#cw // choking

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience 10.3

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 10th snippet, part 3. Celebrimbor has to confront his fears - and the one who took his city from him. The smith’s interference might just be the thing that decides the outcome of the final battle against Sauron for everyone.

There is some hinted past Celebrimbor/Sauron in this one.

Warnings for blood, graphic violence (bleeding wounds, choking), background and major character death, Sauron doing Sauron things and saying Sauron things. Okay, this is it, the final confrontation – I cannot believe we’ve made it this far. There is one more part to snippet 10 to go after that though, because this fight actually got longer than I had anticipated. I originally planned for 3 parts and max 7.5k words *stares at her wordcount* well… that did not work out. (It’s actually closer to 10k for all of part 10. Oops?) Anyway – enjoy!

Celebrimbor did his best to sneak up the staircase to his forge, even though he felt as if his heart was beating loud enough that it would surely give him away. This, he realized, was it – the moment they had all worked towards, and the moment in which he would have to face his own fears.

Clutching the sword in his grasp, he finally reached the top of the stairs, and chanced a glance around the open door and into the forge proper.

It was clear that the area had been turned into an active battlefield, albeit a less-than-ideal one. Various tools and bits of debris were laying about, even some of his scrolls and sketches had found their way to the floor, torn or ripped. Shelves and tables were overturned, the roofing was clearly damaged, and between all of that were blood splatters, splinters and dust.

With dread, Celebrimbor caught sight of more dead bodies. Judging by their clothes, more of the Eregion guards – and some of his former apprentices. Once again, Celebrimbor squeezed his eyes shut and averted his face, briefly, as he forced back the tears that threatened to rise.

He’d honor them and make sure they were given a proper burial, once all this was over. But he could not mourn the dead while there were still the living that he could – had to – protect.

When he managed to open his eyes again, Celebrimbor quickly took in the scene before him.

His friends were strewn about the room in various states of exhaustion and injury. From Gil-Galad using Aeglos to keep himself on his feet, to Elrond who had been seemingly thrown into a wall and was struggling to get his feet under him, Galadriel who clutched her upper leg which bled sluggishly from a long cut, to Adar who was bleeding from both his upper arm and his thigh as he was locked into exchanging blows with-

him.

He, who looked to be distressingly unharmed, even unfazed, in the midst of all this chaos and destruction. Sauron still carried his appearance as Annatar, long golden hair and black robes only lightly covered in dust. He was turned away from where Celebrimbor was, but in the tone of his voice, the elf could practically hear the wide, self-assured smile of the fallen maia.

"Face it, Adar," the Deceiver gloated, and pushed the uruk back with a kick to the sternum, causing Adar to stumble backwards and fall heavily. Sauron had ripped Adar’s dark iron sword – the reforged crown of Morgoth – from his grasp, and now tossed it behind himself carelessly.

The blade bounced off of the floor in a wide arc due to the force with which it had been thrown, and ultimately came to a halt where Celebrimbor had hidden himself behind the door. Right at his feet.

He stared at the blade, unsure if this was a coincidence or if something else was at work here, until Sauron’s words pulled him out of his frozen state again and made him reach down to grab the sword, exchanging it for this own, which he sheathed.

"Your first attempt on my life didn’t kill me, what made you think the second would be more successful? Celebrimbor fleeing my grasp might have set me back, but it’s only a matter of time till I regain a hold of him and finish the rings."

"And then, finally, I can heal middle earth from its ails, just as I had intended to do with you. Sadly, you lacked the belief – and the vision."

The words made Celebrimbor’s blood boil. He’d heard and seen plenty of Sauron’s plans, enough that he could guess that the maia might indeed be believing his own lies. Certainly enough to know that whatever ‘healing’ he intended to perform, it would spell misery for everyone in not just middle earth, but all of Arda.

To hear him making these claims was in infuriating, but Celebrimbor hated most of all how this fiend was standing over Adar and talked to him as if he were a mere worm under Sauron’s feet. Adar, who cared about his children and truly wanted to make middle earth a better place for them – and, as the alliance had shown, for the other races as well.

"But you won’t be here to see that," words that made Celebrimbor seize up, and then look into the room in a blind panic. Adar, for his part, was not crawling backwards and away, but stared his former tormentor right in the face as the other walked up to him, undoutably to deliver the killing blow.

Unafraid and defiant and so, so beautiful.

‘I cannot let him die,‘ Celebrimbor thought desperately.

He didn’t even make the conscious decision to slide from his hiding place, dark iron sword brandished in both hands as he sprinted over to where Sauron was bending down to get a hold of Adar.

Out of the periphery of his eye, he could see the moment Adar caught sight of him, how the uruk’s expression changed to one of pure spite to one of surprise, then fear.

The smith had enough of a mind not to scream like a madman, and this perhaps was the reason he got as lucky as he did, swinging the sword – and embedding it into Sauron’s right shoulder.

The impact of the blow rattled him, for indeed he was not a commander like Galadriel or a seasoned fighter like Adar, but he had managed to strike the maia nonetheless. Black blood burst from the deep cut he’d made; not deep enough to kill the other, but harm had been done.

As Celebrimbor quickly realised with a surge of fear, this meant the other would now be aware of him. But mixed in there was the relief of having saved his husband from getting killed, even as Celebrimbor stumbled backwards, leaving the sword to stick out of Sauron’s flesh.

The maia briefly remained locked in place, as if surprised, before he rose to his full height again. The smith could hear Galadriel gasp as she locked eyes with the smith, and he saw Ereinion helping Elrond back to his feet, but both their expressions were ones of shock and worry as well.

Adar, who hadn’t seemed to hold the slightest bit of tepridation in regards to his own safety, had grown even paler than usual.

And then, Sauron had turned around. The sheer hatred that rolled off of him came to an abrupt halt as he laid eyes on Celebrimbor.

For a moment, everything seemed to come to a standstill. The terror inside Celebrimbor was so perfect, so complete, so all encompassing that it filled every part of him, and he could not avert his eyes as he saw Sauron’s expression change from recognition to utter, obsessive glee.

Before the elf could do more than take another step back, Sauron had shot forward, and in two long strides, he managed to grab Celebrimbor by the throat and lift him up into the air. The sword in his shoulder seemed inconsequential to him, so focused was he on the smith in his hold.

