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@protectthevulnerable
Anne sneered, shoving the wee cunt back out of her face even as her left hand dropped to the knife hiding in her belt, dislodged with a quick click.
“Last. Fuckin’. Chance. Get out of my face and far fuckin’ away, or else don’t say you weren’t warned.”
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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❝ i’d rather fuck than stare at the ceiling counting sheep to be honest. ❞ Winnie @ Gina! | @protectthevulnerable
“Must you put it so...” Regina let out a quiet huff as she shifted onto one side from where she’d been laying on her back, “crassly?”
❛ i wonder what i look like in her eyes. ❜ Sheila about Judy @ Bridget | @protectthevulnerable
Bridget gave a slow nod, clearly listening to what the other woman was saying. She leaned forward a little in her chair. “How do you think she does see you?”
“He healed me. But now… I’m getting sick again.” Sheila about Mendel @ Bridget | @protectthevulnerable
“Sick in what way?” Bridget felt entirely confident that she knew exactly what the other woman was saying but she prodded with another question, wanting to hear how Sheila herself would articulate it. “What are your symptoms right now?”
[ text ] –– is your delayed response due to the massive amount of judging going on? Elli @ Bea? Trixie? Sandra? | @protectthevulnerable
[Text: Elli] I didn’t say that I was judging you
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‘ There’s a king size bed but we can do it on the floor ‘ Hester @ John!
@protectthevulnerable
"You want to do it on the floor?" It was confusion, but not refusal, that was in John's tone.
[text] –– i’m sitting on the floor singing while she cooks and occasionally pets me. (Taytay about Kaz @ Kellie!) | @protectthevulnerable
[text : taylah] i’m glad she’s looking after you [text : taylah] it sounds really nice
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Nearly twenty years ago, a terroristic cult called Diablo's Canyon planted a bomb on a California dam. The bomb was rigged with a biochemical agent manufactured to poison the entirety of the water within the dam, rendering it utterly undrinkable. During this act, the cult's leader, one Velvet von Ragnar, toppled over the dam and fell to her death. It wasn't until after Ragnar's death that reports of what she and her cult had been planning came to life, and the people of California let out a collective breath as they realized the danger that had almost come to pass.
The larger problem was that while the cult had been disbanded, Ragnar herself hadn't actually died. She'd fallen; she'd survived; she'd put herself back together; and now she was making her homecoming debut in a bar that twenty years ago had been called the Incinerator Club, thirty minutes away from the abandoned facility where she'd first built Diablo's Canyon. Velvet "Vaughn" stepped into the low light of the bar without any particular kind of plan beyond some amorphous idea about recruiting better shitheads than the worms she'd gotten before.
Her long black leather duster swept behind her with each click of her heels on the concrete floor, her eyes sharp in their dark makeup as they swept over the bar's patrons. Not much had changed in twenty years: new name, new management, same shitty clientele. Velvet was just considering her other options when a new sight walked through the doors, dark-haired and pale and with the kind of walk that spoke of a woman on a mission. Red lips pushed up into a smirk.
She didn't quite beat the other woman to the bar, but it didn't matter: both were equally ignored by the bartender, at least for now. "Hiya, sugar. You're not one of the regulars here." Spoken with the confidence of somebody who was a "regular here," despite Velvet's own absence from the scene.
