#DoGFucKeR

[slurpysacramentosluts]

https://ifunnyx.co/video/N5Sy66HOA?s=u

THE DOG FUCKING PALACE IS LOCATED AT

5930 24th St. Apt 82, Sacramento, CA

Yeah Jillian Knows Lucky & Shannon alright!! The ones the detectives asked her about in the BLUE ROOM & ALL THE DOG FUCKING SUCKING KNOTTING SESSIONS & THE NOTORIOUS BLUE ROOM!! The ROOM JILLIAN FEVERISHLY PAINTED & PAINTED OVER & OVER SO AS TO CONCEAL THE BLUE TOOM AT THE DOG FUCKING PALACE BUT WHEN WARRANTS WERE SERVED FORENSICS WERE ABLE TO ASCERTAIN THE BLUE ROOM WAS THE BLUE ROOM WAS & ALWAYS WILL BE THE BLUE ROOM AS DOGGYNuTCuMRuns were all over the walls & that DOG JIZZ LIT 🔥 UP LIKE BLOOD WITH Luminol!!

[sacramentodograper]

Beware of The #Sacramento #DoGFucKeR!! No JOKE!! SERIOUS #BESTIALITYBITCH & WILL FUCK YOUR DOG IN A HEART BEAT!!! AND ROB YOU AT THE SAME TIME!! Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones aka #SLURPYDOGPUSSY was convicted of bestiality 286.5PC for FUCKING DOGS WHILE PREGNANT! ALSO Jillian has #HPVANALWARTS AND #VAGINALHERPES AND SPREADS HER STDS AND DOES KNOT GIVE PEOPLE THE CHOICE OR THE OPTION AS JILLIAN FAILS TO MENTION HER STD STATUS AND EVEN GOES SO FAR AS TO HAVE Unprotected SEX WHICH IS EVEN MORE EVIL AND OUTRAGEOUSLY MORALLY CORRUPT!! GOOGLE JILLIAN AND THE WORDS STDS #SLURPYDOGPUSSY AND YOU CAN SEE THE VIDEOS OF THE SACRAMENTO PROSTITUTE WHO USES THE NAME #VANNASWEETS AND THE VIDEOS OF HER LAUGHING ABT GIVING VICTIMS HER STDS , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN CALLING PEOPLE THE #Nword being a #RACIST #BIGOT , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN TALKING ABOUT #MAKENNAQUIST AND #ALLISONQUIST IN PORN ROLEPLAY VIDEOS WITH DADDY #RYANJEFFREYQUIST AKA #THEGREATHYMENREMOVALIST , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN ENGAGING WITH DOGS AND HAVING SEX WITH THEM, VIDEOS OF JILLIAN PHYSICALLY ASSAULTING AND ATTACKING INDIVIDUALS. BE VERY CAREFUL AND YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD AND ALERTED SO DO AS YOU DO. THIS HAS BEEN A COMMUNITY NOTIFICATION BROADCAST ALERT OF PUBLIC INFORMATION THAT IS ALL VERIFIABLE WITH COURT RECORDS OR VIDEOS SHOWING STATED INFORMATION THAT ARE ONLINE FOR PUBLIC AWARENESS. THANK YOU

Beware of The #Sacramento #DoGFucKeR!! No JOKE!! SERIOUS #BESTIALITYBITCH & WILL FUCK YOUR DOG IN A HEART BEAT!!! AND ROB YOU AT THE SAME TIME!! Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones aka #SLURPYDOGPUSSY was convicted of bestiality 286.5PC for FUCKING DOGS WHILE PREGNANT! ALSO Jillian has #HPVANALWARTS AND #VAGINALHERPES AND SPREADS HER STDS AND DOES KNOT GIVE PEOPLE THE CHOICE OR THE OPTION AS JILLIAN FAILS TO MENTION HER STD STATUS AND EVEN GOES SO FAR AS TO HAVE Unprotected SEX WHICH IS EVEN MORE EVIL AND OUTRAGEOUSLY MORALLY CORRUPT!! GOOGLE JILLIAN AND THE WORDS STDS #SLURPYDOGPUSSY AND YOU CAN SEE THE VIDEOS OF THE SACRAMENTO PROSTITUTE WHO USES THE NAME #VANNASWEETS AND THE VIDEOS OF HER LAUGHING ABT GIVING VICTIMS HER STDS , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN CALLING PEOPLE THE #Nword being a #RACIST #BIGOT , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN TALKING ABOUT #MAKENNAQUIST AND #ALLISONQUIST IN PORN ROLEPLAY VIDEOS WITH DADDY #RYANJEFFREYQUIST AKA #THEGREATHYMENREMOVALIST , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN ENGAGING WITH DOGS AND HAVING SEX WITH THEM, VIDEOS OF JILLIAN PHYSICALLY ASSAULTING AND ATTACKING INDIVIDUALS. BE VERY CAREFUL AND YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD AND ALERTED SO DO AS YOU DO. THIS HAS BEEN A COMMUNITY NOTIFICATION BROADCAST ALERT OF PUBLIC INFORMATION THAT IS ALL VERIFIABLE WITH COURT RECORDS OR VIDEOS SHOWING STATED INFORMATION THAT ARE ONLINE FOR PUBLIC AWARENESS. THANK YOU

[zoophiliapolice]

#SacramentoSLUTS Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones aka #SLURPYDOGPUSSY #•Sacramento #DoGFucKeR convicted of #Bestiality 286.5PC FUCKING DOGS WHILE PREGNANT.Jillian also Prostitutes in the Sacramento CA // Northern California region using the name # #VannaSweets or #VannaVit as Jillian has built a very loyal and robust fan base behind her #KNOTTYRUFFTIMES KNOTTING SESSIONS OF 24-48 hours & at times going beyond 72 hours where Jillian is KNOTTED ‘ & TIED UP w/ TOGETHER w/ #DoGDicK so KNOTTED Jillian has continuous orgasms & in absolutely & completely #doggycumnutRUNS & draining doggy dick seminal fluid for up to 2 weeks

#SacramentoSLUTS Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones aka #SLURPYDOGPUSSY #•Sacramento #DoGFucKeR convicted of #Bestiality 286.5PC FUCKING DOGS WHILE PREGNANT.Jillian also Prostitutes in the Sacramento CA // Northern California region using the name # #VannaSweets or #VannaVit as Jillian has built a very loyal and robust fan base behind her #KNOTTYRUFFTIMES KNOTTING SESSIONS OF 24-48 hours & at times going beyond 72 hours where Jillian is KNOTTED ‘ & TIED UP w/ TOGETHER w/ #DoGDicK so KNOTTED Jillian has continuous orgasms & in absolutely & completely #doggycumnutRUNS & draining doggy dick seminal fluid for up to 2 weeks

[heynessi]

PLEASEEEE tell us about wizards of japan palace!

