#literally the entirety of the X-Files is just...

[spookyagentfmulder]

What Chess Piece Represents You?

White Pawn.

You are a white pawn. Don't let pawn be misleading, this means you're full of potential. Being the white piece and a pawn means you can have the first move on the board. Will you make a good first impression? For all the spotlight is on you, watching you go across the board on your long journey. Will you rely on those around you for support? For a pawn, for all its love and hope, can do little by itself. Not until it reaches the other side of the board and has its full potential realized. Who will you be at the end of your journey? Only time will tell.

[strawberry-nugget]

Katsuki does his own Calvin Klein ad and the comments you see all over TikTok make you jealous!

Pairing: Bakugo x fem!reader

Tags // Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, top! reader, oral (m receiving), cumflation(?), jealousy, a little fighting, LOADS of comfort, Jungkook mentioned ig? All characters are 20+

You're mad.

Extremely mad.

Ac/dc’s TNT plays on repeat from the speaker of your phone, your laptop, your TV, the Main Street screen from the building across your apartment a few stories below. And truly, every single time a replay goes on and on, each screen unsynced, your anger grows even worse inside your already too tight chest.

The reason?

Your boyfriend’s Calvin Klein ad has actually broke the internet.

It’s fucking ridiculous—The whole thing is worse than what happened with Bad Bunny a few months ago.

The comments are all over the place. Messy. Too messy. Too thirsty. Too delirious. Too fucking disrespectful.

You've scrolled through way too many edits. No scratch that. You've only scrolled through edits. With millions of likes, hundreds thousands of comments—that you've spent hours reading to their entirety. The actual video from the official Calvin Klein account has thirty, no forty million likes. Almost as many saves and shares too.

You’re naturally jealous. You knew you were bound to be even if you were the one who practically begged him to say yes to the offer and you definitely knew your boyfriend was the cause of thirst for many people worldwide.

It’s never been a problem until now. You've usually encountered the occasional ‘congratulations to whoever is bouncing on it’ edit, hell you’ve even smiled like an idiot at it, but now? After digging through comments that explicitly say ‘his girlfriend aint even deserve all that’ and ‘damn Dynamight’s gf i said LET GO’ you want to scream. Yell. Get back at him.

You can’t even bear to witness the video anymore. Only because when looking at it out of context, you feel like you can forgive him because of how hot he just looks!

It’s all over your screen; Katsuki flexing his muscles, biceps, forearms, back, thighs, torso. Letting off explosions, pulling the waistband of his boxers down just enough to tease, stomping his hero boots before he kneels completely. All while being extremely sweaty.

Seriously, fuck him and that hero work durability underwear line.

You’ve now unliked the original post out of pure spite. Then re-liked it. Then unliked it again because it felt like you were feeding the beast that's unleashing negativity and pumps jealousy throughout your whole body

You’ve closed the app, deleted it, redownloaded it, and then ended up stalking your own boyfriend like you were a crazed fan girl and not the person who literally shares a bathroom with him, only to be met with the same ten posts on TikTok—yes the one where he does push ups with you on his back and the other edit he has posted of you, even the one and only repost he has that’s of your ‘somebody point me to the best ass eater’ TikTok, where he acted like a feral beast and actually tried to bend you over. 

And then his instagram, where there are only a few yearly hero chart posts that have him as a co creator and like, three actual posts that he made himself. One from his agency, one from a school reunion and one with you smiling next to him, both bloody and bruised after a villain attack with the caption ‘you should see the other guy’.

Back to TikTok now, you take one last look at the ad before you ultimately close it, yes, for real this time, fists clenched like you’re about to march straight to Calvin Klein Japan HQ and file a formal complaint about emotional damages.

Instead, you exhale sharp through your nose and storm into the kitchen like a woman on a mission.

Fine.

If the internet wants to thirst over your man like they’ve never seen shoulders before, then so be it. You’re not threatened.

Not really. Not even a little.

You’re the one he comes home to. You’re the one who knows the exact way he likes his coffee in the morning, the brand of muscle balm he’ll pretend he doesn’t need, the scar on his side he never talks about. 

They don’t know him.

But you do.

And tonight, you’re going to prove it. Prove that you’re the most perfect girlfriend for him, that you won’t let go because someone on the internet begs you to. 

You slam the fridge door shut with the kind of force that makes the condiments rattle. Chicken breast. Garlic. Thyme. That expensive parmesan he rolls his eyes at but always eats the fastest. You’ve got all the ingredients for the dumb TikTok “marry me chicken” and honestly, yeah—maybe it’s manipulative. Maybe it’s desperate.

You don’t care. You've made it before and he adores it.

If the competition is public thirst, then your counterattack is a home-cooked seduction plan followed by a bath with that weird overpriced salt soak that smells like cedarwood, cocoa and sex. Let them drool behind screens—you’re setting the mood with candles and your favorite playlist and maybe even the nice satin robe with nothing underneath if it’s clean.

And it almost works.

It almost makes you feel better. Like maybe you’ve got the upper hand again. Like maybe you’re not going insane over a stupid fucking ad where he literally flexes his thighs and kneels and sweats on purpose. And flexes again.

Until you start chopping the garlic and realize your hands are shaking.

You stop abruptly.

You stare down at the cutting board, knife hovering mid-air, and realize your throat’s a little tight. Your chest’s a little too hollow.

Because the truth is—deep down, like deep deep deep down, where all the ugliest thoughts live—you’re not mad.

You’re scared that you’re not enough. Insecure. Like youve got any right to when you've literally grown up with him. When he’s never even bat an eye to anyone but you.

But you feel like a high school girl again. Standing in the hallway outside your class, so mad and sick of jealousy that fangirls from year one are swamping your boyfriend that you drag him by the ear into the classroom and shove your tongue down his throat. 

And damn, was that punishment from Aizawa worth it when he caught you.

No, now, it’s even worse. It’s not just the girls at school. Not just Japan. It’s the whole world.

And you're so scared that the world seeing him like that is going to remind him of what he could have. Of what else is out there. Of how easily people fall to their knees for him—not in ad campaigns, but in real life.

And what are you?

Somebody who gets overwhelmed easily. Somebody who overthinks. Somebody who can’t even watch a thirty-second ad without spiraling into a meltdown that tastes like garlic seeped deeply into fingernails and salt and the distinct flavor of not enough.

What if ‘animemencracker22’ could cook better for him or what if ‘Dynamightsleftbicep’ could massage his head better when they run him a bath? If ‘gymratgirl4life’ wanted to go out with him more and if ‘corrrrruptedlvr’ wasn’t throwing jealousy fits?

You’re not the girl in the comments. You’re not the fantasy.

You’re just you.

And even when you’re holding the knife and planning the perfect welcome-home meal and pretending like the bath you’re running later isn’t strategic—you still wonder if that’s going to be enough to keep a man like Katsuki Bakugou.

Worse, you wonder if he knows you’re trying this hard, because of your overwhelming need to feel like you deserve someone like him. 

You let the knife drop and suddenly, you’re not hungry anymore. You were never even hungry to begin with. Your fucking eyes are welling up with stupid tears that you dont want to shed. 

You’re not even a jealous person. Save for two or three times, you don’t feel like this over him. And it’s not because you’ve taken him for granted, but it’s been years that you two are together that have worked you into not thinking Katsuki could want anyone else other than you. You don’t want anyone else other than him.

But what if he’s tired. What if he feels youre the same old song stuck on repeat when he could have anyone. 30 million people in the world and you included.

The silence in the kitchen hums louder than any song on loop, only broken by the sound of your choking as you’re trying not to violently sob. The garlic’s sharp sting still clings to your fingers. The oven’s preheat light blinks like a mocking little eye. Your playlist, the one reserved for special nights, is halfway into some sultry R&B Aaliyah track that now feels like a joke.

Your arms go slack at your sides.

This was supposed to feel empowering. Sexy. A big middle finger to the comment section and the edited thirst traps and the “she doesn’t even deserve him” discourse that’s been hijacking your feed all damn day.

Instead, you feel small. Stupid. Still so embarrassingly in love.

You rub your eyes with the backs of your hands like that’ll somehow push the thoughts back in. Like that’ll make you forget the way your chest aches with that special kind of loneliness that only shows up when you’re still physically close to someone but emotionally spiraling into the trenches of your own insecurity.

You glance at the clock. Patrol should end in twenty minutes. Thirty, tops. And you push your lips together, scrunching the corners of your mouth in, pursing your lips and squint your eyes. 

You’ll push through, because even if you’re so extremely jealous, Katsuki still deserves a nice home cooked meal and a hot bath, even more often than every other day, when you stay home to handle the agency paperwork, because of your latest injury after a villain attack.

He really hasn’t done anything wrong, you tell yourself, other than being extremely hot.

So you end up cooking, with tears in your eyes and the most pouty expression and by the time you finish, setting the pan on a part of the stove that isn't hot and curl down in front of the fridge, dropping to your knees to cry your heart out—The door clicks open.

Oh. Shit.

Weighty boots make contact with the floor first. The heavy stomp of post-patrol exhaustion. Then the groan of his back hitting the door frame. You hear the soft rustle of his gloves coming off, his keys clinking in the ceramic dish by the entry.

You freeze—You can’t let him see you like this. You can’t let him be the one who finds you curled on the tile like some lovesick idiot who lost a battle to TikTok.

“Heyy I’m home” you hear and you grunt to yourself, trying not to let it be known you sniffle right after.

“…Smells fuckin’ good,” his voice calls out—gruff, like he’s trying not to yawn. “You cookin’ somethin’?”

You grunt again.

He doesn’t see you right away. But his voice gets closer. Each step across the hardwood is loud and certain and distinctly him. The kind of sound that always used to make you feel safe.

Now it just makes your stomach twist.

You force yourself to stand, too fast, too suddenly, brushing your hands on your thighs then your apron and you try to act normal when your chest is about to cave in again.

Katsuki rounds the corner, still in uniform, gauntlets off, sweat clinging to his hairline, a little dirt smudged near his jaw, where some blond scruff is starting to grow. His eyes find you instantly—and narrow.

“Babe? You okay? Say hi back”

You hate how quick he notices. How easy it is for him to read you. You’ve never been good at hiding from him, especially not when it comes to shit like this.

“Oh—uh, hey. I was,” you say, eyes glued to the counter. “Got distracted.” Still, you force a smile “im fine”

“You don’t look fine.”

You flinch. “Can we—can we not do this right now?”

The silence stretches.

Katsuki exhales through his nose, tilting his head like a puppy, eyes big with inquiry boring in yours as if he’s debating whether to let it go or push. You know which one he’ll pick. He’s never, ever been the let it go type.

“You saw the ad.”

It’s not a question. It’s not even said with guilt or amusement or defensiveness. Just certainty.

You look away. Embarrassed. “Everyone and their mama saw the ad Katsuki.”

A pause. Then a sigh. Then he rubs a tired hand over his jaw.

He walks over, slow and careful like you’re a spooked animal, and you hate it. You hate that he’s being gentle when all you want is to yell at him and fall into his arms and scream into his chest all at once.

His hand lands on your waist. Warm. Familiar. Real.

“You mad at me?” he murmurs, lips pouty in the way you just love.

You shake your head up and down. A silent yes.

“I’m mad at me too tho.”

His brows furrow. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I shouldn’t care this much,” you mumble. “I shouldn’t be jealous of a bunch of people who don’t even know you. I shouldn’t be chopping garlic like it’s a last-ditch attempt to prove I deserve you, but I—I just—”

Your voice cracks.

Katsuki’s eyes soften, his lips too.

“You think I’d wanna be with anybody else?” he asks, so blunt it hits like a punch.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

He lifts your chin with two fingers, thumb softly brushing lines across your bottom lip— he makes you look him in the eye.

“I did that ad ‘cause you told me to. ‘Cause you said I should. And I ain’t think it’d piss you off—but even if it did, I’d still be comin’ home to you.”

You swallow hard.

“They can watch,” he adds. “They can comment. They can make all the stupid fuckin’ edits they want. But you think I give a shit about any of ‘em when I’ve got you runnin’ me a bath?”

You blink. “…You knew I was running you a bath?”

“You only play that playlist when you’re tryna seduce me.” He snorts.

Your face burns, but your chest still burns hotter, tighter. Tight-est. You’re not ready to let go of this just yet. A hug and no kiss yet are already making your head spin back to that awful insecure state. You hate overthinking every little thing, but you can’t help getting caught up in it.

“Chicken smells good,” he adds casually. “Wanna feed it to me naked?”

You shove his chest gently. Though when you look up at him, you realise you're still greatly mad at him. “Shut up. No”

“C’mere,” he mutters, dragging you into his arms again. You go willingly, burying your face in his neck, nuzzling your nose too deep into his skin. “I love you,” he says into your hair. “All of them can choke.”

“They’re your fans, Katsuki”

“Yeah yeah. They can choke on my dick”

Oh that—that makes you snap.

“Im sure they’d love to” you hiss, lurching back away from him, too mad at how willingly his arms let you go. 

You want to jab, hurt him just a little. Make him jealous just a tad. Make yourself look like you've got better options than plain old ‘_narutoswife’ in his IG comment section.

He doesn’t deserve it. No, not at all. He just came back home from work and you want to catch a toxic attitude instead of communicating. You just want to make him a little mad over you too.

“Fyi, if you remember, Jungkook did say in an interview that im his type! He called me a strong female hero! Choi San also follows me on instagram” you say, crossing your arms, your eyes shut closed and lips pursed.

Unfortunately, you end up making him mad at you. That was so foul. Especially when he was about to sue Jeon freaking Jungkook for what he said in that interview. When the fuck did you become his type even? And why would he say that on national TV about some other man’s girlfriend?

His eye twitches. Just barely. But it definitely twitches. Great!

“…The fuck did you just say? You wanna start somethin’ now?” Katsuki says, voice low, sharp, practically growling, mouth pushed to the side of his face, one brow raised in desbelief,

Your arms are crossed like a petty little shield but it’s not enough to protect you from the instant shift in the air—his energy changing the moment those names leave your mouth. You can see it, feel it, in the sudden tension between his brows and the twitch of his jaw, in the way he takes one step back just so he can plant his hands on his hips and fully absorb the ridiculous thing you just said.

“Well I am his type,” you mutter, fake-casual, even adding a dramatic upward move of your chin for flair. “He literally said so. On record.”

You double down when you shouldn’t. Because now you’ve committed, and if you take it back, it’ll only make you look desperate. You tilt your head, faux-casual, all sugar and venom.

Katsuki blinks once—slow. Like he’s buffering. Like you’ve just spoken a dialect of petty he never expected to hear from your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice quiet in that scary way, “are we talkin’ about Jeon fucking Jungkook right now?”

“I mean, he’s not the worst,” you say, airily. “He’s cute. Built. Has manners and a Calvin Klein ad too! Like you”

“You are not fuckin’ doin this with me—” His voice spikes as he takes a step forward, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s physically restraining himself from hurling the rice cooker across the room. “You’re mad at me for a promo gig and now you’re bringin’ up some K-pop bastard—?!”

You bite your lip to stop the smirk. It’s immature. Childish. And so, so satisfying—ah the sweet feeling of getting your lick back.

His hands fly up and immediately start doing that panicked, half-feral gesture thing he does when he’s so mad he doesn’t even know where to put his anger. “You think that’s cute? You think throwin’ other guys in my face is what’s gonna make this better? You want me to start listin’ all the bitches in my DMs right now? ‘Cause I will. I fuckin’ will—”

“Oh so now it’s bitches plural—”

“They don’t matter!” he barks. But you don’t seem like you believe him. “You’re just mad and you’re not telling me the actual reason”

Your face goes hot, tears rising again. “I’m mad because you don’t get it!”

“Then tell me! Tell me what I’m not gettin’!”

“I want you to care!” you explode. “I want you to see that this hurts! That I don’t feel good enough half the damn time, and now I’ve got people with 800k followers stitching your photos sayin’ how they’d treat you right while I’m in our kitchen  trying to figure out if I’m even the one you’d want anymore if you realise there’s someone better out th—”

“Don’t you fuckin’ finish that sentence.”

His voice goes deadly low.

You glare at him, eyes blazing. “Why not? Afraid I’m gonna be right?”

“No. Because you’re not.”

His chest is rising now, jaw clenched tight. You’ve both crossed the line, bleeding all over the tile floor with your words.

“None of them matter. Just like Jungkook doesn’t matter. I don’t care about anyone else on TikTok and I definitely don’t give a shit if he writes you a song and a marriage proposal and names his next album ‘Strong Female Hero I Wanna Wife’—you’re mine. You hear me?”

You’re stunned into silence. Half because of the outburst. Half because of the fact he just said you’re his with the kind of conviction that makes your skin burn and tingles run up your back.

“…You gonna tattoo that somewhere?” you murmur, trying to deflect your way out of being completely swept off your feet. 

He steps closer, wraps a hand around your waist, nose nearly brushing yours, eyes blazing. “Gonna put a ring on it. Don’t tempt me.”

You blink at him, wide-eyed. His palm feels hot, too quirk charged against your clothed skin “What if I’m not joking?”

He narrows his eyes. “You are.”

You shrug, then whisper just slightly. “…Maybe.”

Next thing you know, Katsuki’s scooping you up like a caveman—no warning, no prep, just two strong arms under your ass, your back colliding with his chest, and your feet dangling uselessly as he stalks toward the bathroom.

“Put me down! I haven’t even plated the chicken!”

“We’ll eat it later.”

“I— but—”

“You’re so mine, and I’m about to prove it.”

He kicks the door open like a man on a mission. Your bathwater is already perfectly hot and steamy, the playlist still humming from the speaker in the corner. You barely notice it because you’re too busy clinging to his shoulders like you’re about to be ravished.

“I can’t believe you got mad at me over a Calvin Klein ad,” he mutters against your neck, lips hot and dragging lower as he sets you down only to start untying your apron, aggressive and purposeful.

“It was a very public ad, and you were nearly naked” you argue, squirming, trying to twist out of his grasp—but he’s already unlooping the neck strap, already tossing the apron somewhere over his shoulder, not even watching where it lands on the bathroom floor “Katsuki, no—”

“Sex isn’t gonna fix everything, you know,” you say, breath hitching when his mouth finds that spot just below your jaw, the one he knows makes your knees buckle. He’s too fast to start pressing hot open mouthed kisses on your neck. 

“Then let’s talk about it” he says, calm as hell. He sinks onto the edge of the bathtub like a menace, eyes smoldering, hands still locked around your waist like you might run. “You said you don’t feel enough, why’s that? What part of us did I neglect that made you feel like this?”

You blink, thinking. Well he didn’t really do anything wrong, he just. Exists. And he’s gorgeous and amazing at everything he does.

Oh god? Do you resent him for being good at everything?

“You’re deranged.” You finally respond, pouting but refusing to look at him while you say it.

“I’m in love with you.”

Katsuki’s palms rub soothingly up and down your thighs, head tilted back to look up at you ever so slightly. He's trying to pull you in closer, get you loose, comfortable. He wants you to drop this ‘being difficult’ act you've got on right now.

You follow his lead, come in closer, until your knees scrape the edge of the bathtub and your thighs the inside of his.

“Yeah but,” you pause for a second, debating on whether this is the right thing to say. “why me”

Finally, you kneel between his legs. Your eyes are locked into his, trying to study him, his expression, trying to find a glimpse of hesitation behind his gaze, even if there’s none. 

Katsuki catches the insecurity in your head, with a simple bore of his eyes into yours. And it’s bad. How he can read you so well, like he isn't confused and insecure at times too.

“Is it cause we grew up together?”

“Well that’s why your dear to me, but no” 

“Then why?”

“Cause you’re you. Simply. You’re kind and fair. Too smart and you’re too pretty. You stand your ground and stand up for what’s right. I knew damn well who I hunched on my back and tried to set off with explosions at five years old”

He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tips your face toward him until you’re locked in his orbit again.

You want to cry again. Be it the memory, or the fact that you've pushed him to say this much about why he’s in love with you. You've got no reason to get jealous over people on the internet. They don’t know Katsuki like you do. They never could. Fate chose you to be the one to grow up a few blocks away from him. All your shared memories together, no one on TikTok could live them out.

No matter any Vogue cover, any Calvin Klein ad, or late night show interview, you and Katsuki are two human beings who grew up together, beat the odds of death together. Fell in love with each other to top it. So many humans in history have had this storyline, they’ve shared their first time with each other the night before setting off to war, kissed for the first time behind the bleachers in middle school. 

“I was so scared back then” you sob. Just one violent sob after another “‘m sorry babe. I'm so sorry for how I acted right now. You're just so hot that I can’t handle it. Can you like, be that bratty little five year old again?”

Katsuki huffs a breath, mouth twitching like he wants to smirk but knows better. His hands stay firm around your waist, grounding you while leaning towards you.

“Well I can’t be five again,” he says, voice rough but fond, lips already pursing as his forehead sticks to yours “but I can give you a small brand new Bakugo”

You let out a choked, watery laugh, but he’s already shifting closer, his thighs spreading so you fit better between them. One of his hands, followed by his eyes, slides up to your chest, and with exaggerated slowness, he taps a finger just above your sternum.

Tap. Then a little higher. Tap.

Then again—until two fingers are softly “walking” their way up, up, up your chest like little boots. You blink at him.

“Katsukiiii”

Tap.

The pads of his fingers rest at the hollow of your throat for a beat before lifting to your chin, tipping your face toward him like you’re fragile glass he’s been carrying his whole life.

He’s pouting. You can see it clearly now—the petulant pull of his mouth, the faint crease between his brows, like he’s upset you made him feel things and doesn’t know how to ask for reassurance without being difficult.

“You sayin’ shit like that,” he mutters, eyes flickering down to your mouth, then back up, “makes me feel like I’m not doin’ enough. Like I ain’t sayin’ it right. And I already suck at this.”

You open your mouth to protest, say you didn’t really mean it when you said that you don’t feel enough, that it was a moment of weakness, just like when you tried to tell him you’ve got options, but he presses his thumb gently against your bottom lip, quieting you, you’ve already apologised. He hasn’t.

“Lemme show you instead,” he says.

His voice isn’t cocky. Not quite. It’s soft—almost shy. Like how it was when you asked him to walk you home a week into UA, like he knows now, sex won’t fix anything, for sure, but the humanity of it, the lack of personal space between you as you groan in each other's open mouths, will help, just a little to ease the pain of your words.

“You’re my soft spot,” he adds under his breath, kissing the corner of your mouth like he’s afraid you’ll vanish off to some hot idol that does fanservice for a living, before he finishes the sentence. “Always been. N’ I don’t want you forgettin’ it. I ain’t leaving you for no one”

His fingers trace the line of your jaw now, slow and reverent. The pout still hasn’t left. You’re not sure it ever will. But now it’s paired with heat, and a pull between your legs that starts low and deep as he finally—finally—brushes his mouth against yours.

