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
I'd like a Connor blindbox with the numbers 5 and 7 and the words fire, wires and expression :)
a summer's night
synopsis: a moment of quiet peace in nature with Connor <3
word count: ~700
a/n: thank you so much for partaking in my 500 follower celebration! love the prompts, here are photos 5 and 7 :) <3
Ella's 500 follower celebration post here!
i do not use ai in my work, never have, never will. do not steal my work.
"So you just line the logs up like--"
"Like this?" Connor swiftly put another log onto the flames, the warmth of the campfire easing into the cool summer night.
"Just like that, Con, you're a natural." The two of you had taken the weekend to enjoy each other without the usual responsibilities. He wanted to see the stars, so here you were, the moonlight reaching down and meeting the flames of the small campfire you had built.
You didn't have to be back to Detroit until Monday, and this little area was plentiful. A lake welcomed you two behind the little house, and the nightlife of nature fauna was currently alive and well. Cicadas hummed and frogs filled the evening's silence.
Connor sat beside you, a blanket covering the two of you, your arm around his shoulders. He was a cuddler, that one.
"Look at them, up there." His was mesmerized by the constellations. He took a recent liking to them, their stories passed down among millennia.
"Yeah, look at them." You echoed, a smile on your features as you stared at the RK800. He was more human than most people you knew, you absently thought.
The glow of the flames made him look like a painting. The hues of amber settling into the deep blue of the night.
His eyes met yours, smile blooming across his face. "What?" He tilted his head in curiosity, and you leaned forward. His lips met yours, and you could feel him sigh an unneeded breath into you. The kiss was soft, and when you broke it, he was quick to reach his hand from the blanket and onto your cheek.
He leaned in again, airy lips joining yours. He amazed you, truly. Built to hunt deviancy, now here, smiling into your kiss.
After awhile he broke it, giving you time to catch your breath. Your noses touched, and you grabbed his free hand with your own. You began rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as his eyes grew wide, form leaning back in surprise,
"Everything okay?" You spoke in mild concern. A particular frog croaked loud in the distance.
"What is--" His LED switched to yellow briefly, processing whatever it was behind you. You whipped around, slightly startled at the unknown.
The unknown, it turns out, was a small yellow flicker.
"Lampyridae." He whispered, in awe.
The bug's glow dimmed, then disappeared for a moment, before blinking now in front of you.
"Firefly, we call them firefly's." You were also in a state of minor awe--fireflies were an extremely rare sight these days. You hadn't seen one since you were a kid.
The little creatures glowed again in front of you, and Connor hesitantly stuck his palm out. His skin retracted, leaving just its shell, and the firefly blinked a few more times. Its glow almost matched Connor's LED.
As it landed on his hand, the light of the creature illuminated the android, his palm's coating becoming almost translucent in response.
He spoke before you could ask.
"My coating might admit something the...firefly might mistake. This should be easier for it." When it blinked, a faint yellow hue made the wires inside Connor visible, running in the same manner as nerves and viens.
The quiet filled the two of you for a minute
"I've never felt this emotion before, what is it?"
"Well, love, explain it to me. What are you feeling?"
"I want to protect this. You, this memory, this moment, this little bug. All of it." The firefly flew from his hand, returning to the air above the two of you, offering one more series of blinks before flying away.
"It's the feeling of existence, Con. Of loving, and in turn being loved."
Your shoulders went back to touching, both of you facing the campfire again.
"I...love you." He tried out.
A small smile crept up on you. "Yeah?"
You felt him nod. "Yeah." He spoke now with an air of confidence. "I love you."
You leaned your head onto his shoulder. "I love you too Connor."
In which Jack's eyes (and stubbornness, and impatience) are much bigger than his stomach.
Content notes: overeating (unintentional), fullness, stomach aches, nausea and discussions of vomiting.
-
“What do you think?”
The stone on the earring was a deep blue that became all the more vibrant when it caught the light of the sun. Objectively gorgeous, but Jack did worry that it would clash with the reds, purples and greens that made up the majority of Zoe’s formal outfits. Ignoring the keen gaze of the shopkeeper, a shrewd old woman who was watching them like a hawk, he leaned over and whispered his observations into Zoe’s ear.
“Damnit.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re right. Damn." She sighed and set the piece down. "And it was so pretty, too.”
