#declan o��hara

[luvvyouforever]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[venusstorm]

𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐫

Declan O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Declan's assistant is hurt and confused by his sudden departure from Corinium. Upon a visit to his home, feelings unfold and truths become known.

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, pet names, daddy kink, spit kink, bathtub sex, breeding, mentions of reader having hair, claw marks, and bruises, finger fucking, choking, gagging, kissing, spanking, adultery

w/c: 3393

‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵

"Where the hell is Declan!" You burst through the doors of the O'Hara household, loud and furious. You didn't buy the "He’s sick" claim for a moment, no matter how often Baddingham kept spewing the lie out of his mouth. And when you questioned his truthfulness, he sent you down the hall to Vereker's office, alerting you that you would no longer be Declan’s assistant. 

But you'd pull every last strand of hair from your head if you had to spend another second working for that asshole. And when that's gone, you'd start on your legs and then your arms, and perhaps a few eyelashes too. You ignored Tony's shouts as you left the office building searching for your true boss.

Which led you speeding through town, barreling through the countryside until you arrived at Declan’s grand estate. You banged on the door and when you were met with silence, your hands wrapped around the handle, pleasantly surprised when the door opened wide. 

Without hesitation, you stride through the foyer and march up the staircase. The long corridor witnessed you shout his name, scanning every room until you find his office. The doors cracked open which obviously means he’s welcoming you right in. 

"Declan! I swear to–" but his chair sits empty. A slew of papers and empty liquor bottles covered the surface. You squint your eyes in pure annoyance. If he's the reason you spend the rest of your week drowning out Verekers moans by fiddling your ears and banging your head against the desk, then he's in for it.

You sigh heavily as you turn around, heading for your next best guess. You envisioned him sneaking out drunkenly to a pub. Probably annoying the hell out of the bartenders because after his third drink, the man can’t shut the hell up. Or perhaps he's thrown himself into the woods to get eaten by wolves. You knew Declan, and when he hit rock bottom he crashed hard.

"That little shite doesn't know a goddamn thing."

The slurred words of Declan O'Hara ring through your ears. Like a siren call, you follow. He curses a fit of words, not once taking a breather. You follow the crude sounds until you reach another door. You don't bother knocking, he's far past the courtesy. 

"Found me," he slurs.

"Oh, for fucks sake, Declan!" You shield your eyes from the obscene view. He sits in a bathtub, legs sprawled open with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. A bottle of beer is held tightly in his grasp and he doesn't seem to have any plans to let go of it.

"I didn't tell you to come in here" he grumbles. "Heard yer stomps from a mile away."

"Well, I was worried. And also pissed you left me with that blonde-haired devil. He fucks like a rabbit and not in a good way. Wouldn't be surprised if he catches a damn itch."

Declan scoffs. "He’s already infested."

Your hands remain shielding your vision, leaving you blind to the way he stares off into space, taking the final swig of his drink and muttering beneath his breath. 

"Just come back please." You sigh.

The sound of glass clanking and rolling to the ground echoed around the bathroom. You jump from the sudden noise, tightening your hand around your vision. He rolls his eyes while delivering a mocking laugh.

"Hand me another bottle o'er there and I'll consider."

You stand firmly, scowling at his impossible behavior. 

“Standin’ there won’t help, darlin’. Don’t know why you’re tryin’.” He exhales a cloud of smoke, the scent wafting towards your nose and meshing with the woodland scent of his bath soap. 

“Just tell me where to walk” you quip. 

Declan’s eyes dart towards you, his lips curling into an amused grin. “Y'might need to be able to see for that.”

You shake your head in defiance, “Just tell me where to walk.”

He’s no longer interested in the shitty beer he kept hidden in the bathroom. Instead, he focuses on how easily you fall into line for him. 

"Go to the right."

You follow his command, stepping to the right without hesitation. 

"Now go straight about five steps."  You don’t question his directions, placing your full trust in his judgment. 

"Yes, Sir." You do as you’re told, taking five small steps and pausing. "Now what?"

He groans softly at your admission, his length stirring as you patiently wait for his next directions. Your tone unleashed fantasies he kept hidden within the depths of his mind and if you stayed for another moment, he’d happily release every last one. 

There's a moment of silence before he continues. "To the right once more and you've got it."

You blindly reach your hands outward but defeatedly grasp open air. "Declan? I don't feel it."

"Bend down a little, it's on the second shelf."

His eyes widen as the hilt of your skirt rises against your ass, revealing the lace garters decorating your legs. He takes a long drag, watching shamelessly as you shimmy to adjust the length, struggling to do so single-handedly.

Finally, you touch the slim neck of a glass bottle. "Oh! I found it!" You giggle excitedly.

Declan smirks. "Atta girl."

If you weren't too busy shielding your eyes from the outside world, you'd notice the way Declan scans your body. His gaze dropped from your face to the white blouse you wore. Half the buttons were undone but it wasn't like you could check. You stood in front of him like a temptress, all precaution flying out the window the moment he heard your soft laughter.

"Now how do I get back?"

He laughs breathlessly. "Same way you came."

"Uh okay." You attempt to retrace your steps. Mouthing his previous directions aloud until you're semi-close to the door.

"Now walk forward a few steps" he ushers.

You nod, walking carefully toward the sound of his voice. His eyebrows furrow with mischief as you approach, your steps growing wider and far too close to the edge.

The next sequence of events occurs in a blur. You tumble forward and the water splashes over the edge, coating the tiled floors as you fall into the bathtub. You squeal as the hot water warms your body, soaking your attire and revealing everything underneath to Declan's eyes.

"Asshole!" You shout. You attempt to stand only to wind up slipping and falling right back into place.

He presses his cigarette butt against an ashtray before grabbing your arms. He steadies you, dragging your body up against his with ease.

"And that's why we don't walk with our eyes closed."

"You didn't tell me to stop!" You're so enthralled in fury and he can't help but to revel in it. He can only smile as you curse, attempting once again to stand before accepting defeat.

"How much goddamn soap did you put in here!" You shake your head with bitter laughter. You lay back against him, your heart racing out of your chest as his arms find themselves on your waist.

An evident shift in mood affects the room. "Why won't you look at me?" He questions.

"Simple. You piss me off."

You shut your eyes even tighter, ignoring the way his length ghosted across your stomach. His chest hair was surprisingly soft, pillowing your head and causing your heart to beat a skip faster. You stay quiet as his hands drift away from your waist and towards your thighs, forcefully gripping them and dragging you closer to him.

"Then why'd you come here?" He retorts rather quickly.

"Tony. I'm sick of being ordered around by him."

Declan hums. "You didn't seem to have a problem taking orders a few seconds ago."

You whimper as he palms your ass, kneading it roughly. You place your hands against his chest, fighting the desire to give in.

“That’s different. I was helping a friend.”

His lips broaden into a smile at your select choice of word. “Friend?”

“Yes, Delcan. You’re my friend but clearly you could care less.”

He doesn't miss the bitterness in your tone. There was a hint of resentment that clouded your features. He saw it in the way you turned your head further away, limbs tensing against his touch.

"I care," he reassures.

"But you left me.” The vulnerable words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. “You caused complete chaos and rightfully so but you left without a word. I know I’m your assistant but I care about you, Declan. You always said we’d get out of that shitshow together and you left me.”

Truthfully, you grew attached to him, infatuated with a man whose brain met the greatness of his kindness. An unrequited love. You knew it was impossible for him to feel the same way but witnessing him leave without a word solidified your fears. You were merely his subordinate and nothing more. 

Your disappointment reaches your tear ducts and unshed tears of despair begin to descend your cheeks. Declan doesn't hesitate to wipe them away, his thumbs swiping across your skin in comforting movements. 

"There ya' go, darlin'. It's okay to be upset. I deserve it."

“Did you forget about me that quickly? You hadn’t even called.” You burrow your head into the crevice of his arm, still unwilling to face him. 

Forget? 

