#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]

𝜗𝜚 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!

[hanasnx]

“ BETTER FIND A MOP, IT’S GETTIN’ STICKY IN THIS BITCH ” — peter parker.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: marvel rivals chad peter parker w yuri lowenthal’s legendary voice. a recipe for success. also this wouldn't be possible without this anon. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ dirty talk ノ explicit sexual content ノ p in v ノ finger sucking ノ biting ノ long cock peter agenda ノ suit + mask sex but mask comes off halfway thru so you can see his pretty face <3

“Yeah? Mmph—you like that—hm—baby?” PETER PARKER speaks between his sheathes, evidently getting lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. So much so that dirty talk for this silver tongue is interrupted by his own unfocus. It blurs in and out from the overload of sensation between his legs. You can’t respond, brows furrowing as he wetly slithers in and out of you, the head of him brushing that spongy spot inside you every time he bottoms out.

You try your best, murmuring a weak yet eager, ���Mhm, mhm,” Nodding your head even while his fingers are hooked on your lower jaw over your chin.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” Peter asks rhetorically, a slight snicker sprinkled in as he watches you with as much awe as a mask can have. “Was like I was ambushed.” he muses, reminiscing over his entrance met with such welcoming open legs. His cock bucks in at the memory, and you cry out through your occupied mouth. The knuckles between your teeth get a squeeze, a nip, and he releases a burst of air. “Trying to bite me, honey?” The tone conveys a sense of disbelief but it’s pleasantly surprised, and his pace quickens. Choked moans shoot out of you as he fucks into you, his body weight pinning you down while your suspended legs bob from the movement. Your lips enclose apologetically over his gloved fingers, the wet felt fabric is foreign against your tongue when you circle around them. In a bout of curiosity, your tip traces the embossed texture of the web design around his knuckle, maintaining eye contact with his mask while you do it.

Your cheeks hollow out, sucking on his two fingers and he groans from low in his throat. It’s the kind of purr that sends a shudder down your spine, eyes rolling back as he slots in your lulling body. The sheer length of him causes an ache inside your core that arches your back, clutching onto the sheets for purchase as you brace the sharp pain for the brain-melting feeling of pulling out only to fuck back in. His other hand comes to hook under the hem of his mask, peeling it off of him, and his brown hair explodes out in an endearing mess. You can finally see that crooked grin.

He pivots your head for you by your mouth, resting his wrist on the mattress to hover over you properly. Faithfully, you keep those fingers in, and he rewards you by shoving them in deeper, the tips of them making you lurch with a gag. Once again, he reacts audibly in euphoric relief like he was waiting for you to do that. “Baby.” he says in that voice, and it’s like a prize. You erupt in full-body tingles, curling your toes as he openly mouths at your neck. The pad of his tongue flattens against your pulse point, and ends it in a hard bite, scraping his teeth against your skin. You keen, that coil in your belly going taut.

Drool seeps out of the corner of your mouth while you desperately suck his spit-soaked glove, pitiful whimperings spilling out of you while he fucks you into the mattress.

[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."

[luvlyycy]

salivates.. older!bucky...

he wants to keep your innocence, truly. but when you say how bad you want him to fuck you with those sparkly eyes of yours. filth rolling off your tongue like second nature. you babble on and on about you want his thick cock to fill you.

"honey, i'm thirty-six. you're twenty." he hums, thumb caressing your cheek, "like i give a fuck, bucky. i want you to fuck me until i forget where i'm at."

you don't know what you're getting into. his metal arm wrapped around your neck in a headlock as he gives you the meanest backshots of your fucking life.

you're practically screaming his name in chants, his thick cock bullying itself into your cunt— imprinting the shape of his cock in your insides.

"this what ya wanted, sweetheart? wanted me to ruin this pussy?" and you let out a long, loud whine.

"take that as a yes."

[jaysbaefie]

simone says | sjy

synopsis: in which your highschool rival agrees to tutor you, on one condition.

genre: high-school rivals to lovers ?

pairing: high-school rival!jake x afab reader

warnings: dubcon (ish), dom!jake, bratty!reader, reader calls jake a 'twink' on multiple occasions, jake reads hentai, mentions of blackmail? restraining with a belt, light degrading, spanking, grinding, reader grinds on jake's shoe, lowkey manhandling, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), public sex, praising, hair pulling, p in v, orgasm denial - i think that's it..

wc: 9.6k+

a/n: this is my first fic on tumbler, so if something seems wonky i apologize i’m not familiar with posting on this platform. feel free to leave tips on how to post on this site because i struggled heavy…

──── ୨୧ ────

the look of disappointment plastered on your professors face made you wince.

"i'm sorry __ , but if you don't boost your grades then i have no choice but to demote you from debate team captain and take you out of your advance learning classes," he said apologetically.

you wanted to do nothing but to scream in his old, wrinkly and saggy face, this was so embarrassing.

you internally scold yourself for thinking this way of your professor, the man was nothing but kind to you these past few months given your terrible attendance and poor marks.

you had never come home with less than a 95% in your classes. nowadays, your happy with a shitty 60%.

you don't know what's wrong with you, your unable to focus on your studies and instead spend time ditching classes and attending parties. you had promised yourself that no matter where your friends had dragged you. you would make your education a priority, but as expected, that wasn't the case.

senior year of high school meant a lot of behavioural and social changes within both you and your friends, the shy and nerdy girls you once hung out with had done a complete 360 switch. the hangouts that once consisted of going to cute cafes and studying, ice skating, arcades and movie nights had quickly switched to getting drunk every other night and doing any possible substance that they could get their hands on.

you missed the days where the four of you wouldn't get black out drunk and fake sobriety to your knowing parents. you didn't particularly enjoy the party life that your friends were living, but you didn't hate it, and you surely wouldn't be missing out on it. yes, your studies should come first, but your a senior in high school only once in your life. which is what your friends repeated every time you rejected a party. so that's what you lived by, your only a senior in highschool once.

unfortunately, that same logic costed you your above average grades and perfect attendance record. you had to fix this, and you were willing to fix this mess in any way possible. even if it meant dropping to your knees for your professor.

you give the old man a once over, shivering and internally rejected that as a possibility.

"i'd rather fail and live at home for the rest of my life," you think to yourself, your body convulsing at the idea.

swallowing harshly you ask, "is there anything i could do to boost my grades?".

he looks at you with sympathy, leaning back in his chair as he thinks for a moment. "the only thing i could do to help you with your grades is to be present and help answer any questions you have. i could stay some time after class and help you with some homework but that's about it __, i'm sorry," he sighs.

asking questions with homework wasn't going to change your 57% into a 95 in 2 months. you needed to completely re-learn the material and start from the beginning. you didn't have notes and you didn't have a clue of what was going on in the class. none of your friends were in your classes, none of your friends were as smart as you.

unfortunately for you, you hadn't bothered to even make any friends in your advanced learning classes. you couldn't just go up to someone in your class and ask them for their notes, you were stumped.

"do you think you could set me up with a tutor? i know i'm asking for a lot right now but i want to switch this around," you beg softly, your hands clutched together. your professor knew how much potential you had, you had created a good reputation for yourself after all. you were the debate team captain, although you had been missing more and more meetings recently. you had one of the highest marks in your grade, often ranking first place in exams. you had never gotten into any altercations, a squeaky clean student record. lots of volunteer hours and good recommendations from professors that would guarantee you a spot in the most prestigious of universities.

your professor thinks for a moment, his bushy eyebrows furrowing as he debates internally. "i could set you up with one, but i'm not sure he'll agree to helping you this late in the semester," he replies wincing. "or at all..," he continues but your ears miss it.

a smile instantly makes its way onto your face, there's hope for you. you were sure that whoever this person was they would agree to helping you. you were nice to everyone, always respectful and helpful to your peers.

who would say no to you?

"he's one of my best students, following you of course," the professor continues, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he takes his thin glasses off his face. he gulps softly, knowing that suggesting this student to you and vice versa wasn't the best idea.

you on the other hand, begin to think of all the smart students you know of in your grade.

yang jungwon?

park sunghoon?

kim sunoo?

mentally trashing all of the candidates that you deemed dumb.

your professor interrupts your internal dialogue, "you're going to have to talk to him and come up with something that works for the both of you, that is if he agrees," he says.

"but i will send him an email, warning him that you'll be in touch with him soon," he adds on tensely.

you simply hum in response, happy with the outcome of the conversation even though it may not work out for you at the end. one thing about you was that you were confident, and you knew that a little persuading would get you far in life. you got along with all your peers, unfortunately not enough to ask for notes or help but enough to pass soft smiles in the hallways or a gentle nod of acknowledgment. you stayed in your circle of friends, rarely hanging out with other classmates unless a project or school assignment was involved.

with no questions asked you thank your professor profusely, your smile reaching your eyes.

your professor on the other hand looked at you nervously, letting out a tense laugh as he tells you to head to your next class. you hadn't asked who would be your tutor, and your professor was grateful. he didn't want to deal with your reaction and preferred to stay out of it but he knew he would hear from you soon and he'd rather deal with it later than now.

