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aegonstradwife · 2 months

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exposure therapy | aemond targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested; you and aemond were recently married. you're afraid of him, but aemond goes to great lengths to show you he's not that scary.

warnings: excessive use of ellipses, #1 wife lover aemond targaryen, brief mention of childhood trauma, smut. (fingering, face riding, oral.)

a. note:link to the original request.

As Aemond's new wife, it's surprising how little time you spend together. The servants whisper about it around every corner; how you skulk through the halls hoping to avoid him, how nearly every meal you take is apart from each other.

But there's a very good reason for this, one that you've never admitted to anyone.

You are terrified of him.

Even at night, you might share the same bed, but it's big enough that you can sleep soundly without ever once touching him. Although even that was difficult at first; those first few nights you dreaded climbing into bed with him and got nearly no sleep at all.

He is so much bigger, and much stronger, than you. He really could do anything he wanted to you and you would have no chance of fighting him off.

Eventually, however, Aemond's still body beside yours throughout the night, you realized he either wouldn't, or didn't want to, touch you. And finally you were able to get some sleep.

But now, though sleep comes much more easily and your nights are no longer fraught with peril at the thought of him forcing himself upon you, it still doesn't mean you have any desire to be around him.

And you thought he felt much the same. Until tonight.

Aemond is already comfortable on the settee by the window, reading, when you retire to your shared bedchamber for the night.

Hells bent as usual on ignoring him, you busy yourself with removing your shoes in front of the wardrobe.

"Come. Sit with me."

In the quiet of the room, Aemond's sudden, uncharacteristic, voice makes you jump, going very still. His tone is soft; now that you think on it, you've heard Aemond's voice very few times, either before or after you were married.

In your mind, the few times you had heard him speak, you remember him sounding like a complete barbarian. Not this lilting, almost melodic, softness....

Straightening, you nervously smooth the skirts of your dress down over your thighs. Aemond's silhouette is stark against the candles guttering on the windowsill.

You gulp, starting to tiptoe toward him, but stopping at the opposite arm of the settee. "Do I have to?" You ask quietly, and even that takes every ounce of courage in your weary body.

This is probably as close as you've ever been to him when not in bed together at night.

"I won’t bite." Aemond's lips are quirked in a half smirk. He closes the book in his hands and sets it aside, patting the space beside him. "I assure you, I won’t hurt you. Come. Sit."

Though he had indicated the middle cushion, you sweep your skirts under you and take a seat on the one beside it, furthest from Aemond.

Normally you would have loved sitting and reading by candlelight, the cool breeze from the open windows ruffling your hair.

But now you bite your lip, heart hammering hard against your ribcage like a frightened bird.

Aemond can feel the tension radiating off of you. Your shoulders tight as a bow string, the muscles in your jaw taut, hands folded in your lap fidgeting with a loose thread on your gown.

He simple looks at you for a very long moment. Your features are delicate, almost fragile, your frame small and dainty when compared to his. To Aemond, you look very much like a porcelain doll. He has no idea how someone could be so beautiful and yet so…. breakable.

You glance nervously at him, wondering what he could possibly be thinking.

"What?" You ask, though you keep your voice low, not wanting to anger him.

"You're afraid of me," Aemond states bluntly. He leans against the back of the settee, studying you with one intense purple eye. "Why?"

You laugh aloud, unable to stop yourself. Now seems as good a time as any to tell him exactly what you've been thinking since your wedding day.

"Look at you. And look at me. You could do whatever you want to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you. Not to mention...." You shrug. "The stories about you aren't kind...."

Aemond raises an eyebrow at your laughter, that same small, wry smile never leaving his lips. He can't help but wonder if you're mocking him as he leans forward, gaze still locked with yours.

"And what do the stories say about me, little wife?" His voice is low, a dangerous, frightening edge to it.

For seemingly the first time, you look your husband in the eye. One piercing violet eye stares back, the other covered by his customary eyepatch. "They say you're a fearsome warrior, one of the strongest swordsmen alive. And they say.... they say you killed that boy. Rhaenyra's son...."

Aemond’s eye narrows. There is so much uncertainty in that gaze of yours, something about your innocent face makes Aemond feel.... bad. His jaw clenches and he leans back.

"Lucerys Velaryon. Yes, I did kill him. Though I didn't mean to.... I lost control."

"You didn't?" Your eyes narrow as well, suspicious of him. "Then.... what did you mean to do?"

Your husband lets out a long sigh and crosses his arms. "I meant to scare him. I was.... angry. I wanted to teach him a lesson, to frighten and humiliate him. And I did not have such good control over Vhagar as I do now...."

At the mention of his dragon, you perk up - that's one thing you've always been curious about. The Targaryen dragons are so beautiful and powerful; you would love to ride one one day, if given the chance.

"So your dragon, she disobeyed you?"

Aemond is clearly taken aback by your interest in Vhagar. For a moment, it seemed you forgot you were supposed to be scared of him. He tries to hide the hint of surprise flickering across his face.

"Well, yes and no," Aemond says, diplomatic. "Vhagar is a very old and powerful dragon, and she is used to doing what she wants. Sometimes.... it's difficult for any Targaryen to control a dragon, even the strongest of riders."

You are positively fascinated, hearing about Vhagar, leaning in toward Aemond without realizing. "What is it like, riding her? Does it ever get cold, so high up?"

Aemond can smell your perfume as you lean toward him, a mix of jasmine and honey, faint yet sweet. He clears his throat.

"Riding Vhagar is like nothing else," he tells you. "And yes, it does get cold at times, but the feeling of the wind in your hair and the power of the dragon beneath you is.... indescribable."

"Do you think she'd let me ride her?" At this point, you're nearly nose to nose with Aemond, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Or do they only let Targaryens?"

Aemond freezes, gaze still locked with yours, your heads so close together that he can feel your breath ghost across his lips. He is surprised by your question and even more surprised by how badly he wants to fulfill the request.

"They only let Targaryens ride them, yes," he says, voice sounding much huskier than he intends. "But.... I'm sure Vhagar wouldn't mind letting someone else ride her.... if I were to accompany them."

"Would you?" You reach out, hand finding his thigh and giving a thankful squeeze. Realizing what you've done, how close you've become to him, you quickly snatch that hand back as though Aemond is on fire. "I'm so sorry...."

Aemond’s eye widens; for a heartbeat, your touch sent a shock through his entire body.

"It's alright." His voice is rough. “Don’t apologize....” He catches your wrist gently, before you can pull your hand away completely. "It was.... nice."

You tense, wrist caught in his strong embrace. "What are you doing?"

For a long moment, Aemond doesn't respond, simply staring at your slender wrist in his hand. Your skin is so smooth, so soft. He can feel your pulse beating against his palm, fast and fluttering like the wings of a small bird.

"Doing?" He finally asks, looking up at you with a sly smile. "Just.... holding your hand, that’s all."

"Holding my.... oh." All things considered, Aemond is handsome, you suppose. With his long silver hair, that chiseled jaw, the little moue of his lips. "You.... you really aren't all that scary, are you?"

Chuckling softly, Aemond's fingers gently stroke the skin of your wrist. Your words, spoken almost as a question, take him by surprise.

"I'm not trying to scare you," he says, his voice low and slightly amused. "And I don’t want to be scary, to you. Can I be honest with you, little wife?"

You nod, letting him continue to stroke that sensitive bit of skin around your wrist. He is very gentle, which has taken you by surprise.

"The truth is," he mutters, "I don't like it when you're scared of me. I don't like the way you look at me, as if you think I'm going to pounce on you and tear you apart at any moment. That's not what I want."

Slowly, still wary of him, you curl your fingers around his thumb and Aemond's breath hitches. Your hand is small compared to his; Aemond's fingers look massive beside yours.

"Everyone else seems so frightened of you. I thought.... I should be as well. I didn't know, that you hadn't meant to kill that boy. Have you told anyone else that?"

“No,” he says after a moment. “No one else knows. I haven't told anyone.”

He pauses, looking down at your hand in his. His other hand comes to trap your fingers inside of his palms, his thumbs tracing back and forth over your skin. “You’re the first I've shared this with.”

"You should tell others, that way no one will be scared of you."

Aemond lets out a soft chuckle, his gaze still fixed on your fingers intertwined with his own.

“I quite like others being afraid of me,” he admits. The smile on his face fades, just a bit, in the flickering candlelight. “But not you.”

"Not me?" You query, a sweet blush rising high on your cheeks. "Why not me?"

Aemond’s eye is drawn to that color blooming across your cheeks, the innocent flush sending a strange feeling coursing through him. He continues to stroke your wrist in a gentle, almost reverent, way.

"A wife should not be afraid of her husband," he says finally, his voice soft. "She should be worshipped by him....”

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings your wrist to his lips and places a gentle kiss there.

You lick your lips, nervous as all seven hells with the way things are going. Not only are you still afraid of Aemond - though growing less so by the moment - you have also never been close like this with anyone else before.

"And why.... why is it so important for other people to be afraid of you?"

Aemond’s lips linger over your skin, the faintest ghost of a smile there. He can feel the way your hand trembles slightly in his, the nervous flutter of your pulse against his fingertips. But he also notices how you don’t draw back, how you sit still and allow him to hold you.

“It's.... payback, almost,” he confesses. “For the torment I suffered as a child. It is better to be feared than loved - no one will ever again treat me the way they did when I was young.”

You are not aware of any torment in Aemond's childhood, though that isn't saying much. Of course the Targaryens keep much of what goes on between them a secret. Even now that you're married, you're hardly privy to all - or even most - of their secrets.

"Is that.... how this happened?" Shaking ever so slightly, you raise a hand to Aemond's face, fingers stroking the strap of his eyepatch.

As your slender fingers brushed against the edge of it, Aemond tenses, every muscle in his body going taut. No one has ever touched him there before, and it's an unfamiliar intimacy.

He closes his eye for a moment, trying to control his reaction, before speaking. “Yes,” he says, his voice thick with emotions he finds difficult to name. “That's how this happened.”

You feel for Aemond; having to grow up that way must have been torture.

Pulling your hand gently from his grasp, you bring both up to hook beneath the rough leather strap. "May I?"

His breathing hitches as your hands tug gently at the straps of his eyepatch. He knows your touch is innocent.... but no one has ever dared to remove it for him before. He nods once, his voice low.

“You may.”

With fierce concentration and a desire not to ruin his perfect hair, you slide the eyepatch up and off, gasping at the gorgeous sapphire glimmering where his eye should be.

"Gods, it's beautiful, Aemond." Letting the patch rest in your lap, you run your fingers lightly over the scar tissue below Aemond's eye. "Who did this to you?"

Aemond's breath hitches again, rougher this time, as he feels the tips of your slender fingers graze the scarred tissue around his eye, the touch stirring something deep within him. The feeling of your touch against the sensitive skin there is almost overwhelming.

He swallows hard, that old pain and anger bubbling up inside of him.

"My.... nephew," he finally says, his voice surprisingly even. "Lucerys Velaryon."

You inhale sharply; all you can think of is that if Aemond had really meant to kill the boy, he would have been well within his right to, after having been mutilated like this.

Grabbing for his hands, you hurry to say something. "Aemond, I-"

But your husband cuts you off. "There is one other reason it's important for others to be afraid of me."

"A-And what is that?" You ask, holding his hands close to your bosom.

"So that I can protect my wife, and my family." That sapphire is positively glowing in the light of the flickering candles. "The more afraid people are of me, the less likely they are to try and harm me, or you, or our family.... once we make one...."

His declaration takes all the air from your lungs, and you find it hard to breathe. "If I had known all of this, I.... I would never have been so frightened of you. I'm sorry, Aemond."

You cast around desperately for something else to say, some other way to apologize.

"Do not apologize."

His voice is gentle, yet firm. Your hands are still holding his against your breast, and he can feel the warmth of your skin even through the layers of your gown, the rapid beat of your heart.

"You didn't know, it is not your fault for being afraid," he soothes you. "But.... now that you know.... may I ask you something else?"

You nod, eager now to answer Aemond's questions and to ask more of your own - you want to learn so much more about him.

Aemond's fingers tighten around yours, the feel of your soft skin against his own sending a strange heat through his veins. He draws you in a little closer, his face now so close to yours that he can feel the warmth of your breath, that same scent of sweet honey and jasmine in your hair.

"You.... have not shied away from my scar, or my missing eye," he says, his voice a low whisper. "You have touched them, caressed them even.... why?"

Why...? You find it odd he even has to ask.

"Because I think they make you beautiful. Is that wrong?"

Your thumbs find his wrists now, pressing in against his pulse points, which are fluttering erratically.

Aemond's breath catches in his throat, the feeling of your dainty thumbs resting against his wrists, feeling the rapid beating of his pulse, setting his skin on fire. Your words, declaring him beautiful, ring in his ears, stirring something deep within his chest.

"Be-Beautiful?" He repeats, his voice a terrible croak. No one.... no one has ever called him beautiful. The word sounds strange in his ears, as if they're not meant for someone like him.

You nod, and after only a momentary hesitation, you bring one hand up again to his scar. This time, brushing the side closest to his hairline, a few strands of long silver hair getting in the way.

"Beautiful, Aemond. You're beautiful. I mean.... I did always think that. Just.... was too afraid of you to tell you. Do you forgive me?"

Aemond's breath hitches once more as your fingers stroke his hair, your soft touch sending a shiver down his spine. No one, no one, has ever touched his scar with such tenderness, such care.

"I.... I forgive you," he whispers, voice raw. "And for what it's worth.... I'm sorry, that I.... that I made you afraid of me. I never wanted that, I swear."

"I know. It wasn't even your fault, really." You roll your eyes, relaxing against the back of the settee. "I was just.... assuming that what everyone else said was true. Which is a terrible thing, really. My parents raised me much better than that."

A particularly chilly gust of wind blows in through the window and you wrap your arms around yourself. "I have to admit, I thought if my shenanigans went on much longer, you'd be forced to.... well, force yourself on me...."

Aemond is silent, as if that thought, the notion of forcing himself on you, is something he refuses to even consider. He turns to look at you, the pale glow of his sapphire eye giving him an otherworldly appearance.

"I.... I would never force you to do anything, little wife, not ever," he says, his voice low and serious. "I believe the first time a man and wife.... are together.... it should be.... enjoyable.... for both of them."

Suddenly, all words are caught in your throat. The thought of your first time with Aemond still makes you nervous, even knowing that he would never want to do anything against your will.

"I thought.... a woman's first time was always painful?" That's what you've always been told. You have never done anything of the sort, but perhaps Aemond knows better.

At your words, Aemond's jaw tightens. His fingers clench into a fist, the thought of you in pain during your first time together sending a wave of anger through him.

"No. No, never. It shouldn't be painful, not unless you don't want it, too," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Your first time should be.... enjoyable. Pleasant. I would never take you simply for my own pleasure. I would make sure you...." he falters.

Flinching slightly away from him at the sight of his hand in a fist, you gasp softly. Have you said something wrong?

Still, you dare to ask, "You would make sure I what?"

In the candlelight, Aemond's eye flashes dangerously and that sapphire blazes.

He takes a very deep breath, forcing himself to relax, to open his hand again. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I.... I don't like the idea of hurting you, it.... makes me angry."

He looks down at you again.

"I would make sure that you.... felt pleasure as well. It wouldn't be about me. It's about both of us."

If you had known how protective Aemond was of you, you would have asked him about these things sooner. He is, after all, the only person you can think to ask. If you can't discuss bedroom matters with your husband, who can you discuss them with?

"How does it feel?" You ask him softly, scooting closer to him on the settee. "When you have sex, how does it feel?"

Aemond is taken somewhat off guard by the sudden question, his cheeks going pink at your unexpected candor, but he doesn't back down. He doesn't want to shy away from your questions, not when you're so close to him, peering at him through those wide, innocent eyes.

He takes another deep breath, shifting on the settee so he can face you fully.

"it.... it feels.... good," he begins, his voice a low rumble. "It feels.... full. Warm. Tight. But.... good. More than good, especially when you do it with someone you care about. It feels safe, like nothing can hurt you ever again."

The look on Aemond's face as he speaks is one you've never seen before - something vulnerable and almost childlike staring back at you. You wonder how you could ever have been afraid of him.

"And you? Who was your first time with?"

As your question hangs in the air between the two of you, Aemond goes stock-still. No one has ever asked him that before.

He hesitates for a moment, peering warily at you. "Why.... why do you want to know?" He asks finally, voice cautious.

Now you know you've definitely said something wrong. "I was just curious," you hurry to tell him. "It's wrong of me to pry, I'm sorry...."

Aemond sighs softly, shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he says, his voice a light simper now. He reaches out, taking your hand gently in his.

"It's okay, I just.... wasn't expecting you to ask that." He pauses, and you can see a flicker of something run across his face. "You.... you really want to know?"

"I do," you admit bashfully. "If you feel comfortable telling me?"

Aemond's hand grips yours a little tighter, your words sending a strange, tight feeling through hm. He hasn't thought about that night in a long time, and the memory is still painful enough to make him wince.

"All right," he says, letting out a slow breath. "I.... I'll tell you. Just.... just don't.... don't judge me, all right?"

"I won't judge," you assure him with a shake of your head.

Aemond looks down at your intertwined hands, his fingers tracing a light pattern against your palm. He closes his eye, gathering his thoughts, before lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a barely-there kiss to your knuckles.

"My.... my first time," he begins, and his voice is rough, "was with a whore, in a pleasure house, at the behest of my brother who frequented - and still frequents - them much more than I did."

"I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of," you admit, mulling the idea over. "Most men visit those types of places at some point in their lives.... don't they?"

Aemond pauses for a moment, his eye locking with yours. He looks almost surprised by your response, as if he hadn't thought you would be so blasé about the situation.

"Yes...." he says slowly, "they do. But.... it's not.... it's not the sort of thing a wife would expect to hear, about their husband's past exploits."

You chew your lip thoughtfully, running your fingers around and through the spaces between Aemond's. "I don't mind, as long as...."

You hesitate, wondering if you really want to say this now or leave it for another night. "What I mean to say, Aemond, is that.... now that we understand each other better.... perhaps you can show me what it's like? Sex? And, if you do, I expect there to be no more pleasure houses in your future, is that clear?"

Aemond's gaze darkens as your words register, his heart stuttering in his chest. His fingers twitch against yours, breath catching in his throat.

"You.... you want me to show you...?" He repeats weakly, his eye wide and disbelieving.

You close your fingers tightly around Aemond's now, leaning in toward your husband. "Mm. But as I said, you must promise - no more pleasure houses. After all, you did say you want to worship me, did you not?"

Aemond's head swims with your words, his heart hammering in his chest so hard it's difficult to catch his breath. The way you're looking at him, the sweetness in your voice, the scent of honey and jasmine in your hair.... all of it is almost too much to bear.

He swallows hard, and nods. "No more pleasure houses. I promise," he whispers, his voice hoarse and rough.

His oath sets you at ease, but there's one more thing you must tell him.

"I must admit, Aemond, I'm still scared...."

He looks about to interrupt, but you cut him off. "Oh, not of you. I'm.... terrified of the pain. I've never done well with pain, and I'm so scared it's going to hurt like hell."

Aemond's heart twists at the worry and fear in your voice, his fingers tightening over yours. He hates the thought of you being scared, hates his own inability to take that fear away from you.

"Why do you still think it's going to be painful?" He asks quietly.

Instead of making you feel trapped, his fingers around yours make you feel safe. Aemond is lethal; you can see it in his face, in the hard line of his body. But he wants to use all of that to protect you....

Though what could he possibly do to prevent his own body from hurting you, even though he might not mean to?

"That's all I've ever been told." You gulp. "A woman's first time is always painful. And.... There's always blood."

Aemond's jaw clenches in anger. He doesn't know who planted these false, hurtful notions in your head, but he wants to tear them limb from limb.

He reaches out to you, tilting your head gently up to meet his gaze. "No. No, no, no," he says, his voice low and intense. "It's not supposed to be painful, especially the first time. You've just.... you've been told wrong."

He pauses. "Sometimes there is blood, I won't lie to you about that. But there are ways to minimize the chance of that."

Aemond's fingers start to skirt back and forth under your chin. "How .... How can we stop there being so much blood? I want you to show me."

Heart now beating much faster, Aemond's stomach twists with a mixture of desire and trepidation. He swallows, hard, his eye dark and heavy-lidded as he gazes down at you.

He runs his fingers through your hair, the soft feel of it against his skin maddening. "I can show you," he murmurs, "but.... you have to trust me."

"Of course. I do now." You turn your face toward his hand, palm skimming your cheek as he touches your hair. "I know you'll take care of me."

He takes another deep breath to steady himself, his hand coming to rest against the side of your face, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Good," he whispers, "because I will, always. But there's something.... something I need to know first."

You shiver, Aemond's fingers reverent along your cheek and jaw. "What is it?"

Fingers now trailing down your neck, he pauses, hand coming to rest on your collarbone, your pulse beating fast and hard against his palm.

Aemond leans in close, his voice a rumble in your ear. "You.... you have never even been touched, have you?"

You are very aware of how hard your heart is beating, thumping underneath his fingers. "I haven't.... is that bad?"

Aemond breathes heavily, pulling back to look at you.

"No," he says emphatically, "it's not bad. It's.... it's just...." He trails off for a moment, struggling to find the words. "I need to know.... if you're still.... if you're still intact."

The question makes you blush furiously, looking down at your laps, side by side, so you don't have to look Aemond in the eye. "I.... yes.... isn't that where the blood comes from?"

You don't know much, but you do know that.

He places two fingers gently under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him again.

"Yes," he says, "that's where the blood comes from. But it can break in other ways. For instance, from fingers or.... other objects." His fingers trace along your cheek, obviously trying to soothe your growing discomfort at this conversation.

"But it.... it doesn't have to," he adds after a moment.

You chuckle, reluctantly meeting Aemond's gaze. "Can we try?"

He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand now trailing back down your neck, slowly caressing. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

You nod fervently, gripping onto his wrist. "Positively. Now that I understand you better, I can think of no one else I'd like to teach me such things...."

