May 23
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YOUR GASSY BOYFRIEND
After that, Kit stands up and stretches like a cat waking from a nap. He lifts his body slightly to the side, intentionally directing one of his buttocks towards your face, while giving you a devilish smile. A robust and damp fart sounding like a trombone escapes easily from your british boyfriend's ass. BBRRRPBPRBPPPPBRPBPR! “Oh man, that one had layers! Phew!”, he says proudly while fanning the contaminated air with exaggeration. You feel a strange sensation crawl up your spine as he says that, raising your dick up like a flagpole and making every hair on your body stand on end at once, while wondering how you've gone so long without this monument of a man doing something so socially disapproved and irresistible at the same time.
Kit now had his ass literally in front of you, holding the remote and flicking through the various movies and series on some random streaming service. He had a concentrated look on his face, most likely searching for something erotic for you two to watch, considering you were both still rock hard. He grunts in frustration at not finding anything worthwhile. You hear a rumbling sound coming from his stomach. Apparently, the heavy snack from the diner was taking effect.
Another noise is heard. He presses one hand firmly against his abdomen. With the other, he holds your head and brings it closer to his butt, pressing your face firmly against the black fabric of Kit's pajamas. You could practically hear the gas building inside him. Without saying anything, continuing to flick through the movies with the remote as casually as possible, he gives a subtle lift to his left leg. PPPPPRPPRPRPRPPTPPTPTPTPTPTPTTP! A strong, nauseating and devastating odor of onions and rotten cheese filled your nose completely, forcing its way through your nostrils until it reached your lungs, filling them with your boyfriend's brutal gas. "I didn't even know Kit liked onions", you thought to yourself as you inhaled all the charged air like a vacuum cleaner.
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GASSY JON SNOW: CHAPTER TWO
“That’s not something I’d brag about. But yes, I believe you have developed some affection for my 'arse' now, since it saved your life”, Jon said, giving a smirk as he said the word ''arse''.
“Affection? For that? If anything, I’ll be having nightmares about it for the rest of my life. Your arse sounds like a dying direwolf and stinks like a spoiled stew.”
Jon raised a eyebrow, smug. “Yet here you are, curled up against it like it’s your favorite pillow.”
She scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was curled up against survival, not your legendary backside.”
“Legendary now, is it?”, Jon grinned.
She glared. “Don’t twist my words, bastard.”
''No, it's fine. Maybe it really is legendary. Not even the Meistres must have records of an ''arse'' that could speak.
Ygritte looked confused. ''Speak?''
Jon pointed one of his buttocks to the side as he raised his index finger.
BBBBBBBBRPBRPPBRPBPBRPRBPRPRBPRBPRPBPTPPBRPBPTPRTBPTBP
"See? It just spoke", Jon replied, smiling slightly.
The deadly and meaty stink rose quickly, like a noxious mist ready to engulf everything in front of it, entering both of their nostrils. Ygritte's expression represented well how filthy that odor of rotting meat and spoiled milk was. Her face twisted instantly into a portrait of sheer horror. Her eyes watered, her nose scrunched, and she recoiled rapidly.
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