#fless

[flying-thing]

In the Flesh, a BBC show

Please please please watch this show if you haven't already. It's so good (even though it got canceled due to funding issues 😒😒)

It's about zombies who are slowly turning back into humans. It's queer, not super gory, and has some homophobia and segregation between the living and those with "partially deceased syndrome." The ending is sort of a cliffhanger, but it's finished enough, I suppose. The music was also lovely.

It's so wonderful. I need you to watch it and then make me write for it. Please feed my obsession with this little show.

[magic-coffee]

All the lice and fleas investing in my baby's face a very die

[waterlogged-detective]

Will probably have another tomb colonist party wip this weekend!!!

[zeezelweazel]

honestly love anything you write but bottom! alexia is the best love it

Alexia Putellas| With all the time in the world|

___________________________________

I'm definitely more of a tits gal but there's just something about how good Alexia's ass looks in the kit shorts I start foaming at the mouth every time I see her.

Part two of Wrong place, wrong time

TW: degradation, ass play, strap on use, overstimulation

___________________________________________

You always keep your promises, Alexia knows this. That's why she can't keep herself from squirming in her seat, she can't wait to go home and see just how you'll make good on your promise. She's already wet just from thinking about it.

You try not to smirk when you notice her constant squirming. You loved when Alexia got in this mood. You decide to tease her by calmy placing your hand on her thigh. Alexia sucks in a harsh breath and closes her eyes. That's not the kind of reaction that you were hoping for so you slowly trail your hand onwards in her inner thigh and squeeze.

Alexia whines and bites her lip, her legs instinctively closing and trapping your hand in place. You smirk when Alexia softly pleads for you when your hands tease her clothed slit. Suddenly you pull your hand away and Alexia looks at you with tears of frustration in her eyes. You don't pay her any mind as you continue driving. From the corner of your eyes you see Alexia moving one of her hands to rub her cunt through the layers of fabric.

"Move. Your. Hand."

Alexia gasps and you don't know if it's because of your assertive tone or how her hand grazed her clit. Alexia knows you only use that tone when you plan on being rough.

"I won't say it again Alexia."

She moves her hand away as if she's been burned and grips the seat tightly. By the time you're pulling in the drive way Alexia is panting like she's just played a full 90 minute match. You chucke at her eagerness and the way she almost run out of the car to open the front door.

You entered the house slowly, not bothering to keep up with Alexia's eagerness. You walked up the stairs to the bedroom and you were immediately pulled to the bed by Alexia. She was already naked, her nipples perked and her pussy soaked when she climbed on top of you.

"You're going from bad to worse today baby." You slowly start trailing your hands up her body while you talk, relishing in the way she shivers when the tips of your fingers graze her ribs.

"First you drag me away to fuck you in a crouded stadium and then" you pull on a tight nipple and Alexia yelps in surprise "we almost get caught."

She tries to grind down on you to get some friction but you grip her waist and keep her steady where she is. "And now you're not even waiting for my orders, jumping on me like a fucking slut."

Alexia is looking down at her thighs with flushed cheeks. You slap her ass hard making the captain jolt and moan loudly. Alexia finally looks at you with unshead tears glossing her eyes as you roughly play with the soft fless of her ass. She starts rubbing her thighs together desperate for any kind of friction.

When one of your hands drops a little lower and lightly teases the tight ring of her asshole Alexia whines and drops her weight forward. You kept moving your hands careful not to give her what she wants just yet, instead you focus on her sweet pants and moans echoing right next to your ear.

"Y/N..."

You grin when you hear Alexia call for you desperately but you didn't change the way your hands moved. You kept kneeding away at her plump ass and you moved your head so you can suck bruises on her neck. Alexia was dripping wet and pathetically pleading you to touch her but you were busy trying to mark every inch of her beautiful taned skin.

"I'm sorry. Y/N, I'm sorry, I-I promise I won't do it again. Please just fuck me!"

You hummed low in your throat and moved closer to her ear. You bite her ear lobe and she whimpers making you slyly smirk.

"You want to get fucked, is that right you whore?"

Alexia sobbed at your words and nodded quickly.

"Please! I want your mouth, your fingers, anything!"

Suddenly you lifted her off you and pushed her down on the bed. Alexia watched with hungry eyes as you moved to your closet to grab your favourite strap on. She resisted the urge to touch herself while she watched you put the harness on. You confidently walked to the bed and Alexia gulped, looking up to meet your hard stare.

"Turn around, ass up."

