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stvolanis · 1 year ago

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Broken Heartstrings

(one shot)

warnings : dom & sub dynamics, Elvis is kinda abusive, age gap, INACCURATE TIME LINE, angst, Elvis is suspected of cheating,pet-names (baby, doll, darlin’, satin), a hint jealousy (Elvis and OC), manipulation, toxic relationship, OC is naive and kinda (not really) innocent, smut includes degradation (slut, brat), praising, dubcon-ish I guess, spitting, p in v sex, oral (f receiving),size kink, slapping (not hard enough to hurt), man handling, overstimulation, spitting, house wife kink (if you squint), stomach bulge, make-up sex, and overall rough sex. Sorry if I missed anything <3

this is my first story I’ve written for Tumblr, so it won’t be the greatest and might be poorly written to some, but I had fun writing it so enjoy to those who are interested :)

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

the days grew longer as the nights seemed to be getting unbearably shorter. Lucy was sitting on a tall bar stool swinging her little frilly sock covered feet back n’ forth as she waited for her husband to get to their shared home. It was late, ‘round 12:30 and he hadn’t shown up to the dinner she had graciously prepared for the both of them. The food was getting cold and her appetite was fading, being replaced by a feeling in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t seem to pin.

The couple had their ups and downs, as any other, but lately it seemed to be more downs. he’d come home late, his hair and clothes disheveled. sometimes he’d smell like cheap women’s perfume and other times he’d smell like gin and whiskey. he’d come home with an attitude, and take it out on Lucy since she was the closest one around. She knew he was struggling, but Elvis Presley was not one for opening up and receiving help.

the drinking and coming home late started happening after his mother passed away. he didn’t know how else to cope, so he did what he’d see his father do. he’d been chasing a high he’d never be able to reach, but his determined mind wouldn’t falter. one more drink. one more show. one more hit of whatever he was on in the moment or could get his hands on. anything to help relive the aching in his chest. It was like a poison that spread through his body, draining his energy and overtaking him. but he kept on falling deeper and deeper

but there was her. Lucy. the sweet little 20 year old who kissed his worries and pains away. Lucy, who made him feel like a young school boy all over again. Lucy , who batted her pretty eyelashes up at him when she needed some loving. Lucy, who’d perch herself on his lap and whisper sweet nothings into his ear when he was exhausted from shows, telling him everything he already knew, but it was coming from her, so he’d hear it a million more times if he could. Lucy, who was so sickeningly sweet and naive, she didn’t realize that not everyone wanted wanted to be just her friend.

Elvis didn’t like that.

Elvis knew he scored with Lucy. He knew that she was the purest thing he’d ever be able to obtain in his lousy life. the freshest, kindest and most beautiful little daisy in a field of weeds. Sure, people were throwing themselves at him left and right, but they weren’t real. Girls always on his arm, yet they only cared for his charm, fame and money. Only cared about fucking their way to the top just to be a nice trophy wife on the arm of some rich piece of shit. Running them dry. But Lucy was never like that.

Lucy was from a small town. A southern bell, and a hard worker who took care of her sick mother for as long as she could remember. She always seen the good in people, even when it seemed invisible to others. Her hearts too big for her delicate body, or at least that’s what her momma used to tell her. Lucy worked at a busy diner on the outskirts of her town, and traveling people were always in and out. So it was no surprise to her when Elvis Presley had shown up in a white button down, dark jeans and polished dress shoes with his friends following behind him.

Ever since that day, Elvis made it his mission to be with her. attached at the hip since they laid eyes on each other, and neither of them would have it any other way. But once her husband started touring again, their honeymoon phase was soon ending and arose more arguments, aggression and finger-pointing.

Elvis had promised to have a nice, civilized dinner with his wife as long as she cooked the food and not one of the maids. For hours, Lucy had been feeling waves of excitement as she cooked all day, creating a nice big meal for them to enjoy together for once. It had been so long since they sat down for dinner together. But alas, he was no where to be found.

She looked down at her hands that were between her thighs as she felt her eyes begin to water and her breathing uneven. of course he wouldn’t have come. what was she thinking? as tears began to fall, it seemed as though they wouldn’t stop. The girl wept as she began to throw away the food she had worked so hard to make.

Soon, that sadness and disappointment turned into a bubbling anger in her core. How could he do this to her? Why did she always have to be the one waiting around? She hated feeling reliant on him for the smallest things. Time, attention, love. Things no one else had ever cared to give her, but Elvis had so happily. She hated that they always fell into this routine of cat and mouse. And always, just when she’s about to call it quits, he smooth talks his way back into her arms.

Mumbling words of affirmation to her. How much he loves and cares for her, and how no one else will ever love her as much as he does. How she’s such a good housewife for him, always keeping the house together and waiting for his return like a good girl. How beautiful she is, and the things he loves most about her.

as the anger bubbled in her stomach, she could hear the booming laugh of Elvis through the halls as he cracked jokes with his choice of friends for the nights and all Lucy could feel was disgust. how could she have been so dumb?

In that moment, Lucy decided she’d had enough. She slammed the door open to the kitchen and marched her way through the long halls till she got to the entrance of the house where Elvis stood in all his glory. Oh, how pretty he looked. His smile becoming bigger as he laid eyes on his wife who wore a white, off the shoulder sundress and frilly white socks. she seemed so small and frail compared to him.

But his smile soon faded as he took notice of her puffy red eyes, red nose and trembling lips and worry consumed him. “Woah, darlin’, what’s goin on?” He asked as he took off his coat and laid it on a small round table. Lucy scoffed. “Are you fuckin’ serious, Elvis?” She said dryly as she squinted her eyes.

Elvis clenched his jaw, clearly displeased. “Watch ya mouth when ya talk to me, ya hear?” He said sternly as he pointed a finger at her. Lucy rolled her pretty green eyes. “Where were you? Huh? You were out with women, weren’t you? I can smell them on you Elvis!” She shouted as fresh tears fell from her eyes.

He groaned as he lazily dragged a hand down his perfectly sculpted face. “What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout, Lucy? I ain’t been with no women other than you!” He shouted back as he flared his arms out with a dry laugh. “I’m done with your lies, Elvis.” She said as she harshly wiped her tears and turned to leave.

Elvis made quick work of grabbing her arm and spinning her back around, harshly pushing her against the wall as his hand snaked up and snugly wrapped around her neck. Lucy was taken aback, Elvis had never put his hands on her in a way she didn’t like before.

“Dammit, woman, what’s it gonna take for you to calm down and stop accusin’ me of bullshit every damn day?!” He yelled out in her face. Lucy’s body wracked with sobs, and only then did Elvis realize what he’d done. He shakily removed his hands, but didn’t move away from her and instead caged her body in with his slender arms.

Lucy pushed harshly against his chest, trying to create some distance between them but Elvis wasn’t having it as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Let me go, Elvis!” She said, her voice hoarse and broken. “Need ya to calm down first, baby.” He replied as he watched her body tremble

“Oh I need to calm down? How fucking funny coming from the man who just choked me out!” She laughed out dryly as she shot him a look of disgust and anger. “I’ve fuckin’ had it with this attitude you got. After everything I do for you, this is how you wanna act?! Huh?!” He yelled as he began dragging her up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

“Stop it Elvis, you’re hurting me!” Lucy weakly yelled as his grip tightened around her wrists, surely to leave marks the next morning. Elvis played deaf as he harshly threw her onto their bed, slamming the door shut and swiftly locking it. Lucy’s body bounced as she made contact with the bed before sitting up, ready to speak again till Elvis cut her off.

“Strip.” Was all Elvis said. His voice thick, deep and velvety. Such a sweet sound. If only the words coming out weren’t laced with disappointment and dissatisfaction towards the helpless girl on the bed. Her eyes widened and her words got caught in her throat. Again. Why does this always happen? right when she’s about to stand up for herself, she always backs down the very last second and the cycle continues and worsens each time. But it’s addicting.

Sickeningly enough, she thrives in it. She’s become so accustomed to it, she wouldn’t remember how to live like a normal couple again. The toxicity of their relationship kept her on her toes, and deep down inside, she knew she wouldn’t want it any other way. How boring it would be. She knew Elvis wasn’t with other Women, because if he was it would be the cover of every times magazine and she wouldn’t hear the end of it from her friends and family. She knew the perfume she smelled on him was his mommas favorite.

As her shakey hands met the fabric of her white dress and began pulling it off of her body, Elvis rolled up his sleeves and drunk in the sight in front of him. almond green eyes, plump lips and a cute button nose that’s still slightly reddened from her crying. long chocolate brown hair. Full breasts with perky, sensitive nipples that sat ever so perfectly. slim hips and meaty thighs with a round ass to top it all off. But god, how he adored how small she is compared to him.

How tiny she is, is one of his favorite parts about her, and oh, how he used it to his advantage in the most vile ways. it was so easy for someone as big as him to completely destroy her. and that’s exactly what he does.

“Please,Elvis, m’ sor-” she tried, but Elvis wasn’t having it. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ thing from ya, baby.” He said roughly as he gripped her hair at the base and craned her neck up to look at him. her hands gripped his shirt and she felt her slick between her thighs at his tone.

Elvis brought his hand up to her mouth and Lucy stuck her tongue out, welcoming her husbands fingers that harshly hit the back of her throat, making her gag and eyes water. Elvis clicked his tongue. “How can ya take my cock when ya can’t even take my fingers, darlin’?” He chuckled out.

Her mouth closed around his fingers and she began to suck them seductively and Elvis felt his pants tighten at the sight. Pretty eyes staring back up with him, trying to prove she can.

Always a hard worker, huh?

Elvis smirked at the thought as he removed his fingers and instead harshly pushed her upper body down onto the bed, spreading her legs as he dropped to his knees. his mouth watered at the sight. Her cunt was puffy and pink, bud swollen with need and begging for attention. Her slick was seeping out, and there was a wet patch on the sheets of the bed where she had been sitting that was dark and visible. It was such a pretty sight for a starving man.

He spread her lower lips and dragged his tongue between the welt folds, gathering all of her essence. He hummed at the taste of her on his tongue before savoring it for a moment. Then, he sucked her clit into his mouth with such force, her back painfully arched. His tongue skillfully played with her overly-sensitive bud, teasing and sucking as her thighs closed in around his head.

Elvis was pussy drunk. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste of his sweet girl. He didn’t care if he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t care about anything besides making Lucy come as many times as she could on his tongue. He prodded a finger at her sopping entrance before slowly sinking them in, letting them sit before pulling out and harshly slamming back in. Lucy let out a gasp at the intrusion as he began to finger fuck her tight cunt with no remorse.

The small girl felt the coil in her stomach tighten as her fingers gripped his mop of disheveled hair as she pushed her cunt further into the dazed mans face. Elvis curled his fingers in her before sucking her clit harshly one last time, and that’s when it snapped. “Oh my god—Elvis!” She moaned out as she tried to shove his head away from her overstimulated clit, but Elvis wasn’t listening.

“Sucha good girl, satin.” He mumbled against her clit as he felt her juices drip down his chin. God, how sweet she tasted. His entire chin and chest were covered in her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d fuck up a million more times if it meant he could come back home to this.

Lucy panted, out of breath underneath him as he crawled above her sweaty body. He laid the gentlest kisses upon her skin, so tender and sweet. The flutter of his lips against her stomach had her insecurities seeping away into the cracks of the floor boards. The suckle of her nipples, and the releasing ‘pop’, followed by the countless hickies laid where they both knew only he would be able to see had her blushing madly. The caressing of her neck and the soft kiss against her lips made her forget the reason this all started to begin with.

“Ya with me, baby?” He asked. “Yes, Elvis. ‘M here.” She softly replied. Elvis took that as his sign to tighten his hold around Lucy’s neck, lifting her slightly to better look her in the eye. “Good, ‘cause I’m gon’ show ya what happens to ungrateful brats when I’m done with ya.” He said harshly as he slapped the side of her cheek with his free hand, but not hard enough to actually hurt. Just hard enough to know he was gonna fuck her into oblivion.

He spread Lucy’s legs, slapping her puffy, over-sensitive cunt. She softly moaned at the impact, making Elvis chuckle. “Fuckin’ slut.” He muttered as he lined his throbbing cock to her entrance. Elvis inhaled deeply as he slowly pushed his tip in, teasingly pulling it in and out a few times. Lucy whined. “Elvis-” she began. “Shut up, ya take what I give ya, brat.” He said sternly as he gripped her hair. Lucy nodded I obediently as she whimpered out a small ‘sorry’.

Suddenly, the larger man bullied his way inside her wet cunt and she could feel his hair against her throbbing clit. She moaned out as her hand grabbed the arm Elvis was holding her leg up with to ready herself. Elvis spared no mercy as he ruthlessly began bucking his hips into hers, not waiting for her to adjust to his size. She felt like heaven to him, after all, he’d trained her pussy to perfectly fit his cock since the night of their wedding, but after so long of going without being inside of her, she’d tightened up again. Elvis hissed as her walls squeezed him before throwing his head back and letting out a deep groan.

Lucy gripped the sheets below her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the beast on top of her used her cunt like she was a rag-doll solely for his pleasure. “Tight fuckin’ cunt, all for me, mama. Takin’ my dick so well, just like I taught ya, baby.” He said between breaths. Her chest fluttered at his praise, and her cunt squeezed tighter around him. “Ya like that, hm? Like when I tell ya how good you are to me. How nice you fit around my cock. My good girl.” He muttered against your lips as his hands squeezed her hips with such force, they’d be sure to leave a mark.

“Yes, Yes, fuck—yes Elvis. ‘M your good girl. All yours.” Lucy replied through loud moans, her breasts bouncing with ever rough thrust he planted. Something snapped in Elvis at that, and he threw her legs over his shoulder, hitting a new angle. Just the right spot to make her vision blurry and seeing stars. Her back arched as his fingers found her clit, rolling it between his fingers before rubbing it just the right way that made that familiar coil tighten again.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Elvis! p-please mm- lemme cu-cum!” She stuttered out through moans. Elvis reveled in her satisfying sounds, every thrust sent him into orbit as he became pussy drunk, completely consumed in her. He could feel her everywhere. Her soft hands all over him. Her cunt squeezing the life out of him as she was on the brink of an orgasm. the pleas of her crying aloud. Her eyes watering as she stared up at him, overstimulated.

“Hold it, ‘m almost there, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” Elvis replied as his hips shot further into hers. The sound of their sweaty skin echoed through the room, and surely could be heard through the halls. Elvis took notice of the prominent bulge on her stomach, groaning at the sight of him filling her to the brim. He pressed his hand against it. “Feel that? ‘M right here, doll.” He said, his voice laced with desire. Lucy merely whimpered, still trying to hold back on her orgasm.

The sudden pressure on her lower stomach made her eyes roll to the back of her head as she felt the coil once again snap, releasing all her juices on Elvis’ lower stomach for a second time. But Elvis wasn’t done yet as he kept his pace of pounding into her. “Please, I can’t-” she moaned out, Elvis slapped her cheek. “I told ya to fuckin’ wait, but you just hadda be a slut, huh? you’re done when I say ya are.” He hissed. Lucy moaned at the contact of his hand against her cheek before nodding her head vigorously.

Elvis felt his stomach grow tighter as he was closer and closer to finishing. “‘M almost there, j-just ho-hold on f’me, mama.” He stuttered out through the waves of euphoric feelings. All of his senses were overwhelmed and his body felt hot to the touch like it was on fire as sweat dripped down him. He slammed his cock into Lucys overstimulated cunt a few more times sloppily before his hips stilled inside of her.

Elvis soon pulled out and watched as cum dripped out of her sopping, pulsing hole before taking two of his slender fingers and stuffing it back in. “Don’t want it to go to waste, now do we?” He said with a smirk as Lucy’s body wracked with spasms as his fingers penetrated her. Lucy’s hand reached out and stilled his movements with a small whimper. “No more Elvis, ‘s too much.” She whined.

Elvis sighed. “Alright, satin, let’s get you cleaned up.” He said as he got up and went into their shared bedroom to retrieve a wet cloth before coming back and gently wiping off both of their juices from her sore cunt. Lucy sighed contently as Elvis pressed a few lingering kisses on her thighs and stomach. “You did so good.” Elvis said against her lips before softly kissing her.

“Want you to hold me, please, Elvis.” She muttered back with a cheeky smile. Elvis let out a small laugh, eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Whatever you want, Lucy.” He replied as he laid in bed next to her, bringing her closer and wrapping his arms around the smaller girl. She drew small patterns on his naked chest and smiled contently when she felt his hands begin to massage her scalp.

“Yknow I love ya, right?” Elvis said as he glanced down at her in his arms.

“I know, Elvis. I love you too.”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

#70s elvis #elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fandom #elvis fans #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n

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starzblvd · 1 year ago

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Somethin’ Stupid |pt.1

Ellie wasn’t one to do sports but she sure as hell was when you started cheering for a certain blonde soccer captain

AN; To preface reader isn’t a cheerleader, more like someone who goes to a game with those huge signs, decked out in the teams merch. Sorry for being gone so long, but I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while so hopefully I executed this well, and thanks to everyone who’s been reading/reblogging my work I love it knowing other people enjoy what I make 💕 bsf!ellie, modernau, soccercaptain!abby, Nora!abby!bsfs

Assignments this semester were laying it thick with the load, so much so you’d been missing time you could’ve spent with your best friends specifically, Ellie. You knew she would’ve been understanding just like she typically is with you, yet you undeniably failed to ignore the sting of guilt when you had to excuse yourself from meeting up with her through the week. Tonight your time and attention was dedicated to solely her, before arriving at her dorm you prepped up a “sorry I was so busy” snack basket. Usually Ellie’d be stuck to you even in the most mundane tasks, you felt homesick from her presence after the first couple days of being separated.

Had you known each other before uni you’d choose a dorm haul closer, walking across campus every time got bothersome fast, but the process you followed before seeing her was fun. It was fun picking a cute outfit to see Ellie, wearing that one shirt she likes so much since the fabric hugged you so right. No matter how long Ellie’s known you or how comfortable it’s gotten around her it never hurt to try dressing up a bit for her. The sickeningly sweet feelings when she’d do anything were always there, present, sincere, and bitterly inducing thoughts of it being just that, feelings sickening the relationship you cherished with her.

The walk wasn’t so bad when the sky became tinted with the pink and orange hues of sunset, until you took a forceful nudge to the shoulder by someone in a rush, some of the snacks even pooled out from the edge. Are you fucking serious, immediately the girl spun around lifting her hands up apologetically.

It was her, Abby Anderson. You’d recognize her from Instagram stories of other peoples posts from going to the soccer games. She was always deemed the star of the team, being phenomenal at the way she played and looking the way she did made it understandable why she had such a fan base.

