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riboism · 2 years

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seni oilai

♔ pairing: servent! j.wy x queen! reader

♔ genre: smut, angst

♔ wc: 2.5k

♔ content: royalty au, sexual servitude, fingering, nipple play, penetration, lots of teasing, unsaid feelings, secret established relationship

♔ a/n: no read more tab because tumblr hates me :/

The bathroom ceiling was decorated with beautiful and intricate designs, all handpainted by the Royal family’s personal painter. You’ve been told that the painter had spent days lying on his back to make the scenery that currently overlooked your bathtub. The inspiration came from the first spring after the long, brutal, and deadly winter your Kingdom endured many years ago. Your eyes followed the swells of white clouds that stretched over the light blue paint and the flocks of birds that stretched their wings and embraced the rebirth of warmth and beauty. Of course, that was just what the painter pictured it to be. But to you, the painting was nothing but a cruel reminder of what you could never have. You stared up at this grand ceiling from your bathtub every night, growing sick from the constant reminder that you were stuck. You felt like a bird being held prisoner in its cage, forced to look at everyone else flap their wings and fly away from this godforsaken place.

After the untimely death of your parents, and there being no male heirs to the throne, the Court decided with great hesitation to pass the crown down to you. No one wanted a girl Queen. Just the thought of you as a ruler gave the Kingdom great anxiety. A girl Queen meant a vulnerable Kingdom, and no one was equipped to handle an invasion. Understanding this sentiment at such a young age, you made it your duty to prove everyone wrong. You wanted to show them that you were capable, if not more capable than your father, of being a leader. Even with your accomplishments at peace and prosperity during your years of reign, that sentiment remained unchanged. You learned that no matter what you did, no one would take you seriously as Queen. And with that, your efforts faltered and you went on autopilot.

There were whispers in the court about an unnamed Prince who was interested in her Royal Highness. The lone Prince was said to have been planning to propose to you and merge both Kingdoms under one rule. The Court took a likeness to the idea. You were bombarded by them, along with the Chief Minister to at least consider marrying him. There were too many reasons not to say no: More land, financial security, and of course, more respect and stability with a man by your side. It amazed you just how much they trusted and respected someone they barely knew all because he had a dick.

You sunk yourself lower into the bath, resting your achy neck on the edge of the tub. You were under a lot of stress tonight after the Chief Minister announced to you that he invited this bachelor for you to meet tomorrow. You were angry, of course, but you were used to him doing things behind your back like this. He was a good friend to your father and looked to advise you as best as he could. But sometimes, he made you feel like you had no say in anything you did. You were just the face of the Kingdom, a puppet for him to puppeteer. As much as you wanted to fight it, you knew that at the end of the day, he would get his way and you will have to walk down that aisle sooner or later.

Honestly, there was no reason to be bothered by this in the first place. Being Queen was a difficult task. To have someone else take the wheel would be a godsend, and could finally take some stress off your shoulders. So why were you so upset?

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard the bathroom doors open and shut from behind you, followed by a hesitant few steps forward. You knew exactly who it was from his timid footsteps.

“You’re late.” You sighed in exasperation. Shutting your eyes, you sunk yourself even deeper into the water, sending some bubbles to splash out from the tub.

“I know. I apologize, Your Majesty.” After a beat of silence, Wooyoung walked over to the bathtub. Your eyes were still shut but you knew he was hovering over you now, most likely with a playful grin, with his hands tucked neatly behind his back as he obediently awaited his next order. However, when you fluttered your eyes open, you were met with the sight of your humble servant gazing down at you with a look of concern. It always amazed you just how beautiful he looked wearing any emotion- anger, sadness, contentment- it was worth more to look at than the eyesore that took over your bathroom ceiling. But of course, your favorite look on him was the look of lust. His half-lidded eyes, rosy cheeks, and parted lips while you sank down his length- that was a sight worth looking at.

“I won’t be needing you tonight. I’ll be retiring to my chambers soon. You should do the same.” You closed your eyes again and waited to hear his footsteps trail away. But he didn’t move.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

You wished he’d just obey and leave you alone. When you two first started, it was supposed to be just a physical relationship. But now it was intimate in a way that you never intended. And you worried if maybe he was too emotionally attached to you. Or maybe it was you that was attached to him.

“Everything’s fine.” You prayed that was sufficient, but to your dismay, Wooyoung wasn’t satisfied and he took it upon himself to sit on the edge of the tub and quietly wait for you to tell him what was really wrong.

“Wooyoung,” you whined, “I’m just tired. That’s all.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you calling your Queen a liar? I’m pretty sure that’s treason.”

Your quick-witted reply earned you a chuckle and you were relieved to see him soften his expression for once that night. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” Wooyoung dipped his hand into the warm bath water and traced his fingertips up your thigh. You bit back a moan as his hand inched closer to your bare heat. “But at least let me help you relieve some stress.”

Wooyoung rubbed your inner thigh and waited for you to part your legs. Hesitating at first, you eventually obliged and spread yourself open for him. He made an experimental swipe over your slit which already had you rolling your eyes back. He spread your lips apart, pouting when he saw your aching clit.

“You spend all day taking care of this Kingdom, but who takes care of you?” He poked. It drove you mad when he spoke to you like this, a soft and barely audible whisper like he didn’t want to talk over your moans. After massaging over your clit, he slid his fingers down to your entrance and pushed two fingers inside of you, smiling to himself as he watched you struggle to hold in your gasps.

“Wooyoung!” You gripped his forearm tightly as he pumped his digits in and out of you. His pace was unforgiving and you tried desperately to hold on and control his movements. But Wooyoung was pissed and there was no way to tame him when he was like this. He didn’t like when you kept things from him. He knew you were hiding something and he doesn’t particularly like being out of the loop.

“Shh..” he cooed, “just relax and let me take care of you.”

He began curling his fingers inside of you, and this time you weren’t able to hold in your moans. You were usually good at keeping quiet, afraid of nosy servants hearing what you were up to and spreading rumors that you took a lowborn as a lover. But Wooyoung thought if he couldn’t get you to talk about what’s bothering you, then he deserved to hear your loud and delicious moans as a replacement.

“Too fast…gonna cum” you squealed, sending more water out from the bathtub as you jolted your hips up and down.

“Already?” He grinned. “I barely even started.”

You opened your mouth to tell him to stop teasing, but the feeling of his thumb pressing over your needy clit took the words right out of your mouth. One hand gripped the bathtub, while the other was still holding onto his chiseled arm. Heat pooled in your lower stomach and Wooyoung could tell that it would only take another couple of pumps before you came undone for him. As much as you loved his skilled fingers swirling over your clit, you didn’t want to finish so quickly and go back to another night of sleepless worry. You grabbed onto his hand to stop him from going any further.

“Not like this” you breathed. Wooyoung smirked, his fingers still deep inside of you.

“No? Then how would you like me, My Queen?”

“You know your place.” You pulled your legs up to your chest, hinting at him to get in with you. Nothing else was said as he quickly unclothed himself before slipping into the bath. Before you could climb over him, you took some time to admire how heavenly he looked right now: Wet hair slicked back with a few strands kissing at his forehead, and the way his collarbones glistened from being in the bubbly water. Wooyoung was second to none, incomparable to even the richest of Kings. You never admitted it to him, but sometimes you imagined him in a crown sitting beside you on the throne. Anyone who saw him wouldn’t second guess that he belonged up there with you.

You straddled over him now, taking him into your hands to help him get ready for you. He kissed down your neck before making home on your breast, rubbing his lips gently over your nipples. They were more sensitive and raised now from being in the water for so long, and Wooyoung took advantage of that. He took your bud into his mouth as you stroked his stiff cock, the vibrations from his moans sending goosebumps all over your skin.

Wooyoung took his cock from you and lined himself up with your core. You let out a string of low and shaky moans, waiting for the moment that he’d finally enter and fuck all the useless thoughts out of your head. But Wooyoung had no intention of giving you what you wanted. Instead, he rubbed his tip along your slit in an agonizingly slow tempo, carefully brushing over your clit as he did so.

“Woo…please, can’t wait any longer.”

He looked up at you with hazy eyes, waiting for you to make eye contact with him. But you couldn’t get yourself to look him in the eye. “First tell me what’s on your mind.”He demanded.

You sighed, unhappy when you understood that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted unless you confessed. But the truth was, you yourself weren’t sure what was bothering you. You just knew that you wanted to see him tonight and have him close. Part of you worried it would be the last time.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He sprayed your chest with soft kisses, speaking into your skin in a low voice. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s wrong.” He was circling his tip over your clit now. He knew it drove you crazy, all this stimulation when all you wanted was to feel full from his cock.

“Wooyoung.” You hated begging. You hated that he wouldn’t give you what you wanted, but you were too under his spell to do anything about it other than whine pathetically as he toyed with you like this.

Wooyoung only hummed in response, lips still nipping at your sore breasts. At first, you thought he finally gave up when you felt him push his tip into your entrance. You held onto his shoulders and anticipated the stretch but the anticipation soon turned to frustration once he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty again.

