#my favourite place is the white library | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elysianightsss · 8 months ago

Text

Stalker John Price thot🩵🌼

Stalker John Price who firsts sees you in the library, cute little sundress rising up your thighs as your strain to reach for pride and prejudice on a shelf that’s much too high for you to even try to reach.

Stalker John price who goes behind the shelf and pushes the book out from out from the other side, you thankfully catch it before it falls on your head.

Stalker John Price who uses his military experience to stalk you and not get caught.

Stalker John Price who examines your house while you’re at work to find the perfect hiding spots for him and placing the tiniest cameras around.

Stalker John Price who knows how wrong it is when he’s quick to dart into one of those hiding spaces as you open the door sighing from a long day at work but can’t seem to find a reason to care when you start to strip off your work clothes and change into your fuzzy stitch pj bottoms and hoodie.

Stalker John Price who thinks you look so fucking cute in your pjs. He leans forward almost making the house creak wanting to see more of you. He moves when you do, watching with a grin on his face as you cook your dinner while shaking your hips to music that’s blaring through your speaker.

Stalker John Price who smiles softly when you stuff your face full of pasta, your eyes never leaving the tv screen and soon end up falling asleep on your sofa. He feels it’s safe enough for him to come out.

Stalker John Price who presses a sweet little kiss to your cheek and then leaves your house to go home and set up all the cameras on his computer. He smiles seeing you clear as day on the screen in the same position as before, fast asleep on the sofa.

Stalker John Price who knows exactly how you like your morning coffee. He’s watched you make it 1000 times.

Stalker John Price who notes down in his notebook what your favourite foods and drinks are so he doesn’t forget.

Stalker John Price who confides in Simon about what’s he’s doing only for Simon to assure him he’s doing nothing wrong and it’s all normal even if he feels it’s wrong.

Stalker John Price who goes round your house more often after speaking to Simon.

Stalker John Price who gets painfully hard when you’re first out the shower, fluffy white towel wrapped around your wet body. His blue eyes never leaving your figure as you massage lotion into your skin and spray body mist all over. He inhales holding back from groaning at the scent that clings to you.

Stalker John price who watches you through the crack in your wardrobe doors as you pant and whine and buck your hips against the vibrator buzzing hastily against your little clit.

Stalker John Price who is practically drooling when he thinks you’re done, satisfied but watches you reach for the dildo in your bedside drawer. He was in for a long night of restraint.

Stalker John price who comes up with a plan to be a part of your life because he can’t keep going on without having you for himself. Without keeping you.

Stalker John Price who ‘bumps’ into at your local grocery store and the library and your local bar. Eventual you think it’s fate. Never suspecting he would be a stalker. He’s such a nice, sweet guy.

Stalker John Price who is giddy with excitement when you agree to go on a date with him. He makes it the best damn date you’d ever been on. Dinner, dancing and a show.

Stalker John Price who groans, “Fill my hands with you finally.” When you do eventually let him touch you, his large calloused hands grabbing at every part of you he can. “Finally gonna let me take care of you huh love?” He’ll grin down at you as you nod, so whiny and needy for him. “So fucking perfect and all mine.”

Stalker John Price who marries you.

Stalker John Price who cries when you show him the positive pregnancy test.

Stalker John Price who laughs loudly when your children say that daddy is obsessed with their mommy.

Stalker John Price who after thirty years of marriage, three children and 5 grandchildren never admits that he stalked you but tells you everyday how much he loves you.

3K notes · View notes

kenyummy · 6 months ago

Text

MISTER TUTOR ꒰⚘݄꒱ YUKIMIYA KENYU

[NSFW] SYNOPSIS : yukimiya kenyu is your tutor. by extension, he is also your favourite victim to tease. also by extension, you two always end up in the exact same way each and every tutoring session.

note : hi this is smut !!!! mostly pwp so heh. heh. theres a severe lack of kenyu fics on tumblr and everywhere honestly so i decided to be a good samaritan and do my part in adding to his slowly growing fic collection. i love love love kenyu hes my boyfriend forever and ever <333 also reposted from my wattpad which u should so check out btdubs

Yukimiya isn't sure when, but eventually, tutoring you took up a huge portion of his life. First assigned for a homework task that you had not completed—his teacher made him tutor you on how to do it and exactly how to hand it in.

Then, his math teacher made him study with you, since you were falling so far behind. You and him spent hours studying together, but nothing ever worked. Either you got him too riled up to continue this session (which really, led into a session of something else), or you yourself were way too unfocused to even consider actually trying to learn from the boy in front of you.

Either way, you and he did not mesh well together, especially in a study-like area. In a library—you were far too loud. At home (either one of your houses)—he was practically asking you to feel him up, God forbid you two were left alone in the house, as well. Even at school, you kept finding yourself getting distracted by the multitude of people that pass by, and every little thing around you intrigued you more than your work ever did.

You never read your assigned novels, something which he couldn't understand. It was just reading, and yet, you acted like it was the hardest thing in the world to do? Whatever the reason was (perhaps you could simply not read), Yukimiya needed to find a strategy that worked for you.

As your (self-proclaimed) tutor, was it not his job to make it so you don't flunk every single test? He thought so.

So, he went through various strategies with you. Studying in timeslots—it didn't work, because when you took a break, you decided that you didn't feel like going back to doing boring old work. Cramming everything in at the last minute—this worked a little better, but was still a giant failure. Sure, it had you actually studying, but you forgot everything as soon as you walked into the test room since your mind had no time to actually process it all.

Whatever it was—it was like your entire being refused to study like it would kill you (from how badly your grades are dropping, he isn't sure that's the only thing that will). A vivid procrastinator, that's what you are. Still, Yukimiya Kenyu is nothing but determined. When he's set on something —you best believe he'll go out there and get it like a champ.

That's why he was sure that this study method—tailor made to fit you—would absolutely, undoubtedly work.

You were surprised when Yukimiya asked you if you wished to spend this week's weekend study session at his house. (He isn't dumb, in fact, he's the complete opposite—and he knows exactly where you two "studying" at a private place like home leads).

So why did Yukimiya ask this? Has he perhaps turned over to the dark side? The thought of that—and perhaps, at what's to come—makes your stomach twist in excitement.

The day came without so much of a hitch. You spent the last few days of the week lazing as usual—your mind couldn't leave the thought of this weekend's "study" sesh with your favourite boy alone.

You wondered this, even as you took a train and made your way to his house—you've been there so often that his address was practically branded into your brain—and you thought about all the things he'd make you do.

Your face flushes.

As soon as you ring the doorbell—you stand outside waiting for less than a minute—you catch sight of Yukimiya Kenyu himself. Clad in a flowy, white dress shirt, and baggy grey sweatpants—he looked deliciously domestic, and it made your heart race in your chest. Especially when he spares you that smile—that godawful, lady-killer smile that could knock somebody dead—you think you may faint on the spot.

"You're just on time. My parents are going out to see my grandma, so it'll just be me and you alone for a few hours. Should be more than enough time for substantial studying, no?"

Alone? Few hours? Come on, Yukki, you know me better than that.

Now, you were starting to grow suspicious at his deliberate choice of wording and his all-too-well grin. Yukimiya Kenyu... what are you planning? Are you actually planning on getting any work done? No, not really. But that doesn't mean you can't be suspicious of this pretty boy in front of you. A studious, straight-A nerd would surely not fall into his tempting desires without at least a little bit of prodding—which is exactly why you're so wary of this whole setup.

You're led to the familiar sight of his room, somewhere you've been countless times before, same as always. You make yourself comfortable on his bed and watch as he pulls in a second chair to sit at his desk. He sits down at the one he just brought in, and motions for you to take a seat beside him on the chair he had originally had on his room.

His smile is so guileless, you can hardly get a good read on what he's feeling. It almost makes you nervous. Still, you obey, and take a seat, watching silently as he pulls out a few binders and unclipped a piece of paper. A mock test.

Wow, already? He was making you go through a practice test based on the subjects you're learning in math at the moment. Well, this wasn't too surprising. Yukimiya usually went through these with you anyway, so he could get a feel for how much you know about the subject already.

He snuffles his chair closer, eyes gleaming behind lens, "We should spend today going over these questions. If that doesn't take much time, we can just spend the rest of the day chilling out."

Yeah, we all know what you mean by "chilling out".

You nod, back slumped into the chair behind you and you groan, "Ugh... that sounds boring at hell... Can't we do something more fun, Yukki?"

With a cheeky grin and a knowing glance at the bed behind you—you think you make your intentions abundantly clear. You're certain he knows what you mean—this is always how you get what you want, after all.

By now, he'd be pink-cheeked, or perhaps even sloppily making out with you already, but not this time. He keeps the same blank, air-headed expression that he's plastered on his face since this whole tutoring thing started. "No, not this time. I've thought of a way to help you remember the fornulas, actually. I'm sure this strategy will work."

You raise a brow, clearly suspicious of his judgement. He said that same thing the past three times, and you ended up failing said three tests. "Really?"

He nods, smiling, "Really. Let's just start, and I'll try to incorporate it as naturally as possible."

Strange choice of words—but you like to trust your Yukki, so you don't question it. You and him quickly flip to the first page, and it starts with a question on area for a shape you do not recognise—with all sorts of numerals and numbers that it already makes your head spin.

"Do you understand how to solve for x?" He asks, and you think it's easier to straight up say no, rather than lie and look stupid, so you shake your head. "Alright. I'll try to explain it the best I can."

He starts talking, but it's hard to focus when his big hand is taut on your bare thigh, rubbing up and down mindlessly on the skin. You didn't realise he'd come so close to you—he's practically pressed up against your side.

Whatever. You try not to think too much of it. You focus on the sound of his words and sort of figure out how to solve what they're asking, "So, to find x, first you have to use the measurements already given, and then times that?"

He nods, "Yes, but that's not the end. You then still have to find y and z."

You groan, running a hand through your hair and sighing loudly—showing off your exhaustion five minutes into the session, "Ugh... this is taking forever... is this shit seriously on the test?"

Yukki leans up and presses a peck to your forehead. It feels oddly romantic, it makes you blush, "I know it's long, but you'll get it. Just focus, alright? I promise you'll understand if you do."

You really hope his mystery study method actually works.

Yukki continues trying to explain the concepts and formulas on how to solve the shape on the paper—and you're trying, you really are, but his fingers inch up, further and further and it makes it really damn hard to concentrate.

(Curse him, and the stupid effect he has on you.)

His hand stops moving for a moment, and you finally feel like you can breathe again. His words finally stop sounding like a jumbled mess and more like actual teaching, "I get it! You just..."

You proceed to re-explain the concepts he brought up, and worked out the question on the paper with ease. Yukimiya grins, perfect pearly whites behind his teeth and he's clearly proud, "Good girl. You're actually listening to me this time. Let's move on to the next question."

An algebraic expression—so many letters, numbers and symbols and you don't know what half of them mean. Yukki takes one good look at your face and understands exactly what's going through your head—absolutely nothing.

He begins to explain the equation to you once more—his hand inches up even further. It has practically disappeared under your skirt.

Is he doing this on purpose? You can't help but wonder, heat crawling up your neck and your stomach feels tense with anticipation. Usually, you'd think he would be—but he's not even looking at you, completely and utterly focused on the question.

Maybe he doesn't even realise.

The thought makes your skin crawl, but you push down these feelings (and try to ignore the soft touch of his fingers on your inner thighs), attempting at solving the question.

He shakes his head, brown curls falling over his pretty eyes. "No, that's not how you do it. I'll show you."

He leans forward and takes the pen from your hand—fingers brushing over yours—and wastes on time in solving the question while explaining its properties and what steps you need to take. Yukki is a good teacher. He's smart, he's thorough, and he makes sure you understand everything before you two move on.

But you really, really, can't focus because his fingers are now right atop your clothed cunt, stroking softly—it's driving you mad—and languidly, like it didn't do anything to you.

You hiss through your teeth when his index finger brushes over your clit, "Yukki..."

He looks so genuinely confused you almost believe he does not realise what he's doing, "Hm? What? Do you not understand?"

You furrow your brows in an angry motion, "No, are you kidding? You... You're—" The words die in your mouth as soon as you catch sight of the glowing, very much teasing, smirk on his lips.

Fuck. He does know what he's doing. Fucking prick.

You swallow thickly when his fingertips press a little harder, "Is this seriously the strategy you were talking about?"

He still acts oblivious, despite the way he's unabashedly glowing with joy, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Let's just get back to the question. Do you understand it?"

You suck up your pride and take the pen from his grasp—solving the question easily. Yukimiya places his free hand on your head and pats it as a reward—his fingers stop moving so you have time to recuperate your thoughts—but this process soon repeats itself through the next three questions.

You can hardly think straight—but, a thought passes over your mind that maybe if you finish this up as soon as possible—he will finally stop teasing.

You find yourself working as quickly as possible—the sight is enough to please him. Perhaps this strategy really was working. Yukimiya thinks he's struck gold.

You look just like a regular diligent student—well, as diligent as a student can get with a hand shiver with their skirt. You're solving these questions with minimal difficulty and you're actually showing your working out. He hasn't felt this proud since he brought his pet turtle to show and tell in seventh grade (you teased him relentlessly for weeks after that, but he took like like a champ out of love for his pet).

... But still.

Perhaps a part of Yukimiya is rather selfish. A little voice that would never speak unless he found himself caught in a situation like this with you speaks up inside his brain—which makes his eyes glaze over with a sultry gleam and a small, almost harmless thought appear in his head.

What if...

With his sudden movement, you jolt in your chair and hands fly to his wrists, clutching it over the fabric of your skirt. "Y... Yukki—!!! W—What—"

His two middle fingers plunge deep into your cunt and immediately take up a relentless pace—your chest begins to heave as he consistently keeps pressing against that soft, squishy spot inside of you that makes your mind fog up.

There's no freaking way you can act like— The thought dies in your throat when the heel of his palm rubs against your clit and you bite back a small whine.

The small little clicking sound that is made each time he thrusts his fingers in and out is almost inaudible in your ears when he begins to speak, lips brushing against your ear, "Keep going, gorgeous. Don't let me stop you now. You're doing so good."

Your leg jitters against him when he smiles against your ear and he feels your cunt pulse.

Still, you pick up your shaky fingers and try to keep a steady grip of the pen—it's hard when all you want is to throw your head back on his shoulder and sit there all pretty for him—but you know better than to ignore Yukimiya Kenyu.

Despite his gleeful demeanor, he seems to take joy in asserting himself over you. You wondered if maybe he just had a sick kink.

Every time you came close to solving the question—he would press harder and harder, and every time you tried to lean back onto his shoulder, he would stop abruptly and ask you what you think you are doing.

You just could not win with Yukimiya Kenyu.

He's driving you crazy. Maybe this is how you make him feel on a daily basis—but you actually think you're going to go mental from this torture. Your handwriting had gotten noticeably messier and more shaky every time you tried to solve that question—even when you did, his pace was absolutely relentless. He did not let up.

"Yukki!" You whine out, cheeks all puffed like a cute little fish and you glare at him with so much anger he actually almost feels bad for a second. Almost.

He takes far too much enjoyment in something like this to feel any menial sense of guilt toward you. Besides, it's not like you didn't have this coming. Despite all this, he knows you will take whatever gives you graciously because you are absolutely enamored with him.

(He thinks that, with a small smile. It's okay for him to say that, right? It's not like it's not reciprocated.)

"Yes?" He responds, slowly, teasingly. He can feel your thigh start to shake as a sign of your impending orgasm, so he starts to slow his thrusts—the tantalizingly sluggish drag of his fingertips across your walls give you a little more than nothing.

You could scream in frustration. He grabs ahold of your thigh and tugs it over his left leg, so that you don't get a chance to close your thighs are his hand—it makes it all the more torturous.

Your words are breathy and heavy on your tongue, "Yukki... lemme... please let me—"

His thrusts speed up, and his thumb begins to rub hard circles on your clit. Your chest heaves with each breath and you start to moan sweetly into his ear. You throw your head back, onto his shoulder and grip onto your skirt—but this time he does not stop. In fact, he seems to go even faster.

You can practically envision the smug expression he must have on his face at this moment—his ego fed and arrogance through the roof. "What? You wanna cum?"

Mindlessly, and desperately, you nod. White-hot fire starts to churn in your lower belly and it spreads to the tips of your toes when he keeps rubbing harder. You're getting close, with your stomach twisting and heart beginning to beat in your ears.

"Y—Yeah... please..." Somehow, you manage right choke that out and whimper right into his ear.

Your thighs begin to shake. He does not stop. "You wanna feel good, gorgeous? Go ahead." He presses a soft, chaste kiss to your temple—an almost laughable contrast to how you're nearly brought to tears by your orgasm, lower half shaking and rutting up into his unrelenting touch with a sense of desperation.

He likes it when you're desperate. It makes you all the more cute.

He helps you ride out your pleasure, all with a pretty grin. Your babbling thanks and praises for his fingers soon die down when your post-orgasmic haze hits you, and you lean back into his touch with low breaths.

