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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| 24 hour Challenge; - Church, Aguirre, Sawyer - | |
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| Topic Started: Sunday, 8. December 2013, 21:25 (1,430 Views) | |
| Mac | Sunday, 8. December 2013, 21:25 Post #1 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Whose fucking idea was this? Seriously, was it his? Was it hers? With her face all scrunched up, she couldn't quite recall where this hair brained scheme came from. Some stupid banter between them, challenging one another like they'd been doing since they first fucking met. That first night he'd challenged her to live through the night, bleeding, toxic and broken. She'd challenged him to simply stay in her rude ass stanky presence, she pretty much offered that challenge to anyone who wanted to try it. Most didn't last very long. Church on the other hand, knew his way around handling her attitude. Usually, if her mouth was running into mean and rude territory? That meant just put his fist, or his cock in it and solve the issue. The problem with that was this stupid fucking idea that had somehow become the anti for the evening, the penalty being the one to break it has to full fill whatever 'Dare' the winner issues. No fucking or biting? Laaaammmmeeee... 24 hours of sticking around, being in each others space, without fucking or feeding. It's all they had done for weeks, besides nights where they were apart, which was often required for her to learn to fucking walk again and heal up. Ever escalating in violence. Really good nights left her hurting for a few days, but it wasn't something they could keep up with every night. She needed to Hunt, fill the quota kill quota that kept her head calm and level. Well, you know, as calm and Level as Mac ever got. They didn't even talk much, it was just a "Hey how you doing? Oh, you're doing me? That's awesome, MMmmmkay..." Maybe it was time to do some more getting to know each other time, as it was hit and run affairs here there, and everywhere. She needed down time from the mind warp of heaven in his body and under his fangs, to get her head on straight, figure shit out. So here they were, over at his damn tiny ass apartment stuffed with Aguirre's books. Seriously, how many books did that girl have? There were stacked on end tables and all over the place. In her entire life, she'd never read a hundreth of what Aguirre kept as a private collection. There were to many walls for her, she fucking hated walls. That's why she had a wide open warehouse, without dividers and blockades. Freedom, not a tiny little trap like hole. Little spaces made her think of the basement she lived in for to many years with the Pack, walls made her want to run. Glitter was still stuck to a lot of the house as well, and she wondered if he hadn't come right back here after she blasted him with that Sparkle canon so long before. She would have gone for a swim in the river Thames if she had to, to keep from tracking that shit back into her gym. There was enough of it just from his subsequent visit, she couldn't clean it all. She was still finding little sparkles glinting here and there, and his apartment was even worse. Strangely the glitter made her immensely happy. It's remains, now just little traces of sparkley humiliation scattered about pleased that little sadistic demon inside her that took joy from the memories of that night, and for the fact that Sawyer and Aguirre probably tracked sparkles around with them as well. She'd immediately began investigating the interior of the apartment, picking things up and tipping them about. Inspecting. They were supposed to watch some ...Western? Something like that. Something Church was into, something normal and date like. Date like? She ain't never gone on any proper date, how fucking rude and strange was it that she'd be out to spend a night with a Fanger, trying to be all normal? Was this somehow Aguirre's fault? It had to be, that girl was all about the sugar and honey bunnies. She must have put some strange ideas into Church's head, living with her was rubbing off on him. Was it going to rub off on HER?! Was she going to start trying to poop rainbows? She turned away from the book she had picked up, having turned it over to read the back. Wow, spicy. She never took Aguirre for the erotic novel type. Probably not something she felt like cracking open and reading now, all things considered... "Are we really fucking doing this? Seriously?..." Edited by Mac, Sunday, 8. December 2013, 21:53.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Wednesday, 11. December 2013, 19:01 Post #2 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"Miss my dick already?" I grin at her. I concur with her argument though...this idea sucks. But, maybe it's a good idea...? It's not cause of this lame ass niggling sensation that I'm getting in the back of my mind, spooking myself out with this violent, growing obsession. Each night we spent together was further delving into some sick and demented shit, the epitome of gorram sin. But no, even if it is definitely more hazardous to my health than the other shit I used to pull, I can crush the thought with it's overwhelming pro's. She could die...if she weren't such a fucking trooper, literally, and wearing myself ragged in gory fuckfests sure mellows me out in the downtime. It's better than any fucking drug, and the resulting buzz doesn't leave me screwed in the head. This though, this is for other reasons. "You damn right we're doin' it, but'ya know ya'll can stop it anytime you want." I look up at her from the TV, not especially bothered about watching 'Hang 'em High' for the ump-teenth time in my life, trying to wipe the smirk away at the pleasure I'm taking at her torment. Cause Church...well, he might be able to go without. "Everything in moderation, baby. Remember that bullshit?" Along with 'You gotta work for it.' It's just gonna make it all that much better in, I check the time, twenty three hours and forty-nine minutes...Jebus. Whose idea what this? "No screwing, no bitin', no taking you across my knee..." I can't help but flash those bedroom eyes; is that allowed? Surely at least nothing as stimulating and enjoyable as that is. I'll do my very best not to pin her down and dry hump her till she cracks, cause that shit is too damn deliberate, I would even disqualify myself for foul play. That's what it really is to us both, a game, one I really want her to lose. She's got such a fucking problem with wanting things, even though she'll take it. A problem with 'please.' A problem with being here in this bacon-less apartment, not having the security and comfort of her own home. If I wasn't afraid of becoming soft I'd intentionally lose just to stop her whining. But that just means she's gonna crack first right? Damn right it does. "Feel free to give me 'nother lap dance if you wan'." Not like I got the sex drive she does, right? Mines more a 'pain-drive.' What are the rules regarding breaking your own fingers? Might be un-sportsman like conduct. "Would getting blazed out your mind help? I got summit you'll like. Don't keep it in the freezer though, where the fuck would Flint sleep?" |
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| Mac | Thursday, 12. December 2013, 06:53 Post #3 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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"Dude I miss your fucking cock the second you slide out of me..." She smirked across the room at him, a sort of half tamed expression that said 'So what?' at her honesty. Duh, of course she missed his cock already. On top of that, she was basically being told she wasn't allowed it for 24 hours. While they easily went days upon days without even a 'Sup?' between them, they were always shedding clothes and on each other within moments of walking into the same space. It was just natural to bring themselves into each others space all roaring and on fire for a good time, skin singing with a sweet and vibrating need at just the thought of getting under his blissfully painful grasp. Being told she couldn't have it? Well, that just made her want it all the more... Like that first night that brought them together to fuck on her gym mat, where they didn't know if they were going to kill each other through anger, or screw till one of them passed out. The beat down that came first, that prolonged wait? Just made it that much better.... Didn't mean she -wanted- to wait for it. "Oh boy you'd like that wouldn't you? Me just throwing the towel in ten minutes in, just to get your hot ass between these thighs where it belongs? Well tough titties Doc, I already know what I want from you I ain't losing this so easy...Gawd, don't give me those eyes...." No do, really do. Those sparkling green eyes that made her get all twisted up and want to leap on him from across the room. She could do it too, she could easily spring the rather long distance between them and just start in on his delicious skin with steamy love taps. He looked so gorgeous covered in her bruises, swollen from broken bones, eyes all closed up and face screwed up in a look something like she imagined he had orgasmed like in life. Nope, she had to look away from him. With hazel eyes blinking out the hazy imaginings that came all to easy to her, she turned around and walked into the kitchen. She was inspecting afterall... What the fuck did Fangers keep in the fridge? Sawyer? Did he really sleep in there? She opened the fridge to take a look, and would do the same to the freezer while calling into its depths. "Slut Monster, you sleeping in there?" She'd then turn around and shrug a shoulder, hand coming up to scratch at an invisible evil beard thoughtfully for a moment as she pondered his comment on weed. "Yes...." Yeah, it really would. She'd already admitted to him getting blissedfully stupid on the green helped ease her social anxieties, and he was a little to on the money with the way he was learning to navigate her. It made her eye him somewhat between praise and skepticism, he's either not as dumb as he pretends to be or he's just got the soul of a stoner. "I think getting blitzed would be just what the Doctor ordered...." Edited by Mac, Thursday, 12. December 2013, 07:09.