Doflamingo Pants Novels & Stories

Rhylent stayed still as if simply letting Chasm discover the shape of him, the flex of his pectorals, and the ridges of his abdomen. "You no longer need pants." Rhylent leaned back slightly as two things happened at once. Chasm saw the alien's clear command in his mind. As the idea shimmered, Chasm's Nebos pants slipped off him and flowed onto the box. At the same time, more Nebos rose to slide under Chasm's body. The fabric created more of a cushion. The silks covered the carton. As soon as they did, Rhylent leaned into him again. "That is an improvement."

The world outside was crumbling, and even simple dignity felt like a victory. My fingers landed on a pair of old black sweatpants—baggy, way too big on me. I’d kept them all these years even though I never wore them. Some hand-me-down or forgotten gift, probably from Aunt Millie. They’d fit Dominus perfectly. He was all sharp angles and long limbs, a stark contrast to the gaunt, desperate figure he'd become. I pulled them out, then searched again, landing on a soft gray shirt—clean, warm, with a slightly stretched neckline that he probably wouldn’t mind. Comfort was the priority now.

A document similar to a curriculum vitae was attached to the top of that file. Name- DARKSTAR Zayn Redfield I did not have any idea of what I was seeing. I went through the rest of the pages. These are Zayn's documents. But what does it mean by a DARKSTAR? What is BLACKMATRIX? Why are Zayn's documents here? Why am I here? With thousands of questions my head was about to burst. I had no strength and my legs were weak.So I slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. My head was spinning so badly and I couldn't hold on to my strength anymore...

His hand barely reached the doorknob when I called him. "What is this, Marlon?" I took the high-waisted jeans and waved them as if I were holding evidence of a murder he had committed. His head tilted in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed, so handsome that I almost forgot my anger. "Pants, love." "I know they are pants, but what size is this? Fourteen? FOURTEEN? I DON'T WEAR A FOURTEEN! I WEAR A NINE!" I ended up throwing the pants at him so furiously that he was caught completely off guard.

A slow, cocky smile spread across his handsome face. “Bullshit. Your hands are trembling. Your breathing is all messed up like you’re turned on right now.” He moved even closer until they were only inches apart. “You’re wet right now, aren’t you? Soaking through those panties just thinking about what I could do to you.” The crude words sent a powerful jolt of electricity straight through her body. Elena felt herself getting slick and warm against her panties. She hated how right he was and how badly her body responded.

I didn't catch the eye of most because I was known to be wolfless and the fact that wasn't the case actually made me giggle a little thinking about it. Walking into the diner I was a bit suprised to see not only Duke and Flint sitting about midway through the diner but the brothers from the other pack sitting with them. I chuckled thinking it was probaly them leaving the note as a stupid prank or warning. I walked in fully planning just to step into the office and talk to Mama Rose. "What you doing here rouge? begging for scraps." Flint hollered at me. I rolled my eyes, it was so obvious when he used rouge as a term not my name and I knew he was looking for a reaction from me. I locked eyes

Dante worshipped Camilla's body like it was a work of art. Her body was so beautiful, he thought to himself. He licked and sucked every part of her body until Camilla begged him to stop teasing her and give her what she wanted. Dante took a condom from his bedside drawer. He put it on his long length and positioned himself between her legs. "I will be gentle" he told her. He slowly put his cock inside her clenching heat, when he met the resistance of her hymen, he added a little force and plunged into her.

“That’s why we brought spare clothes!” Margo handed him a bag. He opened it. Stared. And said: “I’m not wearing this.” Liana leaned over. “It has flamingos!” Slade stared at the pink flamingo swim shorts like they personally offended every molecule of his existence. “I would rather drown.” Margo patted his arm. “Good. You’ll look cute.” He glared at all of us. Then at me. “You think this is funny.” “A little,” I admitted. His eyes narrowed.

She sighed and let me into a stall. Inside, the pantomime began. I held up garment after garment for Michael. A silk kimono. A neon tracksuit. A Viking fur vest. His hologram flickered, adopting each new silhouette with unwavering patience. Then, the pièce de résistance: a light blue, impossibly shiny man thong.

“Now, let us get you dressed.” She handed me the jumper first. It was soft, thick, bright red, and decorated in white patterns of trees and tiny snow creatures. Then came the pants. Stretchy. Soft. Not leather. Not royal. Not anything I had ever worn. I held them up by the corners. “What manner of clothing is this? Why do the legs look like they are trying to escape each other?” “They are called pants,” Elara said gently. “Humans wear them.” “I only wear pants for training,” I muttered. “And those are leather. And do not stretch in threatening ways.”