jam3sacaster

[jam3sacaster]

“I can’t sleep. I just think of you.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by the wonderful @nebulastarr / Rupert realises he’s in love with reader.

Sorry if this seemed a bit long winded, I just like a slow burn ya know.

18+ FANFIC / No smut, just a few lewd references & a soft, soppy mess 🫶🏽 Blood mention! Reader character aged 21. Please request any pieces you want! Just hit my ask box with a character and/or suggestion 💋

Whilst chopping a medley of large misshapen onions, the incessant ticking of your dining room grandfather clock taunted you — a constant reminding of passing time. You had been seeing Rupert Campbell-Black for a few weeks now. Well, you say seeing, more-so arriving at Penscombe Court as soon as he clicked his fingers, spreading your legs and letting him blow off steam. All truth be told, you hated being his personal call girl but you believed there was something so much more to it. You’d seen the way he’d glared at you as you unclipped your bra, eyes ablaze with passion. The way he touched you was no longer fuelled with lust, but was intricate and gentle — the tender touch of a man so eager to please such a dainty woman. Was he really beginning to fall for you, or is it wishful thinking? Seeing his chest rise and fall as he slept beside you kept you awake, speechless by the serenity of such a raucous man. Watching his lips contort as he laughed at your hopeless jokes, most likely out of pity, but sent a chill through you nonetheless. You were beginning to… grow rather fond of him.

Right on time, three firm knocks on the door made you jump, and you jolt slightly, scratching a wonky line into your chopping board. Before waiting for a response, Rupert entered the wooden door of your cottage and lowered himself into the kitchen. Leaning against the doorframe, he took a long pull of his cigarette, casting his carven face in an ashy amber glow. “Afternoon.” You chirp, pumping your speech with fake enthusiasm. Rupert replied only with a suave wink as he puffed once more on his cigarette. “I thought I’d cook first.” You respond to yourself, motioning to the variety of fresh vegetables laden across your kitchen countertop. “Oh darling, I haven’t come here for that.” Rupert chortled, his eyes following your every move. You felt your eyes subconsciously roll back to the back of your head.. you could call out his bullshit straight away.

“I’ve just been to look at a horse. Beautiful. Thoroughbred. And the woman advertising her was just gorg-“ He began, evidently trying to rile you. You felt your hand tighten around the large kitchen knife as you kept your eyes focused on your chopping board .. feeling your slices get more and more harsh by the second. “I don’t… want to hear it, Rupert.” You bark, gently placing down your knife and momentarily turning round to face him. You want him to see the jealousy flooding your eyes green. Rupert knew exactly what he was doing. Fighting back the most marvellous smirk, he lowered the cigarette from his mouth to add fuel to the fire, but decided against it.

Continuing to prepare your unromantic meal, your heart pounded furiously and the repetitive thump of blood coursing through your body blurred any other sound from your ear. “I wasn’t interested anyway, angel. She was all over me like a rash.” The chiselled man continued to coax vexation from you. Who the fuck does he think he is? Coming into your house and telling you about- “Fuck!” You bellowed. Your frantic chopping had gone rather wrong— the pure spiteful mess of Rupert’s words had riled you so heavily that you had miscalculated the direction of your knife and chopped straight into your finger. Blood crept into the natural layers of the onion, and began to seep into the wooden cutting board. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You scream again, applying pressure to your finger with the nearest tea towel, immediately soaking it. And of course, you feel your body weakening and your mind dizzying. You do NOT like blood. Springing into action, Rupert stood directly behind you, using his body as a human shield as you inevitably fell into him, just on the brink of fainting. “Are you okay, angel?” He whispered, taking control of the tea towel, squeezing it tight onto your finger and placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead. But the words he spoke sounded too heavy to make any coherence in your head and your vision grew thicker and hazier.

