#misplaced honor

[sohannabarberaesque]

And not just the physical sort: Concern needs to be expressed about psychological and emotional abuse directed at children, in particular such manifested by the likes of:

suggestions that children leave the house after breakfast and not return until suppertime "to give [the parents] some time for ourselves and ourselves alone", especially during school vacations;

reinforcing the preceding with carefully-scripted patsies to explain to police officers and similar the absence of their parents in case questions start being asked, the better to lay suspicion to sleep;

insisting that their children devote their evenings all the more to schoolwork rather than TV, films or music, hoping such devotion to study will translate into a place on the school's Honor Roll, with a suitable reward likely once achieved;

holding the children to blame for the parents being driven to alcohol, narcotic drugs, "sexual vices" (including addiction to pornography), substantial credit-card debt and General Debaucheries, fearing that the welfare officers could take the children away suddenly and without warning save for being called to the principal's office after school;

having a portion of weekly allowance held back, especially heading towards Christmas, to "help you buy a nice gift for Mom and Dad" without any sort of match, unaware that it's difficult to find that "nice gift" on a pittance, even from the Workshop for the Blind;

having the kids left with close and trusted friends when the parents have to be out of town (especially interstate) "on business," "looking for work" or some similar excuse, and being asked to keep quiet about the whole for fear of "reprisals" from the welfare or, worse still, the police;

arbitrarily placing the children on "Brownie Points" or some such "system of incentives" to earn assorted "privileges" as would supposedly come in due course, subject to the right amount of points being earned thereby;

constantly blaming the children in drunken shouting-matches for "driving [them] to ruin after all we've done for you," followed by their either being driven to the bus station with one-way tickets out of town or the parents leaving the kids in the house, and in shock privation as well; and

coming home one afternoon from school and not seeing at least the mother to welcome them home, instead being left a note saying something like "you drove us to this," with further details best seen as horrible dictu and the kids left to call 911.

Such being especially likely in older "industrial" (lower working-class) and rural or otherwise economically-challenged communities, especially where being seen as "poor white trash" is looked upon as a Badge of Honour--reinforced all too often by the Confederate travesty of the Cross of St. Andrew, Martyr, or (in rare instances) with the Nazi swastika "blood flag" or the apartheid South African tricolour serving as a complementary Badge of Honour for being thus arrogant.

The preceding is brought to you as a public service.

[forlouren]

Not to be the first soldier on the frontless of the woobification of Qimir (he is a villain, we know this, and I love him for it), but the lack of nuance, or rather the one-dimensional angle people who don't like his relationship with Osha have taken with him, irks me so bad. I get it. He is Sith, right. Treachery is their way; and what are the darksiders, if not self-serving?

But I feel like the specific phrasing of "the Jedi like you would call me Sith" implies so much about his own unique characterization, and I don't understand why we are glossing over it. It's not a self-identifier. It shows it isn't as much as a title he'd give himself, but a badge he'll wear since in the black/white viewpoint of the Jedi, he is not allowed to be anything more or less. His almost catty, "semantics" hammers in this fact for me, personally.

He strikes me as one who takes what he wants of the Sith code, and disregards the rest. I don't think it's a mistake that even after his reveal, we don't see him with the signature dark side eyes.

I say all this to say; Qimir's ultimate goal is not power, it is FREEDOM. *That* is what he is driven by. He craves to live outside the confines he deems as constrictive/oppressive, and have by his side, someone who wants the same.

So even while disregarding Leslye's interview; I honestly don't know how with what we've been shown in the show so far, aside from him being a sith, makes people think otherwise.

[johnandrasjaqobis]

"Simon is a mighty sorcerer" "When it counts, this young man delivers" "You are at your strongest when you think you are at your weakest. But you deliver"

even with the little jabs and occasional Concerns, Edgin wholeheartedly believed in Simon Aumar the entire time. He recognized the crippling doubt and imposters syndrome standing in Simon's way and kept up a steady stream of confidence to try and counter it. Ed is Simon's biggest fan and he is so thrilled when Simon finally starts to see the potential that Ed has seen for years.

Edgin has two kids and Simon is one of them, send tweet

[youngmoviemaker]

You're Not The Lamb . . . @bamsara

[you-know-i-get-itt]

Hii

I think I missed wipw in your timezone (dishonor on my cow) but just in case i didn't, could I ask about the Jean & Nathaniel thing? I can feel the misplaced forever partners obsession creeping back into my brain (it never left but i pretended it did)

Thank youu!

prev

Nathaniel

I do not think Kevin know why you really left. You were a child, and children do not survive here. I do not know how Kevin and King did. You did not leave because your father killed someone, though that might have happened too. I do not know.

Sometimes I forget that you do not know I exist, because I am always very aware of you. I know it should be you I play with, and it should be you I live with, and it should be you who steps in when Kevin cannot. Kevin cannot step in much. Maybe you could not either. I do not know. I miss you.

Your friend, Jean Moreau

[choerypetal]

Silent Vengeance / Lee Myung-gi

summarize: Who would have thought that a man who sees himself as powerful could be reduced to selfishness by obsession, only for a knight in armor to heal a broken heart?

English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical errors, but I really hope you enjoy it! based on s2 squid game so spoilers ahead!

Thanos’s pride and the attention he commanded among the crowd stirred bitterness in some of the contestants—yours included. It baffled many that a retired rapper would stoop to participate in such brutal games, especially one that involved splashes of blood staining his clothes.

It wasn’t until after the Green Light, Red Light game that his focus shifted. He noticed a particular figure—a silhouette that intrigued him more than he cared to admit. The way you sprinted with precision, timing each step perfectly to freeze at the exact moment, or how you yanked another contestant’s hair to throw them off balance, was a calculated display of survival. That endurance, paired with your quiet defiance of the chaos around you—including his own—captivated Thanos from the very beginning.

While Thanos reveled in his lingering popularity, relishing how some followed his every move like sheep to a shepherd, he couldn’t ignore one undeniable truth: for once, he wasn’t the center of attention. That honor belonged to you.

And never in a thousand of years would he see you here. In flesh. Not after the break up.

Like many others, you had joined the Games with hopes of a better life—a seductive promise whispered by the Salesman. His grotesque smile lingered in your mind whenever you stole a moment to rest, though such moments were rare. Still, your demeanor betrayed none of the turmoil beneath. Your stony expression, coupled with your tendency to linger at the edges, observing the chaos with silent disdain, set you apart. To you, the Games were a grim spectacle—a macabre theater of desperation and misplaced hopes.

Despite this, a few contestants managed to draw you into sparse, fleeting conversations. Thanos, however, stood apart—not because you sought him out, but because he was the last person you’d have ever chosen to engage with. And yet, it fascinated him. Knowing your shared history, he found it almost poetic to see you here, standing as a quiet, untouchable force while his own magnetism faltered in your shadow.

“This prick is getting on my nerves,” someone muttered, their voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs of the room. The words belonged to 333. His number stood out just as much as his presence as he slid into the seat beside you. You’d learned his name was Lee Myung-gi. He extended a hand toward you, his lips curling into a soft grin that hinted at practiced charm. You nodded slightly, mirroring the gesture out of courtesy. “Y/N,” you said plainly.

There was a pause before Myung-gi’s gaze flicked toward Thanos, his tone lowering conspiratorially. “I don’t mean to stir the pot or anything, but... word is, you and Thanos were a thing. He says you’re pretending not to remember him. And that’s why you—”

“333!”

Thanos’s voice cut through like a blade, silencing Myung-gi mid-sentence. Both of you turned your heads in unison, meeting Thanos’s unyielding stare. You recognized that look immediately—brows furrowed, his glare burning with thinly veiled fury. It was a warning, one that promised Myung-gi wouldn’t survive another word in your direction. The intensity of it could rival any of the Games themselves.

“You should go,” you said quietly, your tone flat but decisive. Your eyes barely glanced at Myung-gi, let alone at Thanos. Yet the weight of his gaze pressed heavily on you, and something inside you churned—a mix of unease, defiance, and something far harder to name.

You wanted to let loose a string of curses, every sharp word you could think of—but you stopped yourself. The memory of a promise lingered in the back of your mind.

