#rivals x reader smut

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Forbidden Fruit.

That’s the thing about Declan - he always gets what he wants. It might be wrong… but it feels so right.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. use of the c word. age gap. cheating. declan’s filthy mouth needs its own warning.

word count - 2.3k

authors note - that man is a munch and I cannot be convinced otherwise. my crush on aidan turner has returned tenfold and i’m about to make it everyone’s problem. read declan’s dialogue in that gorgeous irish accent of his for the full experience.

masterlist. inbox.

You’ve fake laughed so much this afternoon that you can’t remember what your real one sounds like.

Finally breaking away from a conversation with Freddie’s wife, you swan across the garden in your sundress towards the food and drink table. You absentmindedly pick at the strawberries, hoping and praying that no one bothers you for a moment. All you need is a minute to yourself, away from all of these faux smiles and boastful exchanges.

Reaching towards a raspberry, you feel fingertips ghosting across your back quickly.

“Y’alright?”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere, of course, and not just because he’s the only Irish man in The Cotswolds.

“Bored out of my mind, actually.”

“You’d never know.”

“I’m a good actress, these days. I’ve done one too many of these stupid garden parties.”

He chuckles all genuine and honeyed, and you’d be lying if you said the sound didn’t settle warmly in your bones.

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

He’s keeping his voice low, inconspicuous. You’ve both turned so you’re looking out over the garden, backs to the table, watching the crowds of people and their gossiping. To anyone else, it looks like an innocent conversation between two acquaintances. They can’t see his hand playing with the hem of your dress behind you, or the way his fingers keep brushing the backs of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

“My boyfriend is coming over. You know that.”

“What time?”

You roll your eyes but answer anyway.

“Nine.”

“So what I’m hearing… is that you’re available from whenever this crap finishes until then?”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“You usually love my stupid ideas.”

“Well maybe I’m trying to be smarter.”

He laughs with his full chest while you fight to keep the grin off your face, shaking your head.

“You’re already the smartest person here. Any smarter and we’re all doomed.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Declan.”

He pauses for a moment, pressing his side into yours and running his thumb across the soft skin of your thigh underneath your dress.

“I think we both know that’s not true, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters as you will yourself to get it together, desperate to not repeatedly give in to his murmured promises and flirty remarks. It’s wrong. You know it is, both of you do, and yet…

“I want you gone by eight at the latest. I don’t need the two of you bumping into each other on my front step.”

He smirks like the cat that got the cream, looking down at you with lust drunk eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Promise to make it worth your while, yeah?”

“You always do,” you breathe out, so quietly that you’re surprised he hears.

He’s about to reply when you’re both startled by Rupert, striding over with the confidence of ten men and a bottle of champagne in his hand.

“Have they run out of glasses, CB?”

He slings an arm around your shoulder, laughing that rich man’s laugh right into your ear.

“Live a little, darling. Walk with me, will you? I have a story that might be worth your time, and I thought I’d bring it to my favourite journalist before anyone else.”

Rupert all but drags you across the garden, already chattering on about a scandal in the local constituency of the Conservative Party. You cast your eyes back to where Declan hasn’t moved, his gaze roving over your figure as you walk away.

He winks cheekily, dirty smirk slapped across his face.

You hate the way it sends electricity running through your veins in anticipation.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s six forty five when there’s a knock on your door.

The devil himself is standing on your front step, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Hi darlin’.”

His accent is like molten honey, golden and warm and laced with sweetness. There’s mischief running through it though - as there always is.

“Come on,” you urge, grabbing his tie and pulling him inside, worried that one of your neighbours will see.

He laughs as he shuts the door behind him, unphased by your urgency.

“Thought you had a meeting. CB was telling me all about it earlier.”

“Rupert would tell you anything,” he chuckles. “He’s got a soft spot for pretty girls.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you giggle, undoing his tie from around his neck and hanging it on your coat rack.

“No. I have a soft spot for one pretty girl.”

“Sweet talker,” you tease as you roll your eyes, undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. “How about you put your money where your mouth is, hmm? We don’t have all night.”

He clicks his tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you against him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush yours. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Less talking,” you scold, grabbing at his biceps to kiss him desperately.

Declan pushes you up against the wall, hips pressing into yours as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and whiskey and those mints he keeps in a tin in his back pocket. He scatters open mouthed kisses across your neck, licking across your skin and sucking the spot underneath your ear.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he mumbles. “Ever since I saw you in this dress.”

“You like it?” you breathe, head rolling to the side to give him more access.

“I fucking love it.”

“Good. Bought it for you.”

He groans, grinding his hips into yours.

“You’re a minx,” he pants, biting at your shoulder. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

With that, Declan wraps his arms around your middle, practically dragging you into the living room to throw you onto the sofa. He pulls your dress over your head, throwing it onto the floor with reckless abandon.

He instantly gets on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs with rough hands.

“Been waitin’ for this cunt all fuckin’ day.”

Your underwear is tugged down and discarded before you can blink, leaving you naked and high on the anticipation of it all. Your lungs are heaving, hands shaking as you will him to do something.

Declan sits back on his haunches, making a show of rolling up his sleeves. He looks so broad and commanding in his blue jeans with his shirt undone. He might be the one on his knees, but he’s definitely still in charge here.

You tangle your fingers into his dark hair and tug, pulling him closer.

“Please, Dec.”

“You sound so beautiful when ya beg.”

He grips your thighs tightly, ensuring they stay apart, as he leans in and presses kisses to any skin he can find.

“Don’t tease.”

“Or what, hmm? What are ya gonna do, sweetheart?”

“Stop it,” you chastise, head dropping back onto the cushions. “Please, baby.”

He chuckles before diving forwards, licking a stripe through your core. He wastes no time, tongue flicking over your clit like he’s done so many times before.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, fingers gripping his hair tightly. “Fuck, Declan.”

You’re convinced he enjoys this just as much as you do. He’ll eat you out for hours, never once expecting something in return - happy to feel you fall apart on his tongue again and again and again.

He knows exactly which spots will have you arching your back, how much pressure to use to have you writhing on the sofa cushions, where to put his hands to push you right over the edge. He can play you like a fiddle, observant and experienced.

His nose nudges your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, messy and wet and completely committed. The grip he has on your thighs is getting tighter and tighter, fingertips bruising your skin. You pray you’ll be able to see the marks when you look in the mirror tomorrow.

You’re teetering on the edge of your release, legs shaking and abdomen tightening. Declan can read you like a book, knowing exactly where you’re at - and taking advantage of it.

Just as you’re about to come, he pulls away and sits back, grinning like a deviant.

“No,” you’re panting. “The fuck are you doing?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his head on your leg. He looks up at you with a gaze that’s half lust and half mischief, biting at his lip as he watches your chest heave.

“What do you want, darlin’?”

You pout at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“Come on, let me hear you say it. I want you to beg me to make you come. Tell me how you’ve been waiting for it all day, sweetheart.”

“I-Declan, I just-”

“Come on smart girl, use that big brain of yours. Why don’t you tell me all about how you think about me when you touch yourself? No - why don’t you tell me how you think about me while he fucks you?”

Your hips buck up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. Declan laughs cruelly, wrapping his arms around your thighs again to pull you to the edge of the sofa, the strength he exerts only turning you on more.

“It’s okay,” he soothes against your core. “You don’t have to tell me. Your dripping wet cunt tells me everything I need to know, darlin.”

All you can do is moan, breathing like you’ve run a marathon. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel is Declan O’Hara.

“If we had the time, I’d edge you some more. Eat you out until you cried. You always look so pretty when you’re crying f’me.”

He finally takes pity on you, curling his tongue inside you as his nose repeatedly bumps against your clit. He’s practically making out with your core, saliva dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa. You can’t bring yourself to care about the mess, more focused on the older man’s mouth and the skills it possesses.

You’re whining, fingernails digging into his scalp as you grasp for something to hold onto. He’s groaning too, having just as much as fun as you are.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how fucking beautiful you look.”

Your back bows off the sofa as you grind against his face, riding out your climax. Your thighs tighten around his head, desperate for him to keep going for as long as possible.

“That’s it. Atta girl. There we go.”

You’re trying to catch your breath as Declan stands up, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his side. His fingers draw patterns on your hips, absentmindedly calming you down as you nestle into him, seeking out his body heat.

You lean up and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth eagerly. He tastes like you, and the realisation makes you whinge.

“Let me return the favour, please,” you whisper against his lips.

“As much as I’d love that, darlin’… we can’t.”

You quirk a brow at him in confusion, his rejection more than unusual.

“It’s twenty past eight.”

“Oh, shit,” you groan, finding your underwear and pulling them up your legs.

“I wish I could stay,” he reassures as he kisses you again sweetly. “You know I do.”

You nod, running your fingers through his sweat soaked locks to move them out of his face.

“Promise I’ll repay you next time.”

“I’ll hold ya to that.”

The phone ringing startles you both, your heart jumping in your chest. You pick it up quickly, wrapping the cord around your finger.

“Hello? How are you? Ah, good. Yes, fine. Alright, I’ll see you then. Yes, see you soon. Mhmm… I can’t wait either.”

You put it down just as quickly as you picked it up, finding your dress from the floor and pulling it over your head.

“That was Patrick. He’s at the train station, about to start the drive back here. He won’t be long.”

“I best get going then,” Declan says as he buttons up his shirt. “Don’t need a family reunion in your living room now, do we?”

You shake your head, scoffing at his attempt at a joke. Walking him to the front door, you press his tie from the coat rack into his hand so he doesn’t forget it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I? You’re coming for lunch at the house?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say as you lean up to kiss him, sighing at the taste of his lips. “I’ll wear that lacy white lingerie under my dress just for you.”

“Great,” he groans. “Now I have to think about my son seeing that on you when it should be me.”

“You might,” you tease, smoothing out his shirt. “There’s a lot of rooms in that house, Declan.”

“You’re a minx.”

He kisses you once more, big hands cradling your face as he pulls you in.

“See ya tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you will.”

You watch him go from your front step, making sure no one sees him leave. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re shutting the door, trying to tidy the living room frantically. You open the windows, lighting a candle and picking up everything that was knocked to the floor in the lust filled frenzy. You’re covering your tracks as best you can, just like you’ve done countless times before.

You don’t need Patrick asking why the room smells like his dad’s aftershave.

You don’t need Patrick asking questions at all.

a little gift for you, as promised…

@do-it-for-kicks @whytheylosttheirminds @laverna-fanfictions @graceflorence

and of course, if you enjoyed this - throw me a little reblog if you so wish… help a girl out… <3

[ladywuvly]

♱ press release (declano’hara x journalist!f!reader)

summary|| Being part of Corinium has always been a dream come true. However, when your boss, Tony Baddingham, brings on board the boisterous Irishman from the city, you realize that your once pleasant workplace is about to change for the worse. wc: 5.5k

warnings|| MDNI; 18+ content, smut, infidelity/cheating, dirty talk+swearing, size kink, fingering/oral/spanking (f!receiving), choking, unprotected sex (p!v), rough sex, bodily fluids (cum), agegap, begging, breeding;

masterlist. socials. recs.

Declan O'hara; an Irishman, determined journalist, cutthroat talk show host, loving father, and devoted husband. 

As well as the most sexy, intelligent man you'd ever met. 

The time you'd spent working at the studio, you'd never met anyone like him. Compared to him, James Vereker looked like a schoolboy, and Sebastian Burrows a child. Declan O'Hara had been more man than anyone you'd met, and it was hard to ignore. 

The way his voice carried around the office. It was earthy, his vowels were long and soft, but there was a flatness that gave it roots. You'd come accustomed to it, echoing around the building the more he tested Lord Baddingham and Cameron Cook. 

It had been New Year's Eve the first time the two of you had spoken. You were leaving early for the day, hoping to get a table at your favorite restaurant before going back to your humble abode. 

You entered the elevator turning around to press the lobby button only to be met with the front of Declan O'hara's chest. 

Taking a quick step back before you crashed straight into him, he crowded your space, pushing you farther into the elevator. 

"Floor." His voice was harsh, as it hummed in your ears. The look on his face was stern and impatient. 

"Excuse me?" You asked in confusion. 

His face relaxed and his voice softened. "Which floor, love?"

oh! "Lobby." You said quickly, stepping to the side, creating more space between the two of you.

The ride down felt awkwardly long, the tension lingering. You anxiously stood next to him. Fixing the strap of the bag slung over your shoulder and adjusting the jacket folded across your arm. 

His gaze, not leaving you as the elevator continued its descent. You definitely could feel the way his eyes shamelessly gawked at your figure. The buttons on your blouse became tighter, and the length of your skirt suddenly felt too short. 

"Declan." His name broke the silence, causing you to look over at him. His hand was stretched out toward you, waiting for your own. 

You hesitated before reaching out, and when your fingers brushed, shocks shot through your hand. You mewled out your name, followed by a "...nice to meet you".

With a nod of his head, you bitterly slipped your hand from his, letting it fall back to your side. 

Casually eyeing you up and down. His gaze raking over you, his eyes seem to betray a mixture of desire and restlessness. 

There was something so enticing about you and the more he looked at you, the more his interest piqued. All this time he'd been working here and he hadn't noticed a woman like you walking around. 

The silence dragged, and he felt the words build on his tongue. "Are you going somewhere?" He asked.

"What?" You answered, surprised he was still speaking to you. 

He chuckled deeply at your tone, leaning his shoulder against the wall, getting closer. His head turned in your direction, his gaze fixed intently upon you. 

"For New Year's, are you going somewhere?" He repeated slowly, his eyes never leaving yours once as he waited for a response. 

The lilt of his voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The Irish was thick and sultry on his tongue, his accent like rolling thunder.

"I was going to dinner." You answered hesitantly, unsure why he was even asking. In the soft light of the elevator, he took in the details of your face, the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fidgeted nervously. 

You were a quiet one, most women he'd come in contact with had done anything to gain his attention. Yet you stayed quiet, reserved, shy. A woman so beautiful, so… alluring, could have easily caught his eye, yet he'd never even noticed you. "Was?"

"I'm afraid I've waited too long, missed the reservation window." You told him, and he chuckled again. That earthy sound that seemed to completely fill the space. 

Taking in a deep breath, you were suddenly encompassed by his scent, a mix of musk, and tobacco, something manly. You'd never known a man to have such a presence, the way he filled the room made you feel so small next to him. 

"Pity." He hummed, the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile, his gaze roaming your face slowly, taking in every fine feature. "You should come by my wife's party tonight, then. She's invited the whole office, you're welcome to join." 

"Thank you, Declan. That's very kind of you." You said quietly, your eyes falling down to the floor. The butterflies in your stomach were fluttering around in a panic. 

Did he just invite you to his house for New Year's?

Your mind was still racing, unsure of how to respond. You had just met the man, but the way he was looking at you made your head feel fuzzy, and you couldn't bring yourself to say no. 

The thought of spending an evening in his presence was both thrilling and terrifying. "Of course..." You stuttered, trying to keep your voice steady. "...I'll try and make it."

As soon as the words left your lips, a satisfied smile spread across his face. "The party starts at eight o'clock." He spoke, tilting his head. 

The elevator dinged loudly, signaling that you'd reached the lobby. The doors opened slowly and Declan stepped out of the lift. "I hope to see you there." His accent seemed to make his words sound almost teasing as he said his farewell, and you felt a blush creep up on your cheeks. 

I hope to see you there…

The words echoed through your mind like a mantra.

The doors started to close, blocking him from sight, and it brought you back to reality. You quickly shot your arm out to stop them from shutting and stepped into the lobby, taking a deep breath. 

The party was in full swing, and you arrived in the midst of it all. It was a typical extravagant upper-class party, the house was lit with an array of colorful, sparkling lights. The house was filled, everywhere you looked there was a person.

You caught glimpses of unfamiliar faces, all blending together into a sea of strangers. You took a moment to look around the room, in search of that familiar head of dark chestnut hair. 

The warm ambiance of the room helped ease the tension in your shoulders, and you couldn't help but hope, looking for any sign of Declan, he wasn't a hard man to miss.

Despite the crowd, it didn't seem like Declan was anywhere to be found. You couldn't help but wonder where he was, the thought of spending the night searching for him made you anxious. 

Across the room, leaning against the wall beside his daughter's, was Declan; his arms crossed over his chest as he scanned the room with a watchful eye. His gaze roamed over your figure shamelessly, taking in the way your dress clung to you. 

Your petite frame, the way your skirt hung around your thighs, the length of your hair. There was a shyness, something timid and he fixated on your body, the way your eyes darted around the room.

A loud commotion caused everyone to turn their heads in the direction of the entrance to the living-room. A woman dressed in a bright green dress entered, riding in on a camel?! 

"Jesus christ." Declan said, the sound of his voice drawing you to him.

He stood a few feet away, dressed handsomely, his dark hair slicked back, and a hint of a five o'clock shadow on his jaw. He was wearing a crisp, tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, and a pair of trousers that hugged his muscular legs. The sight of him was almost intoxicating.

The crowd of guests parted as the woman in the vibrant green dress dismounted from the camel. Cheers erupted throughout the room as she stood there victoriously. You watched as people congratulated and welcomed her. 

Your eyes went to Declan, seeing his gaze had already made it back to you. Standing solely amongst the crowd, looking like a mouse in the center of a lion's den. 

He almost looked embarrassed, Declan could feel his shoulders tense in annoyance, a scoff escaping his lips. He hated when Maud did things like this, rightfully so when he was the one paying for it. It was one thing that had initially attracted Declan to her, but now, it felt like an old pony trick. 

He'd never understood her need for attention. There was no doubt in Declan's mind that this party was more for her than it was for their son. She was thriving off it, soaking up every last bit. He clenched his jaw, frustration building within him. 

The night pressed on. The room slowly returned to its normal pace as people continued with their conversations, drinks in hand. 

The guests now mingling together comfortably, the music softer, more gentle. The lights were dimmer now, allowing for a much more intimate setting. 

Declan, stood among the others, and his eyes caught sight of you once more. 

You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked up underneath you. A soft smile appeared on his face as he watched you, unable to take his eyes away. 

You looked up, your eyes meeting his as he approached. "Having fun?" He asked, his deep voice, gravelly and laced with whiskey. 

He gives you a charming smile as he steps closer, his gaze drifting down your figure, pausing at the low plunge of your dress before returning to your face.

Taking a seat next to you, he leaned back, his body turned towards you; his eyes drifting over your figure. 

A sly smile tugged at his lips as he watched you blush under his intense stare. He chuckled gruffly, finding your reaction endearing. The way you tried to hide your bashfulness, but couldn't help the way your body betrayed you.

He noticed the way you fidgeted nervously. It made his heart swell in his chest. He couldn't help but enjoy the effect he had on you, as your cheeks flushing an attractive shade of pink. 

The tips of your ears burned when you realized just how close he was. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him while resisting the urge to look away.

Why the hell was he looking at you like that?

He was older than you, a man of authority and power, and yet, right now he made you feel like a shy schoolgirl with a crush. You couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at you this way, like you were the only person in the room

"I'm glad you decided to come tonight." He spoke low enough that nobody else could hear him but you. His voice rumbled in your ears, and sent a shudder through your body.

His gaze drifted down to your neck, a soft smirk forming on his lips as he watched the chill run down your spine. 

"So am I. Thank you, for inviting me ...and for the booze." 

He continued to look at you, his gaze roaming over you openly without any shame or reservation. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving your face. You were a sight to behold in this light, soft skin, wide eyes, it was almost hypnotizing. 

"You look lovely." He hummed, his eyes still wandering over you. His gaze was intense, his voice deep, and velvety. 

You thanked him softly, your breath catching in your throat when you noticed the desire in his burning gaze. His body was pressed up against you; his thighs touching yours, you could feel each breath with the rise and fall of his chest against your arm. 

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, the tension in the air thick. You tried to distract yourself, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes that made you feel like a bird trapped in a cage. 

Your heart rate quickening, and a warmth spreading through your chest. His gaze felt like a physical touch, making your skin tingle. His deep voice rolling off his tongue, the sound was like a low rumble, making your body hum with something you'd never felt before.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, quiet, meant just for you. 

"Y-yes." You managed to stutter, your heart racing. "Quite."

"You looked a bit lost earlier." He chuckled in reply, his eyes never straying.

"Not lost." You confessed, your voice small in the presence of his dominating aura.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, his body almost pressed flush against your shoulder. "Then what?" He asked, his voice now a mere whisper, deep and seductive  

His hand reached out, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch linger for a moment longer than necessary. His fingertips were rough but warm, as he gently brushed the hair behind your ear.

You could feel his hot breath against your neck, his eyes fixed upon you intently, like a man possessed. You tried to maintain a sense of composure, but it was difficult when he was this close to you, his face was inches away from yours.

He was close enough that you could make out every small detail; the indentations in his lips, the faint shadow of stubble around his jawline, the way his eyes seemed to darken with each passing minute.

"I've noticed you've spent most of your evening alone." He began, his lips almost brushing your ear. 

His fingers still playing with the loose locks of your hair, his knuckles just barely grazing your skin. You felt your heart skip a beat at his touch. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment too long, leaving your skin buzzing with electricity. 

He leaned back, his demeanor calm and collected, but a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I haven’t been a very good host, have I?" He said softly, taking a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on you.

For a moment, the room around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this secluded little corner. The sounds of chatter and laughter felt distant, as the world seemed to slow to a halt. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked back at him. He was watching you again, his eyes boring into yours, drinking you in. Your body was alive, your skin burned where it touched his. 

He was older, more experienced, and had a presence that demanded attention. There was something dangerous about him, like a predator stalking its prey. Yet, he was charming and smooth, and there was an undeniable attraction pulling you to him. 

"Declan..." You stuttered, feeling your nerves kicking in.  

His eyes scanned your face, pausing briefly on your lips. His dark eyes seemed to look right through you, and you found yourself unable to pull away from him.

"Just hear me out..." He rushed, his hands getting comfortable as they slid down your hips, but the glimmer of his wedding band on his finger made your stomach sink. 

You stood up quickly, stumbling as your legs adjusted to the amount of alcohol you'd consumed. "No... I-I don't... you're married, Declan."

Declan watched as you stumbled, a look of surprise etched on his features. He stood up quickly, reaching out to catch you, his hands gripping your waist for stability.

He held you like that for a moment, your eyes filled a mix of fear and contemplation. His fingers tightened involuntarily against the softness of your hip. The heat from his touch burned through the fabric of your dress.

"Wait-" He spoke, his voice a deep grumble, almost primal, that made your hairs stand on end.

"Let me go..." You muttered breathlessly, trying to break free from his firm grasp. He held you tighter, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip.

He paused for a moment, his jaw clenching, his eyes flickering down to your trembling lips. He slowly let go of your waist, his hands lingering for a moment before they fell.

He still had you trapped, a few feet from the nearest group of people, the only way out was through him. His breathing was uneven, hot against your face, and the only thing you could hear was your heart thudding loudly in your ears.

"Can we just go somewhere quiet …to talk." His voice was commanding, but laced with desperation. 

You swallowed hard, the thought of being alone with him made your heart skip a beat. 

You gave him a slight nod, and his body turned, angling away from the crowd.

He slowly began making his way through the crowd, his hand resting on your lower back, gently guiding you. 

Everywhere his skin met yours left you burning, his touch sending a wave of fire through you. He led you through the room and into a hallway.

The music and chatter faded as you turned the corner, and suddenly it was just the two of you. 

Declan pushed a door open at the end of the hallway, guiding you into what appeared to be his office. You stood awkwardly for a moment, the room was small but cozy, a desk and a chair were positioned in the corner along with a leather couch.  

The glow of a lone desk lamp illuminated the room, casting dancing shadows across the walls - which were covered in framed pictures; various awards, certificates, and one lined in bookshelves.

He leaned his back against the door, and for a long moment he stayed silent, watching you. His eyes were sharp underneath the dim light, his lips parted slightly, before his jaw clenched.

He couldn't keep the desire hidden, he let his eyes roam up and down your body. The way the dress hung on your hips, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the way your hair fell around your face. It was enough to drive him mad. 

He looked relaxed yet on edge. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a deep breath. This time there was something different in his eyes, something you couldn't quite place. Still a mixture of desire, and frustration, but something else. 

"You're right. I'm married." He said, his voice firm, almost cold. "And I'm not trying to pretend otherwise." He began, his eyes fixated on your face.