“shit, sorry, let me help you,”

Not taking another second to wait Abby picked the snacks from the ground, it was noticeable she was anxiously in a rush, seeing you burned her paced down a bit.

“Thanks, I guess.”

She’d already ruined the perfect alignment you placed the snacks into for Ellie so you weren’t waiting around to have a chat with her.

“Wait, let me make it up to you.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t do anything that bad”

Abby’s face hesitated on letting you go or choking the words out she was fumbling to find through her mind.

“No it’s just, it would make me feel less guilty about hitting you so suddenly.” Abby looked right at your blatantly confused look and she wanted so badly to curse herself for not rehearsing this better.

“look I really need to get somewhere,”

“at least take my number, wouldn’t hurt right?”

Even if you weren’t crazy for her or the soccer team Abby was undeniably good looking, so spending some time with her wouldn’t be unbearable. After all she did seem nice and she helped you after shoving you to the side, her making it up to you would be a small free gesture.

“Fine, just please hurry,” the small smile you handed to her along with your phone was a relief to Abby’s anxious heart, once it sunk in that you were insinuating for her to save her number into your contacts she quickly complied. You didn’t want to come off too harsh so the smile was more a polite gesture. She memorized your number to put into her own phone after you left.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

Standing outside of Ellie’s door was nerve racking each time, the way her eyes strike contact with yours instantly after opening the door. Even then it was always comforting sharing the bed coddled by the star quilt on nights you stayed over.

The doorknob rattled opening the door, leaning on the door, wearing her tank top with no bra noticeable by the way her nipples are lightly lined through the fabric, you loved when she wore her tank tops.

“you didn’t have to” Ellie’s eyes soften taking you in and the basket you made, she missed you, clearly. She opens her arms to take the load of the basket from your hands, slightly grazing on the tips of your fingers,

“I wanted to, missed you,” the grin your lips formed into couldn’t be helped with her.

god stop being delusional she’s just being nice.

Ellie trailed right behind you into her dorm, smelling the remnants of your perfume wafting back at her, she always loved the way you smelt even when she doesn’t admit it. Thinking it might be weird to comment on your scent.

You had called her prior to coming so she cleaned up and set up the same quilt on her bed facing the TV, situating the basket wedged between her legs after sitting down.

“I have the perfect movie for tonight”

“you say that everytime then fall asleep els,”

“Trust me, it’s gonna knock your socks off.” Ellie was always so cocky when it came to her interests, she sounded a bit like a dork but in an endearing way.

Ellie patted the spot next to her inviting you right next to her, wrapping you in with her the moment you do. Loving the way the heat radiating from you touched her cold skin. There was a line drawn out as friends but it never stopped you from indulging in moments like these. Ellie right beside you and nobody else, at times it felt like the line had disappeared, never too sure what this was. Chalking up every longing stare out to normal staring was all you could do with the doubt that clouded over you constantly.

“if you fall asleep during this one im so choosing next time.”

Ellie scoffed acting offended flipping through the selection with the remote, her other hand was busy playing with the hem of the blue cotton shorts she wore. Right above her desk she’d pinned the photo of you with the familiar tattooed forearm slung across your shoulders, the photo was placed right next to the photo Ellie, Dina, and Jesse had taken at the fall fair last year. Knowing Ellie kept your face so close to somewhere she’d devote so much time to, somewhere she’s around so often, felt nice.

Following your trail of gaze she’d figured you’d been staring at the newly added photo, a soft pink frosted the tips of her ears as the words of her explanation spoke, “I put that up couple days ago, because, you know.” The you know was suggesting itself to be friendship, friends are supposed to have photos of each other. Regardless, a small tinge of hope stood for the idea that you meant as much as you did to Ellie as much as she did to you.

Just like the prediction you warned her about, Ellie was out. The side of her head had found its way onto your shoulder, happening in the middle of the movie while still awake, leaving quick little comments on different scenes.

“no way they actually fell for that.”

“see, if that was me I would’ve seen it coming.” Every small remark began having a longer gap between them reflecting how sleep slowly lulled her away from her dorm. Eyelids gently blanketing the eyes that wore such an alluring shade of green, always reeling you into her deeper. Ellie was in such tranquil sleeping propped up against you, you’d hate to wake her up, but you’d hate for her to wake up with neck pains. Holding in your breath while handling and making it so Ellie’s situated to be laying down on her back was probably being overly safe, she slept through multiple alarms, she can sleep through being plopped onto her pillow.

Right when you were free a ping came from your phone, it was obvious who it was. Had she not been so insistent you’d ignore Abby and continued walking to Ellie’s. You never payed much attention to Abby, it was so hard to come across her at campus let alone get to know her. Most you knew she was good at what she did and stayed on top of everything, and her last name carried some weight with higher ups.

She totally dodged my question

Disregarding that, you felt slightly nervous now with a set official meet up. Not clear as to what exactly has you stirred up, maybe it’s the fact she’s pretty or the fact that a girl so prominent was practically begging to spend time with you. Nevertheless you were currently more focused by the sleepiness hitting you as well. Right next to Ellie. You were equally nervous with Ellie possibly even more, but with her there was sense of security, homey feeling when you were together. That made up for any sentiment of the chance this is as far as you’d ever go with Ellie.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

5:00pm on the dot, Abby was standing against the wall hesitantly looking around knowingly for you. She had beat you there by showing up 10 minutes earlier, clearly dressed up a bit. Seemingly not a single fly away separating itself from her braid except a few loose strands in the front. The moment your eyes locked with hers she walked right over to you, almost speed walking.

“Hey.” The smile Abby gave looked so genuine upon seeing you.

“Hey.” You were unsure how to initiate the outing so the both of stood staring the other down until Abby got the hint.

“Let’s go inside yeah? I preordered our drinks so there’s no wait. Pretty sure you’ll like what I got you.”

The question she dodged yesterday night, did she see you here so often she memorized your drink too? Obligingly you follow right behind her, reluctant on the decision to ask the question again or not. Abby seemed happy doing this for you so at most you knew this outing wouldn’t be so bad.

She picked a table next to a window, pulling the chair out for you. After waking up in Ellie’s dorm you briefly mentioned meeting with Abby, Ellie’s response was a cold look and “Are you seriously going?”

Why she sounded so bothered by Abby’s insistency to makeup for a simple accident was something you were clueless too, a little too clueless. Pulling you back to the girl in front of you Abby puts a straw in your drink for you. Working out of your reluctancy you shoot your looming question.

“How’d you know I go here?”

Abby’s face was stricken with slight surprise, she chuckled a bit before giving a proper response this time.

“I walk by here a bunch, and you just, stood out, you know?” No, you didn’t know, but you went on either way seeing how the confidence she wore so heavy was being melted right in front of you.

“What about me stood out?”

“Nothing in particular,” there was something in particular, but her eye contact with you was becoming scarce under your further instigation, not wanting to bring down the mood you move on for now.

“You play soccer right? I’ve seen some posts of you here and there.” Taking the straw into your mouth and letting the drinks taste hit you, it became apparent she did memorize your drink, down to even the milk you preferred for lattes.

“Yeah, I’m team captain, never seen you in the crowd but If you wanted to go I could help you with that.” Talking about something she was good at made her slip back into her confident state. She knew she was good, anyone detesting that clearly hadn’t seen her play.

“Pull some strings? What do you have special privileges as captain?” The conversation was easier to jab at, now teasing her both of you grinning subtly leaning into each other over the table.

“Course I do, front row seats, just for you.” In all honesty as soccer captain she could’ve allowed a couple of your friends to come to a game for free especially as an Anderson, but she didn’t want to see your friends there, she wanted to see you.

“give me a time and date, I’ll be there. Waving a sign cheering for you and all.” Giggling you were invested in this now, setting aside the fact that you didn’t really care for sports, soccer not being an exception. On the other hand you weren’t watching soccer, you were watching her.

When you’d hit the bottom of your drink after conversing with her longer about more mundane things you got up to toss your cup. Talking with Abby was easier when you discovered how much her personality was refreshing to be around, conversation full of laughter and lengthy discussions.

Abby sprung up alongside you, “If you’re walking back to your dorm I can take you back.”

“Are you sure? We’ve spent like 2 hours here just talking already.”

“My dorms close to yours anyways,” she held the door open for you, so nice to you since the beginning of meeting you. Visibly content with the smile that wouldn’t leave her face for practically the entire time.

The walk was quieter than the 2 hours spent at the cafe, enjoying each others company in a more relaxed atmosphere.

Abby’s voice interrupts the silence abruptly, “Hey that girl you’re always with isn’t your girlfriend right?”

The question was simple but you continued a few steps further before answering, Ellie as your girlfriend? Replayed in your mind before you did, the thought alone had you thrown off.

“No we’re just uh, friends.” You shoot Abby another reassuring grin similar to when you passed your phone to her the first time. Trying to evade the tinge of unsureness of the ‘uh’ mixed into your reply.

Abby’s shoulder dropped to relax from the subconscious stiffening they did in the few seconds it took you to give a response.

“Always saw you two together just assumed, anyways I look forward to seeing you again.” Reaching the door to the halls entrance you turn back to look at her one last time.

“Not coming in?”

“My dorms somewhere else but it’s, close”

“Well thanks for walking me here and for the drinks, had fun hanging out with you today.” You were genuine telling her this, Abby’s smile only grew wider with her rosy cheeks making an appearance at your words.

“I did too, see you.”

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

After showering you open your phone up to an absolute slew of messages from Ellie, forgot I had my phone on silent, shit.

30 minutes pass by and no reply, did she really fall asleep so early? Early for her anyways, looking at how much she’d sent you couldn’t help the creeping feeling of guilt. Tomorrow you’d make it up to her, again. Missing Ellie’s texts stung more than you’d like it to, missing her in general always did this to you. It was unavoidable.

On the other side is campus a brunette stared at the texts Dina had sent her, eyebrows hugging closer to her eyes on her face she wore anger and jealousy. Jealousy over her friend. Dina passed by The Firefly and filled Ellie in on how you and Abby were connecting so well. Ellie hated it, hated it completely. What could she do, you’d ignored her texts to talk with Abby of all people, what did she have that Ellie didn’t, was she lacking something so bad you had to go to Abby for it? She was just concerned for you, not jealousy, yeah that’s what it is, is what she convinced herself to draw up her emotions to. Dina was even able to eavesdrop a bit, enough to know you’d agreed to a soccer game, now Ellie knew too. You didn’t even like soccer and she knew that. At some points Ellie knew more about you than you did yourself.

if you were going to see a soccer match she was set on making it so you didn’t only focus on her at the game. Ellie was prepared to do something to distract you away from Abby. After all, how could she let her best friend let herself associate with the obnoxious blonde soccer captain.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

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marvelmymarvel · 2 years ago

Text

Guardian (Part 2)

Jiraiya x Sarutobi!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Synopsis: Your brother gave you an assignment, "Go ask Sakumo Hatake if he needs help with his newborn." It was a simple task, but it snowballed into so much more.

A/n: Jiraiya makes me want to bark man.

Naruto Masterlist: Here

His brown eyes were wide as he stared shyly at the big man. You and Kakashi had been staying with Jiraiya for a couple of months now, and while the young child had grown fond of the Sannin, he was still unbearably shy. It didn't help that you had moved from your home, his safe space. It was something you felt terrible about, but you just couldn't get the image of Sakumo on the floor out of your head; it gave you nightmares to the point that Jiraiya was begging you to move in with him, even if it was for a little bit.

Upon agreeing to the change, Jiraiya quickly made his apartment feel like home for both of you. He even painted the spare room Kakashi's favorite color before filling it with all the toys a young boy could only dream of having. It was sickeningly sweet, and while the darkness still weighed heavy on your heart and mind, you were starting to see the light. Working at the daycare helped. It brought in extra money and allowed you to take Kakashi along with you as he was at the age you were caring for. Jiraiya had told you many times you didn't have to work and that he'd take care of you, but you wanted to do this.

It was a good distraction.

Which is how you were here, blabbering about your day while cooking. Kakashi stood wide-eyed at Jiraiya's feet while Jiraiya listened adamantly to your every word. The big man felt Kakashi's gaze and looked down at him with a soft smile; he knew what he wanted.

"Hey, buddy. Do you want up?"

Kakashi curled into himself while his fingers played with one another. He averted his gaze before nodding; once he got the taste of seeing the world at Jiraiya's height, he couldn't get enough. You gazed at the pair over your shoulder with a smile on your lips as Jiraiya bent down to pull Kakashi up onto his hip. If you hadn't known that Kakashi's father was Sakumo, you would have thought Jiraiya was his father instead.

Both of their brown eyes moved to you, and you giggled at their cuteness, but it quickly morphed into pain as the image of Sakumo holding Kakashi flashed through your mind. Jiraiya's eyebrows furrowed as you pursed your lips and returned to the food. Jiraiya moved slowly to you before wrapping his free arm across your back, "What's wrong, sweetheart?" His whisper was soothing but didn't ease the ache in your soul. "Nothing. You just look like him sometimes, and I-" You cut yourself off as you swallowed down the thickness in your throat. Grief was hard.

This was hard.

Jiraiya nodded. He didn't need anything more than that to understand what was happening behind your pretty eyes. "It'll be okay. I got you," he whispered before kissing your temple. Both of you froze at the action, fully aware that a boundary was just crossed. You had just lost your fiancé, and he was dating someone, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that-"

You turned off the stove before stepping out of his embrace, "The food is almost done. Can you set the table for me?" He bit his lip at your sharp tone but nodded before moving towards the dining area to do as you asked. Your teary eyes stared at the food below you, stomach-churning as you felt the guilt eat you up inside. You only wanted to curl up in his arms and forget the world.

But he was gone, and with him, he took your world.

A small giggle floated through the air and brought you out of your depressing thoughts. You leaned forward to peek into the dining area, and a smile ghosted your lips at the sight. Kakashi was running around with a toy, giggling and playing like he didn't have a care in the world. Did Sakumo take your world with him? Wasn't the young child in the other room already your entire world?

"Y/n. Tables set," Jiraiya called out as he scooped up Kakashi. The child let out a playful squeal as Jiraiya ran him around the room like he was a superhero. A chuckle fell from your lips as you grabbed the bowls of prepared food. "Okay, okay, be careful! Don't break anything now," you scolded cheekily as you set the food on the table. Jiraiya let out a light laugh before plopping Kakashi in his booster seat.

Within minutes, the three of you had food and happily ate as a family. Your e/c eyes drifted between them, and they softened at that thought. A family. It was something you wanted with Sakumo, something you craved. But maybe you could still have that, even if it was just you and Kakashi against the world. You looked down at your food with a soft smile; what if you and Sakumo had another kid? What if none of this had ever happened?

A hand caressed yours, and it was then that you realized you were crying. You didn't look at Jiraiya, knowing that the sight of him would only break your heart further. Why did he have to look like him so much? "Is Mommy okay?" Kakashi's voice floated through your mind, which successfully snapped you out of it. You inhaled sharply and wiped the tears away as you shot a sweet smile in Kakashi's direction. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and worry; there had been a couple of times when he had unknowingly brought you out of the darkness of your mind. It scared him each time.

"Mommy is fine, baby. How is your food?"

Kakashi's eyes lit up, and he nodded excitedly before blabbering about how good it was. It was his favorite meal, and you made it specifically for him. "Good! I'm glad you like it. After dinner, I thought I could read you to sleep. How does that sound?"

He inhaled sharply at the question before clapping happily in his seat, "Yes, please!!!" the innocent tone caused a genuine smile to form on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes. Jiraiya held his breath as he watched you tentatively; when it didn't seem like you'd break down, he took his hand away from yours.

Your frown turned into a scowl at the loss of his touch, and he was quick to put his hand back where it was seconds prior, a sheepish apology falling from his lips as he did so. You nodded at the apology before moving your hand to lace your fingers with his. It was an awkward angle, but you didn't care; you just needed to feel him. You still wouldn't look at him, but he didn't mind. Kakashi looked at your hands, and his little face scrunched up. You used to do that with his father, "Mama. Do you not love Daddy anymore?"

You flinched before looking at him in confusion, didn't love him anymore? He was all you could think about. But once you saw his eyes trained on where your fingers were laced with Jiraiya's, did you understand the question. Pulling your hand away from Jiraiya, you shook your head at the child, "I still love Daddy very much, buddy."

"Then why does Jiraiya do things with you like Daddy did?"

The guilt was eating away at you, but you didn't know how to answer. You knew what he meant. There had been many times that he'd seen Jiraiya holding you close while whispering sweet words in your ear. It looked suspicious, but what Kakashi didn't know - what he wouldn't understand - is that what Jiraiya was doing was comforting you as a friend.

"Jiraiya is just my friend, honey. No one will be able to replace your father."

Jiraiya didn't mean to wince at that statement, he knew it was empty; that sooner or later, you would move on. But you sounded so sure. Kakashi nodded at you before resuming eating, happy with your statement that you still loved his father. You shot a glance at Jiraiya, who had also started eating again, and if you hadn't known him for so long, you would have missed the pain in his eyes. Your words were true, at least for right now in your life. You loved Sakumo more than life itself; that would be a hard thing to replace.

Deciding to ignore his heartbroken face, you looked down at your food, picking at it as if you weren't hungry. Grief was hard, so very hard. But you'd get through it.

You had to.

#jiraiya imagine #jiraiya fanfiction #jiraiya imagines #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto x reader #naruto fanfiction #naruto

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k-i-h-u · 11 days ago

Text

DWC: Day II

DECEIT & ETERNAL @daily-writing-challenge MENTIONS: @v-e-g-n

Cold, but not like frost. Muffled, but not deafened. Weightless, but not asleep.

Vegn had ailments healed by mistweavers most of his life so his first experience with the mending provided by shadow became an immediate preference. It... understood. It did not cure and sing like the light (when directed towards those untainted by fel), it did not call upon the natural states like chi, it simply... soaked in. Integrated.

The alleviation was always temporary but if he did not have Kihu there to help him through so many of these symptoms, Vegn feared that he’d have given up weeks ago—on more than just finding a cure suitable to his distrustful, stubborn needs. *It is not that bad,* he’d lied despite each day bringing about one more second of dizziness, one more minute of nausea, one more round of bile, one more hour of migraines... And why?

The siren allowed the younger to return to the moment by removing his casting hands from underneath the dip where skull met neck. Only when those heavy eyes peeled open in blinks that helped some of their glow flicker back to its usual state did Kihu sign over the mage’s face, <You’re lucky.>

At that, the eyes rolled. Vegn took his time in sitting up to make sure his head was numbed and collected for the time being, that stare aimed listlessly at the lap he’d dropped his head into a short while ago. After... having crawled in here... shit, what a humiliating thing to have resorted to. “I’m aware. But I wasn’t coming here for that; I was fine, and all of a sudden...” Hands ran through both sides of his hair whilst releasing a sigh from deep within his gut. “Whatever. Thank you. I’m... glad you were here and haven’t gone back home yet.”

