full name: melanie delania agne nicknames/aliases: melanie, mel, melly age: three years old date of birth: 07.12 zodiac sign: cancer place of birth: Teutoburg Forest, Germany current residence Teutoburg Forest, Germany hometown: Teutroburg breed: gray wolf species: canis lupis gender female pronouns: she/her - they/them occupation itinerant languages: german & english
appearance
playby: kati h. - freya - allwetterzoo münster height: 2.4 ft weight: 118 lbs build: lean and slender, melanie's build is mostly muscle compared to body fat, making her strong and a bit faster when running. this does come in hady when squeezing into small areas that others can't reach. coat color: a mixture of dark brown-reds, grays, whites, and blacks, melanie's coat is based off of that of a gray wolf's, the same markings and all. although her coat is like a timber wolves, the colors are darker and more saturated rathering than being pastel-like and light. eye color: deep orange would describe her eye color, getting a lighter orange towards the pupil of her eye. distinguishing features: her dark and color-saturated fur, along with her orange eyes. best feature: her eyes demeanor: calm and peaceful
relationships
sexual orientation: heteroflexible parents: Nada - Mother (deceased) Hardwin - Father (status unknown) siblings: Aiyanna - Sister (unknown) Kimi - Sister (unknown) Aden - Brother (deceased) children: none other family: none relationship status: single current partner: none past partners Koda. (more infor on him in her history/freeform)
negative traits: emotional, enigmatic, mellow, placid, phlegmatic, delicate, erratic positive traits: benevolent, caring, captivating (more-so the way she speaks and words things), compassionate, empathetic, gentle, peaceful alignment: lawful good myers-briggs: infp element: water likes various plants and floral aspects, rain, or the sound of rain, the presence of others, the presence of friends/family, sometimes being by herself to have some thinking time and relaxing time, the happiness of others. dislikes: disloyalty, lying, being two-faced, etc., sometimes being alone (wow what a surprise), supremacy, thinking you're better than others, the cold, but she loves snow.
favorites
season: spring/summer color: dusty rose feeling: the feeling of limerence
this is a header
Inserting an antique doorknob into my furry cup got me spattering spaff faster than snot off a whip. My mouth was so full of womb ferret and baby gravy, the creamy load was frothing down my chin and onto my superdroopers. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen haemorrhaging from my puckered brown eye and all over my beef curtains. There was penis pudding weeping from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. I can't wait to devour the baby gravy from his master of ceremonies.
Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my vaginal bacon buffet and a number of chillies up my puckered brown eye. There was magician's wax foaming from his turgid terror truncheon and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The slamming makes me flood my sex wee all over his spam dagger. It was bliss having his throbbing quim dagger rammed inside me again; stuffing my frilling pink golf bag with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my quim surging like it used to. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his wensleydale wand made my shrimp sap haemorrhage like a jizz waterfall.
Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my bearded haddock pasty and a lightbulb up my Mavis Fritter. When he removed his cervix cigar from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the hardened fudge nugget off his gristle missile. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my clunge gunge sliming from my mound of love pudding, his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a gutted trout. The feeling of his man fat leaching down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My mound of love pudding was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
The mixture of butt nugget and man fat in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my depravity cavity and an antique doorknob up my turd cutter. It was bliss having his disco stick shoved inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a lightbulb just didn't get my fuck gutter surging like it used to. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. My cake hole was so full of love muscle and steamin' semen, the ectoplasm was weeping down my chin and onto my twin peaks.
The unrelenting orgasms from his throbbing quim dagger slamming my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his thrill drill made my clunge gunge drip like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. If I don't buff the muff to get my fallopian fish stock dripping from my hatchet wound, his brie baton is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a ripped out fireplace. By now, my calamari cockring was leaking like a broken fridge freezer. There was magician's wax sliming from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more.
It was bliss having his batter blaster stuffed inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with my fist just didn't get my cod crater flooding like it used to. There was magician's wax haemorrhaging from his thrill drill and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My throat was so full of spam dagger and man fat, the steamin' semen was weeping down my chin and onto my rack. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his long-dong silver soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my oyster ditch and a number of chillies up my tradesman's entrance.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus probed deeper into my poo pipe. The unrelenting orgasms from his love lollipop hammering my herring hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his master of ceremonies soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't strum the banjo to get my beige slime weeping from my cod crater, his huge penis is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. When he removed his disco stick from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the stink pickle off his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon.
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