ringside seat

Douchebag gets it....

So this happened quite a few years ago, and the stage will take some setting. It might be more of a Karma than a Revenge story, but you guys seem to appreciate it when a Douchebag takes it up the ass, so here’s a fine tale…

I was working as a dishwasher in a new Fine Dining restaurant in the downtown of a largish city. Chef Paul came from a rich family with a lot of connections, but he made his own way through culinary school and was both talented and dedicated to his art. His family ponied up the cash for a location right downtown in Office Tower Land, but Chef Paul made the place the “hotspot” for the movers and shakers of the town. Our clientele was the Rolex set, people with a string of initials on their business cards and high-powered job titles.

Chef Paul was the nicest guy you could imagine away from the restaurant, but when he was on the cookline, he was an aggressive and abrupt bully of the old school. It was an open kitchen, meaning you could see it from the dining room, so he never raised his voice, but he could chew you out in a low-volume whisper, all the time with a poker smile frozen on his face. This was his show, his restaurant, his baby, and woe be it to the person who fucked up while Chef Paul had his game face on.

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Scrooge about to coconut the hell out of whoever’s blocking their way to ringside seats no doubt also SHUT IT GLOMGOLD YE DAFT DOBBER HE DECKS A KILT TOO SEE >8UUUUUUU

Not pictured, Donald doing his best “I didn’t sign up for this” Kurt Angle impression on the sidelines. 

Originally posted by vaniwin

Roman Reigns One Shot - First Impressions

  • Based on this prompt: “You can touch me but I know you won’t.” @moxxetti

I looked around the arena wondering how I had gotten suckered into coming. It was filling up fast. Lila had called at the last minute, her cousin had bailed on her and she had no one to go with. She had begged. She knew a few of the wrestlers and had scored ringside seats but the only problem was that I knew nothing about wrestling or the WWE, nor did I care to. Yet here I was, sitting in probably the best seats in the house about to watch something I had zero interest in. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Lila elbowed me in the ribs. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Yeah,” my eyes narrowed, “we’ll see.” I picked up my beer and took a long sip, hoping there was enough alcohol in this place to get me through the next three hours.

“It’s a house show, they’re always so much better than the live tapings – no script, no PG rating to worry about. Just a bunch of people out there having fun and entertaining us.” Lila shouted over to me as a blast of music and pyro went off.

“What the fuck is a ‘house show’?” I shouted back.

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Twelve Odd WWII Facts

You might enjoy this from Col D. G. Swinford, USMC, Retired and a history buff. You would really have to dig deep to get this kind of ringside seat to history:

1. The first German serviceman killed in WW II was killed by the Japanese ( China , 1937 ) , The first American serviceman killed was killed by the Russians ( Finland 1940 ) ; The highest ranking American killed was Lt Gen Lesley McNair, killed by the US Army Air Corps.

2. The youngest US serviceman was 12 year old: Calvin Graham, USN. He was wounded and given a Dishonorable Discharge for lying about his age. His benefits were later restored by act of Congress.

3. At the time of Pearl Harbor , the top US Navy command was called CINCUS (pronounced ‘sink us’ ) ; The shoulder patch of the US Army’s 45th Infantry division was the swastika. Hitler’s private train was named 'Amerika.’ All three were soon changed for PR purposes.

4. More US servicemen died in the Air Corps than the Marine Corps. While completing the required 30 missions, an airman’s chance of being killed was 71%.

5. Generally speaking, there was no such thing as an average fighter pilot. You were either an ace or a target. For instance, Japanese Ace Hiroyoshi Nishizawa shot down over 80 planes. He died while a passenger on a cargo plane.

6. It was a common practice on fighter planes to load every 5th round with a tracer round to aid in aiming. This was a big mistake. Tracers had different Ballistics so (at long range ) if your tracers were hitting the target 80% of your rounds were missing. Worse yet tracers instantly told your enemy he was under fire and from which direction. Worst of all was the practice of loading a string of tracers at the end of the belt to tell you that you were out of ammo. This was definitely not something you wanted to tell the enemy.
Units that stopped using tracers saw their success rate nearly double and their loss rate go down.

7. When allied armies reached the Rhine , the first thing men did was pee in it. This was pretty universal from the lowest private to Winston Churchill (who made a big show of it ) and Gen. Patton (who had himself photographed in the act ) .

8. German ME-264 bombers were capable of bombing New York City , but they decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

9. German submarine U-120 was sunk by a malfunctioning toilet.

10. Among the first 'Germans’ captured at Normandy were several Koreans.  They had been forced to fight for the Japanese Army until they were captured by the Russians and forced to fight for the Russian Army until they were captured by the Germans and forced to fight for the German Army until they were captured by the US Army.

11. Following a massive naval bombardment, 35,000 United States and Canadian troops stormed ashore at Kiska, in the Aleutian Islands . 21 troops were killed in the assault on the island… It could have been worse if there had actually been any Japanese on the island.

