#gentlemanlike

[thepersonalwords]

You know what?” he whispered, out of breath, “You’re about to be in a whole lot of trouble. We probably better go.

Laney Smith, Lock Creek: One Year's Time

[dogzcats]

pride & prejudice (1995): from book to screen

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . farmhand!JJ maybank

MINORS DNI. | warnings — fem!reader, degradation, name-calling, crying, sweet pet names, clothes ripping, public sex (kinda, not really), hair pulling, pinching and slapping (he's so annoying), hickeys/bruises, oral (f. receiving), p in v

farmhand JJ who's a total burnout, a high school dropout with no prospects, but he can work

farmhand JJ who's really got nothing but his own two hands, but he'll lift and pull and plant, and his smile's pearly white and all too charming, so your daddy hires him on your farm to help out

you wander around the farm with your top pulled a little bit too low, just enough for that little lacy white bra to peek out of the top

farmhand JJ who looks at you like a shark, like he'd devour you if you let your guard down for two seconds—and you do, and he does

you're inventing excuses out of thin air as to why you have to be outdoors when JJ's working—sometimes it's something sweet, like bringing him a glass of lemonade in the heat—sometimes you just go out to "check on the cows," and you develop a certain affinity for "reading under the big oak tree." you'll come up with anything if it means being out there with him

farmhand JJ who��s so gentlemanlike to your daddy when he comes around, bows his head respectfully and shakes his hand every time

when your daddy says things like, "you make sure you're takin' care of her when she's out here!" JJ’s grinning nonthreateningly and assuring him, “‘course, sir, wouldn’t dream of anythin' less.” with a humble nod, though he makes obscene gestures at you behind your father’s back when he turns around. you almost feel pity for your poor, sweet father and his far too-high opinion of you and JJ. you have to lie that the heat’s quite intense when your father catches you fanning the fiery heat spreading across your cheeks and neck

farmhand JJ who's got a mouth on him (no, not like that) (well, yeah. like that too, actually) who teases you endlessly. calls you a priss and a daddy's girl, a hay slut? whatever the hell that means (he definitely made it up.) he makes fun of your girly clothes and that sweet look you always have on your face, says "you ain't got a clue what's goin' on, huh?"

farmhand JJ who will and has ran his mouth until it made you cry, and waits until there are tears streaming down your face to give you a big grin and grab your face, kissing all over your cheeks and your forehead, insisting, "c'mon babydoll, ya know I didn't mean it, right?" though you're pretty sure that's a lie

farmhand JJ who keeps pressing obnoxious kisses to your tear-stained face until you stop mumbling protests and trying to push him off, and finally just kiss him back

farmhand JJ who always smells like sweat and grass clippings and motor oil, and tastes like sweet tea with too much sugar and sweet corn

farmhand JJ who doesn't care about your cute clothes or your nice hair. he kicks dirt at you when you walk past him, goes out of his way to rip your nice panties when he's having his way with you. when the two of you are rolling around in the barn loft, he manages to get you even more disgusting than you already would've gotten

farmhand JJ who messes up your hair something awful, and if you go out there wearing one of your pretty ribbons, he makes sure to tug it out one way or another—either when you're under him, or just when you're innocently walking past. he grins at the squeal you let out, and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans, the little sliver of red poking out for the rest of the day

farmhand JJ who kisses you like he wants to eat you, he squishes your cheeks together in his hand, bites your lip and licks at the inside of your mouth feverishly, and when you finally pull away, a string of saliva still connects you

farmhand JJ who’s fucking annoying, who grabs one of your braids and pulls, pinches your cheek—your face and your ass—hard enough to make you yelp, and then gives it a slap with a satisfied grin, tells you he loves hearing you “squeal like a piggy”

when you tell him he can’t leave bruises where your parents can see them, and JJ takes that as a personal challenge

farmhand JJ who leaves massive hickeys on the tops of your breasts, the inside of your thighs between mouthfuls as he goes down on you ravenously, your soft stomach. he decorates you with purple and blue and red and admires each and every one of them

he leaves massive handprint-shaped bruises on your hips and your ass, from slapping and gripping onto you too hard, but they’re hidden by your cute little dresses and skirts—you just can’t wear anything too short, and JJ prefers you have some restrictions anyway

farmhand JJ who's never selfless, not even when he's going down on you. he gets you sat in the seat of the tractor, spreading you wide open until you have one foot up on the dash and the other leg slung over his shoulder, and then he eats your pussy for him

he makes out with it like he's kissing your lips, going slow until you're mewling pathetically and begging him through choked sobs to let you cum. when he gives in to your begging, you almost wish he hadn't with the way he makes you cum over and over again, until you're sobbing and he has to muffle it with his hand

he kisses you, and you taste yourself on him, though you're such a sniffling mess you can barely kiss him back. JJ tells you what he always does: "you're so beautiful when ya cry, baby. ya know that? got the prettiest tears in the whole world, my girl," and you smile a little bit through them

when you’re inside your family's farmhouse, you watch him out the window—mowing the lawn, fixing the fence, lugging a hay bale across the yard. with the disgusting, greasy wife-beater or, if you’re lucky, shirtless, his tan skin bared to the sun. either way, dripping with sweat

you practically swoon every time you watch him out the window, head leaned against your hand. from that distance he almost looks like a nice boy—though you know better

farmhand JJ who catches you, of course, how could he not with the way you’re leaned halfway out the window. he brings it up when he’s fucking you, he’s got you on your back with your legs wrapped around his waist as he ruts against you wildly, telling you: “c’mon baby, get your fill. i saw ya earlier, starin’ at me. ya like what ya see, huh? c’mon, look at me.”

farmhand JJ who grabs your face and makes you stare at him, makes you hold eye contact while he fucks you. when your brain goes all fuzzy and your eyes lose focus as you cum, he looks at you triumphantly, though it makes him bust inside of you with a drawn-out groan

farmhand JJ who holds onto you so tightly

not just when he's holding you in place, or bouncing you on his cock, but also when you're not fucking. when you're both breathless, chests heaving afterwards, laying side-by-side in the hayloft, the muscular arm he has wrapped around your waist is like a vice

farmhand JJ who squishes your hand when he holds it, crushing your fingers with his until you complain owww, and then grins unapologetically

he crushes you when he hugs you, like he's trying to break your ribs between his biceps, fingers digging into your skin and face shoved into your neck as he inhales you

you tell him once, jokingly: "I'm not gonna run away, Jayj," when he's practically squeezing the life out of you. he laughs, but he doesn't loosen up. "ya never know, right? won't take my chances." it's the closest thing he ever says to I don't wanna lose you—the JJ version of saying that

farmhand JJ whose laugh is the closest you've ever gotten to the sound of sunlight. it echoes off the walls of the barn and through the fields, it's loud and gleeful and carefree, and you'd do anything to hear it

farmhand JJ who teases you for all your "rich girl shit," but gets rock-hard at a single whiff of your rose petal perfume, or the barest glance of your candy-sweet lip gloss. "daddy's money, huh? fuck," those are the rare times he fails to make fun of you, his teases dying on his tongue in favor of yanking your skirt up and making quick work of the buttons on your little blouse so he can take his fill of you

farmhand JJ who—rarely, but still sometimes—falls asleep in the hayloft after he tires himself out cumming one too many times inside of you. sunlight still filters through the barn slats, and his tight grip around your waist doesn't loosen at all. you get to stare at his face when it's smooth, not grinning or teasing or twisted up, though there is still a giant smudge of dirt across his cheek

you wonder what it would be like if it stayed like this forever, if neither of you left the farm. you think about JJ at the head of the farmhouse table one day, instead of hauling shit around the yard, and you can't help the fat tears that well in your eyes when you think about how JJ would never go for that. he doesn't stay still. he comes and he goes

eventually, he would go. you knew that. but you lay your head on his chest and play pretend that he won't—just for a little bit

