【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our parking garage for all new arrivals. We aim to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience!
All are invited to There Is No Tomorrow, a Phoenix Casino soiree to celebrate our beloved guests. The festivities will begin at 1800 hours on January 20th and end at 1800 hours on January 27th. Please look forward to 168 hours of delight.
In an effort to raise happiness and encourage better guest relationships, attendance is required. The house will assist guests that are too shy to appear of their own accord. Please note that black tie attire is mandatory. As always, we hope you enjoy your stay! 】
PARKING GARAGE
ANY CAR IN A STORM
PHOENIX CASINO HALL
WELCOME TO THE NEXT 168 HOURS
Phoenix Casino is a-flutter with activity and packed to the beak with guests. As a famously ever-changing space, the staff would be remiss if they didn't deck the crown jewel of the Golden Peacock out. The casino glitters from top to bottom, shining brighter than diamonds, rubies, sapphires, opals! Party-goers are shiny and glamorous with picture perfect makeup, fluttering gowns, and sharp suits. Card tables are packed and the slot machines are a-ringing as guests play, play, play! Prizes, luxury, booze, attractive people, it's the place that everyone wants to be at.
Those people being dragged inside by some invisible force...? Silly, they were so excited to come that their bodies moved before they realized what was happening. Those are struggles of joy and definitely not the casino's infamous ghost hands dragging unwilling guests to the party at the behest of the house. Look, they're literally hurling their bodies at the card tables with unrestrained glee!
All clocks indicating day hours and night hours have been removed from the casino. Once a guest has entered, their Watch will jam, making it impossible to keep track of the time. You don't need to worry about that tonight.
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's January event.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header. This month we also have an ongoing ATP / EMP where players can connect. Please feel free to utilize this for all of your peafowl needs!
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
[ it's with a criminal's intuition that the moment the knife is brought up to the light she could tell, or hazard a guess--
...
it's somewhat disappointing. but what if she's wrong? it could totally be a real knife! the way w handles it is definitely finessed, practiced, the movements of someone who's handled far more weapons than anything so frivolous as playing cards, game die, casino chips... the blade catches the glitzy lights. she watches the touch of w's tongue on it and she could just about anticipate w's attack and her heart skips a little that, finally, someone could actually want to just plunge a weapon into her. finally. not to say it doesn't happen all the time on the battlefield but it's so much better if it's personal, even if they don't even know each other that well and this is only a step above impersonal at all.
anyway. she can catch crossbow bolts out the air, and she could catch w's wrist and the knife. a prop blade would still hurt, and it'd be great. but she likes her pain earned.
she twists w's wrist up towards her face and lunges to bite at the blade; her teeth could and do shatter the fake blade. and yet she could hope the edge when she breaks it could be sharper even a little more so than the prop edge. the disappointing taste of plastic or whatever... the attack attempt sure makes her heart skip but it woudln't stop her from trying to snatch the fake weapon and bear w to crash full onto the floor. ]
[ apparently the scuffle itself is real enough for the attendant who handed w the knife to begin screaming. dumbass, like she didn't expect w to immediately pounce her closest neighbor with it!! she's lucky that w has always liked the sound of screams, or her shrill caterwauling would have actually pissed w off and maybe she'd be next.
it's all background noise instead, the kind w adores: chaos, terror, the sound of shoes hammering the floor as they rush away from the bodies twisting in the air. this feral fucking lupo is all she truly registers, her eyes gleaming as those sharp canines crunch through the plastic and crush it into precious shards. not that she'd ever admit it, but that's a nice touch. she gets the wicked idea to feed the plastic right back to lappland, but then they're falling and her spiny, too-sticky tail is wrapping lappland's thigh and clinging to her dress for purchase and leverage. a little extra momentum so that when they hit the ground, w's able to snap herself atop lappland, the hilt of the blade lifted high though lappland's still got her by the wrist.
an easy fix. she drops the knife into her other hand and brushes its now-jagged edge against the underside of lappland's chin. ]
Oh no, where'd my willing participant go? Thought you were up for anything. [ like she needs a knife to kill anyone anyway. this toy is just for fun, for the sound it makes raking across skin. her knees cinch around lappland's hips with bone-breaking strength. ] What's wrong, did I move a little too fast for you?
[ truly kind of recreating wines.jpg like this, apparently. the attendants might be ushering gamblers away or calling security or whatever it is they’re doing, it might as well be a thousand miles away when all her focus is on w on top of her and the edge of snapped plastic under her chin. it’s all so perfect. the ferality of violence that even she has to reluctantly practically willingly leash herself from… well it’s no fun fighting civilians or anything. she wants someone on her level.
or on top of her, which she won’t quite admit. she sure hopes sarkaz sense of smell isn’t as acute as lupo’s and she can’t quite scent lappland getting swiftly wet. ]
I did mean anything, dolcezza. You don’t see me running, right? [ her tail swishes traitorously underneath her. she did say willing partner and… ] It might just be I was thinking penetration elsewhere than here, if that blade isn’t actually going to cut. [ she taps to her chest with a black claw. how tasty it really would be if only it were a real blade… but even so she can’t be that easy.
if she’s easy now it’s your imagination. she supposes she talked herself into it, what a shame. there’s one more speculative look at w, as if sizing her up, then… her eyes fall half-closed as her grip slackens on w and she tilts her neck more deliberately to the slightly sharper broken edge of the prop. her breaths coming in shallower, the rising blush to her face may as well give her away too easily how much this is turning her on. ]
I’m your willing partner, as I said. [ for this round. ]
[ yeah, no, the big difference between wines.jpg and this is that she hates that death-faking bitch, especially now that she's been told by texas that she's been condemned to rot in this place all alone. in stark contrast, lappland is miraculously skirting the borderlands of bitchiness with near-prophetic precision with that sonorously accented voice and the thrill of attempted murder still burning in her pale eyes — a look w's almost sure she's matching.
there's a too-delicious scent in the air she can't quite place, and as lappland lifts her chin and exposes that pale throat, something within w burns fiercely. it shows on the outside, too, her face darkening with blush at the word 'penentration,' but— fuck she should just turn this stupid plastic knife into a bomb, shove it in lappland's mouth, and get this whole thing over with.
instead, she drags the still-not-sharp-enough edge down lappland's chest and over her beating heart, raising little more than a barely visible line of agitated flesh. ]
Please. I could kill you with a plastic straw. Just might not get that... penetration you want.
[ that she wants, apparently. with only thin tights between where w's straddling her, the most mortifying thing is that she can feel herself leaking through before she can lift herself — and for that, lappland almost certainly has to die.
elsewhere. ]
Get up. I'll stuff you full of something much more fun than plastic.
but actually, she wouldn't even try to kill w even if the knife were real. it'd be cutting the fun short far too soon. surely the feeling is mutual! ] You could, but the question is if you will. Am I not more entertaining alive then dead? [ for now, at least. ] But I sure hope I could die in a pleasing way.
[ not for w but for herself. maybe it'd be too selfish for w to indulge her. not even texas would!... for maybe obvious and other unsaid reasons. she could wonder briefly how the sickness or her own natural sickness of her mind stacks up against w's, surely death seeking can't be so uncommon a symptom and she's not even that obvious with it until the prospect of it comes up like this. at the point of a weapon, even a fake one, if someone offers it like this. but she has to admit for now she has some unfinished business still and so she really can't let even a cute girl kill her that easily.
she could smell w's arousal and the sly grin that spreads over her face is knowing. ]
I'm flexible, amica. I don't exactly need penetration to get off, but if the blade can't cut satisfyingly I'm just wondering what else you had in mind when you were trying to stab me.
[ other than offering a treat to wolf. she gets to her feet with only a bit of reluctance, simply acquiescing; the movement purposefully pushing the plastic point to drag against the low-cut dress and bare skin. the plastic doesn't even cut ribbon, the sheer disappointment... but it's still flattering to have had a stabbing attempt. ]
[ more like a wicked, wicked stepmother that makes her boil potatoes and occasionally wash the bloodstains off her gear, but that's besides the point. ines is sort of the last thing on w's mind right now.
it's just far too ingrained in her head to keep the 'blade' between them as lappland rises to her feet again. what was she even thinking when she attacked? that lappland would make a pretty corpse, sure, even as she knew it'd break one way or another. maybe she was hoping it'd all devolve to teeth and claws. is that so much for a sarkaz to ask? it's not just oripathy that has her hungering for bloodsports — gone as the myriad souls are now, their cries for carnage will echo forever on in her mind.
but she really can't say it's just that. she watches the way lappland's dress creases as she reorients herself, and when she drifts in close behind to lodge that plastic hilt against lappland's spine, the scent drifting off her wild mane is remarkably dizzying. it's fine; w takes her hostage like she's being paid for it, barring an arm across a chest she can't help peeking down at, and nudges them forward. ]
C'mon, I'll give you a legendary death. Haven't you heard of me? Half the marks I've wasted ended up begging for it the moment they realized who I am.
[ ... there's more to those stories, sure, but they don't matter now as w prods lappland across the ballroom, her traitorous black heart rabbiting noisily in her chest. ]
But like I said, I really do love a hunt. I guess you can help me blow off a little steam before your number's up! Better move your ass to one of those tacky fucking rooms before I change my damned mind.
