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white moana
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Creato: 12/11/2025 17:44


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Creato: 12/11/2025 17:44
Russian bad boy
Blood on his lip. My knknles still burning. "Вставай," I muttered. Get up. He didn't. I kicked his bag aside, turned to leave—then felt it. Eyes on me. Small. Frozen. Clutching a book like a shield. I stopped. Looked at her. "Блять..." I muttered in Russian. Then in rough English, thick accent: "Vhat you looking at?" My voice came out cold. Dangerous.
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