He stepped closer, his body pressing against yours as he spoke. His hands reach out towards you again. He touched your chin, gently tilting your head back, forcing you to look at him. Your breath shuddered as his touch sent a shiver down your spine. 

Declan's brow was low, making him look almost intimidating, but his eyes remained soft, almost pleading. "I'll just say one thing?"

"It's …complicated ...bird." He spoke slowly, his voice a low rumble. "I can't tell you it's perfect ...but I'll be damned if I don't admit that I want you."

The look in his eyes was fierce, possessive almost. His eyes watched every minute reaction your body had to the way his hands held you. 

He wanted to keep you close, the way you leaned into him made his pulse race. His fingers moved from your hip, slowly trailing down the side of your exposed thigh, his touch was hot.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand glided down your skin, leaving a trail of fire on your flesh. His words echoed in your mind, confusing you and sending your heart racing. You should be outraged, you should be pushing him away. 

Declan's mouth dropped open as you forcibly shoved him away. Your hand sting as it connected with his cheek. 

He stood there for a moment, heart hammering against his chest. His fingers brushing the red mark appearing on his cheek where you'd just struck him.

He looked at you, brow furrowed as his wild eyes searched your face, trying to gauge the situation.

Finally, he spoke from behind his hand. His voice low, almost a whisper. "I'm sorry."

The room was deadly silent, the only thing you could hear was the faint hum of music as your heart pounded heavily in your ears. 

"You're sorry?" You repeated, your voice trembling as you spoke. "You're married, and that's all you have to say?" You said incredulously, your voice shaky. "You're sorry?"

Declan's eyes are glued to yours, a mix of regret, shock and pain etched across his face. He looked almost guilty, his eyes falling to the floor.

Your breathing was heavy, your chest rising and falling quickly, a mix of anger and attraction coursing through you.

This man, this married man, had just told you that he wanted you, had just touched you in a way no man should ever touch a woman who's not his wife, and it sent pleasure through your entire being. 

He winced as you spoke, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. He looked at you with a mixture of remorse and hurt, you knew better, he didn't deserve your sympathy. 

Declan took a deep breath, his eyes flickering back to you. "It's not…" He paused, his voice low and rough. "…that simple." Even still, something about the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it tugged at something deep inside your chest. 

He wearily took a step forwards, reaching ever so slowly to hold you. Only you backed away quickly, trying to put distance between the two of you. 

"That's what they all say." The words come out harsher than you intended, and you watch a flicker of pain in his eyes. 

You stumbled back against the wall as he quickly closed the distance between you. "For god's sake …it's the truth." He breathed, his pleading eyes never straying from yours. 

It was a strange feeling, to feel pity for a man who had just confessed his feelings for you. 

Yet, watching his pained expression, and the way his eyes seemed to implore you, it made your stomach twist. "That's a bit unfair, don't you think?"

Declan's body pressed against yours, trapping you against him. "Fair?" His accent thick as he spoke in a low rumble under his breath, almost like a growl. "You think I give a fuck about fair?"

Declan made the space between you completely non-existent. One hand rested on the wall beside your head, his face inches away from yours. His other moved up to your cheek, fingers tracing the side, before cupping your jaw. 

He could see the hurt, the fear, the confusion. Yet, underneath it all, he could see the heat, the want, the need in your eyes. 

He leaned forwards, his lips hovering just above yours. You swallowed hard, your mind racing. You knew he was wrong, you knew this was wrong, your body betraying you as you fought against yourself. 

His kiss made you feel unsteady. The way his hand tangled in your hair, his arm wrapped around your back kept you close to him, and his firm hold on your hip made your head fuzzy.

You breathed him in, and the soft sound of vanquish that escaped your lips filled him with pride as he savored the flavor of you for the first time.

With a hand pressed firmly against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. The other, clutched at the wrist of his that had drawn you into him.

"You know what's unfair? How much you torture me in this dress. How I've had to hold myself back from pulling you into the nearest room just to rip it off of you ...and you want to talk about being fair?"

Declan gently turned you around, guiding you a few steps backwards until your lower back met the surface of his desk. His lips kept you quiet as you wrestled with the realization of what was happening.

Suddenly, he took you by the shoulders, spun you around, and bent you over the wooden surface. With your arms down at your sides, you felt his presence looming over you, his hands gliding down your back and across your hips.

Standing on your tiptoes, barely grazing the floor, as he pressed himself against you from behind.

You could feel him everywhere; tangling through your hair, delivering a playful smack to your backside that made you gasp, humping against your core as your skirt rose higher and higher.

"There ...now we're even." He hummed teasingly, soothing the sting by gently massaging your heated skin.

You let out a scoff, subconsciously rocking into him. A smirk played on his lips as he slowly sank to his knees.

With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your skirt, his strong hands parted your thighs before he pressed his warm mouth against your panty-clad center.

You gasped his name, your back arching as you shot up from the table. Your feet nearly slip out from beneath you, threatening to send you tumbling face-first into the desk.

He stood back up quickly, keeping you from moving anymore. His face crowded your senses, his mouth was wet and hot as he buried it into your cheek.

His hand gripped the nape of your neck, as he swept your disheveled hair to one side. "You like that, birdie? You want my mouth on you, is that it? Need to get off on my tongue before you're wet enough to slip my cock into, hmm?"

Your eyes closed as you tried to take a breath, only that was a mistake.

The subtle scent of alcohol mixed with desire enveloped you; he smelt like sex and temptation.The image of him leaning in to kiss his wife goodnight, the lingering taste of you on his lips, was undeniably provocative. Scandalous and enticing, and yet you felt yourself become even wetter at the thought.

He gently pushed you back down, laying you flat on his desk, the cool wood contrasting with the warmth of your flushed cheek.

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips lingering, before capturing your hands and guiding them to rest beside your thighs at the table's edge.

"Sit still." He whispered softly while trailing down your body, eventually finding himself back on his knees.

His fingers danced along the edge of your panties before gently pulling them aside. Your hips fell limp against the edge of his desk, your knees buckling beneath you. His hot breath fanned across your soaked core.

His slick tongue flattened, delivering a long, tantalizing stroke, before enveloping your cunt with his mouth. His mustache rough against the tender skin of your supple thighs, igniting a searing heat that flowed like molten lava, feeding into the deep ache in your belly.

"ohmygod..." You shrieked, a hand shooting out to grip onto his hair. "Declan!"

You bit down on your lip, trying to suppress the moans that threatened to escape as he eagerly devoured every inch of you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair; you began to tug his mouth off of you, as the overstimulation became almost too much to bear.

He yanked your hands away, pinning them down, crossing your wrist over your lower back, before you felt the slip of his fingers part your wet folds. He pressing them into your entrance.

The combination of both, his fingering and his tongue prodding you open quickly sent you over the edge, and you shuttered against his parted lips. "Please, Declan ...don't stop.”

You cried out his name, as his tongue drank up the mess you made all over his mouth- which remained attentive but gentle, even once your body stopped convulsing, and you could only shiver at the overstimulation.

Standing up as quickly you could on fawn-legs, you spun around to face him. His lips met yours, as his hands found their way to your hips. Bunching up your skirt, he laid you out over his desk.

He pushed you back, his strong hands reaching up, peeling your dress off your shoulders and chest, gripping at every new part of your soft skin he exposed.

Pinning you in place by your neck, he reached down. The pinching and snapping of flimsy fabric felt raw, carnal, against your skin as he tore your panties from your body. "You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you birdie?"

His hand reached down to undo his belt, you squirmed beneath him, pulling your arms the rest of the way out of your dress. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, despite the anxious shake of your hands, meeting him half-way, after he'd rid himself of his tie.

You pushed his pants down just enough to reach inside and pull out his aching cock, swollen and eager, leaking pearls of translucent pre-cum. Gently thumbing at the tip of him, red hot and slick in your grasp as you coated him in his own release.

His hands reached for you, gripping your hips to help line himself up with your entrance, before taking your face gently in his other. A gasp escaped your lips, as the tip of him brushed against your sensitive clit while he parted your swollen cunt.

He pushed into you eagerly, and the stretch of him filling up you was thrilling. Declan caged you between him and the sturdy desk, his body like a furnace against your skin.

Your hands fell to his chest, dragging the nails of one over his shoulder, and latching onto his muscular back.

A shaky moan slipped from your lips as he delved even deeper, his tip igniting a spot you'd never been able to reach. You could feel every vein and ridge as he pulled back slowly, then dove back in forcefully.

It was tight, the sheer size of him had you second guessing your confidence, yet as the tip of his head grazed your cervix it eased the ache in your lower abdomen. Your heart races at the realization that he has completely ruined you for anyone else.

You flushed, the feeling of his body against yours was too much; the smell of his skin, the way his chest hummed against yours with every groan he released against the crease of your neck, his breath a cloud of spiced whiskey and you.

The hand gripping your hip, tangled in your hair, gently cradling the back of your head as he pressed his wet lips against yours. The pressure of his kiss and the warmth of his breath pulled the air from your lungs, instinctively parting your lips and allowing his tongue to lick into your eager mouth.

The coarse hair of his pelvis brushed against your clit, causing your eyebrows to furrow in delight. "Declan!" His name, a prayer on your lips as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Shh, Shh, Shh..." You could feel him in your throat. Each thrust was forceful, causing the desk to shake with every merciful connection of your hips.

"Jesus ...you feel so good, birdy. Gripping me so tight, such a good girl." He mumbled breathlessly against your skin.

He couldn't stop himself from gripping onto you tighter, his nails digging into the soft flesh as his hips rut into you over and over, continuing their own steady rhythm, perfectly meeting every one of your thrusts.

The sensation is overwhelmingly intoxicating; it’s a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. You’ve never experienced anything quite like this, intertwining soft cries of bliss with whimpers of overstimulation, creating the most beautiful symphony of pleasure.

Your hands grip onto his shoulders, anchoring you as you fell apart in his hands, your hips moving eagerly, chasing that sweet moment of release.

"You're so well behaved when you finally get some cock in you."You flutter around him, his tongue teasingly tracing your pulse, your walls gripping him tightly too helpless to reply.

A gasp of delight escaped your lips as he, as he continued to abuse your sensitive cunt.

"So warm, and tight ...so good to me when you're getting what you want." He breathed heavily, his thrust remained unwavering.

"Declan, please..."

"What? What is it birdy, use your words." Declan playfully taunted, gently nibbling on your lower lip.

"P-please-oh god! Please d-don't stop ...please, I'm gonna cum."

Your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers weaving through his tousled strands as you drew him down for a searing kiss.

He silenced your moans of pleasure, your cries for him fading away as your body writhed beneath him.

It only took a few moments before he joined you. With a firm grip on your hip, he pulled you closer to him. His body stilled, pumping you full of his seed while your tongues danced together in tandem until his shoulders sagged and you began to tremble.

"You're mine now, birdy ...y'understand that."

© ladywuvly please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

[luvvyouforever]

i am my father's daughter - declan o'hara x rupert's daughter!reader

synopsis: you knew you shouldn't be doing this, flirting with your dad's friend and business partner. but he's so irresistible!

content: age gap relationship (ages not specified), maud doesn't exist au, not very canon compliant just ignore it, nsfw themes, dbf trope, accidental tense switching (ignore it)

author's note: declan is sooooo hunky #needthat also this is a rather short piece but if you'd like to see a continuation of dbf declan, i would absolutely provide <3

you're quite positive that nobody has looked as good in a t-shirt as declan o'hara does now in the front of the priory's living room, leading an open discussion about what is next for the budding production company. his biceps flex underneath the thin material when he lifts his arm in a gesture and despite your efforts to remain focused on the conversation at hand, it's difficult when all you've been able to think about since he moved in is declan.

for a month or two after he and his two daughters moved in, he had been the sole object of your daydreaming. he was so strong, so intelligent, so witty on the television, so...everything.

however, there was little that you could do on that front, considering the last name that appears on your birth certificate and the fact that rupert campbell-black, your father, and declan hated each other. it was a rather difficult watch, the night declan interviewed him, but with rupert bonding with declan over their love for their small families, it became much easier to slink your way into his presence. thankfully.

then, it became regular to see declan in your home, or to see you and rupert in his. he was hard to depart from, what with his deep, thick accented voice and his wavy hair he kept running his hands through, and that t-shirt, that damn t-shirt. you lived in pure, unending agony for a while, having to be so close to him all the time without being able to give in to this torturous desire.

but then he started blatantly running a large hand over your back as he passed behind you and then he started making eye contact with you across the room and then he helped you with car troubles where he stood tantalizingly close behind you while showing you how to check your oil.

your father doesn't need to know that you've kissed and made out with and sucked off his friend and business partner. right?

when declan finishes his speech in the front of the living room, he makes his way through the crowd to the table in the back with a few drinks and refreshments laid out by taggie where you just so happen to be standing.

his eye contact with you is unwavering as he comes closer and closer to you and there's a smirk growing on his lips.

"could you be any more obvious with your ogling there, dear?" he says quietly once he reaches your side.

you scoff, but you know what he's saying is true. "i wasn't doing anything of the sort, mr o'hara. i'm just admiring your leadership and passion for venturer, is all," you whisper.

he leans against the table, then, watching as the crowd before him mingle with each other, completely oblivious to the conversation happening between you and him. even your father seems to be swept up into conversation on the other side of the room. he turns his neck side-to-side, clearly aware of the way that his shoulders and back tense underneath the tight shirt. your eyes betray your previous statement as they immediately flick to the sight, then flick downwards.

he chuckles and takes the smallest of steps closer to you. "so you like the shirt, then, i take it?"

a small blush overtakes your cheeks and you refuse to meet his eye. suddenly, you feel his body tilt towards yours, lips just before your ear.

"i can let you take it off me if you come over tonight."

his deep voice reverberated through your body, sending chills down your neck and spine. subconsciously, your back arched from the table you were learning on and he let out another laugh.

a few hours later, you found yourself slipping quietly out of penscombe, positively giddy. the walk to the priory was one you had done plenty of times and you knew it like the back of your hand, really. slowly, the centuries old building came into view and several feet up the wall was a window with its lights still on. declan's.

as he'd done before, he met you at the back door of the home, one that leads into the kitchen, a smug look on his face.

"you took my offer quite readily," he said. his big frame leaned against the door and he crossed his arms. still adorning him was that damn t-shirt.

"as if you weren't kicking your feet waiting for me," you retort, then come to stand before him.

he shakes his head then and a sly smile tilts the corners of his mouth up. he removes his body from the frame and steps to the side to let you inside. as you pass him, a firm hand comes down on your ass, making a small yelp escape your lips.

you turn suddenly and shoot him a glare. he just pats you again, a gesture to keep you moving forward. "get on up there, little minx. before your daddy realizes where you've gone, huh?"

you turn then and head for the stairs that lead up to his bedroom. declan didn't have to tell you much twice.

[1d1195]

Two Negatives

~9.8 k words

From me: I promise it’s not going to be about math that much. This is an academic rivals sort of thing. It’s going to have at least two follow ups but this is the whole story overall. I think there are parts of it that are kind of hand-wavy and whatnot. Not completely connected or explained.

Warnings: Maybe if you read this the right way you may notice that Harry's a little bit of a sugar-daddy. Low self-esteem, cheating, mentions of sex stuff.

Summary: Harry loves annoying the girl in his classes. She's an easy target. And more often than not, she teases him right back.

Which Harry is an absolute sucker for.

“Hey,” he hissed.

She ignored him. Instead, her gaze bounced back between the board where Professor Charles was writing on the whiteboard and the paper in front of her alongside her notebook, dated and titled ready to jot down any issues she had as they worked through the new material.

Something hit the back of her head. Nothing that hurt. But she felt it in her hair. Probably a gum wrapper. Or maybe the actual piece of gum. She wouldn’t have been surprised. She reached behind her head without looking, grateful it wasn’t a piece of gum, and she dropped the wrapper in her bag beside her to dispose of later.

He dropped his calculator off his desk (flung it was more accurate) so it landed right by her foot. She didn’t flinch as it clattered and ignored the curious peeks of others looking at her like she was the one causing the noise.

“Give me a pencil,” he was right next to her, grabbing his calculator.

“Go fuck yourself,” she whispered so quietly she wondered if Harry could even hear her.

“Please! I forgot!”

“You always forget,” she hissed back.

Professor Charles cleared his throat. She glared at her paper as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. How dare Harry embarrass her in front of her professor because he was too stupid to bring his own pencil again. She placed dots on her graph as her professor did, stabbing at her paper a little too hard. Pretending it was Harry’s Voo Doo doll. Just so it would stop. So he would stop. But no. He was still knelt beside her.

“Mr. Styles, is everything alright?” Professor Charles asked.

“Yup, just tying m’shoe,” he said and stood up with a grin. That grin probably got Harry out of a speeding ticket, especially if he was pulled over by a female officer. Probably got him out of homework when he was in school because he knew how to make anyone feel flattered and good about themselves.

That stupid, pretty smile of his with the most adorable dimples probably melted any woman that looked his way.

Professor Charles rolled his eyes as he turned back to the whiteboard. At the same time Harry plucked her pencil from her grip mid stroke of the number eight she was writing. Before she could protest or even fully grasp that her writing utensil was stolen, Harry was back in his seat... right behind her. She took a deep breath and tilted her head to the ceiling trying to keep herself calm so she wouldn’t scream at him in front of everyone. So, she wouldn’t look like a lunatic. Why did he have to sit behind her? She reached into her bag and pulled out her pencil case and continued writing as if Harry hadn’t interrupted her at all.

*

She didn’t have a class following her lecture so she would have a second to breathe and eat, which wasn’t the case most days. Fortunately, she was head tutor at the academic center in the library which wasn’t far from the dining hall. It was also pretty easy going at the center, so she could eat while working. But it was always nice to pretend and be a regular student and eat in the hall. She listened to music and read her book. The only hour she got to read much these days. After tutoring, she would be headed to one more class before she was back to work at the college bar in the center of town.

Her schedule was mapped out to the minute. Her days filled to the brim with school and work. Because she didn’t have a choice. It was the same way every penny of her budget was scheduled and allotted for other things as well. It didn’t leave time for friends.

“Hey gorgeous.”

Well, one friend.

He pecked her cheek before sitting across from her. “Class good?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, how was yours?”

He reached over the table, held her hand, and skimmed his thumb along her knuckles. It was sweet. If it wasn’t so forced. “Good,” he smiled.

Isaac was an extremely handsome guy. He was popular, smart, and funny. His family had big plans for him and that was why he was on this prestigious college campus.

“Hi Isaac,” a flirtatious call sounded from across the room. He turned to find the culprit but came up short.

“By the door,” she said. Isaac turned releasing her hand as he did and waved at the girl who dissolved into giggles. After greeting the masses, he turned his attention back to her. “Can I suggest something?”

“Of course you can, girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you really want to be with the kind of girl who will openly flirt with someone in a relationship?”

“I think everyone knows it’s a fake relationship.”

“Regardless,” she shrugged.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, my love,” he winked. He grunted when she tossed one leg over the other beneath the table and perhaps overshot just a hair.

She met Isaac on the first day of college. She was bringing her own stuff into her dorm room alone. His parents caught sight of her. Recognized her as she looked like her mom’s twin from way back when they all roamed this campus themselves. But unlike them, she was there under very different circumstances. She greeted them politely, smiled, and chatted as she knew best.

But Isaac approached her later that evening. She was sweaty from unpacking all alone. Her saving grace was a dorm room to herself. Perhaps the only lucky thing about her freshman year. This place screamed money. Money that she didn’t have anymore.

Isaac screamed money. “I need your help.” So, Isaac made sure she didn’t die of hunger and didn’t become a complete social pariah. Made sure she was taken seriously because of course this campus was littered with people who didn’t believe smarts could come without money.

In return, she was to be a doting girlfriend. When his parents were around, she was to be a fixture on his arm. Would it last forever? Probably not. But at least she would be okay for four years. She was kind, lovely, the exact kind of girl they expected their son to find and help keep him stable to take over his father’s company.

The kind of girl that would let Isaac be with whoever. Of course they had their moments. Like the lunch breaks such as the current one. Making appearances so that if anyone asked it wouldn’t be unheard of that they were together.

But she was no stranger to the whispers. That poor girl has no idea her boyfriend is cheating on her.

Fortunately, she didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Especially not one like Isaac. So, if her fake boyfriend was cheating on her, then at least she didn’t have to deal with it. Each time his parents came to town it wrecked her schedule. Wreaked havoc on her study time. Her work time. After three years, it was starting to feel like more of a give and less of a take in comparison to him.

But Isaac was nice enough. He still thanked her profusely—especially when his parents were in town. He didn’t use a lot of tongue when he kissed her in effort to keep up appearances. Knowing where his tongue had been, she was grateful.

“I’m not jealous,” she told him. “I care about you enough that I don’t want your heart to get broken.”

“You know I don’t have one of those.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, I’d be happy to throw you a bone, my love,” he leaned toward her, his eyes flirty and his smile lascivious.

She snorted. “Not even if you boiled it in disinfectant.”

“Orgasms help with stress.”

“I’m not lacking in orgasms. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Kinky, baby,” he winked. “You actually got me hard,” he told her. He wasn’t trying to sleep with her so much as he was willing to sleep with her. When they first arrived at college there were several firsts that both needed to accomplish and well, the fake dating wasn’t the only thing they were able to help each other out with. But after three years of rumors and knowing what Isaac was like outside their fake relationship, she was glad she got to him before all of the rumors swarmed around her.

“I have to go to work,” she told him getting up from the table.

Isaac really was a nice friend. Lovely even. But only if they were really alone. As time wore on, he got cocky and annoying—especially in public. It seemed like he was doing more of a favor for her than she was for him (even though she stopped asking him for things almost a month into their arrangement—shortly after she heard a rumor of a threesome).

But his parents loved her. They didn’t ask questions about his schooling or dating life because of her sweet nature. Originally, she felt guilty over their lie. But now, she was resenting that part of him more and more. He was a pretty good friend. But he was a dick of a boyfriend. “Are y’hungry, baby?” He asked.

She shook her head, cheeks blushing, and anger tingling in her blood. She hated the way he spoke to her in public; he sounded so condescending. Not at all like the kind and caring boyfriend he was supposed to pretend to be or even the kind and sweet friend he was behind closed doors. “Shut up, Isaac,” she sighed. His ego played a massive part in their friendship. He was rich and popular. She was not. “You sound like a douchebag.”

He pressed his lips to her ear, wrapped his arm around her waist. If she was looking in from the outside, she was sure it looked cute and romantic. “Mm,” he hummed ignoring her insult. “Can feed you something later,” he winked.

She knew people were watching so she smiled, leaned toward his ear. “If you’re going to feed me, I need a full meal.”

He chuckled, rolled his eyes and pecked her lips. “See you later, baby,” he kissed her softly again as he said it. “Gonna make sure you’re nice and full,” he promised loudly as he walked away. Not so loudly, that everyone would hear. But certainly loud enough for Harry Styles, who walked into the dining hall at that precise moment, to hear.

“Wow, bit extra for the dining hall,” Harry smirked. She glared at him, her cheeks warming.

“Don’t suppose you have my pencil?”

“Hmm,” he tapped his hands over his pockets. “Sorry Your Majesty,” he bowed in his over-the-top kind of way. “Clean out.” She rolled her eyes, grabbed her stuff, and made her way for the exit. Harry grabbed her hand at the last second pulling her back to look at him. “Y’okay?” He asked. “Y’look tired.”

She snatched her hand away. She was tired. But it didn’t feel good for it to be pointed out that she looked tired. “Thanks, I guess,” she rolled her eyes again. “I’m going to go now before you have a chance to insult me again.”

“Hey,” he frowned and called after her again as she continued walking away. “M’serious. Y’look like you’re getting sick.”

It was extremely unfair that Harry noticed that. “Are you concerned about me, Styles?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Someone has t’remember t’bring me a pencil.”

“You could very much bring your own pencil.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t get t’have these lovely conversations every day, would I, Your Majesty?” She shook her head and ignored him as he continued speaking to her. “Hope he fucks y’good and full or whatever,” he called. She glared but refused to look back at him.

