siriuslywicked

[siriuslywicked]

breaking the rules

declan o’hara x female reader

summary: declan can’t stop thinking about his daughter’s best friend, and it doesn’t help when he overhears her talking about how she’s never been satisfied in the bedroom

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, kinda pervy!declan, mentions of male masturbation, talks of female orgasms, just lots of yearning temptation and dirty scenarios, no actual sex happening here but still smutty

author’s note: writing best friend’s dad!declan is always calling my name and i’m just a girl with a dilf obsession! also this takes place after maud leaves and our man is lonely and in need of some attention

-

“Oh come on Taggie I’ve been waiting for weeks!” You were trying to keep your voice down but couldn’t help the way it came out in a hushed yell.

You and your best friend were sharing a throw blanket on her living room couch, sitting side by side under the warmth of the crocheted material. The television was on, the quiet hum and bright colors filled the old room of the priory but neither of you were paying any attention to it. The cheesy rom-com playing out on the tv made for the perfect background noise to your giggles and gossip. You’d been going for hours, talking about everything under the sun like two teenage girls at a slumber party. It was nearly 1 in the morning, and you were still going strong, the current topic up for discussion was her rather scandalous relationship with Rupert Campbell-Black. 

That’s when Declan had finally had enough of the noise coming from downstairs. He hadn’t slept more than an hour before he was woken up by the sound of his daughter and her best friend cackling. He tried ignoring it- even placing a pillow over his head to drown out the laughter, but here he was 55 minutes later and still not sleeping. So, he drug himself out of bed and threw on an old pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt as he began his descent down the stairs to put an end to your fun. Only, he was stopped just one step shy of the living room doorway when he heard his friends name.

“Is Rupert good in bed?” 

He immediately recognized the voice as yours, familiar with the cheery tone that’s constantly filling the walls of his home.

“I mean he must be right? Compared to Ralphie?”

Declan didn’t like where this conversation was going. The less he knew about his daughter’s relations the better. While the topic was making him increasingly uncomfortable, he couldn’t hide his desire to know if Rupert had gone behind his back and touched her. He’s debating turning around and going back upstairs when he hears Taggie’s soft plea.

“Oh my God keep your voice down!” 

She’s much quieter than you, her words merely a whisper.

“We’ve literally just kissed the one time.”

Declan feels a massive weight lifting off his shoulders as Taggie speaks. A kiss was still infuriating and worth interrogating Rupert over, but he couldn’t have handled hearing anything more than that. 

“Tag. That was like two weeks ago.”

There’s your voice again. You’re trying to keep your volume down, but you’re still far louder than his daughter. 

“You’re telling me nothing else has happened? God Tag, I wouldn’t be able to keep it in my pants if I were you.” 

Taggie was laughing at your comment. Her giggle reminding Declan of the reason he was currently hiding outside his own living room. He was there to tell the two of you to keep the noise down, but had somehow found himself eavesdropping instead. The sudden guilt he felt as he listened to the gossip that wasn’t meant for his ears settled in and he turned on his heels to sneak back up the stairs. He was taking his first step away from your conversation when his ears began to burn at the words whispered from your lips. 

“I mean he’s attractive, his body is insane, and he would literally do anything for you. Even the way he looks at you is hot. If I were you, I’d be on that in like half a second.” 

“I’d be on that.” The words ring in Declan’s ears and he can’t help but picture you on top of him- straddling his waist. God he was sick, he had to stop thinking about you like that. You were Taggie’s best friend for Christ sake. 

Lately every time you were around- which was nearly all the time, Declan could hardly look you in the eye. He was ashamed of his little crush on you, but as much as he tried to push it away, it always found him late at night when he was alone in bed. There was so much about you that drew him in; your witty humor, your confidence, your endearing smile, your ass when you wore that one pair of jeans he liked so much. He just couldn’t get you off his mind. Now you were sitting in his living room talking about how much you wanted to mount Rupert Campbell-Black.

“I bet he is good in bed.”

You’re speculating and he can hear Taggie giggling and telling you to shut up. He knows for a fact her face is red in embarrassment. 

“I mean there’s no way he’s bad. Not with all that experience.”

You’re ignoring Taggie’s protests as you continue theorizing about Declan’s best friend’s sex life. 

“He probably knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Declan can hear a rustling noise and assumes Taggie must’ve hit you with a throw pillow. 

“Maybe I need to find an experienced older man of my own. I swear all these guys our age don’t know what the fuck they’re doing, I’m tired of faking orgasms.”

You were giggling but Declan could hear a hint of defeat in your words, his dick stirring in his sweats at hearing the word orgasm come out of your mouth. 

“They can’t all be that bad, what about the guy from last weekend? He seemed sweet.” Taggie chimed in, causing him to come back to reality.

Last weekend? Come to think of it Declan couldn’t recall seeing you at their house like he did most Saturday nights. He remembered Taggie coming home late and mentioning the two of you had spent a few hours at bar sinister over a bottle of chardonnay, but you were nowhere to be seen. 

“Yeah, sweet doesn’t account for bedroom prowess.” You were correcting your friend’s innocent remark.

“So it wasn’t good then?” 

“It was fine.” You sounded rather underwhelmed as you recounted your one-night stand.

“I think I’ve just given up hope that a man can get me off.” The dissapointment in your voice was undeniable as you whispered.

“Maybe I’m just broken.” You forced a laugh attempting to bring humor back into the mix. 

Declan couldn’t deny the anger he felt as you divulged your issue aloud sitting on his living room couch. Those pricks don’t deserve you. They don’t deserve to have you in their beds, getting their dicks wet at the expense of your dissatisfaction. 

“That’s why you need to speed things up with Rupert and tell me all about your adventures in the bedroom so I can live vicariously through you.” 

God he couldn’t bear to hear Rupert’s name in the context of his daughter’s sex life one more time. In fact, he couldn’t bear to listen to anything else regarding either one of your sex lives. 

He already knew he would be worked up for weeks just thinking about the fact that you were waiting around for someone to fuck you properly. 

It was going to torture him now– watching you waltzing in his front door with all that pent up frustration and knowing he could relieve you of the pressure with just the touch of his fingers. He already thought about making you come. He thought about it at least once a week with his hand wrapped around his dick. Envisioning you underneath him, chest heaving and eyes rolling back into your head with your pretty lips all pouted. He would bring himself to completion just from the mere idea of what you sounded like when you came undone. It was truly sick the way he would pump his cock until it was spilling over his fist, imagining such twisted fantasies starring his daughter’s best friend. 

He had to excuse himself from the hallway before he heard anything else that would fuel his forbidden desire. Taking a small step backwards toward the stairs, the weight of Declan’s foot caused the old wood floors to creak. He paused his movement, cursing himself for making a noise that could blow his cover. 

The halt of whispers and giggles coming from the living room let declan know you girls had heard the squeak from the doorway.

He tried his best to float into the room, making it look as if he had just walked down the stairs. 

“Oh god sorry. Were we being loud?” 

Taggie looked absolutely mortified to see her father standing before them given the last few minutes of conversation.

“It’s alright, just came down to grab some water.” He lied.

“didn’t realize you girls were in here.” Another lie.

He wanted to remain as nonchalant as possible. After overhearing all the sex talk, it was best for him not to mention you were so loud that he couldn’t sleep. The last thing he wanted was to make Taggie uncomfortable, or worse- her try to convince him that Rupert wasn’t a first-class rake at one in the morning. 

“We were just gonna go to bed.” Taggie’s cheeks were pink, and her voice was quiet.

Declan let his eyes wander over to you, just for one second– no half a second. But it was enough time for him to see the oversized t-shirt that was hanging off your shoulder exposing the curve of your neck. Unlike Taggie’s embarrassed demeanor you looked much more relaxed, maybe even a little relieved to see the man awake and shirtless in the doorway. He even caught the beginning of a smirk slipping onto your lips when he averted his gaze back to his daughter. 

“all good, just make sure you turn off the tv.” He was motioning to the romcom that neither of you had watched a single minute of that was now nearing it’s end. He raised his hand in a small wave as he continued to the kitchen, not letting his daughter get another word in. 

He was quick getting a glass and filling it with tap water, even taking a swig and attempting to allow the cool liquid to refresh his mind from the filthy thoughts of you still swimming in his brain. Only, it didn’t help much seeing as though he caught another glimpse of you on his way back to the stairs. You and Taggie had now given up on gossiping after nearly getting caught, and settled on watching the last bit of your movie in silence. You were snuggled into the side of the couch, your head resting against one hand playing with your hair and the other toying with the collar of your shirt that was hanging so low that it let declan get a good look at the top of your chest. There was absolutely no reason for him to find you so irresistible while doing nothing out of the ordinary, but he still found his heart racing in his chest at the sight of you.

He had to force his feet up the stairs to get him away before you had a more depraved effect on him, something other than just a quickening pulse.  

After getting back to his bedroom, declan tried everything to get you off his mind. He tossed and turned under his covers, chugged the rest of his water, smoked a cigarette down to the filter, read a few chapters of the book on his bedside table, but none of it stopped the images of you playing in his head- images of you in his bed, back arched while he knelt between your legs.

He was lying awake and staring at the ceiling, the only thing occupying his mind were the filthy visions of you. He was starting to think he would never sleep again and It didn’t help that the tv was still playing downstairs. The hum of some old sitcom carrying all the way upstairs making it impossible for Declan to drift off. It had been at least an hour since his little adventure downstairs and he was beginning to think the two of you would never go to sleep. 

finally having had enough of the noise, he stood up out of bed on a mission to tell you to go to bed and finally get to the end of this sleepless night. He was walking straight down the dark hallway but stopped abruptly at the stairs.

You were walking up as he was walking down- the two of you bumping into one another. His hands instinctively reaching out to hold your arms, steadying you in front of him. 

“Oh fuck- sorry.” The profanity slips out of your mouth at the shock of running into Declan’s hard, shirtless chest. 

He can’t help but chuckle at the curse, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard you say the word fuck. Something about it turns him on– God dammit he needs to get a grip. 

“I was just comin’ to tell you girls to get some sleep.” His voice is raspy and his hold on your arms is soft. 

“Tag fell asleep, and I couldn’t get comfy on the little sliver of couch she left me.” You were whispering and declan could barely see you in the dark but he could hear the smile in your voice. 

“I was just gonna crash in her room.” You motion to the first door at the top of the stairs that belonged to Taggie, just a few feet away from Declan’s. 

“Yeah of course.” He dropped his grip on you and took a small step to the side allowing you to walk past him. 

Your hand reaches for the doorknob of Taggie’s bedroom, but you stop.

“Sorry if we kept you up.” 

You look over to declan who was still standing at the stairs. He’s brushing off your apology with a wave of his hand. 

“You know me and my big mouth- I have a hard time keeping quiet.”

Declan has to keep his hands from clenching into fists at your words. a hard time keeping quiet God he wished he could test that out for himself. See if you could keep quiet while he fucked you nice and hard, holding your mouth shut to keep the moans from spilling out.

“How much of our conversation did you hear earlier, you know when you came down for water?” thankfully your voice pulled Declan from the obscene image of you currently playing in his head. 

For some reason he didn’t feel the need to lie to you.

“Enough to know my daughter is kissing Rupert Campbell-Black.” His response is point-blank.

You let out a deep sigh. Now thanks to you and your inability to keep your voice down, Taggie’s relationship with Rupert was probably ruined.

“Are you mad at her?”

“Not so much her as him.” He sounds disappointed as his whisper carries across the hall. 

“He’s a real piece of shit you know?” He makes sure to keep his voice low so the sleeping girl downstairs has no chance at hearing his words.

“I thought he was your best friend.”

You know he probably can’t see it, but you raise an eyebrow in question as you try to understand why Declan would say such a thing about someone so close to him.

“He is, which is how I know his intentions with women are never innocent.”

You went quiet.

Declan didn’t want to talk about Rupert- not right now. It was the middle of the night. He could not be faced with the moral dilemma of watching his daughter pine after his best-friend. Not while he was already faced with the equally moral issue of his daughter’s best friend being the reason he hadn’t slept all night.

And just like that, he was thinking about you again. Thinking about how your t-shirt covered your tiny little pajama shorts– so much so that they were hidden completely.

“As much as you may think older, more experienced men are better than the sleazy guys your own age, I can assure you they’re not.”

You freeze at his words. Is he referring to your earlier conversation with his daughter? The one where you were talking about guys your age “not knowing what the fuck they’re doing”. Had he heard you talking about your recent habit of faking orgasms? You almost bring your hands up to hide your face in embarrassment. 

“Not men like Rupert anyway.” 

Or him he thinks as declan reminds himself of his reoccurring unsavory thoughts about the younger woman standing just a few feet away.

“Right, well I’ll let tag know he’s an asshole then.” You’re speaking quickly hoping to put an end to the conversation so you can run into taggies room and escape the humiliation illuminating the hallway.

“Sorry to hear about the bloke from last weekend.” Declan’s changing the subject, keeping you from leaving. 

“I hate that a clever girl like yourself is wasting so much time on foolish little boys.” 

He’s taking casual steps toward you as he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Declan has no idea what he’s doing. All he knows is he doesn’t want you to open that door. He doesn’t want you to leave him standing alone in the hallway thinking about everything he wanted to do to you, wishing he could touch you– kiss you. 

“Yeah well, it’s that or nothing.” You’re joking, trying to remain friendly. You can’t figure out the reason Declan is bringing up this part of you and Taggie’s exchange.

“not nothing.” 

He’s close to you now, just an arm’s length away and his voice is enticing. 

“I’m sure there are lots of men out there who would bend over backwards to treat you the way you deserve to be treated- to give you the things you need.” 

Your jaw drops slightly at his words. he definitely heard you talking about your inability to orgasm with your recent hook-ups and now he’s directly referring to it. 

You had somehow found yourself standing a foot away from your best friends dad at 2 in the morning and the sexual tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. His bare chest just within reach of your fingertips; you could feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the mint of his toothpaste on his breath. It all felt so wrong, like you were breaking the rules. 

“Well you’ll have to let me know where they’re hiding. I’ve yet to find one who knows how to treat me the way I deserve to be treated.”

You put an emphasis on the phrase he used, treat you the way you deserve to be treated aka- actually able to make you come.

He looks taken aback by your confession. 

“not one?” 

You’re shaking your head in response to his curiosity.

“you’ve never been with a man who’s made you come?” he’s clarifying his question, and he sounds genuinely stunned. 

“Correct.” Your voice is soft as you reply and a beat of silence passes between the two of you.

“I don’t even know how we started talking about this. I should go to bed, goodnight Mr. O’Hara.” 

You’re whispering quickly, flustered knowing that Declan is now privy to your shameful sex life. You’re confused why he brought it up, and you’re even more confused by his sudden flirtatious demeanor. You must be reading the situation wrong because there’s no way Declan O’Hara wants you in that way–right? It’s Taggie’s dad. Taggie’s hot dad. Shit- you need to go to bed. Maybe a few hours of sleep will help wipe this whole conversation from your memory.

Taggie’s bedroom door is creaking open as you turn the knob, but before you can take a step inside Declan’s hand is reaching for your arm. It was the second time tonight you felt his gentle touch on your bicep, and it made your face feel hot. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” His words are kind and sincere.

“You shouldn’t even be embarrassed.” His voice is just so gentle.

You turn to face him and realize how close you are, just inches away from his face.

“Those fuckin’ idiots who don’t know how to touch you properly should be embarrassed.”

it’s dark but you can make out the expression on his face– it’s serious, his eyes intently watching you.

it’s silent for a moment, both of you staring at each other in the dark. his hold on your arm loosens and he lets his hand lightly trace the length of your arm.

“You’re a beautiful girl you know.” His voice is light and airy as his fingertips tickle your skin.

“I don’t think those boys could even handle being with a woman like you.”

His touch is getting lower and lower on your arm.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe you do need to find yourself an older man.”

his hand finds the hem of your t-shirt nearly brushing the skin of your exposed thigh.

“Declan.”

You can’t tell if your murmuring his name as a warning or a plea, but the way your almost whining has you thinking it must be the latter option.

“Not Mr. O’Hara?” There’s a smile in his words.

His fingertips come in contact with your upper thigh and your breath hitches. You think about telling him to stop, reminding him how angry Taggie would be about this, but you don’t. You don’t say a single word. Instead you let out a sigh of relief desperately hoping he keeps touching you.

“Do you want me to touch you like this.”

You’re silently nodding, giving him permission to do whatever he wants to you. It feels so corrupt having his fingertips dancing at the hem of your pajama shorts, but you can’t think of anything you wanted more than to have his hand between your legs. 

“Use your words love.”

Declan’s urging you to verbally consent, partially because he wants you to be sure and another part because he needs the satisfaction of hearing you beg for him. 