12. The last marine killed in WW2 was killed by a can of spam. He was on the ground as a POW in Japan when rescue flights dropping food and supplies came over, the package came apart in the air and a stray can of spam hit him and killed him.

The Twins first Smackdown

Originally posted by baleesi

Request - 32) Superstar brings the child to work for the first time. 33) Superstar sees their child wearing their merchandise for the first time. 

Pairing - Dean Ambrose X Female Reader + Son and Daughter

WordCount - 1,184

Requested By - @guatebabyxo

Written By - Tacha

Key - Y/S/N - Your Son’s Name, Y/D/N - Your Daughter’s name. 

Taglist - @i-kneel-for-king-loki @littledeadrottinghood  @m-a-t-91 @straight-outta-the-asylum @lip-sync @itsstephaniemcmahon  @unhinged-on-the-fringe @thebutterflygirl16 @youhoebag @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @guatebabyxo @wweimagines-oneshots @xsimplynaex @macfizzle@sassyenthusiasthistorylover333 @xuhwheredidkylogox @driv3mys0ul @not-that-kinda-gurl08  @harleymoxley @wwessellout @freekmode @catie-kaboom  @fucking-bandsx

A/N - If you would like a request from the prompt list Send us the name of the Superstar, the gender of the child and a few numbers.

Dean paced nervously, it was three in the morning and the three most important people in his life were about to arrive. He probably looked insane as he paced a small route in the airport but he didn’t care. He had waited for two weeks to see his beautiful fiance and his beautiful children, Y/S/N and Y/D/N. When you had brought up the twins had been missing Dean terribly, Dean had suggested that he take some off to come home. But when you had suggested that you and the twins fly out to spend some quality time together Dean wished he could have been in your actual presence because he wanted to kiss you. You coming to stay with him met that the twins would finally be able to come to their first Smackdown. Dean had wanted to bring the twins for a while yet things came up and you had been a little hesitant. 

Dean heard the announcement that your plane had landed, a couple of minutes later, he saw you approaching, bags thrown over your shoulders as you pushed the trolley with the suitcases on them with one arm as you carried Y/D/N who was sound asleep. Y/S/N walked beside you carrying his teddy bear and pulling his small carry on case behind him. You and Y/S/N looked absolutely exhausted. Crossing the airport to you, Dean was hasty to pick up his son who looked like he was going to fall asleep at any minute. You sent him a thankful glance. You, Dean and the twins began to head out and towards his car. As soon as the twins were buckled in and the car hummed quietly the twins had fallen asleep. You rested your head against the top of your seat. 

“Don’t worry darlin’, we’re nearly at the hotel once the twins are tucked up in bed. We can get some sleep ourselves. I finally get my favourite pillow back.” You smiled sleepily. The flight had been long and you hadn’t slept because Y/S/N managed to stay awake. You observed Dean’s concentration as you admired how handsome he looked especially with the deep concentration that he held in his eyes. 

Once you arrived at the hotel, Dean sprung into action like some sort of lunatic Superhero. He was quick to take all of the bags to his hotel room, asking you to remain in the car with the twins. Once he came back down, he took both of the twins in his arms before leading all of three of you towards the hotel room. 

You smiled when you noticed that there was an extra room for the children to get their sleep. You and Dean both silently agreed not to bother changing the twins into their pyjamas, neither of you wanted to face two grumpy four years old on your hands Once the twins were settled You and Dean settled down for the night, Dean laid his head on your chest as you sleepily ran your hands through Deans locks of hair. 

“I love you Darlin’,” Dean mumbled as he snuggled his face deeper into your chest. 

“I love you too handsome.” 

Waking up the next morning, you still felt groggy from the long flight yet you were met with excitement. The twins first Smackdown, the first time the twins were getting to see their Dad fight live. 

“Darling, guess what I got a little surprise for you. I managed to pull a few strings and guess what you and the twins get ringside seats. So you get to see me in action really close and personal. I’m gonna give you a private later regardless maybe you wanna sample the goods right now.” Dean wrapped his arms around your waist playfully nibbling your ear. 

“Dean you know we don’t have time for this, but if you win later I’ll be sure to give you a reward.” You turned around in Dean’s arms kissing him softly. 

“Darlin’ why you always gotta be a tease?” Cheekily winking at him the twins bedroom door opened and twins came running out. 

“We’re going to work with Daddy right Momma.” Y/S/N questioned, on the other hand, Y/D/N had run straight into her Father’s grasps. She had always been a Daddy’s girl. 

“We are and we get to watch Daddy ringside. Are you excited?” Y/S/N nodded. 

“Well, what are we waiting for, let’s get going so I can show you guys off. Soon everyone is going to be jealous of my stunning fiance and gorgeous kids.So let’s get going because I’ve got people to make jealous” You followed your fiance out of the hotel room giving a discrete roll of the eyes. He was so dramatic sometimes. 

