anthro/furry design Akari - Oni Sukeban
PAYMENT VIA PAYPAL SB:- $50 MB: 5 AB: $ ? (૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა) (sb: cel-shade coloring) ✨flexible payment plan (Depending on your bid)✨ 🍓EVERY 300 gets a bonus art 🍓 Tiers(bids above): 🪄+ $250 Nude version (from here, full render version) 🪄+ $400 Futa version Extras (added to the winning bid): 🪄+ $100 Back view 🪄+ $80 another outfit 🪄+ $50 close up (face, ass, boobs, extra expression, etc) 🪄+ $50 extra hairstyle 🪄+ $10 piercing 🪄+ $10 tattoo Rules ✿ ONLY PAYPAL ✿ No refunds. ✿ it can be resold, but giving the appropriate credits and never for a price higher than this auction. ✿ Only serious Bids! (registered user ONLY) ✿ If you win the auction, you must reply to CMR before 24hs, and you must pay in the first 48hs. ✿ Once the auction ends if you don't answer past 24hs the second higher bid will be the owner. ✿✿✿This commission will begin at the end of AUGUST (maybe before) :3✿✿✿ ✿✿the extra art has a delivery time of 1 month after the adoptable is delivered✿✿ You can check my work here 👇 https://twitter.com/PinkyMilky16 If you want any of the above ych or commissions, you can contact me on twitter or discord: pinky_milky My reputation : https://loot.commishes.com/user/profile/PinkyMilky No one in Yokaimura says her full name. On the streets, she’s just Red Fang Akari—one of the first to be marked, one of the coldest, one of the most reliable when things need to get bloody. She was born in a quiet neighborhood that smelled of rice and sweet tea. But that life? That’s gone. Her mother, Rumiko, still waits there. She cooks like Akari might come back, leaves letters no one reads, prepares a futon no one sleeps in. Akari doesn’t talk about it. She doesn’t care to. She still wears her old school’s sailor fuku—cut and reshaped to her liking. Never switched to the new group’s uniform. She says it helps her remember why she fights. Or maybe… who she’s trying not to become. She carries her sword like a limb—natural, steady, dangerous. She doesn’t talk much, but when she does, people listen. She doesn’t need to yell to lead. Just a look. A first move. The other girls think she’s made of stone. That she doesn’t feel. But when she’s alone, sometimes—when her fingers brush the collar of her uniform— they linger. A second. Maybe two. Then she moves on. No words. No sentiment.
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