#i don't really know where i'm going with this or how far it's gonna go

[s4bbatical]

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 3. (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

Part 1. Part 2. Warnings: profanities, consumption of alcohol and cigarette use. hints of sex! age gap (reader!22) enjoy!

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You're at your desk when you hear the news, the entire office in commotion as Cameron, Tony and Declan appear after the wrap of Declan's newest episode.

"Rupert said yes?" You gasp, smacking Seb's arm. "Fucking brilliant, man." You say, grinning. "Declan's gonna take a chunk out of his neck, it's gonna be grand." You look over at Declan, who's clinking glasses with Tony in his office.

"I'm just grateful our efforts aren't going to waste. Christ knows how much time we put into this sleazy bastard." Seb grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Why you look so down on yourself Seb?" You ask, standing up straight from your previous position of leaning against the oak desk.

"I don't know, y/n. Maybe you can figure that out yourself." He says bluntly, walking away towards the common space.

Your jaw drops slightly, throwing your arms up. "What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself, grabbing the back of your neck. You had been turning down Seb's advances on you due to your clandestine actions with Declan, not realizing how much of an impact it really had on the ginger. You knew he liked you a little more than just friends, you just hoped he'd let go of it sooner than later.

As far as you were concerned, still no one knew about you and Declan. You tried to stay focused on your work and not overthink it much, although it was on your mind every minute of your waking hours. Not telling anyone, especially your new best friend Taggie, was taking a toll on you. How does one tell another that they find their dad very attractive, and also have been banging him in his office after hours? It wasn't an easy feat for anyone. You tried to remind yourself that it was okay to have a little fun, as long as no one else knew about it.

You jump slightly as you notice Declan standing by your desk, straightening out your blazer as you nod towards him. "Declan, hi. Congratulations on securing the interview with Rupert." You say, giving him a smile.

"Thanks, y/n. You've been a great help with it all, I wouldn't be as confident as I am without you." He says, a smirk growing on his face. "Would you mind doing overtime on Saturday? To help me with additional flawed research?" He asks, now properly smiling.

"Ah, I would, but your daughter has asked me to accompany her in catering for Baddingham's falconery that day. I'm sorry." You admit, shrugging.

"That's alright. Will you be coming to our home for dinner afterwards, then?" He asks.

You grin, tapping your chin in thought satirically. "Yeah, I guess so." You say, letting out a small laugh.

"Great, see you then." He says, a light tap on your bottom as he walks away.

You gasp lightly, looking around hastily to ensure no one saw. "Unbelievable." You whisper to yourself, sitting down at your desk.

-

As Saturday rolls around, you find yourself bright and early at The Priory, attempting to hold back your yawns as you prepare cheese and fruit platters with Taggie.

"Can I ask you something?" Taggie asks, rinsing a bowl of grapes.

"Course, yeah. What's up?" You say, slicing wedges of brie.

"Do you think my dad should go through with interviewing Rupert?" She inquires timidly, putting the bowl of grapes on the kitchen table.

"Rupert is an asshole. He deserves anything that is thrown at him." You say bitterly out of respect for your friend, and her father.

"Y/n, I don't think he should go through with it." Taggie says, meeting your eyes. "I'm afraid my father will ruin him." She whispers, frowning.

"Taggie," You start, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Where is this coming from?" You ask, worried about her concerns.

"I think Rupert isn't as horrible as everyone thinks he is. He sincerely apologized to me, and I can tell he wasn't just doing it out of spite for me or my father." She explains, sighing. "After you left before the party ended, we slow danced together and..." She trails off, seeming upset with herself. "We shouldn't've, I know. But there's something about him that isn't worth destroying him over." She finishes.

You furrow your brows and purse your lips. "I'm not the one to call the shots on this, Tags. You know that." You say.

"My father listens to you better than me, for some reason." She says, causing your breath to go still. "I don't know why, but I would like for you to try saying something." She pleas. "For me, y/n. Please."

You let out a deep sigh, letting go of your breath. "Fine, I will. Don't get mad if he goes through with it, though." You mumble, reorganizing the assembly of cheeses.

"Thank you." Taggie smiles, giving you a side hug.

"Course." You whisper, it was the least you could do considering what secrets you've withheld from her already.

"Taggie!" Declan yells, entering the kitchen. He is taken aback by our presence, perhaps not expecting you so early in the morning. "Y/n, hello." He smiles. "Have you seen my plaid shirt your mum put out to dry?" He asks his daughter.

"I folded it up in your dresser, dad." Taggie says, causing Declan to nod.

"Right, course. Thank you darling." He places a kiss on her head, secretly gliding his fingers across your lower back as he steps away. "See you girls later." He says, waving as he exits the kitchen.

"Why'd you look at my dad like that?" She queries, nudging you.

"Like what?" You say defensively.

"Like he was a piece of meat." She says, scoffing.

"Your dad's hot, that's not my fault. It's not like I'm doing anything." You exclaim, raising your hands.

"Good, you better not." She says jokingly, grinning at the banter between the two of you.

You laugh, trying to not frown at your inner thoughts.

Only if you knew, Taggie. Only if.

-

Declan is in the office, going through evidence against Rupert as he notices Charles Fairburn reorganizing his office. "Charles!" He says out of surprise.

"Oh, hello." Charles says. "I didn't expect to see anybody."

"I'm researching Campbell-Black and needed something from my office." He says, approaching Fairburn.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Tony Baddingham had Declan O'Hara doing his dirty work." The road of Baddingham's distaste for Campbell-Black is a long one, and quite complicated enough even for you to even know about.

"I have my own reasons for wanting to take that bastard down." Declan interjects.

"You know, in different circumstances, you and Rupert could've been friends." Charles says simply. "Both complicated, both stubborn, misunderstood." He jests, putting down office supplies on his new desk.

"Bollocks." Declan states. "What are you doing in on a Saturday?" He queries.

Charles clicks his tongue, "Moving offices ahead of my grand return." He says, now holding a clipboard. "Apparently, my recent coronary episode makes me a medical liability." He says, referring to the panic attack that happened on New Years. "Which is why Cameron Cook is now controller of programmes and I'm--"

"Head of Religious Broadcasting." Declan says, reading the new plaque on the door underneath Charles' name. He looks back and gives him a look of sympathy.

Charles scoffs. "I can't begrudge her too much. Climbing the greasy pole requires its own set of skills." He mumbles, sitting down. "Especially when the greasy pole in question, lives in Tony Baddingham's trousers." He says sarcastically. A moment of silence passes by.

"How's the heart?" Declan asks, redirecting the conversation.

Charles sighs. "Oh, you know, broken." He goes quiet for a moment. "How's the new journalist, Declan?" He asks, watching as Declan's face contorts into bewilderment.

"What'd you mean by that?" He asks, attempting to act confused by Fairburn's statement. Heat rose to his face as his heart began to race.

Charles gives him a weak smile before speaking again. "I'm sorry for what I saw at the New Year's Eve party. I was out in the garden and wasn't expecting to see you, especially with y/n." He says quietly, Declan staying dead silent. Fuck.

"I'm not telling anyone." Charles adds, seeing the worry in O'Hara's face. "Don't show Tony any weakness, Declan." He abruptly says. "Or this is what you get." He whispers sadly, referring to his new demoted office space.

Declan looks down for a moment, unable to find words as he slowly walks away. He looks back again at Charles Fairburn before he returns to his office, closing the door and running a hand through his dark curls.

Charles knew of Declan's dirty secret, but regardless of what assurance he is given, he has to keep it completely under wraps now. He has to be careful, and so do you.

He notices a folder on his desk, opening it to reveal a note from the sender mentioning of a phone call regarding Rupert Campbell-Black accompanied by a photo. He grins, his worries dissipating as more evidence has landed in his lap. He folds it up tightly, enclosing it in a new envelope with a devilish grin.

-

You find yourself back at The Priory with Taggie later that afternoon, your stomach unwell from seeing all the dead birds that day.

"God, it's astounding how they manage to eat and drink so much while killing those innocent creatures." You say, taking a leftover ham sandwich and taking a bite out of it.

Declan enters the house, returning after his time at the office. "Ah, how was the shoot?"

"Well, they killed loads of birds," You say, swallowing your food.

"But they liked my food." Taggie finishes the sentence for you. Declan chuckles. "Rupert stopped by." She adds, crossing her arms.

You watch in bemusement as Declan reacts poorly. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. Is there no place free of that man?" He exclaims, walking away.

Taggie furrows her brows, looking over at you to do something.

You sigh, taking the last bite of your sandwich as you follow her father into the other room. "I'll talk to him." You mumble to Taggie as you pass her.

After quickening your pace, you follow him into the master bedroom, where he begins unloading his blazer. "You shouldn't be so harsh on Rupert, y'know." You begin to say, closing the door behind you.

"And what makes you think you have any say in that?" Declan replies with an edge in his voice, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

"Taggie's forgiven him, I think you can let it go-"

"Let it go?! Let go of the fact that he groped my daughter? That my own wife still wants to sleep with him even though he's a horrible fucking bastard?!" Declan yells, aggressively huffing on his cigarette.

"Look, I understand where you're coming from Declan, but this could backfire and then what happens to you, huh? What if he ends up burying you into the ground instead of the other way around?!" You try to explain, holding your place as Declan begins to undo his shirt, tossing it onto the bed. You stare at his torso as he breathes heavily in anger, his chest rising and falling. Time and place, time and place.

"He will not do any such thing." Declan mutters harshly, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray atop his dresser. "You know that Charles Fairburn knows of us, huh?" He says, leaning against a bed post.