The twins were in awe of the arena, they looked around with wide eyes as they walked past and greeted Superstars that they had only seen on TV before. As the twins interacted with different people you expected Dean to look smug yet there was no smugness in his eyes instead there was a distinctive look of pride.

Unfortunately, time soon passed and Dean had to get ready for the show and you had to take your seats but before the show started you decided to take the twins to roam around the merchandise stools as you browsed you noticed Dean’s merchandise and of course the twins stopped. 

“Momma, can we buy some of Daddy’s merchandise.” Y/D/N asked as you all looked down at Dean’s newest shirt. 

“Yeah and then we can go change into our new shirts and when Daddy comes out for his match he’ll be surprised.” You looked down at the twins, it was a pretty good idea and you did have a little bit of time to conduct the plan efficiently.

“I think that’s a great idea. Come on we don’t have much time.” You purchased the tree shirts before hurrying to the bathroom so you could surprise Dean…

You and the twins were loving Smackdown, the crowd absorbed you into the atmosphere while all three of you cheered and interacted with the night’s matches. Dean’s matchup was next, all three of you were pumped. 

The moment Dean’s music hit, the three of you began cheering for him. Dean was out there doing his thing while looking for you and the twins. At first, he had no idea where you were because no one had bothered to tell him where you were sitting. 

When Dean finally spotted you in the crowd, he was taken back. There you all were standing as you cheered for him, wearing his shirt. His shirt. No one else’s, while Dean wasn’t typically known for getting emotional. Seeing you and the twins supporting made him feel proud. All that time away from you and especially the kids was worth it because he could be their real life Superhero and Dean was going to do everything in his power to make sure that he was there to support the twins (and any more children that you decided to have) no matter what it took because you and the twins were his life….. 

Mulder and Scully and the spooky dance-off (by Walter Skinner)

This is fluff on crack with a large portion of special chocolate brownie thrown in. It is as preposterous and unlikely as a well lit kissing scene in season 11. But, there is an FBI ball, dancing and Skinner. This is the bubbly white breaker in the murky sea of angst that I have presented recently. Down a shot and enjoy.

Tagging @txf-prompt-box for their latest challenge, @today-in-fic and @fictober as well as @lokisgame who provided the prompt: I can’t dance okay? Satisfied?

Skinner cursed. Having Mulder back under his wing as an agent was testing. Having Mulder as a dance partner was like waltzing with the lovechild of the losing contestants on Dancing with the Stars and Survivor. At this very moment, Fox Mulder was pouting in the corner of the room. Skinner had sent him there so he didn’t hit him, strangle him or shoot him with the weapon he’d left tucked into his jacket pocket. A good AD was always prepared. A siege at the local dance school wasn’t all that unlikely these days. The murder of a subordinate agent was imminent.

           “I can’t dance, okay? Satisfied?”

           Skinner huffed out a sigh and itched his forehead. Mulder had developed the ability to infect people with mysterious skin complaints where it was preferable to scrape your own nails down your face and draw blood, than spend more than five minutes in his company. And he had six more weeks of lessons to get through.

           “You can, Mulder. And you will. One more time from the top.”

           The music started and he grabbed Mulder’s shoulder to turn him around. They one-two-three’d around the floor in a staccato pattern.

God, he hated Scully.

He hated her because this was her idea. Get Mulder ready for the FBI ball. You can dance, Walter. Show him how.

God, he loved Scully.

He loved her because she lived with this man and had to put up with him for longer than 30 minute stretches.

“I can’t get the rhythm right,” Mulder said, swinging his arm off Skinner’s and stalking off to the corner again. “She’ll fall over my feet, I’ll fall over her feet, I’ll embarrass her. It’s just not worth it. Charity or not.”

Skinner fingered the handle of his gun. If he fired low, he could kneecap Mulder and then the whole plan would fall through. If he fired high, he could wound a shoulder badly enough for reconstructive surgery. If he fired straight, he could just put everyone out of their misery.

“I hate fucking dancing, I hate fucking balls, I hate fucking charities, I hate fucking…”

Skinner held up his hands. “Agent Mulder! You will get back here right now and start again. Do you understand me?”

Mulder scowled, digging his hands deep in his pockets. “There’s no need to hold me at fucking gunpoint, Walter. That’s something Scully would do.”

“Restraint is a quality I’ve always admired in her, Mulder.”

The Annual Children’s Charity Ball had grown over the years. And attendance was expected for senior agents. Mulder and Scully’s return to the Bureau had raised some old grey eyebrows. Long-serving directors with long-serving memories would not forgive nor forget the Spooky’s and their accusations. Redemption could come as simply as a waltz around the dance floor. Other agents could bid on their favourite couples and those who raised the most were pitted against each other in a dance-off.