After a few minutes of him just holding you like this, hand placed lightly on your thigh—you look up at him, then down, then back up again. "You want me to help you out with that?"

He seems to be slightly taken aback by your bold offer—despite moments before, he sported a cocky smirk and sultry gaze—but manages to gather his composure quickly enough to answer.

He shakes his head and gazes at you kindly, "Oh, you don't have to. I still need to teach you some more formulas—"

Your brows furrow and your remove your leg from over his. "Yukki—don't be like that. Lemme take care of you, okay? Yeah..."

A smile falls upon your lips as his cheeks grow pink. Even when your duck down below his desk—it feels all so surreal. Even when you tug down his grey sweats that did not hide anything, it almost feels like a figment of his imagination.

It no longer does when he feels the fiery enclosure that is your lips wrap around the redden leaky tip of his cock. Yukimiya slaps a hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes taut shut. His heart is beating a million miles an hour in his chest. He feels like he cannot breathe, but the air gets knocked out his lungs all the same when your move your mouth down.

You use your hand to spread his pre around the base of him—jerking off what your mouth did not fit, until you go a little lower. He thinks his face may be on fire. The hand that does not cover the lower half of his face grips the edge of his table with full force.

He dares not to look down at you and dares not to catch the nasty, foxish gleam in your eyes.

You go down more, then back up. You press a chaste, loving kiss to the bulging tip, then, you go back down again. This time, a little further. You keep doing this until your jaw relaxes enough for your nose to press against the smooth skin of his abdomen—you allow your hands to wander his hard stomach.

"[name]..." His voice trails off shakily, a small moan escaping his lips as his hips jerk forward. You choke a little, but keep going. His glasses are growing foggy from his hot, heavy breaths and he doesn't think he's ever felt any hotter.

The room temperature must have shot up by at least twenty degrees. He feels searing.

Yukimiya's heart nearly beats out of his chest when you pull back once more, staring directly into his half-lidded, cloudy amber irises, and gave a sloppy kiss to the cute little freckle that was on the pulsing head of his dick.

His breathing picks up and his chest heaves. Fuck.

He groans aloud as your mouth sinks back down and your throat presses around his cock. His hips jerk forward again, and he takes this reaction as his opportunity to start thrusting. You suddenly sit still with your jaw as open as it would allow you to be—as Yukimiya lazily thrusts into your mouth.

His hand entangled itself into your hair and he grabs a tight hold of your head as he moves you to his heart's content. The wet choking noises that you make when your lips are snugly wrapped around the base of his cock give him butterflies.

He looks down at you, sweat beading on the side of his face and low grunts escaping his lips, "Ffffuck.... So... mmmm..."

He can hardly firm actual words—his head lolls back and his eyes shut in pure bliss.

Searing hot electricity zaps through his veins—his abdomen contracts, and it's a telltale sign he's getting closer. You use your tongue as much as possible while his thrusts are getting wild and erratic —his groans soon turn into desperate puffs of air.

"[name]...! Gonna..." His hot and heavy pants ring in your ears and his low groans are such a noise you'd never expect to come out of such a perfect pretty boy's mouth. He pants hard. "[name]...!! [name]...!!"

It seems your name is the only word he can formulate at the moment, when his cock twitches in your mouth and spurts of white shoot out the tip right into your throat.

He grabs your hair hard and presses you as close to his abdomen as you can get—hips shaky as you squeal and your throat instinctively tightens—the whine he lets out is something that will forever be imprinted into your memory.

You nearly cough it all up when he finally pulls out of your lips—breathing growing steady and shoulders relaxed into a calm posture—but you force yourself to swallow, and you give him the cutest smile you can possibly muster when you do.

Yukimiya stares down at you with hazy honeyed eyes filled with unbridled lust—hidden only behind the fogged up lens of his rounded glasses. "[name]... You..."

He looks embarrassed when you stick out your tongue at him and it is perfectly clean. He places a big hand on your head—a stark difference compared to his previous way of gripping your hair—he strokes it softly under his touch. "Good girl..."

He chuckles.

Yukimiya Kenyu looks absolutely debauched—you don't think you've ever seena prettier sight. His shirt is disheveled and his cheeks are a searing hot red. He is absolutely gorgeous.

That why, when you crawl up from your kneeling position, and he cradles your aching red knees when you place yourself flat on his lap, you kiss him with all the love you can muster. You do not feel much love—but all of the adoration you do feel is directed solely at Yukimiya.

"So, how did I do, Mister Tutor?" A teasing, coy smile places itself on your lips when you pull away, hand sneakily running itself all over his hard torso.

The smile he beams at you is nothing less than radiant. "A+."

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #yukimiya #yukimiya kenyu #yukimiya smut #yukimiya kenyu smut #yukimiya x reader #yukimiya kenyu x reader #kenyu yukimiya #kenyu yukimiya x reader #kenyu yukimiya smut #© iliverae 2024 !#iliverae after hours <3

475 notes · View notes

th3-c0rps3-r0gu3 · 7 months ago

Text

Arranged marriage?

Royal au

Pairing: princess (to be queen) Natasha X autistic queen reader.

Warnings: Natasha being an asshole. (She gets better... Just not yet.)

I got this idea from a Pinterest post from Tumblr. Credits go to whoever that person is. If anyone can find the person who made the original idea please let me know so I can give proper credit.

Natasha was in a marriage she didn't want. Well not yet. The married part. Natasha definitely did not want the marriage at all. But technically she was only engaged. And Natasha hated the fact that her parents refused to let her rule unless she was married. But it was ok. Because she had a plan. Simple and easy. Wait a year or so after the wedding. Then kill queen y/n and live as a widowed queen on her own. Then she would rule alone and get two kingdoms to run. Hers and y/n's. Natasha thought it full proof.

Y/n pov:

I hate this. The meetings and arrangements for a wedding I honestly don't want. I didn't even want to be queen. I have dragons to study and no time to run a large and not to mention busy kingdom. I'm honestly hoping this new wife of mine can just run it for me while I travel to the scorching geysers that dragons tend to nest at. Though in all honesty my supposed to be wife scares me. She's so intimidating and scary. Constantly scowling at me as if I wanted this. I don't. Well I kinda do. Simply so I don't have to run this place. But still! Princess Romanoff could at least be a bit nicer...

It's another beautiful morning and I'm meant to be meeting up with princess Romanoff. And instead of being down in the main hall I'm in the library amongst several old books about striped winged dragons. I know where I'm meant to be but I don't want to have to deal with my scary soon to be wife. So instead I'm hoping that Natasha just thinks I forgot and goes back to her own kingdom.

A crash tells me I'm not going to get my wish. I glance above a pile of books only to see the cursing form of princess Natasha romanoff. I duck back behind my books again and hope against logic that she didn't notice me. Luck is not on my side. I wince as another crash echoes through the library. These are important and ancient books of history. History no one but me reads but still history! And then Natasha's head pops up over the shorter stack of books. Those are about the green clawed wyvern. I look up and see Natasha scowling at me.

"hi princess."

I try and greet her but Natasha's scowl only deepens. She's pissed. At me. Of course she is. I sigh and step out of my mountain of books. Walking around to greet the princess. I smile awkwardly. Natasha doesn't.

"you didn't show up in the great hall. Now I had to come and find you. Do you realise how messy this room is? You should hire a cleaner."

Natasha berated me for the millionth time. Truth be told I should get a cleaner in here but it's the only library study that holds the draconic records. So only I ever frequent the room and I'm not bothered by the dust. So I never got a cleaner. I won't bother explaining that to Natasha. I sigh and nod along to Natasha as she keeps ranting. I've learned that agreeing with her is easier than arguing.

"my apologies princess I forgot the meeting was today."

I try and remain polite as Natasha bursts into another rant about my incompetence. That seems to be her favourite thing to rant about nowadays. Until I notice the book I had been searching for earlier. The one about white bellied fire drakes and their subspecies. I know I should be focused on Natasha but I'm afraid if I look away I won't be able to find it again. I keep my unblinking gaze on the book. My mind blocking out Natasha's rant. Only I don't have the focus to feel guilty about not listening. I finally give in and push past Natasha to grab the book. My smile is wide as I pull it out and examine it. In perfect condition too!

Natasha gapes offended at me as I brush past her to get my book. But unfortunately for her ego I have bigger issues to worry about. I grab the books and brush the dust that had been collecting in it before marching over to my already crowded desk and slipping the ancient text onto it and flipping it open. My eyes light up as I see the familiar images of the white bellied fire drakes. When I finally look up Natasha is staring at me with probably more rage than any sort of fire wyrm that I've ever studied. I purse my lips and an apologetic look comes to my face. At least I hope it looks apologetic.

"ah right... My apologies princess.."

I try and smile but Natasha bursts into another rageful rant about disrespect and my idiotic behaviour and if we are meant to be married and yadayadayada I don't actually care currently I have my book. I sigh and prop my head up against my palm as I half pay attention to anything Natasha is screaming before I look down at my book and whoopsies I'm now paying attention to white bellied fire drakes.

By the time Natasha finishes her second rant I forgot she was even there as I am occupied with reading about ice bellied fire drakes, the close cousin to white bellied fire drakes. I recall a lot of the information in the book but it's nice to get a refresher. I don't remember Natasha is still there until she hits me on the head with a scroll. I look up confused until I realised what scroll she hit me with. The one about steelscaled amphipteres and I gently grab it from Natasha and sit it down gently.

"princess be careful these scrolls are incredibly old and could be damaged easily!"

I exclaim. I don't know what I'd do if any of these books and scrolls got damaged. Have a mental break down and lock myself up for a few weeks probably. It's not until Natasha responds that I look up.

"so what! It's just a bunch of mumbo jumbo anyway who cares."

I freeze and my eyes grow cold. How dare she. These texts are ancient words of history not a bunch of mumbo jumbo and the fact Natasha dare say so makes me angry. I stand up and walk to stand in front of Natasha.

"I care. And if you don't then get out of my library before I call my guards to come and escort you out so I don't have to deal with another one of your useless rants that nobody likes you insufferable pathetic human being."

I snarl. I know this is going to enrage the princess but she has no authority here and I used my serious tone. Meaning no arguments or else. This is my kingdom and I won't let Natasha act otherwise. And by her scowling and burning eyes she knows it too. And before I can say another word princess Natasha romanoff stalks out the room without another word. I sigh and sit down behind my desk. This is gonna be a long marriage.

A/n: this was originally meant to be a one shot but it's turned into a series. Yay! And before anyone comes for me about writing autism wrong I am autistic and this is how I would react in a situation like this.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #black widow #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x reader

299 notes · View notes

lavandulawrites · 7 months ago

Text

Our Little Haven

Yandere Fyodor x reader

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

Fyodor is my absolute favourite character. He is so interesting and there are endless possibilities with him.

Masterlist

Synopsis: Life with Fyodor is peaceful and absolutely perfect, but something is missing…

Warnings: NSFW, brainwashing, subtle manipulation, reader has small flashbacks, female reader

Word count: 1474

The sun shinned through the white lace curtains. The wind that swept through the opening in the window making the curtains dance. The sun beam on the wooden floor warm to the touch as you stood with bare feet glancing out the window. The grass in the garden tall and green. The wild flowers making the landscape fairytale like.

A lone sparrow landed on the branch by the window. It’s little beak picked on the apple hanging above it. It made eye contact with you and chirped. You could feel your hand reaching towards it.

Longing.

You snapped out of your trance at the sound of the door to kitchen opening. The old door creaked. In stepped the master of the house. A black haired man with boundless purple eyes that quickly found yours. His lips pulled back into a smile. His black eye lashes fluttered, as his eyes crinkled.

“I see you have gotten a new friend” his melodic voice so very pleasant. He nodded towards the little sparrow as it was happily eating away on the apple.

You smiled slightly as you gazed at the little bird. “Yeah… I suppose I have.”

He hummed as he stepped closer. Cold hands wrapped around your waist as his head rested on your shoulder. His nose nuzzled against your neck. His soft raven hair tickled you. “You haven’t eaten anything. Where you waiting for me my dear?” he raised his head and kissed your cheek.

You nodded.

He spun you around and cupped your face and kissed your lips tenderly. “I appreciate you waiting for me love. It makes me happy” his face soft as he kissed you.

The library in the manor was quite and filled to the brim with books. Some were new and some were as ancient as time. The air filled with a homely smell which were soothing. The tall windows overlooking the garden, making the room lit. You could see the little pound and the ducks swimming among the waterlilies.

You let your hand run over the many books as you decided on what to read. Your hand stopped at a leather bound tome. On its spine it read World History. You removed the book from the shelf, its weight downing your hands. You blew off the dust and took a seat on the velvety rococo couch. You opened it carefully and flipped through the pages.

Multiple of the pages were elegantly annotated. Some of the notes were in Russian and some in Latin. The annotations were many and they were sometimes random. As you flipped through the tome your mind wandered to Fyodor.

You knew of his age and the nature of his ability. When he first had told you, you did not believe him. You found it peculiar that he had trusted you with his secret. After you confronted him, he had only laughed and said “One does not hide anything from one’s loved ones, don’t you agree?��.

His answer had stunned you at first, but you had to agree with him.

You often wondered about what he had seen and what he had experienced. He had told you some details about his past, but not enough. You always craved more. You sighed and placed the tome onto the mahogany table. You leans you head back against the back rest. The ceiling was high and your eyes wandered towards the ceiling rose surrounding the chandelier. Fyodor’s tastes were really exquisite.

“I see you have taken an interest in history, my dear” a deep voice woke you up. You blinked confused and your eyes wandered to the tall man who was examining the tome.

You sat up. “I didn’t mean to go thr-”

“It’s okay” he patted your head. “Lovers should not have any secrets. Do you not agree?” he smiled gently.

You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.. That’s true”

Fyodor glanced out the window, taking in the beautiful view. “Are you not glad you moved her with me? Away from all the noise… and distractions” he hummed. You could see him glancing at you in out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s really peaceful here” you smiled.

He turned his head to face you. He hummed in agreement, his voice like butter. “This is our safe haven. Our own little heaven” he leaned down and gently stroked your cheek.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand. The coldness of his skin welcoming in the summer heat. His other hand intertwined in your soft hair. Your eyes fluttered open and were met with a playful smile.

The black haired man leaned in and gently kissed your lips. His lips softer than velvet and you wanted more. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips together in a fierce kiss. He chuckled against your lips before he licked them. His tongue pushed against them, asking for permission. You gladly accepted. His tongue exploring your mouth and you moaned out in pleasure.

He crawled on top of you and deepened the kiss. His lips hungry and it felt like he devoured you. The gentle Fyodor was completely gone and replaced by a man lost to desperation. You gently pulled his hair and he groaned against your lips.

He parted from your lips and kissed his way to your neck. He sucked and licked on the skin causing you to see stars. His hand lifted up your dress and pulled your lace panties down. You had no idea where he had thrown your panties, but you couldn’t care less.

His long fingers quickly found your cunt and prodded your lips apart. His fingers moved with such skill you thought that this was what he was born to do. Your slick quickly soaking his fingers and he grinned at the sight. “God you are so beautiful like this my love” he sighed softly.

He pulled his fingers out of your cunt and liked them clean. You was disappointed by the emptiness only to become completely in awe by the sight of him licking his fingers clean.

He grinned at your reaction and leaned over you again and pulled your dress over your head. Your white lace bra catching his attention. He smirked as he toyed with the bow in the middle of the bra. “I’m glad you like my gifts.”

Fyodor snaked his arms underneath your back and clasped your bra open. The bra fell on the floor as he quickly dived down to capture your lips. As he kissed you his hands quickly pulled down his fly. He separated from your lips and took both his pants and boxers off. His cock hard and made your mouth water. He quickly slipped his shirt over his head.

He lined himself against your entrance and showed himself in without warning. You moaned loudly at the heavenly sensation. His movements fast and his dick hitting just right.

He looked down at you with suck lovingly eyes you felt a tug at your heart. His hair had fallen down from his shoulder and softly framed his face. The sun rays catching his hair making it shin like the feathers of the ravens that resided in your garden. Your gaze fell down to his lips and to the red stains of your lipstick. The colour was deep and beautiful. Images of that very colour filled your mind accompanied with screams of terrors.

Your eyes widened and you blinked furiously to get rid of the images.

Fyodor slowed down his movements. His dark eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright darling?” his voice filled with worry. His movements had completely stopped.

You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Please continue” you smiled up at him.

He nodded and continued trusting into you. You pulled him down into an embrace. The ceiling was filled with various colours from the sunset. Reds, yellows and pinks filled your vision.

The familiar feeling in the bottom of your stomach made you moan. You kissed him deeply as you climaxed. He followed soon after and pulled out and painted your stomach white.

As you both laid together on the couch your mind wandered. You couldn’t stop the many images of what seemed like your past flicker across your eyes. The sound of people laughing soon turned into screams and your vision turned to red. You turned to face the sleeping man besides you. His long lashes shadowed over his high cheekbones. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had something to do with your sudden images.

