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sebbys-cinema · 1 month ago

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“Spectacular give me 14 of em right now”

👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

under pressure

declan o'hara x f!reader

A/N: is this how I imagined returning to my little corner of the internet? No, but I'm not mad about it. Look at him. I've been in love with him ever since he showed up uninvited at Bilbo Baggins front door. It's been a hot minute since I've written smut angels, so this may be a mess - be gentle with me as I somewhat work my way back into my old groove lmao. And as always, enjoy!

Word count: a bit over 1.7k I believe

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY: a deep and sloppy blowjob. The man fucking needs one. Also swearing, brief mentions of oral (f rec) and edging, masturbation (f), dirty talk, praise kink - having this man murmur these words to me would be my entire physical, mental, emotional and spiritual undoing I swear to god. Not really proof read so YOLO I guess.

His gruff answer through the closed food of his study is exactly what you expect. Not Now. Now now, he says. Not now, not an hour ago, not even two hours ago… not at all today, it seems. He’d been locked away since breakfast, and quite frankly, you’d had enough.

You open the door with a scowl. “Yes now.”

Declan sighs, pen dropping to the papers strewn across his desk as he rubs tiredly at his eyes. “Love—”

“I’m not here to harass you,” you soothe, stepping into the study and closing the door firmly behind you, “I know you’re busy. I’m here to help.”

He frowns at you, watching you walk your way deeper into the room and around his desk. He doesn’t have time for this. God, he’d hang the fucking moon and stars for you but right now? Not a good time. Not with everything happening with Ventura, with Tony fucking Baddingham…

“Help? I appreciate the thought, but this isn’t really your forte—”

“Not the kind of help I was offering.”

One look into your eyes and he thinks maybe he has five minutes to spare. Five minutes of those lips, that body, and that fucking space between your legs that seems to forever have his fucking head in a spin. All the times he’d wake with the taste of your cunt still lingering on his top lip, the very essence of you soaked so far into his moustache he’d smell you throughout the day…

Shit. Maybe ten minutes.

He reaches for you, hands already fisting and tugging at the cosy knit jumper snugly hugging your frame and the flowy cotton summer dress beneath it. You laugh softly, fingers wrapping around his wrists and halting his attempts to find a way under your clothes. He pauses, staring up at you as if you’ve just slapped him right across his handsome face.

“I’m here for you, Declan.”

He groans deeply, face pressing into your stomach and letting his voice melt into the material. “Please, love. All I want is to sit you on this desk and lose myself in you.”

“And have me make a mess all over your hard work? Do you really think that’s practical, darling?”

“Fuck practicality.”

“No, I don’t think so. Now back,” you reinforce your demand with a shove to his chest, the old chair creaking under the sudden shift of weight, “and relax, alright? You’re in good hands here, Mr O’Hara.”

He watches as you slip down onto your knees between his legs, tongue sweeping along his lower lip as you reach for his belt.

“I promise not to take up too much of your time,” you tease, fingers nimble as they pull at his trousers.

He doesn’t help you wrangle denim out of the way, simply content with watching you paw at him until you get what you want. You always get what you want in the end. He can’t find it within himself to be irritated by it at this moment, not when your warm fingers finally wrap around his cock and send pulses of heat to stir in the pit of his stomach.

Time? He doesn't give a shit about that anymore.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and you can have as much time as you like.”

Research could wait, or maybe he could pass time doing research of a different sort. How many times could he make you finish with his fingers? Mouth?

How many times could he drag you to the edge, promising a sharp drop into ecstasy, only to pull away before the inevitable descent? The only problem he’d have was not giving into your hoarse pleas, begging for more. A few harsh cries of his name and he’d do anything you asked of him—

“Fuck, love.”

The hot encompass of your mouth over his steadily hardening cock steals whatever thoughts he had left swirling in his mind, and his head falls back to rest on the chair with a light thud. You fight a smile as he melts under your touch, wet tongue soft and soothing as you run it over salty skin.

He hardens fully in the heat of your mouth, lips now straining around the solid thickness of him as his cock slides back and forth in between them.