When Scully told Skinner that she’d danced with Mulder previously, she mentioned some Frankenstein monster and peanut butter and The Fly or something (he wasn’t really listening) but he figured it couldn’t be that hard to teach the genius a few fancy moves. He could only hope they’d be eliminated in the first round and they could all just get pissed on the free beer and wine.

Scully was a vision in dark green silk and her hair plaited around her forehead to her nape where it curled over her neck. Mulder was handsome in his tux and bowtie but fingered his collar between sips and generally looked more sour than the cherry dip. Skinner downed his beer when the announcer called the dance partners to the floor and took ringside seat.

           The first dance – a waltz - was slow enough for Mulder to remember his steps and with Scully’s gentle, smiling encouragement, he twirled and stepped until the music slowed. They survived the cut and hit the floor for the quick-step. Closely followed by the cha-cha-cha where Mulder managed a supple waggle of his hips that had the grey eyebrow brigade chuffing with the same distaste they reserved for everything Spooky did.  

           So, they were down to two couples. Miller and Einstein vs Mulder and Scully. A tango head-to-head. Skinner loosened his bow-tie and smirked at the directors on his table. Thousands of dollars had been raised. And satisfaction welled within him until he felt a peculiar sting at gthe corner of his eyes.

           The music blared heralding the dramatic entrances of the dancers. Shoulders set, arms locked, fingers clasped, toes pointed, legs stepping. Mulder turned Scully with precision and romance. It was mesmerising. Their chemistry spilled out to infect everyone in the room and with just a minute left, there was no way they could lose.

           Until Mulder overstepped and trod on the hem of Scully’s glorious emerald dress just as he sent her into a turn. Skinner reached for his gun, still secure in his pocket.

           “Kill me now,” he whispered, draining his beer.

He looked up to watch the disaster unfolding. The effect of Mulder’s mis-step was that Scully unravelled on his arm as fast as her dress unravelled from the floor up, revealing thigh-highs with lace tops, silver sandals and a flash of white lace panty. The collective gasp from the audience filled the room. The band continued. Miller and Einstein stopped in their tracks, mouths agape.

           But Mulder stooped, collected the silk skirt from the floor and wrapped Scully back into it on the reverse turn. She flushed red but continued, stoic as ever, until the last beat faded into the rousing applause of the grey eyebrows and roomful of agents.

           Skinner slotted the gun back into its position. “Fuck me,” he said, taking another beer from the waiter.

           Mulder smiled and bowed. Scully clutched at the lower half of her dress.

           God, he hated Mulder. That arrogant, lazy smile and his ability to look permanently handsome whether covered in alien goop or in Scully.

           God, he loved Mulder. The way he could reinvent himself from loser in the basement to winner with Scully wrapped in his arms and her own skirts.

            He raised his glass and smiled. “Welcome home, Spookys.”

Best In The World (Kazuchika Okada Imagine)

Kazuchika Okada x Reader
Warning: Smut, slapping (kink), pseudo public sex, mentions of sweat (touching, tasting)
A/N:  So this wasn’t either of the stories I had on deck but it came to me and was easier than others. So. Also there is a nickname used that can have some kink connotations but has none whatsoever, it’s just cute.
     Tagged; @running-ropes @breadclubrising @theelitevillian @spiteandsparkles @daddy-slug @gritsnanarchy @cynda-kiwi @alabastergladiator @thehardyboyz @spooptaculargragon @tranquilogringo @rubyriots @omegamanx @thyestean-feast @squirrel666@cesaros-smile @even-the-losers @elitesuperkicks  @lip-sync @baroncorn @paradoxical-opheliac @msgem @vampy-android @devittslegos @wrasslin-x @trainwreqk @wwe-blog-2017 @livingthestrongstyle @tatyanawaka @shadow-of-wonder @kurominonsense @kelstenkiara @sietefinns @castielscamander @oraclegazes @socyd @lindseyrae20 @eliza-kitty-cat @daintymissdevitt @princess3733 @nickysmum1909 @50shadesofadamcolebaybay @raphaelvavasseur @alexahood21 @unepetitecrise @grey-acefinn @gts-widow @fightblissfight @caramara3 @rainfoxx13  @widow-png @racheo91 @moxtiel @blondekel77   @wrestlinghasruinedmylife @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @totorototo-ro @grappling-giraffe
~2200 words

You weren’t usually so handsy, at least not in public.

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Flash Fiction Time:

I checked the satellite status a final time, only hearing the sound of my breathing.  The system stabilized when I attached the new power cell.  Everything was in the green.  Power…online.  Sensors…online.  Transmitter…online.  I made a final check before attaching the access panel.  I checked my watch, three hour space walk.  Right on schedule.  A quick burst of my thruster pushed me away from the satellite. 