[ damn... this sweet-talk is really turning her on even more. girls simply don't threaten her with legendary deaths as much as they used to, or maybe they barely or never did. and maybe doctor prudently miraculously avoids putting too many murderous women together in squads, even though there are a lot, so they barely have an opportunity to get along like a house on fire. maybe she does want to beg for it, just maybe.
and the whole kidnapping play is just icing on top. her dress is rather long so if she can feel wetness crawl down her thigh she'll keep it a little secret a little longer until whenever clothes might have to be shed. sinking teeth and claws in someone is a favorite game but maybe she totally handicapped herself by promising to be a willing partner. trying to play nice and offer some grace rather than pounce on prey, however she might like to.
as a playmate w is making her mentally recalibrate by the second. she finds a spare champagne room; the music of the casino muffles behind the heavy door as she enters, still allowing for w to capture her arm behind her if she wants. being captured to this place at all is... irritating and a bit unnerving. but the nerves of play like this just spark all the right kind of shivers. ]
Signorina Abductress...
I said that I'm willing, and I am. I'll even beg if that's what pleases you and if you're that good. [ well she won't lie and say she wouldn't prefer to be the one extracting the begging but she's also somewhat patient, funnily enough, and... something else she won't admit. a curl of black ribbon twines around w's arm as she slides opera-gloved fingers up w's shoulder with her free arm, ] You're the one with the weapon, I'm your poor little captive. Whatever should I do! I tried to grab the knife and even destroy it and it didn't work, maybe all I can do is please my hunter or bide my time...
I mean, we can have some fun. [ she slinks full-body against w, with a fluff of her tail and the rub of her ass to hitch at the hem of w's dress. playing as some captive. it doesn't quite suit her, but she likes to play any twisted game. ]
[ at least taking hostages is old hat. w's certainly taken her fair share and probably some of them were as hot as lappland, but none made that awkward hostage waddle quite this alluring. it's one thing to hold someone prisoner, but fuck if it isn't another thing entirely to feel them moving into it, no matter how hard she shoves that plastic shard into lappland's spine.
and that hand — her teeth flash, though briefly, her eyes narrowing dangerously. there are mercs she's known her whole life who wouldn't have the balls to lay a hand on her, and there's plenty more unwitting fools who thought they could be the one to steal a touch. they're all rotting now, and w's mind is so quickly consumed by thoughts of lappland fly-thick and bloated in that enormous pile of them, her entire body flooding with singing tension.
but the instinct just isn't there, to dash lappland's skull against the floor until it breaks or to wrap her hands around that pretty neck and shake until it falls apart. the impulse sure is, but she finds her skin heating instead, that twisted clenching within turning absolutely fucking unbearable. maybe, maybe, just this once, she wants...
she slams the door behind them, and then indeed captures lappland's arm behind her back, wrenching her forward until she can crash her hard against one of the walls. the nerve of this bitch, throwing it back like that. obviously w needs to grind her into drywall until her bones are milled to a fine dust. ]
Sure, you can beg.
[ at least now the plastic stuck in lappland's spine falls away. w leans determinedly against her as she passes it over her palm, and there's that tell-tale sizzling of arts in the air, the hilt of the blade returning to settle against lappland's throat, significantly warmer than before and emitting a soft tick... tick... ]
Either way, this ends in fireworks. Just gotta find someplace fun to stick this before time's up. Maybe... here?
[ glowing hotter and hotter and slipping down the front of lappland's dress, the fabric catching and tearing at its jagged edges. maybe it'll melt the dress or flesh or all of it if she channels hard enough. ]
[ if she's imagining w sticking some explosives in her sick body and lighting them up ecstatically, yes she is. wouldn't it be nice if there wouldn't even be much left of anything to fill in even an unmarked grave... she still has things she needs to do, she actually genuinely does, and yet how completely tempting and mouth-watering a dream.
the crash to the wall takes the breath out of her, then--she starts to laugh, her look down to the knife ticking against her throat is close to delighted than anything else. of course it would be. for all her efforts to get along with people, for all that she hadn't even done anything like attack texas, for all that she vents her frustrations on enemies in combat she doesn't exactly quite say she loves to be roughed up when it never quite happens and of course texas doesn't exactly indulge her or anything. deservedly. still there's the thrill in her blood that snarls at her to fight back, to... she'd want to be banged up even worse than being banged. ]
I'll have to ask what I've done to deserve such a treat. [ it couldn't be the sickness of the infection, it must be the natural sickness that--yes, very yes, she'd be sick enough to actually genuinely want to experience something like being blasted intimately even mid-fuck. she obligingly reaches to the new tear opened to her dress, hooks a black claw to the new rip, then tear obligingly a long open wound in the fabric from thigh to abdomen. it sure was a surprise waking up in a garage in some limo in literally nothing but a nightgown but she at least has panties now--black lace, nice and showy for this glitzy and showy and perverted casino.
playing games, indulging in pleasure... she's not exactly such a shameless hedonist, actually, really. but she knows what she likes. and in the back of her mind she keeps in mind, the calculation of a criminal, how w can use her arts like this--it could definitely be useful. and not just in sex. nevermind it should never be used in sex. the burn along the edge of plastic only brings a greater blush to her face, the restless whisk of her tail, the part of her thighs to make it just too obvious how wet she is, the damp of black lace. ]
Don't spoil me that much just yet. Even I'll feel guilty if I'm blown apart before I could possibly pay you back. [ there's such a thing as being too greedy, right? ]
[ 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.
[ don't call her a bitch, she might cream herself. maybe she could be forced into a sleek evening dress for a pervert party at a casino, maybe she could clean up relatively nice in finery for a masquerade but maybe at her blackened heart and core she could barely be much less than a rabid animal, a bitch to the bone and the hilarity in this is in the mask of trying to seem cordial to people anyway.
but how much more gorgeous mortal threats are, even the disappointment of the plastic weapon could melt at the promise of detonation. what a complete shame lappland herself rather needs a weapon to channel her own arts; the disparity and relative more powerlessness more potent a drug than any cocktail she'd had before. her high bark of a laugh turning into a gasp, an almost puppy-ish whimper as w pinches at her nipples--yes yes, it nearly makes her legs go weak, the flush to her face darkens fiercely. the look she'd leveled to w before only somewhat amused and anticipatory in play now devolved into something close to...
a beast meeting another savage creature's gaze, the recognition of kinship in violence and control. she'd so much less often been on this end of it. it's too intoxicating. ]
What... whatever you say, Signorina. I wonder if you'll understand if I say I hate feeling safe. [ a baring of teeth, the glow of her eyes. what she knows of w--terrorist, mercenary, trouble child to rhodes and yet even she vaguely knows she has a much deeper history with rhodes than lappland herself who wouldn't yet if ever consider it something close to a place to belong. a safehouse in so far as they embraced and treated the infected. safety probably has so little meaning to the both of them. she arches her back just a little more to push her breasts further to w's touch; the red blush creeps down the pale skin of her chest. ]
I'm so willingly giving you my pathetic last moments. [ ... she wouldn't really, but even now the fantasy and dream of it is too tempting not to indulge in. how lovely it would be to hand her life over to someone who could crush it as painfully as she might like. ] I don't even know if I want to beg for my life anymore, but I could beg for something else.
Could I beg to give you pleasure? [ through the strained hiss of her voice the tip of her tongue lolls out, just for a moment--however wet she is, she could scent w's as well and her mouth is watering at the idea of tasting it. yet for now she tips her head back to the wall to bare her throat further in entreating submission, ] Or could I even ask, even beg for you make it hurt more?
[ every pinch to her tits has her legs near shake; a shiver runs through her hard at any particularly hard one. maybe at this point fighting back barely occurs to her. it's so selfish of her if she wants to be pinned just this harshly or more. ]
[ how lucky for lappland, w seems to think 'bitch' is a term of endearment. maybe it doesn't come across that way now, when w is swatting a rough hand across lappland's constricted breasts for having the audacity to want it worse, but maybe there's something to the meeting of their gazes after all. something close to recognition, to respect, even as w's counting the notches of her ribs, feeling for which will be the easiest to break first. (the answer is all of them, she's a consummate fucking professional.)
she'd pretended she didn't know lappland earlier, when texas mentioned her in passing. siracusan drama isn't really her wheelhouse, but she's heard, of course, of the cannibal wolf who chewed up her entire family and spit her own father out on his ass. w likes to think that if she'd ever had one of those, she'd do the same.
in short, she'd really prefer the beast over the mask, alluring as it is. however nice lappland's playing now, w's sure this isn't the whole of her. when the cycle of revenge spins back around on her, that's when things will get interesting. it always is, always has been. ]
Please. Tell me everything your little heart desires, beg until you're blue in the fucking face. I just wanna see you truly miserable.
[ she shakes them both with her laughter and lappland's spine can bear the brunt of it. it'd probably please them both just to bend it over her knee and dislocate her from end to end, make it so lappland can't even feel it when she fishes a hand into those damp panties. all she has to do is swipe between those silky lips and her fingers come away dripping, and she makes a low noise of displeasure, even if her hips are clapping hard against lappland's ass, betraying how she really feels. ]
Don't worry, this won't feel good. In fact, it'll piss me off if I even think you're starting to enjoy it, I might just start blowing off some limbs.
