Trunks Novels & Stories

and walked to his seat. Angelique straightened slowly, watching him as he sat down — tall, medium build, a little disheveled. His black hair was tied in a short man bun, his glasses too round for his face. Braces caught the light when he spoke. His clothes were loose and old-fashioned — oversized trousers, a faded long-sleeved shirt, big shoes. Everything about him screamed awkward. “Tall. Asian. Tanned skin. Sloppy. Clumsy. Shabby.” Angelique’s inner voice whispered with a hint of amusement. So this is Trunks? A real loser, as they said.

I opened my mouth—"I—" "I wasn't asking, Eden." His tone brooked no argument, cock twitching visibly in his trunks. "Next time we do the family tradition swim, you'll learn not to look at another man's cock but mine." He stripped then, efficient and shameless. Trunks dropped, revealing that monster—nine inches minimum, girthy as my wrist, curved up with a fat, leaking head. Veins thick like ropes. He dropped onto the couch, legs splayed wide, balls hanging heavy. His grip wrapped his shaft, stroking slowly from base to tip, pre-cum beading and slicking the way. A low grunt escaped him. "Go on," he rasped.

Resting my elbows on a ledge at the far end of the pool, I murmured, “Coming in?” Tristan didn’t answer, and backlit as he was by the raging flame of his axe, I couldn’t see his face. But my answer came as he slipped off his mail, and tossed it aside, shirt and boots following. He was all strong lines and powerful muscle, shoulders broad and waist tapered, and I caught my breath as he carefully unbuckled his belt, anticipation making me clamp my thighs together. He trapped his thumbs in the waist of his soaking trousers, tugging them down. My breath caught

“What did Willam tell you child?” Ivy tilted her head. “Well that we originated from the isles where the witch trails were and that we are all witches.” Freda hummed in response a small smirk on her lips. “That is all is true, open that trunk.” Ivy’s gaze settles on the large leather trunk stained in a red dye. The metal detailing in a gold colour, faded and scuffed. It had clearly been around for a long time. Collecting dust passed on from generations.

she was confused as he leaned closer to her. “You’ll see.” He got off the edge of the bed and removed his shirt. “I feel like today I want to have the heat of the sun all day. No top for me.” He rubbed his hand over his washboard stomach and smirked, “eat your heart out, Famke. You can look but no touchy-touchy.” “No what?” she blinked, unable to remove her gaze from where he pointed to the deep carved v disappearing into the shorts. “I might wear those little banana hammock swim trunks I packed. Really let you get a glimpse of what you passed up today.”

It was there, amidst the switching sounds of water and the soft glow of bioluminescent organisms, that they stumbled upon a worn deck of cards, tucked away in a forgotten corner. Intrigued by the discovery, they examined the deck with curiosity. Just as they were about to explore its contents, Trent, a seasoned inmate covered in black tattoos that matched his tail and hair, noticed their interest. With graceful movements, he swam towards them, his hands fluidly signing, "Hey, do you know how to play Tridents? I can teach you if you like."

i added while running my fingers through my hair. “okay” Jessy replied then left with a quiet Chase behind her. i wonder how I’m going to tell Chase everything, i hope he understands why i kept it a secret. my kind are almost extinct and are hunted so i can’t just tell anyone even my close friend without trusting them. that remind me Corvan and his friend they also found out about me. goddess why is everything a mess at the moment. well i better go take a shower cause i really need it. i walked out of the bathroom dressed in a booty short and Adam’s big hoodie is covering my short and if i don’t raise my arm up people will think im only wearing the hoodie

My breath hitches. He’s stripped down to black swimming trunks, a departure from his usual tailored suits. And God, he’s magnificent. His torso is a canvas of ink and muscle, each tattoo telling a story I’ll never know, each curve and cut of his physique displaying a life of discipline and danger.

We can't communicate through mindlink because we are not in the same pack or linked to each other. Prince Alastair just kept on trotting, and I began to enjoy every second of it. I could hear the sounds of wild animals in the woods, the sound of leaves cracking under his feet, and the chirps of the birds around. I hummed silently. The hem of my dress was flowing down. The cold wind was slapping me on the face but it wasn't enough to make me feel uncomfortable. Werewolves have their own heats, therefore, I could always release warmth if I feel cold. After few minutes of walking, he finally stopped. He lowered me on the ground and I thanked him before going down. Since he brought his clothes t

“Apart from some old clothes and other things from my parents' house. I think if it doesn't fit in my car then I shouldn't need it much. When I talked like that, a lot of guys — and most women — thought I was crazy. However, Mark gave an approving smile. - I understand you. He slung the backpack strap over one shoulder and hefted the bag. heat, while the muscles rippled in a deliciously natural way. - What have here inside? “Cheese and crackers, fruit. ’ I pointed to the two items left in the trunk: a shabby sleeping bag and a pillow no. "Am I going to need this?" - I would not go