Defeated, your face fell to the crook of his neck and you groaned in annoyance. “I should just have you beheaded.”

He chuckled into your ear. “Then who’ll make you cum?”

Wooyoung continued on with his game, pushing just the tip into you before pulling himself back out. So many thoughts raced over your head, some making sense, some not, but one thing was for sure and that was that you couldn’t bare to go on like this anymore.

“It’s you!” You admitted. “You’re always on my mind and I’m so tired of it! I hate you for making me feel this way, if I could go back in time I would stop myself from ever getting involved with you! Now will you just shut up and obey me for once?!”

Wooyoung was utterly dumbfounded. Although he understood that the true nature of your relationship was purely sexual servitude, he couldn’t deny that he’d often wondered if you, like him, felt something more. After thinking it over, he understood your frustrations. He had heard the rumors about the proposal. He tried not to take it personally. He knew where he stood in this relationship. Being a Royal was stressful as it was, and it was his job to offer some much needed stress relief to the Queen. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel a little depressed after hearing of your coming marriage.

Now that he knew your true feelings, Wooyoung thought about asking you to run away with him and finally free yourselves from this cage. But he also knew where your loyalties lie, and they were tightly knotted within this Kingdom. He wished you knew that his loyalties laid with you. If he told you, would it make a difference? He wondered.

He had so much he wanted to say. But he knew in the end that nothing could be done in your situation. In an effort to make things easier, he decided to finally do as he was asked and help you forget about your troubles- as well as his. Giving you that boyish smirk of his, he lined himself up with your core once again.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

With your slit covered in anticipation, and with the bath water around you, he slipped into you with ease. Both of you moaned once he bottomed out. You stayed still, connecting your lips with his, sharing the same hunger he had for you with him. His hands fell to your hips and he guided you over his shaft. The pace was slow but perfect. You didn’t want to finish so quickly, wishing to savor every bit of him for as long as you could. But all the moaning, kissing, touching, as well as having your bud being rubbed against his abs every time you came up and down his length made it impossible to stall your release.

When you were both done you remained as you were in the bathtub with your head laying against his chest whine he traced his fingers up and down your spine. He let you play with his other fingers as you both came down from your highs. You thought his fingers were still pretty even though they were all pruny from the extended time in the water. “In another life, I would’ve.” You broke the silence. You said it so quietly that you worried if he heard you or not. You didn’t think you had it in you to say it again.

Wooyoung sighed, taking a break from tracing your back to just stay still and hold you. He wondered what awful thing he did in his past life to be born as a servant. But there was nothing either of you could do about it now, other than to enjoy the night before you two went back to being strangers in the morning.

“In another life.” He agreed.

🎧 seni oilai- ALPHA

#wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #ateez angst #choi san smut #san smut #seonghwa smu #jongho smut #yunho smut #hongjoong smut #yeosang smut

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the-npd-culture-is · 3 months

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quick post on NPD (narcissistic personality disorder) :

"Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) is a complex personality disorder often detected with other affective and personality disorders. [...] NPD is under the umbrella of Cluster B personality disorders, which include antisocial personality disorder, histrionic personality disorder, and borderline personality disorder."

- National library of medicine (ncbi.nlm.nih.gov) [https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK556001/]

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"Genetic and non-genetic influences on the hierarchy of traits that delineate personality disorder as measured by the Dimensional Assessment of Personality Problems (DAPP-DQ) scale were examined using data from a sample of 483 volunteer twin pairs (236 monozygotic pairs and 247 dizygotic pairs). [...] Additive genetic effects and unique environmental effects emerged as the primary influences on these scales, with unique environmental influences accounting for the largest proportion of the variance for most traits at all levels of the hierarchy."

- Jang KL, Livesley WJ, Vernon PA, Jackson DN. Heritability of personality disorder traits: a twin study. Acta Psychiatr Scand. 1996 Dec;94(6):438-44. doi: 10.1111/j.1600-0447.1996.tb09887.x. PMID: 9020996. [https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/9020996/]

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i hate how people online tend to water down the initial definitions and jump into conclusions. no one said "it's caused by childhood trauma." stop putting things into a box when they're way more complex and diverse and nuanced.

npd is primarily caused by trauma but very often individuals have a genetic predisposition to npd.

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flags

since there are two flags for npd that ive seen floating around, and since I've had people asking me why i chose the first one for this npd blog over the other, and some have never seen the first one before, im gonna give a quick explanation for both :

the first flag is the npd flag. it represents the disorder itself.

created by @/beyond-mogai-pride-flags on august 1, 2017 : https://www.tumblr.com/beyond-mogai-pride-flags/163661799375/narcissistic-personality-disorder-flag

"Design choice: the artist chose pastel pinks and yellows as they are very eye-catching colors that feel like very "outgoing" colors. In line with the outgoing and self assured face that people with NPD project, the pink is associated with confidence and the yellow with insecurity and anxiety. The purple is for royal purple, in the center, to represent the focus on self."

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the second flag is the npd awareness flag. it's a flag representing everyone fighting for npd awareness, that including non-npd allies.

created by @/npdsafe then rebloged with the stripe meanings by @/liom-archive : https://www.tumblr.com/liom-archive/725390566188285952/npdsafe-npd-awareness-flag-i-wanted-to-make-a

concerning the second flag, there is also an alternate npd awareness flag :

created by @/npd flag : https://www.tumblr.com/npdflag/694773969935630336/an-alternate-version-of-the-npd-awareness-flag-by

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the reason i chose the first flag is, well, mostly because it's the first that appeared in the research bar lol, but also because i wanted to highlight and focus on the disorder itself instead of using the more generalised flag. to me it felt a bit like using the LGBTQ ally flag instead of the flag of a specific sexuality. on top of that, the majority if not all npd related accounts are using the second flag, so i wanted to make something a bit more unique with my blog presentation. and finally, i just like aesthetically the first one more hehe.

both flags are awesome and you are free to prefer one over the other, aesthetically or for any other reason. i simply chose to use one over the other for simplicity.

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wexarethewalkingxdead · 5 months

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for andrea, charley and daryl - ♣ One thing they’ve never told ♔ What gets them in the mood ♕ What is their mood-killer ♛ One thing partner should never do ☄ If there was a safe-word, what would it be? ☽ Going down or staying up? ❀ One thing they’re dying to try.

headcanons: sex life edition masterpost - Send a symbol for following headcanons of my character.

♣ One thing they’ve never told

Andrea's never told how she was assaulted in her junior year of high school. She wasn't raped, but she was sexually assaulted. She was shamed into keeping her mouth shut and didn't even share it with her best friend at the time.

♔ What gets them in the mood

Andrea likes to be kissed and touched. She's not one to just jump right into the sex act. She needs the foreplay.

♕ What is their mood-killer

Andrea is turned off if the person she's with is degrading in anyway while they're having sex or leading up to the sex act.

♛ One thing partner should never do

Degrade her in or out of the bedroom.

☄ If there was a safe-word, what would it be?

Panda.

☽ Going down or staying up?

Staying up.

❀ One thing they’re dying to try.

Andrea wouldn't mind trying sex in a semi-public place.

♣ One thing they’ve never told

Charley has never told how they used to masturbate to erotic fiction on audiobooks.

♔ What gets them in the mood

Charley is a fan of being talked dirty to. Not degradingly so, but they do like dirty talk.

♕ What is their mood-killer

Degradation.

♛ One thing partner should never do

See above.

☄ If there was a safe-word, what would it be?

Pineapple.

☽ Going down or staying up?

Going down.

❀ One thing they’re dying to try.

Charley wouldn't mind trying to join the mile-high club which probably won't be possible since it's the end of the world.

♣ One thing they’ve never told

Daryl doesn't advertise his first time with an older woman. It was something that happened, and he's not one to have sex and tell about it. Not even to Merle who was the one that set it up.

♔ What gets them in the mood

Daryl likes to be touched and kissed. Kissing is a way to ease his anxiety.

♕ What is their mood-killer

Degradation.

♛ One thing partner should never do

See above.

☄ If there was a safe-word, what would it be?

Three.

☽ Going down or staying up?

Staying up.

❀ One thing they’re dying to try.

Daryl wouldn't mind trying a threesome so long as it was two people that he cares about and cares about him. It's the only way he'd be comfortable with it.

#.maildrop [andrea]#.headcanon [andrea]#.maildrop [charley]#.headcanon [charley]#.maildrop [daryl]#.headcanon [daryl]#anonymous

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venusjeon · 4 years

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hysteria

displeased that you’re still not pregnant after a year of marriage, your mother takes you to a doctor to fix you.

♔ PAIRING: doctor!yoongi x reader x jimin

♔ GENRE: victorian au, angst, smut, fluff at the end

♔ WORD COUNT: 7k

♔ WARNINGS: mentions of non-consensual sex, period-typical sexism, internalised misogyny that leads to self-deprecation & anxiety, cheating, fingering

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: took me so long and it's so bad hahahahahhaha... doing research on hysteria was fun though. this is part of march's workshop "push the limits" from @btscreatorscorner! writing a cheater!reader was weird since i'm the kind of person who would never forgive cheating, but the concept of this story wouldn't work without it so

1841, London

“This doctor better be worth the small fortune I’m paying him,” your mother complained as the two of you stepped down from her carriage. “To have us go to his place instead of him coming to ours... Does he take us for commoners?"

