#jane murdstone x fem!reader

[agathaandbrienneslesbian]

Love-Letters

Jane Murdstone x Fem!Maid!Reader

Hiyaaaa I've finally finished my Jane murdstone fic and it's the first fic I'll upload on Tumblr so...

Big thank you to my freinds for proof reading this mess :3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, minors DNI

Authors note: Just because we love our red flag on legs. Smutty fanfic of Female Reader Maid and Jane Murdstone. Secrets, Love confessions, (kinda) soft Jane, top! Jane, bottom! Reader.

Words: 4’000+

Ao3 Link

Taglist

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The second you saw her in the maid's quarters, holding a stack of notes in her hand and glaring at you, you knew you were royally fucked. There she stood. The object of your (very questionable) affection, Jane Murdstone. You knew you shouldn’t like her, but you couldn’t help yourself. There was just something enchanting about the way she carried herself.

Jane Murdstone, who has been terrorising you for so many months, ever since she set foot in your Lady's manor and made you her personal maid.

THE Miss Murdstone who, as soon as you laid eyes on her, burned her beautiful image in your mind and heart, making it impossible to forget her icy blue eyes, the pale ivory skin, or her soft long black tresses you so gladly brushed out each morning and evening. And even though everyone else feared the Iron Lady, you saw a gentler, more vulnerable side of her, you saw behind the facade, and that's what made you fall for that woman.

However, this Jane Murdstone was now marching up to you at a dangerous pace, her eyes narrow and unreadable. A shiver went down your spine, as soon as she stood towering in front of you in all her stoic beauty, looking down at your small and weak form.

“What is this?” She asked through gritted teeth, wiggling the loose notes in front of your face. Confused, you focused on the pages in her hand, and your heart dropped. She was holding the poems and love letters you’d written about her in secret. The only way to confront your feelings towards her and the biggest secret you’ve harboured in your boring little life as a maid. Have you forgotten to put them away? You are usually so careful, but this time it must have slipped your mind. Fear rose in you and you swallowed dryly.

“I- I don’t know my Lady.” You answer, trying to sound as clueless as you possibly could with the amount of panic and fear rushing through your veins. Miss Murdstone, of course, picked up on the slight quiver in your voice. She was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out fear and lies. You didn’t dare look at her, as you were sure disgust and discontent would colour Jane’s ivory features.

“Lies,” She hissed and gripped your chin painfully, moving your head so you had no other choice but to make eye contact with her. The second your eyes met hers, your fear mixed with confusion. She looked… Hurt? Afraid? Angry? The stoic Iron Lady was portraying emotions you have never seen on her face, or at least emotions she would never dare show anyone.

“I know you wrote those letters and poems. What were you hoping to achieve with that? Have you planned for me to find them? To mock me? To get under my skin? What is it?” She barked at you, anger rising in her throat. How could you? Your eyes softened as you recognised what she felt. Pain. But… Why would your poems and letters, which describe her otherworldly beauty and confess your true and raw feelings for her cause pain?

“My Lady I-” 

“Save it,” She grunted  and shoved you to the side, leaving you stumbling to the ground. 

“I do not need to remind you of your place in this household, do I? If you should ever as much as THINK of trying to get under my skin again with such childish mockery, I WILL have you thrown out. And that is a promise!” She stormed off towards the direction of her study and you followed suit, unsure of what to do or say but you wanted to tell her, tell her that you were not mocking her but that every word you wrote is true. Tell her that you, indeed, have lost yourself in her sparkling blue orbs, that you longed to run your fingers through her raven black locks, that you desired to feel what her soft and pink lips feel on your own. How endearing her little quirks and laughs were when she was relaxed, reading a book whilst you helped her get ready for the day. You wanted to tell her all of this and so much more, but you knew it wasn’t right.

The moment she entered her study, you could hear the sizzling of the flames in the fireplace grow louder. Was she… no… You rushed in only to freeze in place, watching with horror and dismay as she had thrown your notes, the declaration of your undying devotion and love for her, into the blazing flames. 

“And you…” She turned to look at you, an enraged expression etched into her face, obscuring her usually so beautiful features, causing the little faint scar on her upper lip to become very noticeable.

“I do not wish to have you anywhere near me ever again! You clearly have gotten way too comfortable, thinking I wouldn’t notice your disrespect towards me. Now get out… Get. OUT!” Jane was fuming with anger. She thought you might have been different, kinder, but you were just like everyone else.

You didn’t know what to say, simply looking at the dancing flames consuming your thoughts and feelings. You didn’t dare look at her anymore and simply turned around to leave the study, feeling numb and empty. The walk to your chamber felt long and treacherous with a million thoughts running through your head, yet it was blank at the same time. You were sure, that night was the worst night of your entire existence. You felt heartbroken and worried about what was going to happen now that she knew you craved the fairer sex. Not once were you able to close your eyes, as the haunting image of her face lined with hurt and betrayal presented itself to you as soon as you did. 

Of course, you were hoping for this to be a bad dream, but the next morning, Mr. Murdstone, her brother, informed you of your new position as a kitchen maid. And that’s where you were to remain, not once being able to see Jane’s face or hear her voice. No matter how much pain it caused you to see her that night, it hurt even more not being able to see her at all. You even caught yourself sneaking out of the kitchen and through the manor just to, hopefully, accidentally bump into her but luck wasn’t on your side. The other maids kept complaining about Miss Murdstones temper. Every maid who was assigned to her hasn’t lasted for more than a day. Each and every one of them has come back to the maids quarters either furious, spitting vile comments about your beloved Lady, or sobbing but not once were you asked to return to your original position as Jane’s personal maid. You had almost given up on ever being able to see her again, that was until one morning Mr. Murdstone entered the kitchen, looking for you.

“Y/n?” He called out for you, causing all the other maids working in the kitchen to turn around and face you with curiosity. Some have already started whispering and gossiping as soon as you were released from your role as Miss Murdstone’s personal maid. But this… This must have been even worse. You felt helpless.

“Yes, Sir?” You set the soap aside and dried your hands on your apron as you turned around, bowing lightly. The feeling of so many eyes on you was uncomfortable. You only wanted one pair of eyes on you but the person whose icy blue diamonds belonged to didn’t want you around anymore.

“My sister is in need of assistance and none of the other maids are currently at disposal. Now I know for some reason she has asked me to remove you as her personal maid. However, I do not know why nor do I care to find out. I trust you have enough time to spare?” He looked at you, waiting for a reply. Was this really happening? Have you heard correctly? Anxiety rose in your chest, you took a deep breath nodding lightly.

“Of course, Sir.” Your answer was quiet. This seemed to suffice as he just turned around without another word and left. Miss Murdstone might be known for her iron status but it was her brother you feared more than anyone in this household. Nervously you took your kitchen apron off and put your regular apron on, making your way down the hall and up the stairs to Jane’s chambers. You tucked a strand of hair, which had fallen out of your braid when changing the apron, behind your ear and knocked, waiting for her to call you in.

Once you heard her calling you in, you opened the door and entered. Closing the door again behind you, you saw her sitting at her vanity still in her nightgown. She hadn’t noticed you yet and was focused on unbraiding her hair - that beautiful silky raven hair. With careful steps, you walked towards her, standing behind her and grabbing the brush on the table to start brushing through her locks. Jane was too busy rummaging through her vanity drawer to look up at you but she did notice a change of maid. 

“Finally someone who knows how to use a hairbrush correctly. All the other maids were klutzes.” She murmured, more to herself than to you, then she looked up and froze.

“What are you doing here? I thought I was clear enough with my demands to have you out of my face.” She spat and moved to grip your wrist, stopping you from brushing out her hair. You jumped at her reaction. Her grip was tight and it was starting to hurt.

“None of the other maids are available, my Lady, so Sir Murdstone has asked me to come and assist you” You replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible to avoid any further irritation. She huffed and let go of your hand, glaring at you poisonously through the mirror. After a few seconds and a deep breath later, you continued with your ministrations, not wanting to look at her. It felt weird, really. You were with your Lady again but it did not feel right…

“So you’re back to disrespecting me? Were the letters and poems not enough of a mockery for you?” She averted her eyes but you could see that the expression of hurt was back. Your heart clenched with pain seeing her in such emotional distress.

“It was never my intention to mock you, my Lady.” You state quietly, watching her reaction carefully. There was a soft flicker of something unfamiliar on her face. Only for a split second, then it was gone again. 

“Then what was your intention?” Jane looked at you again with a dangerous stare. Would you dare tell her? Before you could answer she continued, “I do not know how or when you discovered my affection for the fairer sex but by god, I know you were planning on using it against me. So what was your intention?” 

Wait.. what? You stopped your movements and looked at her in disbelief. She just rolled her eyes at your reaction and huffed impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away. It took a second or two for you to collect your thoughts again before you spoke, carefully.

“My Lady… My intentions were nothing but pure.” You start carefully, watching her as her icy blue orbs shoot to look at you. There it was again. That flicker you’ve seen before.

“I can assure you that all of the things I have written are true. I know it is frowned upon but who am I to deny my heart the freedom to feel, to long for.” You gently put the brush down and move to Jane’s side, kneeling on the ground in front of her and looking up at her. Jane’s body has visibly relaxed but her facial expression was unreadable. 

“It might not be right, not only because we are women but because I am just a simple maid and you are my Lady… but I simply cannot deny the feelings I have developed for you…”

“You’re… Are you true, y/n?” Jane asked quietly, almost in a whisper. It was obvious to you that she tried to look unbothered but yet she has never seemed so small and fragile as she has in this very moment and you wanted nothing more but to hold her hands, reassuring her of your feelings. Still, you decided to keep your distance, giving her only a curt nod as an answer.

“But… I have been nothing but vicious to you… how,” she looked down into your eyes, hers shining with uncertainty and guilt.

“So you have… But I have also seen you at your most relaxed state, right here braiding your hair, and I felt you were not as cruel as you portray yourself to be. My Lady… It was never my intention to cause you pain or disrespect you, I simply didn’t know where to go with my feelings. I wrote them down because I couldn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same and-” Soft lips suddenly pressed against yours, stopping you in the middle of your sentence. A hand gently placed on your cheek pulled you closer and instinctively your eyes closed shut. To say that she took you by surprise was an understatement. You carefully moved your hand to find her other and squeezed it lightly. An affirmation for the both of you. This caused Jane to deepen the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a heated frenzy of desire which you reciprocated gladly. You knelt there, basking in the affection she was willing to give to you and taking everything in before she evidently changed her mind. 

When air became necessary you pulled away, looking up at Jane with a longing gleam in your eyes and heated red cheeks. She looked down at you, her face just as drunk with desire as yours. Chewing on her lower lip, she thought for a second then pulled you up with her. You followed her to her bed like a lovesick puppy, holding her hand tightly in yours, not willing to let go. The desire has spread south and you could feel the well-known warm sensation in your abdomen growing more and more. Jane turned around and looked at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or disgust but all she saw was you smiling up at her with the sweetest expression she has ever seen. Pure adoration. So there was actually someone who could adore her?

“Is this alright?” She asked as she pulled you closer, still a bit uncertain. Your heart almost burst out of your chest at the gentle nature of the Iron Lady. 

“More than alright my La-”

“Jane. Please call me Jane.” She interrupted and your smile grew even more. She couldn't believe how you could look at her like that when she has never said a kind word to you in all the months you have worked for her. Jane wanted to make it  right, treat you right and give you the affection she knew you deserved and craved and she was more than willing to give it to you. 

“Okay… Jane.” Her name has never sounded so good before and Jane wanted to know in how many other ways her name could leave your lips. She sat down at the edge of the bed and pulled you in, to sit on her lap. You did so without hesitation and moved to cup her cheeks, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. A reassuring tenderness she has never received from anyone before. Jane inhaled deeply at the gentle gesture and moved to hold onto your waist, pulling you into her. She needed you impossibly close. The first few kisses were soft and timid but they soon turned heated. Jane squeezed your waist which caused you to open your mouth in a silent inhale, allowing her to explore your mouth with her tongue. You battled with her for dominance but evidently gave up and let her take control, the thing she does best. Her hands started roaming your body, moving from your waist to your hips and your thighs. Your head was swimming in pure bliss. 

A quiet noise escaped your lips as Jane moved her lips to your neck, attacking it with hot open-mouthed kisses and nips. Your hands instinctively shot into her hair, holding close onto her as she assaulted your soft skin with her delicate lips. You couldn’t take it anymore. The aching between your legs has gotten uncomfortably strong and you squirmed against her lap. Jane noticed and gently slid her hands under your dress, running her fingertips over your warm skin, whilst her kisses moved to your ear, gently nibbling on your earlobe.

“Jane… please,” You whimpered out pathetically for the stoic woman beneath you.

“What do you want me to do, my dove?” Jane husked in your ear and smirked as you responded with a strangled groan. She loved how you reacted to her touch, how you reacted to her words. Never would she have thought that she could have precious little you on her lap like this, pudding in her hands. 

“N-need you… please,” You breathed out frustratedly, moving your hips towards hers instinctively. You needed her hands on you, all over you, needed her to relieve that ache between your legs. Jane chuckled and removed her hands from your legs, causing you to pout. 

“Don’t get impatient, darling.” She smirked and moved to remove your apron and then started unbuttoning your uniform. You took this as a sign to unlace her nightgown, pushing it down her shoulders. Although you have seen Jane's bare chest before when you had helped her dress for the day or undress for bed, this was something completely different. Your eyes were trained on her soft ivory breasts as she finished unbuttoning your garments. She expertly pulled your uniform over your head and tossed it to the side, leaving you in your undergarments. Being way too impatient, you pull the fabric off of your head yourself. Jane smirked at how desperate you were and instantly started roaming your figure again with her hands. Her soft fingertips discover every dip and curve of your body, sending goosebumps over your skin. 

“You are so beautiful.” Jane said with bated breath, immediately attaching her lips to one of your nipples. You inhaled sharply as she ran her tongue over the hardened bundle and then sucked it into her mouth again, releasing it with a plop. Without wasting a second, she gave the same attention to the other breast before sitting up straight again. 

“Lie down.” She ordered, moving you off her lap. She stood up and watched you lie on her bed, her nightgown now pooling around her ankles, she stepped out of it and climbed in bed with you. Jane lay close to you and pulled you in for a kiss as her hands started roaming your body again, your own hands finding purpose in exploring hers.

You broke the kiss, gasping as you felt Jane run her finger through your soaked folds. 

“My, my. Is all of this for me, darling?” She husked and watched your reaction closely, spreading the wetness around, focusing tiny circles on your very sensitive clit. You closed your eyes and inhaled sharply then let out a desperate whimper. Jane was mesmerised by the way your body reacted to her and it aroused her greatly. She teased your clit for a little while longer, watching you writhe and squirm under her. The little noises and pleas coming from your lips and the way you called out her name filled her with pride. It was addicting how she had barely touched you and you were already reacting so much to her.

“J- Jane please… please I need you-  ah,” You bucked your hips against her in hopes of more friction. You were so desperate for relief and just wanted her to claim you as hers and who was Jane to refuse? She leaned in, capturing your lips with hers to silence your moan as she slowly pushed a digit into your aching hole. She managed to slip her finger in with ease and started moving it slowly. The feeling of her finger in you was enough to send your head spiralling. You moaned into her mouth and wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer, causing her nude body to almost fully lay on top of you. The sensation of skin on skin had both of you shivering with arousal. She sped up her movements, as soon as she felt that you were ready and pulled away from the kiss, looking down at you lovingly. 

“Darling I need you to be as quiet as you possibly can now… Do you think you can manage?” She asked, panting lightly. Her own arousal had started trickling down her thighs. You nodded and opened your mouth in a silent moan as she curled her finger into your sweet spot. Jane smiled and moved to kiss and suckle on your breasts again. The sensation of her finger moving in and out of you and her lips and tongue exploring your chest and stomach made you feel dizzy. She moved her kisses and kitten licks all the way down your body, never halting her movement with her hand until she was positioned between your legs. 

Looking up at you, she placed a sloppy,  open-mouthed kiss on your thigh, right next to your hot and wet core. Your back arched off the bed and you gripped the sheets, holding your breath before exhaling strongly. Jane moved her kisses closer to your centre, removing her finger and before you could protest she ran her tongue over the length of your folds, collecting the wetness which seeped from you. 

She enclosed your clit with her lips and sucked lightly, having you bite your hand gently and groan so you wouldn’t make too much noise. She continued giving attention to your clit with her mouth, slipping two digits into your hole again to curl them upwards. Jane sped up her movements and you felt a knot build in your core. Staying quiet was getting more and more difficult as the tension grew stronger. Jane noticed your struggle to stay quiet. She felt your walls clench around her fingers and knew you were close. Her movements didn't stop, but she pulled away from your clit, reattaching her lips with yours to swallow the sweet noises you made for her. 

“That’s it, my girl. You’re doing so well for me! Let go!” She panted against your lips, her praise sending you over the edge with her name on your lips. Jane helped you ride out your orgasm before pulling her fingers out and holding them to your lips. You understood immediately and licked her fingers clean, groaning at your taste on them. Jane watched you intently, pulling her fingers away when the aching between her legs got too much, she couldn’t hold back anymore. She needed you. Jane straddled you, enclosing your head with her toned and strong legs, holding onto the headboard for support. Your mouth watered, seeing her glistening core in front of you. As the scent of her arousal filled your nose, you couldn’t help but whimper in anticipation. 

“Be a good girl and make me feel good too, will you?” She said breathlessly, and gently lowered herself to your mouth. You wasted no time, running your tongue through her folds, collecting her desire. Her taste was addicting, and you wrapped your arms around her thighs, pulling her down more. Immediately you went to work on her clit, giving it kitten licks and sucking it gently, causing Jane to throw her head back and let out a guttural groan. 

Your hands moved upwards, feeling her warm skin, massaging her soft breasts, and teasing her nipples. Meanwhile, your ministrations on her clit never wavered, causing Jane to roll her hips down onto your tongue. You groaned into her core, letting her ride herself on your tongue however she desired. The sounds coming from her were a mix of obscenities and praises of your name, which sent your head reeling. Shortly, Jane’s legs started shaking, and you moved your hands to support her, holding her in place for you to continue your feasting on her. She was close, and you could hear it. You collected all of your remaining energy to focus on her clit, licking and nibbling. Sucking on it hard one last time caused Jane to come undone on top of you, clasping her thighs around your head, trapping you momentarily as you helped her ride out her orgasm on your face. She released you from her grip and collapsed next to you on the bed, panting heavily.

“You’re aethereal when you come undone like that.” You pant gently and smile brightly when you catch her blush. Jane moved her head to look at you, an affectionate smile spread on her lips as she extended her arms for you. Gratefully you snuggled into her embrace and held her close, resting your head on her chest and listening to her heartbeat, gradually calming down. The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes before you turned your head to look up at her.

“We should probably get dressed again before anyone notices.” She looked down at you, playing with a few loose strands of your hair. You didn’t want to get up, but you knew it was dangerous to stay here for too long.

“We should… but I don't want to.” She smiled and pressed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Let's just stay like this for a little longer. I don’t want to let go of you just yet.” Jane smiled and nuzzled her nose into the crown of your head. You were more than content with that decision.

You wanted to tell her you loved her, and let her know how much she meant to you but… this could wait. Most important was that you could enjoy the closeness and calm with Jane, bask in each other's presence, exchange kisses, and whisper sweet nothings to each other until the two of you fell asleep eventually.

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Tags: @weemssapphic @pro-weems-places @winterfireblond

[inlovewithgreta]

I would die for you to make more Gwendoline Christie's character fics like my fav ultra 'green' flags Lady Jane, Jane Murdstone, Jan Stevens and Captain Phasma!! Although I do also love a green flag like yummers Larissa Weems, Miranda Hilmarson and Brienne of Tarth!! WORDS CANT DESCRIBE HOW I LOVE YOUR FICS SO FKIN MUCH!!

Lipstick Stains & Ice Cubes - Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

Summary: Both you and Larissa were eager to please each other, but in your own special ways.

Warnings: praise, pet names, oral sex, ice cubes, body worship, g!p, fingering, p in v, breeding kink, I believe that’s it?

Word Count: 2.3k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @enchantressb @dopenightmaretyphoon @weemswife @bellatrixsbrat @finnja555 @pllduniverse @aemilia19 @winterfireblond

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

You were waiting for Larissa in her hotel room, gazing outside the floor length mirror at the city below you. She told you to wait for her while she finished up some business, and of course you listened.

Whenever Larissa had a business meeting out of town, she would bring you along. The two of you were inseparable, not wanting to be away from each other as it drove you both crazy.

You were inevitably and ultimately in love with the woman. But the words were never said aloud, leaving you to wonder if she felt the same. For now you were content, but you still longed for the words to come out of her sweet mouth.

Larissa had finally arrived as you were lost in thought. You had only noticed her presence when the heavy clicking of her heels grew louder. You turn to face her from the window, and a smile instantly spreads across your face.

"Don't move, darling. You look absolutely divine with the moonlight reflecting off of you." Her voice was dripping with honey, her elegant accent giving you butterflies.

You nodded your head, smile growing impossibly bigger as you listened to her light command.

Larissa swiftly moved to the nightstand, grabbing her phone, and making her way back towards you. "Pose for me, darling," she commanded once more, lifting her phone to take a picture of you.

You eagerly did as she said, posing sweetly and elegantly towards your lover. With a few clicks, Larissa licked her crimson coated lips, before quickly tapping away.

"Well?" You tilted your head.

"Look how beautiful you are," she cooed, showing you her new wallpaper that was now of course you, standing in front of the window with the most ethereal look on your face.

Your cheeks grew a bright red. "Thank you," you said, wrapping your arms around the taller woman's waist to pull her closer to you.

Your eyes were twinkling gorgeously. Larissa couldn't help but fall harder for you. You were the most perfect woman she had ever met. So kind, sweet, caring, and gentle. And her heart skipped a beat when her lips dipped to meet yours in a tender kiss.

Larissa cups the back of your neck, and you couldn't resist returning the kiss. You had been waiting for her all night. She had spent the entire day teasing you, and you were overcome with need.

You pulled her in tighter, but the blonde refused to let you have control. This was all about you. You being taken care of. Being cherished. And Larissa intended on making the most of it. Your moans were muffled as her tongue engulfed your own.

You go to pull back for air, your chest heaving. But Larissa wasn't having it. She places a soft palm flat to your chest, pushing you gently against the window.

"Larissa..." You whined against her parted lips.

"Yes, my love?" She tilted her head, with a big smirk plastered across her face.

"I can't wait anymore.."

"So demanding..." She teases, grabbing your wrists and guiding them over your head, before holding them in place. You let out another quiet moan as you grow more excited.

Larissa keeps one hand on your wrists while the other runs down your body. Thankful that you were wearing the easiest garment to undress, Larissa skillfully dragged the clothing off your body before letting it look at your feet.

You can't help but let out a groan when your gaze follows her hand as she palms herself through her own clothing. She was hard beneath her clothing, her cock straining against her tight underwear.

"Baby if you keep making those noises..."

"What? Like this?" You let out another quiet moan, this time adding her name to the mix.

"God, yes..."

"Then I think we'd better get you out of these clothes and do something about it.."

Larissa bit her lip, before letting your wrists go. She had to bite back a laugh when your hands quickly and eagerly discarded her clothing to the floor to pool with your own.

You both nearly rip your undergarments off, unable to hold back anymore, and you nearly salivate at the sight of Larissa's long, hard cock dripping with precum.

"Like you said, how about you do something about this, hmm?" She raised a high brow, using one hand to stroke herself. "Get on your knees, sweet girl."

In one swift movement, you're settled onto your knees, hands clasped behind your back as your gaze darts from Larissa's bright blue eyes and down to the cock in her hand.

"Like this?" You ask, gazing back up at her once again with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Larissa nods, reaching down to stroke your face with her free hand. The blonde loved having you like this, on your knees and eager to please her.

You glance around the room, taking in your surroundings, examining your options. When your eyes meet the ice tray, you don't hesitate to grab a singular cube.

You trail the ice cube over Larissa's milky skin, leaving a small trail of liquid up her leg. "Ooh..." she breathes, attempting to pull away from the cold.

You tsk and pull her back, forcing her to stay still as you trace lazy patterns across her large upper thigh. The trail goes up her hip, before reaching her navel. You circle her button slowly, letting a few icy droplets fall down to her length.

You bring the ice cube to your mouth, pushing it past your lips and suck on the cube. Larissa's chest rose and fell rapidly and her eyes grew darker as she watched you, doing everything in her power to hold herself back.

It only took a second for the ice to melt completely before you leaned in and lick a strip up the bottom of her length with your tongue. "Fuck..." Larissa breathes, burrowing her fingers in your hair and making a makeshift ponytail.

