Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
content warning: smut, brief nipple sucking, unprotected p in v sex (don't do this kids), peter is soft, improper use of webbing, peter praises you, you're both down bad, consent is sexy, not proof read
MDNI or i'll call your parents
The early morning sun peeks through the blinds of your bedroom shining across your face. The golden warmth pulls you from your sleep, disoriented and groggy you slowly start to wake with a groan. You turn to roll over onto your side but you're met with something solid and warm instead.
You still and your eyebrows come together in mild confusion, "Pete?" You ask, voice groggy and barely awake.
"Mm," he hums in response. He doesn't make any effort to move or try to wake up.
"Pete." You're more alert now as you call out, your hand pulling away at his makeshift blanket that's covering half of his face — some scratchy, decorative throw blanket you were gifted one year that's been sitting on the corner chair in your room ever since.
You're quick to cover him up with your own blanket when you catch notice if the goosebumps raising on his arms. Peter stirs in his spot, arms folded over his chest to keep himself warm as he curls onto his side. All you get in response is a groan and a pouty frown from him.
"Peter."
Finally he rouses with an irritated, "Hm? What? Whaddya want?"
You can't help but smile at how he's acting, like a child being woken up early for school.
"Why are you in my bed?" You ask with that smile still on your face.
"'cause you told m'to." He mumbles as his face softens but it's obvious to tell he's still upset about being woken up so early.
"I did?"
"You did."
"And you didn't leave?" You ask curiously.
"Tried." Peter shifts under your blanket, obviously grateful for the change of fabric. "You grabbed me and refused to let me leave."
Huh. You shrug your shoulder in acceptance — drunk you has been known to make your friends do crazier things than share a bed. But all you say is, "Oh."
"Yeah."
It's quiet for just a heartbeat before you ask, "What else did I do?"
He takes a second to answer, like he's thinking over what to tell you and what embarrassing parts of your drunken night he wants to omit so you can keep your dignity mostly intact.
"Not much." He mumbles. "You couldn't put your shirt on." You laugh quietly through your nose. And then he says, "That's all." With an all too nonchalant shrug.
He doesn't mention the way his heart was trying to claw its way out of his chest cavity to place into your gentle hands the second you gave him that pitiful look with one arm in and one arm out of your shirt last night. He doesn't mention how he had to focus on his breathing all night the second you fell asleep to keep his mind mostly out of the gutter. He doesn't mention the way his stomach twisted into painful knots when your hand found his in your sleep, reaching out even in an unconscious state to keep him close when he tried to leave.
He also refuses to mention the cavernous ache that ripped apart his heart when you called him "my Peter".
"I didn't say anything embarrassing did I?" You ask.
Peter's fully awake now, eyes opened and focused on you, blood rushing in his ears. "Uh- no. Nope. You didn't." He forces out in a rough voice.
You nod once in acceptance, "Okay."
Silence falls over the room, blanketing you both, only to make you settle into your spot and close your eyes.
"Can't believe you stayed all night." You finally mumble in an attempt to keep yourself awake.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter asks almost incredulously, warm brown eyes never leaving your face.
"I just mean," a playful smile pulls at your lips, "you're a busy guy. The city didn't need Spiderman last night?"
Peter swallows, thick and heavy, he's afraid if he opens his mouth he's going to word vomit into the space that separates you.
"No," it comes out quiet and a little rough, a little breathless when he punches his feelings out of his chest and into his throat, "you needed me more."
Slowly you open your eyes and blink at Peter before you let out an, "aw!"
"Pete, that was so sweet." You coo as you shuffle in your spot closer to him to pull him into an awkward hug.
He's completely stiff as you hug him with your free arm and tuck your head under his chin. His eyes are wide in shock as his arm hovers before he carefully hugs you back.
"I-it wasn't…" he breathes out a laugh. "You're always makin' a big deal outta nothing."
You smile to yourself, your body sinking into Peter's warmth. He smells like a picture of laundry detergent, faint cologne, and you - your bed, your pillow, your blanket. It sends your mind racing, thankful to drunk you for helping this to happen. Because as long as you've been friends with Peter? You've always loved him more than you ever let yourself admit.
But now you're hugging him in your bed, now he's finally relaxed into it, now you're getting comfortable and when you finally pull back to look at him you're certain that you've completely forgotten how to breathe.
Peter's looking down at you with a look that you've never seen before. If you didn't know any better you would say it was close to awe— admiration maybe? Some might call it love.