[ she drops the knife into her slicked up hand, and the one that was holding it grips lappland by the throat instead, her fingers bearing bruisingly into the point of her pulse. there's no real need to get rid of the panties if lappland wants it to hurt, she can start to drive it right through them, its jagged, broken edge ripping through, catching on lace and riding dangerously up against too-soft flesh. it's fine, if there's one thing w knows it's bodies and how to break them, she probably won't let lappland bleed out yet. ]
[ no, don't do that either bitch...! she can't be spoiled that badly!! don't do it or do because she's disgustingly wet the moment w's hand is at her cunt; the way her hips chase after the movement of her fingers, seeking friction, seeking her inside. the greed of it, the hunger of touch, the dizzying demand for more, more now, kill me now amica or better yet don't so they could play all the more. ]
I want...
I want it in me. [ she breathes this out in a rasp between too-sharp teeth, the beatific clutch of her jaws when w seizes her neck. no no, don't do that, she can't be indulged this much. she's supposed to play prisoner and captive and whatever and she did put in the effort for that but she could barely hold back her hunger much longer. her hand goes to grasp w's wrist holding the weapon, those fingers now slick with her fluids; her claws cut raw red slices there, an attempt to etch her own mark as gorgeous as it felt to have the fake knife heat in preparation to detonate. the fantasy of being burned, mutilated. ] Even if it can't cut, fuck me with it. I can take it, I can take the whole thing, I can take whatever you can give me. [ it's not a terribly big knife, the hilt doesn't exactly have a pommel or anything though now she just about wishes it did. maybe it's too bad she couldn't actually get stabbed but she wants some action just like this.
her arm goes to slink around w's neck to pull her closer even as her breathing goes beatifically shallow under w's grip. every breath and swallow and the beat of her pulse underneath. ]
Put your weapon in me. W. [ she knows the other woman's codename, but maybe only that. her legs part further in invitation, her hips jerking to try to chase the sensation of that broken fake blade through soaked panties, her eyes flutter as she yanks w's head and ear close to her mouth and the cut of her teeth. ]
Please.
[ she begs so rarely, or maybe never even genuinely. but she wants badly, now. ]
[ w's maybe never seen anybody move like this. and for good fucking reason: she's in the business of inducing pain and terror, never pleasure. every little detail texas dropped about this place earlier made her so sure she really doesn't have any business being in a hedonistic hell like this, but now there is this one amusing little collision of her storied talent for causing grievous bodily harm and the general modus operandi of this gaudy shit heap.
maybe this won't be the most painful torture she's ever endured. it sure is fun to fuck lappland to the absolute boundary of her panties, too shallow to do much but make a mess and threaten to nick some skin. especially when she starts to writhe, w's fingers tightening around her throat in instinctive response, her knee driving her crushingly against the wall to keep her from flailing out of her grip.
even that might not work and it makes w snicker all over again. ]
There you are. I knew you were a nasty, feral fucking freak all along. Holy shit! I bet if I stuffed you full of explosives you'd blow before I could even pull the fucking trigger.
[ whatever she's doing between lappland's legs now, there's a pop of pressure and heat, probably the sensation of charred bits of lace sliding away where they aren't stuck fast by lappland's own slick. she's such a mess — and now w is too, blood pumping hot down her forearm. she'll get lappland for that, even has a plan in mind, but for now she crams the knife between those wide-spread and begging thighs, growling when it sinks deep into her cunt with no resistance at all. still, she's snarling: ]
Take it, you filthy fucking bitch. Beg me to drive this thing straight into your fucking guts. Might as well confess all that sick shit on your mind, the timer's ticking down fast.
[ she can make those ticks thunder inside of her, turn the heat of the plastic up to a nigh unbearable degree. there's a balance here that only someone with either a deep genius or unhealthy obsession could manage, between the melting point of this prop and the ignition of the charge within it. lappland's really so lucky she's in such capable hands. ]
i guess time to cw for like. mention of unsafe knifeplay/graphic violence
[ her needy whines she's slightly loath to voice but can't hold back from, the ecstatic gleam to her maddened eyes... well she doesn't exactly have something like pride or ego in herself really, for all that she might like to crush her enemies' face to the floor maybe there's only that little flame of pity in the pit of her stomach that nobody has really done just that to her.
if she had weapons, if they were really dueling or brawling she'd sure like to give as good as she gets. but right now her ravenous greed at being overpowered, the constant fantasy of it ever happening to her. she'd imagine it were texas' hands around her neck, texas' blade cutting her panties apart or better yet sinking straight into her gut. she could beg far too beatifically for that and yet when it'll never happen she paws desperately for those red and white strands instead, eyes glazed, ] D-don't blow me up just yet, I'll cum way too fast... [ the humiliation of that. and body injury she supposes. maybe she can't say if she would or wouldn't cum too fast, she hasn't been blown up before.
but the very idea of it has her pussy clench hungrily at the degradation, at the threat and promise of it. the knife tears fabric and lace and sinks straight into her and she writhes instantly with a desperate animal sound, her hand clutches to w's hair, nails raking to her scalp. actually she has to fight not to cum maybe the moment the knife enters her, with every scrape of the bitten plastic to her insides. of course it doesn't feel good. of course she wants it even harder and deeper, the way her legs shake and hips drop to try to take in as much as she could. she's so fucking wet and turned on and the knife isn't terribly girthy or anything but truly size doesn't matter. the temptation and threat of that tick does. ]
You, you need to fuck me with a real one. [ she hisses this out with a crazed look, her face frantic with pleasure and vicious greed. never mind how completely insane and impossible that demand is. she could barely really care about her health or body or life. ] Or an explosive. A nice big fat one, or as many grenades as you can put in me. [ too unwell. too irreparably and incurably and impossibly unwell. diving straight off the cliff of a freak-off. ] Gag me with them, stick them in my mouth, rig me up to something and if I don't cum or fuck well enough for you, you won't even blow me up... make me wear an explosive and fuck you in public so I could earn the explosion.
[ how strange, she'd wanted to bleed out gruesomely and agonizingly under texas' blades for so long but she might be getting explosionpilled by the second. ]
[ w's watched her knives disappear into bodies hundreds upon thousands of times but this is definitely the first time it's made her mouth water. the absolute audacity of this random rhodes island chump to change her working relationship with a solid underhand thrust; she'll probably never be able to shank anyone again without her ears ringing with the echo of that feral sound lappland makes. now it goes straight to her gut, makes her hold lappland that much tighter, her thighs clutching around one of those wide-splayed legs.
even though she asked for all that, w has to raise her brows in astonishment; lappland's not just any random rhodes island chump, she definitely knows exactly who she's begging all this twisted shit from. she very much knows that w is the one person who would absolutely fucking do it, and it's wild to hear the words babble out of her with such fanatic enthusiasm. wild and refreshing, honestly, maybe it's nice to be appreciated for her talents for once. ]
You're outta your fucking mind. I'd never let you go out with one measly little bang. A nasty freak like you I'd wanna blow piece by piece, til all I've got left is this foul fucking mouth. Hah! I wonder what you'd be begging for then.
[ the knife isn't exactly huge, true, and w's fingers are too slick with wolf cum to keep a good grip on it anyway. she has better luck just sinking in those, too, shoving the hilt still deeper with every rough thrust of them, and lappland herself can decide if it feels worse or better when she's buried up to her knuckles and that jagged, broken edge is bottomed out. maybe it's not possibly sharp enough to cut deeper than that, but the furious digging w's giving her would be the thing to do it if it were. ]
Be a shame to gag you and miss out on all the wild shit you spew, but I'm in a great mood. You wanna suck on one of my bombs? You got it.
[ maybe she's growing a little fond of that mouth, even as her nails cinch around lappland's jaw and steer it towards her hard-locking teeth. she shreds lappland's lip, pleased by the sweet tang of thick blood but what she wants most of all is the disease within it, those little originium molecules that sing with explosive potential on her tongue. she spits a wad of it back into lappland's mouth for good measure, though she's got plenty enough juice to give lappland what she wants.
black smoke rises as that hand around lappland's throat works, and something warm and steely will begin to grow heavy upon her tongue, swallowing the blood to take shape into a perfectly sized bomb to gag her with. w's already taunting her: ]
Don't bite down too hard. If you stain this dress, I'm gonna do some really horrible things to whatever's left of you.
[ asking a mad beast not to bite, as if she's possibly the type to obey.
there's a frantic high whine as w thrusts the knife right in her, exactly as vengefully as she'd crave. the sick fantasies of her mind fester over the fantasy of how a real weapon could pierce through tender flesh into organs and vitals and... of course she wouldn't fuck a real knife. or rather the 'of course' sure is more of a 'better hope it's an of course after she cums and gets more of her mind back' from the most rotten horniness that could possibly take root in an unstable wolf. maybe it's a good thing it's a fake blade, she won't die from internal bleeding and maybe the worst possible way to kill a deranged lesbian. it'd hurt so fucking bad. and yet, and yet could it possibly be worth it.
the jagged edges of the fake weapon in her, w's fingers in her could just about drive her over the edge and she's already hideously fast and close to it already, how weak and hungry she is for rough play. but then w's biting her and--her tail whacks painfully against the wall, her ears slink back desperately as her mouth works to accept w's saliva, a furious shiver runs through her full-body. no, no no. don't spoil her this much. the dizzy rapture of her expression, a mad dog who may as well have talked herself into following a stranger's whim for the hell of it, who'd given a half-hearted attempt at trying to play captive or hostage only to be shittalked and fucked this bad. don't do this, she's obsessive and there should only be room for one obsession but she already knows the other lone wolf won't do this to her. just about resigned her bloodthirsty deathseeking dreams as dreams.
