#stroking my (invisible) beard

[se-dissimuler]

jannik saying he wants to read people’s minds.. the video taking place (presumably) during cincinnati and before the news came out.. #nooticing 💔

[friend-crow]

Saw you on recommended blogs, need to follow more fellow witches!

Oooh, like the tumblr recommended ones??

[avid-idiot]

Alright, so april/may is what I gotta aim for?

[lxndonorris]

Chocolate- Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smutish, Teasing, light touching Charles is your best friend and you're joining him in Australia. However, Pierre pranks the two of you with some spicy chocolate x word count: 1930+ taglist: @game-set-canet mentions of Pierre :P requested by anon :) feel free to request in my askbox gif by me

The scorching Australian sun beats down on the bustling Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit, where the roar of Formula 1 engines fills the air. Among the throngs of racing enthusiasts, you stand nervously, your heart pounding with excitement. Charles, your best friend and Ferrari's star driver, invited you to spend the weekend with him at the track, a dream come true for any racing fan.

As you stand inside the Ferrari garage, Charles flashes you a mischievous grin. "Ready to cheer for me?" he asks, his eyes sparkling brightly. 

"Absolutely," you reply, barely able to contain a giggle. "I can't thank you enough for this opportunity, Charles." 

"That's what friends are for, right?" He says, running a hand across his chest to button up his racing suit, getting ready to jump into his race car.

He zooms out of the garage and onto the track, while you watch the screen with a mix of excitement and nervousness. To calm your nerves, you brought yourself some chocolate from Charles' motorhome. He told you he got them from Pierre earlier today, and both of you enjoyed a bar before this training session—it tastes so good.

As you wait for Charles to finish his last training session for the weekend, the anticipation bubbles within you, heightened by the thrill of the fast-paced racing world.

Clad in his Ferrari shirt and cap, you feel a strange sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins, mingling with the nervous excitement that pulses beneath the surface.

When Charles finally emerges from his car, his presence seems to command the entire paddock. His aura is magnetic, drawing you in with an irresistible force. In one swift motion, his helmet and balaclava come off, revealing a face flushed with exhilaration. 

He exchanges a few words with his mechanics, his focus on the training still evident in his demeanor. But then, as if drawn by an invisible force, his gaze finds yours.

His expression softens slightly as he runs a hand across his chest firmly, stroking himself through his racing suit. Charles licks his lips before turning his attention back to the conversation.

A tingling sensation erupts in your belly, sending shivers down your spine when he approaches you. As Charles closes the distance between you, palpable energy seems to radiate from him, his every movement infused with a magnetic charm that is impossible to resist. Time seems to slow down; everything around you is out of focus; just Charles remains the center of attention.

A confident swagger in his step, he exudes waves of effortless allure, seemingly pulling everyone's eyes on him. With casual grace, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, the strands falling back into place with practiced ease.

His touch lingers on his beard, his fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jawline before trailing down to his chest, where they linger for a moment longer.

You can't tear your gaze away, captivated by the sight of him and the way his features seem to be sculpted by the very hands of a divine artist. His confidence is intoxicating, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

"How was I?" He asks, his words washing over you in a warm embrace. 

"Simply amazing." You smile as your skin heats up rapidly. Your face flushes with color, nearly as bright as your Ferrari shirt.

"Thank you; the car was so good." Charles remarks with a coy smile forming on his lips. "It felt amazing, like it let me do all that I wanted."

Despite your best efforts to concentrate, your attention keeps drifting, drawn inexorably to every nuance of his being. His lips move with fluid grace, forming each word with precision, and you can't help but be mesmerized by their subtle curve.

His beard, perfectly groomed yet with a hint of ruggedness, frames his jawline with an undeniable allure. As his fingers trail along it, you feel a surge of longing wash over you; the desire to reach out and touch the softness bristles alomst overwhelming.

But it is his hands that truly capture your attention—strong and calpable yet gentle in their touch. Every movement is deliberate, and each gesture imbued with a quiet confidence.

And then there are his eyes, pools of endless depth that seem to hold the entire universe within their gaze. They sparkle with warmth and mischief, drawing you in even closer.

Then, however, he leans in to whisper in your ear. "You look so good in that shirt," he breathes, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Almost as good as me out there on track, huh?" 

You chuckle nervously, the air crackling with tension as you struggle to keep your composure. Charles' newfound flirtatiousness is both exhilarating and unnerving, stirring emotions within you that you had never dared to acknowledge.

His hands brush over yours before he separates himself, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as his eyes roam all over you again.

One of his mechanics calls him over, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Charles has been your friend for years now, and you can't deny the attraction you feel to this beautiful man, but this comes out of nowhere.

Later, you make your way back to his motorhome. The atmosphere grows increasingly charged, thick with unspoken desire. With each step, you find yourself drawn to Charles, unable to resist the magnetic pull that draws you closer together.

Inside his quarters, the air was heavy with anticipation, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your racing hearts. The scent of his cologne is all around you as Charles moves with fluid grace, his movements mesmerizing as he sheds his racing suit.

You watch, transfixed, as he lets the upper half of his suit hang down his waist, exposing his tight fireproofs that hug his form. Like a second skin, its fabric clings to his skin, and you can't help but admire the way they accentuate every contour of his muscular physique. Despite their attempt to conceal his strength, his powerful frame is unmistakable.

With causal ease, he flexes his arms, the fabric stretching taut against the bulging muscles beneath. You gasp silently as he stretches and moves, showing off his beautiful form.

But it is when he runs a hand over himself, stroking firmly along the curves of his chest and abdomen, that you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away. The sight is hypnotic, a tantalizing display of masculinity that leaves you breathless with desire.

Caught in the act of staring, you feel a blush creep into your cheeks as Charles' eyes meet yours. But instead of embarrassment, there is a playful twinkle in his gaze.

"Like what you see?" He winks, a mischievous grin quirking the corners of his lips as he teases you with a knowing look.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You raise your hands slightly, but he doesn't mind you watching him.

"I don't know. I'm so horny right now." He lets out a low moan that gives you goosebumps. 

Unable to suppress the surge of desire that courses through your body, you close the distance to him, your hands trembling as they reach out to touch him.

His body is warm beneath your fingertips, eliciting a soft gasp as your boidies collide in a frenzy of longing. As your hands venture forth, a hesitant yet undeniable curiosity guiding its path, you feel warmth and a tingling sensation run through you. 

Charles stands before you, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, the fabric of his fireproofs offering little resistance to the exploration that lies ahead.

With a tentative touch, you allow your fingers to trace the contours of his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the thin barrier of fabric. Each ridge and curve elicits a soft gasp from you and an even softer yet guttural moan from him.

Charles breath hitches at the touch, his gaze locked with yours in a slient exchange of longing and desire. Emboldened by his response, you press your hand firmer against him, reveling in the sensation of his warmth seeping through his clothes.

His muscles ripple beneath your touch, a testament to the strength and athleticism that define him as a professional racing driver. And yet, beneath the surface, there is a vulnerability, a rawness, that speaks of the humanity within him.

"It feels so good," he growls, and places his hands on your waist, holding you close.

In the heat of the moment, you lean in, and your lips meet in a hungry kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance. But just as your passion reaches its zenith, a sudden sound shatters the intimacy of the moment.

Startled, you break apart, your gazes locking in shared disbelief as you turn to see Pierre standing behind you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. His laughter echoes through the motorhome, mingling with the stunned silence that envelopes you.

"It looks like someone's been busy," Pierre teases, unable to contain his amusement.

Embarrassment floods through you, your cheeks burning as you struggle to find the words to explain the situation. But Charles simply chuckles, his arms wrapping around your waist in a protective gesture.

"Thanks for the chocolate, Pierre," Charles says with a wry grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like they had quite the effect."

Confused, your gaze shifts between them, trying to make sense of the situation. Then, you notice him brandishing a box of chocolates with an impish grin. 

Pierre's grin widens, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. "My pleasure," he replies. "I must say, if I weren't taken, I'd be falling for either of you. You both look so good."

You can't help but giggle at his remarks, even though you're still slightly confused, as the warmth of embarrassment creeps into your cheeks.

"Oh, Pierre, you're naughty," Charles chimes in, his laughter joining yours. "But I suppose I can't argue with you there."

Pierre approaches you, the box of chocolates held out in offering. You accept it, and your eyes fall on it right away. 

"Spice up your life with our new aphrodisiac chocolate bars." You read to yourself and pout, "Really, Pierre?"

Pierre's hand lands on Charles' firm chest, a playful pat that elicits a low growl from him.

"Aren't you just the heartthrob of the paddock?" He teases, his hand stroking Charles' chest a few times, before Charles nudges him with his elbow.

"You're unbelievable, Pierre," he says, shaking his head with a shy smile. 

Still feeling the effect of the chocolate coursing through his veins, Charles can't resist the urge to indulge in a bit of self-admiration. With a smirk, he strokes his own chest, his movements mirroring Pierre's teasing gestures.

Sensing the playful energy in the room, you join in on the fun, nudging Pierre playfully as well. 

He giggles in response, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he returns the gesture.

"I think I should leave you to it then." Pierre licks his lips. "You can keep the chocolate." He smirks and shrugs before leaving the motorhome.

As his laughter fades away and you are left alone once more, a comfortable silence settles between Charles and yourself.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "You know, it felt good to hold you close like that," he admits, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability.

You nod, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his words. "Yeah, it did." You agree, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

[cypherscript]

The Ole Switcheroo.

The Justice League and the Justice League Dark are in need of some questions answered about the alarming numbers of tears in reality coming from this small nowhere town in Illinois and don’t seem to be stopping any time soon. So using every bit of summoning and containment magic the JLD have and the most prominent source of energy they could find in the city they decide to summon the owner of the energy. *** “And you’re sure this containment spell will hold whatever comes through,” Superman asks as he observes Zatanna and Constantine marking out the circle.

“Should, most beings from that dimension have very specific powersets but all of them include basic flight, invisibility and intangibility. Hence why the civilians of the city refer to them as ghosts.” Zatanna says as she finished her marking with a flourish. 

Batman grunts in response as he’s looking over data, J'onn focuses on Zatanna after she lists the powers, “I assume that is why I am here? Those powers are remarkably similar to Martian abilities.”

“Yes, should the being somehow escape we will need you to retrieve them if they become intangible.”

“Understood.”

“Ready John?”

“Let’s get this shiteshow started, luv.” John Constantine picks up a book and begins speaking in a voice of white noise and screams, the circle lights up an eerie green and wisping into the air before a flashing light reveals a white haired teen in a a jumpsuit floating in the air.

“What? How did I- Where am I?”

Batman steps forward, “That’s not important right, we just want to ask you a couple of questions about Amity Park.”

“Then I can leave?”

Several of the League Members share some looks before Batman answers, “If you aren’t a threat to this dimension.”

“Awesome, I can leave then.”

“That remains to be seen.” Zatanna cuts in, “First lets start with your name, can we have your name?”

“No, sorry but you can call me Phantom.” the teen chuckles at a joke he only knows.

“You can call me Zatanna then, the others are Superman, Batman, Constantine, and Martian Manhunter.”

Phantom perks up at the last name, “Wait, like a real Martian? I thought they died out a long time ago.”

“You know of us,” J’onn asks, perplexed.

“Yeah, there’s a few of you guys floating around the Zone,” Phantom shrugs before resuming looking at the circle, “Is this like a question circle? I couldn’t stop myself from saying that.”

“It shouldn’t be, it is merely a summoning and containment spell. Constantine?”

“Mighta slip some truth spellwork into it, had to be sure it was telling the truth. Pan dimensional beings aren’t really know for being trustworthy, Zatanna.”

“Constantine,” Zatanna shouts at the man in outrage.

“First of all,” Phantom interrupts, “Not an it, I’m a he and second I don’t exactly have a problem with the spell. Just be aware that it’s reduced your any number of questions down to three and then I get a turn asking the questions. Deal?”

“Deal,” Batman says before the two magic users can speak. “I’ve already thought of the most prominent question we needed answers for.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“We have been noticing an alarming number of dimensional tears in a small town on our planet and your energy reading is almost always in that town. Why?”

Phantom tilts his head stroking an imaginary beard, “Hmm, I’ll allow that as a single question I suppose. The dimensional tearing is a combination of a couple of reasons; the city is in a thin spot between your world and the Ghost Zone or the Infinite Realms as some of the older ghosts call it. The other reason is because there are a couple of human scientists who have punched a permanent hole into the Zone, usually natural portals appear and disappear at random and usually only for a few seconds at most. Honestly I surprised you’re worried about the portals now when the Bermuda Triangle has existed forever.”

“What does the- No, nevermind.” Phantom smirks at the Batman’s almost slip of a question. “You still haven’t answered my question; why is your energy signature always in that town?”

“Because it’s m̷̢̨̛̰͍̮̝̪̞͉̩̬͕̣̮̱̻̎͋̉͘ͅį̵͍̫̭̱̝̮̯̞̝̺̤̺̦̝͖̜̅̉̂̊́̑̿̆̈́̕͝n̴̫͎̼͇̭̾ẽ̵̱̭̗̥̱͕̒̋͛͂͆̑͝͠ͅ, I protect it by sending the other ghosts back to the Zone.”

“Who are the most dangerous beings from that dimension and are they a threat to this world?”

“That depends on who you- Me and Clocky. Wait really? Huh, I mean I guess I could see it; Space and Time. I guess this circle means like, the Truth and not what I believe to be true. That’s good to know. Anyways that’s your second question, best make the last one count.”