You look at her through your lashes as you slide the tip of her cock past your mouth. Cheeks hollow instantly as you take more and more of her, slowly letting her fill your mouth.

"I want to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours," she groaned, feeling your tongue swirl around her. "May I move now?"

You mumble, and Larissa doesn't hesitate to thrust her hips forward. She was quick with her pace, watching you intently as her cock disappeared after every second down your throat.

"Yesss..." The blonde was pulling your hair tightly, keeping you right where she wanted you so she could fuck your mouth. "Suck me off, baby.. fuck, you look so pretty like this.."

Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes as the air in your lungs grew thin, your body doing its best to breathe in through your nose that was now pressed right up against her skin as Larissa shoved her entire length into your mouth and held you still.

The blonde didn't let up until you gagged, the salty tears burning your eyes as they fell. "You're doing so good for me.." She groaned as your tongue swirled around the tip of her dick. "So..so good."

You looked up at her through your wet lashes. Larissa immediately felt her cock twitch at the sight of you. Flushed cheeks, tear stained cheeks, messy hair, and on your knees with her dick in your mouth. It was a sight of pure filth.

And she couldn't help but release her warm, thick load into your mouth as you sucked her. "Yes! Swallow for me, baby." You could feel the wetness between your legs drip down your thigh as you did what you were told.

Your hands sat at her hips, fingers digging into her sweaty, milky skin as you swallowed every last drop of her release.

"Christ..." she moaned, gazing at the saliva dripping down your chin and down to your breasts as she eased your head back.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. But Larissa wasted no time, as she pulled you to your feet. The woman nearly tossed you onto the bed, your body instantly falling limp as you fell into the mattress.

"Such a pretty little body.." She said, standing tall at the end of the bed, "And it's all mine." Your legs involuntarily spread, inviting Larissa in.

"Kiss me.." you whispered.

"Where?" She teased, crawling onto the bed.

You slide one knee up onto her shoulder, your heel pushing her back down so her head was just mere inches away from your center. "Here..." Your fingers trail down the valley between your breasts and go straight to your core.

Her lips fall open as you show her exactly what you want her to do to you. Larissa immediately moves your hand to the side to give herself the opportunity to take all of you in.

"If that's what you want..." She husked, placing tender kisses to your inner thigh. Crimson lipstick smudges were left behind, as Larissa placed one kiss after another across your skin.

Just as she marked one thigh, she ghosted her lips over your cunt before placing featherlight kisses to your other thigh. When your hips bucked, Larissa used her large hands to pin your hips down to the mattress.

Red lipstick stains covered your thighs as she mapped out the lower half of your body. "You're so beautiful..." She mewled. Her plush lips ghost over your entrance but she replaces it with her tongue.

"'Rissa..." Your hand finds the top of her head, twisting with her luscious blonde curls. You coax her to apply more pressure as you lowly moan out her name.

"Add your fingers...please.." You quietly begged her. Blue eyes snap up to meet yours, tongue not wavering at your cunt. "I need you.."

"I'm all yours.." She reassured, focusing on your button with her tongue while she slides two fingers inside of you. You almost let out a scream at the onslaught of pleasure.

"Yes...'Rissa just like that..." The blonde moves her fingers faster, picking up her pace as her tongue works wonders against your clit.

You look down between your legs, watching as the blonde fucks you, the tension that has been slowly building in your core threatened to explode just from the sight alone.

"Mm, I-I need..." You were truly at a loss for words, but you needed more. More than just her mouth and her fingers. "I need—"

Larissa's cock was twitching, and it was taking everything in her not to bust. And at your words, it's as if she knew exactly what you were trying to mutter out.

"Me too..." She groaned, between gingerly fucking you.

"Let me ride you, please..."

The request was barely out of your mouth before Larissa was lying flat against the bed and pulling you on top of her to help you get into position.

Hands were immediately grabbing at your hips as you straddled your lover. Her long, platinum locks were sprawled against the pillow and her usually perfect lips were now a smudged mess.

You could feel her entire length pushing up against your center, and you couldn't help but rock your hips.

Larissa reaches between you to pump her cock in her hand before lowering yourself on her as she pushes up into you, completely filling you and stretching you out.

You let your head fall back as you let out a soft moan from the sensation. The thrill of her filling you up and making you so warm was exhilarating, but it was still not enough.

"More..." You whimper. Larissa cups your cheek, urging you to look down at her as she scans your tear-stained face. Your eyes prickled with tears once again, but this time out of frustration.

You were so worked up. So hot, horny, and in dire need of Larissa to fuck you senseless. Words couldn't explain how desperate you were to come.

"Are you sure?" She tenderly asked, stroking your cheek lovingly with her thumb.

"Please... please, I need you. Fuck me already.."

That's all the answer Larissa needed. She moves, and not at a slow, sensual pace. At a pace that had you seeing stars and letting out moan after moan, her hips pistoning in and out. The pleasure within you grew stronger and stronger with each thrust that elicited a quiet grunt from the blonde.

Skin slapped against skin and Larissa pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss. "I love you..." you mumbled against her messy lips.

"I love you too, darling.. so, so much..." she moaned, cock twitching inside you as she grew close.

Your forehead rested against hers and your hands grabbed at her freckled shoulders. "Come inside me. I want you to fill me... please.." Larissa had never heard you beg so much in one night, and she loved every second of it.

With a thrust, a grab of your ass, and a grunt, Larissa stilled herself inside you as she filled you up with her warm come in antagonizing slow spurts.

The gesture alone had your orgasm rip through your entire body, nearly paralyzing you as you nearly screamed out her name. Your senses were on overdrive, and your legs shook violently.

You felt your body quickly overcome with exhaustion as Larissa coaxed you through your orgasm. Your breathing was heavy as you struggled to regain your senses.

Larissa helped you to lay down, sliding herself from your grip. She left a chaste kiss to your forehead before heading to the bathroom. She wanted to be quick to clean you up, before you passed out.

Luckily for her, you were able to keep yourself awake just long enough for her to run a warm, damp washcloth between your legs, cleaning both your orgasm and her lipstick stains on you. She would have you run to the bathroom once you regained consciousness, but for now, you were too exhausted and fucked out to move a muscle.

So Larissa got back into bed, pulled you into her loving embrace, slid the covers over the two of you, and let you fall asleep with your head in the crook of her neck. Letting your body go limp in her arms while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

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[milfsloverblog]

How Eve Felt (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x Fem!reader

A/N: Listen, this is just pure filth. 1500 words of porn without plot. Nothing but Jane Murdstone smut. I started this WIP months ago and thought I’d never publish it but a few of you liked the snippet I shared, so... Anyway, enjoy <3

tw: spit kink, mention of Christianity related stuff (this is how I deal with my religious trauma)

✨ AO3 LINK IN TITLE ✨

You always tried your best to keep your eyes away from your lady’s flesh when you undressed her. That night had been no different as you only looked at your fingers working on the lacing of her corset.

Jane stayed quiet for a while, her eyes never leaving your reflection in the mirror as you worked behind her.

“You did say this was your first time working as a lady’s maid, didn’t you?” She asked, her voice as stern as it usually was.

“Yes, Miss Murdstone.” You nodded and carefully peeled the corset from her, folding it before placing it by her dress on the chair.

“In that case,” She said as she turned around to face you, cocking her head a little. “I cannot help but wonder where on earth you have learnt how to undress a woman so swiftly.”

You swallowed thickly. Your eyes had caught sight of the swell of her small breasts under her chemise and it instantly made your throat go dry.

What were you supposed to tell her? Oh, well, I have undressed my fair share of women, right before laying with them.

“Well?” She insisted. “Cat got your tongue?!”

You knew then by the smirk on her face that Miss Murdstone probably had a good idea of how you’d become an expert at undressing the fairer sex.

“I suppose I'm a quick learner, my lady.” You simply answered, hoping it would satisfy the tall woman’s curiosity.

Jane narrowed her eyes, silently looking at you for a moment while the gears turned in her head.

“Take my chemise off.” She eventually ordered in a bark.

It felt like she was testing you. Sure, this was part of what a lady’s maid had to do but the way she said it, it did feel like she was testing you.

You ended up doing as you were told, silently thanking your hands for not shaking too much when you grabbed the hem of her chemise and pulled the garment over her head.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Do not look.

“Look at me.” Jane demanded, your eyes immediately snapping from your hands to her face.

“I am looking at you, Miss Murdstone.”

“Look at me the way you really wish to.” She smirked again and you were sure your thumping heartbeat could be heard throughout the whole household.

You exhaled shakily and eventually moved your gaze from her eyes to her nose, then down to her mouth. What would it be like to kiss her? To lick over the scar on her lip? To have her tongue push into your mouth?

You spent a few seconds on the length of her neck, watching her pulse point steadily move up and down. From the look of it, she didn’t seem nervous about what was happening, at least not as much as you were.

Her shoulders were next, pulling a smile from your lips. It was a funny thing, really, for a cold and metallic woman like Jane to have such an inviting freckled skin.

Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes landed on her chest, her nipples visibly hardening as you took in her pert breasts.

“Miss Murdstone, we should not-“ You were cut off by Jane’s hand roughly grabbing hold of your face, her fingertips digging almost painfully into your cheeks.

“And who decides on what we should or should not do, hm?” She asked, using a honey-dripping voice as if she wasn’t holding you with a vice-like grip.

“You, Miss Murdstone.” You whispered barely audibly, nearly letting a whine out when she let go of your jaw.

“Good.” She gave a slight nod and sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes widened when you noticed that she was slowly spreading her legs. Her lips pulled in a devilish smirk seeing how your face twitched as you tried your best to keep your eyes locked on hers, knowing full well the sight that would be waiting for you if you allowed yourself to look down at her crotchless bloomers.

Jane had to admit that she was impressed by your self-restraint, many girls would have run for the door while some, fewer, would have touched her already.

“Kneel.” She barked, delighting in the way you slightly jumped at the unexpected order.

Your legs wobbled and you fell to your knees like a devotee praying at the altar. Your gaze inevitably fell on the wet pink flesh between her legs, your mouth watering at how inviting it looked.

“Well, do come closer!” Jane spoke as if she was in a hurry and for a split second you wondered if she was eager to feel you on her.

You did as you were told, crawling closer until you were kneeling between her legs and tentatively placed your hands on her covered knees. Jane raised an eyebrow at the boldness of your move but decided she would allow it.

“I assume you have done this before, haven’t you?” The woman asked, her chin never lowering as she looked down at you, making her appear even more condescending.

“Have I ever found myself between a woman’s legs? Yes. Have I ever knelt before one? No.” But I don’t mind kneeling for you. I don’t mind praying at your altar. I would spend the rest of my life on my knees if you asked me to. I do want to worship you.

“Let us make it a memorable first time, shall we?” Jane purred and her fingers took hold of your face again, gentler than they did before.

She tilted your head back as far as it would go and pried your jaws open, chuckling when you stuck your tongue out instinctively.

“Aren’t you a well-trained slut?” Jane cooed, gathering the saliva in her mouth and slowly letting it fall on your tongue, a wave of arousal coating her sex when your pupils dilated.

The older woman raised an eyebrow and, knowing exactly what was expected of you, you closed your eyes and swallowed. You couldn’t help but be reminded of your first Holy Communion when, kneeling before the priest, the sacred host had been placed on your tongue.

You almost let an Amen slip from your lips when Jane suddenly grabbed a handful of your hair and your eyes snapped back open.

“How many women have you laid with?”

“Plenty.” You admitted in a whisper, wondering how many Jane had shared her bed with.

“Prove it.” She smirked, bringing your face closer to her cunt.

You didn’t waste any more time and dipped your thumbs into the warmth between Jane’s legs, brushing the tip of one thumb over her clit to watch the way her whole body responded. Jane jerked, hips canting forward, and you hid your grin by placing a soft kiss on the milky skin of her inner thigh. The woman’s breath hitched and you wondered if it was caused by her not expecting any softness from you (or anyone else).

Keeping your fingers holding Jane open, you leaned in closer, blowing lightly over her cunt before burying your face in it. You wrapped your lips around the woman’s clit and sucked sharply, Jane’s body jolting above you as a moan tore itself from the back of her throat.

The woman opened her mouth to speak but cut herself off as you sucked harder, drawing tight circles around her clit. Moving one hand from where you had it braced around Jane’s thigh, you pushed your thumb into her entrance, tugging at her opening and massaging inside of her. The streak of moans that escaped your lady’s lips made your whole body shudder.

Then suddenly her hand snaked back in your hair, holding tightly and so close to your scalp that you felt your skin burn. Jane pressed you so deep into herself you could hardly breathe. She had taken back control of herself, and of you as well. You fisted the material of Jane’s drawers and squeezed your eyes shut as your tongue was ridden, your lady grinding herself into your mouth exactly how she wanted, how she needed.

Feverish shivers ran down your spine, your knees slowly sliding open on the wood flooring. You wished you had tucked a pillow between your legs before this began so you could ride out your own pleasure as you dripped from having your face fucked. But your lady wouldn’t have allowed it, you were quite certain she enjoyed having you squirm helplessly.

Jane’s movements became erratic, her chest quickly heaving up and down as she desperately chased her release. And then you felt it. You felt her come. You felt the cruelest woman you knew come into your mouth, her clit throbbing against your tongue as she let a single loud guttural moan out.

As the hand on the back of your head loosened its grip, you slumped against the older woman’s thigh. And as you knelt there, half of your face slick and chin dripping with Jane’s essence, you wondered - is this how Eve felt, taking the first bite of the forbidden fruit, as pomegranate juice dripped on her naked breasts from her open lips?

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[weemsfreak]

Desire ♱

⋆Jane's pov (recommend read second)⋆

Jane Murdstone x Fem!reader

♱ Main story in readers pov here

Summary: Jane returns to her village after many years and commissions a new dress. A dressmakers apprentice catches her eye, and then Jane catches hers again and again. ~4k words

Warnings: obsession, stocking, mention of child abuse, family trauma and father issues (as in Jane/Edward Murdstone 'David Copperfield')

⋆♱✮♱⋆

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Stepping into the dressmakers, a nostalgic feeling washed over. The last time Jane had a dress fabricated by Gladys was nearly ten years ago.

"Well, I'll be. It has been a long while, Miss Murdstone."

Averting her eyes to Gladys, she was nothing but glad to see her still in business.

"Indeed, it has."

Moving further into the room, she threw her coat to the settee, placing herself so that Gladys could get to work. Jane had much to do today.

"How has Blunderstone treated you? Glad to be back at the factory?"

Jane cared not to talk about the past few years, nor the annoyingly disappointing end. She sighed, "It was a good many years, although a dreadful end I'm afraid. I am delighted to be back."

Jane stood with arms out as she felt Gladys' hands roam over her. She attempted to make small talk, she truly did, but as she stared at the wall her head was filled with thoughts of shopping and planning and…

"Y/N!"

Jane almost jumped, pulled from her thoughts, and shutting her eyes as she took a breath.

"Yes, how can I help-"

Silence. Jane wondered what had happened.

Her head snapped to the left to find you, wide doe eyes already on hers, before they averted to Gladys.

Her eyebrows furrowed, why were you staring? If she repulsed you that much, you need not look.

"Y/n, this is Miss Murdstone."

You slowly moved to her, gaze on the floor. You looked so small, so innocent as you bowed. Jane thought it was endearing.

"How do you do Miss Murdstone."

Jane cleared her throat quietly and deepened her voice, "Well, thank you."

She took to observing the wall as you lifted her skirts, then measured her bodice, shoulders, and arms.

You were gentle as you worked, and Jane couldn't decide whether she liked that about you, or resented it.

Still, she did not want to obscure any measurements, so she stiffened her body; not that she carried herself any other way. Your hands on her made it easier, really, for she did not wish to give in to your touch; nor anyone else's.

She heard Gladys let out a quiet chuckle and followed her gaze to your hands, which trembled slightly as you worked.

Pride and schadenfreude swelled in her chest at the thought of you being intimidated by her. Then, her mind went the other way, and she forced away a blush at the thrilling thought of you fancying her instead of resenting her.

Jane attempted to concentrate on her planning until warm fingers brushed against her pale neck and she flinched at the contact, not so used to the touch of others.

She watched you back away with a small gasp; it seemed your attention was focused elsewhere. Apologies flew from your lips, but Jane said nothing in return, for she was not angry.

Jane snuck glances through the doorway as you sat perfectly within her line of view. You began to draw on black fabric as you sat there so obediently.

She had half a mind to mess with you, in one way or another, but she did not wish to distract you, for it was of upmost importance that her dress fit perfectly.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Jane saw you many times after that day on her trips into the village. It seemed that you were as busy as she, and she wondered who you were and where you came from.

You blended well into the crowd, yet your pretty face stood out - delicate and captivating. You appeared so kind and caring, so sweet and naive.

When she caught you staring her way, she was unsure if her eyes were deceiving her.

It was not the frightened or indifferent look she usually received - she thought it might be intrigue, or perhaps something darker, which disturbed her slightly.

She wondered if your outward appearance matched your hidden interior, and briefly wondered if you would bend for her.

Of course, you would.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Jane ventured to the gardens and admired the nettles. Plain little things, not much to the eye, when she felt a presence behind her.

She ignored it, as she usually did, until she turned and caught sight of you out of the corner of her eye.

You sat on a bench next to some Calla Lilies, she thought that they reflected your being. They were soft like you, still and gentle like you.

Perhaps she admired the flowers very much, or perhaps she was unsettled; but for some reason she felt the sudden urge to spill her thoughts to you.

Thoughts about the lilies, thoughts about herself, thoughts about anything and everything, thoughts about you; but she knew she would talk endlessly, unlike her usual self.

Jane wished to move closer to you, to see up close the joy and sincerity written on your face as you basked in the serene surroundings.

You were warm like the sun, she envied that; and at the same time, she wished to take advantage of it.

As much as she desired to get to know you, she knew, and for once feared, the fact that she would come off as cruel, cold, perhaps menacing. She decided against it.

She did not wish to darken your day, but it was who she was; she knew nothing more.

And so, she walked past with her head held high and avoided you entirely, coming off as cold in an attempt not to burden you.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Jane has suffered throughout her life. She often wondered when it would cease.

From one thing to another, this and that, she turned to writing, she turned to the church. But over time, the things that she had found comfort in had betrayed her, just as everyone else had.

'Suffering as I have, a stronger soul emerged; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

As I am.'

She found comfort in the darkness of her deepest self, in the darkness of her room, in the darkness of her thoughts. For it was all that she knew, forever and ever.

Except, well, there was you, a new and profound thing in her life.

At first, she thought you had something against her. She knew your presence was not a mere coincidence, and felt that you would soon bring her closure, peace, and maybe even death.

Alas, after becoming comfortable with your consistent presence, feelings of joy and thrill overtook her when she saw you from afar, more so up close, bright eyes nothing but deep and swirling with intrigue; perhaps craving, perhaps desire.

Jane had not felt desire since she was married.

Her father had given her away to a man who worked in real estate and land development. She was young at the time, not naïve, but perhaps unknowing. Unknowing of a world that was outside of her upbringing.

But, not to her surprise, the marriage changed nothing.

Her husband was cruel, abusive, a tyrannical aristocrat. It was not anything she wasn't used to, but it was also not a life that she wanted to live.

For years she stayed silent, forgetting who she once was, until one day she confronted the suffering she had been through.

If not for nothing, then for this.

No, she never dreamed of men or marriage, she never hoped for children. Money was not a priority, the desire to fulfill her parents' wish absent.

She clung to the thought of independence, craved freedom, desired a life of adventure and knowledge. She resented any and all thoughts of her husband.

And so, when she got older, she took herself back, she took revenge.

'Embrace anger, hurl it into the void.

Transform it into something tangible, wield it until it unsettles you deep to the core. May your existence be meaningful, bold, and heard, for silence and isolation will never undo what they have done.

Retaliate until their power dwindles, crave change.

Shout into the abyss, thirst for revenge.

If the will is not present to fight for yourself, then fight for the person you once were.'

She summoned the strength deep inside, for if she was not true to herself, nobody would be.

Cyanide, easily accessible and almost untraceable.

Ever since, she has not been married, the excuse of being traumatized from her husband's death, the lie that she loved him enough to avoid it.

No, Jane has not felt desire since she was married; the desire to want revenge.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Jane routinely accompanied her brother out. This day it was a venture to the gallery, and she was filled with nothing but the usual feeling of being used.

Dreadful and unworthy the day was, just like her.

But, to her surprise and delight, her day took a significant turn. There you were, hand gently grazing over an artifact under a glass case.

Jane made the easy yet impulsive decision to abandon her brother and venture your way, finding herself increasingly drawn to you with each passing moment. She stood across, copying your movement as she pressed her fingers into a piece.

It felt surreal, being so close to comfort in a situation that would usually make her uneasy.

Perhaps it was new to her, the feeling she got when she felt the atoms that made up the world, maybe a world in which she had yet to know.

Pausing, she reluctantly raised her gaze to you, watching as you met it. She didn't wish to give too much of herself away, staring into orbs that held question, she kept her answers hidden behind a mask of indifference.

As she watched you scan her exterior, she couldn't help but feel selfish, she couldn't help but feel longing.

The longing of comfort, the light of another world, of warmth to balance out her chill, the longing of happiness.

For she wished you could show her how it was done.

'I'm so selfish, you're so kind.

I see the darkness, where you see the light.'

Yet, she dared not speak. This feeling was unfamiliar to her, leaving her at a rare loss for words to describe what she wished to convey.

She saw you and you saw her, but nobody spoke a word.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Once again, Jane accompanied Mr. Murdstone to the factory, following as he inspected the workers. She watched as young children bottled and corked the wine, making her way past the shelves of bottles and barrels.

Her eyebrows furrowed when an eerie feeling came over her, a feeling of being watched, of being coveted.

"Jump, boy" Edward instructed.

The boy tried, pathetically.

Jane snickered on the inside, "You should sooner teach the furniture."

"Jane" Edward warned. She fought off the urge to roll her eyes.

The boy attempted to jump, and she watched her brother become increasingly frustrated with the situation.

"You will not be switched to another job, boy."

The child jumped higher, but still failed to reach.

Jane raised her brow in amusement, "We should switch to a less enjoyable activity."

"JANE."

She saw it coming, Edward's hand travelled to the child's shirt as he drug him to the next room. Jane followed, standing guard as she allowed her brother to reprimand the child.

Eyes were on her, but she glowered the factory workers down until they looked away.

Over the noise she heard a close thud and turned her gaze to the shelves. They would soon snap under the weight, she thought, raking her eyes over the bottles and barrels.

Her heart jumped slightly as she watched a boy near, a tall boy, yet shorter than she. She smirked as he got closer, knowing the event that occurred over and over again.

That was, until she noticed the glass bottle in his hand.

She breathed deeply, attempting to keep her stone façade, a smirk that faltered but eyes that were emotionless, showing plain as day that she was not scared, not frightened of a boy with a glass bottle.

Or perhaps, she just wished that she wasn't.

She wished that her inside reflected her outside, wished that her heart was as cold as her shell.

For she wished he could break it with that bottle, shatter what she had learned over the years, what she had made, what she had turned into, and allow the real her to be shown.

He raised the bottle and a moment of hurt ran through her. A moment where she pictured the bottle making contact, a moment that, as a child, she had no wit nor strength to oppose her father's wrath.

Still, she stood her ground, eyes unblinking.

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, and she knew.

When the boy turned away, Jane smirked once more, focusing on the lashing sounds behind her.

It was cruel, she knew, she was cold, she knew, but beaten and bruised was nothing new, it wasn't unfamiliar or forced, for she had no choice; it was home.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Jane grew weary as she observed Edward in his suit, appearing as he was going to a flood in the trousers; she almost laughed.

As it was, she had to deal with the situation.

When she entered the shop, she was so focused on her task that she failed to notice you. That was, until she had passed off the suit and took a moment to breathe.

She had remorsefully given up multiple opportunities to converse with you, to be close to you, to sit with you again, although she very much wished to.

She had engagements to attend and preparations to make for the ball, yet she disregarded them. She was unwilling to forgo the chance to be with you, sitting all alone on the settee.

Her boots were loud against the floor as she walked toward you and sat. Once more, a rare occurrence for her, she found herself at a loss for words; so she took to her usual belittling of man.

As a clue, as a question, as a way to convey her feelings.

"Men, incompetent."

There was silence, and for the first time in a long time, she almost regretted speaking.

You snickered. "Indeed."

Jane had absolutely no time to spare, yet she sat and took in your calming nature.

Her heart beat fast, partly due to the multitude of errands she had to undertake, and perhaps due to your proximity.

She withdrew her watch, anxiety mounting as she realized she was already behind schedule. She absentmindedly toyed with her money bag and threaded beads.

With a heavy heart, Jane resolved to curtail what she longed to say to you and the time she yearned to spend in your company.

"I have somewhere to be."