What felt like an eternity later, you awoke on your sofa, head propped up on a pillow and covered in thick, woollen blankets. “Rupert?” You croak, and look down at your finger. Perfectly cleaned up, and wrapped securely in bandages. The bitter smell of TCP filled your nose and made you wince. “I’ve disinfected it. I managed to save your finger, but the onions are a little worse for wear I’m afraid.” He mocked, and took a gentle seat beside you. You managed to push out a chuckle, and sat yourself up on your elbows. “You scared me, angel. Please be careful next time.” Rupert warned, waving a cautionary finger in your face. How dare he! “Are you serious, Rupert? The only reason I cut my finger in the first place is because you come in here, gloating about a woman being all over you. Shoving it into my face like I’m supposed to care…” You can feel fury coursing through your veins and attempt to speak in the most coarse tone possible, but you still feel incredibly weak and hunker back down half way through. Your usually supple porcelain skin has been drained of blood, and your limbs tremble under your weight.

“Shh, shh, angel. You need to relax.” Rupert speaks in a hushed tone — one so soft and gentle that it feels otherworldly from his lips. He caresses your mottled cheek with the back of his hand and just.. freezes. His cerulean orbs study you intensely, admiring every freckle. Every crinkle of your nose. Every misplaced hair on your head. “I didn’t come to have sex with you, you know, angel.” He murmurs, hand unmoving from your cheek. Your breath catches in your throat — too afraid to exhale. Even the sound of your breathing will be much too loud of an interruption. “Seeing you hurt like that… it was as though it hurt me too. All of a sudden, I feel this great wave of protection flow through me. I think of you constantly, you’ve infiltrated my mind. I can’t sleep. I just think of you.” Rupert blurted out, filled with unwavering confidence and an expression of adoration.

“Rupert…” You begin, but there are simply no words to say. This is what you have craved to hear all along. “I feel as though I cannot shake you. You are a part of my soul.” He whispers softly now, placing your hand on his chest to feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat.

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” - Wuthering Heights

[jam3sacaster]

Hey Girl!

Rupert realizing he’s in love with the reader?

ask & you shall receive, ALWAYS 🥰🥰 stay tuned please!!! hopefully you love this as rupert is gonna be a soppy cringeworthy mess x

[jam3sacaster]

What have YOU done today to make you feel proud?

Well my dear allow me to tell you!!! First of all tiger bread top tier bread! Second that damn sad horny bastard I love it!! You’ve captured it beautifully it was feet kickingly finger bitingly fantastic! <3

anon i ADORE you <33

tiger bread is top tier.. but i was between that and SAVOURY MUFFINS??!! we LOVE that sad horny bastard in this house. i’m making it a bit of a storyline too so there’s SO much more to add. pls drop into my ask box again with any suggestions or any extra stories you desire 💋 IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!!!!

[jam3sacaster]

“You have no idea what ‘ya doing to me, do ‘ya?” PT 1

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader PT 1

Suggestion by my sweet anon / SPOILER 🫶🏽 Maud has unexpectedly took off for London, leaving Declan alone. He could never touch, or even look, at another. Or could he?…

18+ FANFIC / SMUT. Unfortunately I got rather carried away so this one is fairly long. Hopefully it’s not boring! Reader character aged at 21. Pls leave requests in my ask box 🫶🏽🫶🏽

It has been 3 weeks, 2 days, 9 hours & 32 minutes since Maud O’Hara took leave for London — not like Declan is counting. And since then, he has spent every day with his mouth firmly clasped over a bottle of whiskey, and sleeping between the dewy blades of grass at The Priory. Taggie had since grown tired of peeling her intoxicated father from the ground and had ordered him into the village to gather supplies for her next catering job.

Begrudgingly, Declan stumbled through the village shop, throwing items from Taggie’s list into his basket. You, however, were having a mundanely average day. Filling your basket with fresh fruit and cream for a majority of your shop, you lingered for just a second by the bakery. Expecting the comforting smell of fresh bread, the sharp musk of wood shavings & rosemary aftershave danced through your nostrils as a suited man with a distinguished moustache appeared next to you, nonchalantly swiping a loaf of bread into his basket. Your slender hand reached out for a tiger loaf, just as he began his next embittered swipe.