"now, head to class the bell will be ringing soon," he ushers. you smile and thank him once again before practically skipping out of your classroom.

your professor watches you leave, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips before he opens his computer. his mouse clicking on the schools mailing app, before punching in the letters of the students email.

he wrote a simple message informing him, no— warning, that's the word, warning him that you'd be in touch with him soon.

he sends the email and immediately signs off, hoping for the best. his two star students couldn't be fighting anymore, and if he had to play cupid then he'd play cupid, even if it was extremely inappropriate and unprofessional.

he could only hope for the best.

──── ୨୧ ────

you walk alongside your friends, your shoulder casually brushing against yoora's as the four of you head to the lunch hall.

"so you're really taking this grade thing seriously, huh?" jiya asks, her brows arching as she looks at you with a soft smirk.

you roll your eyes, "someone has to," you reply.

"who else is going to make a lot of money so they could keep up with their friends luxurious life style," you playfully snide. the reason your grades meant so much to you was solely because you didn't come from a privileged and wealthy background. to you, good grades meant a good education which leads to a good job and a stable source of income for both you and your family. this wasn't a choice for you, yet you had been treating it as if it was one and now your dealing with the consequences.

your friends came from wealthy backgrounds, grades weren't that important to them because they knew that no matter what their gpa was they'd have something to lean back on. whether it be inheriting a business or their parents providing pocket money till their last breath.

jiya's expression softens slightly, her manicured fingers brushing against your arm, "we're sorry for distracting you, __."

"we didn't realize how much this was affecting your grades," she continues. the others nod in agreement as they mumble soft apologies.

you were greatful for their understanding, they were aware of your financial situation but often forgot. it wasn't something you liked to bring up often, the looks of pity on their faces making you want to shrivel up and die.

there would be times where they'd offer to pay for your meals, clothes and even tuition because they thought it would help lessen your financial burdens, but instead it made you feel embarrassed and angry. you didn't want the pity so you rarely brought it up. this was your motivation to make money and step out of the hole that finances had made for you.

"we won't pressure you into going to parties with us anymore," hana says before quickly continuing, "but that doesn't mean that you can say no every time. you still have to go out with us, but we understand that right now your education is your priority."

you smile in response.

"so, who's your little tutor?" hana asks, flipping her dyed blonde locks over her shoulder as she searches her purse for her wallet.

the four of you had entered the lunch hall, your eyes scanning for a table as you begin to walk to the lunch line.

you shrug at her question, "no clue, i forgot to ask. but probably some nerd."

yoora laughs, "fellow nerd," she corrects with a teasing smile, bumping shoulders with you as you stand in line.

you roll your eyes playfully, "bitch."

"i just hope it's not a creep, like min youngjae," you shiver at the thought. min youngjae was a perv, sure he was smart and often ranked high in exam scores like yourself, but he was a total creep. he had been caught peering into the girls change room last year and hasn't been able to live it down since.

your friends giggle, "carry pepper spray on you if it happens to be him, heard he had the hots for you too.." jiya snickers handing the lunch lady some cash before picking up her tray.

you shiver, "i'm carrying mace if i'm paired with him," you mutter as you follow jiya with a tray of your own.

spotting a table the four of you beeline for it, the lunch hall started to fill up and spots to sit had become scarce.

sitting down the four of you ease into small talk which then becomes gossip. giggling amongst yourselves you don't notice a certain pair of eyes on you, watching your every move.

if looks could kill, you'd be buried 6 feet under by now.

a soft nudge makes you stop laughing, yoora smirking as she raises her eyebrows. she motions to the side of you with her head, you furrow your eyebrows, confused to what was going on.

turning your head your eyes are instantly met with the one person who you had issues with in this entire school.

co-captain of the debate team, soccer team captain, and your worst enemy—sim jaeyun.

you almost gag when he smirks at you. his stupid plump lips curling into a grin when he's sees your expression before his beautiful—no hideous face morphs into one of mock concern. your surprised when he gets up from his spot and starts to make his way to your table.

his lean yet muscular legs flexing with each step he took, he was still wearing his soccer shorts that he had been wearing during practice with a thin white t-shirt that outlined the shape of his torso when the lunch halls light hit him in a specific way. his hair was slightly damp with sweat from practice, he runs his large hands through his dark locks before he reaches your table and his crotch is in level with your face. you make a face of displeasure before you shift away slightly, trying to avoid starring at his dick.

"fuck do you want sim?" you sneer, holding in the urge to punch him in the throat when his grin widens.

how you wanted to punch his shit-eating grin, his perfectly straight teeth would fall out of his big mouth.

"what do i want? hm, a lot of attitude for someone who needs my help," he mocks playfully as he bends down so he's eye level with you.

your face twists into one of confusion, help?

"what are you talking about dickwad? i don't need your help," you spit, your cheeks heating up when you catch a whiff of his cologne. you mentally beat yourself for letting someone like him fluster you.

"oh really? so mr.kim didn't send me an email asking me to tutor his 'star student' ?" he pouts mockingly.

your eyes widen and your mouth parts in shock.

mr.kim you are so fucking dead.

jake watches your face twist into one of shock, enjoying your attitude fizzle as you stumble for words.

your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land, racking your brain for a snarky comeback, but to your luck your mind was blank.

he stares at your expression, he could see a million thoughts behind your eyes and it only boosted his confidence. he was the reason your bratty mouth was unable to form words to shoot back at him. the same mouth that would spew insults at him whenever he dared to even speak in your presence was now shut because of him.

he was eager to shoot you down when he had originally walked to your table, ready to reject tutoring you and make fun of you for being so dumb and careless of your studies. he had noticed what you had become recently, the seemingly hardworking and shy girl you once were around others, not him of course, had become an avid partier who didn't care about her academics and future anymore. however, now he had different plans, he knew how much you needed him and he'd use it to his advantage. what's wrong with a little fun? right?

jake stands up straight, "meet me in classroom 103 tomorrow afternoon lunch, don't be late pretty," jake coos playfully with a chuckle escaping his pink lips.

your internal debate ends instantly at his words, your face dropping as you begin to process his words. he wants to tutor you? pretty? confused you look at him and begin to open your mouth only to see that he has turned away and began walking back to his table.

his friends looking at him and you both confused and amused at the interaction.

what the fuck just happened?

──── ୨୧ ────

sim jaeyun has always been that cockroach that just won't die. no matter how many times you hit it with your shoe, or the rounds of bug spray you spray on its disgusting body, it survives.

first day of 8th grade and you two were already fighting over the dumbest things. the two of you shared a mutual friend, kim sunoo, and you wanted to sit next to him for math. little did you know, jake had similar intentions which resulted in a full blown argument between the two of you on why either of you should sit next to sunoo.

at the end, neither of you got to sit next to him.

then came budging in line, to you the fight between who gets to sit next to sunoo was your last interaction with jake. however, jake had other plans.

he would purposely budge in front of you in line and when you made a move to confront him he'd act like you simply didn't exist.

you realized quickly that he thrived off of your reactions and stopped giving him the satisfaction of getting angry at him.

grade 8 science class is where the two of you had begun to get competitive for grades.

"hey, what'd you get on your quiz __?" your seat mate whispered to you while holding onto his own quiz, hiding the grade from your greedy eyes.

biting back a grin you show him your test results, "a 93%" you whisper back. you were so proud of yourself, you studied hard for that mark and you were going to tell anyone who asked what you got.

you heard a snicker come from the back and you immediately knew who it was. you whip your head around to shoot the boy a piercing glare.

"93? that's it? i got a 96," jake brags with a smirk.

you could feel your cheeks redden with rage as you flip him off and turn back in your desk.

fuck that twink and his 96%, i'll show him.

and you did show him, next quiz you got a 100% and you made sure jake saw it.

"awe, a 94. how cute jakey," you mocked with a pout. you had left your quiz on his desk while he was in the washroom, making sure he saw it when he returned.

jake's fists were clenched and he could feel himself bubble up with embarrassment when he saw your perfect score. he rolls his eyes and chooses to not respond, which only fed your ego.

the cycle continues for years, and with your luck you shared almost all of your classes with jake. the two of you were some of the smartest kids in your grade and shared the same advanced learning classes, with the exception of extracurriculars. the competition between you two never ended and neither did the unusual tension.

when you became debate team captain jake was furious, he worked equally as hard for that position but he was made co-captain for his efforts instead of the real deal. he never complained publicly though, instead he tried to outshine you during weekly meetings. being extra nice to the members and trying to come up with better ideas and solutions to make you look bad.

you're still captain, so clearly he's not doing a good enough job.

you tried to avoid jake when you could, you saw him as competition and an enemy, that's it. well, that's what you tried to convince yourself. there was an undeniable attraction that you felt towards jake, and it made you want to kill yourself. fortunately for you, you were able to look past it and come to terms that you found him attractive and justify that his personality made him ugly.

however, jake didn't try to avoid you back. instead he seemed to 'run into you' and random times and ruin your day. at one point you were convinced that he was following you because of how often he would be at the same place at the same time as you.

many of your friends and fellow classmates thought of you and jake as an elderly couple that bickered amongst each other. the thought of dating jake alone made you gag and you tried to shut down their theories of sexual tension between the two of you right away. that however, didn't work and the theories continue.