“You’re the one who insisted I should see him, mother,” you sighed, fixing your dress.

“Well, something must be done about your problem.”

Problem. If only it were just one.

It had been a year since you’d married Earl Park Jimin, the son of a close friend of your father’s whom you’d known all your life. The match had been arranged by your families when you were children, leaving the both of you with no say in the matter, but as destiny would have it, love bloomed between you and your new husband. He was caring, funny, thoughtful, patient... Everything you could have hoped for and more, which is why your heart broke whenever you refused his touch.

But Jimin wasn’t at all to blame that you’d grown to dread sex—as his embrace was always loving and ardent, you’d been pleased to learn on your wedding night. You were.

Over and over, you’d been told by your family that your duty as a wife was to bear your husband many sons, but what if you couldn’t? What if you were barren, or died in childbirth, or your babies didn’t survive infancy, or you had only daughters? The thought of letting down not only your family, but the man who had been nothing but good to you, caused anxiety to grip your heart every time you saw desire in Jimin’s eyes.

It hadn’t taken him long to pick up on your anguish, and so you’d told him the truth months ago. He was appalled to hear you’d been letting him make love to you despite not wanting to, all because of something he’d never even regarded as important before. After all, Jimin had brothers to inherit the wealth that wasn’t even his yet, so securing an heir wasn’t a priority to him—your happiness was, and you all the family he needed.

Although his words had brought you some solace, they weren’t enough to take the pressure that clouded you away, and Jimin promised he would not touch you until that happened. Your family, of course, was against your neglect of marital duties, and insisted something must be wrong for a respectable girl as you were to be acting in such a way. Which is why you were now entering the residence of a doctor your mother had been corresponding with.

A butler welcomed you inside and while following his lead, you trembled with nerves. As far as your mother knew, you didn’t want to sleep with your husband, but now you had to explain to some stranger why that was in front of her. The relationship between the two of you was a complex one, but surely no daughter was eager to talk about sex in front of her parents, regardless of how well she got along with them.

When you finally stepped inside the doctor’s lavish office, the sight reminded you that he was quite successful. Something about having once treated the queen’s husband earning him a high status and popularity—which you would’ve noticed had you not been too immersed in your thoughts as you walked through the hallways of a house that was almost as big as yours. That should’ve given you a clue.

“Doctor Min, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” your mother greeted him, the man standing up from his desk with a smile on his face. Oh... He wasn’t the old man you’d presumed him to be.

“Likewise, madam. But please, call me Yoongi,” he said, eyes drifting to you. Ignoring the way your heart missed a beat, you copied your mother when she sat on one of the two chairs facing him. “You must be Lady Y/N.”

“I am, sir,” you cleared your throat to say.

“Your mother wrote to me about some of your symptoms.” He sat down again, and went through some papers in search of the letter. “Disturbed sleep, absent-mindedness, irritability, loss of motivation and of appetite for food and sex, possible infertility?”

You frowned at your mother, who avoided your gaze. “Most of which are news to me.”

“Jimin helped me write it,” she confessed, and you tried your best to conceal your surprise.

Jimin thought all that of you? You had told him about some nightmares that had woken you up in the middle of the night, but were you really irritable and absent-minded? Be that as it may, it was the word infertility that had turned your blood cold.

“Your husband, I gather?” Dr Yoongi asked, placing his elbows on the desk to interlace his fingers. Nodding, you opened your mouth to speak, but your mother beat you to it.

“Work kept him from joining us today, that’s why I’m here,” she explained. “He’s a busy man, you see, being from such an important family–”

“Mother, I’m sure the doctor has no interest in Jimin’s pedigree,” you said with a forced smile, giving Dr Yoongi a look that said I apologise for her bragging. If it were up to me, she’d have stayed home, the only place her presence is wanted. You hoped he’d get it.

“Yes, that’s not why we’re here,” he chuckled politely. “Lady Y/N, I’d like you to tell me about your decision to abstain.”

You looked down at your lap, where you fiddled with your wedding ring. “I just don’t see the point in engaging in... well, intimacy.”

“The point,” your mother glared at you, “is to please your husband and bring life into the world, as is God’s wish.”

It did sadden you that Jimin was being kept from that which he enjoyed doing, from that which he was owed, even if he’d said he had no problem waiting until you were ready. Despite the love you shared, your marriage was a transaction, and without consolidating it by producing heirs, your families gained nothing. You prayed Jimin wouldn’t grow to resent you because of it, just as you prayed the Almighty hadn’t turned His back on you for the same reason.

Your husband, your family, society, God... It seemed you were a disappointment to everyone.

“Yes, I suppose that’s it...” you said rather dishearteningly. Looking up from your lap, you realised the doctor was taking notes on some sort of journal—and that he wasn’t married, as there was no ring on his finger. Why you noticed that, you weren’t sure.

“Do you not want to be a mother, my lady?” He didn’t sound surprised at the prospect but his expression was hard to read, so you weren’t certain whether he thought you to be sane or not. It wasn’t that you cared about his opinion, but the last thing you needed was for him to lock you away in a mental asylum.

You shook your head. “No, I do. Of course I do.”

“So, it’s having sexual intercourse that you don’t like? Does it perhaps hurt?”

You blushed at the question, mainly because your mother was sat beside you. “It doesn’t, I– It’s not that.”

“What is it, then?” Dr Yoongi asked calmly, and you were glad there wasn’t an ounce of annoyance in his eyes. He had beautiful eyes, deep brown in colour.

Your mother, you could tell with just a glance, was on the other hand holding back from urging you to give a straight answer already and stop wasting everybody’s time.

“I just don’t know if I can live up to everyone’s expectations,” you muttered, shrugging afterwards. “So why bother trying?”

“Because it’s your duty! Doctor, see how grave this is?” Your mother sounded desperate.

Closing his journal and putting the cap on his fountain pen, Dr Yoongi leaned back in his chair. “From what you’re telling me, my lady, I believe yours to be a case of hysteria.”

The diagnose didn’t come as a shock to you, as hysteria was a common enough illness among women, but it made you uneasy nonetheless. Especially because of its treatment.

It was no secret, how doctors would touch their patients inappropriately to ‘cure’ them, and your mother might have been the one who’d forced you to get an appointment with Dr Yoongi, but she’d never allow him to take advantage of you. Not because it was wrong but because, what would people say? The family’s reputation would be ruined!

“Hysteria, you say?” she asked after a moment of silence, failing to suppress her dismay. Oh my, perhaps she suffered from the illness as well.

Dr Yoongi nodded. “Indeed, but fear not. It is treatable.”

“You don’t say...” you mumbled but the man heard you loud and clear, lips curling into a smile in spite of it.

“I assure you, my lady,” he said, the sweetness of his voice inspiring an honesty which you could not dispute. What was it about this man that made you want to trust him, even though you’d only met him two seconds ago? Perhaps you were naiver than you thought, “that I am not that kind of doctor.”

“It’s not that we believe you are,” your mother paused to find the right words, “but we’ve heard stories.”

“People do like to shape reality into myth,” Dr Yoongi rolled his eyes before turning to you. “All the changes in your behaviour are due to a displacement of your uterus. In easy words, the illness spreads from the misplaced womb throughout the body until it reaches the mind, burdening it with a pain that women do not have the capacity to tolerate.”

“But I feel no pain.” You frowned, touching your belly to see if you could somehow feel such displacement. The doctor’s smile grew bigger because of it, and you wondered whether he thought you were daft. In your defence, you hadn’t studied medicine. “Not in my belly nor my head.”

“Pain in the mind manifests itself differently. You can’t feel it in your body, my lady.”

“Doctor, what could have caused this? Was it something she ate?” Dr Yoongi couldn’t stop himself from laughing this time, but he still shook his head.

“You mentioned in your letters Lady Y/N married recently, madam, so I reckon the hustle of settling into a new life with her husband is to blame.”

“The queen married around the same time and I’m quite certain there’s much more hustle in her life, yet she seems sane enough to rule a country,” your mother began the familiar rant, making you sigh through your nose. “Besides, she already has one child and another on the way, so I find it hard to believe that–”

“Doctor,” you interjected, having had enough of being compared to Queen Victoria for the hundredth time. “Does having hysteria mean that I can’t– I mean, that I’m...”

“I think it’s too early to tell whether you’re infertile, my lady,” Dr Yoongi seemed to read your mind, and his words flooded relief through your body. “It’s probably for the lack of trying that you’re not pregnant yet.”

“The treatment to end this attitude of hers, then.” Your mother looked uncomfortable again. “Is it the one people gossip about?”