Johnson, we’re getting some odd readings down here, how’s things look on your end?” said someone from Mission Control back in Houston.  Odd, the transmission sounded different.  A higher pitch perhaps.  I kept watch on the satellite, drifting slowly away. 

I glanced down at the earth, expecting to see a serene, beautiful white and blue sphere.  My heart seemed to pause for a moment.  The sight was, I didn’t know how to explain it.  A black hole?  Did CERN finally create something that spiraled out of control?  The spiraling hole ate away at the planet. 

“Houston…Oh shit.”  Not a transmission that was full of wisdom or profound thought, but it was the most fitting, given the circumstance.  Was it the final words of our civilization? 

I only received a garbled response.  I grimaced, wanting to rub my temples as the shrill pierced my ears.  Whatever was going on, I had a ringside seat.  This was one hell of a sight, whatever was going on. 

I started humming David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” as the world came to an end. 

Double Trouble

Setting this up to be a multi chapter thing.  Bear with the long backstory. It’s worth it. Please no hate mail, this is my first piece. Feedback is appreciated.

Some Language.  Smut. Fluff. SMUUUT. NSFW

3409 words.


You are a creative type, so you have no “real job” holding you down.  You do what you want, when you want.  You’re a musician, but not your typical starving artist type.  Money is no object – you are well off from a life insurance settlement from a husband that died.  You’re in no big hurry to marry again, you are a free spirit and pretty much do what and who you want. Like your favorite Pat Green song,  you are a threadbare gypsy soul.

The guys were in town because there was a house show, and they had RAW to tape.  You had a gig that night, and were not really expecting to see anybody other than the usual round of drunks that try to ply you with drinks in hopes that you’d be easy to take home. Little did they know, you were half Irish and can drink whiskey like a champ!


You know Sheamus and Cesaro from a year ago.  You were on the date from Hell, and Cesaro saved you from it.  It was a date a well-meaning friend had set up.  You weren’t really feeling it the first time you went out with Mark, but you are the Queen of second chances.   You give people more chances than they usually deserve.  Damn your big heart.  Mark was not a wrestling fan, but he got ringside seats for the two of you.  Clearly he wanted to impress you.  Him not being a fan, was kind of the final nail in the coffin in your book (He just made the list!)  You were explaining to him the storylines – who’s a heel, who hated who, etc.  He was bored, and wanted to go back to the hotel in the hopes of getting a piece of ass.  You were having the time of your life, and nowhere near ready to leave, Hell the title match of Lesnar V. Goldberg hadn’t even happened yet.  

You looked at him like he was crazy, and said that you would just catch up with him at the hotel later – you would get a cab back.  You turned back in time to see Kevin Owens finish entering the ring.  Dean Ambrose’s intro music cued up and out he comes! All of a sudden BAM! It goes dark, and you’re seeing red.  You’re seething mad, and in a lot of pain. A hard hit to the side of your face from out of nowhere happened. That motherfucker Mark just PUNCHED YOU in the face!  You fell hard into the big dude next to you.  He was a solid wall of muscle, like Braun Strowman.

Dean saw the whole thing happen, and broke character and jumped the wall and started beating the holy living shit out of Mark. The medics quickly took you to a room backstage to put ice on your eye, and check that shoulder.  No real damage done, they iced your face, gave you a BC Powder and a bottled water, and as a precaution, they taped up your shoulder with kinesio tape just like the kind Cesaro wears.  The medic had you lie down on the bench and rest a bit with the ice on your face.

After a while, you had had enough of this shit, you were bored, the night was screwed, and you were going to hit the bar before you went back to the hotel.  Thank GOD you weren’t sharing a hotel room with that douchebag. You put your Coco Chanel rhinestone dark glasses on to cover up the shiner you just KNOW you are getting, and you begin roaming the halls trying to find the entrance to the parking garage to get the HELL out of there. Only problem is you are a little directionally challenged, you were still a little bit woozy, and to make matters worse, you were a bit lost. You can’t find your ass with both hands in the dark, with a flashlight, AND GPS!

You weren’t seeing too clearly, your bruised eye was watering like a son of a bitch, and you plowed right into Cesaro! You hit with such force, and you were still a bit wobbly on your feet.  He caught your elbow to keep you from landing on your ass. Goosebumps popped up all over, and a pulsing throbbing started between your legs. “Oh my GOD! SHIT! I’m SO sorry!” You stammered.  He smiled radiantly, and you melted.  He was impeccably dressed in a dark Armani suit, and his trademark dark glasses.  He looked good, and smelled like Heaven.  He was wearing your favorite men’s scent, Bulgari. You melted a second time inwardly. “No worries darling. You must be lost to have gotten back here.” He said.  “No, actually I got hit in the face.” You said. He stopped smiling, and genuinely looked concerned. He gently removed your sunglasses to look at the faint bruising on your eye. “So YOU’RE the girl! I heard a beautiful lady got injured by her boyfriend tonight, and Dean stepped in. Dean was talking about it in the locker room. He’s lucky I wasn’t out there.” “He’s NOT my boyfriend!” I snapped. “No? Well then I have a chance.  Come to dinner with me.  I’d enjoy very much the company of a beautiful Lady.” The butterflies are doing flip flops in your stomach at this point.  You smile, and say “I’d love to” He holds his arm out to you, and you take it.

