[ with a light shrug of the shoulders, her shaft is released, allowed to rest against the silverette's visage once more. that same hand placed atop of their head moments later. ]
get to work then. ♡
[ hand brought down, it's digits coiling around the base so Zev could slap it's heft against their cheek. not once, not twice, but — multiple times. ]
are we fucking or not?
——:
>vulgar slop
>uses ai slop
>account play/ownership tags
>spam fonts in every post
the modern guide to have a 'big account'.
fucking. ew.
[ with nothing more than a low chuckle, she'd step forth, laying that synthetic shaft right across Des' face.
one could feel. . just how lifelike it was — the pulsing of 'veins' beneath the surface, how the underside twitched. . ]
nervous, are we?
a little on-field testing ——
[ Zev's arms would cross afterwards beneath ample breasts, her gaze brought to meet the other's own with a raise of the brow — fourteen inches, if not more, if not less twitching right before their visage. ]
well, hm?
I doubt you can handle me.
as if you aren't dripping like a bitch in heat.
regardless.
[ hands brought down, as if to draw attention below her belt — what would come to push, to tent her uniform is certainly quite the surprise. ]
⠀