“Sorry. Oh, hello.” He muttered under his breath, as he recognised you as the receptionist from the hellhole that is Corinium. “It’s okay. Go for it.” You reply, filling your face with a friendly smile. Hearing the melodious tone of your voice, Declan looked up to meet your gaze. The breath caught in his throat as he drank you in from top to bottom — from the gentle black kitten heels to your carefully curled brunette hair. “No, no. Take it.” He spoke, softening his voice and motioning his hand towards the bread. What a stunning girl. He had never noticed before. As you shot him another gentle smile, you picked up the loaf, popped it into your basket and begun to walk on the opposite direction. Watching your every move, Declan kept a firm concentration on your floral dress, admiring the elasticated hem that hugged your waist so tightly. Now that Maud has gone, surely he’s allowed to at least look at another woman— something he would’ve never dreamt of doing in his previous life.

Trudging out of the shop’s door with plastic bags clinging from your arms, the man is leaning against the wall, puffing furiously on his cigarette. “Hello again, Declan. You really didn’t have do that.” You immediately begin, sweat beading on your forehead. “Ahh, don’t worry,” A painstaking awkward silence ensued. The smell of his musk was intoxicating— comforting and manly. “How’s life treatin’ ‘ya workin’ for that cunt Baddingham?” He spoke Tony’s name like he was spitting it out, vile and sour-tasting. “You don’t have to… you don’t have to make small talk.” You mutter, turning away from him and beginning your walk home. Sure enough, Declan was striding to catch up with you, eyes firmly fixed on your svelte legs as you walked. “I’m not makin’ small talk. I’m just askin’. Everyone makes out that I’m a bastard, but-“ Your hand shot up to silence him. Declan’s pessimistic commentary was unbearable at the best of times, but you couldn’t stand to hear it right now. Being unable to hear anymore, you strutted off, being extra sure to sway your hips as you go, praying that he was watching. He definitely was.

•

Bursting through his own front door, Declan collapsed his shopping bags onto the floor and practically threw himself onto his sofa. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your legs looked under that skirt. Caramel bronze, effortlessly smooth. The way the bottom of your ample cheeks just about slipped into sight as you swayed. Fuck. Closing his eyes and unzipping his trousers, Declan released his cock from the confines of his boxer shorts. He was aching, and dripping pre-cum from something as innocent as your legs. Clasping his hand around his girth, he began to pump himself slowly — imagination leading the way. Just picturing the soft skin of your breasts as he grabs a handful whilst simultaneously thrusting himself inside you. The aroma of your hot, sweet breath as you moan into his mouth, every pump taking you another second closer to ecstasy. Declan’s thighs twitched as he pictured you taking him into your mouth, humming gently on his cock as you forced him deep into your throat. Fuck, this was getting too much to bare. Pumping his hand faster, he could practically feel your tight walls enveloping him, closing around him like a tight hug. It was all too much.. he’s gonna cum. Im keeps with the worst timing humanely possible, there was a gentle knock on the front door. “Go. Away.” Declan managed to grunt out through gritted teeth. And predictably so, the mystery guest knocked once again. A few seconds pass. Angry, stomping footsteps. Door swinging open and… “WHAT?” The Irishman bellowed — half furious at having his wank disturbed, half grieving over the stunning image of you he won’t be able to get back.

“Oh, sorry, I- I just wanted to say sorry for being rude earlier. But you’re, umm… obviously busy.” You mumble under your breath, fidgeting with your hands nervously. Declan’s flies were unzipped, with a rather curious wet patch seeping through. Your eyes glazed over, and darted immediately to the side, cheeks blazing in pure crimson embarrassment. “Come in.” He replied, fighting off a smirk and zipping his trousers back up. Hesitantly, you sit on the sofa, trying not to take up any space and keeping your hands clasped together in your lap. “Drink?” Declan asks, showcasing a rather expensive looking bottle of whiskey. “No, thank you. Don’t let me stop you though.” You smile, pearly teeth on show. He wouldn’t let it stop him regardless — pouring himself a huge glass, sitting down next to you and knocking the glass back like a shot before pouring another. “As I said, sorry for being rude earlier. You caught me at a bad time,” You begin to tell your endless, anxious story, crossing your legs and exposing the laced line of your thongs under your painstakingly short skirt. Declan cracked his neck side to side, too afraid to look. Out of respect.. of course.