[minimujina]

wanderer in his season of healing makes me so happy. i love that he is safe enough to become softer again, that he is regaining some of his previously “weak” attributes and finding peace with them. he is becoming measured and introspective, and thinking before he speaks, perhaps a result of both his healing and his melancholy; i think it’s beautiful that he is finally able to safely feel his sadness and process the things that have happened. he is simultaneously finding peace and feeling all the difficult emotions he previously consumed with anger. it is painful, but right.

his sense of humor is still intact, certainly rough around the edges as you’d expect, though much less biting than before. it’s easy to tell that most anything aggressive he says is a front, a front that he is no longer concerned with presenting as absolute truth. perhaps the front is his sense of humor, and his affection is all thinly veiled behind jabs and sour grumbles—he is not willing to divulge the intimate details of that, however, preferring to leave it up to interpretation.

i just think of him and his healing and i feel like if he were to fall in love, it would be such a sweet and gentle and quiet sort of thing, just like his newfound peace. he ponders over many things, brooding by himself as much as he can, though he occasionally allows space for others to brood with him. that, i think, is something unique he may grow in. there are people who cannot tolerate strong emotions in themselves and certainly not in others—but he is the kind of person who can. he is the kind of person you could sit with and exist in your sadness and just be sad, and that’s okay. he’s not offering words of comfort or anything, but he doesn’t need to. anything he’d say would be useless anyways, he knows what it’s like and knows that a presence is enough and existing in your emotions safely is enough. he can appreciate someone who is straightforward about feeling unwell, who doesn’t seek pity, who is alright with sitting in the mud. he will gladly sit with you, then, as long as you don’t expect him to get all mushy about things.

he would do well falling in love quietly, not having to beat around the bush. naturally, pieces would fall into place, and he’d find himself yearning to be in the presence of another in a way he’d never before experienced. he had never really wanted to be around anyone, had never sought out anyone’s presence. but once he has been treated gently, has fallen softly into the arms of a likened soul who has the patience and understanding to touch his rough edges without recoiling, he finds his third space being with this new safe person.

and despite his reluctance to be anything but mysterious and nonchalant, i believe wanderer in his healing season would become quite the romantic. not in the sappy sense, but in the quiet love sense i’ve been talking about. firm and protective, subtle and gentle, almost gentlemanlike if it weren’t for his falsely rotten attitude he enjoyed projecting. romantic in a princely way, in a reverently respectful way, in a grotesquely wholesome way.

only the most chaste touches and kisses; he’s still getting used to affection, and would abhor pda. in private he’s much more open to being touched, because he is safe. if he is not safe, he is deeply conditioned to be conscious of his vulnerabilities, and it’s something that will take a lot of time to override, if even at all. but it’s a massive and beautiful step that he is even willing to receive affection at all, that he would want it from a partner in any amount.

hates eye contact, likes playing with hands. likes tracing veins and creases in skin and freckles and scars; he finds them fascinating, as he has nothing of the sort on his artificial body. one of his unique ways he shows affection is what could be called “studying” you. he likes to brood (with you there; perhaps it could be called parallel brooding) and take your arm and trace all the splotches, imperfections, veins, tendons he can find. he likes to touch more than he likes to be touched i think. perhaps he becomes amusingly selfish in this way. perhaps he is more averse to receiving than giving the affection because his disgust towards himself still lingers. perhaps he still has harmful core beliefs to unlearn.

i think he is full of a love that is strong and quiet, a love that he gives so sparingly, and only in pieces, never all at once. unless, that is, someone comes along and manages to drag it all out like a magnet—his carefully crafted exterior is in pieces, just like that! but oh, once someone is in possession of his love, he begins to know them so intimately, more intimately than he lets on. he so deeply knows who he loves and he knows how to give and to take action and so he does it, silently, for he is adept at perceiving the needs of his loved ones. reading body language and facial expressions is second nature to him at this point; nothing can get past him.

he studies you wordlessly with the expression of a cat who loves and reveres its human, except it’s the kind of cat who believes it owns the human, not the other way around. you’re his responsibility that he has taken on like an extension of himself because he loves you, and you have loved him, and now he hardly wants you out of his sight. his journey of rediscovery and learning self acceptance has been mentally and emotionally arduous, but ever since you came in and made loving him seem so easy, he’s felt much more at peace, and has had the capacity to reflect and process with much more freedom to sincerely feel.

stupid fictional character i hate him i hate him so much he is not real and i hate him

[felibrary]

╭──╯ TWO TRUTHS, ONE LIE

PAIRING: aventurine x reader

SYNOPSIS: in which you invite aventurine to play a drinking game with you: "two truths and one lie." it's an amusing game, what could possibly go wrong? that is until one can't distinguish between the truth and a lie.

wordcount: 1.8k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, drunk - not really drunk rather intoxicated confession? or drunk idk, alcohol, barely any metaphors - like little to none but more dialogue (i’ve improved..ig!!), the title basically says everything

AUTHORS NOTE: i needed to write something and its two almost three am, im dying. istg i pulled this out of my asscrack. So who am i to proofread?? also this is kinda similar, kinda (really) similar to my other fic. what if i cried. when writers block gets so bad you start copying yourself dawg

“it’ll be fun!” 

you blissfully cheer as you take out two shot glasses out of your cupboard before fetching a bottle of vodka and setting it down onto the big and fancy dining table that stands in the middle of your living room, a moving gift for your new apartment which you received from none other than aventurine. 

(he insisted that it’s a fitting gift for your new home - well it certainly didn’t fit well through your front door, only after a few tries from aventurines employees they managed to transport it inside your new apartment.) 

with quick movements, the blond grabs the transparent alcohol and pours the two of you a glass. “how gentlemanlike of you.” you comment, a pinch of teasing in your words as you let out a huff, smiling as you shake your head before sitting down, right in front of him. 

a faint laugh escapes aventurine's lips and he can only hum in delight as he slides over your glass from across the table. “so if i understood it right, you for an example, tell me one lie and two truths and if i were to guess them correctly, i as the victor get to see you, the loser drinking a shot?” he props his elbow onto the dining table before leaning his cheek into the palm of his left hand, curiously awaiting your answer.

your eyes gleam in excitement “bingo!” and he can’t help the smile that finds its way onto his face. “though we’re not gonna do it one go, we’ll have turns. for example, i start off by telling a lie and you guess if i was telling the truth or not, then it’s my turn to guess, then it’s yours again and so on.” 

you grab the glass from above and lazily twirl around the vodka. “how does that sound?” you tap your fingers around glass before slowly tracing the edges of your glass with your index finger in a languid motion. “is this a wager you’re willing to indulge in, mr. aventurine?” you smile. what a tease you are.

“sure, sure. i see no reason to decline your generous offer.” he returns your smile with one of his own, similar to the one he gives to his clients, polite and charming. “well then, it’s only natural for you as the guest to start, right?” you set your glass down and it makes a light “thump” sound. 

“how kind of you.” he looks down at the dining table, scanning the items with his eyes. a white tablecloth which is stained with some light brown-yellowish spots, probably from the times when you spilled coffee onto your table and weren’t able to properly wash them out. 

he hums as he taps his fingers against the hard surface of the table, deep in thought as if pondering what to say. “let’s start off with an easy one, the critters were a gift from the trailblazer.” a lie.

you’re quick to respond “that’s a lie. although you and the trailblazer get along well, they’ve never gifted you something like a pet. the person whom you received them from is veritas.” upon that aventurine can only give you a content smile before gulping his glass down in one go. 

“very well.” he praises you before opening the alcohol bottle and pouring him another glass, not once breaking eye contact as he shoots you a knowing look that says “your turn.”

unlike aventurine you don’t need a long time to think about what you’re going to say. “i used to like you a lot.” a partial lie - you still like him. 