You laid there awake lost in thoughts for what felt like forever. Maybe it was the best not to think about it. It would only cause you distress and as your lover said , it was not good for you. Listen to Fyodor and all will turn well you said to yourself as you drifted asleep.

367 notes · View notes

myers-meadow · 1 year ago

Text

Lucius Malfoy x fem! reader: That which isn't taught in books

Title: That which isn't taught in books

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x female librarian reader

Summary: Draco complains about you, the Hogwarts librarian, to his father. This results in the beautiful Lucius Malfoy paying you an unexpected visit. He is rather taken with you, and he shows you things you can't simply learn from books: your place.

Warnings: smut, blowjob, cum, spit, vaginal fingering, degradation, rough kissing, use of 'slut', praise, gloves, Lucius is Lucius and a that's a warning on it's own, consent isn't discussed but reader is into it, manhandling, (suspected) cheating, hair pulling (assumed reader has hair that can be pulled).

Wordcount: 3699

Dividers by by animated-glitter-graphics-n-more and delishlydelightfuldividers.

“Miss __, you must to lend me this book. I need it for class.” Draco Malfoy ordered, pointing to the book on top of the stack on your right. Third years aren’t typically allowed to borrow advanced books on dark magic, so it wasn’t on the shelves for him to take with a reason.

“No,” you simply replied, removing book from the stack and sending it to the topmost shelf with a wave of your wand. “That’s a restricted book and you need a permission slip from the headmaster before borrowing it.”

Draco scoffed. “I know you let Granger use the library outside the allowed hours.”

How could the damned kid know about that? What a menace.

“The book is still restricted.”

“Do you know who my family is?” Draco said, tapping the desk impatiently.

“Yes, I know your parents quite well. We are old friends, in fact,” you said, which was a lie. The Malfoys are well-known, and you’ve run into them before. Unpleasant was the best word for it, and you were glad the moment you didn’t have to deal with them anymore. Narcissa was alright, perfectly poised and therefore polite – but still raised rich and pureblood. Lucius, on the other hand, gave you nightmares that night. Even worse that you woke up wet between your thighs.

Draco scoffed, sending you a nasty look. “We will see about that, miss __.”

You sighed as he turned around and marched away.

It was later that week that the Hogwarts library had a surprise visit from a tall, white-haired man that reminded you so very much of the pest that was Draco Malfoy.

“So this is where the students are expected to borrow their books from,” said the cold voice, heavy with poorly veiled contempt. “Hogwarts seems to spend their funds… otherwise.”

“Good evening, sir,” you started, tone flat. “Have you come here to take a look around? I assure you our collection is larger than it seems here at the front desk.”

He raised an eyebrow, only now looking at you. “Miss __,” and even that alone sounds like he chastised you, “I’ve come here because of what my son told me of your behaviour. You pick on him and single him out, while the rest of the students are allowed to break school rules at will.”

Your shoulders tensed. So he was really here because of that small ordeal. And above all, it pissed you off that he didn’t even feel the need to introduce himself properly. Of course you knew who he was, but that he expected you to still remember him was infuriating.

“I see. Then you should be pleased to know that I don’t allow any student to break the rules, which includes your son. I do not play favourites.”

An amused smile played at the corner of his lip. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.” Your tone remained flat. Despite that, it was difficult not to let your eyes wander. Gods, did he dress up this fancy just to give you a stern talking to? He was delicious. With the snake tie pin mirroring the glittering of his cold gaze, the full three piece suit that wouldn’t look out of place at a funeral, and the leather gloves he wore even though he had to cross half the castle to get here.

You continued, taking a deep breath to steel yourself – he noticed, his gaze flickering to your chest. “You may be under the impression, Mr. Malfoy, that professors of this school are easily pressured by empty threats, to give your son a leniency that I refuse to show him. This visit won’t change that, so I’d suggest you save yourself the time.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you past his nose. You were glad for the library desk separating the two of you, or you’d back away from him like a scared animal.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” he said, each word perfectly measured, low and menacing. Your adrenaline spiked, and your knees trembled. He leaned forward, and you fought the urge to take a step back. Even just that thought, of backing of, of yielding to him, he must’ve seen it cross your face, and smirked in response, clearly enjoying the hold he had on you.

A group of Hufflepuffs entered the library, giggling to themselves, until they saw the standoff you were in. “Let’s just come again later,” one suggested, and they left quickly, whispering to each other. You nodded at them, and moved your gaze back to the imposing man in front of you. From this close, you could smell the perfume he wore. Something warm like sandalwood mixed with citrus. Fuck, he was insanely attractive. Touching him would feel like the most luxurious velvet.

“I suggest,” he leaned in even closer over the desk, you felt the warmth of his breath fan your face, “that from now on, you make sure you assist in Draco’s education and let him borrow whatever books he wants.”

“If he has the right permission slip from the headmaster, Draco can borrow any book he likes. Without it, he can’t.” You could barely focus on his words with how close he was. “If you knew the book in question, you’d agree with my approach and be glad that I didn’t have a conversation about Draco’s interest of late.”

“And what book may that be, miss?”

“Forbidden hexes and curses. And he’s practiced some too, already. One may think he’s… a bit too interested in the Dark Arts.” You clacked your tongue and pushed yourself off of the desk, trying to clear your head. “It wasn’t a beginner’s book either.”

Lucius quirked an eyebrow and looked you up and down. “Perhaps we should discuss this matter somewhere more… private.”

His velvety voice made your insides flip in nervous anticipation, which you attempted to calm with little success. So, that approached worked. The value purebloods place on image was such an easy win, but it felt good to hear his tone soften.

“My office is there.”

He moved around the desk and went first, waiting for you to move around him and open the door for him. Once inside, he shut and locked the door, and with a quick wave of his wand, the blinds shut themselves. His small smirk as he looked at you then was nothing short of predatory.

“Draco told me so much about you,” his voice was even more hypnotising than before, and he knew the effect he had on you as you breathed in sharply. He walked around you slowly, taking you in completely. Surely this was another intimidation technique of his, so you force yourself to stand your ground.

“He has?” you echo, not seeing the point of it, but wanting to delay the threats and the fight – and that deliciously wrong feeling of anticipation was building steadily inside your lower belly.

“The librarian,” his voice was smooth as silk, “who is so attractive that it keeps the students from their studies. A Slytherin, but surprisingly, you don’t know who or what is good for you.”

It sounds like he’s insulting you again. He stood still right in front of you, a finger coming to rest on your cheek. The contempt has returned to his expression, along with something else.

“You dress… well. Draco said you looked inappropriate, but he is just a boy. He gets silly ideas too quickly.” Lucius’ voice has softened considerably. The way you looked up at him made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing whether to fight, flight or fawn – and the result is that you did nothing.

“Your concern for my appearance is noted, sir,” you managed to say. “Is that why you really came all this way? To make sure your son’s librarian dresses appropriately?”

A small chuckle broke the silence. “I must admit, you are more alluring than he said you were. Perhaps we can solve this disagreement in a more pleasurable manner. If you can learn your place, that is.”

You stared at him. The gloved finger tapping your cheek moved to your lips, slipping between them. The smell of the leather was strong and made your head swim.

“Or should I make it clearer for you? On your knees.” His condescending tone was unlike anything you’ve heard before: alluring, yet cruel. The velvet softness of his voice contrasted with the way he looked down at you past his nose. Such a regal face…

When you didn’t immediately obey, he pushed you down by your shoulders. The floor was cold even through the fabric of your skirt. The tip of his cane tapped your cheek lightly, but it was threat enough.

You gulped. Looking up at him from this angle was a sight to see, his amused expression, the smell of him, the texture of his glove in your hair were as intimidating as they were arousing.

“What’s the matter? I’m sure a big girl like you knows what to do.” His leather clad hand tugged open his belt and ripped open the buttons without a second of hesitation. His eyes glinted darkly with lust. Only when he tugged his cock free from his underwear, did you look away from his eyes. He was gorgeous, pulsing, rigid, the head flushed with blood, with just one teardrop of precum at the slit. Doubting your actions, you reached a hand up to grip him. Warm. Thick, too.

“Are you just going to sit there? Open.”

You obeyed, instinctively, and he groaned lowly as he slid his cock in your waiting mouth. Wetting the underside of his cock with your tongue, you teased the bit of skin just under the head, making it bounce against the roof of your mouth. His breaths came sharply, slowly turning to soft sounds of pleasure. He slid in and out as you sucked him, moving your lips along his shaft. Clearly he held back in showing just how good you made him feel – and your determination grew. You teased the head with vigour, and before you could settle on a rhythm, he forced himself in deep. Gagging and trying to swallow around him, he groaned, and the sound went straight to your core. Shifting your thighs together to relieve the throbbing ache wasn’t close to enough. Lucius set a punishing pace for himself, deep and fast. In and out, and his length grew wetter and wetter with saliva and precum.

“What a pretty girl you are,” praised Lucius, in between hissed breaths and stifled groans. He held your head back by the hair then, and pulled your lips from his cock.

“You were made for this. Know just how to please your superior.”

A cruel gleam shone in his eye as he looked down on you, and he rubbed his cock over your face, coating it in your spit. His words rang true in a way that made you whimper pathetically. The humiliation burned. You broke out in a heated sweat, but the terrible empty throbbing of your cunt was enough for you to stay put. He pulls your head back on his cock, immediately pushing into your throat again.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans. The satisfied sadism in his expression has you dripping. “What great things even you can accomplish if you receive the right guidance.”

His ‘guidance’ came in the form of an insistent hand fisted in your hair as he fucked your face, without any care for your comfort. Now that his length was wet and slimy, it went in easier, but it still made you gag. You tried your best to hollow your cheeks, wanting to prove to him how good you could be. A small part of you, at the back of your mind, was disgusted by your actions and more so by how easily Lucius exploited your submissive streak. Yet, when you glanced up and saw the pleasure etched into his face, that voice quieted down. He looked sinfully good from this angle, and you enjoyed it through tearful eyes as he pushed at your gag reflex once again. In, out, slower, feeling the drag of your tongue on the underside of his cock, and moaning filth behind clenched teeth. Then, having enough of your tongue, his pace increased, pushing into your deeper and without mercy.

Eventually he let out a satisfied groan, and he pulled out from your mouth, drool spilling onto your blouse, and he stroked himself to completion, groaning harshly as he came. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted your face. You gasped at how unexpected of and end it was, face burning at how degrading it was to sit there and take it, stunned at the audacity of this man. It may be true that you craved this from the moment you first met him, but that didn’t change that it made you feel both disgusting and desired like nothing else could.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, filthy girl?” His gloved hand twisted in your hair, angling your face so he could admire you. “You will leave this as it is. Merlin, you enjoy this, don’t you? Made such a mess of yourself. Filthy fucking slut.”

His words came through gritted teeth, and you feel the strength he’s holding back as he forced you to stand by your hair. You yelped. The cum left a nasty pulling sensation on the skin as it started to dry. You felt used, so used, and his disgust showed clearly on his face. Nevertheless, he pulled you close, forcing your head to his and he kissed you, with open mouth against your cum covered lips. Without a care that his cum smeared his face as well as yours, and the bitter aftertaste that it left in his mouth, he devoured you hungrily.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, voice rough. You obeyed. The moan he let out as he pressed his lips to yours again was the most lewd sound you’d ever heard. Your tongues entwined, the taste of his seed mingling with saliva. It was gross, but in the best way. You made him like this, was the thought that shot through your mind, you made him gross and lose control. And you did all of that just by being you.

Teeth clashed and you winced, but he barely seemed to notice. He was so rough, so uncoordinated, yet it was the hottest thing you ever felt. Spirals and sparks of heat radiated in your belly. The hand in your hair let go, to great relief, and wrapped around your throat instead. The kiss grew fiercer still. He consumed you. All of you. His teeth tugged at your lips, nipping harshly enough for small stings of pain, but they were soothed over with the warmth of his tongue. His nose pressed against your face with how far he leant into you, how harshly he pulled your face against his.

This hunger was a world away from his earlier disgust.

When he let go, his pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, passionate and heated. He wiped the cum from his nose and lips, and licked it from his gloved fingers. Your eyes fluttered just at the sight of him. And it was you who caused this, who brought out this side of him, all dishevelled, messy, stained… All for you.

“It seems you do know your place well, dear librarian. How about a reward, then? Do you think you deserve one?”

All you could do was nod.

He pushed you back until your ass hit your desk, and he lifted you up until you were seated. “Legs wide. Good girl.” He spread your thighs as he stood between them. His gloved fingers dragged over the sensitive skin of your innermost thigh. You were positively throbbing. Have you ever felt arousal this strong while completely untouched? You hated him for it.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy,” you whimpered, already growing impatient.

Tugging at the cotton of your panties, he said, not a question, but an order: “Why don’t you take those off for me.”

You stumbled to comply. Before you could say anything, he silenced you by sliding two fingers in your mouth, and you wet them without being prompted to. The leather tasted like his cum, bitter. The texture was pleasant on your tongue. He hummed, pleased, as he slid his fingers out.

“Who knew you’d be such a quick student? But then again, they do say librarians have a wide variety of knowledge.” And his finger found your clit. “How’s that?”

You whined sharply as he increased the pressure, but didn’t move his fingers, still depriving me of the friction I craved.

“Or rather here?” and he slid his fingers to your slit, dipping in, before moving back up, bringing the slick with them. “Aren’t you a wet little slut.”

His middle finger slid in to the knuckle, with embarrassing ease. You moaned softly, brow furrowing. It felt right. So right. So perfect. This is what you were made for, for such a feeling, of being filled, of being used by a man as beautiful as Lucius Malfoy. Your eyes locked and your heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare.

“What a sensitive young woman you are,” he said, voice soft, yet with a darkness to it. “No one’s touched you this good before. And no one will, after.”

He pulled his finger almost out, then pushed it back in, setting himself a slow and deep rhythm, curling it deep inside. Each time he hit that spot inside, your gasps and moans became a little higher, a little more desperate. You clung onto his shoulders, and he leaned so close your noses touched.

“You look quite beautiful like this… Who knew it would be this fun to put a librarian in her place?” it almost seemed he talked to himself moreso than to you. One finger became two, but his pace remained the same. Steady, in, out, in, curling, out. The drag of his gloves made it even better, and when you looked down, they were wet and creamy from how wet you were. You whimpered as he followed your line of sight, and slammed back in harder. And harder. Now that his pace was steadily increasing, so were the sensations, growing hotter quick. He tipped you over the edge and you nearly screeched – but he kept going, the orgasm prolonging itself until you reached a second high, so high it was painful - and he moaned along with you, slowing but not pulling out. When he finally stilled, both of your breaths were sharp, as though you’d just ran up five flights of stairs. He kissed you again, messily, as he pumped in and out just a few more times, enjoying the twitches of your aftershocks.

“What a good girl,” he purred, and he pulled out. The feeling of emptiness was jarring and you clenched around nothing. His fingers slipped past your lips, and you sucked them clean obediently. “What a good girl,” he repeated, with emphasis and a fond undertone. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

Even after coming down from the orgasm, the hazy feeling stayed, making your head swim as you looked at the man in front of you. He kissed you again, and it was borderline uncomfortable with the drying cum still on your face. He was softer, a wet kiss, he was savouring you.

“I dearly hope this isn’t the last I’ll see of you, my sweet librarian,” he said, and before he left, with a wave of his wand, he grabbed your panties and left with a last, lingering look over his shoulder. “Although I expect you to behave from now on.”

Before you went to sleep that night, you replayed what happened over and over again, and despite the unsatisfiable desire, there was also anger. This man has a wife! You were livid. How could he do this? Not even the degradation – but that you let yourself be treated like that by a man who has a wife!

The next day, during your lunchbreak, the largest bouquet of roses you had ever seen was delivered to the library. There must’ve been more flowers in it than in the entire flower shop in Hogsmeade. The ridiculous arrangement sat on the desk, crowding over all the books. The delivery witch had you sign for them, but refused to tell you who they were from. You shook your head, as you sank down on your chair, staring at them. You didn’t have a vase big enough.

While you were preparing and cutting the stems, you found a note. ‘L. M.’ Was all it said and it filled you with annoyance.

Lucius. Your eyes shot fire at the mention of his name. How dare he play this off in this way. What a condescending gesture, to buy you roses just to stake some sort of claim on you. To remind you of what the two of you did the day before, to keep you in line. Resolutely, you throw the note in the paper bin. Perhaps you should send him a note too, and tell him to save those roses for his wife.

Now what? This many wouldn’t even fit in any garbage bin - not without attracting a horrible amount of attention. Perfectly pristine flowers thrown away would cause enough drama, more than keeping them would. So you, sigh, and continue trimming the stems, getting your anger out with each snip. There was enough to set a few flowers in small vases, or mugs, when those ran out, on each table in the library. The anger had faded by the time it was done, and you looked out over the suddenly very colourful library. Who will water them each morning? You’d never get around to your actual job like this.