As the elf grasped for the other’s hands in attempt to keep himself from getting choked, he could hear Gil-Galad shouting in rage from where he stood, but Celebrimbor’s eyes would not leave Sauron. Despite the elven rings, who he suspected had protected all of them from having their minds twisted by the Deceiver, he could not make himself look away.

Once, he had considered the face before himself fair – a face worthy of an emissary of the valar, matching the graciousness and generosity he thought to have seen within Annatar. Now, all that remained was a broken mask, an approximation of beauty that unnerved him, especially with the wide grimace of a smile that quickly stretched across Sauron’s face.

"Celebrimbor," the blond breathed. "So you have returned to me at last."

"Don’t flatter yourself," the smith spat, breathless as he was in the maia’s hold, and dug his nails into the skin of Sauron’s hands. "It is not you I came here for."

There was a twitch to the other’s jaw, brief but visible, and his grip on Celebrimbor’s throat tightened. The smith choked as he scrambled against where the other’s fingers were digging into his flesh. At least, he had Sauron’s full attention now. He wouldn’t hurt Adar.

The elf’s eyes slipped to the uruk, finally freed from the sight of the maia, and the two briefly locked eyes. He could see distress in Adar’s face, who was wide-eyed and painfully struggling to his feet. If he’d had the breath for it, Celebrimbor might have marvelled at how expressive the other could be if he didn’t consciously try to hide himself away.

The thought slipped from his mind as he caught Sauron turning around to follow the direction of Celebrimbor’s gaze.

When he turned back to the smith, his face held an expression of confusion, then disbelief, mixed with a malicious sense of humor.

"Oh, I understand now," Sauron leered at him. "You ran right into his arms, did you not? Found the first one who would listen to your pleas and help you in your fight?"

"My dear Celebrimbor – was it worth it? What did you have to sacrifice, to have him give his army and his own life to you and your friends?"

Despite the lack of air, Celebrimbor couldn’t keep himself from replying. He refused to look at the one who had warped his mind and tormented him all these weeks ago, and instead looked at Adar as he said, "Nothing. I sacrificed nothing, for what we have could never be a loss to me."

This time, he feared the tightening of the other’s hand would be enough to crush his windpipe. The sound of Sauron’s voice bordered on incredulous, now. "You-"

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when, seemingly out of nowhere, Galadriel ripped the darkened iron sword out of Sauron’s shoulder, spun around towards his left, and used the momentum to ram it into the Deceiver’s side instead.

The impact was strong enough to shake the maia and, in turn, the smith in his grasp. Thankfully, the unexpectedness of the attack caused Sauron to lose his focus, and Celebrimbor drew in several, shaking breaths as the grip around his neck slackened a little as a result.

Sadly, not enough to drop him, but getting to breathe again certainly was an improvement.

He wasn’t quite able make out Sauron’s expression from this angle, but Galadriel looked downright furious as she tried to yank the sword back out from where he’d sunk it into the blond. Before she could, Sauron had grabbed her by the throat as well. Thankfully for her, he did not insist to raise her up from the ground and seemed content to just keep her fixed in place.

She, too, fought to try and pry off Sauron’s fingers from her neck, but to no avail.

"Galadriel," the Deceiver spoke. He sounded almost disappointed as he regarded her, before his tone became smug once more. "I’d thought it to be you who had charmed the orcs to the elves’ side, what a surprise to see it was the smith instead. I suppose I should have known. You are, after all, rather well known for killing Adar’s ‘precious’ children."

Celebrimbor knew what the other was doing. Even now, when he had them all at his mercy, when he was so sure of his own victory, he couldn’t help but taunt and try to sow discord among them.

"How can you even bear it, hm? To see one of them despoil your friend in such a manner? A worthless, common orc, and you are letting him have access to the Lord of Eregion."

To her credit, Galadriel looked as incensed as Celebrimbor felt at the fallen maia’s words. "Who my friend claims for himself, whether as friend or partner, is his own choice. And he’s chosen well, picking Adar over you."

"He’s worth many of you – Lord of Nothing." Celebrimbor added, recalling of Sauron had tried to flatter him, and himself, when he’d first presented himself as Annatar.

When the Deceiver was neither a ‘Lord of the Rings’ nor a ‘Lord of Gifts’.

Judging by Galadriel’s pained gasp, and his own inability to breathe, Morgoth’s shadow had taken offense to that title. The smith grinned even though it pained him, and relished the small victory of Sauron’s anger where it became visible on his face.

And then, something else happened.

Again, the maia shook – the sword had been pulled from his side, and thick blood sprayed out of the wound there.

It was Adar who had taken hold of the sword – the sword, which Celebrimbor had made for him. Which he had hoped Adar might use to kill their shared enemy.

Judging by the look in Adar’s eyes, he was ready to do just that. The hatred burning there almost rivalled Sauron’s own.

The smith quickly understood what the uruk intended, and curled his hands around Sauron’s wrist – not to pry off his grasp, but to hold onto it. To keep the maia from reaching out and stopping Adar, even if he knew that the other had far greater strength than he himself did and would be able to shake off his grip eventually.

But, he wouldn’t be able to do so right away – and that would be all the time Adar might need.

Just like him, Galadriel too changed her grip, and held tightly onto Sauron’s hand.

The blond needed a moment to notice, his expression one of surprise.

He faltered.

Adar didn’t.

The uruk lurched forward with a shout, and drove the dark iron sword right into the maia’s chest. It went all the way through, spilling even more black blood.

His face was terribly close to Sauron’s now, the two staring at each other – the fallen maia in shock, eyes wide and unable to give any smug response, while Adar’s face held a look of grim satisfaction.

"Do us all a favor. And die, permanently, this time."

The uruk pushed Sauron back, then, and finally, Celebrimbor felt the pressure around his throat release.

He fell to the ground and likely would have crumbled into a heap on the floor, had it not been for Adar catching and steadying him before he did.

Like the times before when Adar had touched him, Celebrimbor felt warmth spread through his body as he felt the uruk’s arms wrap around him, and held onto the uruk’s arms with his own hands in turn. Even more so when he was quickly dragged away from Sauron, who was stumbling and staring at the sword embedded in his chest. His look was one of sheer disbelief.