“that’s a lie.” aventurine immediately points out, not even bothering to meet your gaze. can this be considered a rejection? technically you didn’t confess but you admitted your “former” feelings which he immediately denied as if he doesn’t want to have anything to do with them. in response you can only quickly down your glass, hoping that the alcohol would somehow help you. (does making you feel worse count as help?) 

he continues without any effort, simply just brushing off your admission from just now. “i get along well with topaz and veritas.” the truth.

your eyes that were on his once also glance down at the table as you bury your nails into the tablecloth. “that’s the truth.” you manage to choke out, there’s no way you’re going to start getting all emotional now and start sobbing and weeping, instead you take a deep breath before continuing. 

“although it sometimes gives the impression that you don't get along with either of them and the three of you are just acquainted with one another through work, they trust you a lot and also somewhat get along with you. for an example when topaz entrusted you with her cornerstone during your mission on penacony or as mentioned before when veritas gifted you the critters. he thought you’d take a liking to them. perhaps you’re not friends but at least reliable colleagues that trust each other.” you answer as you continue to dig your nails deeper into the piece of fabric.

“i should’ve known that this was too easy for you.” aventurine chuckles as he drinks the vodka out of the glass, not leaving a single drop behind. “okay, it’s your turn again.”

you can only hum in agreement before speaking up. “i have a high alcohol tolerance.” a lie, a big one at that.

a honeyed laugh meets your ears, the sound of sweet laughter makes you glance up again. aventurine’s laughing. how sweet, bittersweet even.

there were nights when you were curled up in your sheets, wishing that there was someone beside you and not just a cold and empty mattress; wishing that there was aventurine who was laying by your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears as one of his arms is draped around your torso, tracing shapes onto your soft skin and tickling you. you’d push him away and laugh at which he could also only laugh. 

laugh like this; laugh like right now.

the delicate and tender moments you yearn for more than anything else are like birds, as soon as you get close to them, they get scared, they flutter their wings and quickly fly away. before you’d ever have a chance with aventurine he’d always be out of your grasp - out of your reach. 

he’s free on his own, not bound to anything and anyone. not having someone to rely on and someone whom he always needs to worry about. someone who’d keep him caged like a bird with little and restricted or rather no freedom.

“why are you laughing?” you shoot him an offended glare as you part your lips at him, a small pout decorating your face. “why are you sulking?” he responds in a teasing tone, it’s supposed to be light hearted but there’s care that glimmers in his eyes. great, does he care about you now?

“i  am not sulking!” you huff as you try to hide your expression from him, putting your arms down the dining table and burying your head in between them. 

“oh you so are!” he laughs lightly.

“shut up ‘rine!” you groan from where you’re laying.

“fine, fine.” if you were to look up at him now, you’d see him admiring you and fondly smiling while looking at the back of your head.

“my answer is that that's a lie. a blatant massive lie! you have a low alcohol tolerance and are basically a lightweight. i mean just look at your face, your cheeks are flushed and so are your ears, they’re literally beet red.” he chuckles. 

you get up from your lying position and greet him with an annoyed look. quickly you grab your glass and gulp everything down to the last bit, eventually you wipe away the remnants that cling onto your skin with your arm before pouring yourself another drink and laying back down, so now you’re back to your previous position. 

“well, it’s my turn again. because i started off with an easy one, i’ll also end it with a simple and really easy one. i have a shopping addiction.” a lie.

“lie! you yell from your place. “what kind of lie is that even?” you complain to him. 

“i told you i’d end it with an easy one. but can you also tell me why it’s a lie?” he asks curiously.

“you’re not too fond of spending credits on materialistic stuff, you use them to help out people who are in need. despite your job.”  the last part was muffled and intended for yourself only but you should’ve known that aventurine would hear it. “what was that?” despite my job?” he asks in amusement. “just forget it!” you groan.

“anyway you do that or buy cute toys for your critters. You prefer to keep your friends close with words, gestures and actions, not money.” you whisper.

“jackpot.” aventurine chuckles before proceeding to drink the vodka in his shot glass. now what will you surprise him with next?

“i still love you.” the truth.

in the past minute you gathered together several questions, statements, personal experiences in your head only to splurt out with this? the boldness came from the vodka, at least that’s what you try to tell yourself nevertheless you’re sure of one thing: alcohol definitely wasn’t a good idea.

“bold as always.” aventurine chuckles amusedly. “the truth.” he hums before standing up from where he was currently sitting, moving towards your side of the table and standing in front of you. you’re dizzy - lightheaded, but you try to look up to where he’s standing, with much effort you move your head into his direction, still lying on the table though. although you feel dizzy you’re able to make out a faint smile on his rosy lips. 

he opens his arms before wrapping them around your body, just like how you always longed. it’s unfair. even though vodka reeks, he doesn’t smell like it at all, rather it’s still his signature scent, a somewhat fresh note mixed with something sweet, the scent that you like so much. “sorry for being an ass before.” he hums as he looks down at your temple and carefully brushes the hair which covers your face, away.

i love you too. he wants to say, but he can’t. aventurine still can’t come to terms with himself and his love towards you. he doesn’t know how to voice it out loud or show it through actions. three simple words that he can’t say together, fearing that they’d be too intimate and wouldn’t seem sincere, especially in this scenario. 

but in all honesty, you’ve probably already caught on. you’re smiling like a lovesick idiot when you stare at him, but who wouldn’t, when aventurine is looking at you with an expression that says more than “i love you” ever could. 

you knew instantly, he too, was guilty. guilty of loving you.

hey girly hold still!!!! this is uhm yeah dedicated to @azullumi i'm not writing you a sappy not until i get mine!! THAT DOESNT CONSISIT OF ONLY BLANING ME FOR MY TYPSOS also childe does no wrong. ajax, you the boy who fell into the abyss, later on known as the 11th harbinger tartaglia whom we met in liyue and called himself childe and then turned out to be apart of the fatui and we also later on meet in other nations, azul loves you a lot!!

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Five

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Five: Ramen Shops

Summary: Saiki goes to a ramen shop (he is dragged there by a bunch of bothers)

            “We still aren’t there yet?” asked Kaidou.

            He, Nendou, (Y/N), and Saiki were heading to a ramen shop that Nendou had heard about. Saiki had gotten roped in as usual. He wanted to get coffee jelly with (Y/N), but he instead was stuck with Nendou and Kaidou, too. He thought it couldn’t get worse than being with two of his bothers and missing out on coffee jelly, but he was proved wrong. (The world hated him and wanted to prove everything could always be worse).

            “Oh, Saiki? What’re you doing here?”

            There stood Teruhashi, glowing and sparkling as usual.

            “Oh!” squeaked Kaidou.

            “T-Teruhashi!” stammered Nendou.

            The boys blushed profusely as they looked at the perfect pretty girl.

            (Y/N) gave a friendly wave.

            “What’re you guys doing out together?” asked Teruhashi.

            “Well, Nendou said he knows a good ramen shop, so he’s taking us there,” said Kaidou, rushing through the sentences nervously.

            “That’s right! We’re headed there to pig ou—I mean, eat!” said Nendou.

            “It’s our first time checking it out,” added (Y/N).

            “Oh, ramen, huh?” remarked Teruhashi. She glanced over at Saiki. “If you don’t mind, can I come with you? Am I being a bit pushy?” She winked cutely.

            “W-Well, I don’t mind!” squeaked Kaidou.

            “It’d be great if you came!” said Nendou.

            “The more the merrier!” chirped (Y/N).

            Seriously? You, too? Saiki sighed.

            This is the perfect chance to get Saiki to say “Oh, wow” and stop paying so much attention to (L/N)! Sure, they’re not ugly, but I’m the person he should be paying attention to! I’m the perfect pretty girl! thought Teruhashi as they walked through the streets, gaining attention from passersby.

            “Is the shop this way?” she asked angelically, completely at odds with her aggressively competitive thoughts.

            “Ah, yes,” said Nendou rather formally.

