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#ff: lip balm
shina913 · 10 months
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On Tilt, Part 5.1 | KNJ
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On Tilt, Part 5.1
Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.
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On Tilt Masterlist
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Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader
Rating: M 🔞
Genre: idol!AU; strangers-to-FWB-to-lovers; toxic relationship; angst; fluff; smut
Warnings: unhealthy/toxic relationship dynamic; cussing; miscommunication; mentions of alcohol consumption; trouble setting personal boundaries; lots of pain in the end
Word count: 2.1K words
Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?
A/N: Thanks for being soooo patient with my super-slow updates. This is a flashback chapter, from time when they first broke up. I have the subsequent chapter about 70% of the way through. I just had the itch to post so--hope you enjoy! Thanks to my loves, @internetjunkdrawer and @itdoesntmatterwhy for reading this through and for the general screaming 🥹💜 Also, special s/o to @yoongukie-ff for letting me whine into your DMs about this and picking your brain! I appreciate you all sooo much for fueling this writer's delusions 🤡
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Years ago…
Namjoon sits in a corner of the dressing room, surrounded by the buzzing activity of his teammates. Stylists make last-minute adjustments to the members' wardrobe, tech guys fix an issue on one of the mic packs, and a few more swipes of tinted lip balm are applied. Strands of hair are sprayed into place so they fall at just the right angle.
The group has just kicked off their European tour, and there are 20 minutes left before they must take their places for their opening set. This is when Namjoon usually gives his teammates a pep talk.
For now, he sighs and quietly rubs the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He knows he'll have to summon all the gods he hasn't believed in for years to give him the strength to motivate his teammates. Deep down, he’s desperate to feed off their energy in order to get through tonight's performance.
An hour ago, while getting mic'd up and prepped for the show, one of the assistants snuck in amongst the flurry of arms that fussed over Namjoon to hand him his phone. His face lit up when he saw your name reflected on the screen. When he unmuted the phone’s microphone, the first thing he said to you was that there's a museum he's excited to check out at one of their tour stops. They have a few days of rest coming up between shows, and he wants to fly you out to where he'll be.
“Yeah, about that.” There was an edge to your voice that made him worry. ”I don’t know if I can go.”
He brushed his thoughts aside, thinking you might still be traumatized from the last time he flew you out and the airline lost your baggage. You didn't get your personal items back until the day before you had to fly back home. He tried to console you, saying, "The label charters our flights now, so you won't have to deal with any commercial flight issues anymore. Trust me, it's going to be better and less stressful."
Whenever Namjoon wanted something, he would do and say anything to get it.
“I know, but–” You tried to jump in but Namjoon continued to convince you.
“Is it a problem with your visa? We still have two weeks, I can ask one of the managers to call our guy at the consulate–”
“Namjoon! There’s no need for that.” You finally interrupt.
“Then what’s the problem?” He asks casually.
“It’s not a problem per se. I just don’t know if I can keep hopping on planes on random days of the year just to spend time with you.”
"Baby," he says softly, disregarding the fact that staff can hear every word he says but are hard-wired to ignore it. "This is my job. You know how it is."
"Believe me, I'm fully aware," you respond wryly.
"Okay so then why are we still having this conversation?" He says with a chuckle.
His cocky tone annoys you. And although you didn't mean to bring it up during this conversation, you decide now was as good a time as any other.
"I've met someone."
At that point, he promptly asks the assistants to give him some privacy. This isn't going to be one of those on-the-go phone calls where he'd be having short chats with you while people combed his hair and reapplied his lip balm.
He murmurs something you could only make out as ‘hold on’ while he walked away from staff.
He retreats to a utility room and closes the door behind him. When he's alone, his first reaction is to let out an awkward chuckle, although he isn't sure why. Maybe he thinks this is a joke and that you're trying to pull a fast one on him. "Wait, what do you mean 'you've met someone'?"
“I mean, I went out on a date…with a guy,” you pause for a beat before continuing, “I think I want to see where things go.”
“You think or you know?”
The edge in his voice makes you let out an exasperated breath. “Joon…”
“How did that even happen? I didn’t know that you were seeing other people.”
“Excuse me?” You try your best to pull back your irritation.
Namjoon catches himself. “I mean, I thought, you know…I didn’t think you were looking,” he mutters awkwardly.
“Well, you and I are both single, right? No commitments–that’s just facts.”
He falls silent, struggling to find the right words. You’ve been friends for years and have been in this 'situationship' for nearly half that time. He could be away for weeks and months, but one thing's for sure – he knew that he could always come home to you. It's always been you and him.
He tries to reason, "Yeah, but...I thought that we-"
"Look, let's be real. When has there ever been a 'we'?"
Namjoon had never thought of it that way. He always assumed that you agreed to this setup.
"It was my fault for letting this go on for as long as I have, thinking that it wouldn't be a big deal. I'm realizing now that it was a mistake."
Your words pierced him like a hot blade. His voice softens, "Hey…you don't really believe that, do you?"
It took you a few moments to answer. For a while, you had been understanding and patient with him. You had no problem rearranging your life to fit his, and while you agreed to no labels, you at least hoped for some consistency. He didn't deliver on that either. It had been one too many last-minute cancellations, and you were done being left alone at planned getaways, family gatherings, and even something as simple as a movie night on your couch.
“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the future.” It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.
He sighed heavily. He knew it was eating at you as the months turned to years, but you didn't press him. What could you do? Besides, it wasn't like he could do anything about it either. He had his career before you came along.
This was a conversation that he usually avoided, not because he didn't want to talk about it, but because there were always so many uncertainties in his life. One of the biggest uncertainties was his career. Sure, he could think about the future--if the future involved making more records and being the top pop group in the world.
"Did you know that you talk about the future a lot? What your teams have planned out; what the record label wants you to do; what concept you have for your next mixtape or mini-album. And it made me realize--what about me? What are my plans? What do I want to do?"
Guilt immediately ate at Namjoon when he realized that the only future he had ever talked about excluded you. It was odd because, at present, you were always there--a constant in his life. So it wasn't that he meant to exclude you; it's just that when it came to you, he never thought that the present and the future were two separate things.
And that was his fatal flaw.
"Things are going well at my new job. I finally got my own apartment, thanks to Lani. Everything is falling into place and it really got me thinking about what I want for the long term."
His shoulders sagged and his knees buckled. He leaned against the closest thing for support: a wood-paneled locker where athletes typically stored their equipment at the stadium.
He sank onto the bottom shelf and crouched, resting his elbows on his knees.
"You know that I can't give you a solid answer. Everything is still really complicated and that hasn't changed."
"I know that things haven't changed for you, but they have for me. The more I think about it, the more I feel that I want something more definite. Something more concrete. Something more...” you sigh, “Just…more," you finish emphatically.
Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut. He was miles away and too far to appease you.
“I don’t know that I can give you that assurance,” he said in defeat.
"I figured as much," your voice wavered. He heard rustling on the other end and guessed that you had pulled the phone away to compose yourself.
“Could we,” he hesitated for a second, “…can I see you when I get back in three weeks? We can sit and talk--”
He heard you clear your throat. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Just then, the door creaked open. He looked up to find one of the stage managers gesturing at their watch, realizing that he still needed to get his mic pack on and have his in-ear monitor wiring taped.
“Five minutes,” he says in a clipped manner, making the assistant retreat immediately.
He turns his attention back to the phone. “Sorry about that.”
“No, I should apologize. I didn’t mean to hold you up. And to be honest, I was hesitant to even have this conversation over the phone.”
“A little late for that,” Namjoon deadpans.
"Yeah, well," you shrug at the irony of it all. "Anyway, it's getting kind of late here. I know you have to go."
“Look, I...I just...I don’t know…” he stutters. You both fall silent again, with occasional static filling the dead air. He felt weird ending things like this but truthfully, he was caught off-guard and didn’t know what to say.
“Are you still there?”
After a few beats, you respond. "I'm here."
There is a small sigh of relief from him. “Can I call you after the show? Please?” It’s a last-ditch effort on his part, but you decide to give him some leeway anyway.
"If you want, sure. But I know you're usually tired."
“No, no. I'll call you, I promise,” he says firmly.
"Okay. Have...a good show," you say slowly. It is all you can offer as a sign-off.
“T-thanks. Uh...bye.” He stares at the darkened phone screen and nothing but his bewildered reflection looks back at him. Before he tries to make sense of your conversation, a persistent knock rings out. It’s the same assistant, firmly insisting that he needs to be mic'd up this instant.
With a small nod, he brushes his own thoughts aside. He still has a show to do and his team is counting on him. He needs to get his head in the game.
******
Namjoon had never tried so hard to be focused, or at least appear to be. He went about the show as usual, but his body didn't seem to belong to him. He smiled at the audience, nailed all the steps, spat all his lyrics, and got through all of their ending ments, just like the professional he was.
After he and the guys were shuttled back to their hotel, he immediately asked one of the managers to bring a few beers to his room.
Who cared what he wanted for himself? It wasn't like he could sustain a relationship while he was an active idol. Not only would it be too much fodder for tabloids, but it wasn't good for the fanbase.
At the end of the day, the team had to be the top priority. If the fanbase was shaky, then the team's future was in jeopardy.
He had already placed a huge wager on his career, and now was not the time to be emotional. He had to bet smart. His management team would tell him that you were a high-risk, low-reward gamble.
When you woke up the next morning, you saw a notification on your screen. It wasn't a call or text from Namjoon. Instead, it was a link to a replay of his drunken livestream.
You tried to convince yourself that you had made the right decision. Waiting to confront him face-to-face would have been too difficult. The mere sight of him standing in front of you, promising to make it up next time, would have been enough to weaken your resolve. You didn't want to return to an unhealthy situation. So, you took a deep breath and focused on the future, knowing that this was the best thing for both of you.
On the other side of the world, Namjoon finally opens his eyes, having given up pretending to be asleep. He spent the rest of his evening doom-scrolling through his social media feed, trying to come to grips with your last conversation. Amidst the pounding in his head, it finally hits him: you met someone else, and you have the chance at something real with this person. And that person isn't him.
It hurt to let you go like that. But looking back on it, he realized that you were brave enough to admit that you deserved better. He didn’t have the courage to do the same.
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Thank you so much for reading!
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If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜
Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @yu-justme  @serendididy  @onlythehobi  @yoonallthetime  @majamarantha  @jinjccns  @joonbo
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thisismeracing · 9 months
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could you write some general hcs about mick dating a black!reader and some of the things that would come with that? ex: black culture, soul food, hair care, etc. :))
MICK DATING A BLACK GIRL | MS47
Warnings: mentions of food; quick mention of someone not listening to the reader, but other than that it's just tooth-rotting fluff.
A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds when it comes to black people and our culture, what I am writing now (and usually do in my other works) does not resume all of us, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3
I tried to be a bit general in some topics, but let me know if you missed something, if there's a specific scenario you wanted, or even just talk a bit more about the scenario!
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He's obsessed with how many hairstyles you can do in a matter of weeks. Going from braids to afro to twists and then to Bantu knots and Mick just freaking loves all of them and makes sure to let you know that;
Will probably get you an infinity of headwraps because you love them and he loves to see you with them;
He knows you usually hate when people touch your hair, that's why he MELTS when you ask him to wash it and detangle it for you because your arms are hurting;
The most attentive learner ever, you can't change my mind! When you ask him to wash your hair and is ready to explain all the details he will know more than half of the process because he loves to watch you, the other half he doesn't know he's all in to learn;
He strikes me as the eager type, so he will be eager to learn everything, try everything, and do everything you tell him to: this goes from music and places to food;
THE FOOD!!!!! DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THE FOOD!
Nothing is too spicy, everything tastes perfect and he will most likely ask for a second serve; You will find it funny how his face flushes, but he keeps going because "Omg, babe, what did you say this has again?";
I think Mick will most likely start inserting himself more into black topics, so he will read more books about cultural appropriation, systemic racism, and so on, all without bothering you. He's a big guy, he will do his own research, and once the topic is on the table and he shares something he read or noticed, it brings the biggest smile to your face;
Will immediately shut up and listen when you start to share an experience or something, and will make sure people do the same. Ain't nobody gonna try and make your voice smaller in front of him, they will be silent and they will listen.
WILL BUY A SET OF SATIN PILLOWCASES AND OTHER SMALL THINGS YOU NEED TO KEEP AT HIS HOUSE!!!!! Let's say it's the first time he's staying over, and he's attentively watching you do your night routine, then he notices the pillowcases are satin and softer. You explain it's because of your curls/braids, and then one day when you need to sleep at his house because it's late or something, his bed has two sets of pillows with satin cases, your shea butter, the lip balm you always use, and even a set of brush combs;
Will understand that he can try, but he won't ever grasp how it is to be in your skin and experience what you do, so it's just comforting to come home to him after a stressful day knowing that he won't judge or ask questions about your feelings. They are valid, and Mick won't ever make you feel otherwise;
He will make sure to remind you every day how good and beautiful life is. Mick will give you space to be soft and vulnerable and will give you lots of love because "you can't ever forget you're worthy of all the love and softness in the world".