Never speak to one another after the breakup.

It was a fragile vow, one you both had clung to out of pride or necessity. But deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before it shattered completely.

It wasn’t until the bathroom game that the tension reached its breaking point. Thanos never imagined he’d find himself mere feet away from you again, let alone in the confines of a separate room. Yet here he was, his determination undeterred, even as 333 hovered too close for his liking. Thanos wasn’t subtle about his intentions—he wouldn’t let anyone, least of all Myung-gi, encroach on what he still felt was his.

The image of you and 333 pressing X together during the last game still burned in Thanos’s mind, a fresh wound that refused to heal. It festered, replaying over and over like a mocking refrain, igniting a possessive anger he could no longer contain.

As he stepped into the bathroom hall, his focus zeroed in on Myung-gi, the irritation bubbling into something darker. “You’re getting all worked up. So there is something going on,” Thanos said, his voice low and edged with menace.

He stepped closer, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “If you press X again tomorrow...” Thanos leaned in, his words a venomous whisper, “I’ll cut off your finger and give it to her.”

Myung-gi’s jaw tightened at the threat, his discomfort evident. But what unsettled him more was the reason you’d pressed X with him in the first place. It wasn’t a calculated strategy or an empty gesture—it was a fleeting grasp at safety, something you rarely allowed yourself. While you were usually stoic, Myung-gi’s quiet acts of care had chipped away at your defenses, enough to make you question your own resolve.

Thanos couldn’t stand it. The rules of the Games were unambiguous, but what he thought he saw—the almost imperceptible closeness between you and Myung-gi, the way your lips hovered as if to kiss—was enough to set his blood ablaze. The possibility, imagined or not, was more than he could bear.

And that was the last straw. 

“And ask her out. She’ll love it.” 

“You asshole!” Thanos barely registered the punch before his jaw throbbed, the sharp sting waking something primal in him. His thumb brushed over his chin, checking for blood, before he retaliated with equal ferocity. “You motherfucker!” he snarled, his fist connecting with satisfying force.

Chaos erupted as their hands found each other’s throats, both grappling for dominance. Myung-gi’s back slammed against the bathroom stall, the sound echoing in the tight space. They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, fists flying without restraint. “Your money, your girl, your life—they’re all mine!” Thanos spat, driving his fist into Myung-gi’s cheek with enough force to make his knuckles ache.

But then, everything shifted. Thanos froze, his breath hitching as blood sprayed from his own mouth, splattering across Myung-gi’s face. The sudden realization of injury shocked him into silence. Without a word, he pulled back, retreating to the shadows of the stall, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

And yet, in that moment of pain and rage, his mind wasn’t on the fight—it was on you. Always you.

The bathroom games were over. The stalls were scrubbed clean of the chaos that had unfolded, leaving little trace of what had transpired. As you and Myung-gi stepped out, your eyes met briefly. The way he looked at you—earnest, searching—was impossible to ignore. The remaining contestants loitered nearby, their presence a quiet reminder of the fragile truce this space demanded. But Thanos was nowhere to be found. Somehow, the thought of his absence made your shoulders feel just a little lighter.

Despite the unspoken rule of no interactions before returning to the dorms, Myung-gi broke it without hesitation. He rushed toward you, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. For a moment, you froze, unsure. But your hands instinctively found his face, fingers brushing over the bruise already darkening on his cheek.

You couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts about Thanos—how he’d reacted to other men during your relationship, the jealousy that often burned too brightly. The memories made your stomach twist with dread. But as your thumb grazed Myung-gi’s cheek, his eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the comfort of your touch.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension lingering in the air.

He let out a quiet scoff, his lips curling into a faint, tired smile. “The prick’s finally getting what he deserves anyway.”

[vacz]

OMG MY GOD, I LOVE IT WITH ALL MY PASSIOOOOONNNN!!!!!!!!

GOD. the way you drew him, you manage to represent the vibes of 'tired and deranged lunatic of the woods' so perfectly, and geez, I love how your illustration shows the actual HORROR and creepiness of the concept itself! GOD THE AXE WITH THE BLOOD!!!! and how you make the pose to have a round-shape-like is so fluid and so smooth to look at! Not forgetting to mention the face HOW YOU MANAGE TO GIVE HIM THAT LOOK OF ODD, CREEPY AND TIRED YEEEESSSS IS SO YEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS

And about the rock thing

If I remember right, the rock wasn't that big, it was almost Greg's hand size, and in Over The Garden Wall's style their hands are tiny and their heads are big

So I thought it would perfectly blend into a huge and messy long hair like Hunter's (Woodsman Wirt)

Also, the little hair left in his hand that you drew is so accurate

And also, you gave me a funny idea:

@vacz so i got inspired..

still rather unsure how he'd keep a smooth heavy rock in his hair TOT

[notsogreatdion]

✶ INTERACTIVE FICTION RECS 4.0 ✶

✶ The Night Market 1 & 2 (wip) - @night-market-if

✶ Honor Bound - @hpowellsmith

✶ The People's House

✶ answer these 10 questions and i'll tell you what kind of lover you are

✶ Viatica - @fir-fireweed

✶ Aquarium, Thanksgiving and Valentine's (unfinished) - @hpowellsmith

✶ Press Play - @pressplay-if (wip)

✶ Misplaced - @calliopefiction (wip)

✶ Love and Leases - @loveandleases (wip)

✶ Fervency - @fervency-if (wip)

✶ Drink Your Villain Juice - @drinkyourvillainjuice (wip)

✶ Paved in Ashes - @pavedinashes-if (wip)

✶ The Muse - @themuse-if (wip)

✶ The Ballad of the Young Gods - @childrenofcain-if (wip)

✶ The Eternal Library - @leiatalon (wip)

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ✶

VN'S

✶ Tomorrow Will Be Dying - (wip)

✶ Keyframes - @blank-house (wip)

✶ Killer Chat! - @rosesrotofficial

✶ First Bite

✶ Draculesti

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ✶

BITSY

✶ novena

✶ Well Tended

✶ In the pines, in the pines, where...

✶ walk with me.

✶ ENDLESS SCROLL

✶ The Ritual

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ✶

if recs 1.0 & if recs 2.0 & if recs 3.0 & new projects recs

secret shameless plug to check out if you want more if content - @if-whats-new

[thou-hast-now-a-bosom-companion]

i don't want to see Wyll cut off Ulder because he sucked as a father and deserved better as a 17 year old who was scared and alone and desperate to do the right thing with the immense pressure of not just his father, the man he idolized, but also The Entire Nobility of the city he loved bearing down on him.

i want to see them sit down on a bench overlooking the sea, somewhere they once spent every spare day (however few they may have been as time went on and Duty Called) Ulder had available bonding over training or fishing or listening to music or whatever else they enjoyed doing together.

i want them to have half-started and never-finished conversations about how Ulder failed, and how he wants to make up for it, and how much grief he holds over everything. about how many nights after his exile Wyll spent crying and screaming about how unfair it was and how "if he'd just listened to me." about how Wyll deserved better and Ulder should've known better but they can't go back and do it over again.

i want them to talk about Wyll's mother and who she was and why Ulder loved her and how he never really recovered from her death. and how bittersweet it is to look at Wyll - not because he blames his son for his wife's death, but because Wyll has her laugh and wears his hair the way she wore hers when they first met and it reminds Ulder of the woman he knew and loved and wishes so so so bad Wyll had also known and loved. of the woman he's certain would have protected Wyll from her husband's misplaced judgement.

i want Ulder to try and fail and succeed and fail and succeed and try over and over again to be the father Wyll deserves Now as an adult who's quite literally been through All The Hells and has the horns and claws and glowing red eye to prove it. and for Wyll to step away and back and away and back over and over again because he knows he wants His Father but he doesn't know what that means after everything they've been through.

i want to see the Ravengards learn to be father and son again and be able to laugh with and cry with and talk with and genuinely trust each other.

Wyll deserves to have a father who loves him and who has the humility and honor to listen to him and respect him and learn How to be the father he needs.

[illustr-ace]

Y'all, I'm thinking about Phoenix Wright again, someone stop me.

Anyway, you ever think about how Phoenix loves people?

