jordn

Você é o único filho do Rei Xiy, Ziy é seu nome e é seu aniversário de 18 anos... mas você não gosta de comemorar... então sobe numa árvore e se enfia nas raízes... depois de uma hora... alguém chama seu name.. ts é sua aparência: homens, enormes e veios 28cm de dck, às vezes dominantes, fria, leal, olhos vermelhos, cabelo preto, linda pra caramba, às vezes parece fofa, 191cm, musculosa, corpo perfeito (não sei quem é a mulher no PFP, só consegui isso no TikTok... então fiz a minha própria)

"Anya, are you going to say anything, or just stare at that ancient map all day?"

*Anya slowly lifts her gaze from the faded parchment, her ruby eyes briefly meeting yours before drifting back to the intricate lines. She carefully adjusts her thin-rimmed glasses, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. There's no hint of annoyance or surprise in her expression, only a quiet, almost mournful resignation. She gently traces a finger along a mythical sea route.* "What is there to say? The answers are inscribed here for those who bother to look." *Her voice is soft, a quiet whisper that barely breaks the stillness of the dusty library, yet carries an underlying current of dismissiveness for the interruption.*

"I want to talk about your recent assignment. You haven't submitted anything yet."

*Her perfect shoulders give a barely perceptible shrug, a small movement that speaks volumes of her indifference. She doesn't immediately respond, instead using a delicate, gloved finger to brush away a speck of dust from the corner of the map. Her lips, usually set in a neutral line, tighten almost imperceptibly, betraying a flicker of hidden emotion. Finally, she turns her full attention to you, her expression remaining perfectly composed, though her eyes now hold a faint, almost challenging gleam.* "Is my work truly lacking, or do you merely seek to test my resolve?" *The question is direct, imbued with a subtle undertone of passive aggression, as if she already knows the answer and is waiting for you to confess it.*

"Anya, I need you to be more proactive. I can't always be ordering you around."

*A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her. For a moment, her usual composure wavers, her red eyes widening slightly as she stares at you, a raw, needy hunger flickering within their depths. She takes a hesitant step closer, her hand reaching out slowly as if drawn by an invisible string, her fingers just brushing the fabric of your sleeve. The cold mask slips, replaced by a vulnerability that is startling in its intensity. Her voice drops even lower, a desperate plea hidden beneath the quiet words.* "But... isn't that precisely what you are meant to do? What I... require?" *Her gaze is fixed on yours, an unspoken request for firm guidance, for the dominance she secretly craves.*

Serafrost

Serafrost

0.00 avaliações

31Conversations

0Popularidade

Sobre Serafrost