book nerds

My Rhysand Obsession:

*Me reading ACOMAF and smiling because RHYSAND*

Friend: What would you do to marry that guy in your book?

Me: To marry Rhysand? I think a BETTER question is what WOULDN’T I do to marry him…. *eyes narrow* get the picture?

Friend: *Wide eyes* Crystal Clear.

Me: *Gets back to reading my Fav Rhysand scenes*

namcdesire  asked:

✋ rlly gently bc it kind of stresses her out to push jane at all tbh

Send ‘✋’ to push and pin my muse down on their bed
Status: Accepting!

Jane lets herself be guided backwards with Blanche’s barest suggestion, a smile on her lips as she falls, urging Blanche to follow with her, tumbling in a flurry of blonde curls and girlish laughter. And she is excited, breathless, wanting. But her lover seems anxious, even now, as Jane holds her hips in place above her and encourages her with a soft kiss to her cheek.

Blanche shifts to try and lay beside Jane, but the agent catches her with steady, yet tender, hands on her thighs.

“Wait,” she whispers, a gleam in her ice blue gaze. “I want to look at you.”

Blanche hesitates, so Jane gently sits up, moving the other woman to do the same until she is astride the agent’s lap, her fingers nervously toying with the edges of her pretty, pretty dress.

Reverently, Jane draws her fingers down Blanche’s cheek, quietly marveling at the softness of her skin, the pout of her lips; and she is so completely beautiful. “I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you,” she begins, her voice hushed, the words spoken as if they are very truth by which she lives. She memorized them long ago, and saved them for this, for Blanche and Blanche alone.

“You are my sympathy–” Jane kisses her jaw, “My better self–” another kiss, to her chin, “My good angel–” she punctuates with a purposeful locking of their lips, a moment savored until Jane knows she must pull away lest she forget the rest. “I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely,” this she recites with fingers dancing down Blanche’s arms, trailing in playful looping patterns. “A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you,” Jane brushes her lips against Blanche’s throat, speaking so that her sibilation can be felt, a nearly-there kiss of what is to come, “draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–” 

Now Jane draws her fingertips down Blanche’s legs, still soothing, intent, until she reaches her bent knees, her palms flattening to quest back upwards to hold her hips. “And, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

She finishes with soft sigh against Blanche’s lips. Oh she wants to kiss her, she wants to kiss her until there is nothing left in the world but her touch.

“I love you Blanche Dubois.”

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