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taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mellowpizzapuppy @kenanlotus0 @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @chaoticevilbakugo @carojasmin2204 @wondergirl101ks @smiithys
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Here is my updated 2023 Fantasy Fest suggested list of items to consider for your Key West adventure. Feel free to add your own items and modify this list with your own suggestions:
I created this checklist for those Krewe that go with me on my annual Trips to Fantasy Fest.
So, with 128 days to go (as of 06/13/2023) for Fantasy Fest 2023 (October 20-29), please feel free to adapt and modify this list to meet your needs and criteria for your Fantasy Fest trip.
This changeable checklist of travel suggestions allows you to cherry pick travel items for trips to Fantasy Fest or similar destinations or venues:
AIRPORT & AIRPORT TRANSFERS: Passport, driver's license or other ID and copies of passport facepages in luggage) Covid vaccination card and/or negative Covid test results (optional) Airline ticket/confirmation number papers & itineraries Airport transfer documents Clothes for flights (bras, underwear, closed-toe shoes) Luggage with name tags, luggage locks and passport copies inside Luggage lined with empty trash bags that can later be used for dirty clothes, makeshift rain ponchos, covers for beach/pool bags in the rains Snacks, power and/or protein bars Empty water bottle Anti-bacterial/virus wipes or small Purel bottle Black ink pen for completing any paperworld/customs/immigration on the plane and/or airport terminal
PERSONAL ITEMS: Prescription glasses Small bills ($1, $5, $10 for misc. purchases, misc. tips) Credit card(s) Purse and/or wallet Jewelry (costume preferred) Watch Emergency contact phone numbers and info sheet Vitamins Hospitality items Pen, notepad Mini-flashlight for bedside Ipod & earbuds Pain relievers (Advil/Tylenol) Stomach ache/medicine (Pepto-Bismol, Imodium, etc) Kindle and/or books Prescription medications in original containers with copies of actual prescriptions Beaded name necklace Business or contact cards
POOL & BEACH AREAS: Hats Sunglasses (and a second pair in case of misplaced/lost problems) Sunblock 15/30/70 Chapstick/lip balm Beach/Pool bag Special towels Coverups Flip flops/sandals Water shoes/aquasocks Water bottle/insulated & refillable drink mug Wristlet for room key (if applicable) Empty garbage bags (in case of rain to put all items into for walk back to room) Optional: Mask/snorkel for any boat trips to the Key West area reefs
ROOM: Sleepwear, sleep mask, earplugs Mini-alarm clock Computer and charger Smartphone & charger Camera and charger/batteries Office supplies/folders Small pocket flashlight for nightstand and pool bag at night Reading glasses Business cards Disposable clothes hangers Sewing kit with safety pins Optional: Room attendant gifts like school supplies, etc
TOILETRIES: Hand wipes or Purel Mini 1st aid kit with Band-aids, antibiotic ointment, Hairbrush/comb and accessories (clips, scrunchies etc.) Perfume/cologne Cotton balls & swabs Contact lenses, saline solution, & case Curling iron Deodorant Feminine hygiene items Hairspray Insect repellent and anti-itch creams (Benedryl, etc) Makeup and remover Hand lotion/moisturizer Eye drops (Visine) Mouthwash Nail clippers/file/scissors/tweezers Nail polish/remover Ziplock baggies Razor & shaving cream Sewing kits/eyeglass repair kit Special shampoo or conditioner Toothbrush, toothpaste, floss Drinking Mate tablets (for those that tend to be “over-served” their alcoholic drinks Aloe vera gel/lotion for sunburns/skin conditioner
THEME NIGHTS & RESORT ACTIVITIES: Costumes Boots Dress shoes Sandals/flat shoes Wigs Props & accessories (glow sticks, sippy cup, stickers, Scotch tape Paint and brushes for rock painting Exercise clothing/shoes Resort casual clothes for non-buffet restaurants
OFF-PROPERTY EXCURSIONS: Foldable pocket rain poncho/mini-umbrella Shoes, socks, shorts, tank top/t-shirt Tip & souvenir cash Backpack, collapsible tote bag Drink bottle with lid
Another consideration: A recommendation from a Krewe member is that Key West guests that plan to return to the next FF confirm their following year reservation and rates before they leave Key West–and get it in writing.
Finally, Check with the airlines the amount (weight) of baggage LEAVING Key West. There was a restriction on departing flights, not those arriving. Many veteran FF attendees ship their costumes and “gear” to the place they are staying, or to a package holding business. (e.g. Mail Boxes, UPS store, etc.) Check with where you are staying as most will accept incoming packages for arriving guests.
Obviously, not everyone would need all of these items but it is a start for picking and choosing those things you might want to have at Fantasy Fest. .
Safe travels to you!
Annie, TheUltimateCougar
Be sure to check out more of my daily Fantasy Fest photos and videos here:
www.flickr.com/groups/fantasyfesters (40,000+ photos
www.flickr.com/groups/fantasyfest2023
www.flickr.com/groups/fantasyfest2022
onlyfans.com/TheUltimateCougar (all of my 100% uncensored videos and photos from Fantasy Fest)
mewe.com/group/5be9dd519619704267f87e05
https://www.reddit.com/r/FantasyFestKeyWest/
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fantasyfestinkeywestflorida
Incredible fun in and out of costumes and clothes, and with the fun times only a Krewe de Krazy Life group can create.
#fantasyfest #FF2023 #FantasyFest2023 #KrewedeKrazyLife #October #Halloween #keywest #floridakeys #conchrepublic #costumes #Florida #checklist #travelchecklist #travel #vacation #holiday #bodypainting #flashing #CaptainTonysSaloon #festival #bodypainting
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invisiblegarters · 1 year
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GAP The Series Ep 5
Tee is still the best, in case anyone was curious. I love how openly delighted she is that their plan to make Sam jealous worked. Yuki should dump the boyfriend for good and hook up with her.
Ha, of course Sam would tell Mon that she is not speaking to her anymore and then wonder where the text is. This woman continues to be a hot mess and I love her so much. And Mon is clearly getting better at reading her. They really are the most adorable thing.
Sam is so delightful with her “I’ll buy you prawns because you’re so upset I missed our date” and her grumpy faces when Mon ignores her for food or starts talking about Chin flirting with her and her walking off when Mon answers a call from Nop (but that one I totally get. I don’t even know what Mon thought she was doing there).
MON, ffs let the woman bite your lip already! If you don’t let her relieve some of that tension she’s gonna draw blood. I swear if I don’t get my kiss this episode...
Okay, Nop had to hear that Mon was never going to have feelings for him but it really wasn’t Sam’s place to say so. That said, the slo mo push followed by the sprinkler turning on was so ott dramatic that it was kinda hilarious. Sorry Nop. I feel for him a little, but Sam wasn’t wrong. He’s been hanging around with the full belief that if he just sticks to Mon’s side long enough she’ll cave and they’ll be together, and he needed to hear that that’s just not going to happen. I hope he doesn’t get dumb about the whole Sam thing, though.
“I AM YOUR BOSS”?  *cackles* I love her.
I really like how Mon calls Sam on her shit. She’s gentle about it but she also makes her point.
Oh, they’re doing a really good job with the sensuality and the longing this ep. The lip biting game is one thing but all these lingering glances and focusing on their mouths is lovely.
And okay, Sam buying lip balm to kiss off of Mon’s lips is the best birthday present ever. Apparently Sam does have some game. Who knew?
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yoongukie-ff · 1 year
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MEG U MADE ME EAT THE BUTTER LIP BALM 💀 i was trying it on earlier and i remembered your reply asking if it tastes like butter and i thought oh so is it kind of edible then and i was *trying* it aND I REMEMBERED THE BUTTER BALM IS THE ONLY ONE OUT OF THE 3 THAT SAYS DO NOT EAT ON THE PACKAGING SO PEOPLE REALLY DO BE TRYING TO EAT IT
Omg Jen, I legit scream-laughed at this 😭😂 !!! First, thank you for your dedication and your service, deeply appreciated 🙇🏻‍♀️. Second, why is it the only one you can’t eat lmfaooo like you can have a feast with the other two but they draw the line at BUTTER? What did they put in there ffs 💀 And third, the most important, does it taste like butter ? Are we melting it our popcorn or nah 👀 ??
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slytherinobsessed · 7 days
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suck it gryffindor | mattheo riddle
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pairing: mattheo riddle x reader | genre: established relationship | warning: angst, minors dni | word count: 0.7k | stefy's note: i wanna thank to all the people that read and liked my theo nott fanfic. this is my first time ever posting an ff on tumblr and it makes me so happy knowing that you guys enjoy it. i love you all 🫶🏻
[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]
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After the tough loss against the Gryffindors in Quidditch, Mattheo returned to his dorm room, seething with frustration. Being the Quidditch team captain was a hard, and a loss meant a lot to him. He hated losing and now that they had lost, he was fucking pissed. His girlfriend, you, stood before him as soon as he had entered his room, your comforting presence a balm to his wounded pride. Yet without a word, he pulled you close, his hands gripping your waist with tense fingers.
Looking down at you with a mixture of anger and longing, he pressed his lips against the soft skin of your neck hungrily.
"Those fucking Gryffindors." He growled lowly, his frustration evident in his voice. "I could have beaten them, I swear." He muttered against your skin, his voice heavy with emotion. His kisses on your skin were hingry and desperate, a release for the whirlwind of emotions inside him.
You take his face in your hands worried. "What happened? You said that you'll win this match."
Mattheo pulled himself back from the neck once you spoke, meeting your worried gaze with a glare filled with frustration. He clenched his jaw tightly, trying to control his lingering anger over his loss. It was a sore point for him, after all.
"We didn't win." He says through gritted teeth, his tone sharp and short. "Which means I didn't win."
"You'll win next time." You kiss his cheek trying to calm him down.
His tense expression softened slightly at your touch, your kiss on his cheek comforting. He let out a breath, trying to calm his frustrated emotions. "I know." He admits, his tone still sharp. "But it still sucks that we lost. And we lost to Gryffindor."
"I know. I know, but still, it's not a big loss, you only lost by one point." You tell him as you wrap your hands around his neck, placing yourself in his lap.
Mattheo's anger started to dissipate with your gestures of comfort, your hands on his neck soothing for him. However, your words only served to fuel his already resentment of the Gryffindor team.
"Yeah, one point." ahe says grudgingly, making no effort to hide his annoyance. "But it's Gryffindor. You know how much I hate them."
"Next time, you'll win." You whisper to his ear and play with his hair in an attempt to make him forget about the game and focus on you.
Mattheo leans his head forward, leaning into your hands while his tension began to release under your cares. He hated that he had lost but his rage was slowly subsiding as he let your affection wash over him.
"I should have won today." He says, his tone softening somewhat, albeit still holding a bit of irritation taht he had let slip through. "I can't let Gryffindor win..."
"And next time you'll win." You kiss him passionately coming closer with your body to his.
Mattheo's irritation dissipates, her kisses distracting him from his thoughts. He brings your flush against him, pressing his tongue against yours passionately as his arms pull you into a tight embrace. Your caress and your kisses do wonders, relaxing him and calming his agitation. All he truly cared about in that moment was your comforting presence, your tender kisses and your sensual embrace.
"I know next time you'll win, cause you're my winner." You say in between kisses, playing with his hair as you two kiss.
Mattheo continues kissing you, your embrace causing the rest of his anger to dissapear. He pushes his tongue more agressively into your mouth, running his hands all over your body and pulling you as close to him as possible. His hands grip your hips, not letting you go even when you two came up for a breath. His kisses were intense and passionate, matching the agression of his thoughts and feelings. He was starting to get lost in the moment, his anger was now completely gone and replaced with a burning desire for you.
© SLYTHERINOBSESSED ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.
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risenwraith · 1 year
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#52 Cutesification
Continuing my search of ‘what to put on my head when my feathers have all fallen out’ I thought about hats – some sort of beanie made of cotton or bamboo knit – something soft and simple. 
I made the mistake of looking on Etsy. Hats were modelled either by healthy young women with dazzling smiles, the hat pulled all the way down over their ears so as to hide the chic designer-cut they sported underneath… Or, by actual cancer patients as they sat in the oncology ward receiving chemo, festooned with tubes and needles. 
The first was so fake as to make my teeth cringe, the second was a little too brutally honest. But that dichotomy was nothing in comparison to the chemotherapy souvenirs and gift packs on Etsy. There were hundreds of caps, mugs and t-shirts all adorned with cute and sassy ‘I punched cancer in the dick!’ sort of sentiments. There were postcards you could send to friends, counting down your chemo sessions. There were mugs you were meant to ritualistically break after your last infusion.
For $75 you can send someone a box of moisturiser, lip balm, sleep-oil, some herbal tea and a pair of socks – all items, I suspect, women tend to have around the house already. For $26 you can send someone a gift box filled with individually wrapped mints, each with a little aphorism on the wrapper. I don’t know about you, but I do not plan (whilst being injected with medical grade poison) to be sucking on a Polo mint and contemplating how ‘Cancer is a word not a sentence’.
Am I missing something, or am I just a soulless bitch?
Whilst it’s good that cancer and its treatment is being viewed as a more normal, every-day, and survivable disease, I heartily dislike the attitude that seems to be treating chemo more like a pregnancy announcement or a baby-shower. I don’t need ‘cancer accessories’ or ‘survivor souvenirs’, trite truisms or a bloody motto. I need some comfortable clothes, some ginger sweets, and something to cover my annoyingly bald head. This isn’t a down-market spar day, medical science and a rather worrying disease are mostly playing a game of Chicken in my flesh. FFS.