“There is a pelvic massage involved but the intent is not to arouse sexual excitement, but to restore the uterus to its proper place,” Dr Yoongi explained, mindful of the glance you nervously exchanged with your mother. “I’m aware going through such a procedure is a tough decision, my lady, especially having heard all these stories, so we don’t have to set a date today. You can take as long as you want to think about it along with your husband, but if in the end you choose not to, I at least recommend complete rest. The calmness of the body leads to the calmness of the mind. Needless to say, nothing we’ve discussed will leave my office.”

As Dr Yoongi had suggested, you left his residence without having set a date, curious of what Jimin’s opinion about it all would be. When he got home later that day, you were surprised to hear him encourage you to get the massage but of course, the frustration he was trying to cover up didn’t escape you. He might be willing, but not happily so.

For that reason, you decided to pull yourself together that night. You didn’t want to have sex, but if it meant relieving your loved ones of unhappiness, perhaps it was the right thing to do. Perhaps you could force the hysteria out of you, too.

Lying down in bed after putting out the last candle in the chamber, Jimin would wait for you to snuggle up to him, but tonight you made your good-night kiss longer than usual. He was taken aback, freezing for a moment, but he soon matched the eager movements of your lips with his own, hand making its way to your face to cup your cheek. His shape was the only thing the faint moonlight from outside allowed you to make out when you pulled away, but you had no doubt he was smiling, as the mood in the room had taken an exciting turn.

“Are you sure?” he asked in the gentlest voice. Your answer was another kiss that, due to the lack of light, first landed on the corner of his mouth.

Jimin had waited so long to have you again that now he was indecisive as to where to touch you, where to feel you. One hand cupped your cheek and the other roamed down your body, first caressing your breasts, then the curve of your hips, and finally settling near your knee. Sharing Jimin’s arousal, your breathing sped up, especially once he got on top of you, in between the legs he’d just spread. Both your heartbeats raced but now... for opposite reasons.

It was when his tongue met your neck that your mind fared elsewhere.

You hated the fact that your husband's touch sickened you again, and that you were lying to him again, and that you probably wouldn't get pregnant again, and that your family would blame you for it again. In the end, you'd have to go through with that damned pelvic massage to get mended because you were broken.

Jimin pulled back all of the sudden, but you wouldn't have realised had he not completely got off you and out of the bed to go light a few candles. Then, he rushed back to your side, where he sat with a worried expression.

"My love, what's wrong?" He helped you sit up and wiped the tears from your cheeks—which until that moment, you hadn't even felt on your skin.

"I–I don't know," you sobbed, "I’m sorry.”

"Why didn't you say you wanted to stop?” he sighed, disappointment replacing his concern. “Were you just going to let me hurt you? You promised–”

“I know! And I’m so sorry... I just don’t want to have to let a stranger touch me and move my insides because I’m not trying hard enough to be a good wife.”

“And you think I do?!” Jimin half screamed, startling you. He’d never raised his voice to you before, and you didn’t want to imagine how hurt a sweet man such as he was must feel to do it now.

Part of him did wonder if you just didn’t love him. He was never too rough with you during sex, after all, so why else would you feel so uncomfortable about it? He did believe what you’d told him but in moments like these, he couldn’t help but feel insecure.

“Maybe you do.” You looked down. “Mother does, and you always seem to agree with her.”

“What? What is this about?” Jimin frowned. “We agree that you need help, is all, but my thoughts are mine only. If I listened to everything she tells me, then I’d–” He stopped himself when he realised how far he was taking it.

You waited for Jimin to continue, but he avoided your gaze. “You’d what?”

“I’d put you in your place by force,” he whispered, pronouncing each word with the same horror that filled you. Your mother’s opinion came as no surprise to you, but it was still tough to hear. Tears forming in your eyes again, you hugged your knees close to your chest.

“Do you want to do that?”

“Of course not, Y/N.” He held your hands, all previous anger gone. “I love you, and I want you to be happy. Let’s... Let’s just go to sleep, it’s been a long day for us both.”

The next morning, you had your coachman drive you to Dr Yoongi’s place and while entering his office, you felt as though you were a different person than the one from the day before. You’d been reluctant then, but now you were set.

“Lady Y/N, I didn’t expect you back so soon,” the doctor greeted you with a smile as he sorted out his messy desk. The morning sunlight fell on his face ever so softly, painting him in a warm light, and you had to admit the sight was breathtaking. It reminded you of the way Jimin had looked on your wedding day. Jimin... That’s right, you were there because of him. Because of the fight you’d had last night.

To see him so angry at you, even if it wasn’t for that long, had broken your heart, so you’d decided to put an end to this nightmare once and for all. Speaking of which, you hadn’t even been able to fall asleep, the guilt fuelling your anxiety. With some luck, the doctor wouldn’t notice the lack of light in your eyes, or the ugly dark circles under them.

“I’m sorry to come unannounced, sir... I know I don’t have an appointment.” You hugged yourself, somewhat embarrassed, but Dr Yoongi shook his head.

“That’s alright, I have none either until the afternoon,” he said, gesturing you to sit down. “Besides, I was falling asleep reading this letter from a duke who worries he might be turning into a werewolf because a dog bit him... A duke!” His shocked, wide eyes made you giggle, and you realised it had been a while since the last time such sound had come out of you. The thought of it made your smile fade once you sat. “What brings you here then, my lady?”

“I’d like to set a date for the hysteria massage.” You nodded as you spoke to make yourself appear confident in your decision, so he couldn’t tell that you actually didn’t want that at all. “Uhm, as soon as possible, please.”

Dr Yoongi tilted his head, your poor act clearly not fooling him. “You didn’t seem willing at all yesterday. Why the hurry now?”

“I’ve just given it some thought.” You shrugged, avoiding his intimidating gaze when he leaned forward. “The sooner I get treated, the sooner I’ll be cured, right?”

“Correct, my lady,” Dr Yoongi said, that deep voice of his calming your nerves down a little. That is, until he continued talking. “I assume your husband consents to it. He can be present if that’ll make you feel more comfortable, the massage only lasts about fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes of Dr Yoongi practically masturbating you in front of your husband? You didn’t know how to feel about that suggestion. If anything, it would make things harder—for everyone in the room, at that. No, you wouldn’t put Jimin through that.

“I–I don’t think that will be necessary, but Jimin does consent to it.” You nodded again. “He couldn’t join me again because of work, h–he or mother...”

The truth was that you hadn’t told either where you were since your mother would want to tag along and because of last night, you weren’t so sure Jimin wanted you to get the massage anymore. Neither of you wanted you to, and if you knew something about your husband, it was that he wouldn’t let you do something he knew distressed you so.

But that was the thing, he wouldn’t let you. Times were changing, but not fast enough, which meant a woman couldn’t do most things without a man’s permission. You looked down, hoping Dr Yoongi would believe your little lie about Jimin’s consent, but the fact that he wasn’t even checking his agenda to see when you could set a date for the procedure told you otherwise.

“No offence, my lady, but you’re a terrible liar,” he said, your wide eyes flying back to him. His expression wasn’t an upset one, but you were still embarrassed... that you’d been caught. Why couldn’t anything ever work out your way?

“I know,” you sighed as you sank into that chair, “but I don’t understand why. What gives me away? It’s the eye contact, isn’t it?”

Dr Yoongi laughed. “That, and your trembling voice. Look, most women avoid this treatment because they do not deem it respectable, but some fake their hysteria to get their rocks off during the massage.” Shame turned your cheeks red at the wrong impression the doctor was probably getting of you. “I can tell that’s not the case with you, that you’re really not well, but you don’t want to go through it, do you? So, why are you here?”

He’d initially thought your family was forcing you to do it, but they clearly weren’t aware you were there. You’d come willingly, yet you didn’t want to be treated, and Dr Yoongi couldn’t fathom why.

On the other side of the desk, you were wondering whether it was a good idea to tell him the truth. Even though you’d only talked to him twice, the doctor struck you as a rational man, one that actually listened to you while you spoke and wouldn’t attribute every emotion of yours to the fact that women were feeble, sinful beings—a pastime of your mother’s, whose absence would certainly ease your honesty.

Besides, he didn’t only care about your physical health, or else he wouldn’t have asked anything. He’d have just set a date for the massage and sent you out. But he cared, and so you chose to trust him.

“I tried to be intimate with Jimin last night, but I couldn’t,” you finally broke the silence, eyes cast down. Dr Yoongi waited for you to continue, and you took a deep breath before doing so. “I can’t focus in bed. Both our families expect me to get pregnant, but so many things could go wrong, and they would all be blamed on me alone.”

“This is what you meant when you said you don’t know whether you can live up to people’s expectations?” Dr Yoongi asked, and you nodded.

“It’s all I think about,” you confessed, nose prickling against your best efforts. “Whenever Jimin touches me, I get sick from the stress, and it hurts because I love him and he doesn’t deserve this. I just want to give everyone what they want from me, but I can’t... Not unless you cure me of hysteria, even if I don’t like the treatment.”

“And they don’t like it either,” Dr Yoongi wanted to confirm. This time you shook your head.