Celebrimbor was glad to note that Elrond and Gil-Galad had also reached Galadriel’s side and were pulling her back as well. In the light, he saw all three of their rings glimmer at once, before his attention was pulled back towards his husband.

"Are you alright?" Adar asked him, sounding urgent, and tightened his arms around the elf as they finally came to stand, far enough away that the maia could not reach them. His gaze was searching, and still held genuine fear.

Celebrimbor couldn’t help but smile – even though the danger wasn’t gone until Sauron lay dead, he felt relief at seeing Adar alive and at being able to hold him. Living, breathing proof that he hadn’t lost the uruk.

"I will be, now that you are safe."

The other seemed ready to reply, but he only opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. The elf couldn’t blame him.

There was a loud gurgling sound that ripped them out of their brief exchange, and both Adar and Celebrimbor looked over to see Sauron struggling to stay upright. He was trying to pull the sword out of his chest; whether he knew what it was, or had been, the smith couldn’t say, but he looked frustrated more than anything.

Which, of course – the crown hadn’t fully killed him the first time, after all. He likely still expected to survive this.

Galadriel stepped in front of Sauron again, ready to try and prove him wrong. Celebrimbor only hoped it would work.

She gripped the handle of the sword.

If Sauron had expected her to speak any words, he would have to be disappointed. Celebrimbor could tell she had yanked the sword out of his chest, but anything else blurred before his eyes as Adar turned them around and threw the elf and himself onto the ground as he covered Celebrimbor’s body with his own.

The last thing Celebrimbor saw, in that moment, was Vilya, Narya and Nenya, gleaming brightly as if with a power of their own, before there was a loud scream tearing through the forge and a blinding light shot out, bright enough that Celebrimbor had to close his eyes and turned his head into the dark, safe space between Adar’s neck and shoulder while he held onto the uruk for dear life.

[flawlessflesh]

FAMILICIDE

based off an idea i've had for a few months but didn't feel skilled enough to depict until now - what if delgal had a delayed reaction to thistle essentially killing his son? what would that look like?

also, when he's saying "forgive me" at the end, those words are for both thistle and eodio.

[tangledinink]

at long last...

✩ the gemini ✩ [ start ] [ prev ] [ next ]

[foxdoodles]

“you believe me like a god / i’ll destroy you like i am”

— i’m your man, Mitski

[kathaynesart]

Replica WIP! Leo is not having a great time in the start of the new arc.

Back in the saddle and happy to be drawing these boys again after my vacation!

[kazehita]

im normal i swear

[tired-biscuit]

choking during sex is so hot; i swear you can feel his dick better in your pussy when his hand is squeezing your throat.

[rottiens]

⊹ ˚. RYŌMEN SUKUNA┊ "Not on my legs." He clarifies. "On my stomach." You ignore the flutter that lands on your belly and force yourself to concentrate on keeping your legs steady.

𖤐 about. being taken away from your village, you have to try to live and survive on your own with the king of curses.

𖤐 cw. mdni. true form sukuna x afab!reader, dubcon (since the reader is forced to be a servant), you ride the mouth on his tummy, choking kink, sadistic sukuna if you squint, dirty talk, overstim, oral ( m -> f ), set in the heian era. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Sukuna is not familiar with giving up power, though it is not surprising, after all a man who has achieved so much power to the point of being revered as a god would not expect anything different. He is not used to being commanded, though not many have tried it and lived to tell the tale anyway, yet when you told him you wanted to do it tonight, without his help (you trying to prepare yourself, stretching yourself before taking it), fiery flames charged with lust and pride covered his devilish eyes, turning them a darker red than you are used to.

Drunk with control, Sukuna is always the one who dictates when and how things happen, ordering around those who serve him, as his word is the word of a king. He doesn't remember the last time someone addressed him with such arrogance and pride in their mouth, he should punish you for speaking before he allows you to but tonight he is feeling benevolent.

"Come here." His husky voice gave off hunger and poured over your limbs like honey. The purr in his timbre brought life to your muscles which tensed and contracted with anticipation.

You rose from the floor where you lay on your stomach with your forehead pressed to the ground in submission, and walked silently to where he is. His chambers are covered by a veil of absolute silence that is interrupted from time to time by barely audible vibrations coming from sukuna who lets them out every time he exhales through his nose, something very similar to the purring of a beast.

Filled with insecurity, you get ready to climb into his lap when you are close enough and it is only at that moment when he speaks again, freezing you on the spot.

"Not on my legs." He clarifies. "On my stomach." You ignore the flutter that lands on your belly and force yourself to concentrate on keeping your legs steady.

You take a long look at his figure and end up on his stomach, where you were ordered to sit. To describe sukuna as big is an adjective that would be too small for him, the houses in your village are big, the horses are big, sukuna… was huge. A monster, was what they called it in your village and even that word might not be enough to describe the creature that stood before you.

His four arms are a wonder to behold face to face, especially up close. Two hold him on his elbows gracefully, semi reclining on the futon where he expands his body further to give you the space you need to climb to his belly; while the other two…there is one holding his jaw and another resting above his hips.

Just like his arms, he possessed four pairs of eyes that don't let a single detail escape; all of these were set on you, you could feel them moving on you, there was no way to escape from him.

And finally, in his belly there was a mouth capable of tearing off the lower half of your body with one bite if he set his mind to it.

For how exposed he was, vulnerable even (bare belly and exposed chest, his arms in a resting position), sukuna was very relaxed and which makes you wonder if perhaps he doesn't think you brave or foolish enough to try to attack him, although it's not the right time or place, you couldn't do much if you were to hurt him sufficiently to try to escape, not with his subjects scattered all over the temple at least. Before you could get to the door his servants would have you imprisoned in one of the cold, dark rooms you've already been in.

Clearly impatient, thanks to being too occupied by your mental wanderings, the hand that lay on his hips gently pushes you into the position he ordered you to. You take a quick glance at your new seat, you find yourself just above the curved line of a smile on his lower abdomen. You look up to observe him, rather than relaxed he is now uneasy, concern is marked on your face as you recheck the mouth on his stomach closed in a tight line.