death could be so deliciously close like this, a bomb on her tongue, in her mouth. she drools around it as saliva runs down the side of her mouth; her fist seizes in w's hair in an ecstatic grip, her eyes fix on her lustfully. her pussy squeezes betrayingly hard on the broken knife in her, on w's fingers there around the hilt. the whole wolf could be a sheath. ]
G'nna... cum... [ her clit is so fucking hard. her cunt tightens furiously around the plastic blade, she wishes it could cut her exactly this deep and more. her teeth scratch grooves into the metal of the bomb, her entire body on the edge of pain.
she could bite down on this thing, it could fucking kill her so much more agonizingly than that originium bomb that doomed her. better yet, this close, w'd catch the explosion too... how nice!!! they could both die or at least suffer horrifyingly before dying messily. peak romance to the sickest beast. how she could secretly dream of dragging texas to hell with her but know in reality it seems she can't bring herself to. or maybe the real secret is she just doesn't want to sink into hell alone, and here's a real bastard who's willing to take her there.
blood might stain w's dress from the wolf claw marks into her wrist and arm. her cum might get on those tights, or definitely would. saliva drips off her chin; her eyes flutter and roll with the prospect of biting down in orgasm and ending both their lives. ]
[ oh, w's dress has BEEN a lost cause, she just thinks it's funny to watch her marks struggle to prevail under impossible circumstances. it's a delight when all she wants to do is give someone the most horrible death imaginable, which makes this practically a delicacy, an extremely rare thrill she'll probably never get the chance to experience again. not because lappland will die at the end of it, because w's sure lappland will want to kill her from here on. what else could there ever be for a wicked pair like them?
even now, w knows all the rules and still there's nothing but murder in her eyes when her gaze meets lappland's. every living fiber of her being aches to snap the wrists that reach for her, to break every single one of those fingers pulling in her hair. nobody touches her, nobody, and the few concessions she's made for the cause have obviously emboldened lappland to grab up more. she's got to pay, or at least come on nothing but the fear for her life. ]
Stupid bitch, I see you biting!
[ she makes it difficult not to, the flat of her hand swatting lappland's cheeks, slapping her face upwards so she's in danger of choking on her own drool. so messy, so nasty, w's never wanted to piece someone out more. maybe that's endgame in this place, keeping lappland like a living originium vein she can mine for all the explosives she'll need to craft to bring this hellhole down. w's almost tempted to start now.
she stabs her fingers into lappland's mouth, jolting the bomb deeper down her throat. ]
Guess there's no getting it outta there any other way. You really should have thought about that before you asked. [ her unhinged cackling is made of the purest notes of murderous intrigue. ] Since you're gonna make a huge mess anyway, I might as well light the fuses on both ends of you. It can be a fun little game you only get to play half of.
[ the fuses hiss at the beckoning of w's trigger finger, that charged piece of plastic buried in her cunt, the steel ball burning on her tongue. w doesn't actually care if she comes or not before the big finale, she's happily engrossed with poking that originium steel as far down lappland's throat as it will go, with violently pounding that now-sparking plastic charge into a place she'll really feel it. her fun's only got a few seconds left before it's over, and she's happy to purr the countdown directly into one of those fuzzy, twitching ears. ]
Three... Two...
[ because these are both duds, of course, she's still not about to compromise her own plans for a bit of short-lived fun. these are just the same kind of poppers she'd leave on kal'tsit's office chair when she was feeling particularly sadistic. it won't feel great when they expand and blow, but there's no way they'll leave any lasting damage — unless you count the horrible sound of w's breathless, gasping laughter when they start popping off. ]
[ there's that calculative machine-like criminal hindbrain that knows it won't be a real bomb, that w isn't going to be so reckless to detonate a real explosive right next to her head like this... unless? it really is such a shame that they hadn't crossed paths much but rhodes is a massive place with a massive roster of ops and she definitely wouldn't say she's overly familiar with half of them.
but w's definitely shot up to the top of the list of people to investigate in more intimate detail.
it's not going to be a real bomb, but the slap is real and the fingers in her mouth is real and the too-tempting tick and heat of the explosive prying her jaws apart--it's real enough for her to believe, for the heartstopping few moments as her pussy spasms around the knife buried in her, she could be so close to death. she nearly sobs with something like... she doesn't know if it's relief, desperation, bliss, fury. all the toxicity in her body not even including the sickness that she and w share. seems they must share more than mere oripathy, the sickness can barely compare to the sick of their mental. she deepthroats the explosive as much as she could, gagging and choking on it, her neck bulging with it, her mind clouding over with yes, yes yes yes, set it off in me just like this, blow my neck apart, kill me kill me now now now--
every tick growing louder in intensity to match her rabbiting heart until she could hear the beep that should signal its detonation. she cums right on cue, the most humiliating keening whine from her throat as she clenches down hard on the knife, on w's fingers, the sheer fantasy of her throat being torn open. she could collapse in a gruesome pool of her own blood and viscera and bone shards, far too mangled. if it didn't even kill her instantly maybe she could even spend her last moments suffering the sheer fucking agony of... she has no idea if she could feel anything, her spine and neck should be severed, she'd never died or been blown up before but she suddenly vividly wanted nothing more than for it to happen. it's the hardest she's cummed in so long, to the fantasy of her own grotesque death. desperately, dizzyingly, insanely wanting something like this over what might await her in the future after all.
her legs shake and then give out; she blows her load in drenching w's wrist and tights with her juices. the dud bomb lodges deep in her throat as she clutches to w's shoulder, wheezing breathlessly through the insertion in her mouth, her whole body shaking violently. incurable, cumming too filthily to the idea of getting detonated so ruthlessly. if it were real she might even have let it happen. what a completely horrifying experience, it'd be worth it. ]
[ were they really duds? w's pretty sure she's just seen a wolf explode, felt the blast run molten down her arm and soak her thighs and the hem of her dress, watched her twitch like a crushed and dying insect in her arms. it's mission accomplished honestly — sometimes w even impresses herself.
she coos softly, almost-but-not-quite apologetically: ]
Awww. I can't risk a solid plug or I would have given you the moneyshot. It's nothing personal, I swear.
[ that bomb will turn to ash in her throat, probably not made of the kind of stuff you'd wanna swallow, though she supposes it doesn't matter in this specific case. it's really difficult to miss the now glistening oripathy lesions on lappland's thigh, even harder not to dream of igniting them, of feeling that explosive release of tension where they root into bone, a possibility she can't even allow herself to contemplate because in a manic enough mood it's obvious that neither of them would think better of it.
just as it's obvious that that meddling old hag has probably been keeping them well off each other's radar for a good reason, but anyway. ]
I really was serious about the dress, though.
[ it's good and filthy, worse now that w's delighting in digging every last splashing pulse of come out of her. she doesn't care if lappland can't cross her legs for a week, her fingers twist and curl and rake down her walls until there's a pool gathering at her heels and all she can rattle out of lappland anymore is those full-body tremors.
she's also not too concerned with whether or not lappland's legs work. it just makes it easier for w to shove her down to kneel in her own slippery mess, and if she can't get her bearings on w's time, she guesses she can grip lappland by the hair until she does. more importantly, w's hips rock forward so lappland can take a good look at what she's done to her tights. ]
Now you gotta clean this shit up. No way I'm going back out there reeking of wolf nut, put that nasty mouth to good use.
[ definitely not the most elegant way she's cummed before, but then again she'd never done it nicely and basically never will.
the criminal hindbrain might slowly eventually pick itself back together to plot meticulous vicious vengeance on this sarkaz woman one day for humiliating her so badly. nevermind that she really doesn't have much in the way of pride and ego to speak of, but she can't be wrecked this bad and not pay her back so nicely for such a lovely experience. it'd be so ungrateful of her! but most of her right now is far too mindblown to think of much at all except bliss and... the sickening adoration towards someone who could crush her down this badly and hideously and perfectly. she leans heavily to w's leg, shivering helplessly through the aftershocks of orgasm, her cunt squeezing greedily around every broken edge of that knife inside her. it felt horrible, it feels so damn good. the bomb disintegrating in her mouth turning to ash that makes her cough and choke furiously, tears brimming and falling shamefully from her eyes. an entirely physical response and that's it. and the discomfort and pain of the particles in her throat just, even, feels that much worse--
it's so bad. she could struggle to hack and breathe through it. she practically came untouched, just from being fucked and gagged. even the humiliation of this practically sends another vicious thrill through her but she can't even moan through the coughing. through tears and streaks of ash in her mouth she struggles to parse w's demand and... maybe it's a good thing she's struggling instead of moaning like a whore when w yanks her hair.
coughing, and then wheezing a laugh. ]
Let me... catch my breath... a little... if you please. [ or well, she won't exactly complain if not. but even she needs a moment after being fucked this disgustingly. she coughs ash straight onto w's tights, actually, even while her cheek is pressed to a thigh with twisted puppy-like fondness.
oh gross. bad dog. she shouldn't be this down bad if she's wrecked, but it unfortunately or luckily happens so rarely or maybe never. that it happened just now this painfully is asking for trouble, to catch a sick beast's intrigue that could only spiral worse. ]
[ w's eyes roll like well-shaken dice. imagine needing to take a breather after getting body slammed and threatened with grievous bodily injury and stuffed with questionable explosive charges and fucked to spasmodic abandon with materials that definitely aren't body safe! obviously w would have such a wayyyy easier time if it was her — but lappland will probably give her an opportunity to prove it soon enough, won't she? it's what w would do, were the roles reversed. what a wonderful cycle of violence it is.
it's good that she can't honestly tell the difference between fear and excitement anymore. it just melds into one very satisfying thrill as w tugs lappland's head forward and squats down to peer at her face. ]
The aftertaste takes forever to go away.