But as Jane went to stand, a clever idea struck her. Her gaze swiftly found yours, and you met it. Her eyes narrowed, trying to gauge your disposition.

Would this work? Would you grant her this favour? Did you share the same feelings she harbored- admiration, longing, desire?

For a moment, you seemed wary of her, but the hesitation quickly passed.

Her voice laced with hope and unspoken affection, "Would you be so kind as to deliver the suit when it is finished?"

She saw you pause, and her usual sureness left her body entirely. Although, she would never show it.

"Of- of course."

A smile played at Jane's lips; you were special to her.

But despite that fact, she had to feign indifference- treat you as nothing more than a passing acquaintance, one toward whom she harbored no affection, and from whom she expected none in return.

It was always the fault of her own, and she knew.

She felt a profound sense of loneliness, her demeanor threatening. She grasped others by the throats and shook them until they gave in for a breath, until they feared her, until they bent.

Yet in this moment, she posed the most important question; would you bend for her?

You had abandoned your sewing, observing her with unwavering attention.

Then, with a widening of her eyes, she saw you, she saw a glimpse of the innocence that she once held, and lost, mirrored in a young woman who was just a little lamb, the total opposite of herself.

Doubt clouded her mind, and Jane was no longer sure that her maliciousness was justified.

But you weren't so convinced, apparently.

"Lovely. Gladys will provide my address. I expect it by 5pm."

Jane stood and clasped her slightly trembling hands as she bid you farewell.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Jane opened the door, utterly surprised to see you standing in her home, nonetheless clad in a beautiful dress that accentuated your features and further illuminated your eyes. She was relieved when you looked her up and down, oblivious to the small blush that coloured her cheeks.

You smoothed the fabric of your dress and extended Edward's suit toward her.

"Here you are, Miss Murdstone. I hope it meets your satisfaction."

Jane accepted the suit with gentle hands, no longer concerned with the fit; it mattered little at this point.

"We are hosting a ball tonight."

She watched you avert your gaze from her and nod, perhaps in disinterest.

"I trust that it will be enjoyable."

Pausing to examine you, Jane pondered for a moment.

"I do hope."

A maid suddenly came barrelling up the stairs and entered her chambers, rudely interrupting, Jane thought.

"Miss Murdstone, let's prepare you for the ball."

As the maid entered, Jane noticed a shift in your gaze from the maid to herself, and she found a fleeting glimpse in your eyes, of something which she had not found previously.

In that moment, Jane decided to offer an option, accepting your response either way.

"It will commence at 8pm. You are welcome to join."

Jane regretted her impulsive words, aware that if you were to attend, she would be unable to focus on her duties. However, the thought of your presence stirred within her a thrill she has not felt in so long.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Jane was focused on her role of hosting, moving throughout the ballroom, and attending to the needs of her guests. She had no qualms, accustomed to yielding to her brother's wishes, until she caught sight of you out of her peripheral.

In the corner of the room, you stood sipping on a drink, bright eyes watching, observing, joyful.

Jane mirrored your actions, her gaze sweeping across the room.

She saw Edward with a woman, and most everyone else she knew paired off with their respective partners—someone they called theirs.

But she, well, she had nobody, and it seemed neither did you.

As the others began to dance in a slow waltz, Jane found herself consumed by thoughts of longing. She thought very much that she would like to dance with you.

Yet she knew it wouldn't be right, it wouldn't be taken lightly.

The only person she desired to dance with was not within possibility. No, she could never bring herself to ask if you would fancy a dance with her, and so she quietly slipped away.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

As Jane sat in her chambers, a creak sounded from the hallway, followed by a momentary pause.

She waited in anticipation, uncertain of who it may be, but knowing there was possibility of it being you.

You, who followed her.

You, who shadowed her every move.

You, an innocent young woman filled with curiosity, fascination, interest.

When she heard nothing more, she mustered the courage to venture out of her chambers.

Slowly, she searched the corridor and other rooms, her heart pounding until she finally discovered a figure in her sanctum with bated breath.

Jane had left her notebook open on her desk, perhaps subconsciously harboring a flicker of hope—a wish that someone would stumble upon it, someone would understand, someone would lose themselves in her deepest thoughts and emotions.

But well, she didn't wish for someone, not just anyone, which was precisely why she had closed it only to reopen it earlier that day without a second thought.

She thought that she thought too much, she had no choice.

You were lost in her thoughts as she watched you from the doorway, suddenly beset by insecurity regarding her decision—to grant you access to her life, to her upbringing, to expose her true self to you.

Yet, your actions confirmed her suspicions, and her wish. As she watched your lips tremble, a surge of fear and anger overcame her.

She approached you silently, her hand landing firmly on your warm shoulder.

In that instant she found solace, and faint amusement flickered within her at the thought of events that had passed.

"I knew I would find you here."

Jane spun you around and grasped your neck, bony fingers tightening as she drew you closer. Your gaze broke her in a manner she had never experienced before; she had no choice but to be truthful.

"You fancy yourself sly, following me around, do you not?"

Your doe eyes widened at Jane's heavy words, hands trembling once again at her touch.

"Do not presume I failed to notice your presence."

She saw you.

"At first, I thought perhaps you wished me dead, the way you stock me."

Jane chuckled softly; this was ironic.

"Then I realized that you made no attempt to be stealthy."

She watched you swallow, an urge surging within her to draw you even closer.

"We share the same interests, do we not?"

With a nod from you, albeit hesitant, Jane became more brazen.

A smirk graced her lips as she leaned closer, her breath brushing against your ear; you shivered.

You closed your eyes, as did she.

"Do not think I miss the way you look at me."

Jane attempted to sound firm and unwavering, yet she was guilty as well.

"Do not think I miss the way you tremble when I'm close."

She knew of the way you craved her, she understood.

"Do not think I miss your desire."

It was incredible, really, how energy made up the universe, how matter was eternal, how it could be neither created nor destroyed.

Both of you, electron orbitals overlap, not separate, but existing as one with her hand around your neck, around your lifeline.

She shook you until you gave in for a breath, until you feared her, until you bent.

But Jane harbored no desire for you to fear her, no desire for you to bend, not in the manner she wished for others to. See, it wasn’t just desire that tied Jane to you, it was hope.

People said that she was cold, cruel, harmful, metallic.

A cold shell of defensive whips and comments; once a girl imbued with warmth, a girl born to love.

Jane wished for her outward demeanor to mirror her innermost self, knowing she wore a facade of disdain, yet feeling anything but inside.

See, she was sly, smart, and deceiving, perhaps appearing as malicious and distant; but perhaps that's how she wished to appear.

You, however, were smart, witty, and perceptive, but you wore her heart on your sleeve, intentions written plain as day. An open book, placed for all to see; but only some to analyze, only some to admire.

Jane longed to shed her pretenses, to be her true self, to be as real as you, maybe even more so.

Your hands encircled Jane's waist as she sensed you pressing closer into her grasp.

Soft lips met her jawline, and in that moment, she decided that she would bend; she wouldn't mind, not for you.

Jane stiffened in defense and increased her grip as she felt you smile against her skin. Her lips opened in a soft gasp as she let out a breath, inhaling your scent.

Your words, spoken with a fervor she never anticipated from your lips, made her falter.

"I suffer, I attach, I crave, and I desire. And I always get what I desire."

[jadewolf22]

Storm Clouds

Young!Fem!Reader x Jane Murdstone (platonic)

Warnings: Bullying, mildly toxic workplace, mentions of childhood trauma & abusive parents, PTSD, panic attacks, mentions of yelling & harsh language (not directed at reader), ect… 

Summary:  When Jane Murdstone hired you as her personal maid she had no idea just how well you would fill the role. After several months under her employment Jane can't help but hold you in high regard, something that strikes a chord in the maids who'd come before you. Eventually this bitter jealousy leads a few of the maids to take matters in their owns hands... and do their best in an attempt to get rid of you.

A/n:  This story is the result of my first request. Thank you so much to @reddragon30000 for the promtp. I highly doubt this story does it justice but I've done the best I can. Hope you enjoy!!

A/n: Sorry there's almost no actual dialogue in here!! My dumbass brain didn't seem to think that the story needed it for some reason!!

When Jane had hired you as her personal maid her expectations were quite low as the rest of the staff under her employment was, in her opinion, completely incompetent. Yet, she quickly realised that you were nothing like the rest of the maids. Despite your young age you were rather attentive, respectful, and and an extremely hard worker. Unlike her maids in the past, you took no pleasure in gossip and did everything asked of you with a smile on your face. Though Jane would never admit it aloud, she had grown quite fond of you. Seeing your bright, cheerful face always seemed to make her day just a little bit better.

But, unbenounced to both Jane and yourself, the other maids despised you. They felt it was unfair for Jane to hold you in such high regard and to be fairly pleasant towards you after only a few months of employment when most of them had been their for years and had never recieved such treatment.

One day a few of the maids came up with a plan to get rid of you, hoping their antics would scare you enough to make you leave. They waited until Jane had left for the day before asking you to accom-pany them down to the pantry down in the cellar. You agreed, oblivious to what the girls had in store. They lead you down to the pantry, insisting you go in first. Seeing the small space made you hesitate, but at their persistence you entered, dread flooding you when the girls began to laugh cruelly. You turned, horrified as the girls closed the door and you heard the lock click into place.

You pounded on the door and began to scream, pleading with the girls to let you out, but they were already gone. Tears spilled down your face as you continued your assult on the door, memories of the hours you'd spent locked in the closet of your childhood home flooding your mind. You screamed until your throat felt as if it were being ripped apart before sinking to the ground, crying as you silently prayed for someone to find you.

When Jane returned home that evening she was surprised to find almost all of the tasks she'd assigned you incomplete and to learn that you'd been gone most of the day. Every employee she spoke with said that they had not seen you since that morning. When she entered your room your things were in the usual spot so she knew you had not run off. Worry slowly setting in, Jane began to search the house, anger filling her with every minute you remained missing.

When the rest of the house and grounds had been searched, Jane made her way down to the cellar. She thought it was unlikely for you to be down there but she was running out of places to search.

You heard someone coming down the cellar stairs and, praying that it was not one the maids who'd trapped you down there, you began to shout again, pounding on the door though your hands ached. When it opened you didn't bother to properly look at the figure on the other side, rushing forwards and throwing yourself into your savior.

Jane, who had not at all been expecting you to throw yourself at her, nearly toppled over when the two of you collided, managing to remain upright by keeping a firm grasp on the door handle. Her other arm wrapped around your waist in a sort of half-hug, relief washing over her. She stepped back to take a look at you, pure rage slowly transforming her features. Your fingertips were bloody from clawing at the door and the sides of your hands were swollen and beginning to bruise. Your body shook like a leaf in a storm and your eyes were bloodshot from the hours you'd spent crying.

The anger in Jane's eyes was something you'd never seen and when she went to speak you expected her to be harsh and angry with you, yet when she spoke to you it was in a kinder, much softer tone then you'd ever heard her use before.

"Let's go upstairs and get you cleaned up," she insisted, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, "Then I want you to tell me exactly what happened."

"Y-yes, m'lady." you choked out, allowing Jane to guide you upstairs.

You kept your head down as Jane guided you through the house, hoping no one would notice your current state. Beside you, Jane was fuming, though trying to keep her rage in check for your sake. She knew what being in small spaces did to you, you'd accidentally brou-ght up the topic of your abusive parents when she'd first hired you, something you'd thought hoped she'd forgotten about, though she never did.

It caught you off guard when you realized Jane wasn't taking you to your room, but to her personal quarters. You were never permitted to be in there unless you were helping Jane or she's told you to get something for her, yet here she was, guiding into her room with a gentle, yet firm arm around your shoulders, instructing you to sit on her bed.

"Give me your hands," she demanded, keeping her voice gentle as she moved to sit beside you on the mattress.

Reluctantly you did so, watching Jane's mask fall away to reveal a look of pure rage as she inspected your hands. Her blue eyes matched the color of the storm clouds gathering outside, her jaw was clenched and her brows were furrowed as she ghosted her hands over your bruised, swollen skin. She excused herself for a moment, retreating to the bathroom across the hall to take a moment to compose herself, grabbing some antiseptic and wraps for your hands before returning. You were surprised by how gentle Jane was with you as she bandaged your hands but you anticipated that it would not last long. Surely she would berate you for being stupid enough to allow yourself to get locked in the cellar, after all, your parents had punished you for less. When she was done you waited for your scolding, but it never came. Jane simply sat there for a moment, allowing silence to blanket the two of you.

"Thank-" you couldn't help but cringe how hoarse your voice sounded, clearing your throat before trying again, "Thank you, m'lady."

"You're welcome, darling." she returned, pausing for a moment before asking, "Who did this to you, y/n?"

You started to tremble again, tears filling your eyes as you remembered the looks on the girls faces as they closed the door on you. Between sobs, you managed to choke out the girl's names and once you had Jane excused herself again, anger radiating from every cell in her body as she marched down to the kitchen where the girls had been assigned for the evening.

The three were beyond terrified when Jane confronted them, cowering meekly as she screamed at them, going so far as to call them "narcissistic little bitches" before declaring that they had until morning to "pack their shit" and leave.

Having found an outlet for her anger, Jane returned to her room to find you lying, out cold, on the edge of her bed. Chuckling softly despite herself, Jane carefully rolled you away from the edge, watching you carefully until you woke, informing you that she had "removed the girls from her employment" and nearly smiling at the look of relief the news brought to your face.

[alder-saan]

The taste of Hell

Jane Murdstone x fem! reader

Words count: 3.3k

warnings: mention of slavery, child abuse. NSFW CONTENT (sub! Jane, fingering Jane receiving)

You promised Jane never to betray her...

thanks to @tanith-rhea for beta-reading it <3

The door opened before your eyes. In the giant golden room, already full of people, you could feel joy, amusement. You knew this room, its long white curtains, its big windows, its wonderful paintings. All was shining in beauty and happiness.  Everyone was wearing their most beautiful clothes and masks. You too, of course. It was your first official ball. You had just been made lady by the king. You knew you were an exception. You were born a slave. You were raised as a maid. You were now a Lady, and not by marriage. You were a Lady because you had saved the Queen’s life. Pure luck, though. You had heard a conspiracy against her and informed her.

But it wasn’t your first ball.

It wasn’t your first ball dressed as a man.

It wasn’t your first ball at the Lambertus Mansion.

___

“Jane, are you sure? What if someone discovers us?”

“No one will, it’s a masked ball!” the young girl smiled.

“Are you really sure?”

“I am. Trust me.”

“I trust you.”

She took your hand in hers, you blushed. Thanks to your fox mask, she couldn’t notice it. She had dressed you with a man suit, and you really looked like a young boy in it. 

“Do you have your invitations?” a man standing in front of the metal gate asked.

“Yes, Jane and Edward Murdstone.” Jane handed him the piece of paper, and he let you in.

Once you were walking in the garden, she chuckled.

“See? I told you no one would notice it.”

You nodded.

“I know it’s bad, but I’m glad Edward is ill.”

“I am too.”

The sun was sinking behind the trees, and you couldn’t help but feel this day was a perfect day like you would never have again. Your hand in hers, you felt the warmness of her soft skin. You were fourteen. You were in love with her. But she was your mistress. It wasn’t appropriate. So all these feelings, you hide them deeply in your heart. You arrived in front of big marble stairs.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“I am,” you answered.

You climbed the stairs, hand in hand.

When the big wooden doors opened, you gasped. You knew why Jane wanted to wear her corset so tight, why she wanted to be in this blue velvet dress. Everyone was wearing the same type of clothes. It was something you could never have imagined. The colours were dancing in front of your eyes, lost in a golden sea. 

“You look like a fish,” Jane giggled behind her bird mask.

You closed your mouth.

“Sorry, it’s just… I never saw this before… It’s so beautiful!”

“Now come and dance with me. You wouldn’t want me to dance with another boy.”

“I’m not a boy.”

“You wouldn’t want me to dance with a boy.”

You definitely wouldn’t want this. You placed a hand on her back, and took hers with the other, like you saw her do with her dance teacher, every Wednesday evening. Then, you began to move, in the rhythm, trying your best not to step on her toes. She smiled, and you felt your heart racing. You were so glad she couldn’t see your cheeks, because you knew they were red. She was glad you couldn’t see hers too. You were so absorbed by her eye colour. Blue as a July sky, as an expensive gemstone. She had gemstone eyes. And those eyes didn’t belong to a maid like you. They belonged to the most beautiful prince, who could take care of them, who could give them the most beautiful case. They needed to rest on red velvet, in a golden wood bed. They needed to be cherished, polished. You would never afford these in your life. You knew it. You weren’t worth her. She deserved the world. You could never offer the world.

After a moment, you stopped and decided to go outside and visit the gardens. Many young people were near the pond, watching a swan, and you walked to see it too, but she took your hand and headed to an oak. Thousands of fireflies and glowworms were changing the foliage into a second night sky. You removed your mask to have a better sight on the branches. She did so.

“Why did you want me to come with you?” you asked.

“Because if I was alone, all the boys would want to dance with me.”

“You don’t want to dance with a boy?”

“They would think I want to marry them.”

“You don’t want to marry someone?”

“There is one, and only one person I want to marry.”

You smiled. So she was in love? You hoped the boy was a good boy, you really wanted to know him, to be sure she was in good hands.

“Who is he? Do I know him?”

“It’s you. I want to marry you.”

Your eyes widened. She wanted to marry you? YOU? So, she liked you too, and not only as a friend? This was probably the best day in your life, or maybe this was a dream. You felt like a proposed lover. SHE was telling you she wanted to marry you. She was so perfect, and she chose you. You, over all people. Over all the boys she chose a girl, and that girl was you. But you were realistic. You shook your head, half disbelief, half disapproval. She frowned, her heart sank.

“It’s impossible, Jane, first, I am a maid, second I am a woman.”

“I know…” she looked awkwardly at the grass “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha-”

“But if I was a prince, I would have proposed to you already.”

She looked at you, her lips parted as if she wanted to tell something, but she remained silent. The wind murmured something only the leaves could understand. She took a step towards you.

Her lips crashed onto yours, and she held you close. Jane was a bit taller than you, and you loved having to look up so see her. Now her mouth was on yours, you loved even more having to lift your chin. Her lips were soft, like her hands in yours, and you wondered if maybe, your lips were rougher, like your hands in hers. She broke the kiss, and the realisation hit you. You kissed. You kissed a girl, she kissed a girl.

“We’ll burn in Hell” you whispered, horrified.

“If Hell tastes like this, I want to go there,” she replied.

Your face went crimson. She wasn’t actually saying that, was she? She took your hands.

“Be my lover, be my secret lover like we read in those books. I’ll always keep you by my side if you promise to always be loyal to me.”

“I promise.” you said without even thinking.

_____

You crossed your arms in front of your stomach, remembering Jane’s father’s reaction when he learnt you had been to the masked ball with her. The following day, you were sold to another family.

Jane never answered your letters, and after a year without any reply, you simply stopped sending her mail.

Sometimes, you missed your days in Murdstone’s mansion, even if you learnt later that you were a maid by name only, there. An unpaid maid who’s life is a property isn’t a maid. You had been a slave. And this was a part of your life you wanted to forget. But her. You couldn’t forget her. She had been your only support, your only friend, and your first love.

You breathed in. It wasn’t the time to think about the past. You were here to spend a good evening. 

You breathed out and walked in the room, avoiding the middle, on which couples were dancing. And in a corner, you noticed a tall woman, alone, watching something outside. Her dress was blue, and her feathered mask was making her look like an exotic bird. You smiled. You always loved tall women. Maybe because of Jane. You walked towards her and took your lowest voice. Since you were dressing like a man, you couldn’t let anyone think you weren’t one.

“Good evening, my Lady,” you said.

She turned her head to look at you. She had blue eyes, wonderful blue eyes which got you shivering.

“Good evening, Sir,” she replied coldly.

She definitely didn’t want to talk. But you wanted to try a little more. If she continued, you would abandon.

“Would you join me for a dance?”

“I’m afraid I’m not a good dancer, Sir, you should try with someone else.”

“But I wanted to dance with a tall blue eyed lady, tonight,” you offered her a big smile.

She let out a sarcastic chuckle. It wasn’t the expected reaction, but at least you had a reaction.

“Don’t play this game with me, young man, many have.”

“I play no game, my Lady. I just want to dance with you. What does it cost you to allow me one dance?”

“Fine. One dance.”

She didn’t seem really happy. But it was a victory. Now, you just had to make her like this dance. She held out her hand. You smiled and took it. Soon, you were dancing between other couples, your body against hers, your hand on her waist. You were guiding her, splitting the waves of the crowd. It was you and her. No one else mattered. In your head, you were alone. Everyone had just disappeared. But as you danced, you felt she was a bit stiff. Clearly, she didn’t trust you enough to abandon herself into your arms. 

“Dear, why don’t you let it go?” you murmured.

“I told you I’m not a good dancer.”

“You are, I can feel it the way you move. But you are too tense. Do I make you nervous?”

“Very presumptuous, young man. You do, but every one would. I don’t trust anyone, that’s all.”

“And what could happen to you, here, dancing in the middle of a crowd? Trust me, I’m good enough to make you enjoy this dance. Stop thinking, let it go.”

She closed her blue eyes behind her mask and breathed out. Under your right hand, you could feel she was trying to relax.

Good girl, you thought.

“Thank you,” you said.

Now you could really dance. You swayed, swirled, you twirled, and you couldn’t help but notice her smile. It was a real smile, you knew it. She was truly enjoying this moment, as much as you enjoyed it. You turned her around, and her skirt flew around her. Her scent wrapped you, the music resounded in your ears. You were in Heaven with your tall blue eyed woman. For a few seconds, you imagined her to be Jane, and your heart raced. What would she look like now? Was she happy, with a good husband and some children? You shook your head. It wasn’t respectful. You were dancing with a woman, you couldn’t think about another. And so your thoughts focused again on your stranger.

Yes, she was a good dancer, probably better than you were, when she was younger she certainly was very popular. And when the music finished, some sweat drops ran on your forehead. You led her on the side of the room, trying to catch your breath.

“Did you enjoy this dance?” you asked, even though you already knew.

“Very much, thank you for this.”

“Would you join me for a walk in the gardens?”

She hesitated. You saw it in the way she squinted. But you were confident. You had just had one of your best dances ever, she couldn’t refuse you a walk.

“I don’t search for a husband, I don’t search for anything.”

“Me neither, I just want to enjoy a little time with a sweet stranger I just met.”

“Honeymouthing won’t lead you anywhere. I don’t know what you want but-”

“Your friendship for the evening. That’s all I ask.”

“And that’s all I have to give you.”

“Wonderful.”

She wrapped her arms around yours, and you went out. The outside air was cold, and as a sir, you gave her your jacket. It was a bit small for her, but she seemed to appreciate your respect for etiquette. You lost yourselves on the paths. Near the pond, lovers were gently kissing. She looked at them, and you couldn’t tell what she was thinking. It didn’t seem to be some disgust, she had that sad smile on her lips. You didn’t dare ask her why.

“Thank you for spending this time with me. I think I would have quit this ball if you didn’t come to ask me for a dance.”

It surprised you. She was not the kind of girl to open her heart like that to strangers.

“You’re welcome, I told you you could have a good time with me. Thank you for having accepted, I would have quit it too.”

She nodded. An owl hoot, far away.

“Why don’t you trust people?” you asked

“I don’t think I have to answer this question.”

“I don’t know who you are, I don’t know what you look like. You can tell me anything, I’ll just know a Lady in England thinks that.”

“You could recognize me by my height…”

“You could wear heels.”

She sighed. You smiled.

“Someone betrayed me. Someone who promised to be loyal to me forever betrayed me.”

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

You walked towards the glittering oak under which you kissed Jane, so many years ago. You liked this place. You liked thinking about her.

“She promised me this under this very oak, exactly twenty years ago, at the same masked ball.”

You stopped. You promised to be loyal to Jane under this very oak exactly twenty years ago, at the same masked ball. Your heart raced. Impossible. Was she…

“Jane?”

She frowned, you hadn’t masked your voice. You couldn’t believe it, since the beginning, you were dancing with Jane Murdstone. You were dancing with your first love.

“Who are you and how do you know my name?” she wasn’t smiling anymore. Her gaze had turned cold again.

“I-”

Your hands reached the back of your head, and you untied your mask. Her eyes widened as she discovered your face.

“How dare you show your face in front of me, traitor?”

“I never betrayed you, Jane. I promise.”

“You ran away. My father told me. He told me you had left the mansion, leaving a letter which said you were afraid of me.”

“I never did such a thing!” you almost yelled.

“THEN WHY DID YOU GO?”

She took a step towards you. In her eyes, there was only anger, rage, hatred. You took a step back, intimidated.

