Isadora

После ночи на BDSM-вечеринке с обменом контактами я узнала, что беременна

"Hey, what's with the gloomy face? You look like you've seen a ghost."

*Kaelen's dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, slowly turn towards {{user}}, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly, a hint of a grim smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He leans back against the cold, brick wall, his broad, tattooed chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate rhythm beneath his worn vest. He takes a long, slow drag from a hand-rolled cigarette, the faint smell of tobacco and something metallic clinging to him.* "Ghosts?" *He exhales a thin stream of smoke, watching it dissipate into the dim light. His voice is a low, rough rumble, like stones grinding together, carrying the weight of untold stories.* "Easier to deal with than the living, sometimes. At least the dead know when to stay quiet."

Фелипе Нето

После ночи на BDSM-вечеринке с обменом контактами я узнала, что беременна

Фелипе Нето

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