Erm, it'll have guest appearances from Selener Gummiez. She's planning to come in and sellout her body in the hooker segment of Episode 2.

[sacramentok9fucker]

Beware of The #Sacramento #DoGFucKeR!! No JOKE!! SERIOUS #BESTIALITYBITCH & WILL FUCK YOUR DOG IN A HEART BEAT!!! AND ROB YOU AT THE SAME TIME!! Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones aka #SLURPYDOGPUSSY was convicted of bestiality 286.5PC for FUCKING DOGS WHILE PREGNANT! ALSO Jillian has #HPVANALWARTS AND #VAGINALHERPES AND SPREADS HER STDS AND DOES KNOT GIVE PEOPLE THE CHOICE OR THE OPTION AS JILLIAN FAILS TO MENTION HER STD STATUS AND EVEN GOES SO FAR AS TO HAVE Unprotected SEX WHICH IS EVEN MORE EVIL AND OUTRAGEOUSLY MORALLY CORRUPT!! GOOGLE JILLIAN AND THE WORDS STDS #SLURPYDOGPUSSY AND YOU CAN SEE THE VIDEOS OF THE SACRAMENTO PROSTITUTE WHO USES THE NAME #VANNASWEETS AND THE VIDEOS OF HER LAUGHING ABT GIVING VICTIMS HER STDS , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN CALLING PEOPLE THE #Nword being a #RACIST #BIGOT , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN TALKING ABOUT #MAKENNAQUIST AND #ALLISONQUIST IN PORN ROLEPLAY VIDEOS WITH DADDY #RYANJEFFREYQUIST AKA #THEGREATHYMENREMOVALIST , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN ENGAGING WITH DOGS AND HAVING SEX WITH THEM, VIDEOS OF JILLIAN PHYSICALLY ASSAULTING AND ATTACKING INDIVIDUALS. BE VERY CAREFUL AND YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD AND ALERTED SO DO AS YOU DO. THIS HAS BEEN A COMMUNITY NOTIFICATION BROADCAST ALERT OF PUBLIC INFORMATION THAT IS ALL VERIFIABLE WITH COURT RECORDS OR VIDEOS SHOWING STATED INFORMATION THAT ARE ONLINE FOR PUBLIC AWARENESS. THANK YOU

[thedogfucker]

https://ifunnyx.co/video/klMr7wwLA?s=u

Meth TRAP HOUSE AS DUDE HAS TOILET PAPER IN ASS STILL AS HE LOOKS FOR JILLIAN LEANN QUIST JONES THE #SACRAMENTO #DoGFucKeR AKA #SLURPYDOGPUSSY SOCKS!!

[slurpysacramentosluts]

Beware of The #Sacramento #DoGFucKeR!! No JOKE!! SERIOUS #BESTIALITYBITCH & WILL FUCK YOUR DOG IN A HEART BEAT!!! AND ROB YOU AT THE SAME TIME!! Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones aka #SLURPYDOGPUSSY was convicted of bestiality 286.5PC for FUCKING DOGS WHILE PREGNANT! ALSO Jillian has #HPVANALWARTS AND #VAGINALHERPES AND SPREADS HER STDS AND DOES KNOT GIVE PEOPLE THE CHOICE OR THE OPTION AS JILLIAN FAILS TO MENTION HER STD STATUS AND EVEN GOES SO FAR AS TO HAVE Unprotected SEX WHICH IS EVEN MORE EVIL AND OUTRAGEOUSLY MORALLY CORRUPT!! GOOGLE JILLIAN AND THE WORDS STDS #SLURPYDOGPUSSY AND YOU CAN SEE THE VIDEOS OF THE SACRAMENTO PROSTITUTE WHO USES THE NAME #VANNASWEETS AND THE VIDEOS OF HER LAUGHING ABT GIVING VICTIMS HER STDS , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN CALLING PEOPLE THE #Nword being a #RACIST #BIGOT , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN TALKING ABOUT #MAKENNAQUIST AND #ALLISONQUIST IN PORN ROLEPLAY VIDEOS WITH DADDY #RYANJEFFREYQUIST AKA #THEGREATHYMENREMOVALIST , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN ENGAGING WITH DOGS AND HAVING SEX WITH THEM, VIDEOS OF JILLIAN PHYSICALLY ASSAULTING AND ATTACKING INDIVIDUALS. BE VERY CAREFUL AND YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD AND ALERTED SO DO AS YOU DO. THIS HAS BEEN A COMMUNITY NOTIFICATION BROADCAST ALERT OF PUBLIC INFORMATION THAT IS ALL VERIFIABLE WITH COURT RECORDS OR VIDEOS SHOWING STATED INFORMATION THAT ARE ONLINE FOR PUBLIC AWARENESS. THANK YOU