He walks you down the hall, and out to the parking garage, where the valet pulls up to you in a sleek black Porsche 911 Carrera.  Cesaro walks around and opens your door for you, and you sink into the plush leather seats. He takes you not too far away, to a quiet little Italian restaurant, and he pulls in, and tosses the keys to the valet. He walks around to your side and opens your door, holding his hand out to you, helping you out of the car. You blush, and again are filled with a hammering throbbing in your deepest parts. He places his hand in the small of your back possessively, a little too close to your ass, and guides you into the restaurant.  The table is in a dark corner, lit up by the light of many candles. The candlelight shines in your eyes, and reflects in your hair.

Once seated across from you, he reaches across, and gently removes your sunglasses. “I want to see you,” He says. He gently brushes the hair from your eyes, and traces his fingers down your face, under the guise of checking on your eye.  You were thinking of other places that those fingers could be! His eyes darken to pools of molten chocolate in the candlelight as he says to you in a husky whisper “Cosi’ bellou” So beautiful. You have no idea what he said, but you feel yourself getting wet with desire for him.

Over dinner, you talk about places he’s travelled to, places you’d like to go - things he’d like to show you – The Eiffel Tower, The Spanish Steps.  You tell him about your music, and he coaxes you to sing a little for him. He is noticeably impressed.  You discuss Art, literature, poetry, theater, opera and find out you have a lot of things in common.  You definitely agree on coffee after dinner, and you both agree Starbucks is the best! You enjoy a cup of coffee, and share a cannoli.  You got a bit of cream on your lip, and he reaches across and wipes at it with his finger, and sucks on it, never breaking eye contact with you.  

After the tab is paid, he walks you outside, and he slips his suit jacket around your shoulders because the night is brisk. Neither one of you are ready to return to the hotel just yet, so with it being a coastal town, you find yourselves walking hand in hand along the beach in the moonlight.  You couldn’t help but notice how perfectly your hand fits in his, and as if reading your mind, he squeezed your hand before bringing it to your lips for the softest of kisses.  His breath was warm across your knuckles, and he murmured in Italian “Attento, stai rubando il mio cuore.” Careful, you’re stealing my heart.  “What did you say?” You asked him.  “You’re beautiful.” He said, not REALLY telling you how he was feeling at that moment in time.

It was a little after midnight, and you walked with him in the surf where the water lapped the beach, you were laughing at his rolled-up suit pants, and ogling those perfect muscular calves.  You both laughed.  You loved the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled.  God, he had a dazzling smile. “He is a God among men” You were thinking to yourself as you openly admired him.  You were so lost in his perfection, you failed to notice that you two had walked all the way out on a long fishing pier, and walked into an abandoned fishing shack to get shelter from the winds, and sea spray.  He put the big rough-hewn locking bar down, and turned to you and smiled warmly. The waves were relatively calm, but the wind had whipped up. There was a little porch with 2 chairs and a table outside at the back, and the view was incredible!  Inside the shack was a table with a coffeepot on it, and a bed, and some linens on the floor.

He closed the distance between you with a couple steps, and slipped his jacket off your shoulders, and draped it on the table.  He also set your purse on the table.   He reached out and took both your hands in his, and he looked into your (your eye color here) eyes and lightly brushed his lips across yours.  His hand moved up to caress your face, and soon found its way to being tangled in your hair.  His kisses became harder, more urgent and needful, his tongue exploring your mouth, sucking your tongue, biting and sucking on your lower lip.  Your lips were bruised from the kisses, and his beard scratched your face raw, but you didn’t care. You wanted him. You wanted this. You could feel his hardness straining against the zipper of his pants. When you took his lower lip in your mouth and sucked on it, he moaned, his brown eyes almost black with lust and desire for you.

In one swooping move, he scooped you up like you weighed nothing, and sat you on the edge of the bed. He knelt on the floor at your feet, and patiently undid your strappy sandals, and set them aside.  He placed a kiss upon each arch before kneading your calves with his strong hands. You arched your back and moaned. He worked your calves all the way up, his fingers probing and spreading your thighs.  You felt yourself getting wetter by the moment for him.  He went under your skirt and palmed your mound and squeezed, then grinned wolfishly up at you and smacked it twice with his palm before he pushed your black lace panties aside, and slid in a finger.  He worked in and out a couple of times before he pulled it out and sucked your sweetness off of it, then slid it back in, this time curling it in a beckoning manner, so he was hitting your sweet spot. He slid a second finger into your wetness, and teased you with a third – stretching your tight hole out.  His thumb flicked your clit mercilessly.  You were SO close to cumming, your walls clenched around his fingers and spasmed.  He pulled his fingers out, and again sucked your sweet cream off of them. He denied you your release.  He was like a cat toying with a mouse, it was much too soon for all that.  