“Yes.”

Your back is arching causing your body to push into him. He never could’ve imagined you’d feel so delicate against him. Your body was so warm, so gentle, so pleasant, so new.

“I want it, please Declan.” You’d never called him by his first name before tonight, always Mr. O’Hara. 

The sound of you whimpering his name has Declan eager to hear what it would sound like to have you screaming it. He’s starting to pull the barely-there material of your shorts to the side when a distant sound has you both frozen.

It’s the unmistakable creak of someone walking up the stairs, wood squeaking underneath footsteps. In an unspoken agreement you’re both turning opposite directions and quietly turning doorknobs. He’s sneaking back into his bedroom and you’re tiptoeing into Taggie’s.

Your light feet carry you to Taggie’s bed and you’re jumping into the sheets making yourself look cozy. Her steps are heavy and her eyes are barely open as Taggie comes walking into her bedroom not long after you.

“Remind me to never fall asleep on that couch again.” She’s yawning as she crawls into bed next to you.

“So uncomfy.”

She’s settling under the covers and you’re glad the room is dark so she can’t see how wide awake you are.

“Sorry, you looked so peaceful, I didn’t wanna wake you.” You whisper back to your friend as she’s dozing off.

You just lay there next to her. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to sleep. Not after the way her dad was just speaking to you in the hallway. The way his hands were touching you; so close to doing something neither of you could take back. You wondered what he must be thinking right now. Was he laying in bed thinking about you like you were thinking about him? Did he regret it? You sure didn’t, not one bit. In fact, all you wanted to do was sneak across the hall into Declan’s room and finish what he started.

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Mirror sex??😫

look at you

declan o’hara x female reader

summary: declan makes you watch in the bathroom mirror as he shows you just how much he loves you

content: nsfw, 18+, here’s the fluff you’ve all been waiting for, followed by some major smut, intimate, body worship, praise, him calling you princess, fingering, penetration, possibly a little bit of breeding kink sprinkled in here [whoops], basically just declan being madly in love with you

author’s note: anon, you deserve jail time because this is the most lethal request i’ve ever received!! mirror sex is SO declan coded i nearly spit out my drink when i saw this. thank you so much for the suggestion holy shit.

-

you were taking what felt like the hundredth bobby pin out of your hair and letting it fall around you're shoulders as you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

It felt nice to free your hair from the complicated updo it had been trapped in all night. your makeup was the next thing to come off as you reached to turn the sink on, giving it time to run and letting the water get warm.

you were all dolled up from a night of following declan around at a fancy network event. in fact, it was the first time you had joined him for something so public. declan was done feeling like he was hiding your relationship and convinced you to join him tonight, as his date. the two of you spent the evening sharing smitten giggles and innocent touches, and it felt nice not having to tiptoe around anymore.

you held your hand under the running water smiling to yourself at the thoughts swirling around in your head.

"what has you so giddy?" declan's curiosity interupted the silence of the room.

"nothing, just had a good night with you." you answered, looking up at the mirror to see him standing in the doorway.

he was still wearing his slacks but must have been in the middle of undressing seeing as though his white button up was completely undone and barely hanging on to his shoulders. his chest was exposed and you couldn't help but let your eyes wander, exploring the broad expanse of muscle that was covered in a coat of wild black curls.

"not as good as my night with you." he was pushing himself off the doorway as he spoke, a smile hanging on his lips.

"I didn't realize how much I'd like having you on my arm all night- gettin’ to show you off like that.”

in a few steps he was at your back wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his embrace.

"I think I might just have to bring you everywhere with me now."

his voice is muffled as his head fits into the crook of your neck. he places a small kiss to the top of your shoulder and you’re leaning back into the soft sensation of his lips.

"I'd like that." you giggle, half due to his absurd comment and the other half caused by the familiar tickle of facial hair on your skin.

with his arms holding you close and his chin resting on your shoulder, his gaze finds yours, making eye contact with you in the reflection of the mirror.

"I love you."

the words took their time floating from his lips. his gaze was tender and his voice was serious as he spoke.

"I love you too." you keep your eyes on him as you respond.

your heart was fluttering in your chest as you raised your hand to declan's face, pressing it gently to his cheek and smiling sweetly at him through the mirror.

"I hope you know how deeply I care for you."

he was continuing to shower you in kind words. you adored this side of declan– the affectionate side he kept hidden away from everyone except you.

"I want the whole world to know you're mine."

his voice is once again muffled as his lips find their way back to your shoulder.

"you're so beautiful."

he's placing a prolonged kiss to the nape of your neck and his eyes dart up to find yours in the mirror. the sight of him leaning into you, kissing you and looking up at your reflection, is enough to make you go weak in the knees. but it's his words that do you in. with the compliment, your breath catches in your throat- the sound unmistakable. your sudden reaction has declan lightly chuckling, his laugh purring into your skin.

“so so beautiful.”

he lands another gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“your eyes.”

a kiss to the curve of your neck.

“your smile.”

a kiss trailing up to your jaw.

“those lips.”

a kiss on your cheek.

“this body.”

he’s humming as he moves your hair just enough to place a kiss right behind your ear. his hands begin to feel their way up the curve of your waist as he speaks.

“i don’t think you even realize how fuckin’ gorgeous you are.” his whisper is low in your ear.

you're stunned by the electricity flowing through you at his touch; unable to think, unable to speak and unable to move as you keep your eyes trained ahead, watching him intently.

you can’t see his hands anymore, instead you feel them at your back unzipping your dress.

as soon as the zipper meets the end of its track he's assisting the loose material and sliding it right down your body. given the fit of the dress you had opted out of wearing a bra, and judging by the look in his eyes, declan very much approves of your decision.

“look at you.”

his voice was hypnotic in your ear. he sounded so obsessed– so in love.

his lips were at your ear and his eyes were still staring into yours. now that your body was exposed in front of him he couldn’t help but let his stare fall to the reflection of your chest.

“god, just look at you my love.”

his hands are back on your body, running over your abdomen and up to your breasts.

“so fuckin’ perfect.” the words are strained as he holds your body in his hands, hungry to feel every single inch of you.

“i want you to watch yourself while i touch you.”

his breath on your neck was warm and the words on his tongue laced with scalding hot desire.

“i want you to see what i see.”

you watched in the mirror as one his his hands stayed at your chest, the other trailing down the front of your body to the hem of your underwear– the last piece of clothing left on you.

“how perfect you are.”

he’s pulling the material down your thighs and you’re helping to kick them off as he seduces you with nothing but his voice.

“how unbelievably sexy you look when you’re coming for me.”

with that you feel his touch between your legs, fingers immediately finding the sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs. your stare is glued to your own reflection, eyelids heavy. the sight of declan’s hands on your body has you completely wound up, your body tense in anticipation.

“relax my love, i’ve got you.”

his tone is laced with affection. the look in his eyes is deeper than love or lust, its devotion. he’s completely and utterly devoted to you– committed to you; your body, your soul, your pleasure.

declan is fighting the urge to turn you around and pry your legs open on the bathroom counter with his mouth on your sweet cunt. he knows your body like the back of his hand. he knows that he could have you coming undone in a matter of seconds with his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling into you, but he refrains. instead he keeps his position behind you, his fingers circling your clit at a gentle pace. he’s losing himself in the expression on your face, already so fucked-out for him. your leaning your head back and your eyes are drooping shut in pleasure, all from the touch of his fingertips.

he’s growling in awe of the way your body reacts to him.

“so pretty for me darlin’. always so pretty.”

the attentive strokes he's paying to your clit cause you to whimper. you're nearly squirming under his touch in need of more.

“that feel good?”

you’re mumbling out an “uh huh” with a nod of your head when you feel a finger seamlessly dipping into your entrance. you can’t stop the moan that tumbles out of your mouth and your eyes instinctively squeeze shut, the sudden fill of his thick digit sending pleasure coursing through your veins.

“open those eyes princess.”

he's admiring the warmth of your cunt- always so ready for him.

“wanna see you watch yourself while i play with you”

his words are absolutely filthy and you know he’s already aching to have you come on his fingers.

he's pushing a second into you, trying his best not to plunge them knuckles deep. he wanted to be gentle and deliberate tonight. he wanted you to feel how much he adored you.

you watched his hand in the mirror. two of his fingers were pressing into you and his palm was rubbing deliciously against your clit with each movement. his hand looked so big as it worked between your legs. you watched the way he filled you. your eyes followed the flex of his wrist, each movement simultaneously adding to the pressure building at your core. you grasped his forearm as the sudden curl of his fingers pushes at the plush warmth of your walls. you can't help the profanities that slip past your lips. remembering declan's directions, you fight to keep your eyes open and watching as he taunts you with pleasure.

you search the mirror for him, needing to find the deep brown of his eyes to tether you back to earth. you catch his stare and feel yourself relax into him. he hasn't taken his eyes off of you, not even for a second. he's drinking in the obscene way you're looking at his hand as it works to bring you closer to release; thinking about what thoughts must be going through your head.

"you like this don't you?"

the haze in your eyes as you look at him has declan's cock pulsing. he needs to see you come for him.

"wanna feel you come princess- wanna watch you."

his voice is a groan and he can't focus on anything other than the feeling of your cunt squeezing his fingers, pulling him in deeper.

"let me see it baby."

he's losing all control as he fucks his fingers into the same spot over and over again causing your eyelids to flutter.

"I can feel ya. so close for me."

he's using his words to coax the orgasm out of you and it's working. you feel the familiar sensation of your release at it's peak right before it comes crashing down.

"c'mon let me see those pretty eyes while you come."

you're obliging his request as your back arches against his body and you’re seizing under his touch.

"there she is." he's murmuring into your ear as he watches you chase the high of your release.

his fingers are still moving inside of you mercifully, to help lull you back into your body.

you're still coming down when you turn your head to catch his lips with yours. the kiss is raw, the connection between you feeling like a cloud of steam. you're losing your breath in the arousal consuming you, yet you need more.

"I need you." you pull back from the kiss long enough to mutter the words through a breathless whisper.

he's crashing his lips back on yours at the confession.

his hands work to remove his pants while yours find the thin material of his dress shirt, tugging at it- wordlessly begging him to take it off.

then he's completely undressed behind you and you turn your head back to face the mirror. you reach your hand back to trace down his body, the warmth of his skin against yours feeling like a sweet reward.

you're raking your eyes down his naked figure when his arms wrap back around your waist in a gentle gesture of love and contentment.

you stand like that for a second. both of you admiring your reflection; two bodies holding one another in adoration, finding solace in the others arms.

"I love you." this time it's you who says it first.

"I want you." then you’re speaking from a place of greed, trailing your hand lower on his body while the words leave your lips.

he grabs your wrist before your hand can reach for his length.

"I know princess I know." his words sound almost mocking as he guides his cock to meet the slick opening of your slit.

"does my sweet girl wanna watch while I fuck her?"

his dick is throbbing at your entrance but he doesn't push it in yet, he's looking at you in the mirror, waiting for a response to his question.

instead of speaking, you nod your head and bite down on the swollen flesh of your bottom lip.

declan couldn't handle it; seeing you like this for him. it didn't matter that he had you in his bed every single night, he would never be able to get over the sight of you all needy for him. your eyes were clouded, your cheeks were flush from your recent orgasm, your hair was all messy and your cunt was dripping; all for him.

he let himself find refuge in the sweet clench of your walls as he pushed his cock into you. his hands find your hips pulling you back into him to fill you completely.

you take his hold on your hips as a signal to brace the countertop in front of you. your fingertips dig into the granite as you lean forward and push yourself back to meet his thrusts.

what was just a beautiful scene of two people admiring their love in the reflection in front of them was now a display of pure animalistic desire. you were both watching; each other, yourselves, the tight grip of your hands on the counter, the veins in declan's forearms as he gripped your hips, the place where your bodies connected. it was like a predator eyeing their prey, only it was unclear who took on which role. you were feeding off of declan's moans; the confidence of the evening going straight to your head as you continued to bounce back into declan's cock, sheathing it entirely inside of you with every thrust.

he was on another planet, the only thing tying him to reality was his hold on your hips. he was plunging into you at an ungodly pace, going deeper and deeper and watching your face contort in pleasure. both of you were making the most perverse sounds as the aura of pleasure built around you.

"so pretty baby." his voice is close to a whine.

you feel yourself nearing the edge yet again at his words. his voice is so desperate, and you love when he gets like this; when the tough guy facade goes out the window and he's nothing but a whimpering mess. hearing him lose his composure only surges your confidence. you're arching your back and squeezing your cunt around him as declan buries himself even deeper into you.

"god I'm close." he's panting out with each thrust.

"where do you want it baby?"

you recognize what he's asking and you know exactly how to answer.

"I want you to come inside." your voice is a sultry whimper as you bore your eyes deep into the reflection of his.

"please."

the added plea makes a groan escape from deep within declan's throat.

"oh fuck princess."

if he was almost whining earlier, he was definitely whining now.

"gonna fill you up real nice baby."

his voice lowered to a dark whisper as he grabs tight on your hips, pulling you back to meet him in hard, swift movements.

"fuck- gonna make you feel so good." he's groaning and his fingertips are pushing into your skin.

it's the way he's speaking to you and the feeling of his cock hitting that same spot deep inside time after time that has you chanting out declan's name as another wave of satisfaction crashes over your body.

your pussy is gripping and gushing around declan and he's succumbing to his relief alongside you. the hot spurts of his release filling you and causing you both to moan in unison.

his grip on your hips loosens and he’s once again wrapping his arms around you, enveloping you in safety and comfort. you’re leaning fully into him, the intimacy of him still being inside of you causing a delighted smile to form on your lips. you're still looking at each other in the mirror ahead.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to you bein’ mine." he's matching your fulfilled expression with a little smirk of his own and pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

my masterlist

[siriuslywicked]

‘tis the season || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

nothing new. nothing exciting. just some pwp. major shout out to my very freaky girl @dinandwhiskey, this fic was born due to our 4am conversations about fucking Our Old Man on viagra. and to my fellow ocean unicorn @joeloverture, for the encouragement, always. and to @pedrospatch, for being my eyes, and my biggest cheerleader, you have my heart. anyway – merry christmas eve eve & happy holidays ya filthy animals. may 2025 be ever so kind to you <33

pairing: dbf!joel x reader summary: you’re back in town for christmas, and it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend, joel miller. and he decides to make the most of the brief window of time you have together.  or,  joel fucks you after taking viagra. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ warnings: [no-outbreak au], implied age gap [no mention of ages but reader is in college], secret established long distance relationship [that’s a mouth full] [that’s what she said], drug use, joel miller on viagra is a beast, pet names [baby, darlin’, sweetheart, kiddo], sexualization of the terms kiddo & old man, [mocking] dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, daddy kink, brief mentions of smut that occurs off page [i.e: face-sitting, fingering, anal play, ass eating/rimming, a reach around handjob, f! & m! receiving oral], softdom!joel, unprotected piv, missionary, mating press, overstimulation [rip our girl she’s fighting for her life], dacryphilia, finger sucking, biting, smidge of a pain kink, creampie, squirting, joel fucks you while you’re on the phone with your father, mentions of christmas, (2) christmas puns [author apologizes in advance for said puns], probably [most likely] inaccurate and unrealistic descriptions to the effects of viagra [remember, this is fiction!!], omitting a few tags as to avoid spoilers!!, aaaaand lastly, they’re in love BYE! word count: 3.5k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs on when i post my writing!

“Just one more time, sweetheart.”

You don’t respond, tongue-tied. The agonizingly slow drag of his cock inside you is too much, your mind is a blur. 

Joel’s been fucking you for hours. He’s made you come six times since you practically pranced through his front door. Twice on his face, once on his fingers, and three times on his cock. And now you’re overstimulated — cunt swollen and almost begging for relief — but Joel, driven by your high-pitched moans and strained whimpers, is unable to stop himself, working to make you come just one more fucking time.

It’s thanks to that stupid little blue pill his buddy slipped him that he’d been able to fuck you for this long. 

In truth, he doesn’t need it. He never needs it. He fucks you perfectly fine without it. But you’re home for the holidays, and you haven’t seen him or come successfully on your own since the beginning of the fall term, and Joel wanted to take advantage of that.

Send you back fucked so full o’me you’ll feel me in here for weeks, he’d groaned. 

Your drippy hole stretched out and clamped tight around the thick girth of him. It had been so long, your face contorted at the sharp sting, and a pained hiss escaped through his gritted teeth when he pushed the delicious fat tip of his cock past your puffy folds, splitting you in two. 

The warm walls of your cunt pulse around his shaft, your clit throbs against the wet thatch of thick hairs stippled gray at his base. You’re too sensitive, too tender, cunt stinging with every long stroke, but not in the way it makes you want to use your safe word. 