"i swear, you two just need to fuck," jiya sighed as she slumps against her pillows.

all four of you had decided to go to jiya's house after school, it had been so long since you all had  hung out like a normal group of teens.

you choke on your drink, "fucks no," you look at her with wide eyes, shocked she would even say that.

jiya grins, she props herself up on her elbow to stare at you, "you know you feel the tension, because i sure as hell do. so do yoora and hana, hell, everyone at school does," she exclaims frustratedly, mad that her friend won't just take her advice.

you roll your eyes, "the only tension i feel that he's involved in is scoring higher than him academically, which i've been failing at recently," you respond with a groan.

finals were only 2 months away and if you wanted to pass with flying colours you needed to take up jake's offer.

"what if he's agreeing to tutor you because he wants to sabotage you," hana theorizes, gasping at her idea as she stares at you with her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised.

"i don't think he's the type to sabotage, he likes the competition and he likes to win fair and square from what i've seen," interjects yoora.

she had a point, jake had never played dirty. sure he was a dick, but he never tried to sabotage you. you were away for a week once due to a cold and jake had willingly given you his notes for that weeks lectures.

that only makes you wonder..

what is that twink up to?

you were confused by the entire interaction that took place in the lunch hall earlier, it wasn't odd for jake to be in your personal space, he did that a lot. however, the 'pretty' he added to the end of his sentence was what was throwing you off. jake had described you in a multitude of ways, ugly, witch, hag, dumbass, toad, and the list continues. but never has he called you something positive, let alone pretty.

"i don't know what his game plan is, but the only way i'm going to find out is by going to classroom 103 tomorrow."

──── ୨୧ ────

and that's how you find yourself outside classroom 103, your hands clutching the straps of your backpack as your nervously open the door.

you peer up making there wasn't a bucket full of liquid perched at the top that would fall onto you when you open the door fully. seeing that nothing was there you open the door and walk inside, seeing jake by the whiteboard at the front of the classroom.

his back facing you, you could see how well his clothes hugged his shape and you couldn't help but admire.

he was wearing his uniform this time, his white dress shirt was crisp and free of any wrinkles and tucked into the waistband of his pants. his sleeves were rolled up so his forearms were exposed, you felt your mouth water slightly as you saw the veins from his arms lead to his large hands.

"are you going to keep staring like a perv or sit down?" and the moments ruined.

you roll your eyes and walk up to him, slamming your backpack down onto the desk before folding your arms across your chest, "what's your game plan here, shitface?" you spit out.

jake chuckles, finding your attitude and actions cute. you thought you were intimidating but in reality jake allowed you to believe that you were in charge, it was the least he could do before he showed you who was really in control.

jake moves away from the whiteboard before leaning against the teachers desk that sat in front of the board with his arms in front of him, holding him up.

"game plan? what are you talking about __?" jake asks innocently, looking down at you with a pout.

you roll your eyes again, "listen, i'm not in the mood for this back and fourth thing you love doing okay? are you going to tutor me? yes or no?"

jake grins, moving away from the desk and walking up to you, similar to how a predator stalks up to his prey. you give him a dirty look when he stands in front of you, staring down at you.

"of course i'm going to tutor you __, it's the least i could do to help my fellow classmate," he coos mockingly.

"roll your eyes again and watch," he threatens, seeing your expression shift again. your heart stutters in your chest at his tone, a soft flush coating your cheeks.

he knew you to well.

you scoff, "cut the bullshit, i know you have an ulterior motive to this 'i'm a good person' persona you have playing right now. spit it out, what do you want in return?"

his grin widens, "if only you used your brain to pay attention and get good grades rather that theorizing about my 'ulterior motives'. maybe then you wouldn't be in this position," he snarks back, his face leaning closer to yours. you take a step back but he takes two closer to you.

if you hadn't known jake and were someone else you would've thought that he was going to lean in and kiss you right now with the way his breathe fanned against your cheek. he was to close, but this was just how jake was. always in your face and business.

"maybe if you weren't a little shit who didn't have dick up his ass every second of the day i wouldn't be aiming for your crotch right now with my knee," you spit back, your knee bent up and close to his crotch area.

jake rolls his eyes, taking a step back as a precaution in case you do decide to knee him where it matters.

"so? what do you want in return. don't say that fake shit you're scheming up in your head about how you're just a good person and care for all your peers," you mock in what you think is a good impression of his voice.

he smirks, "all i want from you is to play a little game with me __."

you quirk your eyebrows in suspicion, "what game...?"

"simone says."

you burst into fits of laughter, your eyes watering with amusement as you look at him incredulously, "what are you? 7? get a grip jake," you snicker, leaning against the deck for support as your body still shakes with silent fits of laughter.

"7 inches deep in your mom," he lamely mutters which only makes your body shake harder with amusement.

jake's expression remains the same, "suit yourself, you either agree to the game or you find someone else to tutor you. but you and i both know that no one is going to help re-teach you the way i can."

he wasn't wrong, you and jake regardless of your differences, learned the same way. his notes were thoroughly detailed and you had seen him help out peers before, he was patient and made sure that at the end of the lesson they grasped the concept well.

when you don't say anything he continues, "i miss the competition between us you know? seeing your grades plummet to shit wasn't as satisfying as i thought it would be," he admits as he inspects the classrooms surroundings, almost embarrassed at his own confession.

shocked at the sudden confession you look up at him with a teasing smirk, "how cute jakey."

he groans, "fuck this, i'm out," he makes a move for the door before you grab his wrist.

"okay, okay sorry. i'll play your dumb game, just tutor me shitface," you mumble looking anywhere but him.

jake smirks, the threatening to leave ploy always works.

you had not idea what you were in for.

jake was going to tutor you, there were no lies there. however, he deserved to get a little something out of it.. right?

the game was a mere excuse to him. years of back and fourth had gotten him no where and that had to change, and it had to change soon. who knows were the both of them would end up after graduation, he had to lock you in.

"we start after school today, meet me at the library right after the bell," he says before he quickly struts to the door, leaving you in the classroom by yourself before you even had a chance to protest.

then what was the purpose of this entire meeting? you could've just seen him after school to begin with.

dickhead.

──── ୨୧ ────

"no, no, no that's all wrong," jake sighs as he pulls the notebook from your hands and flips to a different page.

he was beginning to get on your nerves and you had to hold yourself back from slamming your fist into his face.

"well maybe if you teach me from the beginning instead of handing me questions to answer i'll do it correctly," you scoff.

"i need to know where you are in your comprehension to be able to teach you the proper material, you toad. that's why i'm giving you practice questions, which your eating shit at, so clearly i'm going to have to start from the beginning," he snaps back ,rubbing his eyebrows that had tensed up.

you could feel your mouth water slightly at the sight of his hands, long and veiny which looked sinfully good every time he held something. drooling over your academic rival and overall enemy wasn't something that you'd publicly admit, ever. not even to your friends who had their own suspicions of the two of you.

'sexual tension' they said.

"lets start from the beginning of the semester, unless you need i need to revise basic algebra for you too?" he mocked, his upper lip curling up in a sneer.

you give him a sickly sweet smile, you weren't that dumb you still remembered things you learned from previous years. new concepts were the issue for you, "hm, whatever you think is right mr.sim," you say in a mocking innocent tone, all while batting your eyes before turning your head so you're sure he's staring right at you.

jake swallows harshly at the honorific, his fists clenching before he sits up a bit straighter. clearing his throat he lets out a fake cough to distract you if you happened to notice his sudden mood change.

you hadn't noticed his change in behaviour, going back to staring at your textbook. you had forgotten about the situation as soon as your eyes landed on the question you were stuck on, ignoring the now tense boy that sat next to you.

to others you two seemed like a cute couple, studying together and occasionally bantering. the two of you sat closer together than you'd like, but you didn't bother moving away. your knees touching and occasionally rubbing against one another whenever jake decided to bounce his knee, which you had noticed over the last years was a habit of his when he was focused.

"i think you're smart enough to remember previous years of study, let's go over this again. this time from the beginning."

you had to admit, jake was a pretty good teacher. he made sure you understood every concept of the unit, asking you to re-explain them to him as proof. he was patient and kind with you, which you hadn't expected.

but now you were getting tired, peering up to see the time on a clock that was mounted neatly on the library walls it read 6:23. you had been studying for almost 3 hours.