Beware of The #Sacramento #DoGFucKeR!! No JOKE!! SERIOUS #BESTIALITYBITCH & WILL FUCK YOUR DOG IN A HEART BEAT!!! AND ROB YOU AT THE SAME TIME!! Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones aka #SLURPYDOGPUSSY was convicted of bestiality 286.5PC for FUCKING DOGS WHILE PREGNANT! ALSO Jillian has #HPVANALWARTS AND #VAGINALHERPES AND SPREADS HER STDS AND DOES KNOT GIVE PEOPLE THE CHOICE OR THE OPTION AS JILLIAN FAILS TO MENTION HER STD STATUS AND EVEN GOES SO FAR AS TO HAVE Unprotected SEX WHICH IS EVEN MORE EVIL AND OUTRAGEOUSLY MORALLY CORRUPT!! GOOGLE JILLIAN AND THE WORDS STDS #SLURPYDOGPUSSY AND YOU CAN SEE THE VIDEOS OF THE SACRAMENTO PROSTITUTE WHO USES THE NAME #VANNASWEETS AND THE VIDEOS OF HER LAUGHING ABT GIVING VICTIMS HER STDS , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN CALLING PEOPLE THE #Nword being a #RACIST #BIGOT , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN TALKING ABOUT #MAKENNAQUIST AND #ALLISONQUIST IN PORN ROLEPLAY VIDEOS WITH DADDY #RYANJEFFREYQUIST AKA #THEGREATHYMENREMOVALIST , VIDEOS OF JILLIAN ENGAGING WITH DOGS AND HAVING SEX WITH THEM, VIDEOS OF JILLIAN PHYSICALLY ASSAULTING AND ATTACKING INDIVIDUALS. BE VERY CAREFUL AND YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD AND ALERTED SO DO AS YOU DO. THIS HAS BEEN A COMMUNITY NOTIFICATION BROADCAST ALERT OF PUBLIC INFORMATION THAT IS ALL VERIFIABLE WITH COURT RECORDS OR VIDEOS SHOWING STATED INFORMATION THAT ARE ONLINE FOR PUBLIC AWARENESS. THANK YOU

#MeghanWilt aka #TunaTOASTBitcH #DoubleHamhock aka #MrsDaddyO aka #PipePrincess left her #MethPipe behind. Meghans #bff #JillianLeAnnQuistJones

FUCKS Meghans baby daddy #DaddyOmar #OmarMojaddidi behind 
Meghan’s back on the almost daily but Meghan looks the other way because she likes do doubles tandem partner doing their #doggyfuckfest and getting that #DoGDicK Meghan and Jillian are very well known in the Sacramento Region and very good at what they do as Jillian has fucked over 3600 dogs and orally copulated another 13,000 dogs and was convicted of bestiality 286.5PC for fucking dogs while pregnant and kinking out names of Makenna Quist Allison Quist and NOVALOU in kink roleplay porn videos with daddy Ryan Jeffrey Quist aka #ThegreathymenReMovaLisT

#MeghanWilt aka #TunaTOASTBitcH #DoubleHamhock aka #MrsDaddyO aka #PipePrincess left her #MethPipe behind. Meghans #bff #JillianLeAnnQuistJones

FUCKS Meghans baby daddy #DaddyOmar #OmarMojaddidi behind 
Meghan’s back on the almost daily but Meghan looks the other way because she likes do doubles tandem partner doing their #doggyfuckfest and getting that #DoGDicK Meghan and Jillian are very well known in the Sacramento Region and very good at what they do as Jillian has fucked over 3600 dogs and orally copulated another 13,000 dogs and was convicted of bestiality 286.5PC for fucking dogs while pregnant and kinking out names of Makenna Quist Allison Quist and NOVALOU in kink roleplay porn videos with daddy Ryan Jeffrey Quist aka #ThegreathymenReMovaLisT

[chivuong]

https://ifunnyx.co/picture/G2uCk1v7A?s=u

[wrenaspun]

OMEGAVERSE

Ok listen - my dark secret is that I've spent years going Oh I don't know, I don't think I'll ever write omegaverse... and you sent this in to clown on me but GUESS WHAT! when I try my hand at something I take it SERIOUSLY. This is 6k. It has scene breaks. Bon appetit -

Laurent hated his annual checkups. This was not a quality he appreciated in himself, but it was difficult to reason the feeling away. He saw Paschal in a old house converted to incorporate a homey front-room office, nothing like the old cliche of white walls and antiseptic, but there was still the indignity of being poked and prodded, the feeling of being under examination, the crawling flush of humiliation whenever he flinched from a harmless touch. It was unpleasant. He didn’t like it.

He had always made a point of getting in and out as fast as possible; there was no reason why this appointment would be any different. Except, when Paschal clicked around on his ancient-looking brick of a desktop computer and said, “I’ll renew your suppressant prescription for next year, then,” Laurent found himself tensing.

The word bubbled out of him before he could think: “Wait.” He heard himself as though from far away; it took a moment to register that something had come from his mouth. Paschal blinked once, twice, and then turned to Laurent with his eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead.

The silence stretched out to fill the room. Laurent wanted to say — nevermind, forget it. It was on the tip of his tongue. It wouldn’t quite come out of his mouth. Eventually Paschal was the one to say, “Yes?”

Laurent said, “You’re the one who’s always saying I should cycle off them. Have you just been saying that for fun?” His voice was snappish, too aggressive.

Paschal knew him too well to react. “No, of course not,” he said slowly. “I still believe it would be good for you.”

Laurent waited, half-hoping and half-dreading that he would continue, would say something prevaricating: but you don’t have to, or, you’ve never even entertained the idea before, or even just, what changed?

Paschal offered none of these escape routes. “All right,” he said mildly. “I’ll adjust the amount on your prescription. If you change your mind, you can always make another appointment with me.” It was as good as a taunt, Laurent thought resentfully. They both knew he wasn’t coming back here any sooner than he absolutely had to.