It’s just that Joel hasn’t let up. Two hours spent making you come and he hasn’t let up once. The only time he had given you some semblance of a break was when he got up, turned around, and sat on your face at your plea — your desire to show him how good he had made you feel all those times before. 

His cock in your hand, weak fist tugging away at his length while you lathed away at the tight little hole in the crease between his ass cheeks. Even then, Joel couldn't help himself; shoved three thick fingers into your puffy pussy — timing the thrust of them to the desperate pumps of your joint fists — jacking his cock in unison while you writhed beneath him, pulling another climax from you. 

Only when his sweaty thighs quivered around your body, chin tilted towards the ceiling and a stream of profanities poured from his lips, his body curling over yours as hot spurts of his cum painted your soft tummy when he felt your finger slipping past his puckered rim to the knuckle, had he given you a break. 

“Attagirl, just like that. Pretty little pussy’s gonna cum all over me. C’mon, baby, give it to me,” Joel’s voice is thick with arousal as he rambles above you, his hips expertly rolling into yours, head of his cock nudging that place incompetent college boys have failed to reach. 

“Joel—fuck—I don’t think I can—” You gasp frantically, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, arms wound tight around him.

He smirks with another deliberate roll of his hips. “Thought you said you could keep up. Isn’t that what you said? “Naw, I reckon you said, Try keeping up, old man, wasn’t that it?”  He mocks, imitating your words from earlier. Fucking bastard. 

A whimpering mess, your eyes pinch shut in response. 

“I can’t—” you croak, fingernails digging into his shoulders. 

Deft hands brush your hair back from your face. “You can. I know you can, baby.”  His voice softer, barely audible through the wet smack of his balls, smeared in the evidence of your earlier release, firmly slapping against the curve of your ass. The sounds obscenely echoing through the quiet of his bedroom. 

You whimper and try fruitlessly to nod. He knows you can, and he’s right. Your hips wouldn’t be grinding up off the mattress to meet his thrusts. You wouldn’t be feeling something roiling low in your belly.

“One more time, baby. Give me one more n’ I’ll let this sore little pussy rest,” he whispers, lips kissing away your salty tears. 

You nod eagerly. His hand reaches up to the headboard, fingers curling around it and locking into place, his other removes one of yours from his shoulder, pins it to the pillow above your head. And with his hand clasping your damp palm, fingers squeezing then interlocking with yours, he fucks you harder. 

The change in pace has tears spilling from your eyes and pooling into the shells of your ears. The wave swells, swells, swells —

Your phone screen lights up the dark room, buzzing on Joel’s nightstand. 

You freeze, neck craning in the direction of the vibration, eyes squinting and damp lashes fluttering at the bright screen, Dad, it reads. 

Shit. 

You gaze back up at Joel, wide-eyed, panic surging in your chest. Joel growls. “Don’t answer.” 

You don’t listen. You know your father, he’ll keep calling until you answer. Without saying another word, your hand comes up to the wooden surface in search of your phone. You take a few deep breaths, trying to quell the anxious heat swirling inside you, unplug your phone from the charger, slide a shaky thumb across the screen, and press the phone to the shell of your ear.

“Hey—” You clear your throat awkwardly, “Hey, Dad,” your voice breathy, tired.

You unstick your body from Joel’s, your free hand presses to his strong chest, a silent effort to halt his movements.

“Kid! I’m sorry to call you this late, but before you left for Eve’s, I forgot to let you know to be home in time for breakfast.” 

Jesus. That could’ve been a text. 

You sit up, scoot back into the pillows, while Joel sits back on his knees, wincing in unison as his cum-drenched cock slips out of your overflowing slit. Almost instantly, you feel a steady stream of his spend trickle out of your opening. He’d already managed to fill you to the brim three times tonight.

You fiddle with your bottom lip. “Breakfast? I thought we were just doing dinner.”

“Well, I thought since you’re only in town for a few days, we could go the whole nine yards. I missed our breakfasts together. I enjoy them, kid,” he says softly. 

Your bleary eyes flick back to Joel. The smug grin that graces his lips and the gleam of something darker in his eyes don’t put you at ease. He’s up to something, as always. 

You grumble, massaging your forehead. “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’ll be home by nine. Listen, I gotta—” 

“Oh! Speakin’ of dinner, I was thinking of inviting Joel over,” your dad says, plainly.  

Your heart stutters. “Joel? W-Why?”

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches, dark eyes glimmer with mischief. Two heavy hands find your waist, and he’s sliding you back down towards him. Slow and suspicious, one of his hands finds your knee, and presses it flush to the mattress. You both watch as his other hand cups the back of your other knee, pushing it back down to match the other, exposing you to the sex-tainted air. With his eyes transfixed on the slow trickle of his spend, his hand then wraps around the base of his cock, tip lining up with your aching hole. 

There it is. 

“Poor guy has been asking about you, kid.” And Joel glides the head of his cock up and down your puffy seam, collecting your mixed juices on his tip then taps the heavy weight of it on your perked clit twice in quick succession; Joel smirks at the wet smack. You jolt, thighs attempting to clamp shut, his firm grip on your knee tightens, keeping you open for him. 

You pinch your eyes closed and curse under your breath. 

“What was that, honey?” 

Your eyes snap open, and you scramble to recover, “N-nothing, I just–” You clear your throat again. “Sorry. What were you saying, Dad?”

Joel chuckles lowly as he leans forward on top of you, pressing his broad frame in on you, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. Chest to chest, belly to belly, pelvis to pelvis, tacky skin against tacky skin, once again as before. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and with his mouth at your other ear, his tongue darts out to lick at the salty droplet there before suckling ever so slightly on your flesh, you bite back a moan. 

Your dad, oblivious to your current state, continues, “Oh— Joel’s been asking after you. Think he’s getting sick of your old man if I’m honest. He keeps telling me he misses having you around, always goin’ on about how you’ve grown up right before his eyes…”

He can hear him. You know he can by the feel of the corner of his mouth curling up into a grin, teeth grazing your carotid now. He lifts his head, dark gaze meeting yours while his massive hands cup your tits, caressing, squeezing, kneading, while muttering, Goddamn have you grown up. 

Your cunt flutters around nothing, and you sigh into the phone; your dad doesn’t hear it through his rambling. You don’t register what he’s chatting away about because then, Joel’s nose nuzzles into your neck, traces a line up, up, up until his tongue snakes out and meets the curve of your earlobe. Licks the meat of it into his mouth and takes it between his teeth, your whimper cuts off into a moan when the bite turns sharp.  

His fingers fiddle with your nipples. “Naughty little thing,” Joel taunts, warmth of his breath fanning across the hinge of your jaw, “You liked that?” 

You keen and nod, his hand dips south between your bodies, wrapping around the base of his length, notches the too-wide cockhead at your too-small hole. You turn your head, pressing your mouth to the scruff of his beard, muffling the whine he elicits from you. 

Joel pushes inside, takes a moment, and just to mess with you — he fucks his tip in and out of your drooling hole in small pulses — once, twice, thrice — teasing you, making you moan. He tilts his head, nosing your cheek, breath hot and voice deep, “Listen,” he commands.

Absentmindedly, you tilt your phone away from your ear, away from your dad’s mumblings. You strain your ears to obey him. In and out, in and out. The squelch of your sticky wet reverberates  against the four walls of his bedroom as the blunt head of his cock moves in and out. 

In. And out.  

“Fuck,” you mutter, eyes flitting down to watch his cock impale you. 

Your dad’s voice cuts in through the fog, redrawing your attention.

“Sweetie? You okay? What’s wrong?” 

Your eyes widen. Shit. “I’m–I’m–fine, I– I j-just stubbed my toe. Dad, I really can’t t–” You stammer, and Joel chuckles lowly. 

Your stuttering emboldens him, taking it as an invitation to torture you further, and with his lips against your ear, a breathy moan escapes from his lips as Joel feeds you his cock, slowly working himself back into your spent cunt. So painfully slow that he ensures you feel every ridge and every vein, and in turn, he feels every inch of your warm, velvet walls sucking him in as he eases himself into you. Used cunt clamped tight around him as you welcome him back in — inch by torturous inch. 

He stills once he reaches resistance, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough that you taste copper, suppressing the moan climbing up your chest as his tip knocks your cervix, heavy balls pressed flush to your ass — finally bottoming out inside you.

He ruts into you once, tip bumps your cervix again — goading you, and you gasp in return, fingernails indenting his shoulder, half–moon crescents marking his skin. Beads of sweat roll off his forehead and onto your face, mixing with the warm tears now cascading down your face, and your tongue darts out to taste it. The flavor of him — his sweat, his musk — only feeds the dizzying blur that is your mind. But through the foggy haze and the lewd, wet slap of flesh against flesh, you think you can hear your dad saying, You really need to quit the habit of walking around in the dark, kiddo.

And you think you’re nodding, an endless litany of, yes, yeah–yeah slipping past your lips, as you rush your way through the phone call with your father, uncaring. Only interested in the shifts of Joel’s hips, slowly fucking into you in measured thrusts.

Joel tuts. “Such a dirty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ off while speakin’ to her daddy.” And your grip in his hair tightens, walls tensing in response. “Attagirl, keep squeezin’ me like that. You gonna show me just how naughty you are for me, hm? Gonna let me have it with him on the phone? Gonna cream all over my cock, naughty girl?”

You nod your head numbly, mouth dry and unable to speak with the tip of his cock prodding at the soft spot inside you on every languid stroke, hips swaying back and forth.

The wave begins to crest, and despite your eager nodding at Joel only a second prior, there’s no way in hell you’re really going to come on your boyfriend’s cock — your dad’s best friend — while on the phone with your father. 

Your voice claws its way up your throat, “D-dad, I’m — mmm — sorry I really have to g–”​ You think your thumb presses the red button, but your phone slips from your hand, dropping to the carpet with a muffled thump, and it’s too late to check if you’ve fully hung up on him, and frankly, you’re too consumed by your lover to care. 

Grinning with pride, Joel pulls back, cock halfway out of your pussy and your hands grasp at his shoulders. 

“Joel— f-fuck–please,” you beg, your resolve melting. 

He clicks his tongue. “Na-uh, try again.” 

“D-d-daddy–please,” you whine. 

“D-d-daddy,” he mocks above you. “Say it, pretty girl.” He knows, but he wants to hear you say it. 

“Harder. Please, daddy–I–I wanna come, please, I wanna come,” you mewl, voice all whiny and petulant.

He says nothing. Without pulling out of you, his long fingers wrap around to grip the backs of your knees, pinning your thighs to your chest, knees to your shoulders, feet dangling in the air beside his beautiful head, folding you in half. Then, he moves to plant his feet flat on the mattress, propping himself up, hands on your thighs to steady himself. 

You’re already a mewling, writhing mess underneath him as he fucks in and out of your wasted cunt — it doesn’t take much longer for you to get there. The air fills with sounds of the headboard hammering against the wall and filthy, sloppy sounds of where you two are connected as he bashes into you with arrant primal vigor.

The new angle has him hitting a point inside you, deeper than you ever thought to exist. And still — the wave doesn’t break. With his eyes locked on yours, you know he can tell. He can always tell. He’s made you scream his name enough times since the beginning of your many clandestine meetings last summer to know when you’re teetering on the edge. In need of more. 

And for a moment, you think you can see it in him. Hazel eyes practically glint against the pale moonlight that spills into his bedroom. Joel bares his teeth in a cocky grin, his hand releases one of your thighs to cup your face, thumb parting your plush lips when he says, give it to me, kiddo, soak your old man’s cock. 

Oh fuck. 

Your eyelids flutter shut, your head falling back onto the pillows, hands clutching and pulling at tufts of his grizzled curls. Lips closing around his thumb wedged in your mouth; licking, sucking, biting into his flesh, as the crest finally breaks and washes over you, taking you under the rogue waves.  

But Joel still doesn’t let up. One more time, my ass. 

He’s insatiable. And he shows you just how insatiable he is when his thumb slips from your spit-smeared lips and reaches between your bodies, the pads of his fingers expertly thrum at your sensitive clit.

Your face twinges up at the intense, almost painful pressure as he pinches your clit between his index and middle fingers, hard. The swing of his hips speeds up, cock relentlessly beating your sore cunt. The sight of his girth, disappearing and reappearing as he pounds your pussy at a punishing pace, and his fingers twisting your swollen clit has your belly pulling taut and snapping within the same beat. With a broken shout of his name, you gush around the root of his cock, dripping down his balls. It’s warm and sticky when it seeps down, past your tight ring of muscle, soaking his blue sheets and turning them the shade of charcoal gray. 

Joel coaxes you through your seventh–eighth toe-curling orgasm of the night. An endless stream of sweet nothings spills from him — good girl, that’s it, kiddo. I know, I know, it’s so much, I know – fuck– such a good fuckin’ girl, as he fucks you through it. 

Your sloppy cunt clenches around him, and with his cock choked tight, deep within your bruised walls, he follows soon after. Growls raggedly as he unravels, and his own orgasm rolls through him, decking the hall of your weeping cunt with warm, milky ropes of cum for the fourth time tonight. 

Joel collapses onto your sticky chest, placing open-mouthed kisses to your dampened face — your cheek, your nose, your forehead, while he pumps you full of his seed, abiding by his promise. And when he’s done, his sweaty forehead drops to yours for a moment. The waves now a steady ripple through your body as you come down.

After a moment, he lifts his head, and in retaliation for giving you what was possibly the best fuck of your life while on the phone with your father and nearly exposing your tryst, you bring one of his hands to your face, hollow your cheeks, and suck his thumb while looking up at him with wide and falsely innocent eyes. 

He licks his lips but manages to pry his post-coital eyes away. Instead, his cum-soaked cock slips out of your tired, leaking cunt. When he leans back, you swallow a moan, catching sight of the aftermath of your many arousals in his pubic hair. Graying curls swimming in a pool of your combined releases that drips down his thighs. A thin strand of your shared pearlescent spend shines in the soft moonlight, stretching from his balls to your folds, still connecting the two of you as he pulls away. 

Joel misses it, something else pulls his attention. His gaze shifts to the clock beside your head. A hint of a smirk passes over his lips. 

“You’re lucky it’s Christmas, darlin’,” voice low, dangerous. 

Your head snaps in the same direction. It’s past midnight. You smirk in turn and pull the comforter up to hide it.

You feel him shift over you, elbow popping loudly as he reaches for what he’s looking for before he moves to sit up beside you, back against the headboard. His hand pulls the comforter back down from your face, and you roll over and sit up on your knees to face him. 

His other palm opens, wordlessly presenting you with a single twig of some plant. One with moss green, teardrop–shaped leaves and plump, round berries, waxy and opaque in color.  

Mistletoe.

You take the meat of your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a laugh that threatens to bubble through you. Because of fucking course he would. 

Though, the soft laugh is short-lived. His broad hand waves the mistletoe over him, but not where it should be. Your gaze follows the movement of his hand, and your mouth falls agape. Your eyes snap back up to Joel’s, and his wicked smirk broadens.

Joel Miller — naked as the day he was born and splayed on top of his messy sheets — dangles the mistletoe over his length, still hard as a rock and stirring in his other hand.

But it doesn’t stop there. 

Beneath the mistletoe rests a lump of bright red and velvety felt; a fluffy white cuff rounds the brim, and a matching fuzzy white bobble hangs at the end of it. 

A Santa hat perched jauntily on his cock.

You shut your mouth and swallow thickly, already feeling that familiar ache at the apex of your thighs, and you clench around emptiness, a stream of his seed dribbling out of your overstuffed cunt and further soiling his bedding. 

“But it ain’t a Merry one till you give Santa's big sack a few kisses.”

[siriuslywicked]

take your medicine

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: *tv sales advert voice* so you've been finding it hard to reach orgasm? lucky for you, our best-selling item "hunky boyfriend joel" is on sale at half price. shipping is free, and he is very determined to help you achieve your goals! call the number on your screen to buy now! OR your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen. warnings/tags: set in the early 2000s aka early thirties joel my lover boyyyy, boyfriend joel, depression [nothing dark or sad], anti-depressants, brief discussion of food/eating, cigarette smoking [f], soft!supportive!joel, mentions of masturbation [f], unprotected piv sex, use of a sex toy, ride 'em cowgirl (1939) dir. samuel diege, cream pie, dirty talk, joel talks you through it. word count: 2.9k masterlist a/n: so this one is.... self-indulgent. shout out to all my friends on anti-depressants that are strugglin' to reach orgasm. me too, pals, me too. and there will be no medication shaming on this account, no there will not! so happy sunday, i hope someone else out there enjoys this short little thing with me x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

Medication is a journey, they say. Every day will be different.