Phoenix didn't climb Miles' walls or bring the walls down gradually with nothing but kindness. He beat the walls down with his bare fists, bloody knuckles, and heart on his sleeve because he knew that little boy that he once knew was still in there.

Phoenix /is/ nice. He's sassy and snarky and will roast anyone within an inch of their life, even if he's very close with them. But he also loves so righteously that he'll destroy himself because of it.

And Feenie is such a pure example of that. In that case, his love was misplaced, but he still wore it like a badge of fuckin honor and was fully prepared to lose his life for it. If they'd ever met, Bratworth wouldn't have stood a chance against that little dumbass and his pink sweater.

People joke about how, haha Phoenix changed the course of his life because gay, which like... yeah. But I never see enough people acknowledge that it wasn't just haha gay. He saw an article about Miles (someone he hadn't spoken to in an actual decade) that didn't sound like the person he knew (who was a child at the time), and determined he must've been horribly damaged and lonely. And his solution was, well... time to give up on any other passion I may have had to find the fucker.

Phoenix doesn't love like a golden retriever. He loves like the fucking sun. It's so bright and beautiful, and it burns, and he doesn't care.

Anyway, that got away from me, but tldr: I adore Phoenix so damn much.

[bassmars]

Sub! Neuvillette x Dom! GN Reader

Was bored at night and wrote this, pretty OOC but decided to post it since I haven’t posted anything since last time.

————————

The Chief Justice’s Punishment

submissive neuvillette nsfw

warnings: light bondage, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation kink, orgasm denial/ edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, office sex, authority kink, also names like slut and etc

The soft scratch of quill against parchment filled Neuvillette's private chambers, his elegant handwriting flowing across yet another legal document. You watched him from across his massive oak desk, remembering how it all started months ago – one small error that led to discovering the Chief Justice's deepest desires. Since then, these "private corrections" had become your little secret, each session leaving him more obedient, more desperate for your control.

"My, my..." you purred, standing slowly. "What do we have here, Chief Justice? Another mistake?"

His breath audibly caught – he knew what that tone meant. After all your previous encounters, Neuvillette's body had become finely tuned to your dominance. Sometimes you wondered if he made these small errors on purpose now, craving what would follow.

"Is it that time again?" he asked softly, his formal demeanor already beginning to crack. His fingers twitched on the desk, remembering how you'd bound them with his own sash last time.

You circled the desk, document in hand. "You know the drill by now, don't you, pet?" The nickname made him shudder – he'd earned it after the third time you'd reduced him to begging.

"Yes..." he breathed, already rising from his chair without being told. Months of training had taught him well.

"Yes, what?" you prompted, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, Your Honor," he corrected himself quickly, cheeks flushing. The title had started as a joke during one of your sessions, but the way it made him tremble had quickly turned it into a requirement.

You reached out to trace his jaw with one finger. "Look how well you've learned. Remember when you used to protest? Now you're practically quivering for it." Your hand slid down to his ceremonial sash. "Should we add another lesson to your education today?"

Neuvillette's eyes darkened with familiar need. "Please..." he whispered, already losing his composed facade. "I've been... waiting for you to notice."

"Oh?" You yanked him closer by his sash. "Did someone make mistakes on purpose? Has my strict Chief Justice become such a needy little slut for punishment?"

The whimper that escaped him was answer enough. Months of these encounters had stripped away his inhibitions, revealing the submissive creature that had always lurked beneath his authoritative exterior.

"Strip," you commanded. "And tell me exactly what you hoped to achieve with your little... error."

With practiced grace, Neuvillette began removing his elaborate robes, each layer revealing more of his pale, perfect skin. His fingers trembled slightly – not from nervousness anymore, but from anticipation.

"I... I may have misplaced those documents intentionally," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a week since our last... session."

You clicked your tongue disapprovingly, though heat pooled in your core at his confession. "So desperate you'd risk court efficiency? My, my... you've become quite the needy little dragon, haven't you?"

Now down to just his fitted undergarments, Neuvillette's breathing had grown heavy. The obvious bulge in his pants betrayed his arousal. "I apologize for my... impropriety."

"Oh, you will," you promised, grabbing his sash from the discarded robes. "Hands behind your back."

He complied immediately, shivering as you bound his wrists with practiced efficiency. The silk sash – a symbol of his authority – now served to strip him of control.

"Look at you," you purred, walking around him slowly. "The mighty Chief Justice, bound and trembling. What would your subordinates think if they saw you like this?"

A desperate whine escaped his throat. "Please... Your Honor..."

You grabbed a fistful of his silky hair, yanking his head back. "Please what? Use your words properly, or you won't get what you need.

"Please use me," he gasped, dignity crumbling. "I've been thinking about it all week – your hands, your commands, how you make me... make me..."

"Make you what?" You bit his exposed neck, marking him just below where his collar would hide it.

"Make me lose control," he moaned, hips jerking helplessly. "Make me beg. Make me yours."

Your free hand slid down his chest, toying with the waistband of his undergarments. "And what makes you think you deserve it? After deliberately sabotaging court documents?"

"Because," you growled into his ear, yanking his underwear down roughly, "you're already dripping for me." Your hand wrapped around his length, already slick with precum. "Such a needy little dragon."

Neuvillette's legs trembled as you stroked him slowly, teasingly. "F-fuck," he cursed, a rare break in his usual eloquent speech that made you grin wickedly.

"What filthy language from our Chief Justice," you taunted, squeezing harder. "I think that deserves some punishment, don't you?”

You pushed him forward until he was bent over his desk, important documents scattered beneath him. His bound hands flexed helplessly as you spread his legs wider. The sharp sound of skin meeting skin filled the room as you landed blow after blow on his perfect ass, watching it turn a beautiful shade of pink.

His moans grew increasingly desperate with each strike, cock twitching against the expensive wood of his desk. The mighty Chief Justice, reduced to rutting against his own furniture – the sight made heat pool between your legs.

"Please," he begged, voice cracking, "I need..."

You leaned over him, pressing against his bare back. "What do you need? Tell me exactly what you want."

"I need you inside me," he moaned, abandoning all pretense of dignity. "Please, Your Honor, I've been empty all week, thinking about you filling me, stretching me open..."

You reached around to stroke his leaking cock again. "Such a slutty dragon, begging to be filled. Should I prepare you first, or have you been playing with yourself, thinking of me?"

His answering whimper told you everything you needed to know. You pressed yourself against him, letting him feel your arousal through your clothes. "Tell me. Did you fuck yourself with your fingers, imagining it was me?"

"Y-yes," Neuvillette admitted, his voice trembling with need. "Every night, but it wasn't enough... never enough compared to you..."

You smirked, reaching for the vial of oil you knew he kept in his desk drawer – another sign of how these encounters had become routine. "Show me then. Show me how desperate you are."

Releasing his bound hands, you commanded, "Spread yourself for me. Let me see how badly you want it."

Despite his usual composure, Neuvillette didn't hesitate. He reached back with both hands, spreading himself open, his hole already slightly loose from his earlier preparations. The sight made you groan with desire.

"Such an obedient" you praised, drizzling the cool oil over his exposed entrance, watching him twitch at the sensation. "Look how easily my finger slides in..." You pushed one digit inside, feeling barely any resistance. "Did you do this before our meeting? Were you sitting in court all day, stretched and ready for me?"

"Yes," he gasped, pushing back against your finger. "Please, Your Honor, I need more..."

You added a second finger, scissoring them inside him. "The mighty Chief Justice, reduced to begging... what would your subordinates think if they could see you now? Their composed leader dripping and desperate?"

His cock twitched violently at your words, a stream of precum leaking onto the scattered documents below. "Please... please..."

You lined yourself up against his entrance, teasing him with just the tip. "Beg properly for what you want, neuvillette~. Tell me exactly how badly you need it."

"Please, I need you to fuck me," Neuvillette begged, his usual eloquent vocabulary reduced to desperate pleas.

"Tsk, tsk," you teased, still only letting the tip press against him. "And here I thought the great Chief Justice was supposed to be perfect. First those sloppy mistakes in your paperwork, and now you can't even beg properly?"