“Mother fears it might get out and our reputation might be ruined,” you explained, suppressing an eye-roll. “And Jimin... it’s complicated. He just doesn’t want me to suffer any longer.”

“As your doctor, neither do I.” Dr Yoongi offered you a smile which you couldn’t help but reciprocate—such a simple gesture, but it had made you blush. He stood up all of the sudden, before you could brush your thoughts away, and extended a hand for you to hold. “Come with me, my lady.”

Leaving his office hand-in-hand, he took you upstairs, to a bedchamber you assumed to be his. It was similar to yours; big windows allowing the light in, the fanciest furniture, and fine fabrics in the form of curtains, bedsheets, and rugs. The most agreeable scent also filled the air, his scent. But however nice the place was, taking you there wasn’t precisely appropriate.

“Why are we here, sir?” You joined your hands to rub your fingers nervously. Dr Yoongi walked to a chest of drawers, on top of which was a tray with a teapot and a cup, and came back to you carrying it.

“Please, don’t think ill of me, I just thought you’d do with some tea. I had it made and brought here right before you showed up because I thought I’d come read for a few hours, once I was done going through my correspondence,” he offered with what you deemed a sincere smile.

His kindness had caught you off guard, but still you stepped forward to pour some steamy tea into the little cup, and after you’d done so, the doctor left the tray where it originally was and remained next to that chest of drawers. He clearly wanted there to be space between the two of you so you wouldn’t feel trapped, which was probably why he’d also left the door behind you open.

“My patients aren’t usually allowed in here, but I thought you’d prefer it to the examination room.”

“Examination room?” You blinked as you sipped on the warm tea—its taste, by the way, delicious.

“Yes, the place where I’d perform the massage. I can do it right now if you want, though I don’t think it’ll make having sex with your husband any easier.”

“What? I thought that was the point of–”

“It is not your hysteria that makes you dread sex, my lady, but the fear of letting down everyone else,” Dr Yoongi explained, only confusing you further. “I was wrong in saying the hustle of settling into married life caused your hysteria, it’s all this pressure to have offspring that you’re facing. It’s made you view intimacy as a duty, a chore, rather than an enjoyable act where two lovers satisfy each other. The massage will achieve nothing so long as you have that mindset. The hysteria which caused the symptoms your mother told me about will inevitably reappear.”

None of that made sense to you, but it had you downing the tea as though it were alcohol regardless. Then, you walked over to the doctor and left the empty cup on the tray next to him, his eyes following your every move attentively. You had appreciated his respect for personal space, but your desperation eclipsed the need for etiquette; it didn’t matter to you if being so close to him in his bedchamber wasn’t proper. “But isn’t having offspring the point of intimacy? That’s what I’ve always been taught– You heard my mother.”

“With all due respect, but I thought you were married to your husband, not your mother.” Dr Yoongi’s serious tone didn’t match the sarcasm of his words as it wasn’t his intention for it to sound like a tease, but it was neither a scold. He was as composed as always and that, along with the gentle way he looked at you, made you stop to think.

He was right, you knew. Not only your mother, but your families had meddled in your marriage more than they should have. But on the other hand, weren’t they entitled to? They’d arranged it, after all. Were your feelings even relevant?

You wanted to cry out of frustration. “Can’t you just fix me?”

Dr Yoongi looked away, trying to think of a way to make you see that the source of the problem was inside your mind, not your body. He took a deep breath. “If you want me to, I can perform the massage and make it... pleasant for you."

“What?” You frowned, walking backwards until your back met one of the foot posts of the bed. The doctor remained where he stood—if anything, stepping back to grant you more space.

“Think about it,” he said, hands joined behind his back. “You get overwhelmed in bed with your husband because of a number of reasons, none of which can be applied to me. My touch wouldn’t sicken you because you’d know my only aim is to pleasure you and not myself; my fingers alone would touch you, so there’d be no way for you to get pregnant, and no reason for you to burden yourself with fear of failure or anyone’s disappointment; and we don’t love each other so if you wanted to stop, I couldn’t possibly feel hurt, for you don’t owe me anything. It’d be all about your enjoyment, as sex should be.”

You were left speechless, since this did make perfect sense. Five seconds ago, letting another man touch you sounded like the ruining of your dignity and marriage but put like Dr Yoongi had, it was the saving of them. You’d get rid of your hysteria and learn firsthand—no pun intended—to bear sex. Two birds killed with one stone.

Now, the thought of cheating on Jimin ashamed you beyond measure, but it was for him that you’d be doing it for. Not only would you heal, but also your relationship with him. That’s one more bird for that stone.

“You’d do that for me?” Your cheeks set aflame since it hit you just then that, worded differently, he was offering to make you come. “Without asking for anything in return?”

“If you consent to it, I will,” Dr Yoongi affirmed as he approached you carefully, studying your reaction to make sure that was alright with you. It definitely was, especially after giving you the answer to all your troubles. “We stop whenever you say so, and the door is always open for you to leave.”

He got so close that you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from his eyes, your heartbeat already racing... No doubt he knew the effect he was having on you, since the corner of his lips quirked into a smirk. You couldn’t deny to yourself how enthralled you were by him any longer, not now that you were finally allowing yourself to bask in the arousal he provoked in you and it felt so right.

“I consent to it,” you said faintly and Dr Yoongi nodded in acknowledgement before he proceeded to remove his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat. He then rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and you bit your lip, wishing he would continue undressing. But he’d made it clear, only his fingers would pleasure you.

"You know,” he whispered, placing one hand around your waist to pull you closer and the other on your cheek, to caress it with his thumb. Your skin burned with desire, and feeling the doctor’s breath on your lips did nothing to cool it down. “I wouldn't have proposed doing this if I didn't feel a certain attraction between us, am I right?” Barely nodding, you let your eyes wander downwards. “Mhm, I’ve noticed the way your eyes linger on my lips, my hands..."

"I–I like your hands,” you faltered, mentally calling yourself an idiot for saying such a dumb thing. It was true, though. Dr Yoongi’s hands might as well have been sculptured by God himself, yet you wanted him to do the most sinful things with them to you.

He chuckled lowly. “This won't be the last time you say that to me today.” Mouth watering, you let him take off your clothes until you were left in your chemise, drawers, and stockings. If your family could see you, almost naked in front of a man you’d met the day before, they’d shun you. Curiously, the thought was of no importance to you. All you could think about was the doctor’s proximity, his body pressing yours against that foot post. “Would kissing me make you feel more comfortable?”

Instead of answering, you leaned forward and did just that, unable to contain your passion anymore. His lips melded with yours the second they met, and Dr Yoongi seemed to be as impatient as you, his warm tongue wasting no time sliding inside your mouth to battle with yours for a dominance you gladly granted him. He bit your lip roughly and you moaned, ready to forget the deal you’d made and let him take you right there when he groaned in return.

But he knew better than to lose himself to lust, however hard you were making it for him. Breaking the kiss, he got into bed and lay against the bunch of pillows with a look in his eyes so provoking that it made heat rush down to your core. “Come here, my lady.”

Once you’d crawled to his side, Dr Yoongi had you lie on top of him, your back resting on his chest. He had perfect access to your neck from that angle, and didn’t hesitate to nuzzle at it as soon as you’d settled in. Were you not feeling his growing erection on your lower back while your legs were spread wide open, you’d have considered the position sweet.

“Yoongi...” you breathed, grabbing his hands to place them over your breasts, which he groped over your chemise. “Please, touch me.”

He scoffed against your skin. “My name sounds so good when you moan it.” Following your orders, he lifted the hem of your drawers and got inside them, your walls clenching around nothing when his middle finger started circling your clit so slow that it was killing you.

Dr Yoongi was making a show out of teasing you, and you didn’t know whether to love him or hate him for it. You could feel yourself getting wetter nonetheless as you grasped the bed sheets and your knuckles turned white, the feeling enough to send you into a drunk-like state.

When you moved your hips to hint that you wanted Dr Yoongi to go faster, his hard cock twitched under you, and he sighed in your ear, “You want me to fuck you, is that it? Want me inside you...”

“God, yes,” you struggled to say when he sped up, your breathing becoming erratic along with your heartbeat. After a hum, he started stroking your groin and inner thigh with his free hand, lightly.

“I won’t lie to you, the idea of bending you over my desk has crossed my mind,” he said before laying a wet kiss on the vein of your neck. You closed your eyes to imagine it, almost wishing you hadn’t left his office. “You seem to be dirty enough to like being fucked like that, to beg me to go harder so you can come around my cock.” A moan left your mouth instead of a yeah, but his next words took you by surprise, eyes snapping open and body stiffening a little. “Does your husband fuck you like that, huh? Is he rough with you?”

Why he had brought Jimin up, you couldn’t comprehend. He didn’t want to make you feel guilty, as that would make no sense, but it didn’t look like he was going to compare his skills in the art of lovemaking with Jimin’s, either—Dr Yoongi knew you loved him, after all, and that you wouldn’t like hearing someone speak ill of him.

It could only be that he wanted the thought of lying with Jimin to turn you on, which was actually... genius.