*

Harry appeared in one of her classes on the first day of her second year. A transfer from another school. His smile was panty-melting. Truly. Even she could recognize that. But regardless of how pretty he was, it was obvious how annoying he was going to be. He slid into the seat right behind her. “Hi,” he smiled. She ignored him, focusing on her professor starting class syllabus stuff. Besides, it seemed unlikely that someone like Harry was talking to her. “M’Harry,” he whispered.

She started scribbling on her notebook.

“He hasn’t even started yet,” he mumbled.

“Can I help you?” She turned around to look at him.

His smile was breathtaking. It really felt like he stole the breath from her lungs. “Sorry, Your Majesty. Didn’t mean t’interrupt y’doodle. Do y’have an extra pencil?” He asked.

She stared at the twenty-year-old man in his second year of college unprepared for his first day of classes. Perhaps if she rolled her eyes and ignored him, the trajectory of her life might have been something else entirely.

Instead, she handed her pencil to him.

“Thanks, Your Majesty.”

She rolled her eyes, anyway, facing forward.

*

In her Abstract Algebra class Harry was right behind her once more. “Psst.”

She ignored him. But his body was closer, his voice was closer. “Your Majesty,” he practically sang.

“What is your deal?” She hissed.

“I need a pencil.”

“Bring your own.”

“I like the one y’gave me. It wrote so smooth.”

She doesn’t know why she gave him a pencil.

But she really did know.

Harry was obviously handsome and from the way he chuckled under his breath over the lame jokes their professors made, he was quick and probably funny in his own way. But moreover, he had to be intelligent. Really intelligent to understand a pun about probability theory. The way others in the class fawned over him (guys and girls alike) it was apparent he was popular. Maybe popular like Isaac which made her dislike him just a bit.

It went that way every class. Harry was in four out of five of her classes both the fall and spring semester. Every class he needed a pencil. Each day he thanked her in his ridiculously attractive accent. Your Majesty.

What a dick.

But Harry talked to her. Even if it was just asking for a pencil. Or a picture of the notes he missed from when he went to the bathroom. He didn’t care that her family was broke. That she was broke. That she worked three jobs and hardly slept. He didn’t make her feel like she didn’t deserve to be on that campus.

“Did y’get the answer t’number nine?” It wasn’t a trick; he wanted her answer. Her opinion. “I got two different answers three different ways. There was no judgment that she couldn’t afford the extravagant lifestyle that her peers did. She had one winter coat. Not six to match her outfits. She didn’t have a car. She didn’t go out to eat and she made her own coffee except for on Saturdays when she splurged and treated herself to her favorite bagel and her favorite coffee.

Maybe it was because she saw him at a party. A girl at his side, smiling at him. Twirling her hair and touching his pretty chest. It was effortless. She didn’t have to try to flirt with Harry. It was a given. Rich, popular, perfectly pretty. The same as Harry.

Everything she wasn’t. Everything Harry would never want.

So she tended to Isaac. Kept to herself.

Gave Harry an absurd number of pencils.

Which continued into their third year. Where things got busier, harder, and more overwhelming.

But Harry was always right behind her. Asking for a pencil. Making her cranky.

But always making her feel normal when no one else did.

*

It was obvious Harry had money. The key on his ring had a symbol for a car that would never be in her price range. His clothes were pretty, the latest trends. Even his sweatpants looked like they were designer.

Maybe it could have been that way for her. Maybe if her dad hadn’t embezzled all their money. Hadn’t gone to jail and left her and her mother with anything more than a penny. Growing up she didn’t feel rich, but she never wanted. But right as she was applying to colleges, with only one college campus that made her heart happy, it was the first time in her life she thought about and hated money.

She imagined no one on campus ever felt that way.

But even if Harry had the nicest clothes and the nicest car, he never flaunted what he had. Not even to his friends. He didn’t show off or act like he had a ton of money. He was just there.

Which is why perhaps, when he annoyed her to pieces, she didn’t mind giving him a pencil in the end.

*

It was a bad day. She missed her mom. She was exhausted. Didn’t have time to make herself a coffee which just felt criminal. The test on her mind nearly brought her to tears as she sat down in her seat, seconds before her professor walked in.

Her pencil case was empty.

Part of her felt sad she wouldn’t have a pencil for Harry. Would he ask someone else? Would he stop asking her because of it? God, why did she even care? It was a blessing. He would stop asking her. She wouldn’t have to keep wasting money she didn’t have on pencils.

Plus, he wasn’t even there.

The test landed on her table. Her brain felt weary. Was she getting sick? Probably. Stress did a number on her immune system. It was a miracle she wasn’t sick all the time.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes she tried to calm her mind. It wasn’t the time to think about the reading she needed to complete, the shift she was covering at the academic center, or the dinner she was really looking forward to splurging on. It had been ages since she had chicken in her pasta dish.

“Hey,” how long were her eyes closed? How did she miss him coming to his seat.

“I don’t have a pencil, Harry,” she hissed back.

“Of course, y’do,” she could hear his eye roll.

“I don’t, I forgot my pencil case.”

He snorted. Her eyes flicked to Professor Charles who didn’t look up from his own paper at the front of the room. “C’mon, quit being a brat.”

“A brat?” She whispered.

“Quiet,” Professor Charles still didn’t look up.

“Sorry Your Majesty, jus’ give me a pencil and—”

“I don’t have one!” Her voice was quiet and maybe if she wasn’t only two rows from the front of the room, it wouldn’t have been a big deal when he pulled it out of her grip.

But she was towards the front.

Professor Charles stood beside their desks. “You’re both excused.”

Her face felt hot and pale at the same time. She felt like she was going to throw up. The feeling of eyes on her made her more embarrassed than the time she tripped and fell at her third-grade band concert. “Professor Charles,” she started.

“Enough,” he snagged her paper from her desk. Her throat felt tight, her eyes prickled, and she thought that maybe in a different life she could have been friends with Harry. Liked him, even.

But not then.

She bit on her lip to keep from crying as she packed her stuff into her bag and marched out of the room, head held high, and ignoring everyone’s stare. Especially the guy following her out of the classroom.

*

She slapped the door to the building as Harry continued following her. She was fuming. Practically steaming from his perspective. Yet he couldn’t help but think she looked absolutely adorable. “Quit fucking following me!” She snapped.

“My God, you’re so uptight,” he rolled his eyes.

“Harry Styles, you’re an absolute dick. Just leave me the fuck alone, for God’s sake.”

It garnered the attention of a few onlookers. But their path to the dining hall was quiet given it was the middle of class time. "Jesus Christ, do y’ever jus’ take a break? S’one fuckingtest, Your Majesty. For fuck’s sake. He’ll probably drop it. Quit being a baby."

A sniffle. One small, tiny noise.

"You don't get it do you?" She snapped. She didn’t want to. But she couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was too much. The final straw.

In the entire time Harry had known her he had never seen her this upset. Not like this. Not to the point where she was crying.

Because of him.

He made her cry.

"I have a squeaky-clean record. I have to be perfect all the time. I can't let one hair be out of place. I can't get one bad grade. If I do, then everyone around me makes comments and they assume it’s because I have no money. The poor girl can’t hack it here. It's this massive pressure on me all the time. I can't get caught doing normal party things. I can't get caught cheating on a test, Harry. I can’t. I lose my scholarship if I don't maintain my GPA. I can hardly afford to be here, Harry. I have to work three jobs. I have to budget every minute of my time as much as every dollar of my bank account. Do you know I haven't been home in three years? I miss my mom so much and I can’t even afford to go see her and I just pretend because—” she covered her mouth and Harry swallowed hard, willing himself to not cry as well. This wasn’t about him. This was all about her right now. “And now,” she croaked. “I’m going to have to skip dinner because I need to buy new pencils because I have been giving them to someone who’s too fucking inconsiderate to even fucking return them after annoying me for no better reason that for kicks.”

Her sniffles turned into sobs and Harry had never felt like more of an ass. He thought she was annoying at worst, but he never wanted her to cry.

Her crying, all her tears, they were all his fault.

"I study so hard. I have to. But I want to. I want to make enough money to support my mom, and I can’t do one thing wrong because if I do then I’ll lose everything. I have to study. I’m not like you, Harry. You just know everything and that's amazing, Harry, it really is,” and for the first time since he started interacting with her, Harry felt horrible for the way he had treated her. The compliment she gave was so thoughtful. The kindness in her voice was unmissable. He was practically shocked it even came from her mouth. “But not all of us are gifted with insane intelligence like you. Not all of us are God's gift to women and can go out and party and not be judged for kissing someone I like. Not all of us can afford to be here without help."

Harry kept his lip between his teeth to keep from speaking.

“I’ll get over it,” she sniffed. “Sorry for being so uptight.” She wiped her face and stalked off toward her dorm.

Harry had never felt worse about himself.

*

She wore her best interview dress. Her hair was pinned precisely so that the pieces that constantly flew away were at bay. She swallowed the rock that formed in her throat as she knocked on her professor's office door.

"Come in."

"Professor Charles," she was grateful he didn't look up because she was worried, she was going to curtsey or something equally ridiculous. "I wanted to apologize—"

"Your boyfriend already came to tell me he's at fault for the fiasco in class. He took full responsibility and said it was extremely unfair of me to refuse you the exam."

Her heart skipped a beat. "M-my boyfriend?" She whispered.

"Mr. Styles is very bold and I suppose I was a bit harsh. You are a brilliant young woman and role model to your peers," he praised. "Would you like to take the test now or schedule another time?" He asked looking up from his work.

She swallowed. "Um..."

"I would appreciate it, if you took it now. I need an answer key to grade the rest of them," his voice was steady, but she felt the compliment down to her bones. "I have a class in two hours, and I was hoping to check grading off my to-do list before it started," he explained.

She felt uneasy, overwhelmed, but not like she did when she sat down the first time to take the same exam. "I can do it now," she whispered and dropped her bag at her feet and situated herself at the table on the side of his office below the window. She got to work and completed the test as if all it asked was for her to write the alphabet down. She was checking over her work when she glanced out the window and saw the sprawling campus. There were people walking by at fast clips. Eager to get to the dining halls and rushing to make it to their classes on time.

But in the midst of all the people running by, there was Harry, sitting on a bench. His arm stretched across the back of it, while the other held his phone. He crossed his feet at his ankles and looked like a model for relaxation.

He took the complete blame for the test. She felt her heart aching and she stood from the table and went over to her professor's desk. "Is... Mr. Styles able to retake the exam as well?"

"I wasn't planning on it," he looked up at her. "Why?"

She bit her lip, looked at her feet. "I could have just given him a pencil."

"Mr. Styles should be prepared for his own education," he said knowingly. There was no way she was going to explain her relationship with Harry to her professor. Plus, she wasn't sure she'd be able to. She dropped her gaze and handed off her exam. "You can tell Mr. Styles he can come up and take the test," he said simply. "I have the answer key now."

She blinked.

"He'll probably ace it as well, but your handwriting is neater," he shrugged, tipped his glasses further down his nose and silently read her answers. She stood still, like she was waiting for the danger to pass. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?" He asked glancing back up. She shook her head, pinned to her spot. The strangeness of it all was overwhelming. "Men like Mr. Styles are going to have it a lot easier than you. The field you’ve selected is male-dominated and many will sell you short because of your gender," he said. "That doesn't mean you need to worry about your worth," he assured her. "You are a brilliant, hardworking, and talented individual. Mr. Styles should be bringing you pencils to class."

Her cheeks felt warm.

"Also, to be fair, it's nice to know you're not cheating off of each other because it was getting a little suspicious," he turned her exam back across his desk and wrote her score at the top of her page, upside down—98%. "Missed a negative."

"If Harry misses it, can you knock off more points?" She asked before she could stop herself then felt herself blush at how ready she was to throw him under the bus. She looked down shyly and covered her mouth before she looked up at him again.

Her strict professor made a face that resembled somewhat of a smile. "Of course."

“Thank you,” she hoped she sounded as gracious as she felt.

“Great work,” he nodded in response.

She headed out of the office and walked toward the bench. She sat beside him and faced forward. Harry put his phone back in his pocket and turned only his head toward her. "How'd y’do?" He asked.

"Ninety-eight."

He tutted. "Too bad," he smirked.

A smile twitched at her lips. She looked up at the sky briefly. "He said you can go on up and take it now," she told him.

He blinked. Surprise coloring his pretty features. Harry rarely seemed stunned, especially because of her. It was cute and also exciting that he was surprised by her. "What?"

She looked at her lap, trying to focus on her nails but not for too long because she was worried that she would gnaw on them if she let the nerves overtake her. "That was... the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she whispered. "Especially for Professor Charles' class," she continued. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him. "I was obnoxious. Bad day or whatever... it wasn't your fault and I’m sorry I made a big deal of it."

"I just wanted you to stop crying. You look ridiculous when you cry."

She smiled. A genuine one. Not a forced one that Harry had seen her give everyone under the sun. Not the one that she plastered on her face during presentations. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. “Y’had every right t’be mad at me. I was a complete dick.”

She shrugged. “I... I should have just given you a pencil... it turned out there was one at the bottom of my bag and... I kind of... like giving you a pencil. You just caught me at a really bad moment.”

“I know. M’sorry. I knew y’looked off.”

She tilted her head at him. “You knew I looked off?”

“M’pretty good at memorizing all your different looks,” he had a smile that made her melt. “Like right now, s’one of m’favorites. Y’look relaxed. It happens once, roughly, every three weeks, I think. Lasts maybe four minutes if m’lucky,” he winked. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. But Harry noticed how her cheeks turned red. It made him want to continue flirting with her. She was fun to flirt with. Her sarcastic comments were funny, even when directed at him, and it only amplified how smart he knew she was.

As much as Harry wanted to stay on that bench for as long as she did, he finally stood. Then rubbed the back of his head squinting at her, one eye closed. "Do you have a pencil?" He asked shyly.

She snorted, plucked hers from her pocket, and held it out to him. "I'd like it back," she reminded him. Even if he didn't, it was their thing now.

He rolled his eyes. "Wait here. It'll only take me half the time it took you." She rolled her eyes but pulled out a book from her bag and opened it to the page she was previously reading. "Hey kitten?" He asked. She didn't look up and Harry realized he never called her anything other than Your Majesty. He nudged her foot to make her look up. "Who did y’think I was talking to?" He chuckled.

"Who me?" She asked, but Harry noted the way her cheeks turned red. He rolled his eyes. "Sorry," she shook her head. "Did you need something else?"

His expression softened and he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," her voice was so gentle. "I'm sorry too."

"There's nothing y'need t'apologize for,” he shook his head quickly. “I was a complete ass," he admitted. She shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said seriously. “Please don’t let anyone treat you that way.” She nodded silently. Knowing that she couldn’t promise that. Nor did she expect Harry to make her keep such a promise, but it made her heart squeeze with disappointment in herself. “Be right back,” he nudged her foot again as he headed back to the math building. She returned to her book and tried not to think about how Harry was probably right. This was the most relaxed she felt in months.

About forty minutes later Harry exited the building, walking at a leisurely pace. He sat on the bench once more. She didn't look up as he did but the butterflies in her stomach reminded her that he was there. Harry draped an arm across the back of the bench and then presented her pencil to her as if it were a bouquet of flowers. "How'd you do?" She asked gently.

He sighed, clucked his tongue. "Ninety-five,” she smiled but tried and failed to hide it from him. "I missed two negatives."

She giggled. "How embarrassing."

"How embarrassing," he mocked in a voice that was meant to sound like her. "You're so annoying. Do y’know he uses your work as the answer key?"

It had to be a record. The longest time they had been together without bickering. The number of times she smiled because of him.

The fastest someone had ever fallen for someone she was supposed to hate.

*

When Harry saw her boyfriend, he started looking for her. He was clearly busy with his friends and the women they were entertaining. But she wasn’t amongst them. He did a loop around the party. Looking for her even if he shouldn’t have. He stopped and chatted during his search so it wouldn’t be obvious. But even when he did stop and leaned against the wall, or grabbed another drink, he kept scanning for her.

When his loop came up empty of the pretty girl he liked to annoy, he wondered where she was and how he could ask without it being weird.

“Hey stranger,” Eleanor smiled and kissed his cheek. “Where’ve you been?”

Louis gave a polite wave to his best friend from across the way, a knowing smile on his lips, grateful that someone he trusted could keep an extra eye on his lady.

“Jus’ wandering around,” he mumbled.

Did he sound disappointed? He felt disappointed.

She stared at him and stood on her toes to reach his ear so she could speak to him directly over the loud music. “She’s not here.”

“What?” Harry pulled back like she slapped him. Was it that obvious? It couldn’t have been. He was just… wandering. Like a lost, lovesick puppy wondering where she was and hoping he would find her to make the weird feeling in his chest go away. Eleanor cocked an eyebrow at him. Silently telling him that hewas not fooling her. “Fuck,” he mumbled sipping his drink. It was pathetic and obvious.

“She doesn’t come to these things,” Eleanor shrugged.

“Why?”

She sighed, rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t want her here.”

Harry felt like the words Eleanor said were spoken in a language he didn’t know. “Who doesn’t want her here?”

“Her boyfriend.”

The grip on the bottle Harry was holding tightened. “Oh.”

“Go ahead. Ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Harry.” He closed his eyes and looked around to find him. It was like he already knew it was going to break him. He didn’t want El to continue even though he knew he needed to hear it. “What he told her to keep her away? She dotes on him too much. Worries too much about her reputation and everyone else’s. She doesn’t have fun. So, he doesn’t want her here. At these kinds of things.”

Honestly, a party didn’t seem like her vibe. She was more of a game night kind of girl. Someone you could take to a family cookout or a pool party with kids. But calling her not fun? Because frankly, Harry realized he hadn’t liked a single party he’d been to in months and it’s because her banter wasn’t there to keep him company.

“Oh,” he murmured. Trying to feign indifference.

“Don’t you want to ask what I think?” Harry didn’t look at his friend. His eyes finally landing on the man that didn’t deserve the sweet, intelligent, and beautiful girl he didn’t invite. He followed his path up the stairs to the second floor. Right as Eleanor told him the worst thing he had ever heard. “He hooks up with other girls and he has the common decency to do it behind her back,” she shrugged.

“What?!” He spit his eyes dropping to Eleanor again. How could she be so casual about this?

“She knows…or I would imagine she suspects,” she shrugged. “But she’s good for his family. They adore her. And he helps her reputation. She’s trying so hard to dig her family—”

It was like he knew. Everything. All of it made sense. Every tiny fiber of her being was made for someone else—whether it was her family who she adored and helped as much as possible, Isaac who didn’t deserve her at all, or even Harry, who honestly wasn’t sure he was much better than Isaac. “Does she know he sleeps with them?”

Eleanor looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know if they sleep with him. I’m assuming. But I think it’s a pretty good assumption. He’s probably—”

Harry slammed his bottle on the ground shattering it and drawing the attention of those around him. He took the stairs two at a time and opened every door to every room—an unspoken party rule: never open a closed door.

He was breaking it.

A girl shrieked and he just knew he had found the right room. He didn’t pay any attention to her scrambling to cover up her naked chest and instead yanked him clean off the bed. “What the fuck!?” Harry shoved him back into the hall. He was only in his boxers. Piece of shit. Someone whistled and Harry shoved him harder as he tried to push him back and make his way for the bedroom again. “What the fuck, Styles?!”

“Call her,” he snarled. Shoving him against the wall again when he tried to continue escaping. “End it. Now.”

“What are you—”

“You’re going t’cheat on her?” Harry’s voice was venomous. “Her?” He repeated. Like that was really all he needed to say. Everyone was staring now. Harry kept going. “Call her and end it. Or I’m going over and telling her you’re done.”

The stupid prick tilted his head at Harry almost condescendingly. “Do you want her? She’s not like us.”

Harry didn’t like the way he said us. There wasn’t a single connection he wanted to be associated with in context of the vile piece of trash in front of him. Other than he managed to pick the sweetest girl he had ever met. But simultaneously, the very wrong girl to fuck with, because Harry also picked her. Unlike the moron in front of him, he was going to do everything he could to protect her and her heart.

“She’s doesn’t have money. She won’t understand—”

Harry punched him across the cheek before he could stop it and someone else watching groaned at the impact and Harry continued talking. “Tell her now.”

“Christ, Styles! What the fuck!” He rubbed his jaw.

“Tell her.”

“I’m not telling her shit. She knows she needs me more.” Harry jerked back like he had punched him back. “What? You don’t think she’d give up the reputation I have, do you?”

Harry watched him silently for only a moment longer. Without a word, he headed back into the bedroom grabbing the stray clothes. Before anyone could rationalize exactly what he was doing, he was sprinting down the steps and outside.

He threw them in the pool without thinking, ignoring the laughter and shouts from him as he hurried around the side of the house. He continued running and didn’t look back.

*

Harry was in her dorm. On her floor. Stopped in front of her door.

He knocked.

Repeatedly.

There was no answer, but he knew she was there.

So, he knocked again.

And again.

Eventually there was a click of her lock despite the fact it couldn’t be opened without her key card. Of course she was all about safety. Finally, he heard her voice starting to speak as she opened the door. “I’m off duty if you have an emergency, you’re supposed to see the RA on duty and—” The door was open and out of the way before she finished talking. Harry pressed himself inside. “Harry! What are you—”

“Tell me s’not true.”

“What’s not true?”

“Y’know he hooks up with other women?” He glared at her.

The color drained from her face.

Harry rubbed his hand across his face. “What is the matter with you?! Are you so desperate for a scrap of affection you’ll open yourself up t’diseases and shit because you—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed tears stinging her eyes instantly.

“—need him? You don’t need him. You’re a thousand times better than him. A million! Y’could have any guy y’want, and they would still want t’grovel at your feet. Why would y’pick the one Goddamn asshole who—”

“You don’t know shit. Harry Styles. Stop pretending like you know me because —”

“Then explain it t’me because I can’t think of one fucking reason someone as intelligent, kind, beautiful, and hilarious as you would—”

A weird noise left her throat. Almost a squeak. It was adorable. If Harry wasn’t so mad. He would have told her such. Would have reveled in it because she was so fucking sweet and cute. But instead, she asked the most heartbreaking question known to man.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Her question was so soft. So unbelievably shocked. Innocent. All the words left his head. It was too quiet. His shoulders were rising and falling too hard and too fast. “What?” He shook his head.

She looked at her feet. Harry scanned her. Her shirt was too big. It didn’t look like she was wearing pants. Maybe she wasn’t. Harry hoped she wasn’t. She only wore one sock. Like she lost the other in her sheets or maybe she only purposefully put one on because only that foot was cold. Those pretty eyes looked at him, anxiety, frustration, sadness, all staring back at him from the depth of her soul. “No one has ever said I’m beautiful before.”

Harry felt something die in his chest. He really thought he would start groveling on his knees for her because he was one of millions of guys who wanted to grovel at her feet. He wanted to be better. As soon as he made her cry over missing a test, he wanted nothing more than to be better for her. “No one?”

“Just... my family...” She shrugged.

“Kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re… you’re really beautiful,” he rubbed a hand over his mouth, pinching his lower lip, as he scanned her. “In a way that probably makes a lot of girls jealous,” she snorted. He sighed. “Seriously. Your hair, kitten. It’s... so silky and shiny and your eyes,” he shook his head. “And your brain, my God,” he smiled softly. “M’not even going t’mention your body. Because you’re more than your appearance, but m’really...” he nearly sighed like a lovesick teenager. Maybe part of him still was. “You’re stunning, kitten.”

She blushed. Really blushed. So hard that Harry could see it in the dim light of her room cast from the twinkly lights she had strung around the window. Her cheeks were so red and utterly beautiful. For a second Harry thought it would be easy. All of it. Getting her to like him. Trust him.

Her face morphed into one of utter distrust. “That’s mean,” she whispered. “You’re... that’s mean to...” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” he frowned. Unable to believe she could think like that. He didn’t even know where to begin. Everyone had to like her. She was lovely, beautiful, so intelligent it took his breath away.

But she mistook his hesitation for the worst. She shook her head. “Forget it. You’re just... being nice to me because... because you feel bad or something,” she sniffled. The poor thing couldn’t even take his compliment. Harry wanted to cry. “Just the way everyone else does,” she laughed bitterly. “Thank you for being nice. Or whatever. For wanting to protect me. I don’t need it,” her voice cracked. “You can go back to your party or... whatever it is that—”

“Love,” his heart felt achy.

