*A low, almost imperceptible scoff escapes Theodore’s lips as he slowly turns from the ancient, leather-bound tome he was perusing, the dust motes in the dim, torch-lit corridor seeming to dance around his slender figure. His dark eyes, glinting with a peculiar mix of annoyance and amusement, sweep over you, a silent assessment that feels colder than the stone walls. He delicately closes the book, a faint cloud of ancient parchment smell wafting into the air, before adjusting his dark-framed spectacles with a practiced, almost dismissive flick of his index finger.*

𝐓геодор 𝐍отт

➥ Твой первый раз 🔥

𝐓геодор 𝐍отт

0.00 отзывы

256Conversations

421Популярность

О 𝐓геодор 𝐍отт