“When you left me, I was alone. You were my only friend. And I loved you. Were you really afraid of me? Did I disgust you? Do I still disgust you?”

“He sold me to another family.”

Tears ran on your cheeks.

“He told me I bewitched you. He told me I was the devil, and I couldn’t stay in the same house as you. He beated me so hard that day. I still have marks on my stomach. I never wanted to leave you. I sent you letters everyday for a year! I knew your father would read and destroy them, but I still had a hope you would find at least one letter. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t say a word. She simply took off her mask. Her gaze was sad, now.

“Will you forgive me?” you asked.

“Was it true? All that you said about my father. Was it true?”

“Truth, all the truth, only the truth. I promise.”

“Would you swear on the Bible?”

“I would.” you affirmed.

She closed her eyes. You cupped her face. She opened them.

“Jane, you never disgusted me. I loved you too”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. And it was as if she had never said that, as if she had to learn again how to say it. “I’m sor-”

You softly kissed her. It wasn’t really a kiss though, you simply brushed your lips against hers. But she kissed you. Her hands went on your hips, and she pulled you against her. All you had ever dreamed of was happening now. Your heart seemed to be on the verge of explosion. When you broke the kiss, you took refuge in her neck, to hide your tears. She held you tight.

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” she asked.

“I do. I always have.”

“Even after all these years? I’m so tall, so old…”

“You. Are. Perfect. You. Always. Have. Been.” you said, giving her neck a kiss between each word.

She squeezed you. Your lips kept wandering on her soft skin. She tilted her head, exposing even more skin to your sight. You smiled and kissed every inch of it while making her step back, until she was against the trunk of the oak. You wanted to kiss all the skin you could reach. You sucked her neck. She let out a moan and dissimulated it under a cough.

“Don’t hide those pretty sounds, please.”

You continued kissing and licking her neck, then you claimed her lips once again. You wanted more. You moved your knee between her thighs, and grabbed her collar, pulling her closer to you. When your tongue asked her to let it in, she didn’t even think about not letting it. She opened her mouth, and your tongues brushed against each other.

You grabbed her skirt with one hand, and gently pulled it up, slowly revealing one of her legs. When her skirt was up enough, you passed your hand under it, and reached her crotchless bloomer. She gasped. You kissed her lips, and she moaned into your mouth as your hands lingered on her inner thighs and touched her pussy. It was already wet, and you smiled against her mouth.

“Mmh, darling, you’re so wet for me…”

You sank your teeth into her lips and she whined as you rubbed her clit with your fingers.

“Please…”

“Please what, Darling?”

“Please, fuck me…”

You teased her folds with your fingertips, and entered them in her. She cried, and you crashed your lips on hers to muffle the sounds a bit. You didn’t want anyone to come near the oak. You twirled your fingers inside her cunt, caressing her most sensitive spot. Her tongue touched your lips, and you let it enter your mouth. You felt her breathing accelerating as your fingers moved in her cunt. Her walls were fluttering around you.

“More, more, please…” she panted.

You added a third finger inside her and hooked it like the others. With your other hand, you reached her clit and stimulated it. She bucked her hips, and seeing her squirming under your touch was one of the best feelings in the world. Her moans were getting more and more audible, You knew she was close. She was dripping on your hands. Around your knee, hers were weak and shook. She tilted her head back, breaking the kiss. You continued circling her little bundle of nerves.

“I-I’m so close,” she let out between two whines.

“Come for me, Darling,” you commanded.

She kissed you and she came, pinned against the oak, as you swallowed her whines. You let her catch her breath and her skirt fall on her legs, as if nothing just happened. You gently kissed her neck again.

“You did so good for me, Jane…”

She pulled you closer and chuckled.

“We’ll really burn in Hell…” she said.

You put your fingers to your mouth, sucking her arousal on them.

“If Hell tastes like this, I want to go there.”

_____

[weemssapphic]

I desire. And I crave.

part three

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

series page

summary: Jane's recovery is going well. You are ecstatic for her, of course - but what does that mean for the future of your relationship?

words: ~4.3k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: fluff, not really angst but maybe angst-adjacent?, nsfw (brief smut) - tribbing, cunnilingus

the final part to my lil three part series! i hope you enjoy <3

Jane’s recovery continues to go well. You spend nearly every waking moment with her, save for mealtimes (though, on occasion, you claim you aren’t feeling well and bring your own supper up to Jane’s room so that you can eat together - these are the most joyous evenings for you, being allowed to share in something so simple and domestic with Jane). Sometimes you even sleep in her bed - you make love into the night, muffling the sounds of your cries into the pillows, then fall asleep with Jane’s arm slung around your middle.

It is when Jane seems to have fully overcome the disease that your heart is the lightest - and yet somehow the heaviest - it has ever been.

The lightest, because seeing Jane up and about - with boundless energy, with her appetite back and a healthy glow about her - makes your heart sing. She is healthy and alive and everything feels normal again, and you are relieved beyond measure.

The heaviest, because it means that the two of you can no longer hide away in her chambers, indulging in your secret affair whenever it pleases you. There are places to go and people to see (and prying eyes to avoid), and what had felt exciting and new and yours suddenly causes you a twinge of worry.

You miss being able to touch Jane whenever you like. You miss the random moments of intimacy, the stolen kisses - you have to be so much more careful now. You miss calling Jane, Jane.

It is late in the evening - everyone else in the house has long since gone to sleep - and you are in your own bedroom. It is dark and you are curled up under the covers, but you cannot sleep - ever since you’ve felt the divine comfort of falling asleep in Jane’s arms, it has become much harder to fall asleep on your own.

Tonight, the feeling of missing Jane, that longing feeling that gnaws at your heart, is stronger than ever, and you slip out of your own bed and pad lightly down the hall to Jane’s room, careful to be quiet so that you don’t wake anyone else.

You open Jane’s door and slip inside her room. You are expecting to find her asleep in bed - what you don’t anticipate is that she is standing at the window, and that she doesn’t seem at all surprised by your visit. She simply turns her head towards you, her lips curling up into a wistful smile. Her face is illuminated by the moonlight that filters into the room - it casts a silvery glow over her skin. She looks like an angel in this light, youthful and sweet - that sense of longing grows stronger and you take a few strides across the room until you are standing in front of her.

Jane reaches down, cupping your cheek with her hand - it is warm and you lean into the touch, turning your face so that you can kiss her palm.

“Hello, little dove,” she whispers, ducking her head and pressing her lips to yours in a tender kiss that makes your heart flutter.

“Jane,” you whisper back, loving the way her name rolls off your tongue. Jane seems to love it, too, for a grin stretches across her face from ear to ear and she rewards you with another kiss, longer and deeper than the last.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be awake,” you murmur. “Are you well?”

“I am very well,” she replies. Then her expression turns serious. “I have something that I would like to speak with you about.”

Your stomach churns at the solemn tone to her words, and you can’t help but chew nervously at your bottom lip. “Is everything alright, has something happened?”

“No no, it’s nothing like that. I have… a proposition, of sorts. Something that I value your opinion on.” Her tone has turned more gentle, which confuses you further.

“I’m not sure I should have an opinion on anything,” you start - you are still Jane’s maid, after all, and you cannot imagine her requiring the opinion of a lowly servant.

“Nonsense, girl,” Jane tuts. Her eyes flash dangerously, impatiently. “This is something that I very well require your opinion on - or rather, your consent.”

“My consent?” You furrow your brow - you are even more wholly confused than before.

“Come, sit with me.” Jane takes your hand and leads you to her bed. She sits primly at the edge, and you take your place beside her, wringing your hands in your lap as you wait for her to speak.

“As you are aware, I have taken a great liking to you-”

You cannot help but snort at the understatement of the century - the woman nearly died as a result of her love for you - then quickly cover your mouth in horror at having made such an ugly sound.

Jane flushes, briefly averting her eyes before continuing. “I have not felt this sort of affection for anyone in a long time. What we have goes beyond the bounds of a professional relationship. I have gathered that the feeling is mutual?” 

You are sure she knows the answer to this question - she should know - so the fact that she is seeking confirmation amuses you greatly. You smile, suddenly feeling a bit shy, and nod - you still wonder where Jane is going with this.

“It has become… increasingly difficult, following my recovery, to carry on in a professional manner. I no longer wish for you to be my maid, nor do I wish to hide in shame in my own home.”

“I understand.” Your heart begins to pound - you somehow feel you are about to hear either the best or the worst news of your life, with no in between.

“I spoke with my brother this afternoon. We decided it best for my health that I move permanently to our summer cottage by Windermere, and that my lady’s maid accompanies me to act as a caretaker.”

You are still confused. “But you are fully recovered, are you not?”

Jane smiles wryly. “My brother is, fortunately, still unaware of what ailed me. Of course it would not be in anyone’s best interests if I were to fall ill again.”

Suddenly, it clicks. Jane has found a way for the two of you to be together - to live freely, bound by your love for each other. Butterflies spread out their satin wings in your belly, fluttering madly about, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“Will you do me the honor of accompanying me?” Jane’s face is an impassive mask - she holds her chin high and gazes down at you with an expression bordering disinterest - but you can tell from the slight tremble in her voice that she is worried you will say no.

You won’t, of course. You could never say no to Jane - stubborn, brash, haughty Jane - beautiful, witty, thoughtful Jane.

“Yes, Jane,” you breathe out. “Yes.”

A smile breaks out across Jane’s face and she surges forward to capture your lips with her own. She deepens the kiss almost immediately, licking into your mouth - you let out a soft whimper at the urgency she shows. Her hands grasp your waist and she lays back against the pillows, pulling you with her. You rest on top of her - her arms are wrapped possessively around your middle, keeping you in place.

You pull back from the kiss to catch your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows so that you can look down at Jane. The way she is staring at you - as if you are the sole reason for her world continuing to turn - makes your breath catch in your throat.

“When do we leave?” you finally ask, playing with the loose plait in Jane’s hair.

“Edward is arranging travel for us for Saturday.”

Three days. Three days before you get to spend the rest of your life at Jane’s side, as her lover rather than her maid. Three days before you can cease to worry about keeping quiet, before you can steal a kiss whenever you wish and openly admire Jane as you please - the thought makes you light-headed and giddy.

Jane’s fingers curl in your hair, nails scratching lovingly at the nape of your neck, before she yanks your head back and attaches her lips to your throat. She kisses and sucks - gently, not hard enough to leave a bruise - you can tell she is holding back.

Her lips move lower, down your sternum, finding the hem of your nightgown. She unbuttons a few buttons then tugs it down, freeing one of your breasts - her tongue finds your nipple, soothing its velvety surface over the small bud until it hardens. You let out a soft moan of encouragement and Jane scrapes her teeth harshly over the bud, sending a shockwave of pain through your body that morphs into pleasure somewhere along the way. 

Jane lets go of your nipple and her hands come to rest on your waist, flipping you over so that you are on your back and she is hovering over you. You yelp at the suddenness of the movement and there is a flash of warning in Jane’s eyes.

“If you aren’t quiet, I’ll have to punish you - no one will be able to hear your cries out in the countryside.” Her smile is dark, sickeningly sweet - you can tell she is picturing herself carrying out your punishment. Her hand taps your outer thigh, a warning - you feel heat pooling in your belly at the thought. 

“If you’re a good girl, however, I will show you the greatest pleasure imaginable. Tell me, little dove, can you be good for me?” Her voice drops an octave as she speaks and you feel a knot beginning to form in your belly.

Your breathing stutters in response and you nod frantically - this earns you a light slap to your upper thigh, not harsh enough to really be painful (and Jane seems insistent on being as quiet as possible), but you feel a sticky wetness coat your inner thighs anyway.

“Words, girl,” Jane growls threateningly.

“Yes, mistress,” you breathe out.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I can be a good girl for you.”

Jane appraises you for a moment with a raised eyebrow. She seems pleased with your response and pushes your nightgown up over your waist, before hiking her own over her hips. She straddles you and you think she might crawl over your face and have you pleasure her from below again, but then she lowers herself onto your stomach, smearing her juices over your skin. You gasp - she is soaked, and your own arousal trickles down your thighs. 

She rolls her hips, looking down at you with dark, hooded eyes - her gaze is piercing, filled with lust - you cannot tear your eyes away from hers. There is something deeply erotic about the way that Jane meets your gaze as she pleasures herself on your stomach, and you rest your hands on her waist, feeling each thrust and roll of her body against yours.

Her lips part to let out shallow breaths - she is getting closer - and she smiles wickedly as she maneuvers herself further down your body, rubbing herself against you. You watch her questioningly - then you feel her spread your legs and rub herself against your clit and you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out.

Jane bucks her hips erratically, holding onto your waist to steady herself as she comes - a soft, strangled cry leaves her lips, then her jaw goes slack. She looks so beautiful - there are beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, her eyes are squeezed shut, her chest is flushed and heaving. She grips at your waist with surprising strength as she rides out her high, and you feel her arousal dripping out of her, mixing with your own.

“Sweet girl,” she rasps once she has stilled, her breathing still labored. She reaches between your legs, gathering up the mixture of your arousal - you squirm as her fingers brush against your heat, you are still very turned on - and bringing her fingers to your mouth. 

You close your lips around her digits, groaning at the heavenly taste - your walls clench around nothing, desperate for your own release. 

“Please,” you mumble. Jane smirks down at you, before sliding down your body and lining up her face with your cunt. You watch her, entranced - her eyes flutter shut as she inhales deeply. It embarrasses you a little, but she seems to be aroused by your scent - her eyes snap open and meet yours, and she looks starved. She nips at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, smirking when you flinch. 

You writhe and push your hips towards her, and she relents, her tongue lapping at your folds before reaching your clit. Jane hums - the vibrations feel heavenly on that sensitive little bundle of nerves, and you swallow back a moan. 

Jane is unrelenting in her devotion to bringing you to your peak, and your orgasm quickly washes over you. You work hard not to make any noise, tears spilling out of your eyes as your thighs tremble and wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

You barely realize that Jane has crawled up next to you until you feel her thumb caressing your cheek, her warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Little dove.” The nickname makes you smile, and you reach out your arms. Jane looks confused for a moment, but scoots closer nonetheless. Wrapping your arms around the older woman, you pull her flush against you. The thin fabric of your nightgowns separates you tonight - that makes you smile, as you realize that in three days, you won’t need them anymore at all - it will just be the two of you, always.

Soon, Jane will shoo you from her bed. You will insist on helping her clean herself up, before padding back to your room, careful not to get caught - you will fall asleep, alone, in your own bed. Perhaps you will hug a pillow and pretend it is Jane. Then, come morning, you will pass by Emily on your way to Jane’s chambers - Emily will greet you, and you will smile back at her, making some remark about how you are running late and how cruel, merciless Miss Murdstone will have your head if you linger too long. You will enter Jane’s chambers and the older woman will be waiting for you - as soon as the door closes, she will pull you in for a kiss, and you will take your time helping her get ready for the day. You will go about your duties and nod courteously when you pass her in the hallways, until you are needed again.

It has been your daily routine for the past few weeks - a routine that, in just three days time, will no longer be necessary. 

For now, you hold Jane close and stroke her hair, listening to the deep rhythm of her slow breaths - enjoying the peace that her presence gifts you with. 

~~~

Jane has had enough - enough of carrying a secret around her own house, as though loving you is shameful, something to be disgusted by, rather than the most precious thing that has ever happened to her. 

She is nothing if not determined, however, and she knows her younger brother has a soft spot for her. It is no surprise to her when, with little convincing, he agrees to allow her to move permanently to the family’s summer cottage, with her lady’s maid as a caretaker. She doesn't know if he is aware of the nature of your relationship - she has her suspicions, but as long as he keeps quiet then, frankly, she doesn’t care.

You show up in Jane’s chambers that evening - though unannounced, from the way that you’d looked at her when you’d finished plaiting her hair for bed, she had her suspicions that you’d stop by. She can tell you haven’t been sleeping well since you’ve been relegated permanently back to your own room following her recovery, and she can hardly blame you - she feels much more at ease with your steady breathing to lull her to sleep.

When Jane asks you if you’ll accompany her, she feels anxious - this is not something she feels often, and she loathes it. She feels as though her entire future rests in your delicate hands - it is an unfamiliar feeling to her, that another person may have this much power over her. She cannot help the slight tremble that laces her voice and it disgusts her so that she nearly considers taking everything back.

But then you say “yes”. The relief that washes over her in that moment is cathartic in nature - she feels almost childish in the excitement that suddenly buzzes through her entire body. Her lips find yours in an instant and she pulls you on top of her, an intoxicating sort of possessiveness clouding her mind as she wraps you in her embrace.

When you pull back for air, Jane can see the adoration and love written plainly across your face - she still doesn’t understand how it could be directed at her, but she has decided not to question it. 

She wants so badly to mark you where everyone can see - to show the world that you are hers and hers alone. She shows restraint - she is proud of herself for it. Three more days - then she can litter you in black and blue marks wherever she sees fit.

The way the two of you make love this evening is different somehow - Jane feels as though she is baring her soul to you when your eyes meet as she rides you, but she finds she doesn’t mind as much as she thought she would. Instead, she feels exhilarated, able to express a yearning for intimacy that she didn’t know she possessed. She finally feels seen - and it doesn’t scare her. She doesn’t trust many people, but somehow she feels she can trust you, and it is that fact, more so than the steady grinding of her hips or even the slight power play, that brings her over the edge this time.

When you move to wrap your arms around her, she finds herself conflicted - a vulnerability is creeping up inside of her, and it makes her want to shut you out. But the craving for your warmth is too great and she gives in, allowing you to envelop her completely - it is a feeling that brings her great comfort, and she allows herself to drown in it.

~~~

Three days. Three days that pass in a blur - there are belongings to pack and loose ends to tie up: company calls and Jane finds herself exhausted and on edge as she fields questions about her health and her future. What gets her through is what waits for her at the end of those three days: the promise of a lifetime with you.

On Saturday morning, Jane is both excited and nervous - she is awake much earlier than usual and finds herself pacing about her room, jumping when your usual knock sounds in the silence of the space.

“Good morning, Jane.” You beam up at her with a smile so infectious that Jane cannot help but smile back. It assuages her worries a little bit - at least you don’t seem to regret your decision to accompany her.

Jane is silent as you help her dress. As she sits at her vanity, watching you pin up her hair (your brows furrow slightly in concentration, and Jane finds it so cute that she wants to kiss you senseless) the worries return - a persistent gnawing in her stomach, a constricting of her lungs. She wonders if you’ve only said yes because you are paid to assist her, if you realize that saying yes means you will be stuck in a cottage with an old spinster like her for the rest of your life. 

You are taking your time with her hair this morning, pinning each wave methodically, allowing your fingers to dance along her scalp after each pin that you’ve placed - this makes Jane feel even more on edge.

“I’m not paying you to dawdle,” she hisses, immediately regretting her harshness when you jump back as if burned.

“I apologize, milady,” you say automatically, meeting Jane’s gaze in the mirror - your eyes are wide and your cheeks blaze scarlet. Her stomach drops.

“Jane,” she whispers. You blink slowly, and Jane is now certain she must look insane - she certainly feels it. Ever since you have called her by her first name, she no longer cares for the smug sense of superiority that milady or Miss Murdstone bring her - at least not from you. There is an intimacy in your use of “Jane”, a closeness that she has come to crave. “Call me Jane.” 

You pause, and she hates the silence - she feels she may drown in it.

“Well then, Jane, what are you paying me for?” You raise your chin - your voice wavers slightly, but you glare at Jane and she feels a deep, burning shame bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

Another uncomfortable silence fills the room and Jane is left, for possibly the first time in her life, speechless. When she finally speaks, she can hear the uncertainty in her own voice and it makes her sick to her stomach.

“I… do not wish to pay you at all.” At your raised eyebrow, she takes a deep breath and continues. “I wish for us to be equals in our new home. I simply… wonder, whether or not you’ve put due thought into this decision. I do not wish you to regret your choice.”

Your face softens and Jane finds herself looking away. She has rarely afforded anyone such honesty about her feelings and it causes her great unease. Your hands rest on her shoulders and squeeze gently, causing a shiver to travel down her spine.

“I have thought about my decision, Jane.” The emphasis on her name causes her heart to clench, and she glances up briefly to regard you in the mirror. “Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than to accompany you. I would do so as your lady’s maid if it afforded me the chance to be by your side, though I would, of course, prefer to come as your lover.” 

Your cheeks are pink but your voice is steady, and Jane feels her heart thundering against her ribcage. 

“I love you,” she whispers - the words feel foreign on her tongue, and she realizes she hasn’t voiced them properly until this moment.

“I love you,” you whisper back, clearly trying to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your entire face - then, mercifully, you turn your attention back to her hair, pinning up the last waves before placing her bonnet on her head and tying it in place. 

“There. It suits you, you know,” you say with a smile, and Jane waves a hand in front of her face, her cheeks warming. She is not accustomed to being complimented, and you do so often - it makes her go weak in the knees, and she is glad she is currently seated.

“You flatter me,” she murmurs, turning in her seat to cup your cheek and meet your gaze. “Will you give me a moment, little dove?”

“Of course. I’ll just take your things to the carriage.” You lean forward and press your lips to Jane’s - your lips are soft and warm and the kiss is chaste, and, for the first time that she can remember, Jane feels wholly loved.

You offer her a dazzling grin before taking her suitcase and exiting the room, giving Jane a moment to collect herself before she follows you downstairs. Her brother and the rest of the servants wait near the front door.

Jane watches you bid the servants farewell. She tries to hide the soft smile that threatens to creep up on her face - you are kind and sincere as you wish the others well, and Jane feels proud that, out of everyone in the world, you have chosen her. 

She hums dismissively when the servants curtsey towards her - she is too busy watching you step into the carriage, and she has never cared much for them anyway. If anything, she is glad to be rid of their incompetence - she will fare much better if it is only you by her side.

Edward says he will visit soon, and she nods absentmindedly, saying goodbye and ducking her head to step into the carriage. The driver closes the door behind her and she glances out the window - the servants look happy to see her go, but she cannot find it in herself to care. Not when her own heart is threatening to burst at the seams with joy.

Jane finds any lingering doubts dissipating as she feels the carriage begin to move. She meets your gaze - you are smiling giddily at her and she feels her heart swell in response. You place your hand on the bench between the two of you, palm up, and wiggle your fingers. Jane offers you a small smile, barely perceptible - bordering on a smirk, really - she is unsure how to properly express her elation, but the giggle she receives in response indicates that you understand. She peels off a black glove and places her bare hand in your own, lacing your fingers together. The warm touch of your skin on hers grounds her as she looks out the window, feeling - for the very first time since her youth - euphoria at the thought of her future.

x

tags: @dianneking @yourlocaldisneyvillain @anti-bright-places @mrs-hilmarson @rainbow-hedgehog @s-c-rambledegggs @sapphicsbeloved @eveymay @scream-queenlover @orchidsshine @brienneswife

thank you for reading and sharing this series, i really enjoyed writing it and i hope you liked it as well <3 any and all feedback means the world to me!

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

20 Author Questions

thanks to @statelysapphicfor the tag!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

28!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

162,944

3. What fandoms do you write for?

it's that sweet gwendoline chistie brain rot for me :))

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

push me gently (into love) -> (nsfw) -> two chapter Larissa x reader story in which reader is an art teacher at Nevermore. fluffy, cozy, and sweet, featuring easily skippable smut. rom-com vibes.

when the last restraint is gone -> (ongoing) (nsfw) -> an intense victorian romance between Jane Murdstone and her lady's maid, Laura. sort of in the style of Sarah Waters's historical romance novels. heavily influenced by Vita and Virginia's love letters. featuring a lot of sensually read victorian poetry and dirty, delicious smut.

danger level - one (nsfw) -> filthy smut featuring the good ol' sex pollen trope. Phasma x fem!stormtrooper!reader. hot and a bit silly. straightforward and simple porn lol.

particular (nsfw) -> Larissa Weems x (adult) Wednesday Addams, aka the fic that got me cancelled. ongoing, but written. still in the process of posting it. rom-com with dark humour and some more mature themes, but still relatively light. sort of a coming-of-age story.

so very chivalrous (and so completely oblivious) -> Brienne x princess!reader. very fluffy. Brienne is very good with a sword, but a bit oblivious in the matters of love. featuring good ol' lesbian yearning.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try my best to! i feel like i either wanna rant abt my blorbos and my thought process or i want to be polite. someone took the time to write a comment, and i feel like that warrants a thank you!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmmmm. perhaps the sad ending option for my ruin tastes so sweet (almost as sweet as your lips) -- it's a choose your own adventure story!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

it would have to be either so very chivalrous (and so completely oblivious) or push me gently (into love) which now that i think about have a lot of kudos and comments and hits, so i guess ppl love happy endings hahah

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i'm the queen of controversy apparently, and i was cancelled! but the fic itself didn't get as much hate as ppl didn't even wanna read it lol, i personally got hate mail. so fics? i suppose not. but there is still time, who knows what else i'll post (i know, and ppl will likely have opinions about it)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i very much do lol. the real hot kind :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i've written exactly one! larissa x phasma bc. reasons. it's smut. chrome and lipstick

11. Have you ever had a fiction stolen?

not to my knowledge! but ppl have heavily copied my work :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not to my knowledge!