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spacesuitsims · 2 years
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i have to pack for another 3 day event (rave) this weekend.. outfit concepts, everything individually wrapped because dare someone sneaks in whatever in their lip balm *shocked horror*, normal clothing so i don’t look ridiculous out in public..... ffs.
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Heyyyy could you please write a cute Diavolo x Reader ff? :33333
I’m happy too but but this is the only one I’m doing on this blog
For the future, all Obey me requests that are not related to the Don’t Make me Slap you AU are to be made @crystalrose555
I’m trying to make this blog about my Obey Me Au,  Don’t Make me Slap you which you can read here
Things may or may not change after the trial period
of this blog.
Now for my first Character x reader request <3
Crooked Tie
“Lord Diavolo, your tie...”
Diavolo looked down to see his white tie crumbled and wrinkled around his neck, he smiled warmly. His prestigious appearance was sullied by the simple misfolding of a piece of clothing. He untucked his tie and admired how his tie pin, once straight and shining, was crooked and smudged with a familiar fingerprint. At that moment, he thought of you and your touch. His heart thumped at how you would run after him in RAD, desperately trying to catch up with his long strides. He would slow his pace just enough for you to trail behind but barely since a small part of him enjoyed seeing you chase after him. However, he would always stop eventually, just for you to reach your goal. He would lead you down to a secluded corner of one of the hallways where it seemed that you two were the only ones there. He would chuckle when you would pant lightly, either giving him an upset pout or a playful smile for making you jog after him.
From there, you two would brace against the stone wall, hiding from curious onlookers while you would talk about your separate days. You would tell him of the daily escapades of the demon brothers while he would tell you of what game he created to fill his boredom from signing papers. You might have scolded him or encouraged him for his behavior depending on the day, either way, he enjoyed the words that flowed from your mouth. Your softened expression, the flutter of your eyelashes as the moonlight found its way into your eyes, the way your chest puffed out with each breath, he enjoyed it all. Time meant nothing while the two of you talked and gently linked your fingers together but outside forces would always part you two, whether it was upcoming classes or meetings.
While he would sigh and frown from having to return to his duties, he loved to part with you at the end of your time together, since that’s when he would receive his good luck charm. It always started the same, with you gripping his tie to pull him down to your level, wrapping it around your hand, and carving into it with your fingernails. You would stroke its smooth texture with your thumbs as you stare into his golden eyes. From there you would place a kiss upon him. Some days it was on the cheek, other days on the nose and when you were feeling very bold, a faint kiss on the lips.
Sometimes, he could taste the lip balm you use, it made him wonder what flavor you were using. You, on the other hand, felt the softness for his lips which tasted of Barbato’s sweetened tea blend. You two shared that moment of tender intimacy before you pulled yourself away, letting his tie slip through your fingers slowly. As you two walk away from each other, your cheeks warmed from your full hearts that beat within your chests. While you returned to your classes, Diavolo attended meeting after meeting, only for Lucifer to point out his wrinkled tie before going. Before he could snap out of his thoughts, Barbatos had already straightened his tie back to its polished glory. Diavolo didn’t mind since after the meeting, it would just get wrinkled all over again.
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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years
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Savage
(A Dark Swan/Dark Hook vignette)
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It was cruel, she knew that, knew that she shouldn't do it – but she was slipping a little more every day in her steadfastness to keep some small part of herself from the darkness, and his kiss had made her remember, had called her back to herself if only for a moment. She needed to feel him, to remember what it was like to be loved by him, held by him. She needed it as she needed to breath, and she was just far gone enough that she would drag him through hell to get it.
My muse wouldn't leave me alone yesterday, and this was her demand. It takes place during S5 Ep2 - “The Price”. I'm very pleased with how it turned out, and I hope you all are as well. Please read through the tags if you have any triggers.
Rating: Explicit (sex, language, trigger warnings - rough sex, hate sex, verbal humiliation, degradation, anal sex, come marking, emotional manipulation) 
AO3 - FF
Savage
Killian could hear the sound of glass clinking to his left as she spoke, but drowning out even her voice was the the call from dead ahead, a heavy, bolted door looming – whispering, drawing him closer. His breath quickened, his body thrumming with something he couldn't place as it neared, and then like the tide receding all at once, the pull was broken, Swan's hand appearing in front of him, the scent of rum burning sweetly as his eyes found hers.
“I still also know the fastest way to a pirate's heart is through his liver,” she smiled, drinking in his gaze, tumbler of rum extended in her hand.  
“There's an even faster way,” he breathed, desperate to find his Emma once again in those eyes that were like looking through frost.
He swallowed her small gasp greedily, pouring every ounce of his love for her into the kiss, her taste a balm for his misery as he clung to the hope that this would be enough to bring her back to him, but the touch of her fingers in his hair was hesitant, and then it was gone altogether. Their lips parted, her words filling the space between.
“Now there's the pirate I remember,” she teased, leaning back in to claim him once more, but the sound of her voice, distant and unable to bridge the gap between them made him pull back entirely, his eyes taking in everything that their kiss hadn't changed.
“It didn't bloody work,” he breathed, panic threaded through each word as he stared at her unbelievably.
“You've been talking to Belle.”
The distance between them seemed to grow even as she stared intimately into his eyes, something in them luring him with a dark whisper.  
“Why didn't it work?”
“It didn't work because there's nothing to fix,” she retorted, her voice climbing in a way that felt almost human – almost like his Emma. “This is who I am now. Why can't you accept that – why can't anyone accept that?”
“Because this isn't you,” he insisted, knowing that somewhere beneath the guise of the Dark One, his Swan was still there, waiting for him. “What the hell happened in Camelot?”
“That seems to be the question of the day,” she nearly spat, face hardening as she looked away from him and moved toward the door.
“Then bloody answer me!” he roared, anger rippling beneath his skin like something alive as she turned, her face as closed to him as his memories.
“I wish I could.”
He strode across the distance to where she stood, needing to find something between them that felt familiar, something that felt how it used to be – that they were it for each other, meant to be.
“You can tell me anything.”
There was a flicker of something at the edge of her mouth, words she was holding back, but then they were gone, replaced with a tired smile as she slung her arm over his shoulder in something that was far from an embrace.
“But that would be no fun,” she purred, leaning in, their breath mingling and noses bumping as she inhaled him, “and I'm tired of talking – now, do you want to stay, or not?”
“Sorry, Swan,” he said, pulling back just enough that he could gaze into the eyes he knew were hiding something. “This may be who you think you are, but this isn't who I am.”
He felt the weight of her arm fall from his body, her head tilting curiously as she watched the battle he knew she would see inside of him – how the small step he took away from her clawed at his chest. Regret rose bitterly in his throat as he made the decision to leave her and moved toward the door, the exit that would be their last chance all too close – and then she spoke.
“But what if it is?”
He could hear the hint of truth in her words, something that fell oddly between the Emma he knew and the coy demeanor of the Dark One.
His footsteps stilled against the floors of the house she'd called her own, the soft white curtains of the door separating him from outside, a barrier between what he knew, and what she was tempting him with.
“No more games, Swan,” he growled, turning about and bearing down on her, though it seemed she had expected as much. “What does that mean?”
It was cruel, she knew that, knew that she shouldn't do it – but she was slipping a little more every day in her steadfastness to keep some small part of herself from the darkness, and his kiss had made her remember, had called her back to herself if only for a moment. She needed to feel him, to remember what it was like to be loved by him, held by him. She needed it as she needed to breath, and she was just far gone enough that she would drag him through hell to get it.
“You've always been a pirate, Killian – a man playing hero. You don't remember Camelot. What makes you think you haven't forgotten one more black spot on your heart, and that I became exactly who I needed to be...for you?”
“More riddles,” he hissed, the nauseating wave of fear in his stomach overwhelmed by anger, his fingers wrapping painfully around the bare skin of her arm as he drew her close and gently shook her – his hand barely feeling like his own as he did so.
Panic surged in his chest as he struggled to ease his grip, but her words had woken something inside of him – something dark and vengeful, something that wanted to make her understand how much he was hurting. How was it that there were no ends he would not go to for her, and yet she still wouldn't trust him, wouldn't give him the truth?
“You see,” she shrugged, stepping into his anger and stroking the painfully tight line of his jaw as her eyes flickered toward where he was leaving bruises on her skin. “It's never far below the surface, Killian, who you are.”
“You're wrong, Swan,” he muttered, forcing his fingers from her around her arm and stepping back, his breath coming on a shudder.
“Stay with me,” she coaxed, but beneath the impassive demand he could hear her for the first time, feel her – his Emma – and the temptation was too much for him to turn away from again. “This is where you belong, I promise you, Killian.”
She brushed her lips against his once more, her body calm as his raged in front of her, a storm caged within a glass bottle, savage and waiting to burst free.
Time seemed to still as she waited for him to respond, her lids heavy with desire as she studied the chaos churning beneath the clear blue gaze focused only on her. Her warmth was so close to the surface, and yet unreachable. He wanted to shake her until that thin layer of ice shattered, until she cracked and the truth came pouring free. He wanted to feel her skin hot and pressed against his own, alive, her precious control swept away as he made her scream his name over and over.
He wanted, gods, he wanted.
And so he took.
Maybe he was exactly what she said he was.
He slanted his mouth roughly against hers, taking no care for her comfort as he bent her backwards, the steel of his hook snagging her dress and tearing down the side of it, the firm, pale swell of her breast and its rosy peak bared to him from beneath the remains of her torn undergarment. Satisfaction pounded through his veins like the sea itself as she returned his kiss with equal passion, the glass tumbling from her hand and shattering against the floor as she threaded her nails into his hair, biting his lip hard enough that he pulled away, and giving her the opening to take back some control, yanking him closer and slipping her tongue into his mouth, the both of them falling to the floor.
He returned her aggression, biting her lip roughly and reveling in the sharp hiss of pain he drew forth. She held a finger to the swollen wound and pulled it away to show him what he had done, a bead of red blood staining its tip.
“There you are,” she teased, and before she could utter something else he didn't want to hear, – words that would stir the fury within him more than it already was – he was pinning her down, the back of her hands smacking the hardwood floor as he pressed her roughly into them, brace and hand equally demanding of her submission as he hovered over her, darkness swirling in his gaze.
“Shut up,” he hissed, ignoring the creeping certainty that something was wrong, that this should have all gone differently – that somehow, he'd ruined everything, “and don't bloody move.”
She obliged with a smirk, her eyes hungry as she followed the path his hook made against her skin, dragging along her collarbone just enough to leave a red welt before snagging on what remained of her dress and freeing her other breast for his perusal. They rose and fell with her excitement, nipples hardened and begging to be touched.
He pinched one roughly, delighting in the keen of pleasure his unkind touch pulled from her, her hips bucking beneath the spread of his legs, still wrapped in the useless fabric that had once been her clothing.
That wouldn't do.
He rose to his feet, ignoring her cry of frustration at the thought he was leaving – he had no such intentions. She'd woken something inside of him that he couldn't name, but it was angry and tired, wretched and needy, and he planned on letting it have its way with her.
He looped his fingers and hook into the balled up material around her hips and dragged it from her body, her feet kicking at it eagerly, pale legs falling back to the floor and opening for him – her arousal soaked through her panties and shining at the edges of her thighs.
“Look at you, Swan,” he hissed, tossing the garment aside and kneeling over her body once more – claiming it, “all powerful, and yet here you lie on the filthy floor, cunt sopping wet and begging to be filled by a dirty pirate.”
He dropped down, hook digging into wood as he fisted his hand among her tightly coiled hair, each silver strand drawn back into perfect obedience. He took pleasure in yanking until she gasped, feeling the strands that had once been a beautiful, soft gold pull free.
Emma let herself feel it all, the throbbing pinch at her lip, the stinging tug of his hand in her hair – let herself feel human again. Pain, pleasure – it didn't matter. Each of them was a sword that cut through the darkness suffocating her, surrounding her and whispering, making her forget who she was and why they were here to begin with. She needed all of it, needed him to remind her – or she'd lose everything.
“How does it feel, Dark One, to beg like a bitch in heat?” he growled.  
His words were another jagged cut, another blade she'd need to take responsibility for, but they reminded her what tears felt like, even though she wouldn't let them fall.
“I haven't had to do much begging, now have I?” she quipped, lips twisted in a smirk as she rolled her head purposefully against his grasp, her scalp burning, “and you seem plenty eager.”
“Oh, you'll beg for it,” he promised darkly, “because if you don't, I'll walk out that door and leave you lying here in your own desperate need.”
It was a lie, she knew. He could no more leave her now than she could ask him to – yet another choice she'd stolen away from him.
His cock was raging against the confines of his jeans, and in his heart he knew that whether she begged or not, he'd be taking her right here, sating the gnawing hunger that was burning through his gut and trembling at the tips of his fingers – but he wanted to hear it, wanted to hear the Dark One pitiful and helpless for something she couldn't otherwise get – his willing participation in her little game.