[ w should know, she's been huffing the stuff for as long as she can remember. that mouthy little rhodes island medic told her four years ago that she'd be dead in two if she kept on like this. but lappland apparently doesn't have her roach-like apocalyptic resilience, so w digs into the hinge of her jaw and licks some of the ash off her tongue to entice her to drool out the rest. the pad of her thumb swipes beneath lappland's scarred eye, collecting tears.
she drums jauntily on lappland's back while she waits for her to cough the rest up, smirking preciously. ]
You can think of it like a souvenir just for you. Anybody else, they aren't tasting much anymore.
[ for shame... it's true, she should be better than this, she should be up for a round two right off the heels of this. and maybe she totally would. but no, can't have too many good things so soon, that'd be too greedy! such play needs to be savored like fine wine and she'll sure be thinking of how best to pay back this playdate sometime soon. ]
I'm... flattered, I can taste you this thoroughly. [ the taste of w's personal explosive arts, and after the too-generous treat of w's saliva even. if she were anything like a sommelier she could just about try to discern how best to describe and compliment the ashy notes, the harsh particles. it sure should be a health hazard. too bad the rhodes medics aren't here to patch her reckless injuries and endure her morbid jokes. the only one here is w.
taste is, definitely, one of the senses that will fail them one day in the future as the infection progresses. often one of the first. she clutches at w's dress, then lunges forward to... it's not a kiss, just about a return of that bite from before. but less to cut and spit when her mouth is this dry, just to suddenly and swiftly thrust her ash-dust tongue to w's mouth to share a mouthful of the disintegrate material to her.
one day they'll both be ashes. the taste of this like a reminder of their mortality. ]
[ that is... definitely not the way that people usually respond to w or her notoriously problematic gunpowder residues at all. her brows lift like she's expecting a punchline, and she is, either in the literal or even more literal sense, eternally tuned into the frequency of her enemies' body language, always expecting that unexpected, underhanded blow. it'd make so much sense for lappland to try to lure her into a false sense of complacency so she can smack her down at the first opening.
that's her bad — she in no way intuits that the attack will come from lappland's tongue. she has enough time to reel back and rock herself off her heels and right on her ass, her hands lifting to break this shit up or snap lappland's throat if that doesn't work, and they do clasp around it, murderous tension thrumming in her fingers. she's too close, she's up to something, w didn't spend a lifetime scrapping with sarkaz ten times her size and twenty times her weight to chump out in front of some siracusan reject. she really doesn't need the reminder.
but even as her fingers squeeze, her tongue pushes back and twists and tangles and wrings the taste of herself off lappland's. and she digs in deeper, surging into her mouth for those faded echoes of copper and the steely tang of the originium so baked into her blood, into their blood. this dancing upon the precipice of life and death shouldn't feel so much like coming home, but the taste of it is heady and unmistakable. ]
[ it's more an assault than a kiss, it's more a challenge. the flare of her eyes brighter than ash, the sudden press and cut of her teeth in her wider grin. this sure was a lot of fun just now. it can't have been more obvious she loved it.
but, she'd still maintain, she was a willing partner in allowing w to do that to her. yeah. absolutely. that's totally what it was. and the moment she could tell she catches w by surprise she moves to crawl over w, laughing harshly against her mouth even as she could feel w's hand at her throat. the threat display is almost nothing if not appreciated. it's flattering. she'd just had an explosive deep in her throat, don't spoil her with more than that.
and through the kiss her own shaking hand reaches to between her own thighs to pull the toy knife free, completely slick and dripping with her fluids. sadly no blood, or maybe actually there is a little. the raw edge of broken plastic could have clawed a shallow scratch inside... she nearly purrs at the sensation of it as she brings the blade to bear against w's neck as well. a somewhat less effective threat, but maybe just to wet her further with wolf cum as if marking her with the obscene scent of her. ]
I had fun just now, W.
But it'd be only courteous for me to return the favor. Maybe dirty you up a little more than this before I lick you clean.
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
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...
it's somewhat disappointing. but what if she's wrong? it could totally be a real knife! the way w handles it is definitely finessed, practiced, the movements of someone who's handled far more weapons than anything so frivolous as playing cards, game die, casino chips... the blade catches the glitzy lights. she watches the touch of w's tongue on it and she could just about anticipate w's attack and her heart skips a little that, finally, someone could actually want to just plunge a weapon into her. finally. not to say it doesn't happen all the time on the battlefield but it's so much better if it's personal, even if they don't even know each other that well and this is only a step above impersonal at all.
anyway. she can catch crossbow bolts out the air, and she could catch w's wrist and the knife. a prop blade would still hurt, and it'd be great. but she likes her pain earned.
she twists w's wrist up towards her face and lunges to bite at the blade; her teeth could and do shatter the fake blade. and yet she could hope the edge when she breaks it could be sharper even a little more so than the prop edge. the disappointing taste of plastic or whatever... the attack attempt sure makes her heart skip but it woudln't stop her from trying to snatch the fake weapon and bear w to crash full onto the floor. ]
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it's all background noise instead, the kind w adores: chaos, terror, the sound of shoes hammering the floor as they rush away from the bodies twisting in the air. this feral fucking lupo is all she truly registers, her eyes gleaming as those sharp canines crunch through the plastic and crush it into precious shards. not that she'd ever admit it, but that's a nice touch. she gets the wicked idea to feed the plastic right back to lappland, but then they're falling and her spiny, too-sticky tail is wrapping lappland's thigh and clinging to her dress for purchase and leverage. a little extra momentum so that when they hit the ground, w's able to snap herself atop lappland, the hilt of the blade lifted high though lappland's still got her by the wrist.
an easy fix. she drops the knife into her other hand and brushes its now-jagged edge against the underside of lappland's chin. ]
Oh no, where'd my willing participant go? Thought you were up for anything. [ like she needs a knife to kill anyone anyway. this toy is just for fun, for the sound it makes raking across skin. her knees cinch around lappland's hips with bone-breaking strength. ] What's wrong, did I move a little too fast for you?
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or on top of her, which she won’t quite admit. she sure hopes sarkaz sense of smell isn’t as acute as lupo’s and she can’t quite scent lappland getting swiftly wet. ]
I did mean anything, dolcezza. You don’t see me running, right? [ her tail swishes traitorously underneath her. she did say willing partner and… ] It might just be I was thinking penetration elsewhere than here, if that blade isn’t actually going to cut. [ she taps to her chest with a black claw. how tasty it really would be if only it were a real blade… but even so she can’t be that easy.
if she’s easy now it’s your imagination. she supposes she talked herself into it, what a shame. there’s one more speculative look at w, as if sizing her up, then… her eyes fall half-closed as her grip slackens on w and she tilts her neck more deliberately to the slightly sharper broken edge of the prop. her breaths coming in shallower, the rising blush to her face may as well give her away too easily how much this is turning her on. ]
I’m your willing partner, as I said. [ for this round. ]
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there's a too-delicious scent in the air she can't quite place, and as lappland lifts her chin and exposes that pale throat, something within w burns fiercely. it shows on the outside, too, her face darkening with blush at the word 'penentration,' but— fuck she should just turn this stupid plastic knife into a bomb, shove it in lappland's mouth, and get this whole thing over with.
instead, she drags the still-not-sharp-enough edge down lappland's chest and over her beating heart, raising little more than a barely visible line of agitated flesh. ]
Please. I could kill you with a plastic straw. Just might not get that... penetration you want.
[ that she wants, apparently. with only thin tights between where w's straddling her, the most mortifying thing is that she can feel herself leaking through before she can lift herself — and for that, lappland almost certainly has to die.
elsewhere. ]
Get up. I'll stuff you full of something much more fun than plastic.
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but actually, she wouldn't even try to kill w even if the knife were real. it'd be cutting the fun short far too soon. surely the feeling is mutual! ] You could, but the question is if you will. Am I not more entertaining alive then dead? [ for now, at least. ] But I sure hope I could die in a pleasing way.
[ not for w but for herself. maybe it'd be too selfish for w to indulge her. not even texas would!... for maybe obvious and other unsaid reasons. she could wonder briefly how the sickness or her own natural sickness of her mind stacks up against w's, surely death seeking can't be so uncommon a symptom and she's not even that obvious with it until the prospect of it comes up like this. at the point of a weapon, even a fake one, if someone offers it like this. but she has to admit for now she has some unfinished business still and so she really can't let even a cute girl kill her that easily.
she could smell w's arousal and the sly grin that spreads over her face is knowing. ]
I'm flexible, amica. I don't exactly need penetration to get off, but if the blade can't cut satisfyingly I'm just wondering what else you had in mind when you were trying to stab me.
[ other than offering a treat to wolf. she gets to her feet with only a bit of reluctance, simply acquiescing; the movement purposefully pushing the plastic point to drag against the low-cut dress and bare skin. the plastic doesn't even cut ribbon, the sheer disappointment... but it's still flattering to have had a stabbing attempt. ]
Or maybe you were a little pent up.