Alexia does as you told her, as quickly as humanly possible. You take in a sharp breath when she raises her ass and you finally see her dripping pussy, her hole clenching around nothing and her clit throbbing. You drag the fake cock along her slit, gathering as much of her juices as you can before playfully bumping her clit with the head of the strap on. Alexia's knees almost give out at the sudden contact and you chuckle quietly at her pathetic state. Without wasting any more time you push the head against her hole and watch as Alexia greedily sucks you in deeper. The captain drops her head on the mattress as she tries fo muffle her loud cries of pleasure.

You thread a hand through her hair and pull back roughly against the blonde locks raising Alexia's head.

"Don't try to be quiet, we both know that's a lost cause, you're too much of a slut to keep your mouth shut."

Alexia whimpers at your words. You decide you've waited enough so in one rough thrust you push the sntire length inside her. Alexia moans loudly, her back arching and pushing her ass further into your hips. You didn't give Alexia any time to recover before you started pounding roughly into her, your hand gripping her waist so hard it will certainly bruise. Alexia is crying out every time you hit her sweet spot her thighs shaking and hands gripping the sheets tightly. Your hand leaves her hair and spanks her ass and Alexia's knees give out from the blinding pleasure. You grip her thighs and use them as leverage to fuck Alexia into the mattress.

"Fuck, I'm close!"

You grin widely and bring your hand under Alexia's body to rub at her clit and the captain screams in pleasure. Soon her thighs shake violently and Alexia is left panting on the bed but you don't stop the brutal pace you've set up. Alexia whines softly and tries to move further up the bed to avoid the overwhelming pleasure but she fails because your strong hand is still holding her in place.

"What, I thought you wanted to get fucked."

Alexia whimpers and shakes her head as a second orgasm approaches.

"S' too much. Y/N... please I can't."

Instead of paying Alexia any mind you put one of your legs up on the bed and use the new position to fuck into her with more strength. One of your hands comes down on her ass again and soon Alexia is shaking from the blinding pleasure.

"Oh so now you can't, huh? A few minutes ago you were willing to let the whole team fuck you."

Alexia whines at the reminder of just how much she wanted you to fuck her but she doesn't have time to dwell on it because she's coming a second time and she sees white.

When Alexia opens her eyes she's lying next to you on the bed all fresh and clean while you're rubbing soft circles on her back. Alexia goes to move but she's so sore she winced in pain. You smile and place a soft kiss on her head.

"I always keep my promises don't I, love?"

___________________________________________

[anittmyer]

In my 'Maglor is an arranged marriage with Daeron' AU.

The royal family of Doriath is like how the British Royal family was to Diana. Maglor wasn't how they wanted him to behave, which is quiet, out of sight, follow protocol, and a loyal spouse. While Maglor was indeed a loyal spouse, he wouldn't let himself be locked away and smothered, he engaged with the people of Doriath, as many heard rumors about the violent Noldor. Maglor treated with the people and sang songs with the children. Thingol was not pleased and told Daeron to keep a better watch over his husband, and even though Daeron DID love Maglor, he feared his father's disappointment more, so he urged Maglor not to go out anymore.

Daeron fless Doriath after telling his father about Beren and Luthien, the guilt eating him alive, he abandons his family and the royal court see the opportunity to spread rumors and have Maglor banished from Doriath. The rumors fly and eventually Thingol "has no other choice" then to expel Maglor from Doriath, but his children will remain in Doriath under Melian's care.

. . . .

Thingol is REALLY a jerk in this AU. I will be writing more Maglor and Daeron's kids and their adventures after the loss of their parents.

[wizard-island-trading-co]

Lore Post:

(ooc: I've been hopping on again and seeing some revitalized interested in wizarding, so I thought I'd make this for RP. This won't be all inclusive unless I edit it later, but I'll cover the main points.)

Hello! My name is Captain Fless Roicaff. (Don't say it backwards lest ye be cursed)

Pronouns are he/him.

I am of age for adult activities, but prefer not to go too deep. (Roicaff is a skeleton, after all, and has no flesh with which to crave another's.)

I am a skeleton who wears stereotypical pirate garb with colors of green and gold. Except pants. I don't wear pants. This tradition used to be an intimidation tactic before I became a skeleton, but is still followed. (Profile picture created by "@the-necrobotanist") (didn't want to put in a direct link in order to prevent spam if I edit this post)

My schools of magic (in descending order of specialization) are necromancy, transmutation/alchemy, spatial manipulation, and just a touch of astral magic. I am not well versed in combat magic because I invested heavily into immortality. I do, however, have my own personal school called Dock Magic, which combines transmutation and spatial magic in order to create and throw boats at people.