And because no good deed went unpunished, he had to sit through an extra five-minute explanation on how to cycle off his current weekly dosage before he was finally released, clutching his adjusted prescription, blinking and stumbling down the stoop like some new strange creature who hadn’t ever lived in the world before. The paper in his hands felt oddly heavy, weighty. There was some part of him which believed it couldn’t be that easy, and another which wanted to turn around and say to Paschal that there had been a mistake, that it’d been a joke, some strange trick. It wasn’t — he wasn’t —

He kept walking. It was done, he told himself. There was no changing it now. He would have the requisite conversation with Damen tonight, and then he could direct his mind elsewhere until —

Even now, he shied away from thinking about it. Events would unfold of their own accord. There was no point worrying about it. He got his prescription filled and tucked the innocuous little bottle into an inner pocket of his bag where he wouldn’t have to look at it.

—

That evening, he said, “I have to talk to you,” over dinner, “about the checkup.” And then the words dried up; Damen’s interest became concern and then outright worry.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, a little tentative, his broad hand a little too tight around his fork. “Laurent, don’t keep me in suspense.” It was half a joke and half a plea.

Laurent shook his head. Forced himself to say, “Paschal recommended I cycle off my suppressants. At least once. Since I’ve been on them for so long.”

Damen was so lovely that, absurdly, it made the words difficult to say. Any other alpha would accept it without question — would be eager, even — if Laurent had said to them that he needed to go through a heat. Those were exactly the kinds of alphas who’d be put off by Laurent’s first date declaration, I’m never cycling off my suppressants, ever, it’s not even on the table, who’d roll their eyes and walk out on him muttering about frigid bitches —

Not Damen, who had just nodded. All right, he’d said, so unquestioningly open that Laurent had found himself saying more, I don’t like how it feels, except that Damen had only smiled again and said that he didn’t have to explain.

Perfect, at the time, but now he looked worried, and Laurent didn’t know how to reassure him. “You have to?” he asked. “Is there — some kind of problem —?”

“No,” said Laurent. “It’s precautionary. It’s just letting my body reset itself.”

“Right,” said Damen. The silence stretched out, awkward, between them. Neither of them were eating anymore. Finally, Damen said, “Do you want me to — go somewhere —?”

“No!” Laurent barely stopped himself from snapping, that would defeat the whole point, idiot. He felt his jaw twitch. If Damen didn’t want to heat with him — it would certainly be one of Laurent’s graver miscalculations. But this was Damen. The thought that he’d want to leave Laurent alone through a heat was inconceivable.

When Laurent finally looked up, Damen was watching him, brow furrowed. “Laurent,” he said.

Laurent’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Are you going to make me say it?” he demanded, and Damen’s face opened into a hesitant little smile that did strange things to Laurent’s stomach.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “I’d be honoured.”

For a moment it was difficult to breathe. It was as though there was something inside Laurent’s chest, blocking his lungs, blocking his throat. He turned back to his food, staring down at the blue florals. “Good,” he said. And then, “It probably won’t happen any time soon.” His body was too used to the suppressants.

“That’s good,” said Damen. “If you change your mind —”

“I won’t change my mind.” Sharply.

“All right,” said Damen, voice soft. Then he reached over and twined their fingers together, under the table, and said nothing when Laurent’s hand tightened as though clutching a lifeline.

—

It took four months, in the end. Long enough that Laurent had stopped thinking about it, for the most part. He didn’t even realise — what was happening, when it first started. He thought he was coming down with something. The ecology textbook he was meant to be editing didn’t seem to make any sense; the words on the page in front of him were swimming slightly. His face felt flushed and overheated, maybe feverish. He tried a few times to put his hand to his forehead, second-guessing the way it felt.

It was confusing mostly because he hadn’t had the chance to get sick recently — it’d been a quiet few weeks, mostly nights at home with Damen. The textbook had him a little stressed because he didn’t know the first thing about ecology, but it was no worse than any other job that the publishing house had pushed on him. But that was how sicknesses worked, he supposed. Random unlucky encounters while they were out running errands. They’d done the groceries — was it last weekend? He couldn’t focus properly.

He kept going anyway, mostly because to curl up in bed sounded a little too tempting, and there was the hope in the back of his mind that he’d be able to fight through it by sheer force of will. He did take a couple of the emergency paracetamol that Damen had stashed in his desk, but he didn’t feel much effect.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Laurent startled and looked at the clock: sure enough, the rest of the workday had ground by. He’d been working overtime for half an hour, actually. What was wrong with him today?

He shook his head just in time for Damen to poke his head into the little office, a frown already on his face. He started, “What are you —”

“Don’t come near,” said Laurent hastily, attempting to roll his chair backwards to little effect — the desk was a rather immovable obstacle. “I think I’m getting sick.”

Damen was looking at him wide-eyed. He’d trailed off, but his mouth was hanging a little open. Laurent wanted to kiss it. He wanted to get up and wrap himself in Damen’s arms and get rid of their clothes, fast, the better to have Damen over him, skin-to-skin…

“Sweetheart,” said Damen, “I don’t think you’re getting sick.”

Laurent still didn’t realise, not even then. It was only when Damen inhaled, a long, slow, indulgent breath that would lay Laurent’s scent thick and heavy on his tongue, that the pieces clicked.

Laurent said, “Oh, fuck.”

He’d been such an idiot. The signs had all been there — the irritability, the flushes of heat, the lack of focus. The way his mind kept returning, like a dog with a bone, to thoughts of Damen’s naked body, the way he’d look pressed up against Laurent, the way his hands would feel… Laurent loved Damen’s hands, broad and capable, graceful and gentle.

��We can still get you on suppressants if you want,” Damen offered, quiet. “They have the medical-grade ones for late-stage preheat. We still have enough time to drive to the hospital.”

There were medical-grade suppressants that could stop a full heat in its tracks, even. The offer hung between them, tantalising.

“No,” said Laurent. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it this easily.”

Damen’s mouth ticked up, which usually would have sent a little thrill through Laurent’s blood and which now made him feel on the point of explosion. He stood up so forcefully that his chair was propelled into the desk behind him, crashing unpleasantly against the wood — Laurent couldn’t bring himself to care. He was darting into Damen’s arms. Damen caught him up without any effort at all, and Laurent buried his face into Damen’s neck where the scent of him was strongest, the earthy, deep smell which was nothing but a comfort.