He leans in, lips brushing your ear again, breath hot against your skin. "Then I will," he murmurs, his voice an uneven, ragged whisper, "I will show you. And I will take my time."

Long have you waited for someone to come along and share this experience with you. When you were initially betrothed to Aemond, you thought all hope was lost - he was so frightening and the thought of sharing a bed with him sent a shiver of panic through you.

But now.... Women have desires just as much as men do, surely... At least you know you do. And Aemond is offering to take care of them for you....

You steady yourself with a hand on Aemond's chest, nails digging into the soft cotton of his tunic. "Please.... I want it."

Aemond's stomach clenches, your soft, pleading voice sending a bolt of white hot desire through him.

"Patience," he murmurs, his sizeable palm laid against the back of your hand on his chest, "I'll take care of you, I promise. I just need you to relax for me, all right?"

"Mm, I'll try...." With another nod, you take a deep breath, shuddering at the feeling of Aemond's big hand covering yours entirely. "Maybe a drink would serve to relax me better...?"

This gives Aemond pause, and he pulls back slightly, his eye raking over your face, taking in the soft blush on your cheeks, the way your lips are parted as you catch your breath.

He gives a single, slow nod. "Yes," he admits, "I think a drink might help."

Without another word, he moves to a small table on the other side of the room, pouring you each a generous glass of sweet wine.

As he does so, you finger the pendant at your throat, a gift from your late mother. The way Aemond looks at you; any woman would be lucky to have a husband who looks at her that way. Like you're precious, like he would do anything to protect you.

Once offered your glass, you take it and swallow a large mouthful, hoping to get drunk as quickly as possible, to make this whole ordeal more bearable.

Aemond watches you closely, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he sees you gulp the wine so quickly. He knows you're trying to get drunk, trying to use the alcohol as a crutch to make this easier.

"There's no need to rush," he says quietly, taking a seat beside you again, his knee bumping yours. He lifts his own glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured drink.

Swallowing another substantial mouthful of wine, you furtively watch the way Aemond's lips purse around the rim of his glass.

You smooth the skirts of your dress down, taking a deep breath. "I just want to be as relaxed as possible for you, Aemond."

He continues to watch you, that striking violet eye taking in every tiny detail - the way your fingers grasp the fabric of your dress, the soft movement of your body underneath the silk.

He takes a deep breath, his eye watching you as he drains the last of the wine from the glass. "I know," he murmurs, his voice a husky rumble, "but there's no need to get completely drunk, my love."

"It can't hurt." You upend the first glass of wine, draining the last dregs, and hold your glass out toward him. "Another?"

Apparently highly amused, Aemond raises a brow, but refuses to pour you another.

"I think that's quite enough. There's no need to be quite so drunk tonight, I promise."

You pout, setting your glass aside, but starting to feel a pleasant warmth wash over you from the first glass all the same.

"How do we start?" You question, leaning in close to him. Aemond smells of chamomile and sweat and.... maybe just a hint of blood? It's the best thing you've ever smelled.

Aemond reaches for you suddenly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you gently onto his lap so you can straddle him.

The next breath he takes rattles through him as you settle on top of him, his hands gripping your waist, heart beating fast. "We.... we start here," he whispers, his voice a rough murmur.

"Goodness," you breathe, hands curling over his shoulders to steady yourself. "And.... what do we do here?"

You're trying your best to be brave, and the wine is making it easier, but there is still that niggling worry at the back of your mind, chanting blood blood blood.

Aemond feels that slight tremble in your hands as you grab his shoulders, the way you hesitate and swallow nervously as you ask your question. He can practically hear your thoughts racing, paying attention to the fear and trepidation in your words.

He leans in close, hands slipping from your waist to bracket your ribs, pulling you flush against him, your body cradled easily in his lap. "We start like this," he murmurs, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to look at him. "Just like this."

Slowly, fingers gentle but firm on your chin, he's bringing you in for a kiss.

The sound that leaves your mouth at the first dry press of your lips together is embarrassing. You curse. "I'm sorry." You bite your lip hard, searching Aemond's one violet eye for forgiveness. "Can we try again?"

Aemond chuckles good-naturedly, hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs tracing slow, gentle patterns over your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he whispers, leaning ever closer to you, his breath hot against your lips. "We can try as many times as you like, darling."

With a hand again around his wrist to steady yourself, you don't have far to go, what with Aemond's face so close to yours. You press your lips to his - soft yet firm. Your other hand slides up the outside of his thigh as you open your mouth under his, grateful for his willingness to teach you.

You hear Aemond's breath hitch again as he feels your hand moving up his leg, the touch of your slim, soft fingers against his body sending a shiver down his spine. He groans as you open your mouth, his tongue immediately seeking yours, tangling, tasting, claiming.

He grips your hair in one hand, angling your head back so he can deepen the kiss, his other hand back to gripping your hip, pulling you tighter against him.

You do the same, hands migrating down, loving the feeling of Aemond's slim, strong muscle under your fingers. As you kiss, you surreptitiously move the thin cloth of Aemond's tunic aside so you can touch him skin to skin over his sharp hipbones.

This earns you a keen inhale from your husband, who jerks away from you.

"I'm sorry," you breathe. "Is this okay?"

His mouth has opened in a gasp against yours, eyes squeezing shut.

When they open again, he merely looks at you, taking in the soft, pink flush of your cheeks, the way your pupils are thoroughly dilated, your chest heaving. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "Yes," he says ruggedly, his voice a scratchy gasp, "I'm sorry, it is. It's okay."

A flood of warmth washes over you, and you grin. You don't know why, but you want to kiss his neck.

Fingers digging hard into his hip, you lean in, nosing his long hair out of the way as your lips meet his neck, sucking and biting. Aemond tastes clean and faintly of rose water.

Aemond's head tips back immediately, giving your lips and teeth free reign over his neck, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh at the unfamiliar sensation. A soft, low moan escapes him as your mouth traces a path along the sensitive skin of his neck.

His body arches against yours. "My love," he gasps, his voice a ragged, breathless plea, "this is maddening."

"Need you to teach me," is your reply, pushing harder against him. "Don't go mad just yet."

He runs his hands down your sides, skimming over the soft, silky material of your dress, his body reacting powerfully to your closeness. "Gods, woman," he gasps, thumbs playing idly along the edge of your ribs, "are you sure you haven't done this before?"

You rest your cheek on Aemond's shoulder, nose brushing along the chiseled line of his jaw. "Positive," you sigh, arms now slung around him. "But I like the way you touch me. It's making me feel all hot and wet.... down there."

At this declaration, Aemond makes a noise you've never heard anyone make before. He nuzzles against your collarbone, pressing slow, hot kisses along the line of your chest just visible over the collar of your dress.

His mouth is starting to curve into a wicked smile. "Do you want me to touch you there, too?"

With a nod, you begin to pull the folds of your dress up over your thighs. "Please. The feeling down there, it's.... very insistent." And Aemond's fingers look perfectly long and warm and rough with calluses.

Aemond swallows hard as he watches the fabric of your dress retreat up over your thighs, the soft, bare skin of your legs suddenly exposed to him. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail - the soft, pale flesh, the way the candlelight casts shadows over the curves of your body.

As though trying not to startle you, Aemond runs his knuckles painstakingly slowly up the inside of your thigh. "When we were first betrothed, I knew I had gotten lucky."

That drunken haze still hovering around you, you let your legs slip further apart around him. "Lucky? How so?"

His hand moves further up, touch feather-light against her skin. "Lucky," he murmurs, "because I knew I'd be marrying the most beautiful woman in all Seven Kingdoms."

He lets his hand move higher still, fingers stopping just before they reach the edge of your smallclothes. He pauses, looking intently at you, the question plain on his face.

"I never knew you thought I was beautiful...." You lean more against him, feeling impossibly safe and comfortable in his embrace. "Please. You can."

Hips canting forward, you try to push his hand in toward you.

"The most beautiful," he replies. He can feel your hips moving subtly against his, feel his own desire rising with every move you make.

Those long fingers hook into the edge of your smallclothes, running the backs of his knuckles along the sensitive bit of skin he finds there.

Your eyes flutter shut, the feeling of his gentle fingers finally scooping up under your dress making your stomach flip nervously. "Please." The word is uttered against Aemond's chin, where you've pressed your lips as you wait to feel his hand where you need it most.

As slowly as he an manage, he insinuates those fingers fully inside your smallclothes. He can feel the heat of your skin, the way you squirm in his lap as he moves closer to his destination, his own body reacting strongly to the anticipation.

He leans in, mouth finding yours in a heated, hungry kiss, his fingers finally, finally touching that wet, sensitive flesh between your thighs.

A sharp inhale accompanies the meeting of Aemond's hand to your sex. Everything down there feels so wet already, you suppose you should be embarrassed, but the wine is making it hard to feel so, which you're grateful for.

"Aemond...." Seeking his lips for another kiss, you mutter, "please don't stop."

One long finger sinks into your wet, hot flesh, his entire body shivering at the feeling of you beneath his hands. He lets out a ragged gasp as you kiss him, mouth moving fervently against yours, tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with yours.

With a low, gruff noise, he starts to move his finger inside of you, slow, gentle circles that make your muscles tighten and twitch against his hand. "I won't," he murmurs against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut, "I promise, I won't."

Aemond's finger has slid easily into you, all the way down to the knuckle. "Is it -?" You gasp, glancing down, tugging your skirts out of the way to see better. "It's inside? I thought it would be much more painful...."

You know it might not be the same with his manhood, which is surely a fair bit bigger than one of his fingers, but you're glad things have gone smoothly so far all the same.

Aemond's other hand presses itself solidly against that little bundle of nerves, the one you're familiar with, the one that makes you see stars, and you bite his lower lip a little too hard in response.

"Shit, sorry."

Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your reaction, his lips curving into a smile against your mouth. "No need to apologize, sweet girl," he mutters. "There's a possibility it might hurt more than this when we go further, but I promise I'll be gentle."

He moves his finger in and out of you slowly, his other hand still pressing against you, the pad of his thumb circling that swollen bud, his touch gentle but firm. "How does this feel?"

A pang of fear shoots through you at his declaration that you will likely be in pain later on, but it's soothed by the way Aemond's fingers are gently coaxing themselves inside of you and over your clit.

"It feels perfect, Aemond. I never even knew it could feel this good." Not even when you'd touched yourself in bed at night.

Aemond's eye darkens as he hears your words, the sound of your voice, gutted and breathless, making his stomach clench. "This is just the beginning, sweet girl. There's so much more I can show you."

He slips another finger into you, feeling your body tighten and go taut around him, his own body still reacting powerfully to the sight and feel of you. He leans in to kiss you again, his mouth hungrily claiming yours.

With another finger inside, you start to squirm in his lap, and your hand slips, colliding with something hard inside of Aemond's trousers.

"Aemond," you gasp, "it.... it's hard."

Aemond lets out a strangled noise as your hand brushes against him, his body shuddering, his eye squeezing shut. "Ah, shit, sweetheart," he gasps, his breath ragged, "Don't do that."

He looks at you, his breath coming in quick, rough pants, his eye darkened to a deep, intense violet. "I'm going to be patient with you."

He says this like he's trying to convince himself of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp again, hands flying to your mouth. "I didn't mean to touch it...."

Gaze flickering to the windows, to the Targaryen flags flying from every turret, you stifle a smile. "But maybe.... maybe you don't have to be so patient...."

Aemond growls at your words, fingers slowing their ministrations over you. "How impatient would you have me be?"

You reach down to take his free hand - the one currently touching your clit in nice, soft circles - in yours, lacing your fingers as you lean into him. "Still gentle, just.... Maybe lead me? Show me how things like this should be done."

Aemond can practically feel his self-restraint slipping at your words, the feeling of your small, soft hand in his making his head spin. He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to maintain control, to keep up the facade of gentility.

He grips your chin with his free hand, lifting your face to meet his eye, his voice low and rough. "Are you sure you're ready for that?" He asks, the question almost pained.

"I am. I'm sure." You wrap your shoulders around him, burying your face against his neck. "Take me to bed and show me, please."

Aemond swallows hard, the feeling of your breath against him sending a shudder through him. Lifting you easily in his arms, he stands silently from the settee.

The loss of Aemond's fingers from inside of you makes you whine, clinging to his broad shoulders as he makes his way to the bed.

He lays you gently down, crawling over you, hand once again trailing up the soft expanse of your thigh.

"Aemond...."

A sweet noise rumbles through him as he positions himself on top of you, body pressing you down against the covers, hips slotting between your legs. His gaze as he looks down on you is fiery, eye raking over your body, hands gripping and kneading the supple flesh of your thighs.

"You drive me mad, do you know that?" He murmurs. He leans down to kiss your neck, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

With Aemond on top of you, you reach around to tug the back of his tunic up, skimming your fingers along the warm skin of his lower back.

"Why did you never.... tell me before?" You mutter quietly, nibbling at Aemond's earlobe.

Aemond allows himself a deep moan as you touch him, your fingers roaming over his skin, your mouth on his ear. He rolls his hips against you, the aching hardness of his body weighing you down.

"Gods, I don't know," he gasps, his hands roaming over the soft curves of your body. "Maybe I could tell you were afraid of me. Maybe I was a fool."

"I suppose we both were fools." You curl your tongue around Aemond's ear, teasing.

His hardness is pressing insistently against you through your clothes. Aemond leans his forehead to yours. "I'm going to take your dress off now. Is that alright?"

You've never been naked in front of anyone before, but Aemond is making you feel so safe that you nod hurriedly, sitting up. "Yes, please."

Aemond's eye darkens at your nod, his hands immediately going to the laces of your dress, working them loose until the fabric falls away from your body. He lets his gaze roam over your exposed skin, his fingers tracing the soft planes of your body, reverent and gentle.

"Seven Hells," he mutters, his voice a ragged whisper, "I've never seen anything so perfect."

The wine allows you to feel comfortable enough to stretch out over top of your discarded dress, staring up at him over the swell of your breasts. "Don't you want to touch your perfect wife, Aemond?"

"Of course I do," he mutters. He moves aside only slightly, letting his fingers scrape over one of your hardened nipples. "I want to touch every part of you."

You arch into his touch, his fingertips hard and callused against your sensitive nipple. "Aemond.... Would I be a complete whore if I asked for your fingers back inside of me?"

"No," he mutters easily, a hand running its way down your body, the other holding himself above you. "No, you wouldn't. But I want you to ask for it, my love. I want you to tell me exactly what you want."

Your breathing quickening, the air in the room thick and heavy, you spread your legs around him, unabashed. "i want you to touch me. To touch my stomach, my hips and thighs .... my cunt. Please."

Aemond makes a ragged noise at your request, his body shuddering as you open yourself to him. He trails his hand lower, his fingers grazing over your stomach, trailing over your hips and thighs, before coming to rest between your legs.

He lets that hand rest on your for a moment, feeling your wetness, his violet eye dark and full of lust. "Is this what you wanted, darling?"

"Yes," comes your voice, wrecked, entire body feeling overheated and overwhelmed already. "Gods, Aemond, I.... I'm sorry I didn't ask for this earlier."

You run your hands up Aemond's toned arms, tugging on the short sleeves of his tunic. "M-May I take this off?"

Feeling you tug at his tunic, Aemond nods, loving that ragged and pleading tone in your voice. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, can see the raw, pleading look in your eyes, and he's never been more turned on in his life.

By way of a real answer, he reaches down and hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt to rip it off over his head. He shakes his hair out majestically, making you giggle.

But after that giggle.... You can do nothing but lay beneath him and stare. His body is perfect, abs cut into his skin above the smooth, narrow line of his hips.

"Goodness ...." You whisper, fingertips prodding at his hardened stomach. "You're.... actually perfect."

"Perfect, really?" He replies, clearly perplexed. "I'd say I'm looking at perfection right now."

You whimper, Aemond's moist lips once more at your neck, his body pressed to yours. "How do you.... get your body to look that way? Maybe you can teach me that too, as well as how to ride a dragon."

Aemond laughs softly, his teeth scraping against you as he kisses down your neck. "It's actually quite simple," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your body, arms caging you in against the bed. "Just a lot of sword practice and fighting."

He pauses, his lips trailing teasingly over the line of your jaw. "I'm going to teach you to ride more than just a dragon, my love."

"I could sword fight." Your voice doesn't sound like it ever has before. "Easy. Train me."

You gasp at his words, nails now digging into his back. "And what else are you going to teach me to ride, husband?"

Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your response, his muscles coiling where your nails dig into his skin. He rolls his hips against you and makes you gasp.

"I can teach you how to ride me," he mutters, his voice a rough, ragged whisper. "Or maybe you'd like a ride on my face."

Your eyes go wide, and you press him away by the shoulder just so you can look him in the eye. "I.... I'm allowed to do that?"

You've never heard of this - using your mouth? Why have you never thought of it before?

"Of course you are," he murmurs, looking bemusedly down on you. "And I would be more than happy to let you."

His hot breath whispers over your skin as he leans to speak into your ear. "You've never heard of it before, have you?"

"I haven't." You tilt your head, fingers tender along Aemond's jaw. "How should I.... How do I do it?"

Aemond's eye closes at the feeling of your fingers, tender on his jaw, your touch ever gentle and caressing. He makes a very small noise and shudders over top of you. "It's easy, darling."

"I just lean back here...." With one swift movement, Aemond rolls and settles himself against the pillows. "You come up here...."

Gentle but insistent hands guide you, pulling you all the way up. "And swing a leg over me."

Still helped along by his strong hands, you throw one knee on the opposite side of Aemond's head, bracketing his ears with your thighs. "Like.... this?"

This position makes you feel as nervous as you have all night, even with the aid of the wine - Aemond can see all of you. Truly all of you, and you can't quite meet his eye because of it.

Aemond's hands tighten on your thighs, his breathing growing ragged. He can sense your nervousness, the way your muscles are tensing up, the way you're avoiding his eye.

He rubs his hands soothingly across your thighs, trying to relax you. "That's it, darling." His voice is soft, comforting. "You look gorgeous."

You bite your lip, carding one hand through Aemond's alluring silver hair. The other you place over his good eye, the hint of a smile on your face as you mutter, "Don't look...."

Aemond smirks, and yanks you suddenly, roughly forward by the backs of your thighs, so that your womanhood is directly above his smirking lips. "As you wish."

He places a single, open-mouthed kiss to your clit and the suction, the wetness, of it all is enough to make you squeal.

There's one poignant moment where Aemond's intensely hot, wet mouth rests over your womanhood. Then, with a jagged moan, he begins to lave over you, lips, tongue, and teeth working in tandem.

His callused palms cradle the backs of your thighs, keeping you in place as his tongue works you over. And when that same tongue points itself deep inside of your core, you can no longer keep your hand over his eye, lest you want to smash your husband's head painfully into the sheets.

Instead, that hand flies to the headboard, holding on for dear life. "Gods, Aemond! I.... I've never felt anything like this, what.... what in the seven hells...."

Aemond redoubles his grip on your thighs, keeping you in place as he works you with his tongue, his mouth and teeth and lips bringing you to new heights of pleasure. He moans roughly, and the sound reverberates through you, making your mouth fall open.

"Just... relax, my love," he mutters against your folds, "I did say I would worship you, did I not?"

You nod, still petting a hand gently through Aemond's hair, coiling your fingers around the strands, feeling how soft it is. Your eyes, however, are trained on the gilded ceiling when you answer.

"Y-You did, but.... this.... I didn't even know this was a thing people did. Is this.... common?"

"No, sweet one," he mutters, his voice thick with desire and - somewhere - a hint of disdain, "it isn't common. Most men see their wives as something to be claimed, conquered. And I...."

"You see them as something to be worshipped," you answer, remembering his words from earlier.

Aemond lets out a low chuckle against you as you knot your fingers in his hair, his tongue continuing to lathe across you. He lifts his head for a moment, his lips and chin glistening, a smirk on his face. "Look at me."

You do, and are rewarded with his fingers climbing the insides of your thighs, splaying themselves over you. "You are the most exquisite creature I've ever laid eyes on."

The sight of his face, so slick with you, his eye dark, his sapphire glinting, his fingers roaming over your thighs, it all makes you shiver, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.

"And you," he continues, voice muffled against your folds, "you taste divine."

And without another word, he dives back in, his tongue delving into you once more, his hands gripping your thighs, bringing you lower, closer to him.

All of this - Aemond telling you how beautiful you are, his talented mouth on you, the haze of the wine moving through you - has you tumbling toward the edge quicker than you've ever done so by yourself.

"Aemond.... close!" You give a hard tug to Aemond's hair, warning him.

He closes his eyes as he focuses on nothing more than bringing you further to the edge, the heat of your body and the taste of you driving him wild, pushing him to give you more, more, more.

"Just.... let go," he mutters against you. "I want you to let go for me, my sweet."

You're trembling now, hips riding down against his face of their own accord. "Oh, gods...." You've never done this in front of anyone before. What will Aemond think of the way you climax? Will it be embarrassing? "Aemond...."

There's no longer any time to think it over, though, as one last swipe of his tongue sends you spiraling with a loud cry.

Aemond's heart is pounding hard, watching you cum, his eye wide and alight with desire as he watches your body shudder and shake above him, your cry of pleasure filling the room and, undoubtedly, the hallways around it.

He helps you ride out the wave of pleasure, his tongue slowly bringing you back down, peppering your thighs and hip bones with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Your eyes fluttering, your chest heaving, Aemond coaxes you through your first climax with him and then maneuvers you down to lay beside him. You feel so boneless, you sure you aren't much help in this endeavor.

"That was...." You don't even have the words to describe what just happened to you.

Aemond watches you closely as you lay beside him, breasts rising and falling heavily, your skin flushed and marked all over with his mouth, one hand trailing lightly over your stomach. The sight of you, well-loved and satisfied, makes his chest burn with desire.

He leans in close to you, curling his body around yours like a protective shield. His mouth trailing over your neck, his voice a quiet whisper. "That was beautiful. And we're only getting started."

You gaze at him out of half-lidded eyes, your body already feeling drained from just one round. "What...." You stifle a yawn behind your hand, trying to hide it. "What's next?"