            (Y/N) was laughing at their friends’ sudden transformations (excepting Saiki, of course).

            At least they’re enjoying themself. Saiki supposed one person enjoying themself was better than none, and although he’d rather be the one enjoying himself, he preferred when (Y/N) was happy. It was what they always should be.

            “Why, I didn’t expect you to eat ramen, Teruhashi,” said Nendou, a strangely gentlemanlike face on his face.

            Saiki was glad Nendou’s strange face could distract him from his own new thoughts.

            Teruhashi giggled. “Say, Kaidou.” She turned to the suddenly shy boy.

            “Y-Yes?!” he squeaked nervously.

            “Why do you always have bandages on your hands?” asked Teruhashi.

            “Oh, I do it so my powers won’t go out of control!” stammered Kaidou.

            “Powers…?” questioned Teruhashi. “Sorry, I can’t quite understand what you’re saying.”

            “Well, it just got like this! I don’t even know why!” Kaidou began unwinding his bandages while blushing heavily. “I’ll take them off!”

            (Y/N) caught the gauze, rolled it up, and put it in their pocket. “He’s probably gonna regret that once she’s gone,” they whispered to Saiki.

            So they notice that people act odd around Teruhashi. That means they probably are being genuinely nice to Teruhashi, not just being affected like everyone else. (Y/N)’s just a nice person. Saiki wasn’t surprised by that thought. (Y/N) was a genuinely good person. It was a reason he liked to be around them. Tolerated them. Put up with them. It all meant the same thing. (it did not).

            They’re so excited! But that’s just natural since they can have a meal with me, the prettiest girl in the world! thought Teruhashi. So why are they acting so calm?! Kunio Kunio! Why aren’t you saying “Oh, wow”? That should always be your reaction when you see me! And (L/N) (Wrong Name)! You don’t act differently at all! And Saiki always pays attention to you, even when I’m the perfect pretty girl! What could you possibly have that you don’t?!

            Yare yare. (Y/N) doesn’t bring attention to me or try to make me act differently. Saiki could just be himself.

            What makes so that a cool, mysterious guy like him that has a gaze who could look right through you… Teruhashi became lost in her fantasy.

            Saiki made a face.

            (Y/N) laughed. “That’s the most you’ve ever changed your expression!”

            Saiki schooled his expression. They were unfortunately quite observant, still.

            Oh, no! I take it all back! Even in her own mind, Teruhashi couldn’t allow herself to obsess over a boy. It all had to be about making him obsess over her. At any rate, I’ll use my charm to make him look at me instead of them and say “Oh, wow” today for sure!

            I’m attracting her attention. Saiki hadn’t gotten away from her at all.

            “Ah, we have arrived,” said Nendou. He pointed at a small restaurant. “This is the ramen shop.”

            “Wow, I’m hungry,” chirped Teruhashi. “Oh, wow.” She turned blank uncomfortably.

            “Whoa…” muttered (Y/N), making a face as they looked at the rundown shop.

            “I heard their ramen is crazy good,” said Nendou. “A relative of one of my friends’ dog walkers said so. It’ll be fine.”

            “So it’s a rumor…” said (Y/N). That’s never good.

            “Hey, don’t be stupid!” cried Kaidou. “There’s no way Teruhashi woulg go in a place like that! You don’t want to eat in a nasty restaurant like this, right, Teruhashi?!”

            “W-Well, I’m okay with it,” said Teruhashi blankly and begrudgingly.

            “A-Are you sure you’re okay with it?!” asked Kaidou.

            “Yeah, I’m fine with it,” lied Teruhashi.

            (Y/N) leaned over to Saiki and whispered, “Do you want to pretend we’re not hungry and go to Café Mami after this?”

            “Yes, but let’s go along with this for now,” said Saiki, but he was happy to acquiesce to (Y/N)’s idea. Sweet treats with someone he…fine, someone he enjoyed being around, sounded nice. Hopefully, this will dampen Teruhashi’s interest in me if she gets disgusted by where she thinks I hang out.

            (Y/N) grinned (slightly devilishly). “You’re enjoying this.”

            Saiki just looked at them. Yare yare. Too observant.

            “Well, a little bad luck builds character in people,” chirped (Y/N). “Besides…I trust you, Saiki. You’re not exactly going to revel in somebody being miserable. Anyways.” They waved their hand. “Teruhashi will probably head home afterwards and get offered some fancy food to make up for this. The others will be fine.” They turned away.

            Saiki blinked. Huh.

            The group walked into the shop. It was even grosser inside and completely empty.

            “What is this place?! This is beyond terrible!” said Kaidou. He looked at Teruhashi. “Hey, seriously, you don’t have to push yourself.”

            “I’ll be fine,” lied Teruhashi expertly, “What’s important is the taste.” She smiled angelically.

            They all sat down at a table.

            “Manager!” called Nendou. “Five ramens, please!”

            “Oh, no, thank you,” said (Y/N).

            “Oh, you’re not going to eat here?” asked Teruhashi.

            “I had a snack earlier today!” lied (Y/N), smiling brightly. “Plus, I forgot to bring money with me, and I don’t want to bother anyone today!”

            If they can lie this well, maybe I should worry about not being able to read their thoughts. Immediately after, Saiki dismissed that worry. (Y/N) had a good heart and was earnest as far as he knew. He could trust them.

            Not that that mattered in any way. It was just a thought.

            “Oh, alright, pinky, next time, then!” said Nendou.

            That’s how easy it is?! Maybe I should lie about having to leave… considered Teruhashi.

            Yes, please.

            No! I am the perfect pretty girl, not an average girl! I will persevere!

            The manager walked out. “Alright, four ramens coming up then.” He was extremely sweaty, balding, and unhealthily overweight. After fixing their dishes, he walked back over. “Here ya go.” He set the bowls down.

            The ramen smelled terrible and was spilling from cracks in the bowls. All in all, it looked uneatable. (Y/N) became even more glad that they made up an excuse. Their companions, who had not done anything to avoid this, all had rather nauseated faces.

            Teruhashi began to eat the ramen robotically. Clearly, she was forcing herself through this. Kaidou and Nendou watched in shock (neither saw that she was making herself do it).

            “I-I don’t think you should eat it,” stuttered Kaidou warningly.

            Teruhashi blinked.

            (Y/N) nodded. “That might be unsafe.” Sure, they were fine with some things not going Teruhashi’s way; it was something people had to learn to deal with in life (even perfect pretty girls). However, (Y/N) wasn’t mean. They wouldn’t willingly endanger someone’s health.

            “Hey, pops! Even pigs wouldn’t eat this stuff!” yelled Nendou.

            “Shut up! Then beat it!” shouted the manager.

            Quickly, the teenagers cleared out of the disgusting restaurant. As they walked away, poor Teruhashi clutched her stomach. Nendou and Kaidou tended to her sympathetically.

            The perfect girl, huh? Hmm…If she can go that far in order to play the perfect girl, maybe she already is perfect. Saiki’s eyes trailed over to (Y/N). Well, perfect for eight billion people. Other people are better for me.

            To spend time with, anyway.

            (Y/N) looked at Saiki. “Still want to go get coffee jelly?”

            “Yes.” Saiki didn’t even need to think about that answer.

            “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Grinning, (Y/N) grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind them as they ran into an alley that led to another street. They left Nendou, Kaidou, and Teruhashi far behind.

            The perfect person. To hang out with. To just be with.

            Saiki was glad to smell Café Mami’s sweet treats baking as his thoughts spiraled.

            Finally, the pair stopped outside Café Mami. (Y/N) was panting but laughing. Saiki just watched them, slightly amused in his own way.

            “Let’s go in! I’m starving,” said (Y/N).

            In response, Saiki nodded. They grabbed a table in a corner so that anyone passing by wouldn’t notice them. (Y/N) knew he’d prefer the privacy. They ordered and quickly received coffee jelly. They both sighed contentedly as they took their first bite.