Peter calls it love.
You can hear it in the way he says, "You look beautiful right now."
"Peter…" you whisper.
Before either of you can pull away, before either of you can make an excuse like you've been doing for years, he moves his hand to cup your cheek. His eyes dart from yours to your lips and back to your eyes. And when you don't pull away?
"Can I kiss you?"
You don't mean to hesitate, you want to shout "yes!" right in his face, but the fact that he's asking is making your brain short circuit.
"Please." You stammer your answer.
When he does finally kiss you it's slow and careful, like he's scared to push too far too fast. His lips are warm against your own and so much softer than you ever could have imagined in your silly daydreams that kept you up most nights.
You lose yourself in the kiss; in the way Peter tilts his head to slot his lips better against your own, in the way his lips fit so perfectly against your own, even the way he lingers like it physically pains him to pull away before diving back in. Your brain is a fuzzy mess of more more more. And before you know it, you're on your back with Peter hovering above you, carefully pressing his weight against you. His hand hasn't left your face, but the other braces him near the side of your head, caging you in with his warmth.
Your trail your hands up his biceps and shoulders, squeezing gently at the muscle, before landing on the back of his neck to have one hand tangle in those soft brown strands. When you tug, just ever so lightly? Peter's breath hitches and you smile to yourself.
"You're evil," he breathes out. And then he's leaving lingering kisses down towards the column of your throat until he reaches your shoulder, leaving a small nip there that you feel through the fabric of your shirt.
"Maybe." You tilt your head just enough to give him more access and press your chest into his. Any sort of space between you is too far. And that's when you feel how far gone he is for you already.
"You're already hard? All we did was kiss." You tease as you attempt to hook your legs around his hips. "That was fast." His hand stops you, large palm resting flat on your thigh—he needs some semblance of control.
"Hey! Whoa!" Peter laughs into the crook of your neck. "Of course I am, look at you." His voice softens when he tilts his head to look at you.
Your face warms at the way he's looking at you — reverent, like you're the only good thing in his life. "I didn't know your self control was that good." You try to tease him again.
"Aw c'mon, you gotta give me more credit than that. I'm a superhero, remember?" Peter smiles. "If I wasn't, I'd constantly be hard when I'm around you."
"Peter Parker," you scold him playfully, "are you saying what I think you're saying?" You ask.
Peter finally pulls away, both hands holding him up now so he can look down at you. God you've never seen anything so beautiful before.
He fears his heart is going to go into cardiac arrest if you keep this up.
"No, I don't think I'm saying what you think I'm saying." He smiles down at you before getting to his knees between your legs. "What do you think I'm saying?" He asks.
"I think what you're saying is-" you cut yourself short when Peter's hands run up your thighs before settling on your hips, effectively making your brain stop working for a solid three seconds.
"What was that?" He teases.
"I know-" you try again.
Only this time he grinds himself against you. He's so smooth with it, confident, like he's done it to you a thousand times before and this isn't the first time you're doing this. A punched out "hah" leaves your parted lips.
"You know?" He raises a brow like he's proud of himself. "So you know I've been wanting to do this for, oh I dunno, ever?" The cocky bravado in his tone slowly slips with each word, turning into something softer. "Ever since I first saw you?" He finally asks.
When you open your eyes to look at him your heart skips. The look he gives you is something you'll never grow tired of, you know it. That same reverent expression in his eyes.
"When…." You trail off in a whisper, recalling the memory of the first time you met, and Peter nods with a lopsided grin.
"When I crashed into your fire escape, scaring you half to death." He finishes for you.
"I thought you were dead." You smile back.
"Nah," he nearly whispers, "spiders are tougher than that."
He leans forward then to kiss you again. There's more hunger to it now, more desire behind each swipe of his tongue or nip if his teeth. When he grinds himself into you again is when you pull away from the kiss to suck in a breath. Your face is warm, the heat radiating down your neck and chest. Your hands find his wrists to ground yourself.
"Pete."
He pulls back to look at you through lust haze filled eyes, "yeah?"
"I need you." You tell him.
"N-need-?" And when his own brain finally catches up, "Y-yeah, yeah, of course." He shakes his thoughts clear before hooking his thumbs into the hem of your sleep shorts and underwear.
"Anything." He mumbles as he starts undressing you with the focus you've only seen him use during fights — complete, undivided attention on the task at hand. "Anything for you."
And with that declaration he lets your clothing fall to the bed next to him and he stares at you, just stares, before breathing out. "Wow." He whispers.