The posture is awkward thanks to the width of his body, your thighs are stretched to the max and your feet dangle from his body like an uncomfortable horse ride.

The imposing mouth suddenly opens suddenly revealing a thick and grotesque tongue and gives you a quick lick immediately wetting your crotch, the moan of surprise that escapes you makes the pair of cocks tremble under the piece of cloth that holds them captive.

Sukuna licks you again slower this time, taking his time to savor your taste. A murmur of approval makes the mouth on your stomach vibrate along with the purring that seems to increase and you hear clearly now that you are close to him. Then you realize it wasn't some noise he was making or your imagination, it was the natural purr coming from a predator and the contrast terrifies you since it sounds as soft as a lullaby.

"Give me more of that sweet taste." You clench. Your eyes, your thighs, your cunt.

The intruding tongue seems to be all over your slit at the same time, it's feather soft yet has just enough pressure to have you sobbing and dripping from how accurate its lashes are.

Soon you feel unsteady, dizzy, you try to grab hold of something firm but there is one of his hands imprisoning your wrists in your lower back and another firmly squeezes your neck making you unable to escape. "You're not going anywhere, little one," sukuna growls.

The soft muscle, coated with an excess of saliva completely covers your pussy in sweet ecstasy, you feel its edges even wet your trembling thighs, the sensation is crushing. Your whole body is charged with a strange static after the intruder moves imitating a wave, attacking your aching clit, squeezing your pussy lips and spilling your arousal into the monstrous mouth that licks and licks and then swallows.

"I want you to ride it." Four fingers pinch your nipples at the same time. "Ride my tongue, you said you wanted to get ready but I do not see you doing anything but being lazy on me," he reminds you, in that teasing tone that could make you cum right then and there.

It's too much. You want to let him know, your cheeks are about to boil and you don't know how much you can hold back the tears. The sensation of pleasure was overwhelming, the line between pleasure and too much of it causing pain was very thin. You wanted to run away, to ask him that you needed to rest at least for a moment but you know what that could cause.

"I do not want to repeat it, woman."

You don't seek to anger him because his punishments are far worse, so you find the last shred of willpower in you and rotate your hips in weak circles along with a broken gasp. He grunts in response.

You're close. Very, very close. The grip on your wrists increases and you slurp through your nose. You rub it desperately up and down, grinding your sensitive clit in the process, you do small bounces on the fully hanging tongue that reveal sticky clicks that expose how wet you are, your own juices mixed with his saliva spilling down the length of your legs and soaking his hips.

"Cum for me." He commands firmly, manifesting small mouths on his hands that are tasked with torturing your tits, sucking and biting your nipples mercilessly as he delights in watching you squirm under his touch.

"Sukuna!" His name feels sweet on the roof of your mouth and rumbles between the walls of his chamber as your movements descend to gradually fade away.

Then you hear a chuckle, the mouth you just rode, a grotesque cackle that bristles your skin and makes you moan at how sensitive you are as it gives you one last lick and then disappears completely into the cavity, showing you just as it did at first a tight line that could pass as a scar if you weren't paying attention.

Abruptly, his fingers dig into your cheekbones, sinking your cheeks so that your lips can pout adorably. His purr is much louder and harder now.

"If you want to make your king proud you will have to do more than that." Your eyes snap open. "You're ready to take my cocks at the same time, I promise I'm going to use that body of yours tonight until you pass out."

This is a repost! <3

[daily-odile]

choke

[aestas---estas]

Loving Hands

MDNI 18+ | Read on AO3 | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | ~2,9 k words | fem!reader, vaginal fingering, choking/breathplay, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it in real life folks), lots of dirty talk, cuddling and aftercare | if I forgot a tag/tw please tell me

“I want you to choke me tonight.” Your voice rings out through the otherwise quiet room.

You and Simon had been having a comfortable evening in your shared flat. He was in between deployments at the moment and it had been great having him back home. To you, he was the sweetest man alive. You knew the broad strokes of what he did when he wasn't home, knew he killed people, probably tortured them too, but he never let that side take over or rear its head in your proximity — the worst of it, if you want to call it that, came when he got jealous and protective. And oh, how you loved his protectiveness.

Simon brought you flowers, paid for dinner on your dates, opened doors, helped you over puddles in the streets; he was the perfect gentleman. Simon was also a master at following orders. Hence the request you just threw his way as you were watching him wash dishes from your seat perched on the counter.

“Yeah?” Simon asked, an amused smile pulling at his lips as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah,” you reiterate, plucking the plate he had just finished rinsing to dry it. “Not too hard, nothing that will leave marks, but I wanna feel that floaty feeling. I also want praise tonight; tell me I'm good, tell me how it feels, talk me through it.”

“Alright,” Simon answers with a nod, draining the water from the sink, shaking his hands to dry them, making droplets of water hit your arms and face.

You giggle at his antics, wiping the water away from your skin before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his face.

It had taken some getting used to, making your wants and needs in the bedroom known. Before Simon, most of your lovers had been selfish, and the few times you had voiced your kinks they had been shut down or executed so poorly you didn't want to voice them anymore. But Simon thrived with clear instructions. Praise me, degrade me, use me, worship me. So long as he knew what you wanted him to do, he was more than willing to make your wishes come true.

It’s a few hours later, with Simon spreading his legs wide on the sofa, you tucked close under his arm, the TV playing some rerun of an old show you’ve both seen more times than you can count, that he brings it up again.

“Now, love? Or later in bed?” His hand is slowly stroking up and down your arm, nothing overtly sexual but no less intimate nonetheless.

You hadn’t even thought about having sex in the livingroom, had assumed he’d take your instructions from before and utilize them once you’d both gotten ready for bed. But you can’t deny the way your stomach heats and flutters in that all too familiar way.

“I wouldn’t mind now,” you confess, feeling your face heat under Simon’s intense stare. He’s always had a staring problem, never letting you out of his sight more than necessary, and if you ever were to find yourself not right by his side, you could always feel his gaze on you, making you feel safe.

Simon hums his understanding, a sound that vibrates through his strong chest, before redirecting his eyes to the TV; his fingers still wandering up and down your arm softly. You know his focus is entirely on you, on your reactions, even if he is acting like it isn’t, and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together for a brief moment of relief. You hadn’t been particularly horny, but just knowing that you’re going to get fucked just the way you want, has arousal already pooling in the juncture between your legs.