“How fuckin’ wet are you right now?” He rumbles deeply, his fingers gentle as they stroke along your cheek and to where your lips stretch around him. “I bet you’re fuckin’ soaked, just from having my cock in your mouth.”

You are, and he damn well knows it.

Humming lightly, your tongue drags against hardened flesh until his cock softly pops out from between your lips. “Maybe I’ll let you find out.”

A slight tug of a smirk stretches beneath his moustache, and your body practically thrums under his heavy lidded stare. “Oh, I’ll be findin’ out, love. Don’t you worry about that. Now open your mouth, take me all the way—show me how good you are.”

Yes, sir.

Taking him back between your lips, you slicken his skin with another teasing stroke of tongue before taking him deeper and deeper, until you start to feel the push of resistance at the back of your mouth.

A large hand curls around the back of your head to goad you on, your cunt tightening at the firm pressure of it. You fight the first wave of a gag, swallowing thickly around him and digging your fingers into the worn denim covering his thighs in an effort to ground yourself.

“Just a little more, love. That’s it, attagirl. Just like that. Relax, open up for me.”

It’s a struggle, his thick cock throbbing heavily and uncomfortable in your throat, but the more he rumbles away with those pretty little words of encouragement and you don’t care.

You don’t care that tears begin to build and spill from your eyes, tracking hot streams down your cheeks. You don’t care that your lungs are burning, that you’re on the verge of retching from the solid intrusion.

All you care about is the way he watches you take it all, eyes heavy and chest heaving. All you care about is getting that last bit of tension out of his shoulders, about making him proud. You want to be the one to break him, to have Declan O’Hara shatter and fall apart at your touch.

“Such a pretty little thing you are,” he murmurs, his rough thumb brushing along your cheek and smearing your tears over your skin. “Breathe, sweetheart. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, always so good t’me.”

Oxygen floods your lungs when you pull back enough on his cock to inhale sharply, eyes fluttering closed as the large hand steadying your head turns to a more guiding approach, fingers digging into your scalp as he pulls and pushes your face against him as he wishes.

Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth from the relentless press of his cock meeting the back of your throat, spilling from your lips and sliding down your chin in a messy trail. He doesn’t seem to care in the slightest that you’re making a mess, eyes dark and zeroed in on the way his cock disappears between your plush wet lips.

“Just a little more, love. Just a… oh, fuck. You’re so fuckin’ good, so good—”

Your brows pinch together with an effort to stay composed, to not let the utter fire consuming your body distract you from why you came here in the first place. You can’t help that your body is so damn responsive to every little thing this man does and says to you.

The long soaked fabric of your underwear sticks to your weeping cunt, walls fluttering around the disappointing feel of nothing, and clit throbbing with the need for just a little bit of attention from either you or the man fucking your mouth.

A slight shift and you’re able to drag one of your hands away from his thigh and under the hem of your dress, fingers soft and soon slick as soon as they dive under the thin cotton and swipe eagerly through your slit. You waste no time running the pads of your fingers over your swollen clit, circling again and again until you couldn’t help but slide one, and then two, fingers deep into your hot cunt and curling.

He catches the twist of your features, the way a hand is suddenly missing from his leg and he groans softly at the idea of you needing to touch yourself while sucking him off. He's watched you plenty of times, knows exactly what you like and how you look giving yourself everything you need.

Another choked moan falls from your throat and he’s fucking desperate for it.

“Give me your hand,” he orders hoarsely. His eyes narrow at the remaining hand you lift from his thigh, and his head tilts towards you. “Not that one, your other one.”

You whine softly around his cock in vague disappointment as you slide your wet fingers from your cunt, attempting to keep your pace bobbing your head up and down his thick length as he all but snatches your wrist.

His lips wrap around the two fingers glistening in the sunlight pouring in from the window and he groans deeply around the length of them, the sweet tangy taste of your cunt settling right into his taste buds and dragging him right up and over the fucking edge.

