#hands around HIS THROAT

[ohkate]

Ian handling Mickey by the neck when they're being affectionate. Not that I blame him.

[whatsupspaceman]

seeing anime-onlys get on board with kabru/laios is obviously funny because they haven't interacted yet in the show. at least not when kabru has been alive lol. & so folks r just going off of out of context manga panels floating around. but what is far more funny is how hard kabru/mithrun is going to hit them out of left field

[shootingstareon]

“You took everything from me-!”

[fredmundo]

them: hey you've been really trapped in your thoughts. are you ok???

my thoughts: FADELFADELFADELFADELSTYLEFADELFADEL

[saturnsorbits]

I need that, ‘You can take it,’ purred into my ear while he slowly, but determinedly forces his cock in. His voice all cocky and sure, even though neither of us are quite sure if I can take it or not…

[airenyah]

someone's already made a parallel gifset of dunk with his hands on joong's throat while kissing, right?? right????? or will i have to do it myself????????

[ln4-llingforu]

Taking back every bad thing i ever said about this suit...

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price and Barbara Steele promo photo -

The Pit and the Pendulum (1961) dir. Roger Corman

[f0x-meets-w0lf]

four a.m. in a motel somewhere, just two pals doing friendship things (full comic here, nsfw, 18+ please)

[pines4thetwin]

Stan being a freak about Fords hands.

Staring at them, touching them when Fords asleep, imagining its them when he touches himself. Just being obsessed with em.

He definitely jerks off thinging about those six fingers wrapping around his throat, gripping his hips, thighs, stomach, ass.

It gets harder and harder for him to pretend to be normal about them. He almost looses it one day when him and Ford get into an argument and Stan walks away. Ford grabs his arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Stanley." Ford had basically growled out.

Safe to say, Stan fantasies about that moment for a while. His own fingers pressing into the bruise while he fucks his hand or fingers himself and plays those words on repeat in his head, imagining the argument ending a bit differently.

[munsonify]

i don’t know what’s prettier, him or his hands

[shegetsburned]

hands hands hands hands hands hands hands

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

HIS HANDS.

Literally my two weaknesses are a pretty voice and nice hands and this man has both (regardless of if he's ascended or not mind you he just uses his hands ALOT more to talk when ascended.)

[mingyuonlyfans]

i need to feel gyu's thick fingers around my throat so badly

it's a sight to behold.

mingyu's form towering over yours, a sheen layer of sweat giving his sunkissed skin a glow under your shared bedroom's ambient light, and the muscles in his shoulders and biceps flexing with the way his arm is outstretched so he could wrap his hand around your throat. it's warm, the way his thumb presses against the side of your throat making you lightheaded in the best way possible. it only makes the ache between your legs stronger, core clenching tighter around your boyfriend.

"does, does that feel good, baby?" his voice wavers as he presses his hips harder against you, hips stuttering along with his words. you can only whine, the sound emitting from your throat.

you want to tell him how beautiful he looks like this, when he's balls deep into you and cutting off your airway as carefully as he can. but you're panting; your mouth is wide open, hips rutting against his in a desperate attempt at friction. gyu grins, the one that has his canines peeking out.

"it does, doesn't it? you gonna be good for me, pretty girl?"

[st4rfckerz]

sigh

[youareunbearable]

Its late and im tired so please excuse if this doesn't make sense but lately, I've been thinking about Angry Aredhel must have been

Like realistically, when has this woman made a single decision about her future for herself, and in the few times when she did, when did it not end in tragedy

She must have been so angry, so frustrated and wrathful at her lot in life. She was meant for other things, greater thing! She was a disciple of Orome, the Maiden in White, one of the best hunters in his group along with her cousin.

Yet here she is, caged and trapped like a pretty little canary in a wire house. Stolen from her purpose because of her eldest brother's blind loyalty, her father's stubborn pride, her second oldest brother's blinding grief, and her baby brother's terminal bravery. She's across an ocean, escaped one cage for another by her tormentor and abuser posing as a husband.

The bastard won't even name their child.

She must have be so angry, stuck in that endless darkness, the forest must be such a familiar landscape but so different, twisted and wrong like looking into a warped mirror.

Shes grieving outside her "home" one night, having managed to convince the trees to part their branches just enough that she can glimpse a star or two so she can bask in the starlight. Its been a year since the birth of her son, and nothing has changed. Eol won't look at the boy, and she can feel herself drifting. Without the ability to see the passage of time, without the Light of the Trees or with the Sun and Moon chasing each other across the sky, things are blending together and she feels adrift.

At least when they crossed they ice, they were able to watch the stars move across the endless dark.