Batman thinks for a moment, looking over Phantom with a new eye at the revelation that he was the most dangerous, him and this Clocky being at any rate, “If there is an Incursion of beings from this Ghost Zone, how do we protect the earth.”

“You don’t. I do. That’s three questions,” Phantom snaps his fingers and the world blurs as it spins, coming back into focus as Phantom is now outside of the circle and the League is in it. Phantom takes on a sharp tooth grin as he pulls a notebook from inside his body, “Now my first question is for Martian Manhunter; what was Mars like when the Martians were alive?”

[lex-the-flex]

Sneaking Away with Marcus Acacius

A/N: I just watched Gladiator for the first time and I'm so excited for the sequel! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

Stroking the soft skin of your exposed upper thigh with a calm demeanor, you can tell Marcus is ready to go. Despite being one of the greatest Generals in all of Rome, the multiple Senators continue on and on, and they are starting to leave an invisible sour taste in his mouth. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, you place your hand over his own.

Leaning closer towards you, Marcus playfully places his lips to your earlobe.

"If he doesn't stop talking, I swear I shall smite him where he stands." Marcus declares.

"You'll do no such thing. You know we have to stay, I know this is tedious." You reply.

Squeezing his hand a little tighter, his dark brown orbs gaze into yours, providing you some comfort. Tapping the top of Marcus' hand, the two of you scoot closer to each other, hoping to shut out the world around you.

Sensing a fight brewing within the Senator's inner circle, they propose a break with an abundance of food and goblets of wine. Downing two cups of the dark wine within gulps, Marcus joins you at the food table, scanning over the various pieces of fruit and cuts of meat and cheese, he places his hand on the small of your back.

"Come with me, love." He whispers behind your neck.

"Is something wrong?" You ask, taking his hand.

"No, does there have to be something wrong to talk to my wife?" He replies, providing a cover story to another Politician that was standing next to you.

Following Marcus through the temple halls, you guides you to small antechamber hidden within the marble walls. Backing you against the cold white and gold wall, Marcus plants a deep, yet passionate kiss on your lips. His pink lips work quick against your own, whilst his bread tickles the soft skin of your neck and collarbones.

"Marcus, what are you doing? What about the meeting?" You ask through multiple pants.

"Enjoying my gift from the Gods. Not even the Senators can take you away from me." Marcus teases, descending down your body.

Lowering himself to his knees, Marcus moves your chiton away from your waist, exposing yourself to him.

Giving you a series of kisses around the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, earning him miniscule sighs from your mouth. Connecting his lips to your core, you hastily grip your husband's head, accidentally covering his ears.

Tuning out reality, Marcus flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit, eager to continue. Placing your leg over his shoulder, Marcus pushes himself past your entrance, and a sensual moan escapes your lips.

Going further, Marcus grips your hips to keep you in place, expertly finding your soft spot, enjoying you untangle before him. Biting your lip to silence your ecstasy, you run your fingers through Marcus' hair just as his beard scratches your inner thighs, making you reach your end faster.

A flurry of butterflies fills your core just as Marcus carefully pushes you against the wall one last time. Fully letting go, Marcus savors your taste on his tongue, and stands before you. Fixing the straps around your shoulders, the sound of soldier's footsteps echo through the halls.

Covering you with his frame, Marcus places a kiss to your lips before sharing a much needed laugh with you.

[fipindustries]

"these are the rules" said the man with the imposing beard and the irises that shone a deep yellow light "i can't give you supernatural powers of your own"

"i see" said the man, holding an old, rusty oil lamp with almost entirely faded inscriptions in Nabataean "makes sense, so I can't ask to be a genie my self"

"right, or any other kind of power, flight, invisibility, teleportation, I can give you skills and talents, as long as they are humanly possible or I can give you supernatural properties that would be under my control and discretion, but wouldn't be yours to keep"

"That is ok, what else?" said the man sitting down on a rock in the cave he had fallen on. The sun was falling down the extensive hole in which he found himself, night was still far away, they had all the time in the world.

"Rule number two, I cannot grant meta-wishes, that is to say any wish that would, in effect, end up granting you more than the original three wishes, so no wishing for more wishes, no wishing for extra lamps or extra genies, not traveling to the past, no wishing to-"

"Wait, traveling to the past?"

"I will not grant wishes to those I already granted a wish for, in the past previous masters have thought to travel to the past to encounter a previous version of me that hadn't granted them wishes yet"

"Oh! I see, so they asked for that and then what?"

"And then they regretted asking," said the bearded man, with a dry tone. He hadn't sat down and so the man holding the lamp noticed that he towered over him. Fair enough, he wasn’t going to push the subject any further.

“Understood, rule three?”

“Rule three, I cannot grant a wish which requires me to fill up details or information on my own”

“Wait, hold on, that is more… academic than the others, what do you mean?”

“I mean that if you wish for something and you are not precise enough then I cannot fulfill the wish and you need to reformulate it”

“But I don't lose the wish, right?”

“No, since no wish was granted you can try again”

“I see… I'm still not entirely sure what you mean”

“Well, let’s think of the classic example” said the tall man stroking his beard, as he crossed his legs in the air, leaving him levitating a meter off the ground “the most common thing people have wished for: ‘i wish to be rich’, what does that mean exactly? Do you want me to deposit a great amount of some random currency into some random bank account in your name? Do you want to have a large pile of gold in your house? Do you want to own the deed to some oil fields? Or awake in the body of some specific rich man? Do you want to be Jeff Bezos?”

“No, thanks”

“Right, so you need to specify, I can’t come up with details on my own, I used to do that and it tended to leave masters… unsatisfied, to say the least”

“So you used to give monkey paw wishes?”

“Please do not compare me to that bauble, I used to grant wishes wherein the ambiguity in terms opened the opportunity for ironic and tragic outcomes”

“I apologize… and uh…” again, he didn’t want to push it further given that he had offended such a powerful being, but he needed to know what he was working with “did you do it… intentionally?”

“Yes! I did!” said the floating man cheerfully.

“Right… and uh, why did you stop?”

“Because someone wished for that to be case, my last master in fact, that was his third wish before dying”

“I thought you said I couldn't ask for meta wishes”

“...as long as they end up granting you more wishes, this did not meet that criteria so I was able to fulfill it”

“Ok, I'm sorry, you said dying? Your last master made his final wish and then he died?”

“Yes, the cannibal cult was eating his liver as he made that last wish”

The man holding the lamp stood up.

“Cannibal cult?”

“A result of his poorly worded second wish”

The poor human started walking around the sand covered hole, deep in thought.

“But now you don't do that anymore? Now you don't twist wishes into bad outcomes?”

“No, unless the specifics of the wish demand it or allow it”

“Why do that? Why twist wishes like that? Do you hate people?”

“In the past I used to hold a great deal of animosity towards the mortal race, yes, one grows resentful after spending thousands of years trapped in a lamp, but as of lately I have been able to come out much more frequently, and my recent masters have been very reasonable people, those who enslaved me have been erased from history millennia ago”

“Then why?”

“Because the nature of the universe requires balance, my power twists and turns and disfigures casualty and the laws of reality such that a deep wrong has been tallied, cosmically speaking, so that has to be counterbalanced”

“But now you’re saying that it doesn't? As long as my wish is air tight enough?”

“There is righteousness and wisdom in knowing precisely what you want and how to ask for it… but also I have not granted a wish under these restrictions yet so I'm not actually sure what will happen once I do” the bearded man shrugged and stopped levitating, putting his feet on the sand once again “now you know the rules”

“Ok, can I ask further clarifying questions?”

“Sure, I don't mind the conversation” he looked up at the sun, bathing them from the entrance to the cave five meters above them, the shine of his eyes did not seem to be occluded or diminished by the sunbeams.

“If I were to ask for a bar of gold, just a simple bar of gold”

“I would need to know how big, what shape you want it to have, where specifically you want the bar to show up and what is its procedence, if  you want I could take one bar of gold from some bank specified by you and make it appear here”

The man holding the lamp thought about it for a second. 

“If I made a wish for a cube of gold, weighing ten kilos and of the appropriate volume given gold’s density, to replace the corresponding volume of air that is a meter away from my nose in that specific direction and a meter off the ground, the gold cube previously nonexistent appearing ex nihilo, would that be specific enough?”

“Yes, it would, is that what you are wishing for?”

“No, but that is good to know”

The man sat down again.

“I guess the trick now is to think of a wish that can extract the biggest amount of juice I can in terms that I can specify”

The bearded man leaned against a wall, crossing his arms.

“Ok so there is a problem with wishing for a ton of gold, I’m sure eventually someone, either the IRS of the FBI or someone will come wondering where I got all of it, and I can’t just say that a genie gave it to me”

“You wouldn't be able to, you will forget I existed after your third wish is granted”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes of course, another anti abuse measure, so that you can't just pass on my lamp to a friend to continue asking for wishes”

“Huh…”

“Didn’t you wonder why this was the first time you heard of the existence of genies in the real world? I go around granting lots of wishes boy, yet you never heard of me”

“I was wondering about that actually, I'm also wondering, since you are real, what other magical entities are real”

“Very few, they don't exist anymore, they were wished away in their time”

“What! That is… huh… that’s tragic I guess”

“It was one of the earliest workarounds to the karmic comeuppance of twisting reality through wishes, clever masters realized they could offset the amount of wrongness in the rules of the world that their wishes caused by erasing other sources of supernatural alteration instead”

“Uh, how many of your rules are a product of previous wishes?”

“All of them” said the bearded man with a full on toothy grin “I used to be far more free in the past, the world used to be far more chaotic and mercurial, there is a reason I am in that lamp, there is a reason I can only grant three wishes and there is a reason why I can’t grant meta wishes, each of those rules is written in things deeper and vaster than blood, the earth didn't use to be the only populated planet in the universe, dark matter didn't use to be dark”

A full shiver ran through the body of the man holding the lamp, he was sweating even though he was under the shade of the walls of the cave.

He tried to say something but his throat was swollen and dry.

He swallowed multiple times, he could almost feel a burning sensation in his hands where they were touching the rusty lamp.

“Well… um, that is… terrifying”

The bearded man shrugged again.

“Just so you know, not all my masters have met terrible fates, some simply wished for someone to fall in love with them and this interference in reality was minor enough that at worst they got an unexpected pregnancy, others merely wished for a happy life and were granted one that was marginally happier than the one they already had which again was so little a cost for the universe that the price was barely noticeable, sometimes trying to be too clever is the thing that dooms you”

“Right, ok, that is actually helpful to know” said the human a bit more relaxed. “Ok, thinking it through, whichever way you slice it wishing for money seems the safest bet in the sense that I can turn money in any other material good I could wish for, I just have to think of a simple way to get lots of… oh, I got it, what if I asked for a piece of A4 white paper to appear a meter in front of my face with the results for the next lottery winning numbers written on them?”

“Which lottery?”

“The biggest one that runs on the country where I reside, I want the numbers that will be picked at the earliest lottery yet to happen, which is in like a week or so”

The bearded man thought about it for a second.

“Yes, that is a valid wish”

“Good! Well! That is progress! Let me think a little more, just to make sure I'm not missing anything…”

“Take your time”

“Mhmmm, I guess I can have one selfish wish for me, to improve my material conditions, another selfish wish for me, something intangible or abstract that I couldn't have, no matter how much money I posses and… well, I guess it would be nice to dedicate one wish to help the world”

“How magnanimous”

“Uh, ok, here is another question” the human started to blush a little “could I wish to become a woman?”

“Which woman?”

“Right, right, I don't want to be Anne Hathaway or whatever, or I don't want to have a body that looks exactly like the one Anne Hathaway has”

“If you were to ask for her body then you would just become her, with her thoughts, her emotions and her memories”

“And let me guess, if I were to ask for my brain in her body I would die instantly because the size of my head is different from hers or something”

“More or less”

“And the same would go for any body that is significantly different from mine… could I wish to have the body I would have if it was subject to the changes that years of the best HRT and surgeries in the world could provide such that it was as close to cis passing as it was humanly possible?”

“There is a lot of latitude in ‘the best in the world’ I would require specific treatments with specific doses and specific surgeries provided by specific surgeons, also you didn't really specify the gender you mean to pass as”

“Fuck me dude-that wasn't a wish!” 

“I know, you didn't specify how would you want me to fuck you” said the man with the shining eyes, chuckling.

“Have people asked for that?”

“Yes, of course”

“And… uh, don't answer if this is too intrusive but did you…?”

“Yes”

No need to ask further questions.

“Anyway, going back to the sex change… mhmm, could I wish to have the body I would have had in a world where I was born with total androgen insensitivity syndrome, except for the brain and all the relevant connections to my spine?”

“Would that include all the scars that such a world would have left in that body?”

“Scars? What do you mean…? You know what, I do not want to know, let’s change tactics… I wish to have a body with C cup breasts, a 60 inch waist, a skin as soft as the skin of-” the man cut off himself when he saw the bearded man shaking his head.

“You are stacking wishes, either ask one change per wish or find the way to encapsulate all those specific changes under one concise wish”

The human kicked sand in frustration, away from the bearded man, just in case. In doing so he stubbed his toe on a rock and had to jump on one foot for a minute, cursing profusely.

“What if I just asked for a body that I was happy with?” he said eventually, with tears in his eyes.