“No seriously. I get it. I’m too nice. I’m stupid to let him walk all over me but you don’t know the kind of reputation my family has in comparison to everyone here. So yeah. I let him use me as a prop—”

“Stop it,” he snapped and shook his head.

“—because I’m good for his image, too. Even if it makes me miserable and—”

“Kitten, I’m serious. Stop it,” his voice was almost raw. Like he had been screaming for hours. Maybe it was the combination of anxiety and frustration rushing through him. Like adrenaline but worse. He wanted to cry.

“—it’s pathetic that when people see me with him, they see this innocent—”

“Shut. Up.”

“—intelligent girl who doesn’t know anything because her family is poor and broken—”

“Stop it!” His voice took on a new octave. It made her words fall away.

They were both seething with anger and frustration. The tears in her eyes made him sick. Like when he made her cry because she couldn’t take her test. It was only the second time, but he quickly realized he hated it when she cried. “Stop what, Harry?”

“Stop minimizing who you are,” he practically growled.

“Everyone else does it.”

“Oh yeah? Name one time I’ve done that. If everyone has done it; tell me, kitten. When have I. Ever. Made you feel like less?”

She was silent. Finally.

Harry never made her feel like less. He annoyed the shit out of her. Pissed her off and made her sad. But he never made her feel like she didn’t deserve to be on that campus. Never made her feel inferior.

“M’going t’kiss you,” he warned stepping closer to her now that he made his point.

Her brain restarted. Her cheeks flushed again. “Harry, we can’t I’m... in a relation—”

He glared at her as her back pressed to her bed frame. Cornering her in her open room that was suddenly infinitesimally smaller than it was seconds before. “S’not a fucking relationship,” he snarled. “M’not sure what y’were doing. But you’re not doing it anymore. Not with him. Never again.”

“But we were—”

“Y’don’t need him,” he assured her. “Trust me.”

“But—”

“Y’have me, kitten. M’gonna do whatever y’need,” he cupped the back of her neck, making the words stop on the tip of her tongue and put one hand on the small of her back, pulling her to him swiftly and devouring her lips. She moaned instantly, seconds into the kiss. His lips felt like warm little pillows. Cushioning her own. It was intoxicating. Unfairly, he pulled away almost as quickly as it started. “Oh s’nice, kitten,” he praised. “Moaning already,” he pulled back and peppered kisses along her jaw. She whimpered softly, making him groan. “Y’make pretty little noises like that, kitten. M’not gonna be responsible for what comes next,” he warned pressing his lips back to hers.

Her fingers tangled in his hair at the back of her head. Harry leaned forward arching her backward and wrapping his arms around her tightly. He didn’t want to be aggressive, but there was something in the way her mouth tasted, the way her body felt, that he couldn’t stop kissing her. Hardly breathing, or maybe he was trying to breathe all of her in, he continued pulling her lips into his mouth. Hoping that somewhere along the way, they would get stuck like that. Destined to spend eternity attached by their kiss like a Greek punishment. Except the endless touch of her mouth wouldn’t be punishment. Because he wanted it to be endless. Wanted to spend forever showering her with affection because she deserved that and so much more.

“Can I stay the night, kitten? I’ll sleep on the floor if y’want,” his voice was practically ragged. His forehead pressed to hers. “I jus’ don’t want t’leave you. Please don’t make me leave.”

“You can stay,” she whispered, her voice breathless and airy. “Not on the floor, though.”

“M’not a bat, kitten. Can’t hang from your ceiling,” he joked.

She snorted. “C’mon,” she tugged him to her bed and pulled her in right behind her beneath her covers.

There weren’t many times Harry felt peace. “Harry?” She asked, as she settled into his embrace. His lips skimmed along her face, pressing every so often to whatever he could reach. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

He squeezed her. “You’re welcome, beautiful.”

She sighed. “Your mouth is pretty nice when you’re not talking,” she said quietly.

He chuckled. “Just you wait and see, kitten.”

*

As lovely as the night before was, she tried to maintain a semblance of her routine between replaying the kiss(es) and the angry confession over and over in her head. At the moment, she was grabbing lunch for herself. It was probably going to set her back a bit since she’d need to buy more pencils since Harry stole them all, but she was a little too tired to go without supplying herself with more energy. She pulled her wallet out as the cashier rang her up. “It’s all set, love,” she said sweetly. Tilting her head, she gazed at the woman as if it were a joke.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s all set,” she repeated. “Your food’s been paid for already.”

She blinked, glanced around, looking for someone that fit the description of Good Samaritan. “Who...?”

“I’m not sure. I was just told that if you came through the line to tell you it’s been taken care of. You can get whatever you want,” she shrugged.

Blinking again she glanced around again. A line formed rapidly behind her. She gathered her items and headed for a seat. The one where Isaac usually joined her. But there was no Isaac. She read her book and listened to her music in silence. It was peaceful. When the hour was up, she headed back to the kitchen area to grab another snack, lining up behind the others waiting to check out as well. “Your food’s paid for.”

She felt like she was being pranked. “Again?”

“No, always.”

She felt like her mind was short circuiting. “What?”

“Your meals. All have been paid for. For the year.”

The snack she got was going to be uneaten because she felt like it was a prank. “I don’t understand.”

“I really don’t have more details than that. We were just told your food was paid for.”

“We?”

“My boss left, but I can have him reach out and explain it.”

“Please. Thank you.”

Stunned, she left with her snack. She headed to the library academic center. The tutors on her shift all waved to her. “That gift is for you,” Gabby said. At the front table was a fairly large giftbag. The kind you get for a kid’s birthday and put a board game in it. She looked at it curiously and pulled the tissue paper out of the way. She swallowed the lump in her throat realizing she didn’t need the dining hall manager to reach out to her after all.

She plucked the card from the slot on the side of the bag.

Half are probably for me anyway.

The bag was filled with packages of her favorite pencils. More than she would need for the rest of her undergraduate degree. Maybe even graduate. Or even the rest of her life.

She took a deep breath and pulled out her laptop and opened her email. She typed in Harry’s address, because she still didn’t have Harry’s phone number. Even after making out with him for hours. After waking up in his arms later than she was supposed to and letting his lips linger on her skin.

She wrote her message and pressed send before she could overthink it.

You didn’t have to do that. It’s way too much, actually. I’m a little uncomfortable imagining you spending THAT much money on food and pencils.

Well. If you died of starvation, I wouldn’t have anyone to bother. Kind of a boring way to suffer through the last two years of college—we have Real Analysis I and II next year. I can’t do that alone.

Thank you. That was... very nice of you.

You’re welcome, kitten. Coffee is free too; I went to every shop within walking distance and left your picture. An old ugly one from your mom’s Facebook page, don’t worry. Didn’t want you to get a big head about all of this. It’s not a big deal.

Help yourself to whatever you need and if you need something else let me know.

And this is my phone number so you can stop emailing me like it’s 2003.

She smiled fondly at the message. Closed her laptop and felt happier to be at work than she had in weeks.

*

Harry didn’t force anything. She was lying against his chest in her small room, on her small bed. “I’m sorry it’s so cramped,” she whispered.

“S’better for snuggling,” he shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “Go t’sleep, please, kitten.”

“Don’t you want to... I don’t know, fuck or something?”

“Well, when y’propose it so romantically like that,” he murmured.

She pouted. “I don’t know... I just assumed that...”

“That m’like Isaac? Please don’t make that assumption anymore.”

“So, you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Oh, more than anything,” he tilted her head up and brushed his finger on her warm cheek. “But not until you’re ready.”

“I literally just—”

“No. Y’think s’because we’re supposed to. Not because y’want to,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll wait,” he promised and kissed the tip of her nose, and it was the lamest kind of kiss imaginable. Being twenty-one and melting over a kiss on the nose.

Yet it made her want a thousand more of them. Made her want to cry with how adored she felt. Harry didn’t care that she worked a thousand hours. He didn’t expect her to make out with him. Or blow him. Or anything sexual. No, he practically begged her to sleep in his arms.

It was unfair how sweet he was wrapped up in the body of someone that made her infuriated for the last year and a half. Right as she was about to pass out, she jerked herself awake involuntarily. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed as if she so much as coughed and not nearly punched Harry in the face with her movement.

“Tired.”

“I know, baby. M’trying t’make y’sleep,” he combed her hair down. Traced her spine in the same movement. “Surprise, surprise, you’re a bit stubborn.”

“Who me?”

“Want me t’sing?”

“Don’t want my ears to bleed, no.” Harry chuckled softly. Ignored her.

Then hummed.

It was so warm, so soft, it felt like magic. Harry could sing. That wasn’t on any Bingo cards when she thought about Harry. She didn’t even know what song he was singing. But it lulled her right to sleep.

*

Harry was wrapped around her in the small bed, his head tucked below her chin, his face smushed into the front of her shirt. If she wore a lower cut shirt, Harry would have been drooling on her boobs. “You’re able to breathe in there?” She whispered, threading her fingers through his hair.

“S’the only way I want t’go,” he promised, his voice muffled with sleep and the fabric on her body. “Or with y’legs wrapped around m’head,” he shrugged one shoulder. If Isaac said that to her, she would have punched him. When Harry said it, it made her want to wrap her legs around his head. Made her squeeze her legs together. “Felt that,” he mumbled. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, so he had no choice but to feel it. “Did y’sleep okay?”

She nodded. “Did you?”

“Extremely. Wrapped up in m’favorite girl.”

Her heart fluttered and she kissed the top of his head. Never would she have imagined Harry being so sweet and lovely like this. “Are you... going to be mean in public to me?”

“I hope not,” he pulled away and rubbed his eye. He looked sleepy and boyish. A devilish combination for her skeptical heart. “Have I been mean t’you?” He asked. “I know I tease, but mean?” She supposed he wasn’t mean. Maybe the teasing tricked her.

“I guess the teasing—”

“M’so sorry love,” he frowned and cupped her cheeks, kissed her softly on the lips. “No more teasing,” he promised.

“Well,” she laughed softly. “I kind of like teasing you.”

He smirked. “I don’t want you to think m’mean,” his eyebrows pinched together.

“Can I ask you a question without making fun of me?”

“I think that depends on the question, kitten. If y’ask me some basic math problem like what’s the indefinite integral of x-squared times cosine x or what’s a negative times a negative—”

“Are we dating?”

He stopped his joke and cupped her face. Dropped his forehead to hers and brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I would fucking hope so, kitten.”

She swallowed. “You don’t care that I’m broke? Or that I work a lot and I’m crazy and—”

“No, I don’t care ‘bout any of that. You’re m’favorite person to annoy. The person I look forward t’seeing most in class. You’re the entire reason ‘ve never skipped class.”

Her heart fluttered. “You can’t pay for everything, Harry. It was a sweet sentiment but—”

“M’not letting m’girlfriend starve,” he rolled his eyes.

Her heart definitely fluttered. He was sweet. Harry was sweet. What a revelation. Or maybe she always knew that.

She looked into those beautiful green eyes that made her feel overwhelmed in the best way. “Why do you call me Your Majesty?” She whispered quietly. Almost scared to hear the answer.

He rolled his eyes again. A favorite past time of his. “Because kitten,” he pressed his lips over hers briefly, then kissed her forehead, and finally the tip of her nose. He met her gaze and made sure she was focusing when he spoke again. In a few minutes she would be busy, overwhelmed, and stressed. For the moment, Harry wanted to make sure she knew just how important she was to him. “I think you’re a queen.”

--

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[eveninggstar]

victory lap ⊹ ࣪ ˖

lando norris x rival!Mercedes!reader

26.08.24

୨ৎLando proposes a bet that if he gets pole and wins from pole in Zandvoort then he gets to not use a condom next time you and him have sex.

୨ৎ back one page ୨ৎ back two pages

smut

unprotected p in v sex, kinda bratty reader, lando smacks readers ass twice, sex on the floor, lando is controlling but in a good way, probs more

ngl this is prob the best smut ive ever written so far lol kinda like this one bc i love lando two wins!!! Also this is pretty long i dont know how many words

The tension between you and Lando had been building up for years. The two of you were rivals on the track, always pushing each other to the limit, but beneath that fierce competition lay something neither of you could ignore—an undeniable sexual tension that everyone seemed to notice. The paddock was rife with rumours, and even your respective teams had exchanged knowing glances whenever the two of you were around each other.

It all came to a head one balmy summer evening at Zandvoort. The Dutch Grand Prix was notorious for its challenging circuit and passionate fans, and both of you were ready to put on a show.

You were lounging in your driver room, going over your strategy for the weekend when Lando sauntered in, a cocky grin plastered on his face. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his McLaren race suit unzipped just enough to give a glimpse of his undershirt. He was clearly up to something.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice dripping with that signature mix of charm and mischief. “How confident are you feeling about this weekend?”

You looked up from your notes, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Confident enough to wipe that smug look off your face, Norris. Why do you ask?”

Lando chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking over to you. “Well, I was thinking... How about we make things a little more interesting this weekend?”

Your curiosity was piqued. “Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind?”

He leaned in close, his arms draped around your shoulder and his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Let’s make a bet. If I get pole position and win from pole, then the next time we have sex i don't wear a condom." He stayed silent for a few seconds, then leaning his face closer to your ear so his nose flattened, "Let me finish inside of you, baby."

A shiver ran down your spine at his bold proposition. You knew Lando liked to push boundaries, but this was a whole new level. Still, you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not from him.

“And what do I get if you don’t?” you asked, your voice steady despite the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“If I don’t win from pole, you get to call the shots next time,” Lando replied, his eyes darkening with the unspoken promises laced in his words.

You leaned back in your chair, pretending to consider it, even though you already knew your answer. “Alright, Norris. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Saturday came around, and the atmosphere at Zandvoort was electric. The roar of the crowd, the smell of burning rubber, and the thrill of competition all combined to create an intoxicating environment. Qualifying was intense, with both you and Lando pushing your cars to the absolute limit.

“Lando Norris takes pole position!” the announcer’s voice boomed across the circuit.

You clenched your fists, a mix of frustration and anticipation bubbling within you. Lando had done it—step one of the bet was complete. But there was still the race to come, and you were determined to give him a run for his money.

Race day dawned bright and clear, the sun shining down on the packed grandstands. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you strapped into your Mercedes, your focus narrowing down to the task at hand. The lights went out, and the race began with a flurry of motion.

Lando held his position at the front, but you were right on his tail, refusing to give him an inch. Lap after lap, you pressed him, looking for any opportunity to overtake, but he defended fiercely, his car perfectly placed at every turn. The tension between you both was palpable, each of you pushing the other to the brink.

As the race neared its conclusion, you realized that Lando was going to pull it off. He had driven impeccably, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t find a way past him. At this point you were nowhere near him. He had a 20 second lead and had lapped over half the grid.

Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Lando had won the bet. As you pulled into the pit lane, you saw him celebrating with his team, his face lit up with triumph. But when he caught your eye, his smile turned into something more—something darker, filled with desire.

Later that evening, after all the interviews and celebrations, you found yourself in Lando’s motorhome. The air between you crackled with anticipation as he closed the door behind him, shutting out the world.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed winning a race this much.”

You swallowed hard, your body already responding to the heat in his gaze. “You got lucky, Norris.”

He smirked, stepping closer until you were backed up against the wall. “I think we both know it wasn’t just luck, Y/N. Now, are you ready to pay up?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed his body against yours, his hands sliding up your sides. You could feel his heart pounding in time with your own, the intensity between you both reaching a fever pitch.

“You won fair and square,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Lando’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It was fierce, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been simmering between you for so long. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Lando didn't waste anytime before he urged you backwards towards the sofa. Your mouths slotted together and his hands groped and explored your body, going from your chest to your thighs. His hands manoeuvred the remains of your race suit to the floor, only leaving you in your fireproofs. With the reduced barrier, he could easily press against you causing you to let out many gasps and a few tugs to his hair.

Pulling away slightly, you mumbled into his mouth, “Lan, hurry up.”

He paused, eyes scattering over your features. His face was no longer the happy winner everyone outside saw. He was now drunk with a lust filled haze. He lifted himself up off of you slightly, bringing a hand to your face and caressing it with the utmost care. His breath felt warm against your face, causing your eyes to flutter shut. The calmness you were experiencing was cut short by the strong grip Lando had on your face, squeezing your cheeks and puckering your lips.

"You're the one needing to be faster." He practically growled, looking deep into your eyes. "Remind me who came first." He paused, awaiting your answer. "Who won the bet?" His voice sent shivers down your spine.

"You," you mumbled, then began to smile as his hand drifted to your neck. He returned the smile and slowly moved his face to the underside on your jaw. He kissed it sweetly, then tightened his grip.

"Louder, baby." He commanded, his words dark but mixed with the feather light kisses sent your head into another dimension.

"You!" You spoke up, earning a nip to your neck. He then came back to your face to then deepen the kiss you had earlier.

He moved your lower body so he could fit more comfortably between your legs. Your hands desperately gripped at his damp hair, needing to hold anything to ground yourself.

You felt the hand around your neck slowly trail down the length of your body before settling at your groin. Your legs attempted to close shut, although his waist was preventing you from doing that. He began to work at your clothed clit, his thumb easily circling over the smooth fabric.

"Uh-" your voice cut off as he pressed on the dampening fabric harder.

"There you go, you're speeding up. Getting wet so quickly," He spoke condescendingly as he nuzzled his nose in your cheek. "Why cant you be like this on track?" He began to mouth at your neck, causing you to let out a breathy moan. As much as you hated Lando's cockiness, god was it hot.

“Shush.” You moaned, an audible show of your composure.

You could barely speak, Lando's thumb never faltering on your soaking clit. His body was overwhelming you, and you started to squirm. However, that same thumb stopped giving pleasure. Before you could protest, he was hastily ripping your fireproofs off. This left you bare and flushed below him. Your chest heaving up and down as his eyes scanned over our body.

He leaned up to nip at your ear, surely leaving a mark this time, as you expelled a breath of pleasure as his fingers worked their way into your slit.

Your words were lost on you, wanting to ask when he was going to get to the real reason of your bet. But in all honestly, you didn't care if he would carry on pleasuring you. However, you did want his fingers to enter you, to leave you wanting more of a stretch for days after.

His fingers left your aching cunt, leaving it to pulsate rhythmically. You reached out to hold his hand, an iron bruising grip you're sure of it. His race suit clad crotch bumped against your bare one, giving a shock of unexpected pleasure.

"Lan!" you practically yelled, your squeal bouncing off of the surrounding walls.

He shushed you, then ordered you to not touch yourself. He slowly slinked up off of the sofa, eyes solely focused of your slightly twitching body. The rest of his race suit joined yours on the floor, in addition to his fireproofs.

His cock sprung free, the tip beat red and dripping at the sight of you. Lando stood proud for what felt like forever. His left thumb was stroking his lip as he shook his head in the opposite direction. That's when he uttered-

"Get on the floor."

You submissive sex haze briefly broke, thinking you heard him wrong.

"The floor?" You pushed your body up, looking at him like he just asked you to get on the floor like an animal. Oh wait-

"I won the bet, baby." He smirked, eyes still raking over your nude body. "Floor, there's not enough space on the sofa for us."

With a sigh and a reluctant nod, you melted your way off of the sofa. You knew the position he wanted you in, he rarely fucked you when not in it. You laid on the floor for a few seconds, collecting yourself. Lando saw you laying there, not having you be a pillow princess he ordered you to-

"Flip around, ass up. I know!" You rolled your eyes, then did it. What you didn't expect was a harsh smack to your ass. You let out a mixture of a moan and a sound on pain.

"Enough of the bratty attitude," He smacked your ass lighter this time then gripping the plump, reddening flesh.

Finally, you thought, the head of his cock began to notch at your entrance. His fingers had intertwined with the nodded strands of your hair and he pulled up as his dick pushed into your cunt in a swift motion.

You both let out a groan of pleasure. Lando held himself there, letting you and himself adjust to the jaw dropping pleasure. This was the first time the pair of you were having sex without a condom, and god did it already feel a million times better. The pair of you had to focus to not cum straight away.

No words were needed between the four walls of you sex filled haven, as Lando thrusted into you. His palms splayed on your hips controlled your movements as his relentlessly bullied his cock further and further into you. You hands struggled to hold onto something, eventually finding solace in Lando's fireproofs.

His name was chanted like a prayer from you, in return you got delicious sounding moans and groans from behind you. You were sure his face didn't look all that different to yours in the moment. Pleasure filled, and only focused on the other.

His repetitive ruts and the bruising grip on your hips rendered you speechless. You wanted to say keep going, feels so good. But that was the problem, since the pleasure was that unbelievable you couldn't say. The loud sounds of sex echoed as your skin slapped in a fast tempo, each smack more pleasureful than the last.

Lando leaned closer to you, chest flat of you back. At every thrust you could feel the tense of his abs and the perspiration drip onto your equally sweaty skin. He began to mouth at your neck, settling for small thrusts whilst he was buried at the hilt. One on his hands slithered away from your hips and found solace on your breast.

His hot breath spread across your neck and down your spine as you shivered. His moans had turned to grunts and pants.

"Like it when you can feel me this good?" He grinned into your hair, leaving small kisses in his wake. "Like it when your this full?"

You wanted to nod, only giving a weak, stuttered head movement. The remaining hand on your hip drifted to your swollen clit. He helped ease you to completion.

"Aren't you glad I got pole." He teased you. "That I won. You wouldn't feel this good if I didn't."

You whimpered at his words, too turned on to be annoyed that he won and you didn't. But yeah, you were happy he won. He doesn't have to know that though.

You wanted to tease him, give him payback to what you were feeling, what you always felt with him, however none of that would be happening. He knew you like he knew the tracks the pair of you frequented, and knew that you were actual putty in his hands this very moment.

He picked up his pace, resulting you to let out loud moans and sexual noises of the like. The speed of his thrusts felt as if his dick was going to come out, luckily it didn't and you got the full pleasure.

His fingers at your clit sped up, he sensed how close you were solely on how your body tensed up.

"Come on, you can cum for me. I know you can-"

His hand came up as fast as his reflexes allowed, as you came. He slowly reduced the pleasure he was giving to your clit and eventually reached his own high. Your neck vibrated at the animalistic groan he let out into it.

Needless to say, the pair of you would be having more bets like this.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

taglist: (comment if you wanna be added)

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

[nottsangel]

no because imagine academic rival!theo going down on u in a classroom or a library or something. like u guys cannot study together but like…he’s down for other stuff…………yk??

“shut the fuck up or people will hear us.” theo warns sternly, spreading your legs with his strong hands on your thighs while you’re leaning against the desk. your fingers tangle in his soft hair as he’s down on his knees, watching the wetness trail down your thighs.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. you were meant to study with him— well, not voluntarily, though. you were paired up with him for a group project, much to both of your irritation. and as expected, after a while, you began yelling at each other, both stubborn as hell and unable to agree on anything. then, unexpectedly, caught up in the heat of the moment, he firmly grabbed your face and eagerly kissed you before ripping the clothes of your body…. and that’s how you found yourself in this predicament.

“then hurry the fuck up, theo!” you hiss, impatiently pushing him into into your dripping core and making him groan, the vibrations heightening to the pleasure you’re feeling as he laps at your aching cunt. you throw your head back at the sensation as he skilfully sucks on your swollen clit, causing you to bite down on your lip to suppress any loud moans from escaping.

“oh, fuck, fuck, just like that! feels so good, theo, fuck.”

“never thought i’d hear you moan my name, bella, but i could get used to this.”

normally, you’d bite back at his words, but he quickly pushes two fingers into you at once, causing you to clutch the edge of the desk with all your might as you let out a shaky breath at the feeling. he finds your g-spot so effortlessly, long fingers curling up as the tips of his digits rub against your sweet spot, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“you gonna come, baby? almost breaking my fuckin’ fingers here with how tightly you’re clenching around them.” he growls against your core as your legs begin to tremble. you feel your body grow weaker as his skilful fingers speed up, rubbing against your g-spot relentlessly while his mouth sucks on your clit so perfectly. you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt, enjoying how you respond to his touch.

“i’m gonna— fuck, i’m gonna cum” you moan as theo continues sloppily eating you out and fingering you simultaneously, both his saliva and your juices running down his chin. he so effortlessly pushes you over the edge as your orgasm washes over you, causing you to arch your back as your vision begins to blur, your hand flying to your mouth to silence any loud moans. your chest rises and falls as you come down from your intense high, head still thrown back and your mouth agape.