Aemond laughs at the sight of you yawning, both hands now brushing over your body, his touch gentle. He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, hear the tiredness in your voice.

He leans down and presses a loving kiss to your forehead. "I don't think you're quite ready for more yet, my love. You look like you're barely awake."

Through your tiredness, you whine, "But you promised to show me. What it's like...." You're pressing sleepy kisses to Aemond's jaw, lips sweeping down over his neck.

Aemond's lashes flutter at your tiny kisses, his arms curling strong and protective around you. He makes an odd noise, and you realize you may have had an orgasm, but he never did.

"I can take care of it for you." Searching down below, hands clumsy and heavy with sleep, you feel Aemond grab for your wrist.

"And you will," he mutters, admonishing. "But tonight it's getting late, and you're tired. We have our whole lives together, we need not rush this."

Another yawn overtakes you, and you snuggle down into his warmth. "Tomorrow, then?" You mumble, arms slung lazily around him. "And dragon riding tomorrow, too...."

Aemond chuckles again at your insistence, hands gently rubbing themselves over your body, comforting you. He shifts back on the bed, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close as possible.

"Of course, my love," he murmurs, his voice a gentle, soothing rumble in your ear. "Tomorrow. And dragon riding, too. But for now, you need to sleep."

Aemond runs the very tips of his fingers up and down your back, just along your spine.

"I really am sorry, Aemond...." You're already half asleep, struggling to stay awake, to get the words out. "D'you really forgive me?"

Aemond sighs.

"Of course I forgive you," he whispers, breath tickling your ear. "It's all in the past now, my love. The only thing that matters is you and me, right here, right now. And dragon riding tomorrow, I promise...."

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #smut #aegonstradwife #my writing #request fill #i posted this earlier today and it got flagged bc i included a naughty pic #it wasn't even that naughty but o well #hope you enjoy!

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felinefractious · 3 months

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I'm looking to get a purebred cat (scottish straight) for the first time and I'm worried about getting the perfect one from a good breeder who will have a long, healthy life. Do you have any tips or advice or questions to ask the breeder to make sure I get a good one? I'm not ready to pay what some breeders are asking for but I also don't want to end up with an improperly or unethically bred cat. I don't think I'll get scammed since I'm pretty good at identifying scottish cats and you can see when there are folds in the litter, but everything else worries me a little. Thanks!

This is not a breed which can be ethically purchased.

Unless you find a breeder who produces only straights, which I have yet to see, you will be financially supporting an individual who willingly produces cat destined to suffer. Your cat may be fine but his siblings would only know a life of pain.

The characteristic folded ears of the Scottish Fold are due to weak cartilage, but cartilage is found throughout the body and not just in the ears. The gene which effects the ears is not localized to that body part, the cartilage throughout the body is impacted.

Folds suffer from debilitating arthritis from a young age.

This condition is called osteochondrodysplasia and is well documented and understood in the breed. This isn’t a theory or speculation, we know it is universally present in cats with the folded ear phenotype and why. It cannot be avoided or bred out.

A Dominant TRPV4 Variant Underlies Osteochondrodysplasia in Scottish Fold Cats

Combined Surgical, Radiation and Medical Therapies for Osteochondrodysplasia in a Scottish Fold Cat

Incomplete Dominant Osteochondrodysplasia in Heterozygous Scottish Fold Cats

Osteochondrodysplasia in Felis catus (Domestic Cat)

Radiographical Survey of Osteochondrodysplasia in Scottish Fold Cats caused by TRPV4 Gene Variant

Scottish Fold Cats

Scottish Fold Disease - Osteochondrodysplasia

Scottish Fold Osteochondrodysplasia

I strongly recommend you reconsider your choice in breed.

The American Shorthair and British Shorthair have a similar phenotype and temperament and can be ethically bred and purchased.

#anonymous #asks #cat breeds #scottish fold #scottish straight

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kittykatinabag · 2 years

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I think the thing that pisses me off most about my graduate university is that since I am an international student, in order to take this program I can only take it as a full time option.

For a normal, neurotypical person this isn't a problem. But I am not a normal neurotypical person, I am a very mentally ill person (probably more so than I let on to be) who's been absolutely broken by the last 6 or so years of existence and currently cannot handle a full course load without spiralling into depressive episodes and anxiety attacks.

But I can't take this program part time. Because then I can't stay in the country. It's such a fucked situation. Honestly it's probably discriminatory too, but I highly doubt the neoliberal state even recognizes disability brought on by mental illness even if their own documents acknowledge it.

Society in general will be all like "uwu it's okay to not be okay!" until the moment you say that you're not able to produce like an average person and then suddenly you're on a performance improvement plan or you quit your job because the thought of working like you used to makes you horribly nauseous and suicidal. But I might be projecting a bit here.

Long story short I'm not having a good time working on my final assignments right now and I don't think even if I ask for extensions it will help anything.

#late night ramblings #also therapy is kind of scratching at old wounds right now so im in such a mood this past week with the extra stress #on top of end of the year stress #i had to skip out on co-studying with my classmates because i dont think i could have taken the anxiety theyre putting off #like the times we were having coffee/tea earlier in the year and talking about presentations i could feel the anxiety radiating #and like i also havent done anything for this final project because ive been fighting my demons and the wifi #so it would be kind of pointless to go and hear their comments about my situation #i cant even break down fully because im sharing an apartment and when i break down i get kinda loud and cry a lot #and i dont want to disturb the others or have them be all worried #i know if i can just get all the emotions out of me i can robot my way through the inital roadblocks #but since i cant fully break down its pretty much useless.#so all the stress just tenses up in my body even though the body is already slightly tensed from the small space here #like how the single bed is relegated to a corner so i cant stretch out fully #and the shower is so small that all i can do is turn around in it and every time i bend down my skin touches the freezing tiles #so my muscles and joints are slightly wrecked right now and will be for quite a long while #im not even going to get into exisitential stresses like money and purpose but those are there too

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mr-ribbit · 3 months

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ladies, do you hate shaving? you wish you didn't have to go through all that work before every date night? want to wear shorts or a swimsuit or just exist in public without it being a whole ordeal of exhaustion, self harm, and emotional stress? do you put yourself through hell solely to keep up the illusion that you have zero body hair? great news, we have a solution!

"is it to surround yourself with people who don't care about body hair?"

no!!

"is it to improve my personal stigma against body hair by accepting its beauty on others?"

no!!!!!!!

"does it involve me getting to stop shaving at all?"

of course not!!!!!!!!!! ITS AN INSANE ALTERNATIVE SHAVING PRODUCT! ITS MORE EXPENSIVE THAN RAZORS, TAKES JUST AS LONG, AND AND ITS WEIRD! BUY OUR HANDHELD LASER POWERED PINK TAXED MAGIC LEG SHAVING THINGIE FOR A MILLION DOLLARS!! USE IT TO GET RID OF THAT UGLY LEG HAIR YOU HIRSUTE FREAK! YOURE NOT NATURAL YOURE NOT NORMAL IF YOU DONT LIKE SHAVING THEN YOU *NEED* TO USE THIS BRAND NEW THERAPY WAX TWEEZER BEAM RADIATION BLISTER WAND PROCESS!!!! YOU HAVE TO CHARGE IT! IT'LL GET RID OF THAT HORRIBLE HORRIBLE HAIR WITHOUT ALL THE CUMBERSOME STRUGGLES OF HAVING TO SHAVE - THATS RIGHT, THIS PRODUCT GIVES YOU BRAND NEW CUMBERSOME STRUGGLES TO ADD TO YOUR ALREADY JAM PACKED MORNING ROUTINE OF SHIT YOU HAVE TO DO TO YOUR STUPID WOMAN BODY BEFORE YOU LET ANYBODY OUT IN THE REAL WORLD SEE IT

NOW WITH ESSENTIAL OILS

#venty jokes aside #pls for the love of god if u do ANY kind of beauty or 'self care' treatment that you fucking hate to your core #PLEASE consider stopping for a little while and gauging how it improves your life #you can go back to doing it if you just prefer your appearance that way or feel safer or need to pass or any other reason but just.#FEEL what its like to not #see how much more time and energy you have for the things youre getting ready FOR #and then decide if its actually worth it #do YOU actually care about this part of your appearance enough to invest time and money into it?#or is it only because you think you have to #great news for real: you simply do not have to. whether people care or not.

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dorkszn · 6 months

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SOULLESS + katsuki bakugou

SYNP — after losing your quirk, you had no idea what to do with yourself and katsuki couldn’t help you

WARNINGS — masc reader, suicide, quirk loss, heavy angst | 1.3K

A/N — did i cook, y’all? 🥺

Your quirk was what made you. That was the mentality most people in this world had. It was what you grew up on. You took it seriously. Your quirk defined you.

Katsuki knew this. He understood you. Even he knew he was more than his quirk. He never put you down for it, he just pushed you to work harder.

And you pushed. You pushed and pushed and pushed. Until it all fell to shit.

You don’t process the silencing sound of the gun shooting until you feel the impact. The world slows while simultaneously crumbling around you. You can’t hear. You can’t hear Sir Nighteye shouting, you can’t hear Izuku’s gasp, you can’t hear Togata’s cry. You just feel. Feel a part of you being ripped away.

The bullet sits in your body. And you feel. You feel the gash in your flesh. You feel the blood seeping from the wound. You feel the sting of its penetration. Then you feel the strength drain from you. You pushed too far.

Everyone described your time in the hospital as uncharacteristic and silent. The only time you spoke was when Katsuki visited you. And he felt. He felt the emptiness radiating from you. Even then, you sat in quietness as you attempted to tell him how you were feeling. Empty. Weak. Soulless.

He couldn’t treat you like everyone else. For one of the first times in his life, he knew, a quirkless person was nothing less than him. He had to treat them right. He had to treat you right. Which he did of course.

Your mental and emotional condition always hurt him. Always made him feel like a piece of him was missing. Even when you were allowed to return to your training. When you’d help him with his special moves or by sitting on his back while he did pushups.

It was a mental trick. It was supposed to make you feel like you were back. It was supposed to make people see you and smile and pat you on the back. Giving you “good job!” and “we’re glad to see you back.” But you weren’t back. You weren’t anything. And nobody knew. Nobody knew until Katsuki and Aizawa did.

A normal day of physical therapy while everyone else was training. One where Katsuki requested to come with you and one where Aizawa sat in with you. Your arm wasn’t functioning like before. No part of you was. Not your mind, heart, or soul, if it was even still there.

The physical therapist gave you your usual spiel before leaving you with the two men.

“The way you’re taking this ain’t very heroic, you know?” Aizawa told you, taking a seat next to you on the bench. He put a comforting hand on your head, pulling you close to him.

Your words struck through the two like the bullet that hit you. The bullet that robbed you. “I’m not a hero anymore. I’m nothing.”

That’s when the two realized. You weren’t the same. The hero you were and the person you were now, were completely different.

Katsuki saw the signs. He knows he did. His only mistake was not knowing what to do about them. He had sick thoughts. He thought maybe if Izuku had gone through with his words, he’d know the signs. He’s grateful that Izuku is alive and well but a bit upset that he didn’t have the experience he needed.

You zoned out often, stayed in your dorm all the time, slept in class, and barely spoke at lunch, you wouldn’t text with your old spark and enthusiastically run up to him after school. He missed you. Not any more than he does now but he did. Even though you were right there. Like you were just a body floating its way through life.

He told Aizawa. Aizawa said to give you time. Katsuki doesn’t blame him. Not entirely. He couldn’t have known. But giving you time was the wrong move. Giving you time was the last thing you needed.

Katsuki knows he should’ve been smarter the day you gave him a letter. An envelope that you didn’t want him to open until the next day. Aizawa got one too. So did Hitoshi. And Izuku. But none of them thought anything of it. Just a way for you to get the words you couldn’t say out.

Katsuki should’ve known after seeing the way you grinned around everyone and stayed by his side all day. But he was stupid. He thought you were getting better.

Dear, Katsuki Bakugou.

Katsuki. I love you more than anything in this lifetime. I am forever grateful for what you’ve given me. My life has gone so much better than I ever expected because of you. I want to give you the world. I tried. I tried really hard. But I can’t. Everything feels dull and nothing feels right. I feel trapped and I don’t feel like myself. And I can’t get out of this slump. Being here feels like being dead. I’m not here. I know this would hurt to text you or say to your face. I can’t think of those eyes of yours without it hurting me. Nothing is your fault. Never. Thank you, Katsuki. I love you in this life and beyond. Take your time, hold your ground, and become the best. I’m rooting for you. I’ll see you on the other side or in another life. I know if I become myself again, I will always find you.

Love, your dumbass, y/n l/n.

The wind rushed past you. Everything looked so different from your view. The same scenery you’d be taking in for the past few months sits ahead of you but it looks different. It feels nice. Maybe because this was the last time you’d see it.

The ground glares up at you, it’s pavement calling to you. The moonlight shines on your skin, casting your shadow on the rooftop of the dorms. You try to smile. To take it in one last time. But you can’t. Your mind won’t let you. Whatever was left of your soul won’t let you.

You just take a deep breath. And feel. You feel the bullet breaking your flesh and shattering your bone. You feel Katsuki’s warmth surrounding you. You feel Aizawa’s hand on your head. You feel and feel and feel. Before you fall.

It only took minutes after sunrise before you were found. An unlucky student stumbles across a corpse. Their blood-curdling scream immediately grabbed the whole world’s attention. It only took hours for them to collect you and identify you.

After that, it only took minutes for it to be announced to the class. It only took seconds for Katsuki to unwillingly break down. As fast as the bullet ripped your quirk from you, his soul, his mind, and his heart were ripped from him.

It only took seconds for the pity and grief to intoxicate the room. Poisoning every first year and teacher at the school. It only took days for Katsuki to finally convince himself to read the letter. It only took seconds for him to break down again and be pulled into Aizawa’s chest.

It only took a week for Katsuki’s world to crumble.

He visits you through the snowy days and warm nights. Sitting in front of your stone and replacing your flowers. Your soul is long gone and it feels as if his was too. The picture of you in his t-shirt, stupidly grinning at the camera stares into him. And he feels. He feels the hurt. He feels the pain. He feels your warmth. He feels your missed presence. He feels and he feels and he feels. Until he doesn’t think he can anymore.

“You weren’t nothing, y/n. You were everything.” He pushed the words out.

#dorkszn #dorkfilmz #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #mha angst #bnha angst #anime angst #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x reader #anime x reader #katsuki bakugou angst #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x you

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yoonieper · 3 months

Text

For the Birds— Part 1 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri)

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff

♡ Rated: A for Analyze

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: Therapy sessions (major wee woo!), Jk has nsfw thoughts, verbal abuse, Jk has a panic attack, lots of tears, beware friends ⚠️!

♡ Word Count: 19.8k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Call Out My Name by The Weeknd— see masterlist for full playlist!

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have!

♡ Author’s Note: Prepare my friends for the emotional journey ahead! This road is long so get ready for all the ups and downs :’)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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A year and a half later…

Jungkook looked down at his watch, his leg bounced restlessly as he stared at the long, thin hand circle around the clock. Every sound in the waiting room felt like he was hearing a pin drop in the world’s quietest room. The smallest noises sounded like an explosion to his sensitive ears, and just made him more on edge: the secretary typing away on her keyboard, the water circulating in the fish tank beside him, the shuffling behind the door— he could have pulled out his hair at how tense his body felt.

Jungkook swiftly twisted the golden band around his ring finger as the seconds ticked away. He had been waiting here for the past twenty minutes and he’d started to regret coming so early. He thought being here would help him calm down, but it seemed to make things worse as his eyes trained on the door.

People might think Jungkook was minutes away from walking to his execution with how nervous he was about this upcoming appointment. Jimin had even said he looked like a ghost before he left work earlier. His fear was completely irrational, he knew that, but it was forcing him to come face to face with something that would keep him up at night.

Being analyzed.

There was no way to describe it other than it was as if someone was staring at him from across the room. They thought he didn’t notice, but he could see behind their eyes they had put him under a microscope, and were trying to peel back all the layers of his psyche that he didn’t know even existed. He could feel their judgmental gaze, and under their watch, he grew more self-conscious about every molecule that made up his being. On most occasions, Jungkook at least could hope it was all in his head, but today, he was walking straight into this nightmare.

Therapy was strange like that.

“Jeon Jungkook?” A soft, but deep voice called out, making him nearly jump out of his chair. Jungkook looked over and was shocked to see someone standing beside him. It was the same man from the website.

He was dressed in a nice, black suit and wore a serious expression; he had sharp eyes, longer hair, and square glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. But the man still managed to radiate kindness with the pleasant contrast of his soft smile and delicate features. Standing up, Jungkook also realized the man was a couple of centimeters shorter than him, he needed to look up to meet his gaze.

Seeing him in person for some reason had him steadily beginning to feel more at ease.

The man smiled at him before guiding Jungkook into his office. It was a nice-sized room, decorated with modern, monochrome furniture, but it maintained its cozy feel with all the soft pillows and a blanket draped across the couch. A giant window overlooked Seoul’s emerging nightlife, a view not so different from what he was greeted with in his own office. Everything about this room helped the nerves he had been battling with all day begin to settle down.

This is for the better, things are finally going to get better— Jungkook kept telling himself as he sat down on the couch. The man took a seat in the big chair in front of him after having gone to his desk to retrieve a simple, yellow-lined notepad.

This was really happening.

“Alright. It’s nice to meet you Jungkook, I’m Dr. Min Yoongi. The time right now is 7:21pm, on April 4th, year 2023.” The doctor said, glancing down at his watch, writing something on the notepad, before returning his gaze back up to Jungkook. “As you should know, I’m a licensed couples therapist and I’m here to help you in whatever might be troubling you in your relationship. This will be our intake interview, and as you were told before, I will meet with you and your wife separately before we begin having our sessions together.” All of this was stuff Jungkook knew about, he had a feeling this was more so a reminder and for whatever record the doctor kept.

Dr. Min quickly scribbled something on his notepad again before looking up at him. He hadn’t even said anything yet, what could he possibly be writing?

“Alright Jungkook, I just wanted to ask if you had any questions for me or any concerns you wanted to discuss before we start?” Dr. Min eventually asked.

Jungkook tried to snap himself out of his anxious daze by shaking his head. “There’s nothing I can think of, I’m just a little nervous, I’m sorry.” He could hear it in his voice, the unmistakable shakiness to his tone, he was sure the doctor noticed.

“You’re nervous?” Dr. Min smiled.

Jungkook nodded, knowing it was impossible to hide it.

“Therapy… this is new for me.” Jungkook laughed lightly, but it was a big deal for him to be here.

Jimin had been the main one to encourage him to seek professional help. After the suggestion, Jungkook had absentmindedly brought it up to his parents when he went over to their house for dinner. They had laughed in his face at the mention of it.

“Your marriage is fine, why waste money on something like that?” His father had snickered as he ate his caviar.

“The only issue you both have is that I don’t have any grandkids yet.” His mother quickly added, and his father joined in because that was the only thing they ever seemed to talk about when Jungkook visited.

Therapy wasn’t necessarily a new thing he’d considered doing. It had been brought to his attention when he was in high school. After his brother left, he was faced with the daunting new responsibility of being the one who was going to take over the company one day. As much as he was excited for the opportunity, he was also absolutely terrified with all the extra pressure suddenly on his shoulders.

A friend had suggested for him to talk to a professional after he had done so himself and raved about how much it helped him. When he brought it up to his parents, much like now, they laughed and instead told him he should just talk to them about any worries he had.

He listened to them back then, but after a particularly nasty fight with Yuri, Jungkook was looking for answers, and the only place he might get real advice was from a professional. That very day he looked for couples therapists and booked with Dr. Min, hoping it might finally bring the change he’s been wanting for years.

“I understand, therapy can be a little intimidating for some. Tell me Jungkook, what are you hoping to accomplish out of our sessions together?” Dr. Min asked, still maintaining that friendly gaze that made it seem so easy to spill all his worries.

Jungkook let out a sigh of relief knowing this was an easy question for him to answer.

“I just want to know what I’m doing wrong… I know it’s my fault and…” as he spoke, he could already feel the tears stinging his eyes. “I want professional advice because I know I messed up, and I just want things to get better between me and my wife.” Jungkook was practically pleading for help.

Things had to get better.

Dr. Min tried his best not to let it show how shocked he was at the amount of blame Jungkook was putting on himself already. Most of the clients who come in usually talk primarily about what their partner was doing wrong in their eyes, or put most, if not all of the blame on the issues in their marriage on their unknowing spouse. It would usually take many sessions to even scratch the surface of the issues that they might contribute to. He’s seen that extreme end far more often than what Jungkook posed. It immediately painted a strange impression in his mind of the dynamic between the couple.

“Why do you think it’s all your fault?” He asked.

“I mean… it must be, right? I feel like my wife hates me and…” Jungkook sighed knowing he would finally need to get to that significant detail “—because we’re in an arranged marriage I’ve been trying my hardest— or what I thought was my hardest— to make our situation work, but nothing I’m doing is helping our relationship get any better.”

He really didn’t like to tell people that Yuri and him were arranged. Most people thought they were just two young people who found love early in life, a blazing flame that pushed the couple to be bold and take that next big step so quickly into their lives. Only their families and the people who attended their wedding knew that their marriage was nothing more than a business deal.

All of this was laid down a little quickly for Dr. Min. He knew with this being a high-profile client, the fact that Jungkook was coming to him meant there was something serious going on with the marriage. Most high-profiles like to keep the issues of their relationships as private as possible, seeking outside help was quite uncommon unfortunately. He’s certainly never handled an arranged marriage before, and that fact was going to make most of his usual techniques useless.

Jungkook could tell by the look on the doctor’s face that this probably wasn’t what he was expecting, but he wanted to have faith in the man. Dr. Min was known as one of the best in the country for a reason, hopefully he could help no matter the circumstances.

“Well, I’m not going to blame you. Relationships require both parties to make work, but it’s great that you’re stepping out and trying therapy. Who knows what we might uncover in our sessions together that could help you both in the long run?” Dr. Min gave a reassuring smile to the younger man and he was happy to see Jungkook ease up a little more.