•

Pouring himself his third glass and sparking his 12th cigarette of the day, his clumsy, (almost) drunken hand knocked the lid of his whiskey bottle onto the floor. “Oh, let me get that.” Time to go on for the kill. Just about lifting yourself from the sofa, you bent over to retrieve the lid — the lining of your skirt almost touching your lower back, pink lace thong tucked neatly between your behind .. a full frontal view of your shapely arse. “You have no idea what ya’ doin’ to me, do ya?” Declan growled under his breath, collar growing increasingly hotter and his bulge threatening to tear through his trousers. Pretending not to hear him, you sit back down and screw the lid back onto the bottle.

“Hmm? Did you… say something?” You question, closing the gap between you both, hot breath reverberating off him. You have always found Declan O’Hara unbearably sexy.. Why not take your opportunity? “No. Have ya’ come here just ta’ be a fuckin’ tease, or did ya’ actually want sumtin’?” He snarls in the most playful manner he possibly can. You’ve had your fair share of men leering at you, but there was something so passionate and inebriating about Declan that made your loins ache. “Why would I be teasing you?” Eyes widening innocently as you talk, wrapping your hand around his fingers and guiding it to the fabric of your thong. Instinctively, he ran his fingers over your clothed slit, grunting carnally as he felt the material soak under your heat. “Fuck. I can’t. Maud.” He moaned breathlessly, the image of his sweet wife’s face clouding his mind. It mustn’t have bothered him too much, as he was soon pushing your panties to one side and swiping his pointing finger across your clit. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ wet.”

Unable to resist the devilish temptation any longer, Declan delved two fingers inside you, hooking and pulling towards him instantly. The sudden shock of pleasure made you groan with all your lungs capacity. The sound of him coaxing out your wetness paired with your affirming moans was enough to make him blow his load then and there. “Fuck, Declan.” You belt out, feeling your orgasm grow closer, your thighs tightening and your stomach binding. “Yeah? Ya’ like my fingers inside ya’?” The man asks, speaking into your ear, the bristles of his moustache sending a chill down your spine. Feeling you clench around his fingers, he lowers himself to the ground, beginning to lap at your clit like a ravenous animal, hungry for your orgasm and fiendish for the taste of you.

The front door opens and the man you recognise as Rupert Campbell-Black lingers by the frame, puffing a cigarette and smirking with pride. “Oh fuck!” You scream, pulling one of Declan’s velvet cushions over your lower half. Menacingly, Declan threw himself up. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Rupert, don’t you ever knock?” His tone increasing in volume with each word.

“I’m so sorry. This was a mistake, this was…” You manage to push out, your eyes brimming with tears. How utterly embarrassing. It’s dawned on you what a huge mistake you’re making. Fastening your skirt and brushing tears from your eye, you fly out the door as fast as your legs would take you — brutally aware of a furious yet saddened Declan calling your name from his open living room. “Fuck.. please!” He shouted again, running his hands over his face.

[jam3sacaster]

two pieces coming tonight folks 🫶🏽 one declan & one rupert 🩷 hope you love it xx

[jam3sacaster]

For sooth sir *fan hand* (Miranda reference always)

Now for the juicy Declan O’Hara inspo for my queen. I see Declan having a hard time adjusting to maud leaving for London (sorry spoilers but I imagine you finished it). I honestly believe he never allowed himself to cheat on her for whatever reason but now she’s left he might find his eyes wondering until they land on someone *wink wink*. Lots of pining and oh I couldn’t possibly but I want to and oh fuck it lets go!

I have lots of idea I’ll have to pop back in sometime xx

well, heather small what have i done today? today i have written the JUICIEST declan o’hara fanfic to ever exist on this app… even the NOTION

this is INCREDIBLE inspo, kicking my feet as i start writing. also soz to spoilers if anyone hasn’t seen but i binge watched it all in a day 😜 i will try my absolute best to make your dream a reality in writing). pls keep an eye out bc my creative juices are flowing so this is coming tomorrow

and pls my love, DEFINITELY pop back in xx

[jam3sacaster]

May I be so bold as to beg you to write more Declan O’Hara! Thank you please and thank you to you <3

darling of COURSE i can, no declan neglect on my page! tell me what you wanna see on another ask (perhaps?)& i’ll do it… HAPPILY!