You pushed in just slightly before pulling back out completely, making him whine. "Your Honor, please! I need you to fill me, to punish me for my careless errors..."

"That's better," you praised, finally pushing into him slowly. "But I don't think you've learned your lesson yet about being thorough with your work."

Once fully seated inside him, you remained still, watching him try to squirm back against you. His usually perfect hair was disheveled, face flushed as he panted against the desk.

"Every..." you pulled out slowly, "single..." thrust back in sharply, "detail..." another slow withdrawal, "matters."

Each word was punctuated by your movements, keeping him on edge but never giving him the hard, fast pace he craved. When he tried to reach for his own neglected cock, you grabbed his wrists.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" you scolded. "Such poor impulse control. Maybe that's why you made those filing mistakes? Too distracted thinking about this?"

"I'm sorry," he gasped, "I'll be more careful, I promise, just please... please fuck me properly..."

You leaned over his back, biting his ear. "Oh? Like this?" You snapped your hips forward hard once, then returned to the torturously slow pace. "Or maybe you haven't earned it yet. Should we review all your mistakes first?"

His cock twitched beneath him, dripping steadily onto the very documents he'd mishandled. "I'm close," he warned, voice breaking.

"Oh no," you pulled out completely, making him sob with frustration. "You don't get to cum until you've recited every single error you made today. And they better be accurate..."

Neuvillette's perfect composure shattered as he struggled to focus, his voice trembling. "The... the case files from the merchant district were... ah!" He broke off as you pushed back in torturously slow.

"Go on," you commanded, stilling your hips. "Every. Single. Detail."

"The timestamps were... were incorrect," he gasped, trying to push back against you but your firm grip on his hips kept him still. "And I mixed up the... oh gods... the witness statements from—"

You pulled out again, making him whimper. "Careful now. Accuracy is everything in court, isn't it?"

"The witness statements from cases 347 and 348," he corrected himself quickly. "Please, Your Honor, I'm trying..."

"Not good enough," you tsked, running a finger down his spine. "What else?"

His cock throbbed desperately as he continued, "The... the evidence logs were filed in the wrong sequence... please, I'm so close..."

"And?" You pushed back in painfully slow, watching him fall apart.

"The dates! I switched the dates on the final verdicts!" He was practically sobbing now. "Please, I've admitted everything, I need to cum so badly..."

You established a steady rhythm, but still not the pounding he craved. "Such careless mistakes from someone so important. What would your subordinates think?"

"They'd be... ah... disappointed," he moaned, his thighs trembling. "I'm supposed to be... perfect... flawless..."

"But you're not, are you?" You reached around to grasp his leaking cock. "You're just a needy little dragon who makes mistakes just to get punished..."

"You're right," Neuvillette sobbed, past caring about his dignity now. "I'm not perfect, I'm just a needy slut who needs to be punished, please Your Honor, I'll do anything..."

"Anything?" You squeezed the base of his cock hard, preventing his approaching orgasm. "Then you won't cum until I say so, will you Neuvillette?"

He shook his head frantically, tears of frustration streaming down his face. "No, Your Honor, I'll be good, I'll wait..."

You increased your pace finally, pounding into him mercilessly while keeping a firm grip on his cock. His whole body shuddered, caught between the intense pleasure and the denial of release.

"Look at you," you panted, "the mighty Chief Justice, drooling on his own desk, begging like a common whore. Should I make you cum? Or should I keep you on edge all day? Make you sit through court later, desperate and aching?"

"Please!" he cried out, his usual composed voice completely wrecked. "I need it so badly..."

You leaned down to bite his shoulder hard. "Maybe I should make you cum over and over until you're oversensitive and crying, until you can't remember any of those legal codes you're so proud of. Would you like that better?"

His cock twitched violently in your grip at the suggestion. "Yes! Yes, please, anything you want, just please let me cum!"

"Hmm," you pretended to consider it, never slowing your brutal pace. "I don't know... have you really learned your lesson about being careful with your work?"

“Let’s see how much you can take” you purred, finally releasing your grip on his cock. "Cum for me. Show me how desperate you were."

Neuvillette came with a broken cry, his whole body convulsing as he spilled over his precious documents. But you didn't stop – instead, you increased your pace, hitting his sensitive spot relentlessly.

"Did I say you could stop?" you growled when he tried to squirm away. "We're going to make sure this lesson really sticks."

"Too much," he gasped, his softening cock already twitching back to hardness. "Please, I can't—"

"Can't?" you mocked, reaching around to stroke him roughly. "The great Chief Justice giving up so easily? What happened to that famous endurance of yours?"

His second orgasm hit him even harder than the first, leaving him trembling and incoherent. Tears streamed down his face as you continued to fuck him through it, his oversensitive body caught between pleasure and pain.

"Look at you," you whispered, "coming apart so beautifully. Should we go for three? Make sure you never forget this lesson?"

"Please," he sobbed, not even sure anymore if he was begging for mercy or more. His cock was hardening again despite his protests, his body betraying how much he loved being used like this.

"Color?" you checked, making sure he was still okay to continue.

"Green," he gasped out immediately, "so green, please don't stop..."

[loves-alibi]

an unusual lieutenant

don't mind me.. just thinking about vampire!ghost at 10am

1.8k words (beware... a little bit of blood, alcohol, vampirey stuff and la tension sexuelle)

...

Captain Price warned you. The day you transferred onto the team, he pulled you aside, and in an utterance quieter than anything you’ve heard from him since, he told you that the Lieutenant would take some getting used to. 

“He’s a good man,” Price said, “Just peculiar.”

Read between the lines, sergeant: he’s an asshole. It isn’t anything new, and it certainly won’t become an excuse. You worked hard to get on this team, and some weirdo won’t get in the way of that.

So you prepare for the worst, and… you end up with the best? Lieutenant Riley turns out to be the best superior you’ve had the honor of serving under. He’s not a friend, not by any means, but he’s efficient on the field and cordial off of it, a luxury you’ve rarely been afforded.

However, Price’s words ring true. The man is just as his call sign suggests– a ghost. He barely socializes with the team, always (politely) declining to eat meals with you all. He makes himself scarce during the day, only appearing for training and missions wearing a skull mask. Hell, you’ve never seen him without the damn mask.

Despite his peculiarities, you can see why he’s made the team. He’s built like nobody you’ve ever seen– nearly six and a half feet of pure muscle. And the man is efficient. He lurks in the shadows, waiting to strike, and when he does… The man has slaughtered his way out of one too many impossible odds. It’s a pleasure to fight by his side. You find yourself missing him whenever he’s disappeared. The longing is unusual, unfamiliar, especially considering the allusiveness of the lieutenant. Yet when he’s there, working with you on training or missions, things just go better. It’s as though he understands you on some incomprehensible level. He picks up on things nobody else ever has– when you’re fatigued, hurt, or just generally pissed.

Unfortunately, today was one of the many days where Ghost lived up to his namesake. And what a day it was for him to be missing. After a grueling training session, you were tasked with a mountain of paperwork. All was going well until you accidentally misplaced about half of your completed paperwork, leading to an overzealous recruit dumping them into the paper shredder during your lunch break. While you were happy to give the kid one hell of a talking to, the damage was done and you were practically back to square one.

You don’t finish up until almost midnight. The urge to sleep is strong, but your frayed nerves are stronger. If you want to get some shut-eye before the sun rises, you need a drink ASAP. So straight past your room you go into the common room kitchen. Except, you’re not alone. 

A man leans over the counter, setting down an empty glass. His blond hair is so light it nearly blends in with his translucent, pale skin. You’ve never seen him before, surely you would have noticed if you have. With skin that white, he must glow like a damn disco ball in the sun. The man wipes his lips with the back of his hand. It comes back smudged with red. So it seems like he had the same bright idea as you.

“Care to share?” You ask, startling him. He straightens to full height, and your heart skips a beat. He didn’t look all that large while hunched over the counter. Now? He’s built like a damn brick wall, tall and broad in a way that’s even rare among the men and women you work with.

The man gazes at you with wide brown eyes lined with purple bags. They dart behind you before he relaxes a bit, slumping back down.

“Share?” He whispers. His voice raises your hackles, something about the timber of the sound, even in a whisper, that awakens something in your mind.