“Anyway, let’s just get into some general questions to help guide us through this session. Why don’t you tell me about your marriage? I mean, just looking at your file you’re a little young to be married. How long have you and your wife been together?” It was a standard preliminary question, but in this case was extra vital to obtain.

“Three years— We just celebrated our anniversary on the 21st last month.” Jungkook mentioned. Yoongi tried not to look too surprised but he was seven years older than him, and he and his wife were just about to celebrate their fourth anniversary in June.

“March 21st, 2020?” Dr. Min reiterated and Jungkook steadily nodded.

That was only a little less than a year after him and his wife had gotten married, and Jungkook was only twenty-five? This was extremely uncommon here in Korea— the only clients he’s seen come in around that age were couples asking for simple advice on how to make their relationship work in the long run; even those instances were rare. More often than not, most couples don’t typically invest in therapy because of the unfortunate financial cost. Yoongi was most of the time helping out married couples or fiancés who had a bit more at stake if the relationship were to go south.

Jungkook hadn’t even met the average age at which couples tend to get married, he was still far from it— being twenty-five he was four years behind the overall average and six for men in South Korea. And that was based on his age now. When he first got married it was seven and nine. Finding out he was arranged, the situation made a lot more sense than when he was just reviewing his file.

Yoongi had wondered if Jungkook potentially filled out some wrong information when he looked over his forms before the appointment started. While he was relieved that wasn’t the case, the reality was a bit more concerning.

“Yeah, it was a few weeks after my commencement.” Jungkook added.

Yoongi couldn’t help but question why the parents would allow this to happen. He grew more and more baffled the longer Jungkook spoke, but now was not the time nor the place to be judgmental.

“How did you feel about getting married that young?” Dr. Min inquired further.

Jungkook sat back and grabbed the pillow beside him. He was a little unsure at first how to answer that question. It was something he used to ponder a lot when he first got married— twenty-two years old and already tied down— it sounded unreal to anyone he talked to. He never really got the chance to experience much before he had to “settle down.” Jungkook used to think about this a lot at the start. However, as time passed, he tried to focus more on saving the marriage he ruined, rather than mourning what he missed out on because he was arranged.

“I had a plan for myself before my parents told me I was going to get married. I had everything thought out for when I graduated college and getting married pretty much caused my whole plan to derail… I don’t want to speak for Yuri, but I feel like our engagement probably hit me harder.” Jungkook said, looking away into the distance.

“What makes you say that?” Dr. Min questioned.

Jungkook sat back on the cozy couch as he thought back to it. “I had this dreamy expectation of what being married would be like. Yuri and I hardly knew each other before they told us we were getting married so I had a lot of doubts if anything could ever come out of our relationship.”

He had pictured love at his wedding, yet he didn’t even know his wife’s favorite color as she walked down the aisle.

“I knew it wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows, that there would be hurdles we’d need to overcome, even more than your typical relationship. It was scary and I was so worried about becoming like my parents.” Jungkook's brows furrowed as he thought about it.

This immediately piqued Dr. Min’s curiosity and he could tell Jungkook was hesitant about elaborating any further. “Don’t worry, everything in our session will remain just between us.” Yoongi reassured him with a smile.

It wasn’t like it was that big of a secret. Jungkook took a deep breath before starting.

“They’re only together for our family’s public image, and me and my brother. They were arranged when they were young as well, and it would take me too long to go into just the details I know, but…” Jungkook just let the silence speak louder than he ever could. “They tried to make it work at first, but it didn’t last very long. Their relationship was hostile, if you could even say they had one in the first place. They’ve cheated on each other a countless amount of times, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were other peop—”

Jungkook could never forget his distinct memories of seeing people he hadn’t met before walking through their house unexpectedly. Some of them he only remembered seeing once, others stayed for a little while and became regulars at their residence. His parents would always reassure him and his brother they were just “friends” who stayed over. Growing older made the odd memories present themselves as what they truly were.

He also remembered all the fighting, the callous words they would spew at each other at night that he could hear from across the hall, and the look of disdain on their faces in the morning. Their relationship, if you can call it that, was turbulent to say the least. Jungkook always wondered how he ended up here, considering how things were when they were still trying to make it work.

“I always thought their marriage looked more like a prison than anything beautiful. They made it work for our sake, but I never wanted to live like that.” Jungkook’s own words were starting to get to him the more he realized his marriage might suffer an even worse fate.

A pivotal moment came when he was too small to understand the consequences of his actions; it was at this point, when he was first exposed to the true reality of their family dynamic. His parents had taken him and his brother to the park, he still didn’t know what caused his young mind to go there, but for some reason as they were walking to the playground, Jungkook realized how off things were about their family. It was then that he suddenly asked his mom and dad why they weren’t like all the other parents and couples walking around holding hands.

“Mom and dad don’t love each other the same way others do.” His dad answered and his mom had so easily agreed— way too easily. It was so stark, so to the point, and at the time he didn’t really get it but their words stuck with him as the years passed and he started to make more sense of their family’s situation.

His young mind didn’t really get relationships, he was still in that phase where he thought all girls had cooties and that boys rule and girls drool, but he could tell something was off with how his parents were with each other. When he actually learned the reason, a strange anger started to brew inside him over the years. A permanent wall his family could never climb. Jungkook had blamed them for most of his life because they could never be a normal family and he swore to himself he never wanted to give his own kids the same fate one day.

But at least his parents could tolerate each other now. They were more like friends these days than anything else, and they knew how to come together when needed. But Yuri seemed like she couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him.

He had to do something.

“I wanted passion, the thing that people write entire movies, songs, and shows about; I wanted the fireworks, the butterflies, magic— I had really looked forward to it.” It was a little silly, but he had always been a hopeless romantic. Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as his attention focused on the doctor in front of him. “I’m sorry— this probably sounds ridiculous.” He shied.

Dr. Min laughed. “I’m a couples therapist. I know better than anyone else what you’re talking about.”

Jungkook smiled at this, but his cheeks were still on fire. “I had always pictured something like that in my relationship, and don’t get me started on what I thought things would be like when I got married.” He laughed and the doctor joined in. He already embarrassed himself enough as it is.

“But then I was forced into the exact same situation as my parents with someone I hardly knew. I was terrified I’d end up in that hell.” Jungkook sighed. He had somehow ended up somewhere even worse.

Dr. Min noted on his pad again.

“This seems to mean a lot to you then.” The doctor commented.

“It really does and… I mean, besides Yuri, I didn’t have any relationship experience. I focused on school ever since I learned I was going to be the one taking over the company. I thought I would have more time once I graduated but…”

“Talk about that a little more, what do you mean you didn’t have any relationship experience?” Dr. Min pressed further. He tried his best to hide the shock in his voice. Jungkook was definitely someone he wouldn’t expect to have trouble in that department.

“I was really busy when I was still in school. I hardly had time to do anything, and certainly not enough to commit to a relationship— at least, the kind I knew I wanted. I was waiting until I had time for something more serious, but then suddenly I was engaged. I never went on a date, never had a girlfriend… I did a little physical stuff in college but it was just experimentation rather than anything passionate. Yuri was my first in a lot of ways.” Dr. Min took extra notes of this.

“Mmmm is that why you think you’re the issue in the relationship?” Dr. Min asked as he continued to write. This was a factor he especially believed played a part in Jungkook’s apparent lack of confidence in the relationship.

“We wouldn’t be here if I knew what I was doing.” Jungkook sadly chuckled. He truly had no idea what a relationship should be like besides the romanticized versions he’d seen in movies and dramas.

“That’s not necessarily true— did Yuri have more experience going into your marriage?”

Jungkook nodded. “I know she had a boyfriend in high school and then there was another guy she dated in her first two years of college. She was miles ahead of me in that department.”

Yoongi noted that down. “And did Yuri tell you this?”

He nodded his head. “She talks about them occasionally.”

“In what way?” Dr. Min questioned as he raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook stared at the doctor, suddenly, the nerves quickly came back. “Um—” He stammered. “She’ll compare me to them sometimes, mainly when I do things wrong.” Jungkook mumbled the last part, the embarrassment creeping up once again, heating up his cheeks.

The doctor stopped writing, the silence that hung in the air felt like it lasted an eternity. “And how does that make you feel?” Dr. Min asked, commiseration filling his tone.

Jungkook quickly needed to fight back the tears as he thought about all the times Yuri would bring up her exes. She would scream in his face how much better they made her feel, and how he could never compare.

…

“Worthless.” It was a simple, one-word answer that slipped out without much thought. He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth; his eyes grew more watery as he watched the doctor’s expression change to one filled with pity. He hated it.

Jungkook knew now that he deserved it. She was unhappy and it was all his fault. Her boyfriends, when they were younger, did more for her than her own husband; even after being married for the last three years.

“I’m not surprised you feel that way. We’ll need to discuss this more in depth during a session where I have you both together, but comparison is never healthy for any relationship. I like to think of fresh relationships as the start to a brand new chapter of your life— whatever happened in previous chapters with other people, might have helped shape the story of the person you are today, but now you both begin this new chapter together. Whatever happened in the past should stay in the past, instead, you should be focusing on how you both are going to choose to write this chapter now that you have each other in your lives. Again, I’ll be sure to talk about this more when Yuri’s here, but comparison is never healthy for anybody.” Dr. Min put it so eloquently, but still Jungkook couldn’t help but think he didn’t deserve the advice.

If he was a better husband, Yuri wouldn’t have the need to compare him.

“Alright, before we move forward, I just want to make sure I have a clear picture of the situation. Can you elaborate the details of the arrangement with your wife? Did your parents just put you two together randomly or was there something else involved?” Yoongi was struggling to picture how things happened exactly.

Jungkook quickly wiped away the tears before he nodded once again, realizing that might be important. “It wasn’t random at all— then again, when I offered to take over the company from my brother, I had no idea I would be put in that position but—“

“Your brother— What happened there? How about you start from the beginning.” Yoongi interrupted, focused on trying to get as many details as possible.

Jungkook internally slapped himself, realizing he was talking to the doctor like he knew all of the important details.

“My older brother was supposed to be the one to inherit the company, but he never wanted to take over Golden Tech. Junghyeon and my parents would fight all the time for years about him needing to fulfill his duty while he wanted to forget it all and pursue his dream. When it came down to which college he was going to attend, things just got extra tense when he revealed he applied and got accepted into his dream school. I hated the fighting, plus I was more interested in the company anyway, so I volunteered to take his place so he could live out his dream.” It still felt like yesterday that it all happened. Jungkook had felt so good when he stepped up and let his brother go do what he always wanted.

He can’t say he would have made the same choice now— maybe Junghyeon would have still been better suited to run the company despite his lack of enthusiasm for the position.

Dr. Min awed and wrote that down. He knew he would have follow-up questions, that context opening up a whole new can of worms, but he didn’t want to keep interrupting Jungkook. “Ok… I think I got it, you can keep going.”

Jungkook took a deep breath before continuing. “Well it wasn’t random, but they never mentioned anything to my brother about being in an arranged marriage nor did they say anything to me when I took over his position. It came out of nowhere. But Yuri’s dad and mine were close pretty much all of our lives despite them being each other's competition. Apparently, in private, they made this deal with each other that benefited both companies so they could rely on each other a little more and wouldn’t need to compete as hard. There was a lot of good that came with the contract, I saw it myself. The one bad thing about it was that they decided the only way to seal a deal like that would be to actually become family— that’s how me and Yuri got these.” Jungkook held up his hand to show off his wedding band.

Interesting.

“So you’re not only married but there’s a contract involved in your relationship?” Dr. Min asked and Jungkook nodded.

“We signed our marriage license first, and then immediately after we stamped the contract. Our wedding went from our ceremony into a party celebrating the contract being finalized.” It was just another thing that made their wedding a little strange.

Knowing that information now, the situation was starting to make a little more sense. It explained the disregard for the couple’s young age with the fact that business was involved. Still it was a bit odd, like why did this deal need to be formed in the first place? Why did the contract have to be stamped immediately? There were still many questions that needed to be answered, but this information was useful to have when considering the subjects to cover in their sessions together.

“It makes even more sense why this is such a big deal to you.” Yoongi added as he finished up his notes. Jungkook steadily nodded at his words.

“It’s not as simple as my marriage will fall apart if things don’t work out— there are so many people relying on me to make this work. I have to make this work, and for some reason, I can’t find a way to make her happy.” Jungkook tried to stop the way his voice wavered, but saying it out loud just made things real all over again.

The stakes were high, and if he failed, he—

“Now that I have the big picture, we can move back to your relationship and the troubles you’re having right now. What about Yuri? What specific issues are you having with her?” The question had Jungkook stunned for a second because of course there were things he wanted to bring up, but the guilt had him hesitating. What if Dr. Min knew how awful he was?

“I just want us to be in a happy relationship. I feel it’s my lack of experience that’s getting in the way of that happening. I don’t know what I’m doing but…”

“But?” Dr. Min emphasized as he tried to meet his gaze. Jungkook was clearly avoiding it as he stared down at his lap.

“But I feel like I’m trying hard to make us work. I just wish she’d touch me more.” It was a dirty confession, something he’d secretly wished for years. How dare he?

“Sexually?” Dr. Min hurriedly scribbled on his pad.

“I just want her to touch me… hold my hand, kiss me, cuddle, anything. I want her to want me.” Saying it out loud was horrible. He was just waiting for that gaze that suggested how pathetic he was, he deserved it for complaining, but that never came as Dr. Min's expression softened once again to something more sympathetic.

“Do you want to do all that with Yuri?” The doctor followed up with. The question seemed weird to him at first, but then Jungkook realized no one had ever asked him that before.

“Of course I do… she’s my wife.” He tried to laugh.

“I get that Jungkook, but considering this is an arranged marriage, I’m just trying to understand where your relationship stands at this moment.”

The question became that much more daunting because he didn’t have an answer for that. “It’s complicated… I don’t want to answer for Yuri but…” the words just weren’t coming to him.

Jungkook had to think about it for a while. “I feel, despite us being married for three years, we're still getting to know each other. We’ve had good moments— great moments sometimes… if I find out what I’m doing wrong, I’m sure we can share those moments together a lot more often.”

Just two weeks ago they were celebrating their third year together— or, well, “celebrating.” Their families just enjoyed holding a small gathering to celebrate the anniversary of the contract being stamped rather than the marriage itself, even though they masked it that way.

Three years together and what did he have to show for it? He hardly knew the woman he was legally bound to, and he’d just made her life miserable since the day they said their “I do”s on the altar three years ago.

People around him wished them a “happy anniversary” and pictures of him and Yuri were sprawled around the restaurant they had rented out for the occasion. It was all a lie, every picture where they stared lovingly into each other’s eyes, every wish for so many years to come felt bittersweet. He honestly wondered how anyone could have believed them, they seemed so fake in his opinion.

Jungkook had spent the whole day feeling awful and mourning the relationship he could have had. The gathering could have been a real celebration of their three years together, if he just was a little better— not just better, if he wasn’t him, how happy her life might be right now.

It was the main reason Jungkook worked up the courage to meet a therapist. Something had to change. He hoped seeing a professional might be the answer.

Dr. Min nodded slowly as he continued to write his notes. Jungkook wondered what he could possibly be writing. He hoped it was the answers to fix him so he could finally make Yuri happy, but he feared he would only hear the same judgmental remarks he’s grown used to these days.

“You mentioned you had a plan after your graduation… what did that look like for you?” Dr. Min asked suddenly as he looked back up at him.

Jungkook was a little stunned at the question at first, but then he tried to rack his brain to remember the plan he’d made what seemed like forever ago at this point. “I had planned to take a break from school before knowing I would get married. It would have been just a year, maybe two at the most in order to establish myself at Golden Tech a little more. I was going to get my master’s sometime after that, and when I got that out the way, I could finally focus on my job and get as much experience as possible before I needed to step up as CEO. However, I got married and I haven’t gotten the chance to go back like I wanted.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’m already busy with work, trying to manage a job, school, and settling into my new relationship was something I knew would be impossible. I wanted Yuri and I to be in a good place before going back but… it’s taking longer than I expected.” Jungkook tried not to think about it too much, he’s already got two degrees which, to some, might be enough. Having a master's would simply be a nice addition at this point, but it was something he always planned and wanted to have— something he still hoped to get one day.

As much as their relationship has been like a rollercoaster, he still had a glimmer of hope that they could fix things and he could go back to school.

“Plus, well, I have more than just myself to take care of now. Maybe it was for the best that I work full time, I gain more experience at work than in any classroom.” Jungkook was trying to be optimistic, but just thinking that by now he would have graduated and completed his educational journey, made the sadness come back all too easily.

But he had a wife, a family he needed to take care of.

Most people always assumed Jungkook was just this spoiled rich kid who lived off of his parents’ money, and was simply waiting for his dad to retire to finally take over the company. Jungkook never wanted that to be the case and made sure he worked just as hard, sometimes even harder, to prove he was capable.

Truth be told, he stopped living off his parents’ money the minute he graduated high school. It was a choice inspired by his brother's bold decision to just pick up and leave the country. He felt there was a lot to learn about the world, something he knew he would never experience if he had remained sheltered and continued to solely rely on his parents. That experience was especially important if he was going to run a company someday.

He lived like most of his peers who moved away from home. He lived in this cute, tiny apartment, went to work nearly every day, and struggled hard at night to catch up on his schoolwork. He was relatively normal besides the fact he drove a Mercedes to get to class— a graduation present from his father that he just couldn’t let sit somewhere. Besides that, he was on his own.

It wasn’t something his parents encouraged. They constantly wanted to give him money any chance they could. Jungkook just wanted to test being on his own and build the life experience most of his peers had.

Throughout college he lived off of any money he made from his part time jobs, gigs, and desk job at Golden Tech.

The only reason he was able to move straight into the fancy place they lived in now, was the fact that the apartment was a wedding gift from both his and Yuri’s parents. The whole reason they can live so well now is because of how hard he’s worked over the years! Would any of this be possible if he hadn’t worked full-time?

He had bills to pay and a wife to make happy, there was no way he could have managed to do that and school at the same time.

Yes, Yuri was his priority.

Dr. Min observed the way Jungkook seemingly faded out of the conversation, his eyes were wide as he stared out of the window.

Hmm.

He made sure to circle this topic on his notes for when Yuri came.

“Jungkook, you mentioned earlier about intimacy between you and Yuri— I meant to ask, how's your sex life?” The very blunt question had Jungkook’s eyes nearly bulging out of his head and quickly returning back to the doctor. His cheeks grew more pink the more he processed Dr. Min’s words.

“You don’t need to give details, I’m just trying to get a feel as to where the issues might be lying in the relationship. The fact you’re in an arranged marriage, makes this question even more important. Have you both made it to that stage in your relationship? If so, how soon? Are you satisfied?” Dr. Min reiterated.

“Ummm…” Jungkook felt his face grow hot. How was he going to explain it was one of the biggest issues in their relationship?

“Our honeymoon… we, you know.” Jungkook hoped Dr. Min would get the picture, and was relieved when he nodded.

“It was a bit too soon— me and Yuri hardly knew each other. We only went on three dates before we got engaged and then we were married. Our parents knew each other so I’d seen her a couple of times in the past, but our honeymoon was really one of our first chances at getting to know each other. It was nice… really, really nice.” Dr. Min noticed Jungkook’s soft smile at the mention of the trip.

“I feel maybe it was better to get to know each other a little more before we took that step, but you know…” No, he probably didn’t. Jungkook was such a sad human being for giving in so easily the minute she sat on his lap in the hot tub they found themselves in that day. He knew that now.

“I understand— two young people alone on a trip together— there’s nothing wrong with that.” Dr. Min tried to reassure him, noticing the way Jungkook got quiet.

“But things have been weird ever since we got back. I thought we just needed to adjust a little bit to our new life, but I feel I was doing a better job back then than I’m doing now.” Jungkook tried to laugh, but he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he remember what he did back then to make her want to be that close?

Why was he so horrible at being a husband?

“Jungkook, you never answered if you were satisfied.” Dr. Min tried to dig down, sensing this topic was sensitive.

“I try to be…” Jungkook said aimlessly, playing with the corner of the blanket that had somehow made its way onto his lap.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I try to give her what she wants but…” He could never forget her comments:

“Why would I ever want you when you don’t stop thinking with your dick for just 5 seconds?!” Jungkook had only tried to pull her close to cuddle. She saw right through his guise.

“Look at the fucking mess you made! You’re disgusting!” Yuri screamed as she pointed to spots on the bed where his cum had seeped through his pants. He’d gotten a little too excited while eating her out and made a mess. Yuri had always hated messes.

“Maybe I’d let you fuck me if you lasted more than two seconds.” Even that was generous, that day he barely made it inside before he was spilling into the condom. He could argue and say they never have sex and he was sensitive, but he couldn’t imagine how frustrating that would be.

“Why are you crying again? You’re fucking pathetic…” Yuri rolled her eyes after she told him he’d never be good enough for her. There had been a little light in the room, just Yuri’s lamp on her nightstand, when he took off his shirt. Apparently, the view had been that unsightly, she got so upset when he tried to get back on top of her. They never fuck with the lights on anymore, she says it’s easier this way.

Jimin says he cares way too much about what Yuri says, but he wanted to look good for her.

Just this morning Jungkook had spent his time in the shower, staring into the glass at his reflection. He hadn’t gotten the chance to go to the gym all week, work taking up all his time, but his week away from the gym had already started to show consequences. That muscle definition he cherished so much was already starting to soften, Yuri doesn’t like it when he’s like that.

He lives for her praise— those moments when she smiles, when she laughs, when she pleads for him to make her cum. Those moments are few and far between.

While the criticism hurt, she had every right to be upset. It was clear he lacked in so many aspects at being a good husband, let alone a good partner in general.

Yuri would always tell him how happy In Kyung Sam made her when they dated— her last ex from college, the person she mainly compared him to. Jungkook had stalked him on Instagram and it was clear he was far from what Yuri wanted.

He just needed to do better.