He erupts thickly on your tongue, sharp salty cum filling your mouth and spilling from your lips as you desperately try to swallow him down. Your tongue catches and swipes up what cum remains on his now softening cock, his hips jolting and jerking with every teasing lick and soft suck you give to his sensitive flesh.

You pull away with a playful smile, your hand still caught up and now intertwined with his as his chest heaves from the aftermath. His eyes open after a moment to find you, the edge in his expression now softened.

“Feel better?”

“Not yet,” he breathes before swiping a hand across his desk, the flutter and slap of paper and files hitting the floor soon following. His hand taps the now vacant surface of the desk twice, his head briefly nodding to the space made for you, “but I will after this—get up.”

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sebbys-cinema · 2 months ago

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YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

Love this 😭😭😭😭😭

Half-Celebration

Fandom: Rivals

Pairing: Tony Baddingham x Reader

Summary: You just upped the ratings, and you feel absolutely amazing about it, in a high of power and confidence. And while you celebrate with Tony, a slight dominant streak comes to your mind. OS

Warnings: Smut, fem!reader (but no she/her pronouns), cunnilingus, semi-public sex, grinding, making out.

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: hey everyone! I hope you enjoy it! If you have any requests, I'm willing to try, and obviously, any constructive criticism is welcomed! <3 Also, I apologise in advance, English is NOT my first language. It's an os, but if you want a second part, tell me! Lots of love 🫶🏻

Tony allows himself to let out a slight grunt of victory, at the latest report of ratings.

Fucking hell, the ratings are high.

He lights himself a cigar, taking a long, and according to him well-deserved, drag. The lord smirks to himself, thinking of the person behind those sudden surge of success.

His brand new producer. His new jewel, basically. Discovered in another country, and now working for him in Corinium… She was being sensational. Full of ideas, spectacular, brand new, thrilling.

And god, did he enjoy watching her make phone calls, walk around his company, like she owned the bloody place. She knew her worth. She knew she was essential, and became an element that Tony couldn’t just get rid off.

In multiple ways than one….

—

Up in your office, there you were, focused on the new report that just got sent in to everyone. You looked at the numbers, quickly analysing the ratings, and calculating the percentages you, once again, added.

You smirked to yourself. You did a fucking amazing job.

You couldn’t care less about the negative criticisms. Those who looked down on you for your important position, or the ones that accused you of getting that leather chair, only by “giving one to the boss”.

Sure, you had indeed given Tony multiples. But was it the only reason why you were in that fancy leather chair? Hell no.

You were smart, capable, organised, and you knew your worth. All that you did for this company, the hard work, the over time, the multiple risks… It was finally paying off.

And you couldn’t be prouder. You knew you were in for a special celebration tonight, up in your place, but you could not wait. A part of you wanted, even craved, to see that smug smirk of his, with the proud glint in his eyes. Of course, while he’d be “proud of you”, you knew he was mostly congratulating himself for hiring you.

But did you care? Not really, not when his inflated ego, stroked in the right way, would make your eyes roll, and your legs shake.

So, you continued your journey to his office, avoiding the other coworkers, focusing on the door of his office, the sound of your bright red kitten heels resonating on the wooden floor.

Without knocking, you enter his office, a little smirk on your lips. You usually knocked, he enjoyed respect, but you were both in a nice enough mood to get over this.

Tony looked at you, standing at the door frame, smoking his cigar, a celebratory one, perhaps. You step inside his office, closing the door and shutting the blinds, as he smirks at you.

“You’re getting the fuck of a lifetime, tonight, you know that?”

He declared cockily, a hint of excitement in his low voice.

You smirk back at him, tilting your head, feigning contempt.

“...I figured. With ratings this high, I might as well get that new watch I desperately wanted.”

You propose, lips pursed.

He snickered, shaking his head, putting his cigar back in the ashtray. He gestures to you with his finger to come closer to him, and feeling playful, you oblige.

“We’ll see about that, starlet. For now…How about a little celebration here, hmm?”

He asks you, his eyebrow raised. You purse your lips. The door was closed and locked, the blinds were shut… This was a special day, why not try out something risky?

Being risky had always gotten you places, anyway.