Medication is not the end all be all, they say. We can always try different avenues.

Six months on, now.

Six months since Let’s try the Zoloft for a few months.

Six months since We can reassess in April.

It’s June and summer has settled over Austin with a hot wet vengeance. April came and went with a mutual agreement that you weren’t ready to be weaned off yet. A gentle hand on your forearm and a softly spoken Why don’t we check in again in July?

A low dose. A starter dose. A you shouldn’t experience too many side-effects dose.  

And she was right – for the most part. There were no headaches, no nausea, no dizzy spells, no changes in appetite. That shallow, low mood that’d been haunting you for months suddenly began to lift. Begrudging exercise in the afternoons, a three-meals-a-day regiment implemented by your boyfriend, and a happy little pill with every morning coffee.

But fuck – you can count the number of orgasms you’ve had since January on one hand.

Countless nights spent alone in your bed, tangled betwixt sweaty sheets, fingers and forearm cramping until you finally give up. Drink a cold glass of water, wet your face, and go to bed frustrated; a routine disappointment.

You’d gotten lucky a few times, of course. Vibrator on the highest setting possible, pussy all puffed up and numb from the rough speed. Frustrated tears in your eyes, lightheaded by the time you finally feel that sweet sweet relief coursing through your veins.

A few times with Joel, too, in those first few months. And ignorance was bliss—quite literally—until he caught onto what you’d been doing.

“What was different tonight?” he’d asked you on one of those nights, laid out beside each other in his bed. Chests heaving, satisfied smiles spread across your faces.

Your hand had paused against his head, fingers twisted up in his sweaty curls, and you hesitated. So quick, the briefest pause before trying to play it off, but he caught it. Always too perceptive, too watchful of an eye; especially since you’d been diagnosed.

“What’s wrong?” Joel frowned.

“I… didn’t… my…” you’d mumbled, face tucked against his pillow.

“Can’t hear you when you do that,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Baby?”

“I didn’t take my meds today,” you repeated, voice still low, still wary. But you could tell he heard you. Knew from the way his body stiffened beside you. From how when you looked over his smile had dropped, eyebrows pinching inward. 

For a moment he didn’t even say anything. He hardly breathed. And then—Darlin’, why would you do that?—so painfully soft, the faintest tinge of worry in that deep, rasping voice of his. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, and something hot began to burn behind your eyes. Wet, pinching shame. “Just… I woke up and I wanted you. And I wanted it to feel like it used to for us, and I can never… you know I can’t finish when I’m on them, and I hate feeling like I’m disappointing you—”

“Baby,” Joel shook his head, strong hand cupping your jaw. His forehead knocked against yours; a tender but firm kind of insistence. The type that says look me in the fucking eyes and listen up. “You’re not disappointin’ me.”

“Joel,” you sighed, face hot, foreheads tacky where they pressed together.

“No,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ mean it. This stuff takes time, okay? We’ll figure it out the way we always do. Just… don’t do that again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you murmured feebly, nose smushed against his.  

“Promise me,” Joel had urged you. “Promise me you’ll take your medicine.” 

“I promise, Joel.”

You kept strong on that promise. Didn’t get frustrated when he’d stay over more nights than usual, or drag you back to his place in the evenings – all just to watch you pop that little white pill in the mornings.  

It brought out something new in him, the day you’d showed him the prescription. Like some instinctual protectiveness was unlocked and he just kicked into hyperdrive.

Cutting work early to drive you to your doctor’s office, cooking up different meals every night for dinner.

Most days you wake up alone in his bed; wipe the sleep out of your eyes as you wander downstairs. Let him nudge you into a chair at the table, beside Sarah, so he can set identical bowls of cereal in front of the two of you—his girls. Hell, if you had a dollar for every time that man has said Breakfast is the most important meal of the day in the past six months, you’d have more money than you could spend.

Joel didn’t even get mad when you started smoking again in May.

Didn’t bat an eye when he found you at two in the morning, sat on the back porch in one of his sweatshirts with the smell of tobacco staining your fingers.

“Been a long time since I seen once of those in your mouth,” he’d smirked, settling onto the stoop beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you grimaced, remembering how proud he’d been when you quit. He rested his head against your shoulder, eyes watering with a yawn.

“S’late,” he grumbled sleepily. “N’you smell now.”

“I’m sorry,” you’d repeated, stamping the cigarette into the concrete. “Today was just… hard. Couldn’t sleep.”  

“S’okay,” Joel told you. “Just don’t like it when you sneak out on me, yeah? You know I ain’t judgin’ you.”

The only thing that frustrates Joel, is that he comes, and you don’t.

And it’s not a frustration with you. No, it’s a hot faced guilt that spreads through him every time you fuck. Evident in those frantic touches, desperate pleas of your name, of tell me what to do, tell me how to help, of fuck I’m sorry.

Because you still want him, despite it all. Still can’t help your wandering hands, your fingers that tease back his bed sheets and then his boxers and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him, night after night.

Tonight, you thought, would be no different.

Covers strewn across the end of your bed, pillows askew, you sit astride his lap.

It’s hot; the AC in your apartment has been broken all week, and your thighs are tacky with sweat where they press against his skin. Everything wet – sweat in your hair, slick between your thighs, the soft squelching sound that raises with every press of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, hands tight against your waist. “I can’t—goddammit, I’m not gonna last, baby.” 

“It’s okay,” you moan, eyelids heavy as you rock your hips over his.

It’s late, and you both have work early in the morning, but the burn is so good like this. The heavy weight of him reaching so far, pushing the limits of what your body can take. For years it’s been your favourite way to fuck him; poised above his body, admiring the way his stomach tightens and his eyes roll when you sink down on his cock.

“What can I do?” his voice is strained, the veins in his neck bulging as he holds his breath – anything to stave off the impending high.

You only whimper pathetically, grinding your hips into his. Can feel everything in your stomach knotting up into a white-hot ball.

“Hey,” Joel urges, hand landing in a soft slap against your outer thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” you cry out, shaking your head. “It’s right there, but I…”

“But what?” he murmurs, hips snapping up again.

“I don’t think I can,” you finally admit, eyebrows drawn tight in frustration. Your lower lip is bitten raw at this point, incessantly gnawed at by your own teeth. His grip tightens on your hips and he drags you upward until his length slips out, falling against his stomach with a wet smack.

“C’mon, tell me what you need,” he says quickly, and you’re sure that the desperation you see in his eyes is mirrored in your own. Pupils blown round and fat, endless black—pleading.

You stare down at him for a moment. Watch the way his chest heaves with harsh, stilted breathes. How little dots of sweat have gathered at the hollow of his throat. And fuck, you want it so bad.

“Top drawer,” you exhale roughly, pointing to the side table.

Joel doesn’t question the order. Doesn’t say a word as he spreads a long arm across the bed, yanking the drawer open and shoving his hand inside. You watch him rifle around for a moment, pulse increasing as you wait for him to find what you want. What you need. And you can tell when he does; his shoulders stiffen and he lets out a choked sort of sound, pulling out the black wand and shoving it into your hand.

“Show me,” he says, eyes wild.

Your finger drops down against the button, turning your hand to show him which one to press.

“There’s four settings,” you murmur, slipping it back into his palm.

“Does this normally help?” he asks, grunting softly as you grip his cock, notching the tip back at your entrance.

“Sometimes,” you sigh, sinking down, sucking in the heavy weight of him. “Can still take a—a little while.”

He presses the button tentatively, watching as the rounded head of the wand starts to vibrate. Spread open around him, he can see your swollen little clit so easily, and he lowers the wand to press against it. Your body jolts forward, mouth splitting open with a groan as heat flares through you. Your hips stutter against him instinctively, chasing that intense feeling, and he looses a gravelly moan at the feeling of your wasted cunt squeezing around him.

“Look at that,” Joel grunts, dark eyes trained on your face. That wicked pink tongue slips out to wet his lips and he nods in encouragement. “I know, baby, I know it’s a lot, you feel good?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, jaw going slack as you settle into the feeling. “Fuck, yes, it’s good, it’s good.”

It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before; nothing your past boyfriends had ever been comfortable enough to try. It has the muscles in your thighs tensing up already; the thick press of his cock paired with that unrelenting, almost overbearing, vibration.

“Can feel it,” he hisses out, head tilting back into the mattress.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he nods, expression grim. The muscle in his jaw twitches. “So fuckin’ tight like this. All wound up, y’need it so bad, I know.”

You moan, eyelids fluttering as he presses the button again, notching it to a higher speed. You lift up slowly and then press back down over him, and the two of you groan in unison. His free hand falls against the curve of your ass and he squeezes, encouraging you to rock against him, starting up a steady pace.

One of your hands settles on your chest, fingers twisting and pulling at your nipples. You need more, always more, something, anything.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” Joel mutters, and you can tell how fucked out he is already as he watches you. Dark eyes glazing over, mouth hanging open deliriously. “My pretty girl, so damn good for me.”  

Your heart stumbles in your chest and you whimper, appreciation for him flooding your senses. He’s been so close for so long tonight already, teetering precariously on that edge but holding off for you. Fucking you into the mattress before pulling out and tucking his face between your thighs, doing his damnedest to get you to that same place. Urging you to get on top, to take what you needed, to use him to get yourself off.  

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly, eyes pinching closed as something sharp starts to tingle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel snarls, hips snapping upward.  

“What ar—” your words cut off with choked moan as he clicks the button again, and then again, taking it to the highest speed. Your shoulders shake and you tilt forward a little, hand gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Joel,” you cry out, chest heaving and stomach tightening.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, searching for something to ground yourself against. That firm press against your clit doesn’t falter for a second, and you let out a rough moan.  

“Good,” he grunts. “Good girl, give it to me.”

The muscle in his bicep spasms and strains beneath the skin, everything pulled taut as he keeps the wand pressed firmly against you. And it’s almost painful, the way you can feel your high coiling inside you, burning, but never quite reaching fever pitch the way you need it to. 

A symphony that builds and billows and writhes within you. Sloping swells of violins and cellos and trumpets. Up, up, up to that shattering crescendo you just can’t seem to reach.

“Joel,” you mewl, and there’s tears in your eyes, on your cheeks. Hot, fat tears that stain your face now, dripping from your chin to splatter against his chest.

“C’mon now,” he grunts, hips shifting up off the bed, meeting you thrust for thrust. The stretch of his cock is so wide, so deep, and every shift of his body punches the air from your lungs.

“I don’t know if I can,” you shake your head, stomach on fire. The vibrations are so intense, the speed so fast, you can feel your clit going numb beneath it. But Joel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop the fast pace of his hips. The muscles in his abdomen twitch under you, tan skin glistening with sweat.

“You’re so close,” he goads, jaw tight. “Don’t fight it, baby.”

“Stop moving,” you beg then, your voice a high keen. Joel stills instantly, wary eyes darting across your face. He doesn’t pull the vibrator away though. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand firm against his stomach. “Just let me-just—”

Knees on fire against the bed, you grind your hips down into his. Gasp as his cock presses hot and heavy against something deep inside of you that sets your entire body shaking, vibrating against him; buzzing at the same high-speed rhythm as the wand between your legs. You rut against him again and again and then something pulls tight and hot at the base of your spine.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes widening. “Oh god, Joel, I think—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” he moans. A bead of sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin. “You’re okay, let it happen.”

“Touch me,” you say, breathless and needy and so so desperate. “Fuck, please.”

Joel groans – a deep, guttural thing. A sound that comes from somewhere in the base of his stomach. It rattles your bones and has your fingernails digging into his stomach, and then his hand is on your chest. Rough fingers squeezing and stroking and pinching and you’re gasping, keening his name as he whispers frenzied words of encouragement and it’s building it’s building it’s building and and and—

Everything goes silent when you come. It’s all blurred vision and deafened ears; an intense ache in your jaw from the way your mouth hangs open. You can feel a vein in your neck, raging beneath the skin; a staccato rushing sound that echoes inside your head.

And you think you can hear Joel’s voice, somewhere beyond it all; Fuck, there it is, good girl, good fuckin’ girl.

When your eyes flutter open, you can only see Joel’s face swimming in your vision. His eyes rolling back, lips parted as he snarls your name.

“Fuck,” he spits. “—yeah, that’s it, there we fuckin’ go.”

You feel his cock kick inside of you; fast jerking spasms and then a warm rush as he starts to come. Your hand wraps around his, pushing the wand to the side of the bed, but he doesn’t fucking stop. He grips your waist and fucks up into you, spitting curses and warbled slurs of your name as he pumps you full of his hot spend.

It’s obscene – a mix of your come and his, squeezing out around his girth and smearing against the inside of your thighs. It pools around the base of his cock and you whimper at the sight, swollen cunt still tightening around him. Only when you start to sag down against his chest does he rest, his thighs twitching and tensing with the aftershocks of his high.  

Joel raises a hand, calloused thumb brushing the tears from your cheeks. Then, carefully, he grips the back of your neck, guiding you down to rest against his chest.

Your shoulders slump and you press a lazy kiss against the jut of his collarbone. And for a moment there’s just this. No sounds but that of heavy breaths and a soft buzzing, forgotten somewhere in the sheets. The swipe of his fingertips down your spine, your lips against his salty skin. A gentle tap against your waist and he’s slipping out of you with a sigh, but not letting you pull away, not letting you move from where you’ve collapsed directly on top of him.

“Missed that,” you slur sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Me too,” he mumbles. “Did so good. Made me proud.”

“S’that right?” you smile against his skin.

“S’right, baby.”

You hum, dragging your head up to press a kiss against his mouth. Both of you so exhausted that it’s just a brief, lazy swipe of your lips, but it’s enough. It’s thank you.

“Shower?” he suggests softly, smiling up at you.  

“Or… cigarette?” you respond, eyebrows raised, teasing.  

“Watch it,” he smarts, laying a quick smack against your ass before nudging you off of him. He stands and holds out a hand to help you off the bed, tutting underneath his breath. “Although I guess you’ve earned it.”

a/n: in hindsight, idk why the fuck i wrote that it took them six months to try this but what can you do lmao.

thank you for reading! x

[siriuslywicked]

THE F*CK IT LIST: MASTERLIST

During work at your father’s construction company, you’re inspired by your sexually liberated bestie to create a F*ck-It List of sexy experiences you’ve always wanted to try. But when the list accidentally ends up in the hands of Joel Miller— your dad’s best friend, the company’s co-CEO, and your immediate supervisor—things take an unexpected turn. Initially shocked by the discovery, Joel eventually agrees to help you tackle the list, leading to sexual adventures and undeniable chemistry.  However as you begin to fall for Joel the complications of your relationship come into focus, leading you both to realize that love may be one item you won’t be able to check off your list.

tags: DBF!Joel , Smut , Romance , Angst , Comedy, Mutual Pining and more Smut.

rating: 18+

Chapter One: Manifesting

Chapter Two: Number Eight - coming soon

[siriuslywicked]

lavender & vanilla - a fic by honeymaraschino

pairing: rupert x taggie rating: explicit words: 11,130 tags: daddy kink, hurt/comfort, family issues, praise kink, cockwarming, just the tip, and more.

summary:

I can’t keep carrying it all, it’s too much for me, she’d told him in a panicked gasp, chest tight and eyes full of tears. But he hadn’t balked; hadn’t hesitated or judged her for buckling under the weight of holding her family together. Had opened his door and gestured her inside like she knew he would tonight. Then let me carry it for you for a little while. OR: the platonic caretaker turned daddy kink fic

read it on ao3

[siriuslywicked]

asking him if he wants to try pup play and then hitting him with my car while I back out of my driveway

[siriuslywicked]

[siriuslywicked]

mr. o'hara

declan o'hara x female reader

summary: in an attempt to play wing woman for your best friend, you end up with the job of distracting her father. your inability to lie and the sexual tension between you has your mouth getting into trouble in more ways than one.

content: nsfw, 18+, best friend's dad smut, mutual pining, age gap, dirty talk, blowjob, praise, thigh riding, fingering, unprotected sex, did i mention dirty talk?

author's note: nothing but 6k words of mutual pining, flirting, sexual tension and smut! I think best friend's dad!declan might just be my favorite thing to write. like taggie girl I am so sorry but I need to fuck your dad.

—————————————————

The night was coming to an end as you joined Taggie in the kitchen. You were helping her clean the massive pile of dishes that had accumulated from an evening of dinner and drinks with the venturer employees. 

Declan had somehow ended up hosting the dinner party for his company, filling the priory with music, laughter and loads of alcohol. The celebration of their newfound success was almost completely organized by his eldest daughter. You insisted on helping Taggie with arranging the event because you knew without Maud, Declan was sure to throw a sad excuse of a party. He was thankful for the two of you and your incessant need to meddle in his life after his wife left. In this case, it meant he wouldn’t have to plan a dinner menu or worry about a guest list, and for that, he was eternally grateful. 