You pouted your displeasure at being denied your release, and he laughed, a deep throaty sound.  He held both your hands over your head in one of his hands, and slid your slinky sundress off, and tossed it in the corner of the room. “Let me look at you” he said, as you tried being shy – mainly because by now your panties were soaked all the way through and sodden.  His hardness strained against the zipper of his pants, and it threatened to inch down of its own accord.  He said in French – the language of lovers – as he openly and lasciviously admired your soft curves “Vouse’ tes une vision de la beaute’, mon dieu, vous e’tes parfait!”  - You are a vision of beauty, My God you are perfect!

You were still clad in your black lace bra and panties, and had sat up, and stood up before him. You reached up, and slowly undid his tie, and let it hit the floor.  Your hands trembled as you unbuttoned his shirt, like it was the first time for you.  He kissed you passionately and whispered “Sweet Girl” against your lips – his shirt hit the floor.  You ran your hands across his broad chest, your face nuzzled in his chest hair, and you licked and sucked and teased his nipples and bit on them! He sharply inhaled. You kissed his injured shoulder, and followed the path of the kinesio tape in kisses.  You looked into his eyes and – he deftly unhooked your bra with one hand, and threw that across the room too.  His large warm hands cupped your heavy DD breasts, and his mouth returned the favor of what you did to his nipples. He took your nipple in his mouth – tongue teasing the bud until it puckered – and while sucking and nibbling, he pinched and rolled the other in his free hand.  

You kissed and licked all the way down his chest – you came back up and again teased his nipples and his hands tangled in your hair, and he bit your neck, marking you as his! You kissed down his “happy trail,” down to his navel, you swirled your tongue around, and he moaned low in his throat. You licked the hard lines of his “V” muscle – his obliques… you unbuttoned his pants, and pulled the zipper down the rest of the way with your teeth.  The zipper had started coming down on its own, after you unbuttoned his pants.  You never broke eye contact with him.   His bulge was sticking up past the waistband of his black briefs – the head, angry and purple was visible and shiny with pre-cum. You were on your knees before him, and slid his briefs off using your teeth!

Once free of its restriction, his dick, all long and hard and thick – and smooth bobbed and stuck straight out.  His balls were large and heavy and hung low – just begging to be sucked! You gasped at the size of him and said “You’re perfect. You would put Michelangelo’s David to shame!” He smiled and said “You would shame DiMilo’s Venus with your beauty, Mi amor.” And you again knelt before him, and licked the length of that beautiful monster cock, one hand cupping those heavy balls of his.  He let out a loud moan when you put one of his balls into my mouth.  You swished it around inside your mouth, then you switched to the other one; you were also stroking his thighs with your hands. He started breathing harder when you managed to put both his balls into your mouth at once.  You tenderly licked his balls while warming them up with your hot mouth. You used your tongue to move them all around; your lips were completely enveloping his entire sack, up to the root of his dick. Your hands began to stroke his dick.  Your hands kneaded his thighs; your fingers were inches from his balls. He let out a gasp when your red nails brushed up against his balls. “Oh God!” he said. Then came furious bobbing. Slow sucking. Gentle licking, swirling the head, probing the hole on top. You worked your way up to the sensitive underside of his cock, right under the head. you gave that area some licks, and then teased him a bit with some long slow licks up and down the shaft. When you knew he really needed some more direct stimulation, you finally put your lips around the whole head of his cock and started to gently suck him off. Fondling his balls with your hand, you slowly lowered your mouth over his entire organ, getting it deep inside your mouth.

You stopped sucking and teasing, and his dick popped free and bobbed, still sticking straight out.  He was breathing heavy, and moaned.. God he was close… you rose to your feet and walked around him, staring.  His ass was perfect and you couldn’t resist spanking it – HARD as you walked around him. His ring gear did not begin to do it justice.  He was truly a work of art – chiseled, hard, perfect.. yours.  His dick bobbed when you slapped his ass.

Without warning, and in one swift move, he tore your soaked panties off in his fist like he did his tear away suit in the ring. You gasped in surprise, and he scooped you up again, like you weighed nothing, and he placed you as gently as he could even in his state – rabid with arousal on the bed.  He nudged your thighs apart with his knee, and he hovered above you, teasing your clit with his hardness, teasing your opening, just putting in the tip. You arched your back to meet him, and he lost himself.. he slammed it home, and you moaned and screamed, and dragged your nails across his back, and you bit down on his shoulder. The biting and scratching made him thrust harder in a frenzy, he was speaking in French, pounding you, and you were both moaning.. your walls clenched around him, you wrapped your legs around him, holding him in you.  You came an entire ocean, and soaked him, he moaned, and you felt him shoot his hot seed deep in you.

