[ it's not like w's expecting lappland to sob and beg the moment she realizes what's become of that little plastic prop between them. she recognizes that lappland's much too seasoned for a display like that. but the laughter rings surprisingly pretty in her ears, her stomach twisting at the realization of what a sick freak— what a perfectly sick freak lappland truly is. where the fuck did a woman like this even come from? rhodes island's always bogarting the fun psychos, probably because that old crone needs to keep like company.
w has no actual plans to end her, sadly. just like her mocking countdowns, the ticking of her devices don't mean anything either. she's always had full control and it'd be a foolish move to ruin hers and texas's plans over one sick delight, much as she's tempted. much as she wants to watch all this pretty white fur fly. but there's no rules saying she has to tell lappland she's a far more discerning murderer now than her reputation would lead most to believe. she can only have this kind of fun with lappland once, might as well go all out with it. ]
Fuck...
[ even she's not immune to that ripping reveal of lace panties, so stark against pale skin that it draws her curious eyes immediately. lappland's jostled roughly between her hands so she can see, the knife barring her throat to steer it back, one thigh thrust hard between her legs to open them even as they're already opening. control control control, as if she can't even trust lappland to take a single breath without her metering the amount of air she gets. the wetness blooming through her tights where they press against lappland's panties is a fresh new excitement, her own laughter darkening to a breathy snicker as she rubs out a slick mess between them. ]
Let me tell you how this is gonna go, bitch.
[ the black lace bra is flipped up to spill lappland's breasts free, and w pinches cruelly at her nipples until they've hardened to sharp peaks. that knife keeps encroaching on the space beneath lappland's chin until it's choking in time with the swell of her chest, forcing her back to arc awkwardly between each point of purchase w's got on her — maybe she's deliberating on whether to snap this spine like a raw noodle, or at least demonstrate how easy it would be for an assassin of her calibre to break. ]
You'll blow when I want you to blow. Could be now, could be tomorrow morning, just when you think you're safe. You've got no idea and zero choice, so if I were you, I'd focus on enjoying your pathetic last moments.
no subject
w has no actual plans to end her, sadly. just like her mocking countdowns, the ticking of her devices don't mean anything either. she's always had full control and it'd be a foolish move to ruin hers and texas's plans over one sick delight, much as she's tempted. much as she wants to watch all this pretty white fur fly. but there's no rules saying she has to tell lappland she's a far more discerning murderer now than her reputation would lead most to believe. she can only have this kind of fun with lappland once, might as well go all out with it. ]
Fuck...
[ even she's not immune to that ripping reveal of lace panties, so stark against pale skin that it draws her curious eyes immediately. lappland's jostled roughly between her hands so she can see, the knife barring her throat to steer it back, one thigh thrust hard between her legs to open them even as they're already opening. control control control, as if she can't even trust lappland to take a single breath without her metering the amount of air she gets. the wetness blooming through her tights where they press against lappland's panties is a fresh new excitement, her own laughter darkening to a breathy snicker as she rubs out a slick mess between them. ]
Let me tell you how this is gonna go, bitch.
[ the black lace bra is flipped up to spill lappland's breasts free, and w pinches cruelly at her nipples until they've hardened to sharp peaks. that knife keeps encroaching on the space beneath lappland's chin until it's choking in time with the swell of her chest, forcing her back to arc awkwardly between each point of purchase w's got on her — maybe she's deliberating on whether to snap this spine like a raw noodle, or at least demonstrate how easy it would be for an assassin of her calibre to break. ]
You'll blow when I want you to blow. Could be now, could be tomorrow morning, just when you think you're safe. You've got no idea and zero choice, so if I were you, I'd focus on enjoying your pathetic last moments.