This was, after all, the cave Kihu frequented when lingering in the Jade Forest—the other, his actual home, being somewhere in Tiragarde Sound. He wouldn't say where. Walking here had just been something Vegn took to for fresh air and to deliver a gift should the other happen to be inside, but the more he walked, the more he agitated his condition, and this round, it became so unbearable that he’d fallen onto his hands and knees in the rocky sand. He remembered Kihu running out since the collapse happened just outside; remembered him signing... something... in that flippant, pissed-off way wherein his fingers were snappy with tenseness. Something about how fed up he was with how consistently Vegn left his walking cane behind. Then he was dragged inside and cocooned in the sweet release of darkness.

Legs hesitantly straightened out from beneath himself as he went to stand and balance his way over to the cave’s rain-spattered entrance where the silk parasol and small knapsack he'd brought with him had been strewn aside. The parasol was rolled further in to keep from getting any wetter than it already was and the bag was picked up to be brought back over to Kihu.

“Brought something for you. As thanks.” Upon realizing just how many different thanks Kihu deserved, Vegn huffed, clarifying, “For... getting me to travel again. To find friends and help.” The bag’s button was undone and uselessly toyed with between the undersides of trimmed fingernails. “I went to Silvermoon last night. Had a few suggestions given to me from a couple; one, actually, was a banshee, and the similarity they have with sirens via the use of commands got me thinking.”

It was finally Kihu’s turn to be the annoyed party for once. This topic always put him on edge because every time, without fail, Vegn tried to milk it for a sample and every time, Kihu vehemently refused. Communicating the issues about using his voice with this minx in particular was sickeningly taxing on his psyche. Rather than feed Vegn the ‘what’ he was waiting for, he let a dissatisfied poker face cement his features, arms crossed.

“Don’t give me that. Kihu, what the hell are you so scared of? Seriously—there is more good you could use your gift for than you want to even realize let alone acknowledge. For example, what if you could heal people?”

Fingers left the bag alone in order to wave in front of himself as a symbol of backtracking. “No, I meant—maybe ‘help’ is a better word. Imagine someone experiencing a debilitating panic attack being able to relax and breathe because you simply told them to. You could tell me to use my cane and I finally would. Or imagine—”

<We imagine nothing! I am not humoring this deceit of a subject.> The way Kihu rose from his seated position meant he was preparing to shoo Vegn so to reject what was coming, the student stood in tandem, coiled a hand around the other’s fist, and hissed.

“Why is it that you’ll help me yet never accept help from me?!”

Having a hand restrained was one of Vegn’s ways of retaliating; a cruel, toxic way to go about offering assistance wherein Kihu’s ability to refuse through signing was limited. He wasn’t holding tight enough to keep the elder from snapping his wrist away, though, so he did so with a step backwards and griped, <Because you are no help. In fact—>

“You won’t let me be! Who else, Kihu? You once told me that your power was one you’d never be able to fully understand without the taboo of live experimentation, right...? Even then, I tried to be your pawn. Willingly. You’ve already let me live in order to test the aftermath of a command; the fact that you don’t follow up on it is a waste of your potential. I wouldn’t be testing you if you were mute per a vow, but... you want to learn, I want to learn... and you’re the only one of us that’s too petrified to act.”

Kihu’s jaw grit so tightly that the flex extended down his neck and into his bared chest—his dewy form, for decency’s sake, covered only with the usual pair of makeshift pants formed from oil-slicked, cycloid scales. The lack of clothing—especially the usual face veil—was how Vegn knew he’d interrupted the man’s time in his true, half-aquatic form (donning the tail that he’d also love to study though that was another battle entirely).

“—Excuse me?”

That elated quip sung through a grin was more like a slap to the siren’s face than anything encouraging. He even turned away for a few breaths to roughly knead dusky fingertips up and down his hips. Regretting, faltering, questioning. Scolding. He should not do this; he told himself he never would. It was unnecessary. It was unforgivably risky. And yet . . .

. . . Vegn, infuriatingly, was right. Who else? When? This lack of practice was a leash of barbed wire extending all the way into the ocean’s unmapped terrain and it was finally at the metaphorical point of sawing entirely through his already-bloodied neck. He wanted to be able to give others answers. He wanted to be able to consider loving now that he, too, was socializing more. The use of this one temporary participant could prove an eternal degree of clarity... not to mention the fact that it would shut said participant up from always begging.

A squint of a gaze leered towards the arcanist as though daring him to make the depth-born servant reconsider his words. Vegn won. He wore the fish down to the point of finally, finally considering the use of speech. <Not. Here.>

So he'd read that correctly after all. Beside himself with the bittersweet taste of disbelief and awe, Vegn tripped forward, latched onto Kihu’s arm, and let one shade of green meet another in their locked stare. “Show me that you mean it. You could be bullshitting me before leaving for good to avoid this; I’m not that gullible.”

Kihu, on the verge of doing just that, ripped the sticks in the bun of his hair out so they could be snapped into smaller and smaller pieces between his fingers. He had no buttons left for the student to push.

“Please, Kihu... you’ve helped me stay stable enough to take you up on your own wish—coaxed me to get back out there. I want to help you, too. This wouldn’t edge you so much if you would just... give in a little.” Those retaliating fingers slowed in their assault of the jade accessory. “...Say my name. It's not a command and nobody else you seem to think could overhear would be effected, so... my name.”

It took a longer time for Kihu to calm from his boiling state and digest that statement than it had for him to ease the throbbing in Vegn’s skull. Minutes passed with them standing there in the humidity of the salty air as it whispered about the cave’s insides, always dripping and wet with spray. But he moved—and when he did, it was not towards the gaping exit. It was to turn towards the one still anchored onto his arm. Still one more minute of hesitation was powered through wherein his torso repeatedly inflated, then deflated... inflated, deflated... and then stilled. The next quick inflation was the breath being taken in that’d form those four letters.

No lips upon an ear, no hand upon hand, no intimate contact nor platonic fuel. Only his voice at play.

“ V e g n . ”

...Vegn. One syllable. Just one.

One crystal-clear utterance to taste directly within his own mind—neither ear picking up on the sound echoing about the rocks nor from the direction of Kihu’s mouth. It was internal. It was in his head, his heart, his grounded feet... hushed, passing, and yet oh, so effective, the trace of that vowel alone making Vegn’s back arch like a stray cat as it affectionately rubbed across a new homeowner’s legs.

He didn’t even recall having closed his eyes to hone in on that drawl. The tone of the siren’s speech was far more natural than he would have presumed; Kihu’s humane pitch was as low and quiet as the drone of this seaside abode. Almost... familiar despite having only ever been heard once before when he was told to *stop*. It preached to his roots, made him feel at home when outside of his own, coaxed him into the steadiness of his warmed skin. Deigned—crowned—him Vegn. The one and only. Not vain, though he was. Not vein, though his thrummed in acknowledgement. Vegn. Him.

It was his hands that he next found himself looking down upon as they were turned over and witnessed anew. It came as a surprise to see that he was not glowing or covered in magic like he pictured himself to be. Never in all of his life, even when foolishly high on psychedelics or in the thralls of an orgasm, had he felt this in tune with himself. He cherished every arch in his fingerprints—pressed all ten digits upon his face and breathed in the first collection of air now that he’d been born again without the wails typical of an infant’s entrance. To think that he’d contemplated letting this malformation cripple him into extinction a few days ago... when a spiritual awakening like this was so readily accessible and eye-opening... and . . .

How long had it been? Kihu did not look like he’d moved an inch even when he’d been let go of yet Vegn felt aged to his prime. There was no conceivable way that he could have experienced all of that in the one second it took to simultaneously have his name spoken and heard from the mouth of a siren. A uniquely male siren without the wings of those known, but... that was all he was. He was not a god.

That voice on its own, though, ought to have been worshipped as one.

He fumbled for words by parting then pressing his lips taut, licking them then touching them, pursing them then again parting them. “That...” No. What was the point? Words from his own mouth sounded like ash in comparison to Kihu’s. There were none he could pant out that even came close to explaining what just happened.

Another glance at the taller man staring him down clued Vegn in on how spooked he was. “I’m fine,” he smiled, subconsciously resting his hands on his own shoulders as if greeting himself. “Better than... fine. But I’m only enthralled, not seduced. Captivation like that must be the effect of your song more-so than your speech.”

Relief washed over Kihu so abruptly that he almost spoke another word but no such utterance escaped when pacing away to walk off the guilt of having truly just done that. And succeeded. He wasn’t having to swim Vegn into a drowned death for the feeding of the void to erase an accidental victim.

After clearing his throat to keep from asking to hear his name again, Vegn knelt beside his bag, took out a small tub labeled as bait, and wandered after Kihu to hand it over. “Here.”

One glance was all it took for mournful eyes to shimmer with delight. The broken jade was dropped in favor of accepting the container and its lid was popped off in the next fluid motion, every red worm within wriggling about. One was picked out of its soil.

“Ah, no, no, you are not eating those in front of me. Let me leave first.”

And so he did. Assured and hopeful, Vegn left the cave of his secretive friend and walked with his head held high back towards the house no longer occupied by abusive parents. Their skeletons had to have been decaying in the belly of Kihu’s lord by now.

#writing #DWC

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grumpymiika · 1 month ago

Text

♡ TW: Yandere, dark content, mention of kidnapping

♡ English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Another monotonous, dreary day unfolded before your eyes. You were stuck in the loathsome math class, your teacher a bore beyond words. You couldn’t wait to leave the room—it was the last class of the day, and the fact that it was his only fueled your fury. Time crawled at a snail’s pace, as though it wasn’t even trying to pass. Fortunately for you, as you endured those seemingly endless hours, you drifted into a deep sleep. The teacher made no effort to wake you; it seemed even he didn’t care about his own class.

The bell rang, but you were still far from waking. You remained there, asleep and alone—or so you thought. Gentle fingers brushed against your head, rousing you from your slumber. It was Sato, the unbearably cute boy from your class. You had never spoken to him before, so you were taken aback that he, of all people, had chosen to wake you.

"Sato? Do you need something?" you stammered, unsure how to break the awkward silence that hung between you since the moment he touched you awake.

"Actually, there is something I want to tell you." Your curious eyes locked on him, awaiting what he had to say. "Kind of..." He paused for a moment, and before you could say anything, he blurted out, "I love you! I want you to be my girlfriend!" His voice rose in desperation, almost as if he were pleading.

A heavy silence fell again, the atmosphere thick and uncomfortable.

“Well... maybe we can be friends for now? I don’t really know you that well yet,” you replied, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“That sounds good to me! Thank you so much,” he grinned widely, then began gathering your belongings for you. The two of you left school together, and you didn’t even stop to wonder why he had stayed ten minutes after classes had ended. You were too swept up in the moment to doubt him.

As the days passed, his constant presence became the norm. He followed you everywhere, never leaving your side for even a second. Over time, without even realizing it, all of your other friends drifted away, and he became your sole companion. You began to view him as the only genuine person at school, while everyone else seemed fake—an impression he eagerly reinforced. Sato constantly spoke ill of others, telling you how much people secretly hated you, how they gossiped behind your back. Worse yet, your reputation at school began to plummet. It seemed no one liked you anymore. But at least you had Sato, right? Or so you thought. A grave mistake.

One day, by chance, while walking alone to school, you spotted Sato talking with Mei, one of the girls he had always spoken badly about. Finding the situation odd, you approached slowly, trying to eavesdrop without being noticed. To your shock, the truth hit you like a slap in the face—Sato was spreading lies about you to Mei, slithering like a snake.

Unable to handle the situation, you fled to the lockers to change your shoes. In your sadness, you violently threw your bag to the ground and opened your locker, only to find your shoes defaced with paint, the word "slut" scrawled across them. That was the final straw. You couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face. The shameless boy, seeing you cry, approached and asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, "What’s wrong?"

You couldn’t help but feel sickened by his false tone, dripping with deceit. "Don’t play dumb—you know what you did! Did you think I’d never find out?!"

"What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?" he retorted, feigning innocence.

"You, who called yourself my friend, betrayed me!" Without waiting for his response, you grabbed your bag and ran out of the school.

Once home, you fumbled with the keys, trying to unlock the door. Suddenly, you were startled as someone grabbed you from behind, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"You’re wrong. I didn’t do any of that," it was him. The audacity of him to follow you—this was the limit!

"Let go of me!" you shouted, struggling in his arms. To your surprise, he was much stronger than he looked. How could someone so thin have such strength?

"Please, just listen to me," he pleaded, trying to maintain a calm voice, though it was clear he was seething beneath the surface.

"No, you listen to me! You’re an idiot, leave me alone!" Finally, his patience snapped. His grip tightened, constricting your breath.

"Stop... let me go..." you gasped, breathless as his hold grew tighter. Your attempts to free yourself grew weaker with each passing moment. But he didn’t stop—he only squeezed harder. It wasn’t long before your consciousness faded, and you collapsed in his arms.

He finally had you… at last.

#yandere x reader #yandere #obsessive yandere #dark content #yanderecore

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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juno i’m sure you get so many asks about breeding and ik you write sm for it but you’re just tew good at it… indulge me if you feel like it..

chan ofc breeding kink has been on my mind as of late like he triggers something maternal in me idk what it is but every time i see a dad coded chan pic or moment like i just have this intense urge to mother his children and be his housewife… wife… have his babies… (i exploded)

but also i feel like i think about this way more than i should but HEAR ME OUT like hybrid au. and you’re channie’s little puppygirl n one of his fav things is to help you through your heats >< when he sees you so desperate for his attention (and his dick) he can’t help but to get rock hard at imagining you all swelled up with his puppies!! especially when you beg him so sweetly…

maybe you’re in the early stages of your heat and your libido is just a little higher, nothing crazy! but when chan comes home from the gym one day all sweaty and you can practically taste the testosterone and the hormones pumping through his body, you’re on him as soon as he gets through the door. he lies on the couch to rest for a few minutes before his routine shower and next thing he knows he’s startled by his sweet little puppy rutting her slick-sticky pussy all over his abs. poor baby :(

“couldn’t—couldn’t help it, channie. you smell s’good.” your eyes are welling with tears from how unbearably horny you are at the smell of your sweaty boyfriend. he knows you’re referring to his post-gym aroma that you usually go a little crazy for, but not like this. he must’ve triggered your heat for real.

he’ll grip your hips and slow them down, and to try and get your brain to slow down too.

“slow down, pup. tell channie what you need. tell daddy what you really need,” he says in this sickeningly sweet tone, cocking his head to meet your splotchy face with a look that says, tell me so i can take care of you. he knows what you need, but he wants to hear you say it. it makes your pussy gush and your brain feel like static.

your face and insides run hot with need, albeit a bit of embarrassment, at what you really do need.

“wan’ it channie—daddy, your puppies—wan‘em,” you mutter shyly. you know your owner will take care of you.

his eyes roll to the back of his head with a groan at the image of filling you with his cum, and he moves your hips down his body to where his cock is, swelled up and leaking in his basketball shorts already.

he’ll buck his hips up, rough, enough force to jolt you up and make your ears flop. he grinds into your clothed cunt and asks with a smirk, “feel that baby?”

“mmm, ‘s so hard channie. please—need it in me,” you whine. one particular grind into your clit with his clothed dick onto your bare pussy makes you mewl loud for him. you feel his cock throb through the fabric and you’re sure he feels the rush of slick that leaks from you.

“yeahhh, m’so hard for you, baby. daddy wants to give you his puppies, feel it?” he holds you flush against his lap and he makes his cock twitch for you. it makes you whimper and you nod.

“you gonna let him?” you nod faster, ears flopping on your head and whining because of course you are. you’re begging him to. when he starts making you hump him again your mouth parts, catching your breath once you feel the pleasurable friction of his shorts on your clit return.

“gonna let channie make your pussy messy and tummy full of my babies? yeah?” nod nod nod. he’s nodding with you now, mimicking your expression of parted lips and furrowed brows and little gasps everytime his cock touches your slick-wet cunt.

WOAHOHOH i feel a little silly now writing a fic in your asks so let me stop here but hopefully we all can resonate with my feelings about wanting to be chan’s puppygirl that he breeds full of cum on the reg 🙏 LOLLL

- 🦨

skunknon….. i cantn even bretage. please come by nore often

♡ juno

#juno’s asks ♡#asks: channie #🦨 anon 💌

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yellowgreendinno · 6 months ago

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☽Twisted Love☾

Fem!Nozel Silva x Yandere male!Vanica Zogratis. (Nobuko & Vance) A/N: hope you enjoy the oneshot! 💗✨ (what have I done)

Nobuko Silva never slept alone. It was an unspoken rule among her siblings and closest friends that someone would always be with her during the night. Whether it was Nebra or Solid in one of their rooms, or Fuegoleon coming over occasionally, they all understood that Nobuko needed the comfort of another presence. Even Kirsch would stay with her when he had the chance. To the outside world, it might have seemed that the powerful Silva heir was simply a scaredy-cat, unable to handle the dark. But the true reason was far more sinister.

One night, fate took a cruel turn. Nebra and Solid were away on a mission, Fuegoleon was preoccupied with his duties, and Kirsch had pressing responsibilities. Nobuko found herself alone in her grand, yet suddenly foreboding, bedroom. She tried to convince herself that she could handle one night on her own, that she was strong enough to face her fears.

The hours ticked by, and as the clock struck 3 a.m., Nobuko stirred from her restless sleep. A cold shiver ran down her spine, and she awoke with a start. Her heart pounded as she sensed another presence in the room. Slowly, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into a pair of terrifyingly familiar red eyes.

It was Vance Zogratis, the man who had tormented her since she was fourteen, the man who had killed her mother. His obsession with her was nothing short of a nightmare, and he had come once again to claim what he believed was rightfully his.

Nobuko's instinct was to scream, but before she could, Vance's hand clamped over her mouth. His touch was cold, and his eyes gleamed with a twisted blend of lust and obsession.

"Shh, my sweet Nobuko," Vance whispered, his voice a sickeningly sweet murmur. "You don't want to wake the entire castle, do you?"

Nobuko's eyes widened with terror, her body trembling under his grip. She tried to push him away, but he was too strong. The fear that had plagued her for years came rushing back, paralyzing her.

"Why are you here?" she managed to whisper through his fingers, her voice shaking.

Vance's smile was predatory. "I came to see you, my love. I couldn't stay away any longer. You know how much I need you."

"You're insane," Nobuko spat, trying to muster as much defiance as she could. "You'll never have me. Never."

Vance's eyes darkened, and he tightened his grip on her. "Oh, but I will, Nobuko. I've waited long enough. You and I are meant to be together. It's time you accepted that."