How could he forget when thoughts of you ran rampant in his head? He wasn’t one to take orders but anything you said rendered him defenseless. Despite being your superior it often felt as if he was learning from you. He’d do whatever you wanted without question. 

He spent nights thinking of you, his hand wrapped around his aching size as he dared not to wake his sleeping wife. Muffling his moans, he thought of how you’d look in her place. How he’d tilt your head backward, kissing you languidly while pushing past your folds. He envisioned your sensual tone calling out his name, begging him to push harder, deeper, to which he’d obey. Following your every command because that’s all he craved to do. Gritting his teeth, clenching the satin sheets until he dreamt of filling you with his seed, no longer caring if his wife heard him murmur your name. 

“I could never forget you.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that shutters your core. 

Slowly you break free from your darkened corner, at last meeting his heated gaze. He stares at you with pure desire, eyes dark and glimmering with something farther than lust.

You take in his naked form, staring at the dark hair that danced down his stomach and covered his shaft. Water dripped from his hair, his typically sleek curls jostled and free. You couldn’t see what lay beneath his waist but you felt his heaviness against your stomach, throbbing with unmet need.

“You’re drunk” you rebuttal weakly. 

He shakes his head, “M’perfectly fine.” He sobered the moment reality hit that your body was laid against his. 

He waits for your next argument but it never arrives. The two of you stare in silence, subdued desires coming to light. Slowly you begin unbuttoning your blouse, stripping the wet cloth from your shoulders and tossing it onto the mat. Declan assists you wordlessly, his hands pulling down your skirt before reaching to unclasp your bra. He takes in this moment. Kissing your skin every time another item is removed until you sit exposed before him.

His hand caresses the back of your head, drawing you close enough for your lips to graze. “Tell me to stop and I will.” 

You nod, stopping the furthest thing from your mind. 

“I need words, darlin’. Are you okay with this?”

“I’m okay, Declan. Just…” Your brain turns into a foggy haze as you search for what you’d like to say. He grips your jaw, tilting it upwards to better meet your gaze. 

“Just, what? It’s okay. I won’t be mad.” 

You can’t seem to formulate the words to describe how you felt. His touch overwhelmed you in the best way possible. The fresh scent of his skin drowned your senses and feeling your most intimate parts glide against him took the entirety of your focus. 

“I just need you.” Your soft tone stirs something animalistic inside of him. Without another wasted second his lips meet yours. It starts impulsively rabid, his tongue wrapping around yours while he pushes your head further into him. He groans into your mouth, eyelids fluttering closed as he gets lost in your taste. But then he goes slower, savoring the way your hips begin to grind into him as your kiss grows messy. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth until he drags his lips back over them.

Calling him desperate would be an understatement.

He pulls away regretfully, brushing the pads of his thumbs over your lips to clean his mess. You whine from the loss of connection, lips still parted and demanding him for more. 

Declan chuckles, granting your wish and delving into your mouth once more. Your hips rock against him, willing his length to rise. The water sloshes back and forth as you grind against his stomach, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest eagerly. Your hand rests against his unshorn chest hair, envisioning gliding your wet cunt over it until he’s drenched. 

“That’s it, darlin’. Use me.” He moans into your mouth, uncaring of how loud he was being.

“Hurts” you whimper. He pulls away once again, his hands finding yours beneath the water and directing them towards your heat. You jolt as his fingers graze your aching clit, “This what hurts, baby?” he hums. You nod, directing his fingers toward your puffy folds. 

He tsks, “I think that’s your job, darlin’.” You hadn’t quite understood what he meant until you felt him direct your fingers inside yourself. Your face contorts with pleasure as you shove them inside without question, using his chest as leverage while you ride. Declan watches you carefully before sliding his fingers back against your clit, pressing it roughly.

“Your pretty button’s so swollen. Just wanna make it feel better.” He rubs small circles around your clit, slapping it roughly when he notices your eyes rolling backward.

“Look at me when you play with your pretty cunt.” Declan ignores the way his cock jolts against his skin, desperate to be buried inside of you. All he cared about at this moment was your pleasure, physically reassuring your place in his world. 

“M’gonna cum” you whine.  

You say his name continuously as he continues to toy with your clit, tugging and slapping it until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Declan wraps you in a confining hug as you shake against him, his hands rubbing the back of your neck as he talks you through your orgasm. You nuzzle into his chest, allowing his huge frame to provide you comfort. “D-” Your tongue teeters on the line of murmuring a word you knew you mustn’t say.

“Did so good for me, baby. That’s it, I’ve got you. Just ride it out, I’m right here for you.”

But your mind slips and the word comes flowing from your lips. “Daddy.” It was hardly above a whisper but Declan caught it nonetheless. He watches you curl into him, a level of trust in your actions that he knew he had to maintain forever. 

You’re shaken from your haze as Declan taps his length against your cunt, a newfound look of pure hunger darkening his gaze. 

Pre-cum drips down his length, the water washing away any evidence of his sin. He rubs his reddened tip against your folds, groaning loudly as you spread your thighs wider for him. 

He drags you onto his cock, holding you upwards as you take his size. Your moans blend into one continuous sound as he fills you, stretching your walls as you claw at his back. 

“C’mon baby, know you can take more, can you do that for me?”

You shiver as you allow yourself to bottom out against him, muffling a scream as he breaches you entirely. His eyes roll as he embraces your warmth, his arousal growing heavier. He stares down at where the two of you connect, your walls choking his cock and leaking downwards.

A wave of adoration washes over him before it becomes tainted with angry realizations. You sat beneath him, his perfect match. Someone who balanced him, calmed him, put up with him. And yet, he’s had to push his feelings away in the name of not causing a stir. 

He’s angry that he’s trapped in a loveless marriage riddled with infidelity and fueled by his income. Trapped in this goddamn house that he could care less about. Angry that Tony dangled his career in front of him like a chew toy. And most of all he was livid that you weren’t the one sleeping next to him every night. 

Declan shoves his hips forward, bouncing you on his length. “So fucking tight” he grits through his teeth. You clench around him, your wetness welcoming him even further. The noises were obscene, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as your pussy squelched. He revels in it, fingers finding your sweet lips to shove them in between.

You witness the furrow in his eyebrows and undoubtable frustration. You meet his gaze, lips wrapping around his fingers and sucking. You take them deeper until they’re practically shoved down your throat. 

“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking slut. You like this, don’t you? Bet you wish you were choking down my cock instead.”

“Uh huh,” you whine. You’d thought about it all the time. When he’d arrive to work angry, sitting at his desk with a pout. How you’d wanted to sink to your knees beneath him, hiding beneath his desk while you slid him down your throat. Muffling your gags as he answered the phone while stroking your hair.

He hooks into your cheek, widening your mouth so he can spit into it. He taps you, commanding you to swallow to which you happily oblige. You shake against him, tits bouncing freely. He grips onto them, slapping your sensitive nipples until they pebble in his fingertips. 

“How does it feel, baby? You like being stretched out? Can barely keep your eyes open, can you?”

Pressing against your womb, Declan feels his length shatter your walls. He watches you fall into his broad chest, clutching onto his back while he holds you closely. 

“Feels so good, daddy.” You whimper. 

“That’s right, baby. Daddy’s got you. Gonna be my little cock whore amn’t ya? Surprised your little cunt could even fit. Just shows you're perfect for me, hm?”

“M’hm, perfect” you repeat.

He knows you're close, he feels it when your nails dig into his skin. Surely leaving marks that he wouldn’t feel the need to hide. 

“You need to cum, don’t you, baby? It’s okay, nobody’s here. Just us. Let go for me, let Daddy feel you.” His pace becomes slower, pounding into you with deep thrusts.

Your vision blurs as you reach your high, shouting Declan’s name as you gush around him. He follows suit, your pulsating walls unleashing his heavy orgasm. He doesn’t relent as he shoots his load into you, locking you down as he fills you with his seed. He could care less about the consequences, nothing else mattered at the moment.