You bite your lower lip, getting closer to his slumped shape, on his huge leather seat. In a breath, you walk closer again, your knee grazing his, slightly spreading his thighs, cladded by his fancy Armani suit.

“...A celebration?”

You murmur, your eyes clouding with want and desire. He smirks, nodding, his large hand grabbing the back of your thigh, right under your left cheek, pulling you closer to him.

For once in your dynamic, you looked down to him. And you smirked. God… even if it was only literally, and never in actual power dynamics, did it feel good to look at him from above. It felt… exhilarating.

“You look good under me.”

You murmur, in an attempt to shift things up.

His smirk doesn’t leave his lips, and his brown eyes glint in amusement.

Cute.

Was clearly the word going through his mind at your attempt. Will he ever take you seriously? You doubted so. Would you still keep on pushing him, and pushing him, until you reached that stage, where he could only look at you in awe, other than when you rode him?

Definitely so.

You promised yourself so. That one day, this bastard that you found, to your utter dismay, way too attractive, would look at you with the same reluctant respect, almost fear, as he did with Rupert Campbell-Black.

Finally, you snap, and climb on his lap, your knees resting on the leather, on either side of his hips, as you captured his lips with yours.

He eagerly grabbed you, his hands going to your hair, gripping on them, as his chapped and thin lips harshly responded, moving against yours, little grunts escaping his mouth.

“Hmm… Eager much?”

He grunted, his hands sliding down your back, to go and and cup your arse firmly, as you held back a gasp, at the firm touch.

Eager? Of course you were bloody eager… not like he couldn’t tell. Yet, you were power-hungry, with those new ratings. Fuck, you were the it thing, lately!

You grabbed his tie, pulling him closer, as your mouth moved more fervently against his.

He let out another groan, as his hands pulled up your skirt, exposing your backside to the air of his office, his calloused hands going to cup your flesh, patting the skin.

Your hips jerked involuntarily at the little pat, and you scoffed again.

He pulled away, smirking at you. He knew how to win you over, he knew what to do to dominate you.

Yet, you persisted.

Not today.

Unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his tie, you attacked his neck, going against a rule of his.

He didn’t want any hickeys, he couldn’t have it noticed by his wife.

And as his nails dug into the flesh of your arse, as a warning, you looked up to him, almost in a glare.

“...Shut the fuck up. It’s my celebration. I’ll do what I want. If you have a problem, go see the makeup artist.”

You snapped, before attacking his neck again.

Tony grunted, his head thrown back, as his other hand gripped your hair tighter.

“You little-”

He started, but you interrupted him by grinding your hips against his, making him stop his sentence, a moan taking over. Strangely enough, grinding was a guilty pleasure of his.

After a bit of snogging, looking like two hormonal young adults, you pulled away, sitting on his desk, legs spread apart, like a feast for him to devour.

And he seemed to share that thought, due to the look on his face.

But as he approached his goal, his face eager, ready to devour you and reduce you to a whining mess, you stopped him.

Your red heel, on his forehead.

He froze slightly against it, not expecting it. But you spoke up.

“Let’s make this clear. You’re about to eat me out, yes. Perhaps as a way to make me submit again, and to have me on my knees in about two minutes, since you're always so sloppy with this.”

You start, as he was still frozen against your heel.

“But…Today, I’ve upped our ratings, since last month, by fifty five percent. In one month. Ever had that? Don’t think so. So right now, right here, I’ll be getting a proper head. And you better pour your heart into it, or else I’ll find another mouth to get it.”

You finish, looking at him, an eyebrow raised, putting in all the confidence you have of.

He looks at you, stunned. Tony is ready to retort. Ready to say he could kick you out your condo, if you saw another man. That you’d just take what he’d give you.

But as he looked up at you, his boner grew again. God… Did you look… fierce. Powerful. Like a fucking goddess.

He had made it. Turned you into that, in his opinion at least. While to you… He just happened to guide you slightly, during your breakthrough.

But in response to your sudden dominant streak, he smirked. For once… he’d indulge.