Nobuko's mind raced, searching for a way out. She knew she couldn't overpower him physically, but perhaps she could buy herself some time. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vance leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "I want you to be my wife, Nobuko. The mother of my children. I want you to love me as I love you."

Nobuko felt a wave of nausea wash over her. The thought of being with Vance, of being trapped in his twisted fantasy, was unbearable. "You killed my mother," she said, her voice breaking. "How can you say you love me?"

Vance's expression softened, as if he genuinely believed his own lies. "I did it for us, Nobuko. She was standing in the way of our love. I had to remove her to be with you."

Tears filled Nobuko's eyes, and she shook her head. "You're delusional. What you've done is unforgivable."

Vance's smile faded, replaced by a look of cold determination. "You'll come to understand, my love. In time, you'll see that we belong together."

Desperation gripped Nobuko as she realized there was no reasoning with him. She needed to find a way to alert someone, to get help. But how? Vance's presence was a suffocating weight, and her options were limited.

"Please, Vance," she said, trying to sound as placating as possible. "Just let me go. We can talk about this later, when I'm not so scared."

Vance's grip loosened slightly, and he looked at her with a mixture of pity and adoration. "I don't want to scare you, Nobuko. I just want us to be together."

Taking advantage of his momentary hesitation, Nobuko summoned the last of her courage and brought her knee up sharply, aiming for his groin. Vance grunted in pain, his grip loosening enough for her to break free.

She scrambled off the bed and ran for the door, her heart pounding in her chest. But Vance was quick to recover, and he grabbed her arm, yanking her back with brutal force.

"You're not going anywhere," he growled, his red eyes blazing with anger. "Not until you understand that you belong to me."

Nobuko's mind was a whirlwind of fear and desperation. She had to get away, had to find help. As Vance dragged her back toward the bed, she screamed with all her might, hoping against hope that someone, anyone, would hear her.

At that moment, the door burst open, and Fuegoleon Vermillion stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with horror and fury. He took in the scene before him and his mana flared with righteous anger.

"Get away from her!" Fuegoleon roared, his voice echoing through the room.

Vance turned, a sneer on his face. "Ah, the gallant knight arrives. You're too late, Fuegoleon. Nobuko is mine."

Fuegoleon's flames ignited, illuminating the room with a fierce glow. "Over my dead body," he growled, advancing on Vance.

Nobuko felt a surge of relief and gratitude, her heart lifting at the sight of her protector. Fuegoleon's presence was a beacon of hope in her darkest hour.

Vance's red eyes flickered with uncertainty, and he released Nobuko, stepping back. "This isn't over," he hissed, his voice filled with venom. "I'll be back for you, Nobuko."

Fuegoleon didn't give him a chance to escape. With a swift, powerful movement, he unleashed a torrent of flames that engulfed Vance, driving him back and out of the room. The demon man vanished into the night, his screams echoing through the halls.

Fuegoleon rushed to Nobuko's side, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Nobuko clung to him, her body trembling with relief and exhaustion. "I am now," she whispered, burying her face in his chest.

Fuegoleon held her tightly, his heart aching at the thought of what she had endured. "I'll never let him hurt you again," he vowed, his voice firm and resolute. "I promise."

As the night wore on, Nobuko found solace in Fuegoleon's presence, knowing that with him by her side, she could face any nightmare. And as they sat together in the quiet aftermath of the battle, she realized that she was no longer alone. She had a protector, a confidant, and a friend who would stand by her no matter what.

#black clover #nozel silva #genderbend nozel silva #fuenoze #fuegoleon vermillion fanart #vanica zogratis #male vanica zogratis #yandere vanica #yandere x unwilling #black clover fic #my writing

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rains-ritual-sacrifice · 4 months ago

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nsfw Rain oneshot, 3705 words (i am new to tumblr and have no clue how to format lol) but enjoy!!! i usually draw instead of write soooo....

The silence of the abbey was nearly deafening, the only sounds being the muffled cicadas, crickets, and katydids out and about for the season, locked outside his windows. A late evening in his room quickly turned into a sleepless night for Rain, who was currently staring at the blank wall as he lay on his side in his roomy bed. The moon was at it's peak, it's cold light shining through his room and casting his lonely shadow along the stone wall. Rain sighed deeply and shifted to lay with his bare back against his sheets.

What were you up to? Were you still awake too?

He groaned and buried his face into his hands. You were the only thing he had been able to think about for weeks. Of course his heat had to show up before he could convince himself to move on from pining after you, his confidant, his best goddamn friend. He was used to how his cycle goes, the unbearable urge to hump and fuck until his chest heaved for breaths, his skin slick with his own sweat from the amount of strain his body was under. Rain slid his hands down his face with a sigh. What would your hands feel like on his skin? Cradling his jaw as you leaned in, your scent strong due to his heightened sense of smell, courtesy of his cycle? Would your fingers feel feather-light along his skin? Or would you press your fingers roughly into his jaw and pull him in close? Even that thought was enough for his body to react inappropriately.

Any sane person would be asleep at this hour, obviously you were in bed. He cursed under his breath, feeling like an absolute pervert. He couldn't help but think of you asleep, hair splayed out on the pillow underneath your head, your lips parted ever-so-slightly as your chest rose and fell with every breath, and your eyes peacefully shut as you dreamed. He'd seen you in the mornings in your sweatpants and oversized shirt (and occasionally short shorts during the warmer months) but he was still left to wonder. Did you really sleep in that? Or were there nights so hot in the abbey that you had no choice but to strip down to your bare skin? The warmer months were perfectly capable of doing that, hell, he himself has slept naked on multiple occasions. Even in this moment the heat was enough for him to just wear boxers, the August humidity and his heat's increase in body temperature were not helping.

The moonlight would look so beautiful against the curves of your breasts and hips... the valley of your waist... the shine of the saliva on your lips, but you were infinitely more stunning than the glittering reflection. The thought of seeing your naked body in his dark room, only illuminated by the nighttime stars made his body involuntarily shiver. Rain shifted awkwardly in his bed to sit up with his back against the cool wooden headboard of his bed. He was starting to chub up, his half-hard dick pressing on the fabric of his boxers as he continued to fight his lustful thoughts of you, and failing miserably.

This. These thoughts, as tame as they were, could easily make a ghoul in heat fall to pieces. It didn't take much for Rain to get hard during his cycle, the need to find a mate and breed consumed his thoughts for the days it took to pass, even the smallest things would stir that familiar ache in his core. Little things like the your scent on the breeze as you passed him in the hallways, now stuck in his head for the rest of the day until he was free to hide away in his room for the night, fucking into his hand while pretending it was you.

He could only imagine the scent of your arousal.

Sickeningly sweet with that slightly bitter tang that would keep him crawling back on his knees for more. The water ghoul craved that slickness, running his tongue up your inner thigh as you squirmed underneath his touch, quietly pleading for more. Rain groaned at the sight of his now fully-hard erection. Running a hand through his hair, he snaked the other one down to rest on his abdomen, feeling the heat radiating off of his skin. He could feel his cheeks were flushed as pink as the swollen head of his cock. The strain of his sensitive tip against the fabric of the boxers was almost painful to him, and the idea that it couldn't be you touching him just increased his frustrations. He wanted to lock those thoughts away, he didn't want this sexual obsession of his to create a rift between the two of you. After all, it was you he confided in when you first joined the ministry, he had found someone he could really talk to, share his secrets, spill his guts, dump any of his fears onto without being afraid of being abandoned. He trusted you, supported you, loved you... lusted after you.

He hadn't even noticed his fingers stroking through the tuft of soft hair trailing up from the waistband of his boxers, inching further and further down. Rain leaned his head back and shut his eyes in an attempt to escape his obscene thoughts. Maybe he could just go to bed instead?

Of course his head conjured the sight of you between his knees while he lay back on the bed and watched you, your fingers being the ones to trail down his abdomen in a teasing manner. Your beautiful eyes pierced through his soul, he had no clue if he'd be able to look at them while you went down on him with a teasing gaze- the intimacy of that itself had the ghoul almost on edge. Stupid rut. Your hands, warm and soft, as they graze his skin and you lower the waistband of his-

Rain's eyes snapped open and he shoved his boxers down off his thighs with a low, irritated growl. This was unbearable. He thought back to the idea that maybe you were still awake too. Humans don't experience heats the way ghouls do, sure, but that didn't mean you weren't a sexual being. If you were awake, could you be getting off too? His slender fingers make their way down to the base of his shaft and slowly tease the idea of wrapping around it. His breath hitched and his mind immediately goes back to you, the possibility that you could be doing this to yourself right now as well. What did you think of when you touched yourself? Was this lustful pining a mutual pain or were you better than the absolute creep he was, masturbating to you while you were most likely fast asleep in your bed? He bit the inside of his cheek, enough to draw a metallic taste.

Did those hours upon hours of deep conversation sit with you the way it did with him? Rain lived for those moments, hearing you talk about literally anything was pure music to his ears. His fondness of you went beyond friendship, but it was also way more than simply wanting sex, he wanted a relationship. He valued you more than he thought you knew, valued every little thing about you. The way your eyes would light up when you spoke of your current interests, the way your sad eyes always sought him out for his comforting hugs when you needed someone, the way your cheeks flushed whenever he gave you the smallest of praise or compliments, it all sent a radiating warmth throughout his chest that lingered for the hours to come. The small splash of color that adorned your cheeks made him feel like he was floating. What pretty shade would they be while you desperately moaned his name from beneath him?

His fingers gently grazed along his frenulum to the head, the slow, calculated movement causing his dick to twitch impatiently. He let out a shaky breath as his fingertips, calloused from years of playing bass guitar, traced along the slit currently dribbling with the small beads of thick, nearly clear liquid. Rain was quite satisfied with his cock, it wasn't too big- average sized as far as he was aware, had a slight curve, and a visible vein towards the bottom of his shaft that throbbed whenever he pressed against it.

But would you like it? Would you think it was good enough?

A small groan escaped his lips, his other hand gripping the sheets beside him. He could see it, your searing gaze as your tongue trace along his cock, stopping to place little kisses as you neared the sensitive tip. Satanas, the hungry look in your eyes as you drooled over the sight of him hard for you. He wasn't one of the tallest ghouls, so being able to look down at you seated between his knees sent a jolt of energy through his core, an intense, powerful energy that the shy little water ghoul was pretty unfamiliar with, but maybe it was just the same effect of his heat like how wanting to breed your tight hole probably was.

Having kits was never completely out of the question for him, but he didn't particularly want them anytime soon. He'd probably want to settle down and get married before even entertaining the idea. But he was lucky that human and ghoul biology wasn't compatible, because he wanted to fuck all of his cum into you and push any that dripped out of your spent pussy back in with his fingers, slowly fucking it right into you as you whined from the overstimulation of the multiple orgasms he was determined to give you.

Rain exhaled harshly and shook the thought from his head, it was gross and stupid and he had no clue if this was even something you would ever want. He wished his thoughts of you could just stay platonic, but it would be cruel to deny himself of the pleasures of jerking himself off as he dreamed of you naked in his bed. Maybe he could think of this act as a form of appreciation- for having the same great taste in literature as him, for the way you make him laugh without fail, for the kindness you extended to everyone in the clergy, and for that damn outfit you wore to Aether's birthday party last week. You hadn't worn a bra underneath it, unwilling to ruin the sleek look of a strapless dress, which made your chest softly bounce with each sudden movement and left him able to make out the faint outline of your nipples underneath the ocean-blue fabric. That fucking dress was the real reason he had left so suddenly, not because he had forgotten an appointment, which he quickly made with his junk instead as soon as he was able to. He whimpered quietly as his fingers took the slickness that had been dripping down and used it to easily slide his hand slowly up and down his tense, aching cock.

Oh, what he'd do to have taken you out to the hallway during that party just to feel you up. Only if you wanted it, of course. He could never let himself do anything you didn't like, he would be eternally grateful to even just kiss you right now. Those beautiful lips that spoke his name. The vanilla lip-balm you carried made your lips look so wonderfully soft, which only made him crave the taste of your lips on his even more. He wanted to grab you by the waist and hold you against him, burying his face in your hair and finally smelling that intoxicating scent that tortured him. He wanted to slide his hands further down to your hips and around to squeeze your ass, relishing the small surprised noise it was sure to bring from you. Maybe you'd have let him eat you out in that hallway, your back pressed against the cool stone wall of the abbey while his face was buried between your trembling thighs. The thought of getting caught was exciting, no? He'd have to move fast, his tongue pressed flat against your wet cunt as he licked up to your clit. It would be so easy to work diligently with the sounds of you trying to muffle your sweet moans through your hand egging him on.

His strokes were still relatively slow, but he knew he would have to give in eventually. With a soft groan he tilted his head back against the headboard and continued jerking himself off, feeling the soreness in his scrotum grow as he kept himself from going any faster. He wanted that false image of you and him to stay in his head forever, he craved you carnally in a way that made him prefer torturing himself to the image of you in his head rather than giving himself the quick and satisfying release he so desperately needed. Heat or not, it made is impossible to sleep most nights- exactly like tonight.

Rain desperately wanted you to use him. Anything you wanted, he would do, as long as it pleased you.

What would you like? Rain longed for you to take his hand and show him exactly that, taking his hands to move them along your body for him to memorize every inch and sweet spot and perfect imperfection. You'd take his hand to your core and manipulate his fingers to stroke yourself, leading them down against your sensitive nub while whimpering softly under your breath the entire time. The thought of you pushing them into your slick hole to finger-fuck you made him absolutely weak. He would spend hours trailing his hands across your naked skin if it meant he could learn how to please you in every way that mattered. He'd honestly beg for you to teach him. As for him? He wouldn't care if you were experienced or not. To him, it only mattered if you cared about him the same way he did for you. Never touched a guy before? He'd probably be the better option out of the other ghouls. Mountain was usually considered 'too big' for most people, Aether could easily get carried away, Swiss was... intense to say the least, and Sodo was an absolute heathen in the sheets. Aurora might be small but she was sometimes too excitable, Cumulus's eagerness could also be overwhelming, and Cirrus actually might've been okay, but Rain's stomach twisted at the thought of any of the other ghouls even coming close enough to touch you. It made him angry.

What the fuck was that all about? Rain's hand stuttered mid-stroke as he processed his possessive thoughts. He didn't own you, no one did. He let out a frustrated sigh when he realized it one of the countless stupid effects of his heat, it always brought out the most primal ghoul behaviors, making him feel like an animal instead of a civilized creature. The urge to claim you as his mate and keep you from the others, pamper you with a variety of gifts and affection, and stuff you full of his cum to breed you full of his kits was all part of the lovely week and a half he dealt with every few months since adolescence. He should be used to it by now, the grueling days of trying not to get at least half-hard whenever you grazed past him or whenever your fingers touched his for the most mundane of reasons, but he very much wasn't. It was just the other day when he had lost track of the time and accidentally hit your shoulder when he rushed down the hall, knocking your phone from your hand and sending it clattering to the ground. It was fine, but you had both gone after it and he had reached it first so as he handed it back to you, your fingers had momentarily touched his. He could clearly remember the embarrassed flush of your face as he apologized, the way your quiet 'thanks' had been awkward yet so genuine as you quickly kept walking down the hall. Rehearsal could wait, he had decided, as he rushed to the nearest bathroom to take care of the hard-on he now pathetically had over that small interaction.

His hand picked up the pace and he pretended it was yours.

Rain wanted to fuck you. He wanted to fuck you so bad it was humiliating. He was done trying to let go of those awful, sinful, whorish thoughts that tainted his mind, fuck it, he just needed to let it all out. His grip firmed around his length and he breathed a shaky exhale.

It all clouded his mind, the sight of those vanilla lip-balm touched lips, the graze of your hand on his in that hallway, the scent of your shampoo as he walked past you every single day, that stupid goddamn fucking dress he just wanted to tear off of you- it consumed him. He imagined getting you alone and being able to throw you onto his bed and push down that beautiful blue fabric to just below your tits, eagerly leaving sloppy kisses from your neck to your collarbones to the curve of your breasts. The small pleasured sounds would be fucking heaven to his ears. What he'd give to run his tongue across your pert nipples, taking one roughly between his teeth as you cried out.

But it wasn't enough. He needed to hitch your deliciously revealing dress up your thighs so he could get to your panties, see that tantalizing wet spot growing from between your legs. Your thighs would fit perfectly in his strong hands as his fingers dug into your skin and held you in place so he could take the waistband in his teeth and pulled it down to slowly to savor the sight. Rain doubted he would be able to hold back at that point, greedily pushing you open to taste your wet cunt. He needed more, and he would assume you wanted it too. Your trembling fingers would run through his hair as you pulled his face closer, his tongue harder against your clit, desperate for more stimulation as you were brought closer and closer to the brink. He'd pull away the moment your near-climax panting became too obvious to ignore, letting that wave of pleasure disappear before it could even wash over you yet. You didn't have to worry though, Rain wasn't done with you.

"Fuck-" He breathed, whining softly at the building in his core. It was sad he couldn't spill it all into you. Breeding you, ugh, what a fucking dream. Yeah, he'd fill you up, unloading creampie after creampie until it seeped from your hole and down your shaking thighs, bent over with your ass in the air. That image, Satanas, made his dick twitch in excited affirmation. He knew it would be pointless to push it all back in with his fingers, he was aware that ghouls and humans couldn't bear offspring anyway, but it filled him with a sense of pride in knowing you were marked as his (In the least-possessive way he could manage right now, of course, while his mind was absorbed by his damned ghoulish biological urges).

With a heated growl he sat up and pushed himself onto his knees, now leaning forward on his bed as he steadied himself with one hand tangled in his sheets and his throbbing cock in the other. His wrist twisted up and down his length as more precum leaked from the tip onto his hand, not slowing down his satisfying swift pace. His damp hair fell into his eyes, the sweat beading on his forehead as he panted through the feeling of his impending orgasm.

"Please- please, please, please..." Rain murmured to himself in a near-frantic whisper. "Satan, please, let me cum, I need to cum." His hips jerked involuntarily into his slick palm and he bit back a moan. Why couldn't it be you? He needed it to be your hand around him, not his. Fuck that, he needed it to be your wet cunt squeezing around his cock and milking him dry, orgasm, after orgasm, after fucking orgasm. He whined as his arm fought to continue supporting his weight through the feverish motions of fucking his dick into his firm grasp.

"That's right... yeah... that's right, just like that-" He continued his frenzied muttering through his soft, desperate moans. He pictured you sat across from him, thrusting your fingers inside yourself as he watched you, your pleasured expressions flushed across your face with your quiet pleas for him to take you. That was enough.

"I'm gonna fucking cum, fuck, I'm gonna~" The thrusts into his hand grew sloppy, his breathing erratic as his strangled whimpers filled the quiet room.