Just a whisper of a kiss. All pout. All need. All Katsuki.

You wouldn’t really trade him for anyone, either.

You can feel how badly he wants to be touched back. He always wants to be physical and touchy after an argument. You know how grounded and real it makes him feel, how reassuring it is to him to know he is still loved enough to be touched, despite words that are meant to sting.

You make a move to peck him, only right as this was your fault, and he slowly moves his lips against your own, soft, smooth. Slipping between every hollow space until you can't pull away. Seems like the chapstick you got for him last week has done wonders to make his lips so soft and plump, when they’re usually so chapped; his mouth glides against yours with practiced ease.

“M sorry” he whispers, so faint against your lips, but you still catch it.

His voice stays in your skin long after it’s said, like steam caught between your ribs, not ready to evaporate just yet.

You don’t say anything at first—just lift your hand to cradle the back of his neck, drawing tiny circles at his nape with your thumb. His eyes flutter a little at the touch, and it’s so Katsuki the way he tries not to lean into it. Still pouting, still pretending he’s not craving softness like it’s the only thing that could save him, but you know him better.

You let your other hand wander, trailing along the hem of his work top, your fingertips skating just beneath the fabric—slow, just the way he likes it. And when your hands drift to the button of his pants, you catch that tiny hitch in his breath. Barely audible. But it’s there. His lashes drop, golden. Sun-kissed. His grip on your waist tightens, not to stop you, just to hold on.

“You said you’d show me,” you murmur, your voice dipping low, warm against the shell of his ear. “But maybe I show you first.”

He doesn’t answer. Just swallows hard. And you skip the rest of the sentence ‘how much better I am than those TikTok bitches who want you’.

The button of his work cargos clicks open beneath your fingers.

It’s intimate, the quiet that settles between you. Not awkward. Not even heated yet. Just close. Bathwater is still steaming behind him. The scent of your shared home in the air—sandalwood, white musk soap, the thick smell of chicken being cooked—him. 

His cologne, faded but still clinging to the collar of his shirt. The playlist hums something slow and familiar in the background—Hot like fire, because maybe Aaliyah wasn’t mocking you a while ago—like this moment has its own soundtrack and the world outside doesn’t exist.

Your fingers fiddle with his zipper, slow and smooth. He looks down at you—heavy-lidded, and all vermillion, lips slightly parted, like he’s already halfway gone from just being touched with intention for pleasure.

“You looked so confident in the ad” you whisper as your fingers brush just below his waistband, teasing. “But this is better. This right here. When you’re a little shy for me.”

He exhales shakily, like you cracked something open inside him. And you feel it—something primal and possessive bloom in your chest.

“No one gets to see you like this but me”

“You’re tryin’ to kill me” he mutters.

You smile up at him, biting your lower lip. “No, Katsuki. I’m just trying to blow you away with my insane head skills”

He laughs, a breathy little sound, as his hands move to take off his shirt, softly ungluing his eyes from yours for only a second. You lick your lips at the way his muscles flex, so thick and bulky and by all means yours.

Suddenly, the ad pops back into your head, every shot, every zoom in. You’re overtaken by lust driven jealousy again.

No one on fucking TikTok gets to see the way his abs flex when he cums. You do.

So you work to lower his pants in fast movements, pushing the heavy fabric down until it hits the floor in shuffling sounds. 

Your hands slide lower, palms flattening against his calves, then his hips as you stick your cheek to his thigh. He watches you like you’re a sunrise—warm and tender, grazing where his skin ends with where your skin begins, or running tender, teasing circles all over his tip through his boxers.

His fingers twitch against his thighs, unsure of where to go—if he should cup your cheek, fist your hair, or just hold on to the edge of the tub before he slides down into something desperate.

And when you look up at him from where you’re knelt, his breath catches. His hand finds the top of your head, like he needs the grounding contact, thumb brushing a gentle path through your hair, and his eyes are wide with something soft and so, so red and open.

“Yesssss” he says hoarsely, half-laughing, half-moan “im about to get the best head of my life”

You quirk your brow and pucker your lips as if it’s your turn to pout now, then, you jab “Was it bad before?”

He shakes his head, cheeks already pink. “It’s always damn perfect”

His breathing catches in his chest but by now, your lips catch onto the skin of his thigh, placing a kiss there while still looking at him. It makes him go completely red now, face ears and chest flustered.

You kiss higher on his inner thigh, barely missing where he’s straining against the fabric of his boxers. Katsuki’s knuckles press into the edge of the tub now, trying to keep himself grounded, but his hips twitch when your lips ghost just beneath the band of his boxers.

He looks like he might fall apart already. Lower lip caught between his teeth, lashes fluttering low, cheeks warm and pink in the bathroom light.

Your fingers tug at the elastic slowly—like a question. And he nods, fast, almost frantic.

You hum, and finally pull the waistband down, freeing him.

He’s already hard, tip flushed and leaking, twitching a little in the cool air. And the way he watches you—mouth parted, chest rising and falling quick—is nothing short of irrelevant. He looks at you with hunger, full blown everywhere on his face, like it burns just to feel it. His hand hovers near your cheek, and you guide it up into your hair with your own.

“Keep it here,” you murmur. “I want you to touch.”

Katsuki’s thumb brushes your scalp, tender, trembling.

His thumb twitches as it strokes your scalp.

You press your lips softly to the base of his cock. Not rushing. Just placing open mouthed kisses over his length. Letting the heat of your mouth register on every kiss before you move to the next one. Then again, higher this time. Then again—closer to the tip, where he shudders and grips your hair a little tighter. Your lips wrap tenderly around half of his tip, your tongue storming out for a circular lick before you give him a little suck.

His hips shift like he’s trying to stay still and failing. Then you kiss just beneath the tip, so close your breath makes him hiss.

“F-fuck,” he hisses, hips twitching once more. “You’re—baby, you’re—”

You wrap your hand around the base of him and drag your tongue along the underside, slow, teasing, drawing a whimper from him so small and raw that your thighs clench just hearing it.

“You gonna beg?” you ask softly, glancing up.

His head falls back against the tiled wall for a second, mouth parted, so red in the face. “Don’t make me—fuck—‘m already losin’ it.”

You take him into your mouth inch by inch, slow and careful, tongue flat underneath, eyes still locked on him. You feel his thighs shake.

He moans—a rough, broken sound—and his hand fists harder your hair. You pull back with a wet pop and stroke him slowly, thumb brushing over his leaking tip. “You’re so easy to ruin, Katsuki. One suck and you’re falling apart.”

“You—you're evil,” he pants, biting his knuckle. “You can’t say shit like that when your fuckin’ mouth is on me.”

You grin, licking your lips. “It’s on you again now.”

You take him deeper this time, hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue drag in deliberate patterns. He groans, head tipping down again to watch, jaw slack. His voice is wrecked. Raw. Low in his throat.

“Katsuki–” you pause, you murmur, pulling off again, cupping him with both hands now. ogling your eyes into his “Tell me i'm the only one who’s ever gonna make you feel this good’

Every movement you make is intentional—little flicks of your tongue, your hand twisting at the base, your lips tight around him. You don’t let him cum yet. Every time you feel him start to twitch harder, you ease back, sucking gently on just the tip.

“Babe,’s all you—” he chokes out, voice ragged. “Never gonna be anyone else but you”

“Yeah?” you breathe. “No thirsty fangirl, no fantasy, no fuckin’ ad? Just me?”

His eyes lock on yours—glassy, wild. He nods hard. “Just you.”

You glance up again. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown. He looks desperate. Like he’s holding onto the last threads of sanity. But this moment is bathed in vulnerability, raw love that makes you want to claim again and again. Katsuki’s had his moments like this, way more than you. He lets you go through with it, he even likes how jealous you are right now, but this doesn’t mean he’s not utterly and completely ruined and under your spell right now.

You kiss his head again, so sweet, and finally wrap your mouth around him once more—this time faster, deeper, your hand working in tandem. He lets out a strangled cry, almost panicked with how hard he’s trying to hold on.

“You’re mine, Katsuki. You know that, right? Doesn’t matter how many people thirst over you online.” You press your lips around him again, drag your mouth up slow, just to the tip. “They don’t get this. They don’t get you like I do.”

He looks down at you again, eyes still glassy. So red. So wrecked.

You take him deeper, your cheeks hollowed, your tongue gliding in slow circles, teasing him at every sensitive spot. The veins on the underside of his cock, the base, as he hits the back of your throat. Katsuki moans, raw and shaky and his hips stutter forward before he forces himself still. The inside of your mouth is so slippery, so warm, he’s literally going crazy with each movement.

“Don’t even fuckin’ want anyone else.” He sounds destroyed now, ruined into a slurring mess as your hand is sliding along his thigh. 

“Let me—let me cum, shit—please, let me—”

His tip kisses the back of your throat, and you gag around him, just a little—just enough for him to choke on a moan that sounds like he’s dying.

You don’t let up. You feel the way he twitches, the way his thighs tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens. He’s close. So close. You hum against him, nodding just a little, eyes locked into his in such an intimate, tender way. You take him all the way in one last time, his tip hitting the back of your throat, eliciting just a small choking sound from you, letting him fall apart in your mouth, with every soft roll of his hips into you.

He grunts. Head lolling back again, so hard that is adam’s apple protrudes enough even for you to see. His hips stutter, and he tries to hold back—but his thighs are trembling, breath breaking. He snaps his head again, desperate to look at you and he swallows now, bites his lower lip in concentration before he clenches his legs, to buck his hips into your mouth.

His hands come to cradle your head, your cheeks, like he’s afraid to let go, like you’re the one keeping him from falling through the floor. And the way you keep eye contact with him while swallowing him down your pretty little throat–It’s a killer.

You back up, worrying his tip between your soft, plump lips and that's it–He shatters. Violently and way faster than he thought he would. Clawing at your face to make you take him in once again; he bottoms out, and you… you take him in easily, like a champ.

Katsuki falls apart in your mouth with a raw, choked moan, hips bucking just once as you hold him steady, taking every twitch, every pulse, every broken sound he makes as his cum spills in ropes down your throat. You try to swallow as much as you can, eyes tearing up at the amount of cum that’s making you choke– Katsuki’s favorite sounds when you’re giving him a blowjob. He’s only urged to spill more, but this time you back up a little, letting him fill your mouth until it spills down the sides of your lips.

“F-fuck. Baby. Fuck.” He gasps like you’ve already stolen the air from his lungs, and he spasms. His hips jerk forward once, like instinct takes over.

Your eyes well up again, tears beading on your lashes from the stretch, from the pressure, from the sheer force of him.

He groans again at the sight—his cock buried in your mouth, cum spilling out the corners of your lips, glistening. His hands cradle your cheeks like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the feel of your skin under his thumbs.

You swallow again, letting him ride it out with one last soft suck, and he moans like he’s unraveling from the inside out. His knees almost buckle.

And still, you don’t stop touching him. Your hand strokes slow at his base as you pull back with the loudest pop, letting some of the mess trail down lower at your chin, your lips swollen and glistening as you tilt your head up.

“You came so much,” you murmur, licking a drop from your bottom lip. “Were you that needy for me, baby?”

He groans as he’s still recovering, hips twitching slightly as your breath ghosts over him. His hands finally leave your cheeks, fumbling around, still shaky, down to where his pants are.

“Where the fuck’s my phone?” he rasps, breath catching on the tail end.

You blink up at him, mock-innocent. “Why do you want it, hmm?”

His gaze drops back to you, pupils blown wide, chest heaving as he glares like you’ve just personally offended him by being too hot to handle yourself.

“First, I’m taking a fuckin’ photo of you like this,” he grits out, voice still rough and low, “with your mouth all messy, lookin’ proud of yourself like that.”

You smirk, tilting your head as cum still drips slowly down your chin, your fingers catching it just to suck them clean. “So you can jerk off to it later?”

“So I can frame it,” he mutters darkly, eyes dragging over every inch of your face. “And then you’re watchin’ the ad again. Every second of it.”

You blink slowly. “But it makes me mad”

He nods. “Yeah exactly. Youre watching it.‘Til you get so fuckin’ riled up you suck me off meaner than this.”

Your lips curl. “Meaner? Baby… I was being sweet to you.”

“Exactly,” he pants, reaching for your wrist to drag you up into his lap. “I wanna see you do it when you're pissed.”

You climb into his space, knees bracketing his thighs, grinning into his mouth as you kiss him—messy, deep, still tasting like him. “Careful what you wish for, Katsuki. I might make your dick fall off”

His voice is just a whisper now and wrecked against your lips.

“Fuck yes”

Yeah… maybe the Calvin Klein ad was a good idea.

______

The water’s somehow still warm, barely steaming, and smells like cocoa and the shea butter soap he always pretends he doesn’t use until you catch him stealing it.

You’re settled between his legs, your back against his chest, and he’s folded around you—arms over your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck, breath soft and steady against your skin. You sink into him, muscles loosening all at once.

The bathwater laps at your collarbones. His thumbs trace slow circles into your stomach. And for a while, the only sound is your breathing, synced. The occasional soft swish of water when one of you shifts. The playlist outside still hums faintly, muffled through the bathroom door. Just gentle vocals and low drums. Like the score to this quiet little world you’ve made.

“Sorry I was a dick,” he mutters. His voice remains unsure of what to say in a situation like this, yet muffled against your neck. “I just—y’know…”

“Yeah. Me too. I should not have mentioned Jungkook because people online are asking how I handle all of that” you chuckle, tenderly placing a kiss at the back of Katsuki’s hands when you lift it from the water.

He frowns, letting off a sound of annoyance “asshole, he can shove that seven song up his ass”

“Oop— you listening to him now?”

“No, it’s all over the radio though” Katsuki kisses your shoulder in response. Then again, higher this time. “But I don’t care about nobody. Just you. Always you.”

You tilt your head and press a kiss into his damp hair from the side, catching just a little bit of his ear in the process. “I know, baby. I know.”

And you do. Deep in your bones. The same way you know how his eyes soften and he whines when he’s sleepy, how his jaw ticks to the right when he’s embarrassed, how his voice drops an octave when he wants to be taken seriously. You know him. Not the whored out Calvin Klein version the world sees.

You curl your hands around his forearm and let yourself melt back into him completely, the bathwater swaying at the peak of your chest now. Safe. Soothed. Held.

He squeezes you a little tighter and rests his chin on your shoulder, finally quiet. And if you listen close, you can feel it: the rise and fall of him. The warmth of his skin. The steady thrum of his heartbeat under your back. 

“So” you murmur “wanna talk about that little mini Bakugo you mentioned earlier?”

Katsuki mumbles something under his breath, eyes closed against your skin. He’s mellowed out in the split of a second, but you’re riled up at the thought when your mind returns to it. 

“‘S no use.” He whines, finally, like he’s annoyed “Our kid’s gonna look like you”

“So you'll get a mini me all over again and I won’t get the same? Un-faiiiir! Booooooo” you groan, leaning your head back against his shoulder dramatically. The water sloshes with the motion, and he huffs a tired laugh into your neck, chest vibrating behind you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, lips brushing your skin. “Like I wouldn’t be fuckin’ obsessed with either version.”

You smile. Small. Soft. Let your thumb glide along the scar on his wrist and then you swallow. Blink a few times. Then nod once, slowly, before you speak.

“Wouldn’t be so bad, would it? A little baby with your temper and my sweet tooth?”

He lets out a real laugh now, low and gruff and warm against your back. “Fuckin’ menace. Our apartment wouldn’t survive.”

“Your PR team wouldn’t survive.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

You both laugh, muffled and close, and when it quiets again, you let your fingers lace through his under the water. His grip tightens like a reflex.

And then, just above a whisper:

“You really think about it sometimes?”

“…Yeah.”

“Me too.”

He kisses your shoulder again. No jokes this time. Just silence and warm water and cocoa steam. The both of you holding that dream quietly, like something sacred. 

In his arms, now, today, midst June, after feeling threatened that strangers online will ever do better than you when it comes to him, you think of you and him, back in his childhood room, watching Spirited Away as Mitsuki would fetch you cookies and milk before Katsuki would try to shove her away and she’d pretend to be knocked over.

“Hey…We’re still naming the baby Chihiro like we promised back then, right?”

He goes still behind you. Like, dead quiet. Like you’d short-circuited something in his brain.

You almost think he didn’t hear you until you feel the deep inhale against your spine, his arms tightening just a little more around you like he’s trying to fuse your body to his.

“…You remember that?” His voice is hoarse now, barely more than a breath.

You smile, eyes still half-lidded, watching the water ripple at the edges of the tub. “Of course I do. You made me pinky swear on it, when Mitsuki said we’d get married and have kids too!”

“Shut up,” he mutters, but it’s soft, affectionate—almost embarrassed. His nose nudges your jaw like he’s trying to hide the warmth in his face. “Was a fuckin’ loser.”

“No,” you say gently. “You were just sweet. Always were.”

There’s a beat. He swallows. You feel it in his throat against your shoulder.

“…Chihiro, huh?” he murmurs, finally. “Still want that? Even now?”

You nod, and his hand floats up from beneath the water, trailing along your stomach, resting just under your ribs. Protective. Hopeful. Like something unspoken is blooming there.

“I always loved that promise,” you whisper, throat a little tight. He doesn’t answer. At least not with words.

Katsuki grins against your neck, and the sound of it, the way he breathes in like he’s grounding himself in the smell of your skin—it’s everything. It’s homely. Warm water. Summer steam. A shared name from a shared childhood.

Take that ‘tojissecondworm222’, not only do you handle all that, but everything the world’s fantasy driven Dynamight has to offer, is yours. 

Always has been.

Always will be.

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[mothhball]

Positive Reinforcement

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x delusional!Reader (fem)

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON (bc Jon is playing a little hard to get), L-BOMB, fingering, oral sex (both m + f receiving), deepthroating, brief breathplay, mutual body worship, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, overstim, clothed male/naked female, threats of drugging, violence mention, reader is a little unhinged

Summary | You’re convinced he’s the one, but you’ve been causing nothing but trouble for Jonathan. Maybe it’s time to switch up the strategy.

Words | 6.2k

Notes | FILTH. Jon may be ooc, whoops. Honestly, this is very self-indulgent and was a struggle to write lol

Arkham certainly has its charms. From the noisy, dark hallways to the scratchy and shapeless patient uniforms - there’s something for everyone here. As far as you’re concerned, you’re here for no reason. At least no serious reason. You’re a lover and a fighter. Literally just a girl. Even though the GCPD certainly didn’t agree when they arrested you for attempted murder, assault, breaking and entering, and a bunch of other rude accusations.

Your ex broke your heart, so you crashed your car into him in an attempt to get back at him, breaking both his legs in the process. He may never walk again – big deal! A crime of passion, your honor! Revenge for the two years that you’ve wasted on a person, only for him to break up with you once he noticed the tracker sown into the bottom hem of his favorite jacket. Bummer.

But life goes on, and as long as your heart can beat, it can love. And the person who made you believe in romance again is sitting right in front of you in his office, narrowing his eyes as he stares you down over the rim of the coffee cup he’s sipping from. If only you could trade places with an inanimate object. Jonathan Crane in his entirety is worth the stay at Arkham. He’s worth the uncomfortable bed, colorless food and horrible daytime television that’s always running in the recreation room. Who needs freedom when you have love?

Crane was the first to listen to you. The first person to let you speak and philosophize about the nature of your devotion and the way you love people. And he didn’t judge you. At least not out loud.

But now, two months after being admitted to the asylum, he’s grown tired and agitated. Unhealthy attachment and mood-natural delusionships involving someone who wants nothing to do with you. That’s the addition to your diagnosis that Crane is currently rattling off right in front of you, but you’re too busy staring at every detail of his face, trying to manifest his hands on your skin and his tongue down your throat.

“Are you trying to go for a new record in weeks spent in solitary confinement?” Crane sets down the cup to have a free hand to rub his temple with.

The question makes you smile. Oh, he’s always so funny. So charming. But being sentenced to solitude wasn’t the goal you had in mind when you smashed another patient’s face into the cafeteria wall, not easing up until her teeth were scattered around like the shiny pearls of a rich lady’s ripped necklace. Even though you were hosed down by a guard and received a fresh set of clothes, the other woman’s dried blood is still crusted under the nail of your left ring finger. A secret little sign of your devotion. You didn’t do it out of anger or jealousy either. You did it because you knew that Crane would be forced to sit you down for an emergency therapy session. It’s his own fault for reducing your sessions to only once a week.

A playfully coy smile pulls at the corners of your lips, and you lean forward a little, wanting to get a better look at him even though you’ve already perfectly memorized every detail of him after just the first two days of being here.

“She shouldn’t have provoked me. I was defending myself. You understand me. Right, Jonathan?”

You slowly inch your hand across the table, almost making contact with his fingertips until he opts to grab your file instead. It’s a pointed gesture, and you quietly mourn the chance for physical contact with him. Crane clears his throat to bring your focus back to the here and now. And of course, the first thing he does is correct you.

“Whistler?” You furrow your eyebrows. “What does she have to do with this? I thought… I thought you were trying to help me.”

“It’s Dr. Crane for you. And I understand that you have very little self-control.” He pauses for a moment, struggling with a sudden surge of anger before he manages to continue. “I’ll be honest. My patience is wearing thin. You’re a danger to the other inmates, and Dr. Whistler of all people already offered to take you off my hands.”

This revelation makes you perk up suddenly, and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s thinking of giving you away?

“Yes, emphasis on trying. But as you can see, we’re not getting anywhere, are we? And Whistler mentioned how optimistic she is about your case. If you want my opinion, I think she’s itching to test out some new sedatives we’ve added to the catalog.” Crane adjusts his glasses, and the way he speaks almost makes you think he doesn’t care. But you’re sure he does. Of course he does. He has to. Nevertheless, the mere thought of not seeing him on a regular basis makes anxiety crawl up your spine, and you absently pick at your cuticles until you tear a little too deep, and another line of red pools around your fingernail.

“You can’t do this,” you try to argue, searching your brain for any good reason for him to keep you aside from the fact that you two belong together. You briefly lick your lips, daring to appeal to his pride. “If you hand me off, everyone will know that you failed. They’ll all know that you gave up on me because you couldn’t handle me.”

Crane’s eyes narrow into cold slits, and his grip on your file tightens. Uh-oh. That’s a very ugly expression on your darling doctor. He’s quiet for a moment, silently reigning himself back in. The rage that’s simmering beneath his skin dissipates a little when he has a sudden idea.