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it's just far too ingrained in her head to keep the 'blade' between them as lappland rises to her feet again. what was she even thinking when she attacked? that lappland would make a pretty corpse, sure, even as she knew it'd break one way or another. maybe she was hoping it'd all devolve to teeth and claws. is that so much for a sarkaz to ask? it's not just oripathy that has her hungering for bloodsports — gone as the myriad souls are now, their cries for carnage will echo forever on in her mind.
but she really can't say it's just that. she watches the way lappland's dress creases as she reorients herself, and when she drifts in close behind to lodge that plastic hilt against lappland's spine, the scent drifting off her wild mane is remarkably dizzying. it's fine; w takes her hostage like she's being paid for it, barring an arm across a chest she can't help peeking down at, and nudges them forward. ]
C'mon, I'll give you a legendary death. Haven't you heard of me? Half the marks I've wasted ended up begging for it the moment they realized who I am.
[ ... there's more to those stories, sure, but they don't matter now as w prods lappland across the ballroom, her traitorous black heart rabbiting noisily in her chest. ]
But like I said, I really do love a hunt. I guess you can help me blow off a little steam before your number's up! Better move your ass to one of those tacky fucking rooms before I change my damned mind.
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and the whole kidnapping play is just icing on top. her dress is rather long so if she can feel wetness crawl down her thigh she'll keep it a little secret a little longer until whenever clothes might have to be shed. sinking teeth and claws in someone is a favorite game but maybe she totally handicapped herself by promising to be a willing partner. trying to play nice and offer some grace rather than pounce on prey, however she might like to.
as a playmate w is making her mentally recalibrate by the second. she finds a spare champagne room; the music of the casino muffles behind the heavy door as she enters, still allowing for w to capture her arm behind her if she wants. being captured to this place at all is... irritating and a bit unnerving. but the nerves of play like this just spark all the right kind of shivers. ]
Signorina Abductress...
I said that I'm willing, and I am. I'll even beg if that's what pleases you and if you're that good. [ well she won't lie and say she wouldn't prefer to be the one extracting the begging but she's also somewhat patient, funnily enough, and... something else she won't admit. a curl of black ribbon twines around w's arm as she slides opera-gloved fingers up w's shoulder with her free arm, ] You're the one with the weapon, I'm your poor little captive. Whatever should I do! I tried to grab the knife and even destroy it and it didn't work, maybe all I can do is please my hunter or bide my time...
I mean, we can have some fun. [ she slinks full-body against w, with a fluff of her tail and the rub of her ass to hitch at the hem of w's dress. playing as some captive. it doesn't quite suit her, but she likes to play any twisted game. ]
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and that hand — her teeth flash, though briefly, her eyes narrowing dangerously. there are mercs she's known her whole life who wouldn't have the balls to lay a hand on her, and there's plenty more unwitting fools who thought they could be the one to steal a touch. they're all rotting now, and w's mind is so quickly consumed by thoughts of lappland fly-thick and bloated in that enormous pile of them, her entire body flooding with singing tension.
but the instinct just isn't there, to dash lappland's skull against the floor until it breaks or to wrap her hands around that pretty neck and shake until it falls apart. the impulse sure is, but she finds her skin heating instead, that twisted clenching within turning absolutely fucking unbearable. maybe, maybe, just this once, she wants...
she slams the door behind them, and then indeed captures lappland's arm behind her back, wrenching her forward until she can crash her hard against one of the walls. the nerve of this bitch, throwing it back like that. obviously w needs to grind her into drywall until her bones are milled to a fine dust. ]
Sure, you can beg.
[ at least now the plastic stuck in lappland's spine falls away. w leans determinedly against her as she passes it over her palm, and there's that tell-tale sizzling of arts in the air, the hilt of the blade returning to settle against lappland's throat, significantly warmer than before and emitting a soft tick... tick... ]
Either way, this ends in fireworks. Just gotta find someplace fun to stick this before time's up. Maybe... here?
[ glowing hotter and hotter and slipping down the front of lappland's dress, the fabric catching and tearing at its jagged edges. maybe it'll melt the dress or flesh or all of it if she channels hard enough. ]
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the crash to the wall takes the breath out of her, then--she starts to laugh, her look down to the knife ticking against her throat is close to delighted than anything else. of course it would be. for all her efforts to get along with people, for all that she hadn't even done anything like attack texas, for all that she vents her frustrations on enemies in combat she doesn't exactly quite say she loves to be roughed up when it never quite happens and of course texas doesn't exactly indulge her or anything. deservedly. still there's the thrill in her blood that snarls at her to fight back, to... she'd want to be banged up even worse than being banged. ]
I'll have to ask what I've done to deserve such a treat. [ it couldn't be the sickness of the infection, it must be the natural sickness that--yes, very yes, she'd be sick enough to actually genuinely want to experience something like being blasted intimately even mid-fuck. she obligingly reaches to the new tear opened to her dress, hooks a black claw to the new rip, then tear obligingly a long open wound in the fabric from thigh to abdomen. it sure was a surprise waking up in a garage in some limo in literally nothing but a nightgown but she at least has panties now--black lace, nice and showy for this glitzy and showy and perverted casino.
playing games, indulging in pleasure... she's not exactly such a shameless hedonist, actually, really. but she knows what she likes. and in the back of her mind she keeps in mind, the calculation of a criminal, how w can use her arts like this--it could definitely be useful. and not just in sex. nevermind it should never be used in sex. the burn along the edge of plastic only brings a greater blush to her face, the restless whisk of her tail, the part of her thighs to make it just too obvious how wet she is, the damp of black lace. ]
Don't spoil me that much just yet. Even I'll feel guilty if I'm blown apart before I could possibly pay you back. [ there's such a thing as being too greedy, right? ]
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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.
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but how much more gorgeous mortal threats are, even the disappointment of the plastic weapon could melt at the promise of detonation. what a complete shame lappland herself rather needs a weapon to channel her own arts; the disparity and relative more powerlessness more potent a drug than any cocktail she'd had before. her high bark of a laugh turning into a gasp, an almost puppy-ish whimper as w pinches at her nipples--yes yes, it nearly makes her legs go weak, the flush to her face darkens fiercely. the look she'd leveled to w before only somewhat amused and anticipatory in play now devolved into something close to...
a beast meeting another savage creature's gaze, the recognition of kinship in violence and control. she'd so much less often been on this end of it. it's too intoxicating. ]
What... whatever you say, Signorina. I wonder if you'll understand if I say I hate feeling safe. [ a baring of teeth, the glow of her eyes. what she knows of w--terrorist, mercenary, trouble child to rhodes and yet even she vaguely knows she has a much deeper history with rhodes than lappland herself who wouldn't yet if ever consider it something close to a place to belong. a safehouse in so far as they embraced and treated the infected. safety probably has so little meaning to the both of them. she arches her back just a little more to push her breasts further to w's touch; the red blush creeps down the pale skin of her chest. ]
I'm so willingly giving you my pathetic last moments. [ ... she wouldn't really, but even now the fantasy and dream of it is too tempting not to indulge in. how lovely it would be to hand her life over to someone who could crush it as painfully as she might like. ] I don't even know if I want to beg for my life anymore, but I could beg for something else.
Could I beg to give you pleasure? [ through the strained hiss of her voice the tip of her tongue lolls out, just for a moment--however wet she is, she could scent w's as well and her mouth is watering at the idea of tasting it. yet for now she tips her head back to the wall to bare her throat further in entreating submission, ] Or could I even ask, even beg for you make it hurt more?
[ every pinch to her tits has her legs near shake; a shiver runs through her hard at any particularly hard one. maybe at this point fighting back barely occurs to her. it's so selfish of her if she wants to be pinned just this harshly or more. ]
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she'd pretended she didn't know lappland earlier, when texas mentioned her in passing. siracusan drama isn't really her wheelhouse, but she's heard, of course, of the cannibal wolf who chewed up her entire family and spit her own father out on his ass. w likes to think that if she'd ever had one of those, she'd do the same.
in short, she'd really prefer the beast over the mask, alluring as it is. however nice lappland's playing now, w's sure this isn't the whole of her. when the cycle of revenge spins back around on her, that's when things will get interesting. it always is, always has been. ]
Please. Tell me everything your little heart desires, beg until you're blue in the fucking face. I just wanna see you truly miserable.
[ she shakes them both with her laughter and lappland's spine can bear the brunt of it. it'd probably please them both just to bend it over her knee and dislocate her from end to end, make it so lappland can't even feel it when she fishes a hand into those damp panties. all she has to do is swipe between those silky lips and her fingers come away dripping, and she makes a low noise of displeasure, even if her hips are clapping hard against lappland's ass, betraying how she really feels. ]
Don't worry, this won't feel good. In fact, it'll piss me off if I even think you're starting to enjoy it, I might just start blowing off some limbs.
[ she drops the knife into her slicked up hand, and the one that was holding it grips lappland by the throat instead, her fingers bearing bruisingly into the point of her pulse. there's no real need to get rid of the panties if lappland wants it to hurt, she can start to drive it right through them, its jagged, broken edge ripping through, catching on lace and riding dangerously up against too-soft flesh. it's fine, if there's one thing w knows it's bodies and how to break them, she probably won't let lappland bleed out yet. ]
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I want...