“Thank you again, I really couldn’t have done it without you.” Taggie was pulling you into her side as you worked next to her, scrubbing a plate in the sink. 

“Oh whatever, I barely did anything. I’m only here for the free food.” You joked, returning her embrace.

The two of you were interrupted by a deep sultry voice gushing from the doorway of the kitchen. 

“That’s the only reason I show up to these things as well.”

You didn’t even need to look over your shoulder to know who the voice belonged to. 

Rupert Campbell-Black was behind you. Clad in a perfectly fitted black suit and a white button up that was undone just enough to see the smallest bit of chest hair peeking out from underneath. he stood with that signature smirk he always wore plastered on his face. 

You could feel Taggie buzzing beside you.

It was endearing how utterly obsessed with each other they were.

You were the only person who knew about their secret romance, and you had to admit it made even you feel like a hopeless romantic. It was nearly impossible not to root for them. 

“I thought maybe you could walk me home.” His voice was tender as he took a number of steps forward, one of his hands landing on Taggie’s hip.

“Have you gone insane? Daddy would lose his mind if he found out I just waltzed out of here with you.” Her voice was filled with concern as she swatted his touch from her body.

“Taggie, c’mon. Are we really supposed to follow your dad’s orders for the rest of eternity? Live a little. I’ll deal with ‘daddy’ tomorrow.” 

You could see Rupert’s silk voice enveloping Taggie and tempting her deeper into the British man’s desires, but it wasn’t enough. You knew her well, and a look of worry was still written on her features. She wouldn’t take what she wanted if it meant going against her father’s wishes.

“I’ll keep him distracted.” You spoke up causing both Rupert and Taggie to look to you in surprise. 

The truth is you felt bad for them. 

Having to tiptoe around Declan all the time had to be exhausting. Not to mention Taggie recently confided in you about her lack of sex life. Her and Rupert had barely done more than kissing and some heavy petting due to the impossible challenge of getting somewhere alone together.

She longed for him, to know what it felt like to be touched by him. She was your best friend, and you owed it to her to be their wing woman. 

“I mean he’s had a few glasses of whiskey, two or three more and I can just sit him in front of the tv. he’ll probably just knock out.” You give the pair a reassuring smile as you divulge your plan to keep the nosey irishman out of their way. 

“Are you sure? I-“ Taggie begins before you interrupt her.

“Yes, now go. Sneak out the back.” You’re practically pushing them out of the kitchen catching the apologetic smile Taggie throws your way.

You hear the faint shut of the back door and you allow your body to linger in the kitchen. standing alone for a few seconds, you soak in the calm. The home is nearly empty. It’s quiet, the only sound is the subtle murmur of music coming from the living room.

You were alone in the house with Declan. Declan O’Hara; Taggie’s dad and part-time owner of a thriving televison station. Declan O’Hara; a powerful, somewhat mysterious man, that drew your attention more often than you would have liked to admit. 

He was so mesmerizing. Everything about him intrigued you. Your hidden fascination with him had been impossible to deny from the moment you met him, and it had become quite the guilty pleasure. 

You planned to take your little crush on your best friend’s dad to the grave with you, never telling a soul and trying to remain as nonchalant around him as possible. It was always doable– pretending you felt nothing for him. Until his wife left a few months ago. 

Ever since then your obsession with him had been kicked into full gear.

He was just so obviously available; it was almost as if you felt the need to fill his loneliness deep within your bones. Seeing how he poured into work to distract himself from solitude or when he would sleep on the couch to avoid the bedroom he once shared with his ex-wife. It was heartbreaking, and a little bit tempting if you were being honest. You wanted to help him and comfort him and maybe even fuck the loneliness right out of him.

You had assured Taggie that you could distract her father, but truthfully you had no idea what your plan was.

It couldn’t be that hard right? Feed him some more alcohol and get him talking about Yeats, you could do this.

You mustered up all the courage you could manage and began your journey into the living room. 

Declan was picking up after the guests that had now long departed. Gathering empty glasses and straightening throw pillows. The radio on the mantle was playing a Fleetwood mac song that he could barely recognize yet still found himself humming along to.

In his quiet tidying his silent singing was joined with another, this hum was several octaves higher than his own and so much sweeter.

He turned to find you strolling through the entryway, humming along to the radio and finding a seat on the couch in the middle of the room. 

Declan had to fight with himself to keep from looking at your backside as you walked past him. Your dress hugged your figure perfectly, a body he had memorized over months of watching you frolic through his house in short skirts and skintight t-shirts.

You had become quite the temptress in Declan’s mind. 

He had always thought you were a beautiful young woman, but you were Taggie’s friend and nothing more. You were polite, easy to talk to, fun to have around– he was never one to mind your presence at family meals or special occasions. In fact he quite enjoyed when his daughter brought you around, he had always felt like you helped brighten their otherwise dim home with your lively personality. 

He was entertained by you– amused. However soon after Maud left; casting him aside for a new life in London, his feelings for you shifted to something a little less harmless.

It started when he saw you sunbathing in his front yard. 

You were joined by his two daughters, but he didn’t even notice. all he could do was gawk at the image of you sprawled out on a bright red pool towel in nothing but a skimpy bikini.

He had to peel his eyes from your body, reminding himself that you were only a few years older than his eldest daughter, young enough to be one of his children. Before he could rip his gaze from your bare skin, your eyes met his.

“Mr. O’Hara!” you were sat up waving in his direction, your chest bouncing ever so slightly with the movement and of course his eyes caught it.

He cursed himself at the strain in his jeans that only tightened upon hearing you call him that. Mr. O’Hara, it made you sound so innocent– so good-natured. The opposite of how Declan viewed you in that very moment, nearly naked on his front lawn. 

“Wanna join us? They say Vitamin D is good for your mental health. You know, boosting your mood and all that.” You were half yelling to ensure that he could hear you, a broad grin on your face.

Declan had never realized how cute your smile was. 

“I think I’ll have to pass on the invitation today.” He kept his voice pleasant and warm, speaking to you like he would his own children. 

“If you girls need me, I’ll be inside.” 

And with that Declan rushed to the kitchen to fix himself a glass of brandy, hoping to chase away the image of him pulling that tiny swimsuit off your body and fucking you into that cute little pool towel.

“I didn’t picture you as a Fleetwood Mac fan Mr. O’Hara.” Your voice was sugary and playful in his ears, bringing him back to the present where you were sat on his living room couch. 

“British rock band with a dicey love triangle, what’s not to like?” His own deep voice was now matching the playful tone in yours.

“And I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Declan.” He continued cleaning up the room, trying his best to act as if he wasn’t phased by your presence. 

“Did you abandon my daughter in the kitchen to come have a chat with me about Stevie Nicks?” He was joking with you, but the question about Taggie made you nervous. 

You had never been a good liar. 

“No we uh, finished the dishes. I just wanted to come see if you needed help with anything.” You were trying to keep your composure and act as natural as possible.

You were not doing a good job. Not one bit.

Maybe it was the tone of your voice or the way you stumbled over your words, but Declan was privy to your strange behavior. He stopped what he was doing and turned his body to face yours, brows furrowed.

“Why are ya actin’ weird?” The question was filled with curiosity- hardly accusatory, but you felt your palms begin to sweat. 

“I’m not acting weird.” You countered, sitting up straight.

Declan’s eyes squinted at you in question.

“Tag!” He yelled toward the kitchen but kept his stare on you.

“Taggie!” This time his yell was much louder, and you winced at the upcoming interrogation you were sure to receive. 

Declan slowly closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“Where’s Tag?” 

With his eyes still closed you could tell Declan was trying to remain relaxed, but you had a feeling he knew exactly where his daughter was.

“She went to walk Rupert home.” The words flew out of your mouth in one quiet stream. 

Declan let out an aggressively loud sigh. his eyes finally opening to meet yours, the anger palpable in the deep brown of his iris’. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t fucking trust either of them.”

He was doing his best not to yell but his voice was pushing out strong and harsh. His hands were in the air motioning in rage, still holding onto half full glasses left behind by party goers. 

“I can’t fucking stand Rupert, he knows exactly how I feel about this! I’m going down there.”

And now he was yelling.

He shoved the glasses in his hands onto the coffee table, creating another mess out of the already dirty cups. The clinking and crashing sounds only accentuating the anger exuding from him.

Just as he was turning to leave the room you jumped up off the sofa, rushing to grab his forearm. 

“Declan don’t.”

your eyes were pleading with him, he had never seen you look so desperate. It stopped him in his tracks seeing you gaze at him like that.

Why was it turning him on?

“She’s an adult. Let her make her own decisions.” Your grip on his arm was still tight, you weren’t going to let him ruin this for Taggie.

“Yeah, and he’s an adult too. almost twice her age. He shouldn’t be interested in getting her alone.”

He wasn’t yelling anymore, and he also wasn’t fighting your effort to keep him from leaving the room. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” Your voice was calm and quiet in an attempt to deescalate the situation. 

“Well of course you would think that.”

Declan practically spit the words out, but you could tell by the wince in his eyes that he wished he hadn’t.

“and why do you say that?” You challenged, taken aback by his comment. 

You were searching your brain for the reason behind Declan’s accusation when it hit you. He had to be referring to the time that you hooked up with Basil Baddington. Only you never actually hooked up with him. The two of you madeout in his parked car outside of bar sinister one time and the next day there was a rumor going around that someone caught you giving basil head in his brand new 86 corvette. 

You could distinctly remember later that week Declan asked if you were seeing Bas.

He never mentioned the alleged sexual act or the other heinous things people were saying about the two of you, he just asked if you were dating.

It was such a harmless and casual question, one that you answered confidently, assuring him there was absolutely nothing going on between you. “Good he’s a prick and way too old for you” was Declan’s short and sweet response.

“Oh last summer. With Bas?” You were grinning now. Almost amused that Declan was comparing your two-week fling with a man barely 10 years older than you to his daughter’s love affair with a retired Olympian. 

“First of all, he’s not even that much older than me. And second, you of all people should know nothing even happened between us. We made out and I barely felt him up through his jeans, nothing past a PG-13 rating.” You were almost laughing at the memory.

Declan felt a pang of jealousy in his chest at the mention of the younger man’s name on your lips.

“He isn’t my type anyway.” The words tumble from your mouth and you see Declan’s eyes fully soften. His gaze intently watching you. 

“Even if I am a bad influence, at least Taggie won’t be getting caught giving someone a blowjob in a tiny pretentious sports car.”

There’s a giggle in your voice and Declan closes his eyes once again shaking his head at your words.

“Please don’t say my daughter’s name and the word blowjob in the same sentence.” He’s rubbing his temple, and you let your hold on his arm relax.

“Oh come on! It’s just sex. Blowjobs are a perfectly normal part of life.” Your sentiment is serious but there’s still a teasing tone in your voice. 

Declan can’t handle hearing such dirty things come out of your mouth.

You talking about sex was not something he had on his agenda tonight. He didn’t think he could handle much more before he would need to excuse himself to his bedroom to relieve the tension building in his pants. Imagining it’s your lips wrapped around his cock, with the sound of your voice still echoing in his head.

You watched with a coy smile on your face as Declan’s cheeks displayed a slight hue of pink. He was looking everywhere but your eyes and it was fun to see him so flustered.

Your hand still lingered on his arm, and you realized you’d never touched him before. You had imagined it many, many times, although, those scenarios were often much raunchier– involving your hand holding something that definitely wasn’t his arm. You had fantasized about touching Declan, feeling the warmth of his skin on yours. Your heart rate quickened when you remembered the two of you were alone. 

Something about your current position coupled with the idea that it was just the two of you on your own in this big house, had you behaving in a way you barely recognized. Possessed by a craving that could only be satisfied by the man at the other end of your touch.

“When was the last time you had a woman on her knees for you?” The question left your lips quietly- a soft and smooth whisper. 

His eyes are on yours quick, but you can’t read his expression. He’s staring you down, not even attempting to open his mouth to give you an answer to your question. 

“I mean it’s had to of been months. I’m around enough to know you haven’t seen anyone since maud left and I-“ Your continuing your cross-examination when Declan’s harsh accent interrupts you. 

“Years.”

The one word is all he says. 

It takes you a minute to understand, but once you do you have to try your best to keep the shock from showing on your face.

“Years Declan?” the surprise in your voice is unmistakable.

“It’s been years since the last time someone gave you a blowjob?”

Declan just raises his eyebrows at you in defeat. There’s a hint of embarrassment in his eyes and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. 

“Maud wasn’t much of a giver.” He shrugs. 

“Lucky for her I was.”

You’re glad to see the playful glimmer in his gaze as he jokes about his ex-wife.  

Declan’s words insinuate that him and Maud’s intimacy completely revolved around her pleasure.

What a selfish bitch. You think to yourself.

You had never liked Maud. The way she treated her family made you irrationally angry and this was just adding fuel to the fire. 

“That’s not fair.” Your voice is faint. 

If it wasn’t for the way your eyes were staring into his, Declan would have sworn you were talking to yourself.

“You deserve to feel good.” This time you open your mouth, and the words sound almost like a purr. 

Declan can feel his eyelids growing heavy with lust and he can’t stop himself from watching as you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

You’re biting down on the pillowy flesh and all he wants to do is replace your teeth with his, gently nipping at your skin and finally getting a taste of those pretty pink lips. 

You see Declan’s gaze fall to your lips and something in you snaps. It’s almost like you’ve lost all logical thought and replaced it with feral desire as you sink down onto your knees for the man in front of you.

Declan’s voice gets stuck in his throat as he whispers your name causing it to come out in a husky groan.

He’s completely lost in his head right now. He can’t focus on a single thing, only you kneeling beneath him. 

“What are you doin’?” He finally comes to his senses enough to string a sentence together.

“Giving you what you deserve.” You state sweetly.

He shakes his head in disagreeance but can’t form the words on his tongue to tell you to stop.

“This is wrong.” He says it but he’s making absolutely no effort to get you off your knees. 

“Let me do this for you Mr. O’Hara” You look up at him, doing your best to keep your gaze wide-eyed and innocent. Your fingertips toying with his belt buckle. 

Seeing you looking up at him through your lashes like that, using his surname in such a sensual tone– he would let you do anything you wanted to him. He had never had a woman so ready to give to him like this. You were practically salivating, so hungry and greedy to have him in your mouth, it was like something out of a wet dream. 

“Yeah, Okay.” He gives into your joint desire with a whisper of two simple words. 

The satisfied smirk on your lips as you hear him agree to the lewd act has him going weak in the knees.

He’s mentally searching his surroundings for a stable piece of furniture to grip as you undo his belt with your nimble hands. If you keep acting so desperate to have your lips around his cock he won’t be able to stand on his own two feet.

You take your time with his belt, pulling it from the loops on his waist one by one until it finally hits the floor. 

You’re staring at the tent in his dress pants, seeing how hard he is in anticipation. The evidence of his arousal has you wet between your legs and you can’t help but lift your hand to get a feel of him through his pants. 

Your touch on him is soft but the second he feels your hand meet his concealed erection he’s sucking in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut in shameful desire. 

You move your fingertips to the button of his pants, popping it open and trailing his zipper down at a painfully slow pace. 

Declan was doing his best to remain calm but you could hear his erratic breathing with every movement of your body beneath him.

His hands were hanging at his sides and you desperately wanted them tangled in your hair or around your neck. 

You had his underwear hooked in your grip ready to slip them, along with his pants, down to his ankles.

You looked up at him once more only to see his eyes still closed.

He wanted to look at you, to see you inches away from his cock, but he couldn’t. There was no way in hell he could stand to watch you taking his clothes off, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He would cum in his pants right away. 

He was focusing on steadying his breath as you pulled his boxers and slacks down his thighs, allowing his agonizingly hard member freedom from its constraints. 

You were now face to face with a part of Declan you thought you would only see in your dreams. You bit down on your lip again at the sight of him, bigger and even more alluring than you had imagined it to be. 

You trail your fingertips up his thigh earning a groan from the man above you.

Very gently taking his length in your hand you pump him once, then twice, wondering how on earth anyone could neglect this man of such pleasure for so long. 

It was a crime, you thought– to sleep next to Declan O’Hara every night and never give him this type of gratification. 

You leaned in to place a handful of soft kisses to his lower abdomen in a path to where he wanted your mouth most.

A quiet groan left his mouth when your lips met the base of his cock, your tongue coming into play as you traced up the length of his shaft with one long kitten lick, kissing the precum off his leaking tip.

Taking just the head of him through the threshold of your lips you decide to look up again, hoping to see a state of bliss taking over his features.

You take him deeper into your mouth and peer up at him. His stare is completely fixated on you, his mouth parted in pleasure.