Maybe a different approach could work better. Realization sets in, and he almost wants to smack himself for not thinking of this sooner. Evidently, you don't care that much for punishment. Solitary confinement and restriction from activities do little to keep you in check. But how about a different motivation? How about reward?

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. We'll keep up the weekly frequency of solo therapy sessions." He thinks out loud, crossing his arms over his chest and occasionally tapping his fingers on his biceps. You want to voice your protest about not getting more sessions with him, but he continues with this lovely, rumbly tone that he uses whenever he's planning something and getting matter-of-fact with you. It's like catnip for your ears, almost making you melt in your little grippy socks.

"And if I don't hear any complaints about you from the other members of staff, you'll get a reward each time. So, be a good girl for a week and you'll get a treat. Easy, right?"

His eyebrows are raised expectantly as he waits for your reply, and you think about his offer, picking at your sleeve as you weigh out the pros and cons.

"Do I get to pick the reward?" you eventually ask, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes that he immediately recognizes. Crane firmly shakes his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"No. Because I know what you'll choose."

"Then I'm not doing it."

Crane sighs, pulling out his work phone.

"I'll give Whistler a call," he states, concentrating on trying not to smirk at the way your expression falls. Like threatening a child by calling Santa.

"Wait! No, I - ... how about a compromise?" You plead, not missing the parallel either. But if you don't want to settle for coal (or in this case, withdrawal from your man), you'll have to suck it up.

Crane looks up from his phone, thumb hovering over the buttons for another moment before he tucks it back into the pocket of his suit jacket. "A compromise? Doll, we’re not arguing over who does the dishes and brings out the trash. You have no say in this aside from agreeing to either a good or a bad time.”

Damn. Did he have to make it domestic?

“Let me burst your bubble for a moment,” He continues, not allowing you to fantasize over his choice of words for longer than necessary. “You have no power here. No agency, no privileges. You’re not ‘doing’ anything, you’re having things ‘done to’ you. You may think you have me in the palm of your hand, because I’m forced to see you every time you get yourself into trouble, but I could just as well keep you drugged and docile for the rest of your indefinite stay here. So,” he leans forward, resting his palms on the table and clearing his throat.

“No more nonsense. This is your very last warning. If you lash out again, I’ll hand you over to Dr. Whistler, advise her to keep you sedated and move onto other much more interesting and agreeable patients, my reputation be damned.”

The silence that follows his words is deafening, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the air suddenly feels thinner. Tears well up in your eyes. Bitter tears of shame and disappointment, and you feel like a petulant child, but it does nothing to stop them from rolling down your face and dripping onto the table below.

Crane stiffens, visibly taken aback by your sudden display of emotion. He thought he’s seen it all from you. The smirks, the winking, the way you bite your lip in an attempt to seduce a man who’s as emotionally available as one of the brick walls making up this very building. Part of him wants to escape the conversation immediately, but it’s his job to at least attempt to help you through your issues, and leaving you in a state of distress is the entire opposite of that.

“Listen,” he starts, almost tentative. “I don’t want to do any of that. Not really. I want to keep working with you. And I believe you’ve made a little progress so far, but you’d be even further along if you’d stop antagonizing everyone for a chance to speak to me.”

“But I need to. You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

You sniffle, unable to articulate properly. He should know. He should understand from a single second of eye contact. Yet here you are, forced to spell it out for him. Crane’s eyes soften ever so slightly, and he pulls out a pack of pocket tissues, sliding it across the desk so you can dry your tears. His tone is calmer now, almost gentle.

“Why are you doing this? All of this resistance… the altercations with other patients… your life could be so easy. So why?”

“To make you notice me,” you sniffle, gingerly patting your cheeks with one of the paper tissues. Crane’s eyebrows furrow in response.

“You don’t think I would’ve noticed you without all of this mess?” He tilts his head, slightly amused by your melodramatic performance. You scoff at the question, frowning when he actually smirks at you this time.

“No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t notice me if I were a model patient. You wouldn’t spare me a single glance if I was docile like the others… I want you to think about me even when your shift is over.”

Crane shrugs, letting out a sigh through his nose as he does. A corner of his lip twitches, and you can’t tell whether it’s in amusement or disgust. The fact that you tried to manipulate him by being a ‘bad’ patient irritates him, but he has to admit that your strategy worked.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t notice you. You have no idea how difficult and repetitive this job gets… how much the faces start to blur together after a while. You’re not very special at all, if I’m being honest.”

The comment and the monotony in his voice sting, and just for a split second, the mask of sweetness slips to reveal the anger and hurt in your eyes. You quickly manage to reel yourself back in, and you clear your throat as you look away from him. At least he’s being honest with you. The basis of a good and healthy relationship.

“I could… make myself special to you.” A pause.

“Do you think you’re capable of doing that? I mean, so far, you’ve just been causing problems and it’s getting stale. Can you really do something better for me?”

“I can be good… I could show you how I feel for you.” It’s a gamble and you know it. But the possible reward outweighs the risk. At least to your infatuated brain. Crane shifts in his seat, deciding to humor you.

“How do you feel for me? Enlighten me a little bit.”

“I’m in love with you. I love you.” Your sweetheart bristles like a cat, and you feel let down by his reaction. During the countless times you’ve fantasized about this moment in the showers, scrubbing yourself with cheap soap, he was elated by your confession. But the real-life Jonathan Crane just looks at you with mild pity. Pity that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That was… fast. Didn’t even waste a moment to admit it. But I suppose it’s expected from you,” he sighs, shaking his head as he writes something down in your file. You’re quick to defend yourself. This isn’t a joke to you, after all. You’re laying your heart completely bare, ripping apart skin and flesh to expose the bloody, weakly beating thing to his unimpressed eyes.

“I mean it.”

He lets out a low whistle, and his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. For an agonizingly long moment (about 30 seconds), he punishes your honesty with silence before he finally sets his pen down and looks at you.

 “Then do something to prove it.” He says it so nonchalantly. As if he’s not really expecting anything at all. But he’s severely underestimating how deep your devotion runs for him. Your chair screeches across the floor as you get up, and Crane looks alarmed for a fleeting moment before you lower yourself to your knees and crawl under his desk until you come up between his thighs. Your sweetheart’s eyes soften, and he reaches down to brush his fingers through your hair almost instinctively.

“I’ll show you…” you murmur softly, running your hands over his thighs and lightly digging your nails into the fabric of his slacks. Crane lets out a barely audible sigh, shifting a little in his seat to part his legs for easier access. So considerate. Your man really is such a darling.

Looking up at him from beneath the table, you make quick work of his belt and zipper before you pull up his shirt that he kept tucked into his pants. Your mouth waters at the sight of his skin, and you lean in to kiss his stomach while your hand moves to palm his cock through his boxers. Crane hisses softly, keeping his eyes locked on your devoted form between his thighs, and a shiver runs down his spine when you pull down his underwear, exposing him to the cool air of his office.

“God… your cock is so beautiful… you don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of sucking you off…” you murmur, eyes lighting up as you wrap your hand around him. Crane licks his lips, unsure how to feel about the compliment. You’ve been his biggest headache for months now, and yet here you are, sweettalking him while you’re sitting under his desk with your fingers around his dick.

“I bet you taste as sweet as you look.” You giggle, gathering some saliva in your mouth before you let it dribble down onto his tip so you can pump his cock more easily. Crane’s brows furrow, and you smile up at him before licking from his base up to his tip, causing him to twitch against your tongue. You know he’s always pent up, always stressed, and you don’t really have to worry about him seeking release elsewhere since he’s always focused on his work. And, in some abstract way, always focused on you.

Loyalty. Another pillar of an unbreakable bond.

You can feel him hardening within your grasp, and you swear you can hear an almost silent breath of relief when you finally take his cock into your mouth. You start off slow, moaning at the feeling of his length on your tongue, and you continue to caress his thighs and stomach in an effort to worship him like he deserves.

“No teeth, doll.” He smirks down at you, smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone as you continue to suck the precum from his tip. The taste of him makes your mind fog up, and you nod eagerly, pulling away from him for just a moment to answer properly.

“Cross my heart, Jon.” Your mouth is back on him within seconds, and you bob your head up and down, taking him deeper down your throat every time. Crane hisses in response, and his grip on your hair tightens.

“It’s still Dr. Crane to you…” His protest is half-hearted at best, and you witness his composure crumbling in real time as you suck him off like you’re trying to devour him whole. You’re on a mission. A mission to drive him to the brink of insanity like his mere presence does you. Crane huffs out another sharp breath, and his hips twitch forward, generously helping you to breach your throat barrier and causing you to splutter around him. Tears well up in your eyes, but you stay down on his cock, pushing down all the way until the neatly trimmed hair on the base of his length tickles your nose.

“Fuck… You’re so pretty when you gag on it.”

You pull off of him, only managing to swallow half the spit that gathered in your mouth while the rest drips down your chin, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Crane’s hand massages the back of your head encouragingly, and you flash him a bright smile before you go back down at him with a little more vigor.

After a while, you go to catch your breath, but before you can pull away completely, both his hands shoot out to grab your head and push you back down on his cock. Your eyes widen, and you let out a slight noise of protest as he begins to fuck into your throat. Drool dribbles down your chin, soiling the shirt of your patient uniform while your nails dig into Crane’s thighs in an attempt to ground yourself. He clenches his jaw, moaning through his teeth while your throat contracts around him.

“Perfect little cocksucker… so eager to show me your love…” He cuts himself off with a little grunt, and his grip on your head tightens as he moves your skull up and down. “All the way down… yes, keep your tongue out…”

You continue to gag around his length, trying to keep up with the rhythm of his thrusts as he forces his cock down your pharynx, enjoying the way your muscles clench and contract. His soft moans become more urgent, and pride makes your heart swell. He’s making these noises because of you.

“That’s it… good girl. Eyes on me. I want you to look at my face when I cum down your pretty little throat...”

You whine in response, nodding your head as best as you can, and you start to work in tandem with him as he gets close. The moment you feel him pulse on your tongue, he pushes you down all the way again, and his hand reaches around to your face. You catch a dark glint in his eyes when he suddenly pinches your nose shut, constricting your airflow completely as he chokes you on his cock. You struggle against him, but he doesn’t budge as his eyes fall shut and he grunts out more praise. Panic rises in your chest, and your muscles convulse in a desperate attempt to get air into your neglected lungs. And it’s exactly this panic in your eyes that pushes Crane over the edge and he shoots his load directly down your throat, giving you no other option but to swallow the hot ropes of cum that he lazily continues to fuck into your mouth.

Finally, he lets go of your head, and you immediately flinch back to suck in some much-needed air. The both of you are panting, and you keep your watery eyes locked on his satisfied expression while strings of spit still connect your swollen lips to the flushed head of his cock.

“You okay?”

“Yeah...“ you breathe out in reply, trying to swallow the soreness in your throat. Crane’s hand reaches out to you again, caressing your head like a cherished pet, and he chuckles to himself.

“Catch your breath, doll. That was one hell of a way to prove yourself…” He murmurs, reaching across the table to retrieve the pack of pocket tissues and hand it to you. Your fingers are a little shaky as you wipe the mess from your chin and neck, and you slowly return to your chair. Crane’s brows furrow when he watches you retreat, and you blink at him.

Immediately, your thoughts begin to spiral. What are you doing? Sitting back down, that much is evident. Did he want you to stay and keep on sucking him off? Were you supposed to keep the spit on your face intact? Does he – Crane effectively snaps you out of your mental gymnastics routine by brushing his foot against your calf, and you’re immediately focused on the butterflies that fill up your chest.

“What?”

“What are you doing?” He asks, not bothering to elaborate.

“As far as I’m concerned, you behaved very well just now. So, I’d like to keep my word and reward you.”

He points over to the leather couch in the corner of his office, and you find yourself standing before he can even fully extend his arm. Crane follows after you, leading you with his hands on your hips until your knees softly bump against the furniture. He’s pressed up behind you, breathing in the scent of your skin while his hands begin to trail all over your body. You tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder as his touch slips under your shirt, and you can feel the way his fingers are trembling against your flesh. Crane clicks his tongue as he pinches your nipples, slowly rolling the hardening bud between index and thumb in a way that makes you jolt in his grasp.

“Let me see what I’m working with, doll,” he murmurs, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside before the cotton bustier that the asylum provided follows suit. Your first instinct is to shy away, but he grabs your shoulders and spins you around to get a good look at you. His gaze is detached. Clinical. And you can feel yourself shrinking away until he finally decides to open his mouth. “Fucking hell… maybe I should’ve indulged you sooner.”

It isn’t much in terms of a compliment, but to you it might as well be a marriage proposal. Your breath catches in your lungs as Crane leans in, sucking your nipple into his mouth while his hands wander lower to push down your pants and sneak into your underwear. He chuckles when his fingers dip into the mess that has built up between your thighs.

“Did sucking my cock make you this wet already?”

“I mean… it is a pretty cock…” you try to defend your already half-unraveled state, and he lets out a laugh. A genuine one of honest amusement, and the noise makes your heart soar up into the sky.

“Quiet. Lie back on the couch for me, sweetheart.” The new pet name almost makes your body collapse in on itself. Your back meets the cold faux leather, and you let out a quiet hiss of discomfort as you sink a little into the cushions. Crane pulls your pants and underwear off completely, letting them join the already existing pile on the floor before he gets on the couch with you. He grabs your thighs, pulling you a little closer so he can rest your legs over his shoulders while he lies flat between them. His breath ghosts over your pussy, and he spreads your folds open with his thumbs to get a good look at your drooling entrance.

“Pretty… so, so pretty,” he murmurs, kissing up the insides of your thighs before he circles his tongue around your eager hole, savoring your taste with a deep, guttural groan.

You reach out your hand to hold his, but he swats it away, causing you to give his hair a harsh tug when he doesn’t do as you want him to. This, however makes him answer with a rough bite to the meat of your thigh, and you’re almost embarrassed by the wanton noise that slips past your lips. Pain tingles down your spine, and you try to sit up, only for him to push you back down. In a second attempt, you manage to catch his hand and immediately link your fingers together so he can’t escape your clammy, possessive grip. To your absolute delight, he’s not even trying to this time around. You knew he’d come around.

His tongue dances around your dripping entrance yet again, licking a stripe up your pussy that makes your grip on his hand tighten and your toes curl. Finally, finally, he sinks a finger into you, already sliding in to where his digit meets his palm, and he moans along with you when he feels how your pussy flutters around him.

“Jonathan…”

For the first time, he doesn’t correct you. Instead, he chooses to lean in and devour you, eagerly lapping at your juicy cunt as he presses the pad of his fingers against that sweet spot inside of you. He’s insatiable, parting your folds with his tongue and groaning at your taste as you grind your clit against the diligent muscle. And his eyes. Oh, God his eyes. He’s almost crushing you beneath his heated gaze, keeping you pinned while he eats you out like a starved man. Now, it’s Jonathan’s turn to get messy, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest as your saccharine slick coats his chin. He adds another finger into your cunt, pulling away from your clit to bite and suck on your thighs while he stretches you open.

“Fuck – “

“Just another finger, doll. Let yourself go for me…” He murmurs between licks and gentle bites as he returns to your pussy, his glasses fogging up from the heat.

Your hands are still intertwined, even as your back arches and you continue to pant and moan out his name. Even as your breath hitches when he latches back onto that sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he adds a third finger and you finally come on his tongue with a wail that sounds as blissful as it does delirious.

Your brain is clouded by euphoria, and your bite your lip to keep quiet as he continues to pump his fingers inside of you. You can hear the mess he’s made between your thighs. A mix of his saliva and your juices, and Jonathan is not wasting a single drop of it. Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you only faintly register the little laugh he lets out at your state.

“Christ, I want to kiss that expression off your face… Actually, don’t mind if I do.”

Jonathan leans over you, laughing again when he gets a closer look at your expression. And then months of yearning and dreams of romance become reality when his lips meet yours. Fireworks go off in your head, and you immediately pull him closer, almost causing him to topple over on top of you. It’s messy and overly excited on your part, but you couldn’t care less as your teeth clash a few times and you lick against his tongue and taste yourself on it.

Jonathan pulls back for a moment, despite the vise grip you have on his shoulders, but he calms you by pressing his lips against your brow, whispering like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Easy there… come on, be good.”

You whine in response, but when his thumb brushes over your clit again, your body jolts and you immediately shut up. Jonathan pushes his own pants down further, freeing his leaking cock again and giving himself a few pumps before he pushes his hips forward to coat his length in your slick. Every time the heard of his cock brushes up against you, you let out a soft little noise, and it’s in that moment that Jonathan decides he’d like to hear a lot more of it in the future. He grits his teeth, slowly sinking into your cunt while keeping his eyes fixed on yours.

Once upon a time, you were nothing special. You have an interesting backstory, sure. And your obsession with him does wonders for his ego. But right here, right now, something cracks the stony façade and he silently dares to venture a little further into the dreamworld you’ve built around the two of you. He sees parts of himself in you. The obsessive, volatile behavior. The inability to love in a way that’s considered normal. The desire to possess something or someone in its entirety.

You shiver when he bottoms out inside of you, his hips meeting yours and slightly squishing you into the faux leather cushions of the couch. You’re still tight and sensitive from your previous climax, and Jonathan can feel your pulse in the velvety walls of your pussy that’s clenched around him. Despite your heightened sensitivity, his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing a tight figure eight into it that makes your head spin. His other hand leaves yours, grabbing your jaw instead to keep you from squirming.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he states, rubbing you a little faster and applying more pressure along with it. Your muscles tighten, and your heart hammers in your chest as you stare up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“C… can you – “

“Move?” he finishes for you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Only if you cum again, I’m afraid. It’ll be another reward.”

You sob out a moan, face scrunching up when that familiar pressure begins to build inside of you for a second time. Jonathan keeps his hand on your jaw, watching every twitch and flinch of your expression with a look of genuine fascination.

“God, why would anyone ever leave you…” he murmurs, and his word pierce right into your heart and the black depths of your lonely little soul. “Pretty thing… if you didn’t break his legs, I’d recommend for him to get a cell on the opposite end of the hall…”

Your breath hitches as he continues to rub your clit and softly speak to you. “Insanity, I tell you… abandoning such a cute toy... It’s beyond me.” He lets out a soft groan when you tighten around his cock. “That’s it… thaaat’s it.”

You reach the edge again, clenching your eyes shut as you come a second time. Jonathan captures your lips with his own yet again, and while you’re stuck on cloud nine, he pulls his cock out all the way only to slam back inside with an intensity that pushes the air from your lungs. You cry into his mouth as he picks up a consistent, slow rhythm of deep thrusts that make your eyes clench shut. Jonathan releases you from the kiss and gives your jaw a little warning squeeze, wanting your eyes to stay on his while he’s rearranging your anatomy with his cock.

“There we go… stretched open so well.”

You squirm back on your elbows, looking up at him with dilated pupils and burning cheeks, but he grabs your waist and pulls you back right to the base of his cock. A truly sinful noise spills from your lips and for a moment you don't even register that it came from you.

Crane chuckles as he starts to roll his hips again, his right hand hovering dangerously close to your poor, abused clit again. A silent threat almost. Then again, he's quite literally threatening you with a good time.

"S'too much...," you groan out, your body rocking every time he spears you open with his girth.

"Shh... no, no.." he tuts, tightening his grip to prevent you from escaping. "You're gonna stay right here and take it. Stay right. Fucking. Here."

Every word he speaks is empathized by a sharp thrust into your drooling cunt, causing you to howl in pleasure and claw at his back. Every nerve in your body is on fire, drowning you in sweet, sweet agony.

"You wanted this, right? For months you've been begging. And now it's suddenly too much?"

You can only nod, babbling some incoherent nonsense in response. Crane lets out a condescending laugh which quickly twists into a moan when you clench around his cock. No matter how much he tries to pretend, he's just as close as you are.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, clinging to you like you're a lifeboat in a storm as he keeps on thrusting into your slick heat.

"So good for me... God, you're so beautiful when you're sweet and obedient... accepting your reward like a good little patient."

You look up at him, trying to focus on his flushed face even though your eyes are rolling back in your head. Crane leans down to capture your mouth in another heated kiss, nipping at your lips and tasting your tongue while he moans down your throat.

The rhythm of his hips stutters when he pulls away to press his face into the crook of your neck, and suck and bite at your skin in a desperate attempt to leave traces of himself.

“Are you going to cum again?” He groans into your skin, flattening his tongue against your pulse.

“N… no…” you whine

“No? This –“ He’s cut off by a moan of his own, and it takes a moment for him to pull himself together to finish his sentence. “This is your reward, doll… We’re going to have to work on – fffuck – on gratitude…”

“I can’t...! Please… please…” you beg, but you’re not sure what you’re even begging for. Certainly not for him to stop.

“You can’t? Well… you’re going to.” His thrusts begin to get faster and more erratic as he tries to fuck into you as deeply as possible “Do it for me, hm? Just for me…”

“No- fuck, please! Jonathan -!!” Tears well up in your eyes from the delicious pain, and you actually scream when he starts to rub your clit again. Colors explode behind your closed eyelids. “Please, please, please- “

“I know you can do it… one more time, doll… Just one more time…”

And you finally do as you’re told, cumming around his cock with an intensity that feels as if someone punched you in the gut. Your brain short-circuits, and you’re not even making noises anymore as he fucks you through your climax like you’re a toy that was handmade for his pleasure.

“Fuuuck – Christ, fuck -“ Jonathan’s voice completely lacks the air of authority and superiority that you are so used to when he whimpers into your neck, his hands tightening around you. It feels like you’re wrapped in cotton, and you can only hear him faintly due to the volume of your pulse that’s hammering in your ears. Finally, his hips still, and he sinks down on top of you as he finishes inside of your fluttering cunt. Rational thought is absent in this moment, and you’re absolutely certain that this is what paradise must feel like. Connected to the one you love so dearly. Overwhelmed by pleasure.

For a long while, the office is silent aside from the rugged breathing that’s coming from both of you, and you bask in his warmth, absolutely content to stay like this for the rest of time. Jonathan clears his dry throat, lifting himself up onto his elbows as he looks down at you, and you’re struck by overwhelming affection once again.

“I love you…”

“Shut up…” But there’s no bite to it. He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, and for a moment, there’s a very real glimpse of fondness in his eyes. Crane stays silent, taking in your features like it’s the first time he sees you properly, and his hand comes up to gingerly trace over your cheekbone and eyebrow before he brushes a strand of hair out of your forehead. Then finally, he lets out a soft breath before he murmurs gently, intimately.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with more rewards in the future.”

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Fashion Show (Casey Novak x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You decide it times to get Casey to admit how much she wants you. Which can only mean one thing. A fashion show!