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his statement. "What? How?" You ask meekly, guilt mixed with fear rising up your throat from the pit of your stomach. "But no one saw us?" You whisper, beginning to pace back forth.

"Well he did." Declan states flatly. He grabs your arm and halts your movements. "He said he won't tell a soul, but this means we have to keep it controlled or this can no longer happen, y/n." He whispers firmly, staring into your eyes.

"I think I'd rather quit than stop whatever this is." You mumble, turning yourself completely towards Declan.

The two of you stare deeply at one another, Declan placing a hand on your cheek. "I need to control myself." He whispers, leaning in close enough to have his lips hover over yours.

"No one can see us now, Declan." You remind him.

-

The two of you come undone in multiple positions. You find yourself cuddled up beside Declan as he lights a cigarette, inhaling as he strokes your hair.

"Thanks for that, I needed a good fuck." You joke, closing your eyes as Declan hums.

"My pleasure." He grins, inhaling his cigarette once again.

"Wait, shit." You say, sitting up abruptly. Declan looks at you with confusion. "Taggie is still here, she must be concerned why it's taking so long." You say worriedly, getting out of the bed and retrieving your clothes.

Declan watches you with a smirk, his eyes trailing over your exposed body as you shimmy your underwear and jeans back on, following with your shirt.

You run over to Declan's side of the bed, pressing a firm kiss on his lips. "I'll see you for dinner, Mister O'Hara." You tease, smoothening your hair as you exit the grand master bedroom. He simply laughs, inhaling his cigarette.

You hurry down the hall, slowing down your pace as you look for Taggie.

"Tags?" You yell, eventually stumbling across Declan's study.

She had opened his file of evidence against Rupert, abruptly closing it when she hears you approach. "I-I was just looking through it, I'm sorry. Please don't tell my father." She says hastily, getting up from the desk chair.

"Taggie, relax. It's okay." You say, hoping nothing about your appearance gives away what you had been doing for the past half an hour. "I tried convincing him, I really did. He wouldn't budge, Tags." You admit, sighing. "Maybe you can warn Rupert, I don't know. I think your dad has more dirt on him than we know." You warn, running a hand through your hair.

"Maybe I should talk to him, then." Taggie says, beginning to walk past you.

"No-!" You say, grabbing her arm. She looks at you with confusion. "He seems exhausted, I think he needs to be left alone to be completely honest." You say, hoping Taggie would drop the whole thing for today.

"Alright, then." She says, your grasp loosening on her arm. "I'm gonna start making dinner, then. Care to help?" She asks, walking slowly out of the study.

"Always." You say with a smile, following Taggie out the door.

-

As the evening rolled around, you found yourself around the dining table with Taggie to your left, Maud and Caitlin on the other side as Declan sat at the head of the table.

"This food is incredible, Tag." Maud muses, taking another bite of the dish.

"It's y/n's recipe, actually." Taggie admits, smiling at you.

"Oh, y/n. Lovely job, then." Maud says, sending a smile towards you.

"Thanks Maud. It's my mom's favorite dish. I ate it a lot growing up." You say, taking a sip of wine.

"Hmm, American culture doesn't taste as bland as I thought, then." She remarks, taking another bite.

"Be nice, Maud." Declan warns, glaring at his wife.

"Actually, my mom's from Greece. It's Mediterranean, not American." You correct her, trying to hide a shit-faced grin behind your glass of wine.

Caitlin stifles a laugh, earning a light kick of the shin from Taggie.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." Maud apologizes, clearly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay. I agree, American food is god awful." You assure her, taking a bite of your meal.

"So, what's this big interview you've announced on live television about?" Maud says, looking over at Declan.

"Ah, I'm interviewing Rupert on Valentine's Day." He says casually, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"That's it?" Maud persists, raising a brow.

"He wants to take him down, mum." Taggie interjects, Declan scoffing at the statement.

"I'm not doing anything that he doesn't deserve." He emphasizes, taking a sip of his glass.

"Declan, don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? They're calling you the Corinium Butcher, for god's sake." Maud exasperates, putting down her cutlery.

"I am doing the interview the way I want to and that is that!" He states firmly. "Now, can you all get off my arse about it and enjoy this lovely meal y/n and Taggie put together? Christ." He exclaims, picking up his fork and taking another bite out of his dish.

Everyone goes quiet, returning to their meals.

You feel a bit cold in the room, the peaks of your breasts hardening as you realize something dire-- you've left your bra in their bedroom.

You clear your throat, standing up. "I have to use the restroom, if you'll excuse me." You say, hurriedly exiting the room.

You make your way down the hall from the foyer towards the master bedroom, slowly opening the door and flicking on the overhead light as you scan the room hastily for your bra.

You get down on your knees, looking underneath the bed on the opposite side from the door. You see it just within arms reach, stretching your arm out as the door opens.

"What are you doing?" Maud says, causing you to smack your forehead against the bedframe, unable to grab ahold of your bra as you stand up hastily.

"I uh, Taggie was giving me a tour earlier and I thought I lost my ring in here. I was just trying to find it because I realized I lost it when I was going to the washroom." You lie out of your ass, smiling oddly at a very confused Maud.

"Oh, what does it look like?" She asks, not realizing this ring did not exist whatsoever.

"It's small, really small. Honestly it was super cheap it's not that big of a deal!" You force out, making your way towards the door. "Let me know if you find it though, it was from my mom." You laugh awkwardly. "I'm going to the washroom now."

You hastily exit the bedroom, leaving Maud behind as you run into the nearby washroom and close the door behind you. You panic as you stare at yourself in the mirror, whispering profanities to yourself. You wash your hands as if you had dirtied them with your actions, almost afraid to return to the table.

You take a deep breath and open the door, walking back out to the dining table as you practice breathing normally.

Maud had already returned to eating her meal, seeming disinterested in your bizarre behaviors from before.

"Is everything alright?" Declan asks you, referring to your tense aura now present in conversation.

"Yes, everything's fine." You say, taking a sip of your wine.

"Y/n was trying to find a ring she lost earlier in the master bedroom, maybe you can keep an eye out for it too." Maud says nonchalantly to Declan, whose face drops at the mention of you being in their bedroom.

"Is that so?" He asks, coughing slightly as he tries to swallow his food down. "That's a shame. I'll keep it in mind then."

You watch as Maud gives him a puzzled look, her eyes squinting at her husband with suspicion.

"Would anyone like dessert?" Taggie asks, standing up.

"Me!" You say abruptly, also getting up. "Let me help you with that!" You offer, following Taggie into the kitchen.

She suddenly stops right by the kitchen island, causing you to bump into her. "Something's going on with you y/n. You've been acting weird all day. Is everything alright?" Taggie asks, a look of concern upon her face as she grabs ahold of your hands.

"Sorry, I'm just stressed out about the whole Rupert ordeal." It wasn't a complete lie, ever since you landed this internship you've felt like putting your head in a door way and slamming the door repeatedly on it. You couldn't imagine how many grudges these Lords hold against each other, it would've been disputed in an instant if you were back at home.

"I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry." Taggie says, sighing. "I tried getting Rupert to step down earlier at the falconery, but he wouldn't listen. He's convinced my father doesn't have the capability to take him down." She whispers, afraid of her father overhearing the two of you.

You quickly glance into the next room where Declan was speaking to Caitlin, Maud seeming very displeased in the middle. "I don't know if we have any more options, Tags. I think we have to let them go at it." You say remorsefully, looking back at her.

"I'm not giving up just yet." She says firmly, picking up a platter of desserts as you shake your head, bringing out another bottle of wine to share.

-

It was now Friday, February 14th. You and Seb were in mid conversation when Cameron Cook comes barreling down the office floor, yelling about needing coffee.

"You'd think the promotion would make her happy, but she's angrier than ever." You say, closing your folder. Your desk phone starts to ring.

"I'll get the coffee, you get the phone." Seb says, walking around from your shared cubicle.

"Hello, y/n y/l/n speaking." You say.

"Look, I'm going to make this very clear y/n." Maud says on the other line. "I know that you are seeing my husband." She says, causing your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

You laugh breathlessly, looking around as you sit down, almost whispering into the phone. "What are you talking about?" You ask, your body beginning to sweat profusely.

Declan's wife has called you, at work, on the day of all god damn days, to confront you about your affairs.

"I found your bra underneath my bed when I was looking for something else." She says, almost sounding too calm for the circumstances she was speaking of. "I know I am one to talk, but I insist if you know any better, that you no longer see him. His work already keeps him away from our family, god forbid someone at The Corinium starts doing the same." She remarks, her tone never wavering.

Your jaw drops slightly, unable to find your words.

"Oh, and good luck tonight. Don't ruin my husband's career." She says, the line going dead.

You are left in dismay, slowly putting the phone back down on the hook. You look around your workspace once more in complete mortification.

"Oh god." You whisper to yourself, getting up to retrieve a cup of coffee to mask the fear building up inside. You couldn't fathom the audacity Maud O'Hara had to tell you to leave her husband be when she was trying to get with every other well-off man in the county.

All personal feelings aside, you knew you had to listen to her wishes in order to keep your job, and Declan's. It would be unfair to both parties if you kept this up.

You shakily pour the coffee pot into your mug, putting one cream and one sugar in after before stirring it with a spoon. You stare at the ground, unable to gather your thoughts up properly as Declan quickly walks past the kitchen with his focus on papers in his hands, taking a step back when he notices you standing idly.

"Y/n, what're doing just standing there?" He asks boastfully, causing you to jump and spill some coffee on your hand.

"Fuck," You whisper, wincing as you quickly run your hand under the cold tap.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Declan says, coming up beside you and placing his hand on yours. "Is your hand alright?"