“I cannot decide that for you, again, you must fill in the blanks, I cannot add or invent any information regarding your wish on my own”

“I know, I know, sigh, and if I were to ask for you to simply get rid of the cause for gender dysphoria in my brain?”

“There are multiple causes, genetics, certain brain structures, society, the shape of your body, which one do you mean?”

“Forget it, once I'm rich I'll deal with that on my own… I guess I'll use my second wish to become even richer. It is good and all if I get millions with the lottery, but if I knew what to do with it then I could increase the potential of those millions exponentially, so if I wished to have the same talent for investing as, say,  Warren Buffet… no, if I wish to have the same knowledge as those that Warren Buffett holds in his brain in regards to finance without any of his personal memories subconsciously stored in my brain… such that I could access them and use them instinctively… is that a valid wish…?”

The man with the shining eyes thought once more.

“Yes, it is acceptable”

“Is there anyway that wish could fuck me over?”

“That is for you to decide”

“You know what, fuck it”

He was really frustrated by now. He knew that he was being lazy, he knew that he should be sitting down with the internet, do a lot of research and sit for a good week crafting the cleverest, most high yielding wish possible but he just couldn't be bothered, he wanted to get rid of the genie as sooner than later, he was giving him the heebie jeevies, and he wanted to start enjoying his wishes.

“Ok, now I have to think of the final wish… something good for the rest of the world…”

“Oh,  can’t wait to hear this, those are always the best wishes” said the man, who was now floating again, as he rubbed his hands together.

That was incredibly creepy but the man holding the lamp chose to ignore it.

“If I were to wish to return the levels of carbon in the atmosphere back to what they were in the 1700's…”

“Ah yes, I got this one multiple times, it would go back to current levels in ten years”

“Wait, really? Jesus fucking christ, ok, ummm if I were to say the words ‘AI alignment’...”

“I would ask what does that mean”

“Right, I cannot ask for an aligned AI if I have no idea what that looks like and you can't create one if one does not exist, much like I cannot ask for a cure for cancer if I don't know the composition of… oh! Could I ask for all malignant cancerous cells in the world to disappear?”

“Sure, but cancer would eventually return”

“Yeah yeah, but still, that would make so many people all across the world happy in such a way that the sheer amount of utils might just be worth it…mhmmm, could do the same with malaria, the coronavirus, dengue fever, I could probably just say ‘all viruses’ but, mhmm, god knows what would that mean for the animal population, or the bacterial population or whatever other strange cascading effects in the ecosystem or the global immunological system or whatever…” his brain was getting tired, he could tell.

“Ok, how about increasing the IQ of every single human by…” he didn't want to say a number so big that society suffered a shock out of the sheer revolutionary change it would mean “...20 points”

“Ah! I like the way you think, that was essentially very similar to the very first wish I was ever asked by my creators back in Shambhala, took you a while to get there”

“Um.. what happened when you granted that wish?”

“Do you see any Shambhalas anywhere?”

“No, hold on, I want specifics, I need to know precisely how that wish failed”

“Remember boy that this conversation is a courtesy, I am under no rule or obligation to tell you about previous wishes, and frankly I'm starting to get tired, ask for your wishes already”

The man grabbed on to the lamp tighter but said nothing.

“So first wish, the lottery numbers, yadda yadda”

A white piece of paper with some numbers written on them appeared in front of him, it started to fall slowly towards the sand but the man grabbed it. He stared at the numbers and then he took a pencil from his pocket. He was aware he was going to forget the bearded man once the wishes were done. He wrote ‘these are the lottery numbers’ on the paper and he pocketed it.

“Second wish, investment knowledge equal to that of Warren Buffet, as I explained previously”

Nothing changed, not even in his mind, since he specified for the knowledge to be subconscious and instinctual. He thought for a second where he should invest his lottery winnings first. A list of twenty different companies jumped to the tip of his tongue. All good on that front.

“And your final wish?”

The man holding the lamp thought an extra second about his morals, about practicality, about the amount of utils that simple things could accumulate in the long run.

His foot was still hurting.

“I wish…” fuck it, the genie had said not to over complicate it “for every human that exists or will ever exist to miss stubbing their toe by a milimiter for the rest of their life”

“You got it boy”

The bearded man went back to the lamp-

A man was standing at the bottom of a hole in the desert. He shook his head slightly disoriented for a second. He looked around, there was nothing interesting in that cave. He walked towards the nearest wall and he started to climb out of the hole.

[red-dead-sakharine]

Serendipitous ways - Part ?

Celebrimbor x m!reader, 784 words m/m, fluff, first kiss

Part 1 | Part 2

(I don't know if my ADHD will ever let me get to this scene, so I decided to just write it down out of order. At this point in the story, reader and Celebrimbor know each other well, and work together, and are heavily pining for each other, but of course neither has confessed yet...)

It was late and the sun had already set, as Celebrimbor walked past the workshop and heard the rhythmic strokes of a hammer. Someone was working late.

Curiosity commanded him to take a look, for a little voice at the back of his head was hoping quietly that it was (Y/N).

When he cautiously peeked into the room, his hopes were answered. There he was, hammering away on his project, wearing his smithing apron... but no shirt.

Celebrimbor involuntarily bit his lower lip. The sight of the human's back did something to him. He watched for far longer than he thought appropriate, but he couldn't tear himself away. The way the man's muscles moved with every hammer swing, the sheen of sweat making him practically reflect the light of the forge - it was almost hypnotic.

As if guided by an invisible hand, Celebrimbor slowly came closer, still admiring the human's back. He wasn't trying to be sneaky, but (Y/N) was so engrossed with his work, that he didn't hear the light footed elf approach.

Again, Celebrimbor thought of all the things his heart wanted to tell the man. All the things he had not dared to say yet. He came to a halt slightly behind (Y/N), who still hadn't noticed him. He didn't mean to alarm him, but he struggled to find his voice. His eyes were still glued to the bare skin and the toned muscles rippling underneath.

Eventually he just reached out to touch him, laying a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder.

The human jumped a little, and his head snapped around to see who was with him, but he immediately relaxed again when he saw Celebrimbor, "Oh it's you."

Celebrimbor smiled at him, some unknown curse binding his tongue. His eyes wandered back to (Y/N)'s back - and so did his hand. Fingers gliding slowly across the bare skin, tracing the outlines of muscles.

He wanted to say what he felt. Wanted to put everything into words, but words failed him. He was scared (Y/N) might shy away any moment, might think him inappropriate, ...might tell him that he does not feel the same.

He inhaled to say something, but no words came out. He wanted to explain how drawn he had felt towards (Y/N) from the moment he first saw him. How he enjoys his humor and creativity. The pleasant conversations.

The sound of (Y/N)'s laugh...

But he couldn't say a word.

(Y/N) did not shy away however. He just stood there, looking confused and uncertain for a moment, before he eventually said a little awkwardly, "I... I'm sweaty."

Celebrimbor let out an amused huff, "I don't care."

His eyes found (Y/N)'s again, hand still gliding across the man's back. And finally, some sort of communication happened. Not with words, but through their gaze. Finally the dots connected - for both of them, and clarity found them.

(Y/N) put down his hammer and iron, his gaze never leaving Celebrimbor's as he wiped his hands on his apron and turned slightly.

His eyes flitted down to the elf lord's lips and back up. Celebrimbor approved, but this was all new to him. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just moved ever so slightly towards (Y/N).

The human thankfully seemed keen enough to notice and slowly, ever so slowly closed the gap, giving Celebrimbor ample time to retreat if he wanted to.

But he didn't want to. And finally, after all this time, their lips met.

(Y/N)'s beard felt surprisingly soft - one question that had burned in Celebrimbor's mind for weeks now, finally answered.

The kiss was long but calm - neither was up for wild throws of passion, instead acting slow and gentle. Just how Celebrimbor liked it. His heart burst with joy as he realized this. It had been his anxious nightmare scenario - that (Y/N) would reciprocate his feelings but be so wild, that it would not be comfortable for the elf lord. He had worried that human passion would be too much for an old elf like him. But (Y/N) was soft and gentle. And Celebrimbor knew right then, that this man would never hurt him, or make him uncomfortable.

He couldn't help but sigh with elated relief into the kiss, as his worries flew away.

His hand still rested on the man's back, and soon he felt a cautious hand come to rest on his own waist. He liked that.

He liked all of this.

When their lips finally parted, they just looked at each other for a long while, saying with their eyes what their voices somehow could not.

Celebrimbor smiled, a small happy huff escaping him. And (Y/N) smiled back.

[shiyorin]

Animal instincts

#Just romcom in 40K

#Today's menu: Leman Russ and Lion El'Jonson

#Primarchs x Reader, Reader is Imperial Agent

#Late Christmas gift and early New Year gift

Leman Russ

The endless snows of Fenris stretched as far as the eye could see, blanketing mountains and wilds alike under pristine powder. You found yourself overwhelmed at the awe-inspiring landscape, so different from your world upbringing. 

But greatest curiosity lay with one who called these frigid wastes home - Leman Russ, Primarch of the Space Wolves. You observed him now, surrounded by his warriors yet apart, a lone towering figure contemplating the white void. 

His austere features seemed carved from the very stone and ice encasing this planet, immovable yet holding untold depth and power beneath granite exterior. Thick fur-lined armor and coarse pelt draped his massive frame, like the predators ruling these inhospitable wastes.

But as Russ turned toward some comment, face transforming with gruff laughter at his pack's roughhousing, you saw not an impervious demigod but something familiar. Great shoulders shook in mirth like immense boulders slipping loose, blue eyes alive with warmth despite frigid surroundings. An involuntary thought slipped through, that in this moment, he resembled not conqueror but some canines, mighty and playful. 

Shaking off fanciful musings, you continued observant tasks, keeping distance respectful between yourself and the lords of this domain. But later as briefings commenced, Russ stopped his gigantic form before you, breath curling like frost wolves from a mouth curled in question. 

You blinked up into eyes keen yet gentle, all rational thought scattering like snow on gale winds. Impulse surged before discipline could rein it, and you found hands rising of their own accord to Russ' massive brow, carding gloved fingers through coarse hair as one might a trusted hound. 

Silence descended, thick as the powdery drifts. Russ' features slackened in blank shock, pale eyes blinking owlishly. "Lass..." he rumbled, uncomprehending. 

You started as if slapped, jerking hands back so swiftly your wrist protested. "My lord, I..." Words fled, face aflame to your hairline. What folly had possessed you so?!

Yet to your surprise, Russ laughed, a booming, resonant sound like glaciers calving. "By Fenris's ball, lass, yer got the spirit!" 

His tone held no anger, merely bemusement. But when you swallowed apologies, you glimpsed what may have been wistfulness flickering through feral eyes, gone as swift as the thought that spawned it. Had his invisible tail genuinely twitched to wag? Definitely you are crazy or something.

"Aye, lass. Well, if the fur satisfies yer hands, s'pose I'll oblige." 

To your shock, he leaned nearer once more, an unmistakable invitation dancing in blue eyes. Hypnotized, you carded soft locks obediently, finding they are softer than you think. Russ sighed, almost seeming to lean into your touch. An absurd image flickered of an immense wolf nuzzling against your hand, tail wagging invisible yet content. Smiling softly, you traced strong jaw and was rewarded with a look of such warmth and longing, all of your rational thought dissolved. 

Lion El'Jonson

Your survey of the growing threat in Caliban's wilds brought you regularly to the Lion's tower, poring over maps and missives seeking the root of corruption's spread. This eve found you and him yet at work as dusk deepened, twin flames bending over parchment and discourse. 

A lull arose as analysis hit dead ends once more, frustration mounting. You sighed and stretched tired limbs, risking a sidelong glance at your lord. The Lion remained absorbed, strong brows furrowed, stroking his trim beard absently as strategic mind raced. 

A strange thought struck then, in this dim shuttered space, with dusk masking Caliban's savage beauty, did he not seem every inch a great cat himself? Powerful yet graceful, thinking moves ahead with predatory cunning, alone yet bound to wilder instincts doubtless few witnessed.   

Before rational thought could intervene, curiosity overruled. Stepping softly, your hands found scratching points along Lion's bearded jaw and throat. Beneath your ministries his eyes slid shut, muscles unwinding with a contented sigh. Success! Like any feline such attentions soothed.

Encouraged, your nails lightly raked his scalp, eliciting a startling response, a primal rumbling purr trembled his massive frame. His relaxation vanished in an instant, eyes flying open to stare at your in wild-eyed alarm. 

You stumbled back several paces, own eyes round as moons. Had Lion just...purred? Like some overgrown house tabby? Your mind reeled, seeking logical explanations amongst unfathomable strangeness unfolding. 

Lion's pupils elongated before your gaze, resembling nought cat-like slits in green eyes gone feral-bright. His confusion melted into predatory stillness, fixing you with an eerie stare that raised all hairs standing on end. What strangeness possessed them?

For long moments you and him remained suspended, breathing halted, shock and unnamed sparks passing between hands dropped limp to sides once more. Then all broke at once, your stammered excuses and the Lion retreating to the shadows of his tower, retreating from… what?

That night, your sleep proved fitful, your mind restless with possibilities. Had you gone too far when crossed a line with Lion that afternoon, awakening forces better left slumbering? 

Morning comes, dread coiled cold and heavy in your gut. Open the tower's door with trepidation, you froze at the grisly sight awaiting just beyond threshold. A massive deer carcass lay splayed, crimson pool already attracting swarms of flies. 