What was left of the encounter, was that nagging feeling, of being special. Special enough to have watched such a powerful man as Lucius Malfoy become undone. You smiled softly as you stacked several returned books in your arms. Perhaps this wasn’t over yet.

#lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy fanfic #lucius malfoy fanfiction #lucius malfoy x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #lucius malfoy imagine #harry potter #death eaters #lucius malfoy x female reader

2K notes · View notes

edges-of-night · 2 years ago

Text

Imagine where your first kiss with LotR characters would be ♡

Thank you for all your positive responses to my first post! I hope you’ll enjoy this one as well, it was a lot of fun to write!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn would make your first kiss absolutely romantic. He would take you to a moonlit spot he found in the forest, where you’d listen to a brook and the night birds as he holds your hand. Aragorn kisses you without expecting or demanding anything in return. He is content as long as he can be with you!

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would playfully guide you to her favourite tower in Rivendell by your hand. She’d smile brightly over her shoulder as you ascend the artful staircase to be closer to the night sky. She’d stargaze with you there, maybe show you a book or two about the Elvish constellations that she keeps up there. You would kiss over such a book, or maybe against the white balustrade.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is well aware of his charms. When it comes to your first kiss, he teases and plays with you. However, once you share a quiet moment in the ruins of Osgiliath, he gives in to your advances. Leaning against a stone column, the usually shameless man grows silent against the comforting touch you provide.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond keeps his house very orderly. He takes it upon himself to sort the library, for example. Since you offered to help him, you have been working all afternoon. “This is the rest,” you’d say with a tired smile and a sigh as you set back the last books. Charmed by your blush of exhaustion in the golden sunlight, Elrond would smooth your hair back and lean in for a thank you kiss.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer would kiss you in the wide grasslands of the Riddermark. Your horseback ride has been interrupted by a sudden storm – the weather here is erratic – forcing you to find shelter in a rock formation. There, Éomer would make sure that you’re alright and dry, and as you’d touch, his heart would skip a beat at your damp hair and puffed lips. Being the man that he is, he’d kiss you passionately then, however offering you to “keep this between us and the rain” should you desire so.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Éowyn loves the hills and cliffs of Edoras. There, she has a secret hiding spot where she used to play as a kid. Now, she uses it for romantic rendezvous’, as she tells you with a smirk. You joke around a bit: “So, I’m your romantic tryst?” – “Perhaps you are!” – before you both lean in for a playful kiss that soon turns into something more romantic, truly.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

If it was up to Faramir, he’d kiss you anywhere – on the market in Minas Tirith, in the forests of Ithilien, or his castle after the Ring War. However, he couldn’t have chosen a better place than you: a flowery meadow where you sat down with drinks and books to tell each other fantastical stories about magic and dragons. While you lie in his arms, all you need to do is look up to find that Faramir wasn’t even reading the book you held up and instead just admired you. And then, cupping his cheek and gently guiding him toward you is just too tempting!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would kiss you in front of your house in Hobbiton, having accompanied you home after a party at the Green Dragon. He’s a gentleman, so he’d always offer to walk home together. Maybe you’re both a bit tipsy, but either way, you end up leaning against a quiet corner of your house, hidden away in the night shadows, where you share a kiss that Frodo blissfully smiles into.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel would know you’d want to kiss her even before you yourself were really aware of it. One day, while sitting by a brook near her abode in Lothlórien, she’d grin at you because she knows very well the reason for your blush. She’d offer you to sit by her side, or maybe even on her lap, and converse with you before brushing your hair out of your face to finally give you that kiss!

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf would finally kiss you after a long day of studying. You’ve been sitting in Minas Tirith’s library for hours, pondering ancient magic and recent developments. Once you call it a day, he’d look up and smile at you, like he just remembered something. Then he’d wish you goodnight. “But first…” You’d be lying if you said you haven’t seen it coming from a mile away, but of course you let him have his joy anyway!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

While usually brash and charming, Gimli is all quiet when it comes to asking you for a kiss while staying in your home. If he was wearing his helmet, he’d take it off, needless to say! You know he meant it to be a chaste forehead kiss, but you like to give your Dwarf a kiss worthy of a song – one that renders him speechless for at least a day. He’d definitely stumble over the doorstep on his way out!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

It is needless to say that Haldir would deny any desire to share a kiss with you until the very last second. After protecting the borders of Lothlórien from orcs, he is badly wounded and in dire need of your healing skills. Though he is ashamed of the vulnerability, he cannot help but marvel at your beauty and compassion while you’re immersed in your task. He’d guise the kiss he gives you in the moonlight as a shameful repayment, but by now you can read his marble face so well that you know better!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas would kiss you swiftly and lightly, like sunshine does when you step outside on a summer morning. Out in Mirkwood, he’d swirl around you like a butterfly to keep your fears away. You’d heard stories about the dark forest, but he knows just how to keep your mind off of it. “There,” he’d smile after your kiss, just shakily enough for you to realise he means this seriously after all, “the fear is gone.”

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry would make a pompous scene out of kissing you. He’d announce it loudly, standing on a table in the Green Dragon. He’d get a blast out of your reaction, whether you’re blushing in embarrassment or laughing brightly at his joy. When he does join you by your chair and pecks your flushing face, the crowd cheers you on!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would kiss you on a festive night. You’d run through the strawberry fields all night, always hunting the colourful fireworks sent by Gandalf from the hills above. After you break down beneath a tree, laughing and exhausted, Pippin would exclaim something like, “I could kiss you right now!” and quickly lean in.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam keeps a mental list of things he’d like to say to you someday. However, he’s so insecure he doesn’t even dream he’d ever get the chance. But when you’re sitting in the shadows of the sunflower field on a bright summer day, he’d want to seize that opportunity and babble in his adorably timid but sincere manner. But, being embarrassed by his own fumbling, he’d eventually go, “Maybe I oughtta kiss you instead, y’know?” Far be it from you to object!

2K notes · View notes

writing-for-marvel · 1 year ago

Text

Day 19: Sex Toys

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky controls your vibrator while you’re out for dinner.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, use of a vibrator, reader wearing a butt plug, public orgasm, implied anal sex

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

Bucky has loved surprising you with gifts throughout your honeymoon, even though he has already given you the best gift of all when he married you.

First, it was a completely new closet of designer clothes, already tailored to your measurements - you’re still unsure how he managed to get your exact proportions without you knowing.

Then it had been a cabinet full of jewellery fit for a queen. All your favourite gemstones, those that brought out the colour of your eyes and complimented your complexion, in necklaces, bracelets, rings - every type of jewellery you can imagine, even a tiara.

This morning, you woke up to a conspicuously small box beside you in bed. James Barnes never did anything on a small scale, and although you kept reminding him he didn’t need to bestow you with lavish gifts (as if this extravagant honeymoon around Europe isn’t already enough of a wedding present), Bucky has a weakness when it comes to spoiling you.

“Open it darling.” His voice has a fluctuation of amusement to it, which only makes you all the more eager to find out what’s inside.

With your curiosity piqued, you carefully untie the ribbon holding the box shut. As you open the lid, you're met with a playful smile from Bucky. Inside the box, there's a white and gold envelope and two small white drawstring bags.

You pull out the envelope first, noticing the intricate pattern embossed on the paper. You carefully open the seal and pull out a handwritten card that reads, ‘To my beloved wife, at the halfway point of our honeymoon. You're a goddess and deserve to be worshipped every second for the rest of our lives. Here is a small token of my devotion. Forever yours, James’.

Your eyes become blurry with happy tears as you pull open the other two items within the box. In one bag is a pink egg vibrator. In the other, a classic teardrop shaped butt plug with a dazzling sapphire at its base.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat as you stare at the sex toys glistening in the light of the rising sun. Bucky knows exactly how to spoil you in every way imaginable, especially in the bedroom. You bite your lip and cast a glance at your husband, who's watching you with amusement dancing in his perfect blue eyes.

"What did you have in mind for these?" You ask innocently, trying to mask the excitement in your voice.

Bucky chuckles and steps closer to you on the bed, his fingers deftly untying your silk robe to reveal your naked body. You shiver as his warm hands trail down your curves, and he bites his lip. He leans in to press his lips against your ear, the scruff of his beard tickling your sensitive skin.

"I was thinking we could try them out tonight. Have a little fun at dinner." His husky voice sends shivers down your spine and a wetness flooding your core. You nod eagerly, loving how your body responds to his tantalising touch and the anticipation of what the evening will bring.

It takes a little bit of practice to learn how to walk in tall heels with an egg vibrator sitting pretty between your legs, even when it isn’t switched on, and the butt plug in your ass.

It does help that Bucky's hand rests on your lower back as he guides you into the extravagant restaurant, but with each step his hand dips lower and by the time the smartly dressed waiter has shown you where your private booth is, Bucky is practically squeezing your ass.

The booth is large enough to fit eight people around, but Bucky chooses to sit right beside you, shoulders touching and hand intertwined with yours. He places a gentle kiss to the back of your hand as you look over the menu, unsure what half of the options even are.

You adore how affectionate he is, there's nothing better than seeing the one person you love more than life itself show that they reciprocate that feeling, but this time you know he’s just buttering you up. Biding his time until he decides to unexpectedly turn the vibrator on.

That thought wanders to the back of your mind as Bucky and you enjoy the privacy of your table. The restaurant clearly is used to catering to high profile clientele as you can barely hear nor see any other patrons even though the place has been fully booked for months.

As Bucky makes you laugh, and orders you a bottle of your favourite wine, you almost completely forget about the two toys confidentially nestled within you, that is, until it becomes time for you to order meals.

“I’ll have the-” A shock, like that of being mildly electrocuted, sparks through your body, originating between your legs. You love your husband, but he is an absolute menace for subtly switching on your vibrator with his phone at this very moment.

You squeeze your thighs together and shift your hips in your seat at the new sensation, the egg vibrator coming to life at a dangerously addictive speed.

You don’t trust your voice not to betray you if you attempt to speak your order, so instead you point at the item on the menu you’re after. The waiter reads it back to you, but you simply nod without even paying attention to the words he spoke, you’re too caught up in how the toy continually stimulates your sensitive nerve endings, lighting your insides on fire.

You feel like you’re keeping a closely guarded secret as Bucky stares deeply into your eyes with affection, both of you knowing precisely what is happening beneath the surface as the rest of the world continues none the wiser with their life around you.

“I hate you.” You grumble once the waiter walks away, toes curling in your best stilettos and you shift your hips again, futilely trying to escape the building pleasure which is originating from deep within you.

“I love you too.” His tone is teasing, because he knows with absolute certainty there is no chance of you feeling anything but pure love for him in this lifetime or the next.

You’re drowning in his closeness, the enveloping scent of his expensive aftershave downright intoxicating and his breath on ear as he speaks lowly adds fuel to an already blazing inferno. When Bucky starts drawing slow shapes on your exposed thigh, his touch leaving goosebumps and tingles in its wake, you curse under your breath - it’s one thing to have the vibrator pulsing between your legs, but Bucky’s touch is something else.

“Doing okay baby?” He asks almost tauntingly in response to a moan falling from your lips and your hips rocking underneath the table. You’re on a fast track to heaven as the toy repeatedly massages every sensitive spot inside you, and with the limited space under the table, you’re forced to sit and take the onslaught.

“I’m doing fi-fuck!” You bite your lip but your outburst is rather loud, however, it’s not your fault for while you’re trying to compose yourself in this public setting, Bucky has increased the speed of the vibrator exponentially.

Your panties are completely soaked through now, and though you try to squeeze your thighs together in some feeble attempt to find some semblance of relief. The band in your lower stomach feels like it’s pulled so tight, ready to snap at any second. The tension hanging thick in the air at your table, but Bucky seems to be enjoying your little display for him.

He hooks his index finger under your chin and directs your eyes to his. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as you continue to squirm, slowly leaning closer until you’re mere millimetres from his lips. And as usual, he says the words that are the beginning of your undoing.

“My good girl always cums for me. Are you going to be good today?”

You frantically nod, wishing for nothing more than to be his best girl, his perfect wife. When his soft, supple lips press against yours, your chest blooms with honour and happiness at pleasing him as the wildfire blazes beneath your legs.

Bucky thrusts two fingers inside your mouth as you reach the peak of your high. Moaning around his digits muffles the sound somewhat, but you’re not concerned about anyone hearing at this moment, not when Bucky looks so incredibly proud of you. As your body spasms, Bucky coos and praises you, talking you through your orgasm as the toy continues to furiously pulsate within you, prolonging your shaking orgasm.

You barely have time to come down from your intense high once Bucky turns the vibrator off, and have time to breathe when your dinner is served. Somehow in the chaos of ordering, the waiter managed to get your order correct.

“Make sure you eat all your food, for what I have planned tonight, you’re going to need all your energy and strength.” He says surprisingly nonchalantly considering you were only mere seconds away from your waiter catching you mid orgasm.

You just smile, knowing that somehow with Bucky everything always works out for the best.

“Mmmm yeah, I bet your dick is gonna feel so good in my ass later.” You seductively whisper in his ear before digging into your food, taking pleasure in the longing glance he throws you, seemingly completely uninterested now in the delicious food in front of him.

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @Inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan

657 notes · View notes

thereoncewasagirlnamedjane · 17 days ago

Text

deck the halls.

‣ pairing — ransom drysdale x f!reader

‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, fluff, xmas/holidays, mutual disdain but it’s actually just mutual not-so-secret shameful pining

‣ synopsis — for the first time, you think that working for linda drysdale the night before christmas might not be such a bad thing after all.

‣ word count — 3.4k

‣ notes — tbh i’m not very happy with how this turned out but whatever, i’ve been stressing about this for way too long because it’s my first ransom fic, and i’m just done lol. shout out to @intrepidacious though for chatting with me about this fic all winter while i struggled, doing her best to motivate me and letting me vent my writing frustrations through the entire process. ilysm nika 💕

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog

Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favourite time of yea—

You angrily jam the pad of your finger against the speaker’s power button, cutting off the quaint holiday music and plummeting Linda Drysdale’s normally busy real estate office into silence.

For someone who consistently prides themselves on being so sensible and logical, you sure can be stupid sometimes.

Because you drag a free office chair towards you, anchoring it against the wall as best as you can before climbing on top of it. You teeter precariously, cursing under your breath as you strain to loop a gaudy red and green garland over the push pins above the office doorway.

Linda, however, is even stupider, asking you to put up these god awful decorations before going home, not even providing you with so much as a step stool to do so—even though you obviously aren’t tall enough to reach on your own, even though she said you didn’t have to work overtime today (why, thank you Linda, considering it’s Christmas Eve and all), even though it was already 4:45 when she asked.

One phone call would be all it took to have OSHA crawling up her ass, but because you were only ever a badass in your own head, long after the conversation was over and there was no longer anything you could do about it, you just nodded meekly at your boss instead of telling her exactly where you thought she could shove her precious decorations.

Besides, she’d probably walk away with nothing more than a slap on her wrist anyway—if that.

“A bit to the left, Cindy Lou Who,” comes a voice, the low dulcet baritones that are the bane of your existence, like a persistent under-the-skin itch you can’t ever seem to scratch. You take a deep stabilizing breath upon hearing the nickname, a heat flaring in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the whiskey-spiked hot chocolates you’ve been secretly sipping all day.

You shoot him a withered glare over your shoulder. Ransom, the devil-spawn of your she-devil boss, is lounging lazily in your chair, leaning back with his arms casually linked over his abdomen as he observes your efforts to stay balanced and graceful.

Trust the smug little brat to show up tonight of all nights, when your patience is already wearing thin. No doubt he’s just here to piss you off before swanning over to the posh holiday party happening at his mother’s place tonight—one you’ve never been invited to despite all your years working for Linda, by the way—while you trudge home to a dark and empty studio apartment, with not even so much as a goldfish to welcome you back.

Ransom just smirks back at you through a mouthful of white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts, his hand already rummaging for another cookie from the package he’s stolen right out of the bottom drawer of your desk.

You release a huff of frustration.

There he sits, without a care in the world in his perfectly tailored wool coat and immaculately styled hair that somehow remains untouched by the howling winter wind outside, looking like he’s just stepped out of an issue of GQ.

He doesn’t deserve it, you lament, his coat already starting to pill at the undersides of the sleeves and his sweater probably just a tug at one loose strand away from unravelling completely.

Whoops. You almost fall off the chair for the fifth time since you started this ridiculous endeavour, trying to shake off the mental image of a very shirtless Ransom, tangled in a web of soft white yarn.

What? You can hate someone down to their grimy little bones and still think they’re hot.

Besides, the devil wouldn’t be the devil if he weren’t tempting, would he?

“A real piece of work… the both of you…” you mutter to yourself now, your colourful vocabulary back in full working order now that Linda is holed away in her office and well out of earshot. “She could cut me some slack, you know… Christmas, for crying out loud… and I haven’t eaten all day!”