“You’re always so soft,” Simon murmurs, dropping his face to the top of your head, practically nuzzling you. You smile but say nothing, just lets him voice his thoughts. “Smell fucking amazing too. Can’t believe you’re all mine sometimes.”

You want to echo his sentiment, say that he’s all yours too, that you feel just as lucky as he does, but his hand has dropped from your arm to your thigh, squeezing and massaging your flesh in the way he knows you love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He punctuates the statement with a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers slipping dangerously close to where you want them — where you need them. The way he pushes your legs apart isn’t rough, but it could never be described as gentle either, and when his hand dips below the waistband of your sweats you don’t suppress the moan of anticipation that leaves your throat. “Eager one, aren’t you?”

He’s teasing you, both with his words and the way his fingers run up and down your slit — inside your pants, but not yet inside your underwear. You don’t answer verbally, already melting against him, giving in to the pleasure you know is coming, only nodding lazily as your eyes slip shut.

You can hear the smirk in Simon’s voice as he speaks again. “That’s it, just let go and let me take care of you, love.” He presses down a little firmer, rubbing tight, slow circles around your clit and relishes in the way you tense your thighs in preparation; you want to grind yourself against his touch, he knows it, you know it, and it takes all your willpower to not give in.

“Please, Simon,” you whine, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, opening your neck up for him to plant open mouthed kisses on. Not one to let his love go unsatisfied, Simon leans down to trace your weak spots with his lips, making your pulse flutter and your breath hitch under his ministrations.

“Sound so pretty when you whine and beg,” he says against your skin and finally, finally, slips his fingers into your underwear. “Already so wet for me, love.” He drags the digits through your folds, gathering some of the slick to smear over your clit. His touch is gentle but precise, he knows just how you like it and is intent on making you enjoy yourself.

“Choke me,” you beg, a reminder about what you're expecting, about what started this whole thing in the first place.

“Patience,” Simon mumbles against the length of your throat, his fingers pressing down just enough to be uncomfortable before going back to the toe curling circles.

He plants more kisses along your heated skin, sucks gently at your pulse point in a way that drags an embarrassingly loud moan from your throat. The TV is still on, but whatever was playing on it got drowned out by the noises of Simon's fingers gliding through your wetness and your panting breaths. 

It's Simon that groans when he finally slips two fingers inside. “Fuck you're wet.”

You nod lazily, clenching around his digits, already practically humping against his hand — you love it, love him, you need more.

“Only for you,” you manage to say and you can feel his lips quirk up in a smirk against your shoulder.

You beg for him to go faster, and ever the obedient soldier, Simon does; pulling moans and whimpers from you until you're nothing but a wet, panting mess on the couch.

“Doing so good for me, love,” he says before moving his free hand to wrap around your throat. It's not unexpected, but it catches you by surprise nonetheless; you had been so wrapped up in his pumping fingers, so focused on chasing the pleasure he was providing. 

“Fuck,” Simon groans again, teeth scraping the shell of your ear. “You like that, huh? Go on, cum on my fingers, love.”

His palm presses against your clit, his fingers never slowing their constant in and out, and you hump needily against him. It's when he curls his digits just right to rub against that spongy spot inside and tightens his hand to constrict your airflow just enough to make your mind float, that you explode. White hot pleasure shoots through your limbs, your back arching, eyes squeezing shut as you rut against him and cum with his name spilling from your lips.

The hand around your throat eases and you have to take a moment to catch your breath. When you finally turn your head enough to blink up at him, Simon is cleaning your slick off his fingers, eyes closed as he indulges in the taste of you. The sight sends another bolt of excitement through you, making you squeeze your thighs together. 

“More,” you say, already swinging your legs over his to straddle his thick thighs, hands searching for the hem of his shirt to pull it up and off. 

Simon chuckles but lets you undress him. It takes some combined effort to remove his jeans without getting up from the couch, but you’re both hellbent on not losing the contact between your bodies.

“You want to be on top, love?” He asks, voice low and practically dripping with arousal. His words vibrate through his chest and it makes you grind down on the obvious bulge in his boxers.

You turn it over in your mind; the idea of being on top, of being the one more in control. But ultimately you shake your head in the negative. Tonight was a night for submission, for letting Simon play your body like an instrument, for letting go and giving in. 

With strength that always seems to surprise you, he grabs hold of your thighs, rough fingers digging into plush flesh, and flips the two of you over on the couch.

“So fucking pretty like this,” Simon murmurs, placing soft, wet kisses on the length of your throat, nudging at the neckline of the shirt you wore — one of his, Riley stamped across the back. It made him crazy every time he saw you in it. “All worked up, so needy for more.”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your voice enough with words, head already scrambled with pleasure and anticipation.

“So wet and ready for me.” He keeps sweet-talking you, breath fanning over your skin, hands wandering up and down your body until your clothes are laying in a pile on the floor and his hips are slotted between your spread legs. 

“Simon,” you whine, fingers digging into his muscular back, hips lifting from the couch in search of friction. 

And he has the gall to laugh, a deep chuckle that makes molten hot desire pool in your guts. You're just about ready to explode, to beg for him to just fuck you already, when he ruts against your sopping cunt, the head of his cock nudging against your clit.

“Aching for it, aren't you? Naughty girl,” he says, rubbing his cock up and your folds, coating himself in your wetness before slipping just the first inch inside. It's a stretch, it always is, but you crave more.

Simon mouths his way up your neck, finding your lips and kisses you dizzy. He swallows your moan as he sinks in, filling you up in a way that always makes you ache just slightly.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, his hips unmoving as the two of you just bask in the feeling of being connected so intimately. 

A few more kisses get exchanged, lazy and languid, all lips and tongues and deep moans, but before long you're aching for more.

“Move,” you demand between kisses, hands roaming the vastness of his broad back before coming to rest on his ass, pushing just enough to give him an incentive to follow orders. 

He's slow about it, mean even, pulling out until just the head is lodged inside before pushing back in. And when you thrust up against him in an attempt to make him move faster and deeper, Simon grips your hips and keeps you pinned down against the couch. 