The starlight warms her skin, as weak and distant as it is, so she basks. With her eyes closed and face tilted up she feels like a lizard in the mid day sun. Behind her, she hears a noise, a twig being deliberately stepped upon. Aredhel whips around, raising her glowing lichen lamp, wondering if its her husband or one of his servants come to take her back. She feels a little feral at the idea of being dragged away from the pitiful starlight.

A wolf, with a pelt as crisp and clean as the snow dusting Himring's mountain top, slinks into the soft glow. Its fur takes on an almost sickly colour in the green luminescence. The wolf settles at the edge of the light, resting on its haunches as it observes her.

Aredhel thinks she's beautiful, for it is a female wolf. Even in the weak lamplight the beast's silver eyes seem to glow on their own, piercing her very fea and enticing her to come forward, to come closer. There is a power within the she wolf, one Aredhel craves.

The white beast introduces herself as a member of Orome's hunt, and Aredhel believes it, for the she wolf looks like the perfect hunter. The wolf asks her what she, as a fellow hunter, is doing out so far away from her kin and cub.

Momentarily surprised by the ability to speak, for not even Huan can speak so freely, Aredhel responses. She shares her desire for light, her frustration with her "husband," and how she wants a different life for her son. She never wanted this, and she wishes she had the ability to take control of her own fate.

The wolf is sympathetic to her plights, and offers to help her free herself and her child.

"You do have the ability to change your own fate, young one. Asking for help is something no one else could have done for you."

So Aredhel leads the wolf back to Eol's house. They walk through the entry way, both hunters are silent as the dawn as they go. Aredhel heads towards the master bedroom, but hesitates at the door. She can see Eol on his side of their bed, snoring lightly as he does. She hesitates, seeing a vision of what will happen once he realizes she's gone. Fire, doom and death follows her, poison and a flash of fang would flicker in him before he strikes her down for disobedience, for stealing away the son he won't even name.

The wolf nudges her aside, ghosting past her into the room. Aredhel's throat closes up and she slinks away, heading towards Lomion's nursery. She leaves to go strap her sleeping infant son to her chest, then grabs some supplies from the kitchen in a bag. Not even hearing a mouse skittering in the walls, let alone her wolf companion, she steels her nerves to check the master bedroom one more time.

As she passes her bedroom, she can see through a crack in the door and her breath freezes. Standing over the now corpse of her husband, maw dripping red from the freshly torn out throat, the white wolf looms. Aredhel stares transfixed, she can almost taste the blood between her own teeth, feel the rush of the kill, ache of her gums as tendons and tissue would rub against them. The wolf turns to look at her, silver eyes wild, white fur stained with her kill. Aredhel feels the air return to her lungs, she feels lighter and free, a little giggle slips past her lips and the wolf peels back its lips and bares its dripping fangs in a smile.

Aredhel leaves the house, fleeing on foot and all the while she can hear the wolf following her, keeping pace and shadowing her in the darkness, and at some points, ahead of her, leading her out of the woods. Running like this, oh she hasn't done this in years!. The wind snapping at her hair, branches and leaves kissing her cheeks and arms, the rush of a completed hunt with another one ahead of her feels like her first real breath in a long time. It feels like days later, and seconds, heartbeats, when she can see the treeline, dawn's hazy reddish glow peaking through the trees.

Aredhel gives a joyful cry and runs faster. That laughter bubbling up inside of her finally bursts past her lips once she breaks the treeline. The sun on her skin is warm and bright and all she wants to do is laugh and cry and scream until her throat is raw and her tears run dry. But she has to keep moving, she has Lomion still with her, and she is too close to the woods to feel truly safe yet. She walks north, and east, not really knowing where she's heading but knowing that she'll cross into her cousins' land soon. As she walks, she soon realizes that she hasn't seen or heard from her she wolf in a while. Stopping, Aredhel turns to look back, but no where can she see that brilliant white coat, or any tracks that look like wolf paws. She squint, looking back at the distant treeline and sees nothing but shadow. She mourns for her companion, wishing she could have wished her well or at least thanked her for her help. She wonders if Orome set the wolf to free her, not wanting to see one of his hunters in chains.

Its about mid morning when she comes across some of her cousins men, and they're horrified. They ask if she's ok, of she's hurt, they take her to a nearby stream even though she insists she's fine, that she wants to see her cousins.

When she sees her reflection she's scared for a moment. All she can see it blood, dried and crusted down her throat, staining her lips and chin. There is red all along the collar of her white dress, her sleeves, but her hands are clean, and so is her son still asleep strapped across her chest. She looks into her reflection, not yet comprehending. Silver eyes that seem so familiar stare back above the red, above the proof of her freedom.

She bares her bloody teeth in smile.