He gripped your thighs tighter, bringing your hips and pelvis closer to his face, before playfully retorting:

“...At your service, Ma’am.”

Your eyes slightly widen, at him finally letting out some control, but as he puts his mouth on you, you realise it's just another one of his twisted plans again. To see if you could handle it. The power, the attitude.

But today was different. You had your proof, that you were a fucking phenomenon.

So, gripping on his desk, you spread your legs wider, letting him feast on you, as you bucked your hips against his face.

You wouldn't hide your pleasure, pretend he did not have any effect on you. Because that wasn’t displaying power.

Displaying power, was owning up to this building pleasure, this sensation in your stomach, and yet… still indulge in it, and let yourself get submerged by all of what you allowed him to do to you.

Not what he could do to you. But what you allowed him to.

At first, he licked a teasing stripe,making you shiver. The tip of his tongue barely grazed your clitoris, before he looked up at you, his eyes shining in mischief and amusement.

He suckled slightly on one of your inner labia, then the other, tasting the natural juice that was slowly oozing out, and making a more primal side of him come out.

But as you heard his grunts, the dominant streak in you got control again, and you put your red heel on his back again, reminding him of his place.

He looked up at you, slightly grunting again, visibly a bit displeased at you still maintaining this attitude.

Eager to see you crumble and give up, his tongue traced a circle around your clit, hoping to see you get impatient and begging.

But you simply gripped his hair, pushing his hair further between your thighs.

Suddenly pleasured by this new sensation of being… dominated? Tony slightly let loose and decided to full on suckle on your clit, his tongue lapping at your taste, his teeth messily grazing your core, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

You let out a gasp of pleasure, before moaning, as he grunted against you, his nose nestled in your bush.

He gripped your thighs harder, suckling harder, his tongue alternating between licking, and teasing your entrance, by tipping the tongue inside.

You felt it, that knot in your stomach, that pressure building up, that arch in your back, pressing for more, urging him, almost ordering him.

He could suffocate between your thighs, and you wouldn’t care. The high was too thrilling.

You pinched your own nipple, desperate for another stimulation, as your throat let out a guttural sound.

Your thighs closed around his face, bringing him deeper, as, also as enthralled as you were, Tony groaned against your core, eagerly pleasing you. You came against his face, your juice staining his nose, mouth, and chin, as your voice almost broke, to the intensity of the orgasm.

Granted, he hadn’t eaten you out very long. But yet… it was different.

It was almost…reverent.

As you pulled away from him, you snickered, seeing his messed up face, and ruffled face.

You looked at the clock, and feigned a gasp.

“Fuck, I forgot… I have a meeting with Declan in two minutes.”

False. But you were going to go see Declan, and make up a new idea for his show, just for pretend.

Tony looked up at you, frowning, confused.

“...Excuse me?”

You smirk, tilting your head.

“Aw, come on. Don’t give me that face. We’ll celebrate tonight, in the intimacy of my flat. For now… I'm busy. Where do you think these ratings come from, hmm?”

You snicker, getting off his desk, fixing your outfit.

Gosh… were you really doing this? Making Tony eat you out, then ditching him, giving him blue balls until tonight?

You looked at your flushed, but glowing self, in the reflection of his window, before realising that… yes.

Yes, you totally were.

Tony scoffed.

“You’re just going to-?”

You interrupted him, raising a hand to his face.

“I’m busy. We’ll have tonight. Don't be such a child, just be patient… don't you have some… class?”

You snickered, shaking your head.

Slightly stunned, Tony frowned slightly, shaking his head, before scoffing again, his cheeks slightly tinted with a blush.

“What do you think I am, an animal? That only sex's on my mind? I have a job too, starlet. Get to work, we’ll finish this tonight.”

He grumbled, visibly trying to regain some composure, despite the obvious bulge in his pants that he was slightly palming.

You smirk, and threw a discreet wink at him, before murmuring.

“If I were you, I'd wipe my mouth. Shouldn’t talk with a mouth full.”

Triumphant, you left his office, leaving him with his frustration and slight awe, eager to discover what more powers you could obtain tonight.

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