When his eyes catch yours it’s game over, he doesn’t care that you’re his daughter’s best friend or that you’re nearly 20 years younger than him. The only thing he can think of is the feeling of your sweet mouth around his cock and how utterly gorgeous you look taking him like this. 

“Fuck darlin’.” He’s moaning out as you slide him deeper past your lips. 

You moan back when his hands find your hair, intertwining his fingers in it gently, careful not to grip or pull too hard.

You wouldn’t mind though.

You had imagined fucking Declan multiple times in multiple different scenarios. Many of those visions involved his rough hands gripping your neck, slapping your ass, and pulling your hair.

You needed him in every way possible and you wanted him to know he could use you however he pleased. 

You kept a slow pace as you continuously enveloped him in the warmth of your mouth. In and out.

The attention of your lips is on the head of his cock when you bring a hand up to wrap around the rest of him, your mouth and fingers working together. You feel his body shutter and for a second you think he might lose his balance. 

“Christ that’s good.” His voice falls on your ears in a throaty moan.

“So good for me like that darlin’.” 

His words are driving you to a place of overwhelming carnality.

In that moment you felt as though your one and only purpose in life was to be on your knees for Declan O’Hara. You were determined to show him exactly what he’d been missing all those years. 

“Touch yourself.” His voice is no longer a moan, instead it’s strong and stern. 

You pause your movements for just a second to process his command.

Here you sat thinking you were the one with all the filthy thoughts, but Declan’s brain must have been equally as corrupt.

He was asking to see you touch yourself for him– to see you get off with his dick in your mouth.

And it just might have been the hottest thing anyone had ever said to you.

Without so much as a second thought, you were hiking your already short dress further up your thighs until you were able to easily reach underneath. Slipping the thin material of your underwear to the side, your index finger found your clit circling it lazily as you continued to focus on Declan’s pleasure. 

“Good girl.” Declan praised and you could hear the faint smirk in his voice. 

He had wanted to call you that earlier in the night when he watched you bend over his dining room table. Helping to clear dirty dishes, leaning over to grab a plate with your short dress riding up far enough to send Declan into cardiac arrest. You were just trying to help, to be a good girl, so sweet and innocent not even realizing how dirty you really were. 

The sight in front of him now was far more arousing. You bowing in front of him, immersed in his gratification with your own hand hiding between your legs. He didn’t want to admit how close he was at the sight alone. That’s not even to mention how good it felt.

It had been so long since anyone touched him like this, it was a near out of body experience. The hug of your wet lips mixed with the smooth strokes of your hand had profanities dripping from his tongue. 

With every sound that slipped from Declan’s lips your fingers worked faster at the growing pleasure between your legs. Your pace quickened on Declan as well and you immediately felt his grasp on your hair tighten. 

He was dangerously close to spilling into your mouth. He was trying to pay attention to his breathing and steady his mind.

He wanted so badly for this feeling to last forever but the fire within him was all consuming and he knew he had to stop you soon or the fun would be over before it had even begun. 

He uses his hold in your hair to guide you off his cock. Your hand is still buried underneath your dress and your hair messy from his hands. Your lips are plump and you have the cutest look of confusion and frustration on your face. Declan almost pushed you right back onto him at the look in your eyes, but he refrained. 

“Stand up.” He was enjoying ordering you around more than he could have ever anticipated. 

You stood slightly irritated. How rude of him to not let you finish the job you were working so beautifully at. You had barely any time to be disappointed because as soon as you’re on your feet Declan is pulling you into a frenzied kiss. It’s frantic, it’s turbulent, it’s sloppy. the kiss is raw and impassioned and you’re both lost in each other’s taste.

He broke the newfound connection of lips to reach under the hem of your dress. Finding the thin material of your panties he yanks them down your legs freeing your body of the wet and ruined clothing. 

With his lips back on yours, he took a few steps backward brining you with him.

Once his body found the living room couch, he sat, drawing you onto his lap.

You were falling onto him straddling one of his thighs as you continued assaulting his mouth with your own. You enjoyed the slight dominance you held in this position. 

His kiss found its way to your exposed neck placing the most delicious wet touches on your skin.

You felt his hands grab your waist on either side pulling your body down to sit completely on his bare thigh. Your exposed core met the pure muscle of Declan’s leg and you both made equally lewd sounds of delight. 

“Tell me,” Declan begins to speak but his voice is strained in excitement at the feeling of your wet cunt against his thigh. 

“do you walk around my house in those tiny little’ skirts just to torture me.” 

He’s smirking at you as he uses his hold on your hips to guide you, pulling you back and forth against him. 

You’re in a trance at the delicious friction of him beneath you, all you can do is nod your head at his words, that innocent expression still in your eyes. 

He’s going to go insane if you keep looking at him like that.  

Your following his lead and grinding against his thigh shamelessly.

Declan’s using the dress that’s now bunched at your waist as leverage, griping at the material to influence your movements.

His eyes fall between the two of you, watching you use yourself on him. You’re letting sighs and whimpers fall from your mouth as your arousal slides continuously over the thickest part of his leg.

You catch his cock twitch out of the corner of your eye and all you want to do is maneuver your body so your sitting on it instead of his thigh. 

You reach down, wrapping your hand around his member once again.

“Declan, please.”

Your begging to be on his cock at this point.

He can’t deny how much he loves hearing you beg for him. He’s ready to pull you down onto his length the second he hears your eager little whimper. 

“Never knew you’d be so needy darlin’.”

He’s using his hold on your hips to lift you enough for you to subtly switch positions. You’re now straddling his entire lap, your center only inches away from meeting his. 

“Would’ve done this a long time ago.”

His voice is raspy as he brings his hand between your legs. 

Declan’s pointer finger finds your entrance and eases it’s way inside of you, causing a moan to spill from your throat. 

“Declan…” His name falls from your lips, but he could tell his fingers weren’t what you wanted filling you. 

“Beg for it.” He whispers between you, smiling like a sex-drunk idiot. 

His finger is curling into your walls hitting just the right spot, but you want his cock stretching you out and filling you up. 

“Please” You’re asking him in the sweetest tone you can muster.

You still have a slight hold of his length, and you begin stroking it at a painfully slow pace. 

“God I want this so badly.” Your confession is breathless.

“I think about it all of the time.” You continue making sure to give him your best doe-eyes. 

That was it, he couldn’t take it anymore. You were too sweet, too perfect. He had been obsessed with you for months; watching you, thinking about you. He didn’t give a fuck how wrong it was– he needed you. 

In an instant his fingers were gone from your core and his hold was back on your hips, sinking you down onto him. 

You could feel his tip meeting your opening and you whined out in anticipation. The noise causing Declan to thrust into you, filling you with one deep push. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from squealing from the stinging pleasure. 

He waited a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size and giving himself a second to steady his breath. 

“This,” He spoke in a grunt as he fucked up into you again.

“Is all I think about every time I see you in my house.”

His voice is spreading warmth through your body as his thrusts ignite a fire in your abdomen. 

“You don’t even have to try. You’re just always so enticing.” The words coming from his mouth are intoxicating.

You’re swimming in a pool of ecstasy at his confessions. 

“I can’t get enough.” He’s panting as his thrusts pick up their pace.

You’re grinding down onto him meeting each of his thrusts with a wet squelch, taking him deeper with each movement. The way he’s stretching you open has you clenching around him. 

You lock your hands behind his neck leaning on his shoulders for some kind of control as you feel your body beginning to go limp.

The pressure building in you is almost too much to bear and it becomes even more difficult when Declan meets your exposed chest with open mouthed kisses. He’s licking and sucking at your skin greedily, causing your head to fall to the side in pleasure. 

“So pretty.” Declan is murmuring into your skin.

Your movements mixed with his are perfectly timed and hitting just the right spot.

Maybe it’s the fact that you were already soaked long before you had his dick in your mouth, or maybe it was because you had been dreaming of this exact moment for a long time– either way, you were close. Really close. Your walls were desperately squeezing Declan’s cock as it slid in and out of you, your chest heaving under his kisses. 

“C’mon darlin’.”

It’s Declan’s turn to look up at you through his lashes and the sight has you going feral. The tightening in your core finally letting loose. 

“Let go for me.” 

With his words you’re a whimpering, moaning mess. Your movements halt and your body tenses as you push through your release. 

Your pulsating embrace around him has Declan following your lead.

He’s holding your hips in place and bucking into you at a fierce pace. Plunging deep into you, fucking you right through your orgasm. It’s taking everything in you not to scream out in blinding pleasure.

Then he grows sloppy as he lets his own release take over him. 

He finishes with a string of moans that sound like music to your ears, and you think you might cum again just from the noises he’s making as he comes undone.  

You’re sat on him, both of you catching your breath, your eyes are locked on one another. Neither of you can look away.

There was a shared energy between you. Maybe guilt or shame– or perhaps triumph. 

You couldn’t help but remember the reason you were in this position in the first place.

Taggie.

She would be so disappointed in you but even more upset with her father if she knew what just took place. 

She couldn’t be too angry though. You did exactly what you said you’d do– distract him. 

Watching the man sitting beneath you struggling to steady his breath was a sign that you had done a pretty good job at your task of helping Taggie escape for the night.

You could only hope she’d had half as much fun as you did. 

[siriuslywicked]

AIDAN TURNER Rivals 1.03

[siriuslywicked]

Your Declan fics and blurbs!!!! 🤤🤤🤤

You can ignore if this isn’t your thing, but can’t help but think Declan would have a raging breeding kink and he would love to start a family with his new wife 😶

this is NASTY 18+ you’ve been warned🫢

you found yourself underneath declan, him grinding deep into you, thrusts impassioned and starved. his pace methodical, each plunge audible with the slap of skin on skin.

the pleasure was almost blinding as you felt his palm find its resting place on your stomach. his hand gently caressing your belly reminding you of the conversation that took place no more than 20 minutes ago– the reason you were now sprawled out on his bed, the subject of declan’s desire.

-

he had entered the room, towel around his waist and wet curls still stuck to his forehead, steam following him from the bathroom doorway. you were curled up in bed getting ready to drift off when declan walked in opening his mouth and bringing up an unexpected subject.

“do you ever think about havin’ kids?” his voice is soft and filled with genuine curiosity.

the question came out of nowhere and had you frozen in thought. the two of you had never really talked about this before. you always just assumed declan had already done the whole family man thing and was ready to settle down into a different kind of lifestyle with you.

“not really.” you answer him.

it’s not a complete lie. before declan you truly never thought about having kids. being a mother just wasn’t a dream of yours like it was for other girls your age. then you met him, and you found yourself watching him with his own children and admiring the kind of father he was, wondering what it would be like to start a family together.

“never? you never think about havin’ children? havin’ a little family?”

“i have a family. i love you and tag and patrick and caitlin.” you smile reassuringly at him.

you did love his family and you loved him. you were happy with the simple life you had created together.

“but a baby of your own. our baby. you never think about that?”

you could see a hint of sadness in his eyes, or perhaps longing. you began to wonder if declan thought about it too. if he thought about having children with you.

“i do. i do think about it.” the truth leaves your lips.

you have the thought quite frequently actually… having a baby with declan. a little being that shares the best parts of you both, the idea brings a small smile to your face.

“yeah?” he sighs out seeming relieved by your confession.

he's taking steps toward you. his voice is heavy and low, the same way it gets when he's whispering filthy things in your ear while he fucks you. as he gets closer, it's impossible not to notice the way his arousal is swelling underneath the thin material of the towel covering his crotch. is this turning him on? is the idea of getting you pregnant making him hard?

“i’d like that you know? gettin’ to see you be a mother.” he’s smiling sweetly at you but there’s a smirk following closely behind it.

“does my pretty girl think about havin’ my kids?” he’s sauntering over to your side of the bed, towel hanging dangerously low on his waist.

you can’t deny the warmth stirring in you at his words.

“do you want it sweetheart?” he’s hovering above you, fingertips at your chin.

“want me to give you a baby?” the look in his eyes is almost animalistic— predatory even.

before you can even process your own movements you find yourself desperately nodding at his words.

“yes.” your voice timid as it leaves your lips.

-

now you're pinned underneath him as he’s buried deep inside you, his hand pressing on your stomach.

“can you feel me sweetheart? feel how badly i wanna fill you up?” he’s maintaining eye contact as he slides in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

his words are so vulgar and greedy. all you want is for him to keep talking, to keep telling you how badly he wants to cum in you. you're mewling in pleasure, using every ounce of energy to encourage him to take and use you in any and every way he sees fit.

“god you’re so beautiful.” he's speaking low and rough the frenzy of his climax catching up to him.

“gonna look even prettier with my baby inside ya”

you’re clawing and gripping at his back attempting to feel him deeper and deeper with each stroke, until finally he’s groaning and grunting and spilling out inside of you. his arousal warm and heavy, coating your walls and filling you to the brim. you're bucking your hips into his, desperate to feel every last drop of him.

"that's it sweetheart." his words are strung together as he comes down from his high, still rutting into you.

he pulls out and you can feel his spend seeping between your legs.

just as you feel it dripping from your core– thick and hot, declan brings his index and middle finger to your entrance, collecting the cum leaking out and pushing it back inside. his fingers are curling deep in your heat eliciting a moan from your lips. you're both looking down watching the sinful scene play out.

"declan.." you sigh out his name in protest or pleasure you're not quite sure.

there's a slight grin on his lips as his eyes flick up to you,

"gotta make sure it takes, yeah?"

masterlist

[siriuslywicked]

saw your post about declan x reader x rupert and i can't stop thinking about them in their slutty little venturer tshirts ugh need to be sandwiched between them while they're bickering over who can make you feel better

ughhh the slutty venturer t-shirts! just for you anon <3

challengers - declan o'hara x reader x rupert campbell-black

synopsis: rupert believes he can make you feel better. declan disagrees and thinks he can. there's only one way to find out.

content: threesome (kinda?), afab reader, no m/m, rupert's got a thing for legs, no maud au so there's no infidelity, oral sex, handjob kinda, hickeys, praise, squirting

word count: 3k oops

author's note: this fic has been sitting in the drafts for a whileeeeeee. like before season 2 was even confirmed. enjoy! (ps i haven't watched challengers i just thought the title was fitting)

you think that maybe rupert and declan have forgotten about you sandwiched between them, but perhaps there were worse places to be than leaned against a doorframe, the heady scents of their cologne filling your nose.

"i just find it interesting that every time i come to look for our dear y/n, she's always right by your side, hmm?" rupert's posh accent echoed above you, his chest puffed.

"have you thought that she just prefers my company to yours, rupert?" declan's thick accent was so different to rupert's, but they mingled so well together. you briefly wondered how long you could still there still and quiet until they acknowledge your existence again.

"considering you're tipsy half of the day, i have reason to doubt that."

you would be standing there quietly for a long time.

it was painfully obvious to everyone, not just you, that rupert and declan harboured crushes for you. it had started when freddie managed to poach you from corinium to come work for venturer instead, and small gazes as you left turned into something you weren't even sure how to handle.

"you guys do know i'm standing here still...right?" you managed to slip out between the incessant firing off of insults.

their heads turned downwards, eyes meeting your own.

"of course, doll," declan said at the same time as rupert's, "could never forget you, sweetheart." they glared at each other, then returned to their attention to you.

it was a bit overwhelming, sure, but you held firm in your resolve to attempt to solve this issue. "i thought i could just let you both fight till you came up with a solution, but the plan has not worked evidently. and a girl can only take so much lustful staring and touches on the knee before she need something."

"i'm sorry if declan's made you uncomfortable, love," rupert said slyly, hand softly grazing your upper arm.

declan immediately lost the control he was exerting and faced rupert again with a loud scoff. "i'm making her uncomfortable? if anything, you are! who'd want a man that's slept with half the countryside giving her fuck-me-eyes?"

rupert couldn't help himself. "who'd want a man that hasn't slept with anyone in months giving her fuck-me-eyes?"

"oh, i'm sure i could make her feel much better than you ever could. just cause you're easy doesn't mean you're good."

with every word spat at each other, their shoulders squared and jaws clenched. if you didn't know any better, you'd keep watching the way their t-shirts flexed against their skin, swooning at the knowledge that it was you they were fighting over. but you had to do something.

it seemed crazy the second it popped into your brain. like something from one of those erotica books lizzie wrote. but the way rupert and declan were so naturally competitive, it might be the only way to solve this before they irreparably damaged the friendship they'd been building through venturer.

first you tried to clear your throat loudly which didn't work. they continued to mumble about their respective skills. then you tried saying their names. didn't work either. finally, with a huff of pure frustration, you grabbed each of them by the collars of their t-shirts and drug them further inside declan's home, effectively shutting the door behind you with your foot.