            After a time, (Y/N) looked up at Saiki. “So, what was that whole thing with Teruhashi earlier?” When they got no response, they sighed. “Come on, I know something was going on. You clearly didn’t like the look of that restaurant, and you admitted to testing her in a way. So, what was it all about?”

            “She brings attention to me when she hangs around. I think she wants me to say ‘Oh, wow’ since I don’t.” Saiki ensured his explanation was phrased as a theory. Otherwise, he risked outing himself as a psychic. (Y/N) was pretty happy-go-lucky but could make a connection from observations pretty easily. Saiki had to be careful. They showed common sense at all the wrong times.

            “So it’s the Teruhashi version of interest in a guy?” (Y/N) laughed. “I guess people always want what they can’t have.” Somehow, that statement made their heart clench, and they almost frowned but focused on Saiki again.

            Once again, their insight is correct. I want normalcy, something I can’t have. And I want… Saiki watched as (Y/N) happily continued to eat their coffee jelly. He felt comfortable and normal with them. He felt like he could be himself without fear of judgement (minus psychic abilities). You’re the only one I can admit is my friend, (Y/N).

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@futureittomainn

@boogiemansbitch

@dmitrytherat

@yuriisclumsy

@sixxze

@constellationguy

[city-tickles]

I read your most recent story of tickling at a party and both sides of it sound so fun, and I hope this isn't out of place coming from a stranger, but your self-control and gentlemanlike way of tickling the girl sound very appealing. It sounds like you knew the right thing to do with someone who's had a bad experience being tickled. I have a tickling kink, in my dreams I'm a switch, but I've never tickled someone or been PROPERLY tickled in real life and I think it would be the dream to start with someone who could be confidently gentle, funny and teasing like that. I'm very far from NYC and not nearly bold enough to be open about this kink yet, but I hope you have a lot more good experiences in the future!

Hi!

Thank you for your nice words. Tickling is a very personal and intimate thing so when I am a ler, I want to make sure the lee is having as good of a time as possible and feels safe and that they can trust me. You never want to take advantage of someone’s limits and you want to make it fun. Even if you’re not a talkative ler, it’s all about enjoyment for both the ler and lee.

I hope to have more experiences too but I hope you are able to have wonderful tickle experiences with someone as a ler and a lee someday!

[bethanydelleman]

In the quote u posted Lady Russell describes the curtains as "handsomest and best-hung" when Anne thought she was noticing Captain Wentworth, is that supposed to be an innuendo from Jane Austen or is my mind in the gutter 😭

I don't think it's meant to be innuendo in this case, though it is possible:

well-hung (adj.)

1610s, in male genital sense, from well (adv.) + hung (adj.).

Interestingly, Sir Walter refers to Mr. Elliot as "under-hung"

He did justice to his very gentlemanlike appearance, his air of elegance and fashion, his good shaped face, his sensible eye; but, at the same time, “must lament his being very much under-hung, a defect which time seemed to have increased; nor could he pretend to say that ten years had not altered almost every feature for the worse.

Which apparently means that his lower jaw projects beyond the upper jaw.

[anghraine]

Today I was delayed, but not because I don't have a large store of trivial fandom subjects to offer up for polling! Here's today's for another P&P headcanon:

If you headcanon any of them as twins, there should still be an older one—but feel free to mention your Gardiner twins headcanon if you comment or reblog!

This is a matter of interpretation and headcanon rather than simple canon because we're not specifically told of any age gap between Mrs Bennet and Mr Gardiner:

Mr Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior to his sister [Mrs Bennet], as well by nature as education. The Netherfield ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so well-bred and agreeable. Mrs Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs Bennet and Mrs Phillips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman

The timeline of the backstory is approximate, but we have a description of Mrs Bennet at the time of her marriage almost 23 years before the novel starts:

Her [Elizabeth's] father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good-humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her

We have a rough estimate of how long the Gardiners have been married:

About ten or a dozen years ago, before her marriage, she [Mrs Gardiner] had spent a considerable time in that very part of Derbyshire to which he [Wickham] belonged.

[galaxycunt]

I Cant Keep Crying pt 1

Hello it’s me again. Angst/ smut/ etc etc under the cut

Part 2

You wish you could say you knew how you got here. You shared the same dream with every other pirate in the world. Your wide eyed idealism soon turned cynical, yet you remained on the sea. Your captain wasn’t the most fearsome, sticking to the East Blue was easy pickings. It worked for you, Buggy wasn’t the meanest boss you encountered. You knew how to stay on his good side, which helped.

After a particularly fun night, both of you good and drunk, he ended up between your legs. You decided you wanted to keep him there, as long as he’d let you. The way he looked at you made you think you had the final say in it no matter what.

He wasn’t ugly, but he also wasn’t the only pirate you let into your bed. You and him had a silent understanding, the sea was lonely. He was your captain, and you weren’t going to ask for special treatment. Whatever happened inside his cabin, stayed there.

“Fuck, I’m so close.”

You liked the way he looked under you, the feel of his cock inside you. Buggy massaged your nipples, biting your flesh everywhere. His hands found their way to your ass, forcing your hips to grind against him faster.

“Keep going, Buggy, fuck keep going.”

A groan caught in his throat as you came, flipping you over to find his own release. You were oversensitive, slapping the wall behind you. Buggy kissed your neck, spilling into you.

It was always quick and dirty, him pulling out slowly to grab his flask. You shared a drink while catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

”My legs cant stop shaking,” you said with a laugh.

”Damn straight.”

He slapped your ass, making you laugh harder, “you’re funny.”

He turned you around to face him, planting a kiss on your lips. This was always your favorite part, especially if you got to stay the night. You traced patterns on his skin, him watching with a smile on his face.

“I found something from the last raid I think you might like.”

”Like what?”

He jerked his chin to a chest on his desk, “go look.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not really sure what to expect. You figured it’d be a gag gift, like the last one. It wasn’t your birthday yet, nor a holiday. He wasn’t one for gifting things anyway.

Inside was a necklace, a silver chain with a locket.

”Wow, thanks.”

He shrugged, “wasn’t worth too much. Thought it’d look great on you.”

”Well thanks, I love it,” you said, brushing off what he said.

“Put it on.”

The cool metal raised your skin, as well as the look he gave you from across the room. Slowly, you stalked over to him. Running a finger along his jaw, you kissed him again.

”Thanks, Captain.”

”If you really wanna thank me,” he motioned to his cock with a wink.

You honestly expected him to have a picture of it inside the damn locket. You decided to thank him anyway, not thinking too much into why the hell he gave you a gift in the first place. At least he apologized when cum got into your nostril. So gentlemanlike of him.

You cleaned each up other up with smiles before bed, Buggy always finding a way to keep touching you. You wanted to lie and say you were annoyed, or even apathetic about it. Your heart fluttered every time, relishing in this moment, because it was only you and him.

In the morning, Buggy always let you eat a meal with him. Ordering a crew mate to send breakfast in for the both of you. You were always shy, you didn’t need to know what they were saying about you to know they said anything about you.

Buggy fed you a biscuit, like you were lovers on a honeymoon. You could play pretend, you always did.

”There’s a nice place I heard about on this village, the booze is cheap as shit.”

”Hell yeah, I could use a night where my head is the only thing swaying around.”

He smiled, letting you linger as you readied for your daily tasks. You pretended to be busy as you watched him apply his makeup. You felt a little sad for him, like the clown persona wasn’t even a choice for him. Like it never was, but he wore it with pride. You admired him for that.

“Ready to face the day?”

Your name sounded so lovely on his lips.

”Of course, Buggy.”

He rewarded the crew with a night of partying, throwing berry around the crowded bar. The crew was only here a few days for a resupply, plenty of time to soak in the sights. You poured yourself a drink, trying to find him. You stood on your toes, searching for that bright orange hat amongst the crowd.

