seen from United States
seen from South Korea

seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Sri Lanka
seen from China

seen from South Korea
seen from China
seen from T1

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Belarus

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Australia

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from TΓΌrkiye

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 β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Aimer encore quelquβun qui vous quitte, cβest comme tenir une bougie dans le ventβ¦
V. H. SCORP
got no change sorry brotha
Another ad campaign from Republicans handed to @dccc.
My problem is I'm constitutionally incapable of finishing anything. I embark on x . . . and lose interest. Or, if I do not lose interest, a fevered passion overwhelms me and I abandon x in some sort of quiet, bewildered apprehension of my failure.
Lauren Rothery, from Television

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 β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Hey guys i love u all but im gonna quit.... π
April fools π€£π€£π€£π π€£π ππ π€£π€£ππ€£ππππ€£ππ€£ππ ππ ππ€£ππ€£πππππ€£ππ π€£ππ€£ππππ€£ππ ππ€£πππ
I would be kind for you,
softening the sharp edges of my tongue, disciplining my hands the patience they never learned, because love, when it looks like you, makes even a storm ashamed of its thunder. I would fight my biting, violent nature for you, wrestling the wolves that pace inside my ribs, holding their teeth between my hands until they remember how to rest. For you, I would practice gentleness like a prayer spoken by someone who was never taught to pray. And when I failβ when anger rises like a bruise beneath the skinβ I bow my head to the quiet truth of you, ashamed that I am still unfinished, ashamed that the world carved its roughness into me before I ever learned your name. Perhaps that is the illness in me: to long, sometimes, to be broken enough βnot knowing that the wish for sickness is already a quiet fever of the soul.
Yet I am still trying, trying to become the version of myself that your kindness already believes I am.