“I don’t think I’m good enough.” Jungkook didn’t realize he started crying until he saw the drops start to hit the pillow on his lap. He tried to work hard, tried to be a good husband, but he hated to admit how tired he was these days. The dark circles around his eyes showed his effort, and Jimin told him how much thinner he’d gotten— most noticeably, in his face.

Jungkook skipped way too many meals these days. He tried his best to follow those protein diets recommended by bodybuilders, but work always got in the way and he would forget to eat more often than not. It wasn’t on purpose, but lately, he was starting to look just as sad and tired on the outside as he felt on the inside.

Hopefully therapy would help.

Dr. Min watched the breakdown ensue, it’s happened with other clients before; eventually, they get to a touchy subject and they become emotional. However, something about watching the tears so easily spill from his eyes, was a little unsettling. Jungkook wasn’t loud, he didn’t make a scene, but his eyes grew redder by the second, his face more pained, and his cheeks more soaked with tears. His gaze however remained on the pillow and blanket that he had become fixated on.

“Jungkook, please don’t say that. I don’t know what Yuri’s done to make you feel this way, but never say you’re not good enough.” Dr. Min took off his glasses and set them on the table, before handing him the box of tissues that sat on the little table in between them.

“I want her to love me, to want me so bad that it hurts her as much as it hurts me—“ It was then that his voice started to quiver. “I feel like I try so hard but nothing works, I’m so tired…” He was beyond tired at this point. Sometimes he felt like giving up entirely.

Jungkook had even started feeling less confident at work. He couldn't even satisfy one woman. How would he ever be able to make the employees at Golden Tech happy, let alone the consumers, business partners, the media— how could he ever live up to his father’s legacy?

It scared him the amount of times he considered telling his father to hand the position to someone that might be more suitable. What would his father think of him? It almost felt inevitable at this point at how much of a disappointment he was these days.

His thoughts were spiraling; recently, they always do.

“It’s ok to be tired, but you’ve already made a great step in coming here.” Dr. Min tried to be the shoulder Jungkook could lean on, but he was too focused on all the red flags waving around in his head.

Jungkook didn’t give too much detail about Yuri, but Dr. Min had been a therapist long enough to know that this might go beyond just simple marital issues. He wanted to press for more details, but suddenly Jungkook’s phone started buzzing in his jacket pocket. It was almost startling to see how fast the young man wiped away his tears, before he reached into his pocket and answered his phone.

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice was a little hoarse, but his tone shifted to sound a lot more professional than the soft one he used with him. Yoongi quickly figured this must be a work call.

“Wha— I’m a little busy—“ Jungkook tried to interject, but silence passed as he listened to the person on the other end.

“Oh? Oh… I see— I’ll come straight in then.” That sadness in his voice returned all too quickly, but Dr. Min could tell he was trying to mask it.

The call ended soon after, and Jungkook looked at the clock to see that they still had 10 minutes left of their session.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need to cut our session short. I thought I was done for the day but…” Jungkook tried to smile, but he couldn’t. For some reason, he wanted to stay and talk more. This must be a good sign.

“I understand.” Yoongi said as he stood up with Jungkook.

“I look forward to seeing you again and meeting your wife tomorrow.” Usually during these sessions, Dr. Min tried his best to remain unbiased regarding couples’ problems, especially during these initial one-on-one intake interviews, but he was already starting to get a worrisome picture in his head of this woman. Their meeting tomorrow will be the real teller.

Jungkook smiled lightly before heading for the door. Dr. Min wanted to stop him, for some reason, he feared letting him go in his state, but all he could do was hope to see him again.

•────•──────────•────•

The next day, Jungkook found himself stuck in a meeting with some of the executives from the production team. It wasn’t that important, it was just an update about what they had been up to lately at the factories. Jungkook had tried his best to pay attention, but he was really tired today.

After he went home from the work emergency, he was finally able to let the emotions he’d been trying to keep at bay flow without the prying eyes of society. He didn’t know exactly why he was crying. Something about opening that door was so hard to do, and it just resurfaced all those thoughts that kept spinning around in his head over the years. He didn’t know what to do with himself; it was all too much and he had no one to talk to.

Yuri came home eventually, she walked in and was greeted with the sight of him sitting at their dining table, dinner only half eaten, and his face stained with tears. He wished she had come over and hugged him— that’s all he wanted, he was sure it would have made everything better, but Jungkook watched the disappointment etch more into her features the longer she stared at him. Yuri just rolled her eyes with a scoff and went to heat up her cold dinner.

Jungkook didn’t blame her for being upset, he really does cry too much these days.

As much as he told himself that, something about this just finally made him explode; the fragile dam that had kept his emotions somewhat under control crumbled to pieces all in an instant. He couldn’t stop his sobs as he quickly ran to the bathroom for a little more privacy. It didn’t take long for Yuri to come over banging on the door, complaining about the noise.

He probably was too loud, Yuri hates it so much when he’s loud. But he was far too emotional earlier and her pleas for him to be quiet just made things worse.

He ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor last night after he eventually passed out. He woke up with sore, red, puffy eyes, and his arm hurt like crazy from sleeping on it. It was his fault, Yuri made sure he knew how dumb that was before she left.

Jungkook had tried coffee earlier, he even had Secretary Yu cancel his plans for the next two hours as he tried to take a nap in his office. That didn’t really work; he was too worried about someone walking in and thinking he was lazy.

The only thing that kept his eyes from fluttering closed was you standing outside the meeting room. You were by the printer, likely working on those reports he asked you to do.

He should’ve been focused on the presentation, but his gaze was too busy raking up your legs that were so nicely accented by your red-bottom stilettos and short pencil skirt. The sight was a feasting ground for his imagination to run wild, and he was far more interested in picturing coming up behind you and fucking you right there against the printer. He would finally push up that short skirt that would drive him crazy as he shamelessly took you right then and there.

As much as he enjoyed the thought, Jungkook felt disgusting; he had a wife, and it went against everything he believed in to think about someone other than the woman he’s married to in a situation like that. He could try to make up an excuse and say it was all the sexual frustration he’d been experiencing these days, but how could that justify it? It couldn’t, he was awful.

But Jungkook wanted to feel something, and Yuri wasn’t giving him anything anymore. They hardly had sex these days and she found too much pleasure in teasing him, getting him to a point where he’s pleading, before something always gets in the way of anything actually happening. His mind for some reason had found refuge in imagining you in sexual situations to cope. It was one of the reasons he ultimately ended up making an appointment with Dr. Min, recently you had drifted into his mind while he was eating out his wife. How dare he?

He could continue to give excuses, nothing justifies what he’s been doing, but before he got married, he would have described someone like you as his “ideal type.” If things were different, if he wasn’t married, he would have probably had the biggest crush on you.

Neither of you had talked much since you started working at Golden Tech, but he’d taken more time than he wanted to admit watching you from afar.

Oddly enough, you were the epitome of everything his young mind had pictured dating. It wasn't like he walked around with a list in his head, but he found you checking boxes he didn’t even know he had. It was the weirdest feeling, but the longer you were at the office, the more he felt that if things were different, he would’ve liked taking a shot.

From the moment you spilled coffee on him, he knew you were gorgeous, so much so, that for some reason you always occupied his mind. It was in a way that had his eyes following you each time you crossed paths in the hallways, in a way that made him think about you even after you walked by, and in a way that made him a mess anytime you’d meet his gaze.

He was always thrown into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions whenever he’d see you. Lust, admiration, anger? He didn’t know anymore, but most of the time it was all three at once.

Workwise it was mainly admiration. You were smart, that much was clear from your first meeting, but since then you’ve continued impressing him. You were never afraid to speak your mind in the middle of heated debates between executives, and it was always your insight he found the most compelling. The amount of times alone since the TV incident they have utilized your input for important situations… It wasn’t a big shock when he found out how quickly you got promoted, you honestly did more than your superiors. You were hardworking, no matter what he threw at you, you would always manage to get it done better than expected. He would always hear the best from Director Son about your team being one of the best performing out of the finance department.

The list could go on really, but hearing about you, or even seeing you in the hall, always made him feel all strange inside. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he hated it.

He wasn’t the only one who seemed intrigued by your charm; you made everyone around you smile with such ease. Anytime he would happen to see you in the office, your coworkers would be laughing and smiling about something you’d said. He’d tried to join in on the fun and talk to you occasionally— after meetings, in the hall when you were alone, in the office when he would pass by and see you still working late, but it never seemed to go well.

“Director Jeon! Did you need something from me?!” You had panicked that one time he startled you while you were standing by the water cooler. The minute you met his eyes, his mind went blank. Somehow his attempt at small talk had turned into checking to see if you were on track to meet the deadline for something he’d asked you to do.

Even Jimin had only the best things to say about you.

“I really don’t understand why you have a problem with her.” Jimin side-eyed him one night when they were working late. Jimin had brought you up and mentioned a fun brief conversation you had, and somehow the topic had shifted to his hyung questioning why he was always so weird when it came to you. The only thing Jungkook could respond with was giving you more work.

He didn’t have a problem with you. He really didn’t, but as much as he found himself enamored by your work, he also found it hard to stop the anger from rising anytime you’d even cross his mind. And unfortunately, that was often.

Jungkook really didn’t know you that well, but he’d seen you enough that you’d affect him in ways that he could never tell another soul about.

One time he walked by the meeting room when you were leading a meeting along with Director Son. You never noticed him standing there, but just seeing you in your element made him quickly need to run back to his office after he felt his pants start to tighten.

It was often your dark red lips that he pictured when his hand would hurriedly fist his cock. Jungkook hardly masturbated anymore, Yuri hated the mess, and he always felt sex-crazed if he ever attempted these days. However, the last time he did it was your lipstick he pictured, it was the view he had earlier that day when you bent over beside him and he could see down your shirt, it was those stupid short skirts you would wear all the time, it was you who he pictured fucking instead of his wife as he desperately rocked into the pillow that he’d been clinging onto.

Jungkook never did that again. Yuri had gotten so mad when he told her he had essentially ruined his pillow in a moment of weakness. Part of him wished he had told her it was another woman that he got off to, he would have loved to see how jealous she might have gotten. At least then he would have known if she truly cared for him at all.

You would get him so flustered without even trying. Maybe if you knew, you would hate him as much as Yuri did. Maybe it was best this way. The thought of another person screaming how pathetic he was, was enough to send him over the edge. It was probably only thanks to the business deal that he found himself getting married. No one would have said yes otherwise.

Jungkook’s attention remained on you, but you never noticed his gaze. His mind was going crazy at the thought of feeling you; the sounds of the buttons on the printer being smashed into filling the hallway as he desperately pushed into you from behind. You felt so good around his needy cock while he tried his best not to spill into you too soon.

It would be too good, and—

His fantasy was interrupted when Taehyung, a member of your financial team, suddenly walked up beside you. Jungkook watched as he seemingly came over to help you in your struggle with the printer. He just rolled his eyes and tried to go back to paying attention to the presentation like he was supposed to.

He had to remember to get that printer fixed.

It’s not like Jungkook had a problem with Taehyung, but he’s heard the rumors about you two and how everyone who worked on this floor thought you were together. There was no reason to be upset; he could feel his wedding ring on his finger, but he couldn’t stop disliking seeing the two of you anywhere near each other.

What if it was true?

He wondered what made you choose Taehyung. What did he do to win you over? What did Jungkook lack that made him so unwanted? Jungkook's gaze drifted down at the ring on his finger. In another world where he wasn’t married, he couldn’t help but think you wouldn’t have liked him anyway. No one would.

“Director Jeon?” The executive called out, finally noticing that Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to the lavishly planned out presentation.

“I-I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Jungkook hurriedly tried to shake himself out of his daze.

The meeting went on for far too long in his opinion. The production team always liked to be detailed in their presentations ever since going on two years ago when they messed up the launch of the new line of TVs. Normally he would have appreciated it, but he had trouble keeping his eyes open the entire time.

The minute it was over, Jungkook rushed back to his office, hoping to finally get a few minutes of sleep. He had an hour before his next meeting so he could squeeze a thirty minute nap in before he needed to do some last minute work.

Just as he sat on his chair, ready to lay his head down, suddenly his phone started to buzz in his jacket pocket. Jungkook groaned, the exhaustion easily made him annoyed; he just wanted to sleep. He was ready to slam that dnd button for a little peace and quiet, when he realized it had been a text from Dr. Min.

Dr. Min [4:23]: Yuri didn’t show up for her interview today.

Dr. Min [4:23]: I waited an extra thirty minutes and even tried calling.

Dr. Min [4:25]: We can still do our first official session tomorrow, just make sure she’s there :)

Jungkook stared at his phone in disbelief.

After he finally managed to come out of the bathroom this morning, the first thing he did was remind Yuri about her interview with Dr. Min. They argued a bit, Yuri always going back to the fact Jungkook slept on the floor again, but he still kept reminding her throughout their discussion, and even until she left, about her appointment with the doctor.

Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder if she actually forgot, or if she purposefully didn’t show up. Yuri, just like his parents when he brought up the idea of going to couple’s therapy, detested it, but Jungkook was insistent until she finally relented and agreed.

She knew this meant everything to him.

Jungkook didn’t know how to react. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to just break something. Instead, he texted Dr. Min a quick ‘ok’ before laying his head down to finally sleep.

He was just so tired.

•────•──────────•────•

The next day it took way too much effort trying to bring Yuri over to Dr. Min’s office. She went on and on that she had plans with friends, and Jungkook almost had to physically drag her into the car to go with him.

The whole fiasco made him incredibly flustered. She complained the entire time about how much this was going to be a waste. The whole way Jungkook was either on the verge of opening the car door and jumping out, or shriveling into a ball to just cry because why didn’t she want this as bad as he did?

Did she not want to fix their marriage? Had she already given up?

It was thoughts like these that clouded his mind on the way to Dr. Min’s office. Yuri was in his ear the whole time sighing about how she could be “sipping sparkling wine with her friends at Han Cook’s right now instead of going to this fucking scam,” her words exactly. It was irritating, Jungkook even noticed Dae-Jung roll his eyes a couple of times because she just wouldn’t stop.

At some point, even he didn’t want to be there.

They were already 5 minutes late by the time they were walking through the door. Dr. Min was standing in the waiting room talking with his secretary when he and Yuri arrived hand in hand, but not out of affection, Jungkook was just scared she might try to run away.

“Ahhhh, there’s my couple.” Dr. Min smiled at the sight.

“I’m so sorry we’re late…” Jungkook sighed, trying to repress any ill feelings he had toward his wife. Now was not the time; they were there now, that’s all that mattered.

Dr. Min quickly guided the both of them into his office, repeating the same process as when Jungkook went in for the first time. Before he knew it, they had the blanket draped over their laps, and Dr. Min was sitting in his cozy chair in front of them with his yellow notepad in hand.

“Alright, for our first session I think it might be best that our main goal should be to try to open the doors before we really begin to explore what’s inside. We should try to lay out any immediate issues you think you might be having in your relationship. It could be anything— the little things, like someone not always forgetting to push their chair in, to bigger things, like that fight you both had that has stayed with you. But first, since I never got to meet with you Yuri, I just want to talk to you briefly.” Dr. Min smiled at Yuri and he noticed the way she rolled her eyes.

“I understand therapy might be a little intimidating at first, but just think of me as a friend you’re ranting about your relationship troubles to. I’m someone outside of your relationship, I’m not here to tell you who’s right or wrong, but simply to advise and guide you in ways that might lead you both to being a happier and healthier couple.” Yoongi hoped that would do something, but Yuri continued to sit there with her arms crossed, looking completely uninterested.

Hmmm.

“Yuri, I want to first know if you have any concerns about our sessions.”

She sighed with almost palpable annoyance. “No.” Yuri mumbled, looking out the window.

Alright.

This wasn’t his first session with someone like this. Over the years, he’s learned that the best way to handle it, was to try your best to get your foot in the door. It’s all a matter of getting them talking.

“Alright Yuri, how about you tell me how you first found out about the arrangement? What were your feelings when you heard the news?” Dr. Min laid out a relatively simple question, hoping this would be enough to get her even just a little engaged.

“I mean…” Yuri looked over at Jungkook before turning back to the doctor. “We found out together, our parents sat us down and told us we were getting married. I felt indifferent to it, no one really wants to get married when they’re twenty-two but it was for a business deal, what could I do about it?”

“It’s your life, you weren’t upset?”

Yuri shook her head.

“I felt like I was doing my part for the family. My brother’s inheriting the company, and my sister works there as well. It was just me that went on a different path, so the least I could do was help secure a deal that would really benefit the company.”

Interesting.

“Alright then, let’s change the question a little. What were your feelings when you heard that you were to marry Jungkook?” The question was direct and it was asked with the hope of understanding her feelings toward her husband.

Considering the concerning way Jungkook described their relationship, it was a good way to segue the conversation into uncovering her true feelings. Dr. Min noticed the way Jungkook’s eyes widened before he turned to face Yuri, anticipating her answer.

Yoongi wished he had the opportunity to meet with her on his own. Normally, this would never be a question he would be asking with the spouse present, at least without knowing the answer first, but it was important information that would help him better plan their future sessions.

It was clear the question also took Yuri off guard.

“It was Jungkook, we had seen each other a few times before and our parents made us go on a couple of dates. I would be more surprised if it wouldn’t have been Jungkook.”

“You didn’t answer my question. How did you feel that it was specifically Jungkook?”

Yuri’s face changed. He could sense she was slightly irritated again.

“What do you want me to say, I couldn’t wait to get married to him? Is that what would make you happy?” Her words were for Dr. Min, but she eventually turned to face Jungkook.

“I’m not expecting anything. I just wanted your honest thoughts about what you felt like at that moment; the fact you were getting married forcefully, and that it was Jungkook at the end of that aisle. How would you have felt if it was someone else?”

“No different. I was only doing it for the company, it just happened to be Jungkook that I married. I mean, it probably would have been his older brother if he hadn't left.” Yuri was looking at it very logically, but she didn’t seem to care when she finished ranting about Jungkook turning away to wipe away his tears.

“How about now, do you feel the same way? You wouldn’t have cared whether it was Jungkook or his brother you married?” Dr. Min pressed.

“Well… I know Jungkook more. I’ve only met his brother a couple of times, and from those few instances, I think Jungkook and I work a little better.” This should have been the moment that gave Jungkook some hope, but all he was hearing was ‘convenience.’

It just so happened that his brother left for California and he offered to take his position. There was no “I’m so happy it worked out that way,” for all he knew, Yuri could have said the same thing if Junghyeon was here instead of him. Then again, his hyung probably wouldn’t even be here in therapy. His brother was always great with people and had ten times more experience in relationships than he did. Maybe Yuri would have been happier if she had married him instead.

What was wrong with him?

“What makes you say that Yuri?” Dr. Min could sense Jungkook was spiraling, he just hoped this question would bring some sort of reassurance.

“Me and Jungkook just… we just…” For the first time, she stumbled.

“What Yuri?” Jungkook suddenly interjected. “We what?”

“I think we work.” It was the same robotic answer from earlier. Jungkook sat there stunned wondering why she wasn’t telling him?

Something in him snapped.

“Yuri, why aren’t you telling him? He’s a professional; he’s here to tell me what I’m doing wrong. Tell him how being married to me makes you miserable. I'm trying to fix things, at least make you more comfortable. Tell him, please tell him!” Jungkook cried, he was desperate to finally understand what he had done to make her hate him so much.

Why couldn’t she understand? He just wanted to make her happy.

Yuri just leaned back on the couch and rolled her eyes, again.

“I can’t believe you’re crying about this.” She mumbled.

Jungkook hurriedly wiped his eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t do anything right.” He tried to laugh it off.

If the red flags weren’t waving before they were about to fly off at this point. It was so strange. Yoongi felt like this appointment was close to derailing, so he tried his best to steer them back on topic.

“Yuri, are there any issues you have with Jungkook you want to address in our sessions? It could be anything, I’m sure you heard Jungkook is very willing to listen and hear any qualms you may have with him or your relationship.” Yoongi found himself worried about what she was going to say.

Yuri thought for a bit before settling on a simple answer. “He’s too clingy.”

“In what ways?” Dr. Min hoped to coax more out of her.

“I don’t know… he’s more into being close, I’m just not like that.” It was still vague and didn’t quite make sense.

“I get that not everyone is the affectionate type, I’m the same way actually, but there are still ways to show you care besides physical touch. People have different love languages— considering you both were arranged at such a young age, you might still be trying to explore what works best for you. I might be able to recommend to you both some exercises you might be able to try in order to explore those sides of yourselves.” Jungkook was holding onto every word the doctor was saying. Maybe this might be it.

Dr. Min made a note to return to those exercises at the end of the session.

“Yuri, I would like to talk about something that Jungkook discussed with me in our interview. I don’t want to speak for him, so Jungkook, feel free to jump in at any moment, but one of the things he mentioned was his desire for you to touch him more. I think in regards to affection—“

“Is he talking about our sex life?!” Yuri exclaimed suddenly, turning to face him.

Yoongi’s eyes widened at her outburst. “It was mentioned, but that’s not—“

“I can’t believe you…” Yuri scoffed, turning away from him.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook didn’t even try to fight her.

“I think it’s healthy to discuss it. You’re meant to be a couple and I hope you both know that communication is one of the building blocks into facilitating a good relationship. Things like sex, which is a boundary you both have crossed, in order to make sure everyone is satisfied, should be actively discussed with each other.” Dr. Min pointed out. This appointment was going left, he had simply wanted this to be a point about compromise, but the topic shifted so quickly.

“I get it might be a little awkward with me being here, but if it’s something you feel like you need to work on in your relationship, this is the place to discuss it.” Yoongi watched Yuri scoff at his words.

“That hadn’t been my point though— I only brought up intimacy to demonstrate how relationships take compromise to work. Jungkook had mentioned how physical touch seems to be something he really values in a relationship— this could include holding hands, cuddling, kissing, small things like that. Yuri you don’t share those same values, which is completely fine. Relationships require both parties taking and giving in order to make work. In this case, Yuri, you could try and be a little more affectionate with Jungkook because you know that means a lot to him. And Jungkook, it is important that you give Yuri her space when she needs it. This balance is important in working toward a healthy relationship.” He finally seemed to hold their attention as he went on.