You turn to face him, giving him a flat tone. "It's fine, thanks." You say, pulling away as you grab your coffee and step into the hallway. "I have work to do."

He grabs your arm. "What work? You've done it all already." He says, raising a brow. "Is everything alright?" He asks, his eyes full of concern.

"What? Haven't you heard the news?" You quip, staring at him with dread in your eyes. You hated yourself for developing feelings for Declan O'Hara. You were smarter than this, and to allow yourself to dig such an emotional hole was the last thing you needed for your brand-new career.

"Everything is fine, Mister O'Hara." You say, pulling your arm away from his grasp. His face drops when you refuse to use his first name. "Maybe you need to ask your wife the same question." You add bitterly, stepping away from him. His eyes widen at the mention of his wife.

"Elvis is about to enter the building." Seb says, him and Daysee both running down the hall past you two.

Declan looks you for a long, silent moment. "We'll discuss this later." He mutters, following them down the hall.

You close your eyes and sigh, walking away towards your desk.

-

You're now standing in the control room, biting your nails nervously as Daysee counts down Declan, now live broadcasting the interview. You exchange glances with Seb as Declan begins with mundane questions before hitting him with mildly offensive comments that will eventually snowball into something worse.

You cover your mouth as Declan brings up the topic of adultery, and how it must do Mr. Campbell-Black well for life within the Conservative Party.

"I'm sorry?" Rupert says with dismay.

"You know, sneaking around, lying, betrayal, sexual degeneracy." Declan lists nonchalantly, as if Rupert was born for such actions.

"Oh fuck." You mumble into your hand, Seb patting your shoulder with a sympathetic look.

"Remember, Declan's just doing his job." He reminds you.

"I'm no longer married." Rupert exclaims.

"Yeah, but you were, for six years! And yet throughout your marriage, your affairs were common knowledge." Declan states confidently, gesturing to the crowd. "I mean, one Gloucestershire peer has described you as 'rather a nasty virus that everyone's wife caught sooner or later.'" Declan reads off of a card.

"Well if you've seen his wife, it's definitely later." Rupert retorts towards the audience, causing everyone to laugh. Declan's jaw vividly tenses on camera.

You sigh putting your head in your hands. "Oh wow, that's great." You mumble to yourself.

"What a fucking arsehole." Seb mutters, crossing his arms.

"And that's the break in five..." Daysee begins counting down.

You nervously watch as Declan composes himself to announce the commercial break.

"That's time for break. When we return, who knows what Mister Campbell-Black might choose to share with us when we return." Declan says through a forced smile, looking directly at the camera. It felt like he was looking right at you.

"...and we're out." Daysee says.

"Thank fuck." You quickly exit the control room, needing to be elsewhere for the next three minutes. As you make your way through the halls, you run into Taggie.

"Taggie?" You say in a quizzical manner, causing her to turn and face you.

"Y/n, I'm here to talk to Rupert. Something's very wrong about this." She says urgently.

"Jesus, Taggie you can't-" You begin.

Rupert appears around the corner with his assistant. "Taggie, what are you doing here?" He asks her.

Taggie walks past you. "You need to go. Just walk out."

"Rupert, I advise you to not do that." You warn him.

Rupert laughs at you both. "Your father's not the first old socialist who's tried to catch me out." He reassures Taggie, putting his hand on her arm. "Whatever you're worried about, it's already out there."

"Taggie, you need leave-" You begin, tugging at her arm.

"No, I know him." Taggie says, ignoring you as she pulls away from your grasp. "He's saving the worst for later. When he wants something, he's ruthless." She warns him. "He'll do anything, I mean, he's-"

"He's just like you, Rupert." You say, pursing your lips.

"Exactly." Taggie says.

Cameron Cook appears, interrupting the conversation. "Minister, we need you back on set. The break's almost over." She directs Rupert, who keeps his gaze on you and Taggie.

"Listen to Miss Cook, Rupert. You have to go." You say.

"Just walk out of the building with me." Taggie interjects, pleading with her eyes.

"Minister!" Cameron snaps, glaring at Rupert.

"Screw this." You say, walking away from everyone. You return back to the control room, slamming the door behind you.

"What's going on?" Tony Baddingham asks, puffing on a cigar.

"Cameron has it under control." You simply say, returning to the corner with Seb and Daysee.

"What happened?" Seb asks quietly.

"Taggie's shown up to try and get Rupert to leave. She thinks Declan has more blackmail on him than we are aware of." You whisper, grabbing the back of your neck as you watch Daysee begin to count Declan back in.

"Where the fuck is he?" Tony says harshly, looking down through the viewing glass.

You hide your face behind your clipboard, unable to watch the scene about to unfold.

"Y/n look, Rupert's back." Seb says, tapping on your back to redirect your attention. You look over the clipboard at the monitors, watching Rupert Campbell-Black sit back down on the stage. Rupert begins to compare the interview to being back on the playing field.

"Seb, I don't have a good feeling about this." You say quietly, covering half your face with a clipboard.

"Just watch, relax." Seb whispers.

"It's an interview, there are no winners." Declan tells Rupert, who gives him a look.

"That's not true though, is it?" Rupert queries, looking towards the audience. "He wants to beat me." He exaggerates, giving a shit-faced grin.

Your eyes widen as Rupert begins to compare him to Declan, putting both of them under the same umbrella metaphorically. Declan brings it back around by repeatedly shitting on Campbell-Black, about to pull out an envelope from underneath his blazer as Rupert does something no one expected; admitting everything Declan has said to be true.

"Oh god." You whisper.

"I remember what it was like, to be the best. And what I was willing to do to stay there." Rupert says grimly. "What are you... willing to do?" Rupert asks in a taunting manner.

Declan goes quiet.

"To your family?... To yourself?" Rupert asks solemnly, the both of them having a stare down as the control room starts to light up in commotion.

You watch in fear as Tony urges Declan in his earpiece to take down Rupert, your eyes flickering between the multiple camera angles on a very, very quiet Declan.

"You're right." Declan finally says. "I'm a workaholic. And when I'm consumed by something... I can be, um... I can be a-"

"Monster." Rupert finishes the sentence, the both of them sharing a stare once again.

Rupert makes a comment about Declan being a better husband than he ever was, which causes you to look away from the screen when Declan argues against it. You couldn't help but feel as if you're one of Declan O'Hara's many flaws.

The interview starts to go in the opposite direction. You look back at the screen, watching Declan pull out his earpiece as Tony becomes enraged.

"If it's any consolation, we've made some really great television." Cameron Cook reasons.

"This would have worked if you'd just done your fucking job!" Tony yells at her, causing the rest of you to side eye him madly.

"Seb, I need to go home." You tell him flatly, putting your clipboard down.

"What? Y/n, the show isn't over yet! Where are you going?" Seb exclaims quietly, confused by your course of action. Daysee also gives you a look of worry.

"I just said home! I'll see you on Monday." You whisper aggressively, leaving the control room.

You hastily go over to your desk to retrieve your bag and coat. You glance over quickly at the viewing room the rest of the staff was in, your stomach tying in knots as the sight.

Heading down the hallway and the stairs, you push open the front doors and end up outside, where a massive group of fans stood awaiting Rupert Campbell-Black's return. They all share looks and noises of disappointment as they see you, an intern on the brink of tears instead of the acclaimed bachelor.

You push through the crowd, hurriedly approaching your car and unlocking it. You sit inside the beater and stare off in the distance. Your cheeks are stained with tears against your own will, your forehead resting upon the steering wheel as you begin to sob mercilessly.

You felt so hopeless amidst it all, no longer sure of yourself as you were before.

-

i will not lie this chapter was becoming so fucking long it's just gonna end up a continuation into the next part... also im lowkey too awkward to properly write out sex scenes because i give myself second hand embarrassment so forgive me this fanfic is plot driven over sex driven (':

as youve noticed ive started to follow by the episode plot line, it makes it easier for me to write and follow. thank you again for the support, and as always keep interacting with my works! keep me motivated ;)

much love,

isabel

[portalhan]

⠀ꔫ˚　༝　◌ ⌒⌒ three strikes !

↳ jeongin swears on his life that he's seen something odd between you and felix... exactly three times, in fact, but he needs more concrete proof...

PAIRING: felix lee x gn!reader

FORMAT: one shot

GENRE: college au, friends to lovers, fluff, jeongin third wheeling...

WARNINGS: brief mentions of food and being sick (just the flu bug nothing huge)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

FAE'S NOTES: this is just a little bit half-assed... idk if i have much faith in this and i believe i can do better than this but i'm gonna post it anyway for you guys! please let me know if you have any feedback, my writing muscles have basically atrophied and i need to find my rhythm again TT

jeongin doesn't usually second-guess his closest friends like this, but something has changed. he knows you and felix well enough to know at least that.

you have always been hard to read. you're an independent, reliable sort of person, not outwardly emotional nor needlessly arrogant either—you tend to show your love for your friends through small, quiet gestures. felix, on the other hand, is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve—almost to a fault. always baking extra brownies to gift people, always going the extra mile, always looking on the bright side, even in the darkest of situations. he is as fragile as he is affectionate.

yes, affectionate. that's the word he's been looking for to describe the changes in your friendship with felix. you've been more affectionate. jeongin has always chalked it up to felix's own proclivities rubbing off on you given the sheer amount of time you spend together, but now... he's not so sure it's that simple. there have been three strikes jeongin has kept score of so far.