You both lay there still connected for a moment, then he slid out.  You were too wet.  He reached down, and got you a dry towel to clean off, and he climbed behind you and nuzzled your neck, kissing your shoulders holding you tightly, arms wrapped around you, kissing you everywhere he could reach.  You both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, sun streamed through the window, Cesaro lay there looking at you, the light playing in your hair.  He had an angel. You stirred, and smiled sleepily. He handed you a cup of coffee, and you hugged each other tightly, and made love slowly.  Afterwards, you both got dressed – you sans panties of course. You both giggled as you walked out to the balcony and threw them in the sea!

He took you to Victoria’s Secret and bought you some more.  He also bought you a new sundress he couldn’t wait to see you in.  It was a stunning green that set off your hair nicely.  He also got you matching shoes and a purse! You went and had breakfast together in a quiet little French Bistro, lingering over coffee and bacon.  He asked “Can I see you again, my angel?”  “Of course,“ you said, and smiled.  God, he loved your smile.  And your numbers are in each other’s phones now, and he dropped you off at your hotel, but not before he gave you a deep kiss. “Come to the show tonight.  I will have tickets at will-call for you.” He said, and he drove off. He got back to the hotel he shared with Sheamus.

Sheamus glowered at him and said “Yer late fella. You were supposed to meet me at the gym today!”  Cesaro had a silly smile on his face, and said “Yeah… about that.  I met a Lady…” Sheamus sniffed the air loudly and said snidely “I couldn’t tell.” Cesaro punched his arm and said “Back off man! She’s coming to the show tonight and sitting in the Cesaro Section.  You be nice tonight.”

Originally posted by heyambrose


Taglist beauties: @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @helluvawriter @deidrelovessheamus @laochbaineann

What You Wanted

A/N: I screenshotted the prompt from my phone and I’m lucky that I did too, because Tumblr bugged out on me quite a while ago and I couldn’t find it in my inbox? Anyway, this prompt was sent in to me months ago and before I had my little meltdown, I did start it and I just never got the chance to finish it.

I’m not back by any means quite yet, but I finally got some time to myself today through all the hectic happenings in my life at the minute and I managed to get this prompt finished! I just wanna apologise to the requester for taking so long with this one and I also wanna thank them for being so patient with me, I hope this was worth the wait!

Pairing: The Shield x Reader

Word Count: 2,209

Warnings: Smut and swears!

Summary: After acting overly flirtatious with the boys during a match one night, you end up going back to their tour bus after the show and they give you exactly what you wanted from them.

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As Europe enjoyed a partial solar eclipse on the morning of Friday 20 March 2015, ESA’s Sun-watching Proba-2 minisatellite had a ringside seat from orbit. Proba-2 used its SWAP imager to capture the Moon passing in front of the Sun. SWAP views the solar disc at extreme ultraviolet wavelengths to capture the turbulent surface of the Sun and its swirling corona.

Credit: ESA

Crossfire - Chapter Twenty Two

Author: somemaycallmesunshine
Pairing: Young John!Michael x Prophet!Reader
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: violence, blood, gore, anxiety attacks, angst, swearing, death, changes in season 5’s plot

A/N:Thank you, thank you for all of your support for Crossfire so far, guys. This one’s a bit of a filler chapter but it also has some important information for you in there as well. (Also sorry for the lack of Michael in this part. He’ll make an appearance in the next ones for sure!) Parts of the episodes are weaved in through the plot with some changes for the sake of the storyline. (Visions as well as internal thoughts are in italics)

Summary: Takes place during season 5. With the apocalypse at foot, Team Free Will and the reader are doing everything in their power to stop it. But when their plans take a wrong turn, the reader gets kidnapped by none other than their enemy, Michael the archangel

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

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Ringside Seat to a Bear’s World by David & Shiela Glatz
Via Flickr:
The weather was crappy in coastal Alaska. Rained for three days straight. Still overcast when we headed out to the coast in late afternoon. This mother Brown Bear, two spring cubs in tow nearby, caught several salmon. Here she ran right past us. No cropping on this image. She couldn’t get much closer. Light was not great. She missed the fish. But it was so exciting to have a ringside seat with a view into this bear’s life and those of her cubs. Fattening up before winter isn’t optional for this species. They need the fat to get through about 6 months of hibernation. You can see the intensity of the situation in the bear’s face - along with remnants of her last meal and a fish scale or two on her head. #brownbear #coastalbrownbear #salmonrun #action #alaska #glatznaturephoto #wildlife #wildlifephotography #animalsofinstagram #animalkingdom #animal #mammal #mammabear #natgeoyourshot #ursusarctos #fishingbear #lakeclarknps #lakeclarknationalpark #cookinlet #claw #uncropped