The asshole nepo-baby just peers up at you past the phone he’s been holding up in front of his face, blinking lazily and not offering any kind of response or assistance—not that you’d expected him to.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to,” you speak slowly and deliberately, like you’re explaining something rather complicated to a small child. “You see, us humans need to eat food regularly for sustenance.”

“Wow,” Ransom deadpans, his voice muffled through cookie crumbs.

“Yeah, it is terribly inconvenient,” you shrug exaggeratedly, “but not all of us can subsist on the shards of broken souls and children’s nightmares, can we?”

“Calling me the devil again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so original; how about you get a new thing?”

“Don’t you have some place to be?” You sneer, your grip tightening on the garland, the plastic biting into your palms as you twist a string of fairy lights around the rest of it. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s a perfectly valid question. Linda is always threatening to cut her son off, but that hasn’t prevented him from skipping out on work as much as possible and galavanting around the city, maxing out her credit cards every chance he gets.

But you know she’ll never actually follow through; He shows himself here just often enough to keep her from seriously considering it, doing his small part to show off a carefully crafted picture for the masses—showing the scions of Boston’s wealthiest family in a united front.

And if there’s one thing Ransom likes more than he hates his family or earning an honest wage, it’s the weight of green lining the deep but frayed pockets of his expensive designer pants.

That shiny Drysdale veneer is all that matters, after all, and you know very well that Ransom’s only real job is to keep it nice and polished. But you’ve been working long enough at this soul-sucking place to notice the telltale signs, to see the cracks beneath the varnish.

The way you swear you see a flicker of something that looks a lot like dread whenever Linda calls his name.

The way his signature smirk twitches with just a hint of irritation whenever some angry coworker, once again passed over for a long overdue promotion in favour of giving Ransom a hefty allowance bonus, calls him a talentless, hopeless, literal son of a bitch.

The way he cracks those self-deprecating jokes about how the only real ambition he has in life is finding new ways to disappoint his relatives, and squander as much of the family fortune as he possibly can.

It’s no surprise, really, that Ransom’s turned out the way he has. You’ve heard the way they all talk about him sometimes, his family seemingly oblivious to your working-class existence.

Never mind the fact that whenever you happen to glance over at him, Ransom’s eyes are almost always on you—watching and assessing with that same inscrutable expression on his face.

Not that you pay close attention or anything.

Not that you care, either.

And never will you admit that it unnerves the hell out of you, almost like he’s trying to see through you—right down to the restless person who hides beneath a false bravado, a sarcastic sense of humour, and mountains of paperwork piled up high on your desk.

The feeling of being seen, so terrible and stirring at the same time.

And yet, you shiver, there’s something about it that rivets you. Something electric, like a live wire running just beneath your skin. It’s the feeling you get when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, his expression going from scathing to almost inquisitive within seconds, when the two of you are trading jabs and insults like his mother isn’t the one who signs your paycheques.

If you are carbon, then he’s the igniting flame.

But you know better, don’t you? Ransom is trouble, plain and simple—the kind with zero direction in life, the kind with a new girl on his arm every week, leaving them to wake up in the mornings to cold bed sheets and memories of promises he’d never intended to keep.

You will die a fiery death before you come another notch on his bedpost. Not that you even care whether he thinks of you that way at all, because even the idea of doing that with Ransom is—

Shit. You shiver again.

You’re playing with fire by even thinking about him at all, even though you feel the incredibly annoying pull of his presence like a magnet, even though you know you need to stay as far away from him as possible, and even though you are very keenly aware that there’s something here.

It looms large yet goes unacknowledged whenever your eyes lock, when he’s looking at you like he wants to bury you and devour you at the same time, when you’re itching with the knowledge that you’re only keeping him at as much of a distance as you can physically stand.

Why else haven’t you told him yet, in no uncertain terms, to fuck right off?

Because there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let yourself burn—to feel the heat of that passion you can see in his eyes that he never seems to give into, to feel whatever warmth he might muster from beneath the complicated layers of that thing beating in his chest, to feel him next to you as that terrible something you won’t ever name finally erupts and consumes everything in its path.

Ugh. You absolutely loathe yourself for it, and it makes you want to bash your forehead repeatedly against the wall.

“Someone’s going on the naughty list,” Ransom snickers, the sound infuriatingly close now. You do your best not to startle at the new proximity; he’s put his phone away, unfolded himself from your chair with that unexpectedly languid grace, crossing the room to toss your now empty package of cookies into the trash. “And is that any way to speak to a valued coworker?”

“You? Valued? Coworker?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Cindy Lou,” he chides, leaning against the edge of an empty desk barely a step away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, then lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “I hear it’s a sin.”

“Jealous?” You laugh humourlessly, snorting in a way that is decidedly very unladylike. “Of what? The fact that you’ve never worked a day in your life and have the soft white hands of a geisha?”

“Oh yeah? Been thinking about my hands a lot, have you?” He smirks again, and you bite back an exasperated moan—er, groan.

“Namely,” you say sarcastically, turning away from him and reaching up for a particularly high spot. “Breaking all the feeble little bones in your tiny rat-like claws, preferably with a nice sturdy lump of coal.”

“I’m not the one who’s gone on a rampage,” Ransom gestures to the office, now adorned with shiny little baubles, bundles of sparkly tinsel, and rolls of satin ribbon, “and vandalized the office.”

“Vandal—it looks festive, you heartless ghoul!” You whip around to glare at him again, momentarily forgetting your unstable position. But instead of rolling away from the wall and taking you with it, the chair beneath you stays firmly in place. Confused, you glance down to see Ransom’s outstretched feet casually braced against the legs.

Your head snaps up so quickly you think you might get whiplash, eyes narrowing accusatorially only to see him looking away, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his ears are turning red.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, a traitorous warmth spreading through them. You curse mentally for the umpteenth time, feeling the corners of your perfidious mouth threatening to curve up into a smile.

The bar really is in hell, isn’t it?

“You…” you squeak, clearing your throat a few times to get your voice back to normal. “It’s five. You should go get your mother now.”

“Why, am I distracting you?” Ransom replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and still not making eye contact. “And don’t rush me. I’d rather eat glass than sit through another one of Linda’s fuckin’ Christmas parties.”

“Right, because of your repellant personality?” You quip only half-sarcastically.

“So I’m told,” he drawls, but strangely he sounds more pleased than offended by your observation. “But then again, you’re no picnic either, are you Cindy?”

“Excuse me?” You finally climb off the chair, the last of the garland securely in place. You ignore those stupid feelings stirring inside you at the sight of him retracting his legs a second too slow, and only when both your feet are firmly on the floor.

“You can’t tell me you work so hard because you like your job,” he chortles, his smirk twisting into something just a tiny bit meaner this time. “Aw, sweetheart, do you not have any friends?”

You snort so loud it almost hurts, trying not to focus on just how much you and Ransom have in common—a fact he also seems content to leave unaddressed. “Oh, like you do?”

The mental image of Ransom sitting in his mother’s living room, laughing and sharing wine with a bunch of people in front of a roaring fire like he isn’t a raging sociopath makes you shudder.

“Although, I guess I am curious,” you relent with an inquisitive tilt of your head, ignoring the weight of his heavy gaze on your back as you rummage through the last of the decorations.

“Hm, do tell,” you hear him chuckle.

“About Christmas, you bumbling idiot,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Can’t picture you and Linda decorating a tree or opening presents together.”

“Okay, that’s not even funny,” he grumbles, his expression twisting into something sour.

“Never? Not even when you were a kid?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Dangerous territory. You know too much about his personal life as it is, and this would only humanize him and that’s the very last thing you want.

“Sometimes,” he admits after a few seconds of agonizing silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, your eyes meeting, as always, when you look up at him. “Only ever at Harlan’s.”

You stare, unsure what to do with the underlying hint of something in his voice that doesn’t really belong. Harlan is the only person in his family you actually like, who exudes warmth and care even towards a spoiled and ungrateful grandson, and it takes you a moment to realize that the thing in Ransom’s voice might be affection.

It’s alien and unnerving, to say the least, but you still feel a traitorous tug at your heart strings.

“I can’t picture you as a kid,” you say, somehow managing to keep your voice from trembling as you quickly change the subject. Sweet Christmases with his adoring grandpa shouldn’t be something you associate with this overgrown man-child. And even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ransom is a giant, gaping asshole. “I just see you, but… smaller.”

“And I bet you were just a naive little princess,” he smirks when you glare at him, “doting parents, thoughtful presents, cookies for Santa—spoiled in your own way.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted,” you shake your head, putting up a defensive hand, “we aren’t sharing. That’s not what this is.”

“But you know what they say, Cindy,” he says as he leans in closer, stopping just inches away, so close you can smell the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg on his breath, mingling with the saccharine aroma of peppermint and artificial pine clinging to his sweater. “Sharing is caring.”

His eyes blaze in an unspoken challenge, but before you can do anything else, like maybe start thinking that the bad idea that’s been plaguing you ever since you met this infernal man isn’t such a bad idea after all, the sound of Linda’s voice cuts through the air, as sharp as the diamonds she wears on her fingers.

“What are you two doing?”

The spell is broken, and Ransom looks away with that same infuriating smile that makes you both want to punch and ki—

“Hello, Mother,” Ransom all but sneers.

You step away with considerable effort, wringing your hands in front of you. Linda narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled suspicion, but doesn’t say anything as she begins walking towards you.

Ransom steps in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys, “We’d better get going. Your chariot awaits.”

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Drysdale,” you pipe up, watching nervously as her eyes sweep across the office and your carefully placed decorations with cool indifference. She nods slightly and you breathe a sigh of relief; that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll ever get.

“Ransom, be a dear and go start the car,” Linda says, urging him towards the door with a sweep of her hand. Her son hesitates for only a millisecond, not even looking back as he turns on his heels and leaves.

Only you notice that his hands are clenched at his sides.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” she smiles tightly as she hands you an envelope likely containing your holiday bonus, and you snap back to attention. You take it from her with a quiet thank you, but then her smile quickly turns into a stern frown. “But don’t make a habit of having food delivered here.”

“Food?” You repeat, your brows coming together in confusion. Linda puts on her fur coat, pointing a single gloved finger at the doors. There is a delivery person standing on the other side of the glass, lifting and pointing at a plastic bag heavy with takeout containers.

“Air the place out before you leave,” Linda says as she breezes past him, not even turning back while she lifts a hand in dismissal.

Confused, you follow in her tracks, staring after her as she makes a dissatisfied face at Ransom’s car pulled right up next to the curb. You see him roll his eyes, leaning over to unlock and push the door open for her. Linda doesn’t look too thrilled, but steps in anyway. They drive away, a hint of a smile on Ransom’s face even though it looks like Linda’s already started in on him with her usual longwinded lectures.

You tell the delivery boy you didn’t order anything, but he looks just as puzzled. He checks the receipt and says your name, the office address, which you confirm are correct. He then recites the order: scallion pancakes, rice noodle rolls, steamed crystal dumplings, and a small black sesame latte—your standing order from your favourite restaurant in Chinatown, reserved for nights when you were working late.

“It’s already paid for,” he says, “you might as well take it.”

You do, locking the doors once he leaves and set the bag down onto a nearby desk. Before you’ve even untied it and opened the containers to check their contents, the grin that’s been brewing all night finally breaks free.

Because there’s only a handful of people in the world who know you’re here at the moment, but only one who knows you haven’t eaten yet today, and who knows that despite having permission to leave for the night, you’ll probably settle in for another few hours of tedious paperwork.

Still, you finish every last crumb of your dinner feeling lighter than you have all week.

Maybe you’ll ask him next time, despite all the reasons you probably shouldn’t, whatever happened to sharing is caring?—even if it sounds like an invitation.

And maybe you feel cheeky enough to send him a quick email before logging off, cackling to yourself when he finally fires back a scathing reply a few hours later, likely still sitting in a room full of people just like his mother, trying not to be absolutely miserable.

From: “El Diablo” <[email protected]> To: Reception <[email protected]> Subject: RE: Merry Christmas Oh fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about. ——————— From: Reception <[email protected]> To: “El Diablo” <[email protected]> Subject: Merry Christmas …and thanks for dinner, Drysdale.

And if, when you’re finally home long after the midnight hour, you’re tucked into bed feeling full and warm with the temptation to raise your lips into a smile as you drift off to sleep?

Well.

That’s really nobody’s business but your own, is it?

fin.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale x f!reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans character fanfiction #christmas fluff

60 notes · View notes

percyjavksongf · 1 year ago

Text

-𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤! 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐’𝟗𝟎𝟎

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

'𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭...𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐢𝐫...𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’

-𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐨𝐧

“Anne had come home dancing in the purple twilight across the snowy places. Afar-”

you noticed a small, curious hand shoot up in the corner of your eye and you had to hold back a laugh, shifting your gaze to the young girl sitting attentively in front of you, she was the last one to go home every evening but even as the hour grew late she was as alert as ever.

“yes, Aneria?”

“what does twilight mean?” she spoke in a whisper, already having been shushed twice this evening by the librarian.

“its when the sun has nearly set but there’s still some light coming through, like when the sky turns shades of purple and pink. Do you understand what I mean?”

Aneria nods in a serious way, she was by far your favourite out of all the children you read to in the library, although you know you shouldn’t have favourites she was the most intrigued by the stories you were instructed to read to the kids, who usually were in your care until their parents finished work. Todays read was Anne of Green Gables much to your delight, the story was a favourite of yours since you were Aneria’s age.

“now where were we, uh, yes. Afar in the southwest was the great shimmering, pearl-like sparkle of an evening star-”

“Gilbert Blythe is so dreamy, don’t you think?” you nod your head approvingly at Aneria’s statement, having grown accustomed to her frequent interruptions, she never meant any harm with them. “my mom said to me that she’s seen you walking around with a boy, is that true? She said he’s Sally’s son and I hope so, he’s definitely just as dreamy as Gilbert”

you struggle to compress a laugh at Aneria’s boldness, not surprised at the least that gossip has spread about you and Percy’s evening strolls around the borough, you just didn’t expect to hear about it in this situation.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about missy” you reply with a teasing grin, causing Aneria to whine in annoyance, “come on, I never got to know the truth in gossip”

“that’s usually because there’s not much truth in it, now will we continue reading?”

Aneria sat once again to attention, glad she had forgotten quickly about the topic of yourself and Percy.

“in the sky that was a pale golden and ethereal rose of gleaming white spaces and dark glens of spruce. The tinkle of sleigh bells among the snowy hills-”

a sharp voice echoed through the library making you cringe, “Aneria! Time to go home”

Aneria huffed and rose to her feet quickly, “coming mom!” she swung her bag over her shoulder before turning to you “can we finish the story on Monday?” you smiled and nodded warmly, waving goodbye as you turned to grab your own bags.

“so what happens next?” you gasp sharply and spin on your heels, sending Percy a sour look when he laughs at your shocked expression, “what are you doing in here?” you questioned with fake displeasure, which Percy knew well at this point. “I’m here to find out what happens next, duh” with that he plops himself down by your feet and stares up at you expectingly, you sigh but can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face when you flick back through the pages to finish the sentence.

“The tinkle of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their music was not sweeter then the song in Anne’s heart and on her lips” you look up from your book and catch Percy’s gaze, you watch each other for a couple of seconds until he blinks and quickly turns away, clearing his throat before shuffling to his feet, “well your book’s right about one thing, its frosty as fuck out there.” you’re quick to shush Percy with a giggle as you hear the librarian huff in annoyance. The two of you are quick to leave the library and step out into the icy street, a shiver runs up your spin and before you can say a word Percy is offering his jacket to you, “come on just take it, seriously I don’t need it” you take the heavy material into your arms gratefully, it slips on easily and you practically melt into it, the smell of Percy cologne lingers on the fabric and you can’t say you hate it.

The streets of Manhattan were dressed accordingly with the season, you adored how the city, as crazy as it was, always felt like something out of a movie this time of year, and if you hadn’t been in a trance watching the lights glimmer around you, then you would’ve felt the weight of Percy’s stare on the side of your face. You had grown accustomed to your shared walk home, Percy was working part time at the skate shop down the road from the library which delighted you both, with the busyness of school it was hard to find time to hang out. At first it was more of a ‘hey if I see you I’ll walk over and talk’ but now it was guaranteed that you’d find Percy waiting outside the Library leaning against the wall like a cliche from an 80’s movie, but instead of starting with a smooth pick up line he’d ask if you had known that sea horses are monogamous (you did not). Apart from the ocean facts yous two would talk about everything, home life, what you were learning about in college, Percy would never fail to mention his long distance friends Annabeth and Grover, he spoke about them so much it felt like they were your friends too.

“so what’s Gilbert like?” the question had you raising a brow at Percy, who faked innocence with a brow raise in return. A breath of warm air travels past your lips and you shift your gaze ahead at the flashing ‘tis the season!’ sign hanging off the Bodega Percy and you visit frequently.