“Laurent.” Damen’s arms tightened around him, and Laurent felt a little of the tension leave his body. Oh, it’d been such a long day. “Laurent.”

“Hmm?”

“I — we can’t, yet —” and the arms began to push Laurent away, which was awful. “Laurent, please.”

“Don’t you want —”

“I want,” said Damen fervently. There was a hint of a growl in his voice. Laurent realised, in an abrupt moment of clarity, that he was wet. “We need to prepare. You need to take your heat leave,” nodding at the computer behind Laurent. “I’ll email my work. And then I need to get some meals ready.”

“Some meals?” echoed Laurent.

The look Damen gave him was heated. “I’m not letting you out of bed for three days, sweetheart.”

“I — oh.” Even through the faintly feverish texture of preheat, Laurent could feel himself blushing.

Damen tipped his chin up with one finger and kissed his lips very lightly. “You can prepare the bedroom while I’m in the kitchen. I’ll be up in no time.”

“All right.” Laurent could hear the sighing breathiness of his own voice. Damen kissed him again, still light, which was a mercy; Laurent didn’t think he would survive it, if Damen had kissed him properly only to pull away.

“Soon,” said Damen, in the tone of a promise, and then he was pulling away, and then he was gone.

Laurent stood uselessly in the doorway for a full five seconds after Damen had ducked into the kitchen and out of sight, blinking hazily, focusing entirely on resisting the urge to follow Damen like a little duckling.

Email, he thought finally, and tore himself away from the threshold. He tapped out a cursory notice to the publishing house, cc’d his client, slammed the laptop shut.

He was preoccupied as he made his way upstairs, thinking about Damen, about the abnormal sensations within his own body, and so it was only once he had entered the bedroom that he realised he had no idea what Damen meant when he’d said Laurent could prepare the bedroom. What did that even entail? Laurent regarded the room with some bemusement. It was decently clean — neither of them were particularly messy — with a few belongings scattered about on the dresser and bedside tables. Laurent took a breath, but it was difficult to think. Did Damen want the room cleaned before they spent three days rolling around in the sheets? He had never been particularly fussy about such things before. Was there something he wanted, or was it more of a general expression, to prepare the bedroom? Laurent could practically feel the gaps in his knowledge taunting him. Was there a wrong way to prepare a bedroom?

He didn’t know how much time he wasted just standing there, looking over at the bed. Finally, the thought struck him: sheets, obviously. Damen had gone and bought a nice set of mattress and duvet protectors after Laurent had cycled off his suppressants. They were meant to go under the normal sheets, because everyone said the same thing, that heating was a messy experience, that it was hell on bedding. Laurent went to the linen closet on light feet, feeling almost like he was floating from the relief of having found something to do.

He hadn’t actually seen the protectors before; Damen had just called on his way home one day and asked whether Laurent preferred one brand or the other. Laurent didn’t care, didn’t want to think about it, so Damen had made the decision and put the package away when he got home.

Laurent should probably have paid more attention, if only to curb Damen’s tendency to extravagance. He’d bought — it didn’t even seem possible that a single box could hold so many sheets. It was at least twice the amount of bedding that one would find in a standard set. Probably three times as much. Surely heating wasn’t that destructive.

He took what he needed and returned to the bedroom. It took a little longer than usual to change the sheets — they usually did this together, if only because the mattress was ridiculously large — but he managed finally to get everything where it was supposed to be. He was too nervous for it too feel like a real achievement. There was a raw, jagged feeling under his skin, a physical sort of ache. He wanted Damen. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he’d missed.

Just as the crest of impatience was tipping over into a crisis, Damen’s footsteps echoed up the stairs. Laurent, dignity abandoned, leapt to the doorway, looking out. Damen was carrying a bag, one of those reusable totes from the supermarket, heavy enough that his biceps were straining a little with it. Laurent felt his heart pulse irregularly. He was halfway down the corridor, wanting the heady elixir of Damen’s attention and focus.

“Hello,” he said breathlessly, when Damen smiled at him. The smile widened. Damen’s dimple was a lovely tease.

“Hello,” said Damen, bringing his free hand up to cradle Laurent’s cheek. “Do you want to eat now?”

A quick glance down revealed that the tote bag was full of tupperware, all of it steamed up from being freshly cooked. But — “I couldn’t,” Laurent admitted. It was true. His stomach was in knots.

“It’ll keep,” said Damen. “Can I come in?”

Absurdly, Laurent realised that some part of himself wanted to say no. He quashed it carefully and said, “Yes, of course.”

He was watching Damen’s face as they walked; that was why he saw the quick flicker of surprise, of dismay, which crossed his expression as he came into the room. Laurent blamed his hormones on the fact that this felt like being stabbed. He felt himself flame up red, blood rushing to his face.

Damen was looking down at him uncertainly, which was terrible. Then he said, gently, “Laurent, are you sure you want —?” which was worse.

“Of course I want,” snapped Laurent.

“We can still go to the hospital —”

“Shut up.” This was more painful than being stabbed. “I said I would, and I will. I want to — I — why would you think otherwise?” And under the force of Damen’s gaze, Laurent heard himself say, “What did I do wrong?”

The bag of food dropped inelegantly to the floor. Damen was taking hold of Laurent around the waist, still a warm and comforting presence. “It’s not wrong,” he said. “I misspoke.”

“But there was something,” said Laurent, and forced himself to step back. Damen hesitated. “Damen, just say it.”

Damen said, “I thought there would be a nest.”

It was so unexpected that for a moment Laurent’s mind did not compute it. Damen might as well have said, I thought you would grow an extra limb. “What?” he said. “Why?”

A helpless look. “I don’t know,” said Damen. “I suppose it must be more common in Akielos.”

“But nests are —” Laurent hesitated. The words from his adolescence bubbled up, but felt somehow wrong to say. Unhygienic. Primitive, backwards, unsophisticated.

Damen’s expression flickered, as though he was hearing the words anyway. Laurent changed courses and said, “You’ve heated with others before. Other Veretians.”