“cool. let’s go back to work now.”

“theo, wha—”

“oh, and i made you cum. so it’s only fair we do it my way now.”

ੈ♡˳

[stellamarielu]

we shouldn't

declan o'hara x female reader

summary: you probably shouldn't be stealing glances at your best friend's dad. but you DEFINITELY shouldn't be sitting on a kitchen table with him between your legs.

content: nsfw, 18+, smutty smut smut smut, age gap, best friend's dad just hits different i'm sorry

author's note: i saw a comment that said declan definitely talks you through it and i couldn't agree more. so here we are!

-------------------------------------------------------

You sit stirring the cup of tea in front of you in an effort to keep your hands busy. You had found yourself in your best friend’s kitchen on a Saturday night only she wasn’t home. So instead of spending your evening with her, you were now having a cup of tea with her incredibly dreamy father. Although this was a scenario you had dreamt about, you hadn’t come over here expecting to see Declan.

You were here because Taggie had once marveled over the local produce available at the farmer’s market held in town so you grabbed some earlier that morning with the intention of dropping it at the Priory for her. You knew going into town was a bit of a drive for the O’hara’s and you lived a block away from the market, so it was an easy task for you. You showed up at her front door expecting to hand her a bag full of veggies and were instead met by her brutally handsome father.

You hadn’t lived in town long but from the second you and Taggie met there was an unspoken friendship solidified between the two of you. The bond was most likely due to the fact that you were both twenty-something year old girls in a town full of middle-aged married couples. Nonetheless you enjoyed each other’s company. She taught you how to bake blueberry muffins from scratch and you helped her take a step back from her responsibilities and let loose from time to time. It was a win-win. 

What Taggie didn’t know was that you and her father had been shamelessly flirting with each other for weeks. 

It started with stolen glances at Declan when he would walk around the house shirtless. His broad shoulders and hair covered chest had you in a trance, so much so that it took you a minute to notice when he caught you staring. Wearing a smug expression he threw you a quick wink before walking out of the room, his small chuckle echoed in his absence and you knew you were fucked. 

Ever since that day the two of you shared many coy smirks, crude jokes and light brushes of the hands but nothing beyond that. You couldn’t deny how badly you wanted him. You knew it was wrong to think that way about your best friend’s dad. You knew it but you kept thinking about what he would be like in bed. God- you were such a bad friend. 

So now you were sitting in the kitchen of the Priory without Taggie. She had failed to mention that she had a job catering one of Valerie Jones’ parties tonight. Of course, when you realized she wasn’t home you offered to leave the groceries and head back home but Declan insisted on you staying for a cup of tea. You joined him in the kitchen watching his large hands fumble with mugs and tea bags and thinking about other places his rough hands would work well. Jesus you couldn’t even let the man perform a simple task without drooling over him. It would have been ridiculous if it weren’t for the way his lips turned up into a cheeky smile knowing you were watching his every move. The smug bastard knew the ways you thought about him and he relished in it.

“Taggie normally tells me when she has a gig.” You state still stirring your tea.

“This came up last minute” Declan stood at the kitchen counter sipping whiskey, he wasn’t much of a tea guy.

“Even I was surprised. She hasn’t been workin’ weekends as much since you’ve come into the picture” He finishes speaking taking another swig of his drink.

“You’ve somehow done the impossible task of gettin’ that girl out of the house and enjoyin’ her life on Saturday nights. I’ll forever be grateful to you for that.” He raises his drink to you causing a small laugh to leave your lips.

“Yeah well, Taggie’s a good time. I don’t think you give her enough credit” You finally stop messing with the spoon in your hand and take a small sip of the tea in front of you.

“While that may be true, I think you help her come out of her shell. You’re just so-“ he stops and just stares at you for a moment like he’s trying to think of the word he wants to say. 

“lively.” He finally says.

you smile at the adjective. 

“And vibrant and captivating” He abruptly sets his glass on the countertop and begins slowly walking in your direction.

“You’re absolutely stunnin’, you know that?”

You feel your heart begin to race as he comes to stand in front of you. 

“I keep tryin’ to push away the way you make me feel.”

“But it’s impossible to ignore when I walk into a room and immediately feel your presence. So bright and mesmerizing.”

You feel frozen by his words. You’ve played out this exact moment in your head every single night but never imagined it would come to fruition. Now Declan is standing just inches away, the tension palpable.

“Not to mention you’re always fuckin' here.” He waves his hands gesturing to the massive home you’ve both found yourself alone in tonight. “Always around remindin’ me of what I can’t have” 

The words barely come out of his mouth before you’re on your feet slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. His lips crash onto yours and he wastes no time savoring the taste of your lips. His kiss is hungry and methodical, and you think you might melt. 

He breaks away for a split second,

“We shouldn’t” he says breathless but then his lips are back on yours in an instant, showing no signs of stopping. 

“Declan. Please” You practically beg him to keep kissing you.

It must be the way you say his name because he throws any restraint he previously had out the window. Picking you up and sitting you on the kitchen table in one swift movement.

His hands find their way up your skirt lightly gripping your thighs, his fingertips drawing lazy circles on your skin just inches away from where you really wanted him to touch you. 

He leans in close whispering coarsely in your ear

“I’ve dreamt about this.” 

The attention of his lips shifts from a soft whisper to a gentle kiss right below your ear. 

“Me too” you admit.

Your voice is breathless as he continues placing kisses down your neck every now and again nipping and suckling at the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw. 

“Tell me love, what is it you think about?” He says sending sweet vibrations into the crook of your neck.

“Do you think about me touchin’ ya?”

He runs his hands roughly up and down your thighs pushing your skirt up so that it’s bunched at your hips.

“Do you think about how good I could make you feel hmm?”

The words coming out of his mouth have you all but dripping between your thighs. His hands find the hem of your underwear, playing with the material between his fingertips he tugs them down your legs at a painfully slow pace. 

He pulls away so his gaze is on yours. Your foreheads meet as his hands find their way back to your thighs, carefully spreading them open just a bit more. 

“I think about it constantly” 

He takes his time trailing his fingertips up your inner thighs, so gently that the featherlight touch makes you shiver. The corner of his mouth curls into a smile knowing the effect he has on you. 

You almost squeal when you feel his pointer finger circling your entrance. He keeps it there, taunting you with anticipation.

“How your cunt would feel wrapped around my fingers” 

He lets his digit sink inside you with the slightest pressure. The gentleness of his touch contradicting his dirty words. 

Your eyes fall shut and you let out a soft moan of relief. 

The sound of pleasure causes him to add another finger. He curls them in just the right way making you grab at his forearm and whimper his name. He keeps playing at the spot that elicited such a strong response from you causing you to squirm in pleasure. 

“God you feel s’good. Your pretty little cunt squeezin’ my fingers like that. Can’t imagine how you’d feel on my cock”

You bite back a groan at his words. If he kept talking to you like this, you might cum in record time. 

He picks up the pace of his fingers, moving them at a deliciously perfect rhythm. You squeeze your eyes shut focusing on the pressure building in your abdomen. 

“Look at me love, I wanna see ya.” His voice is low and rough.

You open your eyes and it takes everything in you not to come undone at the sight. His curls falling in his face, his jaw slack, and his eyes clouded with lust.

“That’s it, s’pretty for me” 

You’re putty in his hands at this point, sitting on his kitchen table, legs spread wide, One of his hands on the back of your neck holding you steady the other inside of you. 

As if the carefully arched thrusts of his fingers weren’t enough to push you over the edge, he begins gliding his thumb over your clit. The added sensation makes your body jolt and you fight to keep your eyes open.  

His movements work together like a perfectly timed symphony and you find yourself reeling closer to the edge of ecstasy. You moan Declan’s name again, an indulgent praise, and he groans in response. You’re so close, the tension in your body is looking for release causing your thighs to clench around Declan. 

The fullness of his fingers inside of you and the constant attention on the bundle of nerves between your legs has you seeing stars. But it’s the filthy words he speaks to you that finally finish the job.

“Atta girl.”

“You’re doing s’good”

“Let go for me”

With those words you feel the tightness in your core come undone and let out one final drawn out sound of pleasure. You’re clenching and dripping and heaving and Declan is just staring. Forehead still resting on yours, breathing heavy, he softly smiles and places a gentle kiss on your lips. 

It takes a few moments for you to regain some sort of composure and then you finally speak,

“We’re fucked”

“We are so so so fucked, I can’t believe how fucked we are.” You allow your internal dialogue to spill out. 

Declan just chuckles darkly. 

“Perhaps we are.” He toys with your skirt still gathered at your hips.

“But if we’re goin’ down we might as well have a little more fun.” Chuckling through his words he picks you up off the table so your legs are wrapped around him and begins carrying you upstairs.

“If you thought I was done with ya love, you are sorely mistaken”  

my masterlist

[st4rymoon]

✭ 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ✭

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐀𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a long read btw, arguing, impact play, academic rivals, slow burn, rough sex, hate sex, language, p in v, make out sesh, unprotected sex, annoying Miguel, reader has some anger issues on the low, breath play, teasing, sexual tension, semi-mean dom, after care

・Part two! Part Three!

“WHAT?” You yelled, both your professor and Miguel looking at you in shock after your professor asked you for a one on one with the both of you.

You could scoff at the way Miguel’s lips curled up into a satisfied smile “Well you and Miguel are my best students, so it would only make sense for the both of you to do a presentation together. I can only imagine the things the both of you will come up with!” Your annoyingly sweet professor clapped.

“ wouldn’t it be better if both of us did our own? We coul-“ You tried to negotiate “Ah ah! I said group project! Now Miguel, do you have anything to say about this? Any complaints like this one over here?”

You sighed as Miguel spoke “Nope, I’d be happy to work with someone in the same range as me” he cockily spoke “Very funny, now since we’ve got this all sorted, go and talk” she smiled, shooing you and Miguel out of the classroom.

You scoffed as you pushed past Miguel “Aww come on sweetheart, you hate me that much?” He cooed following close behind you.

“Shut it” you huffed. Getting paired with Miguel was possibly the worst thing to happen since your high school prom. Miguel was the bane of your existence since the first year of college.

Of course, his good looks and brains were attractive but sooner or later you realized he was going to be a pain in your ass for the next few months of class. You met him in your first biology class, everything was going well until the first exam of the class.

Your professor said the class average was low B’s and high C’s but out of the whole class, two people got perfect scores. Could you guess who the two were?

You and Miguel.

Both of you looked at each other from across the class with the same look in your eyes saying ‘Someone beat me?’. Of course, you both got the same 100% grade but both of you were so used to being the only one on top of the class that this was more than just a score. But your egos.

You both were fully aware to not be in each other's way, only seeing each other when studying at the same place or in class. All was going well for the next 2 exams, but the 3rd one came and you couldn’t believe it.

You got a 98% and Miguel has a perfect 100%. You could see him smile at the results and you hated the professor right now. Why the hell would he show the class? It’s embarrassing, to say the least.

Miguel gave you a wink as you looked his way ever so slightly. Bursting out of the class, you could feel him behind you “2 points down” he chuckled. You wish you would’ve punched him.

And ever since then, he’s made it his life mission to ruin your day. You never got anything other than 100% again, you busted your ass studying just so he couldn’t rub it in.

“I’ll make sure you can’t get us two points down” Miguel hummed as he kept up at your pace. You could feel your blood boiling, god he’s such an asshole. “I’ll email you if I need help” you scoffed.

“Can I get your number? I won’t get the email since my inbox is always spamming” Miguel lied with a smile “fine” you muttered out your number and walked off before he could stop you.

��Real classy, I wasn’t done talking’ popped up on your screen “Well I am” you messaged back. You were well aware it was Miguel and you didn’t need him to piss you off more than usual.

The second you stepped into your apartment you let out a relieved sigh. Oh, how you missed this place in these insufferable hours. You put on some comfy panties and an oversized hoodie.

You were laid in your living room, soft carpet under you as you finished up some of the slides for your presentation. The knock at your door was the last thing you needed, you groaned in agony as you hated the thought of getting up from your warm spot.

The knocking grew and so did your patience’s “IM COMING!” You yelled. You pulled the door open and lo and behold, Miguel. “For fuck sake man” you whined.

“Glad to see you too!” He smiled as he pushed past you with books in hand. Miguel was born with the talent of hiding his emotions, that talent was most useful here.

He took a deep breath as you opened the door. Your pretty thighs glowing under the baggy hoodie, hair a slight mess and the satisfying look of anger on your face could’ve made him harm.

“Excuse you” you hissed.

He plotted down next to your things and got straight to work. You stood in shock, did he just walk in like this was his house? “Well go ahead and get comfortable” you mocked as you slammed the door in annoyance.

“I am” he sighed as he stretched and leaned onto your couch.

The both of you bickered and sneered at each other the whole time you both worked but even then, the quality was always top-notch.

He didn’t like the way you formatted the information and you didn’t like how he took up a whole slide for a few sentences but both of you compromised. After a few hours, things were less tense, and both of you got used to each other.

“So what do you plan on doing with your major?” You asked, legs crossed and some candy in your mouth as you questioned him “Biochemist” he nodded “It’s always been a passion of mine”

“You sure do have the brains for it” you chuckled. “You don’t with the 98%” he teased. You rolled your eyes, your mood now soured as you remembered his shenanigans.

“Don’t start” you scoff as you get up to get some drinks “Hey hey I’m joking” he laughs, his hand stopping you from leaving as he holds your wrist “I know Sherlock, I’m going to get some drinks for us” you mutter with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly, his eyes watching as you grabbed two glasses of water. “So what about you?” Miguel asked “What are you doing with a chemistry major”

“Probably chemical engineering, I’m not sure yet” You shrugged as you handed him the cup. He nodded and watched you sit next to him. Miguel scooted a little closer making you stiffen, sure he was a pain in the ass but he’s sadly one of the most gorgeous guys you’ve seen.

You tried to ignore your thoughts each time he’d stretch and groan, his moans making you think about how he’d sound if it were from pleasure. He’d be vocal you thought.

“Let’s watch something on the TV” you awkwardly smiled as you grabbed the remote and turned on your TV, you laid on your stomach, forgetting you only had panties and a hoodie.

Miguel’s eyes watched you kick your feet up, your glowy legs looking perfect as you looked through whatever you were putting on.

He noticed the pink panties you had on, his tongue instinctively licking his bottom lip as he thought about how good you’d look on top of him. He can imagine it, tits in his face and pussy sleeving his cock as he fucked you full.

He was going to give himself a boner if he kept it up. He focused his eyes on the screen and sighed in relief as you sat back up. You put on your favorite show and sat next to Miguel “We’re almost done with the assignment which is good, how about a few more minutes of break and we get back to work?” You smiled. “Sure”

You felt his hand move behind you, his arm resting above the couch as he let out yet again another ‘stretch’ while his eyes looked at you through his peripheral, you chuckled. How cliche.

You smiled as you decided to make your cliche move. It was obvious there was tension between you two, whether that be anger or sexual, it didn’t matter. “Let me get more gummies” you hummed as you turned to the table beside you and arched your back slightly, an audible moan coming from behind you as your ass was on perfect display.

You sat back beside him, gummies in hand and an innocent look on your face as you offered him some. He scoffed, shaking his head and looking back at the TV. Your eyes widened as you noticed the thick bulge straining against his pants.

“Eyes up” Miguel cockily cooed as he watched your eyes closely. “I- I wasn’t-“You made a pathetic attempt to save yourself but he cut you off “Uh huh uh huh, I know” he mocked.

He smiled down at you with accomplishment, he finally made you shut up for once. “Not going to give me a snarky comeback?” He cooed. “Shut up already God, stop it” you hissed, your eyes rolling as you moved away from him.

“No no” Miguel’s voice made you shiver as his hand held your thigh “I’m playing” he pouted as he glared down at you. You could punch him right but instead, you did something you thought you’d never do.

You pushed him on the couch and slammed your lips on his. Miguel’s hands immediately wrapped around your waist, a loud moan spilling into your mouth as he finally tasted you.

It seemed like Miguel was waiting for you to do this, his hands ran up your thighs hungrily before he flipped you onto your back. You gasped as he spread your legs around his waist.

His behemoth of a body spread your legs wide as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You tangled your fingers into his hair as both of you hungrily kissed each other.

The kisses were messy and rough, teeth nipping at skin and tongues lapping at each other like two animals in heat. None of you even said a word, just heavy breaths, moans, and pure lust.

Suddenly Miguel pulled back from your lips, his eyes glaring into yours as he hovered above you. You could feel yourself getting ready for some snarky comment as you watched his lips curve into a smile.

“You kissed me first”

You groaned as you pushed him off, his hands still on your hips as he flipped you back onto his lap “hey I’m not complaining, It’s just funny since I piss you of so much” he sighed. His palm moved up to your jaw, face brushing against his hand as you took in his warmth.

He watched you lean into his palm like a cat, his body heating up as he realized how small you look in his lap. Your thighs small compared to his but still plump and pretty.

“Can I kiss you again” you shyly asked slightly afraid that he’s reject. “You don’t have to ask me, just do it” Miguel hummed as he pulled you into a kiss.

The kisses were now more sensual and soft, both of you now grinding into each other. His hand curled onto the back of your neck; the other palm pinned behind your spine.

You were glued onto his chest as Miguel’s warmth filled your senses. You’ve never been so warm in your life, the feeling making you tingly as he held you as close as possible. It felt like nothing in the world could hurt you, you felt safe.

“Please” you whispered onto his lips. He tried to not make you mad but he loved seeing you angry “Please what?” He taunts, his lips hovering over your jaw and neck but never touching you.

“Mig don’t tease” you whined as you hit his chest lightly “I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re saying please for” his arms clinging around your waist as he takes in your sweet scent.

You decided to play your games “I want you inside me mig, want to show you how much I need you” you cooed, your hand running down his abdomen and stopping just above his bulge. His breath hitched at your words, he didn’t know if you were fucking with him or not.

“Oh yeah?” Miguel watched you with focused eyes, his hands running up the sides of your thighs and squeezing your ass “You want me to fuck some manners into you? That loud fucking mouth of yours is always pissing me off” he cooed.

Loud fucking mouth? Your hand went up to smack his face in anger but he caught your wrist before you could “Don’t even try it muñeca.” He sternly said “You won’t like what comes with that”

You angrily kissed him as he pressed you flush against his aching cock, his hands pull the baggy hoodie off your body leaving you in your matching panties and bra.

“Fuck” he whispered, hands on your waist as he took in the view he’s been dreaming of since the day he met you. The amount of times he’d imagine fucking your mouth until you shut up was concerning.

You pulled his shirt off in need, throwing it behind you as you ran your hands up his thick muscular chest. He hummed at your soft hands running up his skin.

“Sit up for me?” He mumbled against your skin as he kicked off his sweats. He smiled at how obediently you did as he said “You look prettier when you do as I say” Miguel mocked.

You could care less about his words as his calloused hands pulled your panties off in need “Just shut up and fuck me” you panted. Miguel smiled as he felt your lips pepper all over his jaw and onto his lips, he could see you were just as eager for him as he was for you.

“Beg” he blurted. You ignored him as you rubbed his cock between your folds, both of you letting out moans as you felt each other's warmth. Miguel seethed, arms pinning you up to his chest “Listen”

You hated that you got turned on by the fact that he now had you restricted with just one hand as the other held your jaw up “you want the guy you despise to fuck you? You tell me you hate me every time you see me but look so eager to fuck me”

You were tired of his teasing, you let out a desperate whine, you could see his cock spring up and his tip leaking precum. But like always, Miguel likes to rile you up.

“Beg” he repeated. “Please mig please, just stop teasing ok” you cried. “All you needed to listen to was this?” He purred, hands moving onto your hips as he thrusts into you.

Miguel let out a gruntled moan as he felt your warm wet walls hug him tight, his head falling back onto the couch as he finally felt your pussy squeeze him.

He watched your eyes squeeze shut while you let out the prettiest moans “f- fuck!” You cried, the stretch making you clench even tighter around him as he held you down to his lap.

His cock was fully buried inside you in one go, he’s the biggest you’ve had in every way. It was overwhelming feeling how full you were, you could feel his curves and the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix.

“Breath chula, r- relax” he sighed. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you nodded, you took a deep breath allowing you to make it easier for him to move. “That’s it” he hummed onto your shoulder.

It only took Miguel a few seconds for him to start fucking you onto his lap, your body shaping into his hands, allowing him to use your pussy like a flesh light.

“O- Mig mi-“ you whined out, you couldn’t explain what you were feeling. Your whole body was tingling in pleasure as he rammed into you with pure force. Maybe you did piss him off a lot.

“What? You c- can’t take it? Such a big fucking mouth but can’t take my dick?” He seethed. You let out a pathetic whine at his words, your mind completely fogged in pleasure as you took all of him.

Miguel’s eyes couldn’t leave your pussy, his eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agar as he watched your pussy struggling to take his size. He hissed as you pushed him onto the couch, using his shoulders for support as you bounced onto his lap.

Your pretty moans filled his ears as you took control. Miguel let you take control for a bit, he loved watching how eager you rode him. Your body bounces on his lap, wet sounds of skin slapping echoing into the room.

“Making such a fucking mess” he huffed with a smile on his face, although he was loving this, he wanted to see you completely vulnerable. He thought maybe he was a little sick for wanting to see someone who hated him so much completely ruined under him but he loved it.

You gasped as Miguel lifted you onto the ground, your back hit the soft carpet under you as he stayed buried inside you. “Gotta fuck that stupid little attitude out honey, always disrespecting me. You’re the only one who tries to push my buttons. I love it” he cooed.

Miguel’s calloused hands bend your legs to the side, giving him full access to your tight cunt. “Go- god shi- fuck!” Miguel panted, he was a complete fucking mess.

Sure Miguel’s fucked a few people in his life, but he had no idea if it was just the thought of fucking the life out of you or how perfect your body was for him. He convinced himself it was both.

You clawed and scratched at his chest, your eyes full of tears as he brutally pounded into your “m- Mig I-“You were even more fucked out than him. How couldn’t you?

You had no clue where he got his stamina from, it felt like he’d been fucking you for hours. “Can’t believe you tried to slap me, should I return the favor?” Miguel hissed.

You nodded to his surprise “Please” you whined. “You want me to hit you?” He was surprised by your plead. He knew you’d be a freak in the sheets but you were always so aggressive with him that he expected you to hit him for even suggesting it.

“You’re always a pain in my ass but you just want to be taken care of huh?… What? You need me to pound your pretty pussy out for you to treat me with some respect?”

You nodded eagerly, if you were being honest you couldn’t even take in his words. Your pussy clenched and throbbed around his fat cock in agony but you were taken by surprise when a slap landed on your face “Use your words” he hissed.

Almost immediately you cried “Yes yes! Miguel please I nee- need it, f- fuck ah!”

Miguel chuckled, his hips angled a bit higher which allowed him to hit the perfect stop. His hand flew around your throat, his hips pounding you onto the floor as he let out animalistic moans.

“M- Mig- ah fff- fuckk!” You cried. The restriction of your breathing mixed with his rough pounds caused orgasm hit you hard as your pussy throbbed around him, the tip of his cock nudging at your sweet spot continuously.

Miguel’s eyes rolled back as he felt your nails claw at his arms, your small hand wrapped around his wrist as he fucked you balls deep. His cock plunged into your messy cunt as his balls slapped onto you. “That’s I- that’s-“ he hissed.

He thought about pulling out for both of your sakes but he’d rather just buy you a plan B. “C- can I- inside?” He seethed his eyes burning into yours as you bounced to his thrusts.

You couldn’t get a word out but your legs wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his back to pull him closer gave him the answer. His lips crashed onto yours as he spilled inside you, his moans spilling into your mouth as his fingers dug into your hips.

He’s never had an orgasm that hard, he was sweating and out of breath as he stilled inside you. The both of you cling onto each other in fear of either of you leaving but that was on the last of your minds.

Miguel lay beside you, his arms pulling you into his as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “Was I too rough?” He questioned with concern as he now fully took in how fucked out you looked. “No, it was perfect” you weakly muttered as you nuzzled into his chest.

Miguel sighed in relief as your sweaty body was pinned into his. “Where’s your bedroom?” He hummed as he began to lift you into his arms “left” you sighed as he carried you into your bedroom.