“you heard Aneria talking, didn’t you?” you could practically feel the shit eating grin make its way onto Percy chill flushed face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but, if I did overhear how absolutely dreamy this guy is and you totally agree and think him and I are just alike-”

“I never said you two were the same Jackson, don’t put words into my mouth”

“I know you definitely think it though, even if you won’t admit it”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at that, you could go back and forth with Percy for hours and never grow bored. You have a feeling you cant get yourself out of this conversation though.

“any fish facts for me today?” you blink up at him, hoping it’s a good enough subject change

“you can’t deter me by fluttering your lashes, but we will go back to the fish facts after you tell me about my amazing twin” Percy bumps your shoulder and you nearly go flying on the icy footpath, his annoyingly gorgeous laugh encouraging you to shove him away from you and across the ice, unfortunately for you, Percy seems to hold himself just fine on it, dam him.

“well for one, Gilbert would never do that to Anne”

“oh, so you see us as Anne and Gilbert? How romantic”

“shut up”

a gloved hand reaches out to you and you stare at it suspiciously, though you do notice how he was wearing the gloves you brought him last winter, he complained for weeks about how cold his hands were and that you just had to hold them to keep him warm. The gloves were well received but you found he reached for you still.

“I don’t bite” he teases and you grab onto the hand, even after doing it so many times it still made your heart flutter.

“come here”

you let Percy pull you into him as you continue your walk, removing his hand from yours and you sigh at the loss of warmth, causing him to chuckle “don’t worry baby I’m not going too far” with that an arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls you close, in that moment your grateful for the cold, it’s a good excuse for your burning face. You feel yourself melt under his touch and allow your body to move closer into his, because it’s cold obviously, no other reason.

“so do you think Gilbert is more handsome than me?”

“I think he’s less annoying than you”

“you love me, don’t lie”

you do.

“did you listen to anything else Aneria said, or did you hear a complement about yourself and your brain tuned out”

“I heard that we’re the local gossip, you and I. My mom would be delighted if that were true”

your heart tugs painfully a little at that. it isn’t true, you have to remind yourself, but it feels nice to fall into a dream that it is.

You hum quietly in response and notice you’re only a few blocks away from yours and Percy’s shared apartment complex, Percy, as if sensing your disappointment, turns both your bodies away and continues down another street. Confused ,you send him a look that he returns with a smile “it’s a Friday night, we don’t have to go home now. Besides I though you wanted to go check out that Christmas market at union square?”

you stare up at Percy for a bit and just look, his redding nose and cheeks that complement his tan skin so well, his eyes, god, his eyes. They were always a source of amazement for you, you’ve never seen eyes like Percy’s, you always got lost in them, swearing that they changed into different shades of green and blue.

“I’m definitely more handsome than Gilbert” Percy’s face breaks out in a grin as you pull him towards the nearest subway station.

It was busy of course, like any Friday night in the city would be, Percy had managed to snag a seat for you two quickly and you raced to get yourself sat down before anyone else could come after it. Usually the cramped space made you uncomfortable but you never really minded with Percy, he didn’t seem to either with how he pressed his side against you.

An unspoken agreement to be as close of possible to each other was the norm for you too, you threw your legs over to hang in between his and wrap your arms around his arm closest to you, finally resting your head on his shoulder. You could stay like this forever, you think. Riding a cramped subway that had a familiar mixture of carolling and shouting, shuffling and bumping, crying and laughter. It’s like you couldn’t even hear the ruckus when you were tucked up with Percy, his head resting on top of yours, his strong hands resting on your legs, fingers tapping an familiar tune on your thigh.

You adored it.

“you know I don’t think this is going to help us mush out those rumours” you mumble into his jacket, still pressed firmly against you. Percy turn his head and presses his lips to your hair, “yeah I know”

you hum back softly in acknowledgment, the rush of having Percy so close to you was gorgeous. But after today, what then? You don’t mind the gossip and what if’s of strangers but the feeling of what if with Percy was becoming too much to bear, you didn’t want what if anymore. Percy, now having lifted his head to check out how far away you were from union square, gave you the opportunity to shift your head to look up at him. Sensing your gaze, Percy looks back down at you and admires how pretty your eyes looks gazing up at him through your lashes, the though makes him catch his breath and look away for a second, but you two were magnetic, drawn to each other and it wasn’t long until he was watching you again. His free hand came up to press against your cheek, reddened from happiness. “you’re so warm” Percy whispered, mostly to himself. You were always so warm, he used to joke that you were his portable hot water bottle. You lean slightly to press the fat of your cheek into his hand, just for a second, before moving back to against his shoulder.

“fuck” Percy says to himself again, you shoot him a confused glance and he squeezes your knee in return

“whats wrong? Do you need me to move-”

“no, no, stay there you’re good, you’re so good” the breathiness in his voice combined with his dark eyes freezes you. This felt different, this was all so new to you.

“I just really wish we weren’t on this subway right now, I don’t think Gilbert would kiss Anne on a subway train”

you don’t fight the laughter that echos out of you, of course he’d be worried about something like that

“Percy, I think Gilbert would do that. Besides I don’t care about what Gilbert would do, I don’t like Gilbert”

“well I hope not cus’ I’d be heartbroken”

“oh really”

“truly”

the train pulls to a halt and Percy rushes to get yous off, your laughter accompanies his movements as you both run up the stairs into the cool night, glancing at each other every few seconds. The streets were alive and bustling, you gripped Percy’s hand tightly as he pulled you away from the crowd to the side of a Bodega, squeezing your hand every few seconds as if to make sure you didn’t disappear.

his hands shook gently in yours and you squeezed them tight, you both stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime, you could feel the nerves creeping up on you now.

“Percy..”

“I know”

the loss of his hands in yours was quickly fixed by his hand cupping your face, the wool was comforting against your skin for a moment before it was gone, replaced by Percy’s now ungloved hand.

“i’m sorry this isn’t as pretty as Hester Grey’s old garden” Percy whispers, his thumb running over your cheek

“you have read Anne of green gables” you spoke back accusingly

“my mom read them to me as a kid”

Percy pulled you closer until you stood chest to chest, you tilted your head up and brushed his nose slightly “hey Percy?”

“mh?” you felt hypnotised under his gaze, his eyes almost seem to have darked. You’ve never been so close before.

“please kiss me”

“as you wish” is mumbled against your lips, you can feel his nose pressing against your cheek as he’s kissing you, his mouth so warm and firm against yours. Your arms snake around his shoulders as his hands slide down your back and settle on your waist, gripping tightly. You know that the word will spread by tomorrow morning about the Jackson boy getting handsy outside the Bodega and it makes you smile against Percy, he only pulls back for a second to catch his breath, hands never leaving you once

“do you want to go to the markets?” you take a second to admire how messy Percy looks, face flushed and hair ruffed up from your hands. You must look the same from how Percy’s staring right back at you. You shake your head yes and press back against him “eager girl, you need me that much, huh?” you smack his arm hard.

“says the one who practically dragged me out of the subway to do this”

he presses a quick kiss to your lips to shut you up.

“we’ll check out these markets and then walk home, hows that sound?”

“walk? Why would we walk” yous turn hand in hand back towards the colourful crowd of people, everything seems so much brighter now.

“because then I get to have you to myself for longer” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The next morning you woke to a knock at the door, Percy having dropped you home only hours before. You practically dragged your feet to the door and swung it open, the chill of the wooden floors making you want to get this interaction done and over with quickly. To your surprise no one stood on the other side, you looked down to see a plate full of blue chocolate chip cookies wrapped in cling film with a note on top, taking them inside quickly you pressed your back against the door and read the messy writing.

Meet me at the Bodega in 15 minutes, breakfast on me.

You can’t help but laugh at it, it’s definitely no Gilbert Blythe, but its Percy Jackson, which is so much better.

a/n: hellooooooo i have returned minions. don't really like this fic tbh but i am so ready for Christmas and needed to get something out, and I've fallen back into my pjo phase so expect more of this <3 i also have a Jake Sully fic in the works for my avatar ppl

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #book percy jackson #x reader #fanfic

394 notes · View notes

ieatkeyboard · 1 year ago

Text

What Obey Me brothers do for Valentines day

Note: I have a love-hate relationship with Valentines day but it's a really cute holiday! Hope you guys have fun :] Warnings: Sappy love, fluff

Lucifer: - It's cannon he's been in many relationships so I don't think it's his first rodeo - He cleans up your room while you're at work. Washes your bedding+other laundry, makes your bed and folds your laundry, does some vacuuming. -He doesn't go through your drawers or anything just tries to make it a bit neater so you can come home and not worry about cleaning up - He gets you gifts based on things you like. If you like to make jewellery he'll get a couple kits from a hobby store to make together. If you like comfy clothes, he'll customise a set of pyjamas for you, etc. - He'll jot down notes of things you like all January. He makes sure to ask at the beginning of January what your dream Valentines day activity would be in hopes you forget about it over the month - I feel like he wouldn't ask for what he wants but he enjoys doing things together. He's a bit of a sap so he uses Valentines day to show it more. - I feel like he'd be a sucker for roses. Get him white and red roses with a little note and he'll never forget it. - He might get you some little things on Valentines day if it's on a week day and use the weekend to do more. - He'd love make dinner with you but he has your favourite restaurant on standby in case Beel walks in- - Watching movies together in his room cause his bed is bigger, taking your blankets and pillows into his room cause you're spending the night there. -He tears up a little at the end of the night, when you're sleeping in his arms. He hopes this is the most memorable Valentines day you'll ever have

Mammon: - He's a sap but in the "idk what I'm doing" way - Anything he knows about you leaves his brain - He gets you flowers and chocolate and sprays his cologne on a hoodie for you - He'll probably take you for a drive and show you all his favourite places (Spoiler. It's the places you first met, took your first date at, had all your firsts at) - He'll cry remembering how it started. how you ended up in his life and all the things you've been through - He takes you through a drive through and you eat in the parking lot. He has your shared playlist playing quietly in the background while you both talk about your days and your memories together - I feel like he wouldn't need anything. He just wants you - But if you got him a new sweater or watch he was looking at, he'd be extremely happy. - I also feel like he likes sunflowers

Leviathan: - He's never had a Valentine before, he also would be too scared to ask - He'd slip a note under your bedroom door that says "Wanna be my Valentine?" and when you agree he gets really happy but also nervous that you're kidding or are doing it out of pity - After much reassurance you set up plans together - You guys watch your favourite anime together, build the anime figurines Levi's been putting off together, play games, order food - You probably sneak out later to go walk to a convenience store to get snacks and drinks and go fuck around at a park - I think he'd buy your snacks for you and pick up a stuffy for you - He isn't overly sure what you like in the flowers and such department but he tries - I feel like he isn't a big flower person tbh

Satan: - Romantic slut man - He makes you a goody bag. He writes a love letter with references to the books you've read together, makes a kiss print sweater like the ones on tiktok (Got the idea from Asmo sending him stuff of what to do for you), got you the snacks you like, a gift card to the places you like and a lamb stuffy that reminds him of you - He likes lavender for sure - I feel like getting him a nice lavender room spray to help him relax while he reads, a cat stuffy, the book he's been dying to read but is always in use at the library and a new blanket would be perfect for him (I am absolutely projecting, and what) - Making a blanket for with him and watching the movie adaptations to the books you like is everything. Go to a cat cafe to get lunch before going shopping and putting the gift card he got you to use

Asmo: - Oh lordy lord - Bath bomb, rose petals, wine, your favourite show, the kiss print sweater but I feel like he'd do matching pants (You'll NEVER guess where he put the kisses!!!*REAL* *NOT CLICKBAIT*), spa day, a cute lunch and dinner date, SO MANY PICTURES - He wants to spoil you. Give you everything romantic he could possibly think of - He likes lilies. lilys? Idfk you get the idea - He also would love to make stuff together! I also feel like Asmo draws up a little map of all the places you had your firsts and put little Polaroid pictures of those days next to the spots - Taking him shopping and getting to go home, do a little fashion show, try all the new makeup he got one each other, make the teddy bear you got him smell like you, get him new blankets/candles/decorations for his room. He'd be so happy - I feel like as much as Valentines day is the day of love and he'd flirt a lot, he'd keep sex out of the plans (Unless you want it but than after the fact he'll complain about needing to catch up on the other plans he made lol) - He loves you for so much more than your body and especially cause he's the Avatar of lust he want to prove it's not just his sin getting in the way

Beel: - He gets you comfy clothes, snacks, and other stuff you like! If you have your ears pierced or have other piercings he'll get you cute jewellery, get you a necklace to match. If you like cats, he'll get you a sweater with cat ears and a cat stuffy - He worries about getting you flowers because if they smell good he'll want to eat them- - On the note he for sure likes edible flowers like hibiscus, rose, lavender and chamomile. I'd recommend getting him flowers in the way of getting flower flavoured things - He would appreciate ordering food from all the places you've been on dates so you can have a trip down memory lane while eating (He absolutely asked Asmo for that idea) - I feel like he'd ask his brothers and your friends for ideas cause as much as he knows you, you probably admit to like different or more stuff with friends - He asks you to show him all your favourite movies, current and childhood. He wants to know how you became the amazing person he fell in love with - He wouldn't want much for Valentines day. Candy and like I said, flower flavoured things would be enough for him. If you get him anything else please do not make it food related he will chew on it. Getting him new clothes and stuff based off his movie would make him really happy

Belphie: - Blanket, both of the fluffy and weighted variety. Cow stuffy. New sweater. -I would try and steer clear of stuff to make him sleep harder but he's a comfy kinda guy so it's hard - Star themed pyjamas and hair clips. Or bleaching his favourite constellations on a black hoodie. He'll wear it everywhere - I feel like he'd like white roses and dahlias - His ideal date would be getting food, going to the planetarium and talking, listening to music, looking at the stars, etc. And than going home and napping with his new blanket and in his new pyjamas. - He'd get you snacks, a hoodie and shorts that are your favourite colour, get you a new pillow that he'd test out first to make sure it was comfy. - And ofc he'd get you stuff you like. Your favourite perfume, stuff based on movies/shows/anime you like. - He'd get a little sappy and tell you he's so glad your still with him. That you're his

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #lucifer fluff #mammon fluff #leviathan fluff #satan fluff #asmodeus fluff #beelzebub fluff #belphegor fluff #valentines day #RatwRitesThings

334 notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 5 months ago

Text

requiem // part five

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: fighting for my LIFE trying to sort out my student loans rn. also i'm sick. butttt i did just finally get my hands on hogwarts legacy so that's eating up all my time. anyway that's a small update on my life.

also, reminder to follow @runningfrom2am-library and turn on my notifications there to join my taglist for this series!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

Walking into the citadel and down some spiral stairs towards Dr. Gaul's infamous lab, you already have your notepad in hand prepared with the proposal you have made for her.

She likes those, right? Coryo wrote her several for the games and she put them to use. This should be no different.

You have a pencil clutched in one hand unless she has questions, which you are sure she will.

Your shoes click down the large hall as you make your way to the reception desk on the left side, manned by security rather than actual receptionists. Dr. Gaul was not your average doctor, after all.

You stop in front of the counter and slide a piece of paper across it to the man sitting there, a determined but kind expression on your face.

He doesn't even look up.

You let out a quiet sigh, rolling your eyes before knocking on the counter and waving a hand at him.

He looks up then, studying you for a moment with eyes lingering on the scar across your throat before recognition flashes in his eyes. "Can we help you with something?" He asks anyway, as if he was expecting an answer even though you both knew you wouldn't be able to give him a verbal one.

You tap the paper you placed on the counter, sliding it forward more toward him and he picks it up.

'I would like to see Dr. Gaul. I have a written proposal for her.'

He reads it, nodding a little to himself before looking up at you again. "She should have a few minutes, she has a meeting at 2, though." He says, and you nod to him in a silent thank you as he buzzes the doors open for you to enter.

Stepping into the lab that hosted incredibly high ceilings, tanks lining the shelves and walls as well as a pit in the floor straight ahead, you swallow as you look around. You had never been in here before, and you weren't sure if you were more creeped out or more in awe of the whole thing.

"If it isn't my favourite songbird." You look up when you hear the familiar voice of the doctor, resisting to roll your eyes at the nickname, despite her claiming that you had been her favourite of the two of you who had earned the name. These days, it never fails to form a pit in your stomach.

You give her a smile and a polite nod as she walks toward you from between some of the tanks, dusting off her red gloves on the somehow pristine white of her lab coat.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, chickadee?"

In response, you hold out the carefully prepared file folder to her, including your proposal and copies of your own medical records from the operations performed after your attack.

She raises her eyebrows in intrigue as she plucks it eagerly from your hands, opening it up.

Dr. Gaul's eyes widen slightly in surprise as she looks over the "title page" of your neatly formatted proposal, looking up at you again.

"Experiment in Language Efficiency on the Human Body: A Proposal." She reads, letting out a slight laugh.