My vessel, the Stocky Jasmine, is a personalized Ship of Many Decks. In addition to the standard number of decks for rigging and cannons, the Stocky Jasmine is connected to an extradimensional space. Not even I know how many decks there are. Or what else is down there. In addition to being my equivalent of a wizard tower, the Stocky Jasmine has the ability to travel anywhere as long as I have a sample of magic energy from the target location. Very useful for finding people in an emergency.

My crew is comprised mainly of two kinds of skeletons. The Rave Skeletons are standard summoned skeletons who love a good party. These fellows were brought into unlife during a wizard duel and are fantastic companions. The Starlight Skeletons are of my own design. They are birthed of Liquid Starlight and are remotely controlled by spiders. There are also the Dock Wizards. Students of my craft, they are very helpful with the maintenance of my fleet and outposts.

I run the Wizard Island Trading Co., which is headquartered on Wizard Island Island. We (we being me and the skeletons) have a worldwide web of acquisitions, manufacturing, and distribution. Kinda like wizard capitalism, except the rules are made up and the points don't matter.

The cornerstone of my empire is Liquid Starlight. This liquid is flawed, being made only of the starlight that reaches the Earth. When used regularly, it can cause issues in automated magic systems or ingested directly. That said, it is available in ridiculous quantities and provides a highly efficient source of power to those willing to work around the maintenance requirements.

[ultramegatroutman]

Wostok Ostwok Generalskie

A peresztrojka akkora fless volt, hogy egy svájci cég a '90-es években rebrandelt vosztokokat terített a nyugati piacon.

[d3utschem4rk]

Reichshauptſtadt Berlin | Stadtschloß

Sammlug Sven Flessing

[odd-animated-armor]

Hey Az, Fless ( @wizard-island-trading-co ) isn't doing too well. He got mana poisoning from some liquid stardust, and he's running on backup intelligence now.

What!!! I get stuck dealing with the consequences of my own actions, and this is what I miss!?!?

[kgyst]

Krisztus eleje, ez mekkora fless lehetett anno fekete-fehér tévén. Eskü nem emlékszem rá, pedig tuti ott ��ltem a Videoton Tünde előtt.

[pajjorimre]

what a fless azt a tűzlépcsőt belülról bámulni egy hirdetési oldalon, amit a piros pöttytől fotóztam 2018. július 26.-án, amikor a Csabika még ott lakott és azóta nem jártam ott

[the-illegal-wizard-council]

The Council wishes to officially announce the newest members of The Illegal Wizard Council. We are very proud of them in a fatherly kind of way.

@the-necrobotanist, he/they - Nero The Necrobotanist - Head Necrobotanist and Ketamine Bear Researcher

@vivisection-and-vampyrism, he/they/it - Hart the Vivisector

@irrumabo-ego-solem, he/him - Fless Roicaff of the Stocky Jasmine - Chief Privateer

@the-druid-wizard, they/it - Aster Sage the Druid Wizard - Head of Nature Crimes

@number-crimes-wizard, he/him - The Wizard Accountant

@renegade4-13, any - Ryder The Revengeful

@greyhound-with-a-mega-wizard-hat, she/her - Hatt the Hattest - Fastest Runner

@wozardpostingforwizards, he/it/they - Tavvy the Wozard

@not-wizard-council-aristocrat, he/they - not a wizard council aristocrat

as well as our newest, unpaid addition to the team, the @wizard-intern! they will be at your disposal at all times, forever.

*all details to be changed upon request.

We congratulate everyone and hope that you'll have a productive time doing crimes with us here in the council!

New members shall be admitted soon.

[fallimentiquotidiani]

Si lei solo sdraiata e rilassata con le gambe flesse e tu sopra che penetri fino a che non espelli

[omarfor-orchestra]

scrivici una scena su m e m che si menano per simobale pls 🙏🙏

Eccomi qua anon ci ho messo quanto? Un mese? Non so cos'ho scritto onestamente.

Comunque il disclaimer d'obbligo è non insultate Mimmo per piacere che io ad oggi non trovo motivi giustificabili per odiarlo. Se dovete insultarlo fatelo da un'altra parte, grazie 🫶🏻

Si riscopre cattivo Manuel, lui che ha sempre fatto in modo di fermarsi a un passo dalla crudeltà a favore della reputazione di stronzo che si è guadagnato con fatica e una punta d'orgoglio - che nella vita serve, questo lo ha imparato presto.