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Friday, 13. December 2013, 01:56 Post #4 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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This is hilarious. Unhealthy. We've successfully managed to get through a few minutes of each other's company without giving in the urge to fuck like no mere mortals could dream of. Maybe I will break first? I do want to be where I belong. It seems worth whatever nightmare she dreams up for losing. Probably make me give her the god damn lapdance. Or stand in front of a tidal wave of glitter. Bitch is sick like that. Is it wrong that it makes me smile? Once the initial 'Is this bitch working on a game plan' tension subsided, we degenerated into dumb beasts. Blunt pillow talk, regardless of location, slipped away. We don't need to. Hell, we usually can't make it past the stairwell in her place without a quick warm up screw that is our way of saying 'hello.' "Slut Monster huh? Thas'a new one." I'll put it in the vocab along with batty. I hope the site of no bacon and booze isn't too soul destroying for her. In fact, it's almost depressing how little that kitchen is used. Unless the 'Slut Monster' really did sleep in there? I zone out at that strange thought, admiring her beard stroking face till I snigger at her response. I get to my feet with a certain weariness, not the greyhound speed I would have had if she had just said 'fuck it, you win.' Still, it's something to ease her up. Maybe make her fuck up and lose? That would be helpful too. Bitch is a bit of a freak when it comes to consuming the stuff, but even so...I am well equipped to facilitate. "C'mon down here a sec." I jerk a thumb towards the door leading to my room, though as I drag my ass down the corridor, I figured it was probably a bad move to go sit on a bed. Not that we have a problem doing it anywhere else, but we don't wanna make Aguirre's books dirty. "Speaking of a certain Slut Monster...what's his fucking deal?" A valid question, seeing as she probably knows the guy better than me. There's something about him wearing that mask, not seeing his real face...I can talk football with the guy, have had somewhat delicate (a word I redefined) conversations, but it could all be bullshit. So could Mac, but Flint doesn't leave me feeling all awesome. Meh, her take will be interesting. Seeing as she don't like fangers... she will probably hate even me when I'm not treating her right. I try not to look at the damn bed as I walk into the somewhat bare room. A lonely cable plugged in for my phone aaand that's about it. It's miraculous I have sheets on the bed. I don't really have anything. Except... I open the built in wardrobe door, do not feel sympathy for the various jackets and jumpers Aguirre bought for me that will undoubtedly meet a grissly fate soon enough, but instead grab a hold of the crate at the bottom. A grubby, once stainless steel with rubber trim 3' x 1' box with a pinwheel lock bolting the thing shut. I plant it with a soft thud. "We never really discussed price did we? On the job I mean." As little as I want to talk about it in depth, this little parcel of paradise has made me wonder about it. I mean, I've got money but she don't need it. Blood, but she don't want it. My dick? She can have that all she wants. This crate though, maybe she would've liked? But with a body like that, she ain't gonna use a quarter of the stuff in here...I feel like I've asked this before, but she never fucking told me. "What do you want?" Seriously? It's not out of the kindness of her heart is it? Beyond her current and obvious wants. Cause I could write a good ass list of shit I wanna do with that body. "Cause seriously, if you want it...I'll get it." Can she see the seriousness through yet another grin splitting my chops? "Or is there nothing that can light up that adorable face of yours more than putting you in your place?" She is adorable. When she's all bloody and bruised, it's just...Man...I really can't think about much else around her. |
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| Mac | Friday, 13. December 2013, 09:23 Post #5 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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"Yeah.. We went hunting. Well, WE didn't go Hunting. I went hunting, and the fucker came out of no where and ate my bum!" She looked validly put off about it, as if she cared about the bum in question. She didn't, at all, she just cared that he was HER bum... Then she realized, that just making a blatant comment about Sawyer eating her bum may have multiple contexts. It made her grin, and then burst into laughter as she waved a hand. "No, like... My Hobo! I mean! Not my bum! Hahaha.. Sawyer ate my hobo Roald! I use him as a decoy down in Camden. He's fucking great man, he's so... insane. Give him a half a bottle of something and he'll stumble any direction you point him in. Anyways, he ate my fucking hobo and I brought him down because I didn't -know-. He had his fucking ugly face on man! Ugh, that shit is GROSS... You know I appreciate a pretty face." She gave him a grin, her eye brows raising in a sort of gesture of 'pretty like yours doll'. She followed him into his room, eyes immediately moving to inspect everything. It was so...sparse. It was plain, utilitarian. It was so much...like her own space, except it lacked even more. At least she had a few personal items here and there, albeit tucked away. She immediately went to the bed, a hand reaching down to slide under the mattress as if she was ...looking for something. Whatever he could have tucked away there, a personal note of some kind, something that would tell her more about him. She lacked a mental ability to filter this sort of search, she sorta... just did shit. Socially awkward was her. "Anyways... he helped me hunt another shovel head. Strangely enough, I ended up with four that night... and an ugly Van. Weird situation. He ... He's a like, a decent person. I.. don't even know what to do with that." She then jumped on the bed, stretching out and rolling onto her stomach to watch him open up the closet and catching sight of the rainbow of jumpers and fashions that she had to wonder if he had picked himself. He didn't seem the type to go shopping really. She also found herself in that boat, its why her clothing selection was...always the same. Jeans, black wife beater... Sometimes she'd wear his red hoodie. That was about it. Maybe Aguirre would start shopping for her too? Cuz it had to be Aguirre. She was the only thing that made them semi normal and semi functional. The case he pulled out made her prop herself up on her elbows, watching him with curiosity. What was in it? WHAT WAS IN IT? Was that a huge case of weed? She looked like a child with someone dangling cotton candy in front of them, eyes all shiny and wide with curiosity and immediate want. She didn't even know what the fuck was in there... but she wanted it. Then he was asking a question, one she wasn't sure about the answer to. She shifted uncomfortably, hazel eyes flicking to his face as her brows creased. What did she want? Money? She had...so much fucking money. It was a useless thing to have. Blood? Not his... She could get that shit on her own really, it was built into the jobs. Drugs? Not so hard to come by, and really... not that valuable. She smoked a lot of weed, but it was easy enough to procure. Jack? What did she want... for that. For her life essentially, as they were likely to die in the pursuit of his revenge. "... I want you to owe me. And I don't want to tell you what I want, until I ask for it. Whatever the fuck I ask for... I want you to give it to me." She was dead serious about that, giving him a look like she didn't know if he would understand. Her fingers gripped the edge of the bed, a slight sigh offered as she ex hailed through her nose. He was a contingency plan, he was her back up, he was her go to if shit ever went down in a way she couldn't deal with on her own. She wanted him to catch her, or... if she asked him to, she wanted him to let her fucking fall. "Anyways, not like you wont put me in my place whenever I want even if I wasn't going to go down fighting a Fanger with you." |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Friday, 13. December 2013, 17:44 Post #6 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"Alrighty..." Strange to hear of her miscellaneous adventures with Flint, though as she clears up the matter regarding the hobo, I understand a little better. Plenty of Hobo's around these parts after all, hell I ran into one in Camden...probably a different one. And given that Flint went out of his way to keep my lover alive and not devour that delicious ass of hers, 'decent' is high praise from the likes of this nosey bitch. I caught her out the corner of my eye doing something with the bed, snooping for god knows what, but she ain't gonna find anything. The only thing I have of worth is jammed on my left hand, and even that has grown into a trinket of distant and detached memories. "Now I know I didn't agree to that." Sounds like some bullshit to me, here I was trying to hold back the suggestions of a tongue piercing and she wants to name a price down the way? Severe bullshit. Especially in the manner she answered me, so fucking cocksure but giving me a look that I can't fathom. She doesn't mean...does she? What, Church? Well...no. I think I know what she wants but... fuck, really? I match her sigh with my own, crouching down and taking the lock in my hands and key in the magic numbers. One...nine...six, six. A good year for a less bitter Church. "Fine. Whatever the fuck you ask for...I want to give it to yah." I echo her with a