You watch her nervously, hands clutched around your notebook against your chest. You nod in confirmation, wanting her to know you are entirely serious.

She quickly flips through the pages and your medical records, occasionally glancing up at you.

"Well, this seems to be a compelling proposal." She comments, closing the folder. "But no. I will not be turning you into any kind of experiment."

Your brow furrows in slight disappointment, and you flip open your notebook to quickly write something down for her.

'I volunteer.'

She reads the sheet as you turn it around and she shakes her head, a small smile forming on her lips. "I figured as much, but still, it is too dangerous. I do not experiment on humans. Especially Capitol citizens, and especially those as well-loved as you."

The irony of that is palpable, and your jaw tightens as you scribble your thoughts down on the next page. You thought she had done something to Clemensia, but you did not wish to fuel the rumour mill, so you kept that quiet.

'I believe that if anyone is capable it is you, Dr. Gaul.'

"I'm flattered, and I do not doubt that." She chuckles, holding the folder out to you again. "But that does not make it possible, I am afraid."

In response you just point over to the bird cages against the left wall, tilting your head at her.

Jabberjays: Birds of her own creation designed to mimic the human voice.

"You've done your research." Dr. Gaul comments, clearly impressed and pleased that you would bring them up. "You make a valid point, my jabberjays, they... They were certainly a successful experiment of mine. Undeniably relevant to your cause."

She gazes over at the caged birds thoughtfully. "But look at them now. As you point at them." She nods toward them before looking back at you again. "They were only free for so long before they ended up caged again. Useful, for a while, during the war, but their time of pertinence has passed. You know how that feels, don't you?"

The question was cruel, as she was known to be, but that knowledge didn't make it hurt any less. You take a deep breath in and out through your nose, feeling frustrated and defeated all at once as you turn to walk away.

"Ah, wait a moment, chickadee. I'm not finished." She calls after you, voice echoing in the large lab. You pause, turning around to face her again.

"I am having all my precious jabberjays rounded up from the districts and shipped back to me because, despite their redundancy, I am yet to give up on them. I wish to somehow give them a second purpose, maybe make some tweaks to their genetics." She explains, but you are still mostly uninterested and busy drowning in your disappointment. "What I mean, is that I will consider your proposal, depending on how that goes with them in the coming weeks."

Your heart stops and flutters for a moment at the exciting news. You can't help the hopeful smile that grows on your face as you nod eagerly at her.

'Thank you.'

You write quickly before showing her the sheet, pressing your hand to your chest to signal further your gratefulness.

"That is not a yes, mind you. It is very risky, but I will take it into account. I'll do some tests on defective birds and see if there is a way I can help." She warns you, tucking the folder under your arm. "Now, I have a meeting, if you wouldn't mind. I will be in touch with you, little bird."

You nod again, giving her a small wave before turning and walking back the way you came with a giddy smile on your face.

Walking into the now familiar lab, Coriolanus is slightly nervous. As he always is, in the presence of Dr. Gaul. The coldness of the room in both temperature and design makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but he's used to the chill he gets when he walks in.

Especially now that he didn't know what she had summoned him for.

His worries are quickly dashed and then tripled walking down the spiral staircase, stopping in his step when he sees you coming up.

"What are you doing here?"

Your best friend's voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you look up, having just finished tucking your notebook into your bag. You had little to no interest in pulling it out again, hoping that your long-lasting friendship would allow you to instead just communicate telepathically and spare you the effort.

You just stare at him, just as surprised to see him, opening your mouth like you're going to say something and you try but you still can't. Shocking.

Instead of coming up with any meaningful response, you do the best you can do, pointing at him and then turning up your palm as if to ask him the same thing.

"Me? Dr. Gaul called for me." Coryo answers, thankfully understanding your wordless question. He was better at that than most. "You too?"

You're about to shake your head and try to explain why you were here, but then you think better of it.

He hates her. Hates her experiments, despite what he did to help her with the games. He'd probably flip if he knew the truth.

You nod instead, glancing back down the stairs.

Coryo sighs a breath of relief. At least he wasn't the only one. At least you might be able to give him some peace of mind. "Is it bad? Is it about the mentorship program? Is it-"

You hold a hand up to stop him from his mini spiral, lifting one finger.

'One question at a time.'

Right.

He had the sound of mind to only ask yes or no questions to get to the bottom of what he wanted to know, but he didn't quite get as far as realizing that all of them at once may not be helpful.

"Sorry, is it bad?" He asks again, and normally he would laugh, but he was too anxious to even see the comedy in it like the two of you normally would.

Unsure what else to do, you shake your head and shrug vaguely. As an extra measure, you hold up your hand and twist your palm.

'So so.' The gesture is meant to signal, considering it was a safe enough answer. Nothing Dr. Gaul could have called him here for could be all good news, after all. You don't think, anyway.

"Okay, okay..." Coryo breaths out, nodding to himself.

Feeling a little guilty you step up to the step he's on, gently patting his shoulder and giving him a small smile.

'You'll be fine.'

He seems to interpret this correctly, giving you a small smile in return and gently resting his hand over your smaller one on his shoulder.

You were meant to be reassuring him, but his touch works miracles to comfort you when you weren't even sure you needed it all that much.

These days though, you would cling to any sense of it you could get. Even the tiniest bits. Sometimes, for a flicker of a second, you didn't feel so alone. Coryo could still hear you.

"Thanks. I'll see you soon? Can I come by later?" He asks and you nod in confirmation, giving his shoulder another gentle squeeze as you take another step up so you're about at eye level with him, leaning back to kiss the side of his head in a small bit of encouragement before waving him on.

Coryo can't help the flush that forms on his cheeks as he nods at you, hesitating for a moment before continuing down the steps and you continue back up.

"Oh, Dr. Gaul?" Coryo says, catching himself before he leaves, and she looks up again from her corner desk stacked with papers, your deep red folder sitting right on top.

She looks up, anticipating his question.

"Did you offer an apprenticeship to Y/N as well? I saw her leaving on my way down." He asks, assuming that she must have extended it to you as well. That was why you were here, right? Both called for the same thing? Though, he didn't understand how that could have been a bad thing as you indicated it kind of was when he stopped you on the stairs.

But he knows you well. Having to settle for an internship under Dr. Gaul was far from what you wanted in life, so he can easily see how you could have seen it that way.

"No." Dr. Gaul answers after a moment, head tilted at him. "She just had a question for me."

Well, so much for your honesty.

You never lied to him. At least, Coryo didn't think you did, but here he was, being confronted with the fact that you had. It doesn't settle well.

He can't resist asking. "What about?"

"That is between the songbird and I, I'm afraid." Dr. Gaul responds with a shrug and a sly, knowing smile- taunting him for something she knew about you that he did not. "If she wished for you to know, she would tell you." She pauses, a feigned guilty smile forming on her red-painted lips at the irony of her words. "Well, you know what I mean."

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

112 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 2 - La Valse de Paris

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

AuthorsNote: Chapter 2 of new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This details our reader settling into Paris and the outbreak of war. Benedict turns up next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

Paris, September 1939

Your first few weeks in Paris are a delightful blur.

Spending late summer exploring the city - with Solène as your occasional guide and Eloise when she is not at work. You soak up every moment, from the windswept magnificence of standing atop the Eiffel Tower, your words being stolen by the wind, to the monastic silence of the Louvre on a quiet Monday morning. And everything in between - from Notre Dame's atmospheric incense-laden gothic darkness to the airy, resplendent glass dome of Galeries Lafayette that glitters like a prismatic jewel even on cloudy days.

But perhaps your favourites are the little slices of city life: sitting watching the world go by at a corner cafe, the crunch and warm, pillowy softness of the first bite of freshly baked baguette as you wander back from the boulangerie, the lingering fragrance of the rose garden at the Château de Bagatelle in Bois de Boulogne... It's all pieces of a puzzle that fill your heart in ways that make your life before now seem drab, almost in black and white, like a photograph.

You have written to Stanley once since you arrived, effusive in your praise, a homily to your new home, however temporary. While proclaiming his happiness for you, his response tempered, a touch dismissive of your wonderment. I can scarcely believe any city could truly live up to the praise you so readily heap upon Paris, my love, he wrote back. That was a week ago, and your urge to reply has been muted.

It's during an idle lunchtime by the Seine, eating a sandwich as you dangle your feet over the river wall, that you genuinely feel a local. An elderly French couple, likely visiting from the provinces, approaches you and asks you for directions to the Musée de l'Homme. Part of you aglow they think you sophisticated enough to look Parisian, and French. And you are able to help them, giving them the information in French, not fluent but sufficient that they are surprised when you confess “je suis américaine”.

In your third week, you secure the art gallery job Eloise had seen posted. An opportunity to meet many new people, primarily British and American, who share your love of art of all persuasions. You spend many a happy hour answering questions and building your knowledge of art, not just in your gallery but across the city. Part of you is wistful to study the subject in even greater depth than the books you borrow in copious quantities from the library where Eloise works.

You grow so close to Eloise so quickly that it’s as if you have known her your whole life. A sense of kinship, a near familial bond. You know, on some instinctive level, she will always be a part of your life somehow. Your evenings are often spent in lounge bars together—venues awash with art deco splendour as you listen to jazz through a cigarette haze and flirt aimlessly with a carousel of handsome men. Life seems so full of potential, a hum in your very being.

“What do you think the purpose of life is, y/n?” Eloise sighs as she flops onto your bed after returning from one such decadent night out.

“Aaaand we are done with the brandy…” you declare, taking the bottle of Martell cognac from her grip and placing it pointedly on the dresser, your high-handed point only mildly undermined by your own unsteady gait.

You collapse down next to her, the intricate ceiling rose around your light fixture swirling slightly before your very eyes.

“Love?” you hazard in answer to her question.

“Boo! Cliché!” she jeers, elbowing you good-naturedly.

“I don’t just mean romantic love,” you protest, “the love of family… friends…”

“Ah, yes, family. Endlessly large family. Don’t suppose you want an extra sibling or two, do you? I could be persuaded to let a couple go,” she squints comically.

“Depends… can I have the artist?” you jest.

“You have to stop staring at that painting; it's getting weird,” she opines with her typical bluntness, “and no, you can’t. You know he’s my favourite,” she pouts.

“I think he’s my favourite too,” you opine over a stifled yawn, any embarrassment about being called out for your unbridled admiration overridden by the sleepy state your comfortable bed lulls you into.

“If you end up being attracted to my brother, I will have to disown you, you know,” she pats your hand drowsily.

“Hmm, good thing he’s so far away…” you trail off with a lazy giggle, eyes drooping heavily.

It’s the last words you exchange before you both fall asleep on your bed.

–

Perhaps, as with all things that are too good, the idyll is temporary. It's the news you wake up to that following morning, September 4th, which throws everything into uncertainty. Solène knocks on your door early with an uncharacteristically sombre expression, wordlessly handing you the morning paper and flicking on the wireless on your mantelpiece, the fine lines on her face deeper etched, furrowed with worry.

‘La Guerre!’ the headline screams from the newspaper. And the voice on the airwaves, your ear more attuned to the language now, details how Britain and France have jointly declared war against Germany for their invasion of Poland a few days prior.

At the sound of the radio, Eloise emerges from your room, blinking and hair asunder, a little delicate from your previous night's revelry. You sip coffee at a loss for what to think or do. It’s an odd cognitive dissonance when life at once seems identical but also changed by an invisible shape - an undercurrent of fear, of the unknown, a punch to the pit of your stomach that you don’t know how to acknowledge - even as you go through the motions of your daily routine and head to work.

By the evening you are more phlegmatic about the situation. Your spirit dampened, yes, but not crushed. You feel an immense sense of privilege that conflict is not yet at your doorstep, but equally knowing being in the capital city of a nation that just declared war against a neighbouring country is not exactly safe.

You and Eloise splash out on dinner at an upscale brassiere that night, one you have both passed and commented you’d love to dine in some time. Both of you seized by the unspoken “what if”, the previous reluctance to treat yourselves entirely absent.

Talk on all the tables around you as you dine - on heavenly butter-soft steak - is about the war. What it could mean for Paris, fear of another major European conflict so soon after the last, the economic concerns - the bite of the early 30s depression just relinquishing its hostile grip on the somewhat bruised denizens.

Afterwards, you wander the cobbled streets back to your apartment, arms looped, bellies full, occasionally staring up at the starry night sky in mostly contemplative, sober silence. It’s a beautiful evening, but something in the warm breeze feels melancholic.

When you open the door to your building, Solène is waiting, rocking on her heels.

“Eloise, a telegram has come for you!” she announces, shoving a piece of paper into her hand. “And a telephone call from England earlier,” she adds, gesturing to the black rotary phone outside her place—the only one in the building.

Eloise gives you a brief glance and then opens the message. You watch her eyes ping across the text before her shoulders slump.

“My mother,” she sighs in explanation, “it appears she is summoning me back home.”

“What?!” the selfish reflex of not wanting to be left alone is the first thing flaring in you.

“It’s not fair!” she whines in a flash of child-like defiance before continuing in a more subdued tone. “She is sending my brother to come get me. She doesn’t specify which, but seeing as Anthony is a Lieutenant General in the Army and has likely been called to Churchill’s side, I'm presuming Benedict,” Eloise surmises.

Your thoughts instantly fly to that painting hanging in your apartment upstairs. A strange flutter under your ribs at the idea you could be about to meet its creator. Quickly followed by a wash of guilt that you could even focus on such a frivolous thing.

“What will I do without you?’’ You fret aloud, grasping her arm tighter.

“There was a call for you too, y/n,” Solène pipes up. “Your father wants you to exchange your return ticket for a sailing home as soon as possible,” she relays.

“But.. I just got here!” your lament as defiant as Eloise’s. A frustrating sense you are losing a fleeting opportunity you already hold so precious - like a new toy being ripped from the meaty fist of a truculent toddler.

“Mes amis, what can I say?” that trademark Gallic shrug seizing Solène’s shoulders. “While Paris is safe for now, we do not know how much longer that will hold true… it is likely best you return home. Perhaps this will be over in weeks, and you can return?”

You know your parents have paid your rent upfront for a whole year, likely similar for Eloise, your landlady not impacted financially by your leaving, merely a wish for you to enjoy your Parisian adventures.

As you unlock the door to your apartment and wander in, both of you sigh; the illumination from the Eiffel Tower that refracts upon your window pane just adds to your melancholia, a sight that before had never failed to warm your heart.

“When will your brother get here?” your inflection dull.

“Tomorrow, most likely. It only takes a couple of hours to cross the Channel, and as you know, the train ride from the coast is just a few more. I expect he’ll be waiting for me right here when I return from work,” her tone is just as flat as yours.

You want to ask if she will pack tonight, but you stop yourself, seeing the flame that usually burns so bright behind her blue eyes dimmed. Wordlessly, you draw closer and pull her into a firm hug.

“I will miss you like a sister,” she whispers into your hair, returning the embrace just as fiercely, “maybe moreso.”

You nod and band your arms tighter briefly before letting go, bone-deep exhaustion overtaking anything else you see in her mirrored stance.

The last thing that captures your eye as Eloise turns to her room is that painting of her childhood home and, strangely, how it feels closer now than ever before.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

262 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year ago

Note

Hello. Can you write Dark!Thranduil and a plus size female reader ? Please.

.⋆｡Auta Nissë｡⋆.

Dark!Thranduil x human!plus size reader

She was unique, she was beautiful, she was soft and by the gods, she would be his

Warnings: DARK FIC, kidnapping, forced marriage, obsession, mentions of death, magic, manipulation, no use of y/n, drugging

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Title means kept woman

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was certainly curious, a woman among the group of dwarves his guards had brought him- and a human woman at that. She stood out from the group like a sore thumb, yet she fit in with them all the same. They crowded around her legs as if to shield her from his gaze, to protect her from whatever he had in store for the trespassers.

“How fascinating, a woman in your midst. Tell me, king under the mountain, is she your bed warmer or just a lost creature you took pity on?” He sat forward on his throne of knotted wood, his crystal blue eyes focused on her, taking in every inch of her face. She showed no fear, nor any offence to his crudeness. The king smirked, she would do well.

The dwarves around her exploded, each attempting to insult him in not only the common tongue but in their native language as well. He paid them no mind, letting his gaze drift down to her body. She was at least modest, a large white shirt and dark trousers hid her away, disguising her curves quite well but he could still see the bulge of her hips and the softness of her stomach.

She was unlike any woman he had encountered before. Her eyes held the fire of a warrior, her hands were as stable as a healer’s, and the protective stance of a mother. “Take them away, but leave the girl. I believe she will tell us what we wish to know.” He spoke over their shoats, ignoring the way that they all reached for her as if their pathetic efforts could somehow save her.

Her fingers curled into her palm but otherwise gave him no reaction to suddenly being isolated. Gracefully, he stood to his full height, easily towering over the woman, casting a dark shadow over her as he approached. “Why do you travel with such… filth?” He crooned.