STRIKE #1

jeongin remembers it was a tuesday, because that's the only day of the week where all three of you shared classes. you would always sit in a row near the back of the class. he has made it a point to memorise both yours and felix's timetables this semester—as do the both of you with him—so he knows you don't usually have prior arrangements before coming to campus. you've always had a tradition of meeting in the lobby before walking to class together as a result.

so, when his phone pings with a message from you saying 'sorry innie, we're gonna be a bit late! pls go to class first, just save us seats', he is immediately struck with confusion. what did you mean, "we"? felix, uncharacteristically, hasn't said a word and it's already 5 minutes shy from when class starts. he always arrives at least 10 minutes before. how strange, jeongin thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to class, incredibly unfamiliar with the circumstance of having to do so on his own for the first time. he just brushes the nagging suspicion off, telling himself it was probably because of some public transport situation that's delayed you both—not something entirely uncommon.

it's about 15 minutes into the class before he sees you. the second he spots felix and you stumbling through the doors, profusely apologising to the professor for your tardiness, though, is when the same sensation of suspicion comes back. as you and felix shuffle to make their way to the seats jeongin saved for you, he can't help but notice your attire. you're wearing an oversized black shirt with some graphic of an anime printed on. jeongin's eyes squint as he stares at it, assuming it must have been a new purchase of yours. but he swears he's seen it before.

when you and felix take your seats and the professors picks up where she left off, felix turns to jeongin and apologises for being late. "we're really sorry jeongin, we owe you one," he quips, before he fishes his laptop out of his bag. the younger boy just shrugs it off as no big deal. plus, he had something else on his mind to worry about than harp on the two of you being late to class.

the dots quickly connect a few moments later in jeongin's head. felix has a shirt just like the one you're wearing. he swears he's seen him wearing it before, just last week when the three of you had gone out for dinner. it's been a shirt of his for years now, so worn down by so many uses that it has bleach stains on the sleeves, despite how much care felix puts into his clothing.

jeongin leans back in his chair and slowly, subtly pushes it back. he steals a glance at your side profile, thankfully without either you or felix noticing. there they were: bleach stains on the sleeves. upon further inspection, the shirt you were wearing looks way too worn out to be a new shirt—he concludes it must be felix's. but why would you wear felix's dank shirt to begin with? it would be weird to ask if that's his shirt you were wearing, so he decides to keep his silence for now.

STRIKE #2

this time, it was jeongin's turn to be late. the three of you had planned a picnic to celebrate the end of the gruelling semester—an idea felix suggested. he wanted it to be a potluck, so the each of you planned to bring something of your own making along.

jeongin wanted to go all out with his: he wanted to bake cupcakes, something felix had recently taught him how to. he wanted to show you his latest endeavours, baked fresh, but he didn't expect it to go sideways so last minute. he ended up showing up almost half an hour late, hair sticking to his forehead from all the sweat and cupcake frosting smeared all over the tupperware he placed them in out of haste.

when he finally spots the two of you amid the grass field at the park, he notices something... odd. he stops in his tracks to catch his breath and squints his eyes to get a better look. if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you two were... holding hands? the sun was glaring directly in his face, obscuring his vision, so jeongin couldn't be 100% sure. but what he does know is that your figures were so close to each other they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. this isn't exactly beyond felix, who is notorious for his habits of physical affection. but it is most certainly out of character for you, as someone who prefers to keep most people at an arm's length.

jeongin shrugs it off. he guesses felix nor he would be considered "most people". perhaps it was a trick of the light. he also doesn't have good enough reason to find it entirely strange—perhaps felix had gotten through to you in that regard. he had bigger things to worry about: your dinner getting cold.

STRIKE #3

the legitimacy of the third time is still up for debate, jeongin surmises. this time it wasn't your behaviour around each other, instead more so about how felix in particular reacted.

this happened over summer break. he remembers the sun being more unrelenting than ever—40 degrees celsius to be exact, he saw on the news—so you three had just decided to hang out in your bedroom, where the air conditioning is the coolest and crispiest (according to you). jeongin vividly recalls you lying on your stomach atop your bed, while the two boys were sprawled on the floor. that is, the carpet that laid over the spot where they would usually sprawl on the floor.

it was one of those 'parallel play' days, as you liked to call them. not necessarily doing things together, but doing separate things in the presence of each other, you said one time. felix was busy on his switch playing some pokemon game, you were scrolling on your phone and jeongin was just seconds away from drifting off to sleep on felix's lap.

it's been silent for, what, almost two hours now? but you end up breaking it first. "woah," you suddenly exclaimed, brows furrowing as you read something on your screen. "do you guys remember seungmin? from calculus?"

jeongin does not move an inch aside from nodding his head, and felix just lets out a little "yeah?" though his eyes were never once peeled from the console screen.

"i think he just asked me out," you tell them, bewildered.

this, of course, elicits reactions of surprise from jeongin and felix. the former lifts himself and sits up to ask details, while the other just turns the switch off—did he even save his progress on the game?—and sits there in silence as he silently watches you and jeongin discuss your classmate's... proposition. jeongin makes a playful jab at how you could have given him the wrong idea by flirting with him, which you immediately shut down. "i've never done anything suggestive to him, i swear!" you exclaimed in full defense.

seungmin has only ever made conversation with you once or twice in class, jeongin recalls. you also never really put in the effort to get to know your other classmates if jeongin and felix were in the same classes. jeongin makes a passing comment about how seungmin could pass as your type (if you squint hard enough), but it falls on deaf ears when you and felix meet each other's gazes.

"you're gonna tell him no, right?" felix suddenly chimes in after moments of prolonged silence, raspy voice cracking just a little. jeongin snaps his head to turn and look at his friend, head tilted and brow lifted. you give felix a look jeongin cannot quite describe, and chuckle with a soft smile as you nod. "of course i'm gonna say no," you assure him. he lets out a very heavy sigh of relief, but none of this goes unnoticed by jeongin.

this is very weird, jeongin remembers thinking. you have always been receptive to potential love interests, even if they weren't necessarily people you'd normally be into. so why are you so sure now that you'd reject seungmin without even giving him a chance?

on that note, what's it to felix who asks you out? why does he have a say? plus, he could've sworn he detected some semblance of... jealousy in his question. but he supposes that could be normal considering all three of you are so used to spending time with each other. jeongin does admit to himself that he'd feel lonely if you were to be whisked away by some stranger out of nowhere. it wouldn't be the same.

jeongin has theories, maybe even concepts of a theory, but no concrete enough proof for confrontation—so far. it looks like he has to wait till he does before he can address the massive elephant in the room.

FINAL STRIKE

it finally happens when he decides to stop by your apartment with take-out. you had told your friends about falling sick the night before—alas, you have caught the flu bug. they were just textbook symptoms like a low-grade fever, sore throat and a runny nose, nothing to worry about in particular, you told them. but jeongin just so happens to pass by your neighbourhood on his usual route home from work, so he decides to drop in with some chicken soup for you as a small surprise. you had already been texting the group chat the entire day about how exhausted you were to make yourself a half-decent dinner, so jeongin thought this would be a nice way to take care of his friend.

he knocks on your door multiple times to no response. maybe you're sleeping? he looks around the potted plants sitting outside your door and lifts the snake plant up, grabbing the rusted spare key tucked away from prying eyes just underneath. he quickly and quietly unlocks the front door and lets himself in. i'll just go in, check on y/n and put this soup on the table, he tells himself as he enters. maybe text you to let you know he got you dinner.

that is, until a warm aroma of what he believes to be fresh bolognese wafts to where he is at the front door. he hears the distant clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and—strangest of all—he hears... conversation? he can definitely hear you talking and even giggling, but he can't quite make out who the other person was. he's about 99% sure there was someone else in here, but could it be just a phone call? he sneaks down the hallway to the kitchen, the noises getting clearer as he inches closer. when he sticks his head out from a blind corner to peek into the kitchen, he sees it: felix plating a fresh bowl of spaghetti while you're sitting on the dining table engaged in idle chatter. a lump catches in his throat—what is felix doing here? and most importantly, why didn't he know of this? he felt momentarily betrayed.

jeongin just stands there in silence, unsure of how to confront you, while you and felix continue chatting. it's only when felix sets down two plates of pasta and goes in to plant a peck on your cheek does jeongin yelp in shock, which frightens all three of you.

felix squints his eyes, which widen in utter disbelief when he recognises the familiar facade lurking by the corridor. "jeong...in?" he asks, voice trembling a little from disbelief. when he says jeongin's name, you shoot him a similar look, but this one is more panicked and afraid. jeongin awkwardly steps out within view, but he puts a hand up to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. he raises the other arm to point an accusatory finger at the both of you. you swear you just heard felix gulp next to you.

"i..." jeongin sputters. "i knew it! i knew something was going on between you two idiots!"

the verbalisation of his revelation is what completely opens the floodgates, causing the entire place to erupt in complete and utter chaos. jeongin paces back and forth with the chicken soup still dangling from his fingers as he rants about how he's caught you doing "weird stuff" a couple of times but couldn't have known, about how he's been feeling a little left out recently, how you have been looking at felix funny sometimes. meanwhile, felix just begins to talk over him with near-equal (if not more) amounts of sheer panic and distress, reaching out to him to get him to calm down while explaining that this wasn't how they had intended for him to find out.

you, crippled by the shock from jeongin's unexpected appearance, just sit there, unable to do much of anything what with your flu, just silently watching felix and jeongin form a panic attack circle jerk in your own house.

"enough!" jeongin raises his voice, which immediately shuts felix up. jeong has never raised his voice. you shoot felix a nervous look.

"i thought we were best friends," jeongin utters, the slightest hint of melancholy lacing his voice. he looks offended. you've never seen him look this offended, not even when he was accused of academic misconduct that one time. "i'm happy for you, ecstatic even! i swear i am, but really? why would you keep this for me for so long?"

you decide you should talk to him—felix is very clearly out of his depth when it comes to handling intense situations like this and he's only making jeongin feel worse with all the jabbering. you stand up from your seat on the table and walk over to him, taking your hands in his.