He released her roughly, the back of her head knocking against the floor as he stood and loomed over her, fingers nimbly unfastening the button at his crotch and freeing his throbbing length, its weight heavy in his palm, swollen head thick and glistening with his own smeared arousal as he jerked it over her naked, writhing form.  
“Is this what you wanted, Swan? Is this why you brought me here?” he sneered, eyes flickering closed for a moment as his fist rolled over the head of his member, his entire body shuddering with anticipation at having her. It felt too long to have been without her, without the tight clasp of her walls, the way she arched into him, the soft caress of her fingers against his face, the way she'd sigh into the air when his stubble razed her neck.
His hand slowed as his mind conjured memories of Emma golden and warm, welcoming beneath him, offering herself up and shyly taking the praise he showered on her – her curls long and splayed on his bed, hips bucking into his mouth, his name falling like a dream from her lips...
“Having second thoughts, pirate,” Emma goaded, noticing how his movements had stilled, his face taking on a look that was far away in another time, another place. “Still think you're the hero?”
Her words dragged him from his reverie, reminding him that this was not the same Emma lying beneath him anymore.
“Tell me, Killian, how much of a hero will you be when I find someone else to give me what I need?”
Blind, red rage overcame him at her words, at the thought of her seeking release with someone else, another man's hands mapping the curves of her body that he knew so well, the pieces of her that were the same no matter which version of her was lying before him.
“Make no mistake, Swan – Dark One or not – you'll always be mine. This body,” he snarled, dragging her roughly to her feet and tossing her bodily onto the nearby sofa, his temper flaring anew at her smug look, “is mine – and while you may entertain ideas of soothing that ache somewhere else, we both know you've been ruined for other men. It will always be my cock you imagine filling you completely, my seed painting that beautiful skin of yours, my hand at your throat, pushing you over the edge, isn't it, Swan?”
“Maybe,” she shrugged, spreading her legs lewdly in front of her and dragging a finger – the one still smeared with blood from her bitten lip – through her wet folds, pink flesh parting to reveal her tight center throbbing for him, “but a girl can only be so patient – Dark One or not.”
He was on her before he could rightly understand how he'd gotten there – no memory of crossing the distance between them – but his nails were digging into her thigh, yanking her forward so that her pert bottom hung over the edge of the couch, the sound of a table clattering to the floor behind him as he kicked it out of the way and knelt between her splayed legs, his hand moving to angle the raging hardness of his cock against her core.
Feeling her warmth for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he surged forward.
She cried out beneath him, her body flexing as his entire length was buried inside of her, impossibly large and tight and feeling as if he were splitting her in half in the most sinfully perfect way. There was no breath of a reprieve before he was dragging himself free and repeating the action, his hand gripping her side as if it were the only anchor he had, his hook rending the cushion beside them as he pounded relentlessly into her.
“Tell me then, Swan,” he panted, his words broken by the wet sounds of her arousal spreading between them both, skin slapping against skin, “is this what you needed? A good fucking by a ruthless pirate?”
She bit back the words pushing against her closed lips, words he was dragging up from somewhere deep and forgotten with each thrust of his body into hers, words she couldn't say – I just needed you, Killian, to pull me back, no matter how much it hurt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Her sharp breaths built into a whimper as her body opened around him, his thickness stroking every hidden place within her, waves of pleasure rippling through her core and shooting down her legs, building in her body like something that would snap and tear her apart. She was near her climax, but one look into his eyes, hollow and hungry above her, made her realize he was far from done with her.  
With a pained grunt he pulled out of her grasping depths, ignoring her keening pleas as he lifted her up and flipped her over, her chest tossed against the back of the couch as he spread her legs, revealing her abused sex to his gaze. She shuddered wantonly as his fingers explored her, spreading her wide and dragging the slick wetness from her walls before smoothing it over her clit and pulling a broken cry from her lips.
“You should see yourself, Emma,” he rasped, shoving several fingers back into her at once as she jumped away from him toward the couch, whining at the nearly painful sensation, “so open and ready for me. No other man would have you, would they, Swan? Not like this, stretched open by a filthy pirate – rather used, aren't you?”
He threw the words at her purposefully, meaning to hurt, to wound her the same way she'd wounded him – the way she'd made him doubt who he was and what he could be. His cutting words reminded him that whatever had happened in Camelot, she'd done what she had to match him, to equal the the black-hearted pirate he would always be. He needed her to feel just as broken.
“Another man would simply leave you wanting, Swan, but not me. I'm yours as much as you're mine, so tell me, love – do you want it?” he purred, swiping the belled head of his cock along her folds once more. “Do you want me everywhere?”
“Yes,” she hissed, knowing what he was going to demand next.
“Then beg for it,” he commanded, slapping the side of her ass with his throbbing length, staining her cheek with the mix of his precum and her own juices . “Beg for it, and I'll give it to you.”
She wriggled against the couch, the words leaving her pitifully as she searched for the feel of his length anywhere against her.
“Please, Killian,” she moaned – she could give him this, could let her control slip for just a second. It wouldn't break her, not entirely.
“That's not good enough, Swan.”
“I need you,” she whispered, every word she pushed past her lips far too close to the truth of what she wanted to say, too dangerous. “No one has made me feel what you do. There's no one else, there never will be. Please, I want you – need you, all of you...”
“Where do you want me?” he purred darkly, his fingers swiping the viscous arousal seeping from her folds and dragging it higher to where her tight ring of muscle was bared for him. “Do you want me here as well? Is every part of you mine, Swan?”
“Yes,” she hissed, thrusting back against the pressure of his finger as he pushed against her unyielding muscle. “Need you...everywhere, Killian, please...”
“That's a good girl,” he praised, and rising up on his haunches, he pressed the tip of his cock against her opening. It had been some time, but he knew she could take him like this, remembered how tight she would be around him – and if it was too much, well, he wanted to make sure he left his mark with his body as well as his words, something inside of him demanding it.
His grip was uncompromising around her shoulder as she moved instinctively away from the burn of him entering her, pulling her firmly back and only making him stretch her more quickly as she breathed out soft, desperate noises beneath him.
“Just like that, Swan...take it, darling...gods, you're so bloody tight.”
“Yes,” she ground out, her body finally relaxing as the thick head of his cock slipped fully inside of her, every inch that followed a welcome burn pushing back the fog of darkness she could never truly escape from.
He paused in his thrusting, and Emma both heard and felt a cold wetness spreading between her cheeks, his saliva dripping down to meet where his cock was settled tightly inside of her ass, his fingers spreading it thickly along his shaft as he worked himself further into her.
“I'm going to fuck you so deeply that you'll be able to taste my seed as I spill it into you, would you like that, love?” he panted, his body rutting into hers as his saliva spread between them, easing his intrusion just enough. “You're not going to be able to sit without remembering how it felt to have me fill it up – is that clear?”
“Y-yes,” she stuttered, gasping and biting her already bruised lip as he drew far enough out that she thought he would pop free, her body already craving the fullness of him as he left her empty. Shameful pleasure ignited along every inch of her skin as she bowed beneath what she had turned him into for her own selfish needs, at what she had forced him into becoming because she was weak.
She couldn't help but remember the times they'd done this before, how deep he'd been, how connected they felt, and she let that memory wash over her, taking away the guilt and leaving only bone-deep satisfaction as his cock reamed her, his balls slapping against her sensitive flesh as he took what he needed from her, what she'd forced him into wanting.
“Oh god...” she moaned, her thighs trembling alongside his own as he sped up, her back sinking lower as he gripped her sides painfully between his hand and brace, his own groans joining her own. He thrust erratically into her pliant heat, the tight grip of her channel dragging his orgasm from him at the same time hers tore past every last barrier she had, her core clenching achingly around nothing as he swelled impossibly large and burst deep inside of her ass.  
His nails bit into her as he growled and pushed harder against her, the zipper from his pants branding her skin as he pumped rope after rope of his hot release into her. Then with a harsh breath, he yanked himself free and grabbed her, twisting her down so that she fell onto her back against the cushions, staring up at him as he jutted his hips forward and jerked the last of his cum from his balls, splatters of his seed landing across her cheeks and chest as he groaned out his satisfaction.
Emma closed her eyes, regret and guilt surging back in to fill the emptiness that he'd left behind, her body sore and longing still as he rose shakily to his feet, stepping back from both her and the couch. How much farther had she pushed him toward that looming darkness in an attempt to pull herself back from its edge?  
The air stilled between them, both of their breaths settling as they watched one another, knowing that between them, something had shifted – some path washed into nothingness behind them.
He tucked himself back into his jeans, feeling like some of the tension he'd been shouldering was gone, perhaps the burden of what he had needed to live up to vanished. His eyes drifted along her body, limp and splayed across the couch, his release leaking from her abused body and dappled like stars across her chest. Her lips turned upward into a slow smirk, one that they'd often shared before after making love – though this one was changed, haunted by shades of things he didn't yet understand.
The need to suddenly be somewhere else – far from this place she'd called her own when he didn't really know her anymore, when he felt as if he didn't know himself – rose up like the bottom of the sea greeting a long awaited friend.
This is where you belong. I promise you, Killian, her voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Whispering, whispering.
But it wasn't his Swan that whispered at the edges of his mind, and instead of turning toward the front door, he found his steps leading him toward the back of the house, back toward the basement door that had caught his attention earlier – when she'd distracted him with a drink and some nameless hope that had fled his body along with his release into her.
This time, she didn't stop him.
A wave of her hand made the bolt slide free of its own accord.
His hand wrapped around the knob, and when he turned back to look for her, she was standing in the hall, silver hair perfectly coiffed once more, her body hidden beneath the sinuous black of her dress, the only reminder of their activities the ring of bruises blooming around her arm like dark flowers.
She nodded, encouraging him forward – and the handle turned smoothly beneath his palm, ushering him into the darkness below.
END
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hassanfield · 2 years
Text
ffs i’ve left the house with no lip balm
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writingsbychlo · 3 years
Note
Are there any little cool fun facts you can share about ff!tommy from SAF? He obviously likes whiskey and the mets,, anything else?
(other than his work gloves) all his gloves are fingerless, no matter the temperature
his favourite food is chocolate cake
he likes to eat his 5 a day, every day, tries his best to do so
is scared of geese
doesn’t like wearing shorts unless he’s at the beach
likes to host bbq’s in the summer
secretly wants to go on double dates with newt and his partner with his girl but in the past they’ve never matched up on dating timelines
once got bit by a hamster when he was six and hasn’t held one since
has a country music playlist of the only acceptable country songs
yes, ‘before he cheats’ is on there
yes, he knows all the words
likes to look for crabs under the rocks on the beach
prefers lip balms with strong smells to flavours
favourite holiday is christmas
even though it’s arguably the busiest at the firehouse
cries at the end of ‘endgame’, ‘titanic’ and during ‘i am legend’
likes to doodle sometimes, but he’s not very good at it
prefers coffee to tea, but prefers iced tea to iced coffees
will wear his girlfriend's clothes if they’re big enough. hoodies, sweatpants, socks, even t-shirts that are plain. if she can wear his why can’t he wear hers??
likes having his hair played with
will paint his girlfriends nails for her if she asks
falls over cat toys a lot because he never cleans them up
catnip makes him sneeze
owns a set of socks with the days of the weeks on
doesn’t know how to ski but wants to learn
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Into you
@raven-romanoff
@maristela1968
@flaky178
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Author's note:
First off... Gif made from the original video.
https://youtu.be/iqDUGD8SHF4
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I have to confess I wanted to write another smut for Arthur/Harleen since the first one I wrote wasn't so satisfying... So, here it is! It took me a long time to write it (two months, actually. Bless the writer's block, FFS) so I hope you like it!
Second, sorry for any typos because english is not my first language (Chilean Spanish Strikes Back once again lol).
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Summary: Follow up to "I feel you". After his first night with Harleen, Arthur cannot get enough of her... And she has more in store for him than just a few warm, kind words.
Warnings: insecurity, (considerable) age gap, self loathing, swearing, masturbation (both receiving), strong sexual themes, unprotected sex, mild dirty talk... And smut.
Words: 8.540 (sorry if it's too long. I hope you don't get bored)
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The clock marked 5:46 a.m. when Arthur opened his eyes. He had a blanket over his frail, undressed form and was alone. The missing presence of Harleen alarmed him, believing it was another painful hallucination or worse. The idea she regretted the union and decided to lock in her bedroom to sleep by herself  harassed his mind incessantly. 
As soon as the neon lights shone before his eyes, he knew everything was alright. He almost fell on the couch again, relieved. But he never stopped asking where she was, though the calm background around him tenderly convinced the convulsed psyche to not keep tormenting. 
As he yawned, taking a seat, he replayed everything that happened a few hours ago. 
He just had sex.
Chuckling, he lit up a cigarette. And thought about what happened one more time so his brain would memorize it. 
Harleen allowed him to touch her. 
The memory of her moaning and straddling him set him on fire. Harleen had such a good time and he loved to see her enjoying it. The killing eagerness to repeat the act, just to see her again coming undone, to hear her lustful moans slowly took over his mind. 