Rain cried out your name over and over again as his cock pulsed, spilling ample amounts of his thick release across his sheets. His head felt fuzzy and he cursed out at his lust and now-lessened sexual frustrations that brought him to this point. He leaned back on his knees and brushed his hair from his forehead that was slick from his exertion. He sat, catching his breath for a minute, and looked at the pathetic mess he had made (and would now need to deal with). Being a water ghoul made this process so much... wetter than necessary. Saying he was disappointed in himself would be an understatement. He hated thinking about anyone in those ways, it made him feel dirty, and with you it was so, so much worse. He didn't want to look at his best friend like some fuckable toy, he needed you as more than that, but he certainly wasn't acting that way right now. He grumbled to himself and stared at the sheets. Pathetic.

The room was quiet again. With a tired sigh he got up to start cleaning up his mess and hopefully get some sleep before he had to relive this scenario all over again tomorrow night.

#rain my beloved #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ghost band #rain ghoul #smut #rain ghoul smut #rain fanfic #reader?#im wayyy too new to tumblr guy help

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evenhisfacewasanalias · 3 months ago

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Because the Night (Part 2)

Lady Jane Grey/Guildford Dudley

Rating: Adult

Guildford recognizes at once that his bride-to-be isn’t suffering from any kind of Affliction, other than that of an arranged marriage. If the sickeningly sweet smell of the fake blood doesn’t give it away, the quick peek at her audience after she’s supposedly fainted is obvious enough. He shakes his head where she can see it. Neither one of them is getting out of this. He supposes it’s easier for him to stomach, however - what’s one more curse on his existence?

A My Lady Jane vampire AU inspired by Edward Bluemel being an absolute darling in A Discovery of Witches.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Chapter 2: Pull me close, try and understand

The rest of the night feels interminable, trapped as she is inside the dressing room - a glorified closet really. Jane realizes, logically, that their wedding had run rather late into the night, and that sunrise couldn’t be more than two hours off - the servants would be in to let her out shortly. But the swirl of conflicting thoughts within her restless mind makes the hours stretch out unbearably.

Jane couldn’t seem to figure her new husband out. On the one hand, he was infuriating - endlessly rude, vulgar, arrogant, and at times even cruel in his humiliation of her. Guildford acted as though she should desire this farce of a marriage, but that he was above it himself - still never letting on about his mysterious reasons for marrying her even though he continued to act as though certain they were far more noble than her own. And he never apologized for any of it.

A traitorous thought reminds her that neither had she.

Guildford had seemed genuinely hurt when she had revealed that she had only married him under threat of torture. But what had he expected? That she would happily give away her freedom to some stranger? That one look at his face would have her rushing down the aisles and into his arms? It’s not as though he were marrying her for love, either. His reasons were surely as mercenary as her own

And yet, at times he had shown himself capable of kindness toward her. Even at that first meeting, she realizes now that his offer to help her escape the Kingsguard had likely been genuine. She hadn’t exactly been great company, calling him all manner of names and disparaging his character and education, and yet he still made the offer of assistance - twice, even - when he could have simply thrown her to the wolves. And then there was the matter of last night.

At the bedding ceremony, he had been strangely…considerate. Gentlemanly even. Jane had felt completely out of her depth with the heavy expectations of the company surrounding them - a feeling she hated more than any other - but Guildford had shielded her, guided her through it only so far as was necessary. And perhaps it was only because he could barely stand to touch her himself, but he had been so careful not to push. Gaining her assent at every move, and preserving her modesty where he could. It had been nothing at all as she had been dreading.

Perhaps that is because nothing at all had actually happened between them. With the layers of clothing shielding them they had barely touched at all. And yet she can still vividly remember the pleasant weight of him atop her, the cool glide of his broad palms across her limbs, the surprising softness of his curls beneath her fingertips. The way his whispered words sent her shivering, warming her entire body. And Jane is certain she hadn’t entirely imagined the hunger in his gaze. She certainly hadn’t imagined the feel of his own arousal pressed against her.

But then he had so quickly dismissed everything afterwards, acting as though he had only responded because of her own brazenness. Jane refuses to be ashamed for any of her actions, though she can admit to herself she was a little startled at how her body responded to his. And now because of it she is trapped in this tiny room, too wound up to sleep for fear of missing the servants’ waking and being stuck in here even longer.

Jane wonders if this is enough grounds for an annulment.

****

In the end, it is not much more than an hour before a maid comes in to free her. She thanks the woman quickly, putting aside, for now, the woman’s lecture on the necessities of her marital obligations, in favor of finding her thoughtless husband and giving him a piece of her mind.

The maid indicates that Guildford could usually be found in the stables, furthest from the house and nearest to the town - of course he would do everything in his power to avoid his responsibilities at home when he could be out drinking and carousing - and Jane rushes off after him in nought more than her thing chemise and the first dressing gown she can lay her hands on. She knows a lady cannot leave the house in such a state but this night has purged any ladylike sensibilities right out of her. She is still fuming with enough righteous indignity that the chill of the pre-dawning air goes entirely unnoticed.

****

She is not entirely sure what she expected to find when she reaches the stables, but whatever it was it’s not the sight before her.

Jane has never before seen a man unclothed. And though it is only Guildford’s back that she can see now in the dim lantern light, it’s enough to make her freeze within the doorway. Her husband stands at the center of the stables underneath a makeshift shower, tugging at its cord to pour a heavy stream of water over miles and miles of bare skin, gently lit by the flickering lanterns and coming dawn. She finds herself transfixed by the play of obvious muscles along his back as he pushes the water through his dark curls - the very ones she had so enjoyed tangling her fingers within just a few short hours ago. Daring to trail her gaze lower, she is shocked to find herself appreciating the soft roundness of his ass, the little dimples that sit just above. And down further to sturdy thighs she remembers wrapping her own legs around and finely muscled calves that had run pleasantly along her own.

But as her eyes adjust to the dim light she begins to notice that the water running down her husband’s naked form darkens in places, pooling blackly at his bare feet. A sharp inhale tells her exactly what the substance is - blood, and quite a lot of it. Even above the scent of hay and animal its thick, coppery scent is obvious. Jane has encountered it many times in the practice of her medical arts, but for the first time it triggers something like a panic in her. She rushes toward Guildford.

As if sensing her approach he reaches for a small towel to wrap around himself before turning to face her.

“Jane,” he sighs, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“I shouldn’t have been locked in a closet all night!” Jane retorts more out of habit than anything.

“You locked yourself in…” he starts, but for once she doesn’t care to argue.

“And you’re bleeding out!” She nearly shouts.

Guildford tries to move past her. “I’m fine, it’s not mine.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Her eyes scan the room, looking for the source of the blood. “Whose is it then? Please don’t tell me I married some highway murderer.”

Jane only says this to force an answer out of him, but she doesn’t expect the slight wince she catches as her words reach him.

“It’s boar’s blood,” he finally answers.

“Boar’s blood?”

“I believe that’s what I said?”

“And why, exactly, are you covered in boar’s blood?”

“Because a boar bled on me?”

His answers seem to grow more and more unhelpful.

“So let me get this straight,” she begins. “You left me locked in that closet so you could, what? Come out here and fight a wild boar? That was the urgent business you suddenly had to attend to in the middle of the night?”

And the strangest thing is, he just laughs at that. “I think that about sums it up.”

“And would you care to explain just why you had to go out and fight this boar?”

He takes a step closer to her, eyes finally meeting her own. She tries to hold his gaze even though her own eyes are burning, and doing her level best to forget the fact that his bare chest is now at eye level, and she herself is barely dressed.

“No,” he grins.

It takes her a second to remember the question she just asked.

“No?” She glares up at him.

“Precisely,” he grins, and tries to push past her.

Jane, however, refuses to let him leave so easily, and puts herself in his path, forcing him to bump roughly into her.

The sudden hurt sound that erupts from him has her scanning him again for injury. She ignores the broad chest, still glistening with clear droplets of water, and drags her gaze down to the towel he has wrapped around his waist. Just above his hip bone, a dark line begins to form against the white linen.

“You are hurt!” She gasps, and immediately kneels to inspect the injury.

She hears a sharp intake of breath above her but ignores it in favor of reaching careful fingers to pull down the edge of the towel. And there it is, a deep, uneven gash - clearly animal made. Jane had not entirely believed the boar story but to her knowledge this doesn’t look like it was made by any human weapon she’s familiar with.

“We need to get you to a doctor right away. The potential for sepsis alone…” Her brain races through all the horrific possibilities, the injury is far too close for comfort to his internal organs.

But he merely reaches down with the hand not holding his towel and pulls her to her feet. “Jane, I promise I’m fine. I just need some rest. Just go back to the house, I’ll be there shortly.”

“If you think I’m going to leave you here to bleed out…”

“As much as I think you’d make a charming widow, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he tries to assure her, smile not quite meeting his eyes.

“Then let me help you!” She’s practically shouting at this point, blocking him in with her smaller frame as he tries to once again move past her.

“Jane, please…”

She can’t remember him ever saying the word ‘please’ before. The soft sound of it shocks her so much he’s finally able to shift past her, heading towards the back of the stables.

Jane mutely follows him, and he doesn’t try to stop her. He walks into an empty stall with nothing but a long cedar chest sitting on a raised platform, and he leans down to unlock it, not once looking back at her.

“Jane, I’m so sorry.”

She’s shocked once again by the quiet apology, the first she’s heard past his lips. He still doesn’t look at her.

Her breath stops. Whatever is in this chest is something he hadn’t wanted her to see, but now she’s made her choice and she has to deal with the consequences.

But what if it’s a body? What if it’s a human body? Jane is torn between finding the answer to her questions and turning tail and running as far from this place as her feet will take her.

The lid opens heavily, and only darkness can be glimpsed inside. But there, the lantern light finally hit the interior. Which is filled with…dirt.

“It’s dirt,” she repeats, rather stupidly.

“Jane, I really can’t explain this right now, but please believe me when I say I need to rest right now. When I wake up I promise I’ll be fine and we can…talk. Or we can pretend this never happened. Whatever you wish.”

“If you think for one second I would just pretend…”

He laughs faintly, “No, I didn’t expect you would.”

And then before she has a chance to tell him exactly what she thinks of him, he’s climbed into the chest and shut the lid over himself.

She rushes to open it back up in a panic. But the lid stays firmly shut. He must be holding it closed from the inside.

“Open this door right now! You need a doctor!” She’s tempted to bang on the chest as she had the dressing room door. She hadn’t actually been frightened then. She is now.

In her alarm, Jane nearly misses the creaking of the stall door.

“Ah, I thought I’d find you here.” Lord Dudley announces and she whips around to see him standing calmly behind her. “The inevitable wedding morning conversation.”

“Your son is hurt,” she rushes out, hoping her father-in-law will aid her in getting him to the doctor. “He’s locked himself in that chest!”

“Yes, yes I know.”

“You…know?” She frowns.

“My boy has a tendency to bite off more than he can chew in times of stress. Why, when I told him of your upcoming nuptials he nearly got himself gored by a stag.” Lord Dudley continues, as if a single word of what he’s just said makes any sense.

Perhaps insanity runs in the family?

“He claims a boar attacked him.”

“More like the other way around, my dear. But no matter, he’ll heal up before the honeymoon. Never you fear.”

“But he’s locked himself in there and he won’t let anyone look at his wounds,” she tries to explain, though Lord Dudley doesn’t look a bit troubled by the news.

“I know you’re rumored to be quite skilled at your little lotions and potions, but the graveyard dirt in that chest there will do more for him than you possibly could.”

Graveyard dirt. She had heard rumors of course, that it could restore…But no, Guildford wasn’t. Obviously. She might have thought so at first, but then…

“I feel as though I can practically see the wheels turning in your delicate female mind. Let me relieve its burden - your husband is a vampire.” Lord Dudley states plainly.

“Give yourself a little time, and you’ll see that it’s not so bad,” he assures. “It’s not as though he’s one of those Pack vampires.”

But Jane is barely listening anymore. She feels herself almost collapsing back against the wall behind her, eyes burning and chest painfully tight against this revelation. She’s forced to admit to herself that it all adds up - the nights out, the strange behavior, the blood. It’s easier to accept than she would have expected it to be. Which leaves her feeling only one thing.

Anger.

“How could you?” She demands.

“Well I didn’t turn him. I think you’ll find I’m rather human myself.”

“How dare you call yourself that, after what you did - when I tell my cousin, the King…”

But her father-in-law just looks at her with feigned pity.

“Jane, Jane, Jane,” he shakes his head at her. “You and I both know the punishment for any sort of relations with a vampire.”

And she’s forced to acknowledge that she does know.

“If I tell anyone, we’re all dead,” even her cousin couldn’t save her, the law was forged long before his reign. “And what if…?”

“What if? What if he eats you?” Lord Dudley laughs. “I thought you were supposed to be this great rationalist scholar - so liberal, so free-thinking! Don’t tell me you believe they’re really all cold-blood killers?”

“Of course not!” She defends. “That doesn’t mean I wish to be married to one!”

“Jane. Take some time. Go with Guildford to our ancestral home in the country. You simply need some space, away from prying eyes, to adjust to the realities of your marriage.”

“And just what realities might those be?” She looks at her father-in-law with suspicion. “Did you arrange all of this so that he could - what? Feed off me whenever he pleased?”

She’d stake him herself before he dared try.

“Good heavens, child, the imagination on you! I may be a conniving bastard, but do you actually think I’d place the King’s dear cousin in mortal danger like that? No, no. You needn’t fear any of that. My boy is quite conscientious - he only feeds on the wild animals that roam our lands and the occasional sip from the livestock.”

Jane considers that this same strategy must have been how her friend Susannah had stayed hidden all those years. She certainly had never tried to hurt Jane in any way. She nearly kicks herself for giving into her baser fears, but Guildford is still barely more than a stranger to her.

“He doesn’t drink human blood at all?” She has to know.

“Can’t bear to,” Lord Dudley waves away the idea. “His brother and I tried to help out, at first, but I don’t think any of us wishes to repeat that experiment.”

Jane files that piece of information away in her mind. She had heard conflicting reports on being bitten - some swore it felt like dying, while others insist that it was the greatest pleasure one can experience. She nearly blushes at the memory of what she had read of the latter. But hearing it from someone who has actually been bitten. Apparently the experience is merely regrettable, rather than lethal at least. She tries not to feel disappointed at the finding.

“Then what is it you expect me to do?”

Lord Dudley finally turns serious, looking at her not unkindly as he speaks, “Be his wife, keep him safe. You have far more power to protect him than I could, more than you might now know.”

Considering how many people have recently told her she has no power, no say in her own life, it’s strangely heartening to hear this, even if she doesn’t quite believe it.

But before she has a chance to ask him what on earth he means by this, he’s already turning to leave.

“Must go now, Kings to advise. Rupert here will help look after Guildford.” He points to a gray-haired man just outside the door as he exits, leaving her still completely dumbfounded, mind racing.

He barely turns to look at them as he walks away, but he manages to call back. “Enjoy the honeymoon!”

****

After Rupert’s assurance he’ll make sure that Guildford is alright, Jane goes back to the main house. She’s had just enough time to make up her mind.

She has to run.

No matter all her father-in-law’s assurances - even if Guildford isn’t dangerous himself, he’s still putting her in danger with the law. And beside all that, she can barely stand the man. No, this whole situation is completely untenable.

Unfortunately, she finds that all of her personal things, their wedding gifts, anything she might need to make her escape have already been packed up for the honeymoon. All that has been left for her is an unadorned teal-colored day dress, which she puts on hastily, finally allowing the maid to braid back her hair.

Jane will simply have to rethink her plans of escape. Perhaps it will be easier to run from him in the country, with fewer people around who might be able to form a search party for her. And to add to that, Guildford had promised her some answers when he awoke.

It’s that promise that finally sways her to bide her time, if only for a little while. But a visit from her new brother-in-law with an invite to meet with the King has her mind formulating yet another plan.

****

Jane had thought that perhaps, if she didn’t mention what her new husband was, simply that the marriage itself was intolerable, her cousin might intercede. Since there had been no…consummation last night, perhaps a simple annulment might still be possible.

Unfortunately, when she reaches the gardens - their preferred place for private meetings - she finds Edward in a state of distraction.

“What do you know about poison?”

She waits for him to finish telling her of some friend or another who may have ingested Tofana - the Florentine Widowmaker of all things - because surely there is no help to be had for his friend at this point? Jane knows there’s nothing anyone can do for him.

“Tofana is the most lethal substance there is. In large doses it will kill you instantly. In small doses, it creeps into your lungs, seeps into your blood until it reaches your heart, and then…”

“And then…?”

“You die. I’m so sorry Edward.” And she is sorry, but this also may strangely be the very thing that might save her. “Why don’t I come stay here and look after your friend?”

“Jane,” Edward sighs, “I won’t help you abandon your wifely duties.”

“But Edward, it’s simply impossible. He’s a …” she nearly slips.

“He’s what?”

It’s easy enough to fill in. “Let’s see - he’s arrogant, ill-mannered, self-righteous…”

“Jane,” Edward smiles, pityingly, “so are you. It sounds like you two are perfectly well matched.”

Jane makes an ugly sound at Edward’s accusation, how dare he say…

“Guildford and I could not be any less well suited! I am nothing like him! He’s…” once again Jane finds herself at a loss for something to accuse him of that won’t get them both killed. “You know, you used to be the one person in whom I thought I could confide.”

“Jane,” the pity is gone, only sadness and something like anger left in her cousin's expression. “There is so much going on that you don’t and cannot know.”

“Why can’t I know? What aren’t you telling me, Edward? If something is happening..,”

“That is none of your concern. You are a wife now, and I am King - you have your duties to attend. As do I.”

“But we have always helped one another with our problems,” she argues. “Why are you suddenly throwing your rank in my face? It’s not as though you’re really…”

She stops herself. They are both keenly aware of the fact that with Edward’s illness the kingdom is mostly run by his advisors. That Edward will never be able to be the kind of king his father was is his greatest regret. And this reminder, even blunted, is clearly a step too far for her cousin.

“Remember that I am still your King, Jane.” Edward warns, words suddenly harsh. “Your problems are now your husband’s, not mine.”

And with that clear dismissal, Jane nearly runs from his presence, racing through the familiar maze of manicured trees and stone paths. There’s no one left for her to trust, no one who can help her. She will have to save herself.

****

The carriage is already loaded with their trunks by the time she arrives back at the Dudley estate, with Rupert clearly anticipating her arrival and hurrying her into the cabin for the long ride ahead. She half expects to see Guildford’s cedar chest to be among the trunks but it’s nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she will be traveling alone to the country? That does make a possible escape easier, though it may mean she will have to leave before she can find any more answers. Well, what must be done must be done.