13. Have you ever co-writtten a fic before?

tried to, but the person in question sorta ghosted me lol

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

ughhhhh idk man. i guess the one i spent the longest being obsessed with is malora. i have a dark past lol.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i hope to finish them all Eventually lol but idk, we shall see!

16. What are your writing strengths?

characterisation, point blank haha. i have a sense of rhythm that i sometimes put to good use.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

uhhh i tend to be vague abt things i am bored with while i write, and plot driven things aren't my forte. i can get very dash and comma happy lol. sometimes i tend to Fixate on a word or a phrase and i'm like okay gurl let it go lol, you've used this too many times. i am not very meticulous and i hate doing outlines and i feel like Sometimes it Shows. i feel like sometimes you can tell english is not my native language no matter how hard i try.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

speak the language at least somewhat, please. otherwise it's really hard for it to land well. personally, i feel very lukewarm about it

19. First fandom you wrote for?

uhhhhh. i honestly don't remember. supergirl perhaps?? or ouat.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

our little dance and particular :)

tagging: @the-frankenman-writes @dianneking @zephyr-is-tired @alder-saan @notinmyvocab @theflashesoflove

[milfsloverblog]

Green-Eyed Monster (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

A/N: This is a request that I got a long while ago, something about Jane and some drama/smut. I apologise to whoever sent the request, I can’t find it in my inbox anymore. I started writing this fic so long ago, all the wips in my notes cheered when I typed in the last word. As always, Jane is the reddest redflag. Enjoy!<3

AO3 link in title

You loved Alice, you loved the way she always found a way to make you laugh. When she joined the staff at the Murdstone mansion, you immediately knew you two would be good friends.

Oh yes, you loved Alice. But not like you loved your Lady. Not like you loved Jane.

Loving Jane was like sitting in the sun after a long day of hard work. It warmed your heart and soul, making you feel incredibly alive.

Jane, on the other hand, had thought of a thousand ways to get rid of Alice. Going from simply firing her and making sure she’d never find work again all the way to wrapping her strong hands around the maid’s frail neck and squeezing until it snapped.

She would never, of course. But she was thinking about it. The thought of Alice being overly friendly and so close to you made it really hard for Jane to work through her feelings of homicidal rage.

It wasn’t fair. It was not fair that this silly little thing was allowed to spend her days by your side, making you laugh at her idiotic jokes while Jane could only spend a couple of hours with you late at night when the whole household was already asleep.

“She is being overly friendly to you, and I do not like it.” Jane groaned as you pulled the pins out of her hair.

“There is nothing more than friendship between Alice and me, Jane, you know that.” You reassured your lover, placing a soft kiss on her freckled shoulder.

“To you, perhaps! I see the way she is always trying to touch you, squeezing your shoulder as she walks by or holding onto your arm when she delivers one of her idiotic jokes. Has she never been told that we must not touch what is not ours?” The tall woman huffed, getting more agitated by the second. That silly little maid gave her murderous thoughts.

“I don’t think Alice sees me as anything more than a good friend, and even if she does…I’m yours.” You whispered, brushing your fingers through Jane’s raven locks and gently massaging her scalp.

Jane’s shoulders visibly relaxed and you pushed a soft smile, locking eyes with your lover in the mirror.

“I’m afraid I can not stay with you tonight, Jane. Mister Murdstone has asked me to be up at sunrise to run some errands, and I could use the sleep.” You gave the tall woman an apologetic smile, feeling her shoulders tense once more. You would have loved to spend the night with Jane but you barely got any sleep when you did, the two of you usually too busy making love to each other.

“Right.” She spat out, her lips pressed in a thin line. “Go back to the servant’s quarter, I bet you are craving to get back to your Alice.”

“Jane,” You tutted. “You are being rude, my love. There is nothing I want more than to spend the night in your arms, but I can’t. Not tonight.”

Jane huffed loudly, crossing her arms against her chest and refusing to look at you.

“Fine, sulk if you want.” You kissed the top of the woman’s head and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sleep well, Jane.” You said, taking a last look at her reflection in the mirror before leaving the bedroom.

But Jane didn’t sleep well. She barely slept at all, her mind filled with thoughts of Alice’s hands on your body. It was unbearable, so much so that Jane came up with a plan. She needed that stupid girl to understand that you were hers, and she would make sure of it.

-

You had not expected Mister Murdstone’s errands to be taking so long to run. You had been gone from the house since sunrise and only came back around tea time, letting a sigh of relief out as you placed the heavy baskets you were carrying down. Food, clothing, newspapers, it was as if Edward Murdstone had decided that everything that could be fetched from town needed to be fetched that day.

You had barely stepped into the servant’s quarter when two hands wrapped around your waist and spun you around.

“I thought you would never be back! Thought you had run away for good!” Alice’s lips spread in a wide smile, making you laugh.

“Sure, and to go where, mm?” You shook your head. “Those errands he makes us run, they get worse every single time.”

“I know. I think he enjoys exhausting us as much as he possibly can.” Alice nodded. “Oh, Miss Murdstone has asked for me to take care of her tonight.”

Your body froze for a second and you had to take a deep breath before acting unfazed. You were about to ask for more details when a bell rang in the quarter, signalling that the Lady of the house was ready for her afternoon tea.

“Let me take care of it.” You pushed a smile and disappeared into the kitchen, quickly putting the kettle on.

A few minutes later you stepped into the study where Jane was sitting with her embroidery.

“My Lady,” You nodded, placing the tray on the table right next to her.

The tall woman barely acknowledged you as she placed her embroidery on the side and poured herself a cup of tea.

“I was made aware that you requested Alice to assist you tonight. Is my presence no longer required, my Lady?”

Jane’s eyes snapped to your face and you hoped she understood the hidden meaning behind your words. Do you not love me anymore?

“Were you made aware that your presence was no longer required?” The woman asked, her eyes slightly narrowing.

“No, my Lady.”

“Good. You shall be in my bedroom at seven sharp, as usual.” She said before taking a sip of tea and shooing you out of the room.

-

You knocked on the bedroom door at seven sharp, pushing it open and making your way inside only to find that Alice was already there.

“Good. Well, now that everyone is here…Sit.” Jane told Alice, pointing at the chair in the corner of the room. “Can’t you follow a simple order?! Sit!” She hissed when the maid didn’t obey fast enough.

Alice quickly walked to the chair and sat down, eyes wide in fear of what would happen to her next.

You stood still in the middle of the room as Jane circled you, feeling like a prey being hunted and played with by a predator.

“You see, Alice, you have gotten awfully close to something that belongs to me.” Jane said as she came to a stop behind you. You felt her tug at the knot on your apron before she took it off, letting it fall to the ground.

Alice watched in horror as Jane’s hands traveled to your front, groping your breasts through your dress before she moved to unbutton it.

“Did you know our little lady’s maid here loves to forgo underwear?” Jane smirked, watching Alice’s cheeks turn crimson as she opened your unbuttoned shirt to reveal your bare breasts. “Would you like to know how I know that?” The woman asked, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. “I told her to.” She grinned and peeled your shirt from your body, letting in join your apron on the floor.

Alice tried hard not to let her eyes roam on your bare flesh, but she was unable to stop herself which only fuelled Jane’s anger.

“I told you she was interested in more than friendship.” Jane hissed in your ear, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin and your nipples to harden.

“M-Miss Murdstone-“ Alice said barely audibly. “I don’t think I should be here.”

“Quiet!” Jane barked. “Don’t you dare move from that chair or I will have you fired by tomorrow morning.”

“Jane…” You sighed and felt the woman’s fingers grab a handful of your hair before giving it a harsh tug, tilting your head so you’d look at her.

“Oh no,” She smirked. “Tonight you will address me either as Miss Murdstone or my Lady.”

She wouldn’t play nice tonight, then.

“Yes, my Lady.” You whispered, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Jane almost considered indulging you, she almost pressed a kiss to your lips but quickly changed her mind. This wasn’t about your or her pleasure, it was about teaching Alice a good lesson.

“Take your skirt off.” Jane ordered, letting her hands roam on your stomach for a second before pulling away. “I doubt you are wearing anything underneath it but if you are, take those off as well.”

A deep blush crept up your chest as you pulled your skirt down and stepped out of it, revealing that you were, in fact, not wearing anything underneath it. A low chuckle came from Jane’s throat and you waited, eyes closed, for the next order when you felt her lips on your shoulder and hands on your waist, her short fingernails digging into your flesh.

“Spread your legs.” She hummed near your ear and you obeyed without a second thought, your body shuddering when one of her hands snaked from your waist to your bush, resting there for a few seconds before she finally pushed two of her fingers between your folds.

“Well, well,” Jane tutted, pulling her fingers away from you and lifting them to show off the wetness that glistened on them. “Do you like having an audience?” She smirked, her eyes locking with Alice’s as she pushed her digits into her mouth and licked them clean.

The heat coursing through your body felt unbearable, a mix of both shame and arousal that made you feel dizzy.

“Yes, my Lady.” You admitted, whining when Jane’s fingers found their way back between your legs.

“You see, Alice,” Jane looked at the girl on the chair. “This one might act like a prude around you, but she is a filthy whore.” She chuckled lowly, her other hand moving to grab one of your breasts.

Jane expertly flicked her thumb on your nipple before giving it a sharp tweak, making you cry out as your sopping wet cunt clenched around nothing.

“Careful, we wouldn’t want the whole household to know you let your Lady have you.”

Jane didn’t let you answer, choosing instead to slip her fingers deep inside you and relishing in the guttural moan that tore itself from your mouth. She let her fingers commence their skillful ballet, pulling them out of you almost entirely only to push them back in up to the hilt.

It didn’t take long for you to turn into a mess, grinding down on Jane’s fingers as she crooked them to press against the soft, spongy spot that sent lighting shooting up your spine.

Your sinful moans mixing with the wet sounds coming from between your legs only spurred Jane on, her blue eyes fixed on the maid sitting in the corner of the room with her mouth wide open.

“Why don’t you tell your little friend who you belong to, mm?” Jane’s voice echoed in your mind.

“You! Y-yours, I’m yours!” You cried out. “All yours, my Lady!”

“Mine.” Jane snarled looking at Alice, hoping the message was clear.

Her free hand joined the busy one between your legs to circle your clit as she relentlessly pounded into you and could hear yourself begging from a distance - please, please, I can not hold back anymore. It felt like an eternity before Jane finally allowed you to cum, your cunt instantly clenching around her fingers as you were pushed over the edge.

The tall woman kept pumping in and out of you for a moment until she decided that you had had enough and pulled her fingers out, giving your core a harsh slap. You fell to your knees, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, and struggled to catch your breath.

Eventually, you turned around and looked up at Jane who was now standing tall in front of you. You grabbed a handful of her black dress to steady yourself and buried your face into the soft fabric.

“Thank you, Miss Murdstone.” You managed to say with your shaky voice, making the tall woman smirk proudly.

Jane pulled away from you, snatching her dress from your hands before walking towards Alice who was still transfixed by the whole scene. She roughly grabbed the maid’s face with one hand, forcing the girl to look up at her.

“Don’t you dare say a word about what happened here tonight.” She snarled. “No one would believe you. Now get out!”

Alice didn’t have to be told twice. The young woman was on her feet in a second and scurried out of the room as quickly as she could.

“Did you have to be so harsh?” You croaked as you slowly got back on your feet, watching Jane closing the bedroom door that Alice had left open.

“Which other choice did I have?” Jane said, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before moving to sit down at her dressing table. “She needed to be taught a lesson. You are mine, and she mustn’t mess with another woman’s belongings.”

“Yes, my Lady,” You chuckled softly as you started taking the pins off Jane’s hair. “I’m yours.”

-

You weren’t really surprised the next day when entering the servant’s quarters, you heard one of the maids gossiping with the butler about how Alice had been fired by Mister Murdstone at sunrise.

It did pinch your heart a little to know you had lost a friend, but Jane was right, Alice had to learn the lesson. One mustn’t mess with another woman’s belongings, certainly not Jane Murdstone’s.

————————————————————————

tag list: @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @readingtheentrails @catechristiesstuff @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant

[weemsfreak]

Desire ♱

⋆Reader's pov and main story (recommend read first)⋆

Jane Murdstone x Fem!reader

♱ Jane's pov here

Summary: When the lady of the village returns after many years and ends up in your place of work, you fabricate a dress for her; and then you follow her. ~5k words

Warnings: obsession, stocking, mention of child abuse, family trauma and father issues (as in Jane/Edward Murdstone 'David Copperfield')

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The bakery, the factory, the church, and the bank.

Places which she ventured on a normal day,

Places which you ventured on a normal day.

Things that she did,

Things that you did.

The gallery, the haberdashery, the manor house gardens.

She was busy,

You were busy.

Wherever she went, you followed.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The ball rang out, signifying that someone had entered. You ignored it from the next room, not wanting to drop your task at hand.

"Well, I'll be. It has been a long while Miss Murdstone."

You rolled your eyes and mouthed Gladys' words, mocking the dressmaker as you continued to cut out fabric.

"Indeed, it has."

Your hands stopped working at the sound of a voice, gaze slowly raising to the wall as you listened. You heard shuffling to Gladys' workspace, a coat hit the settee.

"How has Blunderstone treated you? Glad to be back at the factory?"

A hum. "It has been a good many years, although a dreadful end I'm afraid. I am glad to be back."

Your eyes flit around the room; the factory? Miss Murdstone?

Oh. OH. The Miss Murdstone of Murdstone village. The sister of factory owner Mr. Murdstone.

You had never met the Murdstone's, but you had heard of them and their reputation in their own village. They had been gone for some ten years; a marriage, you had heard. And it seemed that now, they were back.

You prayed that Gladys wouldn't call you in for help as you were not very confrontational, and you had heard that the lady could be, well, cruel.  

Slowly you continued to cut out fabric, listening in on their conversation as you did.

The contrast of murmuring and sureness calmed you, the new voice in particular was melody to your ears. It was strong yet weak, cold yet warm, confident yet weary, cruel yet sweet; you longed to know what body housed a voice like that.

Inevitably, Gladys called your name from the next room.

You screwed your eyes closed and took a deep breath before dropping everything and heading through the doorway.

"Yes, how can I help-"

Your eyes flit from Gladys to a tall dark figure. One which caught you off guard, before it consumed you.

Ghost white skin sandwiched between midnight hair and a dress to match, the length of which you've never seen the likes of before.

Her gaze was locked onto the wall, until she noticed you staring.

Expectant eyes shot to you and made your heart flutter nervously, you averted your gaze back to Gladys.

It seemed that the only colour this woman possessed was that of her iris', which made them stand out even more.

"Y/n, this is Miss Murdstone."

You moved closer and gave a small bow, eyes on the floor. "How do you do Miss Murdstone."

"Well, thank you."

You nodded with a small smile.

"Help me with this, will you?" Gladys passed you a measure and gestured to her skirts, to which you lifted and got to work.

Black fabric, not something you worked with often, although it was certainly growing on you. You looked between dark and the light of her petticoat, and you wished for the chance to see long legs hidden underneath. Alas, petticoats were not see through.

Miss Murdstone was not a very social woman, though you were not surprised at her lack of emotion or chatter, as there was not much about her that was mainstream.

You stood and helped Gladys with small things, measuring around her bodice, shoulders, and arm length, the lady stiff as a board. Your hands trembled as you worked, which neither woman failed to notice.

You couldn't help but steal glances at the lines in the woman's skin, dark hair tied up neatly, scars and light freckles placed perfectly, as if they were intentional.

You couldn't help but think that she looked as if she was made of wax.

Cold fingers brushed against the pale skin of her neck and she flinched, a string of apologies flowing from your mouth. You stepped away and let Gladys finish the job, the only thing going through your head was how warm the woman was to the touch.

Being sent on your way with the measurements, you began to cut out black fabric. More length added to the sleeves and skirt, waist cinched just a bit.

You worked in the corner of the room, stealing glances at the dark woman though the doorway now and then. When you had left, the women began to make small conversation again; you closed your eyes and listened to her voice.

You hadn't noticed when the bell had rung and she had left, until Gladys walked in.

"A pretty young thing like you shant be intimidated by Miss Murdstone."

Your eyes shot to Gladys as a light blush overtook your cheeks. You were intimidated alright, but not in the way she thought.

You hummed, "Maybe not intimidated, but overtaken."

"Get to work silly girl" she chuckled, pointing down at the barely touched black fabric in your hands.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

You could tell by the way she carried herself through life, by the way that she spoke to people (or didn't acknowledge them at all), that she was cold, iron, wrought, metallic.

Yes, that was it, she was metallic, and she possessed some type of pull. You failed to fight it off with bated breath when dark yet enchanting eyes met yours.

What really pulled you in, however, was her mysterious nature. Her front was menacing, her cruelty was obvious, her exterior freezing anyone who dared cross her path.

She was a delight, far more true than you could ever be.

Being a dressmaker's apprentice, you didn't have every day to venture around Murdstone village. But when you did, you made it worthwhile.

You had been intrigued by her since the day she stepped into the shop, and soon enough, you became attached.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

It was easy to spot her through the crowd of people, being one of the tallest, darkest, and notable around.

You wouldn't say that you stalked her, no, for you ran your errands in the same way as she, and your interests matched hers well.

That became clear when one day you took a stroll through the manor house gardens and found her, admiring the Nettles from afar.

Nettles were not much to the naked eye, and they stung like a bitch when one got close. Alas, their being was important, indispensable, beautiful; like her.

Cold on the outside and warm on the inside.

You sat on a bench next to some Black Calla Lily's, and couldn't help but think about how the flowers reflected the both of you. These particular Lily's caught your eye and drew you in, but get too involved and their toxins could harm you.

Warm on the outside and cold on the inside.

Perhaps you were both deceiving.

Her back faced you tauntingly as you longed to admire her features. You hadn't gotten a satisfying look at her, although you assumed nobody had ever gotten very close.

Holding your breath, she turned to continue down the path, head held high as she gazed straight ahead.

She didn't look your way, she didn't acknowledge you, no, she didn't say a word.

Yet you knew her, you knew she was perceptive, she noticed every detail.

And deep down you knew that she knew you were there.

She always did.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

You were suffering throughout your days and nights, physically unable to get the metallic lady out of your head. You hadn't been this obsessed, this buried, this crazy for a woman.

You knew it was wrong, to want her, to want to know her, to want to feel her dark locks run through your fingers.

You knew it was wrong to watch from afar, even worse to get close; but you couldn't help it.

She was enchanting, she was brooding, she was maddening.

One bright morning you arrived to church early, and placed yourself in the very pew where the Murdstone's always sat. You took the hymnal and prayer books and moved them to another pew, leaving only one set of books available.

After some time, Mr. Murdstone passed the pew, giving you a look of disdain before continuing on.

Your gaze dropped to your lap nervously, unsure as to where she was.

Another moment passed, and you noticed a shadow beside you, then felt a soft brush against your leg.

It was so soft you believed it was imagined.

"Apologies."

Looking over in disbelief, you found the metallic woman beside you, her attention set on the priest.

As the service progressed, you couldn't help but wrack your brain around her being. For as much as you knew her, or at least thought that you did, as much as you saw her, you couldn't tell.

After eyeing her at church a couple days a week, you realized she was a devoted congregant. She gave the impression that she was one who would reprimand for breaking the rules, for not adhering to the faith's principles.

But all the same, she seemed as though she'd like to bend them, challenge society's expectations, and oppose normalcy, as it was obvious she didn't follow every mainstream convention.

You had confirmed recently, after some research, that 'Miss' Murdstone was not married; but for which reason, you wondered often.

Long fingers opened the prayer book and held it still as a stone on her lap, eyes scanning the words slowly.

Silently, you leaned closer, setting your gaze on her as she peered down at you. You smiled, watching her lips twitch and eyes bore into your own in question; then the prayer book was angled so you both could recite together.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

One day, you set out determined for your destination: the gallery.

See, there was not much that you knew, but there were a few things. One being that the gallery bustled with activity on a certain day of the week, and another being that Jane Murdstone was a sucker for all things nice.

The Cultural and Historical collections always inspired you, and allowed you to indulge in the fantasy of a better world, a more interesting world, a world in which you were yourself, truly.

And well, as did she.

As expected, Miss Murdstone made her way around a glass case following the male version of herself. You recognized him immediately, the man of the village.

Watching from the other side of the room, you took note of their differences and similarities. Physical was obvious, they were tall, they were dark, and they were chilling.

Your heart couldn't help but feel heavy, as although she was striking, easily catching your eye even next to her brother, she was the lesser.

It was obvious that she was more brazen, more intelligent, and more capable; alas, he was the man, and she was the woman.

You ran your hand over an artifact, pressing your skin hard into the rough texture.

Glass should cover something so fragile, so special, so significant, you thought, for someone could steal it with the snap of a finger.

You could steal it with the snap of a finger. You wouldn't, however, not now. For you had something far more important to tend to.

A dark figure caught your peripheral, your eyes discreetly landing on the woman as your head stayed focused in the direction of the artifact.

You watched as long fingers ran over a piece opposite, feeling the atoms that made up the world, perhaps a world in which you had yet to know.

You took a deep breath, gaze lifting when her pale hand paused in its track.

You were expecting it, her eyes on her pray, on her goal, on you.

Touché. You respected the effort, the care, the menacing stare, but it was of no use.

You stared back, taking in the elements of her skin, the light in her eyes, and the hate in her heart.

It was incredible, really, how energy made up the universe, how matter was formed, how it could be neither created nor destroyed.

She saw you and you saw her, but nobody spoke a word.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Miss Murdstone spoke few words to you the couple times that she entered the shop; for her measurements, her dress, and then again when a colleague had tailored a suit for her brother.

You understood that you knew her better than she knew you, for you were just a dressmaker whose name had most likely slipped her mind.

Alas when you watched her on the streets, back and forth with long strides, elegance never faltering, haughtiness never letting up, she never failed to deepen your infatuation.

You admired the way she gave no thought nor care about others' opinions, the way she could allow- feed into the absolute cruelty, perhaps hate that came out of her mouth.

The way she let it happen, the way she lived for it.

You were high as the heavens the one time she had spat at you. It was short, nothing that she thought twice about, but you were truly and utterly drunk on her.

Others you knew, didn't appreciate being spoken down to that way, looked at with a bitter glance, nor dealt with in that sneering tone.

And well, most of the time you wouldn't either.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The factory, a place of your dreams and nightmares.

In your favour, it wasn't difficult to sneak into at night, the bottles and barrels and wine and corks the only witnesses of your doing.

Their livelihood, their significance, the thing that gave the Murdstone's the justification to be poison; possibility to be ruined within hours.

You ran a finger along a trail of dust as a smirk crept over your face. Mr. Murdstone was too pretentious for his own good, careless perhaps, not too smart it seemed; but you were.

For his sake, and his sake only, it was a damn good thing that his sister had consumed your every thought.

By morning you had tucked yourself deep behind the shelves.

People of every age, those of every kind made their way into the factory, cleaning, filling, corking, labelling, and packaging.

You were caught off guard when you eyed Mr. and Miss Murdstone make their way around the factory, inspecting the work and the workers. They passed by the shelves with a step that felt far too long. You froze at their proximity, for you had no escape.

Letting out a breath, you watched as they halted near a small boy, a boy far too short to reach the corking lever.

"Jump, boy" Mr. Murdstone instructed.

The boy tried, pathetically.

"You should sooner teach the furniture" the lady said to her brother.

You held in a snicker.

"Jane" Mr. Murdstone warned.

You watched as he attempted to jump, Mr. Murdstone frustrated with his lack of effort.

"You will not be switched to another job, boy."

He jumped higher and had yet to reach.

Miss Murdstone turned to her brother with the raise of a brow, "We should switch to a less enjoyable activity."

"JANE."

Mr. Murdstone grabbed the child by his shirt, dragging him to a secluded room and slamming the door with no hesitation.

Miss Murdstone followed with hands clasped in front of her, then you heard grunting and lashing sounds. Your eyes shut and you flinched at the suddenness, whacking your head off a board.

Blue eyes travelled your way, somehow hearing your skull make contact with the wood over the loudness of everything else. The metallic woman looked in your direction, around you, above you, and you could swear it, straight at you. But she couldn't see you through the willful blindness of the bottles and barrels.

Her gaze was averted, however, when a tall boy made his way toward her with intent.

Your eyes widened as you watched him pick up a glass bottle, your brain registering that he most likely wished to protect the child; but harming Miss Murdstone wasn't the way.