He took a deep breath and looked for his hoodie. The cloth in question was found on a puddle of mixed garments, which included her peach coloured pajamas and his pants. Arthur took the blanket off partially to grab the sleeveless shirt with certain desperation to smell it, to prove himself this wasn’t his imagination. The sweet, fruity smell filled his nose, almost submerging him into a high state. It wasn’t enough, though. A profound nuzzle into the garment served as a vain way to revive the sensations experimented as Harleen let his mouth roam over her chest. He absorbed the fresh, fruity scent. Eventually the need the dirty habit brought with it overcame the ritual that reduced Arthur to a starving animal. As the hunger diminished, he put the piece of clothing aside. Arthur took his time, remembering the initial goal by rummaging the cloth puddle: the pack of cigarettes showed up coming out the right pocket in a scalene triangle shape. He took it immediately, also taking the lighter. 
As he smoked his cigarette, for the first time he thought how lucky he was. As a malevolent chuckle reverberated through the air, he finally savoured what was that contact he yearned so much. A sensation of being an ordinary man nested on his heart. That’s what an ordinary man had, right? A job, a girlfriend, a sex life. He laid back on the couch again, bathing in this new, positive emotions. Looking at the shelf full of books, small crystal figures and a portrait of her holding a scroll, most likely her diploma once she got her degree. Arthur quickly got up to hold the portrait, watching it carefully. She seemed so… happy. 
Returning the portrait to its original place, he stepped to the couch again. His thoughts clouded by the wonderful moment Harleen shared with him: loved how gentle she was, how considerate and patiently handled the loss of his celibacy in such an skilled way. It was the first time he truly felt in tune with someone in his entire fucking life. It was way beyond the physical bonding. He couldn’t find the words for it but he was sure about how he felt. 
Seen. 
While Arthur was searching another cigarette to smoke, another rowdy idea swarmed in his mind: he had never found himself attractive, given his eternal history of rejection from everyone and his frail appearance just increased the mute but obvious aura of dislike around him. What were the odds for a woman like Harleen to fall for him? One in a million. Her looks could perfectly allow her a good life as a model and her kindness and easygoing personality would even take her farther away from the poverty of the building. Yet, she didn't seem interested in pursue a better, new life. She could perfectly have any man at her mercy and still she preferred to stay, actually giving a damn about others. 
Suddenly his self loathing bloomed fully again. What could he possibly offer her, except for misery and sorrow? Nothing. Nothing but a unquenchable thirst for her. An aged, pained soul devoid of love. She deserved better. A strong man. 
A man of her own age. 
Quickly his eyes closed. The hated guilt, the same he swore he had overcome, came back like a furious, stormy surge. Arthur felt he had committed an unforgivable sin by sleeping with her. She was so precious, so joyful... And so young. Things Arthur was far from. He was so inexperienced, so clumsy, so flawed... A dark part of him felt he had defiled her, that he had taken advantage of her gentleness to sate his own selfish desires. This sense of perversion flooded his mind, reducing the happy moment to a mistake that shouldn't have been. His lungs crumpled the air, if the smoke didn't disperse it. The hand that left free palmed the forehead, to drive away the negativity. 
Suddenly his mind remembered the laughing fit. And the gentle hug that followed it. The pieces in this puzzle came together. Harleen holding him right against her chest in a searing yet tender embrace. Not even his mother would offer such comforting balm. 
Arthur then let a short cackle to shatter the silence. He definitely had something but he did not know for sure what was that something. It had to be more than just being a 'hard working man'. If she was so gentle with him, surely a feeling was on the way. To his mind comes the tender memory of their first meeting. The first thing he got from her was a warm, kind smile through the fence.
Of course, the cursed fit fucked up everything. But it happened! The open palm patted his chest, calming down the turbulent flow inside of him. The happy memory of their first meeting brought also the passionate moment of the first kiss which almost led them to the bed. 
Arthur processed a thousand things that night. But one thing was for certain: that night Harleen awoke a hunger he had never felt in his life. Never saying it but showing it in their kissing sessions. He remembered that one time when he was expecting her to return after her shift. It was late at night. His knee bounced while Arthur smoked three cigarettes in the meantime. But he wasn’t alone. There were two young men a few feet away who minded their own business. Arthur feared them to be robbers but nothing happened. He put his hoodie on and kept smoking. A bus arrived but she wasn’t among the four people who stepped down from the vehicle. Two more came, but she was never among them. It started to get on his nerves when a taxi finally stopped and revealed the lovely passenger:
As soon as Harleen set foot outside, Arthur jumped out from the bench. The two other men witnessed the scene: their faces changed from curiousity to actual surprise when the blonde threw her arms to the man who evidently was older than her. But the lovers didn’t care. Their kiss was so heated that the youngest of the two muttered “damn” under his breath. They couldn’t stop staring at them, but Arthur was too focused on sharing their lips in a desperate dance. He was oblivious to the envy he inspired in every man whenever Harleen would display her affection in public. Therefore, he didn’t care. He longed to take the initiative in their eventual intimate encounter but the fear his inexperience would ruin it prevented any attempt to start intimacy. Harleen was aware of how hard was for him to begin with physical contact, though he never denied it. She could tell he had so much to say by just looking at his eyes. Patience with him would pay off. And the worst part of all this? The fits. 
The fucking laughing fits. And Harleen could only hug the pain away against her chest while his head found shelter in it. He froze in the position where he basically clawed to her body. It was the third time he had one in front of her, the second being in the empty subway after a date. It was after a careless kiss Harleen granted to his lips while waiting for him to go off work. He could tell she had been drinking: she was way more affectionate than usual. The spontaneous caress on his lips took him by surprise. He laughed at his fucking frustration on how he could possibly cope with what was regarded as the ultimate loss of personal space. He considered himself as a romantic at heart but Harleen’s overwhelming passion reminded him of how inexperienced he was, how unsure he was actually feeling relating to his damaged masculinity. 
It was almost like a pessimistic prelude before their first night together, since Arthur did not have the chance to come closer to her disregarding sex. He just had kissed and embraced her, restraining his touches to her face, neck and waist but never beyond there. Arthur preferred the silent sensuality of passiveness, though he desired to sink down deep inside of her. 
The crude self loathing drifted to another question: Where was she?  
Taking the blanket off him and putting his pants on, Arthur wandered over the flat and saw a dim orange light glowing behind the door, which was open just a crack. Analysing the lit lines, he then paid attention to the steam coming from the bathroom. He stopped breathing, closing his eyes to not commit the sin to spy on her. 
His right hand knocked the door, leaning into it expecting the answer. A few seconds later, her voice approved him to get into the place. Arthur got in, anxious. 
The sight of her completely overrode his senses. He stood completely frozen trying to process, once again, what was happening. The mere action of this impious gaze was enough to make him turn his head. She bursted out laughing. And hearing she wasn't upset with his presence managed to look at her.  
Harleen was on the bathtub, laying on her back. Her damp hair covered her chest while the foam didnt allow to see more of her body. This didn't upset him, of course. This new glimpse of his lover was something he would never forget. 
Amused by his priceless expression, Harleen covered her face.
"Are you in need for another ride, Mr. Fleck?", She asked, temptingly. 
Arthur licked his lips as he closed the door behind him. 
"After that? Always". The steps towards her made Harleen change her position to lie on her side, to grant him a better sight. He sat on the floor, eyes concentrated maniacally in her figure. Her soft, wet hand touched his own, intertwining her fingers with his for a brief moment to kiss them. 
Arthur stared at her for long seconds. Harleen didn't seem uncomfortable despite how much he struggled to remain modest. She couldn't blame the poor guy. Her pose was way too sensual to be indifferent. The appreciation showed a silent invitation for more intimate contact, for more comfort and company. He could only see her precious lower curvature showing partially. Her left arm covered her chest while supporting herself on the edge of the bathtub with the other hand. He loved how much sensuality she oozed even when she did nothing.  
“Did you have a good sleep?”
Arthur replayed the question to process it.
“Yes” he simply nodded, “but it seems you didn’t. You weren’t there when I woke up”.
“I don’t sleep too much, Arthur. Just needed to take a bath to refresh myself after our hot, noisy turmoil”.
Arthur grinned widely. And it wasn’t only for the friendly reminder of why he felt excited. He darted his eyes towards the platinum strands of hair stuck on her face, falling down to stick to her shoulders and forearm, creating a sinuous curve that lined her hip with blue shades. After a few awkward seconds of silence, Harleen finally pronounced:
“So, since we’re in this situation… would you like to talk about what happened?”
“Yes”. Arthur was anxious to take advantage of any chance he’d had to end up in the bed with her. But he was too nervous to start a conversation about the subject. She noticed it and did her best to not put him in an uncomfortable position. Arthur just glared at her. 
“It feels so different when you don’t have to lay your hands on yourself”, he cleaned the sweat that formed in his forehead, “it’s different to have a… um”, doing his best to retain the stammer that prevented a fluid talk, he tried to look for the right words to describe what happened in his head. 
“A…?” 
“It’s different when you see it than to experience it. It feels better when you have a body next to you”, he gulped, trying to swallow the nervousness, “it was a long little yearn since I began to understand these things about…”
“About sex?”
“Yes” was his answer, “I’m sorry if I sound strange. But this conversation is too personal and… and all this is new for me. I never thought I would be with a woman like that and it turns out it’s better than I expected”.
Harleen tilted her head, paying attention to every single word. 
“Is there something you liked in particular?”
Arthur lowered his head, trying to think and replay the scene. From the passionate, tenderly patient foreplay to the scandalous and thirsty ride. There were so many good moments to pick one in particular. But then, her voice broke his thoughtful immersion. 
“Or maybe was there something you did not like?” 
This drew a devilish, naughty grin in Arthur. 
"What's not to like about it?” his hand slicking back the fluffy hair, “We fucked like crazy and you ask me if there's something I did not like about it?", the verdant glow turned darker. Harleen rose an eyebrow, expectant. Arthur began to pant and cleared his throat in an almost hilarious way to hide his incipient arousal.
"I couldn't resist... I simply couldn't... because I've been wanting to do those things to you since I saw you--" a chuckle left his mouth at the raw confession. A painful slap on his mouth to quieten down the noise made Harleen immediately sat in case a fit of laughter would tear his throat apart again. Extending her hands to grab his forearms, the violent move shook her long, wet hair which allowed the loner to catch a glimpse of her naked chest. 
The fit, thank goodness, never came. Arthur just coughed, waving his hand so any sense of worry Harleen felt would dispel in time. As things settled down, Arthur continued the talk where it left off.
“This—this feels like a very good beginning. But—“ his words concluded but his expression reflected a profound thought he couldn’t put words on yet.
“It’s alright. You can tell me”. 
It took a long while to answer. There was almost completely silent if it wasn’t the for the tense breathing that Arthur fought to control. 
“You really enjoy doing this to me, do you?”, Arthur embed the green spell his eyes had cast on her.
Harleen’s expression went from amusement to actual surprise. There was more from him to tell her, however. She nodded almost imperceptibly to give him the confidence he needed. 
“You never felt uncomfortable with me even when you knew the things I wanted to do to you from the beginning. You let me kiss you, you let me touch you… you were never afraid to show me your body from the first day as you now do” he came closer to her, demanding answers, “until a while ago, I thought I could never awake those reactions on a woman. But I did”. He licked his lips, tilting his head to stare at her, “do you enjoy doing this to me?”
“By saying ’this’ you refer to… provocation?” 
“Yes”, Arthur’s tone of voice revealed his relief to finally know the word for the aforementioned action. 
Harleen hummed, thoughtful. 
“I did not intend to provoke you to torture you. I intended it just to get your attention. You left just before the best part in our first kiss and I’ve been craving you in that way as well since. I wanted you to touch me… yet our caresses did not go beyond a cuddle or a kiss, so I thought that leaving the door unlocked after I arrived from work, wearing a few pretty clothes would give you a hint to come to me so we could be together like that at last”.
Arthur was completely mute at this point. 
“But if you feel uncomfortable with me like this, I won’t keep on” she raised her hands in a childish sign of surrender. Arthur shook his head.
“It’s not the fact I don’t want to touch you. It’s… another thing. I know you won’t deny me your body. There are so many things…” he ruffled the disheveled hair in an involuntary move to relax. 
“What?”
Arthur sighed, finally finding the courage to voice what troubled him. 
“How’s that you don't feel uncomfortable with my condition or—“
“Or…?”
Arthur gulped. 
The hardest (and the most perverted) part would come to be verbalised. 
“My… appearance?”
“What the fuck is wrong with your appearance?”, Arthur sighed and replied:
“I look old enough to be your father!” the green eyes pierced hers. If only the thought of it was dirty, confessing it was downright indecent. Eyelids were tightened to the point it caused him pain, in a futile attempt to erase any improper thought in which Harleen was the protagonist. However, her voice exploded with loud cackles, splashing the water with open palms. Was she actually laughing at him? He frowned, getting upset and impatient to obtain a good answer.
“And…?” was all she said, much to his chagrin. The puzzled glare did not display satisfaction for his part. 
“Doesn’t that… disturb you?”
“In the slightest. It’s actually quite the opposite” she supported her chin on the edge of the bathtub, staring up to him while biting her lip playfully. Then in a false pretension of innocence, she giggled, her hand making a move to tell him to come closer to her. 