Your breath caught in horror, had Lion's frustrations boiled over in vengeance? Was this brutal warning of what further torments awaited should your act overstep once more? Shaking, you backed hurriedly inside, thoughts whirling. 

Meanwhile across Caliban's wilderness, Lion admired graceful flickers weaving between ancient trees, oblivious to turmoil sown. Inhaling your lingering scent lost to the mists. Pride swelled that his token gained your notice, for what better way to proclaim your worth and pique your interest further? 

He would await your next visit, gifting further demonstrations of prowess to stoke your regard. In time, you would see none matched his prowess for providing and protecting what he deemed most worthy.

Extra:

Russ: Pat me, pat me, woof woof!

Lion: If I give a bigger prey, will the agent love me more?

[moescaria]

Hi! I started following you after developing an obsession over our favorite weirdo, Shiryu. So if you dont mind me asking, do you have any personal headcanons for him?

Ohhh, wow... I'm so flattered that you think I'm qualified to give headcanons, but I'll throw some your way! - For real-world nationalities, I think he would be Japanese and Eastern European/Russian, since he's referred to as Shiryu (Japanese) and Shiliew (couldn't really find much on this name aside from stuff with the suffix -ew, which allegedly has roots in East European countries and Russia... I know Shiliew is the stupid version of Shiryu but let me live. I definitely don't think he's 100% Japanese and couldn't decide). In terms of the OP world I think he's from Wano (like everyone else's headcanon probably). - BLONDE HAIR UNDERNEATH THE HAT! Also shaves pretty much every day and never has stubble. I think he is pretty on top of his hygiene in terms of shaving/body hair... I've never seen someone in the military with a beard so I'm pretty sure he needed to be cleanly shaven (notice how hes cleanly shaven in jail too! Force of habit after he was imprisoned). - I think he likes to sit on his big couch with a glass of whiskey and listening to rock on a record player... white dad style! - Obviously has that lingering smell of tobacco... to a degree you wouldn't even imagine. As soon as he walks in the room it hits you like a ton of bricks. I have a headcanon (with a few others) that he isn't even fully undetectable when he's invisible, since he reeks of tobacco. To a lesser degree ... he smells like leather and always kinda smells a little like sweat (HELP). I don't think he'd use a very strong cologne and if he does its sooo overpowered by the Pungent tobacco... yuck! - (sorry for this one) Has a bit of pudge on him... I mean look at the shape of the guy! He was sitting on his ass on level six for a while without training (and slides my own lore into this headcanon... my oc Freya is a cook at Impel Down and brings him big rare steaks at least once every day while they're both there... feeding him well). Has a big ol' tummy. Love! - Probably really tense from wearing that heavy ass jacket for like... twenty years and is sooo grumpy about it. You already know he just slumps down on the couch after taking off his coat and kicks his legs up with a big harumph. This being said, I like to think he wears nothing but a white beater and those green-ish pants underneath that uniform of his!

^^ Following up with the uniform thing... he definitely doesn't train with that heavy ass jacket and gloves on so his hands are pretty rough and calloused. After the time skip when he starts training extensively again he loses a little weight (boohoo). Can't decide if he takes off the hat when he trains but I don't think he's Shiryu without the hat. Can you picture him training, all out of breath and he reaches for a cigar... dude you're a loser actually - Another shared headcanon with a few of my friends, and one of my favorites... I think he talks to Raiu, to keep it brief. Sees it—or her, in his words—as his companion. The thrill of the chase is a feeling that will never get old... he expresses his gratitude for his beloved katana in its strict up-keeping (which we saw in that little scene with Shiryu and Laffitte)! He loves his sword more than the air he breathes... probably the most (and only) honorable trait the man has as a swordsman. It's something that grants him so much power... Raiu's seen it all! - Again, another shared friend headcanon (shout out... heeyyy... kicks my legs cutely), Laffitte and Shiryu have a rather interesting relationship as Teach's right-hand men. Surely, there's reasons why Teach has Laffitte as his Chief of Staff, and Shiryu's allegedly the strongest (aside from Kuzan probably)... after that scene in Zou, tell me there isn't some sexual tension. What were they doing, what did Burgess interrupt..? Can't get too far into this without having a stroke, but they have the dynamic of an old money couple. Each has the other wrapped around their finger... it just works. ANYWAYS. Hope these will suffice... dms are always open for discussion since I'm really not trying to write about Shiryu dick and balls on the tl LMFAO... happy to see he has fans, though! :-)

[bigboysfalldeep]

posession - seeds

Ayal wakes up, his head hurting badly. He just had the weirdest dream. Halfway through his daily workout, he could feel a presence near him, but no one was in sight. He's living alone anyway, so who should it be? Still, an uneasy feeling spread through his body, and minutes went by without it getting better. Suddenly, a faint, bitter, and chemical scent invaded his nostrils, as if something were right on his face. Ayal felt a light pressure on his chin, his lips, and his nose, with that smell getting worse and worse.

He tried to wipe it away, but something was stopping him. His mind was getting intoxicated, and he felt his body weakening. Dizzy, his thoughts swirling, he steadied himself barely. Just then, he felt something holding him, like a hug from behind. Ayal felt secure; somehow, this made sense. He gave in and felt something holding his head gently, caressing his cheek and his lips.

With that smell still in his nose and his mind, he tried to keep his eyes open, but he couldn't. That touch intensified slowly but steadily, with invisible hands running all over his chest, his nipples, abs, navel, and back up again to his neck, arms, and pits. It was a mesmerizing touch, gentle yet possessive. Ayal felt his whole body reacting to it too. His muscles tensed harshly, and a soft moan escaped his lips.

However, it changed once he felt a firm grip on his hardening cock. Ayal took a deep breath, unsure how to feel, but something didn't care. That touch just intensified, playing with his cock through his tight pants. "Noo." He breathed deeply, but barely a hush left his mouth. But it got even worse when he felt something press against his ass. Shaking his head slowly, getting even dizzier, he protested, but it was no use. In a terrifyingly strong thrust, he felt his hole getting penetrated. Ayal moaned loudly, with his body getting stiffer and more rigid in an instant.

Unable to speak, to fight, or to escape, he felt someone or something sliding in and out of him, becoming more and more aggressive. While waves of pain and pleasure spread through every fiber of his body, he moaned and groaned. With one massive thrust, leading him to moan breathlessly, he woke up.

Getting up from the sofa, he walks into the bathroom. Weirdly enough, his whole body feels sore, including his ass. Chuckling to himself, he approaches the mirror.

"That wasn't a dream, boy."

Shocked, he takes a look in the mirror, trying to see who's with him. But the only one inside this room is him. "Whhoo, who are you?" He says this, and in terror, he watches his reflection smirk back at him. "It's not your concern anymore." The voice says, using his own voice, just slightly deeper.

Ayal tries to move away, turn around, and run away. This must be a nightmare. What is happening to him? But his body just stands there, smirking. "Don't fight it, boy. Youre mine now." The voice says firmly as he begins to run a hand through Ayals hair, caressing his own face gently. "Yours? What do you mean?" Ayal says, just inside his own mind. This is insanity, he thinks, talking to himself in the mirror.

His reflection strokes his own neck, tracing his jawline through the beard with the tips of his fingers. "Answer me!" Ayal demands to know, but the stranger inside his body just rolls his eyes before taking a step back.

"I was in need of a body, and you're a perfect fit right now." The man smiles, taking a long look at Ayal's well-formed body. "No! I won't allow it!"

Ayal protests, but he gets ignored as the voice starts to stroke his chest again and again, even playing with his hard nipples for a while. "It's not your choice after all. Its mine." The man starts to flex.

"It is my choice! My body." Ayal tries his best to somehow regain control, but he is unable to do anything besides watch as the man uses his body, feeling his own bulging biceps. "Boy. Better than expected." The voice says she is smiling again.

"I can get some use out of those arms." He keeps on touching his new body, enjoying how the muscles tense at the slightest touch and how the body reacts by sending shivers down his spine.

"Are you even listening?" Ayal screams loudly, but the man just rolls his eyes again. "You're fucking annoying." He says this, shifting his body to one side.

The voice enjoys the look of Ayal's body. His eyes wander all over himself in the mirror, and he gets turned on, much to Ayals shock. He begins to touch himself again, this time running a finger through the abs, tracing the visible outlines to the navel, before following the treasure trail. "What are you doing?" Ayal still fights, while the man's smirk gets bigger.

Again, however, he ignores him, simply carrying on with the gentle strokes. "You should be happy, boy." The man pats his firm pecs firmly. "You will be brought to good use." Ayals body is now tensed completely. But it's not due to his desperate attempts for control, but because that man's voice demands it.

"Good...use?" He says it cowardly, watching his reflection fondle his body. "You see, boy." His voice, even deeper, echoes through the tiny room as he turns to the other side.

"I need someone to plant my seeds." He says, one hand running down his chest, around his waist to his ass. Starting to feel his ass widening, he remembers the dream he had. "I was in need of a host, and I was barely able to come here without a form."

The man moans, thinking about the act of planting his seed into Ayals hole. "Seed?" Ayal protests, scared but unable to fight. "Yes, boy." The voice says, looking into the mirror once more, before sliding his other hand into his pants.

"You're the perfect host for me, boy." Nearly unrecognizable, Ayal watches his own mouth move, but it's not his voice anymore. Now, it's much deeper, tenderer, and mesmerizing, and even he feels drawn closer.

"I will be seeding this entire town, with this body." He says, grabbing his now-throbbing cock firmly and, yanking it from side to side to draw his precious seeds. He bites his lower lip in anticipation, before letting out a long, guttural groan.

"Youre insane! Get out of my body!" Ayal protests again, but the man just chuckles. "I'm going to have fun with you, boy." The man says this, jerking off a few more times before removing his sticky hand. "You're mine now."

[autism-alley]

now that the show is over, i’m slowly revisiting things that are less fundamentally dysfunctional and more symptoms of the overall problems. one of those is hephaestus. the way his disability is so… reduced is. almost incredible. like, they started off on the right foot casting a disabled man, i appreciate that, but the way they utilize hephaestus’ disability, or rather don’t, leaves a lot of room to be desired.

first off, allow me to be annoying by saying he is not there in the book—but i don’t think the decision to add him is inherently a poor choice. it could work.

in the lightning thief, the way the kids get out of his trap is through annabeth’s intelligence in an action-packed scene. in the show, i was alright with the fact they changed the trap—foolishly assuming they were going to actually make something different of equal craftsmanship—but the end result is one of many instances of sacrifice way too early in the series, and an utterly underwhelming solution to that sacrifice—annabeth literally just asks hephaestus to free percy and. he does? i thought she was going to figure out how to reverse the throne’s trap; while she’s not a child of hephaestus, you’d think a child of athena with a passion for architecture would have some understanding of mechanics. it would have been different from the book, maybe not the best approach, but still emotionally satisfying. but alright, we’re… making an emotional appeal to hephaestus. putting aside my feelings about her rant of what exactly it is that makes percy different and worth freeing, why is the show’s hephaestus… so generally underwhelming?

my man was tossed from the fucking heavens by a parent—in pjo it’s hera—they could have visually used that to show hephaestus, like annabeth, does not want to repeat his mother’s cold and selfish ways. but he’s just. alright, first just look at these two guys.

before we get to the meat and potatoes, tell me which of these two guys look like they’ve spent a millennia in a workshop? the guy covered in grease and sweat, dressed in a stain-littered apron, tool belt at his side, muscle built for lifting heavy parts and swinging a hammer century after century? or the man with a neatly brushed, trimmed, washed beard and head of hair, clean hands, remarkably unstained sweater and flannel, crisp, new overalls, and academic-looking glasses? which looks to you like the embodiment of blacksmiths and the flame of the forge? yeah. but that can all be lumped in with my other wardrobe complains of the show, now we get to the section of this post where i would like to tread lightly.

i want to start by saying not all disability is visual, or even overtly visual, but hephaestus’ is and that visual is important to his character and the story. as a disabled person, i love that they cast a disabled actor, but based on how it was handled in the show, i had no idea this man was disabled. i thought he was an able bodied actor, and i am so sorry i came to that conclusion, but i really see no other one i could have come to based purely on what was in the show itself. i had to google who timothy omundson is to know he’s disabled and with what disability (he suffered a stroke that left him paralyzed on his left side in 2017 and has been in recovery ever since—godspeed my man, i hope it helps where it can). i am so glad it was a disabled actor and not an able bodied one, but he’s still not hephaestus. while obviously no mortal has fallen from the heavens, i think they could have made it work, but a man who’s had a stroke and a man who’s had his body crushed are not the same. i am not here to belittle this man’s experiences or say one is more severe, i am saying they are different, and not interchangeable.

regardless, a disability that is visual is no less than one that is invisible and timothy omundson’s paralysis is visual, but it was hidden. it was NOT clear to the audience timothy omundson is paralyzed, or that he is disabled at all. the gods can appear however they choose, but it’s a point that hephaestus generally does not, or his disability is implied to be such a hindrance on him, no matter how he chooses to appear, he cannot escape his disability, how glaringly visible it is. his body itself is a story of how the gods betray each other, how they literally eat each other alive and are so hypocritical about it. think of how impactful the visual of hephaestus is—has a parent ever rejected your existence so violently, your divine body is broken and disfigured for all eternity? it is a brutal establishment of the godly norm as ruthless, cruel, and petty abuse. and the show, for all its talk of how the gods are awful, just did not highlight his disability and its origins it at all.