grumble, though I make sure to turn the crate away from her childishly posed form out of spite, so she can't get all bleary eyed at the sight. Something twinged in me, did she say 'go down' fighting a fanger? Sure, we could die fighting Jack...I'd rather not though. I'd rather we both survive and, without the looming thought of Jack hanging over me, literally fuck each other forever. So I'll just keep myself convinced that we will survive, that me or her or someone will come up with something to outthink the motherfucker. Of course, maybe he's left London and I never find him again...as haunting as that may be, it could also be for the best. "I've got a Nos buddy of mine looking for the fucker as we speak." Or keeping a ear to the wall for anything Jack related. There were still shovelheads, there was still a Bart till he met the front of his own van...there must still be a Jack. "I don't want Flint or Aguirre knowin' though. They freak me out enough as it is..." Seriously, fuck those two. They can never know. Cause if they never know, they can never get in the way, right? Let's forget all unpleasantness anyway and get this bitch high. I sit on the floor and focus my attention on the inside of the box, though the smell hit me as soon as I opened it up. I still got it, despite needing to sell and shift it all, I'm still open for business. Still tempting myself with falling back into that hole of delicious numbing and reject the people I care about. My hand immediately snatches up the handgun atop the assorted drugs collection, lift it out straight and aim it skywards, my eyes squinting to brace for the gunshot. Click. I smile at her and throw if across the floor; the only thing I'll use a gun for these days is to pistol whip a bitch...no need to pack bullets now is there? "This used to be my box of fun. Now it's just lame compared to...well, you." I cock my head and shoot her a dreamy look cause, well, s'funny. Is that a term of endearment? Shall I start referring to her as my 'box of fun?' I rummage through it, scooping out little brown capsules of prescription medication and placing them on the hardwood floor by my side. Beyond that is a series of ziplock bags to keep their contents airtight and fresh, what with being buried for a few years I wanted to keep the shit useable. Baggies of various powders and pills I set down next to the capsules, though once I finally spot one of the items I'm after. I wrench out the bag packed full of the stickiest green I ever did see and toss it to her on the bed. I have more, for sure, but I guesstimate that bags got two ounces or so packed in it. That should be enough for tonight...right? "Get smoking, babycakes. Oh-" I root around a little longer, dig away various plastic containers covering the cigar box nestled in the corner. These'll still be good, right? I open it up and eye them with scepticism. Hell, it's only the wrap that's needed, right? I lift the box out, get up on my feet and round to sit beside her on the bed: "I wanna see you all red-eyed and giggly. At least to the point that I can convince you it's a draw." It's hard to picture, but I sure imagine it's possible. She loves the stuff afterall, it's gotta make her stupid, though the talk of calling it a drawer is purely for teasing purposes. I am fucking winning this shit. Cigar are good, not moulded up and unusable, hell I might try one. But I'll leave them here for the moment. Sinking down on the bed next to her lithe form, I can't help let my eyes wander south. "I sure wouldn't mind eating that 'hobo'..." I grin at her. Though, I'm gonna ask something else...and I'm wondering how inappropriate it is that I keep bringing up our mutual acquaintances...cause all other talk is just focused on a good fucking. "So you think Flint's decent...good enough for Aguirre...hell, trustworthy enough to live here?" I narrow my eyes at her. I realise I don't know near enough about her to fully grasp her stance on the matter. How does she feel about Rat extermination? |
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| Mac | Friday, 13. December 2013, 19:24 Post #7 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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She watched him agree, those hazel eyes lighting up like a kid that just won something oh so special when he consented to her terms. She was trying not to grin like a fucking idiot, but it wasn't really possible. Imagine the power of him 'owing' her? The options it had, the declarations... The stupidity. God, this stupid 24 hour bet was small beans compared to what she could get him to do with that big old “IOU”. There was complete power, and utter powerlessness in it. He really didn't have to keep his word on that, he could back out and not listen to whatever she demanded of him at some random point in the future she decided to cash in. Somehow though, somehow she trusted him enough to know he would fucking do it. He would do whatever he could to give her whatever she wanted. Jesus. She ... trust a Fanger? It was a strange feeling, to realize that somehow, somewhere... she was actually developing a certain small attachment to the dead man in the room. Her stomach clenched, and she actually felt slightly sick. Was she going to throw up? NOOoooo! She had to keep down what fucking gasoline she'd put in her system damnit, she'd brought a few bottles in her back pack but if she was going to get blazed she didn't want to get fuckered on the booze too. She would surely lose this bet if she was mixing toxins. She heard the box pop as he arranged the number lock, pushing up higher on her hands to try and see over him to where he'd hidden the box away with a sudden out burst of that grumpy temper her had. Oh well, she could deal with that shit. She knew how to cheer him up, to bad... they weren't really supposed to do that shit for the next day. “God, I don't want fucking Sawyer knowing anything about anything Sabbat related. Boy thinks they're all shovelheads, thinks they're all easy peasy. He has no idea what it's really like...and honestly, I don't want him or Aguirre ever knowing we have any intentions of this stupidity. I don't want them White Knighting to their fucking deaths.” She watched him raise the gun, waiting for the loud shot that the silencer free discharge would cause. Was he fucking stupid? Really? Didn't someone LIVE up there? Was he going to kill some asshole in the above bedroom in their god damned sleep? Nope. A click with silence came, and she shook her head at him regretting her belief he was actually going to do it. Hahahah. She almost believed he was going to be an idiot. Then again, thinking he was an idiot was part of his charm wasn't it? Especially because it went so well with that pretty, dopey looking face. Then he was throwing her a bag of weed, a beautiful, fat bag stuffed with a brilliantly sticky substance that shimmered with crystal goodness. She sat up, raising the bag skyward with a look of joy at it's beauty, as if it had been god sent. She then pulled it close, and hugged it like one would hug a teddy bear. YESSSSsss! Then she was looking at him, eyes full of a -gratitude- and appreciation, a certain invitation that she'd love for him to take it's price out of her skin. “Awe, I love being your new drug of choice choice Doc.. Anytime you wanna get high...” She bit her lip, her habit, but managed to keep herself from biting through. She didn't want to bleed, not yet. 'Accidentally' biting and drawing blood was a trick she was going to wait for. Didn't mean she couldn't spread her legs just that much, and grind her hips sideways suggestively as she gave him that look though. Then he was sitting on the bed next to her, and she popped open the bag of greenery and raised it up to take a long breath in. God it was skunky, but sweet, fragrant as fuck. Her eyes closed as she squeezed the bag a little, ushering up that juicy air freshner that was inside. Those lashes fluttered lightly against her cheeks, a sigh of pure and absolutely bliss uttered with a thrill of anticipation. Fuck yeah. She stuck her hand into the bag a moment later, feeling up the mass of weed and pulling out a giant chunk to begin breaking it up into tiny pieces with her nails, making a massive pile on her knee to roll up in some of the papers he'd shoved into the bottom of the bag so long ago. It would all wrap up beautifully into a fucking massive fatty, a process she could do flawless and in her sleep. She grinned, bringing the first up to her mouth as she wondered exactly how to answer Churchs unusual question. I guess, if they couldn't fuck...they had to like, actually talk and shit? “Is anyone good enough for Aguirre?” Good question. She doubted he'd think so, he was all big brother over that girl. He'd been putting a foot down about her since the very first time they'd met. She dropped her newly rolled creation between her lips, zippo mysteriously procurred from somewhere in those magical pants she wore. “But here's the thing... That boys better than the two of us combined. Aguirre ain't looking for the fucking shit we've got stuck to our souls. She wants the hope, and optimism, and the fucking rainbows that boy shits when he opens his yap. You sometimes can't control who you care about, as hard as you try. Hahaha... And man, sometimes goodness... It's so fucking alluring, you can't help but want it. You and I know that, it's why I loved Mels, and thats why we're stuck to Aguirre. That fucking... adorable... “ Her hands did the talking for her then, waving wildly in the air as if she couldn't put her finger on exactly what the fuck Aguirre was. Adorable what? It was undescribable. There were no words. “You know? Maybe she finds that in Slut Monster. And yeah, he's trustworthy enough for a fucking Cammie... I'd let him live in my freezer, if you feel like evicting him.” She took a long, deep breath in... Then removed the joint from between her lips as she echo'd out slow, thick round circles of smoke from between poised