#Speakerbox

[gabyoficial3]

Genderswap

[skstraders]

LEISURE 2SE MKII BOOK SELF.

Contact: 9433001006, 9831163529.

email: info@skstraders.net.

Website: https://skstraders.net/

[tongerfurther]

มาเชียร์บักทิว Avoiding Reality #AvoidingReality #Ugoslabier #PeopleOfUgoslabier #speakerbox (ที่ Speakerbox) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpkduGEhL7w/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[spadesartblog]

I stole this headcanon from that one video but hear me out guys

[transgoldeneagle]

I CANT STOP DRAWING PUFFBALL SPEAKERBOX HELP

[tariah23]

I named her Speakerbox!!!

[therandomcreechur]

⭐️ is me and 💙 is my sister :D

Omg guys look it’s two and puffball speakerbox :0

Anyways uh yeah this will probably be my last bfdi meetup post (maybe) lol

[flezhleaf]

Page Dump

[torbbb]

practicing animating for the first time in years !! have some silly objects

[doodlebuggle]

Firey speakerbox and Flower speakerbox Yuri like and RB if u agree

[traff1csstuff]

Guys hear me out

[skstraders]

AURUM CANTUS V80F FLOOR STAND.

Contact: 9433001006, 9831163529.

email: info@skstraders.net.

Website: https://skstraders.net/

[loserdrawsobjects]

how do i tag firey speaker box

[briearesea]

The Tooth

alright hit me with your most inside of inside jokes. A joke so inside that any outsider would need a six-month course just for the groundwork to begin to understand it.

I’ll start:

Small-hee.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Damage Control 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen

Summary: you’re sent to work intel on a mission with two very combative men.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You slow as you approach the tall and ominous gates of the fortress which appears more a country house. You lean forward to peer through the bars and search the pillars beyond. You see dark specks milling about. A man like Hansen can never be too cautious. 

“Mm, you think the council would tend the lawns,” you mutter. 

“Ah, here, a place like this is hardly a century old. Not worth the funding,” Pine retorts. 

“Fair. I forget how shiny and new everything is here,” you muse. “Do you think we should buzz?” 

You look pointedly to the speakerbox near the door. 

“Don’t. Stay in the car,” he girds. 

You do as he says. He would know better than you. You’re intel, not an agent. You better behind the scenes than in the midst of one. 

You wait. You squint through the windshield then reach behind the seat where you put your satchel. You dig out your glasses case and put them on. 

“Ah, I see movement.” 

“Patience,” Pine says as he glances over at you. 

“I never wear these things. Doc says I should when I drive but they just get in my way,” you adjust them as you peer past the bars of the gate. 

He hums but doesn’t remark. A car drives down the stone way that winds up to the immense estate. It slows and single man gets out. You watch curiously. You know as well as the man next to you that there are others watching. Those behind long barrels and scopes. 

The man has a handgun read. You don’t doubt his willingness to use it. Pine sniffs and puts his palms out. 

“Suppose we need to go through the motions. Keep your hands visible and get out,” he instructs you under your breath. 

You quickly undo your seat belt and let it repel. He does the same but much calmer than yourself. You pull the door handle and let yourself out, hitting your foot on the interior as you do. You stand and hold your hands clearly by your head. 

“Pine,” the man approaches the gate as he aims. 

“Should I say a prayer?” Pine asks. 

“Magenta,” he turns the gun toward you. “Despite the name, I expected some slimy little chump.” 

“I recommend you put that down or use it. I do not like to speak over a barrel.” Pine says. 

“Oi, gov’na,” the man snorts. “Calm yer horses.” The man holsters the gun and shakes his head. “She already knows who I am. She’s been running checks for months.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. As much as you know about him, he must know as much about you. Both of you. 

“Right, my men will do a search then you can come in. Get a lay of the land. I know you must be dying for a fucking drink,” he snickers and backs up, signaling with his left hand. You notice the two stubs that were once his pinky and ring fingers. 

He retreats to the car as the gates roll open. Men in black tactical gear emerge and near. You’re jostled as one pats you down. His hand runs between your thighs and he cups your pelvis. His fingers wiggle in a not too proper motion. 

“Eh, what d’ya mean, mate?” You try to pull away and hit the man stand behind you. 

“We did not consent to a cavity search,” Pine tries to move around the car but is stopped by the nose of a rifle. 

“Doing our job,” the man jiggles his hand and you swat him away. 

“Oi, that’s not your job,” you unthinkingly slap his shoulder next. “Fuck yerself.” 

He chortles and shakes his head, reaching around you to grope your ass. You yipe and shove him away. 

“I got nothing in there, mate,” you elbow the one behind you. “My firearm's in my suitcase. Cut the lining out, you nonce.” 

Another man is already in the trunk. You hear him picking apart your luggage. Pine growls and a man hooks his arms from behind. 

“You shouldn’t treat a lady as such,” he reprimands them as you’re once more fondled. 

“No ladies here.” The man sneers. 

“Sure as shit isn’t if ya keep touchin’ me like that,” you warn and ball your fists. 

“Clear,” the man shuts the trunk as another pops his head up from the back seat. 

“They can walk in,” the man in front of you says. “Richards, drive.” 

He points into the drive seat and pulls you out of the way. You twist away from and snarl, “all clear, ya said. No more.” 

“I recommend you keep those hands to yourself,” Pine catches his fingers and bends them back before he can reach for you again. “Else you might lose them.” 

“Bold words for a man with no gun,” the man touches his holster. 

“I’m not one to hide behind bullets,” Pine retorts and lets him go. “Come on, I don’t think your boss would appreciate you keeping him waiting.” 

Pine waves you along with him as he starts toward the gates. You keep afoot with hip as best you can. You cross your arms, skin crawling as your cheeks burn. You’ve dealt with similar before but it never gets easier. 

“Americans,” he sniffs. 

“Men,” you correct him then wince. “Not all, you know.” 

“Too many,” he shakes his head. “They seem to follow Hansen’s lead.” 

“Must,” you agree. 

You come up to the front of the house after a long hike up the stoned drive. Hansen sits on the steps, grooming his mustache with a small comb. He smirks but doesn’t stop. 

“Figure you could stand to stretch your legs after all that sitting,” he scoffs. “Welcome to Paradise.” 

You squint and push your glasses up into your hair. Pine shifts and tilts his head, “lovely house.” 

“Isn’t it?” Hansen stands and tramps down the steps. He nears you as he tucks away the comb in his front pocket. “What do you like to drink, sugar cookie?” 

You peek at Pine from the corner of your eyes. He’s being nice, for now. May as well enjoy that while it lasts. 

“You got lager? Cheers.” You say. 

“Cheers,” he echoes in delight, “cute. Would like biscuits and tea, eh?” 

He mocks your accent but you don’t flinch. “If it’s on offer, I won’t say no.” 

“I’ll have tea, if it’s on the menu,” Pine intones as he sidesteps closer. 

Hansen pulls back and looks at the taller man. He smirks.  

“Of course, chap, I’m sure I can find you a tea bag,” he grins as he claps the other man’s shoulder. Pine gives his hand a detestable glare before it falls away. “Alright, pardon my fucking manners.” Hansen spins on his heel, “let’s go.”