"hey, maybe we should continue this tomorrow," you suggest before leaning back in your chair in an attempt to crack your back. your hands in the air lazily as you let out a soft yawn. wincing when you hear a crack, a soft moan leaving your parted lips.

jake's eyes widened at the sound momentarily, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips when he sees your position. your skirt rose up a fraction and your shirt shifted in a way that your stretching exposed a sliver of your pink bra strap and your collar bone.

jake scoffed in attempts of giving himself a reality check, looking up at the clock, "it's only been 3 hours, tired already?" he raises his eyebrow before cracking his knuckles, joining you by leaning back in the uncomfortable wooden library chairs. he could practically feel his butt bones hit the wood.

you look at him incredulously, choosing silence as a response before turning to grab your phone, checking your notifications.

this seemed to piss jake off, not only had you ignored him but now you had the audacity to go on your phone during his tutoring session that he so graciously offered you out of his free time.

"off your phone, __," he demands, now sitting up in his chair.

you ignore his warning tone, looking up from your phone lazily before scoffing, returning your eyes to your messages.

"__, i said something and i expect you to listen to me," he says again, this time his tone more annoyed than demanding.

"simone says, get off your phone," he tries.

you let out a giggle, looking up at him with amusement, there's no way he tried using that. "or what? huh? what happens if i don't listen to simone and what he says," you mock with a pout.

"i reconsider tutoring you, i'm making time out of my day to help you and you're being ungrateful and bratty. the least you could do is stay off your phone while we're studying and abide by my only condition, which was to play simone says," he spits passively.

jake wasn't an angry person, he was typically calm and collected and rarely ever raised his voice. but something about you irked him, every name you called him, every snarky response to his normal questions, every dirty look you gave him—all of it had him busting at his seems. his eyes would twitch with annoyance and his hands itched to take care of your bratty mouth, he of course, never acted on his thoughts.

but life seemed to work in strange ways, and unbeknownst to him he now had a chance to do what he's been itching to do.

"wow you must be so busy," you mock, your arms fake surrendering.

"i'm so sorry that i took precious time out of your day. time that you use to beat your dick to some sort of freak anime porn," you snicker, sure you kept your distance from him but you did some digging on the boy.

some say you're good with your hands, picking a lock with some pins was light work for you. you remember back in junior year jake had 'accidentally' taken your keys to the debate room, the keys that belonged to the debate team captain, you. you knew he was upset that you got captain instead of him and he had taken the keys out of jealousy.

at first you decided to let him keep them, out of pity, but what's the fun in that?

you did the most logical thing, you broke into his locker. while searching for the keys you came across a multitude of things, one of them being a small collection of interesting cartoons performing certain actions.

he was reading hentai. at school. no shame.

your hands shook with excitement when you saw the lewd comics, biting your lip to contain your giggles you flip the pages, quickly scanning the contents.

your eyes widened at the content, jake was into some kinky shit.

your mouth drops as you continue to snoop, giggling to yourself when you realize that you had hit the jackpot on blackmail.

pulling out your phone you took a few pictures of his locker and the porn books mr.goody two-shoes was hiding from the student body.

jake's eyes widen at your comment, how did you know?

seeing jake's reaction, your grin widens and you decide to test your luck, "didn't take you for a guy who liked bondage jakey," you giggle, biting your lip to hold back the booming laughter that threatened to leave your mouth.

"unless, it's you who's getting tied up.. i can see that," you tease before you begin to shake with laughter. you glance over in between fits of laughter to see jake's expression, which remained shocked, struggling to process the situation.

"but i'm not surprised, little bitch boys like you look like they enjoy being left helpless," you continue as you stare at his confused face.

you couldn't help but cross your legs to soothe the ache between your legs, the situation you were in and the power you held over jake's head had got you feeling some kind of way.

just when you thought you had control of the entire situation, perched on your little high horse and ready to prance around jake, his expression changed and he lets out a small laugh. 

your grin drops, confused to why he found the situation amusing.

"you know __, i respect that you tried," he says, you could see his eyes water as he bit back a smile threatening to appear on his face.

"this, just made everything i'm going to do a lot easier," he continues before he finally lets the grin he's been holding back pop onto his oh-so perfect face.

you look at him confused, "are you into humiliation too, jakey? i never would've guessed."

his grin only widens, he suddenly stands up from his chair and slams his hands on the library desk.

luckily, the library had emptied out slowly in the last few hours and only a few students remained in the large spaced area.

"what are you do-" you began before the words were knocked out of you.

literally.

grabbing you by the back of your neck, jake pulls you up and pushes you face against the desk.

and suddenly you were regretting picking the most secluded section of the library.

"what the fuck are you doing?!" you try to say but the words come out as sloppy and squeaky due to one side of your face being glued to the desktop.

you hear his breathing get heavier but no reply comes from him.

suddenly, you hear rustling of his belt and a click, indicating that he was now taking it off.

instead of fear, excitement rushes through you and you squeeze your legs together in anticipation.

jake sees this and grins, "dirty bitch," he sneers before impatiently yanking his belt off, letting go of his grip on the back of your neck—quickly grabbing a hold of your arm.

you let out a small squeal when you feel him roughly tug your arms behind your back, securing your arms with his belt.

you let out a small hiss of complain when he tightens the belt a bit to tight to which he only chuckles in response.

his hands bury themselves in your hair, yanking it so your face is no longer against the table and instead the crown of your head was touching his chest.

you could feel him ground himself against your behind, your eyes widening when you feel him push against your ass.

"you see how you're bent over a desk with my belt tied around your wrists and left all helpless, not me?" he whispers harshly in your ear, his breath tickling your skin making a shiver run through your body.

you unconsciously push yourself further back into him, a low groan leaving his parted lips.

"beats me, your the one that got hard from me degrading you, bitchboy," you snicker, wiggling your hips against him, finding the whole situation slightly amusing. you were really pushing it and you'd soon realize it.

your laughter dies down when you feel one of jake's hand slither down to your legs, softly running his fingertips along the plush of your thighs and nearing your crotch.

you shut your eyes when you feel his fingers graze against your underwear clad heat. a soft moan escaping your parted lips when he presses firmly against your clit, moving his finger up and down.

"and what about you, __? you've already soaked through your panties. and i've barely even touched you," he teases with a coo. you could feel him smirk against your ear, his fingers still running up and down your slit making your legs shake at the pressure of his actions.

when you don't answer he grips your hair harder and makes the pressure between your legs firmer, "are you not embarrassed, __?" he asks, his grip on your hair disappears and you fall back onto the desk with a soft thud.

"you're allowing yourself to be bent over the counter by someone who you swear up and down you hate," he continues, now pulling his hand away from your cunt making you whimper at the loss of feeling.

he smirks, "but i have a feeling, that you don't really hate me."

you look back at him before pulling your face into a sneer, "fuck yo-" you began but before you could finish a loud smack silenced you.

your skirt was flipped up and jake had made his hand comfortable on one of your ass cheeks. "you wanna try that again?" he asks, his eyebrow raised as his tongue pokes his cheek.

you were no one to back away from a challenge, "i said fu-"

smack!

smack!

smack!

"say sorry," he commands before landing another hard smack. you shake your head, biting your lip so hard that you swore you could taste blood. seeing you shake your head, he only grins, "suit yourself."

he landed hit after hit, smack after smack until you were sobbing and babbling over your own words. as much as it hurt your pride to apologize, you would have to or you'd drown in your own tears.

"i-i'm sorry," you manage to push out, you laid your head on the desk waiting for jake to say something.

"that's my good girl," he coos softly, his hand now massaging your bruised cheeks. you let out a small whimper at the feeling, you were sure that you wouldn't be able to sit down properly for weeks.

a small choked sob escapes your mouth when he begins to kneed the sore spot a little to rough, "does that hurt angel?" he coos softly while places soft kisses down your clothed spine.

you nod shakily, "that's too bad, but i know a strong girl like you can take so much more."

and just like that you were pulled off of the desk and pushed down onto the floor, a hiss leaving your mouth when the rough carpet of the library scratches your knees.

"now, you're going to stay true to your part of the deal," he begins before stopping, admiring how helpless you looked as he stares down at your tear filled eyes and flushed pink cheeks. how he has imagined you in this exact position hundreds of thousands of times for so many years, and here you were in front of him just how he dreamed.

all those times he's fucked his fist to you when you made him angry, which was every single day. now, he was granted with the opportunity to fuck you and your mouth, and you best believe he was going to take full advantage of it.

his hands fumble with the zipper of his slacks, rushing to pull them down and allowing them to drop down to his knees.

you're eyes widen momentarily when you see his bulge straining against the fabric of his dark grey boxers. you look up at him only to be met with a look of need and urgency, you would say that he looked cute if his dick hadn't hit your cheek when he pulled down his boxers.