“You could get it as a gift?” Jack suggested. “Evie’s birthday is soon, isn’t it?
“And die of jealousy?” Zoe said. “Nah, I’ll pass. Besides, I already promised to get her that speaker set she wanted. Come on, let’s go look at the food.”
She took off, much to the shopkeeper’s dismay. Jack followed her without complaint. His stomach was already rumbling with anticipation. The food was always his favourite part of the Curlew Close Market. It was good, and there was a lot of it, but most importantly for Jack was the variety. There were always at least thirty stalls open for lunch, the offerings changing each week, and another dozen selling dried goods from places he’d never even heard of. Jack had made it his mission to try them all, and was currently working through a detailed review system in order to determine the best of the lot once and for all. The only thing standing in his way was the size of his purse and his stomach, forcing him to limit himself to three stalls a visit, sometimes less.
(Sometimes he would try and wheedle Zoe into ordering something so he could take a bite out of it, but Zoe was the polar opposite of Jack when it came to food — she was the definition of a safe eater who liked having the same thing, from the same place, every time. Nothing short of a literal earthquake could persuade her to order differently, and Jack quickly learned that if anything, it was her who’d be taking a bite out of his order.)
Insurmountable mortal limitations aside, today was a particularly exciting day for food tasting, because if his maths was correct, another three stalls sampled would bring Jack to exactly the halfway point in his food review journey. Not only that, but today he would be trying Sandy’s Thai, the archrival of Zoe’s preferred stall, Thai Galaxy. Since Zoe got the same dish from Galaxy each time, what better for him then to order the same from Sandy’s, and settle the battle between two foes once and for all?
(at this, Zoe had sighed and remarked that even if Sandy’s was better, she wasn’t going to change her order.)
That wasn’t all — there was that cherry baklava that he’d spotted last week waiting for him in the western corner, too… The owner had promised him a special discount after learning about his reviewing project… Jack’s footsteps sped up in excitement, so much so that he barely noticed when Zoe stopped about ten feet behind him.
“Zo?” He called.
Zoe was staring at a stall stocked head to toe with a tremendous amount of olives. That was odd, he thought. Zoe hated olives. Then Jack realised that she was not looking at the goods, but at a tall, gangly figure bent over them, brow furrowed in concentration.
That figure was Aron Ainsley, their interim concertmaster.
Besides him, Zoe had begun to tug nervously at her collar. Jack couldn’t help smiling. He knew what was going on here. Zoe hadn’t been able to shut up about the man since he’d left that care package in her locker at work, after she’d scared both him and Jack by collapsing in the hallway last month. Apparently Aron had meticulously researched migraine home remedies and collated them into a sort of first-aid kit box, along with a bar of very fancy chocolate and a neatly penned get-well-soon card. Jack had tried some of the chocolate and could verify that it was indeed very fancy and very delicious. And though he couldn’t really see why that had led Zoe to develop a feeling of more than good will towards the man, Aron did seem like a thoughtful fellow; and Jack was nothing if not a good friend.
With a whispered “Good luck,” he gave Zoe a little pat on the shoulder and went on his way.
-
Thirty minutes later, Jack was sitting leaned back on a bench, his belly full to bursting, and his mind full of regret for the decisions he’d made in the last half hour.
Okay, maybe not all of them. Not fully. The baklava was delicious and officially his new favourite variety. He’d never had baklava that wasn’t nut-based before, and this was an excellent new discovery. And the tibetan momos had gone down excellently. The main problem was that when it came time for him to order from Sandy’s, Zoe was somehow still stuck at the olive stall talking to Aron Ainsley about god knew what, meaning that he didn’t have a Galaxy order to compare it to and so he was forced to— okay, Jack had to admit to himself that he wasn’t being fair. Really the problem was that Jack Hsieh was a stubborn bastard who, once he got hold of a fun idea, would do anything to hang onto it. Besides that, Jack Hsieh was an impatient bastard, with eyes far, far bigger than his stomach, who thought instead of waiting for his friend to finish like a normal person, that it would be a grand idea to order two portions of pad thai from two different stalls and on top of that, to finish them both.
He wasn’t quite sure what had possessed him to force those last straggling noodles into his already overstuffed belly, but he’d done it, and now he was paying the price.