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Jealousy, swearing, marking, dirty talk, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving)

Sitting in your living room, you were doing your best not to stare at Casey. In the afternoon light she was beautiful. All soft edges and sweet curves, a small smile on her face. Your fingers itched to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

She’d shown up at your door, a case file in hand, asking you to run through her opening statements with her. Preparation was the way to win. And no one was ever as prepared as Casey Novak.

So you sat with her on Sunday afternoon, tinkering her opening statement, running through the evidence, the questions she wanted to ask, making sure she hit all the right points. You loved lawyer mode Casey. It always gave you a thrill to see her in action.

It was unbelievably sexy.

“I really think you’ve got it,” you said.

Her head was bent over a few papers, her hair falling forward into her face. You reached over, pushing it behind her ear. Glancing up, she seemed startled, green eyes widening. Your smile was meant to reassure.

“You’re going to be amazing, Case. You know that,” you said.

“I don’t know. I really can’t afford to mess this one up. Donnelly is already breathing down my neck,” she said.

“Come on, you know this case. You’re gonna crush it. You’re quite literally the best lawyer I’ve ever met,” you said.

“How many lawyers do you know?” she asked with a twist of the lips.

“More than enough to be getting on with,” you replied, “now put your papers away. I have something fun you can do to take a break.”

Her gaze sharpened as it landed on you. You lent forward, sitting on your knees, forcing yourself closer to her. Her gaze dipped down before returning to your face.

“Wanna do something fun?” you asked, lowering your voice, trying to sound as tempting as possible.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“How about a fashion show?” you said, “I’d love your opinion on something.”

She looked at you like you’d lost your mind. You grinned back, knowing exactly what you wanted to show her. Something that might finally push her to making a move. Months of living on the edge of something more, she was driving you crazy. It was time you did something to get what you wanted.

“You want my opinion on fashion?” she asked.

“A very specific type of fashion,” you said.

“Go on then,” she said, sitting back, eyes sweeping over you.

You clambered to your feet, shooting her a wink before you shut your bedroom door. Scrabbling through your underwear drawer, you pulled out the three sets you were considering. Red and blue and green. All pretty. All capable of getting you what you wanted.

Together, you could drive her absolutely wild.

You slipped the red on first, figuring the green would be the big guns to pull out at the end, and the blue a nice palate cleanser between the two. You’d paid enough attention to Casey to know her preferences. You cracked open the door, peeking through to see Casey sitting on your couch, still looking at the case notes.

“Okay, so I have three options and I need to know which one you think looks better,” you said through the crack, snagging her attention.

“Sure,” she said, placing down her notes, “what’s this for?”

“I guess I just need to know which you’d prefer to see if you were undressing me,” you said, stepping out into the living room.

Her eyes widened and colour bloomed on her cheeks. You watched her eyes rake over your body, lingering, hungry as they took you in. With a slow spin, you let her see the entirety of the pretty red set you’d bought the week before in an attempt to make yourself feel better about not having Casey in your bed. You’d considered putting it on and going out to find someone to take care of the throbbing between your legs. It hadn’t seemed worth it if it wasn’t her doing it.

“What do you think?” you asked, facing her again.

Her eyes had darkened, almost to the point of losing the blue. You stepped towards her, almost to within touching distance, swaying your hips, watching her watch you. Tilting your head, you let her drink her fill, liking the way it felt to be under her gaze. She was leaning forward, her ravenous gaze so focused on you.

“Well?” you prompted, lips curling up into a small, knowing smirk.

“It’s very.” You followed the way her tongue ran along her lower lip, “nice.”

“Only nice?” you asked.

You shivered as her gaze met yours again. You could see how tense she was, as if she was under great strain not to launch herself at you. Placing both of your hands on your hips, you stared her down. If she pounced, you weren’t going to complain. You’d probably reward her for it.

You stepped right into her orbit, your finger reaching out to tilt her chin up. You wanted her looking you right in the eye.

“You really can’t think of a better word to describe it?” you asked.

“Pretty. It’s pretty,” she said, hurriedly, as if trying to find the right answer.

“I think we can do better than that, don’t you?”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her lower lip. You found yourself staring, wondering what it would be like to do the same. You thought she might whimper. Just the thought sent heat licking at your skin.

“Be right back,” you whispered.

You felt her gaze on you as you walked back to your bedroom, hips swaying. You turned in the doorway, shooting her a wink before you closed the door. Taking your time, you let her stew in her thoughts. You wished you could hear them, wondering what she was thinking, wondering if she was thinking about you the way you were thinking about her.

You wanted to know how close she was to snapping.

“Ready?” you called through the crack in the door.

“Sure,” she said, but it wasn’t quite the calm and collected Casey you were used to.

You stepped out into the living room, gaze trained on her. You wanted to see every single expression on her face. Her fingers were clenched in a fist, resting on her thigh as her eyes dragged up your body. Pausing in front of her, you let her look her fill.

The blue was pretty, soft and sweet, almost the complete opposite of the red. That one had been seductive, vampy, this one made you feel like you might be a good girl in it. A nice present. A reward.

Her darkened eyes made you think you were the exact kind of present she wanted to unwrap.

“You can touch if you want. If it’ll help you decide if you like this one more,” you said.

It was like giving her permission was all she needed. Her hand jumped up, tracing the waistband of your panties. You shivered, stepping closer to let her touch you properly. The warmth of her touch was exactly what you were looking for.

She was watching the trail her finger was making over your body. You sighed, the relief palpable. You’d been waiting for her touch for so long even this felt better than you could have imagined.

“I like this set,” you said, chin dipping so you could look at her from under lowered eyelashes, “makes me feel pretty.”

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, waiting to see how she responded. Her fingers trailed up your stomach, the muscles jumping under her touch. Brushing the curve of your breast, she watched her own fingers touch you. It was like she couldn’t look away.

“Does it make me look pretty?” you asked, prompting her when the silence continued.

“You always look pretty,” she replied, eyes dragging back up your body to meet yours.

“But am I extra pretty in this set?” you asked.

Her fingertips dragged back down your stomach, making you shiver. Her touch was a heady thing, almost addictive, and she’d barely done anything. You wanted her to do more to you.

“It’s certainly something,” she replied, her voice a low hum.

“But we can probably do better,” you said.

You stepped out of her reach, watching the way her fingers clenched at the loss of contact. It was gratifying to know she was feeling it just as intensely as you were. You did your best to keep your smirk to yourself, even as you turned on the balls of your feet, listening out for the soft groan as she saw the skimpy back to your g-string. Hiding your smile, you let your hips swing as you took yourself back into your bedroom.

This time you didn’t take your time, wanting the punch of green more than you wanted to tease her. You could just imagine it, fingers clenching, cheeks flushing, eyes darkening the moment she saw you in the deep forest green set. You’d been thinking of her the entire time you’d tried it on, buying it specifically for her eyes.

You didn’t give her a warning, flinging your bedroom door open and stepping out into your tiny living room. She was already leaning forward, eyes trained on the doorway, breathless and beautiful as she waited for you. You grinned.

The green was definitely doing more than the red or blue did. Her jaw was clenching and her cheeks were flushed. You felt the flicker of excitement at the expression on her face. Restrained desire, like you were teasing her and she knew she wasn’t allowed you. You stepped forward, just in front of her, right where her fingertips could graze you.

“This one doing more for you?” you asked.

She looked almost pained as her eyes met yours.

“Who’s this for?” she asked, the bite almost anger, frustration mixed in there too.

“Does it have to be for someone specific?” you asked, “maybe I’m planning for the future.”

“Who?” she asked, voice hardening.

“Does it matter?” you asked in return.

“You bought this with someone in mind,” she said, her hands making contact with your hips, grasping them.

“I did,” you confirmed, giving her enough to bite.

“Who?” Dark eyes dragged up to yours.

“You.”

The word hung between the two of you. Something satisfied settled on her face. Her hands tightened over your hips, tight enough for you to gasp. Her eyes smouldered, raking over your figure, holding you still as her gaze travelled over you. She tugged you closer, close enough to feel her breath ghost over the skin of your stomach. Your muscles tightened, breath catching. The slow perusal of your body was heating your skin until you thought you might combust.

The teaser had turned into the teased.

“You bought this with me in mind?” she asked, those pretty pink lips pulling up into a cocky smirk.

“I just told you I did,” you replied.

“And in what context did you think I might see this?” she asked, hands sliding around to grasp your ass.

“Well, I was hoping there might be some ripping of my clothes off, but I think this was pretty effective,” you replied.

Your hands landed on her shoulders, warm through the shirt she had on, strong as you used them to keep yourself steady. She looked up at you, head tipped back, a tilt to it that spoke of her amusement.

“Effective at what?” she asked.

“At letting me know how badly you want to bend me over and fuck me,” you replied, lowering your voice, “and do you know what I see when I look at you?”

“What?” she asked, fingers digging into your skin.

“Someone desperate to fuck me.”

She tugged on you, sharply enough for you to fall forward. Your knees landed either side of her thighs, a less than graceful manoeuvre to get you to straddle her lap. Her amusement as the small noise of surprise you made was obvious, her smile making your skin heat.

“You think very highly of yourself,” she said, but her hands were stroking over your bare skin in a way that suggested she was rather distracted by it.

“Are you saying you don’t want to fuck me?” you asked.

Your fingers threading in the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging until her head tipped back. Her eyes were smouldering, a liquid heat in them that made you tug harder. Her hands tightened on you, dragging you closer.

“I’m saying you should be careful. Attitude like that and I might have to teach you not to be such a fucking tease,” she said.

“I’d like to see you try,” you said.

With hands hooked behind your thighs, she threw you down on the sofa cushions, hovering over you. A rush of air left from your parted lips, surprised at her actions, but not how strong she was. You’d been hoping she could throw you around like a rag doll.

“Enjoying the view?” she asked.

“As much as you’ve been,” you replied as your legs curled around her hips, drawing her closer.

“So tell me,” she said, voice lowering into a sexy rasp that had electricity running over your skin, “what were you hoping I’d do once I saw you in this little number?”

Her fingers deftly plucked your bra strap, letting it snap back against your skin. Your hands pushed up under the hem of her shirt, seeking out the soft skin hidden beneath. As your palms ran over the skin of her back, you felt how tightly she was holding herself.

“I was hoping I might at least get a kiss,” you said.

“Lofty dreams.” You could just hear the eye roll in her voice, “nothing more?”

“Well, in an ideal world, you’d peel me out of it and make me scream your name,” you said, “but I’m not fussy. I’ll let you decide what you want to do now we’re here.”

“And if I just want to look at you?” she asked.

“Look all you like.”

You arched your back, offering yourself up to her gaze. The throbbing between your legs was insistent, but the way she was looking at you was delicious. If that was all she wanted, you were more than happy to supply the view.

“You are beautiful,” she said, her palm stroking down your side, taking in the warmth of your skin, the soft sigh her touch brought, the shiver when her nails dragged over your skin, “so very, very beautiful.”

Her lips brushed against yours, whisper soft, ghostlike, making you whimper for more. You felt her smile against your lips before she kissed you properly. It was all consuming, nothing but heat, making your head spin. Your arms curled around her, drawing her closer, wanting to feel her against every inch of you. Her moan went through you, lighting you up.

When her lips began to trail down your neck, you tipped your head back, letting her have her way with you. You’d let her do anything if she kept making you feel that good. It was better than you’d been able to imagine, and you’d spent a lot of time imagining it. Her hands were sliding further down your body, grasping your thighs, keeping them around her waist. With fingers buried in her hair, you kept her pressed against your skin.

“Please tell me this means you plan on fucking me,” you moaned.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. I’m going to take care of you.” And despite her words reassuring you, the twinkle in her eye said you were in for trouble.

Her teeth nipped at your skin, right at your pulse point. The molten heat spreading through your veins flared, threatening to turn you to ash. Strong hands slid back up your body, cupping your lace covered breasts. You arched into her touch, offering yourself to her.

Her lips traced a path down to where lace met skin, tongue dragging over the curve of your breast. Your fingers tightened in her hair, clenching as she sucked a mark into your skin. The thought of your body being littered in her marks was one that tasted delicious. You wanted it, so badly, to be claimed by her.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” she growled into your skin, “you knew exactly what you were doing with this lingerie.”

“I did,” you confirmed.

“You wanted to rile me up,” she said.

“Uh huh,” you said, not able to come up with a more intelligent response as her thumb swiped over your tightening nipple.

“You wanted me to put you back in your place,” she said.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Such a desperate little slut,” she murmured.

Her fingers dipped beneath the cup of your bra, a teasing touch leaving you breathless. You arched against her again, urging her on. The curve of her smile was lost against her skin as her teeth sunk into your soft flesh.

“Casey,” you groaned.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” she murmured.

Her tongue soothed over the bite mark that was pressed into your skin. She sat back, looking down at you, eyes dark and lips smirking, cheeks flushed as she gazed down on you.

“Now let’s see if you can be a good girl for me,” she said.

Her hands were slow to pull the bra from your body, leaving you exposed, hips pinned to the couch by her weight. She ran her touch back up your body, now cupping your newly bare breasts. The warmth of her skin felt searing against yours.

When she lent forward, you shivered, the ghost of her breath on your skin setting your nerve endings on fire. Her mouth was warm as her lips wrapped around one hardened nipple, tongue flicking over it. You felt insane as your fingers wound their way through her hair, pressing her to you, arching into her mouth. Her hand was toying with the other nipple, rolling it, pinching it, making you feel more alive than you had in a very long time.

You whimpered her name, knowing you were being gifted exactly what you’d given her. She was teasing you, dragging it out, not giving you exactly what you wanted as she played with you. You felt insane, a puddle of want, barely holding it together as she did what she wanted to your body.

Her other hand had slipped down, running along the waistband of your panties. You couldn’t stop the pleas from falling from your lips, but she stayed there, a teasing touch, refusing to give in and give you more.

Her mouth trailed across your chest, finding the other breast. The curse that fell from your lips was as harsh as the way she sucked. Your fingers tightened in her hair, clenching as you tried to be good for her. You thought she would like it, you submitting, finally, to her and doing as you were told. Not that she’d issued any orders to you. But you got the gist of what she wanted from the way she moaned into your skin when you did something she liked.

She kissed her way back up to your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, lingering at your pulse point, teeth nipping. It was a slow path, taking plenty of detours as she explored you with her mouth. She caught your earlobe between her teeth, tugging on it until you were certain her plan was to drive you crazy.

“Tell me what you want,” she murmured into your ear.

“I want you to touch me,” you whimpered.

“I am touching you,” she said, fingers drifting lazily over your lower stomach.

“Casey,” you whined.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Please,” you begged, “please.”

“Just as soon as you tell me what exactly you want,” she said, sitting back to look down at you squirm beneath her.

You felt hot all over. The way she was looking at you was like she planned on eating you alive, like you were the sweet treat she’d been craving all day. Your fingers closed around the wrist of the hand teasing you, tight enough it might bruise, and you guided her hand to the throbbing heat between your legs. She grinned, cupping you, feeling exactly how wet you were through your underwear. You’d be embarrassed if you didn’t like the pride that flew across her face the feeling.

“Use your words, baby girl,” she said.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, breathless and desperate and not above begging her, “all I can think about is your fingers inside me or you eating me out or bending me over and fucking me from behind. I need you, Casey. I need you so much. I need you to fuck me.”

“Good girl,” she hummed.

Her fingers pushed your panties to the side, sliding through your folds. She brushed against your clit, brightening at the noise you made, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, relief flooding through you. She lingered on your clit, still watching you, enjoying the way your hips bucked up against her touch.

“I bet you taste wonderful,” she said, slow to begin circling your bundle of nerves.

You whimpered, wanting more. You’d already told her exactly what you wanted, now she was just playing with you. When her fingers pressed to your entrance, you moaned her name, hips pressing up into her.

She lent forward, lips pressing to the skin above the waistband of your panties. Her hands retracted from your body, fingers hooking under the waistband. She dragged them from your body, flinging them aside, leaving you completely bare beneath her, even as she was completely dressed above you. Her hands curled around your thighs, parting them, as her lips drew closer to your throbbing heat.

“Casey,” you moaned.

“Shhh, baby girl. Let me taste you,” she said.

Her tongue swept through your folds. Your head fell back, eyes slipping closed. You lost yourself in the feeling of her. When she moaned, it rocketed through you, the vibrations making you clutch at her, fingers tangling in her hair as you held her against you.

You’d known Casey was good with her mouth, her silver tongue winning more cases than any other lawyer you knew. This took it to whole other level. She was a master, an absolute expert, driving you to heights you weren’t used to. All you could do was hold on, the pleasure overwhelming.

Her fingers slipped into you, tongue on your clit. The louder you got, the harder she worked, as if she wanted to see how loud she could get you. You were trembling, muscles tight. Your heels were digging into her back, fingers tight in her hair, and all you knew was the fire in your veins and the pleasure rolling through your body.

You came screaming her name, clutching at her, keeping her pressed against you. She eased you through it, tongue slow to clean you up. You were slow to let her go, fingers aching from clenching so hard, releasing her as your body melted into the couch cushions. She sat up again, proud smirk on her face.

“You taste delicious,” she said.

Reaching for her hand, you slid your lips around her still glistening fingers, tasting yourself. Her eyes turned molten as she watched you clean your own arousal off her skin. You slowly pulled her fingers from your mouth, grinning up at her.

“Well, that certainly was something fun,” she said.

“And I bet you didn’t even think about the case once,” you said.

“Was that your plan all along?” she asked.

“To seduce you on my couch as a way of making you take a break?” you asked, “I can’t say it was my main motivation.”

“What was then?” she asked.

“To seduce you on my couch as a way of making you fuck me,” you replied.

“So you admit you were seducing me,” she said.

“I bought multiple lingerie sets with the intention of letting you see me in them. Of course I was seducing you,” you said.

“And how long exactly have you been planning this little seduction?” she asked, fingers lightly ghosting over the skin of your stomach. Your muscles clenched and you squirmed.

“A while,” you replied.

“You can’t have known this would work,” she said.

“Can’t I?” You curled your fingers around her wrist, tugging until she fell forward, face close enough to feel her breath ghost over your lips, “you caught a glimpse of a bit of lace and you couldn’t look away. Wasn’t hard to figure out a bit of teasing might make you snap.”

“Oh, baby girl. You haven’t seen me snap yet,” she said.

“Guess I’ll have to try harder next time then,” you whispered.

She chuckled into the kiss.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Tipsy and Turned On

Gibbs X Reader One-Shot

Prompt: You attend an NCIS Ceremony and get a little too tipsy around your boss.

Part 2

Mentions: Drinking

>>>>

You smoothed your tight dress over for the hundredth time in the last 20 minutes as Bishop ran around the little hotel room you two shared, looking for her earrings.

“They were literally on the sink just a second ago,” she cried out, exasperated. You looked at your watch, noting that you only had about 40 minutes before the ceremony started.

“Check by the mini fridge. Maybe you set them down them when you stuffed your face with the bag of peanut m+m’s.”

You checked your makeup in the bathroom mirror and put a thin coat of lipstick on before you heard Bishop’s triumphant squawk.

“Got em!”

Walking out, you saw her putting the earrings in while munching on something which you assumed was the m+m’s she was finishing. A loud obnoxious knock sounded at the door before it opened a second afterwards and Tony walked in.

“What the hell DiNozzo? You don’t just walk into our room like that. We could’ve been naked!”

“Darn, should have knocked 30 minutes ago,” he teased, making you roll your eyes.

“Are you guys ready? The ceremony starts in like a half an hour,” you heard McGee’s voice announce from the hallway. At least he had the decency to stay outside.

“Oh relax McFidget. It’s literally 3 floors beneath us. We’ve got plenty of time to grab a drink and meet some newly promoted probies.”

You spritzed a little perfume, grabbed your clutch, and walked out of the room, making sure to smack Tony on the way out. Abby and Palmer were already down in the lobby when you guys stepped off the elevator.

“Oh my gosh, your dresses are so beautiful!” she gushed while running over in her Doc Martens.

You returned Abby’s excited hug and smiled anxiously, which she caught onto.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. The entirety of NCIS is here. Including SecNav.”

“Well let’s get you a drink then. Soften those nerves.”

The boys went to find your assigned table while you Abby and Bishop went over to the bar, each ordering a cocktail. After a couple long sips, you took a breath and tried relaxing. Crowds were never a problem for you as long as they didn’t include a bunch of higher ranking officials and their bosses walking around. You scanned the massive dining hall and spotted Vance conversing with some other man in a suit you assumed was important but wasn’t expecting to see the third individual in the conversation as well.

“Since when did Gibbs come to NCIS ceremonies?” you asked, as Abby and Bishop turned to look.

“Oh, I heard Vance is forcing him to be here since we’re suppose to be receiving an award,” Bishop explained.

So that’s why he looking exceptionally handsome in his full black and navy suit. He even wore a tie. The man definitely cleaned up well and you actually had a hard time taking your eyes off of him.

Ever since you started working with the team, you had been…intrigued by Gibbs but it never got past the point of checking him out a few times or shooting some harmless cheesy flirts that everyone would just roll their eyes at. He never gave any indication of being intrigued as well, let alone attracted to you in the time that you’ve known him.

“Alright. One shot and let’s go join the others,” you heard Abby say.

You turned to her and saw her sliding over two shot glasses for you and Bishop. Now that Bishop just told you that you were going to have to get up on stage, you needed a shot more than ever.

“Abby, you’re a mind reader.”

She just winked and clinked your glass before throwing the shot back. You and Bishop followed suit, both grimacing from the liquid flames pouring down your throats and followed her towards your reserved table.

“Looks like you 3 found the bar just fine,” Tony pointed out as you took a seat.

“Don’t you have some naive agent to be bugging?” you retorted. He smiled and gave a nod to some young woman across the way, proving your point.

“Actually, she’s a file clerk and I’ll be right back.”

He left the table in the direction of the blonde haired woman as you all shook our heads and laughed. A few minutes later you saw Gibbs walk over.

“Didn’t think you were coming Gibbs. You don’t usually like these types of events,” McGee pointed out as he took Tony’s spot beside you. Instinctively, you took a long sip of your drink.

“Vance wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

As if on cue, the lights dimmed and the SecNav walked onto the little stage area holding a microphone.

“Thank you all for attending our little get together. We have a few announcements and presentations so let’s get started. Firstly, let’s honor those that we’ve lost in our battle for justice. Agent Simmons….

We all listened quietly, occasionally nodding or clapping for different reasons but the thought of having to get up on stage soon was driving you crazy. You hadn’t even known your leg was shaking under the table until I you felt a warm hand still your movements. Looking over, Gibbs gave you a small reassuring nod calming and exciting you at the same time.