"simone says, suck my dick."

you gulp, moving your head back slightly to get a good look of what you were working with only for jake to thread his fingers into your hair and force his dick into your mouth.

you immediately gag, your eyes watering as you struggle to adjust to his length. you hear him groan when his tip touches the back of your throat, the sound only motivating you to swallow around him.

"fuck,__. you look so good with my cock stuffed in your bratty mouth," he moans out, his hips now slowly moving in and out of your mouth as a mixture of your spit and his cum leak out of the side of your mouth.

you only moan in response to his harsh and unforgiving thrusts, the sounds vibrating against him.

"look at you, angel. so good for me, taking me so well. if i had known this is the best way to shut you up, i would've done this a long time ago," he grunts out, his hips stuttering when he feels your jaw slacken to take more of him on easier.

"hauling your bratty ass into the nearest room and fucking your throat raw, making you beg for my cock to stretch you out."

you moan at his words, your thighs squeezing together to try relieve the pressure and ache that was building between your legs. jake notices this and smirks, his leg moving to slide between your thighs.

your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion but before you could think more about it jake begins to snap his hips faster. tears run down your cheeks, if your makeup wasn't smudged earlier, it was surely gone now.

suddenly, you felt pressure against your core, and you knew it was jake. he was able to get you to sit yourself onto his shoe, giving you a look that read 'you know what to do', and you did.

as shameful as it was, in the moment you didn't care. you allowed yourself to grind yourself down on his shoe to get some sort of relief, hips snapping to chase your high which was approaching embarrassingly quick.

"you're such a good girl, __. grinding yourself down on my shoe, getting yourself off while you gag around my cock. so fucking dirty," he moans, his head tilting back as he feels his high approach quickly.

you attempt to bob your head but jake doesn't let you, his grip on your hair tightening as he holds your head still. "m'gnna cum, f-fuck," he stutters, his thrusts now getting sloppy.

he then suddenly pulls out from your mouth, you whine from the loss of his cock, he smirks before he begins to ride out his high with his fist. "open your mouth, stick your tongue out," he demands, panting as he desperately fucks his hand.

you couldn't help but admire the view, jake's face was contorted into one of pure pleasure and bliss.

"you look so eager for my cum, yeah? is that right, pretty girl?"

you do as you were told, peering up at him as you continue to grind yourself down on his shoe. "f-fuck, you look so pretty. m'gnna nut all over that pretty face, angel," he pants and just like that thick ropes of his cum coat your face and tongue.

you flinch at the feeling before you swallow what was on your tongue—licking your lips at the warm and slightly salty flavour. a whimper leaving you when jake moves his foot away just when you were about to reach your own high.

he smirks in response, using two of his fingers to tilt your chin to admire the mess he has made on your face. "so pretty, my pretty girl. you were so good for me, and you know what happens to good girls? good girls get rewarded." fortunately for jake, you were too cock drunk to properly comprehend what he was saying.

jake pulls you up, you struggle to stand as you wobble slightly but he grabs your arms as support. he admires you quickly before pulling you into a searing kiss, his hands resting on your waist before moving them up to cup your face.

"so beautiful," he says in between kisses, the words making you feel lightheaded. you didn't know if he meant those words or if he was saying them in the heat of the moment, regardless you basked in the praise.

his hands move to your back, fumbling with the belt that was wrapped around your wrists. you almost moan in relief when he removes his belt from your hands, letting them rest by your sides. however, jake doesn't let you relish in that feeling of relief for long before his hands find their way to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up into his arms and then onto the table.

you let out a small gasp when jake drops to his knees, spreading apart your thighs roughly before moving between them. he's face to face with your panty clad heat, your hands immediately move to try and cover yourself but jake was not having it. he pushes away your hands and instead grabs your thighs to pull you closer but you try to shut your legs before he could slot his face between them.

"simone says, spread your legs."

even if you didn't obey, he'd still make you. it was an illusion of choice.

you hesitantly relax, allowing jake to manoeuvre himself between your thighs so his nose brushed against your covered slit.

the sight was erotic, jake looked like he was in heaven when he saw the giant wet patch on your panties.

"you've made a mess, fuck angel," he groans before he's pushing your underwear to the side, his nose poking your clit before you feel his tongue on you.

you let out a squeak when you felt his fingers dig into your thighs as he leaves no part of you untouched with his tongue. he moans into you, the vibration of the sound making you squirm in pleasure.

using his ring and pointer finger, he spreads your lips to get a good look at you, "you're even better than i imagined," he murmurs softly which falls deaf to your ears before resuming his actions.

you tried to keep your moans down but had a hard time doing so when you felt his tongue draw the figure '8' on your clit repeatedly. "f-fuck jake, s'good," you slur out, your grip on his hair tightening.

your hands find there way into jake's dark locks, his eyes rolling back in pleasure when you tug on them. "who knew a slut like you tasted so good," he says but his words come out muffled and only added to your pleasure.

he grins against your sopping pussy, his actions getting firmer and faster when he feels your body quiver and your moans get increasingly louder.

you release jakes hair to cover your mouth in an attempt to silence your moans, however, he didn't like that. you're eyes roll back when you feel him push a digit into your soaking cunt, all while focusing on applying firm pressure to your clit with his tongue.

you could feel your high approaching quickly, which was expected due to your denied orgasm just a few minutes ago. you look down at him for a moment only to meet his eyes already staring right at you, the stare causing you to buck your hips against his mouth as you shamelessly chase your high.

"so pretty baby, so pretty when you grind your slutty pussy on me," he groans as he slurps you like a starving man. he could tell you were close, the look of pure pleasure and concentration on your face gave it away. the way your hips bucked against him drove him crazy, his dick straining against his boxers once again.

"m'gnna cum," you moan, your hands reaching down to grab a hold of jake's hair again—making him groan in pleasure. "please jakey, can i cum? please let me cum," you whined, bucking your hips against him feverishly.

you could feel him nod and that was enough for you to let go. dropping your head back you let out low moan, eye rolling to the back of your head as you feel yourself come undone over jake's face and tongue. "that's it pretty," he says against you, his mouth still on you—helping you ride out your high.

still coming down for your orgasm you feel yourself being pushed to the edge of the desk, your legs hanging over momentarily before you felt them wrap around a torso.

jake leaves no moment to spare, his hands coming down to unbutton and yank off your shirt—letting it fall somewhere on the ground. a groan leaves his mouth when he sees your baby pink bra, hugging your tits so perfectly that he was jealous that his hands weren't doing that job.

"so pretty, __," he mumbles, pulling down your bra enough for your tits to spill out. his tongue comes out to wet his lips before he's bending over to take one of your pebbled nipples into your mouth.

soft moans slip out of your mouth when he alternates between both of your breasts, taking one into his mouth while he fondles the other one with his hand. your breath hitches when you feel jake grind into your exposed core, his hand coming down to let his cock slip out of his boxers so he could slide his dick against your folds.

"so wet for me," he groans, popping one of your nipples out of his mouth to stare at your face. saying you looked fucked out was an understatement, hair was messy and your makeup was completely gone. but jake thought you looked as beautiful as ever.

"jakey, please," you beg, moving your hips to try and catch his cock. jake grins, "look at you, __. begging for my dick, begging for the dick of someone you hate."

you hated how smug he looked, and all you wanted to do was bitch back at him and show him his real place. however, you wanted his dick in you more.

jake moves back, towering over your frame before he taps the fat head of his cock against your puffy folds. a hiss leaving his mouth when he watches your hole tighten over nothing.

"i've been waiting to do this for so long, __. you don't even know it," he says before he's plunging into you, not letting you think to much about what he said.

gripping your thighs tightly, he bottoms out completely, leaving your mouth hanging in an 'o' shape while jake lets out smalls grunts—feeling your walls flutter around his length.

"so big," you moan, your hands reaching out to grip jake's shirt as he snaps his hips into you ruthlessly.

jake feels as if he's about to combust, after years of back and fourth, countless arguments and rivalry— he was buried deep inside you. this was exactly what he wanted from the beginning, but teenage jake didn't know how to articulate his feelings and made his crush think of him as an enemy rather than a love interest.

he watches your tits bounce with every stroke, mesmerized by the sight. he could get used to this, and he will.

"so good for me, pretty. taking my cock s'well," jake slurs, the sound of skin slapping filling the library. he was surprised that no one had caught them yet, but he wouldn't stop even if they were.

you feel the table move with every thrust, your back arching as you claw at him at the feeling of being so full. the wet sounds you were making when jake began to rub circles on your aching clit made you moan out.

never in a million years would you have thought you'd be in this position, sure, jake was a star in some of your dirty fantasies but you'd never act on it. to think the nerd knew how to fuck, you were a bit surprised at how fast his hips moved and how he pounded into you ruthlessly.