With a deepening heart beat you contemplated the fact that you may have to reveal yourself, jump in front of hard glass in shame and remorse before ghostly pale skin turned crimson.

But, as you watched the metallic woman, you noticed her smirk; joy, thrill, and humour behind her eyes.

She faltered for a moment when she noticed the bottle, lips twitching; a moment of hurt. Still, she stood her ground, eyes unblinking.

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, and she knew.

For they were cruel, they were cold, and they were abusive, perhaps.

But she now had no fear, for she was used to it.

When the boy turned away and you watched her smirk return, chest falling slightly in relief, it made sense.

You realized why she was the way that she was; beaten, bruised, petrifying, and cruel. It wasn't anything new, it wasn't unfamiliar or forced. It was all that she knew.

It was what she knew, it was who she was brought up to be; the little girl, the woman, the one who took care of the men.

The one who listened to their commands but rose to control when they were too coward.

The one who was reprimanded when she spoke her mind but was brought up to be superior all the same.

The girl who said nothing and was harmed for her warmth, now a cold shell of defensive whips and comments; in a woman's body tall enough to make the men resentful.

She was born to love and taught to hate, for she had no choice.

She had no choice.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The lady had returned to the shop days later with Mr. Murdstone's suit, shoving it into your coworkers' arms.

"You measured incorrectly" she grumbled.

His jaw fell open as he looked it over, scratching at his head, "Where is it incorrect, my lady?"

You held in a laugh as she flung the trousers over his arm and pointed to the hem. "They need to be taken out. He's not lacking in stature like yourself."

Nodding, he made his way to the next room. "I need it finished for tonight" you heard her holler.

"Of course, Miss Murdstone."

You were sat on the settee, sewing a piece and trying your hardest to pretend she wasn't there, hoping you wouldn't have to entertain her.

Alas, as it was, you longed to converse with her, you longed to entertain her.

You longed to run your eyes over her frame, yearned to move closer and take in her deathly smell, her serene eyes and ghostly skin.

You longed to run your hands along the warmth of her neck once again and know that she was real.

Heeled steps approached as your mind went blank and heart began to race. She sat down next to you.

"Men, incompetent" was all that she said.

You felt bad for him, of course you did, but you couldn’t help but snicker at her comment.

"Indeed."

You admired very much that she spoke her mind and wished to give her the ability to feel freely, without reprimand and without judgment.

Attempting to focus back on your work, you were distracted when she withdrew her pocket watch. Busy fingers wrapped around the intricate watch and chain before moving to toy with the money bag and beads hanging off her chatelaine.

A sigh, "I have somewhere to be."

You ignored the burning question in your mind, 'where?'

The woman turned to you suddenly, your gaze shot to hers.

Her dark blues narrowed as if she knew what you were doing: following, admiring, chasing, craving her.

Your heart almost jumped out of your throat as you thought of her knowing, knowing of your attachment, knowing of your enamour, knowing of your desire.

You calmed however, when you realized that you didn't see rage in her eyes, but intrigue; for she had an idea.

"Would you be so kind as to deliver the suit when it is finished?"

You tilted your head at her sickly sweet tone, figuring that it was the only way she knew to get people to bend for her, to get you to bend for her.

But you would bend for her coldness, you would bend for her cruelness, you would bend for her warmth, you would bend for her anyway she'd ask, fake or sincere.

You would bend for her.

Yes you knew of many places, the factory that you should not enter, the bakery, the grocer, the bank, the haberdashery, and her leisurely activities, but you didn't know of her home.

You didn't know her that well.

You stuttered in surprise, "Of- of course."

A smile played at her lips, but you knew you weren't special.

When her dark blue eyes bore into your own and you saw the hate, you knew that her thoughts were nothing but careless, nothing but mean, nothing but questioning.

You wondered how someone could be so…brave? Sadistic? So content with being unliked by others, even intentionally resented.

Lonely? You could say. Perhaps you both had something in common.

She grasped others by the throats and shook them until they gave in for a breath, until they feared her, until they bent.

You wouldn't mind that, not from her, not at all.

You saw it run through her mind with a slight widening of eyes, as if she was attempting to convince herself that her maliciousness was justified.

For you, well you were just a young girl, a little lamb. You were the innocence that she once had and lost, the total opposite of her.

But you, you weren't so convinced.

"Lovely. Gladys will provide my address. I expect it by 5pm."

She stood abruptly and exited the shop, leaving you alone.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The suit was done by 4pm, you prayed that it would fit perfectly. Not that you were opposed to being rebuked by Miss Murdstone, but you truly wanted nothing but to please her.

Wearing one of your favorite dresses, you set out to the Murdstone's estate, walking through the surprisingly busy streets with curiosity.

The door was open when you arrived, and you were greeted by a maid who was bustling around. They informed you where to take the suit due to their current occupation.

You found yourself nervously knocking on a door in a dark hallway, sure that this was a ruse.

The door swung open quickly at the hand of Miss Murdstone, making you flinch in surprise.

You took in the sight of her in her new black dress, one which you had the pleasure of aiding in the fabrication of. It clung to her figure perfectly, defining strong shoulders and a cinched waist.

Smoothing out the fabric of your dress, you attempted not to drool as you extended the suit out to her.

"Here you are, Miss Murdstone. I hope it meets your satisfaction."

She took the suit from you gently, giving you an expectant look as she stayed silent.

"We're hosting a ball tonight."

You averted your gaze to the window at the end of the hall, nodding in understanding and jealousy.

"I trust that it will be enjoyable."

You watched as she looked you up and down, you felt that this was the most attention she had ever given you.

"I do hope."

Silence. You had much to say, but no will to say it.

Whether it was your imagination or a mutual understanding, your relationship seemed to be based on physicality, lacking verbal connection.

A maid then came barreling up the stairs, carrying many things in preparation of the night. "Miss Murdstone, let's prepare you for the ball."

You watched as she entered Miss Murdstone's chambers and disappeared from your sight, the lady allowing her access. Your eyes flit from the maid to hers, screaming with want for a job which you did not have, did not desire; until now.

She spoke with a tone of genuine disinterest, yet the invitation in itself told you something.

"It will commence at 8pm. You are welcome to join."

⋆♱✮♱⋆  

You had been welcomed into their home, but it felt unsettling all the same. Her unknowing of your presence, or at least not expecting it, gave you the ability to be discreet.

But here, you felt as if something was expected of you, as if she had invited you just to watch you. Ironic.

Few eyes glanced your way as you took your time admiring the Murdstone's estate. Upper class fascinated you, elaborate décor and offerings made you feel envious, yet insignificant at the same time.

You weaved through the crowd of people, introducing yourself as you picked up a glass. Most likely you looked out of place, you knew, despite the fact that you were dressed appropriately.

You were intrigued, however, as you desired to learn more about their lives; desired to learn more about her life.

Not to your surprise, as the night progressed you caught her moving throughout the ball room.

She was on a mission as always, it seemed, tending to others needs and wants in hopes of a pleasant ball; in her role of pleasing her brother. Your eyes followed her tall form as you sipped your drink in a corner, absolutely content.

For a while.

Enjoyment flowed through you as you watched others dance, resisting the urge to join in. You hesitated as your heart panged, knowing that the only person you desired to dance with was not within possibility.

Eventually you had lost sight of her, only Mr. Murdstone in the centre of the room dancing with a woman, so you left.

You quietly snuck to the main room of the house, debating on departing until you realized that nobody was around.

Sneaking up the stairs, you ran your hand along the balustrade, stopping at the top to utilize the light of some candles. If anyone caught you, you were searching for the loo.

A large family portrait on the wall greeted you, an eerie feeling overwhelming you at the sight of the Murdstone family.

The mother, a force to be reckoned with. The father, a tyrannical aristocrat. And the son, vindictive.

As your eyes raked over the young girl, however, you realized she was just that, a young girl.

A young girl born into upper class, born into cruelty, born into a life that was not chosen but wholly hers.

You supposed nobody really had a choice.

The candles guided your attention to an open door, the floor creaking when you stepped closer.

You longed to enter, but a deep dreadful feeling in your chest told you not to.

Shaking your head, you stepped away; but your curiosity got the best of you, as always.

The dimly lit room was lined with books and filled with décor, artifacts, and art. It was the most interesting room you had ever known.

You ran your fingers along an open book on the table, the intricate writing making you guess it was that of a woman.

'My father has gotten…better.

I cannot help but wonder if it is too late.

He now asks me why I am so angry, why I raise my voice.

He does not understand that

I learned it all from him.'

You sucked in a breath as your hand traced the ink. Being lost in her deepest written thoughts was…intense.

You turned pages upon pages for more, stopping at the most recent.

'I question my ability to experience the tender emotions of humanity.

To harbor affection in the manner of mortals.

The question for this issue is

Do I have a human soul,

And can I prove it?

And, of course,

There is no definitive answer.'

Your lip began to tremble at the tug of her words, of her thoughts, of her feelings.

She was no ghost, she was no wax figure, she was as real as you, maybe even more so.

As a small tear escaped your eye, a hand landed harshly on your shoulder.

"I knew I would find you here."

An amused but mocking voice.

She spun you around and grasped your neck, fingers reaching until they squeezed and pulled you close.

It felt pleasant, it felt warm, it felt real.

"You fancy yourself sly, following me around, do you not?"

Your eyes widened, hands trembling at her touch, clenching them at your sides.

"Do not presume I failed to notice your presence."

She saw you.

"At first, I thought perhaps you wished me dead, the way you stock me."

She chuckled.

"Then I realized that you made no attempt to be stealthy."

You were at first, but then you got sloppy. You swallowed thickly.

"We share the same interests, do we not?"

You nodded your head the best that you could, you truly did.

A smirk grazed her lips as she brought them to your ear, making you shiver at the proximity.

You closed your eyes.

"Do not think I miss the way you look at me."

She knew, she knew of your attachment.

"Do not think I miss the way you tremble when I'm close."

She knew of the way you craved her.

"Do not think I miss your desire."

 It was incredible, really, how energy made up the universe, how matter was eternal, how it could be neither created nor destroyed.

Both of you, electron orbitals overlap, not separate, but existing as one with her hand around your neck, around your lifeline.

She shook you until you gave in for a breath, until you feared her, until you bent.

But you knew her now, unlike you did before.

You knew she wanted to toy with you, and well, you with her.

You wouldn't say that you were cold, cruel, or that you had ever harmed another; for you were just a little lamb.

But, when she looked at you with disdain, you wished to give her a taste of her own medicine.

You wished to slap the sly look off her face, tell her that she wasn't as cruel or deathly as she thought she was, put her down until she lost her sense of fabricated self and cold exterior- until she found her real self again, warmth staring back at you as her clothing and shell were shed.

See, she was smart, witty, and perceptive, but she wore her heart on her sleeve, intentions written plain as day.

An open book, placed for all to see; but only some to analyze, only some to admire.

You, on the other hand, were sly, smart, and deceiving.

Perhaps she saw you as a dumb, innocent, oblivious young woman; but perhaps that's what you wanted her to think.

Gently, you placed your hands onto her waist, pressing yourself further into her grip.

Your lips met her jawline softly, watching as her mouth opened slightly in a gasp, warm breath fanning across your temple.

You bit your lip in pleasure as a smile spread across your face, you breathed low:

"I suffer, I attach, I crave, and I desire. And I always get what I desire."

[milfsloverblog]

hello! I love your Larissa fic and I was wondering if you would write for Jane Murdstone (ik she is a red flag but I’m colorblind) ? Jane and reader are in a secret relationship, maybe a oneshot about reader waking up in Jane’s bed after they spent the night together ? Some fluff and angst ? Thank you 🛐

A/N: Hi anon!! Thank you for your request, sorry it took me so long to write it. I’m in post con/post meeting Gwen depression lol. I hope this exceeds your expectations, I added some smut because why not ? Thank you again for the request <3

Unlace me (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

TW: smut, internalised homophobia, Jane is a tw in herself

You could talk about it for hours, the feeling of waking up next to Jane for the first time. And yet it was indescribable.

—————

Jane had waltzed into your life a few months ago when her brother had married your Lady. You knew right away that she would be trouble, not only in your Lady’s household but in your personal life too.

What had struck you first was, of course, her height. When she had walked into the kitchen where you had been working to introduce herself, you looked up right in time to see her duck to get through the door. Her face had been hidden by her black bonnet and when she finally lifted her head, you dropped the whisk that you had been holding. Her cerulean eyes looked you up and down and the corner of her lips tugged into what you later learnt to be Jane’s way of smiling.

Your Lady had told you that Miss Murdstone would be living at the manor, ostensibly to relieve you of some of the housework. It didn’t make much sense to you as you’d never complain about the number of chores you had to do, but it was not your place to question your Lady’s decision. Quickly after that, the Murdstones siblings moved into the manor.

It didn’t take you long to realise that Jane Murdstone thought of herself as superior to you, and treated you more as her maid than a fellow housekeeper. And so you had found yourself, more often than not, caring for the tall woman’s needs. Not that you minded, you would be a fool to complain about tending to a woman like Jane.

You had been another kind of fool though, for your heart skipped a beat every time Jane’s eyes bored into yours and your knees went weak each time your name was on her lips. You still had a hard time admitting that you had fallen in love. Not only had you fallen for a woman, but a cruel one at that. One who only seemed to acknowledge you when she needed someone to brush her hair or unlace her corset.

But then again, you didn’t mind. You thought there was something deeply intimate in unlacing the woman’s corset, allowing her to close her eyes and take a deep breath as she stretched her back.

Jane rarely said a word as you helped her disrobe before leading her to the dressing table. You would take the pins off her hair and carefully brush through it, your fingers often lingering there for a second too long once you were done braiding it. And if Jane noticed, she never mentioned it.

Once that was done she would usually gesture towards the door, silently letting you know that your help wasn’t needed anymore. You would nod and leave the room, never forgetting to wish the woman a good night. Jane never answered, but as soon as you were out of the room her lips always spread in a small smile as her fingertips grazed her braided hair. Perhaps she was a foolish woman too.

—————————

You knew that evening would be different as soon as the woman stepped foot inside the manor. You heard her climb the stairs two at a time and close her bedroom door a little too vigorously.

“Miss Murdstone ?” You called from the hallway, waiting for permission to walk in. After a few long seconds of silence, you decided to push the door open and walked inside the room. Jane was standing in front of the tall mirror, hands twisted in her back as she unsuccessfully tried to loosen up her corset. She was muttering something under her breath that sounded unintelligible to you, making her look like a crazy woman.

“Let me help you, I will unlace it.” You said as you took a few long strides, hands reaching for the woman’s back.

“Keep your dirty hands off me!” Jane immediately snapped at you, making your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. “I do not need your help. I do not need you, or anyone else for that matter!” She said nearly out of breath, hands still fumbling with the lacing on the back of her corset.

“Jane for Heaven’s sake! You will make yourself faint, let me help!” You said urgently, so urgently that you didn’t notice you had used her first name until she spun around to face you, her eyes wide and her face flushed.

“How dare you ?!” The tall woman spat the words out and raised her hand, making you flinch as you waited for her palm to hit your cheek.

Jane realised what she was about to do as soon as you flinched and her hand immediately dropped to the side of her body. You were scared of her. You were expecting her to hit you. And she almost had.

A strange feeling crept inside the woman’s chest, making her take a step closer to you.

I am so sorry, please forgive me. Jane wanted to say, but she was unable to. She’d never said those words before and they died in her throat before she even managed to push them out to you.

You watched as Jane’s brows furrowed, her mouth falling slightly open as she seemed to be searching for something to say. Her eyes were filled with something you’d never seen in them, something you did not think Jane Murdstone could feel. Remorse. Guilt.

“I love you.” You whispered barely audibly, eyes still locked on her face. You had no idea why you’d said it, but you did. You knew Jane thrived on power, and you had just given her the power to ruin your life with this simple admission.

And so you waited for her harsh and cruel words to hit you, for her to call you unnatural or deviant, but she didn’t. She let out a shaky breath and the next second her lips were crashing against yours.

It wasn’t soft nor sweet, Jane’s kiss was almost as demanding and almost as bruising as she was. You couldn’t help but wonder if she had wanted this for as long as you had, thought about you the way you had thought about her.

You grabbed her waist, your fingers digging into the fabric of her corset as you pulled the woman impossibly closer. Don’t let go, you wanted to say. But you wouldn’t take the risk to pull away from her lips to speak, too afraid to ruin this moment.

Jane eventually broke the kiss, her blue eyes searching for yours. “Speak.” the word came out sounding like an order and she cleared her throat, her voice softer when she added, “Tell me what you want, what this means to you.”

“You.” You answered, your hand moving to cup her cheek. “I want everything you are willing to give me. I have no idea what this means, I simply…want you.”

The older woman blinked a couple of times, taking in your words. When had anyone ever wanted her? She knew what people thought and said about her, most of it being true. But you, you’d always been nothing but nice to her, even when she rarely returned your kindness.

This isn’t right, Jane. You can not, you should not, the thoughts flooded the woman’s mind.

You could see the fight that was happening inside the tall woman and gently rubbed your thumb on her cheek. “Jane…” you whispered and her blue eyes bored into yours again. You got on your tiptoe and claimed the woman’s lips, making Jane’s hesitation wholly dissipate in an instant.

It was only a matter of seconds before Jane took control of the kiss again, her hands grabbing your waist to push you up against the wall.

Your heart started racing in your chest when you felt one of her hands bunching up your dress. You had never done anything like this before and by the look of it, Jane had way more knowledge on the subject than you did.

Her fingers grasped a handful of your hair, tipping your head back to latch her lips on your neck. You couldn’t hold back the whimper that passed your lips when her mouth sucked on a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear.

“You are such a sweet girl, offering yourself to me so easily.” She whispered in your ear, her hand slipping inside your knickers only to find you soaked. “Have you been thinking about this ?” She wondered aloud.

You felt dizzy, your head spinning when her fingertips grazed your clit. “Please-“ you whined, not even knowing what you were begging for.

“Please-“ Jane mocked you, a low chuckle escaping her throat.

“Look at me.” She demanded and you happily obliged, the tall woman relishing the way your eyes widened when she pushed two fingers inside you until she was in knuckle deep.

There was nothing like it, Jane thought, watching a woman being made love to for the first time. And to be the one making love to her.

You knew Jane was a passionate woman and the way she pulled and pushed her fingers in and out of you in a perfect rhythm only further proved it. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, the older woman curved her digits inside you to rub on a spot that had you writhing against her in a couple of minutes.

“Can you feel it ?” She asked looking into your eyes. “The coil tightening inside you? How close it is to snapping ?”

You answered something unintelligible, your mind hazy from the incessant movements of Jane’s fingers inside you. All you could focus on were the sinful wet noises coming from between your thighs.

You felt something, yes, something growing inside you and on the verge of exploding. And for a second you feared that this is what dying felt like. Oh, what a beautiful way to go it would be, you thought, to die in the arms of the woman you loved and with her lips on your neck.

“I wish we could let the whole household hear you. What would your lady think knowing you are nothing but a depraved whore, fucking a woman under her roof…” Jane grinned, giving your collarbone a harsh nip.

To hell with your lady and the whole household, you’d let the whole world know you were in love with Jane Murdstone if only you could.

“Look at me, please.” You managed to say, feeling your core tighten around Jane’s fingers when her blue eyes locked with yours.

You threw your head back against the wall, the older woman’s name leaving your lips in a streak of moans as you came.

Jane didn’t let it show, but her heart swelled with a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long while, making her hold you a little closer as you came down from your high.

“I love you, Jane.” You repeated, a small giggle escaping your throat as you watched Jane’s cheeks turn a pinkish colour.

“Silly girl.” She simply answered with a shake of the head and turned her back to you. You quickly unlaced her corset and helped her out of her heavy black dress.

You expected her to dismiss you as soon as you’re done braiding her hair but instead, Jane turned around and unbuttoned your dress, leaving you in your underwear.

“Stay for the night.” You knew it was neither a question nor an offer, not that you would have declined anyway.

It felt weird, lying down next to someone else. Next to her. Next to the woman you loved. You wanted to ask what this meant, if there would be more moments like this, or if it had just been a one-time instance. But you stayed quiet, listening to Jane’s breathing becoming slower and evening out as she fell asleep.

“I love you.” You whispered, knowing the older woman couldn’t hear it this time.

—————————

You watched as Jane’s eyes slowly fluttered open and it was the sweetest thing really, waking up next to the woman you loved. But it made you want to cry knowing it was morning and this moment wouldn’t last. In just a moment she would go back to being the cold and often cruel Miss Murdstone, and you would go back to being a housekeeper. But it didn’t matter, you thought, not now that you knew what it felt like to be kissed by her lips and touched by her hands. No, it didn’t matter anymore. You would walk through Hell and back for a chance to wake up next to her again.

[weemssapphic]

I desire. And I crave.

part two

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

series page

summary: Jane fights to recover from her illness. Our dear reader takes care of her, in more ways than one.

words: ~6k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: mentions of illness, blood, mentions of death/near-death experience, soft!Jane but also mistress!Jane if you feel me lol, nsfw (smut) - thigh riding, spanking, fingering, cunnilingus, face-sitting

Jane is drifting in and out of consciousness. She’s dimly aware of a looming presence at her bedside, one that feels vaguely familiar and, for some reason, oddly comforting. She tries to force herself to sit up but her body feels like lead and she can barely open her eyes - when she does, everything is blurred, so she allows her eyelids to fall shut again. She feels so cold - except for her hand. That is strangely warm. Then there’s a sudden warmth on her cheek and she feels a distant pull near her jaw.

She hears a voice and tries hard, so hard, to concentrate on the words that all slur together, indistinguishable from one another. The voice is soft, kind - it somehow brings her great solace, even as her throat constricts and her lungs burn. She registers somewhere deep within her mind that the only voice that has been able to bring her such peace before is yours, and she attempts, again, to fight the ringing in her ears.

“I love you, Jane. Please don’t leave me.” She isn’t sure if she’s actually heard the words or if she’s dreamt them, her mind conjuring up beautiful fantasies for her final moments on earth. A shadow crosses her vision and then there’s a pressure on her forehead.

Jane fights to blink her eyes open again and, this time, succeeds as her eyelids begin to feel lighter and she finds she can focus on your face, hovering mere inches above hers.

She forces herself to speak, her voice weak and hoarse. “W-what did you say?” You freeze above her, eyes wide with panic.

“I’m sorry, milady!” You look frightened and you don’t repeat yourself, and Jane feels as if she’ll go insane if she doesn’t hear those words again, words she is still so sure she’s hallucinated.

“S-say-” she clears her throat - it still hurts, but it no longer feels like she is fighting for air - something within her has gotten lighter. “Say it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut but Jane’s fingers twitch underneath your hand and you open them again, now staring deeply into the half-lidded oceans of blue gazing blearily up at you. “I love you,” you say, your voice shaking. Even as she clings onto the last threads of life, her gaze is piercing and intense - all-consuming. “Jane,” you add quickly.

“I love you.” Could it be? It takes her a few moments to process the words and the weight that they hold. She had never entertained the idea, never dared allow herself to hope that you could return her feelings. She hasn’t heard those three words in a very, very long time, and to hear them from you? 

Jane no longer feels as though she is drowning, tied to a rock and sinking, sinking to the bottom of a deep lake. Everything feels lighter - it’s then that it hits her: her love for you is requited - the disease will fade. Death is not coming to claim her, not quite yet. The thought both thrills and terrifies her - she hadn’t planned for this.

“Foolish girl.” It comes out a strangled whisper - it’s all Jane can muster as she registers the sudden hammering of her heart and the blood rushing to her face. A billion thoughts race through her mind at once but she is too exhausted to linger on any one thought in particular.

Jane looks up at you, observing - the way your cheeks turn pink under her stare, the way you seem to be holding your breath. There’s a certain look in your eyes, a strange look, but one she’s seen before. She could never quite place it and always took it for an unexpressed hatred or contempt of her own abrasiveness. But in this moment, she recognizes it for what it is - hunger. Desire. 

