Hellow welcome to the Clinic AU
TW : affections
Another TW : slight boobas
Context :
She saw you reblogging this loll lmao
And if you're wondering :
Yes. *I* was the one who first brought up the Nurse Ragatha agenda
((It was most probably not original but oh well))
YOU
YOUUUUUUUU
HER HEAD RESTING IN THE BOOBIES
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hear me out: my fave flavor of gelphie is suit!Galinda x suit!Elfie. Like, a Galinda all shy about her white suit and pink dress shirt and Elfie goes NUTS over her. She’s almost physically drooling over Galinda. And when she goes to change and comes back in an all black suit ensamble Galinda LOSES IT in the exact same way. And just spends the rest of the night showing off her prettty gf to the school
Listen, I'm def of the mindset that Glinda does not have a butch bone in her body, she's 1000% femme and would pretty much always wear dresses.
BUT. A white suit with like a super frilly pink dress shirt + killer heels? I can buy that. I can totally buy that. Yes.
Of course those two losers would lose it over how beautiful and handsome their gf look. have you met them? both absolutely smitten.
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henry being meannnnn like calling you a needy brat
yes. he would simply excel at degrading, being mean to you. he was made for it. the words, the glares, the unyielding gestures — he would know all the perfect ways to make you feel diminished and as though he was offering you a big, great favor by catering to you. it would be wicked.
i can specifically imagine it intensifying when you're posing a distraction to his work, trying to divert his attention and initiate or whatnot. it's common knowledge how seriously immersed he gets in his studies, considering his constant longing for maximized academic achievement and such. plus, his work would simply be a greater priority. it wouldn't have anything to do with you, it's just the way he is. therefore, your trying to steer him off course would irritate him, irk him — he would get much meaner than usual, especially if his day hadn't gone well (and, as we know, it rarely ever does).
you could be standing by him as he works at his desk, your hand merely dallying along his shoulder blades for some kind of physical contact. by now, you will have implied your desire a few times — too many for your liking, in fact, as it would paint you as quite desperate. and yet, he will have dismissed you each and every time. as a result, you'd simply resort to begging, "henry, please."
he would draw breath briskly and sharply as though he'd been punched in the gut, annoyed with you beyond belief. "you're being very bothersome."
"i need you," you'd disregard his malice, a storm whipping within you — you would seriously need him so badly that you wouldn't care about the striking, crude remarks.
"which has been made obvious," he'd grumble flatly. after shooting you and your pleading eyes a cool gaze, he'd continue, "i'm getting work done, which i am sure you can see." his hand would sweep over his textbooks in a demonstrative gesture, then, and you'd merely sigh, "please."
something about your tone would do him in. the breathlessness of it, the utter desperation. he would feel completely submitted to, longed for. and, somewhere deep within, it would please him. he would only be willing to assent due to the complete and utter knowledge that you would cede all control to him was he to do anything. therefore, with an exasperated scoff, he would rise from his seat, immediately towering over you — in one swift pull, he would rid you of your bottoms and your underwear, soon planting you upon the very same desk he had been working at.
he'd accompany his actions with words, sharp and venomous as a snake's bite. "you're a desperate, pathetic little brat. what is it you want me to give you, then?"
it would progress to him being knuckle-deep inside you, you sprawled out on the desk for him and propping yourself up with your arm, crying out and fluttering around his fingers as he'd work you, roughly and steadily. due to being so skilled, he would numerously take you right to the brink of ecstasy and then cease all action again, thereby robbing you of your orgasm a few times too many. this, of course, would upset you greatly — "henry, fuck. please."
"wasn't your needy self just pleading with me to be touched? your daring is beyond me," he'd respond. by the time his fingers withdraw from you, you still will not have come — he will have edged you relentlessly, which is why, upon being entered and consequently stimulated by him, you'd come in a matter of sheer minutes. he will have been perfectly aware that you would, and would keep going nevertheless — not that you'd tell him to, as you'd feast on the pulsating smolder of overstimulation — swinging into you roughly, evening out his anger.
having recovered from your passed orgasm, you'd tearily request for him to go faster, which would merely irk him more — he would even resort to swearing. "fucking brat," he'd spit, all breathy wrath and resentment, "do you even fathom how needy of a brat you're being right now? take it, silently." his harshness, despite eliciting a mellow sting, would thrill you greatly. and only because of that, you'd comply.
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