"jesus christ, you're like toddlers," you near-shouted. "you'd think a teacher told you that you have to share the toy the way you're arguing with each other. we have to solve this one way or another." you paused for a beat, letting the two men gather their composure. declan leaned against the kitchen counter, while rupert stood with his arms crossed. "i want you to listen to every word i have to say without speaking, okay? and when i am done, you are allowed to give me a response."

you waited for them to nod and once they did, you continued speaking.

"in full honesty, i can't choose between the two of you. you're both handsome and intelligent and i've enjoyed getting to know you. but i know you can't share. that would never work with the way you both square off like gorillas in a jungle," you said. your next words needed to be chose carefully. "however, i can't make a decision without test driving. so, we can settle this like adults in declan's bedroom, or i will walk out the door and forget that i ever found the two of you attractive in the first place."

true to their word, neither of them spoke until you gestured that you were done. declan was the first to speak up. "how long have you found me attractive, huh?"

"good lord," rupert whispered to himself, though both you and declan heard it clearly. "so when you mean settle this like adults..." he trailed off, posing a question for you to respond to.

"d'ya need her to spell it out for you?" declan asked, shoving himself off the kitchen counter. he sauntered towards you and his scent flooded your senses once again. his hand came to your lower back, dipping down just enough to graze your ass. "she wants us to prove which of us is better."

you let out a soft gasp, followed by a bite of your lip when his hand lifted then came back down on your ass, more harsh than a love tap, but clearly not as rough as he'd like to go.

declan chuckled. "think i'm already ahead of you."

"jesus, get in the bedroom already," rupert said, coming up behind you and replacing declan's hand with his own, pushing you towards the stairs.

the next few moments were a blur. before you knew it, your figure was posed on the middle of declan's bed, with declan and rupert waiting patiently at the foot.

"are there rules?" rupert asked.

you thought for a second. it was an impulsive plan, one you hadn't put much thought into. you shook your head. "nope. want you both to show me just how good you are since you're talking all that game."

declan and rupert looked at each other perhaps the most amiably the whole entire evening. while it was a competition, they seemed to have a silent agreement that your world would be forever changed after this.

declan moved first, his eyes already lowered and darkened with desire. having this view of you in his bed was driving him mad, pushing him to do that much better so he could always see you sprawled on the flannel sheets that smelled like him.

"can i take this off of you, love?" he asked quietly, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. you met his dark brown eyes and nodded, biting your lip as his hands deftly removed the fabric. you could hear the hitch in both his and rupert's breathing.

suddenly, rupert's frame was on your other side, fingers barely touching the skin on your side. "you're so beautiful," he said. though declan made the initial move, rupert took it one step further and brought his head down to offer you a sweet kiss on the lips. declan could've growled, but he knew you wanted to end the fighting. he had to just find his own way to touch you.

as rupert continued to expertly move his lips against yours, declan's own mouth met your neck and upper chest. he left hot, open-mouthed kisses on your delicate skin and you whimpered into rupert's mouth.

declan continued his ministrations as rupert pulled away and tugged off his venturer t-shirt, revealing his toned, tan body underneath. he then slid his belt from around his waist and threw it down onto declan's carpet. he took a few seconds to figure out his next plan of action and when he saw just how enamoured you were with declan's kisses, he opted for the same strategy.

rupert leaned down and started trailing his lips along your stomach, up to the edge of your bra, around the seam, then back down again. he was careful not to invade declan's space while also losing himself in the way your noises reverberated in his ears.

declan, too, rose from kneeling and took off his own shirt. you managed to open your eyes and the sight before you could've sent you reeling immediately. rupert was toned and muscular while declan was broad and, for the lack of a better word, big. in that moment, you considered yourself the luckiest girl on the planet.

your hands flew to declan as he leant back down, fingers roaming the broad expanse of his chest. desperate to have him kiss you on the lips this time, you moved your hand to his chin and tugged him towards you. he picked up the message easily and moved his lips against yours eagerly.

so far, you distinguished that declan and rupert had two distinct styles. declan was desperate and eager and ready to take you as his own. his kisses were passionate and you could tell from his touches that he was exerting a lot of restraint. rupert, on the other hand, was more calculated. his kisses started delicate, like he was teasing you, drawing you in, making you crave more. it would be a harder decision than you thought.

once he was satisfied with the trail of kisses along your body, rupert ducked down, fingers teasing the band of your pants. you looked up at you, somehow meeting your eyes past declan's head, and asked a silent question. you nodded as best as you could, then turned back to declan. as rupert's hands tugged down your pants, revealing your bare legs, your fingers tangled in declan's curls.

you had become so lost in declan's overpowering kiss that you let out a sudden gasp when rupert's mouth met your thighs. you could feel his breath against your legs, hands squeezing your flesh. you realized his weakness then as he groaned with every inch his mouth met.

eventually, you pulled away from declan, desperate for breath. he looked at you with a powerful look, one that you could hardly tear away from. you did, though, and gestured to his pants. "don't leave me alone here," you whispered. he smirked and stood to undo his belt, then tug his pants off.

as if his arousal was not already evident, the bulge barely concealed by his boxers revealed it tenfold. your eyes roamed his body and with a smirk, your hand reached out to his core. at the sudden contact, he groaned, no, growled.

you let out your own noise of surprise at rupert's hands meeting your own middle. your eyes flew to his and he met them confidently with his own smirk.

"she's so wet for us," rupert said, drawing declan's attention towards your center. both of their eyes didn't leave your face as declan's hand reached out to feel for himself.

"absolutely soaking, doll," he added.

"please," you pleaded, though you weren't sure what you were asking for.

"what do you need, love?" rupert asked sweetly. his fingers replaced declan's and they teased past the hem of your panties.

"what would you like us to show you?" declan asked. it was evil, the way they seemed to suddenly team up with the purpose of torturing you. it was as if every ounce of their fighting left once your body was available to them.

"y-your mouth, please," you squeaked out, cheeks flushed both from embarrassment and pure heat. "you first," you added, gesturing to declan.

"don't mind if i do, pretty girl," he said, moving to situate himself between your legs. rupert went to move, but he couldn't help himself but watch as declan slowly removed your panties. "fucking gorgeous."

rupert moved to your side again, one of his arms propping up his body by yours, the other snaking around and entangling his fingers in your hair. he came in close and you could smell the spearmint on his breath from the gum he chewed. "i don't think i could ever tell you enough how beautiful you are," he whispered.

had it not been for declan's mouth being dangerously close to your pussy, you would've reeled at his romantic words. you hoped that your shining eyes would convey your appreciation enough. he seemed to have gotten the message and smiled as his hands moved to wrap around your back and undo your bra.

once you were fully bare before them, rupert offered the same vulnerability, moving upwards to take his pants and boxers down.

"fuck," you choked out, both at the sight before you and at declan's tongue licking a long stripe up your core.

rupert smiled and returned to your side again. "like what you see?" he asked, fingers curling under your chin. you nodded enthusiastically, as it became difficult to form words from declan's ministrations between your legs. you couldn't do much else but reach towards rupert's body, hands exploring the muscular build of his chest and shoulders and torso and everywhere. he offered the same, soft hands teasing up your sides and breasts.

declan's mouth was beginning to draw you close to the edge. he was close to making out with your pussy, and you were positive both he and you were soaked. despite the slight burn coming from his thick mustache, your back arched from the bed ever so slightly, offering rupert more surface to explore.

everything came crashing on you all at once, though, as declan's finger slowly entered you, curling up to the spot that made you shut your eyes so tight you saw swirls of color. to add to the torture, rupert's mouth had wrapped around your nipple, tongue teasing and slow.

"fuck!" you shouted. "s-so good. so good, declan." your praise egged him on further and he added a second finger. his tongue didn't let up until your thighs squeezed around his head and you came around his fingers with barely intelligible groans of his name.

reluctantly, he pulled away, leaving your hole clenching around nothing. you were correct about him being soaked. he was a vision of pure sin, nothing else. it had to have been one of the sexiest sights you'd ever see in your life.

"think you can do better than that?" declan asked.

rupert released his mouth with a pop and smirked. "of course i can." ever the gentleman, though, he looked at you first. "ready for me now, love?"

despite your better judgement telling you to breathe first, you nodded eagerly. they switched spots then, declan moving to your side. before he got comfortable, though, he stripped off his own boxers. you whimpered. how could you have possibly gotten this lucky?

rupert situated himself between your thighs and instead of diving in immediately like declan, he teased you with his fingers first. it was torturous, but so methodical, like he wanted to play you like an instrument. for a second, you watched him with lust blown eyes, before averting your attention to declan's hard cock just before you.

you felt greedy receiving all the pleasure from the two men. you looked at declan with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster and he chuckled lightly at your pleading. he inched closer, getting comfortable at your side.

"all yours, darling," he said quietly. you bit your lip and outstretched your hand. declan groaned as your skin met his and he was sure that he had never been so needy for someone before.

rupert's mouth finally fully latched on to your clit and you gasped instantly. your hand continued to stroke declan and he leant down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. his breath tickled your ear and his moans were like music. down below you, rupert's mouth worked expertly on your pussy, which was an entirely different sensation than declan's sloppy, but deliciously overwhelming mouth.

your thighs squeezed around his head, but it only made him that much more eager to please you. his tongue moved up and down, then teased your entrance. your stomach squeezed with the feeling of another orgasm coming on quickly.

"fuck, rupert. please keep going," you moaned out, arching your hips into his face further.

declan could feel himself getting closer too, but he didn't want to finish then and spend time gaining back his energy. he gained the strength to pull your hand away from him and offered a sweet kiss to your palm instead. he craned his neck down to place more kisses on your neck, and once he found a spot that seemed to draw an extra whimper from you, he bit down and sucked.

your moans were surely loud enough to hear across the countryside. it didn't matter though with the way declan and rupert were lavishing endless attention on you. it was the best you were sure you had ever felt. that knot in your stomach only grew tighter and you weren't going to last long.

rupert wasn't letting up, though. in fact, he copied declan's move and slipped two fingers in, curling them upwards over and over. with every pull, that knot tightened and tightened. if he didn't pull away, you were sure you'd pass out. he didn't though.

declan's mouth continued to leave hickeys down your neck and suddenly, waves of pleasure overtook every part of your senses. before you knew it, rupert's chest and torso were soaked.

"had to be such an overachiever and make her squirt?" declan asked, releasing from your neck with a harsh bite. you were breathing heavily, attempting to come down from the intense high you had been feeling. declan and rupert bickered quietly, before realizing that your head had lulled against the pillow.

"seems like i won that one, huh?" rupert asked, moving up the bed again to caress the hairs that had stuck along your forehead.

"oh, please," declan said. his large palm met your cheek and you looked at him with eyes that made him fall only deeper for you. "we haven't even fucked the pretty girl yet."

[siriuslywicked]

The Interview (Chapter 1 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), more warnings added per chapter

Word count: 3.1k

Author’s note: Hello! Long time reader, first time poster! Please be kind but also let me know what you think! Proof read but probs still some mistakes. Not entirely canon, Declan still works for Corinium, Maud has disappeared to god knows where and the rest, well, you’ll have to read to find out :)

Chapter One: The Interview

You were going to positively kill Taggie once you returned to the Cotswolds. Only she, your closest friend since you relocated to the country after finishing your university degree six months ago, could convince you to cut your gap year short in favour of interviewing for a personal assistant job at Corinium. And, for her father, Declan O’Hara, no less.

“Oh, go on!” Taggie had pleaded with you over The Priory’s kitchen counter. “I know you’re getting bored out here. You can’t spend all of your days sitting around here, helping me peel the shite out of prawns for dinner parties.”

“Why not?” You plucked a grape from the fruit platter she’d just finished assembling for an event at Freddie and Valerie Jones’ that evening. “I happen to like spending all my time with you. Even if it does mean peeling shite out of crustaceans.” You eyed your friend with faux suspicion. “Are you getting sick of me already?”

“Of course not! I just think you’d be grand at it, that’s all, what with your journalism degree and all,” Taggie explained. “You’ve heard Daddy when he comes home. Always complaining about the sorts he’s had to interview. Plus, he already knows you. That’s ought to win you some points right there.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be all bad,” you confessed, mulling the opportunity over as you chewed through another handful of grapes. It would look amazing on your resume and you’d have a foot in the door at one of the biggest TV networks in the United Kingdom. Plus, it wouldn’t kill you to have a front row seat to Declan in all his glory every single day. You would never mention it to Taggie, but you fancied her dad a rather handsome sod.

“Say you’ll do it. At the very least, for me?” Taggie bat her thick eyelashes at you.

“Fine,” you eventually relented, a smile cracking over your face at the new possibility. “I’ll go in for an interview, but no promises. And I don’t want you convincing him of me either! I want to get this job on my own merit, okay?”

“Convince Daddy of you? Please, he already adores you.” The sentiment spread fire through your chest. Tag rounded the kitchen bench and grabbed you by the hand. “Now let’s find you an outfit! Mummy ought to have left something halfway suitable behind.”

Taggie nor Declan had said much about their absentee matriarch Maud in the recent weeks since she fled the countryside after yet another explosive argument between her and her husband. You knew better than to ask, but you could tell by the way Taggie’s shoulders sagged at the sight of her mother’s partially empty closet that her absence had a somber affect on her.

You’d only been into the main bedroom of The Priory once before, when the room was overtaken by Maud’s florally perfumes and extravagant evening gowns. This time, however, the space was so intrinsically Declan; all heady cedarwood and whisky and smoke. Shirts with patterns of plaid and tartan as well as numerous odd, natural-coloured socks were peppered across armchairs and vanities, while a stack of memoirs sat on his bedside with a full ashtray perched atop. Your heart swelled, and sunk simultaneously, at the thought of Declan being sat up here alone at night, or early of a morning, thumbing through a book while taking slow drags of his cigarette as he let himself be consumed by a life far different to the one he was currently living.

“How about this?” Taggie’s voice ripped through your daydream, forcing you away from thoughts of her father. You peered at the oatmeal-coloured dress she had retrieved from the closet, surprised that Maud owned something so…brown. You’d always known her to wear jewel tones that complimented her flaming red hair. You shook your head, and thus began a cycle of Taggie suggesting an outfit and you shooting it down. Eventually, you agreed to Taggie swapping out your creature comfort jeans and Wham! T-shirt for an old black pencil skirt that you were convinced had given you hives from the way your legs hadn’t stopped itching since you put it on, as well as a silky fuchsia blouse that stretched a little too tight over your breasts. While your friend had done a good job at assuring you that you’d fit right in at the Corinium offices, you weren’t as convinced.

The receptionists, all in latest season fashion with not a hair out of place, had looked you up and down as soon as you stepped foot in the marble foyer, snickering behind your back about your fashion fauxpas once you’d checked in. Sarah Stratton wasn’t as covert with her judgement. As you sat outside Declan’s office, waiting to be called in, Sarah outwardly guffawed when she spotted you across the floor. You’d met her several times in passing at parties and Corinium events you’d previously attended as Taggie’s plus one, and for the most part, she’d kept her observations to herself. But now, as her red heels clip across the carpet, her gaze set right on you with her matching rouge lips upturned. “I would never have expected to see you here, darling!” she coos down at you, reaching for a strand of hair that has slipped in front of your shoulder. “And playing dress ups, no less!” Another laugh tinkers out of her as she twirls your hair around her finger. “Interviewing for the assistant job with Declan, hm?”

You nod with a taut smile and try not to let her comment about you looking god-awfully out of place get to you. Sarah’s eyes shift to Declan’s closed mahogany door and tuts. “Well, good luck, sweetheart. Seems like you’ll need it with the way the rest of those interviews have panned out.”

“Oh, hop off it, Sarah!” an unmistakingly Irish voice barks from your left. Sarah jolts upright and despite the embarrassment that tinges her cheeks pink, still manages throw a sultry smile in Declan’s direction. Your posture matches her pin-straight stature as you side-eye his office. It hadn’t occurred to you that he wasn’t inside, preparing for your interview the way you had been all morning. You’d crafted your pitch of yourself perfectly, complete with ideas and suggestions for potential guests for Declan’s show, anything to set you apart, make you seem even a fraction less useless that the interviewees that came before you. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Where’s James?” he questions Sarah, alluding to the very common knowledge that she and her co-host James Vereker are having an affair. Declan makes a show of raking through his moustache - god, that moustache - then adds with a smirk, “James and better. Probably not two words that should be in the same sentence, eh?” Sarah’s smile plateaus at that, and that stiff upper-lip culture she was dying to marry into takes its place.

“I’m sure I can make myself busy, Declan. Got a show to prepare and all that. Ciao!” She doesn’t look at you again and you’re grateful that Declan starts to speak before you bumblefuck your way through the silence.