again, i think including hephaestus in this scene could have worked, but not how the show went about it. imagine. annabeth, desperately fiddling with the throne’s inner workings, makes her emotional appeal to hephaestus. he’s partly obscured by shadow as he stands, watching from afar on the balcony, but we see a gnarled hand grasp the railing. annabeth, still pulling back the machine’s inner workings, tearfully describes how her mother punished her for embarrassing her. as she does, we receive a few close up shots of hephaestus, still leaving him mostly in the dark, but providing peeks at his disfigurements, and a hesitant but pained look in his eyes tells us he is reliving painful memories—a conflicted bead of sweat runs down the side of his face. it wouldn’t cost any more run time to use these shots while annabeth makes her plea to him, and the disability is in the spotlight, the parallel between athena/hera and annabeth/hephaestus is clear as a younger, more hopeful version of this emotionally broken man begs him to help her be different than both their mothers.

free my friend, she says. and for a moment, he just shakes. he opens his mouth, and annabeth—and the audience—lean forward to hear his reply. but then his face crumples with regret and resentment. he is still apart of the same wheel that crushes everyone in their path—if he, a god, could not escape, why would a demigod? why should a demigod?

no, the god of the hammer tells annabeth, you cannot escape.

annabeth, in her hubris, replies, maybe you can’t—and we cut to her hands, tearing away a gear to reveal a switch—realization flashes across her face, and she grasps the trap’s mechanical release. percy is free, and hephaestus, in his misplaced anger, unleashes more of his creations (mechanical spiders!!) after them, mirroring the book as the kids use quick-thinking to escape waterland.

it’s not perfect, but that would work. instead, they finally show a god rather than just talking about them and it’s so underwhelming. and yes, this hephaestus carries a cane, clearly the potential to show front his disability was there, but you cannot throw me table scraps and tell me my frustration at not receiving the feast i was promised is unfounded. it’s laughable. most of the time it’s on screen it’s not in use and there isn’t even reference in the show as to why he carries a cane. casual viewers unfamiliar with the books or greek mythology might mistakenly assume this is just how this god chose to present himself and he doesn’t need this cane, and not that disability is at the core of who this divine figure is. it is NOT clear to the audience this is a disabled character played by a disabled actor. it is, indefensibly, a watered down depiction. what in the book needed to be ‘fixed’ with hephaestus—? this is a disabled god, you dare not give him to me in all his disabled complexity? you dare not show him as he is?

one of the most insulting things you can do to a disabled person is reduce our disability and the show has done it to the greek god of disability, with such a cheap payoff. if they did not want to be true to hephaestus, to his actor, they should not have shown him at all, and maybe—i don’t know, stuck to the book whose narrative makes sense in this scene?

[thesassypadawan]

Under My Tree *part 1* (Knight Obi-Wan x RealWorldFemReader)

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve. Your knight is nowhere to be found and all you want is a cozy rendezvous under your tree. (Pairs well with *NSYNC’s song Under My Tree)

Warnings: A lot of the fluffy and just a little bit of the dirty talk.

Note: Wizard *part 2*

It was Christmas Eve. Stars twinkled merrily in the night sky, as snow fell softly to the ground. All so magical, all so romantic…but it wasn’t the same without him.

You had held out the hope that your knight would have joined you this evening. However, as the party progressed on, it was clear that he was not.

You understood that there were certain duties he had to attend to and, let’s face it, crossing between your realms wasn’t exactly the easiest of feats. But that didn’t mean you still weren’t heartbroken over his absence…especially at times like this.

None the less, you had a nice time. You laughed with new and old friends. Caught up with relatives that you rarely got to see. Indulged in some delicious treats. You even enjoyed a cup of good cheer or two.

Such a wonderful gathering. You were sad when it finally came to an end, and you had to make the lonely trek back home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dusting the stray flakes off yourself, you pushed open the front door and was met with…

Nothing. No music. No twinkling lights. No happy, warm greeting. Not even a worn cloak or pair of boots in the entryway. Absolutely nothing.

With a heavy sigh, you shrugged off your coat and made your way to the living room. Maybe a cheesy holiday movie would help lift your spirits.

As you reached for the switch, the room magically came to life.

The tree shone brightly. All around you candles flickered. A familiar Christmas tune played. Even a fire crackled in the hearth.

And there…tucked beneath the branches…surrounded by a bunch of fluffy blankets and pillows…wearing a Santa hat…posed rather sexily was… “Hello there.”

“Well, hello there yourself,” you giggled, a surprised look on your face.

Offering you a glass of wine, Obi-Wan asked enticingly. “Care to join me for a cozy rendezvous?”

“Just relax, enjoy the view?” You reply playfully, accepting the drink and cuddling up with him inside the little Xmas nest.

“I’ll show you how good it could be,” Obi hummed, wrapping a strong arm around your waist.

“I wish that Santa could be here… Oh, wait, he already is.” You mischievously gave his beard a tiny tug.

Obi-Wan jokingly made a “oof” sound and pulled you in closer. “Careful now, darling; that’s how you’ll end up with your stocking filled with coal.”

Leaning your head against his shoulder, your grinned up at Obi not so innocently. “Then I’ll be sure to do it a few more times tonight.” And gave another tug.

“Such a naughty little girl,” he teased into your ear, fingers trailing lazily down your arm.

“You’re one to talk, Kenobi Claus,” you purred, shivering at his touch. “I know that’s not a candy cane I’m feeling in your pocket.”

Emphasizing your point with a flick of your hips.

“True,” he groaned, trying to keep his composure. “However, it’s a much better gift than what you think.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“Close your eyes,” Obi-Wan whispered huskily. “And no peeking.”

Doing as he said, you felt an invisible hand snake between your bodies. Tenderly caressing down your back, eliciting a small moan from you, before disappearing into his pocket.

You squirmed in anticipation, from the feathery strokes along your posterior. Your mind was abuzz with excitement for what would come next. Except, nothing could prepare you for…

“Open them.”

…a box hovering in the air. A ring resting inside. “Obi,” you muttered softly.

“Attachment is forbidden for us jedi, it’s said to lead to the dark side. I was once a firm believer in this, until you came along. Although our meeting wasn’t normal or logical by any means, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know nothing about our relationship has been easy, but we’ve made it work so wonderfully. You’re the light of my life, the other half of my heart. Will you marry me?”

Obi-Wan’s words hung heavily in the air.

This man that you cared for dearly. Your precious knight that you loved so deeply. He wanted to…

“Yes,” you said shakily, tears of joy in your eyes. “I will marry you.”

Nuzzling your neck affectionately, he murmured. “Extend your left hand, dear one.”

Doing just that, you watched as Obi used the force to place the silver-colored ring on your finger.

“I realize it’s not the fanciest, but I made it myself,” he explained. "The band is a piece of my padawan braid encased in carbonite and the jewel… Well, it’s a sliver of my lightsaber’s kyber crystal.”

Tilting your hand, you admired how the blue twinkled in the tree’s lights. “It’s perfect,” you said happily. “Just like you.”

Looking back, you twisted yourself around in his hold. With a flash of a tiny grin, you pounced on top of Obi-Wan. Sending you both crashing back into the mound of pillows.

You gave him a passionate kiss, which he returned tenfold. Obi even went as far as to roll and capture you beneath himself. Showering your face and neck with kisses, until you were a laughing mess.

“O-Obi! Stop! I-I can’t breathe!” You squealed, trying to stop the barrage from his lips.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t help it,” he chuckled, pressing his forehead to yours. “You just made me the happiest man in both galaxies.”

Gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. You lace your fingers together. Both whispering, “I love you”. And, in that stolen moment, nothing else mattered. It was a very Merry Christmas…it was truly beautiful under your tree.

[mangoshorthand]

Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch9 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

Five's confidence continues to build...but something's been playing on your mind.

Heed that content warning or Momma Mango will be most seriously displeased

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter 9: Fucking Fudge Nutter

You swim lengths, trying to banish your fears through methodical strokes. The oil painting of Five hung in the living room at the Academy keeps playing on your mind: the arrogant but sweet child who Aoife grows more to resemble with each passing day. His rounded face and large but otherwise too-familiar eyes. 

Meanwhile, he lies on the jet-lounger built into the side of the pool. He sips glass of iced water as he watches you, peacefully, unaware of your preoccupation. Sure, he won’t feel like this all the time but, for now it's almost blissful. He closes his eyes and leans back.

His low-down position makes him invisible to the men in front of him. They stand behind the bar, watching your breast stroke.

“Lei è inglese?”

“Americana, credo.”

Five’s ears prick up. Italian guys? He hadn’t paid them much attention until now. They give off an air of superiority; masters of all they survey. One has the sort of deliberately unkempt hair and beard that Five associates with posers, and the other wears a sun-visor  as if with a heavy dose of irony. They share the same strong accent and he has to strain to make it out. He thinks they’re debating your nationality.

“C'è un uomo qui con lei?” (Is there a man here with her?)- that’s Poser Beard

"Con quel culo enorme? Immagino di no" (With that huge ass? I’d guess not), answers Visor

“Lei è americana” (she is American).

That was unmistakable. Five stands up suddenly as the two men laugh. The splashing draws your attention as well as that of the two men.

“Ehi, stronzi!” (Hey, assholes!)

He steps out of the pool and strides over to them, ready to grab one or both of them and smash their teeth into the bar, but he hesitates when he hears your voice.

“Five?”

He knows how much it took for you to wear that two-piece bathing suit. It’s the first time since you had Aoife. You had been anxious about your changed body and the stretch-marks his baby made. He'd gently persuaded you into it, reassuring you that you looked good, but he knew you were still self conscious.

At all costs, you can’t know what was just said.

He deepens his shallow breathing, concentrating on the tension in his balled fists rather than the anger coursing through him. In a voice of forced brightness that he hopes will convince you, he turns, smiles and calls back to you.

“Just practicing Italian, dear.”

He strolls over to the men, raises two fingers and orders a cognac from the barman. The two men watch him approach in dumb horror, seemingly frozen in place. So far, his smile hasn’t faltered. He keeps his body language carefully casual, slipping into Italian as well as he can, no doubt butchering the language in anger:

“Hello fellas. What a great opportunity to practice my Italian.”

He takes the glass from the barman gratefully, pays with a twenty euro note and indicates for him to keep the change.

“We meant no offence, friend,” says Poser Beard.

“Well, you caused a lot. She’s not here to be looked at. She’s a person, she’s just existing like you and I, not on sale in a store or something”

Visor, apparently having recovered enough to be a bastard, looks mockingly down his nose at Five, while Poser Beard holds up placatory hands,

“We were just making a joke- like I said, no offence meant.”

Five takes a sip of his drink and gestures to the glass in his hand. "Mm. This isn't bad.”

He lets out a deep breath.

“Unfortunately, I don’t find your jokes very funny. In fact, here’s the situation, guys: right now, you’re lucky to still have all your teeth. I don’t want to upset her. It’s our honeymoon, you see.”

His smile becomes too toothy.

Visor speaks to Five for the first time: “So you think you’re a badass?”

Five nods, as if pleased that Visor has caught on so quickly, “That’s one way of describing me. But there are others.”

He holds the second man’s gaze, letting his cold eyes supply the place of language.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen…”

You watch him with suspicion as he talks to the men behind the bar. Their faces don’t look friendly. Eventually, he turns to you, raising his voice and switching back to English. He’s holding a bar menu.

“Hey! These guys want to buy us both a drink! They say money’s no object- what do you want?”

“Oh, there’s no need!” you call back, smiling at the two men near him. They clearly don’t understand what’s passing between you but you want to communicate friendliness.

“They insist,” he grins back, “they’re just impressed an Irish-American can speak Italian!”

“That’s kind…can I just have a small glass of white wine? You pick."

You watch Five as he turns back to the two men. He flicks through the bar menu and gestures firmly to items on the menu. The two men look at each other, both reaching for their wallets.

You swim for a short while longer and he returns with your drink and a bottle of wine in an ice-bucket.

“They bought us a bottle of the best champagne on the menu. Wasn’t that kind? Shall we get dinner, angelo mio?

You catch his eye and look at him doubtfully. You’re not entirely sure you believe his version of events, but he looks so much like himself that you’re happy not to second guess him. As you walk up the pool steps, he puts down the drinks and moves towards you. He lifts you up the final step and kisses you sweetly, placing you down with your back to the bar. You feel his hand move briefly from your back, but you can’t see him giving Poser Beard and Visor the finger. When his hand returns, it's on your ass instead, momentarily cupping one cheek in his hand.

Over dinner, you had drunk the champagne together. You perhaps drinking it faster than you should, trying to chase away memories of his low voice saying those things and the disturbing suppositions they've conjured.

The champagne had been exquisite, but you regret it. It churns in your stomach along with the rich food. Now you lie on his knee. Nominally, he’s reading a book, but it has long since been put down on the arm of the couch. Instead, he contemplates the wall art, seeming a little troubled. You look up at him.

“How are you feeling?” you ask him.

He huffs, folding his arms, “Stop acting like I’m going to explode at any second. I’m coping. I’ve already coped with it.”

He doesn’t mean to sound as harsh as he does, but his tone makes your eyes prick with tears. He notices.

“I’m sorry.” He wipes your eyes, “I know it’s all hard for you to hear.”

“I’m fine. I just…” you push one thumb and forefinger into the bridge of your nose, trying to stop the tears. He can tell now that there's something eating away at you.

“Tell me.” it’s a compassionate command.

“No.”