He captures your lips in his, taking short breaths to whisper how good you were for him. He suckles on your collarbone, leaving definite bruises to match the claw marks you undoubtedly left on his back. 

“Let’s get you dry” he murmurs. 

You nod, too tired to reply or move. Declan slides out of you, saddened by the loss of connection. He carries you out of the bathtub, his spend dripping from your pussy and leaking onto his leg. He clenches his jaw, fighting the desire to fuck it right back into you.

He wraps you in a towel, drying your skin before taking you into his bedroom. He sits you on the bed while he scourers his closet for something you could wear. Landing on an old college shirt that he refused to throw out. 

As he slides it onto your body, he presses his lips against your forehead. A million words silently transcribe between the two of you. He’s unsure of what the future holds but he’s certain that you belong in his.

[jam3sacaster]

“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.

[richonnefan50]

Rivals wanting me to buy Rupert being the best looking guy on the show when Declan and his son are right there very unserious .

[enchantzz]

Crappy quality, but I had to 😈

Aidan Turner ~ Declan O Hara

Rivals

[awitchatdinner]

Sooner or later, it all comes crashing down: Rivals Episode 8

Every time I see James Vereker, I want to punch him so hard. Such a smug idiot! Maud please, pack your load and go. Leave Declan and go find yourself a jobless man who would sit down with you all day doing fuck all. So James has been sexing Sarah raw? In the 80s?! During the AIDS epidemic?! Stress Anyush GIFfrom Stress GIFs Freddie and Lizzie finally planned to do something but Lizzie…

[softkostyk]

Apparently AO3 needs to give the collection approval before they can post it , but I’m impatient, so here’s my Angelblack one shot set about a week after 1x08 (the Rupert/Cameron issue is not discussed, but I imagined a scenario on which it was somehow dealt with).

anxious angel I’ll wrap you in heart shaped bubble wrap so you won’t get hurt

“Daddy is going to murder you,” Taggie said with a light shake of the head, strawberry blonde hair catching the early morning sunlight just outside the Priory. Rupert had started visiting at times where Declan was less likely to see him and Taggie alone–and he had quickly grown rather tired of it. He didn’t want his feelings for Taggie to be a secret. He didn’t think he’d been doing that good of a job at hiding them, anyway.

“I very much doubt that,” said Rupert with a tilt of the head. “Blood is a nuisance to clean off tapestry.”

Taggie looked up at him with a raised eyebrow that Rupert knew exactly translated to “Be serious”.

“Angel,” he started again, reaching to touch her shoulders. “He will be pissed. I can agree on that. He will try to pummel my face with his fists. But he will also have to surrender, eventually.”

“Declan O’ Hara doesn’t surrender,” Taggie sighed. “You saw his reaction to those photos in the car–and we weren’t doing anything.”

“You can make your own decisions,” Rupert provided unhelpfully.

“Yes, but I am still afraid. I don’t want to lose my dad. And I’m sure you don’t want to lose your friend.”

How typical of Taggie, hitting the target with all the precision of a professional archer. Of course Rupert didn’t want to lose Declan’s friendship. Hell, his only true (human) friend had been Lizzie for so long, he’d grown quite addicted to being able to rely on more than one person. He’d always known it was dangerous���just as befriending, and developing feelings for Taggie had been.

But there was no going back, was it? He meant what he told her. He hadn’t realized just how much harder it had become, something as simple as breathing, before he met her. Watching her with someone else felt like being stabbed in the chest by a thousand fireplace pokers. And for perhaps the first time in his life, being with someone else felt like true betrayal; to Taggie, and to himself. He wanted to be the man she thought he could be. He wanted it desperately. And Declan would have to just bloody deal with it.

***

Taggie entered the kitchen first, eyeing her father warily as he absentmindedly puffed on a cigarette, the day’s newspaper spread across one bent knee.

“Dad,” Taggie made herself say. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“I’m all ears, love,” he said without taking his eyes off the paper. Taggie stopped fidgeting with the sleeve of her jumper.

Rupert slowly walked into the room, his usual easy gate, a small, if tight smile on his lips.

That caught Declan’s attention.

“What are you doing here? The meeting is in a few hours,” he said, his mustache twitching in a curious smile.

Taggie glanced at Rupert, who in turn glanced at her.

“I wish I could say I am sorry, Declan,” he said as he took hold of Taggie’s hand. Her heart was beating rabbit-fast against her ribcage.

Her dad’s smile quickly evaporated as his brown eyes moved to Taggie and Rupert’s joined hands.

“No,” he said. One short, inescapable word.

“Declan,” Rupert started, but he got up, the chair scraping horribly against the tiled floor.

“Again? Fucking again? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Daddy, please–”

“Your room, Tag. Now.”

“I’m not a child! I will not be banished to my room when the conversation is about me, Dad!” She held tight onto Rupert’s rough palm, gripped onto his fingers for dear life. She would not back down, and she would not be quiet.

“You get your hands off her in the next two seconds, or I’ll break your fucking nose, Campbell,” her dad said, ignoring her entirely.

“Fine,” Rupert said, and Taggie’s head was already whipping towards him, but Rupert’s encouraging nod made her loosen her grip on his hand. “See?” He added, raising both palms in a placating gesture.

“What the fuck did you do to her, mmh?”

“I didn’t do anything to her,” Rupert said ruefully. “It was one kiss, Declan. Maybe two–”

But her dad was already crushing Rupert’s freshly pressed shirt in his fists and slamming him against the nearest cabinet, its content rattling wildly.

“Dad!”

“You think I won’t kill you? Are you testing me?” He said, eyes ablaze as Rupert gritted his teeth, clearly not wanting to hit back.

“I need you to listen to me–”

“Shut the fuck up!” Declan roared. “You are not going to be shagging my daughter, do you understand? She will not be a bloody notch in your belt!”

“Do you remember when you interviewed me?” Rupert asked after her dad smashed him against the fridge, this time. Taggie was torn between screaming and crying.

“I should have fucking ruined you when I had the–”

“You asked me if I’d ever been in love!” Rupert shouted, and her dad went dreadfully still. Rupert took a breath and then said, “I said I hadn’t. And I thought I hadn’t–I didn’t think I could.”

He looked over at Taggie over her father’s shoulder, and her lips parted in surprise.

“I can apologise for hurting you, Declan. But I cannot apologise for the way I feel about Taggie.”

Taggie wanted to grab his father’s shoulders and pull him away from Rupert, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Taggie had never been good with words–which her mother never allowed her to forget–but in that moment, she thought there weren’t any words that would suffice to explain the rumbling in her chest, the tightness in ehr throat.

Her father kept one arm against Rupert’s neck as he turned to look at her. There was something complicated in his expression–sad, almost. Taggie couldn’t bear it.

“He’s going to hurt you,” he said, as if it were obvious. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“So which is it? I’m a stupid child, but he’s not good enough?”

“I never called you that,” he hissed.

Taggie shook her head, expelling a shaky breath. “If I get hurt, then I get hurt.”

Her dad’s dark eyebrows joined on his forehead. Rupert’s eyes were only for her–even when he was risking being beaten half to death.

“I did everything right. I went out with Sebastian. I tried, and I couldn’t do it. I don’t want to be unhappy for the sake of p–p–propriety. I’ve been doing everything I can to keep everyone happy, but that’s it, daddy. I want to be happy, too. I think I deserve it.”

Her dad seemed, impossibly, lost. Until a few days ago she’d never seen him at a loss for words–and now, twice in the span of days. First when her mother left for London, and now.

“He is twice your age, Tag,” he said then, helplessly.

“There’s nothing I can do about that,” she shrugged, pressing her lips together.

He let go of Rupert then, though Taggie suspected it had less to do with him not wanting to hurt the man anymore, and more with wanting to give her his full attention, if only this once. Rupert released a quiet breath, straightening. She hoped he wouldn’t be stupid enough to talk.