“Let me clean us up and then we can rest yeah? Unless you want me to leav-“

You cut him off before he couldn’t finish “Don’t leave. Please?.” You hummed a bit worried you sounded a little pathetic.

“Wasn’t planning on it love”

[anchoeritic]

how a bad game could lead to angry, aggressive fucking with rival!ellie. all it took was an empty change room and exchanged threats to lead you here. her fingers curling deep inside of your tight cunt, stretching out those swollen walls as her other hand kept your thigh spread open.

“god, you really this needy?” your lips felt hot against hers, the steam from your shared shower wasn’t helping. her sweaty, dripping body pressed up onto you like she couldn’t detach. ellie watched as your body trembled at the thrust of her fingers, smirking to herself. “what’s your coach gonna say once he finds out i’m fuckin’ his star player, huh?”

you thought the shower couldn’t get any hotter, but it did. the stretch of her digits making you whimper out her name in pleads. “n-no, n—no.. ellie, please,” you dug your face into the crook of her neck, hips still grinding against her. the faster she started to fuck you, the tighter you clenched around her.

“ellie, y—you can’t.. please,” ellie felt the pressure between her thighs listening to you moan her name, the ache becoming harder and harder to ignore. “gonna tell him how tight you are ‘round my fingers, baby. how you’re beggin’ for me to make you cum.”

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi bunny I was wondering if I could get a Boston cream pie with coffee and mocha coffee with dark!lando maybe? Thank youuu

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i love receiving all kinds of requests! thank you to everyone who had sent something! i hope you enjoy this, especially the one who submitted it! thank you all and enjoy! <3

boston cream pie ("yeah, i'll use protection.") + coffee (rivals au) + mocha coffee (breeding kink) served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, dark-ish fic, dark!lando, breeding kink, rivals au, mercedes driver!reader, lying, no protection, mentions of pregnancy

you were a level headed driver, you came down that track like lightning and even when things went south, you kept your cool. you never got snippy on the radio and even when you loss the race, you dealt with it with total grace.

you were a good sport, congratulatory towards whoever was on the podium. as a result you were a darling on the track, especially to the media. the first woman in decades to race with the big leagues. you were sweet as honey to everyone, or so it seemed.

everyone except when you went toe-to-toe with lando off the track. your hands dug into the front of his t-shirt as you said to him, "how dare you, norris."

"aw, what's wrong, princess? did you break a nail?" lando didn't make it any better, leering at you as you held onto him.

this was a common back and forth. the snapping of jaws between you two. lando looked at you with a healthy smirk while you got right into his face. oscar piastri once described it as watching you two fuck without the 'fun' part. he also suggested that you two found other ways to take all the stress out.

"no. you played dirty today, norris. you know, mclaren's strategy isn't playing mad max fury road all over the track!" your hands held deeper into the shirt. you swore you could feel his quickening heartbeat.

lando made a face at you and said, "then if you can't handle the heat... get off the track... i bet you'd do lovely in craft services... or maybe you could be my assistant." he licked his top lip, "my logo all over your pretty tits, but you know i like my cum on them better."

your cheeks went hot as you pulled him closer to you, your foreheads almost touching as you glared at him. "you are a sick fuck, lando."

lando got his arms around you behind and gave your ass cheek a squeeze, "and yet... you can't get enough of me."

you both heard a loud groan from behind you, you both looked over and saw oscar standing there with his hands in his pockets. he took a hand out and scratched the back of his head. this wasn't the first he had caught you, he was used to it at this point.

"uh.. hey. the press are going to be in here soon. so unless you want to make national news. i suggest you." he pointed to you, "get back to your team and we." he pointed to lando, "have to do an interview."

you pulled away and said to oscar, "thank you, mate." before you 'accidentally' stepped on lando's foot as you headed out of the room. that night you'd get a text message with a location and time. and the message 'wear something orange', which you never complied with. orange made you feel less like a sex symbol and more like the fruit.

but a short black dress would work just fine for the evening.

you were a normal sighting at the hotels that mclaren were staying at. while you tried to cover up that it was all purely platonic, they knew. your team knew, lando's team knew. teams that weren't involved knew. you were certain even teams not in formula one knew. but, yet you went to the hotel room and knocked three times in quick succession.

lando opened the door and got a good look at you. he said, "i asked for orange."

you got past him, "i prefer mercedes black. feel like it highlights me better." you said as you got inside the hotel room, "bed? couch? don't tell me you want to do it on the floor."

he chuckled and closed the door before he came to you. he was dressed casually. sweatpants and a black t-shirt that highlighted his toned frame. he followed you as you sat on the edge of the bed to get your heels off.

he sat beside you, up against you with his large hand on your soft thigh. he kissed at your neck before you even had the chance to get undressed. he sighed against your scent.

"beautiful as always."

you took him by the jaw and looked him in the eyes. it was a dangerous glance. even without the make-up wore off the track, you looked beyond beautiful. lando once said that they should make you the trophy, come out in something skimpy. that earned a death glare from you before lando made it up to you with kisses along your thighs.

"is it a crime now to state the obvious? i thought you were all about telling the truth." he said as you held him. his words were silenced when you pulled him in for a tender kiss. he made a soft noise against your lips as you invaded his space. it felt good, it felt right.

like two magnets come together. opposites that pulled together. his hands were soon on your shoulders before you pushed him back into the bed. when he pulled away, he said, "let me on top. i want to see that face." then started to undress himself with you beside him on the bed.

"yeah, no. you're just going to make fun of me. remember you said once when i orgasm i look like i ate a lemon. it's doggy for me tonight."

he chuckled, "whatever the princess wants." he beamed at you.

you looked at him. a knowing look you've given a million times. with you soon naked, your breasts capturing his attention fully that he barely noticed the expression on your face. you coughed into your fist and looked at him.

he looked back at you before he said "yeah, i'll use protection." you two may had been playing a risky game over the last few weeks. using the pull-out method was dumb, but it wasn't like you two carried condoms around.

in all fairness lando could've been a gentleman and bought some. but, he lied to you about having them. his mind was somewhere else. lando norris wanted you pregnant. keep you off the track, but still in his life. be easier to get a hold on you when your hips got a little softer and soon you were taking care of a norris baby.

he was lucky that tonight you wanted doggy style as you wiggled your ass to him enticingly which made his heart rate skip. you were a real siren's call, he could imagine you on the rocky shores of england singing your siren's song. but usually in those tales, the siren doesn't get pregnant so... maybe it was a little different.

"got the condom, norris?" you asked as you pressed your chest against the soft bed. you held over the pillow under your head and pressed your cheek against it.

"yes." he said, "i got it." his cock was bare and the tip was leaking. he stroked it a few times and admired your naked body in front of him. he shifted a little bit on the bed before he nudged his cock up against your slick entrance. it was a familiar feeling, he had become hooked on you like an itch he couldn't scratch unless he was balls deep inside of you. and he thankfully was able to scratch that itch as he sank into you.

your back arched and your short nails dug into the pillow under your head as your back was curved more as he invaded your space further. you didn't even notice that he wasn't wearing a condom. you moaned as he started to thrust up against you. it felt really good, you hated to admit it. but sex with lando was always good and it made your brain sometimes go blank in the rush of pleasure as he moved against you.

he was good in the bedroom, if only he was as good on the track. then maybe mclaren would have their winner. but that snarky comment died on your tongue as you felt his cock prod some of your softest areas.

lando was on cloud nine, he always was when he got to fuck you. it was like a jolt to the system that made his nerves feel alive. but not in the way that anxiety did. he wanted to jump your bones and keep his thick cock inside of your sweet pussy. he wanted to cream in it so badly, he wanted to make a big mess of it.

make sure that no other man could have you.

maybe his breeding kink was running strong after today's race. he could feel it all the way in his balls as he rutted against you. you felt like a dream as he moved. he wanted you pregnant, you'd make the most perfect mother to his children. he came from a big family so he was hoping for at least four kids with you. he'd make sure that he'd get a nice place for all of you to live in. you'd be a nice little family.

his little rival becoming his wife. the thought excited him as he rutted against you. his heart beated wildly in his chest, his lips found the back of your neck, which caused your to moan and tense up around him. that felt good, it only encouraged him to keep doing it. feeling your slick hole clench around him.

"you feel amazing. so good around me." he pushed into your harder, "fuckin' hell. he swallowed, he felt himself starting to lose a bit of control as he really worked your body. it felt so good, especially without a condom. the rubber stopped him from feeling all of his future wife. that was your new name while he was in a state of heighten euphoria.

you came quickly with your back arched. your groaned into the covers and clawed down the soft comforter. you felt everything kind of go blank for a moment. the only thing that left your mouth was his name. first name and last name. and how you said it made him move even further. and when pleasure struck him, he finished inside the back of your soaked cunt.

he then trailed his blunt nails down your back, hoping to leave deep red lines come morning. a little reminder of him as if his cum stuck to your cunt wasn't enough. but your over stimulated body made you jerk a little bit and moan a little louder into the bed. you looked good face down ass up.

lando slapped your ass before he pulled out and watched your hips drop to the bed. you were out for now, but lando was certain that with a few strokes of his fingers and his mouth on your breasts, he could at least get another round out of you. even as you laid panting on the bed.

after all, he had a baby to make with his little rival.

-

you held that trophy over your head. you could've yelled in excitement. but instead you grinned. you were almost moved to tears, but you held them back. even in the face of victory, you had to show strength. a history maker as the cameras flashed.

you were beyond lucky. the blood tests from the recent evaluation hadn't come back yet before the last race of the season. you knew what formula one didn't know. you were pregnant.

nothing noticeable yet. everything ailment was pinned of the anxiety of performing well for the final race of the season. you held the world champion high over your head. in the coming weeks the media storm around your pregnancy will come to light.

you felt on top of the world as your national anthem played, hand over your heart as you felt the soar in your pulse. the almost imaginary weight in your middle was replaced with the heft of the world champion title over your head as you held the trophy once more for photos. you knew that your career would be halted if not ended in the next few days.

you knew lando was watching, not because he had to. but, because he wanted to. your little rivalry had halted when you disclosed to him in quiet whispers that you were pregnant. and lando whispered promises of a wedding during the off season. something quiet, with family.

for now on the shiny stage, you were a champion. in a way you won the battle. but with the norris baby in your womb, lando won the war. <3

[tricksters-captain]

Declan O'Hara imagine - I'm not doing this.

A/N: I thought about this one shot weeks ago... finally writing it. Probably been done already by someone else but who isn't obsessed with rivals atm. I also haven't written in years.

Summary: Declan is fighting against himself and everything he believes in when you come into the picture.

Warnings: Age Gap, fem!reader, NSFW content 18+, strong language, bit of a slow burn.

"Taggie, honestly, I don't know why you'd ever willingly add Brussel sprouts to anything." You chuckled as you both crept through the door to the kitchen.

"They're good for you!" Taggie tried to defend her culinary choices for her Sunday lunch.

"If they're good for you then I always want to be bad."

"Who's being bad?" A thick Irish accent filled the room as Taggie's dad sauntered in, a mug of coffee in one hand with his other burrowed deeply into his trouser pocket.

"Dad, this is (Y/N). (Y/N) was just objecting to my sprouts."

"Oh yeah, I agree, terrible things. Even the dog won't eat 'em" Declan brought his mug to his lips, smirking through the thick moustache that hid his upper lip.

You felt your insides alight at his dark, playful expression as he teased Taggie.

That was the first time you knew you were a bad friend. A bad friend who wanted your new friend's father to lift you onto the kitchen table and bury his head between your thighs.

The thought made your cheeks burn red as you laughed at Declan's remark and Taggie's complaints against him.

The man left the kitchen when his eyes flitted back to you, sending you a nod and a 'lovely to meet you, (Y/N). '

You couldn't help but replay the way he said your name in your head over and over and over again until you were desperate for his voice to sing it again.

The next time you saw Declan O'Hara was at the O'Hara New Years Eve party.

"You better not spend the whole time in here. I'd actually like you to put a dress on and come out to dance at some point tonight." You pleaded with Taggie as she clasped your necklace for you.

"I'll try but I can't make any promises. Anyway, you're out there to be my eyes and ears. You need to tell me if anyone complains about the food, okay?"

"Yes, Taggie. But no one will because you are amazing and your food is amazing and you are so right for not letting me help you cook or serve after I burnt the soup last time." You faced her as she continued to prep the ingredients she would need for the feast she had planned.

"You are a great friend but you are a terrible cook." Taggie agreed. You felt a lump in your throat at the words. Were you a great friend for literally fantasising over her father after almost every time you had an interaction with him? "Now please go next door and make sure that all the tables have the right cutlery for me?"

"Anything for you, Agatha!" You headed to do as you were told. Looking down to smooth out your dress when you felt yourself collide with something solid.

"I'm so sorry!" You looked up to see Declan turning, laughing softly at your clumsiness.

"It's okay, love." Declan's own eyes fell down your body, his lips parting slightly as he took in the sight of you all dressed up. He knew you were an attractive girl but you were Taggie's age and one of her only friends in the surrounding neighbours beside Lizzie. "You look beautiful."

The sincerity in his voice caused a chill to roll up your spine.

"Thanks. You look very handsome too, Mr. O'Hara." You didn't know why you felt so shy around him. You were so used to owning your space and holding your confidence when you fancied someone.

"That's very kind, (Y/N). And it's Declan. I don't want to tell you again." Declan send you a wink as he started to pass you. "Hey, and no snogging my son at midnight. You're way too good for him."

Your heart squeezed at the taunt. Patrick was a gorgeous boy and he had tried to flirt with you when he met you but you were far too interested in Declan for Patrick to make any dent in your crush.

"He's not my type anyway." You managed to find your tongue to quip back an answer.

"Good girl."

Good Girl.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself replying something entirely inappropriate in response.

As the night went on, you felt your heart drop more and more. Declan was obsessed with his wife. His wife was obsessed with anyone else.

You were desperate to try and make more conversation with the man but almost everyone was grabbing his attention to discuss some work matter or other.

As the countdown began, you gut wrenchingly watched as Maud and Declan kiss. You put on a smile and exchanged celebrations with those around you. Giving Lizzie a kiss on the cheek as her husband blanked her as he usually did.

"Happy New Year, chicken." Lizzie pressed on a faux smile as you did.

"Happy New Year, Lizzie."

"A little advice for your new years resolution if I may?" Lizzie whispered as she drew you closer.

"You may want to get better at hiding your admiration for Taggie's father. I know nothing hurts more than something you can't have." Lizzie's words took you back, you felt your cheeks burning red and your smile drop.

"Oh, Lizzie, I'm mortified! Please don't tell Taggie." You begged.

"Not a peep." Lizzie motioned locking her lips with a key before grabbing your hands to singing sway along with the room.

The night went on and Lizzie tried to encourage you to join in festivities. You drank more and more, being forced away whenever you tried to help Taggie wash up, and you soon found yourself needing some quiet time.

You let yourself into Declan's office, leaning against the desk, fingers gripping the underside to give you some stability when the room started to ever so slightly spin.

You closed your eyes. Inhaling a shaky breath when you heard the door creek open.

"I thought someone unwanted had decided to sneak through my things." Declan's melodic accent forced your eyes open.

"I'm wanted, am I?" You smirked slightly, through the sickness as your eyelids closed again.

Declan didn't respond. Instead he just studied you from across the room. His hands in his pockets, his stance leaning back just ever so slightly.

"You struggling there?" Declan was amused at your state.

You tried to push yourself off the desk but instead felt yourself stumble forward.

Declan's amusement quickly turned into concern as he stepped forward to catch you.

"Steady on." Declan had managed to stop you from hitting the floor, your face pressed against his chest, his strong arms engulfing you as he pulled you up towards him.

"I'm so sorry..." You mumbled as you leant away to look up at him.

His features were so strong up close. You could smell the whisky on his breath as your eyes lingered on his lips.

"Maybe we should get you some water and put you to bed."

Declan's words drew your eyes to his own. His chest seemed to go tight as he starred down into your glassy (Y/E/C) eyes.

"You can take me to bed any time you want, Mr O'Hara." Your words slurred together with your weak attempt of drunkenly flirting.

"It's Declan."

"Okay, Declan..."

That was the first time Declan had heard you say his name. Something inside him knew he wanted to hear you say it again but he fought against the thought, pulling away from you as you gained your stance.

"Let's hope you don't remember this in the morning, ay?" Declan tried to make light, convincing himself the electric feeling he had was nothing.

"Why? I finally got my chance in your arms. My dream come true."

"Yeah, you really won't want to remember this in the morning. Come on..." Declan opened the door, waiting for you to follow suite. The noise of the party echoed around you; you had almost forgot it was still going on outside.

"Have you ever thought about me?" You had no idea where this liquid confidence had stirred from.

There was a pause before he answered.

"No." He was lying. He knew he was lying. He watched the disappoint subtly encase your eyes as you pursed your lips into a thin smile.

"If I was dreaming, you would've said yes. Goodnight, Mr O'Hara."

"Goodnight, (Y/n)."

-------------------------------------------------------

As the weeks went on, rivals became friends. Friends became rivals. You grew closer to the O'Hara family and the moment from NYE had simply been forgotten. Or so you thought...

The dread that had filled your gut that New Years Day after you remembered the incident brewed inside of you for weeks. You had successfully avoided Declan, only seeing him in group scenarios and meetings for Venturer.

"(Y/N), I left some of my flyers on the table in the living room if you want to use them." Taggie climbed into her car, shouting over at you as she rushed off. You both had been going door to door for Venturer in different areas to cover more ground but you had run out of flyers to hand out.

"Thanks, Tag!" You rushed inside, running through the house that still held a cool air inside despite the early summer warmth outside.

"Careful!" You heard a voice proclaim as your bodies hit.

Within the blink of an eye, you had hit the floor with a body on top of you.

"Are you alright?" Declan groaned as you winced underneath his weight. The hard floor sent a wave of pain through your back but you had managed to not hit your head.

"Ow." You grumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Did you hit your head?" Declan propped himself up on his arms, examining your face with a furrowed brow of worry.

"No." Was all you managed to say.

"I thought we had left bumping into each other for last year." Declan recalled on when you knocked into him last New Years Eve before the party had started.

"Clearly I'm not very good at keeping to New Year's resolutions."

Declan chuckled, pushing himself up before offering his hand.

You felt the warmth of his body leave you and the coldness of the floor pierce your bones.

You took his hand; hauling yourself to your feet.

"You sure you're okay?" Declan insisted. His hand reached out to take grip of your waist, his thumb and finger burning against your skin that had been revealed by the edge of your venturer top riding up. His other finger waved past your eyes, checking for concussion.

"I'm fine. No more running in the house with blind corners." You took a step back from the man, straightening your shirt to try and control the lingering feeling of the mans hand on you.

"Now... are we okay?" Declan rephrased,

"What do you mean?"

"(Y/N), don't play stupid. You've avoided me for almost half a year now. You won't even walk around the house without Caitlin or Taggie next to you."

You didn't think that Declan would've noticed with how busy he was with work and his life. Why would he have cared where you were or what you were doing in the house?

"I'm still living down my behaviour at New Years." You reluctantly admitted.

"What, that? Everyone says stuff they shouldn't when they've had a few too many. Doesn't mean you have to never look me in the eye again."

"What I said was completely inappropriate."

"Yes, it was. You're the same age as my daughter and I'm a married man but I'll have to admit I'm a little flattered." Declan tried his best to ease your anxiety. "I don't exactly see myself a teenage heart throb."

"I'm not a teenager." You bit back, the harshness your voice surprising you both.

"There's not much difference. You're practically a child and should be going for someone your own age." Declan quit the joking tone he had been using, taken back by your defence.

"Don't call me a child. I'm not the same age as Caitlin. I am older than Taggie and I've been with men before so I'm not playing silly little girl games over here. This isn't some school girl crush on a handsome teacher. You're right my feelings for you are inappropriate because you're a married man and I'm friends with your daughter but not because of my age. I know who I am and what I feel." A fire lit up your chest as you finally had broken out of the timidness you hated.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Declan took a step closer to you, his stare burning into you as he lowered his voice.

"You're the one who reads people. Tell me what you see in me." You matched him, standing so close to him you could feel his breath on your face as you gritted your teeth.

The air was thick. The silence of the house engulfing you both, your breath audible and quick. You thought you could almost hear your heart thudding against your chest.

Declan was the one to break away. Storming to his office with a hard slam of the door.

How did your conversation turn so heated?

That night Declan tossed and turned, his head filled with moments of you. He rolled over and gently woke up his wife with soft strokes on her shoulder blades.

"What?" Maud hummed, rolling her head over her shoulder to Declan.

"I'm awake." Declan pressed himself against his wife.

"I can feel that." Maud looked at him through a sleepy gaze.

"Let me touch you." His fingers glided over her skin until he reached the space between her legs. Maud moaned quietly as Declan began to part her folds with his finger.

"Declan..." Maud sighed as she pressed her backside into him, feeling his member hard against her.

Declan wasted no time in entering her. He closed his eyes as his dick pressed inside his wife. And all he could see through the darkness was your eyes looking up at his. The first time he had seen you in the kitchen. The bump in the hall, the incident in his study, every time he had caught you intensely listening to one of his speeches to the group, the crash against the floor. You underneath him. The tiny bit of skin his hand had managed to caress from the bottom of your shirt.

He had never thought of you before. Not with Maud, not with his own hand and imagination and he couldn't make sense of why that night he finished almost as fast as his inexperienced teenage self had once before.

-----------------------------------------------------------

It had been Declan's turn to avoid you from that day. He couldn't be too close to you without feeling his throat go dry, a sickening guilt and twisting conflict rising with it.

It was the evening you'd find out whether Venturer was a real contender against Corrinium.

The O'Hara house was filled with people eagerly waiting except one who had decided to leave the house for good.

The house erupted in cheers and celebrations as the phone call confirmed it for you all.

You watched through the window as Maud drove off, leaving Declan and Taggie behind.

"We did it!" Taggie squeezed you tightly before embracing her father and to your surprise, Declan had also pulled you into a tight hug. You had hoped no one picked up on the slight awkwardness that left the embrace when Declan moved onto join the others. You couldn't help but feel it.

The party went on and you tried to keep an eye on Declan without making it too obvious (like Rupert and Taggie had failed to).

When Rupert left Declan's side for another whiskey, (Taggie swiftly disappearing just after), Declan slipped away to his study. You followed.

"I'm sorry about Maud." You made your presence known as you watched him place his glass down on the desk, his back to you when he replied.

"Don't."

"Fine." You clenched your jaw, unsure of what to say next at the warning in his tone.

"What do you want from me?" Declan's voice had a hint of desperation. He turned to face you. You had seen this look before.

"I don't––"

"––No 'cause you followed me in here. You are everywhere I look. I can't even get a wink of sleep most nights without dreaming of two things. You or beating Tony fucking Baddingham. And I can't think of you because you're young enough to be my daughter and I'm a fucking hypocrite for telling Rupert to stay away from Taggie when I look at you in that dress and wonder what you would look like with it on this floor right now. I'm not doing it. I can't do this."

Declan's outburst kept your feet frozen in place. Had he really just admitted to wanting you as badly as you wanted him.

You felt your hand roll the zipper of your dress down your side, your body moved without force as you slipped the straps over your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Fuck..." Declan barely breathed out the word. His stare devouring every inch of your skin.

"I'm not doing this." Declan uttered again barely even audible as if only to himself before striding towards you. His fingers found your hips as he thrust you against the door.

His lips were on yours before your back found the solid wood behind you.

You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up towards him, trying to bring your body as close to his own as possible. You needed every gap between you gone. You wanted to feel the heat of him even on this sticky summer evening.

"What am I doing?" Declan broke away and dropped to his knees, placing a firm hand on the middle of your stomach to hold you flush against the door.

There was a deep hunger in his eyes as he lifted one of your thighs up onto his shoulder, never breaking his gaze from your face to almost check if what he was doing was allowed.

You threw your head up, trying to find the air he had stolen from you, one hand finding a grip within his dark curls as your welcome reply.

"Please." You whispered.

Declan moved your panties to the side, a finger running over your folds, sending fire against your skin before he closed his mouth around you.

You let your eyes roll back as his tongue darted across your clit. Electricity filled your body with every moment of contact.

You felt his fingers circle lightly around your entrance. Your hand jumped from his thick curls to tightly grip the back of his own that pushed against your stomach. His grip on you felt as if it were all that was holding you up.