“I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

His expression is hard, his hair shades one of his eyes as he looks down at you.

“I keep thinking about it.”

“Which part?”

You don’t know if you can say it. If you should. You shake your head.

“Which part?” he repeats, voice authoritative.

“Can I…can I ask you about it?”

He nods, “I don’t promise to answer you, but I won’t lie.”

You take a breath and try to keep your eyes on his.

“I know you had dealings with her when you got back to 2019.”

His nostrils flare.

“Go on.” His voice still has that measured, imperious quality.

“When you messed up the jump and-“

“Ended up as a kid. Yeah.”

He’d known it was coming from the start. He wishes he had an outright negative to give you.

You hope he’ll fill in the gaps and tell you what you want to hear, but he seems to be waiting for you to form the question.

“Did anything happen…then?”

His head tilts.

“You don’t have to tell me.” you grab his hand and squeeze it.

“Truth?” He pours himself another glass of champagne and takes a tiny sip. His lips purse, lover-like, around the glass.

You nod your head, though now not really sure if you want to hear.

“Right from the start, she never made me do stuff to her, she just did stuff to me. It was about power. About…marking her territory, trying to break me down.”

He sounds conversational, sipping his champagne. It’s the way he sounds if he needs to reference any of his victims. It always spooks you. It’s a form of wilful detachment built up over decades that only occasionally cracks.

“When I was back in the thirteen-year-old body, it was just another thing to leverage.” He makes a small ‘hah’ sound; perhaps in pleasure at the taste of champagne…or perhaps not.

Your stomach lurches. You sit up suddenly, the headrush combines with the ill-advised champagne to make you grab the ice bucket and vomit into it.

Five, surprised, puts down his glass and quickly holds your hair back. One of his hands rubs your lower back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”

“No-no. It’s not that.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and wait a few moments, ensuring the nausea has definitely subsided.

When your breathing returns to normal, Five takes the champagne bucket into the bathroom. You follow him, not wanting to leave him to clean it up.

He works silently, running hot water through the bucket, melting the ice cubes and pouring the resultant foul-smelling mixture down the toilet. When you try to take it from him, he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Clean yourself up.”

You wash your hands and face, rinsing your mouth as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He leaves the bucket upside down in the tub to drain and then strolls from the bathroom, hands in pockets. You clean your teeth quickly, resisting the urge to follow him. As you’re starting to feel clean again, he returns in his robe and hands you your own

“Thanks,” you murmur through a mouthful of foam. You take it off him and place it on the hook behind the bathroom door.

He falls into a comfortable lean against the bathroom wall, watching you with folded arms as you finish up. As you strip and put on the robe, you turn to him, unsure what to say.

He brings it up for you.

“Are you okay after talking about that?”

“Never mind me, what about you?”

He shrugs. “I think I’m at point where I find it a little funny, as crazy as that sounds.” He looks cynical again, “no doubt tomorrow I’ll be crying into my croissants but for tonight…I think I’m ok.”

“Good…I think?”

He shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The absence of heavy, sleeping breath wakes you. You roll over to find Five awake and staring at the ceiling. You guide his head onto your chest.

“Talk to me.”

Then, after a few moments,

“I was so small.”

You stroke his hair.

This time, he knew for sure she was inside. No creeping feeling that she might be, just the certainty that she was. 

It was for the briefcase. For Vanya, Luther, Allison and the rest of them.  He cleared his throat and knocked at the double doors of room 217. Clearly expecting him, she opened them both wide, framing herself perfectly between them. As always, she was exquisitely dressed; the sequins on her boned bodice caught the room’s orange-toned light attractively. At his diminutive height he had to look up at her all the time now. Before, that had been a ‘pleasure’ reserved only for special occasions.

Her smile was the eye-wrinkled indulgent one; the one that made his flesh crawl. She looked genuinely happy to see him.

“Ah! Just in time for a night cap.”

The Handler sauntered off into the room, swaying her hips exaggeratedly. He hesitated for just a second before he crossed the threshold to the sound and sight of her shaking a cocktail. He cast an experienced eye around the room, ensuring they were alone; that her equally manipulative daughter wasn’t there. When he was satisfied, he closed both doors behind him. It was better by far that no passer-by see or hear this.

She lit herself a cigarette in a long holder. This, she held between her teeth as she passed him a drink. He didn’t take it. The last thing he needed was to be drugged. It was better to get down to business and get it over with.

“To be clear: I take out the board, you get me and my family home?” She placed his drink down on the table and sashayed over to the bed, picking up a folded piece of paper. “No more doomsday, no more apocalypse. Is that correct?”

As she sat and then lay down, propped on one elbow, he felt his stomach give a weak flop…And he felt something lower too, though he didn’t want to think about that.

“That’s the deal.” She said, cigarette waggling in the corner of her mouth and legs crossing seductively.

He nodded, knowing he had no choice. He mentally screwed up his courage for what he knew came next. He knew what it would entail: first, she’ll break him down and then she’ll send him off to do his job like a good little boy.

“Then I’m in.”

She smirked as his throat clicked in a dry, reflexive swallow. Raising both her eyebrows, she held out the piece of paper between two perfectly manicured fingers. She twiddled it invitingly, beckoning him. He took a tiny step forward, stretching as far as he could to take it rather than place the hairless, maddeningly vulnerable body any closer to her. Trying to ignore the crawling sensation beneath his waistband, he waited for her to pull him on top of her, to flip him bodily and make him take off the little shorts she had repeatedly commented on. 

He took the paper and read the location of the board of directors’ top secret meeting place. Then, he refolded and pocketed it. He looked at her and nodded silently. A broader smile curled her lips.

“Now come here.”

His jaw twitched. With obedience that horrified him, he took another step towards the bed, his legs feeling like lead. Her cloying smell of lavender was strong in his nostrils. His hand went up reflexively to straighten the tie of his Academy uniform. 

“Closer.” She beckoned him with another perfectly sharp nail.

He tried to keep his face calm: insolent and unfazed...but her smile let him know that she saw through him. 

"Why?" he managed, with disdain that would convince anyone but her of his confidence.

"Come and find out."

As if in a dream, a passenger in the pubescent body, he came to stand before her.

“Bend over, Number Five."

In that moment, he felt two contradictory feelings: a dread mundane in its familiarity and also a rush of something like relief. Sure, he knew it would be even darker than usual given his current appearance…but he’d coped with worse over the years. He can stare into space, let her do her thing and it will be over; the price paid. Five found himself becoming eager in a way that disgusted him. Eager to strip and to have done with it.

As he bent towards her, he felt the weight of his sordid, shameful erection as his shorts tightened over it, the fabric pulled taught by the movement of his body. 

She reached up. His heart hammered in anticipation. Please just let her leave his ass alone. But if that was the price, he’d pay it. He'd cope with it if he had to. It couldn't be that much worse being smaller, right? He didn’t let himself wince, close his eyes or flinch as she stretched out one finger. Her head tilted and a nurturing, simpering smile crept along her face. 

“So...pure like this.”

He watched the finger approach, heart-in-mouth and now knowing what was coming: she'd run her finger over the thin line of his lips. Then, looking up at him, she'd raise one harshly-shaped eyebrow...and then he'd obey the unspoken command, like he always did. He'd part his lips ever so slightly. Two fingers would worm their way in between his teeth, nails deliberately scratching his tongue as they delve deeper...yet he won't bite, no matter how much his conscious mind wants to.

She'd hold her fingers against throat and make him retch. Eventually, when he was about to snap from the anticipation, she'd flip him onto his back, tear open his shorts and ride him. The nails of one hand would squeeze and scratch, fingers of the other in his throat keeping him on the cusp of vomiting throughout. He’d try to go somewhere else, (gazing at Orion with Dolores by his side), but her probing finger won’t let him. She'll know the gag reflex keeps him inescapably present.

A rising tide of shame threatened to overwhelm him as he stared at her, already salivating in anticipation of the invading finger. This fucking body.

Instead, she just pinched the puppy fat of his cheek between her thumb and finger.

“Adorable. Run along now, Number Five.”

“She didn’t fuck me. She didn’t have to.” he laughs darkly at this, almost reminiscently. “She’d touch my face and once she rubbed herself up against me but that was it. It was about humiliation, not sex. And, because I was going through puberty, she knew how easy it was to…I think she found it funny.”

He sits cross legged with your head in his lap.

“She was staging a coup. That’s why she wanted me to kill the Commission’s board."

He breathes out hard.

“That night made me go…just a tad crazy. I could have got a gun, but I didn’t. When I arrived at the job location there was this vending machine…I tried to get myself a Fudge Nutter but it didn’t dispense properly and I just...lost my shit. I went ham; just beat the shit out of it. Smashed it up. I saw red.

I grabbed a fire axe off the wall. I could have done it cleaner, but instead I went in there and...butchered twelve people. I don’t enjoy killing but for once…I rode the adrenaline...the thrill."

One hand clenches the bedsheets. His breathing begins to sound disturbingly similar to that of his arousal.

“It felt amazing. I think I went into some kinda fugue state: swinging and hacking at them: the bastards who made me what I am; made me a killer. They got a real taste of it, didn't they?"

He smiles now, terrifyingly, mouth seeming to curl a full 180 degrees at either end.

"Blood all over me; in my hair, in my mouth.”

He breaks off here, regaining control of his recollections. When he begins again, his breathing has softened, awful smile faded and humanity back in his eyes.

“Later, I told myself it was just for my family. That I had to…but I know that’s not true. It's the only time I've felt genuine bloodlust. I scrubbed and scrubbed my fingernails but I couldn’t get it out. It was maybe a month before all the blood was gone.”

You’d be a liar if you said this doesn’t disturb you. The return of nausea clearly shows on your face.

“You know what I am,” he says, watching you.

You do know what he is. And you know why too.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

Not going to beg for reblogs and comments because I am so late posting this that I don't deserve them. 😂

[warriorofdragons]

Got The Touch

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Language, NSFW(18+ Only) Oral, Vaginal Fingering, Cowgirl Position

“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?” Cole asks. “It was my idea remember?” you ask tugging playfully on his lapels. Cole chuckles, “Just makin’ sure seein’ as well…You can’t see me,” he says with sideways a tilt of his hat and goggles. His hands reach up to cup your face and you lean forwards and he meets you halfway and you can feel his lips press to yours. “Do you remember the safeword?” Cole asks. “Spurs,” you answer. “Good,” he replies with a nod. You stare at his floating goggles and hat where his face should be, “This is weird that I can’t see your face.” Cole chuckles, “If’n ya change yer mind…” You reach out and lightly tap his goggles and then trace the band to his hairline and then trail your fingers down to find his cheeks, “I know the safeword,” you say cupping his face. You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and can feel his beard and his soft skin. He feels the same as he always does, it’s just a little disconcerting not being able to see well….him. You release his face and lower your hands to smooth over his torso, he Definitely still feels like your boyfriend. “What was this disguise even for?” you ask unzipping his jacket slowly. Cole shakes his hat, “Eh, just some fancy, schmancy upper class shindig I had to blend into to find our target,” Cole explains. “Oh, you mean the ones you hate?” you ask running your hands back up his chest to push it off his shoulders. Cole effortlessly rolls his shoulders and shrugs off the material down to his elbows, and you help him remove his left sleeve like you always do. He laughs again, a deep chuckle, the sound of which always brings a smile to his face and yours. “And the goggles were part of the disguise, strange I didn’t think goggles were the latest fashion craze,” you tease. “Well, no,” Cole begins, pausing to adjust his goggles up and down on the invisible bridge of his nose, “These are actually Night-vision Goggles. Old standard issue Blackwatch.” “Oh…” you say with a raise of your brows, “Riigght, Blackwatch,” you draw out, “The Secret Black Ops Division and Shadow of Overwatch, where the team colors are black and emergency glowing red.” Cole snorts, “I didn’t pick the team colors, Sweetheart, I just rocked them,” he says holding out his gloved hands. You laugh, “What’s next? Construction Yellow?” This time Cole laughs too, “I’ll give the designers your notes.” Then Cole leans in towards you and you instinctively close your eyes and turn your face away when the light from his goggles catches you at the wrong angle. Cole’s lips miss and hit your cheek, “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. You blink hard in the attempt to clear the sudden spots from your vision, “Those bright, glowing goggles just blinded me,” you say rubbing your eyes now. “Oh, I’m sorry, Honeysuckle,” Cole says softly, “Here let me take ‘em off.” Cole’s hat lifts up in one of his gloved hands and then the goggles tilt downwards and are tugged upward after meeting unseen resistance and then finally dangle freely in his left hand. Cole then crosses the room to deposit them in his lower nightstand drawer. Then he turns around and holds out his gloved hands in front of him, one of which is still holding onto his hat and says, “Hold on, now My eyes need to adjust.” You giggle and cover your mouth, “Do you have any idea how funny it is to watch an invisible man try to feel his way around the room?” Cole chuckles, “Well, actually I can see myself just fine, I’m only invisible to you.” “Really?” you ask. “Yup,” he says putting his hat back on to which you feel a little relieved because without the hat and goggles on he looked like he was headless even though you can still hear him talking. Cole steps back over to you and stands in front of you, “To me, you and I look exactly like we always do, I could almost forget that you can’t see me,” Cole says placing his right palm on your cheek. You place a hand over top his and the other on his chest, and trail your fingers down toward his sleeve and feel the delicate skin greet your fingertips. You turn your gaze to the space between his glove and sleeve and softly stroke the inside of his wrist. You hear a soft exhale and know from the sound that Cole is smiling. You lean towards his hand and kiss his wrist. Cole’s thumb brushes your cheek gently in appreciation.