You finally spotted him, pushing your way to that hat like it was a beacon. You wanted to ask him why he gave you that locket you were still wearing, and what it meant to him.

”Heya Bug-“

You froze, witnessing his tongue being shoved down another person’s throat. One of the townies, of course they wouldn’t have a reason not to. Not like your crew mates, avoiding eye contact with you in embarrassment.

He noticed you staring, a smeared red smile on his face.

”What, what? Need more berry?” He turned to his newest hook up, “can’t say I’m not a generous captain, here you go baby, be merry!”

You crumpled the notes in your fist, rushing back towards the bar. Scanning the dark room, you couldn’t find a suitable replacement. One was found for you, a man with a nice smile whispering in your ear. You moved him to be within Buggy’s line of sight, kissing him sloppily.

You could scream, but instead pulling him out into the fresh air with force. You ran your arms over your clothes, looking for an ear. You couldn’t find one, tears on the verge of falling.

”Hey, did you see my captain looking at us when we left?”

The stranger shook his head, “I say you’re off the hook, babe.”

You nodded, deciding to take him then and there in that dark alleyway. You hoped Buggy would catch you, hoping for a reaction that could tell you what he didn’t want to say. Something besides what you didn’t want to hear.

After he got you off, you left him there to stumble on your separate ways. You only wanted to enter Buggy’s cabin, to throttle whoever he decided to bring home that night. It was beneath you, you been doing this long enough to know better.

Buggy ruined it, with that stupid locket. It wasn’t even just the locket, it was the special bottle he’ll save for you, the extra sweets on your birthday, the way he remembered whatever small detail you’d tell him.

He couldn’t belong to only you, he had a way to make anyone follow him to hell and back. He could treat people however he wanted, they wouldn’t leave him. He knew he had you hook, line, and sinker.

Instead of heading towards his bed, you entered the crew’s quarters. No one was there, you could scream and kick things around in private. It didn’t help anything, leaving you to nurse a sprained ankle and a hangover.

”Whoa there, what happened to you last night?” Buggy cornered you in the storage room, your hands sore from sharpening blades for hours.

”Had a little bit fun yourself, huh Captain?”

He laughed nervously, “what’s the point of plundering if you can’t enjoy the spoils?”

”Yeah, your little friend last night seemed pretty nice.”

He ignored the comment, “where’s that necklace, you lose it already?”

”I didn’t wanna wear it today,” you said flatly.

He only nodded, taking blades from the finished pile. Buggy half heartedly checked stock, glancing every so often if your direction until you left.

You figured you were hormonal, or maybe even just coming down with a cold. Something was to blame for you suddenly caring. You haven’t been on land in months, you forgot how things worked between you two. That had to be it.

”Captain wants to speak to you.”

You could handle whatever he wanted to throw at you.

He opened the door with a smile, pushing you inside. He handed you a pile of clothes, things to be mended.

”Is that all from you?”

”Ah, no. I remembered a long time ago, a certain member of my merry band of freaks liked playing the accordion. So…”

”Uh, wow. Thanks, Captain.”

”Figured all those shanties needed some accompaniment.”

You tilted your head, “why?”

He blushed, “do I need one?”

He was trying to buy you off. He looked at you like he was expecting something, his hands floated to your body, tugging at your clothes. Hands that touched someone else, but you couldn’t cry about that. You did it too.

”Seems like you have a reason in mind, Bug.”

He nodded, stripping you bare.

“I’m a big fan of every noise coming out of your mouth.”

You let him fuck you, you not being able to get that night out of your mind. His mouth is on your pussy, determined to make you his.

“Stop, stop.”

”What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, “I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

You expected him to beg, to plead for you to stay. A promise or two about changing, that it was only you.

Instead he yelled, “fine! See if I care! Fucking go!”

He threw your clothes at you, refusing to even look at you. When you were taking too long, he shoved you out the door, shirt still unbuttoned, leaving you exposed. Before closing it, he threw costumes and the accordion out into the hallway.

”This shit better be done by tonight or I’ll have your head on a platter.”

The accordion was in pieces, you attempted to pick it up before he screamed at you to go. Leaving Buggy and anyone around to stare at the broken mess on the floor.

You hid from the crew the rest of the day, tearfully mending each item. While everyone went out to party, you left the costumes by the door. He wasn’t there, expecting you to leave them somewhere while he went out himself. You knew he was going to bring someone else back to his bed.

As you set the costumes down, you noticed the accordion in the trash, you carefully held it in your hands. It should be an easy fix, at least until Buggy decides you didn’t deserve it back.

With a sigh, you worked on the instrument alone on the deck. Watching the life on shore from afar. The tears blurred your work, feeling stupid for leaving Buggy. Shit, you felt stupid for even thinking a captain like him would even care about an underling like you.

It was getting late, and you fixed the accordion the best you could. Testing it out with a soft song, you choked on a sob. Buggy walked across the deck, another lover around his arm. He glanced at you briefly, his expression hard to read in the dark.

[siriuslygay1981]

Word count: 1,818 | Jegulus

Regulus was a weak weak man, how he became so feeble minded, he'll never know.

His eyes unconsciously trail over to the mop of brown hair that rests against the arm of the sofa. It had to be uncomfortable, he was sure the gryffindors neck would hurt for the rest of the day. He resists the urge to be soft and go get a pillow or something ridiculous.

Regulus slowly put his book down, not bothering to save his page, he didn't see the point. He probably wouldn't be back to finish the book anyways, which was a shame he had just gotten to the part where she rejected his proposal.

"You are mistaken, Mr.darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which i might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…” he had murmured the words softly as he read it, careful not to speak too loudly with the faintly snoring boy next to him.

James had long since fallen asleep, his once gasping breaths now slow and even. James had somewhat acted how he expected when discovering the wretched truth..but he had surprised him in still staying. With the dark mark he knew he wouldn't make it out of this war alive..no matter what side won because he would not stay by the mad man he once idolized and the light side, as many called them, would surely never accept him, nor he them if he was honest. It was too much to get into so late in the war, he had chosen his side and he had no choice but to stick with it. He couldn't just switch sides as if this was some silly kids game.

He knew how the tattered book ended, he had read it a total of three times already. He remembers the first time, the late nights spent under his covers behind the closed curtains of his bed. Night after night he spent reading the pages, enraptured by the words that glided right off the page and pulled him in.

He remembers all the feelings that came with it.

The nights spent reading it had him longing for something, at first he couldn't place it but he knew what it was the second time around, the realization making him almost physically ill. He wasn't alone the second time through.

James would softly read the words to him as he swept his fingers gently up and down his arm leaving goosebumps behind and an aching burning need deep in his bones.

James didn't know how much power he had over Regulus, it was absolutely terrifying.

Sometimes it felt like he was bursting at the seams with the affection he held for the older boy

One night, as James was reading a chapter aloud, his hand absentmindedly running along his chest, he started to get closer to a certain passage.

Regulus’ already thumping heart seemed to speed up and stutter, his ears tuning into the deep voice.

He wasn't sure if he could handle james saying these next words, he gulped and looked up to the gryffindor who turned the page softly and continued. He glanced down at Regulus with a small smile, his voice lifting slightly.

Regulus let his eyes trail over the exposed skin before him. He trailed his eyes across the bump in his nose, his long eyelashes, his full lips, slowly trailing down to his throat and back up to the brown eyes he knew so well. He inhaled the scent that surrounded him, some earthy scent that always seemed to cling to the boy, like damp earth, sleekeazy’s, his cedar scented body wash.

His hearing tuned in again as if it knew the words were coming up

“You have bewitched me body and soul,-” he could hear James’ breath hitch as he read the next words, his mouth opening and closing before he continued to the next line

“and I love” he sounded breathless and Regulus could not for the life of him take his eyes off of him, his whole body attuning to James. He could barely exist in the same room with the stupid lovely boy, his heart raced, his mind blanked…he was a fool. A fool who just like the rest of Hogwarts, fell for the mischievous grin and large ego.