The curtains are drawn down around the carriage, making it quite darker than expected as she steps in. It takes her eyes a moment to adjust before she can see the carriage’s other occupant - Guildford, now fully dressed in leather doublet and trousers and lying there slumped against the far window. His arms are crossed tight against his chest as if sleeping. Jane quickly shuts the carriage door, hastening to put the curtains back into place so no more light slips in.

“I’m not going to burst into flames, you know,” comes a tired murmur from the man apparently not sleeping across from her. His eyes stay firmly closed, however.

Jane recognizes how obvious this should have been - otherwise Guildford never would have been able to hide his condition for so long. And she’d certainly seen Susannah out in the daylight enough times.

“I take it you won’t need to travel in your coffin, then?”

“...it’s not a coffin,” he mutters.

“It’s a wooden box full of graveyard dirt, what else would you call it?”

His silence is all the answer she needs. She smiles.

“If sunlight doesn’t bother you, then why all the curtains?”

“It’s a long journey, and I wish to sleep.”

And he does look tired, suddenly reminding Jane that he was injured, “...your wound, is it…?

Still not bothering to look at her or acknowledge her in any sort of normal way, he reaches down to tug his shirt from his trousers, somehow managing to push the leather trousers down in the same motion so she can lightly glimpse a small strip of skin between.

But while he might possess some kind of heightened senses that allow him to see in the dark, Jane has no such night vision.

“Can I…?” She starts asking, but he had already told her the sunlight wouldn’t hurt him. She pushes back one of the curtains to allow a sliver of light inside the carriage, enough for her to see a lack of blood at least.

Still, she needs a closer look at the spot to be certain. One hand falls to his outstretched knee as she leans forward to inspect the sliver of pale skin in front of her. Guildford grunts above her but she knows she’s not putting any real weight on him, so he can suck it up while she makes sure he really is healed. Perhaps being widowed might solve some of her problems, but septicemia is a death she wouldn’t wish on anyone - even him.

Surprisingly, the taut skin above his hip appears to have barely a blemish on it. Unthinkingly, she reaches out tentative fingers to run across the skin there, surprised at the smooth feel of it and the sudden twitch of strong muscles beneath.

Abruptly, Guildford pushes his shirt back down, forcing her hands away.

“Satisfied?” He mumbles.

“For now. But I still have some questions.”

“They’ll keep,” he dismisses as he adjusts himself as far away from her as possible, promptly resuming his ‘resting’ position.

“But…”

“Jane, I know it’s nearly impossible for you to stop talking for one single moment…”

“I can stop talking anytime I want,” she huffs out, realizing too late that she is only making his point.

“Then will you please shut it?” The words themselves are harsh but they come out more tired than anything, which is the only reason she even considers doing as he asks.

She manages to remain completely silent for nearly ten minutes.

During that time, Jane watches Guildford as he settles back to sleep and grows silent himself. Too silent, actually. She’s not even certain if he’s breathing anymore. What if he actually…?

Embarrassed by her sudden fears, her hand reaches out without thinking to try and check his pulse. She draws it back - he wouldn’t have one, would he? But then how can she be sure, short of waking him?

She reaches over to nudge at his shoulder, with the full knowledge that he’ll probably be pissed if he is still alive. Undead. Whatever he is.

“What?”

“Just…checking.”

Guildford huffs out his annoyance and then it’s obvious this time he’s just gone right back to sleep. While awake, she could clearly see the small movements of his chest that show he’s still breathing. She’s not certain why. Do vampires even need to breathe? Or is it just muscle memory for them?

Jane adds that to her mental list of questions to ask the moment he wakes up. Her most obvious question is how he plans to hide his condition and keep them both from being burned at the stake, but she has a list of general questions as well. Such as if daylight doesn’t hurt them, why are they - why is he - practically nocturnal? Susannah certainly wasn’t. How was he able to heal from his injuries so quickly? And what other powers and senses does he have? And what would it feel like if he…

She pushes the thought from her mind. Guildford biting her is very much not an option or even a remote possibility. Lord Dudley had insisted that he didn’t feed on human blood nor would he try to feed on her, and Jane finds herself strangely believing him. Though at first meeting her husband hadn’t exactly seemed one to deny himself much of anything, he apparently seems quite capable of rejecting her in every way possible. Even if he had been nothing more than a bloodthirsty beast, she’s certain he would still find a way to spurn her. A small comfort, she considers, remembering that Lord Dudley had also mentioned the mutual unpleasantness of a vampire’s bite.

Unfortunately, she is also stuck with the far more compelling memory of Guildford pinning her to their bed, his face pressed to the side of hers and his breath at her throat. He had been so close to - he could have easily…

Jane has never even been kissed, not really. She has no real basis for comparison to picture what it might feel like to have lips running down her neck, a pair of sharp teeth teasing at the skin above her veins. But Jane has always had a rather good imagination. She studies the face across from her, the pale sharp lines of his cheeks and jaw contrasting with soft brows and eyelashes, and even softer looking lips.

In her mind she still pictures them in the carriage, with him now awake where he sits across from her, and their gazes meet with the intensity of when he lay over her. He holds out a hand as he had last night, slightly cool to the touch. And how had she missed that before? Guildford would silently guide her to his side of the carriage - she greatly preferred him silent - drawing her to sit across his thighs, eyes still locked with hers. And Jane hasn’t sat on another person’s lap since she was a child, but she likes the thought of those strong thighs supporting her, putting her at just an inch or so above Guildford’s seated height. The position is ideal for what he plans to do to her, what she wants him to do.

She doesn’t picture him kissing her mouth, for some reason. Though she does imagine watching him wetting his lips, her eyes following the path of that pink tongue as she catches a glimpse of sharp teeth just behind. She has seen Guildford’s normal teeth before - neat, white, maybe a tiny bit crooked on the bottom row - but she’s never seen his fangs. She barely caught the brief peek of the thief’s last night. But she can envision his canines extending into sharp points, glinting slightly in the low light of the carriage.

He would barely need to lean down to meet her throat, breathing in deeply there as he had the night before. Only this time he would go further, nosing along the line of neck, breathing in the skin there. His lips would soon follow, soft and cool and leaving her shivering in their wake. They stop at her pulse point, and she can imagine his lips parting, the edge of teeth poised at her jugular. And then…

This part is harder to imagine - would she feel any pain? Or would the sharp incisors simply slip right into her skin, barely noticeable? And what would it feel like to have the blood pulled from her veins? Would it feel like dying? Or would she feel more alive than ever?

Despite this unknown variable, the thought of his mouth and teeth at her throat have her whole body thrumming. Her pulse increases as her imagination continues, a soft warmth spreading low in belly. She can feel herself growing excited at the idea of it, her thighs becoming sticky where the wetness is already seeping a little.

It’s then that she remembers Guildford’s words from last night.

He had revealed that he could sense that she had been aroused by his touch, that he could smell her. Not knowing what his heightened sense could actually pick up on, she panics a little at the idea. She has on far more layers this time, and she’s all the way across the carriage from her sleeping husband. Hopefully sleeping. Is his chest still moving, or is that just the bumping of the carriage?

Jane clenches her thighs tightly together, hoping to cease any indication of what she’s thinking or feeling right now. But the pressure of her thighs rubbing against each other doesn’t help in the least, only stimulating her further. She glances over at Guildford again, almost certain she sees him breathing now. The hands at her lap tense, and the pressure there doesn’t help her arousal either. She needs to think of something else, anything else. Her mother’s lectures, her brother-in-law’s stupid smug face, the Duke of Leicaster’s toe!

Abruptly, Guildford darts up to bang at the roof. “Rupert, we’re stopping here!”

Jane freezes - how long has he been awake? Does he know? Why are they stopping?

That last question is answered quickly at least, as Guildford darts out of the carriage before it even fully stops with a quick pronouncement that he needs to ‘stretch his legs’ as he runs off into the trees. Rupert hops down to give a quick glance inside the carriage, before looking at where his master is running off to.

“I’m fine Rupert, feel free to follow him. Have a wazz or something,” she tries to dismiss him, not wanting him here with her any more than she wants Guildford.

“I shouldn’t leave you alone here, Miss. It’s not safe.”

“Piffle, there’s not a soul around. I’m perfectly safe.”

With a last glance back at her, Rupert hastens to check on his master. He’s surprisingly attached to the man. How he’s managed to earn that kind of loyalty she’ll never understand.

Jane realizes she’s finally alone, truly alone, for the first time since she tried to run away. She steps out of the carriage to stretch her legs as well, enjoying the brief moment of freedom. It’s then that her eyes catch on the trunks at the back of the carriage. She realizes this might be her one chance to pocket some coins while no one is watching them. If they come back she can simply say she was looking for one of her own things, a book or some such trifle.

It takes her only a moment to search for the keys - she finds them in Rupert’s satchel. But just as she goes to unlock the trunk she spots something coming from the woods, but from the opposite side Guildford and Rupert had traveled.

A man appears, dirty and disheveled and limping towards her. Jane goes on her guard. The man claims to have lost his groom and his horse, though he doesn’t look like the kind of man who has ever had either.

Her suspicions are confirmed when he pulls a sharpened stick from behind his back and holds it threateningly towards her.

“You’re going to give me whatever is in that chest, lambkins” he sneers. “And hurry it the fuck up!”

The man seems increasingly agitated, possibly he’s gone a little mad with hunger, so she thinks it’s safest to go along with what he says for now. With any luck there will be some kind of weapon in the chest with which she can fight back.

With only slightly shaky hands she turns the key in the lock, ignoring the man pounding at the lid and demanding she hurry. To her immediate disappointment, there are no weapons to be found in the chest. No gold either, just piles and piles of books.

“Quam ut rememdium lamia?” She whispers aloud the title of the topmost volume. As a remedy…

“It’s just books,” the man gripes. Apparently not something he finds worth stealing at least, which is a relief.

But then there is a rough hand around her wrist, and a set of fangs appearing among dirty teeth. Her heart nearly stops at the sight.

“Looks like the only valuable here is you.”

Well if he can improvise, so can she! She tosses the heavy volume in her hand at him, landing a clean hit against his forehead.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

The first hit knocks him back but she continues to throw another, “ever!”, and another “you bastard!”, driving him back even further.

As her voice rises, Guildford suddenly appears at her front, facing the retreating man. He stands between her and the would-be-thief with an arm stretched protectively in front of her and his eyes shining strangely in the sunlight. A growl erupts from his throat.

The man scrambles away even faster.

“I have it handled,” she assures him and throws one last volume at the man’s retreating back. This one hits him right on the backside, and his hand reaches back to staunch the hurt even as he continues running.

“I can see that.” Guildford relaxes only minutely, but finally looks back at her, eyes still blazing as they scan her for any signs of harm. “What the hell just happened here, Jane? Why didn’t you call for help?”

Jane nearly rolls her eyes - as if she’d call out to the very man she was trying to escape from. But out of the frying pan into the fire, she supposes. Only she can’t quite tell which is which.

“What the hell are all these books? The Clavicula Salomonis? The Sworn Book of Honorius?” She demands, picking up the fallen volumes at her feet.

“Later,” he grumbles, stepping away from her to pick up the books thrown further out.

“Well, ditto.”

“Ditto?” He looks up at her with annoyance but without understanding.

“Ditto. If you want to know what happened you’ll have to ask me later.” She decides. He’ll see how he likes it.

Guildford apparently doesn’t, by the way he’s throwing the books back into their trunk and roughly slamming it shut.

“Get back in the carriage, Jane. I’ll ride with Rupert.”

And then she’s alone in the carriage, free from his presence just as she had wanted. Hadn’t she?

****

The Dudleys' country home is surprisingly quaint - and not at all a gloomy abandoned tower, as might be expected from the way her life is going. Jane finds she’s actually a little anxious to arrive. With escape now looking less and less likely, she resigns herself to at least finding out more about her new husband, and the strange books he’s smuggled along for their honeymoon. Given his reputation, she finds herself somewhat intrigued by this odd bit of scholarship.

It’s nearly nightfall by the time they finally have a moment alone, however. She finds him gazing into the fireplace, doublet undone and shirt left untied, looking every bit the lord of the manor. And yet, he seems to be waiting there for her.

“I would consider this ‘later’, wouldn’t you?” She begins.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t try to put her off this time. “Jane, I did try to warn you about my condition last night.”

“And why didn’t you?” Her arms cross neatly over her chest, shooting him a stern look.

“You didn’t seem…particularly receptive to hearing my reasons for marrying you last night.”

Jane thinks back to their conversation. Perhaps she might have made a rather hasty assumption about his motives, but how could she have possibly guessed at this?

“Then tell me now. And also why’ve you brought all these books with us?”

“For that I suggest you bring the wine,” he sighs, starting towards their bedchamber.

For once, she does as he says and follows.

The trunk of books now sits on the table nearest their fireplace. Guildford opens the locked lid for her and she plucks out a random volume.

“Das Dämon Beenden - The end of the demon. These are all books about demons and vampires, about controlling them.”

“It’s become something of a hobby of mine, for obvious reasons.” He doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

She pulls out even more volumes, marveling at the varied languages of their titles, “Latin, Italian, Greek - this one’s actually in Aramaic…”

“My father mentioned you were something of a polyglot.”

“‘Iy. That means ‘yes’ in Aramaic. Ironically it can mean ‘no’ in Hebrew, so you have to be rather careful.”

Guildford offers her a hint of an actual smile, as if that’s exactly what he was hoping she’d say.

“He also mentioned you knew something of the medical arts, that you make these little cures for people.”

“Yes I suppose I make “little” cures that prevent such small maladies as sterility, miscarriage, death…” she begins to lecture but Guildford steps over to place his hands on the books she’s holding, right above her own. Her eyes catch on the dark stone of his wedding band,

“I am hoping,” he begins softly, “that you can use the knowledge in these books to cure me.”

She stares up at his face for a moment, mind boggling - was this the entire reason he agreed to this marriage.

“So you married me for my brain?”

He offers a small shrug of apology and she has to turn away to hide her delight at the answer. She can’t bear to let him know how pleased she is that he actually values her mind, and that his reason for marrying her was in fact far more noble than her own. So instead she looks down and begins flipping through a slim volume in Greek, though she finds it difficult to parse with him focused so intently on her.

“All of these texts - they’re mostly to do with the summoning and casting out demons, or cleansing them from the world. The ancients generally believed they were a blight on the land. Most of what is in these texts would probably wind up killing you, we would have to parse out what we could even safely try…”

“So will you try?” He asks quietly.

She turns back towards him, wanting to be clear that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. “The thing is, Guildford…”

Strangely, she finds he’s smiling, eyes blazing brightly in the firelight.

“What?”

“You’ve never said my name before.”

“I…” she realizes that somehow she hasn’t, though she’s been keenly aware of all the times he’s used her own given name in that low voice of his - often in annoyance, but occasionally…

In this moment, she briefly feels an inkling of hope for partnership that her cousin had wanted for her. She had said Guildford’s name because it finally feels like she knows something of him. And because now he is putting so much of his faith in her. Perhaps too much.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“All I’m asking is that you try. I don’t want to live this…half a life.”

Jane may not fully grasp why Guildford is willing to risk so much for a possible cure, but this, she can easily understand.

“I don’t either,” she agrees. “Marriage was never something I wanted for myself. I only ever wanted my freedom.”

“From me?” he asks.

“From any man.”

“So you would wish for a divorce at the end of this?”

“Yes,” she begins, choosing her next words carefully, “and while I will help you look for your cure in the meantime, I need you to recognize that you are not and cannot be my Lord Husband, nor I your Lady Wife. We will make a new pact - you do not own me and I will not be expected to obey you. Your life is your own but I expect you to be honest in all things that pertain to me.”

She pauses to take a breath.

“Is that all?” He grins.

“For now. Can you agree to it?”

“I do.”

He repeats the words he said to her in the church - only this time they are both going into their arrangement with eyes wide open and of their own free will. Till life do they part, it seems.

She feels a brief twinge of regret, all of the sudden, at how quickly he’s agreed to release her, just at the moment they’re finally getting along. She had thought that maybe…but no. This is the arrangement they have, and the sooner she begins, the sooner she will have her independence.

“Now then, I have a very long list of questions that you have promised to answer.”

****

Jane has seated herself at the end of their very sizable bed, her legs tucked neatly beneath her and glass of wine in hand, while Guildford stretches out barefoot amongst the many pillows at the headboard, mostly ignoring his own glass. They’ve made it through a number of her questions already, with surprisingly little complaint from her husband. Originally, she had come up with a very clever sequence of questions, efficiently ranked in order of importance and interest. But she throws that mental list out of the window as the conversation naturally flows from one topic to the next. The most obvious place to start, and yet possibly the least important, ends up being the impact of alcohol on vampires - apparently negligible. The effect of drinking blood from someone else who has consumed alcohol themselves? Appreciable, but not something Guildford has any great experience with.

The number of humans he’s fed on? Only six, including his father and brother.

“And they were alright afterwards?”

He hesitates for a moment. “I’ve never killed anyone drinking from them, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She can tell it’s a sensitive subject, and uncharacteristically decides not to prod at it. Nor does she offer any questions about his own death. She’s not entirely sure she wants to know.

Changing the line of questioning somewhat, she instead tries to catalog his abilities: moderately increased strength and speed - he is still quite young for one of his kind - heightened senses (at this Jane feels herself blush), and a greater ability to heal and restore himself if he rests in dirt taken from his own grave - another subject that is dropped quickly for both their sakes. She moves on instead to vampiric weaknesses, though these she mostly already knows: silver, fire, beheading, staking, and to some degree, sunlight.

Guildford clarifies, “it’s tiring to be out during the day. We’re weaker then, nearly human.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Humans seem to manage it just fine,” she suddenly feels the need to defend her own kind.

“A housecat is also content with itself. Would you want to only have the strength and energy of one for half the day?”

“Point taken. Though did you just compare me to a housecat?”

“Your claws are far sharper,” he laughs.

Just for that she digs her fingernails into the exposed skin above his ankle, where he has sprawled within range of her. He sucks in a breath through his teeth but makes no move to free himself from her. She releases him on her own, noting as she sits back that her nails barely made an indention on the pale skin.

“Have you finally run out of questions?”

“Just one more” she decides. “Why are you willing to risk all of this for a possible cure?”

Guildford frowns, and no answer is immediately forthcoming. Jane realizes that whatever his reasons might be, they probably have nothing at all to do with her, and therefore aren’t part of their agreement. She opens her mouth to take it back just as he finally breaks his silence.

“This curse has taken so much from me. It’s put my family, and now you, at risk of dying. All it brings is more death.”

“Guildford, I’m so sorry…”

He drops his head back with a deep sigh. “I’m the one who should be sorry, since I dragged you into all of this.”

