysphoric. It’s also impossible to make myself flat, so I never pass. As a gay man, it’s so hard to find a man who would want a guy with a body like mine!”

“Oh, Milo, I think that’s very negative thinking. Plenty of men would find you attractive! I thought you were quite beautiful when I saw you myself.”

You’re surprised by his words! That sounded very flirtatious, but maybe he was just trying to boost your ego. Either way, it made the empty space between your legs tingle when he said it. You also didn’t know he was queer, but it definitely makes you more comfortable with him. “Well… that does make me feel better. I still don’t feel comfortable with my chest though.”

“Why don’t we try something? This is an exercise I’ve done with plenty of my transmasuline patients before, and it has always improved their lives and helped with dysphoria. While we do it, I can assess you for top surgery as well! How does that sound?” He smiled at you expectingly.

“Uhhh… yeah, that sounds good. What are we doing?”

“I’m just going to have you answer some questions about your body and dysphoria. This may get uncomfortable, but it’s all part of this process. I’m sure you can trust me, right?”

“Of course!” You answer instinctively.

“Right. First, I want you to take off your shirt and binder.” He instructs casually.

“What!? I thought we were just answering questions. Is that necessary?” You’re again surprised, he wasn’t a surgeon and you had never shown anyone your chest before. You didn’t want to look at it yourself, much less this beautiful man you’re expecting to see regularly!

“I understand this is surprising and uncomfortable, but I want to understand your perspective on your body, as well as assess the size and density for surgery. I need to know this for the letter, and I understand this is very important to you. I’m sorry for the discomfort, Milo.” He looked at you apologetically, his brown eyes sparkling, staring in to your soul and shooting down between your legs.

“I… okay.” What he was saying did make sense, and you would do most anything for this surgery. Resolving to just get this over with, you take off your oversized hoodie and throw it on the couch next to you. Grabbing both binders at once, you exert a herculean force squeezing yourself out, panting as your huge breasts fly out. You blush with embarrassment as a loud clap can be heard from them swinging together.

Dr. Sterling calmly walks closer to you. “Do you know your cup size?”

“Uh… no, sorry.”

“That’s alright, we can measure now.” He smiles warmly and pulls out some measuring tape. Without hesitation, he walks up to you and wraps it around your chest! He first measures your underbust before moving to measure your bust. His hands rest on your breasts as he does so. “Alright… looks like you have J cups.” His hand brushes your nipple as he backs away.

“Mmph!” Involuntarily, you let out a short, feminine moan. Both the dysphoria of knowing your overwhelming cup size and your accidental vocalization leave you embarrassed and blushing harder than ever.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ve experienced any vocal changes from testosterone.” He observes.

“Umm… not yet, no.”

“It also seems like you have quite sensitive nipples?”

“I guess…”

“Well, have you ever considered embracing your breasts?”

“Huh?” You were confused. They made you sad and dysphoric, how could you ever embrace them? He did say whatever he was doing worked for all of his other transmasc patients, but this seemed absurd.

“Your breast are way too big to bind properly. I’ve seen you wearing two binders in here, and that is not healthy. As your therapist, I can’t encourage you to damage your body in such a way, and especially without two binders, you wouldn’t be able to hide them at all anyways. And why go through the trouble of binding if everyone can tell? It might do you some good to just accept your body as it is. It’s not like whether you bind now will affect surgery.”

Unfortunately, everything he was saying made perfect sense. Even when binding, it was very obvious you had breasts. Why go through all the trouble, especially if it was hurting your body? You were dysphoric either way, might as well be more comfortable physically. “I guess… I guess you’re right.”

“Yes… unfortunately it’s also not very possible hormones could reduce them to a bindable size either.”

This devastated you. Even later on testosterone, you would have obvious breasts? How could you expect anyone to take you seriously as a man? You had hoped to begin passing in public soon, and finally begin living comfortably, but you weren’t so sure now. Would it even be safe to live as a non-passing trans man? Why were you going through so much for hormones if there was no hope of passing before surgery anyways? Maybe you should just wait until then for hormones- no one will gender you right as you are now. “Maybe… maybe I should pause testosterone until surgery then.”

“Yes, I can see why. That might be the safest option for you.” He nodded solemnly. “We can practice some exercises to reduce dysphoria until then, if you’d like.” His frown shifted in to a comforting smile.

Still upset, you nodded.

He moved closer and, before you could react, placed one hand on each perky, round breast, grabbing you by the boobs.