"i'm sorry, jeongin. we... we weren't entirely sure of how we were gonna do this," you tell him, almost in a whisper.

felix scratches the back of his neck, avoiding any and all eye contact with either of you. "we wanted to keep it quiet," he admits. "at first, at least."

you nod in agreement, and turn back to look at jeongin. "you were going to be the first person we would break the news to. not even our own parents, i swear," you divulge, while you spot felix in the corner of your eye making a silent crossed hearts gesture to double down on his sincerity. jeongin's once-tense features start to ease up a bit, but not entirely. "you are our best friend. we never want you to feel like this. we're sorry," you assure him, before pulling him into a bear hug. you feel felix join from behind you to make it a group hug.

"i don't care what you guys have going on, but don't keep any more secrets from me. got it?" your friend huffs after you all pull back, feigning some sort of authority. felix chuckles at how ridiculous he sounds—being the youngest of the three, the tone just sounds alien when it comes from him. "we would never," felix tells him, reaching out to give jeongin a firm pat on the back. "i think y/n might like you more than me anyway, they're always going, 'we should call jeongin! we should send him a photo! we should—"

your palm slaps against the lower half of your boyfriend's face in protest. "we might be dating but you're on thin ice," you glare at him, before he raises both hands to surrender.

jeongin jovially chimes in to break the tension: "can i just say, i've always felt like you'd get along. aren't you glad i introduced you to each other? you wouldn't be a thing if it weren't for me, ya know." felix and you just huff in response—he can have this.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 10

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Chapter summary: Past. Scott is frustrated that no one listens to him. Present. Once again, no one listens to Scott.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Before

When Logan was called into Charles's office, he knew it wasn't going to be good.

"Would you care to explain to me why one of my students saw you and Cyclops fighting last night?"

Logan didn't really want to deal with this. He had enough self hatred for whatever he did to make you cry, he didn't need Charles disappointed in him too.

"Are you gonna lecture Scott about it too?"

"I will be talking to him, as well as Remy and Miss Palmer. Fights are something I have to take seriously. What kind of example are you setting for the children?"

As much as Logan wanted to blame it all on Scott, make the little prick pay, he thought back to you. You liked Scott, you'd be upset if Scott got in trouble for you... It was best to just be honest.

"Listen Chuck, it was a mistake, but it wasn't Scotts fault, okay? I saw him messing with her sleeve, showing skin she don't like to show. You know how she is about that stuff." Charles nodded and raised a brow, clearly confused by Scotts actions but not jumping to conclusions. "I saw what he did, and you can't blame me for getting pissed, right? We went out back and fought, Remy broke it up. He only touched her like that because she was hiding... claw marks on back..."

Again, Charles was listening rationally. "And what were they from, son?"

Logan rolls his eyes, groaning. "you know what they were from, but it ain't like that. She came to me when I was having a nightmare and I must've scratched her in my sleep. I didn't even know I cut her until yesterday. Scott and I were both just trying to protect her, okay?"

For a long moment, Charles's eyes simple stayed locked with logan, watching him, searching him. Charles doesn't read minds unless he really needs to, seeing it was a violation of privacy he didn't use lightly.

"I know in the past I've told you i wouldn't tell you what to do, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to put my foot down about you and our young teacher."

He felt like a weight had been dropped on his stomach. "What?"

"I know a romance of sorts has formed, and I do not know how far it's gone nor do I care to. It needs to end. She is a child, Logan. I know she's opened up to you but i doubt she's told you the full story."

You hadn't, he knew, and Logan growled in frustration. "So tell me!"

"That is not my story to tell."

"But you can tell me not to see her? You don't think she can make her own choices?"

"She can't even choose what to make for dinner without crying. She's not at a place where she's ready to date."

But he'd take care of that. Logan would take care of dinner, he'd drive you anywhere and everywhere, he'd make sure you were happy and healthy and taken care of. You didn't need menial choices! You didn't need independence! You needed protection, a caretaker!

"So you just think I'm so fucking awful I'm gonna hurt that hurt, that what you think?"

"That is not what I'm saying."

Logan paused, staring down Charles and heavy breathing as he tried to control his anger. His hands fist the side of Charles's desk, knuckles turning white. He couldn't leave you alone. As soon as he saw you that day with Remy, he was cooked. By the time he got back to the mansion with you giggling at his side, Logan knew there was no future for him without you.

"Charles." Logan grinds out, jaw clenched. "I'm not going to hurt her. I love her."

At that, Charles softened a tad. "I know, son. But this is for the best. There are plenty of women here, women in this world that you could choose from. Why do you have to pick those you can't have?"

He was referencing Jean, of course.

"It's... not like that..."

You were different. You were soft and gentle and happy. You were kind and loving and you wanted him, him and only him. There was no Scott getting in the way. There were no powers, no mutations. Just a sweet girl who needed him to protect you. You were different from Jean.

"Logan, I'm sorry. But this is how it must be. I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt her, but she is fragile. For the record, I would say this if it was Scott, Remy, or Kurt. This is about her, not you."

Logan didn't believe that for a second, storming out the door and right past Scott who was waiting for his turn to speak to Charles.

After

God, this felt good.

The Monday after the schools prom.

2 days after Logan finally made love to you the way he wanted to, the way you deserved.

This morning, Logan walked you to your first class, your arm looped around his. You wore a tight dress for the first time in months to show off the pregnant stomach that swelled with his baby. His baby was growing inside you. The hallways hushed saved for the murmurs of students and teachers as he showed you off, both of you smiling. The secret was out. You were making your public debute.

Logan spotted Scott standing next to Jean, their conversation halted as he lead you to your classroom.

"Have a good day, dollface. I'll see you at lunch."

You beamed up at him in his arms. "You too Lo. I love you."

Then, making direct eye contact with Jean and then Scott, Logan took your chin in his hands and gave you a deep, open mouthed kiss. He heard a whistle from a student, but he didn't care as he slid his tongue inside you.

Scott stormed off, leaving jean behind. No doubt he was on his way to tattle to Charles now that he was back from his several month trip.

*

"I'm fine, Mr. Xavier. Really. Logan is good to me." You sat in front of your boss at his office. Scott had brought the new development to Charles immediately of course, and now you were being questioned. Logan had told you that Charles had instructed him to stay away from you, and now it was your job to convince him that everything was okay. For the sake of raising your baby in a two parent, loving and stable household, you'd omit how this happened, exactly. you'd push away your fears and focus on the man Logan had shown you he could be, not the version you worried was still lurking inside.

"Miss Palmer, Scott seems extremely worried. He is concerned that Logan has forced you into something or has harmed you in some way."

You resist the urge to vehemently defend Logan the way you had to Scott, but remember that that only served to make him more suspicious. Instead, you settle for indignation. "Mr. Xavier," You say in your best offended tone. "Logan loves me. he would never hurt me. he's not like Mark and frankly, I don't appreciate Mr. Summers throwing accusations around wildly. I thought after the incident at the dance where he was proven wrong, he would leave us alone, but he seems obsessive."

A small smile on Charles's face. "And you're aware of their history?"

"Yes, I am very aware. Mr. Summers won back Ms. Grey, so I don't understand why he can't just let Logan be happy. He's not a bad person, you know this. He's a good man, and he watches out for me."

A short pause. "Yes, I am aware Logan is a better man than Scott seems to think. If you would allow me to see into your mind, I can clear-"

"No." You say a little too quickly. Charles didn't force his way into peoples minds. You'd given him permission when you first met him so that he could see what happened to you, see what you did and why you felt no remorse for it. You would not allow that again, knowing what he'd see. He'd see Logan raping you, but he'd never understand why you defended him. He couldn't understand what you saw in Logan, the hope to put it all behind you and start new. "Forgive me, but I'm a private person. There are things I keep to myself."

He nods. "I understand. It seems, however, that you are quite distressed. I can sense it radiating off you. You have to understand my concern."

"Maybe my distress has to do with being raised in a cult, becoming a child bride and being beat for 7 years because i couldn't have a child which I was told was my only purpose in this world?"

Your words hung in the air, tension laced the nervous shuffling in your seat. You place a hand over your stomach. "I apologize, Mr. Xavier. Hormones. I-" You sigh, standing up. "We have an appointment, I have to go." You don't tell him it's your first appointment. You don't tell him you haven't seen a doctor because for the first 3 months you were convinced you would have an abortion. You didn't tell him Logan has to practically drag you here after everything you'd experienced from doctors before.

Charles watches you leave. "Don't be afraid to talk to me, child. We were here to help you. We won't fail you the way you have been failed before."

You almost laugh at that. "Please stop insinuating my boyfriend abuses me. That's how you can help." You open the door to see Logan right where you left him, waiting for you with worry in his eyes.

"Everything okay, Dolly?" He hugs you, eyes connecting over your shoulder to Charles.

"Yeah, everything's fine Lo. Let's go to the appointment."

*

"You can't fucking be serious!" Scott shouts as Remy leaves Charles's office. Scott insisted Charles speak to Remy, that surely her best friend would know something. But when Remy opened the door, and Charles said he's found nothing to suggest you are being harmed, Scott was infuriated.

Charles rolled over to where Scott and Remy stood. "She is insistent she is fine, and everyone we've spoke to says Logan never even raises his voice around her."

"But- months ago, something happened! She wasn't eating, the nightmares-" He gestures to Remy. "You said her nightmares got worse!"