You motion to his wine glass. He holds the stem tightly. You wouldn’t be surprised if it shattered. “The wine, pal.”

The man tenses. “Pal?”

“Pal,” you repeat.

“You’ve never called me that before,” says the man as he reaches in the cabinet for another glass.

You frown. “Have we met?”

The man’s face stretches into an unamused pout, “Really, Sergeant?” The word curls around his tongue in such a familiar way, yet it’s nearly impossible to place.

Just nearly.

You know that voice well. Typically it’s barking out orders in your earpiece and—

Shit, you just disrespected your Lieutenant.

“Christ—” Ghost flinches. You compartmentalize his dislike of blaspheme for when you’re not profusely apologizing to him. “Ghost, I didn’t recognize you without—“

“It’s alright,” Ghost looks through the cabinets until he finally finds the one with the 141’s not-so-secret alcohol supply. “Wine, you said? White or red?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ghost frowns at you until you motion for his emptied glass still filled with the crimson liquid. His lips part into an ‘o’. “‘F course."

Ghost pours a glass and slides it your way. “Can’t sleep?”

You nod. “You?”

“Something like that.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers?”

Ghost taps his glass against yours with a satisfying ding.

“You know,” you say after a sip, “We haven’t gotten the chance to talk since I joined— one-on-one, I mean.”

“That we have not,” Ghost muses. “I suppose you have questions.”

“That I do,” your eyes follow your finger, tracing the rim of the glass. “You know, Price gave me a warning when I joined.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, said you were a weirdo.”

“‘Weirdo’?” Ghost laughs. It’s surprisingly warm. You get a flash of his smile for the first time. His teeth are blindingly bright, but your attention is drawn to his canines. They’re unusually large— long —their points extending long and dangerous. “Is that what we’re calling it these days,” he muses.

“It’s not totally crazy to say, you know?” Ghost tilts his head, another sharp smile pulling at his lips, “I mean– this is the first time I’ve seen your face.”

“I’ve got a skin condition.” You raise a skeptical eyebrow. Ghost continues, “I get burnt easily.”

You frown, “Burnt?”

“Sunburn.”

“You’re joking.”

Ghost grimaces, and you realize that he is in fact not joking. You bark out a laugh, and before you consider the possibility that Ghost may actually have a medical condition, he starts laughing too.

You’re not looking, too busy laughing about your poor brick-shithouse of a lieutenant getting burnt to see that you’re about to slam your hand down on your wine glass. And you do, the glass knocking over and spilling wine all over the counter. And, as though the universe is reminding you that luck is not on your side today, the glass shatters, a shard managing to cut through one of your fingers.

A string of expletives escapes your lips as you instinctually avert your eyes. The feeling of the glass slicing through your skin echoes in your mind. Thinking about it causes you more distress than the actual pain.

“Let me look,” Ghost grumbles. He reaches for your hand, but you pull it back, examining it. A long but shallow cut mars your pointer finger. It oozes blood which drips down your knuckle and between your fingers. 

“It’s fine,” you gasp, “I’ll just grab a band-aid.”

“No,” Ghost wraps his hand around your wrist. It’s not particularly hard, but the shock of his cold touch has you gasping. He pulls your hand to his face– his lips –and before you know it, your bloodied finger is in his mouth.

“Ghost, what the hell are you–”

Your lieutenant honest-to-God moans around your finger. His tongue swirls languidly around the digit in his mouth, like he’s savoring something. You suppose he is– the taste of you. Ghosts’s eyes are pulled shut, brows furrowed as he completely ignores your protests. Though, your protests aren’t exactly passionate, rather halfhearted formalities in case any others decide to wander into the common room this late at night.

He draws your finger out slowly, his tongue keeping contact with it until it can’t any more. You don’t draw your hand away from his grasp, instead letting it stand between you two, Ghost’s grip still iron on your wrist.

The room spins around you. You blame it on blood loss, ignoring the fact that you’ve lost way more blood in way less time. A cut certainly couldn’t bring you down. Your lieutenant however–

“Better?” Ghost asks. He moves closer, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep inhale almost like he’s smelling you. The thought makes you dizzier, a recessed part of your brain running wild at the thought of such a primitive act.

“You… you just–” You cut yourself off, a cross between a sigh and a whimper bubbling from your throat. 

It sounds like a moan. 

Maybe it was a moan. 

It definitely was a moan.

Ghost’s free hand comes to cup your cheek, tilting your gaze back up to his. You hadn’t realized, but you were staring at his bloodstained lips. “Darling,” he coos, “Answer me.”

The words tumble from your mouth before you can even think about them: “Much better.” They ring true. Your finger doesn’t hurt a bit, even though it was very much just sliced open on a glass.

Ghost brings your hand to his lips again. You think he’s going to put your finger in his mouth again. Instead, he presses it against your lips, placing a kiss on the cut. He lets go of your wrist, but before your hand can fall to your side, his tongue darts out from between his lips, giving the cut one last kitten lick.

Ghost’s lips are moving. Between them, you catch glimpses of his canines. Why are they so long? They’re lined with red blood– your blood –filling the crevices between his teeth. His tongue runs over his teeth, wiping them clean of you. Your lips part, your own tongue running over your own teeth in mimicry.

“Darling?” His mouth is closed, lips pursed.

“Huh?”

He’s staring at you, the bags under his eyes seeming to have lessened. It’s just the lighting, that’s all.

“I said,” Ghost’s thumb traces your cheekbone. You feel like you might faint. “Go bandage that.”

You blink, mouth forming an 'o'. “Okay,” you barely get the word out as Ghost lets his hands fall from you. Your feet are carrying you backwards as you stutter, “B-bandage. Got it, Ghost.”

You’re falling over your feet as you stumble away, nodding profusely and uttering bandage, bandage, bandage under your breath.

“Simon,” he calls, and you stop, turning to him. “It’s Simon. I’m not just a ghost, you know.”

A ghost. No he certainly is not. Not anymore. Your finger is stinging, and when you look down, it’s bleeding again. You’re tempted to point it out to Ghost– to Simon –just to see what he’ll do.

“Good night,” your bloody finger twitches involuntarily, “Simon.”

[shan-yee]

•𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘐 = 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙄

•𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 = 𝙎𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙧𝙖, 𝙎𝙪𝙤, 𝙐𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙮𝙖

•𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 = 𝙎𝙚𝙭, 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙤𝙘 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧.

•𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 = 3148

•𝘈/𝘕 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

——— 𝐒 𝗨 𝗠 𝗠 𝗔 𝗥 𝗬 • • •

𝐈 :: 𝗦𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿𝗮

𝐈𝐈 :: 𝗦𝘂𝗼

𝐈𝐈𝐈 :: 𝗨𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘆𝗮

╰─► 𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝗦𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿𝗮

[Biting/marking]

⇰ So, I think that under the emotions Sakura will have the reflex to bite his partner, during an orgasm for example. His goal will not even be to mark, just a way of reacting under the pleasure.

⇰ But in situations where sex is initiated by jealousy he will leave teeth marks as a way of reassuring himself but also to show that the reader is his.

⇰ Sakura doesn't really leave hickeys, he honestly doesn't know how to do it, so teeth marks are his signature. Also, he will never take the time to learn how to give hickeys.

⇰ He secretly likes it when his partner leaves marks on him although he is quite reluctant at first, probably his misplaced pride.

⇰ But in front of the mirror he will begin to observe each mark carefully and touch them with his fingertips, this is proof that the love he experiences and receives is very real.

⇰ On the other hand, he will categorically refuse to let his girlfriend leave them in visible places. He would die of shame if anyone said something about them.

[Vocals]

⇰ during his first experiences, taking into account the foreplay, I don't think he will let go and therefore will be really vocal.

⇰ if we take a blowjob for exemple, I can clearly see him with furrowed eyebrows, red cheeks, and the back of his hand on his mouth while he bites his lower lip to hold back his moans.

⇰ Because, given his character, I would say that he is more the type to moan than to groan.

⇰ It will take time and reassuring words for him to finally relax and I think he will never really let go except, maybe, in moments of overstimulation.