lips. |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Friday, 13. December 2013, 20:40 Post #8 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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It's relieving to hear that I am not being a total jackass, thinking I'm the man cause I don't wanna get my friends, as she put it, White-knighting on the Sabbat. No, neither of them can know, so neither of them can get fucked up and I deal with that guilt. The tid-bit on Sawyers attitude is certainly interesting to hear, especially seeing as I don't know what the fuck the Cape gets up to when he's not hanging off Aguirre. And that girl...don't even bear thinking about. They ain't coming, end of. They're just too damned...cute. And speaking of cute; Girl really loves her skunk. Luckily for her that Macey wasn't so much into her herbal remedies so much as the heavy, gritty shit. The stuff that had become my cup of tea when the Marijuana just didn't cut it anymore, but now? Jebus, how I'd kill to smoke a jay and let the world just buzz around me. And health wise, it doesn't leave me in a puddle of my own blood-replaced piss in an alleyway, too far gone to remember what's right and wrong. So it's all well and good, except the fact that I can't fucking nosh down on a plate of 'Mac au Vin.' Or rather, I can, but even if I was willing to throw in the towel, I think it's only fair to try and put up a fight? "Maybe later, Princess." I grin, gently patting her thigh reassuringly. Yeah, maybe. I can manage to keep my hands off her while she rolls, getting an inkling of the delight she has in getting blazed and making life seem oh so smoother. Bitch. I turn my attention to the cigars, pulling out one long and fat enough to be a freaking toy. I don't even know where these came from, unless they are genuine Cuban....that would be a good 35-40 years ago, right? In fact most of the shit in that box is old. And yet not a damn thing of personal value. Maybe there's something wrong with me for not being able to attach like that, or at least not to a fucking object. People are my weakness. Especially the dames. Especially Aguirre, and that question of who's good enough for her strikes me as...fair. Fuck, that is a good question. Aguirre seems to represent something so bizarre, even a reputable badass vamp killer like Mac is made a mess when caught in the light of her halo. The girl can do little to nothing wrong, except be incredibly thick headed and naive from time to time, which I still blame on the bat eared member of the household. "You want him? You can have him. Though I don't know how I'd feel 'bout him being there while we bump uglies..." Not that there's much ugly on this chick. Even her pussy is glorious in every conceivable way. Uugh, really didn't need to be thinking about this do I? Think of Sawyers ugly mug, which I have not seen as of yet. She's right though, he's better than both of us. And yet, I much rather her. What does that say about me? "I want yah all for myself." "An' as for Aguirre, I know what you mean. They're stupid for each other-" Sound like anyone you know? " and she's making me a lil loopy...She and Flint acting like dumbasses and I gotta let them go righ' ahead and eat dirt, otherwise I turn into a fucking parent." A parent of two very unusual children, who shacked up with a younger model ever since mama, well, was non-existent. "Am I the only one who thought Nosferatu were...well, adept?" think I used that word right, and I'm freaking serious. Flint still hasn't struck me as overly skilled, albeit he's got the strength of an ox. Unless they got him building pyramids, I hope he got a head on them shoulders. I look at her. Tired green eyes tracing the rings of smoke back to their source; those sweet tasting lips. I saddle up a little closer to her side, wrapping an arm around her with a certain casual pace, the passion and intensity on a constant suppression tonight. "Guy called that stuff 'Armageddon,' think that might've been a little over the top. And I can't really tell how good it is no more." I'm quieter, simply because I'm closer, and finding it very distracting to have physical contact without the clothes tearing beginning. Maybe she'll be the same? Hehe, I am a dick. Lord know I wanna take her up on her offer of getting high...if she gets blitzed I gotta have a taste. Tell her some bullshit that she must've been unconsciously playing with herself... "What exactly are the rules, anyway?" I breath heavily at her neck, close enough that my eyes are probably giving away the whole twisted glee as she looks at me. It's a valid question though...cause I'm not sure what 'Sex' is in the english dictionary...cause we sure as shit go above and beyond all standard expectations. And maybe if she can't settle on the rules...she'll be more inclined to break them. |
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| Mac | Friday, 13. December 2013, 23:25 Post #9 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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The thick smoke that filled her mouth was beautiful, rolling down her throat in a harsh burn. She didn't cough over that shit, not no more, she just kept drawing in until her lungs could take no more of the scratching thunder. When her chest was fully expanded, she paused, holding it in just a few seconds with a blissfully unaware expression on her face for a second. Church was moving in closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders as her body began a slow and awesome tingle. Man, what was this shit? It was niiiccceeee. She was going to fucking finish this entire giant fatty, it may actually keep her blazed for more than a few minutes. Her eyes took on that soft, slightly glazed stoner look, while her cheeks felt that tingley sensation in the corners of her mouth. Then she was blowing those smoke circles, thick rings rolling out into the air in waving halo's. His hand on her thigh was pleasant, his declaration that he wanted her all for himself? Well damn, wasn't that sweet. It made her grin, because you really couldn't help grinning when your cheeks were just so tingly! It was like they were waiting, anticipating, and the grin finally let them spring into action. She giggled out the rest of her whispy cloud of smoke, bringing the joint back up to her mouth for another long lung expansion of joy. Wait, why was she getting so fucked up? She never got this fucked up with Church... Well, not on drugs or booze, only on each others fists and bodies. It was that ever growing sense of comfort, the one that no matter how hard part of her flailed against it, she just couldn't help. It made her laugh when he remarked that those two were 'stupid' for each other, as... well, there was a certain Similarity to other people who were stupid for each other. Jesus. THEY WERE DOOMED. “I think he's more adept than he seems...Like you, smarter than you make yourself out to be. You like to pretend to be stupid. It's confusing sometimes, I never know what you're pretending and what you actually don't grasp. He's just, living on a Camarilla cloud. All, fuzzy and carebears. I've tried to put him right on that, but... You know, hope and optimism. Thats for the kids that don't know any better, the ones that aren't... like us you know? And I hope to god, -they- never know. I don't want to see the way they look at each other change man... Don't you think someone deserves that kind of shit? If anyone does, it's Aguirre..” Why? She had no fucking idea. She was just like that, she was just one of those girls you had to love. The big brown eyes, the mouse hair, the shy charisma she exuded. It was so, fucking... adorable. It was Mels. Aguirre made her miss Mels. She blinked the girl out of her thoughts, pushing her somewhere in the back of her mind where she always pressed upon her consciousness, the ever present weight of -guilt-. All guilt slipped away as he got all close, those beautiful green bedroom eyes giving her a stare down that made her mouth start watering hungrily. Rules? What was he talking about? She removed the cherried joint she'd been smoking, now burned down to near nothing. She rolled it in her fingers, putting the bright red end out as it stung and blazed against her thumb and forefinger. She barely felt it. “Huh? Rules about what?” No, no he was to close, breathing against her to much... Getting her all tingly with excitement. She burst into a fit of giggles, one hand coming up to cover his face so she didn't have to look at that puppy dog expression of longing. She pushed on him, to try and push him away as she laughed. No, she was trying to win something damnit! “Hahahhaa... I don't know, stop looking at me like that! Thats against the rules!” No it wasn't, but she wished it was! God, she had to stop laughing! This wasn't funny! BUT IT WAS! |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Saturday, 14. December 2013, 02:45 Post #10 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Is it me or is this...nice? I find myself snickering like a hyena at her own spurt of frantic giggling, cause it is a wonderful and humorous sight; I'm guessing a rare one to boot. And as much as it was bullshit, she's right about the 'kids.' It's spooky how well alike we think, though I never figured Mac would be able to verbalize it without fear of her street rep getting tarnished. Hell, I didn't think she had enough heart to care like she did about Aguirre. About someone she likes to drive fucking nuts. But I understand, I do. People are powerless before that copper-eyed kooky-saint. I almost wanna question 'smarter than you make yourself out to be,' as if it was an insult but damned if she ain't right again. Jack once told me a good way to get smarter was to look stupider, feigning ignorance and understanding is a god damn fast track to making others feel more comfortable around you. Especially fuckers with superiority complexes. It works for damn near anything. But as for what I'm saying, how I take things, sometimes it's real. Feigning