It didn’t take away from the fact that you were cheating on him, but at least you’d have him in mind, something that would definitely help you assimilate that the lust he awoke in you didn’t have to be a bad thing, or lesser than the need of giving him children.

Closing your eyes and relaxing again, you focused on the oh-so lovely way Dr Yoongi was still touching your clit. “Sometimes, he is. But it doesn’t– ah... It doesn’t always end for me the way it does for him.”

“Well we can’t have that, can we?” the doctor purred in your ear, burying two of his free hand’s fingers inside you without prior notice, earning a surprised gasp from you. It had not hurt at all, though, since you were wet enough—so much, actually, that you could hear it. “Oh, listen to that... So sweet.” The air filled with the lewd sound of his digits sliding in and out of you and rubbing the right spot fervently, but you could barely hear it over your loud moaning and panting. “Do you sing like that for him?”

Squirming much to Dr Yoongi’s manhood’s delight, you nodded. There was no shame in letting your sexual partner know he was making you see the stars. “I do!”

“When he fucks you deep?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And when you ride his cock like a slut?”

“Yes... I love riding him.”

“Mhm, I bet you do. You’d like to feel his cock inside you instead of my fingers, wouldn’t you?”

The tantalising picture of Jimin being there painted in your mind was driving you crazy, especially when paired with the scorching sensation Dr Yoongi was pleased to induce you.

So close were you to reaching your high that you couldn’t even talk, but the satiated sounds coming out of your mouth were good enough an answer. The doctor shushed you gently, going back to kissing your neck until you turned your head to the side so you could join your lips with his again.

The kiss was sloppy this time, noses even bumping because you couldn’t keep still, but Dr Yoongi devouring you with his tongue and growling for your ears only was just what you needed to find your release. He kept rubbing your clit and doing beckoning motions inside you until the repeating clenching of your walls told him he should slow down, not to overstimulate you.

Once you’d given yourself a few seconds to catch your breath, you collapsed next to him, lips parted and eyes barely open from how intense that orgasm had been. Dr Yoongi licked his slick-coated fingers before stretching his arms and lying on his side to face you, a smile playing on his lips.

“I can’t believe...” you struggled to say, your expression mirroring his, “I can’t believe feeling like that is possible.”

He chuckled, “You probably already knew it, but forgot along the way for whatever reason, my lady.”

A wiggle of his brows reminded you of your family, which made you look down. They’d have no say in your life from now on, you’d rather die than allow them to deprive you of happiness, in whatever form you might choose to find it. The hysteria in you was gone, so it was up to you to be yourself again.

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes making their way down to the bulge in his trousers. You assumed it must hurt, the little pleasure Dr Yoongi had gotten from you being the uncontrollable grinding of your hips, and so you got closer to touch him, but he stopped you.

“I promised you I wouldn’t ask for anything in return,” he said softly. You’d never expected him to be so lascivious in the first place, but seeing him behave so respectfully and professionally again amazed you. He couldn’t suppress another chuckle, however, “I might have just fingered you to the moon and back, but I’m still a gentleman.”

The following weeks, you greeted happily.

Avoiding all contact with your family, you felt a weight had been lifted off you. They would come visit you at some point but until they did, you delighted in their absence—and in Jimin’s company.

The two of you became as devoted to each other as you had in the beginning of your marriage, with him coming back home earlier from work so you could spend as much time together as possible. Welcoming him back into your bed had been hard at first, but Dr Yoongi had been right: prioritising your own needs for the first time in your life had been the right decision.

It was one Saturday morning that the most beautiful melody woke you up. An empty spot in the bed, you followed the sound of the music downstairs, where you found Jimin practising on the piano. His face lit up when you made your presence obvious by sitting next to him but he didn’t stop playing, so you decided to tease him by pressing some random keys to spoil his song. When he turned to you, you raised your eyebrows as in is something the matter?

He did a poor job at quelling a smile, but went back to playing. After a few seconds, you pressed another key.

“Stop it!” he put on a fake serious voice before he started tickling you as you knew he would, the laugh you’d been holding finally coming out.

“Stop what, my love?” you feigned innocence in between shrieks of laughter. Minutes later, after he had finish playing a piece you liked without interruption, you held onto him, head resting on the crook of his neck. “Jimin...”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something crazy?” He hummed as an answer, and you sat straight to look him in the eye. “May we move out? Far away, somewhere we can be like this forever. I know your work is here, and our fa–”

“Yes.”

“No, I know, but–” You frowned, “wait, yes?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. Let’s go somewhere we can be happy. How about Paris?”

You held back tears at the fact that Jimin was willing to leave everything behind without a second thought for the sake of your happiness, something you’d deemed lost not so long ago. “Paris sounds great.”

No more would you be forced to endure the anxiety your families’ expectations had planted in you, nor the treatment you’d been getting for not living up to them. The point of your marriage, contrary to what your mother thought, wasn’t having children, but simply being in love.

But to be fair to her, she had been right about seeing that doctor.

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elitaxne · 2 years

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┊ ❛ THE DREAM TEAM ❜

♔. }

❝ Perfect, Sir. And Councillor- Commander !! S-Sorry, Ma’am, I uhm, it’s an old habit... a-anyways, ❞ the Assistant stammered, waving his servos in beckoning for Elita to take her mark. ❝ Tips of your pedes go in the corner of the tape, please. Right up to the edge if you can. ❞

Elita silently followed the instruction, resisting the urge to stare down the mech for the title falter. While it had already been several centuries since her time as a Councillor, it still came as a small sting to her pride. Commander of course was a respectable title, Second in Command of the Autobots even more so, but, after being a High Councillor — adorned in beautiful garments, helm ornamentations, and surrounded by other nobles — it felt demoralizing to be standing here now, shooting recruitment videos for the current war effort; stripped down to a slightly bulkier armoured frame, and standing alongside Optimus Prime no less.

Primus, she could FEEL the mech’s amusement wafting in his EM Field. Elita had even caught the poorly hidden smirk that flashed over his lip-plates at the Assistant’s blunder from the corner of her optic, as if he knew it was a sore spot for her... What she would give to smack his remaining grin off right now without consequence. Optics met and both expressions dulled, less than thrilled to be standing so closely together.

Everything about today was nothing short of embarrassing and unnatural, the both of them dreading it for separate reasons. Elita for the blow to her pride, and Optimus for the anxiety that came with public addresses such as this. What made this even worse was that they had to recite lines per a Director’s dictations. This was not like making any other speech as he had done before, no, this was something else entirely. For once, they both agreed the act left them feeling vaguely like puppets on strings, dancing against their will.

But, such was necessary if they wanted more mecha to join their ranks. The Autobots DESPERATELY required fresh frames, and with the Decepticon numbers growing by the day, they had to set aside personal preferences for the betterment of the cause... however bitterly.

❝ How’re we lookin’? ❞ the Assistant called back. If the sigh was anything to go by the Director was less than pleased.

❝ The framing is off, ❞ he muttered, looking up to the two Commanders, ❝ I’m going to need you both to stand a bit closer so you can fit in the shot. ❞

Optimus and Elita flinched at the words, again peering back over to the other with a soured look. Absolutely not. Arms length as they were now was fine enough for them. The fact they were standing in the same airspace cordially was nothing short of a miracle by all accounts. Were they to be in the War Room, well, the mask of etiquette would’ve long since slipped...

The Director tutted and the Assistant’s servos again waved, urgently pushing the air in front of them in signal to move closer, like one would with a youngling. Elita felt her jaw slacken and optics briefly rolled, not even stepping an INCH in the Prime’s direction. Optimus mirrored her exactly, frowning to himself while cautiously taking a half-step closer. He could feel the phantom chill her plating naturally radiated creeping over crimson plates and it sent a shiver up his spinal struts. Ice Queen indeed...

❝ That... that didn’t do anything. Okay, I need you both to REALLY get in close, your plates are going to have to touch— ❞

Both Prime and SIC flinched again. Elita, however, was first to voice the displeasure. Surprisingly, Optimus didn’t mind and even more surprisingly, found himself AGREEING with her words, though however tersely they came.

❝ Is there no way to move the cameras BACK at all to accommodate? ❞ the femme started, cerulean hues narrowed and locked onto the Director some yards away behind the multiple blinding lights, cameras, and microphones. ❝ I have an injury that is still healing, and I am HESITANT to have it jostled if the Prime were to move. ❞

Optimus quirked a brow, helm turning fully to face her. That was news to him...

❝ I don’t recall you being injured...? ❞ he said quietly, even apprehensively.

Elita glowered back as if to say ‘shut up’ through her look alone. Thankfully, Optimus caught on to her lie and bit his lower component, glancing away from her immediately. Shutting up, your Highness. Frag, this day needed to end...