"Wow?" You ask quietly with a shy smile. You're not embarrassed, not even close, just feeling oddly endearing of his reaction.
"Yeah." He puffs out a disbelieving laugh, like it's impossible for him to come to terms with the fact that he has you, bare and in front of him, after pining after you for so long. "You're…." Then he looks up at you, and as serious as an attack from the Green Goblin himself, he tells you
"You're perfect."
Your heart skips at how sincere he sounds and while your words get caught in your throat, Peter wastes no time taking off his own clothing— clumsily sliding them off without jostling you around too much.
You look at him with your mouth dry. The way his muscle constrict with every feverish pant makes the coil low in your belly tighten. But he hasn't touched you, not yet, and that fact makes you want to squirm against him.
"I-" Peter starts, only to cut himself off with a low grunt as he grips at the base of his cock. "Is this okay?" He asks. You nod twice in quick succession as your patience starts to thin.
He lets out a slow breath through his mouth before experimentally rubbing the flushed tip of his cock against your pussy. Peter lets out a low hiss as he nudges his tip against your skin, collecting a mix of your slick and his precum against the head of his cock.
"Shit-" he lets out as he guides his cock head upwards towards your clit, "y'feel so good already."
When he reaches your clit he takes his time to rub slow circles against the pulsating bundle of nerves, earning him a low moan from you. Peter gets lost in the movement, grinding the length of his cock between your lips, his head rubbing against your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Each slow grind makes your pussy wetter, your inner walls starting to flutter around nothing. All you can think about is how good he's going to feel when he finally stretches you around his cock.
When you let out a needy little whine, Peter's hips stutter - his movements turning jerky as he stares at you.
"Y'okay?" He asks. You squirm at the question, your body searching for some sort of friction.
"Yes, Peter, please just-" You stop yourself and look at him. You can feel your frustration is mounting and that you need to relax.
You take one of his hands in yours and lace your fingers together. You know that Peter wants this as much as you do but you also know how soft his heart is. You know that he would never do anything without your go ahead first, that he'll take things as slow or fast as you need, and that he will always seek out your approval.
"Please." You repeat one more time, this time softly.
He gives you one nod of understanding before dragging his cock through your slick again. And when he finally guides his tip into you, slow and careful, it's like every single piece is finally fitting together.
The stretch is mouthwatering, so deep that it fills that cavernous aching that you never thought would be filled again. Peter moans as he fills you, each inch inside of you making his heart beat faster than any adrenaline fueled fight ever could. He doesn't stop until he completely bottoms out, filling you to the very hilt of his cock, until the two of you are connected in such a way that makes your toes curl and heart bloom.
"That okay?" You hear him ask.
"Mm," you moan automatically, biting down on your bottom lip as you relish in the pleasure, "'s good. 's perfect, Pete."
"Yeah?" He slides his free hand to your lower belly and presses down lightly, the pressure causing you to moan again, "Feel that? 'm gonna make you feel so good.
Peter leans forward then, taking your intertwined hands up above your head. His hand on your belly moves to push up your shirt, revealing the black lace bra underneath. He doesn't stop until he can pull your bra down and cup your tit with his hand. He kneads at the soft flesh and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head.
What he wants to say is, "okay, I'm going to start. Just tell me if you need me to stop or I do anything wrong." But what comes out is, "Thank you".
You almost question him, your brows drawing together quickly in confusion because you're not sure if you heard him correctly or not, but he's already moving and that quickly melts all of your thoughts away.
Each thrust is controlled and precise. He doesn't get sloppy or let his wants of fucking you into your mattress take over. He pulls out until the tip of his cock is left and slowly grinds back into you, hitting that sweet spot way back that makes your stomach feel full and your eyes seeing stars. He pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pebbling the nub with those long slender fingers.
You swear you can feel every ridge of his cock against your walls, your muscles instinctively tightening around him to keep him closer. Every single thrust has his cock head hitting your cervix, making you moan. It's almost overwhelming when he leans down and takes your nipple into his mouth. Wet heat surrounds your nipple as his tongue flicks and swirls around the sensitive skin. And a nip of his teeth has you gasping.
When your free hand clutches at the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white from pleasure, he's quick to grab it to join with your other hand. You're completely at his mercy, under him, full of him, surrounded entirely by him.
He lets off of your nipple with a wet pop, almost as lewd sounding as the squelch of your pussy, only to ask "Can I try something?"
