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#amputee man
ihaveoneleg · 11 days
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amputeejota · 7 months
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amputeeleo · 3 months
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Wheelchair 🦽
New video on my OF
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rimbaudsleg · 21 days
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"My Body is Different": Deeply beautiful French model
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ampfan51 · 2 months
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From OnlyFans: LimblessLust
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hommes-sans-membres · 11 days
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robertdevo-blog · 1 month
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Amputee Young man
Rak amputee in crutches
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jophgrim · 3 months
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The stump 🫠
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devotee7 · 3 months
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bodaciousalliance · 4 months
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The Heart of Mr Farouk, chapter 53, Skin
This is such a touching chapter, sometimes I still get teary even though I've read it fifty times...
They were still sitting on the couch, in quiet reverie together. Nathan was absent-mindedly finger-tracing along the scars and around the outline of the different patches of damaged skin on Youssef’s arms.
Maybe Youssef's arms look a bit like this.............
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“Do you even like it?” Youssef asked, referring to his disfigured skin.
“Well, you know I like this,” he answered, gently kissing the end of his actual stump.
“Because it’s some kind of weird sexual turn-on for you, which I’m totally okay with, by the way.”
“Yes, it’s like an extra dick or something,” Nathan playfully pretended to masturbate the stump.
“But what about this?” Youssef raised his arm, so that a particularly nasty patch of skin was right under Nathan’s nose.
“Well, ordinarily I would feel fairly neutral about it, to me it’s just markings, almost like the patterns on his coat,” Nathan pointed across to Kit-Kat, who was curled up asleep on the chair opposite.
“Yeah…”
“But … well … I know you have such difficult feelings around …”
“You know I just hate it all so much!” Youssef blurted out.
“I know, I know, and I don’t blame you, either, which is exactly why these parts of you need that special, extra, tender-loving care,” and he ran a series of the sweetest, softest, most gentle kisses possible, up and down Youssef’s mangled arms.
...and then Nathan asks him about what happened; and Youssef explains all about his childhood illness and being in hospital, and then...
Youssef’s voice trailed off and he went all quiet. Presently, Nathan felt a teardrop land on his arm, then another and another. He squeezed Youssef, with his arms wrapped around him, he squeezed him and held on to him as tightly as he could.
“Baby, baby, baby, it’s alright, I’m here, Youssef, I’m here,” he comforted him.
There was a gasp, a huge intake of breath from Youssef, and then he started sobbing, huge sobs that shook his whole body, absolute convulsions of sadness and grief.
Read the whole chapter on Ao3...
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ihaveoneleg · 3 months
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amputeejota · 8 months
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ampfan51 · 5 months
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If anyone has any additional photos of this guy I would very much appreciate it if you would share them!
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hommes-sans-membres · 5 months
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lashawn lamonde
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clonerightsagenda · 1 year
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Roy Mustang's manga introduction is learning a 14 year old is trapped on a hijacked train with a violent criminal and going "oh thank God I was worried I'd have to do my job today"
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bodaciousalliance · 2 months
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The heart of Mr Farouk,
ch. 59: "Lazy Saturday"
The aroma of coffee began to percolate through the house. Nathan had time to search around in the pantry, finding the croissants, butter and jam; but that was as far as he went, he knew the croissants were Youssef’s department. Meanwhile, in the corner Kit-Kat crouched down on his haunches glowering across the room. Nathan was careful to give him a wide berth, treading gingerly around him.
Soon enough, Youssef emerged. Like Nathan, he had dressed for effect this morning. All he wore was a pair of sexy black football shorts, and no shirt. What a sight he presented: the black shorts, with his black liners and carbon sockets, complemented the jet black hair of his head, beard and chest, while the flash of metal from his pylons and hooks set off the flash of his hazel eyes. Nathan was completely entranced by his sexy, topless lover, his very own bionic man.
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...what a sight he presented, the black shorts, with his black liners and carbon sockets...Nathan was completely entranced by his sexy, topless lover, his very own bionic man.
“Feed the cat, I dare you,” Youssef, at the pantry, tossed a bag of treats Nathan’s way.
“Ah … okay …” Nathan answered tentatively. He shook the bag and like a shot Kit-Kat came running across to him, meowing and rubbing himself against Nathan as he circled around his legs. Nathan squatted and showed Kit-Kat the now-opened bag, which drove him absolutely wild. He took one of the treats and, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, offered it to the cat. Kit-Kat, though in a mania of hunger—really there was something in these treats that always sent him crazy—gently took it from Nathan, without biting or nipping his fingers.
“Good boy,” Nathan cooed, offering him another—and another and another and another, until the cat walked away, sated, “Good boy, good boy,” Nathan cooed again, and Kit-Kat chirruped in reply.
Observing all this, Youssef thought ‘how sweet’. He couldn’t help but take it as some kind of good omen, given that Kit-Kat was usually completely hostile to everyone bar himself.
“He likes you,” he teased Nathan, “he’s never not hissed and growled at any visitor here—you’re the first one he’s warmed to.”
“I suppose that augers well then—I hope I can spend a fair bit of time here in the future, if you’ll have me, habibi.”
“Of course, my boyfriend, it’s great having you here, I love it,” as an afterthought, he added, “but I like your place too, you know.”
They sat at the table, enjoying their breakfast. The croissants—warm and buttery and jammy—were not as good as those in Paris but still pretty good for suburban England. The coffee, rich and creamy, was heavenly. The lovers sat there, taking in the simple joy of sharing a delicious meal with each other.