“He beds a different woman every other day. He will let you down, Tag. Men like him always do.” He fished in his pocket to grab another cigarette, and Taggie wordlessly passed him the matchsticks box.

“Maybe. Maybe things can be different.” She could never know it for sure, but she believed in Rupert. She felt it, somewhere deep inside her, that he could be who she needed him to be. And most importantly, that he wanted to.

“Things are different,” Rupert said quietly. Her dad grimaced around the cigarette, slowly turning to face Rupert once more.

“Say I give you my blessing–which I will not. How are you going to protect her, mmh? The press would get wind of it soon enough. Brand her as your plaything.” He spit out the last word, and Taggie frowned at the prospect.

“I will do whatever is necessary. I won’t let anyone speak ill of Taggie, and if they do, they’ll find themselves jobless the day after. You know I can do that.”

Taggie bit on her lower lip; she didn’t think she was terribly fragile, and she had been trying hard not to care about what others might think of her. But the sheer protectiveness in Rupert’s tone warmed her from the inside out, and she’d be lying if she didn’t say it made her feel safe, to know he would be in her corner, no matter what.

“And if I ban her from seeing you? If I kick her out when she doesn’t?”

Taggie shook her head, her stomach dropping as she called for her dad, but Rupert said, “I don’t think you would do that. But if you do, she has a place to stay.”

“Remember when I interviewed you?” Her dad added after an eternity, mocking Rupert’s question from a few minutes before. “I lied. I was very much not bluffing–and I can still hurt you with what I have.”

Rupert’s eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised–but he shouldn’t have been. Taggie had hoped that was all in the past, but she knew her father too well to think he didn’t have some cards left to play. Rupert hung his head, and Taggie trembled, afraid he would just accept defeat.

“Send it to The Scorpion, then.”

Taggie’s breath wooshed out of her, and Declan stilled.

“Whatever it is, it cannot possibly hurt more than giving Taggie up.”

Taggie knew she had to exercise some self restraint if she didn’t want to be calling an ambulance up at the Priory for the second time, but she couldn’t stop herself from walking past her dad and to Rupert’s side. He gave her a small smile, and she smiled right back.

When she turned, her dad’s cigarette was a stub between his fingers. He looked between the two of them, and so much was swirling in his eyes–disappointment, worry, hurt. Taggie didn’t know what resignation looked like on Declan O’ Hara’s features, but she thought she might be glimpsing something like it now.

“Venturer needs your money,” he said. “I don’t like it. I don’t like that you are doing this to me. If you want to stay, you’ll have to stay out of my sight.”

Rupert nodded, and some part of Taggie felt selfish for forcing him to give up something Ruper had quite literally everything riding on. But the other part of her, the part that was louder and braver, couldn’t help but relish in the knowledge she was more important to him than Venturer. Than her dad’s friendship. Than, potentially, his reputation.

“Alright,” Rupert said, his knuckles brushing Taggie’s. He gave her a long look, and Taggie wanted to kiss him, but there would be many more chances to do just that. Rupert left, Declan trembling with restrained rage and without sparing him a glance.

“Daddy,” Taggie breathed.

He shook his head, raising one hand to silence her, and stormed out of the room.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She squeezed them shut, held out for the nearest chair to steady her. She didn’t want her dad to hate her, to think her naive, to stop talking to her.

But, in truth, she was also relieved.

Caitlin would support her–Patrick too, maybe. And Rupert would be there. She was choosing herself, for the very first time, and it filled her with such potent light, she promised herself she would never go back to the shadows.

***

“I’m sorry,” Taggie told Rupert that evening as they walked, hand in hand, down the sloping path that took them from Lizzie’s house to the Priory. She’d invited Rupert for tea, and Taggie had joined them as soon as she could get there. Lizzie had been mildly surprised–more about Taggie, than about Rupert. He appreciated Lizzie speaking her mind, openly telling Tag to be careful, and warning him not to screw things up.

“What about?” Rupert asked.

“Dad,” she said simpy. “Working with him is going to be a nightmare.”

Rupert chuckled, his thumb drawing soothing motions across Taggie’s. He felt her shiver slightly, and he pressed his shoulder to hers. “You know I love a challenge.”

“You can pretend it doesn’t hurt, but I know it does.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then said a simple, “Yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

He turned to her, and the feeble orange light from the setting sun hit her blue eyes. He’d never seen anything more lovely. “Not one bit.”

Taggie laughed, for the first time today, and Rupert smiled back. He was so unabashedly happy to see her happy–to know that for all the people he’d hurt, there was one person in the world he would never. Could never. It wasn’t redemption, but it was real. His chest stirred with affection too strong to be contained, and they stopped in the street as he pulled her close, splaying his fingers on her waist. She smiled up at him again. He felt as if he’d been touched by the sun for the very first time.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said. Taggie whispered an acnowledgement, eyes bright.

So he did.

He held her close as their lips touched, her mouth tasting faintly of the chocolate she had at Lizzie’s. Her soft hands came up to his face, caressing him gently, in a way no one ever had before. They detached, briefly, and though it’d been a chaste enough kiss, Rupert had to stop to get back his breath.

“You really are an angel,” he said.

“Angels look over people,” she replied. “Keep them safe.”

Rupert nodded. “I’m no angel. But I’ll do the same for you.”

Taggie stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss at the corner of his mouth, Rupert’s eyes fluttering closed.

“I know,” she said, putting her hand in the crook of Rupert’s arm.

And he walked her home.

[willowcrowley]

Finished 8th ep. and omyGod

is he dead ?

Few things I'd like to say (spoilers ahead)

-> couldn't help but feel bad for Tony during the sequence he realises about Cameron and Rupert (the dog part he sees on tv). He is an asshole but yeah that what happens when David Tennant plays an asshole, you can't help seeing his puppy eyes and feel a bit sympathetic towards him.

-> the one relationship I like of Rupert is the one between him and Lizzie. (He is having a decent character development still not a fan of him/Taggie)

-> Cameron that was a beautiful swing you made !

-> So Tony lost his franchise,his wife,kids and Cameron too. Damn..well if that isn't the consequences of his actions

-> Declan o' Hara is a pookie 🎀

-> @aq2003 pointed out and I agree that one couldn't help but wait for Tony to come on screen coz he's mostly the one driving the plot ahead.

Last I didn't expect to be engrossed in this series at all. It is not like the stuff I watch at all and only started it cause of DT but for real i didn't expect to like it (Liking not liking,not putting labels but ) i really looked forward to watching the next episodes

[corvidcrafts273]

rivals except i never watched or read the book

only know by osmosis thanks to my moots <3 (also im trying to copy Asmi to see if this fits )(think ill stick to reporting tho)

Anyways:

David tennant is the main character and goes by tony baddingham(this is probably not true, ik hes the antagonist but eh)

Theres a guy called aiden baker and another guy called declan o hara, aiden and david are besties.

Tony baddingham deserves a nice socking

All the rich people are awful, why are they like that?

everyones watching cuz dt's in it, isnt it?

Uhh the character played by nafessa williams gets assaulted by david tennant's character, which is why he gets a concussion via bafta

The whole show is about how tony gets away with everything, except for the time he gets brained by the bafta

Uhh its based in 1980, there are croquet games, high society balls, riding, hunting and polo? Plus balls(cotillion balls, says the aziraphale in my head)

No idea how historically accurate, heard its chick-lit (probably like Shannon Hales Austenland)

[intoxicatingxminds]

New goal in the gym is to be built like Declan O Hara.

