Feb 16, 2015
♧
"The absolute conviction you hold in your eyes."
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♧
"The absolute conviction you hold in your eyes."
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.
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((me me I want to rp with the loser, pick meeee))
"...He's ready."
"Gather your toys, Hugo. We're taking you home."
Is this Blondie????
✄
The memory of that day is a warm haze to her.
They had steeled themselves away from the outside world, taking residence in the purified barns of Pentel. He had been anxious. Frustrated. It was a distraction she knew he needed.
They talked. They held hands. They kissed. It was common for their short reprieves to end up here. The scent of blood was fresh and hung off him like a cloud. How he could have picked out her own aroma was unbeknownst to her, but she remembers him saying she smelled nice, mumbling it into her ear before nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.
She cannot recall how or when the featherlight kisses changed, but she is well aware of the tongue languidly licking against skin, sucking on her neck as he held her flush against him. It felt nothing like the pecks they usually shared. It was…different. But not unpleasant.
Not much more happened after that. Only the memory of soft sighs and touches follow.
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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
[ooc; couldn't sleep so i drew blondie whoop]
Stray clothing lay discarded in the sole armchair of the void, left in favor of the turtleneck she was currently pulling down over her head. Shirts like these were more suited for a sportsman, meant to be hug the body in a way that flattered the athletic frame. He must have had her in mind, or at least had the sense to get something smaller than what he usually wore, because despite her preconceptions it seemed to fit her well.
Taking a moment to examine herself, turning to try and look from all angles, she was pleased. The fabric felt nice, albeit a little more snug than what she was used to, but she would grow accustomed to it. This was the second gift she had received from him, and like the first she would most likely wear it until it came time for the third.
A shame it would be hidden from sight, retrieving her cloak from where she had left it, but she would remind herself to show him once they had some time together again.
The Batter walked up, placing a book on her desk. “Merry Christmas.”
Scribe picked it up and read the title once, then twice, and frowned at him. “Thanks.” She managed for sheer politeness. What a passive aggressive dick. “Still mad then?”