“So, habibi, did you have any idea of what you want to do today?”
“Well, my boyfriend, I thought I’d enlist your help in the kitchen—I want to put dinner on soon so it can simmer away during the day.”
“Oh … okay … you want me in the kitchen? You are brave, what are you thinking of?”
“Don’t worry, just help with some of the prep, no actual cooking—I’m doing Moroccan lamb—I hope that appeals. Anyway, what about you, what do you have in mind for today?”
“I brought a heap of art stuff. I’d like to draw a bit. And I brought you some stuff—just to play around with, only if you’re interested.”
“Hmmm … maybe?” There was a time when Youssef would have automatically, categorically said ‘no’. These days, being subjected to Nathan’s constant encouragement, he felt less unsure about his capabilities, and though he was quite sure he was devoid of any kind of artistic sense, he felt so much more open—again thanks to Nathan’s influence—to new experiences, to trying new things.
“Okay, cooking and drawing,” though Nathan was in no rush to do anything except savour the fantastic coffee.
“Let’s do it,” Youssef rose and made for the fridge and the larder, and started gathering the ingredients. He wanted Nathan to chop the vegetables; onions, carrots and potatoes—that was, especially the onions, the most fiddly and time-consuming part of the process for him. However, it quickly became obvious that Nathan was clueless about all things to do with cooking. Youssef even thought it may have been quicker for him to take over, despite how long it took him to do these intricate tasks with his prosthetic hooks. It didn’t matter, it was a joy to be doing stuff together and, with some patient coaching and gentle correction, Nathan was soon making a good job of it, while Youssef trimmed and carved the lamb into nice big chunks.
Before long the rich aroma of frying onions and garlic began wafting through the house, later joined by lamb, turmeric and other spices. It gave a cosy, homely feeling to the place. Nathan watched in fascination as Youssef deftly handled the various utensils and achieved the different tasks—frying, pouring, stirring and the like—with his hooks. Nathan almost let out a warning cry as he saw him about to pick up the casserole dish without first getting a pot-holder, then he realised, of course his prosthetics don’t feel the heat.
“There, we’ll just let that quietly stew away for a bit, and that’s our dinner,” Youssef said as he transferred the casserole from the cooktop to a slow oven.
“Mmmmm,” Nathan savoured it, he was loving being here.
“How about some tea, and maybe we can sit down and relax?”
“Lovely. Like I said, I’d like to draw. Actually, I’d like to draw you, will you sit for me?”
“Draw me? What, a portrait or something? … yes, of course, but why? Why on earth would you want to draw me?”
“Well … I love you …”
“I love you too!”
“… I love you, and right now I think I would want to draw you every day. Plus, you’re a great subject: your super-handsome looks and your amazing physicality.”
“Aaaar … hmmmm …”
“I know you don’t like it but, this idea of ‘difference’ is a real thing in art these days, there’s a big movement to proudly portray people with their various differences, to make a strong statement about it being okay to be different. You can be a part of that movement too, you know.”
“Oh … I don’t know, I’m not any kind of advocate or activist, don’t want to be, either.”
“That’s alright. You can at least pose for me, nothing more.”
“Yes, yes, like I said, for you, anything—my lovely boyfriend.”
“I see I’ve gained an adjective now,” Nathan teased.
They repaired to the living room, with their cups of tea. Nathan suggested Youssef sit on the couch while he got his stuff. Returning with his favourite sketch-pad and charcoals, he sat cross-legged on the floor, facing Youssef.
“So, how about you place your feet flat on the floor—yes—now, lean forward, elbows on your knees—that’s it—and look straight at me. Wow!”
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...feet flat on the floor, lean forward, elbows on your knees, now, look straight at me... wow!
It was a powerful aspect, the unambiguous metal of his leg pylons and hooks, the sexy thick hairy chest, the muscled shoulders, sort of bound by the harness-straps of his prosthetic arms, and his intense, cool gaze. All was magnified by the stark black and white of Nathan’s charcoal drawing.
“Can I see it?”
“Promise not to hate it, or freak out over your body-image issues?”
“Hmm, okay, I’ll try not to.”
Nathan got up and brought over the sketch. Youssef gasped a little, and slowly, carefully, thoughtfully perused the picture before him. He had gone completely quiet as he continued to stare at, to meditate on, Nathan’s portrait of him.
“You’re not going to go all lachrymose on me again, are you?” Nathan asked, only half-jokingly.
“Ummm … no … gosh, it’s remarkable, it’s such a strong image, I’ve never seen myself like this before—you’ve made me look so powerful.”
“Ah, well, the pose, and the medium, and the style add to it; but really all the power comes from the subject, the sitter, you—it all comes from you, Youssef.”
“Yes, but…”
“Look, habibi, honestly, this is one of my better ones, I can tell, they don’t always turn out so well. I mean to say, success as in actually being able to realise on paper what I see, to convey or transmit what I see and feel to you, the observer. It doesn’t always happen this well, in fact sometimes it doesn’t happen at all.”
“That’s interesting, I never thought about art in those terms. It’s all so subjective, isn’t it? You know, with science, we spend all our time trying to eliminate the subjective. We have to aim for complete objectivity.”
“Of course, that’s why it’s science and not art. Science and art, objective and subjective, just like yin and yang—that’s why we’re so good together, my lovely.”
“And here’s me thinking it was because you are so damned sexy,” Youssef had that glint in his eye again…
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