Remy shrugs. "Lovers spat, Cher. She said they worked it out after she found out she was pregnant. It makes sense she's under stress right now, pregnancy outside of marriage is a shameful thing where she grew up."

Scott groans in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So you don't think it's suspicious she's pregnant? You don't think it's weird she's having sex this soon after leaving all that?"

"Cyclops." Charles warns, but Scott is just looking at remy now. How can he not see it?

Remy glares at Scott. "If you are suggesting Logan raped her you better come prepared to back that up other than this pissing contest between the two of you."

"It's not-"

"Accusing someone of rape is a big fucking deal you can't be throwing around. Last time you accused Logan of clawing her, you looked stupid so I would hope you have something more this time. Well, Scott, what do you have? What grand evidence is there that you can't just let them be happy?" When Scott didn't speak, Remy laughed. "Just as I thought, nothing. Go home to your wife, Scott."

Remy left the room, leaving Charles and Scott alone.

"You can't be serious, Charles."

The older man sighed, looking to his protégé. "Son, you know i respect your opinions and concerns. If you have any evidence-"

Scott heard enough, and stormed out. He wasn't crazy. he wasn't jealous. He didn't hate Logan simply because he fucked his wife. Okay well maybe that was the start. But this? This was wrong. You need help, even if you can't see it.

*

"Look so good like this, baby doll..." Logan mumbled into your neck. You and him laid on the couch watching Gladiator, but the movie was long forgotten. Who was Russel Crowe compared to Logan Howlett? He was hard against you, his cock pressed up against your ass underneath the blanket you insisted on because you were wearing a skirt, his arm wrapped around your middle, caressing your stomach. he was obsessed with your stomach, wanted to touch you there every chance he could.

"Logan, the movie," You giggle but make no attempt to stop as he kissed your neck. You loved the attention. You loved his gentle touches. You were nervous about having a baby, but Logan assured you every step of the way.

The appointment last week had gone well. You told the doctor you hadn't known you were pregnant, that it was a surprise, so he made sure to do a thorough check since you were 4 months along. You hadn't seen a doctor in all that time, but you had been eating well and Logan had brought you prenatal vitamins. Doctor said everything looked normal and healthy, thank god. You hadn't wanted this, not this way anyway, but you'd never forgive yourself if you somehow messed up your child's life with your indecision.

Logan's hands roamed your body under the blanket, humming against your skin. "My pretty wife... my perfect girl..." Logan had said he'd propose, that you and him were gonna get married... you were going to be a wife again. Logan's wife. he'd be different. This time would be different. You'd given logan a baby, so he had no reason to hurt you like Mark had.

"My husband..." You sigh, grinning ear to ear.

"You two are disgusting." Remy spoke, and you suddenly remembered he was in the chair, supposed to be watching the movie with you and Logan. You quickly grab Logan's hand away from where it was about to slide up your skirt, and sit up with a deep blush. Logan had promised to spend more time with Remy, you wanted them to be good friends. They were already casual friends long before you knew either one, but you wanted them to be closer. Remy was your family, the person other than Logan you spent the most time with. You had other friends now, Rogue and Ororo, and you and Emma had even begun to hang out, but Remy was your number one. He was the only person other than Logan and Charles you'd told about your past in full, although you suspected Scott knew from Charles.

Logan sat up with you, but didn't let you go, instead sitting you between his legs on his lap. His hands stayed far more decent now.

"Sorry..." You mumble, but Remy is smiling.

"Don't worry pistache, I'm just happy to see you finally together."

You tried to focus more on the movie, and not Logan's throbbing erection still nuzzled against you and how you were going to take care of it later. Everything was going fairly well. Logan slept in your room most nights, but sometimes you'd wake up to find him gone. Those were nights he had nightmares, so he got up and went back to sleep in his own room. If he was in a bad headspace he'd sleep away from you too, to not risk hurting you again.

Your nightmares, however, would not stop. Nearly every night you woke up in Logan's arms as he tried to gently wake you, the horrors of what you dreamed of still sharp and brutal in your mind. You couldn't understand why they hadn't stopped, why Logan's faded to less and less while yours increased. You were supposed to be in love. your happy ending with a husband and a baby... so where was the happy?

"Well, well, well, look who finally escaped the throuple from hell." From the doorway of the common room, and glib voice pulled everyone's attention to were Wade stood. You'd never met him, but you'd seen a few pictures here and there. He was someone Logan actually liked, and in his very minimalist decor of his room, there was a small framed picture of him and Wade Wilson together. Next to it now sat a picture from your first ultrasound.

"Shit, Wade" You can here the smile in logan's voice. "I didn't know you were coming."

Still grinning, Wade shrugged. "Yeah, well, I might have caused a few issues with the Time Variant Authority. Gross misuse of a time traveling device to save my girlfriend and all that. Gonna lay low for a bit, figured I'd come see you and my favorite piece of Cajun spiced ass."

Remy got up from his chair to greet Wade in a big hug. "Nice to see you too, asshole."

Logan spoke again. "I'd get up to say hi, but I'm pretty sure my dick would be saying hi too."

"Logan!" You admonish, face burning in embarrassment as your lover whispered a half-hearted apology in your ear.

"Oh-ho-ho, trust me peanut I would not be complaining." Wade looked to you. "And just who is this pretty piece of pumpkin pie?"

"Watch it, mouth." Logan growled behind you. "She's mine." Him calling you his made you warm up even more, as if the display every single morning as he walked you to class didn't say that enough.

"I see that!" Wade is nearly chuckling, a twinkle in his eye. Logan went to Wade's right after Jean chose Scott over him, so Wade was very aware of everything he'd been through. No doubt he was happy to see his friend in a better position. "No more crawling back to Jean and Scott like a lost wolvie?"

"I never fucked Scott you goddamn twink"

"Sure you didn't." Wade lifted himself off where he leaned against the wall, walking towards where you sat. You were raised to be polite, so much to Logan's grumbling you stood up. Logan covered his pants with the blanket. "Wade Wilson." He extended his hand. "And you are?"

"Judith Palmer." You gave him your fake name.

"My fiancé." Logan asserts from the couch.

With the blanket off, your pregnant stomach was on full display, and Wade's eyes nearly bugged out of his head looking at you.

"Good golly miss molly, she sure as hell is! Fucking hell, I've been in need of a good tea spill sesh, this is just the right time." A deep breath and a dreamy sigh, Wade looked between you, Logan, and Remy as he crossed his arms, grinning. "So tell me, how did all this happen?"

Sorry it took so long to update!!!! I've been, frankly, very sick. If you havnt seen my posts, I spent one weekend literally friday to monday laid up, so lethargic i couldn't lift my arms sometimes. I have an amazing roommate whose in nursing school who i love dearly who took care of me.

two weeks later im still sick. Not lethargic and feverish but bronchitis now :( suffering.

And i still have school to catch up on.

but i finally got a better laptop thanks to black friday sales which has made doing stuff fast without lagging and crashing unexpectedly.

so, WELCOME WADE WILSON!!!!!!

And scott, poor scott. I've been telling my friend whose not a fanfiction reader about this series and shes been helping me with things, she says the fact that scott is the only one who sees something is wrong and no one is listening to him is "biblically accurate scott summers" LMFAOOOO

We're probs not gonna meet all the xmen, even the ones i actually know. Idk if we'll even see kurt again. but they are around! scott, remy, and wade will be the biggest piece.

thanks so much for all the love!!!

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia @new-genesis1000 @teaganthemorningstarr @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight

[a1ecmcdowell]

on the outskirts of the good morning america! stage stand two men far too big for the aprons being tied around their waists. one has a cigarette in his teeth, the other has a joint, and neither look at each other. it’s already too much that they have them standing right next to each other to walk out together; why the hell would they push it?

“looks great, sweetheart,” ben says to the assistant adjusting the frilly deep red fabric around his waist, straightening the spelt letters on them. most wonderful. as if he needed any more fuel to the fire that was his ego.

cole got time of the year. they're supposed to go onto that stage, stand close enough for people to read their cheesy aprons as a full sentence, and present a united front. no, america, these guys do not hate each other — look, they're having the most wonderful time of the year.

who's idea was it to turn this sentence into matching aprons, anyways? ben got a compliment and cole got a time on a calendar.

cole scoffs. ben snorts. as much as he loathes to admit it ever, ben knew cole pretty well, tended to know where his head was at. "and don't you just look darlin'."

"fuck off."

one of the vought higher ups shoots him a stern look. "get it all out of your system before you walk onto that stage," she scolds, nearly a foot shorter than the both of them but with far more fire than either, "because you will not blow this for yourselves, or for vought."

"my reputation is not bankin' on a pussy little talk show about making sugar cookies, madison," her name was madison, apparently, and ben says it with enough conviction that cole thinks they've had conversations like this before, "and puttin' me out there to try and save his when i've had to save his ass many—"

"oh, piss off," cole scoffs again, stamping his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. "i've been doing great on my own, this has nothing to do with..." he trails off when he catches madison's eye.

madison's smile hardens into something more sympathetic, like she really, truly, regrets to inform him of what's going to come out of her mouth. "smiling like a serial killer when asked to be gentler in your appearances is not 'doing great,' reaper. it's doing the bare minimum. badly."

ben takes the words as ammunition, loads them up in his throat and fires, with a twinkling grin. "you're the bare minimum and i'm the most wonderful. gonna frame this moment—" he holds his hands up together, and spreads them like he's displaying something other than his eye twitching attitude. "good morning america! — where cole found his true self in goddamn buttercream icing, of all things."