“Just stay still for me. ‘M gonna make it so good for you, but you have to be a good girl and do as you're told,” he says and a whine passes your lips as you struggle against all the feelings bubbling up inside your chest. It's not just the physical pleasure, it's the emotional intimacy and just everything — you're so goddamn in love with this man it makes you want to explode.

Simon's next move is less of a roll of his hips and more of a snap, slamming his cock inside in a way that nearly punches all the air from your lungs. One of his hands moves from their position to keep you still to instead lock around your throat.

“This what you wanted?” He asks, a quick check in to make sure you're okay before anything threatens to spiral out of control. You had asked for choking, but he needed to make sure anyway.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding as best as you can with the limited movement your head is given.

And that's all Simon needs to hear, fingers constricting over your throat as he fucks you right there on the couch; other hand still on your hip, making sure you lay still and let him take care of you.

“Feel so good ‘round me, love. So fucking good,” he groans, so low and deep it could nearly count as a growl, punctuating every word with a punching thrust.

Gasps and moans and the filthy, wet sounds of Simon's cock slamming into your cunt fills the room, and the pleasure is all you can focus on.

Your heels dig into the back of his thighs, your chest heaving and you swear you're probably drooling with how your mouth hangs open.

“Such a good fucking girl. Taking my cock so well.” Most of what Simon is mumbling gets lost in the grunts he makes, but just the sound of his voice gets you closer to the edge.

He keeps whispering sweet nothings and filthy words, but it's when he thumbs at your clit that's your undoing. Just a few quick, hard circles around that bundle of nerves has you careening towards ecstasy and your legs constrict around his middle as he fucks you through the orgasm.

“That's it,” Simon growls as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, the hand on your throat squeezing just enough to make you feel light headed. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

Your climax ebbs and flows, a tidal wave of dizzying pleasure that the oxygen deprivation only seems to add to. A garbled noise leaves your throat and it's enough of a tell for Simon to ease his grip on you. 

“‘M gonna cum. Where do you want it?” His hips are still snapping against yours, cock racing in and out of your weeping cunt and it takes a few moments as you catch your breath before you manage to register it's no longer rhythmic. 

“Where you want it, love?” Simon repeats through gritted teeth, thighs flexing and relaxing with every thrust. 

“Inside,” you manage to gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulders, red half moons denting his skin.

“Fuck, fuck!” He groans, spilling inside of you as your inner walls all but milk him dry.

He collapses on top of you, face buried between your neck and shoulder, breath heavy and hot on your skin as you both bask in the afterglow of your shared orgasms. His lips find your pulse point again, just a chaste kiss, but it still sends a shiver through your body.

“No,” you complain when he moves to get off you, cradling his head as you pet his hair.

“Not going far,” Simon promises, hissing from the overstimulation as he slips his softening cock out of your wet heat. “Gotta clean up.”

You make a whining noise of complaint but let him go nonetheless. You make yourself comfortable on the couch, following Simon’s movements with your ears as he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You can hear the water of the faucet turn on, then off, and then he’s back by your side with a damp towel and a glass of water.

“Drink,” he says, shoving the glass into your hand before carefully swiping the towel between your legs to clean off any excess cum. He settles in beside you, tucks you in close to his side, presses a kiss to the top of your head and throws the blanket that had been draped over the couch’s back across both of you.

“You okay?” He asks. Always making sure. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I’m perfect,” you answer, smiling up at him before craning your neck to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Me too.”

You don’t remember falling asleep, don’t remember making your way to the bedroom, but when you wake in the middle of the night there’s a soft mattress underneath you and a fluffy goose down duvet over your body with Simon’s arm slung across your middle and his warm chest pressed tightly against your back. He’s snoring softly behind you and the rhythmic beat of his heart lulls you back to sleep.

--- CoD Masterlist

[phantomsies]

grown woman • r. sukuna

📝: modern au, black fem!reader (she’s in her 30’s), alcohol use, missionary, oral sex (f. receiving), choking, cumshot, subby-ish sukuna, spit play

wc: 2.2K

📃: I’m still struggling to get back used to tumblr so I’m gonna be a lil slow posting. It’ll also be on patreon as well and hopefully, it doesn’t get flagged!

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a subtle touch, a gentle kiss..a slight nudge of the nose to the neck. It was all of the small movements that made him tick. Even the slightest bit of movement sent his heart into a fit of flutters. Honestly, it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of either..for he was simply a man in love. Unapologetically and unconditionally. Some would even credit you solely for his change in demeanor…from a slick, smooth talking womanizer who couldn’t even spell love. To the shameless romantic with enough passion to fuel the entire planet. Hell, if you let him tell it, the world didn’t even start spinning and the sun never shined until you came around. In essence, you changed his life!..and quite frankly, his image as well.

Ryomen Sukuna was known for many things throughout his life but being a monotonous, adoring homebody was not one of them! No longer were the days of club hopping and late night hookups…wandering home with whatever girl piqued his interest for the night and taking out all of his unbridled sexual frustration on her. In an even more callous move, she was out before the sun even rose and her name was irrelevant. He’d come to work with the same charming, fun disposition as if he hadn’t ruined another girl’s perception of love and healthy relationships. It was all a part of the game as far as he was concerned. So naturally, when you entered his life over a year and a half ago..never would this man have imagined that he’d be standing in the kitchen of a shared condo; towel draped over his bare shoulder as he stirred a pot of homemade sauce to serve with the dinner he’d prepared for you. Domesticated like an animal that had once roamed the streets mindlessly..now, spending his Saturday nights drinking wine with R&B reverberating through the speakers of a mounted flat screen. It was the after effects of dealing with a grown woman, after all. Firm in what you wanted, even more steadfast in what you wouldn’t tolerate and what he could do if the rules didn’t suit his fancy. However, him walking out of the door was the least of your worries now. Especially when you had him reeled in so closely.