You let out a "huh?" because at this point he could do anything to you and you would thank him the same way he thanked you. You don't catch the smile on his face but you do hear the telltale sound of his webbing. And before you can even put two and two together, your wrists are bound together above your head.
"Did you just-"
"Couldn't help myself," Peter smiles down at you, his hips stilling just long enough so he can talk to you properly. "You just look so pretty like this."
You scoff a laugh at him, "Charming."
He cocks his head with a shrug of his shoulder, "I thought so." And before you can make any other remark he's rolling his hips into you again.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, your chest pushing out as you move your hips to roll into Peter's.
Warm hands glide down your body, over each breast - taking his time to knead them before moving lower. He doesn't stop until his hands settle on your hips against, thumbs digging into your hips to keep you still.
Every thrust, every rythmic drag of Peter's cock through your needy pussy, makes atoms feeling like they're melting together. The pleasure he brings you scratches a depth you never even knew you had. With your hands bound, at his mercy, you do the only thing you can think of to pull him closer- wrapping your legs around his hips, ankles locking together behind his back. You don't want even a centimeter of space to come between you two.
Peter lets out a grunt, adapting to the change like it was a routine the two of you have practiced a million times over. Long drawn out thrusts turn into deep grinds. Peter's chests rises and falls with each ragged breath he takes as he watches you take his cock like you were made specially for him, as he watches your your body move in tandem with his own.
He knows he won't be able to hold out much longer if he keeps watching you, so he squeezes his eyes shut as the pressure low in his own stomach builds and builds and builds.
"Take me-" he grunts, "take me so good… so good. You're- hah- perfect. You're amazing." He babbles.
The praise makes you near delirious in conjunction with the way he's fucking into you. Sweat begins to bead at your temple.
A sound you've never made before leaves your lips, a mewl that melts into a moan that makes Peter's head spin. The pleasure mounts deep inside of you, pussy squeezing around his thick cock.
"Sh-shit, don't do that." Peter gasps. His cock twitches inside of you at the added pressure, his muscles contracting at the pleasure. He opens his eyes just in time to see the wicked smile on your lips.
Two can play that game, he thinks.
He leans down until his lips come in contact with the juncture where neck meets shoulder, angling your hips upward, to drive himself mind breakingly deeper.
"You know, I lied earlier. You did-" a groan, "you did say something embarrassing last night." He pants as he pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. All you can do in response is moan again.
"You-" he groans as your heels dig into his back, "sang Jonas Brothers." He tells you, each word coming out in a huff.
His movements are getting sloppy now, he distracts himself by licking at the sweat forming in your skin.
"Badly." He adds quickly, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine.
"And you called me-" his eyes squeeze shut up, but you're the one to cut him off.
"Mmfuck, I'm close," You pant. Your bound hands grab at the pillow beneath your head as your orgasm begins to crest.
"Yeah?" Peter pants. His hands round your hips to squeeze at your ass, pulling you tighter against him. "C'mon… cum for me, pretty baby."
That's all it takes.
A few simple praises from Peter and your cunt pulsates around his cock, a punched out moan leaving you. But Peter only fucks you through your orgasm, the obscenely wet sounds filling the room as you dribble out past his cock and down your ass.
"That's it," his voice deepens as his breaths grow even more ragged, "come on my cock. Jus' like that."
You've never had orgasm so intense before, deep to your core as pleasure radiates warmth through your veins. Your body goes limp under Peter, pliant and full of bliss as he continues to fuck into you.
He's close behind you, your pleasure bringing him to the apex of his own climax. You can feel it in the way his hips still, the way his hands grip your ass dangerously tight , firm against you as he holds you close, his cock pulsating inside of you as he cums. Warmth fills you as he shoots out thick rope after thick rope of his load into your pretty cunt.
"Take it-" he pants against your chest, "take all of it…."
Your bound hands come down, shoulders sore from being in the same position for so long, and wrap around the back of his neck to keep him close as he comes down from his high.
He swallows in an attempt to wet his dry throat before letting go of your ass cheeks, his hands moving up your back to hold you in a firm embrace. His cock is still inside of you, keeping you full of him and his cum, and slowly your legs lower as your muscles start to relax.
The room is quiet now, smelling of sweat and sex and all things you and Peter, and you've never been happier in your life. After the two of you bask in your bliss you finally speak up, your voice rough but quiet,
"What were you saying? Earlier…"
All Peter does is hum in question as he rests his body weight against your.
"You said I called you something. Last night. What did I say?"