"look at you, taking me so w-well," jake groans, his balls tightening as he feels himself approaching his high quickly. he begins to rub your clit firmer as his pace quickens and strokes get deeper, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock in your dripping wet cunt.

he could feel you tighten around him and he knew you were close as well. his hand comes to wrap around your neck, pulling you up from the desk so your face to face with him—his thrusts not slowing down.

"fuck look at you pretty, all ready for my cum," he murmurs before he pulls you in for a scorching kiss—swallowing your moans.

"you gonna cum, pretty?" he asks as he feels his stomach tighten with every stroke, watching you bite your lip as you try to match his thrusts. you nod frantically at his words, "m'gonna cum, jakey. please make me cum," you beg softly as you hold onto his shoulders for support.

"yeah? gonna cum? cum for me, pretty," he mumbles against your lips before he lands a smack against your throbbing clit. your body shakes as you come undone, jake's high following soon after. you could feel his hot cum shoot into you, the feeling leaving you breathless as he continues to fuck into you—making sure you milked him dry.

he pulls out of you gently, cursing when he watches his cum fall out of your fucked out cunt and onto the desk. "did so good for me, pretty."

you lay limply on the desk, your body twitching ever so slightly as you come down from your high—still in shock of what happened.

before your had a chance to gather yourself and ask the question: what now? he beats you to it.

"simone says, go out with me."

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here !

[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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[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.

[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

[aceofheartsssss]

YEAH, WHAT THEY SAID ^ Happy birthday, Bucky!!!

og pic found on a post by @gay-jewish-bucky

[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

[angelltheninth]

have you played Marvel Rivals yet? If you have can you write some smut with their design of Venom? He looks incredible!

I haven't played it yet, but what I do know is that everyone loves Jeff, the adorable shark. As they should, Jeff is the best.

Pairing: Eddie Brock/Venom x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, monsterfucking, long tongue, size kink, huge cock, rough sex, wall sex, sloppy kissing, licking

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Monsterfuckers wake up, I've got something for you!

There's a difference when Eddie is in control and when Venom is

When Eddie is on control he is still rough but he holds you tenderly against himself while he fucks you nice and deep

But when Venom is on control he pins you face down and takes you from behind, his black tendrils gripping and sticking to your thighs

Eddie likes kissing you, although he knows that when he's in Venom mode the kisses can get really sloppy really fast, you seem to enjoy that though

Venom kisses you a lot too but when he does it he also likes to lick you first, almost like he's marking you by doing so, a very primal, kind of animalistic quality to everything he does

Both of them love how big they are, how your pussy needs to get worked up, stretched out by toys or their fingers before they can put their cock in there

Since they have sticky tendrils they use them to stimulate your clit every time they fuck you

Have webbed you up against the wall a few times, your wrists above your head, your thighs spread open, your pussy dripping, desperately clenching around nothing, all theirs to claim and fuck

[glasvera]

Smut and fluff with marvel rivals iron fist (lin Lie) x fem superhero reader, please and thank you ❤️

I uh... went a lil crazy on this one LOL

我的月亮 (Wǒ de Yuèliàng)

Iron Fist x Fem!Superhero!Reader

Description: What better way to recover after a grueling fight with Chīyóu's demon army than a dip in a hot spring?

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), brief combat, cursing, vaginal sex, standing sex, sex in a hot spring, reader has a moment of self-consciousness, lots of fluff and comfort, super lovey-dovey

A/N: Fun fact about me: I took Mandarin as a second language starting in middle school. I don't remember much of it (though I can ask you if there's a bathroom somewhere or when your birthday is), but it was really fun going back and recognizing things like words or grammar. I was basically the Chinese equivalent of a weeb in my younger years so this was a major throwback LOL

Word Count: 4.7k

Relationships between superheroes was… not something most would recommend. Passionate at best, and tumultuous and unpredictable at worst. You might go for weeks, months, without seeing one another, and it was a death sentence to allow that gnawing worry over the other’s safety to take hold of you.

It’s why you were so eager to be sent on a mission in Yúnnán Shěng. It was Iron Fist’s mission, to be fair, but your ability to fly would help give him the extra edge he needed, so he was quick to request your assistance. You spot him as you soar over the bustling tourist city of Kūnmíng, crouched on top of the spire of a lone temple. It’s quieter here, with the sound of chirping insects and wind ruffling the leaves of bamboo stalks the only things to pierce the relative silence of the night.

“There you are, wǒ de yuèliàng,” he greets you as you come to hover by his side. Your heart flutters and you blush at the nickname he’s given you. My moon. 

“You know I will always come when you need me, Iron Fist.” It almost pains you to call him by his hero name, but you knew just as well as any superhero that it was always better to be safe in public even if you seem to be alone.

He smiles gratefully, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know. Doesn’t change how happy it always makes me to see you, though.”

You flash him a brilliant smile in turn. “Perhaps we could take advantage of the scenery once our mission is over?” you suggest, batting your eyelashes at him and giving him pleading eyes.

He snorts a playful laugh at your display before tugging your floating form towards him for a quick kiss. “Let’s see how things go first. I’d hate to get you all excited for a hike only to have to carry you the whole way,” he teases with a cocky grin before brushing his nose against yours affectionately. You stick your tongue out at him in response and blow him a raspberry, which he quickly pulls back to avoid as he wipes the spray of spittle from his face. “Hey! I’m only kidding!” he protests with a jovial laugh.

With your hands on your hips, you cock your head to one side and quirk a brow. “If anyone’s gonna end up being carried, it would be you, you know. I can fly, after all.”

His laughter dies down, and he regards you with the softest hint of concern in his eyes before they flicker down to watch as he wrings his wrists together. “Well, let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that at all, okay?” His gaze meets yours once more, and you can see the worry that crinkles between his brows. “I’d rather not see you get hurt at all.”

Your expression softens, and you place a comforting hand on one of his broad shoulders. “I know, wǒ de lòng.” The gentleness of your voice soothes him, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. My dragon.

“Your pronunciation has gotten better,” he compliments before reaching out and caressing your cheek.

“I had a pretty good teacher,” you respond with a cheeky smile that he’s quick to mirror.

Your tender moment is broken by a monstrous roar in the distance followed by devastating crashes and screams. Both of you snap your heads towards the source of the sound. Whatever it was, it was big. 

“What did you say we were fighting again!?” you exclaim even as you whip behind him and hook your arms around him, lifting you both into the air. Shockwaves nearly throw you off course as this monster continues its rampage, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. You inhale deeply before propelling the two of you like an arrow straight through the wind currents that dare to fight your trajectory.

“Demons,” he responds, his voice straining to be heard over the roaring winds. “But it looks like Chīyóu isn't playing around this time.”

“Does he ever?” you groan.

Closing in on your target, you can really see just how ugly this thing is. Gigantic, vaguely humanoid, with decaying skin stretched taut across its emaciated skeleton, it roars into the air before pummeling its scythe-like arms into the ground below. It doesn't seem to care about the smaller demons that flock beneath it, destroying foe and ally alike.

“How did it get to be so massive!?” you shout in disbelief. You'd been unfortunate enough to see Chīyóu's army in the past, but they usually looked more like the infantry below.

“Don’t know, don't care. At least, not until I pummel this thing into the earth!” he replies confidently. “Take care of the small fry, would you? I've got the big one.”

You know better than to protest. He is the stronger out of both of you, and your airborne agility would give you enough of an edge to dodge any stray swings from the big guy while you take care of your foes.

“Okay. I trust you… but come back safe,” you urge before soaring up high enough to launch him at his target. He climbs up the demon's large frame with ease, running up his torso before laying into him with blow after blow straight to the face. You can’t help but smirk as you hear it cry out in pain even as you propel yourself back down towards your smaller enemies.

“Alright… who wants to go first…?” you taunt as energy crackles in your palms.

-----

Not surprisingly, you're done with your fight long before Iron Fist has finished his. You desperately want to help, but you weren't unscathed, panting heavily as you hover nearby. It had taken more out of you than you'd expected; they were far more coordinated than they should have been. Thankfully, your injuries were limited. You were simply exhausted, forced to use your power beyond your normal limits to keep up with each and every demon that launched and swiped at you. 

Iron Fist seemed to be doing fine. It was simply a very tough fight, but it was one he was slowly winning. You felt the energy pulsating off of him as he summoned the blade shards from his fists, and the demon cried out in agony as his punches grew faster, deadlier. It wouldn't be much longer now. Suddenly you hear a loud and sickening crack!, and slowly, stumbling, the demon lets out a final, guttural groan before plummeting to the earth. Iron Fist wears a triumphant grin, and you begin to fly towards him to catch him before he joins the demon's descent.

He lands into you with an “oof!” as you steady him, hugging him tightly with your arms wrapped around his chest. “See? Not a problem at a--!”