“Mmmph..damn.”

the gesture catching his attention as you sat adjacent to him on the couch. Long, slender brown legs crossed as you nursed your own glass of Sauvignon. It was your third one of the evening and it was certainly taking its toll. So much so, your appetite had completely shifted from what was being prepared…

“Don’t worry. The food’s almost done..just finishing up a few things.”

to the one who had so graciously concocted the meal! Make no mistake, Ryo’s cooking was nothing short of a divine dining experience. But the carbonara wasn’t the only thing you were in the mood to slurp on! See, he could appreciate your honesty for the things you desired. How you weren’t shy or bashful about your needs. So long had he been the one controlling the narrative..making the decisions and sadly, trampling all over the women in his life because they made it easy to do so. But you weren’t any of them and that fact was reinstilled each time you two were alone. (Y/N) had finally grown tiresome of quelling your urges and set the cogs in motion so that this evening could truly end the way you both hoped for. You’d been hiding your time, watching him move around from the stove to the fridge, bringing you tiny samples in between and even halting momentarily to steal an influx of kisses. He’d been fantasizing about spreading you out on that table but with growth came reservation and he always waited for you to initiate things now. Twirling him around and moving him as if he were your puppet and like the helpless lover boy he’d transformed into, Ryo followed!

“Actually…why don’t you turn that off? I’ve got something better..” Instead of preparing plates, he was summoned by the wave of a finger..decorated with French tips and the sight of your fur lined robe slightly ajar from you pulling it open. “Oh, is that right? So watching me sweat over that stove was just for your amusement then, huh?” You immediately sensed the sarcasm in that deep voice of his and that toothy, foolish grin on his face gave away any hint of annoyance. As he drew closer, your legs spread further apart and you’d welcome him in between with no hesitation. Cackling as your lips connected into sloppy tongue kisses and those nimble hands cupped his face. Those large tattooed hands wasting no time in groping you subtly as they roamed your exposed skin.

“More like for my pleasure. Now shut up and come eat this pussy..”

his sharp eyes would cut at you, followed by a chuckle as that frame towered over you. Both of his hands and arms resting by your side like two giant pillars.

“And since when did you start telling me what the fuck to do? You know I don’t take orders from anyone.” But if Ryomen knew one fact..it was that you weren’t these other little girls he was used to fooling around with! You’d put him in his place and he’d stay there if he knew what was good for him. Quiet as it was kept, he loved the shit! Something about being bossed around by a woman who was a fraction of his size made him illicit feelings he shouldn’t have. Sitting cross armed with seemingly not a care in the world, (y/n) raised your leg..only to place it atop his shoulder blade and pressed down until that six foot five frame sank to its knees.

“Yet here you are…doing..exactly what the fuck I told you.” Honestly, that snarky tone would’ve gotten anyone else slung across the room. But not you..he graciously accepted those demands and got to work. The tension was mounting and veins began to protrude from his forehead. Without a single moment of haste, Ryo aggressively tugged your panties to the left side and out of his way..allowing him to delve into your center. Leaving sloppy, full licks all over your wet folds, suckling roughly on your clit and clawing his fingers into your thighs in the event you tried to scoot away from him. It didn’t take long before a trail of saliva and delicious cream began to trickle down to your most sensitive areas.

“Ugh!—fuck..yeah, good boy. You know what I need.”

your words seemed to have elicited a response out of him; a half verbal one that caused him to loudly grunt and follow it with a hard slap to your thigh. Eventually, your legs began to tremble and the sensation reverberated throughout your entire body. “You better be lucky you taste so goddamn good..I shouldn’t give you shit.” “Mmmhm. I hear you…”

Meanwhile, your digits scoured his hair..guiding his head along. Your legs were resting idly on Ryo’s shoulder and still rattling when you’d feel your throat constrict. Those large hands coiled around your neck and he’d squeeze lightly just to add to your mounting pleasure. Those calculated movements would only continue to grow increasingly more aggressive and euphoric. By the time he came up for a semblance of air, you’d coated your boyfriend’s face in a veil of sticky warmth. (Y/N) clawed at his forearm, but to no avail. He’d finally gotten you within his clutches..just as that orgasm drew near. Just as your entrance began to contract around his middle and index fingers whilst they worked inside of you. And just as you were about to release, he’d rise to his feet and hover over you. Burrowing his knees into the couch cushion and positioning himself between those parted legs. With a deviant scowl on his face and in one fell swoop, Ryo tugged at the elastic waistband of his Nike sweats; bringing them to the floor and his stiff cock from their confines. It was seeping..the tip puddling with precum and aching to be nestled balls deep inside of you.

“Look at you..about to pass out. How cute.”

“But I’m not. So fuck me until I do..”

however, rather than being greeted with frail whimpers and pleas for mercy, (y/n) returned that smile with your tongue dangling from your mouth and commands to do his worst! ”You got a lot of fucking mouth, y’know that? Talk that shit with this dick inside of you. I’d love to hear that.”

Those freshly shaven lips were tapped with that pulsating cock head before it found its way between those silky walls.. and quite possibly his kryptonite!..only fitting about three solid inches before he’d begin to buckle. Frustration truly began to set in when he realized your reaction didn’t mirror his own and instead of being met with the sight of hands pawing at his abs, those acrylics rested on your clit and began to trace circles. Your tits sitting upright as you peered down to see how far he’d got in.

“And you really think that’s enough to shut me up? C’mon, baby. You can do better than that.”

it was always him..always him talking and guiding his sexual partners through the sessions. It was always him who was vocal and demanding the next move..but you’d once again flipped all those notions onto their heads! Tightening that force against your throat, Ryo sought to prove himself. Starting out with only a couple slow strokes before drilling into you full fledge. Loud smacking noises from colliding flesh filled the room and with that hulking frame towering over you, he’d try his best to get you to break! Feeding you long, deep and impactful thrusts..interchanging fingers from your throat to your mouth and even pressing into your stomach to feel his own imprint.

Anything to garner dominance..but it was you with the upper hand. Even with that deranged simper stretching from ear to ear, (y/n) still egged him on. Despite tears trickling down your face and that fresh silk press becoming disheveled. Your toes curled midair as they remained on his chiseled pecs..limbs flailing about and your screams added to the chorus of chaotic noises. Your juices began to puddle and a sheath of white leaked from that tight hole. In that moment, he’d glance up to see only the whites of your eyes and thought it was a golden opportunity.