Surprised, you squeaked.

“This is just to get you used to your breasts. It often helps most when someone else does it, so you’re more comfortable with other people seeing them.” He gently squeezed and pulled, running his fingers along your supple breasts, warm palms pressing your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmm-! Oooh!” You let out a series of feminine wails as the doctor palms at your breasts. They were so sensitive and they felt so heavy- so wrong on your body- and yet they sent waves of pleasure throughout your curvy figure.

“Are you still going to go by Milo? I mean, you’re stopping T until surgery because you won’t be able to pass. It would be weird to only keep the name and pronouns, especially for strangers.” His hands shifted to thumb at your nipples.

Your thoughts were flooded with waves of pleasure shooting from your tits. The importance of this decision didn’t fully register, but what he was saying made sense to you. “You’re right.”

“Good girl.”

“Huhh…”

“People are going to refer to you by what you look like. You know you don’t pass. This is just exposure training, okay?”

“Okay…” You mindlessly agree as he moves his head close to your breast.

“See? You are a good girl.” He starts to suck on your nipple, causing you to throw your head back and wail in pleasure. You don’t know when his own clothes came off, but he’s getting on top of you and pulling your pants off, leaving you in just your boxers with his much larger biologically male body pinning you down, suddenly kissing your lips.

“What… what are you doing now, d-doctor…” he cuts you off as you pant your words out.

“The easiest way to adapt to and accept being seen as a woman is to have sex with a straight man, one who can use you as only male can use female. You need this, Amelia. It’s okay.”

Hearing your deadname makes you cringe with dysphoria. You’ve always felt an aversion towards it, despising the femininity it signaled. You struggle to reconcile your attraction to the doctor and trust in his methods to your current panic. This all felt good and sounded logical but it’s happening too fast to react, and these are all such big decisions, and suddenly he’s pulling your boxers off.

“Your pussy is so perfect. You make such a sexy woman.” He rubs the length of his cock along your clit and hole. The distinction between your pathetic nub and his masculine length is obvious. He gropes your massive jiggling breasts, squeezing them together and lowering his head to kiss and suck your nipples as his dick prods your entrance.

“Doctor Sterling…” You moan his name as his assault on your tits grows heavier. He sloppily makes out with your huge boobs, enjoying every second he can get drowning in your massive breasts.

He momentarily pulls his mouth from your tits. “Yes… fuck, Amelia!” He rams his hard cock all the way inside you, hitting your cervix as he moans your deadname, resuming his assault on your massive wobbling boobs all the while.

You scream and wail, unsure if it’s in pleasure or some mix of dysphoria and grief for your lost ambitions. Whatever male identity you insisted on was currently obstructed by your massive tits and the straight man enjoying them as he pounded in to your soft, tight vagina. Anyone who saw you two would know immediately that this was heterosexual sex- they would never stop to consider you could be anything but a curvy woman being held down and fucked by a handsome man. Suddenly, the doctor’s thrusts sped up. You forgot condoms, and you’re barely on T!

Right as you open your mouth, he interrupts. “I’m gonna cum, Amelia! I’m cumming inside you!” He holds himself against your cervix, comforting you as you begin to scream. “Shhh, good girl, it’s okay.”

You feel his hot cum flood in to your unprotected pussy, tears falling from your eyes. Feeling the sticky cum start to leak out, you manage to speak. “Do… do you have a towel?”

“Uhhh… here!” He grabs your binders and rips them both, turning them in to makeshift towels as he pulls out, along with a flood of cum.

You know you said you wouldn’t bind anymore, but having the option taken away made everything all the more real. You know it was for the best tho. He specializes in helping trans men, and he said this always works. You just have to trust him! As time runs out, you don’t even realize you forgot to finish your top surgery letter.

Still… you couldn’t wait to book your next session.

#detrans kink #detrans me #detransition kink #fakeboy #forced detrans #ftm detrans kink #ftm misgendering #ftmtf kink #ftm correctional therapy #ftmtf cnc #ftmtf breeding #ftmtf nsft

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 8 months ago

Note

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else.

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places.

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize.

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in.

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to.

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods.

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own.

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly, and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things -

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s?

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous?

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions.

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself.

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic.

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side.

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?”

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary.

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know?

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.”

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?”

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.”

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad.

“I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper.

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew.

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?”

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face.

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?”

#spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert

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