Da qualche parte - soffocato dal rancore a dal dolore che da qualche settimana non smettono di pulsare sotto la sua pelle a ritmo del battito del suo cuore - il barlume del raziocinio illumina quel petto fattosi caverna e gli mostra sulle pareti il disegno di un dito puntato contro se stesso.

Eppure non riesce ad assumersi tutte le colpe del caso. L'unica cosa che può fare, l'unica cosa che gli dà un briciolo di sollievo al bruciore costante è ritorcere quell'indice verso il ragazzo appoggiato all'uscio della biblioteca.

Sta aspettando che Simone gli porti un caffè dalle macchinette in fondo al corridoio. Guarda verso di lui come se non ci fosse nessun altro attorno, un sorriso timido sul volto ad illuminarne gli occhi attenti, scaltri, di chi è abituato a non fidarsi mai di nessuno.

E Manuel lo sa - lo sa, perché guardare lui è come vedersi allo specchio, come vedere la sua vita passata e futura in un filmino - che sta abbassando la guardia solo ora, perché Simone ce la sta mettendo tutta per abbattere le sue difese e farlo aprire con lui e con gli altri, a renderlo più sereno, più simile ad un ragazzo della sua età e non si arrenderà finché non tirerà fuori ciò che di bello vede in lui.

Lo rende anche più vulnerabile, però.

Manuel sa esattamente dove colpire per farlo scattare.

"È l'ora d'aria pure pe' lui, regà?"

Si affida alla poca intelligenza emotiva dei compagni e al volume alto della sua voce. Non lo guarda in faccia, quasi gli dà le spalle per crogiolarsi nella finta superiorità con cui si maschera e si arma. Con la coda dell'occhio lo vede sciogliere la posa rilassata e contrarre la mascella, ma non basta. Gli serve una spinta in più.

"Magari se lo chiudono nella biblioteca se sente più a suo agio".

"Mi stai sfottendo?"

Se la sente addosso, la crudeltà. Penetra nel sangue e si mischia con l'adrenalina che sfreccia nelle sue vene, gli fanno vibrare i muscoli d'aspettativa per uno scontro che è sempre più vicino.

All'arsenale aggiunge il sorriso più beffardo che possiede e una voce così derisoria da risultare fastidiosa alle sue stesse orecchie.

"Che hai detto? N'ho capito".

Pare pronto per un attimo, i pugni chiusi e le gambe appena flesse per darsi lo slancio. Poi guarda verso il fondo del corridoio, dove Simone ancora litiga con la macchinetta e con i soldi nel portamonete.

Scarica la tensione con un sospiro, prima di dare le spalle a Manuel e tornare a poggiarsi allo stipite della porta.

"Stu piezz 'e mmerd".

Manuel non ci sta.

Serra i denti e si ascolta quasi ringhiare tanto è montata la rabbia dentro di sé e cerca nel suo stesso cervello i punti più delicati da colpire, i più dolorosi da toccare.

Tanto lui e Mimmo sono la stessa persona. È per questo che Simone se l'è scelto, no?

"Manco l'italiano sa parla'. Che c'è, mammá non te l'ha imparato?"

Come affondano le sue parole nella testa di Mimmo, così le nocche affilate del ragazzo sprofondano nello stomaco di Manuel e i frammenti della vetrinetta contro cui si ritrova sbattuto senza troppe cerimonie si conficcano nella sua schiena. Resta senza fiato per un istante, sinceramente preso alla sprovvista dalla forza che non si aspettava avessero quelle braccia esili.

Ma Mimmo è cresciuto in strada, come lui. Manuel conosce bene le regole di questo gioco.

Sorride, prima di accovacciarsi e colpirlo sulle gambe facendolo cadere a terra. Parlano la stessa lingua ora, senza barriere e stupidi principi, in cui le parole sono scandite dai versi che escono doloranti da chi viene colpito, arrabbiati da chi colpisce, e che con le botte compongono frasi comprensibili soltanto da loro due.

Me l'hai portato via.

Gli hai fatto del male.

Ti sei preso tutto ciò che era mio.

Hai avuto una vita migliore di me, voglio anch'io una possibilità.

Dante è stato tuo padre prima che diventasse il mio.

Ho bisogno di lui più di te.

Non ti meriti Simone.