“Communication is key. Knowing how to effectively tell your partner whenever you feel the balance might be off, is important to maintaining the relationship. This helps your partner feel seen, heard, and allows you both not to be in the dark about how each other is feeling. Jungkook, why don’t you tell Yuri some of the things we talked about in your session?” Dr. Min ushered, hoping Jungkook’s own words would be good when articulating these points, but he could sense Jungkook’s hesitancy on how he shakily looked between him and Yuri.

Jungkook sat up slightly. “All I want is for you to want me Yuri… maybe we shouldn’t have had sex so soon before getting to know each other but…” Jungkook felt horrible for even mentioning this, “I feel like I do so much— I try my best to make you happy, but I don’t feel like you’re putting in any effort, or even want to put in any effort into our relationship. I know we were arranged and things aren’t going to just magically work out, but I thought we both agreed on our honeymoon that we were going to try our best to make the most out of the situation.” Jungkook's voice started to shake as the tears had already begun to fall.

“I know I’m making a mess of things, but I just want you to tell me what I do wrong. I want you to know I’m committed to you, to our relationship, and the reason I brought us here is all for our future, I want an ‘us.’ I just want to know you’re trying… I’ll take anything… don’t leave so early in the morning and stay in bed to cuddle, kiss me when you leave, hug me, kiss me when you come back, take me out on dates, invite me out with your friends, and—“ He was a mess, saying anything and everything that was coming into mind.

“Yuri, I want you all the time, you have no fucking idea. I promise I want this, I want you, but I’m frustrated. I wish I wasn’t, but I am because my wife is gorgeous and gives me every reason to want her every single day, but— fuck, but you always lead me on and… I know it’s hard to want me, I know it’s so hard…” Really, why would she ever want him?

“I know whenever we do have sex I’m not the best at it, I could be better, I want to be better, but—but…. but…” Somehow the tears poured out even harder when he realized he had nothing. Why would Yuri ever want him, why would anyone ever want him?

Absolutely nothing about him was worth putting in the effort that he wished for so badly.

“Jung—“ Dr. Min was about to interject but Yuri was quicker.

“I can not fucking believe this, is this seriously how you talk about me when I’m not here?!” She was yelling, this shocked Dr. Min, but Jungkook almost seemed to completely shut down, staring at Yuri blankly with these wide, round, sad eyes.

“You’re actually pathetic, I can’t believe I married such a fucking loser… And you want to know why I never want you? It’s because you act like this! You’re always fucking complaining about something, you cry about everything, you’re not normal for one fucking minute. You’re talking about our private business in front of this stranger and painting me like I’m just this bad fucking person!”

Yuri suddenly stood up, the blanket dropping to the floor.

“Why don’t you tell him there’s absolutely nothing in that head of yours and the only thing that seems to do any sort of thinking is your dick, and you whine every time I say no.” All Dr. Min could look at was Jungkook as Yuri practically screamed in his face. Jungkook just looked like a deer trapped in headlights at how scared he seemed, and Dr. Min noticed the way his hands were shaking and grabbing onto the pillow on his lap a little too tightly.

Oh no.

“Yuri please—“ Dr. Min tried to interject once again but was immediately shut down.

“Jungkook, you want to hear why I don’t want you?! You never let me do what I want, it’s always us, never me. You make me feel claustrophobic, you cry at the littles things, you fuck like a robot, and you finish in two seconds. Why would I ever want to be at home? Why would I ever want to be with you?!”

“Yuri!” Yoongi once again tried to stop her, a little more firmly this time, sensing disaster was near.

“The fact that you wasted my time bringing me here because your dumb ass can’t figure out why I don’t want to deal with you— I honestly have no words, because why did I have to marry such a pathetic fucking excuse of a man?!” Yuri lashed, and with that, she rolled her eyes one last time before she grabbed her purse and stormed out of his office.

Dr. Min was stunned. In all his years of practice, nothing like that had ever happened during any of his sessions, but his own shock was dwarfed by how concerned he was for Jungkook. The minute Yuri slammed the door behind her, his trembling seemed to only get worse, and his choked cries were replaced with gasps for air.

What Yoongi had feared became all too real when he saw Jungkook desperately reaching to tug at his tie, and he suddenly looked like he just came back from running a marathon.

Dr. Min immediately flipped from professional mode into caretaker, jumping up from his chair to sit beside Jungkook on the couch.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” Yoongi tried to reassure him, pulling him into a tight embrace and gently rubbing his back.

“Everything she said— she-she’s fucking right.” He was hardly able to get out the words.

“No, she’s not Jungkook, don’t listen to her.”

“My wife— she’s my wife— how can I not listen?!” He choked into his shoulder.

Yoongi sensed this was only going to get worse.

“Jungkook, listen to me ok? I’m going to need you to take deep breaths for me, alright? In and out, in and out, in and out—“ Yoongi pulled back to demonstrate steady breathing, making sure Jungkook looked at him.

Eventually, he attempted to join the doctor. Jungkook was definitely shaky, but it was better than nothing.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get you some water real quick, but in the meantime please repeat over and over out loud— it’s okay to not be okay. Okay?” Dr. Min advised, but he could immediately tell Jungkook was not listening.

“She’s right— why-why did I—“

“Jungkook, say it with me.” Dr. Min made sure Jungkook was actually looking into his eyes before continuing.

“It’s okay to not be okay— say it with me. It’s okay to not be okay.” Yoongi kept repeating, waiting for Jungkook to join him, still trembling in his grasp.

“It’s okay to not be okay.”

“It’s okay—“

“It’s okay to not be okay.”

“It’s okay to not be okay.” Jungkook was eventually able to force it out.

“Keep repeating and continue taking deep breaths; I’m going to get you water.” Yoongi said and Jungkook shakily nodded, reassuring that he had heard him.

Yoongi was finally able to get up and he quickly made his way out of his office to where his secretary sat. Luckily for him, right behind her desk was a mini fridge where they kept refreshments.

“Dr. Min, what’s going on? I heard screaming, someone stormed out of here—“ She asked, her concern already on her features.

“I’ll explain later, can you hand me a bottle of water?— My client is having a panic attack.” Yoongi rushed out. His secretary looked shocked but quickly rolled her chair over to the fridge behind her.

“Oh my gosh, is everything ok?” She asked as she took the bottle out and handed it to him.

“We’re trying to get there. Thank you so much.” Yoongi said before hurrying back into his office.

He found Jungkook still just as distraught as when he left, but he was still repeating the phrase and trying his best to take deep breaths in between.

“Good job.” Yoongi smiled, trying to reassure him.

“Here, this will help.” He handed him the water bottle, but Jungkook’s hands were shaking so much, he couldn’t open it. Yoongi was quick to step in and screw off the cap for him, gently guiding the bottle to Jungkook’s mouth so he could drink, fearing he might spill it if he tried doing it on his own.

Yoongi put his arm around Jungkook as they both faced the window. By now, the sun had almost set completely. The city lights were bright, you could see a few stars decorating the sky, but a sliver of orange accented the horizon, the last bit of sunlight of the day fading.

Jungkook kept taking deep breaths and trying his best to repeat the phrase that Yoongi told him to, but occasionally those thoughts that probably garnered the attack would return with full force and suddenly he was shaking again and he struggled to catch his breath.

Jungkook wondered if the doctor thought he was as pathetic as he felt, but he never said a word as he cried his eyes out and tried to pull himself together. All his brain could focus on was the look on Yuri’s face as she told him how she felt. How dare he say all that? He should have known better. Why didn’t he know that? What was wrong with him?

After many more tears, Jungkook was finally able to calm down. His suit jacket was draped over the armrest of the couch, and the tips of his hair that sat right at his cheeks were soaked— which he needed a haircut. He kept forgetting to do that, it was getting too long now.

“Jungkook, how long has this been happening?” Dr. Min eventually asked.

Jungkook was sitting with his head in his hands, his face burning at an alarming degree. He felt so embarrassed for causing such a scene. He was too much in his own thoughts to realize the doctor had asked him a question. Dr. Min gently pulled his shoulder back to make sure he was listening.

“Jungkook, did you hear me? How long has this been happening?” Yoongi asked again.

Jungkook sighed, his face was still wet from the tears that hadn’t stopped falling.

“Not too long… I’ve only felt like this a couple of times before, it’s never been this bad though— which I’m very sorry for. I’m so sorry about making such a scene—“

“Don’t be, it isn’t your fault, and this is really serious.” Yoongi sighed, wishing Jungkook would stop blaming himself for everything. “Does anyone close to you know you’ve been having panic attacks?” He asked next.

Jungkook slowly shook his head.

The only other person who might know would be Yuri, but he’s always been able to run and hide in the bathroom before it got too bad. It was still new that this was happening at all. For some reason, these days when Yuri gets like that, he gets easily overwhelmed that suddenly the room he was in felt like it was closing in on him.

In the past, he would have told Jimin, but he didn’t want his hyung to see him like this. He didn’t want him to know how pathetic he had been lately.

“You should probably tell somebody. Did having me here help at all?” Dr. Min asked.

“It really did, thank you so much.” It was truly more sympathy than he deserved. None of his attacks had been as bad as todays, but the doctor being by his side, and so attentive, made this one the shortest episode he’s had.

The silence settled in the room for a moment.

“Maybe I’m expecting too much out of this arrangement, and I’m making her miserable by trying to have us act like an actual couple.” Jungkook suddenly said, letting those thoughts take over again. “We agreed to try on our honeymoon, but— I think I did something that made her think otherwise. I’m so bad at this, Yuri wasn’t like this before we got married. She was so sweet— I just…”

“Jungkook, you shouldn’t keep blaming yourself for this. A marriage, any relationship really, takes both partners putting in the effort to make it work. I imagine being in an arranged marriage would make things harder, but both partners still need to try. Even though I don’t know the exact details, to me, it seems like you should know you’re at least putting in the work. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you’re going above and beyond.” Yoongi smiled.

“There is nothing wrong with expecting something in return. Sure, I haven’t talked to Yuri enough to know if what you’re doing is exactly what she wants; but the fact that it doesn’t seem like she’s gone through that trial and error phase with you, is an issue. You’re trying to be a couple, you’re bound to have bad days, but there should be more good ones than not. I don’t know everything about your relationship, but I can’t lie and say I’m not worried about you.” Dr. Min was being honest.

“I can’t leave though— we aren’t dating, we’re married, and not only that, so many people are relying on me to make this work! Golden Tech benefited so much from our marriage, Redno did too, and all the employees— I can’t give up. We signed a contract.” Jungkook looked panicked at the thought of what failing would mean.

“I get that, but it seems like this marriage is starting to affect your—“

“I just need to make her happy, I have to make her happy somehow. Why is it so fucking hard?! Why can’t I just do that?!” Jungkook stared down at the ground, his hands hurriedly running through his hair and tightly gripping onto his dark locks.

“Jungkook—“

“I feel like I’m letting everyone down these days— fuck, why can’t I get it together? How am I ever going to run a company like this?!” The agony he was experiencing pained his voice, and the anguish that painted his features was more than unsettling. They were sentiments that Jungkook tried to keep hidden, but everything was just spilling out at this point.

“Jungkook, that’s not—“

But instead of letting the doctor finish, he just groaned loudly, his frustration with the situation becoming overwhelming. Jungkook tried his best to hastily wipe away his tears and shake away the despair. “I should probably leave.” He suddenly interrupted, standing up way too quickly and nearly falling because his head hurt so much.

“Wait—“ Yoongi tried to stop him.

“It’s getting late anyway.” Jungkook stretched, noticing now the nightlife was already in full swing.

Yoongi wanted to tell him to stay. He felt Jungkook was close to uncovering some concerning details, but he couldn’t keep him there. But he was just really, really worried about him.

Instead, he just sighed and got up to finally turn on a light. He had kept them off, knowing Jungkook complained a couple of times that his head was hurting. Besides, the lights outside were more than enough to keep things from being pitch black.

“Jungkook, do you have anyone you could stay with tonight?” Dr. Min asked.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think it’s right for you to be alone, and maybe a night apart from Yuri would do you some good.” This was the opposite of the advice he’d normally give, but he feared any time with Yuri would push Jungkook over an edge he sensed was nearing.

Jungkook slowly nodded.

“I’m so sorry. I overstayed and went way past our session. I hope I wasn’t in the way of any other appointments, I can pay for the extra time.” Jungkook offered but Yoongi shook his head.

“You were my last appointment for the day, and there is no need. You left early for your intake interview anyway, so let’s just say we made up the time today.” Yoongi smiled. Jungkook was about to protest otherwise, but Yoongi quickly shushed him.

“Before you go though, I wanted to give you this.” Yoongi walked over to his desk and grabbed a smaller notepad out of a drawer, before hurriedly scribbling something on it.

It only took a second before Dr. Min was walking back, after ripping a page off to give to Jungkook.

“What’s this?”

“I’m a couple’s therapist, but I have a friend who might be better to talk to about yourself and what you might be dealing with. If necessary he also knows someone who can prescribe some medication to help make your days a little more manageable.” At his words, Jungkook looked at the note a little more closely.

K͟i͟m͟ ͟N͟a͟m͟j͟o͟o͟n͟

T͟h͟e͟r͟a͟p͟i͟s͟t͟ ͟(͟S͟p͟e͟c͟i͟a͟l͟i͟z͟e͟d͟ ͟i͟n͟ ͟M͟e͟n͟t͟a͟l͟ ͟H͟e͟a͟l͟t͟h͟)͟

A͟l͟o͟n͟g͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟a͟ ͟p͟h͟o͟n͟e͟ ͟n͟u͟m͟b͟e͟r͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟t͟h͟e͟ ͟a͟d͟d͟r͟e͟s͟s͟ ͟o͟f͟ ͟t͟h͟e͟ ͟c͟l͟i͟n͟i͟c͟.͟

“I think it would be a good idea to talk to him. I’m a little worried about you, I can’t lie.” Yoongi chuckled lightly, but he really was concerned. It would be wrong to say the red flags in his relationship were obvious when he only got such a brief look into it, but he also feared Jungkook’s mental health was in a dangerous place.

Jungkook nodded once again, staring down at the note and stuffing it into his pocket. He turned toward the door, trying not to show how even that simple movement made his head feel like it could split open.

“I hope to see you again,” Yoongi said, hoping he’d come back at some point, yet there was a part of him that didn’t. Maybe Jungkook would take some time to think about what his relationship was doing to him, maybe he might realize he was better off without Yuri, or maybe all hope wasn’t lost and this session would be enough to spark some change in their relationship.

“Me too…” There was something so sad about Jungkook’s tone. Yoongi wanted to question him,

but Jungkook grabbed his coat and was out the door before he could even get

another word out.

•────•──────────•────•

The minute he closed the door behind him, Jungkook was nearly blinded by the bright fluorescent lights of the waiting room. They only seemed to make his headache worse.

Jungkook walked as he tried to put his suit jacket and coat on. It was still cold despite being a few weeks into spring.

“Everything okay?” His attention snapped to the secretary who was still sitting at her desk.

When he turned to her, he noticed her shocked expression. It was only then that he considered how much of a mess he likely was. His eyes were probably red and swollen, his face puffy, and he knew his hair was a mess from pulling at it.

Jungkook bowed slightly. “I’m fine, I’m sorry for keeping you here late.” He truly felt bad.

“Don’t worry about it, go get some rest. Have a good night!” Her cheery voice couldn’t stop the small smile appearing on his face. For a second he believed it actually might be.

Jungkook said his goodbyes before stumbling down the hall, trying his best to put on his jackets. His driver was already waiting for him downstairs. Dae-Jung had texted and said Yuri had left with her friends a while ago. He wasn’t surprised; he’d only been holding her back by bringing her with him.

“Where should I take you, sir?” Dae-Jung asked as they both settled in the car.

On his way down, Jungkook considered taking the doctor’s advice and staying with Jimin. He would no doubt let him stay if he asked, but he felt no greater need than to be alone right now.

“You can drop me off at the apartment, I’ll only need a few minutes to pick up a few things. I made reservations at a hotel, so you’ll take me there next.” Jungkook sighed, staring outside at the rain that suddenly started pouring the minute he made it downstairs.

Dae-Jung nodded before pulling off and beginning the journey back to the apartment.

Just a little ways down the street they passed by a street bar where they had a sign outside that read in bold letters: “Today’s Special: Dakgangjeong” (Sweet Crispy Korean Fried Chicken). It was only then that Jungkook realized he hadn’t eaten all day.

Maybe that’s why his head was hurting so much. He had been so busy earlier trying to get all his work done so he could meet Yuri at the apartment for their appointment, that he forgot to eat lunch once again.

The second he remembered, it was like a wave suddenly hit him, making him realize how hungry he was. Jungkook was tempted to tell Dae-Jung to pull over— dakgangjeong with soju sounded amazing right now, but ultimately decided against it as they rolled by.

It was raining, cold, and it was starting to get late. Besides, as much as he wanted to be alone, drinking by himself would bring him down to a whole new level of sadness that he wasn’t in the mood at all to explore. He already felt shitty enough, and being in an environment like that right now would only make him feel worse.

Instead, he promised to bring ramen with him and make it at the hotel later.

The ride back was long. Traffic was awful like it usually was, but Jungkook was so tired and his headache continued to worsen. Every little bump or sharp turn would have him rubbing his temples in hopes that it would somehow help; it didn’t.

His pain only made him recount the awful day he had and, as much as he tried to stop it, the tears started falling again. The minute his eyes started welling up only made the pain in his head worse, and the thought of Dae-Jung noticing him crying made him quickly try to fan them away.

Jungkook had already received a concerning look the minute he came downstairs and Dae-Jung was standing there ready with the umbrella. He had given Jungkook the same strange look as the secretary did upstairs. He looked like shit and he knew it. What made it worse though was the fact that he sees Dae-Jung often, and he hated the thought of people close to him knowing how pathetic he was these days.

The ride back home took almost an hour because of the traffic. By the time he was going up the elevator, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Jungkook sluggishly made his way down the hall, staring at the note Dr. Min had given him before he left. He was considering if he should really call the number sometime tomorrow when he had time, but then he came to the door and mindlessly punched in the code. Jungkook was so out of it, he had closed the door behind him without thinking too much, too busy contemplating if he should bring that wine his dad gave him after his business trip to France.

He was just ready to get this packing over with, but he was shocked when he turned around to see Yuri staring at him. She was sitting on one of the kitchen barstools, wearing a tank top and a pair of those boy shorts that normally would drive him crazy.

It wasn’t like he was mad at her, if anything, she had every right to be mad at him. He just expected she would be out with her friends still (he wished she was). He had simply planned to text her that he was staying at a hotel— he didn’t expect her to care, she was hardly at the apartment anyway. He was thinking maybe she would have celebrated, maybe even thrown a little party like that one time he left for the US for a week.

No, he didn’t expect at all to see her here. If things couldn’t get any stranger, she suddenly got up from the stool and slowly walked over until she was standing only a few inches away. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was leaving for a few days (at least), and that he was there to pack and he’d quickly be out of her hair. But he just stood there, his eyes bouncing between her eyes that were looking directly into his, and the view down her tank top.

“Uhh—“ He started, a little dazed.

“What took you so long?” Yuri asked, the tone in her voice was low and made goosebumps quickly appear on his skin.

He didn’t even really register her question. He wondered if he should tell her what happened after she left, or at least about all the traffic they ran into on their way over, but what would that do?

“I thought you were out with your friends.” He simply settled.

“I was but—“ Yuri took a step closer, making Jungkook step back, and his back hit the door behind him. “I decided to come home early.” Her voice was sultry as she got closer, her chest eventually pressing into his. He couldn’t even look her in the eye anymore.

“W-why…?” He stumbled.

“Because…” Yuri’s fingers slowly trailed up his arm. “You said I don’t touch you, so I was thinking…” her hand rested against his neck to pull herself up so she was right by his ear. “Why don’t I let you fuck me today?” She said it so softly that he nearly moaned.

As much as the very thought of having sex with Yuri excited him, what she said during the session today was still playing repeatedly in his head. The thought of disappointing her again was almost too much to bear. He knew he would, it’s been four months since they last had sex.

It happened when Yuri had come back drunk from a New Years party; he had been sleeping in bed when he woke up to her tugging at his pants. It was 3am, he had to wake up for work in a few hours, but the minute she whispered “I want your cock,” he was suddenly very awake. This had happened a few weeks after the whole pillow drama, and he was desperate to get you off his mind and focus on his wife. He could have said he was tired, still trying to shake the sleepiness away, but the minute he got inside an actual person— not his hand, not his pillow— things did not end well. It probably only lasted a few minutes, at best, before he finished.

He could never forget the look of disappointment on her face, though he pleaded to give him a few minutes so they could try again. He had never felt so small. Yuri said something similar to what she had said in therapy today, before grabbing her clothes and storming to the shower.

The memory brought a frown to his face, which Yuri immediately noticed making her pull away.

“Are we doing this or not?” She questioned, sensing his hesitancy.

This really wasn’t something he should be doing. Dae-Jung was waiting for him downstairs ready to take him to a hotel. His head hurt. He was tired. He had no reason to be mad at her, but he didn’t want to see her. She made the anxiety he’d been fighting all day come back all too quickly.

This was wrong, but he didn’t care.

When was he going to get a chance like this again? In another four months? No, he had to do this.

Before he allowed himself to think about it anymore, Jungkook hurriedly stuffed the note from Dr. Min back into his pocket, he grabbed her wrists to pull her close, and he gingerly met her lips.

He was soft as his hands came up to gently cup her cheek. The action made his heart flutter, he wished they kissed like this more often. This was nice. Jungkook would have been happy if they stopped here, really, it was all he needed at that moment, but he felt Yuri pull at his jacket.

“C'mon, aren’t you going to fuck me now?” Yuri tried to make it sound sexy, but Jungkook could tell she was a little annoyed he wasn’t doing anything yet.

Right. That’s all this was.

He let his hands slide down and settle on her waist— he took a moment to admire her before moving back.