“That’s one of the many reasons why I like you very, very much”. The sweet sinful sound of the whisper was irresistible to Arthur, whose lids were almost completely closed, jaw slightly dropped. The reality of this situation caught him off guard. It was unbelievable to the point of obscenity and a persistent need to step back from his lewd intentions out of disgust on behalf of common modesty. 
“I like you, Arthur Fleck" her face came closer to his and in a manner so typical of her, took his hand to open it from the fist it had reduced to in order to grant it a provocative kiss on his fingers, sliding the bottom lip against them. 
Remaining silent and completely hypnotized by the scene, Harleen proceeded to trace invisible lines with the tip of her fingers on the early, harsh wrinkles that were more of a proof of how devastating his life was. It was a testament, a living, bleeding monument of how much cruelty and indifference could drive a man to insanity. Her thumb ran assiduously on his lip scar, which she found gorgeous to look upon. His breath shortened, pupils dilated, blood flowing to his groin. 
Her digits now went over those adorable dimples that only increased the odd beauty of his mirthless, worn out face. His eyes moved from one direction to another, trying to cope with this tender attention, closing them eventually, leaving the embarrassment aside. He smiled but her voice shattered the moment. 
“How can I judge you for a condition you did not wish to suffer?”, her fingertips ran over the notorious wrinkles in his forehead, “it’s not your fault”.
She admired the subtle silver hair that would make the brown hue fade in time, ending the journey all over his face. 
“You find me… attractive?”
“Well of course I fucking do”.
Again, the green menacing eyes had the effect on her. 
“What is it that I have that you like so much?” 
Murmuring against his lips, she replied:
“You’re oddly attractive” she held his face to reinforce their bond, “and yet you don’t know it” she kissed the lip scar, “of all the men I've been with, no one has looked at me in the way you do".
Arthur set all his focus on the praising words, which served to mend or to relieve a little the inhuman treatment he had received from the world as long as he remembered. There was nothing he could do, except process and replay the words every time a silence took place between them. Kindness seemed a far ghost, a laughable little dream, a cruel joke.
A pause allowed them to hear a few cars passing by, followed by sirens of an ambulance. It didn’t matter, since none of them mentioned it. 
"I've never met a man who's been so grateful for a kind greet or a simple smile. I couldn't help it that rainy day you came back from work to talk to you. At first I had an idea about my secret admirer simply being another guy who drooled over my ass. I would have never imagined the man behind my steps was so hungry for affection. Your eyes are an open book, Arthur. I noticed your intentions... and I liked the idea of you and me together like that from that night”.
Arthur directed his hands to her lips, holding the ever persistent, painful question that scarred his psyche:
Was she real?
His hands touched down her jawline and neck. Just a stare and Arthur told her everything. Because, somehow he knew that it was through an intense stare that lovers could tell the most intimate things. He spoke through his body, through dance. But what about sex? What about the act that dazed him so much? She actually understood why he needed intimate contact with such urge. The repression he hated so ardently for being a cruel insult to his ego tasted so differently now that she sated the thirst just to leave him craving for more. He felt… like all the years with no female attention were worth it if the pleasure people would lose their heads about was true. 
"I want to make you feel good. It’s what you deserve. And if no one gives you relief, then I’ll gladly do”, she put a curly lock behind his ear. 
But before any sparkly iniciative took ahold of his voice to manifest the need to consummate their relationship for a second time, Harleen pronounced, as a pleasant surprise for his intentions:
"Because you know” her gaze was pure, burning lust, “I could use a good fuck right now". Her tone of voice was seductive, though secretive, like confessing a small misdemeanor. His hand was not free from her soft grasp and her teeth gifted it with a tiny nibble. Arthur’s body stiffened, processing the words. However, no reply emerged from his mouth. The attention was entirely drawn to her face. The suggestive smile betrayed her reciprocity related to his intentions. He was so lost with the tantalising promise of more affection that he missed out the loving, yet flirtatious offer Harleen uttered. 
"Huh?" Arthur shook his head. 
"Come on, I'm bored". Her mouth adopted a puerile pouting in an attempt to persuade him, "I'm bored, play with me". 
Harleen crawled out from the bathtub, exposing her bare, wet body for the loner to see. Arthur's breath immediately cut off, his heart galloping wildly. Her milky, marmoreal skin glistened with drops of water which marked thin creeks all her body before the enraptured glance of the loner. This was an erotic image that Arthur could have only dreamt of. 
Once again his hands served as the eccentric – and intrusive – instrument to trace the almost invisible, indiscernible line between fantasy and reality while the blonde was only entertained by his obvious, euphoric goodwill to comply her wish. She sat next to him. 
"P-play... with you?" He repeated, battling the urge to faint, holding her body in his arms. 
"Like you did on the couch with me", her hands held his face gently to kiss it, to then throw her arms to his shoulders, “touch me, Arthur. Touch me. Don’t be afraid”. The mentioned man was unable to pronounce anything, reducing his exploration by touching blindly her waist and back. She continued pressing her nude body, taking delight on watching her Arthur plunged her into a solid, vigorous embrace, absorbing her, holding her nape so hard to not allow her escape, focused on how good her wet hair felt against his chest… as if her bare bossom wasn’t the best part of it. 
Harleen slid her fingers over his left shoulder, becoming more familiar with the protruding bone. She placed her hand in the same place where Arthur told her not to. This caused an immediate response from him. As Harleen noticed the horrible, vast bruise all over the right shoulder blade. A gutural groan warned her. She quickly apologized. But Arthur shook his head.
“It’s nothing. People are not precisely kind when they see me at work”.
The dark brown eyebrows arched in a sad expression. Her left arm assured a stable position for what she had in store for him. Arthur had no idea of what it was, but he knew it would be mind-blowing. 
“I can make you feel good”, he leaned his head in her forehead. Despite his celibacy was no more, all these touches were still new for him and he wanted to treasure them as much as he could. Air was heavy. The fear of another laughing fit ruining the moment clouded his mind but Harleen didn't seem to notice. The devoted, passionate embrace that held them so close just fed the fire inside him to take things to another level. 
Specially when her hand, teasing and avid, slipped above the pants where his manhood had responded to the visual, constant incentive. Fumbling the part to gradually pull down the pants in an enthralling motion that rendered the loner totally speechless. Once the cloth allowed his member to be graced by her hand. 
He gasped, jolting at the sensation of the damp but warm hand around his length. It was so unbelievable that just yesterday, that part had met his own contact during years. The rapture again battled with the persistent and its idea that everything was his imagination. Negative thoughts misting the moment. No kind touches except from Penny. But even she seemed aloof, unaware on how much damaged her own son was. This fade away once the caresses grew steadier. 
The rhythm of his breathing violently shook his chest up and down. He undid the hug partially to stare at the zone she paid so much attention to. His fully erect hardness receiving such caring treatment was taken straight out of a fantasy. His eyes couldn’stop glaring at the precious sight of the delicate hand going up and down in a maddening sway. He threw his head back, panting. 
“Like that--just like that- please. Don’t stop it”, he whispered, holding to the border of the tub, his voice broke out in agonizing moans, varying from groans and hoarse screaming, mixed with very sharp swearing as the building up to the peak made presence as minutes went by. His legs trembled almost uncontrollably, hips thrusting up constantly. 
Harleen of course was greedy. Taking advantage of the situation, her mouth sucked the prominence located at his neck to then lick it. Her sensual chuckle vibrated as she slid down the free hand on his convulsed chest, tenderly pressing it to calm down the crazed heartbeat. It didn’t take too long for him to start feeling a vertiginous shiver that expanded all over his groin. Sensing the situation was started to get out of his hands, the blonde rushed in: 
“Don’t hold back. Do it”. 
Arthur gasped as the climax hit him. He groaned into the air as the fierce hustle concluded. He was shaking, trying to not make a mess. The niveous strings spread all over the floor. Harleen glanced the scene, amazed to see Arthur a little less stressed. He lolled his head back, still pursuing the first intense feeling standing motionless, arms to his side, almost in a trance. Nothing could take the wide smile off him.  
A soft massage to his collarbone made the aforementioned man react at last. 
“My, my. You’re such a bombshell” Arthur muttered, blatantly ogling her. She smiled, smooching his cheek to quickly get up, much to his surprise. Harleen took a towel to wipe her hands and her body, leading her steps out of the  bathroom. The loner was about to protest when she asked:
"Are you waiting for an invitation, Mr. Fleck? Or isn't the sight enough to motivate you to come to bed with me?" 
The fascination held him still for a second, thinking the words that echoed in his mind repeatedly while enjoying the blonde's shameless exhibitionism. He turned the lights off as he searched for her. The outside lights prevented a complete darkness in the apartment. The drizzle hit the windows, creating a perfect, almost dreamlike atmosphere. 
He had to see her to confirm his yearn could become real. And so, he found her stepping into the promised place, while the towel dried the mane, which seemed longer now, almost reaching the highest part of her thighs. Arthur got rid of his pants immediately. 
Just about to reach the other foot to the room, Arthur extended his hand to reach her shoulder so she could turn to face him. Harleen was unable to suppress a surprised expression at the glimpse of his now completely naked body, causing to drop the towel. 
Once she called his name, Arthur  took her face between his hands to crash his lips on hers, pressing them into his several times to crown the passionate caress leading her in to the bedroom, their bodies entangled, anguished in a needy dance. They almost tripped over but the weak white light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand prevented it. He didn't pay too much attention to the surroundings once his body fell over hers on the bed. It were only them in this moment, and being on top of her unleashed a feverish want his psyche and body were not capable to contain anymore. 
"You've chosen wisely, Mr. Fle--" his tongue was so insisting on earning a place inside her mouth that her words didn't come. Not that it bothered her, of course. Arthur’s eyes shone in a different light. It wasn’t just an exciting new hue. His fluffy dark hair, his lean muscles made a combination that made Harleen genuinely think that the man who was just a breath away to possess her wasn’t Arthur. His eyes had become greener. His stare was not only predacious. It gave the impression that he intended to enter not only her body but her soul too. 
Harleen extended her hand towards the lamp to sink the room in darkness. She was close to success in her action if it wasn’t for Arthur mimicking it, just to ask her not to. 
“It’s more exciting in the dark.”
“Why?”
“Because you only feel. You see nothing”.
Arthur whispered against her mouth:
“But I want to see you”.
Harleen rolled her eyes, laughing. 
“Alright then” she chirped. Arthur covered her neck with doubtful kisses, afraid to make a wrong move. He then remembered: 
(Like in the couch).
He stopped his course to descend to her chest. Harleen paid extreme attention to his reactions, which drifted from amazement to utter joy. 
The man stood quietly, admiring the messy mane at her sides. A pink, bluish disaster covering her chest. The dark sense of dominance proper of a man who finally felt control over his life acquired a lighter shade as he distanced himself from her just enough to appreciate her astonishing beauty. Carefully, he slid a hand to dedicate his attention to the blue strands of hair, curling it around his finger, as he fantasized about for so long.
Harleen did not interrupt at all. This eccentric – but precious - way of communication was also new for her. What started as a simple invitation for a sexual encounter was progressively turning into a passionate discovery about each other. She knew Arthur wasn’t the most experienced man when it came to sex… but his enthusiasm was in no way to be questioned. Actions spoke louder than words. 
The pink strands of hair winded around his fingers, uncoiling as his digits made it aside to have a good vision of her uncovered breasts. So focused he was that he did not come to realize Harleen moved her arms to allow him a better access. She looked at those arms. God, those arms. Veiny, hairy, bony. Inhabited by little spots near the elbow. It drew a sharp contrast with the softness of her skin. Soon, she would pay attention to them. 
His facial expressions were a wonderful mixture of arousing disbelief and sincere admiration. Arthur seemed to be thoughtful for a few seconds on what he was going to do but he dared to slide his fingers over her collarbone, not leaving any inch of skin untouched. Then, he lowered to the sternum, circling it carefully to direct his ravenous digits to her left breast, studying the orbed part cautiously, examining its shape. The dedicated, paused fondling of it elicited a soft moan from her.
An evil, perverse grimace delineated his lips. Ah, that beautiful, sensual sound resounding again. How could he resist it? 
It was with a predatory inflame that Arthur threw himself to pamper the zone with his mouth. The sudden outburst made Harleen grunt for air, grabbing the bedsheets, a violent spasm shaking her legs, making her toes curl. The voracious appetite he devoured the breast was combined with such despair that seemed the act was far from satisfying. Despite she was aware of Arthur's consistent (and certainly disturbing) fixation with female chests, she preferred to stay quiet about it and enjoy the use he gave to such compulsion. He did not restrict it to a simple suckling, as Harleen saw how he nuzzled his face against it to then cover the damp, shiny skin with kisses, sending shivers down her spine. 
“Oh, Mr. Fleck… You do know how to put your mouth in use, do you?”, she felt high. As if she had taken a drug. 
The flattering words enlivened him to concede the other breast the same treatment and Harleen couldn't stop flailing, now completely taken by the action. The unoccupied hand fondled her belly to pass over the hip to end in her thigh. When his mouth detached from the hardened nipple, he licked all the way up her chest and neck, savouring the salty taste of her sweat, causing Harleen to ragingly rear up. Arthur ascended to face her once more just for her to grasp the strongly angular wrist once his arms found themselves near her waist. He frowned, confused. But his apparent disapproving look contorted to a one of complete flabbergast when Harleen opened her mouth so her tongue would coax his index and middle fingers, oiling them to steer the hand towards her searing feminity. His eyes widened, like a small kid watching in awe a mischievous deed. The absolute lewd look in her eyes erased any logic sense on him, if there was any in first place.