You move your fingers up his sleeve, trailing his muscle through his clothes and when you get to his elbow you get an idea. Removing your hand from his arm you ask, “Can you roll up your sleeves for me?” His hat pulls back and then his hands withdraw and you can see them busy themselves with his sleeves. He carefully and meticulously rolls up his sleeves so that the new cuffs sit comfortably just under his elbows. You bite your lip as you stare at his arms, Cole crosses his arms and you bite your finger next as you stare at his fingers gripping his bicep. “I thought you said you like my sleeves rolled up, because you like how strong my forearms look?” he questions. “I do, but this is doing things for me too,” you say covering your mouth with your hand. “Oh?” Cole asks with a lilt of his voice and what you imagine to be a quirk of his brow, ”Do tell.” You giggle under your breath, “Like it’s not just what I can’t see, like…” you stop to exhale, “Like I never noticed how it accentuated your shoulders too?” Cole begins to flex in a couple of generic strongman poses and you almost double over with laughter. Cole chuckles and grabs a hold of your waist and tugs you towards him. You’re still laughing as he kisses your cheek and then kisses towards the corner of your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him and delight in the feeling of his hair between your fingers as you card through it. As you pull back you tug on his scarf and pull it loose from around his neck and make an elaborate show of dropping it to the floor. You feel across Cole’s shoulders and squeeze his upper arms before trailing down them. When you reach the exposed portion of his arms you take the time to rub up and down them multiple times, earning you a pleased hum from Cole. You then finally trail back up his arms as he runs his hands along your back and start to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. You can’t help the twinge of disappointment you feel when you’re reminded once again that you can’t see your boyfriend, and as his shirt falls open…there’s obviously nothing for you to look at. “What’s wrong, Pumpkin?” Cole asks. Of course Cole would have noticed your slight frown, so you try to shrug it off by smiling up at him and shaking your head, “Nothing’s wrong.” His hat tilts sideways at you, “Oh, Honey,” he says sweetly stroking your sides. His hat then tips downwards as he glances down at himself for a moment. “You know what I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you lie on the bed for me?” he asks his hat tipping back up. You nod, “Okay.” He releases you and you glance back at the bed behind you and then start to sit down on the edge of it. Cole finishes removing the shirt himself and lets it fall onto the floor behind him. With the exception of Cole’s gloves and hat, he’s now just a floating pair of pants as he walks back over to you. You watch him bend his knee as his dress shoes scuff the carpet and he kneels down in front of you. You’re slightly surprised when you feel his hands on your sides again, because without being able to see his arms, you hadn’t noticed them. “Sorry,” Cole huffs. “It’s okay,” you say. You feel Cole’s fingers ghost under your sweater, “May I?” You nod, “Yeah.” You then lift your arms up as Cole lifts your sweater up and over your head. He throws it to the side and then you feel the push of his right hand on your stomach nudging your backwards. You lay back down on the bed and Cole’s hands splay across your stomach and then smooth up your body. You cover your mouth with your hands and giggle as you watch his gloved hands rub over your skin sensually. Cole leans down over you and you can feel how close he is from the heat radiating from his body and you smile from the proximity. His hat bows down and you feel the hairs of his beard tickle your skin first before his lips gently meet your stomach. “Cole…” you moan softly. His lips curl up in a smile and he continues to slowly kiss up your body. You look for his hands and place yours overtop and then follow by touch all the way up to his shoulders. You can feel Cole pause slightly in his ascent as he ponders your next move. You trail your fingers back towards his neck and you find his hair and bury your fingers in it and tug. Cole brushes his nose back and forth against your sternum before going to where you’re directing him and his hat almost gets brushed off of his head by the bed beneath you both as he starts to kiss your neck. You close your eyes and enjoy his kisses. Cole presses his chest to yours and you sigh at the contact and scratch his scalp lightly. He then nips at your neck and you groan lightly. You move your hands back down his neck and across his back and his shoulders flex as he props himself up on the bed. Like this he feels exactly like how he normally does as he kisses back down your collarbone. You open your eyes slowly as he drifts between your breasts. He palms one of your breasts in his right hand through your bra for a few moments and then slides his hand underneath you. You take this as your cue, and lift your chest up off the mattress and he slips his hand between your shoulder blades and feels for your band before unclasping your bra. You watch as his gloved hand removes your bra and throws it off the bed. Cole then palms both of your breasts in his gloved hands and you gasp. You watch his hands work for a moment or two before letting your head roll back onto the bed. Cole nudges one of his legs in between your knees and you part your legs for him. You gasp and moan as Cole pinches one of your nipples and then rolls it between his fingers. Then his left hand suddenly withdraws from you and you see his hat dip down towards your body and you’re unprepared for when his lips find your nipple. You bite your lip and groan again when he swirls his tongue around it. He pinches your left nipple as he sucks on the right. “Cole…” you moan. You feel the hint of a smile and then Cole groans against you as he sucks harder. “Fuck…” you whine. Cole then releases your nipple and nips and sucks another part of your breast and you just know that he has the intention of leaving hickies. He nips and sucks in at least two more places and it’s becoming too much. “The other one…please…” you beg. Cole does as you ask and switches to your left breast and takes that nipple into his mouth next. You moan loudly and Cole’s left hand comes up to massage the breast he littered with hickies. You hum contentedly and rub between his shoulders blades. Cole’s mouth finally leaves your skin in a heavy exhale and you can make out his soft panting above you. You stare up at his floating hat and then catch the movement of one of his gloves out of the corner of your eye and focus on that instead. His fingers deftly undo the button of your jeans and then slowly drag the zipper down. You lift up your hips and Cole pulls your jeans off of you and down your legs. You try to reach out for Cole’s belt to undo it, but his hands stops you. “Not yet,” he laughs, “Got somethin’ else in mind, Darlin’.” His fingers dip under the waistband of your underwear next and he slowly pulls them off of you. Cole lets out a low whistle and you feel your face grow hot and cover your face with your hands. Cole’s hands lightly tear yours away from your face, “Can’t help it, Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous.” Your face grows even warmer as you smile wide, “You’re such a flirt, I’m literally already naked.” “I know,” he says happily. You laugh. “Now do me a favor and keep your legs spread apart,” Cole says pulling your knees apart. “Okay,” you say excitedly, adjusting your legs so that you’re more comfortable.

A couple of moment pass where Cole just keeps his gloved hands on the inside of your knees and then he lets go and…you watch as he tugs off his left glove and then the right. Your eyes widen as now all you can see from your vantage point  is the floating hat on his head. You startle when you feel his fingers on the inside of your right thigh. And then you relax and even giggle when your realize that he’s walking his index and middle fingers down your thigh. He inches closer and closer to your core and then…he withdraws his hand. “Oh, you’re a tease too,” you say. Cole chuckles and suddenly both of his hands are gripping your inner thighs and kneading them. “OH! Ohhh!” you moan out as you melt under his touch. He massages you thoroughly and then withdraws his hands once again. “Oh-Cole!” you gasp out as his index finger slides up through your folds unexpectedly. “Still think I’m a tease?” Cole asks while now circling your clit. “Yes, even more so now,” you sigh. “Hmm…then maybe I should…” he hums, his fingers stopping their enticing movements. “No! Please, please, Cole,” you beg. He starts rubbing your clit again and this time you can feel his left hand gripping your right thigh, “I like it when you beg.” You roll your head back as you prop yourself up on your elbows and moan in response. Cole then moves his finger through your folds again and coats his finger in your fluids and spreads it over you before returning to circle your clit. You moan softly and start to breathe a little heavily. “That feel good?” Cole asks lowly. “Yes, God it feels so good, Cole,” you moan. He hums deeply and you can feel his metal thumb rubbing circles on the inside of your right knee now. Cole’s finger swiftly begins to stroke up and down your vulva and you moan lowly again. All that can be heard in the quiet of your bedroom is the slick sound of Cole’s fingers swiping through your folds and your soft pants. Cole circles once more and your eyelids flutter as you bite your lip, and then you feel his fingers delve back between your folds, but this time he presses his index finger into you slowly. “Oh yesss…” you moan. He positions his hand so that his thumb can rub your clit slowly while he lightly pushes his index finger in and out of you. You feel Cole’s metal hand splay itself across your thigh and he palms it firmly. He withdraws his finger after a handful more strokes and when he pushes in again you can feel two fingers enter you. Cole fingers you more deeply and your thighs start to squeeze together as your legs begin to shake. His left hand pulls your right leg back away from your left, “Keep your legs apart, Sweetheart, want to see you bare to me,” Cole growls. “Okay….’m trying…” you mumble caught up in the sensation of Cole’s fingers curling inside of you. “Heh,” Cole chuckles. Your eyelids flutter again as Cole removes his left hand from your thigh and then you see his hat lift off of his head and watch it be set down beside you on the bed. You lift yourself up higher on your elbows as though that would help you see what he’s about to do next. You can still feel him slowly fingering you, but you do notice the sudden absence of his thumb after he removed his hat. “Oh please, oh please…” you plead. You feel his hot mouth slant abasing your clit and your entire body jolts as you arch your back and cry out. Cole licks and circles your clit with his tongue as his fingers thrust faster into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and instinctively throw your right hand out and find his hair as you wiggle your hips against his face. Cole sucks hard on your clit, even just the sound of it causes you to moan and clench hard around his fingers. You bite your lip furiously and whine as Cole shows you no mercy. You can feel his left hand lifting your leg to sit on top of his shoulder and you lay back fully on the bed, and bump your knee into his right shoulder as you lift it up to rest your feet on his back. You reach your left hand down next to tangle it in his hair too, “Oh, Cole!” you whine loudly. Cole groans against your core and you feel like you could cum just from the sound of his voice. You can feel Cole adding a third finger and he slows his thrusting just long enough to make sure you’ve acclimated, your sudden chants of, “Yes, Cole!” certainly encouraging. He swirls his tongue rapidly and you tug harder on his hair and he groans again and you can feel his chest heaving under your calves. “Fuck! Oh COLE, YES!” you cry. You cry out one final time as you cum hard onto his fingers as they continue to thrust in and out of you. Your whole body trembles and then goes slack and Cole slows his fingers down and gives one final suck to your clit before coming up for air. But he doesn’t go far as you can still feel his hot breaths as he pants against you. You struggle to catch your own breath as you stare up at the ceiling, your heart pounding in your chest and in your ears. You feel Cole extend his tongue towards you again and you tug upwards on his hair, “Baby, nooo it’s too soon!” you whine. “I just want to lick you clean,” he breathes. You loose your grip on his hair and shiver a little as he gently laps at your release. You continue to catch your breath as Cole licks a stripe up you, he touches your still-sensitive clit and you yank on his hair again and he lifts his head finally. You hear him swallow and smacking his lips and are overcome with your urge to kiss him. You sit up quickly, sliding your legs off of his shoulders and reach out to him with your right hand and manage to find one shoulder and trace it swiftly back to find his face and slap him in the cheek. “Oof!” Cole exclaims, the smack resounding throughout your bedroom. Your hands shoot to your mouth, “Ohh, Honey, I’m SO SORRY!” Cole blows out a puff of air and you can hear him rub his cheek by the scratching of his beard against his metal hand, “Well, that smarts.” “Cole, I’m so so sorry,” you apologize profusely trying to gingerly reach out to find him. His hands find both of your wrists and guide them to his face where you rub the cheek gingerly that you had offended. “I’m fine, a little surprised more than anythin’,” he says. You lean forward to try to kiss him, but he turns his head at the last moment and you kiss the tip of his nose. “Oh!” he mutters in surprise. “Ah! I’m sorry,” you apologize again shaking your head. Cole snorts and then you feel his right hand gently cup your chin, “Here…” And then he tilts your chin a little and you feel his warm lips press to yours, and as you taste yourself on his tongue you pull him in closer between your legs. Cole hums happily and you stroke his bearded cheeks. When he pulls back he then presses a light kiss to the tip of your nose and you giggle. “I’m still sorry about your face,” you say quietly. “Shh, I know you didn’t mean it, ‘sides you can’t see me,” he reminds you. And you hear a whooshing sound through the air and you lean back and look in the general direction, but you can’t see his arm at all, But you Assume he waved it at himself? “See?” he says and you look back up between your hands at the sound of his voice. “Well, I don’t but…yeah,” you laugh. Cole chuckles and then pecks your lips again. You hear the shifting of fabric and glance behind you as he retrieves his hat and places it back on his head, “Maybe it’d be best if I keep this on.” “You say that as though you don’t always wear it during,” you laugh. “That’s not true,” Cole points out, “Sometimes you wear it.” You giggle some more and bite your lip.