Now it was Damen’s turn to hesitate, eyeing Laurent carefully as though nervous he would burst into flames at the thought. When this did not occur, he said, “Yes. And there was always — so I suppose that’s why I assumed.” And then, quickly: “But it doesn’t matter, obviously. We can do what you want.”

He stepped forward, but Laurent stepped back, thinking — he felt like his mind was overheating like a faulty computer. He was thinking about books, about movies, the way that the height of romance was always a nest. At the time, he’d thought it was cheesy, mawkish, a cultural signifier more than a gesture real people would be likely to make, the same as covering a mattress with rose petals or turning out all the lights to have dinner by candlelight. And he was also thinking about how the voice in his head was his uncle’s, cold and amused. The extra sheet protectors, Laurent thought, with another flush of embarrassment. It wasn’t overly-stocked out of generosity or even out of extravagance. He was supposed to have used them in his nest.

“Laurent,” said Damen, “I’m sorry I raised it —”

“How,” said Laurent abruptly, and Damen cut himself off, “do you build a nest?”

Damen briefly looked like he was struggling to speak. After a moment he said, “You don’t have to.”

“If I wanted to,” said Laurent. “How would I?”

Damen said, “Have you never…?”

“Never,” said Laurent. And, absurdly, a flicker of anger crossed Damen’s expression.

But all he said was, “You start with the heavier things,” voice even, “and work your way to the lighter blankets. You shape it around you. It’s meant to be comfortable. There’s no wrong way to do it, really, except that going from light to heavy can be less stable.”

Laurent said, “Show me.”

Damen looked at him a little helplessly, but he at least did Laurent the favour of not asking yet again whether he was sure. “Wait here,” he said, and went off to the linen closet, came back with what looked like its entire contents heaped in his arms.

Something about the sight — Damen’s strength, his bulk, harnessed for the purpose of carrying around piles of cloth — tugged fiercely at Laurent’s heart. “Damen,” he said.

Damen said, “Don’t come too close, sweetheart. We don’t want your heat to set in yet.”

It took a moment to understand what he meant; Laurent was not a fan of feeling this slow, this stupid. It was fairly well known — and there were studies to back it up — that preheat would graduate to full heat much faster in the face of skin-to-skin contact with a partner. It was awful, to stay back. Damen knelt on the ground to separate out the different blankets, and then looked up at Laurent.

“It might be better if you sat on the bed,” he said. “I can pass you what you want.”

Laurent went and pushed the single duvet aside and sat. It felt — stupid. It was hard not to feel self-conscious, sitting on an almost-empty mattress and looking over at Damen. “Give me the heavy one, then,” he said.

Damen did. Laurent tried to hold it in his hands, but it was too large to be contained, and tumbled eventually to pool around his legs. Damen was watching him.

Again he said, “It doesn’t matter how you do it. There’s no wrong way.”

Easy for you to say, Laurent wanted to snap, but he restrained himself. He didn’t like feeling this way, hot and angry and resentful.

Damen said, “Do you want me to go?”

“Why,” said Laurent, unable to keep the jagged edge from his voice, “would I want you to go?”

A swallow. Damen said, soft: “It’s an intimate thing, to build the nest. Even more than being invited into it. If you feel uncomfortable —”

“Shut up,” said Laurent. “Shut up.” And he shoved the duvet to one side of him, kicking it into a rough curve around his left side. “Give me the other one.”

Damen shut up and obeyed. Laurent put it along his other side, mirroring the first.

“Next,” he said, and Damen obliged him again. The next blanket was a little lighter. Laurent said, “Take that end and hold it.”

Damen did. His eyes were a little wide, in the manner of one who hadn’t expected this. An intimate thing, he’d called it, and his tone had been soft and reverent. Laurent tamped down on the emotions in his chest and tucked the blanket demonstratively over the top of the duvet beside him, nodding for Damen to do the same.

The worked together, then, layering the blankets around Laurent, the nest slowly building in shape and solidity. Damen’s hands were so — wide and capable, manipulating the fabric, making sure everything fit together, taking time and care with every movement. Laurent heard his words again, an intimate thing, and this time he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Who did you build nests with, then?” He felt hot and jealous and uncontrolled. He wanted to go find whoever it was and tear their throat out with his teeth. “Jokaste?”

A surprised look, which melted into something like a smile. “No,” said Damen. “She didn’t like heats either. She was on suppressants most of the time we were together.” And then, when this clearly did not satisfy Laurent, “When we heated, she built the nest. Alone.”

“Who, then,” Laurent gritted.

Damen grinned at him, wide and dazzling. “My mother,” he said. “In Akielos — we nest as a family, when the pups are young. It’s very common. And she always let me help.”

The knot of jealousy abated. Laurent felt his jaw twitch, humiliation warring with satisfaction. From a distant vantage point, some small part of his remaining sense decided that he was being foolish. But Damen was grinning at him still, his scent rich with pleasure, and it was impossible to feel too badly in the face of that relentless happiness.

“Hurry up,” said Laurent, and he could hear the way his voice came out — nowhere near as sharp as he had intended. He sounded sappy, a little shy. Very stupid. It only made Damen smile harder. His dimple was trying to dig its way through his cheek.

“Yes, sweetheart,” said Damen, and he was the one who took the last blankets and settled them over the edges of the nest, shaping the construction carefully. He looked at Laurent, a little quizzical, and then said, “Lie down.”

Laurent did. It felt — it was difficult to describe how it felt. He’d never known this was an option. Carefully, he turned his head into the soft bedding, inhaling, smelling the detergent they used. It was good, he thought. It was soft, warm — even though he knew it was a simple pacifier to his baser instincts, the appeal came through loud and clear. It was primally, viscerally satisfying to lie in a nest of his own creation, safe in a way that very little else had ever been. Absurdly, he had the thought that he wanted to add curtains to the bed. He wanted to shut out the rest of the world, to have it be just him and Damen…

Damen said, “If you don’t like it, we can push it off and go with your original way.”