“I love, I love you.” his voice was husky and Merlin and Morgana both, Regulus was gone. He felt like he would physically spontaneously explode. Like all this…this thing inside of him was going to burst and he felt so overwhelmed, so full, he felt as if he was bathing in sunlight, the heated rays warming his body and heart. Anything James wanted…Regulus would do.

“And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” James paused, his eyes not leaving the book.

It was silent, tension filling the air.

Regulus slowly reached up for the book and immediately let it fall out of his hands and onto the floor, his body twisting as he sat up and removed his head from James’ lap. James frowned at the loss of contact but he zeroed in on regulus as he sat on his knees next to him.

Regulus reached forward his finger brushing against James’ cheek, like James couldn't help it, he sighed in content a shiver wracking his body.

Regulus let a small smile grace his lips, he never got over how responsive James was.

He cupped his face and rubbed his thumb over the beauty mark near his eye without really thinking about it.

James’ mouth parted, his eyes opening and staring at Regulus as if he was the only thing that mattered. He's sure neither would have noticed if the world was ending around them.

James leant forward, one hand coming up to grasp Regulus’ wrist

“Reg-”

He cut his memory off abruptly, he couldn't do this now. He softly lifts James’ feet off his lap and stretches.

He makes quick work of his last ends to be tied up. His mind drifted away and back as he wrote. He had to force himself to focus, begging himself to just get this over with. Dwelling on it longer than he had to only brought pain.

To the Dark Lord he starts, his hands trembling terribly.

I know I will be dead long before you read this. He resolutely didn't look at the sleeping form of James, he didn't dare let himself think of anyone else either.

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

Strong all consuming rage filled him. He had to do this. He was doing it…but he still hated the bastard. Regulus forces himself to calm down before he continues to write

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

Gulping he dips his quill in some more ink before signing off.

R.A.B.

Angrily…he hopes the dark Lord figures out it was him….beneath that he hopes he never finds out.

He lets the note dry before shoving it into the fake locket and standing up. The heavy metal sets against his chest as he inhales a shaky breath. It burns against his skin, his heart thumps wildly.

“You have bewitched me body and soul” he murmurs as he kneels in front of the sleeping boy's form. He brushes a strand of hair out of James’ face, his heart aching as James’ nose scrunches up

“And I love…I love..i love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” he murmurs the last bit almost sardonically

He stands up, ready to leave and meet his end-

A hand grabs his wrist as he turns causing him to gasp at the unexpected contact.

“Are you really trying to leave after confessing your love to me?” a incredulous raspy voice asks

Regulus purses his lips and begs the blush on his face isn't noticeable

“I don't know what you mean Potter” he almost cringes at how obvious he is.

He clears his throat and turns back to the now awake man

“Let go, i have places to be..” he tries to sound stern but it sounds weak to his ears

“No, i don't know what you plan on doing but I know you…and I know that you are about to do something stupid..i also know you will not be going alone.” James stands up slowly his hand never leaving Regulus’ wrist

“I'm not taking you with me, James.” he whispers

He keeps his face blank, his eyes hard, he tries to sound stern. His voice wavering betrays him though.

He's afraid.

James softens slightly but shakes his head and grabs both of Regulus’ hands

“I'm not giving you a choice. You're not going alone”

Regulus glares at James and tugs his hands free, suddenly very angry.

“I'm not giving you a choice James Potter, i'm going.” he gulps at James’ expression and barely stops himself from reaching out

“Kreacher will be with me, i won't be alone.” he adds because he's weak

“Not enough-” James says harshly “That's not enough. I'm coming with you.”

They stare into each other's eyes neither wanting to back down. Regulus scowls, his eyebrows pinching together. James stays still, determined not to lose. Regulus was surprised at James' determination, usually he would have given up by now. Giving into Regulus’ harsh gaze, not wanting to push Regulus away or make him upset.

Regulus goes over a dozen stunning spells in his mind as James stares at him both pleadingly and sternly He crumbles for a moment, his face scrunching up in despair.

“Please.” he whispers hoarsely

Regulus is a terribly weak man. His walls crumble to the floor, his heart clenching painfully. Against everything he knows he should do…he wants to agree. He likes to think it took him longer than a split second before answering.

“Ok”

the word is out of his mouth before he can fully decide but by then it's too late. He's sure it would've ended this way no matter what he did, James potter made him a weak man and it shows. Mostly when that blinding smiles hits regulus and his knees almost give out

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the brightly smiling man in front of him.

“But if you don't do as I say…I'll stun you and tie you up before leaving you in the forbidden forest-” he spits out viciously

James just brushes one of his curls out of his face tucking it behind his ear, a soft smile on his lips.

“Alright..” he murmurs

His hand stays there unreasonably long, neither notice.

[nanamikentorp]

Hello everyone. I have quite a few asks in my inbox. I'll be queuing them up for posting through the day. I'm sorry it's taking me so long to get to them but thank you for being patient with me.

I went out for a walk today, it's a bit cloudy and the weather is pleasant. I saw a very sweet little dog on my walk and decided to pet him. He was most gentlemanlike. Maybe I should adopt a dog.... Hmmm

[consult-sherlockholmes]

I wanna see you naked ❤️

What a nice request, so well mannered and gentlemanlike. Very charming. So politely worded.

How can I resist when someone asks so nicely? The heart emoji just won me over.

You will just have to remove the sheet then.

[firawren]

"Ungentlemanly," a Pride and Prejudice smutty fanfic

Explicit | Elizabeth/Darcy | 5k words

Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, Married Sex, Library Sex, Vaginal Sex, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, 69 (Sex Position), Reconciliation Sex, Light Femdom, Dirty Talk

Summary:

Elizabeth once berated Mr. Darcy for not behaving in a “gentlemanlike manner.” Ever since her just reproof, he has been determined to always act like a perfect gentleman, even, or especially, within his marital bed. Gentlemen do not use obscene language to express their pleasure while carrying out their marital duties. Doing so would be an affront to his dearest, loveliest wife Elizabeth.

However, he finds this resolution harder and harder to keep as his marriage progresses.

And it is finally Elizabeth’s will that breaks him of it.

(Or, five times Darcy nearly loses control but restrains himself from talking dirty in bed, and the one time he finally lets loose, thanks to Elizabeth’s strong encouragement.)

Read on AO3

Beta read by @loonysama. Thanks for the helpful feedback!

NSFW excerpt under the read more link:

“May I use my mouth on you?” Elizabeth murmured against his lips, and his cock grew harder at the very suggestion.

“You—you would want to do that?” he said in a strangled voice.

“You have used your mouth on me, and I was, well, curious whether it can be done the other way around.”

“You need not do it,” he said weakly, though the idea of it sounded tremendously appealing.

“But may I?” Elizabeth asked, smiling slightly.

“If you wish,” he managed to choke out, rather than exclaiming how much he would like to feel her lick and suck his cock.

Her smile widened, and she moved down his body to his waiting erection. She tenderly pressed her mouth to it, at first, and Darcy hummed at the pleasant sensation of her soft lips against his flesh. But when she engulfed the head of his cock fully in her mouth, his pleasure jolted through him so fiercely that he could not stop himself from moaning, “Ohhh!”

He quickly clamped his mouth shut, but she looked up at him with a prideful sort of happiness dancing in her eyes, clearly pleased with the passionate reaction she had drawn from him. The look increased his arousal even further, heat flaring in his belly, for there was a perverse intimacy in having her eyes fixed on his while her mouth was stretched so obscenely around his cock. Again he could not help but groan, this time in the shape of her name. She smiled around his cock again, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to block out the intoxicating sight that threatened to unleash words unfit for Elizabeth’s ears.