Peter tries to slow his breathing to something close to normal before he answers you.
"My Peter." He answers you quietly.
Your head tilts to the side, just enough to make your nose brush against his sweat dampened hair.
"What?" You ask.
"You… you called me "my Peter", your Peter." He repeats himself. His fingers tighten against your back as if he's bracing for impact, like he didn't just give you the best lay of your entire life.
"Oh." You say softly. Your fingers scratch absently at the base of his head. "Well… you are. Aren't you?" Now it's you're turn to be hesitant in your wording.
Peter takes a moment, blinks away his surprise, before looking up at you with soft brown eyes.
"I am?" He practically whispers with a flush to his cheeks.
"Yeah," you say with a single soft nod. "Yeah, of course you are. You're my Peter."
And then he smiles, slowly at first before burying his face into his chest again as his smile grows wider, your rumpled shirt muffling his words when he says,
content warning: mentions of alcohol, reader is drunk, fluff, peter yearns, peter pines, peter is the ultimate respectful king
part 2
"Next time I see you I'm giving you a high five!" You belt out in your friend's living room. Your eyes are closed as you sing into the neck of an empty wine bottle, a smile on your face.
"Because hugs are overrated-" You hear back, your friends singing along with you.
"Just FYI!" A chorus of varying drunken voices each in the room.
Peter watches from the entry way of the apartment with a smile of his own. He told you earlier that night that he would happily be your DD from girl's night, you told him to come pick you up before midnight so you could still get up for work the next morning. He's not sure if work is happening for you tomorrow as he watches you jump around the room singing bad Jonas Brothers karaoke.
Your face absolutely lights up when you spot him.
"Peter!" You practically squeal, your mouth open in a wide smile. "Guys, it's my best friend Peter!" You informed the group like they had no idea who he was. Peter doesn't hide the small laugh that escapes him at your delight to seeing him.
A chorus of "Hi, Pete" comes from the girls, he waves in return.
"Peter, are you-" you hiccup and almost stumble over a stray shoe on your journey across the living room to him. He catches you by the elbows easily, enhanced relfexes and all that jazz. Your hands find purchase on his biceps.
"Are you taking me home?" You try to focus your eyes on him but end up giggling instead.
"Yeah, I'm here to take you home. Told you I would." He answers. You're too far gone to notice how gentle his voice is when he speaks to you.
You gasp, your eyes twinkling, "Oh, my hero." Your coo melts into something warm that makes Peter's cheeks flare pink.
"I'm not-" he mumbles bashfully, "I said I'd pick you up, so…"
"Aww!" Comes from the couch and Peter finally snaps out of his daze. His cheeks turn a darker shade when he realizes all of his friends are watching the two of you.
"I need-" you turn serious, your brows furrowing in concentration, "my shoes!" You finally remember, letting go of Peter's arms so you could gather your things. "And my purse! And my phone! And my Peter!"
"My Peter." Sticks with Peter, leaving him just a little dumbfounded as he watches you stumble around and gather everything.
It doesn't take long for you to find your things with Peter grabbing things you've left behind while trying to say goodbye to your girlfriends — your purse that you grabbed but sat down to hug one, your phone that slipped from your hand when you tried to shove it in your back pocket, your jacket that you handed him without thinking because it was "too hot".
"Ready?" He finally asks by the front door.
"Ready!" You mock solute him, causing him to chuckle to himself again.
"Get her home safe, My Peter." One of your friends teases from the couch. He merely shakes his head before giving them all a wave as he guides you out of the door and into the hallway.
It doesn't take long to get you home after that with the Uber already waiting outside - because no way is he daring to attempt to walk you home when you're this drunk.
"Where's your key?" Peter asks with his hand out when the two of you finally make it back to your apartment, standing in the dim hallway.
He lets out a sigh when you merely drop your purse in his outstretched hand.
"What do you keep in here?" He mumbles as he digs through your purse.
Gum, a few stray pieces of candy, a pad and a couple tampons, loose medication - Tylenol? he has no idea - a pair of headphones, three pens but no paper, a charger, your wallet, a custom Spiderman Sonny Angel that he's definitely going to make fun of you for later, and finally! Your house key, loose at the bottom of your purse.
"We need to have a serious talk about your hoarding." Peter tells you as he slides the key in and unlocks the door.
"I don't hoard. That stuff is important." You mumble as you start to shuffle in behind him. You're finally starting to get tired from all of the alcohol in your system.