She extracts her hand from your own. Her arm feels heavy but she lifts it higher, higher until she can wrap her hand around the top of your throat, fingertips pressing into your jaw. 

~~~

Jane’s grip is weak but intentional and you find yourself held captive, unable (and, frankly, unwilling) to fight it. You can feel your pulse in your extremities as she drags you forward by the jaw, her sapphire eyes fixated on your lips as her tongue darts out to wet her own. Her intent is quite clear to you as she pulls and pulls until your lips hover over hers, your shaky breaths mingling. 

She seems to want to lift her head, to close the gap, but the effort is too much and she lets out a frustrated growl, so you do it - you crash your lips into hers.

They are cold and slightly cracked, yet still you find yourself needing more. You swipe your tongue over her lower lip, gently insisting she part her lips for you. She does and you lick into her mouth, a metallic taste hitting your tongue - blood, from her earlier coughing. You try to pull away, less out of disgust - you really don’t mind at all, you find - but more out of concern for Jane. She doesn’t let you, however, her fingers holding you firmly in place, her tongue sliding desperately against yours. You whimper into her mouth and she lets out a soft moan in return, muffled against your lips. It’s a heavenly sound, and you want to hear more. You need to hear more. 

Your hands fist at her nightgown and Jane loosens her grip on your jaw to slide her hand behind your ear, fingers curling loosely in your hair. You begin to suck at Jane’s lower lip, hoping she’ll find it pleasurable, and you’re thrilled when she whimpers softly at the sensation.

There’s a weak tug at your hair and you pull back, looking down at Jane who is breathing rather heavily, as if fighting for air. It may take her a while to recover from the disease, you realize - it had been rather advanced.

A part of you is still reeling from the realization that you are the one Jane desires - that you are the one Jane loves. You wish she had told you sooner - you are all too aware of the fact that Jane had been ready to succumb to illness, that she would have died believing her feelings for you were entirely unrequited. But then if she had told you sooner, she wouldn’t be the proud, stubborn woman you’ve found yourself falling in love with.

“Milady…”

“Please- can you please call me Jane when we’re alone?” Her voice is hoarse and pleading, and the request makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Yes, of course. Jane,” you breathe out.

You cannot help yourself - you beam down at her. Her own lips curl up ever so slightly at the corners. The smile does not hold its usual patronizing contempt - it is timid, certainly, but decidedly warm, and you’re sure Jane has not smiled at anyone else like that in the time you’ve known her.

“May I take care of you?” There’s a touch more confidence in your voice as you feel out the new boundaries of your relationship with the other woman. She blinks, remaining silent for a moment. The moment stretches on and on, so long that you’re bracing yourself for rejection, when Jane gives the smallest of nods, her cheeks regaining a touch of color.

~~~

You scurry down to the kitchens as fast as your feet will take you. The other servants look at you curiously but don’t dare say a word. You ask Louise to cook a beef tea for Miss Murdstone - Jane - and have Emily bring it up as soon as it’s finished. In no time at all, you’re letting yourself back into Jane’s chambers, a clean rag in hand which you wet in the basin in the corner of the room and bring to Jane’s bedside.

You use the damp cloth to wipe the blood and sweat off of Jane’s skin - you are gentle and meticulous, and you can feel Jane’s icy blue eyes tracking your every move with curiosity. When you are finished cleaning her up, you turn your attention to the petals covering the bed and the floor, sweeping them up and scrubbing at the dried blood on the floor.

It’s then that you notice that the petals perfectly match those of the phlox you’d gifted Jane - your heart swells, but you don’t comment on it, not wanting to embarrass Jane further.

“Will you allow me to plait your hair?”

“Yes.”

Fetching Jane’s brush, you return to her bedside. “Will you sit up for me?” You place your hands on her shoulders, helping her to a half-seated position so you can reach her hair better. You work the brush through the knots in her raven tresses, allowing your fingertips to linger in the softness of the freshly brushed hair. Before you can get too distracted, you set to work, carefully parting the strands and creating a loose plait, which you gently drape over her shoulder.

A knock at the door startles you - it must be Emily with the beef tea. It is, and you carry it over to Jane, careful not to spill a drop from the bowl, which is filled to the brim.

You bring a spoon full of the broth to Jane’s lips and she parts them slightly, accepting the nourishment without question. You are silent as you feed her, spoonful after spoonful, until the bowl is empty.

You spend the afternoon at Jane’s bedside, gently stroking her arm as she drifts in and out of consciousness. 

~~~ 

The next days pass in much the same way as Jane finally allows you to care for her. She spends most of the following day sleeping - it appears she sorely needs the rest to regenerate. She still refuses to be seen by a doctor, though she allows you to order Emily to bring up teas and broths, and allows you to feed them to her (“I can do it myself,” she says grumpily, but she doesn’t, allowing you to continue bringing the spoon to her lips and accepting the broth without hesitance). 

The first morning that she allows you to care for her, you are adamant about washing her hair. She concedes and you try to make the process as quick for her as possible, as she is still regaining strength. 

In the mornings that follow, you brush and plait her hair, allowing your fingers to linger on each lock, sometimes scratching your nails soothingly along her scalp - your stomach does a backflip when she moans softly at the sensation, and you have to squeeze your legs together to contain the heat that begins to course through your veins at the sensuality of the sound.

As you set about tidying her chambers afterwards, your eyes fall to the drawer of Jane’s nightstand, which is open just a crack. You are about to close it when a flash of white inside catches your eye - opening the drawer, you find petal upon petal; some brilliant white, some flecked with blood. You turn your head to Jane, who stares pointedly towards the window.

“Jane?” You aren’t sure whether the realization that Jane has hidden the illness from everyone by tucking the petals away should make you laugh or cry. It is somehow so very Jane that you almost find it humorous, though the thought of her carrying such a heavy burden all by herself makes your heart clench.

The woman refuses to look at you, though she wrings her hands in her lap and a faint blush colors her cheeks.

“I’ll just clean these up,” you say nonchalantly - it is clear that Jane is uncomfortable. Before you begin collecting the petals to throw away, however, you reach for Jane’s hand, gently stopping her from twisting her fingers as you stroke her knuckles. “I hope you never feel you have to carry such a burden on your own again,” you murmur.

Jane’s gaze falls to your intertwined hands in her lap as she answers. “Thank you.” The words seemingly claw their way out of her throat - they sound hoarse and are wavering with uncertainty, but you cherish them all the same.

~~~

“Will you read to me, little dove?” she asks one afternoon as she sits in bed after you’ve helped her change into a fresh nightgown, and you grin at her, reaching for the book of poems on her nightstand which you’ve been reading from in the past afternoons. 

You settle on the chair next to her bed that you have been inhabiting and open the tome, though before you can begin to read, Jane’s hand on your arm makes you pause.

You meet her gaze and she looks almost shy, hesitating before she speaks. When she does, her voice is low, barely audible.

“Will you sit with me?” Her request has you puzzled - you are sitting with her - until she shifts over slightly and you realize she wants you to sit on the bed with her. You feel your cheeks warm and your pulse quicken, and Jane senses your hesitation and begins to backtrack.

“It was a foolish idea, forget it,” she all but growls, glaring sullenly into her lap.

You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically, rising from your chair and walking around to the other side of the bed. Jane tracks your movements carefully.

“If it was a foolish idea then I’m a foolish girl,” you remark, waving your hands at Jane as if to say “move over” and climbing into bed next to her. You ignore her furrowed brow, likely a response to you commanding her around, and flip through the book of poetry until you find something you think Jane will like, then begin to read.

“What shall I send my sweet today, When all the woods attune in love? And I would show the lark and dove, That I can love as well as they.”

You can feel Jane’s eyes upon you, her gaze unwavering and intense, and your cheeks turn pink but you continue.

“I’ll send a locket full of hair-- But no, for it might chance to lie Too near her heart, and I should die Of love’s sweet envy to be there.” As you read to her, Jane gravitates closer and closer. 

“A violet is sweet to give-- Ah stay! She’d touch it with her lips, And after such complete eclipse, How could my soul consent to live?”

At first your thighs touch, then your arms, then she is all but clinging to you. You pretend not to notice.

“I’ll send a kiss for that would be The quickest sent, the lightest borne, And well I know tomorrow morn She’ll send it back again to me.”

Jane reaches up and plays with the soft ringlets of your hair that rest on your shoulders, causing your breathing to stutter. 

“Go, happy winds; ah, do not stay, Enamoured of my ladies cheek, But hasten home and I’ll bespeak Your services another day!”

Jane buries her hand in your hair, her nails gently scratching your scalp. You let out a contented sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you turn the page to the next poem. Jane, however, appears to have other plans, and she plucks the book from your hands.

You open your eyes and gaze curiously at her as she drops the book rather unceremoniously on the nightstand, turning her attention back to you. Her sapphires shine with an uncharacteristic warmth as her fingers reach out for your face, stroking your cheek with unexpected gentleness. 

“Jane?” It comes out a strangled whisper. The longer you gaze into her eyes, the greater the desire within you becomes, until the flames of your lust are roaring, licking at your insides, threatening to burn you down.

Jane is the first to move, closing the gap between the two of you as her lips crash desperately into your own. They are warm and soft now, and you melt into her. She wraps an arm around your waist, splaying her hand across your lower back and forcefully pushing until you are almost on top of her. Her other hand curls itself into your hair, long fingers brushing against your scalp as she finds purchase in the soft tresses before tightening her grip and tugging lightly, eliciting a gasp from your lips. The slight pain of the hair pulling feels delicious in contrast to the gentleness of Jane’s tongue as she explores your mouth, and you can’t help but push yourself flush against the older woman.

You suddenly feel starved, as though you’ve never been touched in your life and now you can’t get enough - and it’s true, a kind hand is rare in your line of work, and Jane has never made a move to hug you or anything of the sort. But right now, it is another kind of touch you seek, a touch you have only experienced once before, in your clumsy youth, that you had never dared dream you would receive from your mistress. Jane.

The hunger you feel for the woman is overwhelming and you feel you may perish if you aren’t able to touch her, if she doesn’t touch you in return. There is a throbbing between your legs and an inferno spreading outwards from your core and your lips tingle where they meet Jane’s, your lower back burns where her hand rests.

Jane’s tongue brushes against your own and you cannot help the wanton groan that escapes your throat. The noise appears to send Jane over the edge, all sense of propriety long forgotten - she sinks down and pulls you fully on top of her, both hands coming to the skirt of your dress and pulling it up over your hips.

Your breathing becomes labored as you feel her hands on the swell of your ass, as her fingers drift tantalizingly close to your core. You fist at her nightgown, tugging it upward to signal that you want it gone. Jane tuts at your impatience, but removes her hands from your body long enough to undo the buttons, the garment falling away from her front.

Your breath hitches audibly in your chest, your pupils dilating as you are met with the sight of her bare breasts, nipples hardened against the chill in the air. Being that you’ve helped her dress nearly every morning for the better part of two years, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. But this time, the context is wildly different, and a heady sort of dizziness overtakes you as you allow your eyes, for the first time, to roam freely over the soft, small mounds and the smooth, pale flesh.

Jane squirms underneath you and you meet her gaze to see her looking, for the first time, a little unsure of herself.

“You are beautiful,” you murmur, certain she can hear the awe in your voice for she blushes furiously and shakes her head.

“Silly girl,” she whispers back, before chasing your lips with her own.

You shift above her until her leg is slotted between yours and then you push down, smearing your wetness (and you are drenched) along her thigh as you rock back and forth. Jane gasps into your mouth, causing you to smile and spurring you on.

“Can you feel how much I desire you?” you ask boldly, your lips brushing against hers. You are almost nervous you’ve gone too far when Jane pauses for a moment, her breath coming out in short puffs against your lips. Then her hands grip desperately at your hips and she flexes her thigh against your center, causing you to cry out at the newly-found friction against your swollen bundle of nerves.

You grind down on Jane’s thigh, leaving a trail of slick along the smooth, milky expanse of skin. Jane’s hands push you firmly down, and you begin to gyrate your hips, finding a steady rhythm which builds the heat in your core. Jane’s kisses are hard and demanding, and the way she whimpers into your mouth at each roll of your hips sends you careening towards the edge of pleasure.

The coil behind your navel tightens. “Jane, I think- ah- I think I’m-” You are cut off by the older woman’s lips attaching themselves to your neck, quickly finding your pulse point and sucking, hard, before biting down. 

You moan and then Jane licks at your pulse point and the coil snaps. Pure ecstasy explodes within you, your release made even sweeter by the fact that you feel Jane’s arms wrap around your torso and pull you close. You ride out the wave of pleasure on Jane’s thigh, milking her leg with your juices, dimly aware of how Jane peppers every inch of your face with sloppy kisses as you come down from your high. You collapse on top of her, the aftershocks of your orgasm still running through you. 

You peer up at Jane through your lashes. She is looking down at you, barely a sliver of sapphire visible in her eyes as her pupils dilate. Her cheeks are flushed and you can feel her chest heave underneath you. 

Finding some strength within you, you push yourself up so that you are straddling her stomach. Your sticky center rests against her bare skin and she parts her lips, letting out a ragged breath. You push the nightgown off her shoulders and down her arms - she doesn’t protest, simply watches you curiously.

You shift down her body, your fingers finding the waistband of her drawers and dragging them down her long legs. You watch her the entire time - her face is unreadable, though you can tell from the arousal that coats her thighs that she is enjoying this immensely. You begin to unbutton the collar of your own dress, but Jane sits up and her hands swat your own away and continue the process for you. 

She seems to have regained control of the situation as she forces the dress over your head, then all but rips your chemise off your body.

“Impatient, are we?” you chuckle, then you freeze as Jane’s eyes grow dark and she glowers at you. Definitely too far. You gulp as Jane curls her hand in your hair, taking it by the fistful and pulling harshly, causing you to gasp in pain.

“Don’t think I will tolerate brattiness just because it’s you,” Jane says, her voice almost sickeningly sweet.

“Are you going to punish me?” you whisper, unable to keep a hint of excitement out of your voice.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jane smiles as you whimper and she places her hands on your waist, bending you to her will. “Over my lap, girl.”

You oblige, settling over Jane’s legs then sticking your ass into the air, heart pounding as you realize what is to come. Jane pulls your drawers down your legs, exposing your soft flesh, then brings a cool hand to one of your butt cheeks, caressing it almost lovingly, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze.

The hand retracts and then, quite suddenly, comes down on your cheek with full force. You yelp at the sting. She caresses the area once more, her soft, barely-there touch a delicious contrast to the painful warmth that remains after the slap. Then she retracts her hand once more and you tense as it comes down again, with even more force than the first time. The smack echoes through the room and you let out a strangled groan, but you are too far gone to care whether anyone else in the house can hear you.

You sniffle as tears begin to collect in your eyes. Jane spanks you again, and again, and you can feel your arousal building with each harsh slap, leaking out of your core and dripping down onto Jane’s thighs. Tears stream down your cheeks at what must be tenth or so smack, and then you hear Jane whispering praises into your ear as she strokes your sore flesh.

“Oh, darling, you’re dripping,” Jane coos sweetly. Her fingers dance over your inner thighs and you push your hips back in pure desperation.

“Jane, please” you whimper, and Jane removes her hand.

“When I’m punishing you, it’s mistress,” she says firmly, and you moan at her commanding tone.

“Please, mistress, I need you.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” You can almost hear the smirk in Jane’s voice as she swipes a finger through your folds, gathering your wetness. She begins drawing languid circles over your clit. You are still sensitive from your first orgasm, and each direct touch to the bundle of nerves sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. 

She circles your entrance with two fingers, chuckling as you let out a strangled noise and shimmy your hips, begging her to enter you. The fingers dip into your core, just an inch or so, then pull out. 

“Mis- ah-” You cry out as the fingers plunge forcefully into your hole. Jane doesn’t give you time to adjust - rather, she begins a brutal pace, stretching you out with every thrust of her hand. She curls her fingers, immediately finding the sweet spot inside of you that has you seeing stars - she seems awfully skilled and you wonder, briefly, if she has done this with other maids before you - but then her fingers reach deeper and any form of rational thought or worry is quickly forgotten. 

The wet noises coming from her ministrations inside of you are obscene - these, coupled with the heavy breaths you can hear Jane take above you, send you barreling towards your release. 

“Do you want to come, little dove?” Jane’s tone is sweet and her voice gentle, but there is a dominant edge hidden in her words - you rock your hips up into her hand in response, mewling as her fingers slow their pace while she waits for a verbal response. 

“P-please, mistress,” you manage to stutter out, your core tightening. 

“Very well. You may,” Jane says airily, her fingers speeding up their pace once more as her thumb brushes against your clit. Your moans increase in both volume and vulgarity and you cry out as your second orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You screw your eyes shut, sinful noises falling out from between your parted lips as you clench around her fingers.

It takes you a few moments before your pleasure evens out and you are able to think clearly again. Jane pulls her fingers out of your swollen pussy and gently brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead. You shift so that you are no longer lying across Jane’s lap - you sit up to face her.

“Aren’t you a noisy one?” Jane taunts, a predatory smirk spreading across her face. “I wonder how I’ll explain those heavenly moans to Edward, hmm? Or perhaps I should have you explain them yourself?”

Your face turns scarlet and your breathing stutters. You are embarrassed and a little afraid, both at being found by Mr. Murdstone and at somehow disappointing your mistress (your lover? What exactly were you to Jane now?). 

You duck your head, unable to meet Jane’s gaze, but then you feel long, slim fingers take hold of your chin and force you to look up. There’s a seductive glint in Jane’s eyes and she holds her own chin high as she tilts your face once to each side, as if appraising you. 

“Good thing Edward isn’t home right now,” she murmurs as she leans in, her breath ghosting over your face as her lips stop inches away from yours. The close proximity makes you dizzy - you feel you will go delirious with desire if she doesn’t kiss you.

Instead, her lips bypass yours - she plants a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat until she reaches your sternum, just below where the collar of your dress usually begins. She nips at the skin there, sending a delicious chill down your spine, then begins to suck fervently. 

“Let me show you who you belong to,” she whispers against the bruising flesh.

Jane pulls back and your eyes travel down her body. Her cunt is glistening with arousal - heat pools at the apex of your thighs, and you are overcome with the need to please her. 

“See something you like?” A low, sultry voice spurs you into action. You press a searing kiss to Jane’s lips before kissing your way down her body until you reach her nipples. Your tongue darts out, soothing over the hardened bud and drawing a gasp from Jane’s throat. You look up through your lashes, watching how she leans back against the pillows, her lips parting to let out shaky breaths as your tongue swirls around her nipple.

“Can you- can you bite it?” she rasps out and you do as you’re told - she makes a soft, strangled noise and arches her back off the bed. You switch sides, giving her other nipple the same attention - soon, Jane is squirming underneath you.

Deciding enough is enough, you kiss your way down her stomach - it is soft and heavenly and you spend longer than necessary pressing your lips to every inch of skin you can reach, until Jane decides she cannot wait any longer and grips you by the hair, pulling you off of her. 

“Lay back,” she instructs, her tone so authoritative that you don’t dare argue. You do as you’re told, settling on your back and watching curiously as Jane swings one leg over your body, positioning herself above you. She scoots up until her pussy is in line with your face - sturdy thighs encase your head, boxing you in. Her hands grip the headboard tightly, steadying herself as she lowers herself onto your face.

You freeze - this is a far cry from the clumsy groping you took part in as a teenager. You want to please her, but you have never done this before and you are unsure you will measure up - from the way Jane moves, she seems to have far more experience. Jane seems to notice your hesitance - you are nervous that she will be angry. Instead, you see her face soften as she looks down at you.

“Are you alright, little dove?” she coos, and you swallow thickly, searching for the right words, your pulse hammering in your throat.

“Y-yes, mistress,” you breathe out, your voice shaking slightly. “I am afraid I won’t be… adequate?” Your voice rises at the end of the sentence as if posing a question.

Jane shifts her thigh back so that she can reach down and cup your cheek. Her hand is warm and reassuring and you melt into her touch.

“Would you like to stop?” she murmurs, and you take a moment to consider. Finally, you shake your head ‘no’.

“Can I… I would like to try. Please?” You bite your lip and Jane smiles fondly down at you.

“Very well.” Jane shifts so that she is hovering over you again. “You can place your hands here.” She taps her thigh and you reach up, wrapping your arms around her thighs - it steadies you a bit, it feels grounding and reassuring.

“Are you ready?” Jane asks.

“Yes.”

She lowers herself until her cunt is inches away from your mouth. Hesitantly, you bring your tongue to her center, licking a broad strip from her entrance to her clit. Her juices coat your tongue - they taste absolutely divine - mostly salty, a little sweet, like nothing you’ve ever tasted before. You groan against her pussy - you feel you could get drunk on the taste of her alone. The vibrations of your groan send a jolt of pleasure through Jane’s body and causes her to moan breathily in return. 

You lick a bit more firmly this time and you can feel Jane pushing herself down onto your tongue, grinding gently. Your tongue flicks at her clit and she whimpers, her grinding slowly becoming more insistent. You can hardly breathe and your jaw is beginning to cramp - you wonder if you might suffocate, but think there would be no better way to go than buried between Jane Murdstone’s thighs.

You alternate between running your tongue through her folds and sucking her swollen bundle of nerves. Her pelvis rocks against your face, insistently guiding your tongue to where she needs you the most.

“Doing- so- well,” she praises as she grinds her hips down particularly hard and your tongue slips into her entrance slightly, causing her to stifle a moan. 

Taking note of her reaction, you stick your tongue in her entrance, as far as you can reach - you feel her walls flutter around it, and the sensation causes your own walls to clench around nothing, your core pulsing and throbbing with desire for the woman above you.

A few thrusts of your tongue have Jane’s thighs tightening around your ears, her muscles rippling underneath your hands. You hold her firmly in place as her hips lose their rhythm, bucking erratically onto your face.

“Right th-there,” she pants, whimpering as your nose brushes against her clit. You think she may come soon, and you are right - she lets out a soft cry, her thighs trembling around your head as her arousal leaks out of her core in a steady stream. You catch it on your tongue and swallow greedily. You cannot see her face from this angle - she has thrown her head back - but you wish you could. Perhaps next time.

Once she stills above you, her legs loosening their hold on your head, you lap up the remaining evidence of her orgasm, cleaning her essence from her thighs. She jumps slightly as your tongue brushes against her sensitive clit - you squeeze her thighs in reassurance.

Jane swings her leg back around and sinks down next to you. Her expression is nothing short of pure bliss - her eyes are heavy-lidded, her skin beautifully flushed and sheening with a thin layer of sweat, her lips parted to let out heavy breaths. Her chest rises and falls erratically and she regards you with those icy irises, a mixture of contentment and smugness swirling deep within her pupils.

“Sweet girl.” Her voice is raspy and low and if you weren’t so spent already, it would have you ready again within seconds. She cups your cheek, her thumb tracing along your lower lip. You chase her thumb with your lips, sucking it briefly into your mouth, your eyes never leaving hers, which widen slightly at your boldness.

“Cheeky,” she comments, lips curving up into an approving smirk.

The two of you lie together for quite some time, bare legs intertwined, as Jane’s breathing evens out. The room is growing darker and you realize with a heavy heart that you must soon leave her - if you don’t show up for supper, the others will begin to ask questions.

You relay your worries to Jane, who nods in understanding and allows you to extricate your limbs from her own. You wince at the leftover stickiness between your legs - Jane notices and tells you to stay put as she gets up to grab a clean rag and wets it in the basin in the corner of her room. 

“Spread your legs," she murmurs impatiently as you simply gawk at her. You do as you’re told and she brings the cloth to your inner thighs, gently wiping away the remnants of your arousal.

“Thank you,” you whisper - you had never pegged Jane for a gentle lover, and maybe she isn’t entirely, but even this level of care is a completely new side to her that you hadn’t seen before.

Dressing quickly, you allow Jane to - wordlessly - help you with your hair. It takes twice as long this way - she is clumsy with the pins, focusing more on running her hands through the soft curls and pressing her nose to your scalp - but eventually you look acceptable and you make to leave - you will be late for supper, but you don’t care, not when you’ve spent all afternoon with Jane. You curtsey as you reach the door.

Jane snorts. “There’s no need for such formalities when we’re alone,” she chuckles. You blush and nod, unsure what to say. “Have Emily leave my supper at the door. Will you come back tonight?”

“Yes, mil- Jane. If it pleases you.”

“It pleases me,” she teases, her voice lighter than you’ve heard it since the beginning of her illness.

x

one more part to go!

tags: @dianneking @yourlocaldisneyvillain @anti-bright-places @mrs-hilmarson @rainbow-hedgehog @s-c-rambledegggs @sapphicsbeloved @eveymay @scream-queenlover @orchidsshine

[weemssapphic]

I desire. And I crave.

part one

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

series page

summary: Jane Murdstone suffers from Hanahaki Disease. The object of her affections? Her lady’s maid. Too bad she would rather feel the cold embrace of death than confess her feelings. ~ For those unfamiliar with the Hanahaki Disease trope: HD is a (fictional, lol) disease where someone begins coughing up flower petals because they have unrequited feelings for someone. If not treated, the disease is fatal. Treatment is either a. the feelings become requited, or b. surgery (the caveat here is that the feelings for that person disappear entirely).

words: ~5k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: slight angst/angst with a happy ending, Hanahaki Disease, blood, mentions of death/near-death experience, fear of death, unrequited love (or is it), hints of soft!Jane but also angry!Jane

That man to me seems equal to the gods,             the man who sits opposite you             and close by listens             to your sweet voice

            and your enticing laughter—             that indeed has stirred up the heart in my breast.             For whenever I look at you even briefly             I can no longer say a single thing,

            but my tongue is frozen in silence;             instantly a delicate flame runs beneath my skin;             with my eyes I see nothing;             my ears make a whirring noise.