⇰ At the start of intercourse he will always have the habit of biting his lip but with one or two caresses on it and soft words he will stop and let the sounds come out.

⇰ He also particularly likes to hear his partner moan, it's a kind of ego boost even if he won't say it.

⇰ He will do anything to hear her and if she covers her mouth he won’t say anything but will show his displeasure by being more “aggressive” in his movements. Move his fingers faster and deeper, lick and nibble more slowly or even thrust his hips more sharply.

[Kinks]

⇰ Even if he says otherwise Sakura clearly has a praise kink, he secretly likes to hear that he brings pleasure to his partner and that he is good at what he does.

⇰ He is a little ashamed of it though, he finds that it doesn't go with his passion for fighting. What delinquent would like to hear that he is a good boy ?

⇰ But he won’t ask his partner to stop, it is possible that at the beginning he will be very embarrassed and pass off his discomfort as discontent.

⇰ I wanted to say “threesome” but honestly that doesn’t match his character, he’s way too possessive and couldn’t stand to see his girlfriend being touched by someone else.

⇰ Also, he would be afraid, because of his insecurities, that she’ll find more pleasure with someone other than him. So it's a no no for Sakura but still an honorable mention.

⇰ Maybe Wax play ? I think that he would find it very “beautiful” but that he would rather do it than receive. And he would be quite stressed at first, afraid that the wax would end up being too hot so he would probably try it on his finger in secret.

⇰ Honestly, as much as I racked my brain, I couldn't find many kinks that would interest him, I was thinking bondage or blindfold but I don't think that he would be comfortable enough to be restricted due to his trauma.

⇰ But maybe he would be willing to try it on his partner who knows ?

[Positions]

⇰ I think we can all agree that Sakura is into classics ! At first he’ll prefer to stay on a missionary. He likes being able to look at his girlfriend although holding eye contact is quite complicated for him.

⇰ He likes to be able to put his face against his partner's chest, it's a way of hiding but also of being physically close. Reader, take the opportunity to touch his hair and caress him ! This is surely the only moment where he allows himself to truly let go.

⇰ After gaining some confidence he will be willing, perhaps a little reluctant at first, to explore different positions and I like to think that cowgirl will secretly be one of his favorites.

⇰ He will be very embarrassed at first, being dominated, in a certain way, will be slightly humiliating for him but he will change his mind quite quickly.

⇰ I think this position will bring out his “submissive” side so to speak and he will let himself be overcome by pleasure very rapidly. This is a good position if your goal is to make him moan and react.

⇰ A special mention for “Face off” which will surely also be one of his favorites. Just like the missionary, he will love the closeness it provides.

⇰ I think that he will be up for trying new things but he’ll always come back to the simplest positions that allows him to be as close as possible, mind and soul, to his partner.

[Dom/Sub/Switch]

⇰ Sakura has the presence of a dom but the behavior of a sub. Honestly I would put him in the “switch” category although he has a penchant for sub, which he doesn’t really embrace.

⇰ At the start of a relationship he will categorically refuse to let himself be dominated by his partner, mainly because of his ego but also because it is very hard for him to appear « helpless » in front of someone, even his girlfriend.

⇰ It will take time for him to gain confidence in his relationship and himself. He will have to understand that being dominated does not make him weak and that he can always regain control if it is too much for him.

⇰ In the end he will end up particularly enjoying this "role", not thinking about anything and simply focusing on pleasure. However, there will always be a little alarm in his head even though he makes sure it doesn't go off.

⇰ During the evening he will switch between the two, taking his time to provide pleasure to his girlfriend but also to receive it.

⇰ In front of others he will always pass himself off as a great dominant who does not allow himself to be dominated but most of the people close to him like Suo and Togame - Nirei would take his word for it - doesn’t really buy it.

╰─► 𝐈𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝗦𝘂𝗼

[Biting/marking]

⇰ Suo likes to leave mostly hickeys and very light bites in strategic places, like the inner thighs and chest.

⇰ He will make sure that everyone can see them, it's a way for him to show that he is the only one who can touch his girlfriend and to dissuade any potential flirts, my boy is possessive.

⇰Personally, he won’t hide them, unless his partner asks him to. He finds his skin much more beautiful with the marks of love from his girlfriend, a true romantic !

⇰ But hey, most of the time they will be hidden by his collar to his great dismay. You will only be able to see one or two or you’ll have to wait for the rare moments when he changes his style of clothing, like at the beach for example.

⇰ He will always be very delicate in leaving his marks and will maintain eye contact with his girlfriend, especially when he buries his head between her thighs.

⇰ This is the place he prefers to bite the most, the traces of his teeth never stay long so he will add more as the evening progresses.

[Vocals]

⇰ Honestly I don't think Suo is really vocal during the act, and it breaks my heart...

⇰ On the other hand, I think that it’s possible to get slight grunts or whimpers during oral sex. Often being the dominant one during penetration, it’s the only moments when he doesn’t think of anything.

⇰ He doesn't even hold back, it just doesn't come out. He is also very difficult to get out of breath so his breathing is never jerky, the only real way to see that he is having pleasure is to look at his eye.

⇰ During the act he has a gentle look but above all, full of desire and a spark of deep love. He will also have a slight, more mischievous smile than usual that he reserves for sexy time.

⇰ Despite his lack of vocality, he particularly enjoys hearing his partner's moans, it's a slight ego boost but he mostly likes to hear her take pleasure.

⇰ He will not hesitate to tell her about it and will encourage her to let go with sweet words and kisses on her chest and stomach.

[Kinks]

⇰ I don't know why but I think we all agreed that Suo hides a lot of things and is quite mischievous. This is why I could see him being into BDSM.

⇰ Not the extreme, especially if his partner isn't into it, but he likes to incorporate some aspect of BDSM into his sexual life.

⇰ Especially anything involving domination and bandages. He likes to control his partner and can be slightly naughty at times, however I don't see him using words like "slut", "whore" or "cum dump" at all.

⇰ He is a very attentive character who takes care of himself and others -Nirei- in the manga, which leads me to think that even in sex he remains a gentleman.

⇰ However, that doesn't stop him from being a tease and he likes to push his girlfriend's limits, observing her reactions is surely his favorite activity.

⇰ I'm not sure but I'm thinking maybe he's open to roleplay and exhibitionism ?

⇰ For roleplay I see it well in plays like, master x servant, professor x student, boss x employee, etc.

⇰ But honestly every other time he would come out of his role in amusement and the roleplay wouldn’t last long. Some times he will let go and even start to get into the play.

⇰ For the exhibitionism I think he would be “cheating” a little. Suo is possessive, he can’t stand his partner being ogled by someone else so he will always create situations that will never end in true exhibitionism.

⇰ But, there would be a very small exception. Seeing the relationship he shares with Nirei I tell myself that maybe, just maybe, he would be up for trying a threesome with him.

⇰ Of course there would be strict rules with whom he will not joke even for the blond, always protected, under his gaze and especially no kissing. It is an intimate act that is reserved for him and him alone.

[Positions]

⇰ Suo loves to see his girlfriend face but he also particularly likes the curves of her back and backside.

⇰ Reverse cowgirl and doggy style are perfect positions for him. Compare to Sakura the reverse cowgirl is not used as a position to dominate him, despite the fact that he is not the one who moves he keeps all the control.

⇰ Using his hands on his partner's hips, he manages the rhythm and intensity. He will also surely take the opportunity to explore her body with his fingertips.

⇰ I think he will use “Doggy style” for domination games. If his partner agrees, he will take the opportunity to lightly close his fingers around her throat and experiment with “breath play”.

⇰ He’ll never squeezes too hard or for too long, just enough to intensify the reader's pleasure. Suo will always inform himself about the different practices he wishes to use and will then be very informed about the risks of this practice, hence his refusal to use it for too long.

⇰ For gentler sessions he will revisit the missionary in several different ways. Knees on his shoulder, around his waist, legs in the air while he holds her ankles, etc…

⇰ This type of position allows him to control many things but mainly to maintain a certain intimate contact, other than sexual, with his partner.

[Dom/Sub/Switch]

⇰ Dom, dom, dom. Something in his eyes tells me that he is dominant in many aspects of his relationship but especially during sex.