"You definitely hoard." He smiles to himself before setting your purse on the couch.
He guides you back to your room, making sure you don't crash on your couch — he's done it far too many times and knows it'll only make you feel worse in the long run with your impending hangover.
"I'm going to grab water and any sort of pain meds that I hope you do have because I'm not giving you the mystery pill from your purse." Peter says before leaving you in your room to change clothes.
He hears a soft, "That's where my Azo went…" as he makes his way back to your kitchen.
He comes back not even five minutes later to find you laying back on your bed with sweatpants on and your shirt on half of your body. He stills as he stares at you but you're staring at the ceiling with one arm in a sleeve and the other out with your stomach on display.
"Um-" he clears his throat.
"I got stuck." You pout as your bottom lip pulls down into a frown.
Tired, emotional, drunk — it was definitely time to get you in bed.
Peter ignores the tight warmth in his chest and instead sets down the Advil he found and glass of water on your dresser. He's quiet when he stands in front of you, his knees brushing yours, his hand gentle against your wrist as he guides you up.
"Up you go." He says quietly. "Let me help."
"Aw," your voice cracks as Peter gently guides your arm into the sleeve of your shirt, "My Peter…." He's sure you're about to start crying and that makes him panic every time.
His eyes go wide briefly, again ignoring that sputtering of his heart at the term, and helps you lay back on your bed.
"Shh, don't- don't start cryin'." He murmurs to you.
You're his best friend, he's yours. You're always together, and if you're not? You're both thinking about each other. You're the only person who knows his secrets, every single one of them. The only person he lets hang off of him, the only person he lets touch him so intimately when you're patching him up after a rough night. He's not sure when his feelings for you grew, but somewhere over the years you became the only person that Peter trusted more than anyone else in his life.
Did you feel the same way? He had no idea and part of him didn't want to know. The thought of losing you as a friend was the only thing that scared Peter in this world. Villains, crooks with guns, bad guys with alien tech, aliens themselves? None of it came close to the fear he felt when he imagined you not being in his life.
"Peter?" You spoke up again to get his attention. He finally snaps out of his train of thought and looks over at you.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Will you stay here tonight?" You repeat yourself, your voice softer now. "I'm scared." You admit.
Peter smiles, soft and lopsided, and sits at the edge of your bed. "Scared?" He echoes quietly. "What're you scared of?"
You try to keep your bottom lip from wobbling before you answer, "Dunno… just scared." It comes out in a whisper now.
He's pretty sure his heart just shattered and fell into his stomach at the look on your face. Finally he nods.
"Of course I'll stay. What kind of superhero would I be if I didn't protect you?"
"Thank you," you sniffle. Then it's like your mood does a complete 180 and you pat the empty spot next to you. "Sleep over! Get in bed and we can pillow talk."
Peter looks at you stunned like he's just experienced whiplash. He exhales a laugh through his nose with an amused shake of his head before turning off your bedroom light.
"Yay, sleep over." He says as he's slipping off his shoes and crawling onto the bed next to you. He stays above the covers, always respectful of your space.
"Perfect." You hum happily as you close your eyes, relaxing into the mattress and covers that surround you.
"Yeah, perfect." He mumbles to himself as he makes himself comfortable. With his head on your pillow, soft brown hair splaying out against the soft pillow case, he looks over at you. "Alright, what are we pillow talking about? How the Jonas Brothers would be ashamed of your performance tonight?"
But he doesn't get an answer from you. In the quiet of your room all he can hear is your soft snores, barely there puffs of air letting him know that you're already out cold. He chews at the inside of his cheek as he traces the outline of your profile.
If this is as close as he can ever get to you? He'll take it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
PLEASE (if you haven’t already) CONSIDER CASS WITH A CURLY MULLET
I'm so sorry it took me this long to start, I got really really nervous. i hope i didn't mix up the style? I still have a hard time knowing what's a wolf cut, an undercut, or a mullet
It is part of why he is so good at getting into relationships and so bad at maintaining them and why everyone who knows him well and knows this about him still wants one with him anyway.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
how to tell mutual they intrigue me greatly and i would be honoured to be allowed to grow a friendship where i may study them up close without saying any of that
how to tell mutual i know i havent interacted with them directly in like five months but i still think of them highly and semifrequently and their art is still a source of inspiration for my own
I know this is the website where we talk about artists and writers doing anything other than making art or writing, but man, we REALLY undersell how good it feels to actually work on your stuff.
Like you hit your word count for the first time in a week and its like
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