dumbness is fine till someone says the wrong thing and I break their faces. I haven't done that to Mac yet. It goes against our unspoken 'go easy (but not too easy) on the gorgeous faces' agreement.' I spend a few moments watching her obliterate the doobie, stub it on herself like the gritty bitch she is, before she completely loses her shit and resembles something...innocent. Well, drugs might not be perceived that way, let's say innocent by our standards. A trap maybe? Something about having her wriggle against me, shove at me, my God, she is cute. "Then tell me-" I reassure my hold around her shoulders, catching one of her thrusting hands and attempting to keep it pinned between us. Cause rough play is definitely breaking the rules. " -How you want me lookin' at you?" I give her a suggestive smile to accompany my gruff questioning. As vauge as it might be, I do like her telling me what to do. And giving me a slap if I don't lis-Fucking hell, No Church, bad! The niceness. An evening that doesn't involve getting your head caved in and your balls aching. Or might if you play your cards right. Or...terribly. But if there ain't a time to get and know my favourite new "Calm your tits, would'ya sweetie? I was tryin' to loosen ya up. I clearly had no idea, huh?" I let my arm around her go limp, falling away and hopefully stop her from being a charming little lure. In fact, I get all the way up. Maybe we should get off the bed now we've got the grass? Get your mind out the gutter at least;"Aright, let's talk 'bout summit else gigglepuss." I look her up and down. "Don't think I ever complimented those." I point at her chest. "And before you ask-" I add with a wicked grin, sticking my tongue out the side somewhat childishly. "I mean the ink." Not that her tits aren't lovely. I never managed to write that sonnet, did I? |
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| Mac | Sunday, 15. December 2013, 07:58 Post #11 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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When he told her to calm her tits, she couldn't help but bring her hands up to cover her chest, arms locking criss crossed like she was actually trying to trap them and 'calm' her tits. Then he was pointing at them and complimenting them, and the look on her face was one of righteous indignation for a moment. Dramatic and fake of course, because she had no such indignation. Then she realized he meant the ink, and she was laughing again and trying to keep her fucking mouth shut to choke the giggles out. What did his friend call this shit? Armageddon? Well, please send more. “I'm going to need to like, get some touch up's soon. Seriously, London has left me massacred so many times...OOOohhh! OH!” She let go of her arms, suddenly looking absolutely beyond excited about something. He'd already gotten up, so the bed was her's as she popped over onto her knee's and sat up nice and tall. She gave him a look, soft and smouldery but with all sorts of raw and mischevious intent. Slowly she lifted her black wife beater, the same fucking shirt she always wore, seriously... did she have nothing else? Was that the entirety of her ware drobe? The shirt came up, slowly sliding up to expose that long and muscled torso, with a fresh and new stretch of pink skin in a blotchy pattern over one side of her stomach and ribs. New scars marring the beautiful ink work that had at one point been so pristine and blissful. “Some fucker either ratted me out, made me or... I may have accidentally been in the zone of someone else's hit. I'm not sure. Either way... I barely made it out the window before... Booooooooommmm..” Both her hands came up to dramatically signal the explosion, her shirt slipping back down to her jeans when she let go to become a hand talker in her stoned state. “Had some solid sized chunks left behind from the bricks exploding, it was fucking craazzzzyyy! Couldn't hear out of one ear for a while too, but that's mostly better now. Might need some retouchs on my ink though, it's Tzimisce done... but sometimes it doesn't stick if you lose to big a chunk. I made some stupid choices, the fucking zombie moose on the back of my thigh? I was so drunk when I got that. The body tatt's are pretty easy, unleash the kraken and all. You should, take your shirt off...and show off yours...Hmmm?” She grinned, getting up to slide across the floor in her black socks, bridge the distance between them with all sorts of devious intentions. She reached out, fingers catching his shirt and giving it a gentle and suggestive tug, innocently... well, as innocently as Mac did anything. “ Remember that first night when you like, hahaha... Passed out dead while fucking me silly? I took a good look at yours... why'd you get a fucking swastika? And whats the voodoo on your neck about?” |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Monday, 6. January 2014, 05:02 Post #12 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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I need to get this chick stoned more often. Preferably when there ain't a ban on fucking. Weird how I could listen to her whacky tales and amazing special effects done only with her hands. What the hell is she going on about, blown up? Like - Oh, she really means blown up. It's clear as day when coupled with the patchy artwork that was once a magnificent pattern to trace with your tongue. Still; explosions? Jumping from explosions? Jumping out of windows from explosions? Ordinarily it's hard to digest the kind of shit that makes people sound straight up as bad ass as her. But damn if the proof ain't in the pudding. All of it. She's a lunatic and she knows it. Loves it. "As fun as picking bricks out your gut sounds, I'd appreciate if you can keep that ass of yours in one piece. Or at least not into iddy-biddy pieces." Cause I can't fuck them, right? Zombie moose makes me smile, but of course I've seen that shit. It's a little south of one of her most redeeming qualities. Am I being shallow? No. But most guys would. Especially when they get their head bitten off by the, although somehow suppressed right now, absolute fucking cunt. But damn do I dig this fucking cunt. Her suggestion I undress is met with a sly smirk, though further probing on the subject makes me snicker somewhat. Oh man, something about 'passed out dead while fucking me silly' is just...it's most men's dream come true. And though it hasn't happened since, I get to die all too often next to the hellcat. "I don't think I wanna know what you do while I'm sleepin'..." I mutter to her, all to aware that every time that distance between us closes, one of us is more likely to pounce. Probably me. Cause fuck...I can feel her warmth pulsing through the air at me, inviting me in. So what do I do? Well, I take my shirt off of course - right over my head and onto the floor. "No voodoo, nah, it's all...sophisticated as fuck. It's Latin, and it basically means 'I'm fucking awesome.'" Or it used to; meaningless words I felt summed up my life after meeting Jack. I was on top of the world, living a life I never thought I could have. Now? They're just words. Not a motto, not a mantra. Just words that remind me of what I was. "The swastika was just...Did I ever tell you 'bout my prison time?" I ask cause, well, I can't remember. I raise the arm and examine the wrist, that cheaply done bit of work still staining my soul...but not as much as the other shit. "What can I say? Ya'll were either on the right side or the wrong 'un. It was mainly bullshit, place weren't too bad. But havin' your own morals in a place like that ain't realistic without getting a blade in the gut, y'know?" I dunno, does she know? She ever go to a woman's correction facility? My God. Those poor fuckers. "Some were Tzimisce. Like the arm and the hot little bitch right here. The older I got the shit got more meaningful. Now I'm not a fuckin' kid no more. Anyway, I think I need to see that moose. You should take off your pants maybe?" I ask in mimicking tones, though without the playful tugging. And hell, given how much that joint hit her, maybe I can subtly pull out the win? |
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| Mac | Monday, 6. January 2014, 16:51 Post #13 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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"Actually Doc Sexypants, picking bricks out of your guts sucks. I screamed and wailed like a school girl with a skinned knee. There's kinds of pain I can get my kink off on, and hand fishing around my insides is the wrong kind. I get flaily and everything." And her limbs flailing? Not a good thing, she had a long reach and a short temper. People were likely to get hurt while she flailed. The mental image made her grin, especially when his shirt was coming off and landing on the floor with a muffled ruffle. All that Church splendor open for appreciation, and appreciate she did. She loved lookin at him, all muscled and built, the wide shoulders and thick arms. He was the pleasantest eye candy one could hope for, but on top of that he had that goofy fucking face that made him so damn amusing. Yeah it was an attractive face, when it wasn't doing something ridiculos, but it was the ridiculos expressions that got to her more. "The first time I fucking cleaned my gym when you were sleeping... Cuz we had blood and gore everywhere. I think we've managed to control the gore aspects a lot better lately, but damned if I don't need to replace the counter in the kitchen and the gym mat again." She grinned though, as she was in no way shape or form mad about having to replace those things. Jesus, why would she be? She'd be more mad if she didn't have to, what, like they were going to have boring sex that didn't bring terrorizing destruction to everything around them? Pft. Never. Even if they fucked forever, it would never get -less- violent, less rewarding. It would only ever get better, although they were getting better at inflicting pain on each other without