(secretly praying the end of this ask is a miranda reference) xx

[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]

can we just talk about lizzie vereker for a moment and just how sweetly melancholic her character is? despite being aware that there is simply nothing left between her and james, she doesn’t want to betray him and battles between mind and morality when true love presents itself in freddie. she’s completely aware that james is sleeping with sarah, yet offers sarah advice in her time of need. she’s best friends with rupert and often chastises him in a way that gets through to him better than anyone else. she supports taggie and pushes her to pursue her dreams

in other words, lizzie is a sweetheart and although we don’t condone infidelity, we were all cheering at the tv by ep 8

[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]

Hi! I just read your Rupert Campbell Black fic and it was so good!!! Do you think you could a Rupert Campbell Black x Reader fic where it’s the readers first time?

Please and thank you!

hello!! 🩷 thank you so much!! i am very happy that you like it as i was rather nervous posting it because i haven’t written anything in SO long

but yes OF COURSE! i will write it tonight <3 🥰

[jam3sacaster]

Fave old school britcom?

BLACK BOOKS ! always <3

[jam3sacaster]

Is there a comedian you didn’t like initially but like now?!

initially didn’t like jon richardson when i first started watching 8ootcdc but quickly grew to like him! my ocd heart felt comfy <3 😂

[jam3sacaster]

guys TRUTHFULLY, would you like to see more writing?

rivals has peaked my creative interest & i’ve read fanfics since i was like 10 so i believe im well versed 🤣

[jam3sacaster]

“I can’t breathe without you.”

(let me know if you want more writing? another story? SMUT? my first time so i have no idea ahhhhh!! i would graciously accept anything)

The sky blissfully paints hues of pink and purple across the valley, as the fire roars in the lounge of Penscombe Court. Much to the dismay of just about your only friend, Lizzie Vereker, you have found yourself in the presence of Rupert Campbell-Black, for the third night in a row.

“Really, we must stop meeting like this.” He titters sarcastically, filling your glass to the brim with a remarkably high percentage red wine. A smile just about pulls at the corner of your mouth, but you push out a huff instead. Rupert is, without a doubt, the worst man in the world. Yet, his overinflated ego and terribly Machiavellian personality draws you evermore closer to him.

“You know, Rupert,” You begin, pulling the glass towards your lips and taking a small sip, “I believe you’re rather lonely.”

His breath catches in his throat, and he almost chokes on his own sip of wine. “And what makes you say that?” He questions. Rupert takes a seat beside you on the sofa, inching closer and draping his arm around you. Here begins his routine.

“You have so much money, and so much power. Yet, every night, you lay alone with just your dogs and this huge mansion to keep you company.” You begin, feeling quite mean but egged on by the dizziness in your head.

“That’s not strictly true, is it? I have you. I’ve had my fair share of beautiful women, one must admit. But I find myself looking for you in every one.” Rupert quite obviously, or so you think, lies through the skin of his teeth.

A gentle hush fills the room. You’re too uncomfortable to speak, afraid of admitting your feelings to such a disreputable man that you saw in The Scorpion just two days ago for bedding a French actress. Yet his silence is something else entirely. Vulnerability - an emotion that doesn’t come naturally to Mr Campbell-Black. A man so sure of himself, yet so afraid of his own reflection.

Rupert leans over you now, his hot breath filling your lungs and his brutish hand making its presence known on your knee. “I can’t breathe without you, angel.” There’s no point beginning to formulate a response, as you involuntarily find yourself crashing your lips against his and kicking your shoes off, just as he unbuckles his own belt.

“I told you, angel, we really must stop meeting like this.” Rupert smirks, and throws his belt on the ground.

[jam3sacaster]

i’ve just finished rivals on disney +

and i’m genuinely wondering why i wasn’t born into an egregiously unstable old money family in rutshire circa 1986 and destined to be the one true love of sir rupert campbell-black, and be condemned to live at penscombe court and snidely judge our peers on their infidelity

disparaging james to my best friend lizzie and glaring at lord baddingham scornfully across the shoulder of monica

[jam3sacaster]

i also made this for my favourite sitcoms tehe