[luvvyouforever]

declan o'hara - nsfw alphabet

ᡣ𐭩 for all my declan lovers (including me) ᡣ𐭩 nsfw content, mdni, 18+ ᡣ𐭩 more declan writing will be coming soon, don't worry! these are easy to fill out and write so hopefully this sates you all mwah

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

his aftercare takes a minute to start. he's usually so intense that the both of you really need a moment to catch your breath and come back down to reality. once he's reverted to normal, he can check in on you, offer a warm cloth, or cold glass of water. when the two of you are physically feeling better, he'll pull you into his big chest, all warm and protected, and probably light a cigarette.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves his arms and shoulders. it's not that he really works out and carves them, but he knows he's a big man and flexing them the right way gets you going. he likes being able to encase you in them, holding you as close as possible.

as for you, i think he's an ass man for sureeee. his hands always fly to your cheeks, both in the bedroom and outside of it. his palm covers so much of the skin and he just loves the feeling of squeezing it between his fingers. please wear some tight dresses and pants and bend over directly in front of him.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he wants to cum in you every single time. you might want to consider going on some sort of birth control too just in case. he just loves fucking into you so deep and just as he's finishing, he'll push in to the hilt and fill you up with himself. he could genuinely go for a second round in just a second once he sees the mix of your cum and his seep out of you. gosh, he's dirty.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

has so many fantasies in his head of what he wants to do to you, especially in a more roleplay style too. like he imagines you as his receptionist that he can bend over his desk, hike up your tight pencil skirt, and use you. or he daydreams about coming home to you in the kitchen with a skimpy outfit and apron on and eating you out against the kitchen counter.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's pretty experienced, but not as much as other characters in the show (hint, hint). like he knows how to make someone feel good and is pretty confident in his skills too! his body count may not be as high, but to him, the quality really matters more than the quantity. and with the way he undos you during sex, you'd certainly agree.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves anything where he can grip and squeeze and smack your ass. he enjoys doggy because it offers him the easiest access to your ass. when he's feeling really intimate and serious, he loves laying you flat on the bed and pushing himself on top of you. makes him feel so close to you, but also enjoys the way your ass can push against his hips.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's so serious when he has sex. it's all about you and him and everything else fades out. in the lead up, he might be full of some dark chuckles at your neediness or quiet laughter while you're flirting. but once his lips are on yours and his hands are roaming your body, he's replaced with this stoic, dominant declan.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he's not like a jungle, but he certainly doesn't groom himself to the point where he's clean shaven. i mean, look at his chest and his mustache. woof. he probably trims it to a reasonable amount, but doesn't put much effort into it otherwise. it's curly and wavy though, like his hair.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's much more of a spur of the moment, making out from the front door to the bedroom kinda guy. i don't see him as the man to decorate your bedroom in rose petals. that doesn't mean he isn't intimate and romantic in the act though! he's all about whispering sweet and kind, but also terribly filthy things in your ear while he's unraveling you below him. he makes sure you know just how beautiful he finds you the whole night.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he's not above jerking off, but he knows he'll be coming back to your delicious body every night, so why would he? unless you're gone for a while, or he's off doing stuff for venturer overnight, he'll probably hold off. that isn't to say though that when you might be sending him particularly raunchy texts (for modern declan) or have left him wanting more of you, he won't go into the bathroom and ease the painful bulge beneath his pants. it's just not very common when he'd rather be on you as soon as he steps in the door.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

he's pretty dominant and enjoys taking control in the bed. he wants you to listen to him and give yourself over to him. it's the highest compliment. he loves biting and marking badddd. gets so aroused in the morning when he sees the hickeys he left on your skin from the night before. loves cockwarming on lazy days inside. i don't think he's a full sadist, but really gets off seeing his large red handprint on your ass. he's just possessive and loves making you his every night. also likes being called daddy in the right headspace.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

loves doing it anywhere in the house. not a very public sex person, but if its within the confines of his home, he's on. probably likes the bedroom the most, but for spur of the moment quickies, he likes taking you against the kitchen counter or on the couch or even on the floor by the fireplace after a failed movie night.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

unfortunately, one of his most toxic traits is that arguments and fighting really get him going. if he ever feels threatened by someone else, he'll take it out of them depending on the severity, but then fucks you within an inch of your life, reminding you in a deep voice who you belong to. he's also the type of person to get really turned on seeing you disheveled, or even just with a messy bun and pajamas.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

could never be fully submissive. definitely wouldn't mind handing you some of the reins and letting your hands guide him where you want him, but don't expect him to get on his knees anytime soon and bend to your every will with a "yes ma'am." another turn off is probably being rude or dismissive to his children. like, if he heard that you had made taggie upset someway, he would lose a lot of attraction to you.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

is such a munch, good lord. loves getting so messy with it. isn't very calculated with his movements, but instead dives in passionately with his tongue flat. he comes up for air disheveled, mustache and lips glistening, then goes back in. if you allow him, he'd spend forever down there. as for receiving oral, he loves it. unfortunately though, he has to stop before he cums so he can keep going the rest of the night. he likes to hold your hair tight and control your pace, but will be receptive if you're uncomfortable or in pain.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

majority of the time, he's fast and rough. especially after an argument or while he's jealous. but he can be slow and sensual!! sometimes he's tired or had a bad day or just really really feeling love for you and he wants to take his sweet time unraveling you and showering you in as much love as he can. those moments are just more uncommon than him fucking you with as much passion as he can.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn't mind them, but they're not his favorite. he'd prefer to take his time with you, but sometimes the timing just isn't right and he needs you now. or maybe you're just looking too damn fine and you have the house all to yourself and he lifts you against the kitchen counter. his quickies are rough and needy and sinful. he's grunting as sweat beads along his brow. he finishes inside of you and when he has to go about the rest of the day, he just thinks about you going about your day with him still inside you. freak.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's down to try things out! like, if you're reading a particularly filthy romance novel and he manages to figure out what about it is enticing to you, he's so willing to try it out himself. there's only a few things that he'll immediately reject, but he loves making things fun in the bedroom for the two of you. honestly, though, he's kind of impatient and doesn't really like doing things by trial and error, so he usually looks into how to make certain things work before trying it for the first time. as for risks, he's down for some things. wouldn't particularly mind risky settings, but he is somewhat of a public personality so there a few things he'll deny if it gets too risky.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can go for like two to three rounds before he's pretty spent. this number might be a lot bigger if he's one of those bouts where he's pouring himself into his work and doesn't get to devote as much time to his personal life. he can make himself last for a pretty long while. he just has to stop you before cumming because he can get to into the good feeling and before he realizes it, he's finished and now can't give as much of himself to you as he wants.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i think he's old fashioned in that the best tools are on his body already. i don't think he'd mind if you had a vibrator or something similar to use when he's not there, but he's not going to be reaching for it in the middle of sex. honestly, i feel like he'd see a vibrator as a competition and try to make you finish better than it can. fic idea?

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

i don't think he's that big of a tease tbh. at least not intentionally. if anything, he's more teasing in that his big palm rests on your thigh underneath the dining table and when he enters into some passionate conversation, he subconsciously grips it and you have to bite your lip to suppress your moan. or he's just looking soooo good in that venturer t-shirt talking to everyone and shaking hands and showing off his arms and he has no idea what he's doing to you.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's such a grunter. and he whispers little "fucks" under his breath. when he gets closer to finishing though, they start morphing into louder groans and when he cums in you, it's like one big crescendo that all comes crashing down. he lovesss hearing the noises he draws out of you though. encourages you to be loud and wants to hear how good he's making you feel.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

probably praises and compliments and talks about you to rupert and freddie all the time. they're all sitting around in a bar drinking and suddenly freddie is asking rupert about cameron and rupert is asking freddie about lizzie and they both turn to declan and ask about you. he gushes about you, then lowers his voice and talks about just how sexy and perfect and wonderful you are. he's got rather loose lips but he'll never reveal the private details. he just wants everyone to know that you are the most perfect person in the whole world and you're all his to enjoy.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's pretty thick. average length i think, but he makes up for it in the way that he stretches you out. it's a painful pleasure, one that makes you wince at his first entrance, but then makes you throw your head back, eyes rolled in pure bliss once he gets going.

y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

depends on his week, really! sometimes he's so focused on venturer or focused on his next interview that his brain capacity is filled. in times like those, he might need some extra encouragement in the form of you harmlessly flirting with rupert or presenting yourself to him in his study completely naked. if everything has leveled out and he's just having a good week, he could fuck you silly every single night.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

sometimes it can be within minutes if you've gone particularly hard. he falls off you, down to your side where he pulls you into his strong chest and holds you until he starts snoring. sometimes, he might enjoy running his hands along your body, tracing little shapes into them while you're turned on your side, cuddled close to his chest.

need him bad.