“I was hired to do so.” She answered simply, her voice strong. It carried through the throne room like a lone instrument in a concert hall and settled into his bones, marking them with the melodic tones of her words. A fire began to grow in his loins.

He took a step closer, she did not flinch. “I could offer you a place here, in my court. Certainly your skills and your beauty would be of more value here than on some fruitless journey that will only end in death.” As he drew closer, more of her perfect imperfections became clearer- her moles and birthmarks, scars and blemishes, but to him, they were simply an extra detail in the statuesque flawlessness of her figure.

“If it ends in death, then that will be how I die.” She retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze once more as he was now only arm’s distance away. “I am human, death is not unknown to us.”

The side of Thranduil’s face burned with rage, reminding him of what he had lost to death all those many years ago. But that defiance, that drive so similar to that of his late wife, soothed the burn. “There are ways to cheat death, even for a human. But for now, it is my wish that you remain here until I decide how your quest shall continue.” With a flick of his slender wrist, he summoned two more guards.

They stood either side of her and began to lead her away. “You cannot stop fate, your highness.” She called, making him pause. The doors slammed closed behind her, leaving the great elven king to his thoughts.

——————

“I’m glad you joined me for dinner tonight.” He remarks while knowing that she had no choice. The Battle of The Five Armies had concluded months ago, Erebore was free and peace had finally settled over the land, yet Thranduil was still in the midst of his own war.

She refused his love. Isolating herself in the rooms he had so graciously given her, throwing away the luxurious food prepared fresh each day, even attempting to enact various escape attempts, but that had slowed significantly when she was moved to his own chambers and could be restrained each night in his arms.

Her silence irked him but he allowed it. “I wish that you would gain back some weight before the wedding.” She glared in response, merely sipping at her wine with her one free hand, the other bound to the ornate seat she was forced into.

He sighed through his nose, hiding a smirk behind his own goblet. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drank the expensive liquor, savouring the sweet taste, unknowing that it was not the wine itself that gave the dark liquid its flavour.

“Meletril.” (lover) He tuts, rising from his own chair to round the table. “Your hair is a mess. Let me fix it for you.” She was stiff as his slender fingers began to pick at her hair, delicately moving large strands into several braids. He worked quickly, the patterns and movements now an unconscious practice even if he had not practised in almost 1000 years.

“There, now I can properly see your pretty face.” His right hand cupped her full cheek, guiding her face upwards to him. Her eyes were now glassy, the potion he had snuck into her drink beginning to affect her, but her fire was still there, just existing as an ember now.

“This will not last, I will perish sooner or later and you will be left alone again.” She hissed, the bite in her tone significantly dulled. Yet Thranduil smiled and brushed her soft skin with his thumb before retreating back to his seat.

“Thorin sends his well-wishes, he is very excited about the wedding. And your little friend, what was his name, oh right! Bilbo, he will be journeying from the Shire with his nephew to attend.” Her nostrils flared with rage.

“Just kill me already! I am of no use to you other than a pet!” She cried, though her voice was beginning to slur as the magic took hold of her.

The elven king slammed his hand on the table, immediately silencing her. “Enough! I have had enough of your silly rebellions and cruel words. You will be my wife simply because I love you. So no more silly speak of you being a pet, you are my equal, my queen but you obviously need to be reminded of your place. You are to never leave my side, death will not take you, I have made sure of that. Now eat.” Her eyes were now wide with panic, the truth finally settling in.

“What have you done?” Her skin began to glow as the transformation began. The king watched as all the indicators of her age were wiped away, the smile lines, the bags beneath her eyes, even scarring from the blemishes of puberty. She was ethereal, eternal now, just like him.

“I have changed your fate.”

LOTR Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @km-ffluv

#dark!thranduil x plus size reader #dark!thranduil x reader #thranduil x plus size reader #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x y/n #human!reader #tw kidnapping #female reader #plus size reader #reader insert #anon #inbox #angst

674 notes · View notes

animestsstuff2 · 5 months ago

Text

Prom Queen!

Yuji Itadori x Reader

Part 2!

Content warning: fluff, bit of crying

＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾

“Oh im so excited Y/N! Aren’t you!” Nobara squealed as you sat together at lunch. She was in a giddy mood ever since Maki asked her yesterday to prom.

She was gushing profusely about how cute Maki was about it. She had bought her flowers and some of her favourite chocolates. Maki had been sending her cheeky glances all day today.

“Yeah I suppose..” you mumbled. You weren’t dying for someone to ask you but the thought of it did fill your teenage heart with warmth and make your stomach flutter.

“Do you want someone to ask you?” She hummed and your cheeks warmed as you thought about it, who even would ask you?

You were interested in boys but none were really interested in you. You had watched all today as different people were asked to prom. You puffed your cheeks out as you mulled over her question.

“Hmm. I mean, i guess I do a bit. Every girl wants to be asked but I don’t think anyone will” you mumbled mushing your food about.

“Hmm. I wouldn’t be so sure” Nobara giggled and your brow raised. She had that look in her eyes. A look you knew all too well.

“What are you up to Nobara-“ the bell rang and she quickly hopped up and rushed away waving her hand.

“Nothing! Don’t mind me. See you later!” You rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag.

You didn’t have any class. You began heading to the library to get ahead in some classes since you had prom tomorrow and would definitely be in no shape to do anything the day after.

You found yourself a table in the corner away from everyone else, opening your books up and grabbing a pen. You buried yourself deep into the lines of writing, jotting important notes as you read.

You hadn’t noticed the person who joined you until the cleared their throat and you jumped a bit. Your head snapped up to find Yuji. Your brows furrowed and you opened your mouth to tell him to go away when he spoke.

“Hear me out! Please” He bowed his head as he placed a small box in front of you with another larger box fulled with your favourite sweets. He straightened back up and you just stared at him.

“I’m sorry for whatever I have done to you Y/N! Please allow me to make up for it. I’ll do whatever you ask” His voice was hushed but you could hear the desperation within it as his round brown eyes stared into yours.

“Whatever you’ve done? As if you don’t know Yuji” you spat lip curling as you began packing your books.

“I-I don’t know! Thats the thing. You hate me so much but—I don’t know why” he whined as he grabbed your science textbook and held it to his chest.

“Yuji, give me my book” You were growing more and more agitated with him. You had made it so very clear that you did not want him to approach you but of course it gets round that people hate him so of course the perfect boy he is makes his ‘attempt’ at fixing things.

Because who could ever hate poor Yuji?

“No, not until you tell me why!” His raised voice gained a loud hush from the librarian. Your nose flared and skin warmed at his defiance.

“Y’really wanna know? What is this some sick prank? Because I got fed up years ago with your bullying Yuji” You snapped, teetering on whether to just lunge at him and wrestle the book from him.

“B-Bullying? I—No. i never bullied you” He stated eyes wider and mouth agape as he stared in shock.

“You tortured me every single time I was forced to go to your home. You pushed me, pulled me, broke all my toys. You pushed me from that damn treehouse!” Your cheeks were red with anger that was threatening to bubble out of you as your fingers curled around your bag strap.

“Wh-what? No—I never went in the treehouse as a kid. I was too scared” He defended himself and you scoffed.

“Stop lying Yuji. God, you’re so fucking full of yourself that you’ve deluded your own reality. You pushed me from that treehouse when we were seven and I got this” you raised your arm and pulled the sleeve up, showing him the white jagged line that stretched up the skin.

His brows raised and an ‘oh shit’ slipped past his lips. Your lips curled believing he finally crashed down from his high, high horse and remembered all the awful things he did to you.

“That was Sukuna. He did all that to you Y/N not me!” Yuji stated and you had enough. You snatched the textbook from his now limp grip and immediately took off.

Yuji scrambled after you grabbing the gifts and pulling at your bag. You tried to fight his grip but failed. There was no getting out of the grip of the star quarter back. Your eyes were wet with frustrated tears as your emotions were feverishly spilling over to reality.

“Y/N please. I never did those things to you. I have a twin brother called Sukuna. He used to tell me of a girl he picked on sometimes. I thought she was from school but it was you” His voice was low and sympathetic but it only drove you crazy. You were able to spin round and jab a finger into his chest.

“You’re ridiculous! You know that. A twin brother? I was at your home almost everyday. You don’t have a twin brother Yuji” Your wet eyes were wide, lips curled into a shocked smile as you jabbed his chest a final time.

Yuji quickly fished his phone out of his pocket. The box of sweets now crammed under his arm as he feverishly searched for proof. You sighed gathering yourself up and wiping your eyes. You sucked your lip in and went to turn and walk away when he yelped.

You glanced at the outstretched phone and your eyes widened. Your lip falling open as you stared at the screen that showed two Yuji’s. You glanced up at Yuji before pulling the phone from him and zooming into the photo. He did actually have a brother.

But that doesn’t prove anything. He could be using Sukuna as a fallback to try and make you believe him.

“Yeah? Well how do I know it was really Sukuna who was bullying me” You stated crossing your arms after forcing his phone back into his hand.

“B-Because! He told me all the time about what he did” He whined.

“Yeah well, how come I never seen you two together, like, ever” You asked.

“He had behavioural issues as a kid so my Grandfather often sent him away to a summer camp. He doesn’t go to this school either because of his issues” He informed you. His hands were white around his phone. His heart slamming in his chest as his cheeks tinted pink.

This was the longest you’d ever spoke to him!

You eyed him warily not really believing his story as there was no strong proof it really was Sukuna all these years. Yuji sensed your suspicions and quickly tapped his phone pressing it to his ear and talking.

“Sukuna, you remember Y/N from when we were kids” He pulled the phone to you and placed it on speaker.

“Y/N?…Y/—oh! That brat who I always teased when she came over” Sukuna’s voice was entirely different to Yuji’s. It was deep and gravelly and the sound of it made hair stand on your skin.

“Y-Yeah well, um—I was just wondering what happened in the tree house again?” Yuji sounded timid almost scared of Sukuna himself. Sukuna cackled through the phone and you felt tears gloss your lashes.

“Ah! That was hilarious. I managed to get her up by tellin’ her that her favourite little doll was up there—which it was..in pieces. Anyways, when she got up I pushed her back” Your throat grew dry at his description of what happened and You shook your head shuffling back on your feet.

Yuji’s heart dropped at your pale expression. He quickly hung up as you briskly took off. He was quick to follow however the bell had just rang and he watched you get swallowed into the sea of people.

He cursed as his hands dropped to his sides groaning and walking back into the doorway of the library to avoid getting swallowed too. He checked his timetable on his phone and almost leaped when he seen he had science with you.

He quickly rushed out barging past people to get there as soon as he could. He needed to apologise to you.

…

Yuji pushed the door open with a smile. His eyes narrowing in on your seat only to find it empty. His brows furrowed and he glanced over to his teacher.

“You’re late” Yuji didn’t say anything, didn’t try to apologise or conjure up an excuse. He simply turned on his heel and walked right back out, ignoring the yells of his teacher as he began scouring the halls for you.

He groaned as he headed back unable to find you anywhere! He even asked a few girls to check the women bathrooms. He turned the corner and landed his eyes on Nobara and Maki. His nose crinkling as he watched them make out.

“Uh—sorry to interrupt your gross pda but do you know where Y/N is?” He asked. Nobara’s head spun as her cheeks turned bright red.

“Y-Y/N? What do you want with her Yuji” She asked narrowing her eyes as Maki took a step back from her.

“I think i made her cry” he cringed as the words toppled out. Nobara’s eyes widened and her nose flared as she stepped forward raising her hand ready to pummel Yuji when Maki grabbed her.

“Woah spitfire. Yuji what did you do” Nobara was seething as she struggled against Maki in an attempt to lunge at Yuji.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I was going to ask her why she hated me and..y’know ask her to prom but she told me its cause I bullied her!” He told them his hands suddenly aware of the boxes in them.

“It was a big misunderstanding! My twin brother Sukuna was the one who hurt Y/N, not me” He explained but Nobara shook her head and flared her nostrils.

“A twin brother? What kinda lie is that Yuji” She turned her nose up at him.

“No really—“ he pulled his phone out and showed her the same photo he showed you and her eyes widened “I even called him and he admitted to Y/N that it was him”

“Ugh, you’re such a brainless idiot. Why even bother going near her” Nobara groaned as she dragged her hand down her face. Maki just grinned.

“Didn’t you hear? He has a little crush on your friend” Nobara simply rolled her eyes.

“I heard i just don’t understand why. You both never speak—“ Yuji opened his mouth to defend himself but Nobara continued “anyways, theres a few places she goes we can split up.

…

Yuji found himself scouring the football pitch outside. He had already checked the nurses office and the lower-class study hall. Nobara said you sometimes went underneath the bleachers if you really didn’t want to be found.

He ducked his head under and looked down each end pausing when his eyes fell on you, crouched low to the ground with your phone in your hand. He slowly walked up not wanting to startle you.

“Y/N—“ you quickly jumped up eyes wide and wet as they stared at Yuji who quickly stretched his hand out.

“Wait! Please. I wanna make sure you’re okay” He begged and moved closer now standing in front of you. Your sniffled made his heart drop.

“Go away Yuji. I want to be alone” you just sat back down pulling your knees to your chest. Yuji ignored your request and joined you.

“Im sorry for upsetting you Y/N. I just wanted to know why you hated me so I could make up for it” He mumbled shrugging his bag off as he turned his head towards you. You peeked a glance before returning your gaze straight.

“Why? Why even bother after all these years?” You mumbled. Yuji’s cheeks tinged pink and his ears warmed as his mouth drew dry.

Would he have to seriously admit right now why he bothered. He didn’t want to tell you about his crush like this!

“U-Um, well—I” he cleared his throat “IreallylikeyouandhaveforagesandIwantedtoaskyoutogotopromwithme!”

You turned your head to him brows furrowed as you repeated what he said in your head but couldn’t make sense of the rushed words. He sighed looking at your confused face.

“I-um, have had a bit of a crush on you since we were kids” he scratched the back of his neck as your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed “thats why I came to you in the library m’wanted to ask you to prom”

He held out the scuffed sweetie box as well as the smaller one. You carefully picked the smaller one up and slid it open. Your eyes widened further as you carefully picked up the shimmery silver bracelet with a pink gem as the center piece.

This whole day had been crazy. You laughed loudly which shocked Yuji and he turned as you dropped your head into your palms. The boy who you hated for bullying you turned out to have never done it and now he’s telling you you he likes you and wants to go to prom.

You were loosing it. You slid your palms down and placed the bracelet back into the box turning fully towards Yuji now. Your knees touching. His palms were sweaty as he looked at you. His skin warm and cheeks darkening.

“Yuji-I—I’m sorry for y’know how i’ve treated you all these years. I really didn’t know about Sukuna an-“

“Please don’t apologise Y/N! You had a good reason to hate me” He gave you a small smile which you returned. Your eyes drying.

You sat there for a moment just looking at each other. You didn’t feel any hatred towards him anymore now that you knew the truth. He wasn’t really that bad then everyone loved him for a reason and you liked a few of his friends.

“So-about prom? Y-You don’t have to say yes! Or anything but um-“ He trailed off wide eyes looking ay you for an answer and you remembered his question. Your stomach fluttered a bit.

You didn’t really know what to say. You never took an interest in boys as most didn’t have an interest in you. You truly believed you would go to prom alone but here was Yuji. A popular, well loved and sought after boy asking you to prom. Any girl would give to be in your position.

Your mouth was dry as you tried to think of an answer and Yuji caught your hesitance and interjected once more.

“We can make it a new start! As friends” His eyes crinkled as he smiled trying desperate to hide the slight disappointment and his nerves of being so close to you. His knee buzzed from where it touched yours and felt his skin prickle.

“Just friends?..” he nodded and you gave a small smile putting your hand out for him. “Okay Yuji as a new start”

He shook your hand but immediately pulled away and began apologising for how sweaty it was. You just giggled and stood up sticking your hand back out for him to take as you grabbed your bag.

He picked up the boxes and handed them both to you. Your cheeks warming as you thought of the bracelet inside. You headed out from under the bleachers hearing the familiar shrill of the bell as you walked back into the building. It was time to go home now anyways.

You found Nobara waiting at the front doors for you. Maki beside her along with Megumi, Yuta and Todo who waited for Yuji. You bumped Nobara who immediately began nosing into the boxes you had as you turned to Yuji and waved.

“Yuji! See you tomorrow!” His heart skipped at the smile on your face knowing he caused it. Todo’s mouth dropped open and even Megumi looked slightly surprised.

“She spoke to you?! She’s smiling at you!” Todo exclaimed as he grabbed Yuji’s shoulder.

Yuji just turned his head over to look at his friend and grinned with a shrug.

“Just a misunderstanding. Shes going to prom with me”

He couldn’t stop the giddy feeling that tingled up his spine and dropped into his stomach sending it fluttering the whole walk home. You liked him! Even as a friend but it was better than hating him anymore.

69 notes · View notes