But your victory is interrupted by the sudden shockwave caused by the demon's body collapsing to the ground. You're too exhausted to react in time, and it sends both of you hurtling through the air as you let out a startled cry. The force of it knocks you miles away, holding on tight to one another and spinning towards an unknown destination. You begin spiraling towards the ground, trying and failing desperately to stop your momentum, and panic rises in your chest.

“Y/N!? We're gonna crash!”

“I know!” you snap back. “I'm trying!”

You're pretty sure your life is beginning to flash before your eyes as the rocky mountainside gets closer and closer. Frantically, you pour all of your willpower into the energy pooled within you, using whatever you have left and centering it so it coalesces at the soles of your boots. It’s just enough to generate a bit of friction, and finally you find yourself slowing before touching down safely on the ground.

Wide-eyed and shaky, you nearly collapse before Iron Fist catches you and helps you stay upright. Even under his mask you can see the way his brow creases with worry.

“Th-that was… that was close,” you stammer out. “S-sorry.”

Seemingly a little less disoriented, he chuckles. Once he’s sure you can stand on your own, he cradles your face in his hands, and those brown eyes gaze warmly into your own. “Hey, we’re alive. That’s what matters.”

A trembling titter passes through your teeth, and you shut your eyes and lean into his touch. After a long sigh, you nod. In the silence that follows, a soft, distant trickling sound catches your ear, and your eyelids flutter open to find its source. Liè hears it as well, and a knowing smile draws upon his lips.

“So, about that sightseeing you wanted to do…” he begins, and you give him a curious look. He’s up to something, but you have no idea what it could be.

“I don’t think I’m in any state to be sightseeing right now--”

He puts a finger to your lips and you hush immediately, feeling your cheeks warm in response. His hands fall from your face before he suddenly scoops you up into his arms, bringing a startled yelp from you before he begins bounding down the mountain.

“H-hey! What are you--!?”

But as he carries you over the rounded stones and lush foliage towards the base of the mountain, that trickling sound grows louder, and you gasp as the leaves part to reveal a hot spring bathed in the light of the full moon. Even at its edge you can feel the humid warmth of the steam seeping into your weary body.

“Ever bathed in a hot spring before?” he hums, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down your body as he holds you.

“No, I can’t say I have,” you respond honestly, feeling a heat born from something other than the nearby steam.

He lowers you to the ground gently before taking a few steps forward with his back facing you. His fingers get to work unwrapping the yellow bandages coiled around his arms, letting them flutter down like ribbons onto the stone beneath you. Next, he unties his mask, discarding it in a similar fashion, and then you hear the clinking of his belts before the thud of leather hits the ground.

“Liè…?” you whisper, not trusting your voice fully as he continues to undress before you. He merely turns his head towards you and smirks, and with a rustling of fabric he stands shirtless before you. Moonlight glistens and illuminates his defined muscles, rippling with every movement he makes, and your breath catches in your throat.

“People don’t typically bathe with their clothes on,” he teases, making it sound like the most obvious explanation in the world for him stripping so sensually in front of you. When you still don’t seem to make any sort of move, he turns to face you. The two of you had never… well, you’ve never even seen him shirtless like this before. You try not to let your gaze linger overlong at his broad chest or travel down too low to see the V of his hip bones disappear beneath his trousers--

The pad of his index finger finds your chin and lifts your head to look at him. “My eyes are up here, yuèliàng,” he chides with a snicker. Though, his own eyes find themselves flickering down to your lips.

“You’re so unfair,” you accuse with a breathy laugh.

“Says the one still fully clothed,” he retorts with a purr as his arm wraps around your waist.

You brace a hand against his bare chest, reveling in the warmth of his skin as your tongue wets your bottom lip. “I didn’t realize it was a race,” you tease. Self-consciousness floods your thoughts at the realization of what was happening, and unwittingly your fingers tense against him. Concern softens his expression, and the hand at your chin caresses your cheek.

“Y/N…?” He smiles tenderly. “Are you nervous?”

Your eyes flicker back up to his. “I’ve just… you and I, we’ve never…” Unable to find the words, your voice trails off, fading into the sounds of the bubbling spring. “What if I’m not…?”

“Not what?” he inquires, searching your eyes for the answer you seem unable to give him. The hand at your waist rubs soothing circles into the small of your back.

It grows more difficult to maintain eye contact, so you find yourself staring instead at where your fingers rest upon his skin. “Not… not good enough? Pretty enough? I don’t know…”

“Wǒ de yuèliàng…” he murmurs softly, shaking his head and embracing you into an almost smothering hug. “Zài wǒ xīnzhōng nǐ shì rúcǐ měilì. Nǐ hěn wánměi.” His breath whispers against your hair as he buries his nose into it. Your Chinese is limited, but you don’t have to understand much of it to know what he’s trying to tell you. Beautiful. Perfect. It wrenches at your heart. You’re misty-eyed when he pulls away, resting his hands on your shoulders. “But if you’re not ready--”

You silence him with your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands slide down your sides and rest at your hips, and strong fingers grip you tightly. When you pull away, he regards you with hooded eyes and parted lips.

“I… I’m ready,” you breathe out. “But… do you mind turning around while I undress?”

Liè chuckles but nods wordlessly, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your forehead. He turns back towards the hot springs, shimmying out of his boots and pants and giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his toned ass before he disappears beneath the spring's waters.

You take a deep breath before divesting yourself of your superhero suit, fumbling a bit with the buckles and zippers. Your hands are trembling with nerves when you hook your thumbs into your panties and drag them down your thighs. If only you could see Liè's face; his skin is flushed, and his eyes are squeezed shut to help him resist the temptation to sneak a peek at you. He's just better at masking his nerves than you are.

Steeling your resolve, you exhale shakily. “Okay, I… you can turn around now.”

The water sloshes with how quickly he moves, and despite the humidity of the hot springs, he grows parched at the sight of you. Your arms and hands drape demurely over your breasts and between your legs, and you look away shyly under the intensity of his stare. The moonlight bathes your skin in its silvery splendor, and the trees behind you seem to almost bend around you and frame you perfectly in their lush foliage. 

“Wow…” he breathes quietly, at a loss for any other words. He steps towards you, making his way to shallower waters as his chest and hips reemerge in a cascade of water droplets, seemingly unperturbed by his own nudity. His cheeks turn a deep pink as he drinks you in. “Nǐ hěn wánměi.” You are perfect. He brings his hands up to cradle your face and stare deeply into your eyes. They're warm, wet from the spring, and the feeling is oddly grounding while droplets trickle down your cheeks. Slowly, your arms fall to your sides. You bat your eyelashes at him with the tiniest of smiles. 

“You're one to talk,” you tease, your gaze flickering back down as your fingertip traces along his collarbone and follows the contours of his pectoral muscles.

The ego boost brings a cheeky grin to his lips, but he doesn't indulge it further. Instead, he brings your faces closer together and kisses you deeply, hungrily, groaning when his hands begin to wander. They tangle in your hair, wrap tightly around your back, grip at your waist… he's determined to feel every inch of you, and quickly the fire within you urges you to do the same to him. A surprised squeak sounds in your throat when he grabs your ass, kneading the plush of your skin in his palm.

“Liè!” you gasp as his lips press at the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and finally nipping and sucking at the column of your neck. He lifts you by your rear, earning a giggle from you before you wrap your legs around him, and walks you back into the water to envelop you both in its steamy embrace. His arousal rests hard and hot against your stomach, and desire replaces any remaining reservations you had. All you could think about now was him, of his skin on yours, his lips hot and wet on your neck, his broad shoulders beneath your fingertips. 

With the water to help support your weight, he holds you against him with one hand as the other trails back over your ribcage, resting beneath your breast before cupping it and squeezing gently. Breathy moans slip from your lips and grow louder as he leans down and takes the stiff peak into his mouth. His tongue flicks up and down over the sensitive bud.

“Yes, oh…”

He hums against your skin, gazing up at your face with blown pupils. Every expression, every melody you sing because of him, is intoxicating.

“Mm… how did I get so lucky?” he muses while pressing tender kisses in the valley of your breasts. “To have such a beautiful, strong woman in my arms, singing me her praises…” He adjusts his hold on you, sliding you down just a bit and bringing you face to face again. The water laps soothingly against your bare skin. Your eyes flutter closed when the backs of his fingers brush gingerly along your cheekbone.

“I hear being the Immortal Iron Fist helps one's chances,” you giggle, and he scoffs in mock offense. Your smile widens and you press your forehead to his. “But being Liè, my dragon, my…” You choke on your words for a moment, but only a moment.

“My love…” 

You feel your face heat up at your own words, but they were words long coming. “... that's all it takes. All I've ever wanted.”

“Yuèliàng,” he exhales sharply, the term of endearment a reverent hiss upon his lips. Those same lips crash upon yours once more, and your arms wrap eagerly about his neck. His brow furrows, and between kisses he whispers those sweet words. “Wǒ ài nǐ.”