His hand had left but the warmth was still there, leaving your skin with goosebumps.

“So these awards go to Special Agent Gibbs and his dedicated team, if they could make their way over,” Vance’s voice spoke too quickly. Part of you just moved in autopilot, getting up and following behind Gibbs with the rest of the team following behind in a line. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, judging you.

Luckily, the little bit of alcohol you had was kicking in, dulling the sense of anxiety but you knew you looked at your hands, they’d be shaking.

On stage, Vance adorned your necks with medals and shook everyone’s hands before dismissing you. It was simple and quick and you would’ve ran off the stage at top speed had you remembered how to act at such formal events.

>>>>

The hardest part was over and now was time to relax, as you sat on the floor of your hotel room, doing your 3rd shot with Bishop and Abby.

McGee had left early with Delilah and who knows what pants DiNozzo got himself in but you, Abby and Bishop were having the time of your lives.

“You should try it, you never know, you might enjoy it,” Abby suggested from the couch.

“I’m not sleeping in a coffin Abbs! I’m already claustrophobic!”

“You know what you should do. Pretend to get lost in the hotel and end up at Gibbs’s door.”

Both Abby’s and my mouth dropped open at Bishop’s comment and she laughed. She was the only one I told about my slight attraction to our boss and now Abby knew too.

“Bishop, I can’t believe you said that! I thought we had a secret together!”

“Oh don’t worry Y/N. I knew something was going with you and Gibbs wayy before Bishop told me anything.”

“What?! There’s nothing going on! And Bishop shouldn’t have said shit.”

They both laughed at the horror in your face and you prepared yourself another shot.

“You should do it though. I overheard heard him talking with Ducky about you. He didn’t say it exactly but he thinks you’re interesting. And for Gibbs to say that, that isn’t normal.”

“But I don’t even know what room is his.”

“202. Right down the hall,” Abby stated, already ready for your excuse.

“No one is saying go in there and force him to have sex with you. Just go and see what he does. If he escorts you back to your room, maybe he’s not interested. But if he invites you in..”

“What about Rule 13?”

“You know how many times we’ve broken that rule? It’s almost funny that we still have it. Come on, hurry before your buzz goes away and you chicken out.”

The both of them practically pulled you up and dragged you over to the door.

“Here are your shoes,” Bishop said, putting my heels in my hand and pushing me out.

“Wait, you guys can’t just kick me out of my own hotel room-

Your statement was cut short as they shut the door in your face, both could be heard giggling on the other side. Looking down at the heels in your hand, you decided against putting them on for fear you would faceplant if you tried walking in them and slowly made your way down the hall.

198, 200, 201..

You stood in front of 202, seriously wondering why you befriended those two. Well, it was now or never you thought as you knocked softly 3 times. A few seconds went by, you swaying slightly as the tequila did its job before the door opened up.

You were genuinely surprised at seeing Gibbs answer the door in nothing but a white tee and boxer briefs, you almost forgot the line you had planned.

“Oh. Is this not my room? I could’ve swore it was..” you probably slurred at him.

“Do you normally knock on your own door Agent L/N?”

Shit. He knew. Maybe. Maybe not.

“Do you know what time it is Y/N?”

You made a move as if to look at your watch, which you didn’t have and heard him sigh.

“It’s 2 in the morning. Have you been at the bar all night?”

Holy shit, it was that late? You were for sure going to have the worst headache the next morning.

“Yes.” Your answer was short, but your tone was almost a question. You don’t know what you were saying anymore, you honestly forgot what he asked you.

“Can I come in?” You blurted, hoping he wouldn’t turn you down. He rubbed his face in exasperation and opened the door wider for you to step in. Holy shit. Holy shit. You did not think you were gonna get this far.

You stepped into his room, noticing that all of his lights were still on and the tv played softly.

“Have you been up all this time too?” you asked, setting your heels down on the little loveseat.

“Just going over the case.” He closed the door and walked over into the bathroom. You looked around, seeing the case file spread across the little desk and the queen bed beside that looked untouched.

You weren’t sure what to do now. You do know that this tight dress you’ve been wearing for hours was starting to become very uncomfortable and this plan was looking dumber and dumber by the second.

Gibbs came back out of the bathroom and grabbed a water from the mini fridge before offering it to you along with some pills you assumed were aspirin. “Drink.”

You listened obediently and gave the bottle back to him, the both of you staring into each others the entire time. Then for whatever reason, you walked over to his bed and plopped down on it, practically moaning at how nice it was.

You almost fell asleep right then and there but then felt something drop onto you. Opening your eyes and looking down, you saw a pair of sweats and a faded USMC shirt lying on the bed.

“You’re not gonna escort me back to my room?” you asked him curiously.

“Do you remember your room number?”

You thought about it before answering honestly.

“No.”

“Then I can’t escort you back to your room. Go change.”

Whether it was the liquor that made you do it or just something deep down inside that gave you the courage, you got up from the bed and pulled your dress zipper down your back, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and letting the dress fall to the floor.

Turning around, you brought your eyes to meet his and watched his icy blue ones stare right back. “What are you doing Agent L/N?”

“I don’t know.”

You took a couple steps closer to him, the cool air making you shiver slightly and just stood there. He didn’t move an inch but you watched him slowly look over you, his mouth moving to slowly lick his lips, sparking something in you.

Taking a chance, you put your arms around his neck and brought your body close to his, noticing how his hands immediately found your hips and his head dipped to meet yours in a deep kiss.

It was better than you ever imagined and between his mouth moving against yours, his hands gripping your skin tighter and the way he pulled you in closer was giving you enough endorphins to pass out.

When you both pulled away for a breath, you smiled. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Oh really?” His voice was husky and lower than usual, making you close your eyes.

He nuzzled your neck and wrapped his arms around your torso but made no attempt to bring you to bed.

“As much as I’d like to continue this further, I want it to be on a different occasion,” he spoke in your ear, kissing just below and releasing his grip on you.

Bringing your arms back down, you looked away and stepped back. He was quick to pull your chin back up to look at him.

“What about dinner at my place tomorrow?”

You just nodded and he gave a small smile, leaning down to kiss you again, making your head spin.

“You change. I’m going to take a shower,” he said, pulling back and heading into the bathroom.

You took a huge breath, letting out all the tension and multitude of emotions. You changed into the clothes and just sat on the edge of bed, absent mindedly watching whatever movie was playing.

A few minutes went by and you felt your eyes getting heavy, the alcohol and everything that happened in the day suddenly making you very tired. Knowing you weren’t going anywhere, you crawled across the bed and slipped under the covers.

“Y/N. Wake up.”

You opened your eyes to see Gibbs sitting on the bed beside you, now dressed in sweats and the same t-shirt but his hair was wet from the shower so you couldn’t have been asleep for longer than 20 minutes.

“Chug this, then you can go to sleep,” he said, handing you a small bottle of water. You smiled at his kindness and sat up. As you drank, he turned all the lights off, only the tv illuminating the room and joined you under the covers. You placed the now empty bottle on the bedside and scooted a little closer to his warm body. You weren’t sure how much intimacy to give but you were perfectly content when he moved his arm so that it rested under your head and pulled you closer.

You thought about how the nights progression went on and decided you’d actually have to thank Bishop and Abby.

[clio-just-clio]

I’ve got one episode left of season 8 and unfortunately I think my opinions on it have soured a bit, even though there’s still some life in the series. here’s a condensed list of my thoughts:

The Good

- Doggett and almost everything related to him. He’s a super nice and standup guy, and his headstrong skepticism and by-the-book mindset gives him a near perfect dynamic with Scully (and later with Mulder).

- Scully being forced to see things the way Mulder did puts her in a fascinating situation where she has to realize that she just… isn’t able to replace him, and I’d like to think this is the real reason she ends up leaving the bureau

- The entirety of Via Negativa. Certainly a top 10 episode, possibly a top 5? I’ll have to circle back with a full ranking after I finish season 9

- Reyes! I really like her more nuanced take on the supernatural; she’s not a true believer or hardened skeptic, so she pairs nicely with the mostly down-to-earth Doggett. I’m looking forward to their adventures together in season 9. Unfortunately, there’s one aspect of her character that I do not like at all, which we’ll get to.

The Bad

- After an incredibly strong start with the search for Mulder and introduction of Doggett, the mythology kind of takes a nosedive. As Scully gets more gregnant the narrative gradually strips her of agency in a way the show has long threatened to do, and I really don’t like it. We get to a point where she’s being ferried around by The Boys (and Reyes) so that she can escape from an… alien replacement super soldier… ohh we’ll get to them.

- Reyes is a super competent investigator with a particular interest and expertise in cults and ritualistic crimes. This is cool and makes sense. But you know what doesn’t? Making her actually, honest-to-God psychic. In my opinion the X-Files protagonists should get fleeting glimpses of the supernatural during their investigations, and maybe some connections to it in their backstory, but they should not be supernatural themselves. I hope they abandon Reyes’ visions next season because they’re the one thing holding me back from embracing her as a series lead like I did with Doggett.

- Mulder actually, literally rises from the dead. This is bad. I really don’t think him dying served any purpose either. Just have Scully find him alive!! Give these poor sods a rest, please, they’ve earned it.

- The alien super soldier human replacements. I also don’t like the implication that Scully has an alien baby or whatever, because again, there should be some separation between our leads and the supernatural. Anyway, it looks like we’re doing Invasion of the Body Snatchers again, and it’s just not that interesting here. “oh but they could be anyone” you know who else could be anyone? The black oil! Or the alien bounty hunters! Why make a third, more cliche type of alien that looks like a person??

Anyway. I might update this when I see the finale, but let me know how wrong I am in the notes

[heavenbarnes]

questions/stuff for you and mr. heavenbarnes to answer (if you wanna) :3

1. describe your favorite piece of clothing or accessory

2. Is there fictional character you really identify with, and if so, why?

3. do you have a favorite animal? (one of my faves is the small-spotted catshark)

4. a silly moment in your relationship you still giggle about

5. do you guys have any small, daily rituals that you can’t go without?

6. something you find really cute or funny about each other

7. what are your favorite date activities?

8. a movie/book/show or any piece of media that means a lot to you

9. something you’d really recommend to others! can be an activity, food, some product, poetry, hobby, whatever you want!!

10. would you rather watch the entirety of the X-files or the entirety of Supernatural?

11. your favorite song! or your top picks if you can’t choose :3 (some of my current ones are Mykonos by Fleet Foxes, Hell's Bells by Cary Ann Hearst, Girl with one eye by Florence + the Machine, and Street Spirit (Fade Out) by Radiohead)

ahhh thank you 😭 i’ve got him at the breakfast table so we’re on

(R for richie and C for cosmos)

1. Describe your favourite piece of clothing or accessory

R: it’s this swanndri shirt it’s got short sleeves and blue checks on it - it’s either that or these black stubbies (or both together)

C: this soft grey cardigan and its cropped on me but the sleeves are the perfect length

2. Is there a fictional character you really identify with? And, if so, why?

R: uh i don’t identify with any of them so cosmos made me do a quiz and it said jax teller? from sons of anarchy? (we don’t watch it lol)

C: richie tozier, first time i watched it i felt like watching myself

3. Do you have a favourite animal?

R: dogs are pretty great, we’re thinking of getting one

C: monkeys, i love monkeys (pygmy marmosets)

4. A silly moment in your relationship you still giggle about

R: we went away for a weekend and i accidentally ripped the knob off the front of the stove (now we’re laughing about it)

C: when you first stayed over and you rubbed your noisy dry feet together

5. Do you guys have any small, daily rituals that you can’t go without?

R: i get up, i make cosmos a coffee, i get ready for work, i fill up her car drink bottle, i turn on her car for her, i kiss her goodbye

C: i wake up, i have my coffee, i get ready for work, i make rich lunch, i kiss him goodbye

6. Something you find really cute or funny about each other

R: she grew up lip reading and signing for her sister, so when you talk to her she looks at your lips and mouths the words back to herself - it’s quite cute

C: he’s so literal, everything he does is literal - i once said i wished the sun came through this certain window and he went out and lopped the side of the tree so it would

7. What are your favourite date activities?

R: we like staying in mainly, but i like to take her out dancing because she’ll just look so happy

C: when we stay in and cook and sit at the dining table like we’re at a fancy restaurant

8. A movie/book/show or any piece of media that means a lot to you?

R: cosmos read me the secret life of bees and i really liked it, i never really read before her

C: anne of green gables, i read it when i was young and it reminds me so much of being a little girl

9. Something you’d really recommend to others!

R: try make your missus’ day every day and make your coffee at home

C: sitting in the sun and learning new things about people you’ve known a while

10. Would you rather watch the entirety of the X-files or the entirety of Supernatural?

R: X-files, we’re alien people through and through

C: oh yeah X-files without a doubt

11. Your favourite song?

R: i only listen to cosmos’ spotify, but i like life is a highway from cars

C: at the moment? toro by remi wolf (makes me think of rich 😌)

[crawfordtil]

X-Files roleplay anyone?

Just finished watching the entirety of the X-Files and I NEED to roleplay it. I just a couple things:

● multiparagraph/literate preferred

● 18+ only, i enjoy mature and explicit themes mixed into plots

● discord for roleplay is a must!!! You can like this post, dm here, or add my discord crawfordtil

● looking to rp Scully against Mulder, or even with Monica. I am okay with playing Mulder against anyone honestly, just lemme know!!

Rp example below

Nothing was worse than Skinner closing the X-Files department, and separating Mulder from Scully was just the final nail on the coffin. Of course, that didn't stop them in the slightest. They managed to continue their investigations, often confiding in one another once more. So much so that it must've gotten to the higher ups, or maybe just Skinner's nerves, but regardless they were back. Back and better than before. He has Scully by his side again, and sure it'll be long and arduous, but they'll get to the truth, whatever that may be.

Currently, they've set out for Missouri, Aubrey to be exact. Something about a woman named BJ who dug up the remains of an FBI agent that mysteriously disappeared sometime in the early 1940s. Mulder doubts that there's anything paranormal going on, but even he's been surprised lately. Plus, he can't deny that he's only been intrigued by women named BJ. It's early morning by the time they enter the town, heading in the direction of the towns sheriffs office.

[kitkatt0430]

Manipulating Metadata with FanFicFare - Part 1

Alrighty, so you've set up Calibre with FanFicFare and are downloading fanfics left, right, and center. Buuuut there are some problems with the tags you'd like to fix.

Ratings are different on different websites and perhaps you'd like to standardize them to Ao3's rating system. The same fandom may have different names on different websites. Character tags on Ao3 are full names, but Sam Winchester and Sam Wilson are both just Sam W. on Ffnet. Stuff like that.

And sure, you could go in an manually change the metadata after importing it. But you can also manipulate the data on import using the personal.ini file.

Standardizing ratings:

So I personally prefer Ao3's rating system. But you can change the ratings to fit whatever standard you prefer. Once you have the basics of how the personal.ini file handles manipulating tags, there's a lot you can do with it.

FanFicFare's tag manipulation hinges on something called Regular Expressions (RegExp) which can be used to match a very narrow portion of a tag or the entirety of a tag for removal or replacement.

Altering ratings is a pretty good first step in learning how to utilize RegExp.

Let's start with Twisting the Hellmouth's ratings. They use FR7, FR13, FR15, FR18, and FR21 to indicate what age ranges the fics are considered appropriate for. Obviously this isn't a 1:1 match for Ao3's Not Rated, General Audiences, Teen And Up Audiences, Mature, and Explicit - but but FR13 and FR15 fall into what I'd consider the Teen and Up range while FR18 and FR21 would be Mature and Explicit respectively. And FR7, of course, would be General Audiences.

So how do you go about instituting a rule in the personal.ini file that would automatically transform these ratings? First, you want to find or add a section for Twisting the Hellmouth. The line should look like [www.tthfanfic.org].

Underneath you'll want to add the following line: replace_metadata:

Should look like: " [www.tthfanfic.org] replace_metadata: "

So replace_metadata tells FanFicFare that on import, metadata in the specified category that matches a specfic RegExp should be replaced with the provided text. You can create as many rules as you want and, as long as they follow the correct format, the fanfic will have the expected metadata output at the end.

In this case the format looks something like this: " rating=>FR7=>General Audiences"

rating would be the metadata category we want to manipulate. FR7 is the RegExp - instead of being fancy, we're handing it an exact string to match but I'll give fancier examples later - and when it matches in a tag in the rating metadata then it'll be replaced entirely with "General Audiences".

So a rating of "FR7" on TTH becomes "General Audiences" on Calibre after uploading. But keep in mind that if the ratings included tags like "FR77" then it'd turn that into "General Audiences7". Note that the final result still has that second 7 from the original tag left behind.

Anyway, you'll want to indent these rules by one space - the personal.ini editor built into the plugin should turn the word 'rating' green when you add one of these rules. The final result should look something like this: " [www.tthfanfic.org] replace_metadata: rating=>FR7=>General Audiences rating=>FR13=>Teen and Up Audiences rating=>FR15=>Teen and Up Audiences rating=>FR18=>Mature rating=>FR21=>Explicit "

Alrighty, do a test upload of a TTH fic or do a metadata only update of a fic you've already imported. And watch as the ratings populate with the corrected information automatically. Pretty cool, right?

You can do this FFnet's ratings too, but you do need to be a bit fancier about it thanks to FFnet's K+ rating.

In RegExp the + symbol has a specific meaning; "x+" RegExp would match "x" but also "xxxxx" but not a string that is literally "x+" because in RegExp the + is saying 'match 1 or more of the preceding character'. So if you want to match the K+ rating you have to know how to indicate in RegExp that you want to match the actual plus symbol. The way to do that is with the \ backslash. You'd write the RegExp to look like "K\+". You'd also need a backslash to precede an actual backslash and some other characters that have specific uses in RegExp.

(Check out this cheat sheet: https://developer.mozilla.org/en-US/docs/Web/JavaScript/Guide/Regular_expressions/Cheatsheet )

Anyway, the FFnet rules for rating replacements should look like this: " [www.fanfiction.net] replace_metadata: rating=>K\+=>General Audiences rating=>K=>General Audiences rating=>T=>Teen and Up Audiences rating=>M=>Mature "

This isn't going to account for 'mistagged' fic ratings, such as explicit fics hiding in the M rating on FFnet (which is super common), but it's still a good way to ensure your local archive is using a single, consistent rating system.

Consolidating fandom names:

One fandom can have multiple names across multiple archives. Take the 'Ace Attorney' series for example. On FFnet, it's called "Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney" and on Ao3 the fandom is called "逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney" but you'd probably like all your downloaded Ace Attorney fanfic from both sites to be under the same fandom name.

FanFicFare uses the term 'category' for this type of metadata. So you'll need to add two rules - one for ffnet data and one for Ao3 data - to put all your fics into a fandom labeled just "Ace Attorney"

So underneath the ffnet ratings, you'll add a line that looks like this: " category=>Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney=>Ace Attorney "

or " category=>Phoenix Wright: => "

The first one does an exact match to the full category tag and replaces it with the new tag. The second on does a match to just the first part of the category tag: "Phoenix Wright: " (note this includes the space after the colon) and replaces it with an empty string. Both should result in the same output which is "Ace Attorney"

Similarly, under the "[archiveofourown.org]" section you'll want to make sure there's a "replace_metadata:" line and below that add one of these two options: " category=>逆転裁判 \| Gyakuten Saiban \| Ace Attorney=>Ace Attorney "

or " category=>逆転裁判 \| Gyakuten Saiban \| => "

Keep in mind that the backslash has to be added before the pipe (|) symbol so that RegExp doesn't interpret it as a disjunction (check out the cheat sheet for what that is).

You can also use this method for collapsing multiple category tags into a single tag, such as all the Star Wars Prequel movies into a single tag. Or to undo Ao3's questionable decision to segregate the Sam Wilson Captain America movie from the Steve Rogers Captain America movies.

This is your personal archive, after all, and the tags should represent how you think these fanfictions should be categorized.

Character name manipulation:

Character names are another tag that's likely to be different from archive to archive. Or even in just one archive - on Ao3 Natasha Romanov is also Natasha Romonoff, Natasha Romonova, and probably more. She's got a lot of alternate name spellings going on in the fandom. There are also instances like "Eobard Thawne" and "Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells" where the latter is sub tagged to the former in the archive but Calibre isn't going to know that. And so you may want to consolidate the two tags so all the Eobard Thawne fics are localized under a single character tag (though I can understand wanting to keep EoWells as a separate character).

For the Natasha situation on Ao3, you can do character tag adjustments like this: " characters=>Romonoff=>Romanov characters=>Romonova=>Romanov characters=>Natalie Rushman=>Natasha Romonov "

This'll fix any character tag (but not relationship tags, I'll do another post later for those) that has alternate spellings for Natasha or uses her alias as a tag. One character, multiple Ao3 tags becomes one character, one tag.

For Ao3's treatment of Eobard, you can do a rule like this: " characters=>Eobard Thawne \| Harrison Wells=>Eobard Thawne "

or " characters=> \| Harrison Wells=> "

(note the space before the pipe symbol for the second one)

Both will leave just "Eobard Thawne" behind as a tag when "Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells" is processed.

But what about FFnet using Sam W. for Sam Winchester in the Supernatural fandom and for Sam Wilson over in the MCU? A rule like "characters=>Sam W.=>Sam Winchester" will cause Sam Wilson fics to be mistagged.

What we want is a rule that only transforms Sam W. into Sam Winchester when downloading a Supernatural fic and into Sam Wilson when downloading an MCU fic. Thankfully there are ways of doing that.

" characters=>Sam W\.=>Sam Winchester&&category=>Supernatural characters=>Sam W\.=>Sam Wilson "

(Note that a period in RegExp should be preceeded by a backslash in this situation.)

Alrighty, so the first of these two rules has "&&category=>Supernatural" appended to the end. Which indicates to FanFicFare that this character rule should only transform the tag to "Sam Winchester" when the category tag Supernatural is also present. It'll leave other instances of Sam W. alone. Which is pretty cool. However, for FFnet's crossover fics this could lead to a Supernatural/MCU fic that is intended to be tagged with Sam Wilson with incorrect tagging, but it's still better than having to go through and manually fix every single tag.

And while you could specify which category (or categories) you want just for Sam Wilson, this specific setup will process all Sam W. character tags for Supernatural into Sam Winchester and all the rest of the Sam W. character tag instances into Sam Wilson. Of course if there are Sam W. characters in other fandoms, you may want more specific rules for Sam Wilson. But this is a good starting point.