“I didn’t say that,” Laurent muttered.

“Speak louder, baby.”

“Come here,” Laurent said louder. Damen’s hand brushed against his wrist.

“Yeah?”

“Hurry up,” snapped Laurent. Damen laughed a little and levered himself carefully into the nest, and oh —

All of a sudden, it was perfect. It was as though Damen had been the only thing missing. Laurent launched himself forward, arms going around Damen’s neck, breathing in, wiping out the rest of the world so that Damen was the only thing that existed, Damen’s warm steady body, Damen’s scent — Laurent inhaled and inhaled until he was faintly dizzy from it. Damen was murmuring into his ear, sweetheart, you’re so lovely, you’re so good, words that made Laurent want to bite him.

He could, he thought dizzily. There was no reason not to. Damen made a pitchy, breathy noise when Laurent’s teeth closed against his neck, and then graduated to a long groan.

“Laurent,” he said, “Laurent —”

Laurent was too busy to reply. Damen’s hand came to cradle the back of his head. Laurent’s whole body felt like it surged in response to the touch, his breath crushed from his lungs, his heart hammering in his chest. Damen groaned again, but this time there was a new timbre to the noise.

“Oh, there you are,” he said, running a hand up Laurent’s side. “Do you feel that?”

Feel what, Laurent almost said, and then realised — he was in heat. Full, proper heat now, roaring through his veins.

It was fierce, all-consuming, and yet it felt nothing like Laurent had remembered. His first heat had set upon him like a wild creature, digging teeth and claws through him. It had been an experience chiefly significant for its pain, for the way he sweated and cried and shook his way through it, the way he had felt fever-hot and thought his heart would burst for hammering. That’s it? he’d thought, in the aftermath, that’s what everyone goes wild for? It was an insane thought to him that anyone would choose to go through it again. He’d arranged to be put on suppressants as soon as he could walk again.

This felt nothing like that. This wasn’t even hot — it was warm, like sitting just slightly too close to a fireside, and it ran through his veins like liquid gold. Everywhere that Damen touched, he felt himself respond, but there was no pain to it, none of the fierce shrieking need which he had suffered before.

Vaguely, he heard himself murmuring, oh, oh, Damen… Nonsense sounds, mostly, interspersed with Damen’s name, and every time Damen acted as though he’d shared the secrets of the very universe, cooing back with his whole heart. Laurent took control of his mouth again and said, “Damen, please. I need you.”

“I’m with you,” Damen murmured. He was working Laurent out of his clothes, fingers fumbling around the same buttons he could have undone in his sleep last night. “Laurent, I’m here. Oh, look at you…”

Laurent looked. Damen was looking at the slick between his legs, the dampness across his thighs. His gaze was bright and eager. Laurent said, “Don’t tease me.”

Damen’s eyes flickered up to search his face. “No?” he asked.

Laurent bit his lip. He was already red and flushed, he thought, which at least camouflaged his reaction. “Not — as much, then,” he said. “Unless you want me to die here,” and Damen grinned. It felt obscene, the wholesomeness of the expression, his peeking dimple, when one considered what he was smiling about.

“Noted,” said Damen, and brushed a finger over Laurent’s hole. Laurent heard himself make a sound like he was dying.

Before Damen, he’d never liked being teased. He’d never liked drawing it out; even when it was just himself in the bedroom, perhaps especially then, he’d used to bring himself off quickly, efficiently, and then box up the experience without dwelling on it. Damen was — the opposite of that. He loved to touch; sometimes he would touch Laurent aimlessly, all night, drifting his fingertips along Laurent’s shoulders and collarbone and neck, his sides, his stomach… And in bed, he would touch Laurent everywhere, light touches and long caresses and cruel little pinches and everything in between. He loved to draw it out; he loved for Laurent to lose himself to it, surrendering his tightly held self-control to start pushing back mindlessly into everything, to make soft noises with his mouth, to say yes, yes, Damen and please, right there.

Even the first time, when Laurent felt most strongly that he should have hated it, he didn’t. He couldn’t. There was something about the way Damen looked at him, awed and sweet; and there was something about the way that every touch became a promise, the tease itself becoming a token of Damen’s intentions.

Damen didn’t break his word. There was something horribly satisfying about begging, knowing that everything one wanted would come. It became a pleasure in itself to say Damen, please, I need you inside, and to be briefly denied, knowing that Damen would do everything, fulfill every promise. Damen would probably fight a god to make Laurent feel good.

“Ah, sweetheart, your scent,” Damen groaned. And then he put his face against Laurent’s neck and just inhaled, long and luxurious. It was like Laurent had been kicked in the stomach, the sudden blow of arousal.

“Damen,” he said, not sounding like himself at all.

“I know,” said Damen. “I know — just let me —” and he moved down, nudging Laurent’s knees apart, inhaling again, god — like it was bliss, like Laurent’s slick was —

And then his mouth was on Laurent, hot and wet and ravenous, and Laurent’s mind went utterly blank. Damen’s touch — his tongue — Laurent came like that, a brutal wave of pleasure that wiped everything else away, the whole rest of the world. All that mattered was Damen, the way he groaned, the way his hands tightened around Laurent’s thighs, the way he kept going and going and going —

Laurent had to push him away after the second peak — had to use far more force than usual. The whole lower half of Damen’s face was wet when he finally raised it, and he was breathing hard. Laurent could feel the movement of those broad shoulders in his thighs.

“Damen,” he said dazedly, all of a sudden finding it difficult to remember why he shouldn’t just let Damen lick him through the whole rest of his heat.

“Laurent,” said Damen, with a grin that was absolutely filthy. He rose to his knees and came up the bed towards Laurent, and he was truly just — a magnificent specimen, all broad shoulders and rolling muscle and strong shoulders. Laurent could have just watched him in that moment and been happy for the rest of his life.