Jane can’t exactly deny that she resents being dragged into this, even if Guildford’s reasons for doing so are at least somewhat pardonable. The best she can offer is an awkward smile. All is not yet forgiven, but she’s beginning to understand at least.

Another long silence stretches between them. Jane considers retrieving more wine and getting absolutely piss drunk and forgetting the strange turn her life has taken, but it suddenly seems unfair to Guildford now that she knows he can’t. At least, not without…

“Was that the last question?” He asks again.

“For now,” she clarifies, knowing she may need more answers as she begins her research for a cure.

“Then I think it’s my turn to ask you something,” he starts, and she tries to brace herself for whatever is coming next.

“Why didn’t you call for me to help you today?”

It takes her a second to remember what he’s even referring to, so much has happened since then.

“It honestly didn’t occur to me at the time. I can’t remember the last time anyone other than Susannah ever came to my aid, and even she usually needed to be talked into it.”

“Jane,” his voice softens, “I would have come.”

She shakes her head.

“It’s not your job to protect me.”

“Of course it is - Jane, I’m still your husband. To have and to hold, I made that vow.”

The reminder of their wedding, however, does not have the desired effect on Jane.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about what they made us vow, I’m talking about our agreement.”

Jane needs him to understand that she is not his property that he needs to look after. Since her father’s death she’s lived quite happily without the protection of any man and she intends to keep things that way.

She worries, however, that her outburst will break whatever tentative truce they seem to have built, but Guildford doesn’t look angry. Instead he slips down to the end of the bed, taking her hands in his and urging her eyes to meet his own.

“Jane, right now you are my only chance for ridding myself of this curse. If you won’t let me defend you as your husband, please at least grant me the ability to protect you as my last and only hope. Do you understand that I need to do this?”

This time, Jane can freely echo his words back to him, “I do.”

#save my lady jane #my lady jane #fanfiction #janeford #vampire #AU #supernatural #lady jane grey #guildford dudley #banter #my fics #my writing #because the night

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jjenjoyer · 2 years ago

Text

hope is a dangerous thing - jj maybank

summary: jj maybank hates the new girl in town.

playlist:

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but i have it - lana del rey

fuck it i love you - lana del rey

warnings: mentions of violence, language

[jj's pov]

[896 words]

i first saw her out on the waves during hurricane Agatha. stupid mystery girl, surfing the surge like its nothing, as if she couldn't get wiped out with one wrong move. what a poser.

i hate her.

great, she's in my class too. pink really isn't her colour, and that cardigan seems way too hot for the outer banks, what on earth is she thinking? really dumb outfit choice. i'm glad that she didn't sit next to me, thanks a ton mr. sunn.

i hate her, and her ugly pink cardigan.

oh, just excellent! thank you so much kiara, how lovely of you to invite my mortal enemy to party with the pogues at the boneyard tonight. i bet she can't even hold her liquor.

i really hate her. she seems fake, nobody is that nice.

speak of the devil. at least this time she's wearing something decent, but it looks shit on her. i can't believe she's had 4 beers already and still doesn't look tipsy.

i cannot stand her.

oh great, she's walking up to me. whatever god is out there, what did i do to deserve this? fuck you, honestly. her voice is sickeningly sweet, but kinda raspy, like textured honey. ew. at least she brought me a beer. i don't like her freckles.

i don't want to be around her.

she's getting on with the pogues alarmingly well. this is not looking good... ohhhh no, john b, why would you invite her to hang with us at the chateau tomorrow?! i bet she's a slob.

she better not try to talk to me. i don't think i can handle that.

...why is that kook staring at her like that. he looks like a starving wolf, practically violating her with his eyes. she's not even all that great to look at, but still, that's not gonna happen on my watch.

i hate that i'm starting a fight for no reason, its none of my business but oh well, too late to back out now.

why is she drawing stars around my bruised knuckles. and why is she concentrating so hard, holding my hand with an unbearable softness, her tongue sticking out comically, like some cartoon character. how did i even get here. fuck.

i don't like her...

her bubbly laugh when i crack a joke is so annoying, making me feel all gross inside. i wish she would shut up so i can get it out of my head, although i doubt i could if i tried.

fuck.

i can barely hold the soft, yet intense gaze of her massive e/c eyes. she looks like a bug, i really want to squish her. maybe then i would stop feeling like this. i don't know why she's so persistent even though i'm clearly showing no interest.

i really hope she doesn't see through me.

ah great, i'm sick. thankfully the pogues are going fishing today, and taking whats-her-name with them. i need some time alone with my thoughts, although i'm not sure if i can handle them. someone's knocking on the door, maybe john b forgot something.

"its open!" i manage to croak out.

oh no. no no no no no please not her. anybody but her. goddamn it.

"hey, jj, um- if you tell me to i'll leave, but i heard you were sick, and thought i could help-- my mom's a nurse, so i know a thing or two-"

"i don't want your help. go have fun. i know you don't want to be here, plus you'll get sick too." why the fuck does she care about me. she shouldn't.

"i do, and i'll take that risk. plus i don't really wanna get sunburnt, my outfit isn't really suitable for the situation."

she's right, it definitely isn't. that flowy off-shoulder crop-top and embroidered jean shorts are way too flattering, and its not looking good for me.

i hate that she cares, its not helping my situation.

the way she looks after me makes me want to scream at her. why the fuck is she so gentle with me when i don't deserve even a sliver of it?

i hate to admit it, but she's been pretty decent company today. we got to know each other, and the fact that she fits all my criteria for 'ideal type' makes me want to die, because there's no way it'll actually happen, right? she's way too good for someone like me.

who am i kidding, i don't hate her. in fact-

"hey jj? you with me, man?"

"uh yeah- sorry, what were you saying?"

"why do you hate me so much?"

oh, dear...

"you're too perfect for your own good. it's killing me, knowing that acknowledging my feelings will only end in disaster, because i am the last person to deserve you. so no, y/n i don't hate you. although i really, really fucking wish i did."

her shocked expression confirms my opinion, i bet she's gonna sprint out of here in-

lips. my lips are touching something. what the fuck is going on. fuck, she tastes like lemon ice cream, do you even get that in obx? fuck if i know. goddamn.

so, as i was saying, i do not, in fact, hate y/n l/n. as a matter of fact, it is the exact opposite.

i am an absolute goner.

a/n: this is so trash lol yall should see my old stuff, idk what happened to my quality of writing, academic burnout is my biggest suspect tho >:/

#jj maybank #jj obx #jj obx fanfic #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj obx imagine #outer banks fanfic #jj fanfiction

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the-illiterate-pirate · 2 years ago

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Please can I request another oneshot with a female reader. Where she is best friends with Joseph Joestar and they go to Italy together to train their hamon skills. However, as soon as they meet Caesar he falls in love with her which makes Joseph very jealous as he only recently started to feel more than friendship for her :) I can’t wait to read more of your writing :)

Hello again! Thank you for waiting. Yeesh, this was a pain. I don't think I'll be taking anymore love triangle requests in the future. Unless you paid me, hehe.

I hope you enjoy! I tried taking a saltier turn with this one but fear not, we still get our happy ending.

In-A-Godda-Da-Vidda

Woo name change. I feel this one matches the tone better than Jack Stauber. Check it out! It's a long one but it's great

Notes: Fem!reader, female pet names are included, angst, I think that's it!

It was unnatural for Joseph to be acting like some jealous brat. Childish, maybe. But these foreign feelings wrapping around his heart like bramble were becoming unbearable, and Joseph needed to bring an end to them quick.

It had only been a couple days since stepping foot in Italy, and you had already made a strong impression on the blond that set Joseph's blood to a boil. You had him wrapped around your finger, smitten, just like your closest best friend.

Was Joseph jealous because he thought Caesar could steal you away? Of course not! You were smart enough to not fall for his fake charm... Hopefully. He had faith that you wouldn't fall for the Casanova. But Caesar was acting rather bold lately. If Joseph wasn't by your side, the blond would be offering you random weeds and flowers he just so happens to find, telling you sickeningly sweet words that made Joseph want to gag. Gross.

Fear not! Your best friend Joestar would steal you away to protect you from the Italian. Training was taking too much time, Joseph feared. Luckily he was able to sneak away from Lisa Lisa, with you in tow. Rowing a boat was nothing if it meant spending time with you, Joseph didn't care about the subtle ache in his arms once he heard the childlike giggle come from you. He was pulled around all of Venice by you, but he didn't mind a bit. Joseph enjoyed watching you ogle store windows, and comment on the smells of fresh Italian cuisine. You even got him to buy you fresh gelato, something you could finally cross off your bucket list. The time you spent with your best friend was good, hiding away from a (very surely) pissed off Lisa Lisa and Caesar was great fun. The day until you all defeated the Pillar Men was drawing closer, you deserved some time off to relax.

Somehow you both were able to waste a whole day doing nothing in Italy. No more than a couple dollars was spent to make this a day to remember. With the city behind you, you and Joseph watched the sun set behind the sea. It was a beautiful sight to behold, a fitting end to the day. While you walked, the sky was streaked with orange and pink stretching across the sky. Yes, beautiful, but it was your sign that the fun was up, and you had to go back to Suplena Island to face the music.

"Can't believe we have to go back already... Today has been amazing, JoJo." You sigh in defeat, grabbing a hold on your best friend's arm.

There was a cheesy smug look on his face. "Amazing, hmm? I guess you could call it the greatest day of your life, right?!"

"Don't push your luck," You grinned. "Amazing, yes. But today certainly coulda done with some actual food... If Caesar was here I definitely coulda gotten some."

"Oh please, don't bring that cheese head into this!" Joseph groaned in desperation, two hands thrown over his head. You giggle quietly to yourself, "Oops, did I strike a nerve? Sounds like someone is upset. Don't tell me, are you upset because you couldn't take Caesar with you to Italy instead?" You couldn't help to tease him. The growing rivalry between the two was hilarious. Enemies at sight. You would never forget the face Joseph made after Caesar fired back those noodles of squid ink pasta.

Finally made it back to the boat, surrounded with other much better and much more expensive looking ships compared to the wooden row boat you drove in on. Joseph was still salty about your prying even as you neared your very special boat. As you moved to untie the thing Joseph's words stopped you. "The whole point of this trip was to get away from the bastard."

"JoJo, we've only known the guy for less than a month! How are you so jealous?"

"Tch! I'm not jealous! I hate the way he looks at you! Someone needs to protect you from him."

"And how does he look at me, JoJo?"

He thought about for a minute. "Like you're a piece of meat."

That stung you. That shock quickly turned into a dull anger. "Jeez, Joseph. No man is good enough for you! Even as a kid you'd never let me hang out with anyone. You're such a...a–!"

"What was that? Don't tell me you're actually interested in giving that sleazeball a chance!"

"You're a little too late, Joseph."

To help solidify the horrors he dreaded, a familiar accented voice filled in the silence between you two. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere!"

Caesar broke his jog to slide in next to you. He was bundled up heavily to combat the cool Italian night, his hand coming up to hold yours to share his heat. He ignored the awkward silence from your best friend and you, and ignored the angry and betrayed look on Joseph's face to only anger him more.

"What do you think you're doing?! Sneaking away in the middle of your training to goof off? Typical, Joestar!"

"Caesar, please..." You tried to stop with a soft hand placed on his chest. Joseph watched, another nail added to his coffin.

"Cara, you shouldn't indulge him! Going along with his idiotic plans will just get you in trouble."

Joseph's first greeting to his friend was a hearty and quick punch to his face. Caesar was already on the ground before his name left your lips. You dropped to care for him, holding him close as if he was made of glass, you left Joseph still standing, anger so visible in his eye now that it cut through you like a knife through paper.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" You shrieked.

"Me?! You've been dating Caesar behind my back? Since when?!"

"What does it matter to you, Joseph? I'm a grown woman and I can date whoever I please!"

"But you're supposed to be with me!"

He earned himself a shocked silence. As if all of Italy was dying to hear your response. Caesar stood to stare Joseph down, his cheek red from the impact of a wildly thrown fist, unshed tears wetting his eyes. He kept you protectively in his arm, massaging his face with his unused hand. You looked at Joseph just as bewildered, "What?"

"You're supposed to be with me! Not him! It's supposed to be you and me that do all of that cheesy romance stuff together, like calling each other stupid pet names, and kiss in public and gross everyone out! I don't want to do it with anyone else!"

"Joseph... Do you even hear yourself? No, shut up." You forced him silent once he tried to interrupt you, an iron grip on his chin, forcing his face down to look you in your cold eyes. "You had your chance, a long time ago. And you blew it. I'm not gonna wait in a box until you decide you want to have a go at dating with me. I loved you Joseph. I still do! But those feelings have changed, and now we both have to move on."

You let him go and went back to Caesar. He held you closer, a little more softer. The air around you now was uncomfortable and warm, both you and Joseph had your heads bowed in shame unable to look at the other.

You wanted to turn and leave. To look away from the sad sight of your best friend. But you couldn't. It broke your heart to see him like this. You hated how he treated you in the past. Maybe he didn't recognize it at the time, but it was still shitty. And yet...

"And yet, I... Oh, my god."

"Cara mia, what's wrong?" Caesar asked, frightened by your sudden urge to collapse into a ball on the ground, a hand over your face to hide the confused tears seeping from your eyes. You sobbed, "Caesar... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

The sounds of your distress caught Joseph's attention, too. An alarm sounded in his head, he didn't care about your fight, now he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

"I-I think I, I think... I'm still in love with you, JoJo. I'm sorry Caesar. I-I thought maybe if I tried to date someone new I could get over him, but now... I'm stuck between both of you."

"Oh, Cara please," Caesar held you close, a hand gently brushing through your frazzled hair. He was so soft with you, but did you deserve it? You were a terrible person. No, you didn't. You just used him, and ended up catching feelings for him anyway. Your heart was a mess, you didn't know what to do now. How could you ever fix this mess.

"Don't cry, my love," All while Caesar spoke he wiped away the tears staining your face. "I still love you, too. My feelings have over grown since we became an item. But if your heart still belongs to another man... I am more than happy to let you go to him. But. If you still have feelings for me, then... I see only one other option for us." He looked at Joseph, blue eyes calculated and serious. "We'll share you."

"Excuse me? Like hell I'd share anyone with you!"

"JoJo! Listen to me, if you truly do love this girl then you'll hear what I have to say!"

The brunet went quiet, but not without complaint. Joseph crossed his arms over his chest refusing to look at Caesar again, but he was all ears.

Caesar looks back at you. He took your hands in his. "Cara. If you love us both, and if we both love you. It would only make sense to take us both, correct?"

"Caesar, I don't... We can't do that. What would people think if they saw me with two men instead of one?"

"To hell with them! What matters is if having both of our hearts will make you happy. We only ask that you share your heart with both of us in exchange."

Joseph had come closer. Like his friend he was sat next to you, a comforting hand placed on your thigh. "And Joseph. Would all of this be okay with you..?" He pouted a little, "It's all fine, I s'ppose. As long as you don't make me kiss Caesar, I'd much rather kiss you."

"Then... I'd love to share my heart with both of you! If you'll take it."

Happy to hear, Caesar placed a chaste kiss on your temple. Joseph followed quickly after, taking the back of your hand to his lips. "Now, let us get back to the island. I'll speak to Ms. Lisa Lisa to lighten her punishment."

"Oh, great. I totally forgot about that." Joseph moaned. "Whatever. Say, Y/n, you're coming back with me yeah? Who knows what you've been doing behind my back with Caesar. We need to get even!

"You've had the whole day with her, idiota!" Caesar protested.

"As friends. Now I get to do all types of lovey dovey things with her!"

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #caesar zeppeli #caesar zeppeli x reader #joseph joestar #joseph joestar x reader #battle tendency #jjba x reader #jojo x reader

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poetryandfluffycats · 9 months ago

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more tsumugi nsfw x fem reader please 🥺

A/N: my first request hello??? I would have finished this sooner but ive been on vacation and had no inpso:( but here it is! sorry if to short or not to your liking<3

Pairing: Tsumugi Aoda x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, cockwarming, teasing, petnames(good girl, sweetheart, darling), praise, hair pulling, dumbifcation if you squint, daddy kink, pwp(porn what plot), mean soft? dom Tsumugi

Content: Cockwarming Mugi while he works. Thats it, thats the fic

Words: 366

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Good girl~

"It's alright, darling"

Tsumugis voice was quiet as he spoke, rubbing gentle circles onto your thighs. You were seated in his lap, the warm feeling of his cock stretching your hole almost unbearable. You'd been at this for awhile now, hopelessly grinding yourself against him as he did paperwork. He'd been nice about it though, even going as fair to give you the occasional shallow thrust to help ease the ache in your belly.

"Please," you begged, drool dripping down your chin and tears pricking at your eyes, "Please, I need you"

Tsumugi hummed, moving his hips upwards to meet yours, the sudden friction drawing a croaked sob out of you. He sighed contently at the sound, looking away from his work for the first time that night to meet your tear filled eyes. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips curling into a smrik at the sight of your pathetic state.

"Look at you" He cooed, brushing the stray tears on your cheeks away, "Your doing so good, just awhile longer and I'll take care of you, hm?"

You shook your head, tugging harshly at his shirt. The action was weak, barely enough to earn a chuckle out of the man. Your head lulled, resting it on his shoulder as you continued to mumble pleas, desperately trying to get his attention. Thinking that he cared more about those stuipd papers than you was driving you insane.

Tsumugi only grinned, using one large hand to pull your hips down and still your movements. His free hand snaked up your back, tangling itself in your hair. With one swift motion, he yanked you back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Hush now sweetheart" He warned, his tone sickeningly sweet, "Daddy has work to do, it's very important. I know it's hard to wrap your little head around that, but you can be a good girl and wait a little longer, can't you?"

His fingers pulled at your hair, forcing you to nod against your own will. Satisfied, he released his grip, allowing your head to fall back onto his shoulder. He continued his work, leaving you to pathetically grind against him once again.

"Good girl~"

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars oneshot #ensemble stars x reader #enstars #enstars x reader #oneshot #ensemble stars smut #tsumugi aoba #tsumugi aoba x reader #tsumugi aoda

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trumanbluee · 9 months ago

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hi girlie ! could i please request james x reader, with him being nervous about asking popular!reader to the yule ball ? ily 🫶🏼

love this idea so much! thank u for sending it in ily 🫰

about time - james potter

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

word count: 1.1k

warnings: not edited but other than that just jamie being a cutie pie!

a/n: thank u sm for the request !!! im so sorry it took so long i wasn't expecting to be so busy :( i hope you like it !! 🩷

It wasn’t often that James got visible anxious because of someone. Sure, Minnie had her days where she’d shoot him a stern look and he’d shrink back into his seat in class, and Moony had him walking on eggshells when it was approaching the full moon, but with you it was different.