[jam3sacaster]

Okay but can we give my man Declan some love 🙈

“I think you know...”

OC character aged at 21.

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Quick Piece.

“Complete and total fuckin’ bastard. Honestly, what I wouldn’t give ta’…” The irate muttering of the Irishman could be heard across the entirety of Corinium’s first floor. As expected, Declan O’Hara was raking his hand through his coarse black hair and pacing back and forth — certainly one of his less approachable moods.

“Fuckin’ cunts, tha’ lot of ‘em.” He spat angrily and spun around in order to begin yet another frustrated pace. However, he turned straight to face you, hardened gaze almost immediately softening and fists unclenching. Momentarily, you stared back at him — blinking at him with glassy, chocolate-filled eyes sheltered by lengthy wisps of mascara-coated lashes. Your sharpened eyebrows tilted upwards and your supple lips sitting ajar — a picture of feminine innocence and beauty. “Declan… are you okay?” You ask gently, bringing your clipboard tight to your chest as useless protection.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Sorry for shoutin’. I just can’t take this fuckin’ prick,” Your eyes closed momentarily, a silent wince. The word sounded bitter and harsh, yet fell from his lips so easily. “Sorry.” Declan spoke again, a gentler tone encapsulating his voice this time. He hated swearing around you.

“Any plans fa’ tonight?” He asked more innocently now, taking a seat at his desk and busying himself between mounds of paperwork and scrawled production notes from Cameron. “Umm, not really. I was supposed to go for a drink with Sarah Stratton, but she never called me back so one can assume she has other plans.” You replied, a wry smile tugging at your lips. You perched yourself on his desk and looked down at your outfit, hoping he will take the hint and drink you in himself.

A short black blazer with a white trim, a matching skirt that barely covers your modesty, paired altogether with knee-high white leather boots, a glossed lip and a brunette half-up Beehive hairdo that could rival only that of Brigitte Bardot. Oh, he’d noticed alright. And he thought you looked delectable. His eyes scanned you — hungry with want — and he bit his lip so hard he could almost taste blood. You brought your attention back to Mr O’Hara and internally smirked at seeing his very obvious lust towards you. “What are you doing tonight?” You asked, tilting your head towards him.

“Oh, I t’ink ya’ know what I’m doin’ tonight.” Declan’s gruff, intoxicating voice spat back in response as a swift hand cleared the contents of his desk onto the floor, smashing and tearing numerous items in the process. He brought his hand to your neck and crashed your lips together, uncaring of who was around you. All he wanted in this moment. . was you.

[jam3sacaster]

“I’ll be gentle, angel.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by @nebulastarr / Rupert discovers it’s readers first time.

18+ FANFIC / SMUT. Reader character aged at 21.

Hopefully isn’t too disgustingly dirty, or too long. Rather let myself get carried away. • indicates the beginning of the smut. Please request more if you want to see more! 🩷 Can do longer pieces.

“Good evening, Mr Campbell-Black.” You rehearse aloud, having placed a gentle knock on the regal front door of Penscombe Court, the clock ticking just past 10pm. No, far too formal, you decide.

“Good evening, Rupert.” You chime once again, self-cringing as the words fall loosely from your mouth.

“Good evening, angel.” You hear a gruff, distinguished voice reply. Pure embarrassment ripples through your body as your eyes dart immediately to the effortlessly handsome man stood before you. Before you could reply, he pushed the door ajar to let you in to his magnificent home. By instinct, you make your way to the lounge — where the flames dance and crackle in the fireplace and cast an amber glow against the two freshly-poured tumblers of Scotch. “Drinks already?” You ask, sitting on the sofa and attempting to take us as little room as possible.

Not once averting his piercing gaze from you, Rupert takes a seat next to you and takes a large swig of his Scotch. “Helps to loosen us both up. Stop any awkward conversations.” He replies, undressing you with his eyes already. “Tell me, angel,” Rupert begins, “You have been here 3 nights in a row now and haven’t even so much as looked at me in the wrong way. Why is that?” He finishes, in an interrogating tone.

The silence thickens around you both, and the warmth of the fire wraps itself around you like a comforting hug. Shuffling the cardigan off your shoulders, you take a gulp from your drink and, for the first time, hold eye contact with Mr Campbell-Black. “Because… I know what you want from me. And that scares me.” A tiny voice replies that you recognise to be your own. How pathetic! You need to exude confidence around Rupert before he chews you up and spits you out. Without replying, Rupert pushes out an almost sarcastic-sounding laugh and lowers his head towards his right shoulder, cracking it in the process, and again towards the left.

•

“Darling, you’ve got nothing to be scared of.” He smirks, after what feels like an eternity. As he speaks, he places a gentle hand on your knee and blood rushes to your cheeks, immediately flushing them a bright crimson. It’s now or never — the inner voice in your head speaks as you stand up in front of him, and shimmy out of the figure-hugging black dress, stepping out of it and kicking it away from you.

For once in his life, Rupert is speechless as he takes a moment to drink in the picturesque image in front of him. A woman built of soft, fleshy curves and intricate lines, held together by red lingerie — an elaborately woven bra and thong and black suspenders held up with black garters. The best piece you owned, ready to be christened by Rupert’s yearning fingers peeling them from your body. “Wow angel.” He manages to spit out, eyes unmoving from the marvel image of your body. He sits at the edge of the sofa and smothers his face amongst your breasts, breathing in the feminine aroma of your skin. “You have no idea how hard you make me.” He adds, pulling back to rip the shirt from his body.

Now it’s your turn to marvel at the man that is Rupert Campbell-Black. Bulging veins sitting atop rippling muscles. Carnal lust aflame in his eyes. And, most importantly, the most impressively large bulge growing in his trousers. After you had wiped the drool from the corner of your lips, you lay yourself down on the sofa. Within seconds, he had stripped himself of his trousers and was leaning over you, propping himself up with one arm. The look in his eyes told you all you need to know. Inching backwards, he pulled your thongs from your body, revealing how terribly wet you’d became from his stripping. “My God.” Rupert smirked, instinctively delving his tongue between your folds. Arousal left your lips in laboured moans, and your fingers gripped a handful of his jet black locks. “You’re so fucking wet.” He spoke, pulling himself away and taking a hand to his cock, stroking it slowly and readying himself to enter you.

“Rupert…” You whisper breathlessly, scared and reluctant at the sheer size of his manhood. Readying yourself, you place your hand on his cock, pushing his own hand away and matching his rhythm. “I don’t know about this.” You mutter.

“Why? Don’t be scared, angel. I won’t bite… Unless you want me to.” Rupert chuckles, and pushes out a moan at the soft touch of your hand. Rupert grabs the base of his cock and lines it up with your soft opening. He attempts to shove himself in, but within seconds, winces in pleasure at the tightness. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Rupert… I’m…”

“Darling, you’re so tight.” He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Are you?…” He asks, not wanting to make assumptions. Is it really that obvious? “Rupert, this is my first time.” You speak gently under your breath. Closing your eyes momentarily and expecting to hear his condescending chuckle, you quickly open one eye to see a soft smile across his mouth.

“I’ll be gentle, angel.”

He replies earnestly, and with pinpoint precision, softly pushes his way inside you. Looking up at him, you capture a glimpse of something you’re certain no one has ever seen before. Rupert Campbell-Black encapsulated in complete ecstasy. “Fuck.” He manages to spit out, his words fighting for power over your ever growing moans. With each thrust, you felt the knot in your stomach loosen. Rupert’s eyes were glazed over in pleasure as he tenderly thrust in and out of you.