When was the last time he’d felt so full? He was almost certain that he’d managed to stuff more in there in the past, but surely, he hadn’t felt as awful then as he did now, or he’d have never eaten again. His tummy was stretched tight as a drum, and every inch of it felt packed with food and grease and gas. He could almost picture, in excruciating detail, all the wrinkles of his gut stretched smooth by the sheer volume of what he had consumed. He certainly hear it, all the whining and gurgling of everything he’d eaten mixing inside him and moving through him… He felt it, too, with how badly every inch of his belly seemed to hurt under the pressure of all that food, and with the rising nausea creeping up his throat. Even just the weight of his hand resting on his belly was compounding the discomfort, and he didn’t dare do anything more though he longed for the comfort of a belly rub. With a resigned groan he unzipped his jeans, letting his stomach spill gratefully out of their confines.
(His trouser button had long since surrendered, of course. These were Jack’s eating jeans, after all.)
There was nothing for it, Jack realised, nothing he could do but suffer until his belly had managed to move things along. Still, he’d rather do that at home than in public — he did have some sense of dignity — and he really wanted to be lying on his side on the sofa right now, ideally with Zelda speedruns playing on the TV and a bucket on standby, and maybe someone rubbing his belly once he felt less full and prone to bursting. He sent Zoe text with his location and hurry up and put his head in his hands.
-
The good news was that Zoe managed to track him down in about five minutes. The bad news was that she wouldn’t shut up about olives. Well, Aron, really, but the olives were all Jack could hear. Just the sound of the word was making him queasy, and he palmed his belly uneasily as Zoe continued.
“...he was choosing between different types of olives — and I hate olives, you remember — and he was having trouble deciding so he asked me to taste-test and well — we went through five different types and I tried one of each. All five. Because he handed them to me.” She laughed. “And I didn’t even spit them out discreetly into a hanky, I swallowed them. God, Jack, what is wrong with me? Maybe ‘cause he was waxing lyrical about the flavours and subtleties in each variety, so much that I swear I could start tasting them too, and— Jack?”
The discussion of tasting was his limit. Jack turned away and belched into his hand and swore. “Please — stop talking about food,” he moaned.
“Crikey, what’s up?” Zoe dropped to her knees so that she was level with him, and peered into his face. “You ill or something?”
“No, just ate too much…” Another belch. “I thought I’d go to Sandy’s before the lunch rush started proper, and you were busy with Mr Concertmaster over there, so… I figured I had no choice but to also order from Galaxy myself, and, well…”
“...so you had both? Oh, Jack.”
Jack groaned. He could hear mirth in her voice, and it didn’t make him feel any better. “I had to. It wouldn’t have been a fair comparison otherwise.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have to finish both of them.”
She sat down next to him with a bemused smile, and he huffed. “粒粒皆辛苦*, Zoe, did you not listen to your elders? Have some pity for the poor rice farmers. And for me, the world’s strongest anti-food waste warrior.”
*= a chinese expression meaning that each grain of rice is the product of someone’s hard labour.
“More like the world’s worst case of your eyes being bigger than your stomach,” Zoe said, but she gave his belly a conciliatory pat. “So? Did you at least figure out who won the pad thai wars?”
“Hmm... Galaxy.” He burped again, and moaned. God, how was his stomach still so full? He’d been burping every other sentence, yet the pressure in his belly hadn’t loosened at all. “I think so, anyway. To be honest, I couldn’t really tell by the end… I was more focussed on just getting it all down… which defeats the point, I know.” Another burp, wetter this time. “Ugh, my stomach… I’m gonna be sick at this rate.”
“Do you think walking round the market would help you digest?”
“Too much food smell.” Jack scrunched up his face. As he spoke, he suddenly became hyperaware of the various aromas that permeated the air around them, which were making his stomach churn all the more violently. The wind was hot on his face, and he felt a sudden bolt of weakness through his legs, which was never a good sign. “Fuck, Zo… I gotta get home.”
Zoe’s expression changed. “Yeah? Alright, I got you. Taxi?”
“It’s only fifteen minutes, I’ll survive the walk. Besides, it’ll probably help get things moving.”
“Gross.”
“But necessary,” he reminded her, and burped to reinforce the point.
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