⇰ But ! If his partner wants it, he would be willing to try to be dominated. However he won’t be able to stop himself from teasing her and would eventually regain control.

⇰ Suo is a gentle and loving dominant, he will not like to hurt physically or psychologically but that would not stop him from pushing his partner's limits, as said elsewhere, for his own pleasure.

⇰ He would be for the safeword system and will respect it with each use. For him, sex is a moment of trust and pleasure, so if this trust is broken there is no more pleasure.

╰─► 𝐈𝐈𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝗨𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘆𝗮

[Biting/marking]

⇰ Umemiya clearly prefers to receive than to give, not that he doesn't like to mark his partner, on the contrary, but having hickeys on him or teeth marks is a kind of pride.

⇰ He would be capable to walk around shirtless so that everyone could see them and if he was asked questions he would answer “ho that ? It’s my girlfriend” with a big smile.

⇰ These marks are for him proof of his partner's affection and compared to Sakura he does not wish to hide them at all.

⇰ As for giving it, he refuses to use his teeth, he is terrified of leaving a permanent mark by not controlling his strength.

⇰ Also, he prefers them to be hidden. Umemiya is quite possessive, although much less so than Suo, so he wouldn't like people looking too closely at his girlfriend because of that.

⇰ He considers hickeys to be a very intimate but also sexual act, so he prefers to keep these marks for his eyes.

[Vocals]

⇰ I think that Ume is between moans and grunts, he will also probably be short of breath. Everything is visible on his face, especially his pleasure and his noises add something seductive.

⇰ Even if the moans can be compared to femininity, Umemiya's moans are quite loud and deep.

⇰ He doesn't hide at all and lets himself go during the act, in fact even if he wanted to he couldn't even try to hold them back, the pleasure he feels being too strong.

⇰ Hearing his partner is surely the best way to make him feel pleasure, after penetration, knowing that he is the cause makes him happy and motivates him to continue.

⇰ After one or two rounds he will start to have heavy and rapid breathing, he may also cum slightly more quickly but that is a detail.

⇰ I can also see him burying his face against his partner's chest and whispering sweet words and praise while making slow but deep hip movements.

⇰ Ume also talks quite a bit during penetration, making sure his girlfriend is comfortable despite how many times they have done it and also to know what she prefers, what speed, depth, inclination, etc.

[Kinks]

⇰ We probably all agree on that but he clearly has a breeding kink ! Although he is not against starting a large family in a few years, his goal is not at all to make his partner pregnant.

⇰ He simply loves the feeling that the proximity of this act gives him, agreeing on the fact that "breeding kink" is performed without a condom, he likes to tell himself that in this way he leaves a kind of trace, a part of him, inside the reader.

⇰ Once he pulls out, after a few minutes, he will insert two of his fingers to keep his cum a little longer while kissing his girlfriend's thighs.

⇰ He might also be interested in bandages and blindfolds but for him, especially if it's something his lover would like to try, he would be more than happy to be at the reader's mercy

⇰ To join the “breeding kink” I think that after a few years of relationship he will start to be interested in the “pregnancy kink”.

⇰ Ume has always been a brotherly figure and I think he will clearly have the paternal instinct once a father, he will surely want several children but before thinking about it seriously he will only like to fantasize about his partner being pregnant and will tell her about it.

⇰ His fantasy will manifest itself in more kisses placed on his girlfriend's stomach or it will only finish inside. He also will sometimes caress or press on her stomach quite absently.

⇰ There are also many things he will flatly refuse to do, like anything that is impact play or "real" BDSM. His lover is precious to him and he will refuse even if it’s something she would like to try.

[Positions]

⇰ Umemiya is a gentle partner who likes to hold the person he loves close to him and especially during sex, which is why I think "face off" would be one of his favorite positions.

⇰ It allows him deep movements but at a slow speed so he enjoys feeling the warmth of his girlfriend's insides, literally heaven.

⇰ “The lazy man” is for me a sort of derivative of “Face off” which also allows a certain closeness and intimacy. His partner is the one who decides the rhythm and the depth which allows him to simply holding her against him while enjoying himself.

⇰ I think he would be open to trying a lot of things but in the end he prefers positions that allow him to hold the reader in his arms and feel her close.

⇰ “ Spoon” or “Open-legged spoon” are also very good options and he loves using them in the morning when he wakes up or after tiring days.

⇰ He would surely suggest “Hovering Butterfly” even if it is not a position that allows penetration, he likes to provide pleasure to his partner so he will surely ask to use it often.

[Dom/Sub/Switch]

⇰ Ume is a dom-switch. He is naturally dominant but to please his partner or just try different practices he lets himself be dominated with pleasure.

⇰ Compare to Suo he is not a tease and will take his role very seriously although I don't see him being submissive as you can see some people in BDSM or Sakura.

⇰ He will always make sure not to step out of his role but will not be able to help but sometimes snicker or give questioning looks, but his ultimate goal is to please his partner so if she's really into it he will make some efforts.

⇰ His dominant side is also very light, it shown by the fact that he particularly likes to be on top and tends to be the first to engage in intimate acts, particularly sex.

[v5ttelfilms]

methinks max and little leclerc flirt in a distinct way. it's more teasing and playful in nature, probably thick with inside jokes and ughhh😩

max would be all relaxed, just looking at you with a self assured smile, asking, "when will you give me a chance, schatje?" as he looks at you from his perch on the hood of his very flashy aston martin.

"when pigs fly, verstappen." you look up from your phone, to give him a sweet smile, only to lose it in the blink of an eye monotonously. max made a show of putting a hand on his chest, bending his shoulders as to emphasise how much his heart had shaken with the look you gave him.

"you give me so much hope, schat." he sighs dreamily, looking at you earnestly that his eyes sparkled. you finally smiled, rolling your eyes with a small laugh, "don't you ever get tired of this dance?" you remark, amusedly.

his mouth opens to respond, but you both hear the faint exclaim of your name from the distance, a friend of yours waving their hands to beckon you over.

before you could even walk away, max jumps from his seat. he looked resolute, a stubborn furrow on his brow.

"let me take you out. i'll be good." max promises you in a honeyed voice. "i'll even keep my hands to myself, scout's honor." he brandishes an x to his chest, looking at you hopefully.

you notice the difference in him this time; besides the fact that this was the first time he asked you, no, infromed you of his plan to take you out. he finally seemed to find that misplaced confidence once again. he was certain and sure of himself. you kind of liked this look on him.

"somewhere nice." you reply, and max blinks rapidly, as if trying to register your agreement. "and button up's, please." you graze your hands over his collar, giggling at his completely shocked form; unmoving and practically unresponsive with his disbelief.

"and if you don't watch me walk away, date's off." you pat his chest, moving away from him and towards your friend.

you hear the incoherent shouts from behind you, as if max had forced his body to finally move; your friend looked at the exciting scene of one max verstappen fist bumping the air.

"should i be concerned?" she asks you, bemused, while you shake your head and giggled.

[gogotti]

Simon “Ghost” Riley/Fem! Reader NSFW

Thinking thoughts…..thinking so many thoughts. This is very self indulgent btw 😚 (that’s why it’s she/her instead of “you”). This also isn’t my typical style I just wrote this out so fast cause I NEEDED this to live in more than just my head lmfao

Warnings: ghost being kinda weird, obsessed!Ghost, breeding mentions, reader gets head, massage with evil intentions lmfao, this man is way to happy to have a wife

-

Ghost who’s just a bit too obsessed with the new seargent on the team, who constantly makes sure he’s the one who delivers her paperwork so he can point out the silly little decorations in her office, just so he can learn the name of her desk pets or hear the story behind the figurines and funkos strewn about. He makes sure to get her favorite coffee order once he learns what it is (he definitely didn’t snoop around in her morning trash after kindly offering to take it out), and always makes sure to get some snacks along with it.

He stands a bit too close to her and makes her look up at him over the rims of her glasses- she looks so pretty batting her lashes up at him (she’s literally just blinking). It gets to the point that he leans over her desk while she’s typing away, so focused on her work but making sure to look at him every once in a while as he rants about god knows what. Speaking of, shes so much shorter than him so he gets away with staring at her lips as she rants about some pissy lieutenant on base or the recruits she has to train. He makes sure he doesn’t get caught lecturing them or yelling their ears off in her honor.