This seems like a good place to leave off for now, but there are still more ways to manipulate tags or even remove unwanted tags entirely. So I'll definitely be doing another post at some point to demonstrate more ways that FanFicFare can be used to automatically alter metadata when uploading, or updating, a fanfic in your local archive.

[philosians]

oooh is this a get to know me thingy? count me in ty for the tag ✨✨

nationality — american birth month — September (my birthday is literally the day before Zayne’s lol) sign — Virgo

favorite movies/series — Lord of the Rings; The Hobbit; literally anything Ghibli; The Last of Us; The X-Files; The Apothecary Diaries; Arcane; Poker Face; House of the Dragon; Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid; That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

favorite video games — Love and Deepspace; Genshin Impact; Pokémon, specifically Sun & Moon; The Legend of Zelda (OOT & BOTW); I don’t play it but I love watching DBD content too

current favorite songs — Chemtrails over the Country Club, Dark Paradise, Young and Beautiful — Lana Del Rey; Espresso, Looking at Me — Sabrina Carpenter; and tbh the entirety is the Love and Deepspace playlist on Spotify lol

fandoms — I used be entrenched in JJK for forever lol but it’s just dabbles here and there anymore. I’m primarily in Love and Deepspace and Genshin but there are other fandoms I’ll dip into from time to time. Currently attempting BSD hehehe

npt! @strawberrystepmom @chuellas & @tangyneon + open tags for anyone that wants to hop on

thank you for tagging me @blessdunrest 💕

♡ nationality: eastern european

♡ birth month: october

♡ sign: libra

♡ movies/series: pride and prejudice (2005), sex and the city, bridgerton, fleabag, howl's moving castle, bleach, attack on titan, death parade, barakamon

♡ video games: sims 4 lol

♡ current favorite song(s): emergence - sleep token, b2b - charli xcx

♡ fandoms: lads, jjk, aot, bleach

♡ fave idols: uuhhh, t.o.p used to be my fave when i listened bigbang in highschool (does he count??)

no pressure ofc - @its-de @hesperisms @solifloris @unintentionalseductress @totallytaurus4 @grabby-smitten @poisonf0rest + anyone who wants to join

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Summary: Despite Y/N’s blood status and House, she happens to be the only witch in the entirety of the wizarding world that Draco gives the time of day. A fellow Healer, close confidant, and dare he say, best friend, she’s always managed to make his life exceedingly tolerable, particularly when he finds himself thrust into a weekly gathering or dinner that his parents have set up to find him a suitable wife. But when an accident threatens to tear the two apart, it matters not what Draco is feeling, because the fate of their friendship and their future relationship lies in the beat of Y/N’s heart. 

Warnings: Mentions of injuries and blood

Pairing: Healer!Draco x Muggleborn!Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff  

Word count: 4.5K

All Masterlists | Draco Malfoy Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞. No different than the sickening feeling of anticipation at the sight of the revolving roulette almost coming to an end or the tingling sensation of doubt when faced with the final choice in wizard poker. The man was beyond certain that misfortune would always find a way to strike him long before he had the chance to think of victory. 

Tired and exhausted from the patient he had the displeasure of overseeing, he puffed out the air wedged in his lungs, heading to the comfort of his office. Once there, Draco threw the clipboard and files he held on the desk, wasting no time to slump in his chair. He craned his neck, attempting to relieve some of the pain while his fingers swiftly moved to untie the fabric of his tie.

Just when he took a deep breath, ready to relax, he grumbled in displeasure at the sound of someone knocking on his door. Draco rubbed his tired eyes with his palms, looking up at the white lights illuminating his office. “This better be good,” he whispered to himself before calling in whoever was behind the mahogany door. 

The door creaked as the person behind it pushed it open, causing Draco to make a mental note to fix the bloody sound before it drove him mental. A Healer peeped her head inside, a crooked smile governing her lips. “Hey, grumpy dwarf. What’s got you all worked up?”

Draco shook his head with an amused smirk, the tension he harbored slowly evaporating. “Y/N,” he greeted the witch, his stormy eyes following her every step once she closed the door behind her and strolled inside. “Kindly never compare me to a dwarf ever again. We both know that you tick every box when it comes to that description.”

Y/N feigned hurt, placing a hand on her heart. “Oi, you’re mean! But then again, you do make a more fitting Snow White.”

“I have no idea who that is.” Draco laughed at her remark without taking his eyes off her. He watched her gracefully sit on his desk, frivolity nestling comfortably in her big doe eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter as long as I know what that is,” Y/N teased. She kicked her legs in the air, her eyes skimming over the mess of papers and files on Draco’s desk. With curiousness in her gaze, she reached out for the file closest to her. “Harry Potter? Three broken ribs, flail chest, concussion, fractured hip, and–”

“Acromioclavicular joint sprain, yes,” Draco continued. 

Y/N’s brows knitted as she read over the patient file. “Must have been one bloody fight. Literally.”

Draco chuckled in response. He took the file from her hands, reaching for his quill. “It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park admitting Auror Potter here.” He dipped the quill in the onyx ink bottle, beginning to add his own notes on the papers. 

Y/N eyes wandered to Draco, studying his figure. She crossed her hands over her chest, peering at him. “Is that what’s got your knickers in a twist? That he’s here, and you had to treat him?”

Draco didn’t spare Y/N a look, but from the way he had stopped writing, she figured he must’ve rolled his eyes. “No. Treating him was far easier than expected. It was having to listen to the whines of the Weaslette and Granger, among other things. That was the most irritating part of it all.”

Y/N leaned back to get a better look at Draco. She shook her head at his statement, drumming her fingers on the table. “Aren’t you a tad bit exaggerating, perhaps?”

“On the contrary. As if seeing Potter wasn’t dreadful enough, it was exceptionally irksome having to be in the presence of the other two witches.”

“Well, Hermione is his best friend,” Y/N argued, trying to reason with the blond. “And wasn’t Ginny his fiancee? Or did he not propose yet?” 

“In case you’ve missed it, darling. I’m a Healer, not an editor at Witch Weekly or The Daily Prophet,” Draco cynically replied, waving his quill in the girl’s face.

Y/N huffed at his response. She took out a pile of papers, spewed lazily on his desk, and hit him with it on the head. Draco winced, shooting daggers at Y/N. “You’re a pompous arse.”

“Is there a reason for you being in my office other than to continuously insult me?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied with a smirk. “To grace you with my presence.”

Draco blinked, attempting to hide the glint of amusement swirling in his irises. “How charming,” he told Y/N, continuing to fill Harry’s file. 

Y/N kept her focus on Draco, watching as his fingers moved around, gracefully guiding the feather on top of the parchment. Mesmerized by the sight, and falling to the realization that she had been silent for too long, she loudly cleared her throat. “Why are you bothered so much? Did they say something bad? Please don’t tell me they refused to have you as Harry’s Healer because of it.”

“No,” Draco rushed to say, sensing the worry in Y/N’s tone and feeling a slight itch on his left forearm. “No, darling. They never said anything about that. It was just hard to concentrate with them breathing down my neck.”

Y/N half-laughed, her shoulders looking less rigid. She played with the papers on the desk, her eyes narrowing at the Healer in front of her. “Come on, Draco. Plenty of people have done that too when their loved ones were in our care.” 

“Well, then. Perhaps people need to learn to control their emotions in times of distress.” 

Y/N raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Not everyone is an established Occlumens like yourself. I may be a Healer, but I know I’d lose my composure if someone I cared about entered the doors of St. Mungo’s all bloodied and bruised.” 

Draco rolled his eyes indignantly. He didn’t have enough energy to argue with Y/N, and knowing her, she would be about ready to argue all night. For two days straight if she had a drop of coffee in her system. So, Draco decided that it would be best to change the subject. 

“So.” He cleared his throat, taking his eyes off the files. “Care to tell me about how your day went? Hopefully it was better than mine.” 

Y/N’s facial expressions changed, the light that was once in her eyes dimming. It was then Draco noticed the black circles beneath her eyes and the tiredness that lingered on her face. 

“It… was okay, I guess. I just have a night shift today, which I’m not looking forward to.” 

“Right,” Draco hummed as he remembered. “My offer still stands, you know? I’d be more than happy to take your place.” 

Y/N bit on her lower lip, her gaze flickering straight to Draco’s. He watched her carefully, his own silver orbs glued to her teeth as she chewed on her lip to contain a laugh. But eventually, Y/N had failed miserably and ended up clutching her stomach, chuckling aloud. 

That woman is unbelievable. Draco mentally thought, watching as tears streamed down Y/N’s cheeks from the sincerity of her laughter. 

“You got roped into another dinner with a potential wife, didn’t you?”

“No,” Draco scoffed incredulously, running away from Y/N’s burning gaze. He looked at his left, which was perhaps a wrong move because he caught Y/N’s eyes in the mirror. “Yes. Now, stop looking at me like that!” 

“Like what?” Y/N feigned innocence, her lips contorting into a bashful smile. 

“Like you’re trying to get into my head.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t do that. I’m not a Legilemens.” 

You don’t need to be one, Draco mentally fired back, but he never dared to say it aloud. “The point is, you look like you could use a break while I could use an excuse. So, why don’t you let me handle your shift?” 

“Because you’re going to have to admit to your parents that you’re above all this, Draco,” Y/N explained, seemingly more serious than she ever was before. “And if not tonight, then when?”

Draco groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not easy, and you know that.” 

“Yes, fairly well, too. I may not be a pureblood, but my parents are as strict as muggles come.” 

“At least yours don’t have a list of suitors as party guests,” Draco said, cringing at the thought of the many women he had met and had yet to meet as per his parents’ demands. 

Y/N merely rolled her eyes as a response to his behavior. And knowing her, she was starting to get annoyed. “Need I remind you that the last time I spoke with them, they had attempted to set me up with some ostentatious muggle prick of their choosing?” Y/N spat, a flicker of pain outlining her irises. “I don’t exactly live up to the Y/L/N name with me being a witch and all.” 

Draco closed his eyes as he let out a breath. How stupid of him to forget such a massive detail. He moved out of his chair and towered over Y/N, his stormy silver eyes roaming her figure. Draco’s hands cupped her cheeks, and before he knew it, he was kissing the crease that formed between her brows. 

“I’m sorry, darling. It’s not you that doesn’t live up to that last name. It’s that last name that doesn’t do you justice.” 

Y/N’s mouth twitched, Draco’s words tugging at her heartstrings. She blinked, looking down at her feet as she attempted to hide the pink tint that formed on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered meekly, looking up at Draco from underneath her lashes. 

Draco’s hands lingered on Y/N’s rosy cheeks for a moment, losing themselves in the softness and warmth of her skin. Eventually, his hands fell back to their place. 

“You sure you don’t want me to fill in for you?” Draco asked. “Even if it’s just for a bit? It looks like you could use some sleep.” 

Y/N pursed her lips in thought, beginning to fiddle with the fabric of her green coat. “As enticing as this sounds, I’ll pass. I’ll just take a power nap and get back to work then.”

“Fine. If you insist.” 

Draco left Y/N sitting on his desk and moved to the other side of the room. He rummaged through one of his cabinets, and judging by the fact that he spent a good minute or so searching for whatever it was he was looking for, Y/N figured he had placed an Extension Charm on it. 

“What are you looking for?” she wondered aloud, curiously trying to see what it was that Draco was looking for. 

A beat passed before Draco pulled out what appeared to be a white blanket from the drawer. He moved with steady steps toward his couch on the left side of the room, dropping the blanket. He quirked an eyebrow, gesturing to the couch. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled. She hopped down from the desk, making her way to the makeshift bed with a lopsided smile, her eyes fixed on silver hues that were as magnetizing as the night sky. “Forget Snow White.” She took off her shoes and nestled herself comfortably on the couch as Draco draped the blanket over her body. “You’re my own fairy godmother.”

“I have no idea what that is either,” Draco replied. His fingers twitched as he got the urge to brush the hair out of Y/N’s face. But before he got the chance to do it, she moved her hand to her face and placed the stray strands behind her ears. 

Y/N closed her eyes, tugging the blanket higher. “That’s your loss.” 

Draco looked away, his eyes alight with mirth–a sight that only Y/N could paint with her simple presence. He took his wand from the pocket of his coat, waving it around to turn the lights off. “Don’t sleep too much.” Draco placed a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead, admiring the way her long lashes lifted to expose her crystalline eyes. “I’ll send you a Patronus to make sure you wake up.”

“Enjoy dinner, Draco,” Y/N called, closing her eyes and surrendering to a much-needed sleep. 

Draco stood by the doorframe, watching her drift to sleep. “Sweet dreams, darling.” He gently closed the door and walked down to the hospital’s apparition point, looking forward to get this pathetic dinner over and done with so that he could laugh about it the next day with Y/N. 

To say that dinner was a complete catastrophe would be an understatement. It was an utter debacle. Draco’s parents didn’t settle for setting him up with a potential pureblooded wife. They went as far as attempting to sever relationships to secure him one. 

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy desperately tried to match him with his Hogwarts classmate and friend Daphne Greengrass. However, their perpetual attempts at laying the red carpet for Daphne and creating utopian scenarios were proven futile when Draco disclosed that his potential wife was already involved in a relationship. 

And when his parents had found out that she was dating a halfblood, they tried to convince Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass to consider a betrothal between the two families to strengthen ties and remain within the bounds of the sacred twenty-eight. 

When the Greengrasses refused to entertain this notion, Draco was sure that whatever his parents were planning next was going to be disastrous. He had already rejected the idea of courting his best friend Pansy Parkinson. At this rate, the next candidate was either going to be Millicent Bulstrode or his parents were going to wait for the birth of Avery’s daughter to wed her to Draco when she becomes of age. 

It was seven in the evening when Draco opened the door to his office, sauntering in with a steamy cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes couldn’t help but travel to the couch, finding the blanket that Y/N was covered with neatly folded. 

He smiled, an image of Y/N’s sleeping figure popping into his head. He decided to leave the blanket, knowing that she was most likely going to need a nap sometime during the day, considering she was spending hours on end at the hospital. 

A knock echoed in Draco’s ears, causing him to slightly wince. Whoever was assaulting the door, he was sure wasn’t Y/N. “Yes?” he sighed, leaning back against the chair and placing his hands on the armrests. His door creaked open as another Healer walked in. 

“Healer Malfoy,” his colleague, Healer Abbott, greeted. She walked further inside the office with papers in her hand. 

“Abbott,” Draco nodded, eyeing the papers. “What’s that you got?” 

“A couple of papers that need your signature. They’re discharge orders for Auror Potter.” 

Draco’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “He was just admitted yesterday.”

Healer Abbot pursed her lips, extending the papers. “I’m well aware. Except that he says he doesn’t require our services anymore.” 

That bloody wanker. “Believe me, Abbott. I want him out of this establishment far more than he does,” Draco admitted. He pushed back the papers that the Healer brought, looking for Harry’s file. “But even ‘The Chosen One’ doesn’t have the healing abilities of a bloody phoenix. I’m going to need someone to check on him, preferably Y/N if she’s here or coming in later.” 

Healer Abbott shook her head. “Healer Y/L/N is not coming in today.” 

“Why?” Draco asked, not recalling Y/N having told him that she’s taking the day off. 

“She had a particularly long shift yesterday. From what I heard, Head Healer Malachai told her to get some rest today.” 

“Fine,” Draco sighed, handing Healer Abbott Harry’s file. “He’s your responsibility until I get back. Don’t let him out of your sight.”  

“For the last time, Mrs. Hoffman. I’m not interested in courting your granddaughter.”

“Well, it’s a shame to hear you say that, dearie,” the old woman said. She looked up at the young Healer, her brown eyes shifting color when touched by light. “Such a handsome young man like yourself deserves a charming young witch by their side.” 

“Perhaps, but not as young as your granddaughter,” Draco replied. He let his focus back on the clipboard he was holding onto, jutting down notes based on the diagnostic charm he casted on Mrs. Hoffman a few minutes ago. 

“She’ll be of age in just a few months time.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow, his squill scratching against the parchment. “And when will that be exactly?” 

Mrs. Hoffman’s eyebrows knitted in focus. She tapped her index finger against her chin, trying to remember the exact date of her granddaughter’s birthday. Draco waited patiently for her to answer, holding his breath as he counted down the seconds. “I have no clue.”

“Do you at least remember her name?”

Mrs. Hoffman looked confused. “Who’s name, dearie?”

Draco sighed, marking down the new information on his clipboard. While the witch didn’t seem to be making too much progress, her state was much better than Lockhart’s. Draco winced as he remembered that buffoon, thankful that he was someone else’s responsibility and not his. The last time the Head Healer assigned him Lockhart, the man tried to convince him to frame one of his autographed headshots. The man might’ve been dealing with permanent memory loss, but even a charm as strong as Obliviate never managed to wipe out his narcissism or his putrid attitude. 

Draco bid his goodbyes to Mrs. Hoffman, promising to check on her again tomorrow. He closed the door behind him, strolling down the corridor to check on his other patients. As soon as he exited the Fayette Barlowe Ward, he found himself almost tackled to the ground by one of his colleagues. 

“Abbott, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Draco snarled, holding Healer Abbot by the elbows. 

The Healer stepped back, trying to catch her breath. “Malfoy,” she exhaled, placing one hand on her heart. “I’ve been searching the entirety of St. Mungo’s for you!”

Draco looked her up and down, his nose scrunching. “What do you want that’s so urgent?” 

“We need you for an emergency surgery.”

“And why exactly is that? The last time I checked, this institution is overflooding with Healers, so why is it that you need me in particular?” Draco watched as Healer Abbot shifted uncomfortably in place. Her eyes darted from side to side, trying their best to avoid being caught by Draco’s silver hues. “Don’t tell me it’s bloody Potter again. I swear if–”

“It’s Healer Y/L/N,” the woman blurted, looking remorseful. “She’s in a critical state and needs immediate medical attention.”

The world tilted on its axis without prior warning, causing a sudden static noise to echo in Draco’s ears. The Healer paled, stricken by fear as he watched with dazed and frantic eyes the woman in front of him. “Y/N?” he whispered. Without waiting for an answer, Draco made a mad dash toward the Operations Ward, pushing and screaming at anyone who stood in the way. With a shaky breath and unsteady heartbeats, he pushed the doors of the ward open. “Where the bloody hell is Healer Y/L/N?”

“In here, Healer Malfoy,” one of the junior Healers called. 

Draco threw his clipboard and quill aside, urgently moving to assess Y/N. “Preliminary diagnostic results?” he asked, his eyes skimming over her frail figure. 

Y/N’s skin was ashen, even paler than his own. A trail of blood hugged the side of her forehead, oozing from a large gash that taunted Draco. Her long lashes met together, keeping her eyes away from sight. The veins on her eyelids ice blue like frozen constellations engraved on her skin. Her chest barely rose and fell, her figure appearing almost dead. 

Draco hurried to press his fingers against the side of her neck, next to her Adam’s apple, checking with unsteady fingers for any sign of a pulse. He searched for a good couple of seconds, holding his own breath to make sure his thundering hope wouldn’t be deceiving him. 

“Concussion, Bradycardia, Pneumonitis.” 

“Fuck,” Draco breathed as he hurried to place the pulse oximeter on Y/N’s finger. His eyes hurried to check the value, his heart falling to the pit of his stomach when it showed 88%. “Hypoxemia.” 

“Healer Malfoy,” Healer Bones said, her eyes switching between Y/N and Draco. “What’s the best course of action to take now?” 

Draco gulped. He swayed on his feet, his hands rushing to grab the bars around Y/N’s bed. Blood rushed to his head, invading all his senses. A tumultuous surge of fear and trepidation froze him in place. 

The sight of Y/N’s lips turning blue with every beep from the ECG monitor caused him to lose his mind. A hot and scorching sensation shot through his whole body, rendering him unable to do anything but internally scream. 

He attempted to occlude all those thoughts of Y/N being covered by a white cloth and taken away from him, but no matter how much he tried to compartmentalize, he found himself failing miserably. 

Healer Bones leaned over Y/N’s frail body, slightly obscuring her from sight. “Healer Malfoy?” she asked, loud and clear. Concern was evident in her eyes along with a look of distress. 

Suddenly, Y/N’s voice rang in Draco’s ears. ‘I may be a Healer, but I know I’d lose my composure if someone I cared about entered the doors of St. Mungo’s all bloodied and bruised.’

His fear almost caused him to rush out the doors of the Operations Ward and request for another Healer to come and heal Y/N before it was too bloody late. But a part of him couldn’t let her out of his sight. When the ECG monitor beeped continuously, indicating that Y/N’s already scarce heartbeat was coming to a stop, something snapped in Draco. 

“Bones, administer muggle CPR to Y/N at once. Elliot, clear her airways, Abbott, do something about that concussion, and leave the rest to me.” Draco took out his wand, pointing it at Y/N’s chest, watching with a sweaty forehead the ECG monitor while everyone began to tackle their assigned tasks. “You’re not dying on me, darling. Or else you’ll be giving me a reason to commit the crime I was once too bloody petrified to go through.”

Y/N’s eyelids felt heavy, as if something was weighing them down. Her chest constricted, pain surging through her veins all the way to her heart when she breathed too hard. The darkness behind her eyelids was too much to bear. The possibility of never opening her eyes again caused her to fight for the light she wished to feel. 

Her fingers twitched, involuntarily at first. But as soon as she felt someone’s soft fingers curled around hers, she fought the feeling of numbness that immobilized her. With great effort, she moved her fingers once more. She could feel the chill that sparked through her body, recognizing the familiar metal of a ring against her skin. “Draco,” she whispered, the hand that held hers intertwining their fingers together. 

“Y/N, darling.” A voice said, sounding hoarse. “Open your eyes for me.”

She followed after the voice like a lovesick teenage girl following after her crush. Y/N clung to the softness of that voice, its mellifluous sound carrying itself in her ears. She suddenly found herself opening her eyes to the world, infinite possibilities unveiling before her as though she was just reborn. 

Clearing her throat, she craned her neck to the side, finding her favorite pair of silver eyes already staring at her. “Hey, dragon.” Y/N smiled, losing herself in the feeling of ecstasy that governed her senses when a laugh escaped his lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You are unbelievable, witch. You almost die, and that’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth when you wake up?” Draco asked, absentmindedly tracing stars on Y/N’s skin. 

“I missed you. Is that better?”

“Much better,” Draco grinned, gazing at the witch who inhabited his mind. He moved his hand to touch her cheek, letting his fingers trail across her slightly heated skin. Y/N closed her eyes, humming in contentment at the magic that coursed through her blood due to Draco’s touch. “I love you.”