"oh my god." cole turns, grabbing a fistful of ben's frilly, sparkly apron and yanking him by it. "one of these days, someone's gonna knock you down a few pegs, and it's gonna stick. and when it happens, i'll be front row—"

a gentle hand touches cole's elbow, hesitantly. well, this is doing nothing for his rep at all. at least he fucked up the meticulously straightened words on ben's apron. the headset wearing girl who approached the both of them smiles just as forced as every single one of cole's. "you two are on in five."

★ ˚⋆

"now, you'd never be able to tell by lookin' at him, amy," ben starts, placing his hand on cole's shoulder for the thirteenth time in five minutes, "but reaper here loves sugar cookies. dontcha, reap?"

cole started counting at touch six. it's all a game to ben, and cole really, really hates his games. "yep. love 'em."

he should be giving more. but honestly, the only thing in his head is how desperately, how furiously, he wants to snap ben's wrist.

ben pats him on the shoulder again. fourteen. "tell the people how much you love 'em, don't be shy."

he was not being shy, he was being civil. "if you don't get your goddamn hands off of me, ben, i swear to god, i'm breaking every single one of your knuckles."

the soft gasps of the live audience, and the production team falling completely and utterly silent, is the sole indicator that his mic really is as sensitive as they warned him about, and he ignored.

"it's okay!" the host, amy, says quickly, her smile forced and so damn jolly for it being seven in the morning. "we'll... censor it."

that was the worst thing that anyone could have said to them.

the first batch of cookies was already done, pretend baked in the oven when it'd been sitting right in front of them under the counter the whole time, so when ben picked up the remaining ball of cookie dough and threw it at cole, everything fell apart rather quickly.

"did you just f*cking-" cole shoves his hand into the bag of flour, throwing the handful of powder at ben. "don't be a f***ing c*nt."

ben's cackling, white staining the entire front of his glittery red apron in splotches. "batter's up!" flour puffs in his face as cole throws another, dust dancing in front of his laughing expression. "get it? the g*ddamn batter's- well, it's down now, actually."

"shut the hell up."

"um, hey guys," amy says from behind them, flour all over her maroon long sleeve from being caught in the crossfire, "maybe we should... not do this."

they've never listened to anyone in their lives, but especially now, when they're stronger than anyone else in the universe.

"hey, he copped an attitude with me, sweetcheeks," ben says, snatching a cookie off of the tray in front of him, flinging it like a frisbee. "i'm just defending myself."

"well, maybe-"

"defending yourself? so you feel threatened... by flour," cole says, laughing incredulously. "oh! i know why. givin' you flashbacks, isn't it? looks a little too much like c*caine... poor baby."

ben's eyes flash. "watch your f*cking mouth."

"go on, soldier boy! tell the audience how much you love sugar cookies!" cole grabs another handful of flour, blowing it in a poof in front of ben's face. "all that white powder on top... g*ddamn, no wonder you wanted to do this show so badly!"

ben dips his hand into the red icing in front of him, slapping the wad across cole's cheek. the smack sound is so much more pronounced with the buttercream on his palm, and cole can't help it. as much as he wants to be angry, to maybe light the whole room up if it meant incinerating ben, he laughs heartily. "did you just f*cking slap me with buttercream?"

"alright," amy announces over the sound of cole's laughter, and ben's spluttering of it, too, through his defensive words. "i'll be back after this short commercial break."

behind the curtains, madison has her head in her hands. on the stage, ben's swiping his finger across cole's cheek and shoving the icing laden digit between his lips. "pretty damn good," he mumbles gruffly, a twitch of a hesitant smile on his mouth.

most wonderful time of the year indeed.

notes, oh u guys this was so so fun thank u to everyone who convinced me to write it PLSORDLSJ I <3 CHRISTMAS DRABBLES

tags, @jasvtsc @deanswidow @ultravi0lence14 @ostaramoon

[somebluemelodies]

▯▯/▯▯/20▯▯

OFFICIAL FEDERATION LOG

It would appear there has been a compromise in the Federation.

Several important documents regarding Cellbit ▮▮▮▮▮▮, Roier Brown de Luque, and their respective alter-egos have been stolen from the Federation facilitation. It should also be noted that both ▮▮▮▮▮▮ and Brown de Luque have been in the wind since ▯▯/▯▯, and no one has been able to trace their location, including Agent Bluebird.

According to CCTV footage, ▮▮▮▮▮▮ and Brown de Luque were last seen in an elevator at the west end of the facility, presumably heading down towards the basement. However, this is the last-known footage of them we have, as the majority of the cameras in the basement were found to be blocked off by a silky substance similar to that of Brown de Luque's webs.

This can also be backed up by traces of data interference in the keycard logs. It would appear the data cannot be recovered by even our most advanced technicians, but it can be safely assumed that ▮▮▮▮▮▮ used his keycard to enter the archive room that our files have been stolen from.

We believe the effects of both ▮▮▮▮▮▮ and Brown de Luque's procedures have been undone, although the how and why of the undoing is unknown. Dr. ▮▮▮▮▮ believes the documents may have something to do with it, although I have a hard time fully believing just those documents could fully reinstate their memories.

▮▮▮▮▮▮ and Brown de Luque were not separated and monitored as well as they should have been. I believe this to be a catalyst for recent events.

Dr. ▮▮▮▮▮ and Dr. ▮▮▮▮ have placed themselves in charge of searching for ▮▮▮▮▮▮ and Brown de Luque and tracking their whereabouts. I am to be one of their lead assistants in doing so, although I have yet to be informed of what will happen should ▮▮▮▮▮▮ and Brown de Luque reenter Federation custody. This is exclusive information between the Drs, do not request it.

The Drs have informed that they have a plan, however - one that will result in no more future compromises, and will ultimately ensure the Federation's state of perfection.

Should this plan be successful, all traces of Paradox will be completely wiped from public mind and record, and any information regarding this alter-ego will be kept with Dr. ▮▮▮▮ rather than the facility archives. There will be no more backlash from Detective ▮▮▮▮▮▮ or Spider-Man.

As this log is being recorded, Dr. ▮▮▮▮ is discussing with Agent Bluebird the subject of tracking ▮▮▮▮▮▮ and Brown de Luque's location. We believe she will be a crucial element in this search.

Word of this search does not extend past the facility. Answer no public commentary on the whereabouts of Detective ▮▮▮▮▮▮ or Spider-Man if questions begin to arise. Leave it to the Drs and other higher-ups to handle accordingly.

Agent 18 [ WB18 ]

[caeslxys]

Something I think is extremely interesting thematically when it comes to connecting what Downfall and the ideas it tackled to the overarching narrative of campaign three is that the things Downfall made a point to showcase of Aeor—Cassida, Hallis, the visual of an aeormaton proposing to her partner, the specific and intentional decision to shed light on a far from insignificant amount of the population being civilians or refugees—is that it plays in perfect parallel across from what is happening (and, really, has been happening) to the ruidusborn on Exandria in present.

Bear with me for a moment. Aeor is ultimately a city that was collectively punished for the decisions of its leadership. We could (and, judging by the amount of discourse around this particular topic already, probably will) argue about what the Gods’ motivation for all of this was—whether it be that they could not, in the end, bear to kill their siblings or that they were terrified at the prospect of mortality—for me it is a very healthy dose of both—but for this I am much more interested in the latter. They were scared. That, really, is the driving force behind both this arc and their role in c3 as a whole.

Why I point this out is: It is far more interesting to me, especially as we go back to Bells Hells this week, to dissect the Gods and their decisions not purely on sympathetic motivation alone but as beings in the highest seat of power in the highest social class in Exandria.

So, having established that the Gods (in relation to mortals) are more a higher social class than anything we could compare to our real life understanding of divinity and that Aeor was eviscerated largely because of their fear—what is the difference between those innocents in Aeor caught in the trappings of their autocratic government leadership and a divine war on the ground, and those of the ruidusborn being manipulated both by Ludinus and by the very thing that inspired such visceral fear in the Gods to start with. I would argue very little.

I think of Cassida, doing what she genuinely thought was right and good and would save people, her son, and the object of her worship—and how that did not matter enough to any of them to spare her because of the fear they held at the very concept of mortality. I think of Liliana and Imogen, one of which we know begged for the gods to help her or send her a sign for years on years, and how every single one of their largest struggles could have been avoided had the gods loved them, their supposed children, as much as they feared what they could be. I think of how the thing that did save Imogen, in the end, was a woman who herself existed in direct defiance of the gods will. I think of that young boy, sixteen years old, that Laudna exalted on Ruidus.

I think it’s completely fair to judge Aeor’s overall society as deeply corrupt—it was!—but its leadership and police force are not a reflection of every one of its citizens. Similarly, it is fair to judge the Ruby Vanguard as corrupt—it is!—but its multiple heads of leadership and even the god-eater further are not a reflection of every one of its members.

Notably, and what I think the Hells will latch onto, this did not matter to the Gods. It did not matter that Cassida was trying to help. She was still too much of a risk. Will it matter, what Imogen does? Will it matter, if that young boy is in the blast radius when they decide to take no further chances?

I’ve seen a lot of people say that the Hells will side with the gods and I don’t think I agree. Especially as Imogen has been scolded and villainized over and over for daring to try and save her mother—who herself has been seen by some as an irredeemable evil in spite of her drive being the exact same—her family—but when it’s the Gods it’s justified? When it’s the Gods, it’s sympathetic? Too sympathetic to criticize further than “they’re family”?

I obviously do not think the Gods should die or be eaten or what have you, and I certainly don’t agree with Ludinus (though I find him much more compelling than just a variation of hubris wizard), but when talking about the Gods in Aeor and in present it isn’t really at all about their motivation or their family. It can’t be. Too many people, including our active protagonists, lives have been effected for it to be as cut and dry as “they’re family”. These are your children. They are your family, too.