[monroeseditrequests]

Can you please write me down an imagine with Johnny and y/n? Make it a romantic imagine

KEEPING IT SWEET

Johnny x The Reader

Meet-Cute. Fluff. Coffee Shop. Mishap Make up

Your usual morning coffee run three weeks ago, didn't go off to the smoothest of starts; you ending up dashing to work to avoid being reprimanded by your boss. It didn't help that you'd been late a couple of times in the last month already due to road closures. He let those slide; thankfully. However, the cause of your lateness was no other than a blonde haired gentleman with a sweet smile, who kindly offered to make up for staining your crisp white shirt with brown coffee. Your schedules struggled to match, until today.

Heading to the table where the fair haired man is residing, staring into his half drunken cup of coffee, you tentatively settle the mug down being midnful not to lose a drop.

Johnny is pleasantly stunned by your presence, his gentlemanlike qualities springing into action; arching forward to push out the chair for you. The table wobbles. "Shi -"

"Almost," you quip, smiling. He's quick to reciprocate, his own smile equally fond. "That would have been a deja-vu."

"A disaster at best," Johnny chuckles, motioning for you to sit opposite. "I'm glad you made it," he shares, sliding several notes across the table.

You raise a brow in puzzlement. "You could have just pinged the dough across."

Johnny reaches into his jacket pocket, waving an older generation flipphone. It's resorted back to its original hibernation spot. "Good ole fashioned money exchange it has to be I'm afraid," he shares, taking a sip.

"Well, regardless of the methods, I'm extremely grateful for the offer of patching up the mishap," you explain, words tainted with sincerity. "Though the same can't be said for the shirt."

He winces, mouthing an apology. His hands curl around the exterior of the mug when Johnny leans forward. Those blue eyes meet your own. "So did you solve the case?"

"The case?" You reiterate.

"You briefly explained about a mishap of someone stealing in your department - somewhere between our texts," Johnny explains.

Your brow arches, perplexion briefly taking hold before you smile softly at the revelation. "Ah. I did, I found the culprit who happened to keep taking all of high quality biscuits." You raise a finger wiggling your brows. "Though, plot twist-" Johnny's interest piques further. "It was in fact no other than my boss." You chuckle softly, shaking your head.

"Go figure. Always the least person you expect. They end up being the main culprit." Johnny chuckles warmly. "At least you solved the mystery."

"Yeah. I'm no Miss Marple just yet, but if ever an opening should arise, then I might be inclined to take it up," you muse, draining a portion of your coffee.

Johnny smiles. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." He winks. "Maybe I'll even stir up some cases for you to solve."

"Oh will you now?" You quip, enjoying the back and forth.

"That would taint the whole point of the exercise," Johnny counters playfully. He swirls the cup, before draining it entirely. A finger juts to your half drunken mug. "Another?"

You feel deflated. Johnny's company is certainly making your morning, though with a jam-packed schedule of errands to run as its your only full day off this week you sadly have to decline his offer; but not without offering an explanation.

His smile falters in response, briefly, before it's resorted in understanding. "Need to crack on before the boss cracks the whip and fills in all the free hours with more hours working to the bone, eh?"

You nod softly, reluctantly draining the mug.

"Another time?" Johnny proposes.

"Another time,' you confirm. Gathering up your belongings, you wish Johnny a farewell. It's cemented by a welcoming, unexpected embrace on his part. You sink into it, appreciating the sincerity and security.

Johnny grins, once the shared moment is broken. His eyes meet yours. "Until next time," he shares, enthusiasm tainting his words.

Thank you for the request. I hope this meet-cute super fluffy imagine meets all your expectations.

[zingaplanet]

If you think about Federer and Nadal's unique sort of friendship and how it managed to lasts this long it's actually very bizzarre.

Apart from the fact that they're the unlikeliest of friends, ditto they're actual sworn enemies who have very little in common from the beginning (that's the whole premise of their rivalry), perhaps what's more fascinating is not how they kinda grew to have more in common and actually found they relate to each other a lot as they got older but also how much effort they put into creating and maintaining this relationship that they could've easily done without.

If I realised anything recently, especially after their retirement (or soon-to-come retirement) from professional sport, it's a bond that is nurtured as much as it is naturally grown and for no discernible logical reason. It's arguably good PR of course, two big rivals getting along when they're still competing and certainly plays a lot in landing the 'nice guy' image for both, but conflict and troubles are equally if not more, great PR as well, just look at Michael Jordan and his rivals. Or perhaps it was simply the 'gentlemanlike' nature of tennis that wouldn't tolerate this kind of behaviour and they're aware of this, or perhaps it's a simpler answer.

What's interesting is they seem to almost subject themselves willingly to this situation of friendliness and cordial relationship that they couldn't easily get out of, it's evident in the very beginning of their relationship for instance. It's true that after 2017 they did grow closer seemingly more naturally (with Federer experiencing injuries as Nadal has felt many times before, and them relating more to each other near the end of their careers), but before that? It was a remarkable effort. Nobody ever forced them to get along but they went out of their way to do it, and it's not as if it was ever 'easy'.

They did get good things about it in the media of course, like always having each other to rely on for their foundations' charity matches, etc., but it's also very precarious, as is expected. It's obvious that they've had fallouts, 2011 is one, perhaps no little frustration nor jealousy, and disagreement over the sports' politics. This is on top of facing each other in their favourite tournament finals every year. The truth is, they could, simply not bother - tennis is their world but it's not centred just around them. 2011 to 2020 at least, is a four-edged sword between the big 4, but you don't really see both of them making this much effort with Novak, Andy, or any of their big rivals.

Nadal and Federer obviously talked it out and made up their differences over the 2011 dispute in private, or else they would not have agreed to rejoin the players' council together. Nadal even apologised for making this disagreement too public. Federer could easily not come to Nadal's academy inauguration, and Nadal could simply rejected the Match in Africa and Laver Cup proposals (which he tried his best to fit into his busy schedule despite protests from his team). Novak, for instance, approached this rivalry he had with both of them in a much more detached way, always very respectful, occassionally friendly, but never really truly bordering on personal lines. He even admitted recently that he could never imagine Federer and Nadal as his friends.

I used to think that with two such complements in the world, somehow the universe would work its way to make it either blow up in pieces or come together naturally. But I realised I was wrong. The point is, it's not easy. It never has been. It's not natural nor is it inevitable closeness through time (like Nadal did with his Davis Cup teammates or Federer did with Wawrinka). They have absolutely no incentive to be friends. Federer did not have to come and open Nadal's academy, nor send congratulatory messages every year to the new graduates, Nadal did not have to leave his family to play in Federer's last match or fly all the way to South Africa. But that's why it's one of the greatest achievements in sports- that two of its biggest rivals absolutely did not have to get along, yet they did it anyway. It's a testament to their character, their sportsmanship, but above all, their immense respect for one another.

And what comes out of effort is trust. Both of them have repeatedly said that they trust each other more than anyone, Nadal said he could be open with Federer about anything including his injuries even when he's still playing, and Federer said he allowed himself to be vulnerable when he told Nadal first before everyone else about his retirement. It's very easy to find people you care about but very difficult to find one you wholly trust.

It's a valuable and meaningful bond of their own making and I can understand more now why Federer said he knew he'd still be in touch with Nadal after retirement out of all his tennis friends. Nadal's similar, now nearly completely out of the tour, he seems to not bother with anyone else in the field anymore but Federer. It's them calling each other still when there is no more tennis to discuss, no council matters to agree over. It's Federer saying "It happens, Rafa is like that" when saying their communications dwindle down every time Nadal is injured but clearly not worried about the durability of their friendship. Now, it's the effortlessness that comes after so many years of trying, it's "I know how he must've felt", it's absolute trust without complicated demands, it's being understood without having to say anything, it's the familiarity of an old friend, it's missing the old days and realising the world is moving on without them, it's accepting the present and not regretting the past, it's growing old together.

it's the feeling of simple, steady companionship, that they're in it together, always.