“Sure you want to warm up things first before diving in, do you mr. Fleck?” she spread her legs and Arthur lowered his head, dealing with the joy that overflowed his being. 
“Yeah”, his murmur was impatient and euphoric, “I can’t wait to…” he couldn’t say it. 
“Come on. Don’t be shy” she chuckled, frisky, “say it”. 
“I just can’t wait to do it inside you”. She gladly approved as their hands went on tune on her intimacy. Arthur was startled, “but I don’t… I have never done this to a woman”.
Harleen nodded eagerly. 
“Then allow me to show you how”, a toothy, naughty grin was all he got as a reply. He ended up emulating her. The grin was substituted to a temptative whisper: 
"There... There". The first touches to become familiar and then to please them. This new action left Arthur completely speechless. A mess of joined hands constantly massaged the silky, wet little space of hers. It didn't had an effect on Harleen only, making the rigid consistency return.
He smirked, evilly, as they took their time. Despite his restiveness, he knew patience would pay off. The caress went over the slick folds which soon would welcome him, kneading it constantly. His slender fingers then began to approach by own initiative, applying what he just had learned. Seconds later, with the same patience, Harleen made him stop precisely at the weakest point of a woman. He sensed a humid nub. As their hands began rubbing it, Arthur noticed it made her body jounce, a chain of gratifying sounds fleeing her throat. He was not able to stop staring at the body part receiving the sweet and lecherous attention, putting more effort into it. Gradually her hand got away to let him take the iniciative now, encircling it. 
The uncontrollable tremble that shook her legs made her close her eyes. Arthur stood there, his hand still stimulating her sex as intensely as posible, spellbound, captivated by her reactions. He leaned a bit when her breaths stirred her chest for more air. The blonde panted, trying to look for something to cling to as she was coming to her peak.  
“Arthur… I can't—I can’t endure it anym—“ The phrase marked the last thing she could control before the fulminant end. Mellifluous moans came from her mouth, praising him, calling his name repeatedly. He was certainly bewitched at the image. So lost in the ecstasy that only the amatory practice could bring her, Harleen missed the fact Arthur did not blink in any moment, recording obsessively every move.
“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about” his chuckle causing her insides quiver. He loved how her muscles twitched on his hand, priding himself on the magnificent reaction he had caused on her.  
Arthur patiently awaited for her to regain her breath before the best part would take place. He placed his hands at her sides to remain firm, his muscles tense and strong as a rock, marking the defined biceps Harleen loved so much. She opened her eyes just in the right moment when the hungry loner expected to end the hunger that harmed their souls so much. 
Harleen caressed his cheeks with the backs of her hands. Arthur leaned so their foreheads would touch. It was a torture for him as well. He placed a hand on her hip, sliding it down to the inner thigh, aligning his stiffened arousal in her entrance, brushing the sensitive nub with his tip. The tease took her breath away, making her spine twist. 
"Oh, God… please… please…", her vision blurred, her senses numb. 
"I know"
"Please!" She begged, "I need you inside of me, please". The hopelessness in her voice did not manage to act immediately but it certainly had a great impact on him. The fear of not being capable of carrying the dominance now sparked a furious, impetuous need to silence the voices that insisted he wasn’t man enough to please a woman. 
Through a furious, vehement move, Arthur finally made his way inside her, a sharp hiss and a vivid expression of sexual bliss seizing his facial features. He abruptly shut his eyes at the tight inner grip, lips slightly parted, hearing Harleen let out a long, languishing moan. She arched her back, squirming beneath him. Arthur smiled, extremely pleased at the erotic reaction while still trying to find a more comfortable angle to keep doing his part. He wanted more, however, and he was gonna manifest it by holding her chin in his thumb and index finger. Harleen opened her eyes while Arthur awaited her reaction as she received him fully. Taking a deep breath, he managed to open his eyes to cherish the fantastic view of her trying to handle his hard length making a place inside the best way she could. She held his head, carefully tugging his curls.
Invader and invaded stared at each other. 
"Take your time... We're not in a rush". The calm words soothed the anxiety prior to sex but the pleasure the act had to offer them rushed him to resume their act: Arthur deepened the insertion into her hot, velvety intimacy. Harleen gasped while becoming used to his presence inside of her, taking utter delight in the raw feeling of her warm walls adjusting to the intrusion, sensing every nerve shuddering and throbbing around him. Her mouth was open, yet no words were articulated. Maybe because they weren’t necessary. 
As for the loner, his vocal expressions of pleasure went from a heavy gasp, then to a loud groan to a thunderous moan. 
"Fuck---!" Arthur cried out, while struggling to form a coherent word but he was way too aroused to dedicate energy to other action, except for moaning against each other's mouth, never breaking eye contact. 
The first few seconds following their fleshes fully merging into one, Arthur experimented with paused and insecure moves, afraid to hurt her if he ever accelerated the pace but also afraid to ridicule himself if he’d last less than one minute. His slow thrusts allowed a better way to cope with the overwhelming, tight heat that kept their privacies tied together. He caught an steady rhythm that finally eased down. Sliding in and out, down and forward. Just two individuals who tried to bond despite their differences. 
“Y—You”, Harleen suddenly pronounced herself. Arthur huffed for air as he paid attention, “you feel… you feel so good inside me”.
“I can--, I can tell”, he could hardly articulate. 
Pressing his body against hers, Harleen whispered:
“We really lost a lot of time, did we?” 
She let her hands, avidly and blindly, over his chest and collarbone as his hips, by mere sexual instinct, insisted on a faster, harder pace. To increase his confidence and to let him know she enjoyed it, her legs pressed his hips. For a moment, Arthur stopped, taking the opportunity to regain all the air in heavy pants. Harleen held his face, making aside the curly, sweaty locks that formed over his face. His aroused but exhausted expression was a delight to see. 
“I swear to God—“ his ragged breath made his voice sound raspy, “if you keep doing that—“ another difficult exhaling move, “I won’t last too long”.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to”.
"I'm not upset" his shortened breath intake aroused her just as much his insertion did.   
The rain intensified. Drops clashed against the window. It proved to be a pleasant background sound as the two lovers expressed their feelings through their bodies. Arthur certainly had the time of his entire fucking life engulfing himself in her over and over and over again. The rhythm worked perfectly slow for the two of them as they slid together, in perfect harmony, over the bed. The pace that carried them away from sanity was combined with passionate, wet kisses, sometimes tugging on his bottom lip and tangling her tongue in his mouth, kissing him behind the earlobe, whispering sensual words.
Arthur had the perfect gift to reaffirm his existence and Harleen’s whispery voice calling his name just ended up pushing him deeper and deeper. Where did he suddenly become so strong to hold on for so long? He’d never know. 
Between moans and kisses, Harleen returned the passionate gestures with a strong, bloody scratch in his ribs. Arthur broke the kiss with a loud, pleased groan, responding to the scratch with a harsh thrust. Harleen screamed beneath him. Arthur, lightheaded by the sexually charged response, just stood still, trying to not give in to the already close peak of the act. 
Harleen was ready to make clear how much the sudden irruption had upset her when she heard an unintelligible mumble. 
"Uhh. What?" Harleen could hardly heard his petition. 
"Do that again", he whispered. The frown on her eyebrows revealed how much puzzled she was. 
"Do wha--?”
The harsh thrust took her by surprise, as expressed by the intoxicating sound that made Arthur so infatuated. As he delighted in the joy of obtaining exactly what he wanted, Harleen heard a a sweet, malevolent whisper: 
"That’s better...". It ghosted his lips, more to himself. He supported entirely on his arms, to keep on the rough onslaught. Those screams were music to his ears and he had plenty of reasons on why he deserved to hear more of them when he believed she had something else to say. 
The blonde mouthed. And Arthur read her lips. 
(Harder)
Harleen placed her hands at the sides of her head, abandoning herself to Arthur‘s mercy. She wanted it? She would get it. Another plea gone with the air, an arm on the matress reinforcing the pace to make it rougher and rougher. She felt she was unable to speak his name anymore, not knowing what aroused her the most: if having him inside her or hearing his assiduous effort to breathe through the final and most exciting part of their act. 
Exhaling aggressively, Arthur hung on to the mattress to harden the already brutal slamming that had reduced Harleen to an incoherent mess. His jaw dropped as the pleasure was becoming unbearable, growling as he leaned his head to keep closer to her. His arm was a key to maintain the disastrous rhythm as unrestrained but steady, grasping the wood which mattress was made of. The limb showed hard lines, ligaments standing out of the skin.
She legitimately thought, in a short moment of lucidity, that his arm would end up breaking it down. Neither of them heard a furious knocking on the wall, asking them to quiet down their sounds. Even if they did, they wouldn't care. Harleen sensed he'd love the idea of the whole building hearing their  scandal. 
When the excessive sensitivity down there traced a faint line between pain and pleasure, her moans echoed louder and louder, pushing Arthur to his limit. 
“Look at me”
It was hard to keep eyes open at this point. Harleen did her best but Arthur mistook it as another little game of hers.
“Look at me”, he hissed.
She inhaled deeply, turning her head towards him.
“Look at me!” he yelled, desperate.
She quickly did as he demanded.  
“Look at me when it happens”, he was not angry, despite the fierce, crazed stare suggested otherwise. 
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hissed under his breath, trying to keep up with the rampant search for release despite how much exhausting it proved to him. He wasn’t willing to be defeated: his hands fell to her sides to pound faster and more erratically, almost tearing the bedsheets. Harleen was unable to speak now, restricting to whimpers that granted him an inconmensurable feeling of power. 
Then it happened. It caught him sooner than he initially had intended, but that didn't make it any less delightful. The blonde screamed his name at the top of her lungs as the spectacular orgasm hit her. 
That was too much for him to bear. 
One more enthusiastic, desperate thrust and it was over. Harleen had no control over her reaction, imprisoning him completely with her legs and arms crossed over his body. A hot attempt to retain her lover, clenching as hard as she could possibly do. They shared a fleeting gaze as he spilled himself in a wave of nervous, uncontrollable convulsions that spurred his nerves. She would never forget the expression that moulded by the moment: his face was an authentic, vivid expression of ecstasy. His eyes closed, catching air, sweating profusely, rebellious locks falling down. The desperation in his voice diminished to a pleasured groan to a exhausted, but satisfied series of sighs. He finally collapsed on top of her, hiding their faces in each other's neck. 
“Easy…” she muttered while Arthur bathed in his newfound masculinity. She knew the magnitude of his enrapture when he displayed no reaction at all when she caressed his hair. 
Arthur was enjoying his blissful release inside her, memorising every little sensation. The soft sighs escaping his mouth made her believe he had finally lost the little touch he had left with reality. 
He still wanted more, though. Arthur refused to break the physical bond, not getting over the warmth narrowing around him, looking for more thrills, seed still dripping. 
“You’re hard to quit” Arthur hissed, breathless. 
“I'm not asking you to ”, and both laughed. 
Harleen untangled a few curls, enjoying how they recoiled to their original form, emptiness replacing the fullness of his presence once he was gone. Laying on their sides to face each other, now under the blankets. The water falling in the sky helped them to concile slumber. 
"I'll be hardly out of you after this, Harleen" was the last thing she heard before lights were off. 
________________________________________
It was cold. It was wednesday and the train was full. Arthur had gone early to his weekly therapy with the social worker. Once he reached the building, waiting in the hallway. He smoked a cigarette, journal on the inner part of his hoodie, a confident smirk lining his lips. 
The grimace did not change at all when he got into the office, greeting her and taking a seat. It started with the usual 'how's your job?', 'are you having negative thoughts?'. Arthur replied more confidently, without avoiding eye contact as he always did. The worker noted immediately a dark, evil glint in his eyes. He couldn't stop smiling just as he couldn't see how much his new attitude unsettled her. She decided to ask for his journal, asking if there was something wrong or different. Arthur just took another long drag of his cigarette, smiling to himself. 
Once the copybook was handed to her, the worker noticed a brief, new sentence along a photograph of a beautiful young woman whose platinum hair showed different colours from the half down. She was dressed in a short red dress and smiled. 
She read outloud the phrase written in red. Arthur had to suppress a cackle to not get too much attention from her. He deducted by her expression she did not understand it but he did not expect her to. 
“I’m prod of mysel”.
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As promised, here is my 2021 Fantasy Fest suggested list of items to consider for your Key West adventure. Feel free to add your own items and modify this list with suggestions:
I created this checklist for those Krewe that go with me on my annual Group Trips to both Hedonism resort in Jamaica and Fantasy Fest also.
So, with 7 days to go for Fantasy Fest 2021 (October 22-31), please feel free to adapt and modify this list to meet your needs and criteria for your Fantasy Fest trip.