needing to mash him up and make him bleed out. She could bleed where ever, but his blood was still far to tempting a lure. Like his body. Was there a rule? Yeah... No fucking. How was she supposed to focus on rules when he was shirtless and sexy as all hell? Luckily she was distracted from her desire to jump and jump by him claiming his voodoo on his neck meant "I'm fucking awesome." It made her laugh, and she slipped up real close to run a warm brushing if her finger tips across it. Then he was talking about prison, and she shook her head with a bit of a shrug when e asked if he told her about it. A bit. He only ever said a bit about this and that, they weren't really the heart to heart kind know were they? Did the past really matter? Maybe some, but that sort of getting to know each other would come over time. Or it wouldn't. They weren't the super share the feels kind of folk now were they? They both knew they were fucked up son of a bitches, and they accepted that about each other point blank. "I would go insane in a correctional institute. I... I can't be locked up. Te basement for four years was enough, people would die horribly. I can't imagine. It must have been fucking terrible. Must have driven you kind of insane, no wonder I thought you were a malk when we first met." She grinned again, stepping back a few steps to let her fingers wander down to the button of her jeans, making a slow show of undoing them when he asked her to take them off... But she didn't. Instead she ran for the door back to the rest of the apartment, giggling madly. She loved his expressions when she fucked with him. "What's Aguirre's room look like?! Is her bed made of books?" Oh she was so going in Aguirres room. Edited by Mac, Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 23:02.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 03:12 Post #14 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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This right here is hard time. Getting up in my face, fingers teasing my neck with that unnatural heat that is so familiar. Still, I'd take the better part of a decade locked in a cell with Mac over the shitacular time I had when I still had a pulse. I guess she never did do any hard time, or at least the real and mortal equivalent of it, cause she sure as shit had to endure some sort of imprisonment. It would make her insane? Me though? Eh, not so much. I was plenty crazy by the time I got there, what with dining on a Malk for a good few decades. It sure made me crazier, but I can't imagine where the hell I'd be if I wasn't locked up. Dead? Nah. Maybe. Don't matter none. Damage is done, to the both of us. She grins, and I recognise something in her eye. That...look. Cat who ate the canary shit...My eyes drift down, to where her fingers have scampered off to. I probably shouldn't have asked her to take them off, it ain't exactly gonna work in my favour for this fucking bet. Out of sight, slightly less out of mind. And she's off. Bed made of...books? "Oh you fucker!" Someones sure got the giggles huh? And as soon as I saw that stupid fucking grin I knew something was up. Considering how little time we got for chatting, I know her gorram well. And she knows me. Knows how to mindfuck me for her amusement. The sparkles. Those fucking sparkles. Are they even all gone yet? Can I go out and not get called twinkle toes? But this time, it's a little bit different. This time, I find myself chasing after her like the kid on the playground, threatening her and calling her names because, really, I like her. "That's why you're the best cocktease around, baby! " I yell as I dash out the door, not exactly putting my heart into stopping her at all. What's the worst that could happen, really? Not like we'd ever do anything to hurt Aguirres feelings. And being the kind of guy I am, the size I am, I'd rather not plummet into the TV or the like. Cause that would suck. And besides, I'm kinda curious myself. So I make no effort to chase her down, cause if I really, really tried, I might be able to. I let her get through that door, and I slow down to cruising speed. "So, made of books?" I ask, taking the steps to check myself but my eyes are a little fixated on her. She pushes my buttons cause it's funny for her, but cause of the punishment too, right? Spank her for being the bitch she is. So I can't help but wanna think of the sting on my hands from treating her that way, just the way she likes. "This is a little naughty ain't it? Even for us." Not physically, but this is Aguirre's room. Nothing filthy happens in here, right? I give her a smirk, a steamy ass one while I find myself compelled to slowly shut the door behind me. I give the room a glance over cause, shit, I ain't been in here...ever really. What are we doing in here? What are we gonna do in here? This sure is a terrible idea. But that's what makes it so appealing. "Just so you know, you aint leaving till I see that fucking moose, Princess." |
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| Mac | Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 23:58 Post #15 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Did he just yell after her and call her a fucker? Oh he totally did, which only made her grin all the more as she flung herself into the hall and made a hard turn to find Aguirre's bedroom door -unlocked-. Oh little trusting Aguirre, beautiful, doey eyed, sweet heart Aguirre. Her heart sank a moment, a strange sort of sadistic glee at the ease of this particular break and entry, and a sort of disapointment that Aguirre made it so very easy. Inside the room was a lot less exciting than the run into the room had been, bounding into the center to stop and look around. At first she was all up on anticipation, expecting something almost magically unusual. The forbidden city, Aguirre's Bedroom! Maybe there would be kinky chains hanging from the roof, or a caddle prod on the bed. Something to signal she wasn't quite as sweet and innocent as she appeared to be. Nope. She really was. This bedroom was just a bedroom. Bed in the corner, a chest at the foot of the bed. She would almost be excited something saucy would be in there, if it wasn't for the racks and racks of book cases all along the walls. There was probably books in there. She moved for the bed as she heard Church call her a cock tease and follow her into the room, a grin springing up to her dissapointed features at his teasing. Yeah, she was the best cock tease damnit. He had a cock she had a particular fondness for teasing as well. “Nope. The beds not made of books, but I'm not sure if you have a wall seperating your rooms or... it's just a massive pile of books making the divide. Like, I think we don't have to worry about being to loud... Like, that massive book collection will probably dampen any sound.” How did someone read that many books? There's no way she's possibly read them all. Aguirre was just collecting right? She read maybe one in a hundred of these fucking things and the rest were just because she had some weird book collecting fetish. She heard the door close, and she turned on her stocking feet to look at him all dopey eyed with a kids glee. It made her grin stupidly to, and the phrase she'd said to him that first night when she'd coughed up some lung blood for him popped into her head. “You make me stupid Doc.” Really, it'd never stopped. How the fuck had this ever come about? Two Psychopaths so god damned stupid for each other that they'd actually taken to the level of companionship that left them sneaking around in his roommates bedroom, giggling about it? God damned they needed to kill something together, get back to their violence and savagery... They really needed to get back to it, because... this was kind of fun. That was so fucking far from a usual thought for her, that she didn't know what to do with it. "This is a little naughty ain't it? Even for us." She grinned like the chesire cat, unable to keep it off her features in her weed ladened state. “Yeaaahh... I guess it kind of is.” Naughty? Considering everything they did to each other on a nightly basis, finding something so innocent as this naughty was fucking hilarious. It was though, that slight creeping of excitement at being where they knew they shouldn't be. Wondering what Aguirre and Sawyer would do if they walked in and caught them there? “There was a mouse in Churchs room! We had to come in here to get away! We're both terrified of Rodents?” Yeah.... That wouldnt work, Sawyer looked like a drowned rat. Why would they flee from a tiny rodent into the room of a great big one with fangs? Staring into Churchs pretty face wasn't helping trying to win no bets here, especially when he was insisting she take her pants off. Why, so she could be all horny pantless? No. Absolutely not! She wanted to win this damned bet. She blinked and shook her head a bit, like trying to clear away her smutty thoughts as her eyes began searching the room again. “No Zombie moo.... Holy shit, are those knitting needles? I hope they use that for something Kinky cuz, I never took Aguirre for a knitter. My Gran used to knit...” She moved to the bed, hand sliding down under the mattress to search along for whatever could be hidden there, same way she had with Churchs bed. It was almost an unconscious thought, moving immediately to poke around the night stand. By poke around she looked briefly, everything so tidy and orderly the poking around wasn't exactly neccessary. “Wow...there's gotta be something more... sintulating around here.” Dirty panties? Anything that was more exciting than BOOKS and KNITTING. She headed for the closet, popping it open and taking a moment to note that Sawyer seemed to have a whole lot more nice dress shirts than Aguirre had dresses. Wait... There, at the bottom of the closet... What the fuck was that?! “Holy shit, no fucking way... he's keeping pets... I KNEW IT! I always knew it about him!” She leaned into the closet, picking up the creature and then turning and chucking it at Church as fast as she could. A blue furry creature flew through the air, over large for a stuffed animal, Grumpy Bear attempted to collide with Churchs face. “Seriously! CARE BEARS?! WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?” She'd also use the carebear attack to attempt to push him out of the way and break out of the room, challenging him on the whole ' not getting out without seeing the moose' issue. Edited by Mac, Thursday, 9. January 2014, 00:01.