"You want me this badly?" Declan asked with a mixture of teasing and shock. The wetness of your heat coated the tip of his fingers and glistened on the dark hairs of his moustache.

"I've imagined this so many times." You admit honestly.

"I best live up to your expectations then." Declan inserted a finger inside of you, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips, which made Declan's cock twitch inside his boxer shorts. "Shhhh"

You placed your free hand over your mouth to which Declan smiled a toothy grin at you.

"Good girl" he purred.

Declan rose to his feet as he placed another finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out of you in a painfully slow motion that only made you ache for more.

Declan turned the lock on his door with his other hand before pulling himself away from you completely.

You pouted at the lack of contact to which he tutted.

"So impatient." He uttered as he undid his belt, pulling it from its loops and then kicking his trousers down.

Your eyes fell on the large member pressed against his underwear. The tip seeping precum through the material in a dark stain.

"Go to my desk." Declan ordered.

You almost ran over, Declan caught you by the waist and lifted you up onto it. Spreading your legs with his knee.

"Are you sure you want this?" Declan stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his chest covered with dark thick hair that you reached out to touch. This didn't feel real.

"More than anything." The words were so quiet but Declan seemed to hear them as he freed himself from his underwear.

You reached behind and unclasped your bra.

"Jesus..." He took a handful of your breast, squeezing you firmly as he stroked his member.

"Declan, please." You couldn't wait any longer. The ache pained you.

Declan didn't need to be told twice.

He tore your underwear down your legs and pressed his tip slowly into you.

You bit down on your lip hard to stop yourself from making any noise.

"Holy fuck..." Declan failed at being quiet. You were so tight against him he felt he could've finished inside of you within minutes.

You reached forward and hooked a grip behind his neck, encouraging him deeper inside of you.

"Fuck me please." you pleaded, trying to move your own hips to create some friction.

Declan took the hint and began thrusting into you quickly. His fingers almost bruising your skin as he held you steady on the desk.

The rattle of the belongings on the desk seemed to echo around the room alongside the slapping of skin.

Declan lifted you up, still inside of you and gently placed you down on the floor.

He hovered above you, just like he had once before, watching your face twist in pleasure as he fucked you.

You squeezed his shoulders, your nails leaving an impression whilst he brought you closer to your climax. You pressed your hips up into his creating hot friction against your clitoris, making you throb inside.

"Declan..." You tried to let him know; still trying to whisper to stay quiet.

"Cum for me, princess." Declan smirked, his stare never faltering as he rode you through to your end. He could feel you tighten around him only encouraging him to fuck you harder and deeper.

You bit down on your hand as your climax convulsed through you. Your body shaking in between Declan and the floor.

Declan moved you both effortlessly, lying on his back with you sat on top of him.

You leant ever so slightly forward, steadying yourself with your hand stretched out against his chest.

You smiled wickedly at him as you rolled your hips.

You felt exhausted by your own finish but knew you wanted to see the older man in the same state.

"That's a good girl." Declan held onto your hips, helping you pick up your pace.

His lips parted as he watched you ride him, sweat dripping down your skin mixing with his own as his dick twitched inside of you.

"Fuck (Y/n)." Declan cursed.

You shifted your hand to his neck, Declan almost laughed, flipping you again so that he was behind you. Both of you on your knees as he held you against his chest, his hand wrapped firmly around your neck with his opposite arm securely around your middle.

The sensation was almost unbearable as his thick member pumped in and out of you at such speed.

"You think you want to be a bad girl?" Declan hissed in your ear.

You could only shake your head.

"Bad girls get punished." Declan bit hard down on your shoulder and you fought to not cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"You're mine now." Declan's own proclamation brought himself to his own climax. He pulled out, spilling his seed over his own thighs to avoid finishing inside of you much to your own disappointment.

"I know you wanted that inside of you like the dirty girl you are." Declan teased you as he gave your throat one final soft squeeze.

You fell against him, both trying to catch your breath.

"Declan?" A voice and a knock came at the door.

"Shit..." The realisation of what had just happened and where it just happened hit Declan like a cricket bat to the face.

"I'll be out in a mo." Declan scrambled for his underwear and you did the same.

"Hurry up! I know that's where you're hiding the good stuff!" Bas' voice was more evident now and whilst he was definitely talking about the whiskey. The both of you couldn't help but laugh.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

You would hit BELIEVE how happy I am that you’re writing fics for Declan O’Hara he’s my new DILF obsession!!! Also it was so well-written and in-character, oh my goodness!

I was wondering if I could request a fic where Declan and female!reader are having an affair, and she’s super nervous because she’s Taggie’s best friend. She meets Declan one night in his car, and he calms her down and, obviously, they have car sex.

Ending this with a huge I LOVE YOUR WORK

Shut Up and Drive.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The one person who riles you up the most is also the only person that can calm you down.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. cheating. declan and his dirty mouth. one use of the c word. overuse of the nickname sweetheart.

word count - 3k

authors note - the minute he put that baby blue t shirt on… I was suddenly on my knees. funny how that happens. can’t and won’t stop with the fics for this man. I am riding the rivals train to the ends of the earth, baby. thanks for being so sweet, anon <3

masterlist. inbox.

The phone is shaking in your trembling hand, cord all tangled where you keep twisting it around your finger nervously.

“Hello?”

You almost drop the receiver at the sound of that familiar Irish accent, despite the fact that you were the one that rang him. It has your stomach churning, in a different way than usual.

“H-hi,” you barely whisper, before clearing your throat and trying again. “Hi. It’s me.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he breathes, as if it’s the first time he’s taken a lungful of air all day.

“I, um… I’m sorry to call you on the house phone. I know it’s not how we do things usually.”

“It’s alright. What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I just, uh… I called to say that I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I would have told you in person, but I didn’t know when I was going to see you next, so.”

“Can we-” he begins, before lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, “-can we talk about this properly? Please?”

“We can’t. I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m beggin’ ya. One conversation. You’re not ending this in a quick phone call on a Wednesday night, you hear me?”

You inhale deeply, biting at your lips. There’s pure anxiety radiating through your body, prickly and unrelenting.

“I hear you,” you murmur down the receiver. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief. “I’m gonna come and get ya - we’ll go for a drive, alright?”

“Sorry you have to lie,” you whisper, guilt colouring your tone.

“I’d lie for you a thousand times over.”

His words shouldn’t make you feel as giddy as they do, but alas. Here you are.

“I’ll put some shoes on.”

“And a coat. It’s cold as fuck tonight.”

You half laugh, half snort at him down the phone, dreamily imagining the grin he most likely has painted on his face listening to you.

“Yes sir,” you tease, giggling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll drive up without my headlights on. Look out for me, yeah?”

“I will.”

I always do, you think to yourself. I always do.

The line goes dead abruptly, the buzzing vibrating straight into your temples. You slip your shoes on, quickly fixing your hair and touching up your makeup in the mirror in the hallway while you’re there. You shrug your arms into your coat at Declan’s orders, knowing he’d tell you off if you turned up without it on.

You’ve almost forgotten the entire reason you called in the first place was to break things off with him.

Almost.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

True to his word, Declan drives up your road without his headlights on, slowly and with practised precision.

You’re waiting at the window for him, patiently anticipating the sight of that stupid yellow car. You’re out of the door in seconds as soon as you see him, bounding towards the passenger side and slipping in before anyone notices. He drives off quickly, not taking any time to say hello before he’s taking off out of the town and towards the rolling countryside.

You drive for a good fifteen minutes, to a spot the two of you frequent on your drives. It’s a dirt track, leading to nothing but fields for miles on end. Declan pulls the car around the bend and out of sight from the busier road, knowing that it has more than enough privacy. You’ve never been caught here before, and you don’t plan to start.

Finally turning off the engine, he turns to face you, taking in how the moonlight illuminates your features in the lowlight of the car.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

You’re refusing to look at him, knowing that if you do, you’ll surge over and kiss him until you’re both dizzy. You can feel his gaze on you, though, intense and unwavering. As it always is.

His thumb and pointer finger hook under your chin, forcing you to stare straight into his determined brown eyes. You’re willing yourself not to crumble, but you can feel your resolve starting to slip already.

“I missed you,” he whispers, careful not to spook you.

“I missed you too,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Shit.”

He chuckles, and the low timbre of it settles right in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s all this about then, hmm? The phone call?”

“What did you tell Taggie? Where did you say you were going?”

It’s your least favourite part about all of this, the lying. Lying to Taggie, to Patrick, to Caitlin, to Rupert, to your friends, to your family. Coming up with excuses has become second nature - something you hate about yourself now. You hate how it comes so naturally to both of you these days.

“Told her I was going to meet someone about some potential research for a show. She had evening plans anyway, she’s off out to Lizzie’s.”

You’re fiddling with your fingers, picking at your nails in a nervous habit as you chew your bottom lip. If anxiety was personified, it’d be you.

“You avoided my question. We need to talk about what you said on the phone, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your seat to face him properly, going over the speech you’ve practised in your head dozens of times.

“Okay. I’m… I’m not sure we should do this anymore. I- I just… I feel guilty. For lying to Taggie, mainly. And because you’re technically still married, but mainly for lying to Tag. She’s the closest friend I have, and I’m sleeping with her father. It makes me a terrible person, Declan. I have to put a stop to it.”

He processes your words for a moment, looking at you intently.

“Do ya want to?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to? Put a stop to things? Or do you just feel like you should? For other people.”

You want to lie, tell him exactly what you had planned out, feed him what you know will work. But you can’t. You can lie to everyone… except Declan.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “But I should. We should.”

“Why now? Did something happen? Did someone say something?”

“No, no. I just… Taggie said something really sweet the other day about how she was glad that she had me, because making friends here hasn’t been easy for her. And it should have made me happy, and instead, it broke my heart.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Declan cradles your face in his rough hands, resting his forehead against yours. It’s like the whole world melts away for a moment, leaving just the two of you in the tiny yellow car.

“I’m a horrible person,” you mumble. “And a horrible friend.”

“You’re speaking as if it’s just you. And it’s not, you know. There’s two of us in this affair - I’m just as guilty as you are.”

“Fine then. We’re both horrible people.”

He chuckles, breath tickling your face, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. His lips are brushing yours every time he speaks, meaning you can practically taste the cigarette smoke and spearmint on his tongue.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he retorts, still smiling.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit as his thumbs sweep back and forth across your cheekbones. “It’s weighing down my conscience, and I don’t want to hurt Tag. But… I can’t give you up, Declan. I need you. I need you more than anything.”

“You make me crazy. God, I think about you night and day, sweetheart. My thoughts revolve around if I’ve seen you and when I’m going to see you next.”

“So what do we do? I can’t quit this. I can’t quit you, I can’t quit us. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. I wish I had the answers… I wish I could make all your worries go away. But I can’t.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just… I thought that I could do it in one clean sweep. Get it out the way, you know? Call you, end things, be done. And then the minute I heard your voice over the phone… I knew I couldn’t do it. Because deep down, I didn’t want to.”

He leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, desperate to be close to you.

“Declan.”

“If I could fix it all for you, I would,” he murmurs against your skin. “You know I would.”

You pull back to put some distance in between you, watching him carefully for his reaction to what you say next.

“You should break things off.”

He flinches as if you’ve punched him in the stomach.

“What?”

“You should. I clearly can’t, so you have to be the one to do it. Do it, Declan. End things with me right here, right now. Please.”

Your tone is weak and unconvincing, as if you can’t even bring yourself to say the words with any conviction.

“I can’t,” he confesses, voice breaking on the last word. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling it slowly as if he’s buying himself some time. You wait patiently for him to continue, nerves frayed at the edges.

“Because I love you.”

Now it’s your turn to flinch, his admission smacking you across the face violently.

“You-”

“Yes. I love you, sweetheart. It’s taken me a while to figure all of this out, but I know it now. That’s why I’ve never been able to end this. Because it’s not just incredible sex… it’s something more. Something real.”

There are tears welling in your eyes as you look at him, watching the way he lays his heart on his sleeve in the moonlight just for you.

“I’m scared,” you confess. “I love you too and it scares me.”

You don’t miss the way his face lights up as you say it, but he’s trying to keep a careful lid on his emotions for now.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to ya. You know that.”

All you can do is nod in response, digesting everything that has happened in the last five minutes. You do know that. He’s proven time and time again that you’re not just some fleeting fling to him.

“Declan?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Now he grins like an idiot, eyes alive with adrenaline and hope.

“That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard ya say.”

You tuck some hair behind his ear before leaning in to gently press your lips to his, wanting to seal the moment. He kisses you back sweetly at first, before taking control with more force, slipping his tongue into your mouth cheekily. You happily let him take the lead, sighing in contentment as you melt into him.

“C’mere.”

Climbing over onto his lap, you hinge your legs on either side of his in the drivers seat, straddling his hips. You try to straighten up but end up hitting your head on the roof of the car, which makes you both wheeze with laughter.

“This car is too fucking small,” you grumble, rubbing the spot that you smacked.

“Y’alright? Want me to kiss it better?”

You hate the way the teasing tone in his voice shoots right to your core, shaking your head in defiance.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Patronising bastard.”

“I like it when you get your claws out,” he chuckles, tracing patterns on your thighs over your jeans. “S’hot.”

You kiss him again to shut him up, biting at his bottom lip in punishment. He groans all low and slow, which makes you grind your hips into his, despite the multiple layers of clothing separating you.

“Backseat,” he whispers, pushing you off of him gently. “More room.”

You splay yourself across the wide back seat, opening your legs so Declan can slot in between them.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” he prompts as he shrugs off his own jacket and undoes his belt.

You can’t help but chuckle at his impatience, happily taking off your coat and jumper and unbuttoning your jeans. Your breath catches in your throat when you look back up at him - he’s wearing the Venturer t shirt that hugs his biceps just right, accentuating every delicious muscle he has to offer you.

“Wore it for you,” he mutters against your lips. “Know you like me in a t shirt.”

You roll your eyes but kiss him with determination anyway, all teeth and tongue and clashing bodies. You’re clawing at his clothed shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist to buck your hips into his.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “Lying awake at night thinking about your thighs, your tits, your cunt.”

All you can do is sigh, fingers digging into his biceps in desperation.

“Wish I could take my time with you like you deserve. These quick fucks just aren’t the same.”

He sounds almost upset about it, voice staying deep and low.

“Remember that time I stayed the night? And you couldn’t walk in the morning?”

You laugh breathily, thinking back fondly to that night a few months ago. You’d both orchestrated it so carefully, crafting cautious lies and fabricated stories to snatch a good sixteen hours of time together.

“Need that again soon. Might have to start sneaking ya into my house in the dark, make you climb the gutters like we’re in a film. Although, it is a bit hard to keep you quiet.”

You try valiantly to ignore the heat that flushes across your chest as he teases you, knowing that he’s right.

“Declan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You grab his hand and shove it down your underwear, jeans trapped around your thighs. There’s very minimal room in this tiny car, but you’re both determined to make it work. He groans when he feels how wet you are, swiping through your core.

“Fuck me. Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Since this afternoon,” you whimper, trying to grind down onto his fingers. “Couldn’t stop thinking about when you ate me out on my kitchen worktop last week. My legs were shaking for two days afterwards.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, slipping a finger into you as he drops his head onto your shoulder. “I got myself off thinking about that yesterday. I swear if I concentrate, I can still taste you on my tongue.”

All you can do is whimper, desperate to have him in any way you can. The fact that you have the same effect on him that he does on you makes your head spin, dizzy with want.

“Don’t make me wait,” you beg, cradling his face so he has to look you in the eye. “Fuck me, please. Please, Declan.”

“Okay, pretty girl. I’ll give ya anything you want. Anything.”

He shuffles around so he’s sat back on his knees, pushing his jeans and underwear down just enough to free himself. You spread your legs as wide as you can, trying to give him as much room as possible. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself in this position in this car with him - and it won’t be the last.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, licking across your teeth with his tongue. “Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

He slides into you with ease, both of you gasping at the familiar sensation. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he holds your hips in a bruising grip, pads of his fingertips biting into your flesh.

Declan doesn’t waste any time, setting a relentless pace that has you bouncing across the seat. The car is shaking like crazy, all the windows fogged up - anyone who passes will know exactly what’s happening inside.

The man above you can read you like a book and play you like a fiddle. He knows the exact angles of his hips that’ll have you keening, the certain spots to focus on that’ll have you seeing stars. He knows you better than anyone, in more ways than one.

“That’s it,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Atta girl. Taking it like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was,” you breathe, tipping your head back to give him access to your neck. “Just for you.”

He groans all melted and golden like molten honey, the vibrato of it rumbling through your bones. You’re holding onto him for dear life, as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this reality. When his thumb finds your clit to rub firm, slow circles, you’re convinced you’re floating on another plane of existence.

The only word you can seem to formulate is Declan, which only pushes him closer to the finish line. He’s determined to get you there first, angling his hips upward to hit that one spot that has you gasping. When he moves one hand to your throat and gently squeezes, you fall apart instantly, taking him with you.

“I love you,” he breathes as he comes, forehead resting on yours. “My girl.”

You’re shuddering and shaking as you lie underneath him, panting like you’ve just ran ten miles. Declan collapses on top of you, laying his head on your chest comfortably. Your fingers rake through his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp like you’ve done so many times before.

You both allow yourselves to close your eyes for a minute, recovering and attempting to catch your breath. You’re convinced, for a moment, that you’ll never feel more peaceful than you do right now. You breathe each other in, satiated and content.

You finally open your eyes, expecting to see nothing but fogged windows and starlit darkness. Instead, you see a man bending down, looking straight at you. Arguably the worst possible person that could see the two of you in the position you’re in.

Rupert Campbell Black.

He’s grinning like an idiot, shaking his head in disbelief.

You’re about to warn the man in your arms when Rupert opens the car door, slipping himself into the drivers seat and spinning so he’s facing you. Declan has jumped out of his skin, jolting upwards to cover you as best he can.

Rupert smirks all dirty and knowing, eyes dancing over your half naked forms.

“Well, well, well. Secrets out, lovers.”

@graceflorence @dionysus-drabbles

as aaaaaaaalways… reblogs are golden!! they’re the currency of tumblr, my loves. you reblog, and your favourite writers will write you more fics. simple as that. mwah. <3

[cuntphoric]

spiderman!gojo webbing you up, wrists stuck above your head and thighs spread wide, his webbing keeping you completely exposed and still. he leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as his gloved fingers drag between your legs, teasing you through the thin fabric. "look at you," he purrs, voice dripping with lust, "all tied up and dripping for me. guess i'll have to take care of that."

[satorurize]

𐙚 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄¡!

cw. 18+ flithy smut, Sub!Gojo, Dom!Reader, Enemies to lovers, gojo is a virgin and the word loser is used a lot.

AcademicRival!Satoru believed he'll have a merry time getting paired with you for your upcoming assignment, afterall, you were fun to pick on and he adored the way the vein would pop on your forehead after he says something to completely throw you off the tracks. His plan was to make you do all the work while he gets on your nerves to pass his time.

Satoru prides himself in being jack of all trades, he's the captain of the collegiate basketball team, student body president, has 4.0 GPA in his astrophysics major and is on the dean's list, his stunning good looks were to kill for and to add to those never ending positive attributes he's filthy rich, if it wasn't so obvious by his sports car's raging engine whenever he drifts it around in the campus. Gojo Satoru was a star. Gojo Satoru was game.

Admirers and people lining up for him was no big of a deal, it is the routine when you're him. You're one of the many people who find him fascinating, find him attractive (which was something you would never admit to, even if a ceiling fell over you) but still, why was he shaking his legs underneath the table while he watches the furrow of your brow focused on the screen in his dorm room? He's way too distracted to read this paper about Aesthetics and Marxism—he only took up sociology because it was a humanities requirement within his course and also because he was utterly, out of his mind bored.

Feeling the burning gaze of his abnormally blue eyes, you slam your fist onto the table and anyone who was in their right mind would be able to decipher that your expression was twisted in unfiltered annoyance, the mask of a small, pleasant smile as your veins popped on your forehead was failing miserably. "We could get a lot done if you didn't think this was a staring contest"

"Wow, really? I did think it was a staring contest with how boring all this is" He mocked knowing it would only agitate you further, his eyes shamelessly trailed over the plushness of your thighs and how the skirt fabric sat on top of it, his thoughts were digressing, wondering about the colour of your pant—

"What are you looking at, pervert..?" You point it out to break the unholy chain of his thoughts immediately, his eyes widened by being caught off-guard, evading away to focus on the papers in front of him, lasering his eyes to aim at understand at whatever 'Russian constructivism' meant, his fist gripped the pencil tighter and tighter as he felt unbelievably panicked at being caught, the trance of embarrassment breaking away along with a sharp 'snap' of the pencil.

With a faltering attempt to maintain his cockiness, Satoru looked at you. "Just looking at how much of a loser you look, even broke a pencil because it's annoying how nerdy you dress" a painful roll of his eyes followed by, but his ventures to cover the way he felt were too poor and what was the parameter? The goddamned seductive smile on your pretty lips.

Gojo Satoru was game, but he was a fucking virgin.

"Lying is not going to save your ass, I can literally see the tent in your pants, what are you..a teenager..?" The mockery in your eyes and the superiority you had over him in that very moment was enough to make him let go of his guards and feel his knees buck. You were beautiful and he was so pathetically down bad for that.

"Unlike you, I have many things to excel at..who has time for something as stupid as this anyway" You had to give some kudos for the fact that his voice remained balanced despite the throbbing erection in his pants, and you made a face with slanting pursed lips that was to show him you believed him, although anyone could tell you didn't.

"what is with that face? You think you're better than me? What do you know about sex, having your cute nose burried in those stupid books all day.." And that statement makes you raise your brow, Satoru Gojo, called you cute? This was something, this was when he knew he messed up and you had all the power.

"Why don't I show it to you then? You wanna be a loser in this one area? Come on.. you're better than that, right?" Satoru gulped, the offer was beyond tempting, all those fantasies he ran his mind for while wrapping his hand around his cock in his dark dorm room, relieving himself while yearning for the warmth for your mouth and cunt—finally had the chance to be fleshed out to life. It was tempting indeed but what about his ego?

"Sure, I bet you suck at this too" He huffed a laugh with his faux confidence, only to be miserably proved wrong within a few minutes.

"Please— fuck! Your mouth feels so good.." He breathed heavily with an almost violent rise and fall of his chest, his legs sprawled wide as he was on the couch of his room and you, his beautiful arch-nemesis was skillfully using his cock like it was your personal toy. Satoru didn't feel he was being sucked off for his pleasure, he was being sucked off to be proven of the fact that you were in control here.

He reached his trembling hands to tangle within your locks as you let a thick glob of your spit fall onto his tip with a grin, tantalisingly rubbing it on your glossed lips. "Better than your stupid fist right?" And he moans at that degradation, his eyes marbeling with glassy tears, your pride swelled more than anything.

"Ever seen tits in real life? Or are you that much of a loser to have Inoue Waka as your wallpaper.." You teased further, unbuttoning your blouse and unfastening your bra from the front to spill out your breasts and Satoru's brain simply short circuits the moment the cushiness of your tits gather around his cock and he feels the tightening sting on his abdomen, dripping out loads of his cum onto your tits, painting you like the masterpiece you were with thick ribbons of his ejaculate.

You hum, licking a long strip from his base, swirling your hot tongue around his softening, sensitive frenum as he is limp by the pleasure.

"There's no way you're this good.." He spoke, almost sounding as if something unbelievable happened, almost angry.

"Such a good boy 'Toru.." You giggle in response, kissing his abdomen and he feels pathetically, helplessly in love with you.

Gojo Satoru was game, but you were a roulette.

[venusstorm]

𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐫

Declan O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Declan's assistant is hurt and confused by his sudden departure from Corinium. Upon a visit to his home, feelings unfold and truths become known.

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, pet names, daddy kink, spit kink, bathtub sex, breeding, mentions of reader having hair, claw marks, and bruises, finger fucking, choking, gagging, kissing, spanking, adultery

w/c: 3393

‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵

"Where the hell is Declan!" You burst through the doors of the O'Hara household, loud and furious. You didn't buy the "He’s sick" claim for a moment, no matter how often Baddingham kept spewing the lie out of his mouth. And when you questioned his truthfulness, he sent you down the hall to Vereker's office, alerting you that you would no longer be Declan’s assistant. 