[blujayonthewing]

SUPREMELY frustrating that we found something actually really cool and intriguing and plot relevant in tonight's session but I'm still so constantly preoccupied with whether the DM is going to 100% kill us with sheer poor game design that I barely have enough brainspace left over to even enjoy it

[leapinarmadillo]

ohhhh. i forgot that people used to say michael was getting surgeries in order to look like diana ross. ugh. i don't think there's anything to that but............ugh.

[yesplsnothankyou]

I only come on tumblr when I'm at the very end of my rope and barely hanging on by a quickly disintegrating thread and I don't know what that tells you about me

[deviousdiesel]

.

[keeps-ache]

i have two youtube accounts open as well as youtube music and each of them have a different playlist open and each playlist has like the same song in them that i keep replaying but in a different playlist

[neverendingford]

.

[mental-skillness]

"This is gonna be my last pack for sure. I'm gonna taper myself off," i say, three days before i get someone to buy me a second pack

[sunni-stuff]

Everything changed when that pregnancy test read positive.

The day you fumbled into his office, bearing what you thought to be bad news, John's excited face threw you for a loop.

Wasn't he supposed to be upset? Tell you that he didn't want to have a kid with someone he didn't fully care about? Why was he crying? Why did he embrace you so tenderly?

"I'll be there for both of you, Dovie," Price reassures in the nook of your neck, arms caging you against his chest.

Take care of both of you.

Both?

"M-Mr. Price, with all due respect—"

Price cuts off your protests. He leads you out of his office. His large hand grips your waist more possessively. "Go rest your feet up in the lounge; I'll take care of everything." His lips press to the crown of your head, ushering you away gently at the reception entrance.

You were supposed to have one fun night, not to be locked in for the rest of your lives.

Your days of working at a desk were replaced with John's house. It was far from the bustling base you had grown used to. The space was warm and homey. Bits of memorabilia were scattered about. Medals adorned the walls, and old photos sat on the shelves.

John said you only have one job now: making yourself at home.

There was so much space that you didn't know where to start or even how to start! It's not like there was a plan for having your boss's child! So much was happening so fast it left you overwhelmed, sitting on his couch with nervous hands. "Mr. Price, I'm really not sure about all this; I mean... what we did was a big mistake, right?"

From upstairs, you hear John laugh. He's been up there all morning, fixing the nursery for your child. He wanted to create a special room for them, saying that his kid deserves nothing but the best. Heavy footsteps announce his presence as he closes the distance between you. Calloused fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look into his ocean eyes. "You don't want this?"

His touch has you melting, words dying on your lips as you get lost in those eyes. God, why did he look at you that way? Churning like laundry, your gut writhes. A violent spin cycle grips your innards, knotting and wrenching them mercilessly. "I never—I never said that; I just think we're taking things too fast, don't you?" The half-hearted mumble escapes your lips, unconvincing even to yourself.

John's expression shifts; his eyebrow raises in slight scrutiny. "If you believed that, you wouldn't be here."

He's right.

"I do-"

He cuts in swiftly, voice firm. "You don't."

John's grasp tightens on your chin. He leans in, eyes intense. Your heart races. His lips brush yours. The kiss—chaste yet electric. A moment suspended in time. Emotions flood through you both, unspoken but palpable. "You have me. Whatever you want is yours, all you have to do is say the word."

John waits, poised for your word. His eyes betray a craving—silent, deep, and raw.

He belongs to you. He's all yours.

Your lips purse in a line, lip caught between your teeth.

Anything you want?

"I don't like the color of the nursey..."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

P1

❥ I wasn't originally gonna do a part 2 but... I really like this one, next fic will be longer, possibly fluff and smut maybe who knows ❥

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Toji calls you pup or puppy sometimes and you've always thought that maybe it had something to do with you being so playful and energetic at times, but those were always just your assumptions. Not a single one of those assumptions was confirmed by Toji, so you took it upon yourself to ask for the truth...

"Toji?" You call, looking up at him from where you sit on his lap.

"Hm?" He hums in response, looking away from the commercial on the TV and down at you.

"Why do you call me pup? Don't get me wrong, it's cute." You smile, feeling the warmth of the seemingly endearing name in your stomach. "But, I wanna know why."

"Mm... do you really wanna know?" You nod, bubbly giggles erupting from your chest in anticipation. You're so excited for this reveal. It's been a mystery for months. "Well, it's because you let out these high pitched, little whimpers, that sound like a puppy when I touch you, sometimes."

Glass shattered. Illusion crumbled.

Your face immediately heats up. "No... No! Really?!" You groan, shifting to lay back in his arms while covering your face in embarrassment.

"Don't be embarrassed, baby. It's cute. You're a sensitive little thing." His hand comes forward to rub your tummy over your shirt.

You huff, an audible hum of annoyance sounding out. "Well, I'm never gonna do it again. I'm just gonna stop. I'm done. Never again."

"You wanna test that out?" He asks, mischievous eyes watching your pouty expression. You nod, accepting the challenge. "Sit on my lap properly, like you were before." You shift back and sit up straight against his chest. He pulls your hands away from your lap. "Keep these here, and don't move them. Understand?" he asks, placing your hands on his thighs. You nod, again, and grip onto them.

His left hand snakes up your shirt, his fingertips teasing the skin of your stomach until goosebumps rise. It goes further up once the goosebumps have spread all over, sliding beneath the cup of your bra to rub your already pebbled nipple. So far you've only let out a couple sighs, so he adds in his other hand. It slips into the front of your shorts and beneath your panties, until his fingers make contact with your slicked up slit.

"Already so wet for me, mama. What happened?"

"It's always like this for you," you say, quietly, suppressing the urge to whimper as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub your clit in such a tediously, slow manner. Your hands part from his thighs and attempt to grab onto his forearms, causing him to immediately pause the movement of the hand that plays with your nipples as well as the one in your pants.

"Hey." His tone is questioning of your actions, but there's the touch of a smirk on his face, like he knew you'd need more than gripping his thighs to keep you from folding so quickly.

"S-Sorry. I'm sorry."

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. "Let's try that again."

Soon enough, those little breaths you released through your nose, became small, quiet whimpers, that you didn't think Toji would hear. He had to correct you so many times about the way you were sliding down his front. Eventually he decided to lift your bra entirely and just wrap his arm around your chest to hold you steady because of how much you were squirming.

"Toji, I'm gonna..." A louder whimper comes out, effectively bringing a victorious smirk onto Toji's face. He heard those quieter ones, but he didn't count them for your sake. You're his baby, after all.

He speeds up the movement of his fingers, his rough pads adding delicious friction to your sensitive clit. You tense in his hold when your orgasm hits, plenty of moans and those pet name earning whimpers, flooding out.

"There you go, puppy," he purrs, into your neck, slowing his strokes to not overstimulate you so fast. You grab onto the arm that's secured at your chest, your nails digging into his skin through the pleasure. He doesn't stop because you've already proven his point and he sees no reason to punish you anymore.

A few seconds pass and those whimpers return, accompanied by your thighs shutting around his hand. You curl up a little, holding on tight to his arm.

"Had enough?" He asks, stilling his hand between your legs.

"Mhm, no more," you mumble, sounding defeated after thinking back to the sounds you made and how this backfired entirely.

He pulls his hands out from your clothes and wraps his arms around you. "So pup and puppy are fair game?"

You sigh, and reluctantly nod.

[probablybadrpgideas]

Number of Goblins, ranked

One Goblin - That's just a goblin. He's probably just getting his groceries or something. Leave him alone, you asshole.

Ten Goblins -- That's a fairly normal amount of goblins. There's generally around ten goblins in any given situations. They're just here for aesthetic, so you know it's a fantasy world. Remember to tip them when you leave.

One Hundred Goblins -- Ok this is too many goblins, but this is a reasonable amount of too many goblins. Like, this is maybe an army of goblins or something? My point is that they're probably here for a good reason. Best not to mess with them, they're likely load-bearing in some way.

One Thousand Goblins -- This is probably a goblin town, in which case this is really more a case of One Human, which is a completely different list only available on goblintube. If not, all these goblins are lost. Return them to the goblin town. The orcs are worried.

One Million Goblins -- A million goblins? I'm not sure I've even seen a million things in my life , and now there's a million goblins? That's, like, all the goblins. Why are you at a convention of all the goblins? Are you a goblin? Actually, no, that would make sense. Yeah, that's probably what's going on here. Sorry you had to find out this way.

One Billion Goblins -- Ok, look, at this point you have clearly been sent to a future time where humanity is extinct and goblins have inherited the earth. I can think of no other explanation for a billion goblins. This sadly means that you're the weirdo, and you have to go be a cryptid now. At least you can find a phone and read the goblin creepypastas about you.

One Trillion Goblins -- How? What is happening? This is more goblins then there are birds, and they'll all in your house? How is your house this big? Wait, forget the goblins, how is your house this big? Are the goblins here to guillotine you? Probably! Move out of your stupid mansion and let the goblins have it, you weird rich bird-hoarding freak.

One Quadrillion Goblins -- One quadrillion? I'm only like 80% sure that's even a real number! Luckily, you won't have to deal with a quadrillion goblins for long, because soon they'll collapse together under their gravity, forming a far more manageable single planet-sized goblin. Picard's not gonna be happy about this one!

More Goblins -- Fuck off, you do not have more then a quadrillion goblins. Why are you lying? Are you worried I won't like you if you don't claim to have an implausible number of goblins? Don't worry. Your worth is not dependent on your goblin numbers. Go back to the actual number of goblins secure in the fact I love you, no matter how few goblins you have <3