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Friday, 10. January 2014, 03:26 Post #16 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"Do you ever worry about being loud?" Well at least she has some sort of sense of how hallowed this room right here is. Aguirre has that effect on people, and even though we're treading dangerous fucking water getting playful next to her bed, we'll behave. I hope we'll behave. Hell, we've vowed to behave and those thoughts are creeping in. But maybe that's cause we shouldn't be tip-toeing around here. What if the Mouse and Rat came back? I mean, didn't I have to tear up a book a few weeks back cause of shit like this? Then again, if Mac would just take her pants off, and we got caught, at least we wouldn't look like snoopy shitheads. Only moronicly horny ones. Though as I find myself all dusty headed day dreaming, gazing into brown eyes that, despite what Mac would like, are definitely a shade of 'puppy dog', she denies me my zombie moo. Great. It kind of is. Gotta work for it right? Which given our current mindset of 'don't bone' might be tricky. "What you want from those pair, a mirror on the ceiling? They're too cute to fuck. Probably waitin' till their married or something." I say with all the seriousness in me, as little as it may be. Cause it's true. I sure hope they don't have sex. So while I ain't got any interest in searching around the place, I do give it a once over, keeping Mac in the peripheral view. Guess this is what a room looks like huh? A normal one I mean. With posters and books, personality that usually gives an inkling into that person. Something I never understood, and even things here I don't quite understand. Being a crotchety old man doesn't help none. And one who is about thirty years behind with culture and media. And just to prove a point, as she draws my attention with talk of pets, suddenly something blue is hurtled at me. Something I almost tear apart in my rough and careless hands. "A wha?" I don't quite understand what I have in my hand, but I gotta agree with her proclamation 'he' was keeping them. This thing had fucking Flint written all over it. I bet this is what he looks like underneath, which would explain why Aguirre can cuddle up to the gorram rat. Cause I don't se- shit! I drop whatever the fuck it is as I find myself retreating the few steps back to the door. Bitch tried to rope me like a dope and obviously I fell for it. Cause I am a dope. But I'm a strong and fast fucking dope, and her having to yank open the door before getting out lets me get my arms around her before she can scamper off again. "Not hap'nin sugar." I grunt, though I am thoroughly tickled by the attempt. It brings me to a knee as I wrap my arms around her waist tight; but not too tight. That'd be breaking the rules now wouldn't it? "Not without a please." Her guts are tougher than fucking marble, she can take a little squeezing without getting tingles. Enough that if she tries to squirm away, she might lose a pair of pants doing so. If she would be really swell and throw an elbow in my nose, that'd be great. Win on a technicality? 'What you expect me to do after that? You're the naughty one, you have the spanking.' But not here. So I replant both my feet wrench her upwards. She weighs virtually nothing, but being such a pumped up and defiant bitch rolled together could mean some definite flailing. So I'll try and get the fuck out of her before we break something. And if I can do that successfully, I'll...I'll... Wrestle her to the floor and assume the position? We're already grinding the good bits in this effort to de-pants her. "This is fucking stupid. You're fucking stupid. My dick is dead as a doornail and I want it in yah so gorram much." I'll let her know, something I'm sure she feels as well. "We need to take up a hobby together." Fishing? Bowling? Hunting? Ooooh, I like that last one. |
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| Mac | Sunday, 12. January 2014, 01:22 Post #17 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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She was caught round the waist, church's arm locking in as he went to knee stopping her from getting out of the door she'd managed to wrench open. It nearly took her knee's out, the sudden stop and weight drag is his considerable form. She managed to stay on her socked toes, having to control the immediate instinct to try a punch to his face. His other arm slid around her waist to lock her in, pulling her against him in a fashion that illicited a soft grunt of impact as she was brought to his lap. "Not without a please." What? Oh man... She froze in mid shimmy, Those simple words sent shivers up and down her spine, like a cold breeze fell from his lips and was dancing down her skin, goosebumps rolling from neck to wrist. Please was a word they only used in the bedroom, please was something they used on their knee's when begging for the kind of satisfaction they knew they could only find on the others body and mind. They ripped and rended each other in only the most tender ways, the ways that brought them ever closer to a place of peace. Peace through violence and pain. That quiet state after you'd climbed so very high, and fallen over the black chasm of agony into bliss. Please. Please... He was totally cheating, he was trying to break her down and get her all hot and wanting. Damned if it wasn't so easy for him, he could whisper a few words and she was a mess of the most dangerous kind. The kind that would almost just give up the chance to win, for the chance to scream and writhe under his meaty body. How had they come this far? How had she ever let this happen, let herself get so tangled with a Fanger that she was willing to lose (at anything) to get into his dirty ass scummy pants? She fished her hands into his grip, trying to get her fingers around his thumbs so she could peel them back at the weak point in the grip. Then he was wrenching them upwards, as she pushed and tried to break out of the grasp. She didn't manage to break free, but she loosened it enough to twist around so she was at least facing him now, which only caused a somewhat more intimate situation. His pausing, telling her how much he wanted to be inside her only screwed around inside her head that much more, his pressing between her legs causing her to close her eyes and sigh with a sort of minor relief as she rolled her hips against him. It felt so... Good. He felt good. Being around him always felt that way, being -around- him felt even better. She stopped trying to break his grip, and instead let a hand slide over his shoulders, fingers wrapping up into his shaggy hair to lightly grip. Not hard, not so much she could be called cheating... Just, teasing. Like saying, look how awesome this could be... "Hobby? Wrestling your way between my knee's, sliding inside of me, hand at my throat, other hand leaving me bruised, making me scream? Come on Doc, I am your hobby..." This was mean, right here in Aguirre's room? No, he wouldn't take advantage of her here. But damned if she wasn't trying to get him to break first, because she wanted to break so fucking bad it nearly hurt, hurt in that place they were pressed together without relief. "Or we could learn cricket..." Edited by Mac, Sunday, 12. January 2014, 19:46.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Monday, 13. January 2014, 00:20 Post #18 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Well, who could have foresaw us ending up in our usual position? This is definitely breaking the rules. "Hobby. Yeah, spose tha' works. I woulda said addiction, cause I'm addicted to bein' 'tween them thighs." Like right now, when I'm so dangerously close, teetering on a tasty little buzz I get from the look she gives me when I'm working the sweet spot. "We're so fuckin' bad." I smirk, though it quickly becomes a mirror image of her usual 'I'm feeling naughty' face as I bite my lip and give her the eyes. "Think 'bout it. Since knowin' yah, an' cept for when you jump our asses down the street-" I grin stupidly as I recall the skull rattling finale to our first ever tussle. In hindsight...it was so fucking mild. Like we were tickling each other. "-there ain't a night gone by in each other's company without me taking them panties off." It's hard to even remember that first night as vividly as I should, I'm gonna put it all on the remnants of my drug habits leaving my system around about then. Hell, she thought I was a Malk. Might as well be, I don't doubt there was some serious brain damage sustained throughout my life. Also, that fucking arm. That shit gives me nightmares. But yeah, do I ever remember her sick, pasty, dying ass in all its glory, paranoid as fuck about the fanger helping her out. Not knowing what kind of freak I was and how eager I would be to please her. "Cricket needs more than just us two." Need to change the subject, get my mind out the gutter - ha - think of some way to keep things cool before she gets any hotter. Kind of hard considering how well we fit together in a position all too familiar. I...Jebus, this is fucking willpower right here. You're a gritty mother fucker Church, you can fight this shit. So don't even think about pushing her against the wall, leaning in, telling her she's won. Though...that sure does sound nice. Hmmm...Seeing her face light up like a kid in a candy store, parade her victory over me, then maul me. "Fuck" I whisper, she's..." I figure it gets played in'a day...Tennis? Somethin' non-contact for sure...cause..." I lose what I was saying, a side effect of staring into that pretty face of hers too long. I'm...I can't win. I'm fucked. "Hell, we suck with rules, we can't even make our own. Don' think we were made for anything civilized. Seriously, is this in the rules right here?" I mean, we're almost dry humping? "Or this?" Now I do dry hump her, one hand cups her ass (as gently as Church's retard strength will allow), as I slowly rub my hips between her legs. I almost feel bad for doing it, contrary to what my face may tell. It's a god damn suicidal tactic in terms of winning the bet, but I find myself willing to lose to my brown eyed princess. I don't wanna make it too easy, but losing isn't really losing. So what's with this niggling bad feeling? Well...I realise that we're still in Aguirre's room, albeit on the threshold. Even dry humping is banned in here! I glance over my shoulder, as far as her grasp will allow, before shaking my head, stopping my gyrating and taking her into the corridor. "I mean, is this cheating?" And just like that, it's anything goes. Beyond the threshold, I turn and immediately press her against the wall, slowly, deliberately the opposite of what I know she would want. Not the punishment she craves, but the kind that will hopefully drive her nuts. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, and she might have trouble getting out without some over the top thrashing. Where she does or not is another matter. Or whether she folds and teaches me a lesson. Either way, I know what I mean to do. As I pushed into her my eyes drifted to the 'airbags' that bulge against my chest, then back to her peepers with mischievous intent. I lean in, not gonna let a loose grip stop me as I aim to run my tongue from her cleavage up that delicious neck of hers. I mean, I asked a question didn't I? Is this cheating? |
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| Mac | Monday, 13. January 2014, 17:05 Post #19 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Was that in the rules? His hand shifting to take up a meaty helping of ass, his strength always so god damned delicious against her skin. Even his trying to be gentle couldn't be called soft, it still had that stern demand and rawness to it. Brown eyes closed with a flutter of lashes as he kept her pinned to him, rolling his hips and grinding himself between her legs. God she wanted to break one of those supporting legs of his, besides the likelihood of it earning her freedom, it sure would repay him in a reasonable fashion for the torturous moment he was labouring on her. A sweet throbbing reminder every time he wanted to move, every time he wanted to roll himself into her like that, till he couldn't take the slow down and had to heal himself to keep up. Her hand laced tighter in his shaggy hair, soft grip now becoming firm, pulling hard as her forehead tipped forward to tap against his with a light and dull smack. It was like a half hearted headbutt accompanied with a deep sigh of warm, weedy breathe across his face. What were they doing again? Thoughts?! ... She had them right? Something more sophisticated than 'more' and 'oh god.' ... Rules? "Damnit Doc..." Then they were moving? Hand in his hair knotting tightly, like she expected him to drop her and she needed to take on a serious hold just incase. He was lifting her and walking out if the bedroom, which strangely enough she was glad to leave. She'd thought it would be a hoot to get up to mischief in there, amidst the Towering stacks of Aguirre's book collection. The reality of it? She didn't want to get caught in there. Didn't wanna see Aguirre's pretty face light up in rage and anger. Annoying her, trolling her was one thing... She didn't want to step over the line. Good bye Aguirre's room. She managed to hook the door with a foot from the angle she was being carried, so the door closed behind them with something like a giggley sigh, before finding herself being pressed against the wall of the hall. "I mean, is this cheating?" God that voice of his, coupled with his ridiculos array of expressions. His green eyes on her as he moved much slower than their usual pace, a cool wall up against her back as he leaned in with deliberate slowness. God dammit, she was going to lose wasn't she? With him being so god damned pretty and teasing so well. He knew her buttons, he knew how to make her hungry. The shifting of his body, and the cold draw of his tongue suddenly pressing to the warm skin between her breasts. Small goosebumps again, with a deep and heavy breath drawn in as he made his way up to her neck. Was she supposed to fight back, flail? Say no no? Who would ever say no to this? It may be cheating on his part, the undefined rules... But two could play that fine line now couldn't they? She purposefully moaned at the tracing of his tongue across her neck, not just letting her body respond with an arch but amplifying the movement purposefully by lifting one leg to wrap his waist, and undulating her hips against him, reefing back hard on her handful of his hair she hadn't let go, as if trying to pull him away. She didn't want to, she just wanted to make him struggle to touch her there, struggle to access that place that longed to feel the fangs. "I dunno Doc... Is this cheating?" She bit her lip, hard enough to part the fleshy soft tissue on the inside of her lower lip, the scent of her blood immediately welling into the air. She used her tongue to lap it up, then slid it out over her lips in a red smear, lipstick of the most delicious kind. The bite was deep enough that she bled free for a moment, trying to gather more on the tip of her tongue as she kept her lips parted for those gorgeous green eyes to see, hers locked to that face that fucked with her head so easily. She would lock her arm back though, hand in his hair, trying to keep him from the red slick gloss on her lips and make him struggle. Come on baby, we're both just fucking animals...and bless us, for being so damn good at being what we are. Edited by Mac, Monday, 13. January 2014, 17:35.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Tuesday, 14. January 2014, 03:51 Post #20 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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The satisfaction I feel right now is immense, considering how 'tame' things are. Having her breathe all hot and heavy, make that heart fuckin' hammer in that chest. Who would've thought it Church, I mean, this is a loophole of sorts right? As long as I ain't physically in her in some shape or form, I'm surviving. As she melts into me, wraps around me, moans all too familiar tones, I feel that much closer to God if that means what I think it means. Her grip tightens and reels me back, just as I hoped. Getting my hair yanked is not even a tickle, not after the sinful and debauched acts we've committed, but it's still just a little appetiser. A sign that the main dish will be served soon. And, christ, even if we do somehow hold out the full night (wherein I will believe from thereon in God after performing such a miracle), we'll still be feasting, still feeding that sick little thing inside that is the opposite of a conscience. Mines a beast, hers is a...well, a harlot I guess. Doc, man I love that name. I love being her doctor. What is she- oh fuck. I look on in, well, horror? No. Awe. Wanting. My eyes trace her tongue as it traces her lips - a gesture inviting all by itself, but coupled with her odor popping into the air makes my mouth water. Oh that fucking tongue, the things she does with it would make her mother blush. If she wasn't dead n all. Her eyes let me know it's ok to lean in and taste, but tingle in my scalp begins to sear; I lean forward but am denied by her grip. I could break it. I could break her. I think to move my hands up to her neck but I figure she won't let it happen easy. Bring her to me right? But no. I just show how much tension she just threw into the mix, as if things could get any tougher, by firming up my grip on her. Powerful fingers pushing into her taut flesh, wanting to bruise, wanting to break. "Fuckin...addiction" I breathe through clenched teeth, cause maybe grinding my fangs will somehow make me want to bite her less? So fucking tight that my jaw muscles hurt. That ache, whilst stimulating, aint the best kind. "Course it's fuckin' cheatin', bad sportsmanship at tha least. But s'not like we got a ref now isit?" Some unbiased officiating wouldn't go amiss right here, though chances are if anyone tried telling us what to do they'd end up with a broken nose, if they were lucky. And as hard as this is, no puns intended, it's kinda...fun. That demented fun that me and her dig so much, tormenting each other with simple words and simple touches. Primal though they may be. "We didn't think a fuckin' thing through." Do we ever? Everything's just instinct aint it? Well, clearly not, two psychos shouldn't get so weak in the knees for anyone, even another psycho right? Clearly wrong. But when it feels so good, it's right. Right? Whatever brain cells I have left seem to fizzle and die in her presence. "Ain't nothin' wrong with it, the way you make me feel. And baby, I just wanna make you feel so, so fuckin' good." I part my lips, showing a brief grin before I open my gnashers so she's got a full view of the neck-nipping fangs. I trace a tongue across one, carefully, a sign of how very, very hungry I am, before sliding to the other. In reality...fuck. Am I really gonna do this? I can cross a line...I will cross a line. Either way, it stops things escalating, it stops this standoff, in the corridor leading the Aguirres of all fucking places. "Make you scream...so fuckin' much." I whisper before I drop the a-bomb. My tongue stopped while I pledged my desire to make her the loudest woman in London, but it slithers back into place. On the tip of a fang. And I bite down. Hard enough to make it bleed. Checkmate? |
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3:18 PM Jul 11