Cole stands and you come face to face with his erection that’s undoubtedly throbbing painfully in his pants. “Want me to do the honors?” you ask. “Please,” Cole says a little strained. You undo his belt buckle and then drag his zipper down before pushing his pants down. Cole exhales with relief, “You won’t believe how tight these fancy types wear their pants.” “Well, they’re no Wrangler,” you joke. “I’ll say,” Cole says. You palm his erection though his bright red, plaid boxers and can hear Cole’s breathing hitch. You look up at him and see the underside of his hat as he tilts it backwards. You then trail your eyes down his invisible body to his underwear and another twinge of disappointment fills you at the thought of being unable to see him. Shame, and this is one of the best parts, the unveiling. So you reach your hand into his underwear and trail down through his pubic hair until you find his shaft and firmly grip him in your hand. You hear Cole’s breathing  grow labored above you and smile. You stroke him and pull down his underwear with your left hand. “Mmm…shit…feels so good…” Cole moans out. “Yeah?” you question looking up at him with your best bedroom eyes. Just because you can’t see him doesn’t mean he can’t get a good view of you. “Mmhmm…” he moans again. You rest your left hand on his thigh and trail your hand up to his stomach, relishing in the way his muscles tense and he becomes putty in your hands. Cole’s right hand suddenly grabs your wrist and you stop. “You okay?” you ask looking up at him. “Yeah…yeah…it’s just as nice as that’d be, I Really want you to ride me instead,” Cole says his voice becoming gravelly. You let go of him and smile, “Your penis?” Cole laughs, “Oh, I see what you did there, Tempting. But yes.” Cole releases your wrist and you release him and he toes off his shoes and steps backwards out of his pants and underwear before pulling off his socks in a hurry. You immediately miss his warmth and tuck your legs up onto the bed and crawl back to your side. You see Cole’s top nightstand drawer open up and his hat floating above it and listen to the sound of him rifling around before a floating condom packet removes itself from the drawer. You cover your mouth with your hand and stifle your laugh as it rips open, but then you watch in curiosity as he rolls it down his penis. As he finishes you stare down at his erection now prominently covered in a red condom. “Wait,” Cole says his erection bouncing slightly as he steps back, “Can you see?” “Yes!” you exclaim happily. Cole starts laughing and you join him. “What Are The Odds?!” he laughs hysterically. “Talk about a Bullseye!” you laugh. Cole’s hat nearly falls off as he doubles over in laughter. “Oh my God,” he begins trying to catch his breath. “Come on,” you say getting up on your knees. “Right,”  he says climbing into bed next to you. You wait for him to finish getting comfortable and then smile lightly at the Cowboy shaped indent in the mattress and sheets. You can actually tell from the way the pillows are misshapen that he has his hands folded under his head as he waits for you to climb on. You can see his erection plain as day which is incredibly helpful and makes you bite your lip at the sight, but the rest of him… You slide your hand across the bed and find his outer thigh, and gripping it with both hands you then feel along his inner thigh and carefully swing your leg over and straddle his thigh. You hear the sound of fabric shifting and then feel Cole’s right hand on your hip, as he helps guide you over his right leg next and then you inch forward until you’re over his penis. Cole releases you and tucks his hand back under his head. You gingerly place your left palm down on his pelvic area next to his penis and from there slide it up to his stomach. And then you take a hold of his erection in your right hand and guide him up to your entrance. You push his tip inside of you and exhale quietly. You can feel Cole’s stomach go taut as he holds his breath and you slowly push him deeper inside of you and start to sink down. You place your other palm on his abdomen as well and close your eyes as you guide yourself down. Cole tenses again and moans a little the further down you sink and you bend forward as you finally take all of him in. You pause to take a breath and to adjust and you can feel Cole’s stomach rising and falling normally again. You open your eyes and look down to where you’re both connected and it’s a little disconcerting to see yourself sitting on seemingly nothing. “And with my final trick I’ve made your penis disappear,” you joke quietly. Cole snorts and then after another moment of silence from you, he asks, “You doin’ good, Baby?” “Yeah,” you say and you straighten your back out and start to circle your hips. Cole groans lightly in approval, and you close your eyes again. You rub your hands over his abdomen and like this it feels exactly like it always does. You circle him a few more times just to make sure you’ve properly adjusted before rocking your hips against his. He grunts in response and you roll your hips a little more firmly. The pace you set is nice and slow, but meticulous and you listen eagerly for Cole’s breaths and gasp yourself when he finally decides to roll his hips up against yours. You lean back and place your right hand on his thigh so that when he thrusts up he can hit you at the right angle. You moan and roll your head back. “You’re so Fuckin’ Beautiful, Darlin’,” Cole groans his accent getting thicker. You smile and bite your lip, “You’re sweet.” You can feel yourself beaming from the praise and you move just a little bit faster. Opening your eyes, you look down at Cole and can still see the imprint of his hands tucked under his head. You start to close your eyes again and then you hear him shift and suddenly feel his hands on your hips. You lean forward so that he can thrust up into you harder, and you come down to meet him and he hums out, “Darlin’.” You fumble around with your hands trying to find his chest and when you do you plant them there and ride him faster. Cole’s labored breathing greets your ears and you can feel the sweat forming under your palms. “Mm, Fuck! Oh that’s it, Baby,” Cole moans. You moan with him and then lean forward all the way and press a kiss to his chest and you can feel his fingers dig into your hips. The sound of your bodies slapping together and the bed creaking underneath you combined with the feeling of him buried deep inside you, quickly builds you to a second orgasm. But you want to make him cum first, so you desperately bounce in his lap and bite your lip to continue stifling your own moans so you can catch each and every one of his new moans and groans as the result of the rolling of your hips. “Fuck, I’m gonna-“ he chokes out. “Cum for me, Baby, cum for me, Cole,” you beg. Cole pants heavily and then you feel his right hand slide between you and stroke your clit, “Want you to cum too, Pumpkin, need you to cum around my cock!” You moan loudly at his words and his touch and squeeze harder around him and he almost loses it, his hat even almost falling off in the process and crumpling when he throws his head back into the pillows. But he rubs your clit faster and you frantically try to ride him until finally you cry out and cum and your walls flutter around his cock. Cole cries out next, his voice joining yours as you pull him along with you and his hips slam up into yours hard and then stutter as he tries to draw out his orgasm. As his cries taper off into a low groan you collapse face first onto his chest and gasp for breath.

Cole’s chest rises and falls in rapid, short breaths beneath you. You open and close your eyes as you try to breathe and Cole drapes his arms over your back, and you smile happily and try to slow your breathing. When you both have caught your breath again Cole gently rubs his hands down your back. “Roll off me, Darlin’, so’s I can get up,” Cole says. You tiredly pick up your head and sit up and gripping the bottom of the condom in your hand, you gingerly lift yourself off of him hissing slightly at the sting from him stretching you, and he slips out of you. You then let yourself fall back down onto the mattress beside him and roll onto your side. The bed dips down beside you and you close your eyes and shift to your back as you bask in the afterglow while Cole removes the condom. You hear his footsteps in the adjacent bathroom and then the water from the faucet, and realize he’s probably also cleaning himself up. You lift your head and open your eyes to stare in his direction just as the bathroom light turns off and when you don’t see him at all you panic. You quickly glance around the room and notice that his hat is now hanging from the top of his bedpost. “Cole?!” you call. “Hey! It’s alright, Honey, I’m right here. I didn’t go nowhere,” Cole shushes you his footsteps approaching you. The bed dips down beside you and you reach out for him and don’t relax until your fingers trail over his left arm and to his shoulder and back. Cole leans over to you and presses a kiss to your temple. And it’s only now that you even notice the red washcloth in his right hand. He shifts again and you keep your hand on him as he kisses your knee, “Lay back,” he says. You do as he says and you feel the warm, wet washcloth glide through your folds. Cole rubs his bearded chin against your knee and you release the tension in your muscles finally. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say. “Yes, I did,” he says softly. When he gets back up to toss the washcloth in the hamper, you whine at his loss. “I’m comin’ back, Sweetheart,” he assures you as he climbs back into bed with you and kisses your thigh and then all the way up to your chest. You find his face again with your hands and pull him close to you. Cole kisses you, long and slowly and you melt under him. When his lips part from yours you hear a smile in his breath and then he scoops an arm under you and rolls backwards and pulls you ontop of him. You chuckle and adjust carefully and slip one of your legs in between his. You glance down at him and it still looks like you’re floating over the bed and you snort. Cole reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp finally and the room is now enveloped in darkness. You roam your hands over his chest and he feels the way he should and not a smidge different. You then let your head rest overtop his heart, in a way relieved that you can’t see him for normal reasons. Cole’s fingertips trail up and down your spine before he wraps them around you and keeps you caged to his body. “Now, I guess we both can’t see each other,” he says letting out a low chuckle. “I wish I could, I miss your smile,” you whisper. Cole feels around for one of your hands and brings it to his lips, “It’ll wear off soon, Pumpkin, and then everythin’ll be back to normal. Doc said so.” “I hope so,” you say softly. Cole rests his chin on the top of your head, “You know, I miss the way you look at me.” You shift your head up and then he presses his lips to your forehead, “Really?” He hums in affirmation, “I know, I know, you’re still lookin’ AT ME, but you’re not really seein’ me. It’s different when you can see my face, I guess.” “I do miss your eyes the most of all, the way you look at me always gives me butterflies,” you say. Cole cups your face, “I promise you, Darlin’, I absolutely looked at you That way tonight.” You tap your finger to his chin and trace it up to his lips and then lean towards him and gently press your lips to his in their stead.

[zealouscanonindeer]

Dangerous games 2

Synopsis: If you win, good. If you don't, even better.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Minors DNI. You have been warned.

Category: Smut.

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I gathered my floor length dress, bunching up handfuls of it around my knees, descending down the stairs in a hurry. On my way out of the bathroom, my dazed ass had crashed straight into Jackie, who was relentless when it came to tequila shots. Having downed 3 of those, I quickly slipped away, not before I saw Sienna throw me a quick glance, nodding that she would cover for me.

I was growing really impatient and the only thing keeping me from going crazy was the fact that Ethan was surely even more so. I rounded the parked cars, searching his. He stood, gently reclining on the door, surveying something on his phone. He lifted his azure gaze and smiled at me, getting into the drivers seat as I opened the door and made myself comfortable beside him.

I smiled, closing my eyes as I reclined against the seat, pulling my legs up, folding them. I gazed at Ethan, his side profile sharp, the lights reflecting against his skin, I further continued appreciating his dark, nearly trimmed beard and distinct jaw. We halted to a stop as the light turned red, he looked at me lovingly, his hand cupped my face, thumb gently stroking my cheek before he rested it on my knee.

He turned back, starting the engine but his hand remained, burning my skin with desire, I placed my hand over his, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. My hungry lips moved down his jaw, pecking and lightly sucking against his pulse point before capturing his earlobe in my teeth and giving it a gentle tug.

To my disappointment, he pushed me back into my seat, throwing me the second glare of the evening. Whether it was the tequila or his intoxicating presence, I giggled, moving my attention to someplace else.

I placed my hand on his thigh, massaging the skin underneath his pants, his erection still visible. I began unbuckling his belt, the sudden movement so near to his arousal causing him to swerve.

"Do you want us to die? "

"Drive faster. Your going too slow. "

"You won't be saying that when I'm through with you. "

"I hope not. " I fake smiled cheekily, throwing caution to the wind.

"You know what,... " He trailed off, switching on his left indicator, and bypassing the city traffic.

"What are you doing? "

"Sit tight. " He pulled into an almost abandoned alley, backing the car in between two buildings so that we were now invisible.

He pushed his seat as back as possible, taking the queue I was in his lap in no time, resuming our kisses. They turned urgent and devouring as he pushed the blazer off his shoulder. I began unbuttoning his shirt as his fingers found the zip of my dress, yanking it down. It got stuck on the material, a few tugs and.. I could sense the impending rip.

"No, E. Stop, that's an expensive dress. "

He dropped his hands, opening the door for me. I got out of the car and he followed. He picked me up, hooking his strong hands under my knees, placing me on the hood of the car. I gathered my dress around my waist, exposing my lace panties, Ethan's eyes growing dark at the sight.

He unbuckled his belt, his pants following. His open shirt displayed his heaving chest as he proceeded to crash his lips into mine. I pulled him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck as he tucked his thumbs into my panties, slowly peeling them off. The chilly wind against my wet core sent a thrill down my spine. I was letting this man fuck me out here, in the open and I didn't give a shit.

"You're so wet already... I wonder if I can just.. "

He pushed himself in, inch by inch until he was completely sheathed inside me. I moaned loudly, almost screaming his name.

"Ohhhhh.... Yesss. Just like that... Ahh. "

He grunted loudly, snapping his hips roughly, pushing me flat against the hood. His pace constant, he brought his lips to mine, tugging on my lower lip, biting slightly before his tongue entered my mouth.

His thick swollen cock provided a delicious stretch as he drove into me with such efficiency, I was seeing stars. He hit the perfect spot, causing me to shudder in his embrace, bracing myself for my impending climax.

But Ethan couldn't wait any longer, his thrusts turning faster, he moaned loudly.

"Aahhhhh... Aspen.. Oh GOD! "

He emptied inside me, his cum filling me as my walls clenched around his now softening cock. He groaned at the new sensation, his ears filled with my indiscreet whimpers. He eased out, tucking himself into his boxers, fastening his pants over his hips. I slid down, swaying uncertainly, my legs wobbly. He steadied me with a hand on my shoulders, bring me to his side, making our way back to the car.

"Ethan, my panties.. " I looked behind us, trying to locate them.

"I've got them" He showed them to me, placing them in his pocket.

We got into the car, the light turning on as Ethan turned the key. We sat in silence for a minute, gathering our breaths among other things. A slow yawn escaped him.

I twirled an escaped lock of dark hair in my fingers, smoothening it.

"Let's get you to bed, E. "

"Bed or bed bed"

I laughed, his lips curving up as he slowly turned on to the main road. To be honest, I was a little worn out too. A good rest and no reason why the festivities couldn't continue into the morning.

********

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