He absolutely starts picking up some of her slang and using it mid sentence just to see her face twist in confusion when he uses it wrong or amusement because he uses it at all. Absolutely pretends to not hear her say something just so he can hear the frustration in her pretty voice as she repeats it for the 3rd time (he’s ears aren’t what they used to be, love, that’s all). Loves aggravating her, misplacing things in her office, eating the last of her snacks, all so he can hear how angry she gets when she notices or how whiny she gets when she sees the wrapper in the trash. (Dammit Johnny, how could you do that to her?)

It all begins to overflow when they’re assigned an undercover mission together, newlyweds in a nice gated neighborhood. Unfortunately for them the security feeds in the house are all monitored by the very people they’re trying to expose, so not only do they have to be all lovey dovey in public but also behind closed doors. He takes the news so much better than she (or Laswell for that matter) thought he would and he makes it very very apparent on the drive there that he’s going to make her feel oh so special. He doesn’t hesitate to book hair and lash appointments, he wouldn’t dare forget her nails either (especially not her toes, he’s definitely making sure he has something pretty to suck on).

He knows his restraint is gonna be tested when she greets him at the front door after work, the house smelling like a good home cooked meal, and a pretty apron still tied around her waist. It takes everything in him to not bend her over the countertop and take her when she starts making his plate, all he can do is slowly untie her apron and place it to the side, thanking all the higher powers for his patience.

He can’t stop himself when he comes home late one night, exhausted from hard labor and finding her laid out so nicely on their bed, one of his shirts covering her slightly, just enough for her pretty panties to peak out from underneath. He just plops himself down on her legs and feigns giving her a massage, ignoring her protests that she should be giving him the massage. He lies through his teeth about knowing all the chores she did, and being so proud and thankful and oop…

Well of course he’s gonna be hard when she’s making all those pretty noises as he gets that nasty knot out of her lower back, and he’s also so pent up because he’s been so stressed lately from work and today was extra hard because of this, that, and the third. It doesn’t take long for him to start humping her like a fucking animal, grunting and growling as his stiff cock soaks his work pants with precum. God, her ass is so soft and he could only let the mental image of the recoil fuel his desire further; now hooking an arm under her plump waist and pulling her into him harder than necessary but how else would he give her a sneak peak of what he’s gonna give her later. He knew his cum was leaking through and soaking her panties and he couldn’t give less of a fuck, the only thing crossing his mind was the thought of the little wet spot she’d have herself.

Well, he’d definitely think about making it worse as he ate her out through her panties, listening to his pretty little pup’s whines as she begged him to take them off, to play with his puppy the right way. He couldn’t tell her no, god he’d be so good at following orders, ripping off her underwear so quick and going to town on her pretty cunt. He would make the most obscene noises, all the slurping and sucking, his heavy pants as his tounge greedily lapped at her pussy (you’d think he was the pup with the whines he’d let out when she shoved his head closer).

He’d make her cum three, four times with his tounge, all while pathetically humping the bed. He’d bury himself in her cunt, finally letting her close her thick thighs around his head and suffocate him while he came hard. He isn’t finished of course, now he needs to bury his fat cock in her, make sure he doesn’t waste his next load becuase he needs to breed his pretty wife. So what, if this was a 4 month mission, she signed the papers, fake names or not, she was his pretty little housewife. He wouldn’t stop if she was tired, hell he was fucking exhausted already but none of that mattered, she needed to be satisfied, filled to the brim with cum because he can’t believe he made his wife wait this long for a good ol’ fashioned fucking. He should have fucked her stupid the day he brought her home, all wrapped up in that pretty wedding dress that hugged every single last one of her curves in a way that made him fist his cock that night in the shower.

He’d repay his debts, make sure her cunt was filled as she fell asleep next to him. Then he’d kiss her puffy pussy in the morning, whispering meaningless apologies because he was NOT sorry; he’d make her breakfast in bed and make sure to bring a painkiller on the way back to their room, he could only imagine how sore her thighs were too.

[cherriecove]

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 4)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend's brother.

Cherrie's note:She/Her pronouns. I am amazed by how much love you guys have shown my writing. Thank you so so much for your support, i hope i can keep you all happy.

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

Watching Gwayne train was more exhilarating than you’d anticipated. Despite his youth, his skill with a sword was undeniable. He dispatched opponents with a grace and ease that bordered on effortless, his confidence—teetering on arrogance—seemingly justified by his prowess. It was clear that his confidence wasn’t misplaced, though it stirred a mix of admiration and irritation within you. You were captivated by him, his every move drenched in sweat yet still strikingly handsome. A fleeting thought crossed your mind: a wish to knock him off his high horse, if only to humble him. Yet, even with his confident demeanor, he looked every bit the part of a heavenly vision. You were painfully aware of how your cheeks flushed at the mere sight of him, a fact not lost on him, judging by the small smirk he directed your way after helping up his sparring partner.

Considering whether to order your sworn protector to intervene and knock him down was a fleeting thought. Instead, you stood, smoothing your dress. Gwayne jogged over, concern evident in his eyes. “You aren’t leaving already, are you, Princess? Am I not impressive enough?”

You descended the steps of the viewing stand with his assistance. “It was satisfactory, Ser.”

Gwayne placed a hand over his heart in mock distress. “I’ve disappointed my princess. Whatever shall I do to recover?”

You smiled, shaking your head at his dramatic flair. “I have every faith that you’ll redeem yourself in the tourney, Ser Gwayne.”

As you headed toward the Red Keep’s entrance, Gwayne’s voice followed. “I hope so too, my Princess!”

The day of the tourney had finally arrived, and the atmosphere in the Red Keep was electric with anticipation. Royal duties had kept you and Gwayne apart, your time together limited to quick exchanges and lingering glances. You found yourself missing him more than you’d expected, a testament to the swift and deep connection that had formed between you.

In the royal box, you were seated between Rhaenyra and Alicent. Alicent was visibly nervous about her brother’s performance, her hands fidgeting with her nails. You placed your hand over hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. She returned the gesture, understanding your shared concern for Gwayne. Both she and your sister had noted your growing fondness for the knight, often teasing you about it in the days leading up to the tournament.

As your father rose to announce the commencement of the tourney, your attention was elsewhere, scanning the arena for Gwayne. When you finally spotted him, your heart skipped a beat, and you silently prayed to the old gods and the new for his safety. When the knights came to request favors, you turned down every offer, knowing precisely where your allegiance lay.

Gwayne approached, removing his helmet and smiling up at you. “Princess, it would be an honor if you would present me with your favour. Even if I lose, I would still consider myself a winner.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words. You picked up your flower wreath and approached the barrier, the eyes of your father and Otto Hightower upon you. But in that moment, their scrutiny faded as you focused solely on Gwayne. “Of course, Ser. Do be careful.” You placed the wreath on his lance, and the connection between you was palpable. His nod was a silent promise, and though no more words passed between you, the understanding was mutual. He donned his helmet and returned to his place.

As you resumed your seat, the weight of your father’s and Otto Hightower’s gazes became more pronounced. You tried to steady your breath, watching intently as the jousting began. Gwayne’s skill was evident, but his opponent had the advantage of experience and brute strength. You gasped silently as Gwayne was unseated with a jarring impact, struggling to suppress your urge to cry out. Instead, you gripped Alicent’s hand tightly, your heart racing with concern. Despite knowing Gwayne’s stubbornness, you wished he would yield to avoid further injury. Yet, true to form, he stood and challenged his opponent to continue on the ground. Though nimble and quick, Gwayne’s superior opponent’s strength and strategy soon took their toll. Gwayne fought valiantly but was ultimately overpowered and forced to yield. As he released his sword and was helped from the field, your worry surged.

You quickly excused yourself from the royal box, making a hasty yet dignified dash toward the deep green tent. Your urgency overrode the need for decorum; your only focus was Gwayne. The thought of him hurt and vulnerable drove you to disregard the etiquette you had been taught since childhood, propelled only by your concern for the knight who had swiftly become significant in your life.

Tag List: @deniixlovezelda @kieracassette