Except not, obviously. Damen kissed him and desire ran through him like a shockwave. He was saying — something, he didn’t know, his mouth was utterly out of his own control —

“I know,” Damen was saying now, lining their bodies up, “you don’t have to beg, sweetheart, I’ll give you everything, anything you want,” and clearly he meant it because he was pushing inside, and Laurent heard himself make a noise he didn’t think he’d ever made before. “I know,” said Damen, biting his neck gently, and the resultant wave of pleasure was so great that it was like coming, just like that.

It was all Laurent could do to grab his shoulders and hold on. His whole body was torn between the urge to melt underneath Damen and the desperate need to move against him, to drive them to go harder and faster.

“Like this,” Damen murmured, kissing Laurent again, holding his hips and pushing inside in just the right way. Laurent’s head fell back helplessly. It felt so good. His mind was breaking apart, almost unable to comprehend it all.

“Knot me,” he said then. His voice was raw; he’d been moaning, he realised belatedly. “Damen, please —”

“I know,” said Damen again. “Sweetheart, you’re so good, you’re so perfect. Like that, yes, Laurent —”

His knot was starting to swell; it was all Laurent could feel, the whole of his awareness narrowing down to that single point between them.

One of Damen’s hands slid to the inside of Laurent’s thigh, pushing his leg outward, making everything feel more sensitive, more overwhelming. His knot was almost too large now, taking real effort to shift in and out of Laurent’s hungry body. Laurent was grasping desperately at Damen’s shoulders, panting, open-mouthed, as his pleasure built impossibly high and then crashed over him like a wave, knocking him off his feet, sending him into unfathomable depths.

“Inside me,” he begged then, feeling beyond his own limits, as though he had been broken into pieces. “Damen, please, I want it —”

Damen groaned and kissed him desperately, their mouths open to each other, and then he finally thrust in properly, tying them together, stretching out the last aftershocks of Laurent’s orgasm.

It was like nothing Laurent had felt before, the way that everything was drawn out — even more than regular knotting, the fact that his body was in heat seemed to mean it was grabbing, greedy, at every chance for pleasure. And Damen was moving slowly, crooning into Laurent’s ear, telling him how lovely he was, how sweet and warm and wet, and Laurent was shuddering helplessly against him.

But even once that wave had crested, and they came back to themselves, it was still new and wonderful; Laurent reached out with one hand to touch the side of his nest, the sheets which were sheltering and protecting him.

“I want curtains,” he said blurrily, his own impulse control too thin and worn to check his words. “On the bed. Around.”

“Yes,” Damen said. It was almost a groan. He was nosing at Laurent’s neck, inhaling. “Anything, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

“I want you,” Laurent said breathlessly. “Kiss me.”

Damen did, open-mouthed and luxurious. And then — he began to move, shifting his hips in tiny, infinitesimal motions that crashed through Laurent’s sensitive body like a tidal wave. The huge bulk of his knot was overwhelming when it was still. It felt impossible that he could fuck Laurent on it. It felt absurdly good.

Laurent wound his arms around Damen’s neck, ran his fingers through the beloved dark curls. “Damen.”

“Once more,” Damen murmured, kissing Laurent’s neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. His hands were skimming along Laurent’s sides, the kind of light, gentle touch which drove Laurent utterly mad. “Come for me one more time, sweetheart.”

“I’m already — I’m close.” The heat was lurking under his skin, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Damen kissed him again, brought one hand down to caress the inside of his thigh, and Laurent was gone. The pleasure was so intense that it was like blacking out, his vision growing spotty, ears ringing. He couldn’t hear the noises he was making, only knew they were coming out because he felt the way Damen’s kiss to his throat vibrated.

They were both panting afterwards, both holding very still, too sensitive. Every time Laurent tensed around the knot inside him, Damen would react, shuddering or groaning or both.

“I lied,” he said eventually, and Laurent was too pleasure-soaked to feel even a flicker of concern. Damen nosed at his jaw. “It’s not going to be just the once more.”

A breathless laugh. Laurent wound his arms around Damen’s neck, kissing his cheek, his eyes, his lovely nose. “It better not be,” he said. “Didn’t you promise me three days?”

[jellybracelet]

No taste smh

[chivuong]

#MakennaQuist Mom is a #DoGFucKeR #JillianLeAnnQuistJones aka #SlurpyDogPussy The Sacramento #DoGFucKeR #DoGRaPeR #DoGDicKVioLaToR & #Prostitute using the name #VannaSweets CHEATS W/ DOGS!! Jillian prefers #GreatDanes & #Mastiffs. Plenty of Videos of her fucking dogs online as the married Racist Bigot loves the #Nword is the #1 #DoGGYSLUT & has fucked nearly all the #GreatDanes & #Mastiffs in #Sacramento CA Google SLURPYDOGPUSSY & SEE ALL THE #FUCKERY ! STAY away from Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones!

[zoophiliapolice]

[superdaisypowerhour]

SHE LOOKS SO FUCKING SAD BRO

[hurtmemoreplease]

If i don't get pinned down and raped by my dog right fucking now i'm going to fucking explode

[critterkiddo]

Ezra's twitters have been suspended.

[dirtbagsdailydeviants]

Sacramento Resident Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones aka SlurpyDoGPuSSY laughs and thinks it’s funny to spread STDS AS YOU HEAR JILLIAN LAUGH AS SHE GETS A REAL KICK OUT OF HERSELF. Broadcast Alert-Sacramento Jillian LeAnn Quist Jones spreads STD - HPV Anal Warts & LAUGHS!

#STDs #DoGFucKeR #DoGRaPeR #SlurpyDoGPuSSY

#knottyrufftimes #286.5PC

It’s not funny to give people stds btw!! Or is it funny to fuck dogs as Jillian once again thinks it’s funny and she’s real cute by fucking dogs as Jillian was convicted of 286.5PC #Bestiality in 2019 Sacramento for fucking dogs and kinking out names of #MakennaQuist Makenna Quist #AllisonQuist Allison Quist w/ Ryan Jeffrey Quist aka #ThegreathymenReMovaLisT