When will he get another chance?

“Turn around…” He could tell Yuri was a little shocked at the command, but she smirked nonetheless before turning like he asked.

“Want your hands on the table, arch your back for me.” Jungkook’s voice was low. He tried his best to be in the moment as he watched Yuri strut her way over to their dining table. Even in the darkness of their apartment the view was amazing. Normally he would be drooling right now, but he still found it hard to actually want this.

He’ll make this quick— in, out, and then he’ll quickly pack. Simple.

Jungkook let his coat fall to the floor before walking over to Yuri, and he swiftly had his hands on her waist. He hurriedly tried to lose himself in the moment, chasing his hips into hers and kissing her neck. The action got an immediate reaction out of Yuri, and he took this chance to let his hand slide down into her tiny shorts, his fingers ran through her slit, and he wasn’t surprised to find her soaked already.

Yuri liked preparing herself in advance. Jungkook had told her many times that he wouldn’t mind helping, but she would always say she didn’t want him to get too turned on beforehand, fearing he’d finish before they actually got to fuck. Jungkook always tried to believe she knew best, but it was at times like these that he missed the most being buried between her legs, tasting her, and hearing her soft sighs of pleasure.

It also made him sad to think that’s how little she thought of him.

Jungkook tried not to think about it as his fingers settled on her clit, quickly stroking the bud, hoping her soft moans would be enough to bring him back from his spiraling thoughts.

Usually by now he’d be hard, desperately trying to get his pants down so he could finally feel her after so long. He wanted that now, but he couldn’t stop his mind from being elsewhere.

“J-Jungkook, are you—“ It was at that moment when she seemed to notice the divergence from the routine.

“You’re not hard yet?” She sounded so surprised, despite him only being in the apartment for probably not even five minutes.

“Ummm…” It was an insane expectation, but he still found himself panicking.

“Let’s go to bed, maybe less clothes might help…” He sounded so unsure, but he hoped that’s all it would take.

Yuri gave him a questionable look before she hurriedly grabbed his arm and led them to their bedroom.

The minute they were inside, Yuri tried to keep up her playful, flirty demeanor as she let go of him in the doorway and began a slight strip tease as she walked towards the bed. Her tank top hit the floor before she snaked her shorts down her legs.

If this was last week he probably would have exploded at the sight, but all he could think about was how disappointed he was about to make her, and how much his head still hurts.

No.

Don’t you see what’s right in front of you? You won’t get another chance like this for months.

Jungkook flipped off the lights.

“Ummm…” Yuri was confused. “Jungkook, why the fuck did you turn off the lights?”

“Don’t—“

“Don’t you want to look at me?” She sounded as if she was about to get angry.

“You said you find it easier this way. You don’t remember?” How could she forget they normally keep the lights off for these things? It was her who told him that this was the only way she’d ever fuck him.

“Jungkook, don’t be ridiculous, turn the lights back on and get over here.” She sighed.

Seems like she didn’t remember.

Jungkook hesitantly did as she asked, he turned the lights back on and let his suit jacket fall to the floor. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the thoughts in his head that only seemed to grow louder as he finally climbed on top of her.

He tried his best to focus on Yuri, on the fact that she was here and wanted to do this with him. Right, she wants this, and he does as well. It’s been months, regardless of her harsh words in therapy, maybe there was a chance that she had actually listened.

This thought fueled him into pulling her close and kissing her passionately, he was soft just like earlier, but with a more hurried, desperate need. He wanted her and he was trying to convince his own body he wanted this as well.

“Jungkook, hurry, take off your pants,” Yuri whined, tugging at his belt.

Right, clothes need to come off.

Jungkook looked down and realized he was still fully clothed.

Right… right…

He quickly hopped off the bed, his belt hit the floor first. With burning cheeks, he undid the button and pulled the zipper down before finally his pants joined the rest of the clothes scattered everywhere.

He was about to get back on the bed, but Yuri stopped him with her hand.

“Your shirt too…” She looked down at the button-up he was still wearing.

Jungkook suddenly felt the anxiety he’d been trying his best to manage spike at the mention of taking his shirt off. He still hadn’t made time to go back to the gym this week, and of course, of all times Yuri wanted to have the lights on, it had to be the moment he didn’t look as good as he usually did.

Would she notice?

Yuri picked up on his hesitancy. “Hello? What’s wrong with you today?”

“I-I’m sorry.” He stammered.

He was going to disappoint her.

With his heart nearly beating out of his chest, he slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, letting the fabric drop to the floor.

Her eyes scanned over him and his feeble attempt at covering himself up. In that moment, all the thoughts he’d been trying to suppress came back with a vengeance. He remembered her words in therapy, the disappointment he brought, how he could never make her happy.

“Are you coming?” She asked, the irritation evident in her tone.

Jungkook slowly made his way onto the bed, trying to push those thoughts away. But as he kissed her, as he tried to ignore how shitty he felt, it just wasn’t working, and it was then that he knew she could tell something was wrong.

“You’re still not hard…?” She was angry now.

He wasn’t, but he wanted to be, he wanted her. He just needed something to take away the thoughts swirling around in his head.

“Maybe your hand might help…” He felt awful for even suggesting it. He shouldn’t be greedy considering what she was offering, but for a second he thought about what Dr. Min had said earlier: Both people need to try, and Jungkook was clearly struggling.

It was obvious his words shocked her, and Jungkook used this opportunity to lightly grab her hand. Despite how much he was shaking, he slowly guided it down his body in hopes that she’d reach into his boxers and fix the situation. He knew it would have worked. In that moment, he would have easily forgotten all his troubling thoughts, all his worries, how hungry he was, his awful day, his headache, and how much he just wanted to sleep. He would have forgotten everything the minute she would have wrapped her hand around his cock. He would have been able to fuck her like he wanted.

But no, the second it became obvious what he was doing, Yuri yanked her hand back.

“What the actual fuck?” She was rightfully pissed.

He gave up at that point, he knew it wasn’t happening. Jungkook buried his head in her shoulder, hoping to hide the shame that was burning him away inside. Not only was he unable to give himself what he wanted, but he also let his wife down.

“Yuri I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can do this.” Jungkook sobbed. Yes, he was crying again.

“What?”

“So much shit happened today— I’m so tired, I haven’t eaten all day, I can’t stop thinking, and, I just—” Was this really an acceptable excuse? He even had a hard time convincing himself. Still, he held onto her tightly. He wanted her here.

“Maybe we could try again later, please don’t leave me.” He finally pulled back to look into her eyes.

“We could stay in bed and cuddle, or I could make us dinner— we could even watch this movie I heard was really good.” Jungkook noticed her displeased expression become more irate the longer he rambled.

“Or maybe there’s something you want to watch— we could do anything you want… just… just don’t leave me alone.” All he wanted was his wife in his arms for one night. It felt so good to see her, to have her here with him, and as much as he wanted to be on his own when he walked in, he didn’t trust himself to be alone.

He wanted Yuri, he wanted to feel she wanted him as well.

Jungkook stared down at her, pleading with his eyes she’d say yes to something, anything, and it would have made up for how shitty today’s been.

He wanted to eat dinner together, to show off his mediocre cooking skills, something they could have laughed about over the wine his father gave him. Then they would have moved to the couch; Jungkook would have turned on that one movie he knew she would enjoy (he’s stopped himself from watching it, in hopes she would join him one day).

In his fantasy, they would cuddle, but he would have been fine even if they were five feet apart. Jungkook would have just been happy she was with him. Eventually, his emotions and the sexual frustration from the past few months would have him leaning over and he would have taken her right there on the couch; the movie would continue playing in the background, but neither of them would have been paying attention, as they were too busy enjoying the sounds of each other’s pleasure more than anything playing on TV.

Exhaustion would have come almost immediately after he spilled inside her, but Yuri would smile and pull him close, letting him fall asleep right there on top of her. It would have been too cozy, the feeling of her warm body embracing him as she ran her hands down his back, making him fall asleep instantly.

Once the movie would have ended, Yuri would've lightly woken him up so they could wash up before bed. She would have guided him to the shower and teased him about the fact that his eyes kept fluttering closed, but the water was warm, and he was just so happy and at peace. He would have cried the minute her hands lightly massaged his scalp, but she wouldn’t have noticed. He would have happily gone to bed with his wife in his arms, and—

This moment would have made up for all the hardships in their marriage, it would have been enough to give him hope once again, it would have erased his growing desire for his coworker, it would have made him believe that Yuri wanted him even only a little. Even if that wasn’t exactly what happened, he would have been just as happy. He would have taken anything…

Yuri rolled her eyes underneath him. “Jungkook, get off of me.”

As much as he didn’t want to let her go, he listened.

“Yuri, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He pleaded for her forgiveness as he watched her go over to grab her clothes off the floor.

“I can’t believe I left my friends for this.” She angrily grumbled to herself.

“Yuri ple—”

“Jungkook stop it, ok?!” Yuri yelled and it instantly had him shutting up. “I can’t believe I keep giving chances to someone so pathetic.” The words had Jungkook frozen on the bed.

“How am I so unlucky? We’re only twenty-five, but my god, the guy I had to marry, his dick doesn't even work! I went out of my way to come home early for you, and this is what I’m welcomed with; pathetic excuses to make up for your incompetence. And then you have the audacity to try and make me touch you because you can’t get your shit together!” Yuri gave him that disgusted look he’d feared the minute he saw she was home.

Her words cut deep, like a sword to a piece of paper. It seemed so simple and easy to her, but Jungkook was left in pieces, shattered, destroyed. At this point, he was so broken, he believed he deserved every word she said.

“And you’re crying again!” She acted shocked, but it was only an act because he really does cry a lot these days. There was nothing shocking about that.

Yuri looked at him for a second. He probably looked like a mess. He knew his face was red, it certainly felt hot, and it was just covered with tears and snot.

Despite this, despite everything, he didn’t want Yuri to leave. He feared the dark thoughts were beginning to be the only thing he could think about. He needed her here at least. “Yuri— please, don’t— don’t go. I don’t want to be alone, I’m scared, I—”

Yuri sighed. “I’m going to shower, and I’m leaving with my friends right after.” Before she walked off, she made the dramatic point of taking off her wedding ring and stuffing it into the drawer of her vanity. It was then that she stormed into the bathroom and slammed and locked the door behind her.

The silence. The fucking silence of the apartment after the door closed was too much to bear. Silence was always the perfect breeding ground for the vilest thoughts to flood into his head and engulf him entirely.

It felt like they were trying to fit just one more person in an already overcrowded elevator, but he was already tightly pressed against the corner, and the elevator was buzzing from keeping the doors open for so long. But the people in front just kept pushing him further in, trying to squeeze and shove more people inside. Just one more person, one more person and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Just one more thought and he feared it would be the end of him. His thoughts screamed, shrieked, wailed in his head, but even in the chaos, Jungkook could hear every fucking word.

This was all his fault.

For a moment, Jungkook wished he had listened to Dr. Min and gone to Jimin’s apartment instead. Things would have been better and at least his hyung would have stayed by his side. Now he was alone. So fucking alone.

Jungkook tried his best not to cry too loudly; he knew Yuri hated it when he was loud, so he pulled the covers over his body and put his pillow over his face to suppress his screams. He cried because he felt Yuri was right, he cried because he felt his marriage really was in shambles, he cried because he was going to end up worse than his parents, he cried because he knew he was the one causing it. But what was the loudest in the darkest chamber of his thoughts, was that he believed he wasn’t worth the love he craved for.

Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about how miserable Yuri seemed. Even if he thought he was trying hard, for someone to say those things, for his wife to look at him like that, it was for a reason. He knew it.

Everything. Everything had to be his fault.

•────•──────────•────•

Jungkook ended up not eating that day.

Yuri left right after, just like she’d said, and she was hardly at the apartment for a few days after that. Jungkook was left largely alone, he didn’t go to work the next day, nor the next, or the one day after that. He found it too hard to get out of bed.

He was gone for a week, ignoring most of the concerned calls he would continuously get from someone at the company.

It was that weekend when Yuri came home for a brief moment only to grab something she needed. She had almost missed it completely, but before she turned to head downstairs, where her friends were waiting for her in the car, Yuri looked out the window to see Jungkook sitting on their balcony.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a cause of concern, but it had been pouring outside all day. Jungkook eventually explained that he had been sitting out since the rain had started (which was around noon), but when Yuri came home it was nearly 8:30pm…

He got really sick after that, pneumonia.

Yuri yelled at him for being dumb, but it just made things worse. Jungkook at least hoped the diagnosis would be enough to get Yuri to stay, but of course, why would she stay with him when he was battling pneumonia?

He believed he deserved the suffering. It was karma for skipping work for a week, for wasting his day instead of being productive, for being glued to the wine fridge and drinking everything he’d been saving for a special occasion.

Jungkook was never the same after all of this.

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#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #for the birds #bts #jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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somerandomdudelmao · 1 year

Note

there's something so potent about mikey's spirit protecting leo and i'm going to try to put it into words here but forgive me if i don't accurately get my point across

by all accounts - mikey should have shattered along with his body. and you can see the evidence of that because his spirit is cracked and fraying and glitching just like when he was alive and pushing himself too far. and yet against all fucking odds he's holding himself together and ripping through the veil almost the same way casey is just so he can stand over his big brother and return the favor leo's been doing for years - saying 'don't touch him'

leo's been acting as a shield, but even shields wear down and crack and break because they're meant to take hits, to protect the person on the other side, but nothing in this world is indestructible - not forever.

recently i learned more about radiation therapy, the way it can target certain areas in the body with the right settings, but also the way it progressively wears you down because as much as it can help you, it's also hurting you. it feels very similar to the way leo stands directly in the path of the krang's power because 'i don't have magic, it can't hurt me' but it can because the magic was there once and nothing is ever fully erased from existence. it doesn't feel like it's hurting him, but it is. and like a wilting plant trying to sprout new growth, repeatedly exposed to blistering sunlight but never being watered because 'it's already wilting and dying, there's no point' - but there's always something beneath the soil, some remnant that toils ever upward to keep growing and living. leo's never really given himself a chance, has he? because he's been so focused on keeping mikey out of harm's way that he never stopped to dig down a little further and find those roots, still trying to take hold.

there's no way of knowing at this point in the story if leo is ever supposed to find his magic/ninpo again, but wouldn't that be something? anything can grow, given the right environment and attention. take what's left from the ruined timeline and plant him in new soil, free of warfare, safe with his brothers, and who knows what could grow.

and if mikey is there? if his family is there? you can be damn well sure they're going to water anything that looks like new growth - why wouldn't they? it's time to return the favor, after all.

Yes yep mhm uh huh YES T H I S

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icarusredwings · 17 days

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This has been on my mind for NO Fucking reason so to make it shut up, lets talk about it.

"Why doesn't Wade just do chemotherapy?"

In this essay, I will explain the answer to that question, looking at Germ cancer cells and testicular cancer rates to decide-

Can Wade have biological kids?

Let's start with the basic facts.

What a germ cell tumor?

A germ cell tumor is a mass made of reproductive cells, also called germ cells. “Germ” is short for “germinate,” which means to mature. For men and people assigned male at birth (AMAB), germ cells mature into sperm. Related, germ cell tumors most often form where eggs get made (ovaries) and where sperm gets made (testicles).

[ https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/23505-germ-cell-tumor]

Testicular cancer.

Most testicular cancers start in cells known as germ cells and are called germ cell tumours. Germ cells in men produce sperm. Testicular germ cell tumours can develop from germ cell neoplasia in situ (GCNIS). GCNIS means that there are abnormal cells in the testicle.

[https://www.cancerresearchuk.org/about-cancer/testicular-cancer/types#:~:text=Most%20testicular%20cancers%20start%20in,abnormal%20cells%20in%20the%20testicle.]

More than 90% of testicular cancer start in the germ cells, which are cells in the testicles and develop into sperm. This type of cancer is known as testicular germ cell cancer. Testicular germ cell cancer can be classified as either seminomas or nonseminomas, which may be identified by microscopy.

[https://www.cancer.gov/ccg/research/genome-sequencing/tcga/studied-cancers/testicular-germ-cell-study ]

Treatments.

At the moment there is not a lot of options, the most common are:

Chemotherapy

Radiation

Surgery

Chemotherapy.

Chemotherapy works by stopping or slowing the growth of cancer cells, which grow and divide quickly. Because of his healing factor, this would probably not work and if anything cause Wade more illness seeing as Chemo causes

Fatigue

Hair loss

Easy bruising and bleeding

Infection

Anemia (low red blood cell counts)

Nausea and vomiting

Appetite changes

Constipation

Diarrhea

Mouth, tongue, and throat problems such as sores and pain with swallowing

Peripheral neuropathy or other nerve problems, such as numbness, tingling, and pain

Skin and nail changes such as dry skin and color change

Urine and bladder changes and kidney problems

Weight changes

Chemo brain, which can affect concentration and focus (serve mind fog)

Mood changes

Changes in libido and sexual function

And last but not least Fertility problems

[https://www.cancer.org/cancer/managing-cancer/treatment-types/chemotherapy/chemotherapy-side-effects.html ]

Radiation.

At high doses, radiation therapy kills cancer cells or slows their growth by damaging their DNA. Cancer cells whose DNA is damaged beyond repair stop dividing or die. When the damaged cells die, they are broken down and removed by the body. In theory this would work a little bit, for about 12 minutes and then he immediately would have all of those dead cells back because while the radiology killed one spot, cancer spreads. Quickly. With his healing factor its MUCH quicker too. All that pain for nothing.

Fatigue

Hair loss

Memory or concentration problems

Throat problems, such as trouble swallowing

Cough

Shortness of breath

Taste changes

Skin changes (such as burning and peeling)

Less active thyroid gland

Sexual problems

Fertility problems

Urinary and bladder problems

[https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/treatment/types/radiation-therapy]

Surgery.

I dont even need any sources for this. We saw what happened to his legs when ripped off. They just grew back. And if removing cancer cells makes newer cancer cells? That's useless.

Summary.

Wades entire body is cancerous. Yes. His ENTIRE body. Every arm, toe, and fingernail on this man is cancerous. His healing factor is literally just having rapid cancer growth (amongst other things)

Chemotherapy and radiation will not work on him. Chemotherapy works by killing cancerous cells in order to grow healtheir ones. Except Wade can only produce cancerous cells. Yes, while they are new and much more likely in the very early stages, it's still cancerous.

This being said, there is no cure or treatment for Wades Cancer (that we know of at this time) Its quite physically the only thing keeping him with super hero powers yet still remains even after his powers are taken.

Hate to say it.

I hate to say it but statistically removing older, more advanced cells to replace with newer, less progressive cells (aka removing or ripping off his limbs/ parts of his body so they can grow back as new and fresh) is probably the best 'treatment' Wade has right now. Radiology would work the same, right?

Yes, but A. Not as B. Too many side effects that he he'll have to deal with MORE making him even more crazy and sick. Why would he do that when he can just tease Logan into slicing a hurt leg off and go from there?

Will the treatment help him be fertile?

Realistically, without his powers, he probably would be dead in a week, perhaps less due to just HOW much cancer this man truly has.

Chemo would also make it worse. So much worse, in fact. Both pain wise and his chances at ever biologically having a child.

Result(s) Before the cancer was diagnosed, (66%) 79/120 couples who attempted to conceive succeeded within 1 year. After (Cancer) treatment, (43%) 38/88 couples conceived within 1 year.

[https://www.fertstert.org/article/S0015-0282(03)00335-2/fulltext]

Testical Germ Cell Tumors are associated with semen abnormalities before orchiectomy. This review shows an increase in abnormal semen parameters among men with TGCT even outside the treatment effects of orchiectomy, radiation, or chemotherapy.

[https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4270136/ ]

The way that TGCT affects the sperm is that it's very common for not only lower sperm count (obviously, it's hard to produce when you're fighting an entire body illness) but also changes the shape of the sperm which makes it very difficult to reach the egg. Sperm with crooked tails, double tails, double heads, or even broken sperm have a very hard time reaching the egg (think of it like natural selection) and die off before they get anywhere. If you already have low countage and most of them can't make it?

Well that's much lower chances of fertility.

In the comics.

In the comics, Wade has a daughter named Eleanor Camacho in which he was unaware of because her mother saw his face and ran away in terror. The entire thing is that her mother thought she was going to die and decided fuck it, if im gonna die Im gonna die happy so decided to spend these last moments with wade (who she literally just met- if that aint weird in itself idk what is).

She only ever found him to demand child support, and he refused to believe such a beautiful child could he his given his stance of insecurity and well- Just utter shock anyway, I think. He is right. Eleanor is gorgeous as a baby and as an adult.

(There's actually a whole comic where he's trying to fight death so his daughter doesn't die before him because he "couldn't bear the thought of living without her" so they activate a bomb "with the power of a black hole" and comit death together. It's very sweet)

TLDR

In conclusion.

Yes, Wade can have children, but he has a better chance at being successful if he removes his lower half and regrows it so that its *less* cancerous than before cells, therefore hes more likely to have normal shaped sperm and probably more of it during the process.

No, chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery would not be effective. Unfortunately, the most effective thing for him is ripping his limbs off sometimes.

"Forest- why the fuck did you write this?"

You know... I really don't know. I wanted to become a bio geneticist, and here I am. Writing about some bald guys' balls on the Internet. Siiigghh... anyway. Use this. however you want, I don't even care at this point.

#sources sited #fuck cancer #testicular cancer #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #wade has cancer #cancer awareness #what the fuck is wrong with me #in this essay i will #explain something NO ONE asked to know about #vanessa carlysle #wades daughter #eleanor camacho #for science!

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turtletaubwrites · 7 months

Text

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time.

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body.

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard.

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously.

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate.

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone.

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon.

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands.

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room.

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down.

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers.

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you.

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes.

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table.

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking.

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen.

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately.

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…”

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before.

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.”

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment.

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside.

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to.

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement.

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you.

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders.

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him.

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good.

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises.

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay.

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did.

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit.

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax.

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him.

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face.

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions.

