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Fx F or NB -`♡´- Violet's latest Prompt of Interest

Violet or Vi

Violet or Vi

Isn't the self-destruction coded into us?
Joined
Aug 6, 2021
Location
On a bed of roses

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  • Hi there!

    I'm Vi and welcome to my second Off-Site request thread. With this one I'll keep things short and (hopefully) to the point. Mostly focusing onto one prompt at a time.

    That being said, I have a list of prompts that I wrote over the last few months. All of my those can also be found on my carrd page while I slowly bring them over onto BMR.

    If you prefer to read my old main request thread it is this way. And importantly my F-list is this way (NSFW?).

    With that out of the way, here we go.    ​


                           Prompt                           
  • [Prompt I]

    The world was a harsh place. This city included.

    Being a mercenary, merc for short, didn't make life any easier but it paid well. If one survived whatever job was offered that is. Many did not. Some became legends, in death. Many became nothing. Forgotten and discarded.

    The trajectory of Evangeline's life was leaning more towards the latter than the former. While she wasn't bad at her job, a deadly killer, she was far from getting any closer to becoming one of the greatest. A legend people talked about while getting drunk. Not that she wanted to. Not that it matter. Just like 99% of the city, she needed money. All she knew what to kill. Survive. Working for those that could afford her. Afford hiring people like her.

    Job after job. One more dangerous than the last. Ever closer moving towards an early grave. That was until one day she got an offer she couldn't refuse, even if she thought about it for a long time.

    Evangeline, or just Eva for short, was many things. Deadly was only one of them. She was also beautiful. Naturally beautiful. A tall woman with an amazing body. A lovely face. Perfect bubble butt. Fit. Shapely. Closer to perfect. In another time, another world, she could've been a model. A few adjustments here and there. A few enchantments and she would fit right in with the high-society up in the towers overlooking the city.

    And that was probably the reason for the offer. Everyone had heard about the kind of offer. A cliche at this point. Rich man or woman wanting a plaything. Something to keep them company at a social gathering. To look good. Arm candy. Escort as some call it. A whore if one was blunt.

    In the end, Evangeline accepted the offer. Three years ago. Now she nearly forgot the feeling of a gun in her hand. The weight. The recoil. Forgotten the hiss of bullets flying past her head. Adrenaline rushing through her veins. Her life as a merc in the past. No longer dressing in jeans, boots, and bomber jackets.

    Nowadays it was dresses and pencil skirts. Pantyhose and high-heels. Expensive underwear. Cheeks colored with rouge. Lines of charcoal decorating her eyes. Lips red as crimson. Fakes smiles and giggles filling her evening.

    Well, maybe not everything had changed.

    The money was good. The sex too, sometimes. Surprisingly enough it was rare for her to sleep with a client.

    But behind it all. Behind the facade there was emptiness. A void that she couldn't fill. Every client. Every event. Just another day. Going through the motions before returning to her small apartment. She never moved, even after making more money. Time stood still here.

    Over time guilt had crept into the back of her mind. Something akin to survivors guilt. At least that was she figured. A few years ago she put her life on the line for every job. Now she is earning money on her back. But than again the smut was only a small part of the job. Job. Somehow she stumbled into this. An easy way out. An opportunity. Deep down she knew why she stuck with it, she was too scared to return to the streets. No matter how much of a deadly killer she was, she had trained to be, one mistake could mean the end of the streets.

    All the people she had left behind. Friends. Enemies. Lovers. For better or worse. All to chase the dream of the high life.

    A fighter all her life and now? Nothing. A whore. Once the word upset her. Not anymore. There was some truth to it. Escort. Whore. Doll. What does it matter? What difference does it make?

    She sat there in her lounge chair by the window, a flavored cigarette between index and middle finger, held up in the air. Her other hand reaching for the phone. A new message. A new job offer. It had no effect on her expression or mood. Levelly she opened the message.


    Any questions and details can be discussed in DMs!

    ​
 
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