Y/N eyes shot open, afraid that she was diving too deep into the feeling to find the shore. But when she laid her alert eyes on Draco, she found him smiling at her with nothing but sheer adoration in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied swiftly, keeping a tight hold on her hand. His heartbeats thundered in his chest as love rippled in his very core. “I love you. Not as a friend, not as a sister. As the one person that made my world crash and burn when they wheeled her into the bloody Operations Ward.”

“Draco, where’s all that coming from?” Y/N said, her other hand reaching to cradle her bandaged head, attempting to fight the dizziness that threatened to rip her away from this moment. 

Draco looked her in the eye, feeling his knees weaken at the sight of the universe that unveiled before his own silver orbs. “When I heard that you were caught in that bloody attack, and when I saw you lifeless on that bed, Y/N, I almost died.”

“You… you what?”

“I almost died,” he admitted. “Out of fear, despair, anger. Out of every dark emotion out there. Because… because you’re the reason I’m so alive, Y/N. You are, and always have been, the one person that makes me forgo of every bit of control I foolishly assume I hold when in your presence.”

“Draco,” Y/N breathed, a single tear falling from the edge of her lashes. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. I’ve never meant anything more than this.”

Y/N smiled, her tears welling up with more tears. She reached for Draco’s face, cradling his cheeks. “I love you too, Draco Malfoy. With every beat of my heart.”

Draco captured Y/N’s lips in his, melting against the sweetness of her blazing touch. He smiled, capturing her bottom lip and nibbling slightly on it, feeling the whole world fall into place. Maybe fate wasn’t such a pain in the ass; maybe it was even appealing. Because Y/N’s kisses made him believe in fate–in a world where everything was right, and all the stars were aligned just for them.

-----------------------

taglist: @marajillana

I absolutely loved this request and was so excited to work on it!

For those who want to be tagged, head over to “The Owlery” section on my profile and send me a message! If you wish to send me a request, then simply click on "Requests." 🤍

Now, what do you think this witch is brewing next? 🪄

Help me decide between another mini-series, a one-shot, or maybe a request! Comment what you want to see next.

[xydamcg]

Newest member 9.2

Ghost x f character!

Cw: almost smut, making out, ushy gushy her pus—, finger fuck? Teasing, flirting, things that lead to S E X

Summary: Just read it babes.

MasterList

MINORS DNI— I’ll snitch. 👀

Ty had finally got her bags and her temporary dorm for her stay while on base, Price was on his feet like he hadn’t been drinking merely hours before his day started. Ty helped out with paperwork and filing some things away for him while they figured out what to do to celebrate Christmas, none of the main 141 crew having a family to visit back home during the holidays like most. Price decided to plan a Christmas party, but Ty was terrible at planning for events so she told him to have Kate help him. She made sure he made one thing a requirement, fancy attire. They had to dress up, she was tired of seeing everyone in their tactical gear and field clothing. They all needed to spruce it up a little, no one was sure to get a jump on them on Christmas that was just crazy. Right?

The day moved by slowly maybe because she actually wasn’t busy doing things to keep her mind occupied, she did unpack her bags while she hung around her room not wanting to get too comfortable of course. Since she did have free time actually she decided to head into town near by for groceries and try to pick of some Christmas gifts for everyone. On her journey she managed to get Price a “world best uncle” mug in addition to a new silencer for one of his pistols, Gaz some new sunglasses and a fine new pair of gloves and a little compass since he could never get a sense of direction when in field. Kate would receive a free spa day coupon and a book Ty remembered she wanted terribly but would never buy herself and she got Soap a custom patch for his vest that said “Greatest Scott in 141” along with a new watch.

She knew none of them would be expecting anything so it made it all that much more a surprising. She even got Simon a few things, she was excited to see his reaction the most. Arriving back at base was a hassle literally avoiding every area on base she knew her companions could possibly be. And the groceries were added extra weight she didn’t need. Safely making it to her room she hid everything in her closet until she got time to wrap them later.

It wasn’t until around six she got a knock on her door, literally just getting to her room from a shower she sighed in slight frustration that whoever it was had to be knocking now. Ty waddled back to the door pulling it open to see the perpetrator was Simon, she smiled and let him in. “What’s up?” She asked closing the door behind him and locking it with ease. “Just finished some training with Johnny and Gaz.” He said as she moved to her dresser pulling out some clothes to change into. “What did you guys work on?” She asked turning her back to him as he took a rest against the kitchen counter. She stepped into her underwear before pulling off her towel, tossing it into the hamper across from her. “Just shootin’ and gorilla warfare.” He said, Ty could feel his eyes boring into her body as she finally pulled her shirt over her head letting it fall just below her hips. “Really? Gorilla warfare.” She continued as she pulled her wet hair from her face now turning to him. His eyes lifted to hers as she raised an eyebrow with that dumb smirk on her face. “My eyes certainly aren’t down there are they?” She asked curiously making Simon shift his stance. “They could be.” He retorted making her roll her eyes as she moved into the kitchen.

“Want something to eat? I can make…pasta.” She offered opening the fridge and bending over as she looked for the thawing chicken she stuck inside for dinner. “What did you do with ya day?” He asked making her shrug lightly. “Just went grocery shopping, I went Christmas shopping too..oh! Price and Kate are throwing a Christmas party for everyone..” Again Simon’s eyes roamed the entirety of her exposed body at his leisure, not caring as he was caught once again. “Simon, seriously?” She asked him as he finally caught her eyes again. He shrugged causing her to shake her head tossing the thawed chicken onto the counter before she rummaged for the other things she’d need. “Go occupy your mind elsewhere.” She told him slightly annoyed that he wasn’t really listening to her. Simon didn’t want her to be truly pissed with him so he approached her from behind slipping his arms around her torso. “Tell me again, I’ll listen.” He told her feeling her relax into his hold. “I was just saying how the Christmas party was a thing Price and Kate were gonna plan and how we have to dress up. I was also telling you how I got gifts for everyone for Christmas. I could of been telling you that I was the worlds next terrorist and you wouldn’t heard told me because you were too busy stealing looks at my ass.” She grumbled as she occupied her mind with making dinner rather than how it felt so nice to be held like this, by him.

“It’s a nice ass can you blame me?” He asked only to receive an elbow to his ribs, he released her quickly in an attempt to escape but failed. “You’re unbelievable.” She huffed shaking her head, Simon smirked thinking it was quite comical to see her urked how she was. “What can I do to make you forgive me?” He purred huskily returning to his place behind her. Ty felt her focus sputter slightly as she felt his lips press against her neck through his mask. “Maybe stop being a pain in my ass.” She said making him chuckle lowly. “I’ll leave more than just pain there.” He mused smartly, Ty had to chose her words carefully around this man because he was always turning it back around on her. “Simon..” she whined pushing him away. Simon moved back giving her space, his hands falling to his sides. “What’s wrong?” He asked her seriously, Ty peeked over her shoulder at him before she turned fully. “You’re just distracting me and I’m trying to make something to eat. You never even answered me when I asked if you wanted to any.” She said with a soft whine to her tone. “I do. I just haven’t see you since this morning.” He explained referring to why he was being the way he was.

He wasn’t able to stop thinking about her while she was away from him, he found his mind drifting to her. That sweet smile or her annoyingly cute giggle, her long beautiful dark hair. Even the way she snored in her sleep. She was running a race around his mind, being around her was enough to put him at ease. Ty frowned at his explanation, now she felt like she was being mean. She knew it wasn’t easy for him to express everything he was feeling quite yet how she did but he had his way of showing how he felt. “Now I feel sucky for being a meanie.” She told him as she wiped her hands on a towel from the stove. “Come here.” She said opening her arms to him as she stepped toward his large form. She lifted his balaclava up to his nose before puckering her lips for a kiss. Gladly accepting he leaned down collecting a kiss, she smiled wrapping her arms around his neck. “Forgive me?”

His hands found their place on her waist pulling her into him, the tiniest moan leaving her. Ty felt her cheeks begin to burn as he pressed kiss after kiss down to her neck where he began to explore the new territory. “Always.” He noticed her grip tighten on him as he kissed the skin of her exposed collar bone, something that would be kept note of for later. Ty gasped as he effortlessly lifted her from the floor, her legs locking around his waist in a bind. Catching his lips as he pulled back from her neck, she held onto his vest while he sat her on the counter. Simon’s hands slid under her shirt causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. There was no way they were about to get down and dirty in her kitchen. Needing a little more air than she was getting she pulled back—but her lack of air didn’t stop Simon from continuing his exploration of her body. His hands moved further up her body until they came to her breasts. Ty felt like she was going to implode, she had forgotten about dinner already. One of his hands groped her breast, kneading her budding nipple between his fingers. “Si-Simon.” She breathed as she felt her pussy clench, the arousal making her tighten her legs around him momentarily.

Simon pulled back only slightly so he could provide enough space to sink his fingers into her underwear. Ty didn’t know what was turning her on more, the anticipation of being finger fucked on her kitchen counter while he wore that damn balaclava or the fact that his eyes never left her—eating up every single response her body gave when he touched her. He was learning something new, he was sure to pay attention so he could perfect his technique like he has everything else in his life. Ty loosened her legs from his waist as she spread them, needing to give him more access to her soaking pussy. “Please..” she mewled trying to press herself against his fleeting touch. Simon saw the chance to tease her so he was going to take it, he wanted to see how long it’d take for her to snap. Ty was doing a terrible job at controlling herself which would be quite embarrassing if she wasn’t in a daze of ecstasy. “Please what?” He questioned lowly, the edge to his tone making her squirm closer to him but he gently pushed her away earning a whine. “You’re a big girl use your words.” Simon ordered as his hand slid to the valley of her chest where he rested it, his other that had began to make it’s home between her legs pulled away.

He was really doing this right now? He wanted her to say it out loud? Of course he did. “—“ not even getting the breath to actually ask, the base intercom system crackled to life. “Ghost to hanger 437 for missile defense debrief please, I repeat Ghost to hanger 437 for missile defense debrief over.” Great fucking timing. Ty felt her body deflate in defeat, her eyes glaring up at Simon even though it wasn’t his fault. “You better not fuckin’ move a muscle. I’ll be back.” He growled, whew baby she thought he couldn’t get any hotter until he did. His hand gripped her neck through the neck hole in her shirt pulling her into a lustful kiss, her whimpering moan making him kiss her harder. She cursed the universe for taking him away from her in a time like this, her hold on him unfortunately not enough to make him stay. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, I wouldn’t want to solve this problem alone.” She rasped against his lips referencing to her soaked underwear. “Fuck. You’re lucky I have to go.” He grumbled in irritation before pulling away from her completely, she watched as he slipped out the room not missing a beat as he concealed his face again.

Left alone with quite a few feelings Ty slumped against the counter. She was now needing some sort of release but she wouldn’t please her flesh no matter how much she really wanted to. Climbing down from the counter she moved toward the sink, her knees wobbling as she let out a small whimper feeling her underwear sink between her slick folds. “Jesus Christ.” She said as she turned on the water to actually begin dinner.

—————-

Tag list: @ellouisa17 @hypernovaxx

A/N: I don’t usually do smut writing but I just had to add an extra dab of spice!

[literaticat]

you're the best. can i ask you why are responses to queries sooo slow? im and MG author and it seems forever to get a response...I would think that coming out of a pandemic editors would be hungry for new material.

I'm going to be as calm as I possibly can be because I know this is probably a sincerely meant question, and you may be new, and you haven't seen the year+ worth of discourse about agents and editors and what is happening in the pandemic within the book industry (and that despite lots of people "coming out of a pandemic", for us, these things are still very much ongoing!). A brief Pandemic Publishing history, from my perspective:

March 2020. We realize that the "pandemic" is officially happening. The Bologna Book Fair is cancelled, travel is cancelled, everyone has to work from home, it's confusing, schools are closed, nobody has child-care. We expect this to last a couple of weeks.

April 2020. It does NOT last "a couple of weeks." Now just for background -- publishing is already an extremely slow process with a lot of lead time - like, we are currently selling/acquiring books for 2023/24 publication. So that means that when all this hit, there were lots of projects in the pipeline already, things that were in various stages of progress and were delayed in Spring/early Summer 2020. They were delayed at that time bc of the combined factors of: the pandemic shutting down everyone's office, not to mention schools, libraries and bookstores, which meant no place to SELL books -- PLUS there are layoffs -- PLUS there are printing/shipping/supply chain issues meaning problematic to make or ship books -- NOT TO MENTION, people getting sick and dying all over NYC, which is where most of US publishing is headquartered.

Early Summer 2020. Shaken, but rallying, all editors and the entirety of publishing are now getting used to working from home. There is a huge learning curve here -- publishing is very much a "face-to-face meetings" and "paper trail" kind of industry and *nothing* about the office life was really set up for remote work. (Most publishers didn't even used to allow DocuSign for contracts, we had to send multiple hard copies all over the country before the pandemic!) -- People learned how to work zoom, and did meetings virtually. They quickly realized that electronic contracts and payments are a blessing.

Now, there are still problems -- like, editors having to work from tiny flats with their children crawling all over them, and designers having to be at the kitchen table instead of, like, a whole studio with the proper lighting and every kind of material available, and contracts people having no files at their fingertips -- but hey, everyone is muddling through.

Of course - bookstores and the like are still closed, and there are still big supply chain issues - and that's a HUGE problem for the actual publication part. But on the agent/editor side, we are all working on future books, so that work simply has to continue, or there won't be any books two years from now!

Summer/Fall 2020. Everyone is absolutely scrambling like mad to do all the work that didn't get done in Spring. There is now a backlog of projects in the pipeline, but OK. Everyone is feeling quite literally traumatized by the things that have gone on, but OK. Some people are still recovering from having gotten sick themselves, or are mourning family lost to the disease. But OK.

This time is as busy as I have ever seen it, for everyone - pretty much a non-stop whirlwind of work. (Both because of the things that didn't get done before AND the fact that nobody can travel or do anything else!) -- There is also, to be honest, a lot of crying. We all desperately need a vacation, and it shows.

Winter 2020/2021. Now mind you -- Aside from that very very rough few months at the beginning, which was just a very confusing time -- books WERE coming out, and WE WERE ALL WORKING, selling, acquiring, creating new books. All of our authors were ALSO working and creating new books. MORE, in fact, because a lot of them were at home for the first time in a long time! But remember -- there's already a backlog, right? So, ALL of these new projects have been slowed/delayed both because of the pandemic, and the backlog of already existing projects, creating a larger backlog of existing projects. At this point we are running on fumes.

Spring/Summer 2021. We are slowly coming out of pandemic pandemonium in personal lives. People are getting vaccinated. It's great. Some people might actually get to go on vacation! Amazing! But it's not actually "normal" yet in publishing-world, because again, there's still that backlog, and everyone is STILL working from home, which is ok, but honestly, still makes things slower for a number of reasons, and look, everyone is just exhausted, okay? It's been a lot.

So anyway that's, in a ginormous nutshell, why you might find that editors and agents are not quite as "hungry" as you might want us to be coming out of a pandemic. IDK. We are just people, my friend.

ETA: I realized that this explainer was JUST pertaining to burnout because of what was happening IN-OFFICE. Combine ALL of this with what was happening in the real world -- like, for example, the horrific brutality against George Floyd and others, and the subsequent intense social justice rallying in Summer 2020 and beyond -- climate disasters, like California being ON FIRE -- a lot of *spicy drama* in the book world -- and A GINORMOUS FLIPPING PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION... yeah omg. I think there could literally be a book about this, but I can't write it or read it tbh.

ETA x 2: (AND I didn't even touch on the fact that a huge problem for everyone I know was A LACK OF ABILITY TO READ during the worst of this! Which as you can imagine is a huge problem for somebody whose job involves READING BOOKS. I mean seriously there were MONTHS where I could not get through a single book, and I know for a fact I'm not alone. I'm JUST getting the ability back and I'm still scared.)

[chocolatepot]

youwillregretthis.jpg

So it all starts with antis, because "proship" only exists in contrast to anti-shipping.

As long as there has been the word shipping (so, since X-Files fandom), there have been people who defined themselves in opposition to a particular ship, often calling themselves "anti-[shipname]", but generally not related to each other. In the mid-2010s, this kind of specific anti-ness shifted into a broader subculture in which members just call themselves "antis" as a noun rather than a prefix. (I suspect this is related to a middle step of broadening from anti-[ship] to anti-[fandom] as people who hated Twilight in its entirety developed an identity focused on that.) Their general ethos was/is that what someone ships/writes about reflects their inner character in a fairly simplistic way: people who write a fic with a sexual or romantic relationship between one character above the age of consent and one below it (or with both characters below it), with an incestuous pairing, or with a pairing that could be considered abusive in the canon are showing that they are attracted to children, attracted to people in their family, or abusive. Some of them would allow writing these "to cope" (i.e. with the writers' personal trauma - much if not most of this stuff is written from the victim's perspective) but many others consider that unhealthy behavior. And not only does it reflect on their character, but it means that they are participating in or condoning actual criminal activity, and any abuse of them is justified because they are, effectively, e.g. a child abuser. They drive people to suicidal ideation, try to get them fired, make them delete their accounts, etc. I've also noticed a strong TERF strain - there's a lot of misgendering queer trans men as "fetishizing fujoshis" - and purity culture nonsense about sexless fiction simply being better than anything with sex scenes, particularly when it comes to queer fiction (for some reason).

This very quickly became a set of arguments for shipwars, and the definitions of all three "problems" stretched to cover any ship an anti didn't like. These characters have an age gap that means they would have been on opposite sides of the age of consent at one point, or this character is "minor-coded", or this character was shown as a child in a flashback in the show - shipping them is pedophilia. These characters are in a found family together - shipping them is incest. These characters are a hero/villain pairing, or they bicker, or they're close but they had a really big fight at the climax of s1 - shipping them is promoting abuse. These standards are purposely restrictive, and I've yet to see anyone identifying as an anti who doesn't have at least one ship that they should not be shipping according to the types of logic they apply to other people's ships ...

Anyway, the reaction to this among people who didn't or couldn't just ignore it (like because they were being harassed for liking a hero/villain ship) was for them to identify as "anti-anti" or "pro-ship." Typically, it means a) a recognition that things you read or write don't necessarily reflect what you want to do or have done to you and b) opposition to harassment. There are some fans who say they're "proship with exceptions," which is a bit meaningless but I suppose it helps them explain their position in some way.

I've seen people layering this onto OFMD for a long time now, and it's fascinating to me. There's maybe a bit of a parallel between Izzy-critical takes and anti-dom, but it's not remotely on the same scale, even including Izzy-Hating/Stede Stan Anon, and I think it's silly to invoke it. Antis on Twitter literally got a chronically ill illustrator fired and when they said they would probably die because they lost their health insurance, the antis celebrated. Nobody is doing that. Likewise, the fandom as a whole is pretty enamored with darkfic, kink, and exploring negativity - and definitely very pro-expressions of queer sexuality.

There are plenty of people who don't know what "proship" means. But I typically take "proships DNI" in a bio as a big red flag.

SamAburime on Twitter is an acafan who researches and writes on antis and purity culture - worth a follow.

Do you want the whole boring pedantic explanation of "proshipping"? Because I can do that if you want it but I don't want to subject you to it otherwise

I think I basically get it but you can hit me with it if you want

[bridgertonphd]

Okay, I want to hear your thoughts j never again, why you hate it, why your love it. Your gifset has me intrigued 👀

Oh, God, what’s not to love? What’s not to hate? It’s cerebral in a way no other episode of the show has been before. It awkwardly charms my pants off, even though there’s an itch at the back of my head that says something’s wrong. I only hated it when I first watched it two years ago. Then I saw what everyone loved about it and loved it, too, although I still had sore spots. (The absolute garbage that is the tattoo scene and back at Ed’s apartment will be separate paragraphs cuz yowza.) Now I love and hate it in equal measure.

I love the idea of it, the actors’ performances, the imagery. Gillian never falters and neither does David. But they can’t carry the entirety of an episode. (They nearly do, though. Somehow.) It’s painfully obvious to me that there were people along the way that didn’t view “Never Again” as a real episode—it shows in the cracks. (The music is also bad and doesn’t quite hit right but I just chalk that up to usual outdated music trends making my ears bleed.)

I feel like I’m one of the shows biggest fans (duh, we all are on here) but also one of its harshest critics. Anyways, the tattoo scene literally has some of the worst camera angles I’ve ever seen. It’s one of the main reasons why I applied to colleges’ directing majors. I would change all of the angles and the shots. I couldn’t help but re-imagine it and before I’d even realized what I was doing, I’d redone the scene in my head in great detail. What we actually got is not just bad but atrocious to me. An injustice done both to Scully and to Gillian. None of the episodes that came before had this issue of bad angles.

I understand trying out angles but for them to be in the final product? That was deliberate—from multiple people. (Probably all men but that’s a different conversation.) And then at Ed’s apartment. I get that it’s supposed to be like he’s consuming her, she’s letting him overtake her and overpower her and isn’t fighting back—snake eating its own tale. But there was something missing from the very first time I watched it. I thought it was just me being weird until we got to see one of the pre-censored drafts where it was way clearer that Scully and Ed fucked—on the floor, no less (IIRC). I was like that Captain Holt meme—VINDICATION! I wasn’t just seeing things. It’s like a special film/TV sixth sense.

It’s an important episode. I don’t hate its existence. But even moreso now that I’m studying film, I see so much of the bad. I see just how much it could’ve been better. It could’ve been so much better, like, you guys don’t even know. If I could remake a single TV episode it would be this one. It has the foundation, but it got so convoluted with trying to make sure Ed’s hallucinations fit into the X-File box that it feels like things got dropped. Why are these doors closing on their own? Why is having a hallucinatory disorder, which onset because of immense stress, an X-File. (Good old ableism. But that’s also a different conversation.)

It just makes me angry, and then sad, and then determined. It accomplishes its goals, brings up what it intended to and follows through with the themes and the messages, but it just... It could’ve been done even better. And it’s only not its best because of misogyny. (Because of course.)

[thran-duils]

Learn Her Place

Title: Learn Her Place Summary:  Fem!Omega!Reader x Alpha!Tony Stark x Alpha!Steve Rogers x Alpha!Bucky Barnes. The reader works for S.H.I.E.L.D. and is on suppressants. In this universe, we obviously are working with multiple Alphas being able to share an Omega. The reader has had sex before but it has been with Betas. She is very distracting to the Alphas and they’re tired of not being able to focus on their work, so they decide to make sure her suppressants no longer work and she is where they think she belongs. Without the suppressants, the reader succumbs to her hormones very quickly. Words: 4,894 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Non-con, ABO dynamics, smut, breeding, brief mention of infidelity, multiple partners, angst. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! Author’s Note: Kudos to whoever picks up on the movie line reference

Masterpost

Steve hated it.