Without hearing the side-commentary from the two titanic bots the Director continued on, ❝ Sadly, we can’t, Ma’am. Otherwise it’ll put the background too far out of focus, and the microphones will be too high to capture audio. Trust me, Commander, I’ve done this COUNTLESS times, it’ll look perfect when you see it for yourself. Commander Prime, just please mind yourself during this shot... ❞

Optimus huffed quietly, then nodded, expression softening pleasantly over to the mech behind the production crew. Wonderful, he’d be sure to do just that... there was nothing he wanted to do MORE than to peel himself away from his SIC’s frame and presence, but alas, duty remained. At the behest of the Assistant, Elita and Optimus shared another flat glance, mirrored actions bringing them side by side on a slight inward angle, arms plates pressed flush against each other with a quiet squeak of metal on metal. They each wanted to pull away IMMEDIATELY but, neither moved, as if in some unspoken competition to see who could last the longest. Childish to the core.

Optics met with facial expressions surprisingly neutral but the disgust in each set of cerulean and cyan hues respectively spoke to the breadth of each their displeasure with the situation. The sooner they could get this over with the sooner they could stop touching... and the sooner each spark pulse could hopefully SETTLE. The incessant tugging and twisting did little to help the situation, despite neither of them showing any such distress.

❝ Perfect !! Alright, don’t move from there. Let’s get some tape in those new positions. Label as the new mark one, ❞ the Director started, to which another Assistant came sprinting forward, laying out the tape at the pedes of the Commanders. Primus, their size alone was nothing short of intimidating, let alone, prestige. It wasn’t everyday one found themselves in the presence of a Prime and former High Councillor after all...

Cameras whirred and the hum of microphones above their helms filled each set of audials. The smaller mech scurried back into the looming shadows behind the bright white lights. Showtime.

Optimus bristled, feeling the unrelenting anxious swells in his spark chamber, and the lurching that came with Elita standing so close didn’t help matters either; making him feel vaguely nauseous and even more unsettled. Not to mention the other affliction: HOT. The production lights burned down onto them from every angle, making his already warm internal temperature rise to a near SCORCHING level. Though Elita didn’t say anything he knew she had taken notice, the quirked brow she shot him when he repositioned slightly said it all. All Optimus could do was pray that his cooling fans didn’t online, otherwise he was certain he’d die from embarrassment.

❝ You both know your lines, but, we have the prompter at optic level in case you need it. Sir, we’ll start with you, then go to you, Ma’am. Back and forth until the end of the script. Try not to look at each other, optics stay forwards as best you can. Sometimes it can be tempting when you hear someone speak next to you, but, I need your gazes towards me, ❞ the Director said, settling into his chair next to the live monitor.

Optimus and Elita ALMOST laughed outright at the comment. Neither held any qualms with that particular instruction. Trust them, there was NO temptation...

❝ Alright, roll camera... ❞

❝ Camera rolling. ❞

❝ Roll sound. ❞

❝ Speed! ❞

❝ Marker— ❞

The first Assistant from before held out a board in front of the camera lens, ❝ Scene one, Shot one, Take one. ❞ The top-half of the board fell with a sharp CLAP, and the mech pulled it from view, disappearing back to the side of the lead camera.

❝ Rolling... ❞ the Director said, eyeing the two Commanders. The crew all stilled, set ( or in this case, the Autobot aircraft hangar ) completely silent and waiting. ❝ Annnnnd action! ❞

Optimus straightened, staring dead into the camera per the previous instruction and reading the rolling lines from the prompter. While he had memorized all his lines perfectly just now in this moment he felt them ABANDON his processors entirely.

❝ I am Commander Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots, ❞ he said, voice hitching uncharacteristically in a slightly higher register. Fantastic...

❝ And I am Commander Elita-1, ❞ Elita said, making sure to draw out her words per the natural rhythm, if only to FURTHER contrast Optimus’ less than stellar first line and hers. The air of superiority RADIATED off her frame so profusely it rivalled the heat from surrounding lights.

Optimus continued to pause, wanting to clear his vocalizer but negating against it, unsure if the Director wanted them to stop or not. From his upper peripherals he could see the Director's silhouetted servo moving behind the camera, prompting he continue. The Prime obliged, jilting in place.

❝ A-And we need brave sparks like yours to join the Autobot campaign against the threatening forces of the Decepticons. Whose atrocities wage on across Cybertron at the behest of their tyrannical leader, Megatron— ❞

The words shot from his vocoder MUCH faster than he had anticipated, awkward and wooden. Recruitment video? The Prime was certain this looked and sounded more like a hostage video...

Elita bit back a smirk but an anemic ventilation trickled from her frame all the same. Optimus cringed internally. Yes, he knew it wasn’t a very good performance, this was why he was a former ARCHIVIST not an ACTOR...

But now, it was her turn...

JUST as wooden as the Prime though at least, not quite at the break-neck speed he’d taken to. As a former politician she had some experience in front of a camera while shooting campaign videos, but, that felt to be a lifetime ago and despite her not wanting to admit such, she was a bit rusty at it.

❝ You alone could change the tide in this civil war, and bring an end to the on-going conflict. Now more than ever, your planet needs you and your bravery. ❞ At least she had said the words well enough; miserably robotic but, it was a start.

Optimus swallowed. Final line, he could do this. ❝ The fate of freedom itself is in your servos. Join the Autobots today, and fight back against tyranny - Together— ❞ his voice cut off abruptly as optics just about BULGED out of his helm at the action prompt following the lines.

>> SERVO GOES ON ELITA’S SHOULDER PAULDON.

Not a chance in the Pit. He wanted to KEEP his servo today, thank you very much...

Again, the Director goaded from behind the camera and Optimus whined to himself, hoisting an arm up in a PAINFULLY slow manner. The action came as if he were about to be shot off-camera were it not completed. Honestly, he had half a fear he’d be shot at ON camera by the femme were he to see this through. Lip plates pressed together in a thin line and optics pleadingly stared down into the black void of the camera lens. Primus, have mercy on his spark...

Elita’s optics shifted to the side in a split-second warning he stop what he was doing immediately. Don’t you dare... Optimus gnawed on the inner-mesh lining his cheek with the Director’s movements continuing on. He had no choice. The both of them watched in slow motion as large, warm digits came up to rest on her nearest pauldron. Cold cerulean hues SHOT up to the Prime whose sightline locked dead ahead on the camera lens, feeling her piercing gaze practically peel his paint.

Sucking in a sharp vent the femme Commander followed suit, staring forwards begrudgingly. That was quite long enough... Angling slightly away from him the thick digits slipped from their feeble hold on fuchsia plating. Optimus blindly held them out a moment more in consideration, then ultimately decided to recoil the now balled fist behind his backplates in a blink of an optic, not wanting to repeat the action EVER again.

The awkwardness between the two Commanders couldn’t even begin to be described, but it could CERTAINLY be felt by every spark in the room. Rigid. Tense. Bizarre. Palpable. Somehow they had each unknowingly started to LEAN in opposite directions, just enough to remain in the frame, but enough so their frames GHOSTED each other where previously they had been connected.

The crew cringed, thankful their expressions were hidden behind the blasting lights, though knowing glances were shot amongst themselves. This was agonizingly uncomfortable to watch. Please, Director, put them all out of their misery...

❝ Cut— ❞ the Director gawked in partial disbelief, ❝ Reset... ❞

The crew shifted from their places and Optimus and Elita practically THREW themselves away from each other, not wanting the personal-space invasion to last even a nanosecond longer. Fuschia shoulder pauldrons rolled, as though trying to dispel the Prime’s lingering warmth off of them. Optimus did similar, shifting in place and shaking his helm. Unsure where else to look he kept his gaze downcast, but felt the femme already turning slightly towards him. Here we go...

❝ Touch me again and I will slice your servo off here and now, Prime, ❞ she snarled under her breath.

Optimus glared back at her, ❝ I was only following what the prompter said. ❞

❝ Well, don’t— ❞ she spat back, mindful of the volume. Optics met, burning into the other’s in rising agitation.

❝ Trust me, Commander, I didn’t want to, ❞ he replied, just as bitingly. Nerves had worn his patience thin, and while they had kept the bickering to a minimum during earlier promo shots they each were at the end of their ropes.

Crew members continued to bustle around them, masking the on-going squabble as it carried out between the two titans.

❝ And by the All-Spark, are your palms always so clammy? ❞ Elita huffed, eyeing her pauldron as if looking for leftover residue. Her upper lip curled. Disgusting.

The Prime’s fascia heated, matching his still BURNING frame practically sizzling beneath harsh lights.

❝ My palms are not clammy, ❞ Optimus growled lowly, rolling his optics. They were. He blamed his nerves along with the stifling heat. ❝ With your plating practically frozen-over perhaps a regular bot merely FEELS that way to you... ❞

Elita balked near silently, glancing back over to him on a side angle. ❝ Oh, really? So, you are an expert now when it comes to how plating feels, Prime? Astounding. ❞

Optimus engaged, mirroring her actions. ❝ Compared to you who hasn’t felt another’s touch in her entire lifecycle, maybe I am— ❞ he clucked beneath his breath.

The fuschia form stiffened as icy cerulean optics — cold like the rest of her — bore back into cyan. Ouch. That was marginally unexpected of him... but she wasn’t about to bring attention to the tiny sore spot left from the jab. Regaining her composure in a nanosecond optics rolled and arms crossed tightly in front of the fuchsia chassis.