You grip the black hair at the nape of his neck tightly, but not nearly so tight as the hold this man has over your pounding heart. Your mouth slants over his, kissing him deeper, delving your tongue between the seam of his lips. He meets your efforts eagerly, curving over you as your back arches and your chest presses against him. One hand finds the small of your back to draw you impossibly closer. When he pulls away from your devouring kiss, you're both panting for air. 

“Let me make love to you,” he begs breathlessly. His nose nudges yours affectionately and his brow creases. “Please.”

Never in a million years would you say no to that. You kiss him tenderly before nodding softly. “I want you, Liè. All of you.”

He groans and rolls his hips, his evident desire sliding along your heat and drawing a gasp from your lips. You were no virgin, but he was thick, and your mind was long gone with fantasies of how he would feel inside of you. Not that you would have to wait long for those fantasies to become reality, of course; he peppers your face and neck with kisses while he continues to grind against you. His hand reaches down for a handful of your ass, guiding your hips as you join him in the search for that delicious friction. The hot spring water only makes your movements easier, and on more than one occasion he nearly slips right in. When the bulbous head presses up against your clit, you whimper and your thighs tremble, and you can feel yourself growing wetter even without the spring's help.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. He holds you still, and you brace your hands on his shoulders while he begins deliberately guiding the head of his cock up and down your slit. Your hot, slickened folds are too inviting to resist, and slowly, torturously and slowly, he sinks the tip into your heat. You steady your breathing and force yourself to relax the tension in your body at the sudden intrusion. His hips rock into yours, finding it hard to breathe himself as he stretches you out inch by inch.

“Liè, oh gods--” you hiss before your jaw goes slack with a moan. He’s sheathed himself in you completely, and you've never felt quite so full. He stills inside you instantly as worry etches his features.

“Are… are you okay?” he stammers out, tenderly cupping your cheek. It’s obviously difficult for him to keep himself from rutting into you like a wild animal, and you feel his cock twitch impatiently while your walls clench around him.

“I-I’m fine,” you breathe out. “You're just, um… shit… you're so big…”

His concern fades instantly and is replaced with a cocky grin much more becoming of his handsome face. A groan of approval growls in his throat and he’s grinding into you again, the water splashing gently with the movement, angling his cock back and forth with shallow thrusts.

“Is that so…?” he muses coyly. His thumb traces your bottom lip. “I hope that won’t be an issue.”

You keen as every move he makes leaves his cock dragging languidly back and forth against that perfect spot. “N-no, I--”

He interrupts you by taking your lip between his teeth and tugging on it softly. A staggered breath whispers from you.

“Good,” he purrs. He sucks on your bottom lip before darting his tongue out, inviting you to part your lips and let him in. A devouring groan hums and vibrates from him into the kiss. Your tongues dance sensually, feverishly, and he starts thrusting into you with renewed vigor. Shutting your eyes tight, you tangle your fingers in his short black hair, and your high pitched whimpers pour into the kiss.

It's easy to forget the battle you had fought not even an hour ago. It certainly doesn't feel like he was fighting for his life against a demon twenty times his size. His seemingly endless stamina ripples through bulging muscles to help him piston in and out of you. His movements favor precision over speed, deliberately drawing back and making sure you feel every inch before he slams back into you.

You're so lost in pleasure, but when he pulls away and stares into your eyes your breath hitches in your throat. There's so much adoration in those brown eyes, so much love and affection reserved for you and you alone. Your hands draw back to cup his face gingerly while he bounces you up and down.

“Liè…” you breathe softly. He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm.

Half-lidded eyes blink slowly, lovingly at you. “You feel perfect,” he praises. 

“Mm…” you moan with a dreamy smile, “More, Liè, please.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Can you hover in the water?”

You blink curiously at him. “I… yes, of course, but--”

“Just do it, trust me,” he states with a coy smirk. 

Your hands fall from his face to rest at your sides, and it takes a surprising amount of concentration to summon the energy to fly, even if you're just hovering in place. Whether it's due to exhaustion from the earlier battle or simply that he's fucking you so well… it's hard to say. After a few moments, he feels your weight lifting from his firm hold. His thrusts pause, and he huffs out a laugh when you whine at the loss of stimulation. 

“Keep your legs up like that. Hold onto my shoulders if you need to. Otherwise,” he pauses, cocking his head to the side and flashing you a cheeky smile, “...just remember that you asked for this, yuèliàng.”

You barely have time to ponder what he means by that before both of his hands grip you by the waist and his hips slam into yours. A soundless scream leaves your jaw agape as he pours every bit of his strength into his thrusts. Despite the roughness of it, you can feel the way your cunt squeezes him tighter, sucking him in every time his cock drags back out. Skin slaps against skin, and it takes every last bit of concentration and willpower you have to keep yourself aloft. The hot spring's waters splash and spray about with the frantic pace he sets, disturbing the peace of the night with the cacophonous symphony of your lovemaking. 

Now that he doesn't have to hold you up himself, one hand rests on your stomach as his thumb seeks out your clit. A shock of pleasure courses through your body that leaves your toes curling. Aided by your slick and the warm water, the digit glides effortlessly in circles, and soon he's timing it perfectly with every deep thrust of his length. You find your voice again even if all you can muster are broken moans. 

“F-f-hah-uh-ugh-uck!” you babble, each stammer coinciding with the hammering of his cock deep within you. It chisels away at all sense, leaving you raw and vulnerable but hotter and hotter. It burns and licks as the fires of pleasure spark brighter and more intense. Nails dig into his shoulders to keep you from wobbling mid-air.

“Shit,” he curses, hissing in pleasured pain at the feeling. “Gǎnjué zhēn dì nàme hǎo ma?” Does it really feel that good? His breathy teasing is accompanied by a confident smile even as he grits his teeth with the effort of fucking you. 

His tone tells you all you need to know even if you don't recognize all the words. The low, possessive growl in his voice leaves you a whimpering mess, and you feel yourself creeping closer and closer to the precipice.

“Liè, oh, f-fuck--!” you gasp. “Right there, yes!”

An airy chortle hums in his chest between grunts. “Nǐ zhēnměi.” He takes your breast in his palm before tweaking the bud between his fingertips, and he leans in to kiss and suck at your neck. The sensations overwhelm you as your moans and whimpers grow higher and higher in pitch. His movements are messy, more instinctive than deliberate, as he gets closer to his own release.

“Yes, yes, oh, yes--!”

He can’t help himself from biting down at the sensitive spot he’s discovered at the crook of your neck, and it has you seeing stars. You send him into a frenzy with your sweet song, a siren calling him and begging him to ravage you utterly and completely. And gods, does it feel better than anything you’ve ever felt. Your body feels like it’s floating even beyond the literal sense of your powers, cresting higher and higher and--

“Cum for me, yuèliàng.” His voice is right there at your ear, a low, seductive growl, and the cord within you finally snaps.

“Liè!” you scream, your body convulsing in a mind-shattering orgasm. His thrusts falter as he feels you clamp down and flutter around his cock. A broken groan cracks in his throat and he doubles his efforts, pistoning into you relentlessly as you cry and babble out moans from the overstimulation.

“F… Fuck, Y/N, I--shit!” He quickly pulls out of you before taking himself in hand, cursing and exhaling guttural moans as he strokes himself feverishly beneath the water’s surface. He maintains eye contact with you the entire time, drinking in your half-lidded expression. With a final string of huffs and grunts he cums with a cry of your name, emptying himself into the spring. His forehead falls against yours, out of breath, pulling you into his arms as the two of you come down from your high.

You slump back down into the water and allow yourself the comfort of his embrace. He starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, drawing giggles from you that bring a goofy smile to his face. The peace of the night returns, and the only sounds around you are the bubbling of the spring and the soft, chirping chorus of insects and amphibians about. Your heart feels full, warm, and your eyes find his as you gaze at him reverently.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His doe eyes soften before he gives you a deeper, more insistent kiss. “I love you too.”

[luvlyycy]

his body quivers .

lin purses his lips in a thin line, cursing himself as he fists his own cock. it's wet, loud— and his ears are ringing. you're stuck in his head, his brain stuck on earlier in the day when he walked in on you in the shower, well, you coming out the shower.

thick drops of water traveling down the valley of your boobs, swaying down your stomach and dripping from your hair. he moans, pupils dilated and blown out as he whispers your name into the empty air of his room. his hand slows around his tip, curling— similar to what he's seen in porn. he's sort of innocent in the sex department, but he's always been awfully sexually driven.

this is the third time he's jerked himself to the thought of you.

he's not bold enough to ever say what he is, which is in love. but he is bold enough to thrust his hips up into his fist and moan shamelessly into his room. his eyes squeeze shut as he imagines your beautiful lips wrapped around his cock— sucking— your eyes pleading for him to cum in your mouth.

"i- i'm gonna— gonna cum. for, for you— fuck."

audio + video >:3c

[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, dirty talk, fingering, 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”  

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