I want it in me. [ she breathes this out in a rasp between too-sharp teeth, the beatific clutch of her jaws when w seizes her neck. no no, don't do that, she can't be indulged this much. she's supposed to play prisoner and captive and whatever and she did put in the effort for that but she could barely hold back her hunger much longer. her hand goes to grasp w's wrist holding the weapon, those fingers now slick with her fluids; her claws cut raw red slices there, an attempt to etch her own mark as gorgeous as it felt to have the fake knife heat in preparation to detonate. the fantasy of being burned, mutilated. ] Even if it can't cut, fuck me with it. I can take it, I can take the whole thing, I can take whatever you can give me. [ it's not a terribly big knife, the hilt doesn't exactly have a pommel or anything though now she just about wishes it did. maybe it's too bad she couldn't actually get stabbed but she wants some action just like this.
her arm goes to slink around w's neck to pull her closer even as her breathing goes beatifically shallow under w's grip. every breath and swallow and the beat of her pulse underneath. ]
Put your weapon in me. W. [ she knows the other woman's codename, but maybe only that. her legs part further in invitation, her hips jerking to try to chase the sensation of that broken fake blade through soaked panties, her eyes flutter as she yanks w's head and ear close to her mouth and the cut of her teeth. ]
Please.
[ she begs so rarely, or maybe never even genuinely. but she wants badly, now. ]
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maybe this won't be the most painful torture she's ever endured. it sure is fun to fuck lappland to the absolute boundary of her panties, too shallow to do much but make a mess and threaten to nick some skin. especially when she starts to writhe, w's fingers tightening around her throat in instinctive response, her knee driving her crushingly against the wall to keep her from flailing out of her grip.
even that might not work and it makes w snicker all over again. ]
There you are. I knew you were a nasty, feral fucking freak all along. Holy shit! I bet if I stuffed you full of explosives you'd blow before I could even pull the fucking trigger.
[ whatever she's doing between lappland's legs now, there's a pop of pressure and heat, probably the sensation of charred bits of lace sliding away where they aren't stuck fast by lappland's own slick. she's such a mess — and now w is too, blood pumping hot down her forearm. she'll get lappland for that, even has a plan in mind, but for now she crams the knife between those wide-spread and begging thighs, growling when it sinks deep into her cunt with no resistance at all. still, she's snarling: ]
Take it, you filthy fucking bitch. Beg me to drive this thing straight into your fucking guts. Might as well confess all that sick shit on your mind, the timer's ticking down fast.
[ she can make those ticks thunder inside of her, turn the heat of the plastic up to a nigh unbearable degree. there's a balance here that only someone with either a deep genius or unhealthy obsession could manage, between the melting point of this prop and the ignition of the charge within it. lappland's really so lucky she's in such capable hands. ]
i guess time to cw for like. mention of unsafe knifeplay/graphic violence
if she had weapons, if they were really dueling or brawling she'd sure like to give as good as she gets. but right now her ravenous greed at being overpowered, the constant fantasy of it ever happening to her. she'd imagine it were texas' hands around her neck, texas' blade cutting her panties apart or better yet sinking straight into her gut. she could beg far too beatifically for that and yet when it'll never happen she paws desperately for those red and white strands instead, eyes glazed, ] D-don't blow me up just yet, I'll cum way too fast... [ the humiliation of that. and body injury she supposes. maybe she can't say if she would or wouldn't cum too fast, she hasn't been blown up before.
but the very idea of it has her pussy clench hungrily at the degradation, at the threat and promise of it. the knife tears fabric and lace and sinks straight into her and she writhes instantly with a desperate animal sound, her hand clutches to w's hair, nails raking to her scalp. actually she has to fight not to cum maybe the moment the knife enters her, with every scrape of the bitten plastic to her insides. of course it doesn't feel good. of course she wants it even harder and deeper, the way her legs shake and hips drop to try to take in as much as she could. she's so fucking wet and turned on and the knife isn't terribly girthy or anything but truly size doesn't matter. the temptation and threat of that tick does. ]
You, you need to fuck me with a real one. [ she hisses this out with a crazed look, her face frantic with pleasure and vicious greed. never mind how completely insane and impossible that demand is. she could barely really care about her health or body or life. ] Or an explosive. A nice big fat one, or as many grenades as you can put in me. [ too unwell. too irreparably and incurably and impossibly unwell. diving straight off the cliff of a freak-off. ] Gag me with them, stick them in my mouth, rig me up to something and if I don't cum or fuck well enough for you, you won't even blow me up... make me wear an explosive and fuck you in public so I could earn the explosion.
[ how strange, she'd wanted to bleed out gruesomely and agonizingly under texas' blades for so long but she might be getting explosionpilled by the second. ]
cw nobody should read this shit ever
even though she asked for all that, w has to raise her brows in astonishment; lappland's not just any random rhodes island chump, she definitely knows exactly who she's begging all this twisted shit from. she very much knows that w is the one person who would absolutely fucking do it, and it's wild to hear the words babble out of her with such fanatic enthusiasm. wild and refreshing, honestly, maybe it's nice to be appreciated for her talents for once. ]
You're outta your fucking mind. I'd never let you go out with one measly little bang. A nasty freak like you I'd wanna blow piece by piece, til all I've got left is this foul fucking mouth. Hah! I wonder what you'd be begging for then.
[ the knife isn't exactly huge, true, and w's fingers are too slick with wolf cum to keep a good grip on it anyway. she has better luck just sinking in those, too, shoving the hilt still deeper with every rough thrust of them, and lappland herself can decide if it feels worse or better when she's buried up to her knuckles and that jagged, broken edge is bottomed out. maybe it's not possibly sharp enough to cut deeper than that, but the furious digging w's giving her would be the thing to do it if it were. ]
Be a shame to gag you and miss out on all the wild shit you spew, but I'm in a great mood. You wanna suck on one of my bombs? You got it.
[ maybe she's growing a little fond of that mouth, even as her nails cinch around lappland's jaw and steer it towards her hard-locking teeth. she shreds lappland's lip, pleased by the sweet tang of thick blood but what she wants most of all is the disease within it, those little originium molecules that sing with explosive potential on her tongue. she spits a wad of it back into lappland's mouth for good measure, though she's got plenty enough juice to give lappland what she wants.
black smoke rises as that hand around lappland's throat works, and something warm and steely will begin to grow heavy upon her tongue, swallowing the blood to take shape into a perfectly sized bomb to gag her with. w's already taunting her: ]
Don't bite down too hard. If you stain this dress, I'm gonna do some really horrible things to whatever's left of you.
new worst ship alert
there's a frantic high whine as w thrusts the knife right in her, exactly as vengefully as she'd crave. the sick fantasies of her mind fester over the fantasy of how a real weapon could pierce through tender flesh into organs and vitals and... of course she wouldn't fuck a real knife. or rather the 'of course' sure is more of a 'better hope it's an of course after she cums and gets more of her mind back' from the most rotten horniness that could possibly take root in an unstable wolf. maybe it's a good thing it's a fake blade, she won't die from internal bleeding and maybe the worst possible way to kill a deranged lesbian. it'd hurt so fucking bad. and yet, and yet could it possibly be worth it.
the jagged edges of the fake weapon in her, w's fingers in her could just about drive her over the edge and she's already hideously fast and close to it already, how weak and hungry she is for rough play. but then w's biting her and--her tail whacks painfully against the wall, her ears slink back desperately as her mouth works to accept w's saliva, a furious shiver runs through her full-body. no, no no. don't spoil her this much. the dizzy rapture of her expression, a mad dog who may as well have talked herself into following a stranger's whim for the hell of it, who'd given a half-hearted attempt at trying to play captive or hostage only to be shittalked and fucked this bad. don't do this, she's obsessive and there should only be room for one obsession but she already knows the other lone wolf won't do this to her. just about resigned her bloodthirsty deathseeking dreams as dreams.
death could be so deliciously close like this, a bomb on her tongue, in her mouth. she drools around it as saliva runs down the side of her mouth; her fist seizes in w's hair in an ecstatic grip, her eyes fix on her lustfully. her pussy squeezes betrayingly hard on the broken knife in her, on w's fingers there around the hilt. the whole wolf could be a sheath. ]
G'nna... cum... [ her clit is so fucking hard. her cunt tightens furiously around the plastic blade, she wishes it could cut her exactly this deep and more. her teeth scratch grooves into the metal of the bomb, her entire body on the edge of pain.
she could bite down on this thing, it could fucking kill her so much more agonizingly than that originium bomb that doomed her. better yet, this close, w'd catch the explosion too... how nice!!! they could both die or at least suffer horrifyingly before dying messily. peak romance to the sickest beast. how she could secretly dream of dragging texas to hell with her but know in reality it seems she can't bring herself to. or maybe the real secret is she just doesn't want to sink into hell alone, and here's a real bastard who's willing to take her there.
blood might stain w's dress from the wolf claw marks into her wrist and arm. her cum might get on those tights, or definitely would. saliva drips off her chin; her eyes flutter and roll with the prospect of biting down in orgasm and ending both their lives. ]
ultimate notp
even now, w knows all the rules and still there's nothing but murder in her eyes when her gaze meets lappland's. every living fiber of her being aches to snap the wrists that reach for her, to break every single one of those fingers pulling in her hair. nobody touches her, nobody, and the few concessions she's made for the cause have obviously emboldened lappland to grab up more. she's got to pay, or at least come on nothing but the fear for her life. ]
Stupid bitch, I see you biting!
[ she makes it difficult not to, the flat of her hand swatting lappland's cheeks, slapping her face upwards so she's in danger of choking on her own drool. so messy, so nasty, w's never wanted to piece someone out more. maybe that's endgame in this place, keeping lappland like a living originium vein she can mine for all the explosives she'll need to craft to bring this hellhole down. w's almost tempted to start now.
she stabs her fingers into lappland's mouth, jolting the bomb deeper down her throat. ]
Guess there's no getting it outta there any other way. You really should have thought about that before you asked. [ her unhinged cackling is made of the purest notes of murderous intrigue. ] Since you're gonna make a huge mess anyway, I might as well light the fuses on both ends of you. It can be a fun little game you only get to play half of.