But you'd pull every last strand of hair from your head if you had to spend another second working for that asshole. And when that's gone, you'd start on your legs and then your arms, and perhaps a few eyelashes too. You ignored Tony's shouts as you left the office building searching for your true boss.

Which led you speeding through town, barreling through the countryside until you arrived at Declan’s grand estate. You banged on the door and when you were met with silence, your hands wrapped around the handle, pleasantly surprised when the door opened wide. 

Without hesitation, you stride through the foyer and march up the staircase. The long corridor witnessed you shout his name, scanning every room until you find his office. The doors cracked open which obviously means he’s welcoming you right in. 

"Declan! I swear to–" but his chair sits empty. A slew of papers and empty liquor bottles covered the surface. You squint your eyes in pure annoyance. If he's the reason you spend the rest of your week drowning out Verekers moans by fiddling your ears and banging your head against the desk, then he's in for it.

You sigh heavily as you turn around, heading for your next best guess. You envisioned him sneaking out drunkenly to a pub. Probably annoying the hell out of the bartenders because after his third drink, the man can’t shut the hell up. Or perhaps he's thrown himself into the woods to get eaten by wolves. You knew Declan, and when he hit rock bottom he crashed hard.

"That little shite doesn't know a goddamn thing."

The slurred words of Declan O'Hara ring through your ears. Like a siren call, you follow. He curses a fit of words, not once taking a breather. You follow the crude sounds until you reach another door. You don't bother knocking, he's far past the courtesy. 

"Found me," he slurs.

"Oh, for fucks sake, Declan!" You shield your eyes from the obscene view. He sits in a bathtub, legs sprawled open with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. A bottle of beer is held tightly in his grasp and he doesn't seem to have any plans to let go of it.

"I didn't tell you to come in here" he grumbles. "Heard yer stomps from a mile away."

"Well, I was worried. And also pissed you left me with that blonde-haired devil. He fucks like a rabbit and not in a good way. Wouldn't be surprised if he catches a damn itch."

Declan scoffs. "He’s already infested."

Your hands remain shielding your vision, leaving you blind to the way he stares off into space, taking the final swig of his drink and muttering beneath his breath. 

"Just come back please." You sigh.

The sound of glass clanking and rolling to the ground echoed around the bathroom. You jump from the sudden noise, tightening your hand around your vision. He rolls his eyes while delivering a mocking laugh.

"Hand me another bottle o'er there and I'll consider."

You stand firmly, scowling at his impossible behavior. 

“Standin’ there won’t help, darlin’. Don’t know why you’re tryin’.” He exhales a cloud of smoke, the scent wafting towards your nose and meshing with the woodland scent of his bath soap. 

“Just tell me where to walk” you quip. 

Declan’s eyes dart towards you, his lips curling into an amused grin. “Y'might need to be able to see for that.”

You shake your head in defiance, “Just tell me where to walk.”

He’s no longer interested in the shitty beer he kept hidden in the bathroom. Instead, he focuses on how easily you fall into line for him. 

"Go to the right."

You follow his command, stepping to the right without hesitation. 

"Now go straight about five steps."  You don’t question his directions, placing your full trust in his judgment. 

"Yes, Sir." You do as you’re told, taking five small steps and pausing. "Now what?"

He groans softly at your admission, his length stirring as you patiently wait for his next directions. Your tone unleashed fantasies he kept hidden within the depths of his mind and if you stayed for another moment, he’d happily release every last one. 

There's a moment of silence before he continues. "To the right once more and you've got it."

You blindly reach your hands outward but defeatedly grasp open air. "Declan? I don't feel it."

"Bend down a little, it's on the second shelf."

His eyes widen as the hilt of your skirt rises against your ass, revealing the lace garters decorating your legs. He takes a long drag, watching shamelessly as you shimmy to adjust the length, struggling to do so single-handedly.

Finally, you touch the slim neck of a glass bottle. "Oh! I found it!" You giggle excitedly.

Declan smirks. "Atta girl."

If you weren't too busy shielding your eyes from the outside world, you'd notice the way Declan scans your body. His gaze dropped from your face to the white blouse you wore. Half the buttons were undone but it wasn't like you could check. You stood in front of him like a temptress, all precaution flying out the window the moment he heard your soft laughter.

"Now how do I get back?"

He laughs breathlessly. "Same way you came."

"Uh okay." You attempt to retrace your steps. Mouthing his previous directions aloud until you're semi-close to the door.

"Now walk forward a few steps" he ushers.

You nod, walking carefully toward the sound of his voice. His eyebrows furrow with mischief as you approach, your steps growing wider and far too close to the edge.

The next sequence of events occurs in a blur. You tumble forward and the water splashes over the edge, coating the tiled floors as you fall into the bathtub. You squeal as the hot water warms your body, soaking your attire and revealing everything underneath to Declan's eyes.

"Asshole!" You shout. You attempt to stand only to wind up slipping and falling right back into place.

He presses his cigarette butt against an ashtray before grabbing your arms. He steadies you, dragging your body up against his with ease.

"And that's why we don't walk with our eyes closed."

"You didn't tell me to stop!" You're so enthralled in fury and he can't help but to revel in it. He can only smile as you curse, attempting once again to stand before accepting defeat.

"How much goddamn soap did you put in here!" You shake your head with bitter laughter. You lay back against him, your heart racing out of your chest as his arms find themselves on your waist.

An evident shift in mood affects the room. "Why won't you look at me?" He questions.

"Simple. You piss me off."

You shut your eyes even tighter, ignoring the way his length ghosted across your stomach. His chest hair was surprisingly soft, pillowing your head and causing your heart to beat a skip faster. You stay quiet as his hands drift away from your waist and towards your thighs, forcefully gripping them and dragging you closer to him.

"Then why'd you come here?" He retorts rather quickly.

"Tony. I'm sick of being ordered around by him."

Declan hums. "You didn't seem to have a problem taking orders a few seconds ago."

You whimper as he palms your ass, kneading it roughly. You place your hands against his chest, fighting the desire to give in.

“That’s different. I was helping a friend.”

His lips broaden into a smile at your select choice of word. “Friend?”

“Yes, Delcan. You’re my friend but clearly you could care less.”

He doesn't miss the bitterness in your tone. There was a hint of resentment that clouded your features. He saw it in the way you turned your head further away, limbs tensing against his touch.

"I care," he reassures.

"But you left me.” The vulnerable words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. “You caused complete chaos and rightfully so but you left without a word. I know I’m your assistant but I care about you, Declan. You always said we’d get out of that shitshow together and you left me.”

Truthfully, you grew attached to him, infatuated with a man whose brain met the greatness of his kindness. An unrequited love. You knew it was impossible for him to feel the same way but witnessing him leave without a word solidified your fears. You were merely his subordinate and nothing more. 

Your disappointment reaches your tear ducts and unshed tears of despair begin to descend your cheeks. Declan doesn't hesitate to wipe them away, his thumbs swiping across your skin in comforting movements. 

"There ya' go, darlin'. It's okay to be upset. I deserve it."

“Did you forget about me that quickly? You hadn’t even called.” You burrow your head into the crevice of his arm, still unwilling to face him. 

Forget? 

How could he forget when thoughts of you ran rampant in his head? He wasn’t one to take orders but anything you said rendered him defenseless. Despite being your superior it often felt as if he was learning from you. He’d do whatever you wanted without question. 

He spent nights thinking of you, his hand wrapped around his aching size as he dared not to wake his sleeping wife. Muffling his moans, he thought of how you’d look in her place. How he’d tilt your head backward, kissing you languidly while pushing past your folds. He envisioned your sensual tone calling out his name, begging him to push harder, deeper, to which he’d obey. Following your every command because that’s all he craved to do. Gritting his teeth, clenching the satin sheets until he dreamt of filling you with his seed, no longer caring if his wife heard him murmur your name. 

“I could never forget you.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that shutters your core. 

Slowly you break free from your darkened corner, at last meeting his heated gaze. He stares at you with pure desire, eyes dark and glimmering with something farther than lust.

You take in his naked form, staring at the dark hair that danced down his stomach and covered his shaft. Water dripped from his hair, his typically sleek curls jostled and free. You couldn’t see what lay beneath his waist but you felt his heaviness against your stomach, throbbing with unmet need.

“You’re drunk” you rebuttal weakly. 

He shakes his head, “M’perfectly fine.” He sobered the moment reality hit that your body was laid against his. 

He waits for your next argument but it never arrives. The two of you stare in silence, subdued desires coming to light. Slowly you begin unbuttoning your blouse, stripping the wet cloth from your shoulders and tossing it onto the mat. Declan assists you wordlessly, his hands pulling down your skirt before reaching to unclasp your bra. He takes in this moment. Kissing your skin every time another item is removed until you sit exposed before him.

His hand caresses the back of your head, drawing you close enough for your lips to graze. “Tell me to stop and I will.” 

You nod, stopping the furthest thing from your mind. 

“I need words, darlin’. Are you okay with this?”

“I’m okay, Declan. Just…” Your brain turns into a foggy haze as you search for what you’d like to say. He grips your jaw, tilting it upwards to better meet your gaze. 

“Just, what? It’s okay. I won’t be mad.” 

You can’t seem to formulate the words to describe how you felt. His touch overwhelmed you in the best way possible. The fresh scent of his skin drowned your senses and feeling your most intimate parts glide against him took the entirety of your focus. 

“I just need you.” Your soft tone stirs something animalistic inside of him. Without another wasted second his lips meet yours. It starts impulsively rabid, his tongue wrapping around yours while he pushes your head further into him. He groans into your mouth, eyelids fluttering closed as he gets lost in your taste. But then he goes slower, savoring the way your hips begin to grind into him as your kiss grows messy. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth until he drags his lips back over them.

Calling him desperate would be an understatement.

He pulls away regretfully, brushing the pads of his thumbs over your lips to clean his mess. You whine from the loss of connection, lips still parted and demanding him for more. 

Declan chuckles, granting your wish and delving into your mouth once more. Your hips rock against him, willing his length to rise. The water sloshes back and forth as you grind against his stomach, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest eagerly. Your hand rests against his unshorn chest hair, envisioning gliding your wet cunt over it until he’s drenched. 

“That’s it, darlin’. Use me.” He moans into your mouth, uncaring of how loud he was being.

“Hurts” you whimper. He pulls away once again, his hands finding yours beneath the water and directing them towards your heat. You jolt as his fingers graze your aching clit, “This what hurts, baby?” he hums. You nod, directing his fingers toward your puffy folds. 

He tsks, “I think that’s your job, darlin’.” You hadn’t quite understood what he meant until you felt him direct your fingers inside yourself. Your face contorts with pleasure as you shove them inside without question, using his chest as leverage while you ride. Declan watches you carefully before sliding his fingers back against your clit, pressing it roughly.

“Your pretty button’s so swollen. Just wanna make it feel better.” He rubs small circles around your clit, slapping it roughly when he notices your eyes rolling backward.

“Look at me when you play with your pretty cunt.” Declan ignores the way his cock jolts against his skin, desperate to be buried inside of you. All he cared about at this moment was your pleasure, physically reassuring your place in his world. 

“M’gonna cum” you whine.  

You say his name continuously as he continues to toy with your clit, tugging and slapping it until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Declan wraps you in a confining hug as you shake against him, his hands rubbing the back of your neck as he talks you through your orgasm. You nuzzle into his chest, allowing his huge frame to provide you comfort. “D-” Your tongue teeters on the line of murmuring a word you knew you mustn’t say.

“Did so good for me, baby. That’s it, I’ve got you. Just ride it out, I’m right here for you.”

But your mind slips and the word comes flowing from your lips. “Daddy.” It was hardly above a whisper but Declan caught it nonetheless. He watches you curl into him, a level of trust in your actions that he knew he had to maintain forever. 

You’re shaken from your haze as Declan taps his length against your cunt, a newfound look of pure hunger darkening his gaze. 

Pre-cum drips down his length, the water washing away any evidence of his sin. He rubs his reddened tip against your folds, groaning loudly as you spread your thighs wider for him. 

He drags you onto his cock, holding you upwards as you take his size. Your moans blend into one continuous sound as he fills you, stretching your walls as you claw at his back. 

“C’mon baby, know you can take more, can you do that for me?”

You shiver as you allow yourself to bottom out against him, muffling a scream as he breaches you entirely. His eyes roll as he embraces your warmth, his arousal growing heavier. He stares down at where the two of you connect, your walls choking his cock and leaking downwards.

A wave of adoration washes over him before it becomes tainted with angry realizations. You sat beneath him, his perfect match. Someone who balanced him, calmed him, put up with him. And yet, he’s had to push his feelings away in the name of not causing a stir. 

He’s angry that he’s trapped in a loveless marriage riddled with infidelity and fueled by his income. Trapped in this goddamn house that he could care less about. Angry that Tony dangled his career in front of him like a chew toy. And most of all he was livid that you weren’t the one sleeping next to him every night. 

Declan shoves his hips forward, bouncing you on his length. “So fucking tight” he grits through his teeth. You clench around him, your wetness welcoming him even further. The noises were obscene, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as your pussy squelched. He revels in it, fingers finding your sweet lips to shove them in between.

You witness the furrow in his eyebrows and undoubtable frustration. You meet his gaze, lips wrapping around his fingers and sucking. You take them deeper until they’re practically shoved down your throat. 

“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking slut. You like this, don’t you? Bet you wish you were choking down my cock instead.”

“Uh huh,” you whine. You’d thought about it all the time. When he’d arrive to work angry, sitting at his desk with a pout. How you’d wanted to sink to your knees beneath him, hiding beneath his desk while you slid him down your throat. Muffling your gags as he answered the phone while stroking your hair.

He hooks into your cheek, widening your mouth so he can spit into it. He taps you, commanding you to swallow to which you happily oblige. You shake against him, tits bouncing freely. He grips onto them, slapping your sensitive nipples until they pebble in his fingertips. 

“How does it feel, baby? You like being stretched out? Can barely keep your eyes open, can you?”

Pressing against your womb, Declan feels his length shatter your walls. He watches you fall into his broad chest, clutching onto his back while he holds you closely. 

“Feels so good, daddy.” You whimper. 

“That’s right, baby. Daddy’s got you. Gonna be my little cock whore amn’t ya? Surprised your little cunt could even fit. Just shows you're perfect for me, hm?”

“M’hm, perfect” you repeat.

He knows you're close, he feels it when your nails dig into his skin. Surely leaving marks that he wouldn’t feel the need to hide. 

“You need to cum, don’t you, baby? It’s okay, nobody’s here. Just us. Let go for me, let Daddy feel you.” His pace becomes slower, pounding into you with deep thrusts.

Your vision blurs as you reach your high, shouting Declan’s name as you gush around him. He follows suit, your pulsating walls unleashing his heavy orgasm. He doesn’t relent as he shoots his load into you, locking you down as he fills you with his seed. He could care less about the consequences, nothing else mattered at the moment.

He captures your lips in his, taking short breaths to whisper how good you were for him. He suckles on your collarbone, leaving definite bruises to match the claw marks you undoubtedly left on his back. 

“Let’s get you dry” he murmurs. 

You nod, too tired to reply or move. Declan slides out of you, saddened by the loss of connection. He carries you out of the bathtub, his spend dripping from your pussy and leaking onto his leg. He clenches his jaw, fighting the desire to fuck it right back into you.

He wraps you in a towel, drying your skin before taking you into his bedroom. He sits you on the bed while he scourers his closet for something you could wear. Landing on an old college shirt that he refused to throw out. 

As he slides it onto your body, he presses his lips against your forehead. A million words silently transcribe between the two of you. He’s unsure of what the future holds but he’s certain that you belong in his.

[luvvyouforever]

declan o'hara - nsfw alphabet

ᡣ𐭩 for all my declan lovers (including me) ᡣ𐭩 nsfw content, mdni, 18+ ᡣ𐭩 more declan writing will be coming soon, don't worry! these are easy to fill out and write so hopefully this sates you all mwah

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

his aftercare takes a minute to start. he's usually so intense that the both of you really need a moment to catch your breath and come back down to reality. once he's reverted to normal, he can check in on you, offer a warm cloth, or cold glass of water. when the two of you are physically feeling better, he'll pull you into his big chest, all warm and protected, and probably light a cigarette.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves his arms and shoulders. it's not that he really works out and carves them, but he knows he's a big man and flexing them the right way gets you going. he likes being able to encase you in them, holding you as close as possible.

as for you, i think he's an ass man for sureeee. his hands always fly to your cheeks, both in the bedroom and outside of it. his palm covers so much of the skin and he just loves the feeling of squeezing it between his fingers. please wear some tight dresses and pants and bend over directly in front of him.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he wants to cum in you every single time. you might want to consider going on some sort of birth control too just in case. he just loves fucking into you so deep and just as he's finishing, he'll push in to the hilt and fill you up with himself. he could genuinely go for a second round in just a second once he sees the mix of your cum and his seep out of you. gosh, he's dirty.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

has so many fantasies in his head of what he wants to do to you, especially in a more roleplay style too. like he imagines you as his receptionist that he can bend over his desk, hike up your tight pencil skirt, and use you. or he daydreams about coming home to you in the kitchen with a skimpy outfit and apron on and eating you out against the kitchen counter.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's pretty experienced, but not as much as other characters in the show (hint, hint). like he knows how to make someone feel good and is pretty confident in his skills too! his body count may not be as high, but to him, the quality really matters more than the quantity. and with the way he undos you during sex, you'd certainly agree.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves anything where he can grip and squeeze and smack your ass. he enjoys doggy because it offers him the easiest access to your ass. when he's feeling really intimate and serious, he loves laying you flat on the bed and pushing himself on top of you. makes him feel so close to you, but also enjoys the way your ass can push against his hips.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's so serious when he has sex. it's all about you and him and everything else fades out. in the lead up, he might be full of some dark chuckles at your neediness or quiet laughter while you're flirting. but once his lips are on yours and his hands are roaming your body, he's replaced with this stoic, dominant declan.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he's not like a jungle, but he certainly doesn't groom himself to the point where he's clean shaven. i mean, look at his chest and his mustache. woof. he probably trims it to a reasonable amount, but doesn't put much effort into it otherwise. it's curly and wavy though, like his hair.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's much more of a spur of the moment, making out from the front door to the bedroom kinda guy. i don't see him as the man to decorate your bedroom in rose petals. that doesn't mean he isn't intimate and romantic in the act though! he's all about whispering sweet and kind, but also terribly filthy things in your ear while he's unraveling you below him. he makes sure you know just how beautiful he finds you the whole night.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he's not above jerking off, but he knows he'll be coming back to your delicious body every night, so why would he? unless you're gone for a while, or he's off doing stuff for venturer overnight, he'll probably hold off. that isn't to say though that when you might be sending him particularly raunchy texts (for modern declan) or have left him wanting more of you, he won't go into the bathroom and ease the painful bulge beneath his pants. it's just not very common when he'd rather be on you as soon as he steps in the door.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

he's pretty dominant and enjoys taking control in the bed. he wants you to listen to him and give yourself over to him. it's the highest compliment. he loves biting and marking badddd. gets so aroused in the morning when he sees the hickeys he left on your skin from the night before. loves cockwarming on lazy days inside. i don't think he's a full sadist, but really gets off seeing his large red handprint on your ass. he's just possessive and loves making you his every night. also likes being called daddy in the right headspace.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

loves doing it anywhere in the house. not a very public sex person, but if its within the confines of his home, he's on. probably likes the bedroom the most, but for spur of the moment quickies, he likes taking you against the kitchen counter or on the couch or even on the floor by the fireplace after a failed movie night.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

unfortunately, one of his most toxic traits is that arguments and fighting really get him going. if he ever feels threatened by someone else, he'll take it out of them depending on the severity, but then fucks you within an inch of your life, reminding you in a deep voice who you belong to. he's also the type of person to get really turned on seeing you disheveled, or even just with a messy bun and pajamas.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

could never be fully submissive. definitely wouldn't mind handing you some of the reins and letting your hands guide him where you want him, but don't expect him to get on his knees anytime soon and bend to your every will with a "yes ma'am." another turn off is probably being rude or dismissive to his children. like, if he heard that you had made taggie upset someway, he would lose a lot of attraction to you.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

is such a munch, good lord. loves getting so messy with it. isn't very calculated with his movements, but instead dives in passionately with his tongue flat. he comes up for air disheveled, mustache and lips glistening, then goes back in. if you allow him, he'd spend forever down there. as for receiving oral, he loves it. unfortunately though, he has to stop before he cums so he can keep going the rest of the night. he likes to hold your hair tight and control your pace, but will be receptive if you're uncomfortable or in pain.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

majority of the time, he's fast and rough. especially after an argument or while he's jealous. but he can be slow and sensual!! sometimes he's tired or had a bad day or just really really feeling love for you and he wants to take his sweet time unraveling you and showering you in as much love as he can. those moments are just more uncommon than him fucking you with as much passion as he can.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn't mind them, but they're not his favorite. he'd prefer to take his time with you, but sometimes the timing just isn't right and he needs you now. or maybe you're just looking too damn fine and you have the house all to yourself and he lifts you against the kitchen counter. his quickies are rough and needy and sinful. he's grunting as sweat beads along his brow. he finishes inside of you and when he has to go about the rest of the day, he just thinks about you going about your day with him still inside you. freak.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's down to try things out! like, if you're reading a particularly filthy romance novel and he manages to figure out what about it is enticing to you, he's so willing to try it out himself. there's only a few things that he'll immediately reject, but he loves making things fun in the bedroom for the two of you. honestly, though, he's kind of impatient and doesn't really like doing things by trial and error, so he usually looks into how to make certain things work before trying it for the first time. as for risks, he's down for some things. wouldn't particularly mind risky settings, but he is somewhat of a public personality so there a few things he'll deny if it gets too risky.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can go for like two to three rounds before he's pretty spent. this number might be a lot bigger if he's one of those bouts where he's pouring himself into his work and doesn't get to devote as much time to his personal life. he can make himself last for a pretty long while. he just has to stop you before cumming because he can get to into the good feeling and before he realizes it, he's finished and now can't give as much of himself to you as he wants.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i think he's old fashioned in that the best tools are on his body already. i don't think he'd mind if you had a vibrator or something similar to use when he's not there, but he's not going to be reaching for it in the middle of sex. honestly, i feel like he'd see a vibrator as a competition and try to make you finish better than it can. fic idea?

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

i don't think he's that big of a tease tbh. at least not intentionally. if anything, he's more teasing in that his big palm rests on your thigh underneath the dining table and when he enters into some passionate conversation, he subconsciously grips it and you have to bite your lip to suppress your moan. or he's just looking soooo good in that venturer t-shirt talking to everyone and shaking hands and showing off his arms and he has no idea what he's doing to you.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's such a grunter. and he whispers little "fucks" under his breath. when he gets closer to finishing though, they start morphing into louder groans and when he cums in you, it's like one big crescendo that all comes crashing down. he lovesss hearing the noises he draws out of you though. encourages you to be loud and wants to hear how good he's making you feel.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

probably praises and compliments and talks about you to rupert and freddie all the time. they're all sitting around in a bar drinking and suddenly freddie is asking rupert about cameron and rupert is asking freddie about lizzie and they both turn to declan and ask about you. he gushes about you, then lowers his voice and talks about just how sexy and perfect and wonderful you are. he's got rather loose lips but he'll never reveal the private details. he just wants everyone to know that you are the most perfect person in the whole world and you're all his to enjoy.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's pretty thick. average length i think, but he makes up for it in the way that he stretches you out. it's a painful pleasure, one that makes you wince at his first entrance, but then makes you throw your head back, eyes rolled in pure bliss once he gets going.

y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

depends on his week, really! sometimes he's so focused on venturer or focused on his next interview that his brain capacity is filled. in times like those, he might need some extra encouragement in the form of you harmlessly flirting with rupert or presenting yourself to him in his study completely naked. if everything has leveled out and he's just having a good week, he could fuck you silly every single night.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

sometimes it can be within minutes if you've gone particularly hard. he falls off you, down to your side where he pulls you into his strong chest and holds you until he starts snoring. sometimes, he might enjoy running his hands along your body, tracing little shapes into them while you're turned on your side, cuddled close to his chest.

need him bad.