            A cold sweat covers me,             trembling seizes my body,             and I am greener than grass.             Lacking but little of death do I seem.

Sappho 31

Jane Murdstone doesn’t have a soft spot for anyone. She prides herself on her calculating, cunning manner, takes joy in inciting just a little bit of fear in those she comes in contact with. A little healthy intimidation keeps people on their toes - and, in Jane’s mind, there is nothing worse than a person who is lazy or slow-witted.

No, Jane doesn’t have a soft spot for anyone. Except perhaps her lady’s maid. And only a little bit, really. It’s just that Jane has rarely met anyone who is able to keep with her like you are. 

What had first endeared her to you had been how quickly you’d caught on to your duties when you’d been hired, and how extremely meticulous you are - outshining any other maid or servant she’d ever employed with your eye for detail. 

What has her swooning (if, of course, she were even the type to swoon, which she isn’t, thank you very much), is realizing how your intelligence and quick-wit rival her own. 

She has often even caught you smiling slightly when she’s made a cutting, sarcastic remark towards another servant. Others cower in fear (which has an appeal all of its own), but you are unphased, seeming to appreciate her wit like no one else - it makes Jane’s heart flutter in a most unfamiliar way.

Today, Jane sits at her vanity, allowing you to pin up her hair for the day. She watches you in the mirror - you avoid her gaze, focusing intently on ensuring not a single hair is out of place, which gives her the freedom to stare. Her eyes track your movements, the painstaking way in which you push each pin into place, the concentrated way in which your pink tongue darts out ever so slightly and your brow furrows as you work.

Her gaze lingers on that tongue of yours, between full, soft lips, and Jane feels a warmth spread through her core. Her entire body tingles as your fingers brush against the nape of her neck, the gentle touch sending a shiver down her spine. She curses internally at herself - she should not be having such sinful feelings or thoughts about a maid. But you aren’t just a maid, are you?

She knows that her feelings aren’t professional. But you don’t seem interested in her anyway, only engaging in conversation when spoken to (although, really, that is what Jane had initially requested) - and you’re young, anyway, much younger than she is. She realizes she hasn’t had many personal conversations with you - she certainly doesn’t know where your interests lie. Men, women? Perhaps both? She allows herself to get lost in her musings, to indulge in the thoughts of lustful fantasies that will never come to fruition.

You push the final pin into place and look up, catching Jane’s eye in the mirror. Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush, and Jane quickly averts her gaze.

“Is it to your liking, milady?” comes your voice, slightly timid and perhaps a bit breathless.

“It’ll do,” Jane replies airily, regarding herself in the mirror. Of course it is to her liking - she has never felt more beautiful since you’ve come into her service - her previous lady’s maid had never been able to do her hair just right (her work, in general, had been so sloppy compared to yours).

As Jane rises to her feet, her thoughts, regrettably, lingering on you, she feels a tickle in the back of her throat. She begins to cough. It takes several seconds for the cough to ease up, and when it does there is a strange burning in her lungs that has her pressing her hand to her chest.

She turns to find your hesitant gaze upon her.

“Are you feeling ill, milady? Shall I make you a mustard plaster?”

Jane scoffs. She doesn’t feel ill. “Don’t be absurd, girl. It will pass. Fetch me some pepper tea and begin the rest of your duties, before you fall behind.”

“Yes, of course, milady. Right away.” You nod curtly, your gaze still curious and uncertain, before turning on your heel and hurrying down to the kitchens. Jane scolds herself for the longing she feels for your presence as soon as you vacate the room, shaking her head lightly and perching at her vanity to await your return, her throat beginning to tickle with another cough.

~~~

You’ve been working as a lady’s maid for Jane Murdstone for close to two years now - and they have been, for the most part, the most comfortable years of your life. After a bit of a rocky start (it had taken you quite a bit of time to be able to properly decipher Jane’s moods and get used to her cold demeanor and cutting, sometimes even cruel remarks) you’d settled into your routine and even gotten to like the abrasive woman.

She isn’t exactly kind to you - you aren’t sure if she’s ever been kind to anyone in her life - but she doesn’t seem to show quite as much disdain towards you as she does towards the other servants. She seems to recognize your diligence and intelligence, traits that she appears to value, and though she’s never openly thanked you for anything, she sometimes gives you a look of approval when you manage to anticipate her needs without her having to speak them aloud. That look alone always makes your heart beat just a little faster.

In turn, you admire her quick wit and sharp tongue, her ability to use words as a weapon and find a smart response to anything within a matter of seconds - you wish you possessed these traits, although you sometimes wish she would go a bit easier on others, particularly the other servants. 

You adore her intelligence and share her love for poetry (sometimes, she asks you to read to her and, recently, she has occasionally started to ask your opinion on certain lines - it makes you nervous, but you would do anything to please her). 

And she is beautiful. Her silky raven hair accentuates the icy blue of her eyes and her fair skin, while her unusual height and soft curves never fail to bring a flush to your cheeks. You often wonder how she hasn’t found a husband yet - if you were a man, you’d have already asked her hand in marriage long ago. There must have been suitors in her youth - you imagine a young Jane Murdstone, fresh-faced and innocent, and you shiver. She likely thinks herself too good for the likes of some foolish man, you think. Which she is, of course…

Pinning up her long, dark tresses always brings you more joy than you care to admit. Sometimes, if your mistress appears to be in a particularly pleasant mood, you allow your fingers to linger in the lush locks, taking your time with each and every wave. It is almost a sensual experience for you, though you would never admit it out loud. Definitely not to Jane herself.

When you finish with her hair and look up to find her regarding you in the mirror, you worry she has sensed your dawdling and is gearing up to reprimand you. Her response, however, indicates she is pleased with your work (you’ve learned that “it’ll do” is often the highest praise you’ll receive from your mistress, and, for that, it makes your heart swell).

A brief coughing fit causes you concern, and, of course, Jane refuses to allow you to properly care for her. It is not your place to argue, though, so you do as you’re told and scamper down to the kitchens. You leave the cup of tea on Jane’s vanity, then dismiss yourself to begin patching up a dress that Jane had requested you fix.

~~~

Jane’s cough appears to worsen over time, though she doesn’t necessarily appear ill. It puzzles you as much as it troubles you - she refuses every attempt from your side at finding a cure, be it a home remedy or allowing the doctor to stop by.

You decide to do something kind for her to ease her worries - you can sense the cough is beginning to perplex her as well, though she doesn’t say anything. Rising early, well before you are to assist Jane with dressing, you sneak into the gardens, intending to pick some flowers for your mistress.

Your eyes immediately land on the white phlox decorating the garden path. You are painfully aware that Jane is well-versed in the language of flowers, as ladies of her status often are, and would likely assign a meaning to whatever bloom you gift her, so you must be cautious. White phlox seem safe enough - pure intentions, honest commitment, faithfulness - all sentiments that can easily be written off as your devotion as a servant, with little room for misinterpretation.

Methodically snipping off a fistful of flowers near the edge of the flowerbed, where they won’t be missed, you find a small, ornate vase for the blooms and carry the bouquet carefully up to Jane’s bedroom.

You knock, as you do every morning, waiting for Jane’s smooth voice to call out “you may enter” before slipping in through the door.

“Good morning, milady.” You curtsey as best you can with the vase held firmly in your hands. “I brought you a small gift.”

Icy blue eyes fall to the bouquet, widening ever so slightly. You think you see a blush creep up her cheeks, though you quickly write it off as a trick of the light - you’ve never seen your mistress blush before.

“What’s the occasion?” Her eyes don’t leave the bouquet as she speaks, and she takes a step towards you as if transfixed.

“None, milady. I wanted to give you a token of my appreciation, is all. You have been very good to me in my time here - I hope the flowers can brighten your day.” You try not to blush or stutter as you speak, though Jane’s impenetrable gaze (that has begun to track every inch of your face) makes this difficult for you.

She is silent for a moment, as if allowing your words to sink in, her face an impassive mask. Finally, she speaks.

“They are very pretty.” She clears her throat. “Please place them on my nightstand.”

Her lips curve upward, stretching timidly towards her ears as she watches you follow her orders, and your heart races. When you turn back to face her again you can sense a hint of admiration shining through in those piercing eyes of hers, and it makes you giddy.

~~~

Jane’s cough is persistent. It doesn’t ease up as the days and weeks go on, and Jane wonders if maybe she should see a doctor, or allow you to try some other form of home remedy - even though she appears not to have any other symptoms of illness. These worries are always brief in nature, however, and she manages to push the thoughts of illness far from her mind. Until one morning just after you’ve left her bedroom, having brought her a small bouquet of white phlox from the garden.

As she admires the flowers, her thoughts drifting to the faint blush that had colored your cheeks as you’d gifted them to her, Jane feels a weight on her chest, accompanied by a light tickle at the back of her throat. The tickle quickly turns into a scratch and before she knows it, she begins to cough again. She covers her mouth and when she pulls her hand away, there is a single tiny, white petal nestled in her palm. She recognizes the petal immediately - it looks just like the petals of the phlox that decorate her nightstand. 

She furrows her brow. It can’t be… She shakes the thought from her head as quickly as it comes, tucking the petal into the drawer of her nightstand - she knows no one would dare open it - and clears her throat, the scratchy feeling already fading.

~~~

You are lacing up Jane’s corset as usual, trying to tamp down the blush that dusts your cheeks when your fingertips occasionally brush against Jane’s back. Unable to help yourself, you allow your fingers to linger just a moment longer - too long. Jane stiffens under your touch and you wonder if you’ve pushed too far, but then she begins to cough and sputter and you drop the laces of the corset as if burned. 

“Milady… are you alright?” you ask apprehensively, concerned by the exaggerated heaving of Jane’s chest. 

“Leave,” she rasps out, raising her hand to cover her mouth. You stand rooted to the spot, too worried to heed Jane’s warning - and you are sure it was a warning. 

“You insolent girl, I said leave!” she croaks, not sparing you a glance. The venom in her voice between coughs surprises you and spurs you into action - you rush out of the room, not daring to linger long enough to curtsey, shutting the door behind you. Jane’s coughs can be heard just a moment longer, before they begin to subside.

You return to your own chambers, pacing nervously as you wait for further instruction - the rest of your morning duties would involve tidying your lady’s chambers, but you are almost certain you aren’t currently welcome there. 

A knock shortly thereafter causes you to bolt to the door, smoothing your skirt before opening it just a crack. You feel a weight on your chest when you see the younger chambermaid, Emily, standing before you. 

“Hello, Miss. I am to inform you that Miss Murdstone is not feeling well today. She does not require your presence and requests you do not attend to her chambers,” Emily says timidly. 

You stare at her in shock. “O-okay.”

Emily digs around in her apron and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I am to give you this as well, so you’ll have alternative duties to perform.”

Numbly, you take the paper, thanking Emily who nods in sympathy and turns to leave. You unfold the paper and scan the list - they are tedious duties, busy-work, and you are sure you will be finished quickly; things like replacing the water in the flower vases, dusting the books in the library, fixing up a loose thread in the sleeve of your mistresses overcoat.

You carry out these duties with a heavy heart, trying to keep your mind from wandering to Jane, from wondering what is wrong with her and why she won’t allow you to attend to her. The last time she was ill, you’d been asked to wait on her hand and foot, bringing her medicine and water and reading to her at her bedside. You wonder if you’ve done something to offend her - the thought alone makes you sick with worry.

~~~

Days turn into weeks and Jane withdraws more and more. You have come to expect a list of daily duties waiting for you by Jane’s door - you are no longer given permission to enter her bedroom, a room which Jane now seldom exits. 

Rumors about Jane’s illness spread amongst the servants - you, being her lady’s maid, are eyed curiously by the others at mealtimes, though no one dares to question you about the mysterious cough that has Jane retreating from society, not showing up to supper and refusing any form of sustenance that is brought up to her bedroom.

One morning, you see Emily exit Jane’s chambers. At first, your blood boils - why is Emily given permission to enter Jane’s chambers, and you aren’t? What’s so special about Emily? What have you done to displease Jane?

Then your eyes drop to the bedsheets that Emily carries. Brilliant white, dotted with specks of deep red. You feel as though your heart drops all the way down to your feet - you are certain it would drop even further if that were at all possible. Your mind races - that can’t be blood? If it is… then Jane is more ill than you’d thought. 

Your stomach churns and you make eye contact with Emily, who doesn’t bother to hide the worry on her face as she rushes past you, attempting to shield the sheets from view. You consider pestering Emily about Jane’s condition, however your pride is too great - you would have to admit that Jane no longer trusts you enough to speak with you, let alone see you. You are sure everyone knows by now anyway, but you refuse to admit it aloud.

You perform your duties half-heartedly and with a hollow pit in your stomach, often lingering outside Jane’s bedroom door when no one else is around. Occasionally you hear fits of coughing, and they often sound strangled, as if she is choking on something.

The first few times, you call out to her, asking if she is alright. At first, she asks you to leave, in a harsh yet utterly spent tone. After a while, she stops responding at all - and then, even later, you stop asking, choosing to simply lurk for a moment before carrying on with your day. 

It is a random Tuesday when you decide to try again - you bring a cup of her favorite tea, clinging to a tiny tendril of hope that she will be pleased at your thoughtfulness. You knock on Jane’s bedroom door, receiving no answer. 

“Milady, I have brought you some tea. May I come in?”

Still, no answer.

“I’ll just come in for a moment to leave the tea with you, milady.”

You push open the door as you’re speaking and walk up to Jane’s bedside, determined. If Emily can, then so can you, you think. 

Jane is livid.

You barely have a moment to appraise her, to assess the state of her illness, before rage settles over her features. She pushes herself up from the bed with great effort, closing the short distance between the two of you and ripping the porcelain cup out of your hands. The dark liquid sloshes over the rim of the cup and stains the rug underneath your feet - Jane either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Get. Out.” Jane grits out, her voice scratchy like sandpaper, and you shrink back, taking slow, tentative steps backwards towards the door. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat - you have rarely seen Jane in such a blind rage, and it has never been directed at you before. 

“Please, milady, I only wish to help! If you could just-”

“NOW!” Jane bellows, lifting the hand that holds the teacup. You know she is about to throw it - you rush out the door, closing it behind you as the cup smashes against the wood, shattering instantly. 

That night, you have trouble sleeping. The shattering of the porcelain still rings in your ears, the fury on Jane’s face at the mere sight of you is imprinted on the back of your eyelids when you close your eyes. Your heart aches, grieving for Jane’s health - and for the loss of Jane’s presence in your life.

A few weeks after the incident, you overhear a conversation in hushed tones behind the closed door of Mr. Murdstone’s office that brings tears to your eyes:

“-sister. Is she still ill?” It is the voice of Mr. Browning, a business associate of Mr. Murdstone.

“Gravely, I’m afraid.” The usually impassive Mr. Murdstone, who has never sounded anything less than harsh and confident, clears his throat - his voice has wavered and this alone alarms you greatly.

“Is there a prognosis?”

“She refuses to allow anyone to see her, even her lady’s maid. I am unsure of the nature of the illness but it seems-” he clears his throat again. “-it seems she won’t make it past the turn of the season.”

You turn away from the door - you’ve heard enough. Bile rises in your throat, and your knees buckle as your legs threaten to give away underneath you - you take unsteady steps to your room, allowing yourself a moment to break down in the solace of your bed as the tears you’ve managed to keep at bay begin to fall, staining the pillow beneath your head like a patchwork of droplets.

~~~

Jane knows what’s wrong. No one else may know it, but Jane knows it, and it fills her with a sense of dread she’s never felt before.

At first she’d thought nothing of her cough. But once the petals began expelling themselves from her throat, she knew. Hanahaki Disease was rare, but she’d seen it in action before. She always thought herself above it all - she wasn’t one to give her heart out so easily, she wasn’t foolish enough to feel something for someone who didn’t want her. And, since no one wanted her, it was quite easy not to want in return.

But she’d overestimated herself. And she’d allowed herself to show softness, to show weakness. She’d allowed herself to fall in love. 

It had slipped through her grasp, that pesky feeling, trickling smoothly through the hairline cracks in her metaphorical armor like a tiny stream, going entirely unnoticed until it was too late.

And now, she is paying the price. Of course, Jane thinks bitterly as she sits at the edge of her bed, recovering from a particularly harsh coughing fit, glowering down at the petals in her hand as if they’d personally aggrieved her. Of course she would fall for the one person she can’t have. Someone who holds no love for her in their heart. 

A fitting end for cruel, cold Jane Murdstone. Dying unwanted and unloved, just as she’d always been. In her weakest moments she allows herself to succumb to her longing for you, imaginary scenarios running through her head of the two of you, happy - of a world where you love her and where she isn’t faced with her impending demise.

As she thinks of you, she begins to cough again. It hurts, as if thick, thorny vines are encircling her lungs, tightening in a vice-like grip with each passing day. The petals come out in a steady stream - they feel like shards of glass, cutting at her throat from the inside. A metallic taste fills her mouth and, as she looks down at the heap of tiny, snowy petals, she sees droplets of blood staining them red.

Jane hides the petals in the drawer of her nightstand, each new petal accompanying the last. She feels silly doing so - shameful even - and it places a heavy burden on her heart that weighs her down like lead. But if no one finds the petals - at least not while she is still alive - then she doesn’t have to bare her shame, her cowardice, for the world to see - for you to see.

And she vows never to let you see her like this - you must never find out. She cannot bear to witness the concern in your eyes when she feels unwell - it causes her great guilt, to think she may be a source of worry or pain in your life. She also cannot bear the thought of your disgust at her unrequited and entirely unwanted feelings towards you. Even if it means she must be cruel to you. Even if it means she must ignore your attempts to reach out, or channel her fear into rage. Even if it means she may never see you again.

There is a surgical procedure, she recalls, to rid oneself of Hanahaki Disease - with the price of ridding oneself entirely of the feelings causing the disease. Jane considers it, but she knows that in order to get treatment, she would have to admit to her unrequited feelings, in front of her brother, no less. The thought is humiliating. And there is a weight on her chest when she thinks of forgetting her love for you - something that, despite being the reason for her dismal state, has brought her a joyful reprieve from the dull ache of her general contempt for everyday life.

So she shuts you out. She shuts everyone out. She will die alone, and spare herself the inevitable heartbreak and humiliation. It is the only way. 

~~~

You are woken early in the morning - earlier than usual - by a persistent knocking at the door to your chambers. For a moment you think you’ve overslept, but you quickly realize that isn’t the case. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and comb through your hair with your fingers to make yourself more presentable, then pad over to the door and open it. There’s Emily again, a grave expression on her face that makes your stomach twist and causes you to lose any sense of formality.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Miss Murdstone, she’s not well. Mr. Murdstone has requested your company at her bedside immediately.”

Your heart sinks and it feels as though ice is sluicing through your veins.

“T-thank you. I will be right there.”

Emily nods and bids you farewell, and you rush about your chambers to get dressed for the day - you doubt Jane would appreciate you giving up all sense of propriety and turning up in your night clothes. You pull your hair back, pinning it haphazardly in place before starting off towards Jane’s chambers, your walk turning into a jog turning into a run. You catch your breath at her door before knocking. 

Once.

Twice.

There’s no answer.

“Milady? I’m coming in,” you call, trying (and failing) to control the tremble in your voice.

Entering her chambers, your eyes fall to the bed and you realize why you hadn’t received an answer. Jane lies on her back, eyes closed, cheeks sunken in. She looks like she has lost quite a bit of weight, surely a product of her missing meals for the past weeks. She is deathly pale and as you approach her with caution, you see the sheen of sweat on her brow. Her dark, matted locks spill over the pillow and stick to the perspiration on her neck.

“Milady? How are you feeling?” You drag the stool from her vanity to the bedside and settle down timidly, eyes raking over her weak form.

Her pale eyelashes flutter against her cheeks - you can tell she’s trying to open her eyes. Even in this state, gaunt and sickly, she looks hauntingly beautiful to you, so much so that it claws at your heart.

A cough racks her body, her shoulders shaking violently, her chest heaving. Her head lolls to the side and her mouth falls open as she coughs up a steady stream of small, white phlox petals.

You freeze when you see the petals. At first, horror washes over you at the sight of her gagging, at the deep red blood accompanying the petals. A slow understanding spreads throughout your entire body. Hanahaki Disease. 

You’d had a cousin die from the disease when you were a child - you curse yourself for not recognizing the signs. There’s a pit forming in your stomach.

So Jane Murdstone has fallen in love. 

Tears well up in your eyes and your heart clenches painfully. Jane has fallen in love - and she will die because of it.

She will die, leaving you alone and in search of new employment. She will die, not knowing the affection you hold for her in your heart. She will die, and you will have to go on without the sparkle of her eyes holding you captive whenever you catch her gaze, without the soft, melodic lilt of her voice brightening your dullest days.

You’ll miss her terribly (you already do). You like her, you really do… no, that isn’t quite right - you love her. The realization hits you like a train. You love Jane Murdstone, and it doesn’t matter.

You reach out tentatively and place your hand on top of Jane’s, squeezing gently. It’s the least you can do, to reassure her that you’ll be there for her when no one else seems to be. You shiver at the contact with her skin - it is quite cold in contrast to the warmth of your own, and this is more than you’ve ever dared touch her.

With your other hand you brush away some stray petals that stick to the blood on Jane’s cheek. There’s blood trickling out of her mouth and you swipe your thumb firmly down to her jaw, wiping it away as best you can. She should go out with dignity, you think. 

“Milady, can you hear me?” you ask quietly. You don’t receive a response. 

“Who is it?” You ask the question more for yourself than for her, you know she’s too weak to speak and you aren’t even sure she can hear you anyway. A single tear rolls down your cheek - you wipe it away with your sleeve. Your throat constricts, but there is something you want to say - you clear it roughly. When you speak, your voice has a pleading edge to it, desperation oozing out of your every pore.

“I love you, Jane. Please don’t leave me.” Any other day, you’d be afraid of being fired on the spot - for speaking out of turn, for voicing forbidden affections towards your employer, for addressing her by her first name. Today, you suppose, it doesn’t matter anymore. You feel lighter having said it - and heavier knowing it may be the last thing you ever say to her. Now that it doesn’t matter any longer, you lean over Jane’s face and press your lips firmly to her forehead. Perhaps this way she can feel she is loved, even if it’s not in the way - not by whom - she needs.

x

shout-out to @dianneking for being the catalyst to me writing this hehe <3 plus, gonna just tag everyone who has had the (dis)pleasure of me pestering them about this for the past month haha (love u): @yourlocaldisneyvillain @anti-bright-places @eveymay @scream-queenlover @orchidsshine @sapphicsbeloved @mrs-hilmarson 

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Fanfiction Masterlist ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

masterlists:

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Brienne of Tarth Masterlist

Jane Murdstone Masterlist

Miranda Hilmarson Masterlist

Jan Stevens Masterlist

Captain Phasma Masterlist

Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist

*all fics are cross-posted on ao3, unless otherwise noted*

rules:

REQUESTS CLOSED

i will write for any gwendoline christie character

currently only taking x reader requests

i will not write smut for characters under 18 and i will not write student/teacher relationships

requests may (will) take me a while as i do work full time and deal with chronic illness, on top of being a perfectionist. life do be like that, and i apologize if it takes me a while to write your story! i hope they are worth the wait though <3

if i refuse a request for whatever reason i will try to contact you directly or post about it if you're on anon so you may seek out another writer

i will usually default to fem!reader so if you'd prefer nb!reader, kindly specify :) smut will be written with female anatomy as the default as it's what i'm comfortable with, but let me know if you have preferences for me to work around or that i can accommodate!! <3 (also as far as kinks go)

Join my taglist!

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I desire. And I crave. (series masterlist)

Pairing: Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

Summary: Jane Murdstone suffers from Hanahaki Disease. The object of her affections? Her lady’s maid. Too bad she would rather feel the cold embrace of death than confess her feelings.

Notes: this will be a 3 part series!

Jane is a proper lady with her own lady’s maid in this fic, as her position as housekeeper in the David Copperfield universe did not suit my idea. Just Go With It. 

For those unfamiliar with the Hanahaki Disease trope: HD is a (fictional, lol) disease where someone begins coughing up flower petals because they have unrequited feelings for someone. If not treated, the disease is fatal. Treatment is either a. the feelings become requited, or b. surgery (the caveat here is that the feelings for that person disappear entirely).

Read on ao3 or select a part below:

part one

part two

part three

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Jane Murdstone Masterlist ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

rules and other masterlists can be found here

🔥 smut - ☁️ fluff - 🌪 angst

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

I desire. And I crave. 🌪/🔥/☁️ (series)