“Yeah..I knew it. Knew you couldn’t handle—“ “Yes, baby! Give it to me..make this pussy come!..make me nut on that fucking dick..” But condition aside, you’d laugh and become joyous at the sight of his roughness. Opening your jaws graciously for slaps and trails of spit. Taking every inch as if it were nothing…even when you’d begin to squirt and dampen those abs. He’d expected you to cower down and eventually tap out, like all the others before you. That he would be the top dog at the end of this little rendezvous. But when he felt that pulsation of his own climax nearing, Ryomen began to panic. Doubling down on his hard strokes, his pace and movements becoming erratic and the onset fear that he’d be coming in a shorter duration than he ever had!..it was too much..and yet again, in another move for control, (y/n) made the final call.

“Pull out..I want it on my face..” too spent and quite frankly, too enamored to fight back, the all mighty Ryomen Sukuna..notorious playboy turned pathetic fuck toy..retracted and allowed you to do as you wished. Leaning up, you’d wrap those nimble hands around his shaft and make jerking motions until that warm splatter of cum rain down on your mouth, tits and pretty features. “G’ahh! F-fuck..I’m coming!—“ “I know, baby. I know..give it all to me. Let me drain you..”

All with a toothy grin and that maniacal cackle as you licked up the remnants. But not before ushering him in for another kiss.

“Thank you, daddy..just what I needed. See, you can follow directions.”

It was at that exact moment that the epiphany crossed his mind. And all Ryo could do was burst into laughter. No more were his days of mindless control and having his way..he was a changed man. Who was fucking with a grown woman!

[l3viat8an]

ROO HEAR ME OUT

Mephisto choking MC while they’re going at it in his office because he heard someone coming down the hall and doesn’t want to get caught -👁️ 

Nsfw!

I mean- it is kinda hard to be quiet when you’ve got a demon fucking you like an animal- jsksjksjs

And it’s especially hard to keep quiet when you’re laid across Mephisto’s desk, leg spreed for him and moaning his name as your fingernails dig into the edge of the desk trying desperately to ground yourself, while It’s creaking and shaking underneath you as he thrusts into you, harder this time causing another, louder, “ahh- fuck~” to fall from your lips.

Loud…Mephisto finally realizes you’re being too loud, way too loud actually. Any other time he would love to hear you moaning for him and even screaming his name-

But right now you’re trying not to get caught and if he ever wants to do this again… later down the line Mephisto needs to figure out a way to keep you quiet, and fast.

Panic is mixing with his pleasure now, the idea of fucking in his office had sounded wonderful just ten minutes ago- the halls had been empty and everyone was in the dinning hall or library but after the bell sounded and the hallways start filling up with students again…. now that he can hear the muffled sound of foot steps in the hall, all those people passing the newspaper club room and heading to their next class just on the other side of the door.

Now he realized how poorly this was planned. Just another reason never to listen to a horny human, when will he learn? You’re nothing but trouble!! Trouble with the best pussy he’s ever had the pleasure to fuck- but still trouble!

Yet, here he is still balls deep in your pussy, not slowing down or even letting you catch your breath. Tentatively…as if testing the waters, one of his gloved hands moves from your hip to wrap around your throat, slightly squeezing as a warning. His other hand stayed on your hip keeping you in place, keeping you still.

“Quite. Human. We absolutely can’t let anyone find us here.” he hisses out. He can feel your breathing stutter as you clenched around his cock even tighter then before, you even have the nerve to grin up at him, “Then do it harder, keep me quiet.” you gasp out, tilting your head back a bit so he can keep his hand there until you’re done…

[thatsprettylane]

Obito Uchiha + Assorted Text Posts (Part 3)

[zhouyes]

being despised by ignorant and weak insects. they trampled on you and cursed you. how did it feel? don't you hate them? don't you feel aggrieved?

YANAN as LI LUN

fangs of fortune, 大梦归离.

[muldermuse]

still thinking about being billy’s younger hookup. based on this post.

cw: choking and slapping (also tagged)

you meet him at a dive bar after he’s had a lonely evening of whiskey. he knows he should ignore you, try to turn a blind eye to the tightness of your dress and how you’re looking at him- desperate for some acknowledgment from him. he murmurs a ‘fuck it’ under his breath and offers to buy you a drink. he knows you’ve ordered a whiskey to try and impress him- notices the grimace on your face as the amber liquid slides down your throat

there’s still at least two mouthfuls left before he invites you back to his

you’re all over him the moment you walk into his place. his mouth tastes of whiskey and cigarettes; his tongue hot and heavy in your mouth. he can feel the sticky residue of your lip gloss on his moustache. every time he pulls off for breath, you’re grabbing his shirt and pulling him back to you. he gets hard when he hears you whimper when he grabs the fat of your ass. has to take a breath to calm himself down when you moan as he slaps your ass

the sex is mean. he’s calling you a dumb whore and feeling you soak his fingers at the insult. he knows he needs to pull back, you’re too young and pretty to be creaming his thick fingers at this old man treating you like shit. but you’re eating it up. he swears he’s made you cum easily because he’s being mean

he slaps you and watches a flash of arousal cross your face. “was that nice, love?” he asks as he presses his hand to your throat- you choke out a “yes, sir”

he bends you over his bed and fucks you as hard as he can. with each thrust into you, he feels the stressors of his life fading away. you’re begging him to use you, you whimper out a “use me like a toy, sir”. you soak his cock as he pushes your head firmly into the plush of his duvet. you ask him to cum in you, promising that you take the pill- you haven’t even finished your sentence before he cums deep in you.

you feel too good pulsating around his cock for him to regret his decision

he goes to smoke in his back yard, trying to figure out how to ask you to leave him when he gets back into his bedroom. when he walks back into his room; you’re fast asleep. snuggled in his dark sheets and looking peaceful- despite the red marks he caused on your cheek and your throat. he crawls in next to you, smiling despite himself at the warmth of your body against his

in the morning, you’re gone and you’ve left your name and number scrawled on a letter. he discards it in a drawer, swearing to himself that he will never be in touch again

he breaks after 10 days and calls you. he buys you a whiskey that you pretend to enjoy and then you suck his cock in the bathroom stall; he cums over your pretty face when you call him daddy

:)

[flyingdidii]

Star Wars AU / content warning: chocking

-I love you!

-LIAR!