This changeable checklist of travel suggestions allows you to cherry pick travel items for trips to Fantasy Fest or similar destinations or venues:
AIRPORT & AIRPORT TRANSFERS: Passport and copies of passport facepages in luggage) Covid vaccination card and/or negative Covid test results Airline ticket/confirmation number papers & itineraries Airport transfer papers Clothes for flights (bras, underwear, closed-toe shoes) Luggage with name tags, luggage locks and passport copies inside Luggage lined with empty trash bags that can later be used for dirty clothes, makeshift rain ponchos, covers for beach/pool bags in the rains Snacks, Clif and protein bars Empty water bottle Anti-bacterial/virus wipes packages Black ink pen for completing customs/immigration on the plane and/or airport terminal
PERSONAL ITEMS: Prescription glasses Small bills ($1, $5, $10 for misc. purchases, misc. tips) Credit card(s) Purse and/or wallet Jewelry (costume preferred) Watch Emergency contact phone numbers and info sheet Vitamins Hospitality items Pen, notepad Mini-flashlight for bedside Ipod & earbuds Pain relievers (Advil/Tylenol) Stomach ache/medicine (Pepto-Bismol, Imodium, etc) Kindle and/or books Prescription medications in original containers with copies of actual prescriptions Beaded name necklace Business cards
POOL & BEACH AREAS: Hats Sunglasses (and a second pair in case of misplaced/lost problems) Sunblock 15/30/70 Chapstick/lip balm Beach/Pool bag Special towels Coverups Flip flops/sandals Water shoes/aquasocks Water bottle/insulated & refillable drink mug Wristlet for room key (if applicable) Empty garbage bags (in case of rain to put all items into for walk back to room) Optional: Mask/snorkel for any boat trips to the Key West area reefs
ROOM: Sleepwear, sleep mask, earplugs Mini-alarm clock Computer and charger Smartphone & charger Camera and charger/batteries Office supplies/folders Small pocket flashlight for nightstand and pool bag at night Reading glasses Business cards Disposable clothes hangers Sewing kit with safety pins Optional: Room attendant gifts like school supplies, etc
TOILETRIES: Hand wipes or Purel Mini 1st aid kit with Band-aids, antibiotic ointment, Hairbrush/comb and accessories (clips, scrunchies etc.) Perfume/cologne Cotton balls & swabs Contact lenses, saline solution, & case Curling iron Deodorant Feminine hygiene items Hairspray Insect repellent and anti-itch creams (Benedryl, etc) Makeup and remover Hand lotion/moisturizer Eye drops (Visine) Mouthwash Nail clippers/file/scissors/tweezers Nail polish/remover Ziplock baggies Razor & shaving cream Sewing kits/eyeglass repair kit Special shampoo or conditioner Toothbrush, toothpaste, floss Drinking Mate tablets (for those that tend to be “over-served” their alcoholic drinks Aloe vera gel/lotion for sunburns/skin conditioner
THEME NIGHTS & RESORT ACTIVITIES: Costumes Boots Dress shoes Sandals/flat shoes Wigs Props & accessories (glow sticks, sippy cup, stickers, Scotch tape Paint and brushes for rock painting Exercise clothing/shoes Resort casual clothes for non-buffet restaurants
OFF-PROPERTY EXCURSIONS: Foldable pocket rain poncho/mini-umbrella Shoes, socks, shorts, tank top/t-shirt Tip & souvenir cash Backpack, collapsible tote bag Drink bottle with lid
Another consideration: A recommendation from a Krewe member is that Key West guests that plan to return to the next FF confirm their following year reservation and rates before they leave Key West–and get it in writing.
Finally, Check with the airlines the amount (weight) of baggage LEAVING Key West. There was a restriction on departing flights, not those arriving. Many veteran FF attendees ship their costumes and “gear” to the place they are staying, or to a package holding business. (e.g. Mail Boxes, UPS store, etc.) Check with where you are staying as most will accept incoming packages for arriving guests.
Obviously, not everyone would need all of these items but it is a start for picking and choosing those things you might want to have at Fantasy Fest. .
Safe travels to you!
CougarMilfAnnie
Be sure to check out more of my daily Fantasy Fest photos and videos here:
http://www.flickr.com/groups/fantasyfesters  (45,000+ photos)
https://onlyfans.com/CougarAnnie  all of my 100% uncensored videos)
https://mewe.com/group/5be9dd519619704267f87e05
http://www.facebook.com/groups/11505539033ps  (5,000+ members)
Incredible fun in and out of costumes and clothes, and with the fun times only a Krewe de Krazy Life group can create.
#fantasyfest #FF2021 #FantasyFest2021 #KrewedeKrazyLife #October #Halloween #keywest #floridakeys #conchrepublic #costumes #Florida #checklist #travelchecklist #travel #vacation #holiday #bodypainting #flashing #CaptainTonysSaloon #festival #bodypainting
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vampirkaninchen · 3 years
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five things tag game
tag from the lovely @bebemoon! thanks boo <333
five things you’d find in my bag...
lil notebook & pen(s)
mango lip balm
earphones
compact mirror
a book, usually
five things you’d find in my room...
velvet chaise <3
whole lotta books
many scented candles
huge monstera
alphonse mucha posters
five of my favorite things...
my lil disaster kitten
the 19th century
museums
live rock music
chocolate
five of my habits...
having pink hair
always having conversations with my cat
binge reading books (then nothing for weeks)
following research rabbit holes
forgetting my tea until it’s cold
five things about my personality or traits that I like...
imagination
determination
low bullshit tolerance
independent thinking
curiosity
five things I want for this year...
finish drafting & edit my novel
see my whole family in one place again
make progress on post doc projects
get that horse to gallopp, ffs
discover & learn new things <3
tagging @ayzrules, @interluxetumbra, @manbecool, @mercymaker, & @d-andelion :)
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unfolded73 · 4 years
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Every Night (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff
Reaction fic to 6x07. Basically it’s the last scene from Patrick’s POV. Rated Teen, 1500 words. (AO3)
Other Season 6 reaction fics: 6x01, 6x02, 6x04, 6x06
___________________________
Mom: Dad is asking if you watched the game earlier.
Patrick adjusted his back against the uncomfortable headboard of David’s twin bed as he looked at the text notification on his phone. His dad hated texting, but he wasn’t above asking his wife questions for Patrick, which she then relayed to him through text. His thumbs moved over the screen as he answered.
Yeah. Amazing rally!
After a few seconds during which he listened to Alexis’ slightly manic magazine page flipping, he added.
Watched it with David’s dad.
Mom: Oh, that’s nice! Is he a Jays fan?
Patrick: I don’t think he follows it closely. He wanted to give me a talking to, and watching the game with me was a means to that end.
Adjusting his back against the headboard again, Patrick looked down at his pillow options. Leaving the bed pillow on David’s side (as if this tiny bed could have ‘sides’), Patrick picked up the decorative pillow and braced it behind his neck.
Mom: Uh oh.
David shuffled out of the bathroom, drinking from the water bottle that Patrick had forced into his hands on the way home from the winery. David hadn’t spent nearly as long on his nighttime skincare routine as he usually did, which was as big a sign as any that he was still feeling the affects of his fruit wine odyssey, even if he had sobered up enough not to press any more enthusiastic, sloppy kisses against Patrick’s mouth like he was an untrained puppy.
“How was your class, Alexis?” David asked. He sounded almost genuinely curious, which Patrick found interesting given David’s terrible acting earlier during Mrs. Rose’s mission to extract him from having to watch baseball. Maybe he was more accustomed to playing these games with his sister.
“Um, it was a big success; thank you for asking!” Alexis said, sounding way too chipper. “Everyone had a great time, and the clients were like, super impressed.”
“Oh, that’s good,” David said as he climbed into bed. Patrick felt David’s bare toes drag against his shin as he tried to focus on responding to his mother’s text.
No, it wasn’t a bad thing. We sort of bonded, I guess.
“I wonder if that means they’ll give you priority boarding when you enter the Gateway,” David continued, calling Alexis’ bluff.
Looking at the three dots on his phone as his mother texted him back, Patrick didn’t watch Alexis’ reaction, but he heard the flapping of her magazine. “Oh my god — Stevie did this, didn’t she?”
Stevie had, in fact, given them the entire run down that evening over dinner while Patrick worked to get some food into his drunk fiancé.
Mom: I’m so glad! I could tell when we were there on your birthday how much the Roses love you. All of them, not just David.
“Now, do the step machines actually lift off the ground, or are they just there to help you practice for when you walk onto the spaceship?” David said as he settled in, his hip bumping against Patrick’s under the covers.
“Come on, David, she didn’t know,” Patrick said, feeling some sympathy for Alexis.
“Thank you,” Alexis said.
But not that much sympathy for Alexis. “But now that you do, does it make the journey to the Gateway just that much more meaningful?” he said with his best guileless voice, leaning over to look at his future sister-in-law.
“Okay, you know what? Honestly? This whole situation is starting to gross me out,” Alexis sniped, gesturing at the two of them in bed. “It’s like I’m sharing a room with my twin brothers who kiss.”
Patrick wasn’t sure if he just wanted to troll Alexis more or if hearing the word ‘kiss’ triggered him like some kind of tender sleeper agent, but before he even registered the decision to do so, he’d leaned over and pressed a kiss against David’s forehead, humming with affection as he did so. David’s head was lower on the bed and when he turned, the only part of Patrick that his lips could reach was Patrick’s arm. David pressed a kiss there, and the warmth of David’s lips through the thin material of his t-shirt made Patrick swoon just a little bit.
Mr. Rose came in then, and if he found the tableau of David and Patrick snuggled up in bed to be awkward, he didn’t show it. He just seemed happy to have everyone under the same roof, and that everyone seemed to include Patrick. Mr. Rose grinned, and Patrick could only grin back. Then Mrs. Rose came into the room too, still visibly suffering from her day-drinking binge, and soon she was snuggling up with Alexis, mumbling something about a sleepover. Alexis made a lot of annoyed protestations, even more so when her own father made fun of her for almost joining a cult. It was weird and yet completely domestic at the same time. Patrick felt a bit like he was getting a look at the inner sanctum, at the way the Roses behaved when it was only the four of them. Warm feelings for the family bloomed in his chest.
“So does this happen every night?” Patrick whispered to David.
David turned to him. “Um, no. No it doesn’t,” David responded, but the look on his face told Patrick that wasn’t entirely true. They smiled at each other, and David pressed his face up against Patrick’s arm, and in that moment Patrick loved David so much that he thought his heart was going to explode.
Mr. Rose managed to coax his wife back to bed, closing the door between their rooms. With another annoyed huff, Alexis turned off the lamp and plunged the room into darkness, although a significant amount of light still filtered through the curtains. The Rosebud Motel did not have the kind of blackout curtains that most hotels possessed. Patrick sent a final text to his mother.
Going to sleep now. I’ll call you Sunday.
Mom: Goodnight, sweetheart. And tell David goodnight too. 😉
Patrick squinted at the winking emoji, trying to process the fact that his mother was teasing him about his sleeping arrangements with his fiancé. At least she didn’t use eggplant emojis to do so, like Stevie. Putting his phone on the floor, Patrick scooted down the bed, trying to get comfortable on David’s decorative pillow. “Here, we can share,” David said, adjusting his own bed pillow until it was under both of their heads as the small pillow fell off the edge of the bed.
“Thanks,” Patrick whispered, putting an arm over David’s waist and kissing him gently, a simple press of their lips together.
“I’m sorry I abandoned you today,” David said, his voice equally quiet.
“It was fine. Your dad and I had a good time.” He kissed David again. He knew that if they were back in the bed they usually shared in Patrick’s apartment, he’d be deepening the kiss, pressing David into the mattress until they were both panting and desperate to get their clothes off. As it was, he’d have to settle for a few kisses and for holding David close.
David huffed. “You don’t have to say that.”
“It was.”
“Still,” David said, kissing him back with a matching gentleness. “I don’t want to take you for granted. I love you.”
Patrick moved his hand up to the back of David’s head, fingers combing through the short hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled him closer, mouth opening, because surely a little bit of tongue would be okay. David seemed to think it was okay too from the way he kissed him back.
“Can you two stop, please?” Alexis whispered harshly. “I can hear the smacking noises!”
“Sorry,” Patrick called to Alexis, and then said to David, “I love you, too.”
“Turn over; you can be the little spoon,” David said.
David loved being the little spoon, so much so that there was a mole on David’s shoulder blade where Patrick’s face usually was pressed that Patrick had come to think of as his, he was so well acquainted with it. “You sure?”
David pushed on his arm. “Turn over before I change my mind.”
Patrick did, carefully not to pitch either of them off the edge of the narrow bed. He settled down, his spine pressed against David’s chest, David’s knees against the back of his knees. David wrapped an arm around him, sliding his hand up under Patrick’s shirt to touch bare skin. He felt David kiss the back of his head.
Lying awake for a long time, Patrick imagined all the nights like this they would get to have in the future that stretched out ahead of them. Nights when they held each other to soothe each other’s worries. Nights when one or both of them had had a little too much to drink. Nights when they held each other as an apology after a fight. Nights when they drifted off in post-coital bliss. Nights when the cuddling was a balm to their sadness. Nights when there was too much joy for sleep to come easily.
“I can’t wait for you to be my husband, David,” Patrick whispered, unsure if David was still awake.
An answer came in the press of David’s hand against his chest, right over his heart. “Me neither.”
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