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

#cw dark content #cw yandere #cw doctors #trafalgar law smut #eventual smut #trafalgar law x reader #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece x reader #trafalgar law fanfiction #fic requests #use of y/n #cw chronic pain #cw medical #smut

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drforambhuta · 7 months

Text

Eligibility Criteria for Cancer Vaccines:

1. Type and Stage of Cancer: The eligibility for cancer vaccines depends on the specific type and stage of cancer a patient has. Different vaccines target different cancer types, and their effectiveness may vary based on the disease stage.

2. Overall Health Status: Patients' overall health and immune function play a critical role in determining their eligibility for cancer vaccines. Those with significant comorbidities or undergoing treatments that weaken the immune system may not qualify.

3. Specific Vaccine Requirements: Each cancer vaccine has its own eligibility criteria based on its mechanism of action and target antigens. Patients may need to meet certain genetic or biomarker requirements and consider safety factors like allergies or prior adverse reactions.

4. Clinical Trial Participation: Eligibility for clinical trials, where many cancer vaccines are evaluated, often involves strict criteria to ensure patient safety and maximize the likelihood of benefitting from the experimental treatment.

5. Immunological Factors: The patient's immune status is crucial in determining vaccine eligibility, with compromised immune systems potentially disqualifying individuals from vaccination while robust immune responses may enhance vaccine effectiveness.

6. Tumor Characteristics: The molecular and genetic makeup of the tumor influences vaccine eligibility, as some vaccines target specific antigens or mutations found in certain cancer types, requiring their presence for therapeutic benefit.

7. Treatment History: Past treatments, including surgeries, chemotherapy, and immunotherapy, can impact vaccine eligibility by altering the immune environment or the patient's overall immune competence.

8. Age and Demographic Factors: Age, ethnicity, and socioeconomic status may affect vaccine eligibility, with special considerations needed for pediatric patients and underserved populations regarding access and participation in clinical trials.

There are some of the finest hospitals in Mumbai that can provide you with health checkup packages to evaluate your eligibility for a cancer vaccine, such as a full body health checkup at Saifee Hospital Mumbai.

#cancer #cancer vaccine #surgery #chemotherapy #radiation therapy #immunotherapy #full body health checkup #regular health checkups #health checkup packages

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thevelvetvampyre · 3 months

Text

Bunny to a wolf - Jonathan Crane x patient reader

“So go on bunny. Run for me.”

Warnings: Predator x prey dynamic, noncon, restraints and cuffs, victim blaming, sexual assault mentioned, he’s derogatory, creampie, dacryphilia, general smut and dark adult content

Note: this is basically an intense game of hide and seek (predator x prey kink on 🔝)

──── ──── ────

It had been a few months since the attack, the smell of musk still making your stomach turn and your face cringe.

The memory of how heavy he felt on top of you, the way he heaved against your limp body and his rough grip on your sides that bruised a deep purple the next morning. The only thing that made it more horrific was the fact that he was still out there, probably boasting about the young girl he cuffed and fucked on the side of the road after one too many beers, how tight she was and how she took him so well.

“Are you scared that it may happen again?”

Dr. Crane gazed at you expressionlessly as he held his notebook on his crossed thigh. Exasperated and bored from asking you the same questions after each therapy session, his time with you proving to be non-beneficial as each appointment came around.

“Very.”

Your voice shook as your eyes remained on your lap, unable to look your psychiatrist in the eyes as you felt him grow more irritated with you daily.

“Well- unfortunately there’s not much else I can do.”

He huffed, uncrossing his legs and widening his knees as he clenched his jaw. Pushing up the frames on his nose bridge and glaring at you disgustedly, he linked his fingers on his stomach and furrowed his brows as he analysed you.

The fear that radiated off your skin was hypnotic, capturing his affection with how weak and pathetic you looked. He could smell how scared you were. Of him or the context as to why you sat opposite him, he didn’t care. He felt honoured, blessed even, he got to hear your sweet voice string out sentences of his version of an erotic violence.

Your descriptions of the attack were pornographic to him, the way you sobbed as you went into extensive detail of the pain you felt was so arousing you’d think he was watching you get off. With each tear that rolled down your cheek, a bead of cloudy white leaked out his pulsating tip.

A seething jealousy prickled under his skin as he imagined a filthy, Gotham peasant thrusting himself into you, angry he couldn’t of been present that night to stop him. He often wondered how adorable your wrists looked cuffed together, bruising and bleeding as you tried to escape.

He dreamt of replacing the man’s drunken cock with his experienced shaft, squinting down at you begging him to stop as he felt himself spill his cum into the back of you.

Watching you now, seeing how you were still so hopeless after months of therapy, he felt he’d broken you down enough to take matters into his own hands.

“There is one more thing we could try…”

His words were slow and deliberate, the tone he emitted made it sound like he would present you with a gift, a glimpse of hope in your psychologically devastating situation.

You pull your eyes up to meet his, a small haze had covered your vision and you rapidly bat your eyelids to focus on his face clearly.

“You may be… scared.”

He tilted his head as he pondered what emotive affect his suggestion may cause, confused on how your sensitive emotions may arise during the ‘treatment’.

“But it will work. It has to work.”

His lips pulled into a grin, the corners turning upwards as his eyes flattened into a squint.

Nodding your head agreeably, you’d do anything to rid the trauma from your mind. Desperation was in your blood at this point, your heart thumping in defeat as you’ve accepted you may feel like this forever.

“Anything Dr.Crane… I’ll do anything.”

Cocking a brow up, he clenched his jaw as he stood up and took slow strides to his desk, pulling open the top drawer on the right side of the mahogany wood and looking up at you in amusement.

Reaching down, you heard a clanking metal scrape along the material and his fingers revealed a dangling, swaying set of silver handcuffs.

Your eyes widened and you gulped, the fear of seeing the restraints sending goosebumps onto the back of your neck and flushing your cheeks with a violent red.

He walked around the desk to sit on the tabletop on the opposite side, your body physically reacting as you pushed yourself further into the couch to create as much distance from him as possible.

Watching as he sat on the desk, the grin on his face made you queasy and on edge.

“Come here.”

His voice was low and husky, his eyes following you as you hesitantly stood up and carefully walked over. The knot in your stomach was bubbling with anxiety, twisting in your gut and making you want to gag.

Standing in front of him, he took a deep breath as his eyes fell over your face, basking in how scared you looked and ignoring his primal queue to pounce on you then and there.

“This treatment is called systematic desensitisation. Where aspects of the patients PTSD or trauma is gradually exposed to them in a safe environment- the end goal being…”

He swiftly grabs your wrist mid sentence, causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“The confrontation of the fear allowing the patient to overcome that aspect of their trauma.

He gave you a full smile as he tugged lightly on the free side of the cuff, looking down and humming in approval at the way your wrist fit perfectly under the metal.

“Dr.Crane I-“

A wave of uncertainty and panic rush over you, subconsciously trying to retreat your wrist as it proved to no avail, his fingers holding firmly on the other clasp to keep your wrist propped up.

“Be a brave girl… I’ll admit you if this doesn’t work.”

Your eyes went wide as they began to swell in tears, his threat of Arkham throwing you off guard as he’d never mentioned it before this moment.

“You’ll be a danger to yourself.”

His head tilted as his voice purred a tone of sarcastic, speaking to you like you were a stupid dog who didn’t know how to sit for a treat.

His face became blurred as a tear brimmed on your waterline, the icy blue that stared daggers into you feeling threatening enough over his cold words.

Swiftly pulling your wrist a couple feet to his left, he ducked down and cuffed the other side of the cuffs onto the leg of his desk. You followed behind stumbling with the force of his action dragging you downwards to attach you to the pole of wood.

Sitting down and bringing your knees to your chest, you curled vulnerably as your mind raced with your attempts to calm yourself, trusting Dr.Crane through your palpitating anxiety.

As he glared down at you, his eyes turned dark and an overwhelming sense of panic flooded over you. He looked at you like a piece of meat, wanting the floor to suck you in whole to avoid his hungry gaze.

“Have you ever considered that maybe, you were asking for it?”

Dr.Cranes words shocked you, furrowing your brows and opening your drying mouth to respond to him.

“W-what?”

Pulling your knees closer, your heart pounded in your chest as he pulled a chair in front of you and sat down, spreading his knees as you sat perfectly between them.

“Tell me again, what were you wearing?”

His words were venomous yet clinical and he spat them out onto you, your limbs began to tremble as he suddenly looked a lot bigger with you sitting down.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with-“

You were offended, confused as to why he was suddenly going against the comforting advice he’s been giving you since the first session.

“Oh but it does darling, this is Gotham- remember?”

His face pulled into a look of disgust as his eyes trailed along your frail body, shuddering as his gaze was eating you alive.

“S-skirt- I was wearing a skirt.”

You shamefully looked down and tears started to swell in your eyes, the pain in your chest evident as you started to breath heavy in an attempt to calm yourself.

Groaning and clenching his jaw as he rolled his eyes back and pictured you laying exposed on the side walk in a tiny skirt, he felt his cock thicken under his pants and he licked his bottom lip as he salivated.

“So you were asking for it.”

His eyes remained closed and yours snapped onto him, your jaw falling in shock as your tears violently fell down your cheeks.

“No! I wasn’t!”

He chuckled at the fight in your voice.

“Oh I think you were”

His eyes opened and his head nodded to his words.

“Only whores wear skirts in Gotham.”

You began sobbing and trying to pull your wrist out of the clasp of the metal, panic fuelling you into fight or flight and in this case, running was the only answer.

He chuckled as he watched you intently, enjoying the view of you struggling.

“Calm down…”

His voice was oddly comforting but to no avail, your wrist pulling harder on the desk and it proved to be much heavier than you as you winced.

“I said- calm down.”

He lent his chest forward and grabbed your scalp, pulling your face up with your hair as he remained inches away from your lips.

His eyes fell across your features as you winced in pain to his grasp, admiring how pretty you looked with flushed cheeks and black smudge running along your eyelids.

“Are you going to be a pathetic little victim forever? Or are you going to let Dr.Crane fix for you?”

He growled his words, showing his teeth as he spoke.

All you could do was whimper, causing him to pull back at your hair once more and snap your neck further back.

“Hm?”

You gulped down as you looked at him, his hum now a softer whisper.

“Dr.Crane to fix it for me.”

You mumbled, he let go of your hair and sat back on the chair, you swayed as you lost his grip and he cleared his throat.

You could only look up at him with furrowed brows, your eyes swollen and your scalp stinging. You felt pathetic, chained to your psychiatrists desk as he made you feel responsible for your attack.

Sighing, his eyes fell along your body and you shuffled back, anything to get out of his sight.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

He threw his hands up, stating his sentence as something that was obvious.

“And I’m going to fill your cunt until I’m finished.”

Your eyes widened and your brows knitted, a string of begs fall from your lips as your wrist started pulling violently on the cuffs.

“No! Dr.Crane-please!”

You began to sob, panic possessing you as you watched him chuckle.

He basked in your pleas, rolling his head back with his eyes as he furrowed his brows.

“I’ll do anything! Please let me go.”

You choked on your words, your wrist bone bleeding purple as a bruise began to form.

“That’s it… cry for me.”

The shock of his words left you sobbing louder, your chest heaving and a panic flushing your skin warm. You tried lifting the desk, sneaking your wrist out and opening the clasp manually, you were stuck under his control for as long as he had you chained.

His cock began throbbing as you cried, his months of patience paying off as he felt his veiny dick fill with blood.

He continued to chuckle, amused by your failed attempts of escaping.

“Please- Dr.Crane let me go!”

You extended your last word, sobbing through your mouth and whining like a spoiled child.

“Go?”

His eyebrows cocked up.

“Go where?”

You continued pulling on your wrist, the pain growing unbearable.

“Home- please… I want to go home.”

“Oh no bunny… not yet.”

He began tapping his foot, growing irritated at the sound of the metal pulling aggressively on the wooden leg.

He chuckled louder as you began to scream for help, screaming louder than your lungs could hold as a hot burn filled your organs in urgency.

“There’s no use darling. I’m the only one in my office.”

Your cheeks stung with his nicknames, a heat rushing across your skin as you felt you were knocking on deaths door.

“Oh c’mon…”

His eyes rolled.

“Nobody’s coming to save you. Fuck, no one can even hear you.”

His tone was flat, his words stabbing you deeply as you knew it was true.

His office was huge, basically the small section of the ward in Arkham was completely his. Three rooms, one of which you were currently in, and the reception. Nobody was ever there and you were alone in this apartment sized office, crying and begging your psychiatrist to not fuck you.

“Please… please let me go!”

Your whines grew annoying to him, rolling his eyes and groaning at the sound of your screaming voice.

“You just won’t have it, will you?”

“No-no, no… let me go!”

You shook your head in denial, your words rapid and rushed as your wrist started to bleed.

Sighing in defeat, he leans forward as a smirk grows on his face.

“Let’s play a little game, hm?”

He roughly grasped at your wrist, groaning at the sight of your exposed flesh that your desperately pathetic attempts to escape caused.

Looking up at him through your heavy, tear stained eyes, you frowned and felt your heart thump in fear.

“Are you good at hide and seek?”

His face was dangerously close to yours now, the bright white of his office turning your stomach as this monster was supposed to be your psychiatrist, your saviour.

He reached into his pocket to pull out the key to your cuffs, your eyes going wide and your chest fluttering in relief.

“We’ll play a round. You hide… and I seek.”

His voice was low and merely above a whisper, the undertone of excitement made you breath shakily in fear, unable to respond to his words.

“Please let me go.”

You whispered, his face still inches away from yours.

“I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, watching as his fingers clasped at the metal and his other hand turned the key to loosen its hold on you.

“So go on bunny. Run for me.”

As soon as you felt the cool air on your bruised wrist, you shot up and began sprinting towards the door.

You stumbled as your legs tried to move faster than you were capable of, sobbing and screaming as your knees moved fast.

You pushed past his office doors and he watched as you shoved yourself through the frame, clenching his jaw, flaring his nostrils and cocking up his brows as he remained bored at your panic.

Running as fast as you could through your exhausted pants, you ran through his reception and attempted to push the door.

He locked it.

Screaming a screeching sound of ‘no’ as your palms slammed against the door, you pulled at the door handle desperately as you sobbed in failure.

Staying seated in his chair, he flipped his wrist and pulled back his suit, watching as his watch ticked to thirty seconds since letting you free.

Standing up slowly before adjusting his tie, he took slow strides out of his office and chuckled as he saw you on the other end of the reception banging as hard as you could, your ongoing screams swelling his thick cock harder and tenting his pants.

“You just don’t listen, do you!”

His voice was loud and echoed through the clinical walls, swinging your head back to look at him as the panic stole the air away and switched it with fear in your lungs.

You heard the clanking of his shoes come closer behind you, bailing on your attempt at his reception door and deciding that maybe you could outrun him.

You were exhausted from the sobbing as your knees became weak and barely let you run, your breathing was erratic and you heaved in desperation.

Although you felt as if you were bolting around his office, his long strides seemingly caught up with your pathetic jog.

Feeling the heat of his arms, he grabbed you firmly and pinned you against the wall. He was bigger, stronger and faster than you and held you up on your tip toes as you struggled beneath him.

You felt his throbbing erection press into your stomach, sobbing out choked cries as his cock felt huge, bulging into your stomach and spreading a heat across your core.

“Is that the best you could do?”

You continued to squirm, avoiding his face as he was merely an inch away from yours.

“No wonder you were so easy. You’re not very good at this, are you bunny?”

He chuckled and pressed you tighter against the wall, grunting as he tried to keep you still.

You were on your tip toes as he held you on his eye level, wincing out in pain as the concrete was violently pushed against you.

Dropping you slightly but keeping you firm in his grasp, he wrapped his arms around you and guided you into the room besides his office. The room with the examination table, limb restraints on the bed and a rack of medical tools that ranged from blunt to flesh teasingly sharp.

Manoeuvring you onto the examination bed, he swiftly chained your wrists to your sides and made his way to your feet. You kicked at them in an attempt to hurt him, his grasp too strong and overpowering as he held you down and chained you up to the heightened stirrups.

“Don’t be so… difficult.”

He grunted as the final clasp tightly restrained your left ankle, your legs open and wide for his viewing.

Huffing out and placing his hands on his hips, he tilted his head as he admired how weak you looked chained up and legs spread, a smirk growing as he turned around and walked to the cupboard behind him.

Your chest heaved heavily and your hands trembled, fear possessing your body as tears violently sobbed down your face. Watching as he turned around with a pair of scissors in hand, your stomach turned and almost brought up breakfast in panic.

Watching as he held one hand to pull up your pyjama pants and used the other to slice the fabric down the center, you cursed yourself for not wearing underwear as the cold, clinical room hit your exposed cunt.

“Such an easy slut… have you learned nothing?”

His face was in disbelief, licking his bottom lip as he placed the scissors down next to him and ducked down to meet your pussy at eye level. He brought both his hands up to pull you apart and growled at the sight of your pink flesh.

“You’re very wet for someone who’s so unwilling.”

Your face flushed red as you cringed, turning your neck to the side to avoid looking at him analysing your dripping cunt.

He stood back up and his eyes turned dark, purring groans as his expression was now possessed with lust and hunger.

As your tears continued to roll down your face, your chest palpitated as you watched him glaring down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked like he was about to dig right in to your raw flesh and eat you alive.

After basking in how pathetic and easy you looked, his hands fell to his pants and he unzipped his middle, leaving his belt on as he shimmered his cock out from under his underwear.

“No- please Dr.Crane no!”

Your head rolled and your tears were flowing, the size of him frighting as it sprung out into the cold air onto his palm.

“You’re scaring me- please.”

Your voice remained as whisper as you lacked air in your lungs, feeling his hand grasp round your hip as he moved closer to your exposed cunt.

“That’s the point darling.”

He growled lowly, pressing his tip against your entrance before slowly dragging it up and down your wet slit.

His cock was already warm, a residue of liquid smearing along your opening as he picked up your arousal onto him. Whimpering under his touch, your body attempted to shift but proved useless, his grip too firm on your hips and your wrists heavily bound onto the table.

Pressing his tip against your hole, he sunk his head quickly and you sobbed at the feeling of his cock breaching your tight walls.

“Oh- bunny.”

He panted breathlessly, watching as his inches pressed into your unwilling cunt.

He groaned around your walls, after feeling how tight you were on his tip he impatiently pushed himself down to his base. His balls pressed against the bottom of your asscheeks and you couldn’t help but cry out a sobbed moan at the feeling of him inside you.

“That’s it…”

He pulled his hips out slowly before harshly fucking himself fully once more. Wincing in pain, his mouth fell open and his brows furrowed.

“Take your psychiatrists cock like the whore you are.”

He groaned and you squirmed in pain, his thick, veiny cock being much larger than your attackers.

Repeatedly dragging himself out before roughly fucking his hips into the back of your cervix, your cries became muffled as you laid there limp in acceptance to your situation. Occasionally shedding a tear as you whimper against his thrusts, he strung out praise on how tight you were around him.

“Taking my cock so well.”

He grunted, fastening up his pace as his balls slapped against your ass and filled the room with a squelching noise, his growls filling your ears as his pace remained robotic. Your stomach turned as he spoke, repeating the same words your attacker did, your pussy clenched around him in response and he grunted against the feel of you tightening around him.

Your crying was poetic, softly sobbing as you felt him ruin you. With each sob, his dick hardened and flexed.

“Cry for me bunny… cry- oh yes, just like that.”

Throwing his head back and rolling his eyes, you peered a look at your psychiatrist who was seemingly coming undone around your cunt.

You watched as his face blushed a soft pink and his lips were swelled, his mouth falling open as his eyebrows twitched in rhythm to how his cock flexed. His fingers remained deep in your hips, stinging at the sharpness of his nails in your soft skin.

You bounced off his hips as your skin slapped together, watching how his hair fell around his face as he scrunched it in pleasure.

“M’gonna- fuck- fill this cunt. Have’s you dripping my cum- mhm- all week.”

His words were breathless and whiny, his knees bucking as his thrusts became sloppier.

His cock stuffed you, ploughing into you hard enough to shift you along the examination table.

“Yes… yes- oh fuck bunny your cunt feel so good.”

His voice was trembling at a higher pitch, swinging his neck down to watch himself break you in half.

He whimpered as a circle of white covered his base and his cock glistened in the medical, white lighting in the room.

“M’gonna- fuck!”

His cock flexed and twitched violently inside of you as he met your eyes, watching as you bawl in pain undid the hot knot in his groin as he spilled his cum into the back of you.

It felt like a dam that had cracked, a monstrous amount of liquid seeping out of him as it sprayed along your walls.

Whining and panting as his thrusts fucked you pathetically slow as he came, his face was a deep red and his hair fell over his eyes.

His mouth was open and his brows knitted together into one, the strength of his orgasm overpowering him as he wobbled on his knees.

The liquid heat had filled your pussy, you felt the stickiness rub against you as he continued to drag out his cock and delicately touch the back of your cervix.

After slowing down his thrusts and panting through his whines, he pulled his cock out and it fell out softly in between his thighs.

His eyes remained knitted and tearful as they looked at you limp on the examination table, your shirt wet from tears and your nose runny from the force he fucked you at.

Collecting himself, he pushed his cock back into his suit and slowly removed the shackles around your ankles. Moving slowly and deliberate on your skin in a soft, gentle manner.

Unable to move as you continued to lie in front of him, even once he had freed all your restraints, you were defeated and stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes as you were now weak and used.

Sighing as he looked down at you, he lowered his gaze and pressed his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Meeting his eyes he was shockingly giving you a sympathetic look, genuine or not you’d never seen him look so kind.

“You can go now, bunny.”

He whispered, bringing the back of his palm up to caress your tear stained cheek.

Huffing out at your lack of movement, he stood back up and left the room.

Your body began convulsing as he walked away, his absence from your side, or in you, feeling colder than you expected.

He turned around at the frame of the door to glance back at you.

“The session next week will be at the same time. Wear something… accessible.”

Your eyes rolled on the bed and you huffed out, a string of his cum tickling your slit as it rolled out of you.

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