❝ That wasn’t even clever, ❞ Elita muttered.

❝ Didn’t need to be. It drew a reaction from you all the same, didn’t it? ❞ he countered, shocking even himself with the rude antics. When it came to petty insults and callous remarks Elita almost always decimated him ten to one. Today, he had edged ahead, but something told him the battle wasn’t over.

The Assistant had silently returned amongst the production chaos and mimed for them to once again step closer. Neither Optimus nor Elita were paying that much attention, shuffling back into place to unwittingly bump into each other. They each reacted in kind, peeling away as though the other was plagued.

❝ What did I say? ❞ Elita huffed, then grumbled some sort of expletive under her breath. Optimus hadn’t caught it, but he had a few guesses.

The Prime let loose a huff of his own, ❝ Don’t even start— ❞

Frames ever so slightly touched again as they settled at their marks, and optics met once more in a spark-stopping glower; a silent challenge born from simmering irritation. Denta gritted beneath hardened jawlines and ridges narrowed on sharp angles. Limbs shifted in annoyance, trying to get away from the other bot but not having the room to do so. Eventually, they each conceded, rolling their optics and staring off elsewhere with exasperated sighs.

The Director simply stared at his monitor, helm falling into a single servo. Together his AFT. It was a miracle the Autobots weren’t in even more dire straights. From what he could tell the two leaders DESPISED each other with the fury of a thousand suns. But, he was being paid to make it seem like they were in perfect unity. A dream team. Primus, it was going to take a tsunami of movie magic to make that happen...

❝ Okay, we’re gonna go again! ❞ he called up, ❝ From the top— ❞

Everyone settled into their places, Optimus and Elita included. Back to the same expressionless fascia as before, but the subtle burning behind each set of optics told a different story. This was going to be a very, VERY long day.

❝ Annnnnd action! ❞

#/ elitaprime #/ long post #— · ♔ » ┊ ❛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ . . . ❜「 ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ 」#◤— · // « ♔ » ┊ ❛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʏᴏᴜ ❜ ╌「 ᴏᴘʟɪᴛᴀ 」#◤— · // « ᴠᴇʀsᴇ » ┊ ❛ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏɴ ғɪʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ sᴜɴ ❜ ○「 ᴡᴀʀ 」#[ a wild drabble for y'all as a mini writing exercise for moi haha ]#[ got this idea watching the office episode where dwight & jim are party planning committee heads ]#[ yenno their interview where they explain how they took over? ]#[ fucking classic. ]

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h0neyjaehyun · 2 years

Text

♔︎ 𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 ♔︎

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 // The name Karma sometimes fits her a little too well.

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 // Karma Yoon + Han Jisung (Many Mentions )

𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 / 𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚛 // November 2017

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 //

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎 // THIS POST IS SUPER IMPORTANT ITS A START OF DRAMA

Karma and Han have had their differences mostly because of past incidences before they became group members, idols and even trainees. They have known each other for years. They did get along in the beginning though, they would joke around and have fun but some personal disagreements and action occured to make Karma feel a lot of resentment towards him. She didn't exactly hate him as his actions weren't towards her but she took his actions and words to a personal level as the person he did that to meant a lot to her.

His actions did effect a lot on how people view him more specifically Chan, her, Hyunjin, Miguel, Talia, Allen, I.N , Song-ho, and Seungmin. They were all close when Han did what he did, but most of them still tolerated it till they got over it. In the beginning of them working together they would only really talk for the group or help each other on lyrics, dancing,vocals, and rapping they would put their feelings aside. Then they started living together thats when real arguments started. But the help of Chan and Hyunjin who at the time made up with Han suggested to Karma maybe try talking to him. Her stubborn self wouldn't so they would be neutral about it. Till something makes her stubbornness go away and become friends with him.

Karma sighed in defeat laying on her bed wanting to give up on life. Its not like she hates Han, she just feels petty towards him. Its been almost 4 years since that incident she should be over it. Hell its not like he did anything bad to her. The only reason she's about to make an effort is so she can find out Han's feelings about two people, Talia and Rin. She's been seeing them being good friend since meeting, not like she cares, she didn't mind her group mates meeting and being friends.

Thats until she noticed little Rin catching feelings. She doesn't blame Rin in anyway, Han is a pretty charming peson. Funny, not bad looking, has great talent, and has become both a better and sweet person. The only problem she is facing is that Han most likely doesn't feel the same or well not as much as Rin does.

She huffed and sat up looking around seeing if this is really her reality. She got up and started to walk towards Hans room. She knocked and he opened door kinda surprised to see her.

"Chan Hyung isn't here." She gave him a weak smile.

"Im not here to see Channie I came here to talk to you." Han blinked a couple times to process that. He opened the door for her more and scratched his head feeling a little shy.

"Uh what do you want to talk about?" He sat down facing her but kinda avoiding eye contact. Once upon a time he was able to face her but lately she has this stare that makes him nervous.

"About your feelings." She said bluntly which Han snapped his neck towards her in shock.

"What? Out of all of us I've known you the longest except Chan and I've seen you filled with anxiety lately since we are preparing now to debut. I thought you venting your feelings to someone whose known you for a long time will help since Chan is kinda too busy to help." She wasn't completely being honest about that she really just wanted to find out his feelings about Rin. But has noticed him filled with anxiety so hell kill two birds with one stone. Is it a little heartless of her to manipulate her words to make them seem more caring than her intentions, yeah, but she will get what she wants in the end so it doesn't matter to her.

"I don't know where to start with my feelings." He sighed out in exhaustion rubbing his face with his hands.

"Alright, what have you been doing lately? Hobbies, outings, friends, stressors." Karma listed out things that would lead him to the answers she's been looking for.

"Ah actually work, I've finished my songs finally and submitted them....actually I had some people help me with them."

"Ah who helped you?" She knew damn well who, she just need him to mention them so she wouldn't get caught.

"Little Rin, she's been a great help." Karma looked him up and down at his body language. When they were younger Han would always get nervous around people he liked or blush while thinking about them. He wasn't acting like that.

"Really thats good, I'm glad she's proving to people that she is more than just looks." Sliding in about her looks maybe would get him blushing she thought and looked at his face.

"Yeah, she's pretty but she's pretty young to be an idol." He nodded while Karma gave him an eyebrow raise.

"Rin is less than a year younger than you Hannie." She deadpanned.

"I know I know but she seems like such a cute younger sister that I've always wanted I don't wanna have her overwhelmed with criticism. " He gushed. Karma mouth gapped a little but she quickly composed herself, her heart broke a little for Rin but nothing much you can do, maybe with more time it could change, but that's no fun.

Han has always been honest about his feelings to Karma, for him it feels like its an obligation to as he knows she can see right through him and she knows this so she knows he isn't lying about how he sees Rin as a little sister. Well they haven't known each other long.

She thought for a moment about his wording.... 'people' and smirked a little.

"Hannie who are the other people." She asked innocently.

"Mmh."he hesitated obviously blushing at meer thought of them.

"Tali noona...." he said shyly, Karma smirked for a second but quickly turned surprised.

"Ah when did you two start talking again?" Han blinked a couple time surprised how she didn't know.

"She didn't tell you?" He asked wide eyed.

"Ah no I haven't really gotten to talk to her in a minute since she's been prepared for award shows and stuff." She explained briefly he nodded his head understandably.

"Yeah we've gotten together and working on some songs and stuff. We made up thankfully I honestly did miss her." He scratched the back of his head blushing.

"Are you blushing??" Karma teased. Jisung got flustered and covered his face.

"Is it that obvious?" His voiced muffled from his hands, Karma giggled.

"Yeah, yeah it is." She sighed, she honestly wanted to smack the boy upside the head. But she knows people can't control their feelings so she knows its not his fault. Then something struck, something thats she can kill 3 birds with one stone.

"Hannie, are you gonna do something about it?" She asked innocently. Han raised an eyebrow at her confused.

"What?"

"Are you gonna act on your feelings, ya know its not good to keep those things in." She advised him. Han kept silent in thought of confessing, he looked down not knowing how to respond.

"If you do, do something make sure its when her schedule is clear. Maybe take her out on dates, and stuff like the good old days." She smiled sweetly, Han nodded in silence. She notice the conversation isn't gonna go on anytime soon, but she knew her words left him pondering about it. She knew he wouldn't dare think about it but now that someone suggested it hell...he might just do it.

"Ah well, I think its time for me to head out." She sighed in a disappointed tone. She patted his shoulder and started to head out. Han instinctively grabbed her hand which she raised her eyebrows at. He clear his throat embarrassed.

"Don't tell anyone, I wasn't planning on telling someone this. So don't tell." He pleaded. Karma looked away trying to hide her smile then sighed, went up to Han.

"Of course I won't its a promise." She patted his head and left. She closed the door and headed to her room. She couldn't hold it anymore, she started laughing hysterical she was tearing up.

This is gonna be fun

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