[ the fuses hiss at the beckoning of w's trigger finger, that charged piece of plastic buried in her cunt, the steel ball burning on her tongue. w doesn't actually care if she comes or not before the big finale, she's happily engrossed with poking that originium steel as far down lappland's throat as it will go, with violently pounding that now-sparking plastic charge into a place she'll really feel it. her fun's only got a few seconds left before it's over, and she's happy to purr the countdown directly into one of those fuzzy, twitching ears. ]
Three... Two...
[ because these are both duds, of course, she's still not about to compromise her own plans for a bit of short-lived fun. these are just the same kind of poppers she'd leave on kal'tsit's office chair when she was feeling particularly sadistic. it won't feel great when they expand and blow, but there's no way they'll leave any lasting damage — unless you count the horrible sound of w's breathless, gasping laughter when they start popping off. ]
cw guro/snuff/suicidal thoughts
but w's definitely shot up to the top of the list of people to investigate in more intimate detail.
it's not going to be a real bomb, but the slap is real and the fingers in her mouth is real and the too-tempting tick and heat of the explosive prying her jaws apart--it's real enough for her to believe, for the heartstopping few moments as her pussy spasms around the knife buried in her, she could be so close to death. she nearly sobs with something like... she doesn't know if it's relief, desperation, bliss, fury. all the toxicity in her body not even including the sickness that she and w share. seems they must share more than mere oripathy, the sickness can barely compare to the sick of their mental. she deepthroats the explosive as much as she could, gagging and choking on it, her neck bulging with it, her mind clouding over with yes, yes yes yes, set it off in me just like this, blow my neck apart, kill me kill me now now now--
every tick growing louder in intensity to match her rabbiting heart until she could hear the beep that should signal its detonation. she cums right on cue, the most humiliating keening whine from her throat as she clenches down hard on the knife, on w's fingers, the sheer fantasy of her throat being torn open. she could collapse in a gruesome pool of her own blood and viscera and bone shards, far too mangled. if it didn't even kill her instantly maybe she could even spend her last moments suffering the sheer fucking agony of... she has no idea if she could feel anything, her spine and neck should be severed, she'd never died or been blown up before but she suddenly vividly wanted nothing more than for it to happen. it's the hardest she's cummed in so long, to the fantasy of her own grotesque death. desperately, dizzyingly, insanely wanting something like this over what might await her in the future after all.
her legs shake and then give out; she blows her load in drenching w's wrist and tights with her juices. the dud bomb lodges deep in her throat as she clutches to w's shoulder, wheezing breathlessly through the insertion in her mouth, her whole body shaking violently. incurable, cumming too filthily to the idea of getting detonated so ruthlessly. if it were real she might even have let it happen. what a completely horrifying experience, it'd be worth it. ]
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she coos softly, almost-but-not-quite apologetically: ]
Awww. I can't risk a solid plug or I would have given you the moneyshot. It's nothing personal, I swear.
[ that bomb will turn to ash in her throat, probably not made of the kind of stuff you'd wanna swallow, though she supposes it doesn't matter in this specific case. it's really difficult to miss the now glistening oripathy lesions on lappland's thigh, even harder not to dream of igniting them, of feeling that explosive release of tension where they root into bone, a possibility she can't even allow herself to contemplate because in a manic enough mood it's obvious that neither of them would think better of it.
just as it's obvious that that meddling old hag has probably been keeping them well off each other's radar for a good reason, but anyway. ]
I really was serious about the dress, though.
[ it's good and filthy, worse now that w's delighting in digging every last splashing pulse of come out of her. she doesn't care if lappland can't cross her legs for a week, her fingers twist and curl and rake down her walls until there's a pool gathering at her heels and all she can rattle out of lappland anymore is those full-body tremors.
she's also not too concerned with whether or not lappland's legs work. it just makes it easier for w to shove her down to kneel in her own slippery mess, and if she can't get her bearings on w's time, she guesses she can grip lappland by the hair until she does. more importantly, w's hips rock forward so lappland can take a good look at what she's done to her tights. ]
Now you gotta clean this shit up. No way I'm going back out there reeking of wolf nut, put that nasty mouth to good use.
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the criminal hindbrain might slowly eventually pick itself back together to plot meticulous vicious vengeance on this sarkaz woman one day for humiliating her so badly. nevermind that she really doesn't have much in the way of pride and ego to speak of, but she can't be wrecked this bad and not pay her back so nicely for such a lovely experience. it'd be so ungrateful of her! but most of her right now is far too mindblown to think of much at all except bliss and... the sickening adoration towards someone who could crush her down this badly and hideously and perfectly. she leans heavily to w's leg, shivering helplessly through the aftershocks of orgasm, her cunt squeezing greedily around every broken edge of that knife inside her. it felt horrible, it feels so damn good. the bomb disintegrating in her mouth turning to ash that makes her cough and choke furiously, tears brimming and falling shamefully from her eyes. an entirely physical response and that's it. and the discomfort and pain of the particles in her throat just, even, feels that much worse--
it's so bad. she could struggle to hack and breathe through it. she practically came untouched, just from being fucked and gagged. even the humiliation of this practically sends another vicious thrill through her but she can't even moan through the coughing. through tears and streaks of ash in her mouth she struggles to parse w's demand and... maybe it's a good thing she's struggling instead of moaning like a whore when w yanks her hair.
coughing, and then wheezing a laugh. ]
Let me... catch my breath... a little... if you please. [ or well, she won't exactly complain if not. but even she needs a moment after being fucked this disgustingly. she coughs ash straight onto w's tights, actually, even while her cheek is pressed to a thigh with twisted puppy-like fondness.
oh gross. bad dog. she shouldn't be this down bad if she's wrecked, but it unfortunately or luckily happens so rarely or maybe never. that it happened just now this painfully is asking for trouble, to catch a sick beast's intrigue that could only spiral worse. ]
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it's good that she can't honestly tell the difference between fear and excitement anymore. it just melds into one very satisfying thrill as w tugs lappland's head forward and squats down to peer at her face. ]
The aftertaste takes forever to go away.
[ w should know, she's been huffing the stuff for as long as she can remember. that mouthy little rhodes island medic told her four years ago that she'd be dead in two if she kept on like this. but lappland apparently doesn't have her roach-like apocalyptic resilience, so w digs into the hinge of her jaw and licks some of the ash off her tongue to entice her to drool out the rest. the pad of her thumb swipes beneath lappland's scarred eye, collecting tears.
she drums jauntily on lappland's back while she waits for her to cough the rest up, smirking preciously. ]
You can think of it like a souvenir just for you. Anybody else, they aren't tasting much anymore.
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I'm... flattered, I can taste you this thoroughly. [ the taste of w's personal explosive arts, and after the too-generous treat of w's saliva even. if she were anything like a sommelier she could just about try to discern how best to describe and compliment the ashy notes, the harsh particles. it sure should be a health hazard. too bad the rhodes medics aren't here to patch her reckless injuries and endure her morbid jokes. the only one here is w.
taste is, definitely, one of the senses that will fail them one day in the future as the infection progresses. often one of the first. she clutches at w's dress, then lunges forward to... it's not a kiss, just about a return of that bite from before. but less to cut and spit when her mouth is this dry, just to suddenly and swiftly thrust her ash-dust tongue to w's mouth to share a mouthful of the disintegrate material to her.
one day they'll both be ashes. the taste of this like a reminder of their mortality. ]
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that's her bad — she in no way intuits that the attack will come from lappland's tongue. she has enough time to reel back and rock herself off her heels and right on her ass, her hands lifting to break this shit up or snap lappland's throat if that doesn't work, and they do clasp around it, murderous tension thrumming in her fingers. she's too close, she's up to something, w didn't spend a lifetime scrapping with sarkaz ten times her size and twenty times her weight to chump out in front of some siracusan reject. she really doesn't need the reminder.
but even as her fingers squeeze, her tongue pushes back and twists and tangles and wrings the taste of herself off lappland's. and she digs in deeper, surging into her mouth for those faded echoes of copper and the steely tang of the originium so baked into her blood, into their blood. this dancing upon the precipice of life and death shouldn't feel so much like coming home, but the taste of it is heady and unmistakable. ]
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but, she'd still maintain, she was a willing partner in allowing w to do that to her. yeah. absolutely. that's totally what it was. and the moment she could tell she catches w by surprise she moves to crawl over w, laughing harshly against her mouth even as she could feel w's hand at her throat. the threat display is almost nothing if not appreciated. it's flattering. she'd just had an explosive deep in her throat, don't spoil her with more than that.
and through the kiss her own shaking hand reaches to between her own thighs to pull the toy knife free, completely slick and dripping with her fluids. sadly no blood, or maybe actually there is a little. the raw edge of broken plastic could have clawed a shallow scratch inside... she nearly purrs at the sensation of it as she brings the blade to bear against w's neck as well. a somewhat less effective threat, but maybe just to wet her further with wolf cum as if marking her with the obscene scent of her. ]
I had fun just now, W.
But it'd be only courteous for me to return the favor. Maybe dirty you up a little more than this before I lick you clean.
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cw bloodplay/body injury i guess
cw that and gore and watersports mention and suicide/death mention and jfc
stop!!!!!!!
i did nothing!!!!
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