“If this is how wet you get for me, you must come again.” He spoke breathlessly, grabbing handfuls of your breasts as he spoke against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “Fuck, Rupert, please go slow.” You splutter, wincing ever so slightly, stretched out completely around the girth of him.

“Sorry, darling. Is this better?” He asked, tentatively making his strokes slower. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes in euphoria. Tension builds slowly in your lower stomach as his large member managed to hit the right spot every time. “You feel incredible.” Rupert manages to speak, as the intensity of his thrusts slowly speeds up. You can feel him twitching inside of you. You cannot believe you have just lost your virginity to THE Rupert Campbell-Black.

Flipping yourself over onto all fours, you positioned your shapely arse as an offering for the rugged man, and he grabbed a firm hold of your hips and began thrusting himself into you. Moans escaped your lips faster than you’d have liked. With each pulsating thrust inside your body, Rupert drew nearer and nearer his orgasm. “Cum inside me,” You pleaded, almost begging him to release himself. “Please, Rupert, I need it.”

Rupert placed a gentle fingertip to your lips, then ran his thumb across your tongue, desperately wanting to feel every single inch of your body. His abs tensed and twisted — his body preparing for his release. “Fuck angel, I’m going to cum.” He spat, and a smirk pulled at your mouth. Never in your life have you been so ready for anything. “Cum. Cum for me, Rupert. I need it so badly.” You reply, bringing your arm to his level to scoop up his balls and inch him closer to ecstasy. He paused for a moment, and pushed out a low grunt. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate as spurts of his hot load shot deep inside you, so much so that it began to drip outside of you with every weakened thrust from Mr Campbell-Black. “Fuck… Oh, fuck.” Rupert exclaimed as he pulled his dripping cock from your wet spot, and you lowered your mouth to lap up every missed drop of cum. You had never seen him to enamoured in desire. You wanted to please him this intensely every time — you and only you. In a pool of sweat, Rupert collapsed next to you and huffed out a sigh of relief.

“Angel, you were incredible. Thank you.”

[jam3sacaster]

Masterlist 🩷

hello guys!! it’s meeee, jam3sacaster! if you’re new here, i’m a rivals fanfic writer with an always open ask box for requests for any scenario, any character! 🫶🏽💋 thank you for all your lovely comments so far & i appreciate you all sm 🥹 i’m so sorry that i didn’t think to do a masterlist before but here it is! i will update it here every time i post 🫶🏽

Rupert Campbell-Black

• “I can’t breathe without you.” / Vague SMUT.

• “I’ll be gentle, angel.” / SMUT.

• “You’re such a dirty girl.” SUPER SMUT.

• “I think I rather like that.” SMUT.

• “Let me warm you up, darling.” / SMUTish.

• “I will never forget your touch. It will linger on me.” / SMUT

• “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” / SMUT

• “What did you fucking say?” / Protective Rupert!

• “I can’t sleep. I just think of you.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “Just breathe with me, darling.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “You just don’t see it, do you?” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “You belong to me.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “Let me take care of you, darling.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “You must be careful, angel.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “You have the body of a goddess.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “You can ride my pony anytime, darling.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “She’s the one, Lizzie.” / Soft Rupert 🥹 / No reader in this story.

• “Happy New Year, angel.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “Forever yours, R.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “I’m a heartless man at worst, babe. And a helpless one at best.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

• “I’m a great stress reliever.” / Soft Rupert 🥹

Rupert x Reader x Declan

• “Don’t waste your time with him.” PT 1 / Love Triangle

• “Don’t waste your time with him.” PT 2 / Love Triangle

Rupert x Taggie

• “Daddy, can you…” / Short work

• “Show me what you do to yourself, darling.” / SMUT

Declan O’Hara

• “I’m gonna have ‘ta punish ya’.” / SUPER SMUT

• “You have no idea what ‘ya doing to me, do ‘ya?” / PT1 Smut

• “I think you know…” / Smut

• “Ya’ want me to touch ya’ like that?” / SUPER SMUT

• “Miss Baddingham, you are bad news.” PT 1 / SMUT

• “How does it feel, my girl?” / SMUT

• “How beautiful you are, my girl.” / SMUT

• “Don’t think I’ll go easy on ‘ya.” / SHORT

• “What do ‘ya want me to do to ‘ya?” / SMUT, SHORT.

Basil Baddingham

• “Well, my love…” / Short Work, Soft

Random Tidbits (Tony, Lizzie etc)

• “Well, she’s quite some lady…” / Rupert x Reader ft Tony

[luvvyouforever]

genuine question: is there a large enough fan base on tumblr to warrant a rivals fic? specifically for declan…

[jam3sacaster]

“Ya’ want me to touch ya’ like that?”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by my dearest Miranon🩷 / A budding author, you are introduced to Declan O’Hara by your friend Lizzie, and realise your new book has a profound effect…

18+ FANFIC / SUPER SMUT! Finally some more Declan! Super long, I’m so sorry. Reader character aged at 21. As always, request what you wanna see in my asks 💋

“Bloody hell.” Lizzie Vereker remarks, flipping through pages of your first ever publication. “This is… this is porn!” She speaks through a flustered grin. “Oh God, Lizzie. Don’t say that.” You roll your eyes and tut, anxiously chomping at your fingernails as you intently read her expression. It had been 2 weeks since you had published your first book — something of an erotica. You had recently been taken on by Angler Publishing, Lizzie’s agent. Something to be overjoyed about, but you couldn’t help but be frightened about the public reaction you were to receive.

“Well, I can tell you, it has been quite the hit in Rutshire. I’ve handed out a copy to quite literally everybody I’ve met.” Your foxy-haired companion informed you. A wry smile painted your face, half-petrified by the thought of an entire village dispassionately flicking through your novel. “Well, let’s hope it goes down well.” You sigh.

-

Declan O’Hara, recently unemployed and hopelessly bored, was sat in his arm chair. Lighting a cigarette and huffing out the biggest exhale manageable, he picked up the novel that Lizzie has passed to him in the village shop earlier that week. “What a load of shite.” He quipped to himself as he scanned over the title. Starting the book from halfway through, he happened to land upon one of your more risqué chapters — detailing the most erotic and fantastical scenes. Reaching down to adjust his growing bulge, Declan groaned and spoke into the air, “Fuck me, she’s a dirty girl. Mind of filth.”

It had been a while since he’d been intimate — Maud had took off a few months ago now, with no contact or intention of returning. He was a red-blooded mammal with a carnal instinct, he needed to get his release sooner or later, and it wasn’t going to be over a fucking book. He arose from his chair, closing the book and camouflaging it within his bookshelf. A short snap of the letterbox irritated his ears as he began to stride towards the front door. “The fuck is this?” He asked to himself, bending down to retrieve the small, glossy leaflet that had been pushed through his door. The leaflet advertised your book signing, with a guest appearance from established author Lizzie Vereker herself. “Fuck that.” He rolled his eyes, balling up the leaflet between his palms and tossing it into the paper bin.

-

“Will anyone actually come?” You ask as you watch Lizzie, frantically laying out pens and copies of your book on a fold-up table, carefully prepared outside of the village hall. “Of course!” She lies, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her arm. Lizzie desperately wanted you to succeed and had personally posted a leaflet through every house door in Rutshire. Whether anyone actually turned up, however, was a different story entirely.

Declan, an ever pessimistic look engrained on his face, began to trudge past the stoned driveway of the village hall, furiously puffing on a cigarette and muttering to himself. “Declan! Declan!” Lizzie began to call, and you immediately rested your head in your hands — today was going to be mortifying. The moustached man appeared to ignore her, but Lizzie would not give up. “Come on Declan, come on Declan.” She shouted, waving him over with every word. The man muttered to himself once more, turned on his heels, and began to walk towards your crudely prepared desk. “Hello, Miss Vereker. How can I help ‘ya today?” He asked, feigning friendliness. You took a quick glance at the man and immediately regretted it. Darkened chocolate hair, rather tedious tweed outfit… but an incredibly intoxicating face. “This is my friend,” Lizzie begins to introduce you, but you chime in with your name and give Declan a small wave, to which he shoots you a small smile.