Non ti meriti Simone.

È Manuel che sta avendo la peggio. Cerca di non fermare mai i calci e i pugni dati alla cieca, senza la precisione utile a non fargli male davvero come faceva con Simone, ma Mimmo è terribilmente lucido nella furia che gli attraversa lo sguardo e colpisce come non avesse fatto altro per tutta la vita.

Dura un paio di minuti, forse una giornata intera, Manuel non sa dirlo con certezza. Però è sicuro, purtroppo, che il sangue che macchia i vestiti di entrambi sia interamente suo.

"Ma che cazzo state a fa'. Oh!"

Il rumore del setto nasale spaccato da un pugno non è stato orribile quanto quello del suo cuore che si sgretola quando vede Simone correre a controllare che Mimmo stia bene, prima di voltarsi verso di lui.

È colpa sua, è colpa delle sue paure, della sua cazzo di lingua tagliente, delle sue scenate inutili e dell'innata abilità nel ferire le persone che ama se a Simone non frega più un cazzo di lui, se si è stancato di perdonarlo, se non l'ha aspettato come un cane ubbidiente attende il suo padrone, se si è accorto che poteva avere di meglio e il meglio l'ha trovato e ce l'ha accanto ora.

È colpa sua se l'ha perso, ma fa troppo male ammetterlo.

"Ma non lo vedi che m'ha fatto? Non lo vedi che razza d'animale c'hai affianco? Come cazzo fai a stare co 'n mostro del genere, Simó?!"

Gli mostra le mani piene di sangue, si stringe lo stomaco con un braccio accartocciato sul pavimento della biblioteca.

Simone allunga le braccia verso di lui per un istante. Negli occhi ha la stessa preoccupazione che gli ha sempre rivolto, avvolta in un manto d'amore così caldo che Manuel se n'era sentito soffocato.

Però ora sente freddo. E Simone sposta gli occhi sul ragazzo accanto a lui.

Mimmo esce dalla biblioteca ancora saturo d'ira ed eccitazione, seguito poco dopo da Simone - è titubante, dondola sul posto, non sa bene che fare. Manuel si chiede se le sue parole intrise di veleno abbiano fatto centro, in qualche modo. Se si farà qualche domanda, se si fiderà meno di chi gli dorme abbracciato tutte le notti.

Manuel si sente lo stesso mostro che ha accusato l'altro di essere. D'altronde, colpire Mimmo è stato come colpire uno specchio.

[veledteljesminden]

Figyelj kicsit,

Nagyon túltoltam ma tényleg…

Írok egy utolsó üzit, ahol megtudhatsz most mindent

Nem érzem jól magam a fless túloldalra billent

Félek mire haza jössz nem leszek elveszítesz…

Annyi xanaxot dobtam be, végre nem érzem, hogy fáj

Annyi vodka felszívódott, hogy már nem látok határt

Annyi füvet szívtam ma este parázok talán…

Csak egy percig had lássalak még, hogy elmondjam babám…

Engem nem érdekelt semmi amíg te nem jelentél meg…

Utat mutattál a világban, azt éreztem, hogy élek

Mindig vigyázzál magadra, olyan csúnya ez a világ

Soha ne feledd el azt sem, minden rossz nap után újra nyílik virág

[wizard-island-trading-co]

Roicaff's Wake

(ooc: for context, this takes place after the Lunar Garden Ritual, which concluded with Roicaff unresponsive on his ship)

On a quiet afternoon at the Docks, the Stocky Jasmine flies her flag at half-mast. Her standard white sails gave been replaced with black ones. The usual hustle and bustle surrounding the vessel is nowhere to be found.

On the deck stand a large number of Rave Skeletons, though they have exchanged their usual attire for somber black suits. Some silently drink a potent cocktail, other attempt to smoke what is clearly a solid stick of charcoal. Having no lungs, they fail to do this, but it seems to be a tribute to the fallen. One unfortunate skeleton has mixed the two, and is blankly staring into a flaming glass.

Also amoung them are the Dock Wizards, who share a significantly less potent drink, as well as stories told in an unrecognizable tounge. Still, through the language barrier, hearty laughter and quiet sighs of grief are heard.

At the side of the ship, atop a bed of soft kindling in a rowboat, lie the bones of Captain Fless Roicaff. His signature hat is placed over his hands, crossed over his ribcage. Periodically, a Skeleton approaches to offer a salute, or a Dock Wizard does the same, softly speaking what is assumed to be a farewell.