You’d never done anything but be sickeningly sweet to him, always smiling and waving hello when you walked past him in the hallway, and giving him tips when you were paired together in potions.

James saw the upcoming Yule Ball as the perfect opportunity to finally ask you out. He’d been saying he would for months now, and quite frankly Remus and Sirius were getting sick and tired of hearing about it. There’s only so many times they can tell him, ‘she obviously likes you, mate’, before his insecure denial becomes unbearable to hear, as much as they love the guy.

Normally, like with Lily Evans, who he’d been forced to move on from after she’d come out as a lesbian and started dating Mary Macdonald, James would have no qualms in simply going up to a girl he thought was pretty and asking her out – usually on a clandestine trip to Honeydukes, he would always beg Moony and Padfoot to let him borrow the map.

But with you, it was different. You were so, insanely, beautiful. Just your face was enough to stop James in his tracks, a hand placed over his ever-quickening heartbeat.

However, your beauty wasn’t the issue. Well, it wasn’t the reason James found it difficult to function like a normal human being around you. That’s because you’re just so lovely. Though, ‘lovely’ doesn’t even begin to describe the way you light up the room whenever you walk into it, or the way your laughter pangs the heart of everyone who is lucky enough to hear it or, even luckier, the reason for it.

James had been lucky to be that reason many a time, usually not of his own volition, with you somehow always catching him doing something silly -- like that time you were walking to Potions and rounded the corner just in time to see him slip on some unknown substance on the floor. He’d yelped like a wounded animal, and you’d doubled over in laughter (not before helping him up and asking if he was okay, of course).

With the Yule Ball quickly approaching, he realised he was limited for time to ask you to be his date. Remus and Sirius had been trying to encourage him for weeks, with Remus, always the voice of reason, saying: “Mate, I have never seen you look at a girl like you do her, please just ask her out for our own sanity.”

Sirius, unable not to, chimed in with: “Yeah, what’ve you got to lose, Prongs? The worst thing she can say is no.” causing Remus to groan and shove him roughly.

“Don’t be a git, our Jamie needs help,” he cooed playfully, turning his attention back to James, who sat in front of the fire, playing nervously with a stray thread on Remus’s sweater he’d stolen earlier that day.

“Honestly, mate, I reckon you should ask her. I hate to agree with Pads on anything, but what’ve you got to lose?”

So, with encouragement from Lily and Mary, who had both been pretending to read in the lounge while listening to James’ turmoil, he decided he was going to pluck up the courage and finally ask you out.

For once, James was thankful for potions class. He'd been paired up with you at the start of the semester, Slughorn -- the cheeky bugger -- sending him a sly wink when he'd read your names out from his list.

The class was loud -- mostly with Sirius's complaining about not having a clue what he's doing, followed by a loud groan from Remus -- when James nervously slid his stool closer to where you stood, peering into the cauldron as you stirred it. He tapped your shoulder with his pointer finger, asking for your attention, before resting his chin on his palm.

You turned to him, smile already creeping onto your face simply from his proximity.

"D'ya have a date to the ball yet?" he mumbled into his hand, eyes looking anywhere but you, focusing intently on the bubbling potion.

"Mmh? Jamie, what did you say?" you ask sweetly, placing the spoon down to balance on the rim of the cauldron.

"Y'know I can't understand what you say when you talk into your hand like that," you giggle.

He huffs, sitting up straighter on his chair, pushing his glassed up his nose -- a nervous tick you'd noticed him do often when he was talking to you.

"I just asked if -- do you have a date to the ball?"

You hear him this time, and a grin grows on your lips. You cross your arms and playfully look down your nose at him.

"Are you asking me to go with you, James?"

He's shocked at your abruptness, fidgeting in his chair uncomfortably.

"Well, I just, if you haven't been asked alr-"

You cut him off, "- you don't think I've been ask yet? Am I not pretty enough to be asked to the ball, James?"

You're playing with him, but he's too nervous to realise. You'd feel bad, maybe, if he and his little friends hadn't dyed your hair bright green just before the last fancy dress event Hogwarts had held.

He's bright red now, frustrated with himself and embarrassed.

"No, no, no, no!" he mumbles, "I just, I wanted to know if there was any point in asking you now because you -- uhm, you probably already have a date and it's stupid, I shouldn't have left it so long to ask you ou-"

He's pulled out of his ramblings by your hand over his mouth, thumb under his chin to physically stop him from speaking. He looks up at you to see you smiling brightly back at him, eyes glistening. The potion is long forgotten by now.

"Jamie," you giggle, removing your palm from his face, "I would love to go to the ball with you, silly boy. No need to get all worked up."

His jaw would've fallen open had he not willed it not to. He couldn't believe that you'd actually said yes. He could've kissed you right where you stood.

You laugh at his expression, brows furrowed in surprise and lips curled into the biggest smile you'd ever seen on the boy.

You cup his cheeks in both your hands, "I wish you'd have asked sooner, I felt silly turning down all these other guys when you hadn't even asked me yet." You smiled at him fondly, releasing his face and pecking his cheek softly, "Thanks Jamie."

You skip off, ponytail bouncing up and down with your steps, probably going to try and convince Slughorn that the potion went bad of its own volition, and James hopes you don't catch the whooping of his friends as they envelope him in cheers and high-fives.

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

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loulouwrites · 2 years ago

Text

The Neighbour . Alfie Solomons

Warnings: angst, slight sexual content, talks of abortion, divorce, sexism, swearing

par(2965 words)

Part Two

Alfie Solomons did not have many friends. In fact, he did not have any friends, the closest he had to one would be his assistant, Ollie, who was terrified of him. It didn’t bother Alfie, he liked being alone, with his profession he was always surrounded by people, he was always talking, scheming, plotting. When he had time to spare, he enjoyed spending it alone, his own company was the only company he didn’t find absolutely unbearable.

Alfie Solomons’ life of solitude was something he thoroughly enjoyed. It was what made his relationship with the woman who lived across the road from him extremely confusing. Alfie wouldn’t say he was friends with his neighbour, but he thoroughly enjoyed her company, which was strange to him because he hadn’t even fucked her. He didn’t enjoy the company of women he wasn’t getting sexual gratification from.

Alfie had been enjoying the company of his neighbour for months now, since she moved in. They day she moved in had been one of the days he just so happened to be at home, his back had been hurting him and his doctor advised him to rest, so he left the bakery in the hands of his friend Ollie. He hadn’t noticed that there was anyone moving in across the street, his curtains remained closed for security reasons, it was a knock at the door that had alerted him. He answered it with a gun tucked behind his back, opening the door only slightly when he was greeted by a young woman that he guessed was in her mid-twenties.

“Can I help you, love?” He asked suspiciously, opening the door wider, tucking his gun in the waistband of his trousers.

“Is this yours?” The woman asked him, he frowned at her, and she pointed to the ground, where he saw his dog, sat by her feet, panting.

“Cyril! Inside!” He ordered the dog, that happily ran inside the house “I’m sorry about that, love. He must have gotten out the back.” The woman waved her hand dismissively, a smile on her face.

“It’s quite alright, he’s lovely. My husband isn’t too happy, though, the dog sent him flying,” she let out a laugh. She was posh, Alfie noted, not that it was surprising, most of his neighbours were, meaning most of his neighbours didn’t speak to him.

“Well thanks for bringing him back.” He offered her a quick smile, going to shut the door

“It was no problem. Have you lived here long?” She asked, ignoring the door slowly being shut. Alfie sighed at the woman, holding the door open again.

“A while, yeah. It’s a good place. Quiet. People get on with it,” he told her, and the very clear hint that he wanted to leave, very obviously went right over her head.

“We just moved here. My husband previously worked in Surrey he’s started working in the city and didn’t fancy travelling here everyday.”

“Well. Welcome.” He went to shut the door again, only to be interrupted

“Are there many families around here?”

“Yeah a few. Got kids, do you?” He silently cursed himself for asking her a question. She’s never going to leave.

“No, not yet,” she offered him a sad smile, she went to speak again but was interrupted by a voice calling her from across the road. “That’s me,” she smiled sweetly at him, it almost made Alfie want to be sick “It was nice to meet you…”

“Alfie, love.”

“It was nice to meet you, Alfie,” she gave him a small wave before walking down the steps and practically skipping to her new home.

“Where are you off to this early?” She asked him, that sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

And that’s how Alfie’s friendship with the woman across the road started. The next time they spoke was a Sunday morning, he was leaving his house to go to the bakery when she bumped into him. She was dressed nicely, wearing a pale blue dress and matching hat. She had apologised to him, and he assured her it was fine, going to move past her when she struck up a conversation causing him to roll his eyes subtly.

“Just work, love. Nothing interesting.”

“Work? On a Sunday?” She asked him

“Well, it ain’t a holy day for all of us, innit?” He said, clearing his throat. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly.

“Oh! Of course. Because you’re not…you’re…”

“Jewish,” he said slowly, he found it somewhat amusing that she was so flustered

“Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you-“

“Love,” he interrupted her, “it would take a lot more than that to offend me. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” She nodded quickly, pinching her lips together “You going somewhere?” He asked her, and again, cursed himself, her really needed to stop asking her stuff.

“Oh no. I’ve just been to Church, I have nothing else to do today.”

“Your husband not with you?” Stop asking her questions

“He’s not really a Church person.”

“Nor I, love,” she let out a small laugh at his little joke, dipping her head slightly.

“Well I hate to keep you, Alfie. Have a good day at work,” she offered him a little wave as she walked home.

Alfie wasn’t sure at what point she stopped being his irritating neighbour and at what point she became his friend, but he was glad she did. He had never met her husband, he had seen him leaving for work a few times, but he was starting to think her husband didn’t know about his wife’s friendship with the Jewish gangster across the road.

He had gotten Ollie to do some research on the couple, and it was all so boring. Her husband was a Judge, which made Alfie slightly cagey but not cagey enough to stop talking to his annoying little friend. She had married him three years ago and they moved to London from Surrey six months ago, there didn’t seem to be any skeletons in the closet and that did make Alfie cagey. Nobody was that ordinary.

He left work early one Friday and came home to find his annoying neighbour in his living room, stroking a sleeping Cyril. He had given her a key to his house weeks before, asking her if she wouldn’t mind checking in on his dog when he was at work and she was more than happy to. She smiled as he entered, removing his hat and groaning as he sat on the chair next to the sofa she was sat on. Cyril’s eyes opened slightly when Alfie sat down, but he moved to place his head on the woman’s lap and went back to sleep. Traitor, Alfie thought.

Oh, love, if you only knew.

“How was your day?” She asked him “You’re never usually home this early.” Alfie just shook his head at her, rubbing his temple with his fingers. His day had been terrible, most of them were but he didn’t tell her that. She thought he owned a literal bakery; how bad could a day be if you’re baking bread all day?

“Did you run out of flour or something?” She grinned

“Shut up,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

Alfie wasn’t sure when their friendship shifted and they became more than friendly neighbours, but it did. There were small moments, a build up to the final straw, but there were so many he couldn’t pinpoint it. The climax same late one Thursday night. He was walking Cyril, when he passed his friend’s house. He could hear shouts coming from inside the house, the curtains were open, but the blinds were shut meaning Alfie could only see silhouettes furiously moving in a warm light. He paused for a second before shaking his head and crossing the road to his own home. It’s none of your business, Alfie he told himself as he unlocked his front door. Just as he was about to walk inside his house, he heard the gate from across the road slam shut, he turned his head to see the husband storming down the street, shrugging his coat on as he went. His eyes flickered to the house and he sighed, he pushed Cyril into the house and shut the door, walking down the steps of his house and across the road.

“Would you like tea?” She asked, moving Cyril so she could stand up, Alfie nodded at her but didn’t open his eyes.

“FUCK!” He shouted and looked towards his friend, who was sat on the floor, her eyes wide and hands covering her mouth.

“Oh my, Alfie. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, standing up from the floor and walking towards him “I am so sorry, I thought…”

The door was unlocked when he got there, he pushed it open gently, greeted by the sound of a woman quietly crying. He followed the whimpers, walking into the living room only to be met by a vase flying towards him. He quickly moved out the way and it smashed on the wall behind him, water dripping down the patterned wallpaper.

“You thought what?” He asked her, a small smile playing on his lips

“I thought you were my husband.” They were both silent for a second, studying each other, Alfie broke first, letting out a loud, laugh and she soon followed, covering her face with her hands. “What are you doing here?” She asked him when their laughter had subsided, though there was still a small smile on her face.

“The whole street could hear you two screaming,” he told her, watching as she knelt on the floor to pick up the broken glass from her husband’s smashed champagne glass.

“Ugh I’m sorry,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Alfie sighed and moved towards her, gently grabbing her arm and leading her over to the sofa.

“Forget about that, leave that for the morning,” he said quietly, gesturing to the broken glass. He took a seat next to her on the sofa, resting his arms on his thighs as he looked at her. “You alright, love?”

She nodded quickly “Yeah, yeah. It was just a silly argument." Alfie gave her a disbelieving look and pointed to the trashed living room.

“That, love. Is more than a silly argument.”

“I swear, nothing bad happened. We just fight sometimes,” she shrugged, moving to stand but he blocked her with his arm.

“Fight about what?” She sighed and leaned back on the sofa, slinging an arm over her eyes.

“He thinks I should have gotten pregnant by now and I haven’t”. Alfie nodded at her answer and glanced around the room. He didn’t know what to say, what could he say? He felt uncomfortable, he thought she’d say he hit her or something and he would know what to do in that situation, he would just kill the twat. But this was emotional, and he wasn’t good with emotional.

“Yeah, that’s what I told him, and he smashed a glass,” she laughed humourlessly, removing her arm from her eyes, and dropping it on the sofa, close to Alfie’s leg. He glanced at it awkwardly and cleared his throat.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll happen when it’s meant to,”

That’s all you can come up with?

“Hello, Mrs Marshall. What can I do for you?”

“Are you okay, darling? I heard glasses smashing and everything earlier. I didn’t know whether I should intrude or not, but I got scared the quieter it got…” The elderly woman trailed off as her eyes drifted from the woman stood in front of her to a figure appearing from the living room of the house “Oh, Mr Solomons. How do you do?”

“Well, I say…” He started, closing his eyes briefly before leaning closer to her so they were face to face “Whether you give him ten little ones or none, he’s very fucking lucky to be married to you and if I were-“ he was cut off by her grabbing his face and pressing her lips against his. His eyes widened for a moment, but he quickly gained his composure and reached his hand up to rest on her cheek, the other sliding across her waist. He groaned when she opened her mouth, allowing him to slide his tongue inside. He slid his hand from her cheek to the back of her head as she moved hers from his face to his neck, just as he went to push her to lie down on the sofa, a loud knock was heard from the front door. They sprung apart as a woman called her name. She got up from the sofa and straightened her dress, walking to the front door to be greeted by her elderly neighbour Mrs Marshall. She smiled at the old lady, pressing her lips together.

“Uhh, what?” Alfie grumbled at the old woman, frowning “Oh yeah, you alright, Miss? You’re up late ain’t ya?” He laughed dramatically and was offered a confused smile by both the woman at the door. “Anyways. I checked on you. You’re fine. I’m going,” he pushed past the women and practically ran across the road to his own house.

And that’s when Alfie’s friend became his lover. It was not what he expected when he first met the woman, in fact, he thought he would spend the rest of his life avoiding her. He never expected to be where he was now, with her naked on top of him, moaning as she chased her climax. It was quite pleasant.

“Bye, Mrs Marshall” The younger woman said quickly, slamming the door in the old woman’s face.

He offered to kill her husband many times, but she always refused. It started to frustrate him, she didn’t love her husband, she loved him, at least that’s what she told him, he could make it all go away, they could be happy.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?” He snarled but she shook her head, a sob escaping her throat.

“I’m pregnant, Alfie,” she told him and he swore the world stopped spinning for a moment, his ears started ringing as his hands let go of hers. He stood up, pacing the floor several times

He was at home one night when she knocked on his door. She had a key to his house but she told him she didn’t want to use to too often in case anybody was watching, it would look to suspicious. He led her into the living room and offered her tea but she just shook her head, Alfie looked at her properly and immediately alarm bells went off in his head, she was shaking, pale and her eye makeup was running down her face. He sat next to her, grabbing both her hands in his.

“So I’m guessing you’re staying with him, then,” he spoke, calmly, but when she looked in his eyes, she saw a fire burning in them.

“What?” She frowned, standing up “What are you talking about?”

“He finally gave you the kid you both want. Mazel Tov,” he swore he could have killed her when she started laughing.

“Alfie. It’s yours,” she smiled, placing a soft hand on his arm. He stared at her for a moment before he grabbed hand and shoved it from his arm.

“You’re lying,” he glared at her, she stood there, a look of sadness and shock on her face.

“I’m not lying. It’s your baby, Alfie. He was in Manchester when it was conceived.” He was silent for a moment until he sighed and moved to sit on the sofa.

“Well, this is good,” he mumbled, rubbing his beard and she offered him a soft smile. “It’s good. He won’t know it’s not his. We can forget this ever happened and he can raise it without ever knowing what a whore his wife is,” she faltered for a moment, she was confused, so confused.

“What are you saying, Alfie? You want me to lie to him and say it’s his?” Alfie let out a loud, obnoxious laugh, throwing his head back.

“Fuck you, Alfie,” she whispered, the tears spilling out of her eyes. “Fuck you,” she sobbed, running out of the room.

“Now you’ve got a problem with lying to him?” She didn’t respond, just shook her head as tears built up in her lovely eyes. “Look,” He sighed, iIf you don’t want to lie to him, go into my desk over there,” he pointed to the messy oak desk in the corner of the room. “And take as much as you need to make that thing,” he pointed to her stomach. “Go away”.

Alfie Solomons did not have many friends, but he did have one that he considered the best friend he’d ever had.

He flinched when he heard the front door slam.

“Thomas! How are you?” He called back to the boy. He really wished she hadn’t picked that name. He smiled as the boy ran out of the garden towards him, bending down to pat Cyril on the head.

“Hello, Mr Solomons!” He heard the six-year-old boy call out from across the road.

“Thomas!” The man and boy’s head snapped up when they heard her stern voice from the front door.

"Well, I best be going, Mr Solomons. My mum really doesn’t like you,” the young boy said, standing up.

“I’m well, hello, Mr Cyril,” Thomas said to the dog, laughing gleefully as it licked his face.

“I don’t blame her, mate,” Alfie chuckled, patting the boys shoulder. He looked up towards the front door, where his old friend was stood, a frown on her face as she waited for her son come inside.

“I really don’t blame her.”

this is my first alfie fic. thanks for reading! if you wanna request any stories just hit me up!

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine

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