“I gave you her novel the other day. Did you get a chance to read it?” She asked, speaking in a hushed tone in order to avoid embarrassment.. she knew the answer would most definitely be a no. “I did, actually. I flicked through it last night.” Declan replied, raking a hand over his curled hair. Lizzie looked at you with wildly optimistic eyes, to which you nervously grinned. “Wh-what did you think?” You peeped, clearing your throat immediately after. “You’re quite the little minx, aren’t ya’?” He smirked down at you, avoiding Lizzie’s unsettlingly persistent eye contact. Blushing wildly, you giggle and pick up a novel from the top of your almost-toppling pile. “Care for a signed copy?” You ask, a sanguine smile controlling your mouth. Declan scratched at his beard hesitantly and exhaled thunderously. “Go on then.” Clapping her hands in excitement, Lizzie pushed out a small ‘yay’, and equipped you with a pen. Scribbling your signature into the book, you pushed the copy towards him, keeping one hand on the cover. He repossessed it from you, brushing softly across your hand and smirking at you.

Figuring he may as well take his chance, Declan cleared his throat and pursed his lips in speech. “If ya’ free tonight, why don’t ‘ya come for a drink with me and go into more detail about ya’ filthy book?” A rare smile interrupted his question. “Oh�� okay. Where’s good for a drink?” You question, flipping your hair to one side. “Ah, nowhere around here. Lizzie’ll tell ya’ which my house is. If you’re comfortable, I’m free tonight.” He murmurs, turning around and walking away from the table.

“Fuck. Me. Lizzie. He is gorgeous.” You groan, rubbing your hands over your eyes. You couldn’t have been more embarrassed at how you handled the situation. “Oh God, Declan? No, no. Dirty.” Lizzie grimaced, turning her nose up at Mr O’Hara.

-

Some few hours after what seemed to be a semi-successful public appearance, you lay on your bed in solitude. Declan hadn’t left your mind the entire day. After some careful consideration, you decided to at least visit him for a very quick, very small drink. Curling your intricately long eyelashes and swiping gloss over your lips, you scanned yourself in your dressing table mirror — chestnut hair curled delicately and a tight floral dress hugging your curves, accessorised with a delicate pearl necklace and earrings. Taking a quick glimpse at the scrawled address that Lizzie had written for you, you begin to make the bitterly cold journey to The Priory.

Gently knocking on the front door of the luxurious country home, you waited nervously and replayed your earlier conversation in your head — unpicking on every stutter and incorrect word. “Oh. I didn’t think you were gonna come.” Declan spoke as he opened the door. Not quite the grand entrance you were expecting. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I just thought-“ You begin to panic, instantaneously blushing and backing away from the door. After a few painfully uncomfortable seconds, Declan allowed himself a stifled chuckle as he extended the door to let you in. “Ahh, I’m just jokin’. Come in. Lounge is the first door on the right.”

Taking a demure seat on his sofa, you kept your hands bunched up in your lap, afraid of taking up too much space. “What do ya’ drink? Whiskey? Vodka?” He bellowed from the kitchen, voice overcome only by the sound of glasses chinking against each other. “A vodka and lemonade will do, thank you.” You smile, watching intently as Declan entered the living room, pouring out two drinks with a trembling hand. “Did you really like the book?” You ask, pulling your cigarette case from your petite, leather clutch bag and lighting it. Declan followed suit, and subsequently swiped the signed copy of your novel from his coffee table, opening it a quarter way through and reading a sentence aloud.

•

“Alice howled in intense sexual gratification as Edward swirled his fingertips across her swollen clitoris,” Declan began, voice assertive and proud, “Jesus Christ, how are ya’ even allowed to publish this?” He asked, barking out a laugh. Rubbing your lips together in self-consciousness. Declan took note of your diffidence and halted his laughter, coughing brashly from the fumes of his cigarette and reading the next sentence of your book inwardly. “Sorry. I, uh… didn’t mean ta’ embarrass ‘ya.” He sighs, as you knock back the entirety of your vodka. “Can I have another, please?” You ask, and Declan obliges, filling more than half the glass with vodka, and replicating the insane measurement in his own.

“It’s erotica, Declan. It’s very popular. Really, it reflects all of one’s needs and desires.” You tut, tucking a strand of chocolate hair behind your left ear. Halfway through a mouthful of vodka, Declan paused and glared at you. It was the first time he had noticed you — really noticed you. The hopeful glint in your lazuline eyes, the gentle undulations of your shapely figure, the sultry pursing of your reddened lips. Your cheeks glowed the most charming shade of rose as the vodka coursed through your veins. “So, what are your needs and desires?” He whispered, voice gravelly and coarse. “Read the next line.” You hush, taking another large swig of your drink. “Her wetness coated his fingers and his erection grew at the smell of her.” He reads, shifting himself in his seat uncomfortably. “It’s how every woman wants to be touched.” You whisper, inching closing to him and resting your head on your hand.

“Ya’ want me to touch ya’ like that?” Declan growled, pulling your knees apart gently and creeping his hand up your thigh. The heat emanating from your pussy made him grunt in pleasure. Shuffling slightly to allow your dress to ride up to the top of your thighs, Declan pulled at your knee once more until your legs were widely spread. He brought his finger to your clit and gasped, “No pants? Fuckin’ dirty girl.” You softly bite your bottom lip at his words. Nimbly swirling circles around your pink clit, you felt yourself dripping in excitement. You panted desperately at your heightened sensitivity. “Does that feel good?” He asked, delving two fingers inside you and moaning at your constriction around him. You squeaked out the smallest yes possible, pleasure making it impossible to formulate coherent sentences.

Removing his fingers from you and standing up, Declan unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his wildly hairy chest. Gazing at him with adoring eyes, you watched as he unzipped his trousers and pulled his boxers from his ankles. Sitting back down on the sofa and motioning for you to copy, you pulled your floral dress over your head and off — substantially large breasts bouncing through the rhythm. Grabbing your hand and pulling you onto his lap, Declan fervidly crashed your lips together in lust — tongue fighting it’s way into yours and hand reaching up to grab a tight handful of your left breast. Desperate for friction, you began to grind your clit against his firm cock, moans escaping through the gaps of your kiss.

Grabbing your petite waist, Declan hoisted you up slightly and lowered you back down onto his cock. A powerful groan left your lips, your pussy slowly stretching open over his girth. Moving his hands to grab handfuls of your area, flesh spilling between his fingers, he bounced you up and down, his head lulling back in pleasure. “Declan, you’re so fucking big.” You exclaim, steadying yourself on his shoulders. “Am I breaking ya’, my girl?” He grunted into your ear, setting the pace of a madman. The way he could so easily raise you up and down created the most powerful knots in your stomach. “Yes, and it feels so fucking good.” You moan.

Feeling you clench tighter around him, Declan moaned under his breath and released his hand, allowing you to set your own pace. Uncontrollable with ardour, you bounce on his cock with a frantic pace, evermore spurred on by his lustful reaction. “Keep goin’, my girl. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum inside ya’.” The Irishman grunted, keeping his hands by his side and allowing you to ride him to release. “Fuck, Declan. Cum for me. I want it so fucking bad.”

Lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth, Declan moved his right hand to wrap around your waist, thrusting into you sloppily as he neared his ecstasy. “Are ya’ fuckin’ ready for it?” He asked, cock already twitching in anticipation. You nod lazily, losing control of your function. Grunting carnally as he shot his hot ropes of cum inside you, his grip around your waist tightened and you both panted together, relieved and exhausted. Slowly, lifting yourself from him, Declan watched as his seed dripped from your entrance — a successful symbol of your lovemaking.

“You look so fuckin’ good with my cum inside ‘ya.” He smirked, playing a firm smack on your arse. This would most definitely not be the last time you saw each other…