Watching her come back from one-night stands with Betas and not feel any remorse about it.

She was an Omega and was granted freedom by the suppressants given to her. She was wasting her fertile cycles away on frivolous orgasms with random strangers. She was able to infiltrate regular society, mainly hide herself away into the crowd. It was not foolproof though.

There was still something there during what her cycle should be. If one did not know she was Omega, they would not attribute the feeling of arousal to her. But he – along with every other high ranking agent – knew she was and it was that much easier to pinpoint it. He could pick up on it and it made him clench his fists every time she was in close proximity, her infiltrating all his senses. He saw the other Alphas in the room tense too at those times, having a difficult time focusing on the mission briefs with her sitting so close. And one of those times was right the hell now. Tony was staring at her abashedly across the table, his fingers at his lips, his jaw clenched. His stare could be excused, he was an intense person. Bucky, next to Steve, chewed on his cheeks while he tried avoiding looking over at her.

It was selfish.

And foolish because the suppressants only did so much, and they acted like it was a solve all. S.H.I.E.L.D was trying so hard to be inclusive and it was only serving to bring down focus and morale when all they wanted to do was mount one of their team members who was acting above her Omega rank.

She had raised her hand and was answering a question. She was smart, there was no doubt about that. She had worked really hard to get up to this level and she continued to go above and beyond.

But…

Steve’s eyes raked down her clavicle to where the top of her breasts were exposed above her shirt. She most certainly had a push up on. His thoughts trailed to what they looked like bare. How they would look at different angles… when she was riding him, below him, from the side… all the different positions he could get her in. His favorite: cradled in his arms, his hand on her round stomach…

He snapped to attention when Wanda literally snapped her fingers in front of his face. He had been spacing out.

“You alright?” she snorted.

“Yeah, fine,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. He gathered up his file and got up from the table without another word, walking towards the door.

He spotted her down the hall, speaking with Thor. Thor was enthralled, looking at whatever she was showing him in her file. He was a huge teddy bear, just like Bruce.

Steve caught sight of Tony and Bucky coming to stand next to him, their eyes fixated on her too down the hallway.

“Anyone else not catch a single thing that was said in that meeting?” Bucky half joked.

“She’s distracting,” Steve snapped in hushed tones. “How do they not notice the affect she has? Has no one said anything?”

“Oh, I’ve already brought it up,” Tony told Steve and Bucky, rolling his eyes. “They’re marking it up to me not being able to ‘control myself’ and shaming me for it.” He added scornfully, “Were you forced to watch that goddamn video—”

“Where they were described as ‘delicate flowers’? Yeah, I did. And was that supposed to make us feel any better about thinking about them being put in harm’s way?” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t be putting her out in the field. Here in the office is one thing. But they shouldn’t be putting any position outside. They’re too susceptible to persuasion.”

Tony said, “That’s why it’s supposed to be secret about their Omega status.”

“I don’t like them out there,” Bucky repeated. “Not just for them but for the rest of our safety too.”

Thor was so close to her, laughing at whatever she had said. He was not affected at all. Steve ground his teeth watching that in front of him. She was comfortable around him, her hand coming to rest on his arm. He felt jealously scratching away at his insides, knowing she was in a cycle.

“It’s gonna drive me insane if I don’t leave,” Tony grated, tearing his eyes away from her to focus on the other two. “You going to the party tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Bucky and Steve said in unison, still staring down the hall.

Tony snorted, “Who the hell planned it on a Thursday, anyhow? Don’t get too worked up if she takes a random person home. I for one won’t be there to witness that. That is unless…” He pulled a syringe out of his pocket, holding it up and Bucky swiped it in the blink of an eye, making it disappear again. Tony threw him a wry smile and said, “I think it’s about time. Don’t hesitate too long now since she’s just gone into the cycle. It’ll take a day or two though to work, remember! And don’t let Banner catch you with that.”

He clapped Bucky on the shoulder before turning on his heel, leaving the other two Alphas to stew.

<><><>

Bucky and Steve walked into the loud club, finding everyone in disarray already in the VIP area. They had been on last minute mission and had returned late and the party was already well underway. The upper space of the club was packed of S.H.I.E.L.D agents at all varying stages of intoxication. Some had set up tables to play poker – something normally illegal in clubs but no one was bothering them – as well as varying card games.

Of course both of their attention was drawn in towards Y/N. Clint was laughing at the fact she had walked back from up the stairs with a sandwich shoved halfway in her mouth. “Y/N! The food is on the way! You remember? That we ordered?”

“But I’m hungry now,” she whined, her mouth full. “And Wanda asked for half of it!”

“You’re such a baby,” Clint laughed barely keeping it together.

Wanda was in stitches, her head thrown back against her chair. Vision was laughing in tandem with Wanda, following her movement. She only laughed harder when Y/N held out the untouched part of the sandwich that was supposed to be for her.

“Thank you,” Wanda said, taking deep breaths as she tried to stifle her laughter.

Natasha appeared at Bucky and Steve’s sides, raising her eyebrows. “They are drunk,” Natasha hissed at them over the music.

And she smirked then, an unfamiliar kind of smirk. And Steve cocked his head.

“Are you drunk?”

She shrugged sheepishly which was all the answer they needed.

You grasped onto Steve’s arm, startling him. “Have you guys done shots yet?”

Steve’s eyes flicked down to her hand only for a moment and he could feel every press of her hand into his bicep. He looked back up at her and told her, “I can’t get drunk, Y/N.”

“Oh, right,” she said looking immediately pitying of him. She rubbed his arm excessively in her drunk state and he stiffened, his jaw clicking. “I’m sorry. I forgot!” She laughed, noticing how stiff he was and poked him in the chest. “You need to loosen up, Steve.”

“I’ll try,” he said forcing a smile.

“You too, Bucky,” she commented eyeing his stoic expression. She touched the side of his face and he inhaled sharply. She giggled at the response and said, “Maybe you’ll feel better after a drink? You can get drunk right?”

Before he could respond, her attention was drawn elsewhere by Wanda. As soon as she was gone, Steve let out a frustrated sigh and Bucky mirrored his state.

“She’s not taking care of herself,” Bucky murmured, shaking his head. “Anyone could take her home. Anyone!”

“Yeah, well, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Steve returned firmly. Bucky frowned and Steve rolled his eyes, “You can have some drinks. I’ll just be the sober eyes.”

“Thanks for that leeway, but this has gone on long enough hasn’t it?” Bucky asked.

“It has,” Steve exhaled heavily. Y/N was holding Clint’s hand as they danced their way down the staircase from the VIP section, away from where him and Bucky were standing.

Steve was close to her all night, especially on the dance floor. At one point, he grabbed a female Alpha who had started grinding on Y/N and yanked her away. The other Alpha had started to get buck until she realized who exactly she was trying to fight. He was not a hard man to mistake, not with all the press conferences and his mere presence on top of that. She gritted her teeth before leaving seeing his icy stare, taking the hint. Y/N was oblivious, dancing to the techno music, hands in the air still with Clint and Wanda.

Y/N fanned herself and her hands came to the hem of her shirt. Steve’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as she began to tear it off. Steve was at her side immediately, grabbing the shirt before she could remove it completely, yanking it back down.

She focused in on him, confused, and he demanded inches from her face, “What are you doing?”

“It’s hot,” she yelled at him over the music, as if that was a reasonable explanation for her behavior. He imagined all the eyes on her now, his blood pumping in his ears.

Steve shook his head and grasped her arm, pulling her through the crowd.

“Steve!” he heard Clint call from behind him, but it went ignored.

Bucky knew when Steve walked by with Y/N it was time. He got up, following Steve’s movement away from the VIP section towards a more isolated part of the club. Y/N was asking Steve where he was taking her before Bucky snuck up and administered the shot before Y/N could even react to his presence.

She began to ask, “What the hell…” but her eyes were already drooping.

Steve caught her before her knees gave out from beneath her. She was conscious but she was far past coherent. She groaned in his arms and he picked her up, hushing her.

“Wish I could have gotten even two drinks in before that,” Bucky said, eyes searching the club. He looked towards the hall and said, “Should try to take her out a back way or…?”

“She was reckless,” Steve grumbled in his ear as she slumped into his side. “Let’s take her home. She shouldn’t remember any of this. But no, let’s take her back by so everyone can see how ‘drunk’ she is.”

“Right, good idea,” Bucky agreed.

<><><>

Tony walked in, seeing Y/N at the break room table already, at 7:00am. But, her head was resting on her forearms, a large cup of coffee next to her. He looked over his shoulder, seeing people were walking by in the hallway. Slowly, he closed the door, the handle clicking into place when it was fully closed. She did not stir, and he cocked his head. She must really be out.

He tapped her shoulder and she grumbled, sitting back uncomfortably. She was squinting at him and recognized him, before rubbing at her eyes.

“You alright?” he asked, feigning concern.

“Yeah, just… not feeling great,” she told him.

Hungover. Every clue of it clear as day to everyone else. But Tony was not everyone else. He knew this was not a withdrawal from alcohol but another drug entirely. Her body was correcting itself from that nasty medication, right at the height of her heat.

“You should be drinking water instead of coffee,” Tony told her, his Alpha peaking in his tone.

It was an easy way to worm himself in. He was not supposed to do this – but they had also not been supposed to administer that drug without her consent –, it was against protocol. But he just had to know. He had to see if she would respond.

Simultaneously to his surprise and not, she made eye contact with him. He saw… doe eyes. She quickly averted her gaze and looked at her cup.

“You’re right,” she told him.

Tony watched her with arousal as she got up and tossed the coffee in the sink. She went towards the fridge, but Tony was already there, opening it up to grab a water bottle for her.

“Let me,” he told her, and she stopped, looking at him patiently as he held it out to her.

She took it from him, taking a drink. “Thanks. I… I really don’t feel great.”

Tony pointed at her and said, “You probably need oxygen. And a lot of water.”

“Oxygen?”

“Clears a hangover pretty quickly.”

“Oh, I’m not—” she began to stammer, and he could not help his lip twitching in amusement at her looking embarrassed.

Tony chuckled, “It’s alright. The party was last night. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Y/N looked unsure if she should relax or not for a few moments before she relented, nodding. “Yeah, what idiot decided tequila shots was the way to start off the night?”

“Probably the same idiot who planned it to be on a Thursday.”

“Thirsty Thursday,” she mumbled, taking another drink.

“Thirsty Thursday,” Tony agreed lightly. “Eat something too. Something healthy. Fruit, maybe.” She grumbled in response but nodded as she sat back down at the table. She swiped an apple from the center of the table and took a large bite. Tony watched her for a few more seconds, anticipation nipping at his heels before he parted with, “Feel better.”

He needed to tell Bucky and Steve she should be ready by tonight if she was already reacting to him like that.

<><><>

Y/N was the last one in her office, the other two had gone home already. She looked up at Tony walking into the office, carrying a bag. Her stomach growled at the smell coming from the bag, her eyes falling to it. Tony only stalled for a moment, the smell of her coming to him. She was tumbling fast, she looked flushed.

Tony approached her desk, a friendly glint in his eye. “Ah, you are still here. Here, we ordered some food. I always go for greasy at some point after drinking and I’m sure it’ll help.” She looked past him to where Bucky and Steve were in the hallway.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Y/N told him timidly.

Tony loved the sight: she was tying to avoid direct eye contact, speaking in soft tones.

“Just thought we’d be nice.”

“Thank you.” She would not grab it from him. “Today has been… I don’t know. I can’t focus. I need to finish this before I leave. I just… I don’t feel great,” she said her voice getting smaller as her eyes were dragged back to her computer screen.

Tony ordered, “Press save and close the laptop. Eat.” He placed the bag on her desk. “It’ll help.”

He turned to leave, and she blurted, “Where are you going?”

Tony came to a stop, his gaze locked with Steve and Bucky, his back to her. To them, he gave them a sly, knowing smile that only lasted a few seconds before he turned back to her.

“I mean, you don’t have to leave and go eat somewhere else if you already have your food too. You don’t want it to get cold. I promise I’m not throwing up or anything. I just feel off. Like a headache… a little hot.”

She wanted them to stay, that was obvious. She needed something from them and even if she could not figure out what it was just yet, her body was telling her they were needed.

“Sure,” Tony chirped. “If it won’t bother you.”

She shook her head and he started walking back towards the desk beside hers. His suit jacket came off, and he swung it around the back of the chair. Steve and Bucky had come into the room as well, purposely leaving the door open. Bucky sat across from Y/N, his eyes following her movements as she opened the bag Tony had placed in front of her. He watched the way her hands shook ever so slightly, her tongue running across her bottom lip as she opened the container of food.

Y/N made a satisfied sound as she tasted it. “God, thank you. This is delicious. I needed it. I feel… shaky.”

The three of them around her was making it difficult for her to focus though. She kept stealing glances at them, being met with blatant stares back as they slowly ate. Steve adjusted, trying to hide his length that was starting to grow at her being so damn close and smelling so damn good.

Tony spilled some on the desk and said, “Shit!”

Before she could offer he was leaning over her, reaching across the grab a kleenex from the other side of her desk. He heard her inhale and he forced himself to not react, sitting back down, dabbing at the food he had spilled. His jaw was clenched; he should not have done that because now he was working himself up quickly.

The three of them noticed her chewing slowed to a stop and her eyes moved between the three of them. Something was starting to click… the tense silence in the room getting under her skin. The off feeling no doubt growing ever stronger.

Swallowing, she cleared her throat. Her voice was higher pitched than normal, “Do you guys want a cookie? To go with it for after, I mean? I… there’s some over here.”

She pushed her chair back quickly and moved away from her desk. Along the wall, she fumbled with the drawers, looking for these mysterious cookies. She was getting squirrelly, nervous, like she wanted some air. They could all sense it and they wanted to get ahead of her stressing out while they could. All three were out of their seats: Bucky strode across the room away from her, closing the door while Tony and Steve came closer towards her.

Y/N turned around startled at them all having moved so quickly, holding a handful of fortune cookies. Bucky leaned against the doorframe, staring directly back at her. She gave a small laugh, “Are people still working out there? Were we being too loud, do you think?”

Tony and Steve said nothing and her smile faltered, a frown growing. “Can…Can I just… get by,” she said trying to skirt around them but each time, one of them blocked her way. She tried to brush it off, holding the cookie out. “Do you just want it now?”

She asked, so innocently. Sweetly. Steve shuddered at it. She could not hide her true nature even in her tone. And the phrasing, the three of them smirked.

Bucky was still by the door, leaning against the frame. He popped a chocolate in his mouth, watching the scene unfold.

“Well, I would really like to get eat—” She said, trying again to break through their rank and being unsuccessful. She frowned visibly now, worry lines showing up on her face. She chuckled nervously, “Did I do something wrong?”

Steve noticed the spiral coming. He could hear the increase in her heartrate. She knew she was surrounded by Alphas and was growing uncomfortable. Especially since she was alone, it was late, and they were encroaching. His hand came up to slap over her mouth and she yelled frightened, the sound muffled. He pulled her away from the counter, dragging her back towards the third desk. Tony was ready, grabbing her arms and twisting them behind her back, slipping the retractable cuffs around her wrists. The cookies tumbled to the floor and he paid them no mind, stepping on them as he passed her to Steve solely. Her arms were bound at the small of her back and she fell face first against the table. All three of them were growing hard at the sight.

As soon as Steve removed his hand she began to scream, and he clamped back down.

“Omega,” Steve purred in her ear and she whimpered behind his hand. He laced his tone, his Alpha rumbling, “You’re going to be quiet aren’t you?” She said nothing, her chest just rapidly moving up and down. “Omega… are you gonna be quiet? Nod for me if you are gonna be good.” She nodded frantically against his hand and he slowly removed it.

Tearfully, she said, “Can you let me go?”

“Oh, no. No, we can’t, beautiful,” Steve said, his finger running down her exposed neck, causing her to squirm. He pulled away, turning his attention to Tony.

“But… I… I didn’t do anything wrong,” she tried to plead, looking at Bucky across the desk to where he was standing at the door. “I followed all the rules. I—” Tony’s hands lifted up underneath her dress and she let out a choked noise, craning her neck to look back at him. “Alpha, please!”

Tony audibly groaned at her slipping up and giving in to calling him by his title. He yanked her leggings and underwear down to her ankles. He freed himself from his slacks and his fingers pressed at her pussy. She buried her face in the desk, trying to squeeze her legs together.

“Oh, come now. None of that,” Tony ordered, and she loosened. His fingers pressed in, stroking her slowly. She was already wet, probably had been for the better part of the day. It is why the three of them had stayed away, they could have lost control before now and ruined it all otherwise.

“You’re not being punished, Omega,” he told her. “Rewarded actually…” She whimpered and he cooed as he continued stroking her gently, “Oh, sweetpea… beautiful Omega. You’re going to be just fine. You’re in the perfect hands. You feel sick for a reason and we are going to help you.”

The more he spoke, the more he watched her body relax against his hand and his tone. The smell of her was driving him insane – he could only imagine Steve and Bucky not being able to touch her at all. He should not stall for long, wouldn’t want to start a fight.

“You’re going to feel so much better,” Tony promised as she tried to push back on his fingers, and he bit his lip at the sight. His fingers were gone, and she let out a disappointed noise. Tony rubbed his cock up and down her ass, slowly. “God, this is gonna feel so fucking good.”

Tony’s head pressed in and she gasped, adjusting to his width. He gave a strangled laugh, relishing in how tight her walls were. She was squirming beneath him and he gave her a rapt smack on the ass.

“I know you haven’t had an Alpha cock before but relax, Omega,” Tony ordered gruffly.

“It’s too much,” she said pitifully.

“You’ll adjust. You’ll adjust,” Tony moaned, pressing in further. “You’ll be able to take all of me. All of us. It’s what you were built for.”

Bucky was becoming shifty, chewing on his thumb nail, his eyes boring into Y/N. He had stepped away from the door, coming closer to where she was. His dick was outlined in his jeans but he had refrained from releasing himself just yet. Steve on the other hand had taken his cock out and was stroking himself, needing some type of contact. Both of their eyes were blown wide.

“Oh. Tony,” Bucky said, aroused. “You would love this sight.”

Y/N’s eyes were glazed over as Tony thrusts grew deeper and quicker. Looking the perfect example of a subservient Omega, impaled on an Alpha’s cock.

“I love the feeling,” Tony choked back, holding tight to her wrists to drive himself deeper.

Soon, they came tumbling down. Tony came with loud grunts, emptying inside of her and he left a claim mark on her shoulder. Tony only took a moment to kiss at her neck, whispering something sweet into her ear before he backed off. His pants were buttoned back up and he collapsed in one of the chairs, his eyes falling on her.

Steve wasted no time coming behind her and entering her with ease. She whimpered at the intrusion, still so sensitive. His thrusts were unbridled, worked up into a frenzy. Y/N’s hips bounced off the desk.

“Alpha,” she whined.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Steve panted, his fingers digging into the skin at her hips. “You feel so goddamn good, Omega. You’re doing so well. So, so well. Everything I dreamed.”

The room was filled with skin slapping skin and the aroused moans leaving Y/N.

“Alpha,” she whined again, and Steve groaned, knowing she was getting close. He could feel her clenching around him.

And when she did, shaking and whimpering, Steve thrusted quickly as she tightened. He finished with a shout unable to help himself, coating her walls. He left another distinct claim bite at the base of her neck. His fingers traced it gently before he noticed Bucky standing there.

“You know, for an Alpha. Buck, you sure as hell are patient,” Steve joked.

Bucky gave a curt smirk before shoving Steve out of the way. Steve held his hands up in surrender, turning away and letting Bucky have his way with her. Y/N was doing so well still, behaving and letting Bucky rut her into the desk without pushback. Bucky had been right, Tony thought to himself. He loved that look in her eyes. She was lost to her arousal.

“P-p-please, alpha,” she begged moments before she cried out again.

Bucky grunted loudly, his thrusts becoming more erratic, chasing his high. He shook as he emptied himself and went to the opposite shoulder to leave another claim mark. She was exhausted, breathing heavily having not one but three Alphas imprinting themselves on her and using her.

The door opened and all three of them froze, Bucky still buried in Y/N, his large hands at her hips.

Clint was standing there, his mouth fallen open in disbelief at the scene. There were a few seconds of suspended shock before he asked them disgusted, “You couldn’t even lock it?”

“Didn’t think about it,” Tony admitted.

“You? You didn’t think? That’s rich,” Clint spat back at him. He noticed Y/N was handcuffed and realization dawned on him. He glared daggers at the three of them and snapped, “You’re going to get sidelined for this!”

“No, I don’t think so. More like chewed out… I’ve been chewed out before,” Steve said. Impatiently he added, “Now, will you close the damn door?”

His request went ignored by Clint, who pressed on furiously, “No, seriously. You guys know that right? Compromising an agent like this! Especially one they’re trying to keep up because they’re in such big demand to even out the ranks! She’s only going to respond to your Alpha commands now! That compromises her!”

“And why is anyone complaining about that? She should be answering to her superiors,” Tony remarked, watching her intently. She was so lost, trying to figure out what was going on. She had no purpose without feeling a cock being driven into her when she was this worked up into her heat. Tony almost felt bad for her…

“Barton, are you going to let Barnes pull out so we can untie her or what? She’s got to be getting sore by now. Wouldn’t want to hurt our ‘delicate flower’.” Clint stood his ground and Tony lost his humor, snapping, “Get the fuck out, Barton. It’s already been done. Now. Before I lose my goddamn temper.”

Clint’s jaw was clenched as he turned away from the three Alphas, slamming the door behind him so loudly it shook the wall.

“Speaking of that,” Bucky said, clearing his throat. He leaned in, catching her attention. “Darling… do you want Alpha to finish inside you?” She nodded fervently and Bucky grunted in response, rutting against her backside even as he pulled away from her. He pulled her up and she stood on shaky legs. In her ear, he asked, “Do you want to always be finished inside of?” She nodded again, biting her bottom lip. “Hmm… you want to please us? That’s what I thought. So. How about after you take in that feeling of that warm seed inside you, you go up to the director and tell her you want to resign? Tell her you wanna be a good little housewife for us? How does that sound?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Steve’s fingers pressed her cheeks in, pressing her lips out and he smiled. “You wanna be an asset to the team in your best way. Such a team player.” He shot Tony a look at the end of the desk, an aroused gleam in his eye. “I’m sure we can get you a proper collar.”

“I’ve already got it built. I’ve been waiting for her to learn her place.” Tony then added, “But she can’t live with me. Pepper will kill me.”

“I’ve got it,” Steve said.

Steve rubbed her stomach and said, “Regardless, she’s gonna be serving her real purpose soon.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21