“Ciao,” he repeats once Sarah’s out of earshot . “Doubt that leech of a woman’s ever had a decent carbonara, let alone stepped foot in Italy.” he says, offering you the first genuine smile you’ve received all day. “Let’s get to it, shall we?” He swings open his office door and holds an arm out. “After you, love.”

“Thanks.”

You shuffle into the room ahead of him, completely oblivious to the way Declan’s eyes are trained on your arse in a skirt that’s familiar to him, but he’s unsure how. Right now, however, he doesn’t care, because it fits your body so magnificently, as if it were made for you. He fights to ignore the dull throb beneath his trousers while he watches you sit, the black fabric pushed to its limits as it stretches across the globes of your arse.

God, has she always been so… womanly? Declan wonders, then immediately chastises himself for leering so openly at his daughter’s best friend. Yes, she was a few good years older than Taggie, and always a beautiful girl, but he was glad his middle child had finally made a friend amid the shitshow that was the move to the country and his crumbling marriage to Maud. He didn’t need to muddy the waters with pervacious thoughts about the young lass’ curves. If only she’d shown up to his office in her usual ripped jeans and George Michael-adorned tees.

“Everything okay, Mr O’Hara? Should I sit somewhere else?” you ask when you notice Declan frozen in the doorway with a furrow etched in his brow. You immediately start second-guessing yourself and wonder if this was a bad idea after all. You can only imagine everyone else who lost out on this job before you faced that same expression. He shakes his head at you, at himself, then busies himself with straightening his maroon tie as he moves to sit behind his desk. You shift in your seat, trying to thwart of the lingering itch Maud’s skirt has buried into the back of your thigh. You think if you can wriggle just so, you can ward it off for at least the main portion of the interview. While you think your subtle movements go unnoticed by Declan because he’s perusing your resume - impressive, he’d earlier noted in black pen beside details of your internship at The Times - he’s been clocked onto your behaviour since he’d laid eyes on you across the office. Scared shitless, and he doesn’t half know that Sarah’s sneaky comments only added to it, thanks to the way you’re fidgeting with that damned skirt mere metres away from him. If Declan had any less sense in him, any less dignity, he’d have half the mind to tear it straight from your body. Of course, he decides against it and tries a less barbaric approach to settle your nerves.

“No band t-shirt today?”

Now it’s your turn for your brows to knit together. “I’m sorry?” Declan nudges his head in the general direction of your chest and your chin dips in response to see what he’s referring to. There, your vision is flanked with fluorescent pink and a tinge of flesh where the silky material doesn’t quite stretch to cover your breasts between buttons, and you silently curse Taggie for allowing you to wear something so borderline revealing at her father’s workplace. Plus, you were surprised he’d even noticed your usual attire.

“I thought it was best I grow up a bit in the clothing department if I were to go for a job at Corinium,” you confess. Declan doesn’t miss the way the swell of your breasts arch against your shirt when you take a deep breath and fold your arms across yourself. “But now I’m thinking the bright pink was a mistake.”

You peer across the expansive wooden desk expectantly, and Declan pitches his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t ask me! Fashion, clearly, is not my strong suit. All I know is, according to my girls, leaving the house with ladders in your tights is a big no-no unless you’re a gothic or Winona Ryder.”

You chuckle at that, even more so for knowing that his youngest daughter, Caitlin, would be all for half-shredded tights.

Declan looks coy as he sips from his tea. “But if it counts for anything, you look lovely.”

“Well, I should hope you think so. These are your wife’s clothes, after all.” Your confession elicits a splutter from the otherwise put together man in front of you. Tea spouts from his lips across the desk, marring your resume and any other papers with brown stains. You immediately spring into action, scanning the room for a towel, handkerchief, anything that could mop up the mess.

“Sorry, love,” Declan says quietly, thumping a fist against his chest. “Wrong pipe.”

That’s when you see it, a pocket square the same colour as his tie poking from his breast pocket. Without thinking, you lurch across Declan’s desk and pluck it from its resting place, and begin soaking up the liquid. Declan ought to help you, it’s his mess after all, but he’s frozen at the view you’ve awarded him as you lean over. Your cleavage fights against the V cut of Maud’s blouse and Declan can just make out the ripple of a black lace bra below the neckline. He can’t even imagine Maud in that outfit. Right now it’s all so you. His cock stirs at the sight and he can’t help the pained groan that bubbles up his throat.

“Stop,” he breathes in barely a whisper. You don’t, of course, you can’t hear him, and you keep wiping at the desk, your breasts bouncing with every swipe up and down.

“Christ, girl, stop it!” Declan explodes, bolting up from his chair. Thankfully, the height of his desk hides his growing bulge, but it doesn’t matter. The look of pure fear painting your face has the same effect as a cold shower. You sink back into your seat and begin spluttering apologies, that you shouldn’t have used his pocket square, that you were out of line and another dozen variations of sorry, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Declan mirrors you by returning to his chair, raking a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he states eventually. “I don’t give a dying rats arse about the pocket square. It’s just… I’m a bloody fool just standing here while you clean up after me. I can’t have you doing that. You don’t even work for me.”

Despite the shock of Declan’s outburst, you manage to muster up a bit of cheek in response. “I don’t even work for you yet,” you correct him.

Your confidence juts Declan’s eyebrows to his curly hairline and a grin cracks across his face. “Cocky little thing, aren’t ya? Go on then.. tell me why I should hire you.”

You spend the next twenty minutes talking Declan through your university studies and experience, the tension from earlier already forgotten. When Declan mentions he once worked with your media law professor, the conversation detours into the pair of you sharing stories about your experiences with the man, far too senile and set in his ways to do the younger generation any good. The rest of the interview carries on like that, you and Declan laughing and exchanging anecdotes like two friends in the pub rather than an employer vetting a potential employee. You’re about to pitch the idea of getting Farah Fawcett on Declan’s show when the office door thumps open to reveal Corinium’s managing director, Tony Baddingham, at its entryway.

“O’Hara! If you’re done with giggling like a little schoolgirl down here, we’ve got a production meeting to get to,” he bites, barely glancing in your direction. You don’t miss the roll of Declan’s tawny eyes as he waves Tony off.

“Alright, Tony. Give me five, I’m just finishing up here,” he says before introducing you by name.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Baddingham,” you tell him, standing to shake his hand. He doesn’t properly look at you until your palms meet, and your spine stiffens when his beady eyes rake over you.

“One of Declan’s assistant candidates, I presume?” he wonders aloud.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you’re far prettier than some of the other trolls we’ve had roll through here recently.”

“Tony,” Declan warns. The last thing he wants is another man leering at you like you’re a rite of passage for them.

“Right, well, lovely to meet you,” Tony clasps his other hand over the top of yours, careening his neck so he’s at your eye level. “Hope to see you around here. You’ll definitely be a much-appreciated addition.”

Offering a tight-lipped smile, you reserve the urge bawk in his face. You’ve worked with enough Tony Baddinghams to know his interest in you has nothing to do with your professional ability and everything to do with aesthetics. Fucking men.

For the most part, they sickened you and Declan all the same, but for the latter, he was mainly sickened with himself for wanting to pummel Baddingham for the way he was eye-fucking you. But who was he to talk? He’d been doing the exact same thing just minutes earlier.

When Tony leaves the office, he leaves the door ajar, a reminder that Declan is expected elsewhere. You’re about to ask Declan if Tony is always so…Tony, but he’s already got his briefcase in hand and is ushering you towards the door. “I have to admit, I was surprised when Taggie said you wanted to interview for this position, with you being on a gap year and all,” he confessed as you strolled out onto the office floor. “But you know your stuff. You’re bloody intelligent. Passionate. That’s rare these days.”

“Thank you, Mr O’Hara.”

“Please, call me Declan. Here, and at The Priory. Just Declan,” he smiles and you return it.

“Alright, then. Declan.”

“I’ve got to get going, but I’ll let you know about the job. There’s a couple more interviews on the books in the next few days, I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.”

Declan gives you a curt nod, and you start for the elevator, but you barely make it five steps before he calls you back.

“For what it’s worth, I’d be lucky to have ya here. And like I said, you look great, but I prefer the jeans and t-shirts. They’re much more…you.”

His admission sends your heart thrumming against your ribcage, and red creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks. “Thank you, Mr O’Ha- Declan,” you correct yourself. “Thank you, Declan. See you around.” You turn on your patent black heel, leaving Declan standing there with an image that’s bound to haunt him for nights to come: you in that fucking skirt.

Please let me know if you enjoyed this, and if you’re feeling generous, a lil’ reblog won’t go astray <3

[siriuslywicked]

Getting spit roasted by Rupert Campbell Black and Declan O’Hara STAYS on my brain

Especially if Declan has a daddy kink !!!

[siriuslywicked]

“I’m gonna have ‘ta punish ya’.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by darling anon 🫶🏽 / You and Declan butt heads, and then some…

Set just after the pageant, messed with the timeline a lil i think but I managed to work the punch in another way <3

18+ FANFIC / SMUT GALORE, angsty & lots of swearing. Fairly long and very HEAVY smut, sorry x Declan you horny bastard, we love you. Reader character aged 21.

As always, request what you wanna see in the ask box 💋

“I can’t just stop working for Corinium, Declan. You cannot just waltz into my life and expect me to give everything up for you!” You shout, feeling rage seep through your veins. Declan and Rupert have been cooking up a ridiculous idea within an hour, desperate to overthrow Baddingham’s Machiavellian reign of television. “They have my balls in a fuckin’ vice, my love,”

“No, they HAVEN’T! You have thrown a ridiculous temper tantrum, on television, because you are so determined to get your own way because you’re a selfish, stubborn bastard.” You interject, slamming your reddened palms on the dinner table, face contorting in fury. “They want me to sell my fuckin’ soul, babe. To sit and judge these fuckin’ superficial pageants whilst that cunt Vereker gets MY spot on my fuckin’ show.” The Irishman bellows, leaning across the table and pointing his finger dangerously close to your face. Declan O’Hara is fucking scary when he’s angry, but my God is he sexy.

Rupert leans against the counter top, remaining silent in embarrassment. It was certainly better for everyone that way. Steaming with rage, you sit back in your seat, stray hairs sticking to the beading sweat on your forehead. “You can’t keep behaving like this, Declan. Like a fucking child.” You tut, avoiding eye contact with him. Declan frustratedly rakes a hand through his slicked hair before pouring himself an intoxicatingly large unit of whiskey. “I’m sure you can coax Tony into some amicable solution. It’s blatant he wants to fuck you. He would do anything for someone willing to open their legs for him.” Rupert pipes up and gestures towards you, cigarette smoke creating an ashy veil across his face. An excruciating silence ensued. Your eyes widened in absolute horror — Declan would certainly not take kindly to this joke. Rupert should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“You fucking what?” Declan asked him, walking towards him slowly, eyes frenzied with wrath. “Calm down, Declan, it was just a joke.” Rupert chuckled, offering his hands up in defeat. “What did ya’ fuckin’ say?” Declan asked again, containing to walk towards him until they were nose-to-nose. Another incredibly painful silence— even Rupert didn’t dare speak. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth to speak but Declan swung at him, landing a brutal punch with a wet smack. “DECLAN.” You bellow, grabbing his muscular arm and pulling him towards you. “Get out, Rupert. I’m so sorry, but just go home.” You shake your hands frantically as Rupert pulls himself from the floor and ushers himself out, clutching his face in agony.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” You scream, voice croaking under the pressure. You push Declan away from you as soon as you hear the front door click. “Ya’ t’ink I’m gonna let him talk about ‘ya like ‘dat? Talk about ‘ya spreadin’ ya’ legs for tha’ CUNT Tony?” Declan matches your enraged tone, pacing around the kitchen table but maintaining eye contact with you. You couldn’t reply to this. He was wildly protective of you — often infuriatingly so, but he could barely stand to see another man so much as look at you. Rupert’s joke was way too far.

“My job is turnin’ me into a fuckin’ laughin’ stock, you t’ink I’m a joke and you’re wavin’ your fuckin’ arse around in front of Tony.” He howled again, enraging himself with his own words. “Oh, fuck off Declan.” You spit, pushing yourself out of your chair and beginning to abandon the kitchen. “Don’t walk away from me.” He tuts, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You scream and the words can barely leave your mouth — a pathetic mixture of anger and despair. “I am fucking sick of you!” You immediately regret the words as Declan’s top lip curls in vexation. Oh fuck.

•

He hurtles towards you, pushing you towards the wall and almost taking you off of your feet. You close an eye, internally preparing yourself for the crescendo of noise he is about to create. Instead, he collides his lips onto yours, grunting in annoyance as his tongue pushes his way into your mouth. Feeling yourself melt under his touch, Declan’s hand rides under your blouse, ripping it off from the inside and exposing your bare chest — perky breasts wobbling with the force and nipples hard from arousal. The bristles of his moustache send a quiver down your spine as he kisses down your chest before taking your left nipple into his mouth: swirling around the pink bud and sucking it softly. A stifled whimper escapes your lift as you lift your hand to his trousers, rubbing across his hardening bulge.

“Bend over.” Declan demands, pulling away from you and pushing you gently towards the dining table. Hesitantly, you do as you’re told and bend over the table, skirt riding up your thighs. Not that it matters too much, as it was promptly yanked down, exposing your bare arse to the man that owned it. Running his rough hand across the right cheek, Declan smacked it firmly, the harsh noise of skin on skin reverberating across the room. “Ya’ do know I’m gonna have ta’ punish ya’.” He growled, readying his hand for another firm smack. “Mhm hmm.” You whisper, nodding your head, consenting softly. Another unyielding smack made you yelp with aching pressure — a reddened hand print beginning to take form. “Oh fuck.” He groaned, lowering himself to your level and biting firmly into your arse, pleasure taking control of his entire conscience. You keep your eyes firmly pressed shut, awaiting the next smack. Instead, you chomp down on your lip as you hear Declan’s zipper, and the subsequent sound of his trousers dropping to the ground.

“Do ya’ want it?” The Irishman questioned, teasing your slick entrance with the head of his painfully erect cock. You could feel yourself practically dripping as he placed a firm hand onto your waist. “Yes…” You breathlessly moan, pushing yourself towards him, aching to feel his girth inside you. “Yes, what?” He growled. “Yes… Daddy.” You whimper once more, desperation overtaking you.

“Good girl.” Declan praised, and pushed the full length of his cock into you, but thrusted slowly in and out. “Oh, fuck.” You wail, as the walls of your vagina grip him like a vice, already aching with the girth of his dick. “Ya’ like that? Do I feel good stretchin’ ya’ out?” He asks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and increasing his tempo with every wet smack of your arse against his pelvis. Eyes rolling back in ecstasy, teeth firmly planted into your bottom lip, mind fuzzy — you must definitely cannot muster a reply. “Tell me, girl. Tell me how good I feel inside ya’.” He asks again, hand reaching under to stroke your clit, coaxing you even closer to orgasm. Declan lolled his head back, pumping harder inside you as his fingers worked their rugged magic. “So fucking good, Daddy.” You manage to muster a reply.

“Ya’ so fuckin’ wet. Wrapped around my cock. Look at ya’ bouncin’ on my dick like a good fuckin’ whore.” Your lover groaned under your heat as he pounded into you, but the tension twisting inside your stomach was too much to bare. “Dec..Declan, I’m gonna…” You begin, but you feel him pull out in preparation.

The repetitive pounding of his enlarged cock on your g-spot left you in a dazed mess as you squirted onto the kitchen floor, legs trembling insanely throughout your orgasm. Declan watched the obscene mess he’d created with a terrible smirk on his face, full of adoration. “Good girl,” He affirmed again, “Look at the mess you’ve made for Daddy. Fuckin’ good girl.” He thrusted into you again, tempo increasing, hungry for his own release. “Are ya’ gonna let me cum inside ya?’ He asked, but he needn’t. You were already pleading with him to fill you with his seed. You needed to feel his hot, sweet cum inside of you.

“Please. I need it, Daddy. Please fill me up.” You begged, feeling Declan’s cock twitching inside you. The gratifying groans leaving his mouth prompted you to reach under your legs and stroke his cum-filled balls, luring him to ecstasy. “Fuck. Get ready, princess. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

Bracing yourself to feel his warmth inside you, you kept your hands wrapped round his balls whilst pushing your arse into him, goading him to go faster. Spurts of hot cum covered the walls of your pussy, each rope accompanied with a pleasurable groan — absolute music to your ears. “Ahh, fuck.” Declan murmured, pulling his cock from your pussy and pausing for a moment to watch a droplet of his seed drip from your walls.

“Well done, my girl. You’ve fuckin’ milked me dry.” He chuckled to himself, slapping your arse once more playfully and huffing to himself.